Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation… my second story.

Title: The Cop and the Psychic

Author: gabby1017

Beta: Fran, Sunflower Fran, or Frannie

Banner: Cheryl Edmonds

Rating: M

Pairing: Edward and Bella

Summary: She's a fortune teller in a traveling carnival, reading futures for her survival. He's a homicide detective trying to find a serial killer. Will he believe her when she asks for help?

Chapter One:

EPOV

I walk into the briefing room with Styrofoam cups of two coffees in hand, a small bag of doughnuts, and sit next to my partner. He grabs one cup with a 'thank you', takes a sip of the Java and moans. "It's too fucking early for this," he complains rubbing his eyes and yawning.

I offer the open bag, and he happily pulls out a glazed doughnut and takes a huge bite.

I'm about to respond, but the captain comes barreling in with an armful of folders. "Okay, okay, settle down, people."

Everyone reacts and finds a seat.

He splits the stack in two, and everyone passes them around. "Take one."

I open and look at the meeting's agenda, close my eyes and exhale.

Mike does the same and shakes his head. "Jesus, another one."

BPOV

"Another day, another dollar," I cynically chant, as I smooth my brightly colored shawl over the table.

It's early morning, and there's already this lingering heat in my tent. I walk to the entrance and tie back the canvas to allow some cool air to relieve the stagnant humidity. My costume doesn't give any assistance either with a heavy, waist-length wig and a bandana around my head. The cotton, off-the-shoulder blouse is my only comfort, but my thick, multi-layered skirt clings to my sweat-laden thighs and heavily hangs to my feet. And don't forget about the strings of beads around my neck and wrists and dangling earrings. It's the typical gypsy image, and what the boss wants.

I'm a seer, with the knowledge of palm reading, tarot cards, tea leaves, and crystal ball gazing. I know astrology, numerology and can twirl a pendulum like the best of them.

I do it all.

So everyone believes.

Hey, I'm a carny. I tell them what they want to hear and they happily pay for my services.

"Isabella," Nanny would demand. "Use those dark eyes to tell a story."

And I do.

My stomach growls. It's time for breakfast.

Pulling a thick purple rope across the tent's entrance, I secure the 'Be Back in 5-Minutes' sign in place.

Our kitchen set up is in a large tent in the back next to our trailers, and as I pull the flap over, everyone shouts my name.

In the corner, there is a gas barbecue with four burners. Claus, our cook, stands in front of it, pouring batter into a fry pan. He's pretty good with feeding all of us very quickly. Breakfast always has a relaxed atmosphere with pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and bagels.

He's a short guy with long white hair and beard, a jolly disposition, and rosy cheeks. Yes, hence the name Claus, a nickname that sticks because when he does drink too much, he shines a cherry nose.

He stands to the side cooking up eggs and pancakes at the same time, never burning anything. Sterno containers line the table in front of him with a large stainless steel coffee urn and a water boiler.

"Good morning, Ms. Isabella," he bellows with an Italian accent and a twinkle in his eye.

"Good morning, Claus," I answer smiling.

"The usual?" he questions.

I nod.

He places a sliced bagel on the grill to lightly warm, as I grab a paper plate and toss an individual container of butter and jam onto it. He then flips my bagel to me. "Thank you, Claus."

"You're welcome, Ms. Isabella." He salutes and bows.

I curtsy and scoot down the table, grab a cup, fill it with hot water and throw in a tea bag.

As I look around, most of the picnic tables are full, but Renata motions for me to come sit next to her. She's a ticket booth worker who opted to leave school and take a summer break. With her dark hair in a high ponytail, she wears no makeup, jean shorts, and a tank top; certainly not ready for the day.

"How ya doin', girlie?" She lays on her Bronx jive.

I throw it back at her, "Doin', Ren. What about yous?"

We look at one another and laugh.

Ride operators, Sam, Seth, and Paul sit across from us and raise their mugs to me. Jake, our resident mechanic, blows me a kiss when he jogs by with a handful of bagels.

