A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and favorited this story so far! Y'all rock. This chapter ends with a cliff-hanger, but I promise Chapter 3 will be up soon! For those who just cannot wait, the first three chapters of this story are posted at twilighted. Here, however, you will find the better-edited editions.
Thanks to patsyrobinson for being an awesome beta!
And, a disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, I merely toy with Stephenie Meyer's world for my own joy and entertainment!
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Bella
He was more than shocked when I flung his massive double doors wide open. One cracked satisfyingly against the wall as I stormed in.
"Excuse me Roger, I'm going to have to call you back." He hung up the phone and rose from behind his desk.
He was livid, fists clenched at his sides, eyes hard pools of green. "Just who the hell do you think—" but I cut him off. I was not in the mood to play nice. I worked hard to maintain a professional demeanor and to refrain from calling him the slew of colorful four-letter words that danced on the tip of my tongue, aching for release.
Instead of letting loose, I settled for a rather tame version of my thoughts. "You've got some nerve, Mr. Cullen. First you try to get me taken off of my case, and then you have your people lie to a federal officer about your whereabouts! Are you trying to impede my investigation?" I was pissed and, unlike a certain someone, I actually had a reason for my fury. I'd never questioned a victim quite as vigorously before. But, hell, he angered me.
"Look, I don't care how much experience you've got, you're obviously too young to be heading up this case. How old are you? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Too much is at stake. It's nothing personal, but I want someone capable of apprehending these criminals. And you, well, you're just not." His tone was even, chilling, though I could tell that his blood was boiling. "Besides, if you were halfway competent, you'd realize that faking a business trip would throw off whomever is after me. It'd be hard for them to kill me if they can't find me. You've effectively ruined my plan now."
His logic made sense on some level, but his lack of communication did not. "You should have made my office aware of your true location," was my brilliant retort.
"You're not my babysitter. I don't have to tell you where I go or whom I see or what I do. I don't have to trust some underage girl with my safety. And you can rest assured that you'll be off this case in no time flat."
"Well, luckily for me it's not up to you. And I will run this investigation the way I see fit. If you're not happy with that then feel free to hire your own investigator. Just stay out of my way." I didn't know where my sudden boldness came from. The fact that he was trying to remove me from this case aggravated me to no end; the name-calling didn't help either.
"And, though this isn't even remotely your business, I'm twenty-eight. I've been working with the FBI for nearly ten years." A small fib, but only if one didn't count summer internships during college as work. I continued, wanting to impress upon him my qualifications. "I have far more experience that you give me credit for. I am not some rookie agent still wet behind the ears. So. Back. Off." I enunciated each word slowly, letting him know that I meant business and wouldn't be intimidated. I watched him closely to gauge what kind of trouble he would give me now and if he'd back the hell off. He had cooled his features, wearing what I guessed was his well-practiced business expression so that he would give away nothing of his emotions.
Finally, he spoke. "I had my own investigator on the job before the FBI was even involved, but perhaps you two should coordinate your efforts—for as long as you're assigned to this case." I guess I should have realized a man in Mr. Cullen's position already had his own people working to clean up this mess. For some reason his admission caught me by surprise.
"That would be…helpful. Thanks." I couldn't catch myself before the last word popped out. Why should I be thanking him for his lack of faith in me and my organization? Curses!
"Here is his number. His name is Jasper Whitlock." He handed me a slip of high-quality, expensive paper with a number elegantly scribbled across it. I pocketed it.
"There are a few more questions I need to ask you, Mr. Cullen," I said, sitting down opposite from where he was still standing. I wasn't giving him an option. I flipped out my handy-dandy, FBI-issued steno-book and scribbled a few notes before I began. I wanted to make sure that I asked every question pertinent to the investigation.
He sat down wordlessly, a hard edge still lining his face.
"Frank told me that the perpetrators had access to the garage. Has anyone's security card been reported missing or stolen recently?" I worked to put my game face on. It was time to get down to business and put his childishness behind me—well, us. I wasn't alone in this little confrontation.
"No." I could tell he was going to make this difficult.
