Chapter 2

Rachmaninoff, Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, op 18: Adagio Sostenuto

CharliePOV

I pulled back out onto the 101, hoping the drive back to the station would be uneventful. I'd driven this road so many times, there was nothing to prevent me from thinking about her. Catherine O'Hara. Miss Catherine O'Hara. I couldn't help but replay the last hour or so, especially when my arms were around her. I had to grab her to get her out of the way; that car was racing like a bat out of hell. I knew she didn't realize just how far she had backed up onto the road. I would've taken off after him if she hadn't been in such a predicament, but I couldn't just leave her to go after a speeder. Nope. Couldn't leave a stranded, beautiful, intriguing woman on the side of the road, all alone, with a smoking rental car.

Never been married. No kids. What was the likelihood of that this day and age? She hadn't seemed to care much for the joke, and thinking back, I was positive about it. I felt a tug of regret in my gut. Her line about Prince Charming being just a fairytale . . . a man, or men, must have hurt her bad, I would guess. At least we had something in common. For some reason, her answer concerned me even more the longer I thought about it. No woman should hurt like what I saw on her face - even if it was for only a fraction of second. I felt compelled to find out what had happened. But would she want to tell me? Would I want to tell her about Renee and me if she asked? Hmmm, food for thought.

Renee sure had cut me to the quick when she left. I knew she wasn't cut out for life in Forks, but I thought what we had, especially after we had our daughter, that it would change her. Bella was the light of both our lives. I thought she would help give Renee stability. A purpose. But neither I nor Bella could curb her need for excitement, her need to get out of Forks. I knew now what I didn't know then - my love wasn't enough. When she took Bella, they both took my heart with them.

Then there was Sue. When Harry died, well, I was just trying to help her out. We ended up having things in common, lots of things; things I couldn't really talk to anyone else about - at least, not if I didn't want to be committed. For awhile there, I thought there might be something. Yeah, we had been compatible in other ways, too, and she made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long, long time. Unfortunately, there was never any real spark, any real whatever-that-something is. I knew that now.

I imagined Catherine in my arms again. I liked the way she'd felt. I liked the way it had made me feel, especially when she looked at me with those big blue eyes; somewhere between hero and horny. I wondered what it would be like to reach up and caress her cheek, to clutch the side of her head, bend it back, and bring my lips to hers . . . I shook my head to clear the image and straightened up in my seat. What the hell was I thinking? I was no Prince Charming, that's for sure. What woman wants to be with a cop nowadays?

Whoa there, champ. You haven't even been on a date yet. Heck, you haven't even really asked her on a date. That whole, "Hey, let's do lunch or dinner or something" wasn't really your best moment. Well heck, I've been out of the game for awhile, haven't I? Shit, I didn't even know how to talk to my own daughter. How was I going to get up the stones to ask this woman out? This woman, Catherine, who I'd just met on the side of the road . . . Sounded like a movie for that girly-channel. Lifetime. Yeah, a Lifetime movie-of-the-week. Lifetime, my ass.

Wait, how was I going to contact her? I didn't get her phone number. Dammit.

I arrived at the station in a shittier mood than usual. Jones and Larson, two of my detectives, were at their desks, just itchin' to raz me about the conference. They thought I was just getting a free trip out of work and a couple nights bunk in a swanky hotel. It's not like the crime in Forks was so overwhelming that we needed to learn what the big cities were doing. Still, I felt it was important to stay on top of it. You never knew who you would meet at one of them, or when something I learned from one of these things might come in handy. Or who you would meet on the way home from one of them. . .

"Hey, Chief, how was the conference? Learn any new maneuvers? Any new detecting techniques?" Jones baited me.

"Yeah, did they serve donuts for breakfast?" Larson couldn't help himself.

If I were smart, I'd fire them on the spot. It was obvious that their detective skills were sub-par, or they would've noticed my foul mood as I walked in the door.

"If either of you says another word to me, you're fired." I kept walking.

"But Chief . . ." Jones was too stupid to shut-up.

"You're fuckin' fired, Jones," I grouchily snarled as I slammed the door of my office.

I hung my coat on the hook behind the door and turned to survey my desk. Man, I hated paperwork. Being gone for a week didn't help matters. I walked over and collapsed into my chair. I was going to have to dive right in to this or drown. I sat back for a moment and let my gaze travel out the window. It was a moonless night. Dark. A night for crime.

I imagined her looking out at the same starless sky, and wondered what she was thinking, what she was doing at this exact moment. Was she thinking of me? If she were, what was she thinking? Would she give me a chance? Did I want that chance? Yes. I thought I did, anyway. I sure as hell knew she wouldn't call me. I could tell the type of woman she was. I would have to make the first move.

I needed to call the lodge. Ah crap, they didn't have phones in the cabins - that theft there a few years back reminded me of that. Maybe they had her cell phone number on some paperwork or something. Official police business. Or she left something in my car and I wanted to return it. Yeah. Would anyone fire me for using my position to obtain information . . . about a woman? Not if I didn't tell anybody. I turned back around, the receiver of my phone in my hand, when Jones walked in. "Chief, we've got a call of a tripped alarm over at the Thrifty Mart. You wanna come?"

"I just fired you, remember?"

I got up, grabbed my coat, and followed him. My super-sleuthing to get a phone number would have to wait. Meanwhile, I'd make Jones do the shit-work on this job.

