Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who welcomed me back so warmly! I was blown away that people still cared about the stories I write. It gives me strength and fills me with warmth!
If, by any chance, any of you are apprehensive to continue reading this story because of the M rating that I never do, I do understand. Please know, however, that I DO NOT WRITE LEMONS. I don't know too much about that area in stories, and I also do not like reading them myself. This story is primarily rated M because of the dark theme, issues with rape and murder. And language. If you are okay with these, then I do ask you to continue to read! Of course, B and E will have their private moments, but we'll just leave that to your genius imaginations!
Also, some people have asked me if I will post another vampire story. Maybe, maybe not. I do have tons of ideas, none of them developed properly. I'd be very happy to do one, if I can think up an interesting enough idea to write about it. If you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to consider it.
With that, here's the second chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Edward
With Emmett and Rosalie in tow, I burst into the Seattle Police Department. Without looking at the two officers who attempt to stop us, I flash my badge briefly and walk past them. They don't stop us.
We walk briskly through the long hallway and enter the briefing room. SPD's Police Chief Charlie Swan is busy arguing with his deputy and several detectives who had been called to the scene of the crime. He looks surprised at our entrance.
I hold up my badge once more. "Edward Cullen, FBI Special Agent. Chief Swan?"
"Ah, yes. We've been expecting you." Chief Swan walks around the table to shake my hand. "You got here a lot faster than I expected."
"We were in a hurry," I say shortly. "This is my partner, Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie Hale, FBI Special Agent."
Chief Swan shakes their hands too. "Pleasure. I assume you are the agents in charge of this case? A serial rapist, you say?"
"Yes." I gesture at Emmett, who hands over a case file to Chief Swan. "These are all the rape/murder cases that have come up in the last year. The patterns are there – it's the work of a single rapist. Unfortunately, he's an unidentified criminal. He's a slippery guy; been keeping us fellas at the agency on our toes."
Chief Swan riles through the case reports before handing it back to us. "LA, and now Seattle? He's hitting all the big cities, then?"
"He got to five women in LA," Rosalie says. "Last night's events makes it his first victim in Seattle."
Her expression is cold and merciless. Rosalie is especially touchy about serial rapist cases as she's had her own bad experience with one when she was merely a teenager. She obtained permission to assist in this case, having gained a special interest in it, even if it was mine and Emmett's to take care of,.
"Will you give us an account of what happened last night, Chief Swan?" Emmett asks. He whips out his handy notebook, ready to take notes. My elder brother was a goofball, but he was always serious when it came to work.
"Call me Charlie," Chief Swan says. He sighs wearily as he sinks down into a chair. "We don't know much either. We closed off the area the victim was found in, and we evacuated the building. We checked the roof. We think the situation took place at roughly between the hours thirteen-hundred and thirteen-thirty. We found evidence of rape – the victim's undergarments were found there, as well as specks of the assaulter's sperm. The body was examined and there were traces of penetration in the vaginal area. We're currently running further tests."
The deputy hands me a file, which contains the tangible evidence of what Charlie just told us. I look through it grimly, feeling my heart sink at the dead end once more. "No witnesses?"
"No. There were a total of twenty people in the building at the time, including the victim, and eighteen of them have solid alibis. One of them claims to have been in the bathroom." He clears his throat. "They were all accounted for. We've already questioned them. They knew nothing about their coworker's plight. They don't know who could have done this to her."
"Shit," Emmett mutters. He looks at me. "Edward, this is getting ridiculous," he says in a low voice. "This is our sixth case on this guy, and we have absolutely no evidence on him at all. We don't know what he looks like, what his name is. All we have are traces of his sperm with nothing to compare it to. This is another dead end."
"Well, we know he's not going to run to another major city," Rosalie says. "There's no way. It's too soon."
"Too soon?" I repeat sarcastically.
"You know what I mean. He just got here. From his point of view, there are plenty of fresh meat around the place. He isn't leaving, so let's use that to our advantage."
I exhale sharply, then turn to Charlie. "How long until the results of the autopsy come out?"
He checks his watch. "They said seven-thirty, eight at the latest. It's six-forty now."
I nod. "Good. If you could, Charlie, we would appreciate it if you would hand over any and all things related to this case to us. We'll take it from here."