"Okay, I'll need a list of all the security cards issued to your employees within the last six months." That should be recent enough. Cullen Corp.'s latest negotiations with the government stretched back only four weeks before the deal was brokered. Cullen must have given them one steal of a deal for the process to have lasted such a short period of time.
"Nancy can get that for you." Thanks, Mr. Personality, for gracing me with your answers, I thought wryly.
"And, you haven't thought of anything else that could be useful?"
He shook his head as a buzzing in my pocket interrupted my line of questioning. Mike was calling.
"Excuse me for a moment, I need to take this." I stood up and moved toward the exit.
"Agent Swan," I answered.
"Bella, I think I might have found something. Can you get back here now?" Mike's voice held a hint of urgency, an emotion usually foreign to him. I couldn't remember a time when Mike was anything but laid back, if eager, even when working on the most gruesome of cases.
"I'm on my way." I snapped my cell shut and turned back to Mr. Cullen who was still seated behind his desk. My phone conversation hadn't been long enough for me to reach the doors. Damn, his office is big.
"I've got to go, Mr. Cullen, but I expect that you'll be in town if I have any more questions?"
He nodded, again preferring wordless communication.
On my way to the elevator I asked Nancy to fax over a list of everyone who had received a security card within the last two months. She promised she would get to it right away.
I left the Cullen Corp. frustrated. Why was he making this so difficult? Perhaps he had more faith in a simple private investigator than he did in the government. I didn't exactly blame him. Red tape and procedural policy often hindered, or at least slowed, investigations. Still, I wasn't exactly a rookie. I had a few rather large notches on my belt and could skirt the rules when needed.
Fingering the slip of paper in my pocket, I reminded myself to call Jasper Whitlock the next chance I got and hurried to the lot.
---
Edward
That woman was infuriating. And yet, try as I might, I couldn't suppress my animalistic attraction to her. I had never been so powerfully drawn to anyone else in my life, and I'd had more than my fair share of women. Something about her lured me in like a siren's call. She sang to me.
I hadn't meant to be so rude to her but I didn't like the hold she had over me. Mother was always telling me I was prone to overreaction. I suppose my anger toward Agent Swan, Bella, might have been slightly out of line—but hell, I'd almost died. People could afford to cut me a few inches of slack.
I refocused my thoughts, trying to step back and analyze the situation. Bella wasn't beautiful, at least in the conventional sense. But her eyes were a warm, buttery brown. She had hair that cascaded down her back in dark auburn ripples. Her skin was translucent, silkier than any other woman I'd known—at least, that's how I imagined it would feel under my touch. I'd caught a faint whiff of her scent as she huffed into my office. She smelled heavenly. I imagined how she would taste and lost myself in a sensual fantasy involving Bella and various desserts. Annoyed, I snapped myself out my daydream and forced the yearning to devour her back down.
I couldn't help but admit that Bella Swan was an enigma. When she looked at me I found it hard to concentrate. When she yelled at me I found it hard not laugh. I didn't think a kitten could look more harmless when riled. When she had fallen in my office yesterday it had taken every ounce of brute discipline I had not to reach out and help her up. That would have surely been my undoing. I wonder how quickly she would run away and how loudly she would scream if she even realized that I had succumbed to rather base fantasies of her.
But, I had to give her credit. She had more balls than most of the men I interacted with on a daily basis. She didn't even pretend to kiss my ass. And she didn't hit on me. I was more than sick of women practically flinging themselves at me everywhere I went. I had yet to meet someone who could hold my interest for longer than a few months, though most didn't make it past the first date.
I found it highly disturbing that Bella had been assigned to my case. She hardly seemed qualified; she was bumbling and clumsy, and seemed more like a college student than a federal employee. Her supervisor had vehemently disagreed but I couldn't help but wonder if he had his own sick fantasies about her that might have been impairing his judgment. Why else would he have jumped to her defense so quickly? He was very protective of Bella.
