Disclaimer: Don't own twilight. Just own my oc and the plot for this story.

Chapter 1

The moonlight gleamed on the silhouette of what appeared to be a young girl. Lights sped behind her as the traffic continued on the bridge, unaware of what was about to happen. Her fist tightened as she steadied her breathing. She didn't want to do this, but she had to. This was the only way for her to prove herself. Pale hands that seemed to glow in the moonlight grabbed the ledge and pulled herself up holding on to the pillar nearby. Scared, she was so scared. She didn't want to die. But if she didn't do it, no she wouldn't let herself think of that. A river was rushing down her face as thoughts of her parents filled her head. Who would cook for her dad and make sure her mom didn't do something foolish? Who was she kidding? She had been replaced in her parents' lives. Her father's new girlfriend would make sure he didn't starve and her mother's new husband would take her on adventures and keep her mother from putting herself in harm's way. Inhale; exhale. White fingers let go of the pillar as the silhouette plummeted to the choppy water below.

The next day was a slow day at the police station. Many of the detectives and officers were catching up on paperwork that had been pushed to the side for many different reasons. A man of about 28 was currently working on his own paperwork when he froze. "Not now." He muttered under his breath. Raking his fingers through messy honey blonde hair, he did the breathing exercises that his therapist taught him. "Whitlock!" The deep bellow of the police chief was unmistakable. The young man's head collided with his desk. He just couldn't get a break. With a deep sigh that had nothing to do with breathing exercises, he forced himself out of his chair to the Chief's office.

"Whitlock take a seat." The chief was an aging man of African heritage. He hair was almost gray and his eyes dark but sharp. Those black eyes showed a man who had seen many things wrong in the world and could no longer be surprised by anything. The tiredness on his face was nothing new and there seemed to be a new wrinkle there every week.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Whitlock asked. His voice was soft, but there was strength in it that was surprising. The southern drawl was prominent, but instead of making him sound slow, it made him sound sophisticated. His grey eyes were that of a warrior's that had been beaten over and over again but always got back up with a defiance that was unmatched. The chief never called him into this room for anything good.

"You're getting a new partner." The young man nearly fell over in shock. The last partner he had was a disaster. The man he had been partnered with had the temper of an active volcano and they clashed like no other. Who the heck did the chief want to partner him with now?

"Sir, I thought we agreed I wouldn't have any permanent partners." Whitlock was close to having a panic attack though it didn't show on the outside. Bad things happened to his partners so much so that he was considered cursed by the more superstitious members of the force.

"Yes you are. Its some FBI agent who is here because she thinks she has a case, that we don't know about." The scoff in the police chief's voice was noticeable. How did they have a case that nobody noticed? Bring… the chief's phone went off shattering the tension in the air. The chief grabbed it with a huff, "She's here. Send her into my office." Whitlock winced at the clattering of the phone as the chief slammed it down.

Knock knock. The knock was so soft that it wouldn't have been heard if things in the office weren't so tense that even a pin drop could be heard. "Come in!" The door whined softly as it was opened. Whitlock didn't know what to expect when he heard FBI agent but this wasn't it. A young woman entered the room and while Whitlock was expecting that. What he wasn't expecting was what she was wearing. The FBI agent was dressed in an open pale green men's dress shirt with a dark blue spaghetti-strapped top underneath, blue jeans and olive green converse on her feet. Her long brown hair was loose and free and both ears were pierced at least twice if not more. Weren't FBI agents supposed to be dressed in suits and things like that? Her eyes made his pause though. Brown eyes that sparkled with mischievousness, wit and intelligence, however there was a hidden sadness in them as well.

"Hello I'm Serah Johnson." She quickly introduced herself before the tension could fill the room again. "Jasper Whitlock" That was the honey blonde. "Gabriel Winston." The chief. Awkward silence blanketed the room. All of them were professionals yet not one wanted to start a conversation. Thankfully none of them had to as the phone decided to go off again. Unlike the message about the agent, this one seemed to sadden the chief. He hung the phone up much quieter and somber this time.

"We have a suicide on our hands at the old bridge." Serah seemed to perk up at this; Jasper hoped she wasn't excited about someone taking their own life. "Please tell me all the details that you know right now." "Young girl around 18, no id and hasn't been claimed nor have any girl with her description have come up in the databases." Serah grabbed Jasper by his leather coat as she dragged the confused blonde outthe door. "Sir we will be taking this case." "It's a suicide there is no case!" The chief's yell followed them all the way down the parking lot towards the employee cars. "Yours or mine?" Serah asked Jasper. Jasper was pretty sure this partnership wasn't going too last very long before he exploded. "Do you know how to get to the old bridge?" A quick shake of the head was his answer. "Then we'll take mine." He walked toward a dark blue 2005 ford f-250. Jasper had a feeling this was going to be an interesting partnership.