"Sure thing." He seems glad to get rid of the case, anyhow. I'm grateful for that. After the third case, the LAPD was unwilling to let us work alone. Something about how these crimes were happening in 'their city'.
Slowly, the room empties as Emmett, Rosalie, and I discuss the case in low voices. Charlie stays with us until seven-thirty arrives. He answers a call, and, after a single word of acknowledgement, he excuses himself to get the results and we're met with silence as the door closes behind him.
Rosalie rubs her temples. "Damn it," she mutters. "There has to be something. No criminal is perfect. There has to be something. A piece of hair, a piece of linen. Anything."
"God, I can't think anymore," Emmett groans. "My brain is fried. I need breakfast."
I throw my brother a sharp look. "Em."
"What? Come on, bro. We aren't robots, just because we're the FBI. We need food too."
Rosalie slaps her fiancé on the arm. "Focus."
"Ow," he mutters without emotion. "I'm trying to. But what can we do, when this is all we have? Nothing to go on."
Charlie comes back in with the results. Rosalie and I dive in eagerly, while Emmett just peers over our shoulders with less enthusiasm. Five minutes later, we're reverting back to our original hopelessness when we find that there's nothing new to add to our list of clues.
"And of what we know, they're mostly assumptions," Rosalie sighs. "How can no one see a hair of him? I mean, how is it possible? CCTVs are useless too. They're always turned off whenever he's around."
"Maybe he's a ghost." Emmett earns himself another slap in the back of the head for that. "Come on, Rosie! You have to admit, he's the perfect criminal."
"There's no such thing as a perfect criminal," I say. "Sooner or later, his so-called luck runs out and he makes a mistake."
Disgusted, Rosalie shoves the papers away and leans back in her chair. "I'm so done."
Suddenly, Charlie's deputy comes running back in, his eyes wide. "Charlie!"
"What is it, Mark?"
"It's Bella."
"Bella?" Charlie hurries out, leaving the rest of us confused.
"Who's Bella?" Emmett asks Mark.
"Charlie's daughter. She happens to be working at the very same company last night's events took place. She was working late last night too."
We exchange looks. Then, simultaneously, we stand up and follow Charlie. As long as someone who knew Jessica Stanley is here, we might as well question her.
Charlie is comforting his daughter, who seems to be sobbing. "Bella, honey, what's the matter?" He looks stricken and helpless, like a father trying to comfort a daughter who's just gone through a breakup. He pats her back awkwardly.
I push a detective aside so I can get a closer look. The young woman in question was petite and slender. She's wearing skinny jeans and a white cardigan, making her look even more fragile. She has long mahogany hair that reaches the small of her back. That's all I note of her, that is, until she looks up from her arm. I receive a jolt of shock.
Her eyes are bloodshot and red, like she's been crying all night. But that's not why I'm so surprised. Her eyes are big and brown, like that of a doe. Her lips remind me of a rose petal. She's pale, even for someone living in constantly overcast Seattle. She's breathtakingly beautiful, the epitome of a classic beauty.
"Damn, she's hot," Emmett mutters, making Rosalie glare.
I have to agree. She is hot, in a soft kind of way. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to have her in my arms. I shake off the thought. Concentrate.
"Honey, if you need help after last night, we can arrange for you to speak to someone," Charlie says. "We have grievance counselors-"
He breaks off when his daughter shakes her head vigorously.
She looks around wildly, trembling. Her gaze falls on me. Her eyes search me quickly, and I feel self-conscious, as though she sees through everything. We're not exactly donning clothing that out us as FBI agents, but I guess she sees something that makes her suspect. She the daughter of a cop, after all.
"Who are you?" she asks me.
Her voice is soft and mellow, melodious and somber. I want to console her, reassure her. Wipe those tears away from those beautiful brown eyes. Instead, I say, "My name is Edward Cullen. I'm an FBI Special Agent in charge of this case."
Her eyes widen. Abruptly, she's launching herself at me. My warning instincts fire up, but somehow, I find myself reaching out to catch her in my arms. At the same time, Emmett and Rosalie reach for their guns.
I'm suddenly drowning in her eyes. I can't look away. She doesn't seem to care that Emmett and Rosalie are pointing their guns at her, thinking her a possible threat to a law enforcement agent. But she's not. She's clutching at my shirt in a gesture asking for help rather than in a threatening manner. I'm so surprised that it's all I can do to keep her upright.