Despite his confidence in her, I wasn't convinced. I had no reason to trust her and no knowledge of her background. She could be working for the very people trying to kill me for all I knew. My initial impression aside, she had caught me by surprise when she told me her age. I thought twenty-four was a stretch, but twenty-eight? She might be more qualified than I had originally thought. And if she'd been working with the FBI for almost ten years she must've started interning during college. Interesting. I would have to call Jasper and see if I could get some information about this odd woman.
For now, I would do my best to get her removed anyway, though my conscience tingled a little at my motives for desiring her absence. I didn't like my attraction to her. I didn't want to be around her, at her mercy, day in and day out until this wretched case was solved—or until I died.
---
Bella
Mike was nearly wearing a hole in my office floor, pacing to and fro, when I returned. I'd taken the long route back to the office. My encounter with Mr. Cullen had left me a bit shaky. I truly loathed conflict, aside from capturing criminals, but I couldn't let him sully my reputation without at least giving him a piece of my mind—and I felt like I had at least held my own.
"Bella!" Mike all but screamed at me, screwing up his face much like a five-year-old does when he demands candy. What the hell was his hurry?
"Bella," he started again, still worked-up, "we got a picture from one of the traffic lights near Cullen Corp."
"Okay," I responded hesitantly, still trying to guess why Mike was so worked up, "so what's in it?"
"Come with me," he said, barely giving me time to finish my question as he hurried me out the door.
The audio-visual department took up an entire floor of the sizable Hoover building. Office after office was devoted to acquiring and analyzing video and audio recordings, pictures, and other media involved in hundreds of cases.
Mike led me to one of the viewing rooms and sat next to me at a computer that likely cost more than my car. A picture was up on the screen of a blue Honda running a red light. Behind it sat a black Mercedes. He pushed a few buttons and the image zoomed in on the Mercedes. Its bumper was smashed, as though it had been involved in a collision—or had crashed through a security gate. I grew excited.
"This picture was taken at about 8:15 yesterday morning. So, assuming that Mr. Cullen got the time of his attack right, this is the car that his attackers drove. Its position also gives us an idea of the direction they were heading. We might be able to find the car if they ditched it on their way out of town." Mike was right. Though the car would've undoubtedly been meticulously scrubbed of every incriminating fiber, it might still provide an invaluable clue. A partial print, a drop of sweat, even an eyelash could all propel the investigation one step further.
"Good job, Mike," I complimented him. He beamed momentarily before turning back to the screen.
"That's not all," he said, as he zoomed in closer. The resolution had started to get grainy. He cleaned up the image as best he could but it was still hard to make out. I saw two men in the front seat. Their faces were too blurry to distinguish any identifiable features.
"Can this be enhanced more?" I asked.
He nodded. "It'll take a few hours, maybe even a day, but I've got Johnson on it." David Johnson was simply one of the best tech-analysts I knew. If anyone could make this image usable, it would be Dave.
"Great, let me know when it's ready. Unless there's anything else, I've got to get back upstairs and make some phone calls." Mike was more than happy to escort me back to my office, despite my reassurance that I was perfectly capable of making it upstairs by myself. I wasn't particularly fond of his hand resting on the small of my back either. Ugh.
"Mike, remove your hand," I said in a perilously-low voice, "now." He grimaced at being called out but moved the offending appendage.
I sat behind my desk, waiting for Mike to leave, before getting back up and going to see Mitch.
I tapped lightly on his door and heard a gruff "Come in!" from inside.
I poked my head in. "Oh good, Bella, it's you. I'm getting damn sick of Newton constantly pestering me with every new idea he has." I smiled. Apparently I wasn't the only one whom Mike drove up a wall, though I highly doubted that he put his hand anywhere near Mitch's backside.
"Mitch, I went to see Mr. Cullen today." His expression stopped me in my tracks. It was not happy.
"What?!" he all but shrieked.
"Uh, I'm sorry, was I not supposed to go over there?"
"No, that's not it. Cullen is in town?" I gulped, forgetting that he had lied about his whereabouts. I didn't much care for the man but I also didn't want him to spend too much time in jail—or to die. Mitch's expression was positively murderous.