Renata shouts, "Where you off to, Jakie? Your pants on fire?"

He turns his head. "More like a truck engine. Catch you guys later."

"Whoo, I'd like a piece of him," Renata growls as her penetrating eyes follow Jake's image.

"He's one tall mystery," I reply.

"Why do you say that, Bella?" Renata asks with a frown.

"He doesn't talk to anyone," Seth pipes in.

Sam adds, "Or joins us for poker."

"I've talked to him," Paul says.

"Yeah? How many times?" I huff.

"A few?"

I roll my eyes.

Renata defends, "He's a loner. There are people who don't like to socialize in crowds."

"Then why work for a carnival? I'm sure Waylon explained when he hired him that we are a 'Family', quote unquote." Sam air gestures with curled fingers.

Seth shrugs. "I think he's harmless. Besides, he has got all the rides and vehicles working."

I take a bite of my bagel and swallow. "Maybe Junior hired him, and he didn't get the 'Family' speech."

"Maybe, maybe. Who cares?" Renata looks at me. "What?"

"I just feel he's weird."

"Is that your psychic opinion?" She laughs.

"C'mon, Ren." I playfully shove her. "You know what I mean."

Sam reaches over to my cup. "He's not her cup of tea."

I roll my eyes. "Exactly."

She smiles. "Well, he's mine and then some, but I got a feeling his eyes are on her crystal ball."

I kid, "Keep my ball out of this!"

Everyone laughs.

The tent flap pushes open and a disheveled Chewy, our gopher, shakily walks into the dining area. He approaches Claus, and he hands him a beer. Chewy chugs half the bottle down wiping his mouth with his skinny forearm.

Turning to me, he quickly heads in my direction and sits to my side.

"I need to talk to you," he breathily gasps.

"Are you okay?" I squeeze his hand.

He shakes his head and whispers a "no."

"What happened, Chewy?" Renata asks.

He takes another sip of his beer and begins, "Real early this mornin', I went to pick up Claus' grocery order. You know, I drive around back of the store and all. So, I'm waitin' for my guy to answer the door, and this dog is barkin' by the trash bin. I mean, he was going wild. He ran to me, and I thought he was gonna attack, but he grabbed my sleeve with his teeth and tried to drag me to the bin. So, I kept sayin' that it was all right. I was goin' with him. We get around to the other side, and there was a body all covered in blood."

"Oh, my God," Renata chokes with her hands to her face.

"Go on, Chewy," I urge.

"I didn't want to touch nothin', so I ran back to the door, and started poundin' on it. My guy finally came out, and I showed him the body. We both stood there. He finally pulled out his cell and called the police."

"Holy crap," Seth whispers.

"I'm so glad we didn't touch nothin' because the cops started asking questions and I swear they were pointin' their fingers at us."

"Did you see who it was?" Sam asks.

"It was a young girl. Her dark hair was twisted all over her head. Whoever did it was one sick puppy."

"What about the dog?" I question.

"It was gone." He looks at me. "Jeesh, I never thought about where that dog went. Bella, you don't think they'll blame me." He pleads, "You know, bein' a carny and stuff. We get blamed for everything."

My head starts to spin, and I close my eyes. I lean forward and rub my brows with my fingers and position my elbow on the table to balance myself. Breathing heavily, I have a quick flash of sinister dark eyes and a gruff laugh that echoes in my head. I straighten up batting my eyelashes with a chill running up my spine.

"Bella, you okay?" Renata asks.

I shake my head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Chewy's story creeped me out."

Chewy begs, "Please, tell me I'm not gonna be in trouble."

I give him a small smile. "It's okay. They have nothing on you."

He exhales a long breath. "I never seen a dead body before." He reaches into his front pocket, taking out a stick of gum, unwrapping and chewing it.

"What did the police say?" Sam asks.

"Nothin'. They told me not to say nothin', but you guys know , I'm gonna tell you."