"Please," she whispers. "Help me."
"Bella!" Charlie sounds shocked. "What do you mean?"
"You said you're in charge of the case," Bella continues. Tears fall down her pale cheeks. "Is that true, Mr. Cullen?"
"Yes," I manage.
"I've been going crazy," she breathes. "After what I saw, after I ran..."
I focus immediately, grabbing her shoulders. "Miss Swan, what do you mean?"
"I saw it all." Her voice is barely audible now. "Everything. I lied. I wasn't in the bathroom. I was on the roof...with them."
I hear Rosalie gasp and Emmett curse.
"I was so scared..." She's gasping for air. "I didn't know what to do, so I ran. I wanted to stop him, I wanted to help her...but I didn't have...my phone..."
She sinks down to the floor and I go down with her. I kneel next to her. Without thinking, I take her hand to comfort her. "It's alright. You're fine now."
"I wanted to tell them," she sobs. "I wanted to tell someone. But I was scared...so I lied. But I felt so guilty..." She leans into my chest and cries.
There's pity, sympathy, and shock. But most of all, this feeling of protective instinct that's rising in me is startling. One experience with this woman, and I'm a goner. I have to know, and I have to protect her.
"You're safe now," I whisper. "You did the right thing. You're so brave, Bella. So brave..." I make eye contact with Emmett. "Em, secure this place."
"You got it." He walks off purposefully.
"Rose, call Carlisle and inform him what's happened. We need to get her to safety."
She nods readily and strides off. I turn to Charlie. "I need a place I can speak to her. Privately."
Bella
I sit in my father's chair and blankly stare at the styrofoam cup of coffee in front of me. I feel absolutely exhausted from my long night of tossing and turning and crying. I refuse to think about that rooftop. I can't, or I'll break down crying again.
Agent Cullen is pacing my father's office, speaking on the phone. The caller seems to be his superior, and yet, Agent Cullen seems very familiar with him.
"Yes, I know, but Carlisle-" He cuts off and glances at me. "Yes. Yes, of course. This is my case; of course I'm taking full responsibility. Yes. I'm simply asking that you prepare..." He listens raptly. "Yes, I will. Yes." He hangs up and turns to me. "I'm sorry about that, Miss Swan. Are you feeling better?"
What happened to 'Bella'? I like that he called me by my given name earlier when he was comforting me. I felt so safe in his arms and I really could believe that everything really was going to be fine.
The man is young and handsome. He can't be more than thirty, and he has the strangest hair. Messy and red, mixed with a touch of blonde? He has the greenest eyes I've ever seen. Earlier, I thought I was going to drown in them. They'd been so intense as they looked into my plain brown ones...
He and his colleagues – the huge bear of a man and the statuesque blonde beauty – hadn't exactly been wearing puffy jackets indicating they were with the FBI like they do in the movies. But I've visited my father at his work many times, and they were new faces. They looked so out of place here, and they were so authoritative, especially Cullen. Without thinking, I'd grabbed his shirt, pleading for him to help me from going insane with guilt.
I nod numbly. "Yes, I'm feeling better. Thank you."
He sits in front of me so that there's a desk between us. "Do you think you can tell me what happened last night?" he asks quietly. "Every detail, if possible."
I look at him. Involuntarily, it seems, my hands ball up into fists to stop the trembling.
"I know you're scared, Miss Swan," Agent Cullen says. "You've already been incredibly brave by speaking up that you were there. Nobody blames you for hiding the truth the first time. But now, I need you to go back and tell me everything you know. Only then can we find the man who did this to your coworker. Can you do that for me?"
I blink once. Twice. Three times. I feel so tired that I can just fall asleep listening to his soothing, musical voice. But he's looking at me so expectantly. There's a warmth in his beautiful eyes, a sincerity that can't be found anywhere else. Perhaps that's what made me trust him and not his colleagues. Maybe his eyes were the reason I insisted on talking to Agent Cullen only. They hold a certain warmth.
"Bella," I say.
He inclines his head. "Excuse me?"
"Please call me Bella," I request. "It'll be easier for me...I think." I need some familiarity. I need the trust to trust him.
He hesitates, then nods. "Bella."
