Hey. I'm Whale. I'm rather new here at FF. I've been zooming around reading fanfics for a while but haven't gotten the courage to post something. But this idea has been floating around in my head lately and I really wanted to see it on a screen. Forgive me for spelling and grammar errors—I'm kind of human that way.

Disclaimer: Twilight and all relating characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, not yours featherly.

Claimer: All plot belongs to me. No stealing. That's mean.

So here we go…

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Edward's POV

I was flabbergasted, to put it mildly. A rash of break-ins all over Europe centered in the notorious city of London, England. Paintings, jewelry, sculptures; you name it, it was stolen.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen." My head whipped up to meet the face of my father, grave and concerned. "Morning, Dad."

Carlisle Cullen was tall and sturdy with a calculating stare. He had a hefty amount of brains and a sparkling toothy smile, giving him the 'brainy blonde-haired God' look. His infamous smile was usually plastered across his face when he came to visit, but instead a fake grin and creased forehead greeted me.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's up?" The crease deepened and I almost regretted asking when Carlisle opened his mouth.

"I'm here to report another break-in. Just last night, the home of Jonathan McGrubber was raided. The only item missing was a book—a signed copy of The Dark Tunnel by Ross Macdonald. Police have yet to find anything unusual or out of place in the house besides the missing item. Mr. McGrubber was sleeping at the time of the robbery and not disturbed in any way. No footprints or fingerprints, no locks were broken, cameras around the book's original residing place picked up nothing, no sensors set off…"

My mind wandered as Carlisle rambled on, the classic questions of who, what, and why coming up frequently. Who was this person, this conniving criminal who defied some of the most elaborate security systems in the world; who didn't show up on camera; who struck the most unlikely suspects in the dead of night, daring the LPD to come out and play.

Why paintings by unknown artists? Why jewelry, hand-crafted by unheard of civilians? Why sculptures, created from everything people could find in alleyways? Things so different and shockingly simple, and yet they captured the eye of a notorious thief known from here to Timbuktu.

"Edward? Edward, are you listening to me?" My head shot up, embarrassed to be caught brooding.

"Of course I am, Dad. Just thinking a little is all." Carlisle smirked slightly, dumping the thick report on my growing pile of papers and pivoted around, throwing a quick "G'night" over his shoulder before disappearing around the door frame.

I sighed and shook my head, grabbing the papers and tapping them on my mahogany desk to straighten them out before stuffing them into a folder. I honestly hadn't caught half of what Carlisle was explaining and hoped I could just read the file and get the gist of things.

My family had always been involved in the police force. Dad and Mom were both officers with my older brother Emmett. My sister Alice was a detective, complete with a five-foot stature and an incredibly manipulative puppy-dog pout.

This case of thefts was a hard one to crack seeing as they weren't committed by an amateur. No, this was a job for—

"Edward!"Emmett careened around the corner, almost running into a secretary carrying a huge stack of papers. "Edward! You'd never guess what just happened!" I raised an eyebrow as my childish brother slammed through my door.

"Does this have to do with spiders?" I asked suspiciously. Emmett freaking out over a large spider in the men's bathroom was not an uncommon event.

"No! It's way cooler than that." He paused to take a breath. "The thief has struck again, stealing another book and an unframed portrait the owner's daughter had painted." Emmett's grin widened. "And the boss wants us on the case!"

I stood, grabbing the case report and stuffing it into my bag. "And by us you mean…?" Emmett followed me out the door. "Our family! You know, the Cullens. It'll be just like old times; remember when we had to figure out who dyed all of the clothes pink?"

I growled. "Alice…" Emmett smiled, reminiscing the horrifying memory. "Or when we struck revenge and—"

"Stole my bras, strapped them to your heads, and paraded around town like the idiots you really are? Of course, how could I forget?" Alice appeared around the corner, her designer brief case swinging from her hands. Emmett grinned and ruffled her spiky black hair. "Good times…" Alice swatted at Emmett but in all her five foot glory, Emmett's bulky frame overpowered her. She growled quietly.

I swung open the front doors and made my way to a cruiser, slipping into the driver's seat. "Shotgun!" Alice called loudly, sprinting around the car and jumping in just as Emmett reached the side door. Glowering, Emmett grabbed a back seat and folded his arms across his chest, looking like a pouty five-year-old.

Flooring the pedal, I turned to Alice. She was currently opening the file she had received from the boss. "It says only two things were stolen: the book Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allen Poe and an amateur's portrait. Apparently the daughter had painted it." I nodded, already knowing that part of the information. She continued, "It says here that one of the security cameras picked up a single shot of the thief picking up the book and another stuffing the painting in a black back pack."