EPOV

The chief drones, "The victim is twenty-two year old, Jenna Thurmond. She was the assistant manager of Baxter's Books. The two girls who worked with her were sent home early because business was slow. No one from the Thrift Mart saw anything. She was found by the dumpster early this morning by Chewy Ramirez, an errand boy for The Forge and Son Traveling Carnival. He then banged on the back door of the grocery store and asked the manager, Ben Cheney, to look at the girl. He called us, and yadda, yadda, yadda, we have another homicide."

"People, I need you to bare down. We have to find this guy. Three girls in two weeks in this sleepy little town is a nightmare. I have a profiler coming in from Seattle."

We all moan.

The chief points. "I want all of you to play nice and work together."

"Chief, we'll do what's necessary," I surrender.

"I hope so, Cullen. I don't want any grandstanding." He turns and looks at a few other officers. "Man, I miss Charlie."

Mike and I take a quick turn into our office, which is right next to the briefing room. A small frame of a woman with spiky black hair sits on my chair. "Um, excuse me."

The woman stands with her hands on her hips. "Really, Edward?"

"Alice? What the hell did you do to your hair?" I question in shock.

"Our sister had one of her hissy fits about how we looked too damn much alike," she explains. "So, I did something about it. You like?"

I huff, "You're twins!"

Mike smiles. "You look great. When you finally come to your senses and dump Jasper's ass, I'm ready and waiting."

"Yeah, and Jessica would love to hear you profess your affections," she counteracts.

Mike points at her. "Well, you never know, missy!"

"You're so full of it."

BPOV

I don't eat dinner in the dining tent for two nights. After Chewy's shaken display and the insistence of his safety, I didn't want to answer any more questions. Serves me right for telling him I could see the future.

Nanny was always right, "Keep it to yourself."

Okay, I do, do it all. I am the real deal. But people expect me to be a fraud, and I'd rather it be that way. I don't want to be bombarded and asked, 'What do you feel?'

I stay in my trailer pretending to have a migraine. Waylon is sympathetic and tells me to rest up for Friday's opening. My headache finally fades away after I down two bowls of Rice Krispies and milk, send my mom an email, and get into bed. I settle under the sheet finding the grind of the air-conditioning a lullaby as sleep easily takes me.

Running free within the forest, my vision blinks from the peeking sun through the tall trees like a strobe light in a disco. My chest burns from my forced breath of exhilaration. I can hear the birds sing and echo all around me.

I think it's wonderfully freeing to be out of my skirts and run in my jeans.

The seclusion in this part of the woodlands is peaceful and calm. There are a few smaller animals, but hardly any people come around this area. It's too dense to explore.

Yet, I hear a struggle in the foreground. A small voice pleads for her life, crying for help.

The sun fades in and out.

I pick up my pace.

Through the trees in a clearing, I see a large man of tall stature leaning over a body. He wears all black, or so it seems since he's shadowed by a red cedar overhead. He doesn't turn my way, but he lowly hisses and draws out his words slowly, "You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, girl!"

He runs off with exceedingly hastened movements. And within a flash, he's gone.

I approach the girl and kneel to her side. Her long, chestnut hair swirls around her head. I reach out and pull the strands away from her face. I gasp, bringing my hands to my chest to hold myself in. Her blank stare takes my breath away. I know her.

I can't inhale or exhale.

I can't move in my frozen state.

Screams echo around me. I want it to stop. My tears fall, and I cover my mouth heaving in despair.

Still heaving, I sit up in bed. There's a loud pounding on my trailer's door. Renata shouts for me to open it.

I jump out of bed, unlock it, and hug Renata tightly.

She holds me close running a hand down my hair. "Hey, it's all right. I'm here."

I barely whisper, "I saw him."

"You saw who, Bella?"

"The killer."

She helps me to sit on a chair as she sits across from me with her hands on my cheeks. "It's okay, you had a nightmare. The whole thing from Chewy was bazaar."

"No, no. You don't understand. It comes like this, too, in dreams."

She frowns. "You're not making any sense. What comes in dreams?"