"Yes, he faked his business trip to throw off the people who want him dead." It made sense. But it still sucked that I had to explain all of this to the very red-faced Mitch.
"He shouldn't have lied to us. Hale went over there looking for him—Cullen's people told her he was gone!"
Duh, I had forgotten that a detail was supposed to be with him 24-7.
"Well, he's probably still over there. You should send her soon if you want to catch him before he decides to leave for real."
"You're right. It's like the bastard has a death wish. Why is he trying to hamstring this investigation?"
"He's got his own man on the job. I'm actually going to go call him right now to see if he's got any information that we don't."
Mitch didn't look surprised by this little revelation. "Figures. Cullen hasn't exactly made any attempt to hide his dissatisfaction with our progress. But honestly, what can he expect after just one day?" Mitch's sentiments echoed my own perfectly.
"I don't know. Mike and I are working on a few new leads. I promise I'll keep you posted," I added. He nodded and I went back to my office.
As I dialed the number written out on the sheet of paper before me, I couldn't help but grow a bit nervous. What if this Jasper Whitlock person had made more progress than I? What if he was closer to solving the case? That wouldn't do much to improve my reputation in the office—or at a certain corporation.
"Jasper speaking."
"Hello, Mr. Whitlock, this is Agent Swan from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Edward Cullen gave me your number."
"Ah, Agent Swan, I've been expecting to hear from you. We've got some matters to discuss. Where can I meet you?" I hadn't expected his enthusiasm.
"Uh, can you meet me downtown?"
"Yes."
"How about the Bistro D'OC in one hour?"
"See you then," he said just before our conversation clicked to an end.
Most of the PIs I'd worked with over the years had definite chips on their shoulders. They were under some impression that as a federal agent I looked down upon their work. Quite the opposite—there were certain boundaries that I couldn't cross as a government employee; they were free to hop over those boundaries any time a case demanded it. PIs were some of the most aggressive, tenacious people out there and I had nothing but respect for their craft. Jasper's eagerness to work with me was surprising, to say the least.
Thinking about boundaries invariably reminded me of the other person I needed to call. Jake. I wasn't looking forward to this conversation. Things were still strained between the two of us. But, I needed his help and it would be good to hear his voice, at least.
When I'd moved to DC, Jake had followed. He felt like it was his responsibility to keep an eye on me. He'd gone to the University of Arizona so we could spend my last two years there together. He had traipsed cross-country to DC less than a week after he graduated from college, putting his criminal justice degree to use by joining the police force here. With his physical strength and size he was a shoo-in with any police department he chose. And, to be honest, police work suited him. He had made great friends and enjoyed his job, but I still wished he would move back home.
He and I had entered law enforcement for the same reason. But, he reveled in the pure adrenaline rush of chasing down petty criminals, whereas I preferred to outwit them. He liked high-speed car-chases, bashing heads together, and stale cups of coffee. I enjoyed tracking clues down and analyzing them. He said that if he wanted to solve mysteries he'd do the crossword puzzle each Sunday. He needed action. I needed strategy. Outsmarting a mastermind was what my passion.
When Jake first came to DC we spent most of our free time together. It was almost like it had been back home…almost. But, the more we hung out the greater his expectations were. I knew that we would never get back together, but he always held out hope that we would.
I encouraged him to move back to Washington, reminding him of his obligations to his tribe and of family ties back in La Push. He'd adamantly argued that Billy, having married Sue Clearwater after Harry's death, was fine on his own and that Sam Uley was well-equipped to lead the Quileutes.
We got into a heated argument about it. I told him that I was a big girl and didn't need a lapdog following me around all the time. I was harsher than I should have been but he just wouldn't take a hint. He told me that I should stop living in the past and get a real life. I kicked him out of my apartment. Since then, things were never quite the same. We both had cooled off and apologized, but we didn't spend nearly as much time together. It was odd if we saw each more often than once a month at this point. I still considered him a friend, but I just wasn't as close to him anymore. The Jacob Black of my past died when my youth did.
"DC Metro Police, how may I direct your call?" a generic female voice greeted me.