I like the way my name rolls off his tongue. He's a very handsome man. Normally, I would blush and become way clumsier than I am normally in front of such a devastatingly gorgeous face. But right now, I can't bring myself to feel embarrassed about anything. Not even the way I'd grabbed tightly to his shirt, stretching it out, as well as soaking it with salty tears.
"Good," I say dazily. I want nothing more than to sleep right now. At the same time, I'm afraid to. I know if I go to sleep now, I would see that scene all over again.
"Then please call me Edward," he says. "I call you Bella, you call me Edward. How's that?"
I nod once. "Edward."
"Now, Bella. Can you please tell me what you saw?"
My eyes fall to the cup of coffee. It's long since cooled off, but I take it and down it all in one shot. Maybe caffeine will help. Once I finish the cup, I nod and take a deep breath.
Edward doesn't take notes. He just waits patiently, studying my face. He looks like a friend who's simply listening to a rant.
"My coworkers and I were working late," I begin. I clear my throat and start again. "We had a deadline to meet the next day and we were wrapping up our presentation data. It must have been around one in the morning when I got up to take a break."
As I speak, my voice gets stronger. I speak faster too, as though in a hurry to get it all out. It's easier to speak now that I've started. I need to tell someone, or I would go crazy.
"I usually go up to the roof during my breaks. It felt stuffy in the office and I was getting tired, so I went up there to clear my head. I stayed there for about ten or fifteen minutes and was about to head back downstairs when I heard the roof door banging. There was a huge container on the roof, and some recycling bins. Something told me to hide, so I hid behind the bins."
I pause. He doesn't speak and simply waits.
"There were two people. A man and a woman. She was screaming and he was cursing. He shoved her against the railing. When she turned around, I recognized her as Jessica, one of my coworkers."
"What was your relationship with Jessica Stanley like, Bella?" Edward asks.
It doesn't feel like an interrogation. More like he's asking because he's curious. I know that's not the case and he's simply doing his job, but it helps a lot. It's easier to talk this way. Just imagine he's a friend. You're telling a friend.
"I wasn't very close to her," I answer. "We were acquaintances, nothing more. We'd sometimes talk at work, if we were eating lunch together. That's about it."
He nods. "Please continue."
"He slapped her. He said something about her trying to leave him without his permission. And then..." I have to stop abruptly to try to regain a calm breath.
"Bella?"
"He raped her," I whisper.
His face darkens.
"I couldn't look away. I wanted to...I knew I had to help, somehow. But I couldn't move." Tears fill my eyes again. "When he was finished, he slapped her again. She fell down. She was exhausted from resisting; she didn't fight when he dragged her up again. He started choking her and pushed her up against the railing. And I knew." I'm whispering again. "I knew she wouldn't survive. She was a dead woman. I think she knew too. She looked so scared, but she'd given up. I couldn't even muster up the courage to confront him...I was scared he would hurt me too."
I break down again, the guilt flooding through me. Suddenly, I find myself in Edward's embrace again. He shushes me and rubs my back soothingly. "No one blames you, Bella," he murmurs. "You did the right thing. You're right; he probably would've hurt you if he knew you were there."
"I had to call for help," I gasp. "But I didn't have my phone with me. And I just watched. I watched him push her. She went over the railing, and I just watched."
It takes a while for me to calm down again. All the while, Edward is endlessly patient with me. I'm so grateful, because this is harder than I ever imagined it to be. Finally, I calm down enough for him to move away. But he doesn't go back to his seat. He keeps kneeling beside me. I go on.
"He left after making sure she was dead. I was so shocked, I couldn't move. But after a while, I went to go check. I saw her...lying there. On the car. I was horrified, and I was so scared that I didn't know what to do. I just ran. When the police questioned me, I lied and said I was in the bathroom. But I just felt so guilty, knowing I was the only witness...so I came back."
"You did the right thing," Edward repeats. "You were so brave, Bella. Thank you for telling me this."
I take a deep breath. The hardest part is over. I did it.
"Did you see the man who did it, Bella?" he asks. "Did you see his face?"
I stare at him. "See him?"
"Did you see what he looked like?"
My face contorts and the tears flood my eyes once more. "I did more than see him. I recognized him."
His eyes widen.
"I know who killed Jessica."
AN: Review and favorite! Thank you for reading!