I run my hands through my hair, get up and pace.

Renata watches my every move.

"The future." I huff, and I stutter, "I-I-I need to draw what I saw."

"What happened in your dream, Bella?" she asks.

I give her a brief description of what I saw in the forest. "She was wearing an amulet." I raise my hands in frustration. "No, more like a family crest. And I kept hearing, 'Heiress' in my mind, but she looks like a friend from college."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing,"

"You have some pertinent clues. Hell, I'd say some exacts. If this is a premonition, then you should take this information to the police," she offers.

I laugh. "And be physically thrown out!"

"You don't know that, Bella. I've been reading some articles, and the police have no clues. There was this one that read, 'How many girls does it take for the Police Department of Forks to figure out whodunnit?'

"The Forum wrote that?"

"No, it was one from PA."

"That's pretty harsh."

She giggles, "I'd think they'd welcome any information. Maybe, we should go to that spot."

I shake my head. "I'm not going there, and neither are you. Let the police handle it."

"Well, they won't know unless you tell them."

"You really think I should?"

"Yeah, it might shed some light on the unsolved cases for them."

"Or get us kicked out of town." I bite my thumbnail.

"We have a few hours before sunrise."

"You have to keep this between us. I don't want anyone else to know. Okay?"

She nods. "Okay."

EPOV

A few days pass, and we still don't have any leads on this case. The profiler explains the killer is someone acting out a fantasy. Her theory is that there is a girl he can't have, so he randomly finds a similar looking one. The only things that connect each victim are their long hair, the color, and the victim's size; all petite brunettes.

My phone rings. It's Shelley from the front desk. "Yeah, Shelley."

"Edward, I have two young ladies here who want to speak to someone in charge of the murder case." She whispers, "Do you want to handle this or should I give it to someone else?"

I grin. "No, it's okay, I'll come out." I stand.

Mike looks up from his cell. "Where ya going?"

"It appears there are two women who want to talk with someone in charge."

"You want me to go with you?"

"No, finish your game," I smirk.

Mike and I share an office at the end of the hall. I walk to the front and stand by the doorway taking in the view. Both of them fit the description of the victims. Maybe they do know something.

The smaller one catches my eye with familiarity. Her chestnut hair falls in waves down her back where I focus on her perfectly shaped ass fitting a pair of tight jeans. When she turns to talk to her friend, she brushes her hair from her face and I still. Her deep chocolate brown eyes and dark eyelashes with no makeup take me by surprise. She's a natural beauty with her heart-shaped face and bow lips. She looks up at me and smiles.

I finally get my feet to move and introduce myself, "I'm Detective Cullen."

She looks at me with recognition. "You're the rookie my dad talked about." Her eyes tear. "He thought you had promise."

"You're Charlie's daughter?" I question.

"Yes, Bella, the one and only."

"Ah, now I know why you seem familiar. Charlie had your picture on his desk. What are you doing here? Aren't you in school?"

"Summer break, and I wanted to be here. With Dad passing, I …"

I nod. "So, what brings you here, to the Department?"

She takes a deep breath as though she is fearful of her words. "I have some information."

"What kind of information?"

Her friend nudges her. She introduces, "This is Renata Rousso."

I shake Renata's hand as we say 'hello,' but when Bella's hand slides into mine, we both stare at one another. I don't want to let go. "Charlie always talked about you."

She nervously giggles, "Ha, I hope it wasn't too bad."

I shake my head. "He had nothing but praise for you, Bella."

"I didn't get to see him much with living in Florida, but we talked every other day."

"I know."

She looks at me with furrowed brows in wonderment. "He used to talk about you, too."

We awkwardly let go of one another.

"Why don't we talk somewhere private?"

Renata speaks up, "You know, I'll just wait out here, so, you two can ..." She widens her eyes at Bella. "I think it will be better for you."

Shelley, leaning over the desk says, "She can stay with me. I have coffee and donuts."

Renata smiles, "Go!"

I find an empty room and Bella follows me. We sit at a small desk.