"Officer Black, please."
"One moment." I listened to the Most Wanted list being rattled off in the background, in place of elevator music, before Jake picked up.
"Jacob Black."
"Hi, Jake, it's Bella."
"Bella! Hey! How are you doing?"
"Okay. I'm actually calling about a case. Do you have a few minutes?
"Absolutely. What's up?"
"Would mind checking to see if a black Mercedes has been picked up within the last 24 hours? The front bumper would be banged up a bit or recently repaired. No plates."
"Sure, let me make a few calls and I'll get back you."
"Great, thanks."
"No prob, Bells."
"Oh, and Jake?"
"Yes?"
"How are you?"
"I'm okay. I miss you."
And there it was, the reason I didn't want to call. I would always love Jake, in a way, but our relationship just didn't work out. I had been the one to break things off. Though he still seemed to hang onto a smidgen of hope that we'd end up together, I knew that would never happen.
"Yeah, I miss hanging with you too." I did miss him. I just didn't want anything other than friendship.
"Do you wanna hang out? You know, for old times' sake?"
"Are you sure that's the best idea, Jake?"
"I want to see you, Bella. I promise I won't go all soft on you. Just a movie or some kickboxing. Whatever you want."
"Sure, Sure, Jake, sounds like fun. I'll call you."
"Alright. Bye Bells."
"Bye Jake."
I thought about our relationship. It had been so natural at first. He was always so cheerful and I loved spending time with him. But I realized after we'd been going out for almost a year that I thought of him more like a friend than a lover. I hated to hurt him, but he deserved someone who could give all of herself to him. I just wasn't that person.
I stopped my pity-party and looked at the clock. Eek! Time to get going. Located one block up and over, Bistro D'OC was my favorite lunchtime haunt—when I tore myself away from work, that is. I arrived a few minutes early and snagged a table adjacent to a window overlooking the street. From my perch I had a great view of Ford's Theatre.
The man I assumed to be Jasper arrived on time. I studied him as he approached. He was tall and handsome, with blonde hair expertly sculpted. He probably spends more time getting ready in the morning than I do, I laughed to myself. He had piercing blue eyes only intensified by the luscious lashes framing them.
"I'm Special Agent Bella Swan." I stood and shook his hand. He easily towered over my small frame.
"Nice to meet you Agent Swan, Jasper Whitlock at your service."
"Well, Mr. Whitlock—"
He cut me off, "Jasper." Uh. Okay.
"Jasper, then, how much has Mr. Cullen told you?"
"I know everything that he knows. But I could use some more information to better investigate things on my end."
"I understand that. Unfortunately, as you're well-aware, the details of the case are classified. If we're going to discuss the investigation I need to know what you already know. I'm not permitted to divulge any new information to you."
He had surmised as much, though he didn't seem happy about it. "I see. Well, this might complicate things on my end. What do I get out of helping you? I have a reputation to uphold and I can't very well contribute if I'm kept in the dark."
"I understand your dilemma, Jasper. I can tell you this—if we're on the same page, we can discuss theories…hypothetically, of course."
He caught my double-meaning at once. Of course I hadn't expected him to give up all of his intel while he got nothing in return. I'd cooperate with him in a roundabout way.
"Well then, Agent Swan—"
It was my turn to interrupt, "Bella."
"Well then, Bella," he started again, "let's get to work." He grinned at me then, unleashing his Southern charm. Though I'd only known him for minutes, I felt at ease. He had a natural charisma that made him easy to talk to. A little too easy. I'd have to be careful not to overstep my bounds here and give away national secrets.
We spent a couple of hours exchanging data. He seemed impressed by the amount of progress I'd made over the last twenty-eight hours. "You know, coming here, I expected to be dealing with an absolute dolt," he said. "Edward wasn't very positive when he described you."
"I figured not. To be honest, Jasper, I don't understand why he dislikes me so much. It seems like he hated me from the moment I opened my mouth."
"That doesn't sound like Edward. Usually he's professional and polite, especially to the ladies." Jasper paused, looking briefly confused. "I bet he's just shaken up over what happened yesterday. He's never been threatened so overtly before."