CathPOV

I checked in and got the key to my cabin, which was supposed to be right on the water. I'd asked for a single-person room with a view when I made the reservation. I'd actually shaped the L with my thumb and index finger and put it to my own forehead as the nice reservation lady took my information. There were no phones and no TVs, so I had brought a few books and some movies on my laptop. I hadn't planned on making new friends. Walking and hiking led my list of things to do, if only to make me so exhausted I would sleep. Saying I was a light sleeper was like saying Gone With the Wind was just a book, so I hoped that all the things that were likely to go bump in the night would just bump near another cabin.

Even through the window of the lodge, the twilight sky was a tapestry of purple, orange, and blue satin ribbons as the sun slowly faded to the edge of the ocean. It was so beautiful, I told the gal at the desk I would just walk to my cabin if she could point me in the right direction. I gave her the short version of the rotten luck with my rental car, purposely leaving out the identity of my savior. She reassured me that the walk wasn't too far, and that she would drive my luggage out to me if I didn't need anything right away. She handed me a map of the property, circled my cabin on it, and off I went on my first adventure. Well, actually my second, if I counted my brush with death and the subsequent rescue by Police Chief Charlie Swan.

I grabbed my backpack with my essentials and laptop, and walked out of the main lodge. As hard as I tried to focus on the beautiful view around me, my mind kept betraying me with fleeting images of Charlie. If I replayed the whole ordeal, I was stupid to think there was even a spark of interest there. Although he said he'd like to meet for lunch, or even dinner, in Forks, he was probably just being nice. Seriously, what was I thinking? He probably wouldn't even call. Besides, it's not like he could just pick up the phone and dial me directly. He hadn't asked for my cell number, and I hadn't offered, although I guess he could just call the lodge. Being the police chief, and assuming above average persuasive skills, they'd just probably give him my cabin number.

Oh, shut the eff up, O'Hara, and stop your overactive imagination. The last time you had a serious relationship, Clinton was in the White House. Should've been a sign . . .

I finally looked up, out towards the water, and took a deep breath of sea air. I felt better already. No work, no distractions, just complete solitude.

I reached what would be my humble abode for the next few weeks, went inside, and dropped my backpack. I spun back around to take in the view from my patio doors. It was everything I had hoped for and more. A quaint split-rail fence and about fifty feet of grass and sand separated me from the waves crashing onto miles of beach, a sound that I just knew would be like my own personal lullaby. Ahhh. The cabin itself was cozy - a small kitchen with a coffee maker, a comfy couch and chair with rustic wood frames and cushy pillows, a big bed all for me, and a cute little bathroom. There was a clock, but I knew I wouldn't be setting any alarm. Perfect.

The sight of the coffee maker and no coffee made me realize I needed to call the rental company in order to get another car to go into town for provisions - coffee being at the top of the list. While major meals would be eaten elsewhere - I had absolutely NO intention of cooking - snacks and cereal seemed like good ideas.

As I was on the phone with the rental company, my luggage arrived. I thanked the girl and gave her a healthy tip. Ten minutes later, I was assured of another rental arriving first thing in the morning.

After I unpacked and took a much needed shower, I realized I had nothing to do. Cripes, when in the last, oh ten years could I say that? What does one do when there's nothing to do? Well, I had come out here to think, and there was no time like the present, so I took my iPhone, grabbed a protein bar out of my bag, and went out to a lounge chair that had my name on it. I'd brought the iPhone not for its communication abilities, but because it was a cornucopia of musical genius, or at least, I thought it was. Everything from classic rock, 80s alternative, mushy romantic of any decade, classical, to current. Rachmaninoff seemed to be calling to me, so the "Piano Concerto #2 in C Minor" it was.

The first thing I noticed was just how dark it seemed. The meaning of the words "pitch black" became crystal clear. Cabins further down from me had lights on, but the two on either side of mine didn't. It gave me an eerie feeling. I thought maybe I should add some sort of lantern to my list of things to buy in town.

Suddenly I felt a chill. I shivered, but not because I was cold. I glanced around, but of course I couldn't see a damn thing. Freaking myself out on the first night in a secluded cabin was definitely not a good idea. I wondered if wild animals walked around on the property. Probably, since they were so close to the forest. It wasn't the thought of any animal that was making prickly sensations on the back of my neck, though. It was the feeling that someone was watching me.

I grabbed my iPhone, hightailed it back into the cabin, and made sure all the doors and windows were locked. So much for peaceful contemplation.

OtherPOV

The forest rendered sufficient coverage, but I had selected a delightful tree branch from which to scope my prey. It was a precarious dance she and I engaged in, unbeknownst to her. My willingness to forego immediate execution battled against my burning desire to taste her. I wanted to watch her, study her. I needed to understand why this one, seemingly inconsequential human compelled the most supreme authority in my world to send me to eliminate her. What had she done? What would she do? I hadn't been privy to the events leading up to her death, just my glorious hand in it. Of course, I couldn't hold out too long. Trying Aro's patience would not ameliorate my ascension into the inner circle.

From as far as I was, I could hear her heartbeat quicken, I'd become so attuned to this siren call of hers. As if spurred by something in the blackness, she hastened indoors, moving about to fasten every lock on every possible entrance. As if locked doors and windows would prevent my access. No, my dear. Alas, I needed to feed, a subsistence of repulsive animal blood in order to maintain my inconspicuous amber-colored eyes. A small sacrifice for such illustrious ends. So she would live . . . until tomorrow.

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