"So, what's on your mind?"

"I don't know where to begin. I should explain a few things first."

I nod and encourage her, "Go on."

"After Dad died, I left school. I didn't want to stay in New York, and I couldn't go back to Florida. I felt so confined. And I'm so ashamed I didn't go to his funeral. I-I-I just couldn't. I didn't want to believe he was gone."

"None of us did," I sadly mumble.

"I wanted to travel throughout Washington State to be near him. Dad's friend, Waylon Forge, offered me a job."

"With his carnival?" I surprisingly ask.

"Yeah. I went to see him in Spokane, and he said, "Charlie's family is my family."

"May I ask what you do?"

I nervously sigh. "Here's where this gets tricky."

"How's that?"

I sit up straight. "I'm the fortune teller."

"Okay."

"Detective Cullen."

"Edward."

"Okay, Edward … I had this dream that was triggered by our gopher, Chewy."

"Yes, Chewy Ramirez."

"He told a group of us about finding the dead girl. Please, don't be upset with him for telling us, but he was very unsettled. Well, I had this reaction."

"What kind of reaction?" he asks leaning forward.

"I felt a presence, saw these frightening eyes and heard a sinister laugh."

"Go on."

"Two nights after, I had another dream. I witnessed a girl's murder. Well, I didn't see the actual act, but I saw the man standing over her. In a small voice, she had pleaded for help."

I pause.

"Then, the man didn't turn, but he said to me, 'You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, girl.' Then, he disappeared. I approached her, as she made no movement. I knelt down and lightly pushed her hair away from her face. It jolted me because she looked like one of my friends from school."

"I see."

"You don't believe me," I disappointedly murmur.

"I believe you had this dream, Bella, and I'm sure it was devastatingly frightening to see your friend in that state."

"But?"

"I can't go by your dream."

"I know, you can't, but I have more. I know the location, and I saw something on the girl that I have drawn."

I pull out the sheet of paper from my purse and hand it to Edward. He scrutinizes the drawing and color begins to fade from his cheeks.

"I heard something else."

He looks up at me. "What did you hear?"

"Something of royalty. Heiress?"

He stands quickly, throwing the chair back. "I need the location."

"It's very remote. I'd have to show you."

BPOV

We drive on US 101 N for about twenty minutes. I tell Edward to turn before the park. There's a picnic area on the side of the road, and we leave his car there along with an ambulance and continue on foot.

No one says anything as I lead them through the forest.

My feelings go back and forth. For some reason, it's good that he believes me. He doesn't say anything. He just has this determined look on his face driving him forward. Mike, on the other hand, seems upset. He chews his nails and grunts at each turn through the brush. There are no trails, and we swat leaves and branches to one side as we plow through to our destination.

I stop to make sure of each landmark I follow. I close my eyes and see the clearing but have yet to reach it.

Edward walks to my side. "Everything all right?"

I look up at his pained face. "Just making sure I'm in the right direction. There's a clearing coming up, and that's where we need to go."

This time, he stays by my side. There are clusters of rocks, and I almost trip, but thanks to Edward's quick response, he grabs hold of me.

"Thank you," I whisper.

I turn to the left and see the clearing with the huge red cedar. My hands begin to sweat for fear I am that right. We cross the flat area. I recognize the higher ground with tall grass, and then I focus on the small body and gasp.

It's Edward who runs through the clearing and stands at the edge. He hesitates, but kneels. He asks one of the paramedics to hand him some gloves, puts them on, and moves the hair from her face. His anguished cry echoes through the trees.

Mike stands behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

The rest of the men secure the area with tape, as the medical examiner performs his job. He looks at Mike and shakes his head, no, as Mike lets out a feral growl.

I walk to his side, but it's Edward who grabs me as we both cry, as he utters the name Ariss."

To be continued…

Yes, you read correctly. This story will continue next year. Once my Muse is ignited, I will finish 'She Rocks My World' and then, write this story, along with my other comp piece.

Hang in there with me.