I tried to take comfort in his words but somehow Jasper left me more exacerbated than before. Being rude to the agent who was trying to unravel his case didn't seem like the best game-plan.
"Yeah, I agree," he replied. Crap, I hadn't meant to speak that last thought aloud.
"Still, I'd give him a chance. I think he'll come around. It's not like you have a third eye or webbed hands," he joked. "Plus you really seem to know what you're talking about." Being around Jasper was fun. He was a catch—and I had just the friend for him too, assuming he was single.
We finished up our lunch and headed out, promising to regroup again in a few days.
On my way back to the office, I flipped open my phone and called Alice. Being with Jasper made me think of her and how long it'd been since we'd had some genuine girl time. I got her voicemail. She was probably swamped. Working as an apprentice of sorts for an aspiring designer didn't afford her much personal time. DC wasn't really known as a big fashion Mecca but she'd managed to find a job working with an up-and-coming designer who loved the area too much to move to New York.
I laughed out loud, startling a few nearby pedestrians by my random outburst, as I thought of the first time I'd met Alice Brandon. I had just moved to DC and needed a new suit for my job. Not knowing where to begin, I decided that the nearest mall would be as good a choice as any. I stepped out of a dressing booth to check out a suit in the full-length mirror and nearly knocked over a strange little woman. I apologized as she looked me up and down, shook her head and demanded that I take off the suit. I was too confused to argue. As soon as I came back out she grabbed my hand and whirled me around the department store. I had to explain a few times that pink was not an acceptable color to wear when working for the federal government. She huffed, but gave in eventually. By the end of the day I had three new suits that fit so well it was like they had been designed with me in mind. After exchanging numbers, she happily announced, "I think you and I are going to be great friends!" And, she was right—we were.
Alice still gave me grief over those suits. I hadn't needed to replace them yet, in my opinion. They were a little worn, true, but they were quite comfortable and I felt at ease when I wore them. At least once a month she pushed and prodded to take me shopping but I managed to avoid it. The last time I'd been shopping with Alice it had taken two security guards and a random shopper to drag her away from the store when it closed. Though she was tiny, she sure was resilient. She had resisted vehemently, shouting some nonsense about the perfect skirt that might not be there tomorrow. I was not about to put myself through that again.
"Hey, Al, it's me. I just wanted to say hi. It's been way too long, we need to catch up. I think I've got some time this weekend. Lemme know, and call me back!" It was easy to forget about all the horror in the world and to just be a young woman when I was around Alice. Her personality was captivating. And, she had more energy than anyone I'd ever met.
Thoughts about Alice fueled my walk back to the office. I spent the rest of the day going over Cullen's file, trying to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Mike said goodbye to me on his way out at around 7. I didn't look at the clock again until it was nearly 10. Yikes. I had been way too absorbed in this case.
I purposely left the file on my desk so I wouldn't be tempted to work at home tonight. I needed some time to clear my mind and think about something other than Edward Cullen.
---
Getting off the metro, I focused on finding my car in the nearly-empty parking garage. I rounded the corner, totally absorbed in thinking about the case—so much so that I didn't even see them coming until it was too late.
Calloused hands grabbed me, shoving me into a corner. We were under a staircase on the bottom floor, so deep in shadow that no passersby would see anything. There were two of them. One had his hand cupped tightly over my mouth to keep me from screaming, pinning my right side to the concrete wall with his massive body. The other reached inside my suit-coat and grabbed my sidearm, tossing it far out into the parking lot. He face was mere inches from my own. Both wore masks.
"If you know what's good for you, Bella, you'll ditch Cullen's case," the one who had snatched my weapon snarled. His words caught me by surprise. How did they know about work? How did they know my name? No, not just my name—they knew my nickname.
He suddenly socked me in the stomach. As I struggled to recover from unexpected pain, the other released my body and punched me roughly in the face, sending my mind reeling. I fell, landing hard on the grimy surface.
This day had just gone from bad to worse.