So the thief wasn't as invisible as he or she thought, I mused, zipping around cars and training my headlights on the road in front of us. "So where are we heading?" I asked. Emmett was reading over Alice's shoulder. "777 Cedar Point Drive. It's off of Watch Point up ahead." I nodded, shooting a glance at my brother who was practically vibrating in his seat.

"I love this!" he exclaimed suddenly as I turned onto Cedar Point. "It feels like we're in CSI: Miami or something. We should have code names or something. I can be Iron Man; Edward should be the Green Lantern. Alice, you're Black Cat, you know, with the black hair and stilettos and stuff."

I block out Emmett as I pulled into the house of a Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Gaffney. Red and blue lights were flashing everywhere and I could briefly make out the hysterical face of Mrs. Gaffney as she cried into the shoulder of a Mike Newton. Her daughter, however, was currently being interviewed to death by a strew of reporters breaking the boundaries.

"Hey! Back it up, back it up. Move along, nothing to see here. I said get, you good-for-nothing hounds…"

Seeing that Emmett had the paparazzi under control, Alice and I made our way into the home itself. Newton caught up to us. "Edward, Alice, thank God you guys got here. I want to show you the security tapes during the robbery."

He led us through a side door hidden under the stairs. Once inside, we were able to see the entire house and all of the expensive items inside it. Alice's eyes glimmered as she spotted a Liz Claiborne jacket strewn over the back of a couch.

Newton's excessive drabbling stopped as he pointed to a monitor in the top left corner of the equipment. It was kind of fuzzy and black and white, but you could clearly see someone grabbing the book carefully, then stuffing a picture into a black bag.

"That's them alright," Alice said, stepping closer to the screen. Newton replayed the scene again, chatting mindlessly until Alice snapped at him to shut up. I chuckled, leaving Alice to her work as I slipped out the door.

The crime scene was around the corner and through a door cleverly blended into the wall. It was nearly impossible for me to find it in the dim lightly as there was no doorknob, only a small finger hole to grab onto.

The door swung open silently and I stepped into a library of sorts. Books and paintings coated every wall, several looking expensive enough to be in a museum. My footprints were muffled by the carpet and the thick walls of the room almost completely blocked out any sound from the rest of the house.

I almost laughed at the irony—the silent door, the thick carpet, the soundproof room. It was like these people were begging to be stolen from. No wonder the thief struck here or all places.

One wall stood bare, a small rectangular patch not yet tanned by the sun. The painting must have sat there, I thought, still scanning the room. A bookshelf only a few paces to the right had slanted books, like one had been removed.

Painting there, book there, I thought to myself, pulling out a digital camera. Snapping quick photos of each location, I began one more round of the room before walking back to the door.

A quiet metallic ring sounded as my boot came into contact with something in the carpet. I knelt down and picked up what seemed to be a shiny brass key. On one end there was an elaborate heart with a Queen's crown placed on top, on the other a simple set of teeth.

I raised an eyebrow. What was an old fashioned key doing in the middle of a secret library? This whole thing really was turning into a story book, a sci-fi drama mystery; Phantom Thief, the amazing story of confounding criminal. I shook my head and pocketed the key, promising not to bring it up until I had more information.

Creeping out of the library, I made my way back to Alice who was writing furiously on a notepad. Sensing me, she turned shaking her head sadly at my questioning glance.

"No luck?" she asked, sounding frustrated. I sighed and shook my head in response, feeling a bit guilty about the whole key thing. "No luck. Hey, we better go check on Emmett. I'll bet he found Mom and Dad." Alice nodded and stuffed the notepad back into her briefcase, pocketing the pen.

The lawn was no longer strewn with innocent bystanders. With no new information, people had cleared out, giving police officers time to work. When Alice and I emerged, they sent in another team of investigators to secure the house and make sure nothing else was out of place.

Carlisle and Esme waved us over to the long driveway. Emmett was next to them as we had predicted, buzzing with excitement over the case. Esme smiled warmly at us and enveloped Alice in a hug, leaving me with Carlisle.

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

"No." It was short and sweet, hoping he would get the message and drop the subject. If there was one thing I hated, it was lying to my father.

It was just then that Mike Newton came careening around the side of the house, a grim expression on his face.

It was official. The thief had struck again.

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So what do you think? Should I continue it? Tweak some things? TELL ME.

Bella's POV is up next but I have to go babysit some really cute munchkins and get money so I can but a non-crappy bike.

Booyeah.

--W#!3