A/N: According to this chapter, it's been three months since Bella was kidnapped and forced to do terrible things. I hope everyone is still with me on this angsty story. I've never written anything like this, so it's a bit of a learning experience for me. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and added my stories to your favorites and alerts. It means the world to me.

Three Months Later

Edward

Finally, a day off. I was still on call, but so far my phone hadn't rang in two hours.

The Phantom was on the loose, and my unit and I had been running rampant searching for him with no luck. Just when we thought we had a lead or came close to finding him, he disappeared again.

The Phantom was a serial rapist and killer, named thus because at every scene of his crimes, he left a red rose, much like The Phantom of the Opera. He so far had four victims; all young women aged eighteen to twenty-nine. We had been chasing him for the last sixteen days, and today was my first day off since we realized we were dealing with a serial killer. His nickname was pretty lame; I knew that if I was as much a monster as him, I would be offended. It wasn't very creative, but at least we knew who we were talking about since we did not know his real name. He hid his identity well.

I thought being head of the Phantom case would be the greatest reward ever, and I knew I would make my boss, Marcus Lothario, glad of his choice in picking me. But it wasn't quite as much fun as I thought it would be. The hours and sweat and worry stressed me to no end. I'd only been with the FBI for two years now, but it felt like forever.

I used to drive a police cruiser and bring donuts to the chief every morning, but I'd worked my way up quickly. I didn't want to let Marcus down, and I especially didn't want to let the people of my beloved city down. After all I had been through here and all I had seen, I never wanted to see everything fall to pieces. And to make sure that didn't happen, I had to rid the city of that monster.

And monster he was; there was no denying what he deserved—a lifetime in prison or an immediate death sentence. Either scenario would be music to my ears.

The four women's brutally beaten faces were posted on the wall in my office. They were alike in many ways; all young, all thin, none were exceptionally attractive, but there was one similarity that confused me beyond belief: they were all prostitutes. At first I thought he was killing prostitutes because they were easy prey and easy to convince into following. But that wasn't it at all. From what I had found out from sources on the streets, the prostitutes hadn't gone with him for money. They'd gone completely willingly, no money involved. This was the reason I figured he would be a good looking man; why else would a prostitute leave with a man without being paid for it?

He had slaughtered them all in different ways. The first had been suffocated; the killer had shoved a bottle of wine down her throat. We guessed she'd been drinking from the bottle and suddenly plop! down her throat. There were signs of sexual abuse—no DNA left, of course—but we still questioned if it was done before or during the suffocation. Or perhaps he was also a necrophiliac, another sick name to add to this genius pain in the ass. He'd left her sitting at the table in the hotel room, recently eaten plates of food spread out next to her only to be found by room service the next day. A single red rose lay in the bathroom, our only clue.

The next victim was found in a much nicer hotel room. She'd been killed by a single stab wound in the heart. He'd left her body in the bathtub. Here was the catch: she was covered in money in the tub. Hundreds of one dollar bills lay under her and over her dead body. The rose was there again, that time on top of the television in the living room, clean of fingerprints. He was smart, that damn Phantom.

That was when we started to see the pattern. The next girl was killed on a couch, half a bag of popcorn sitting in her lap. The fourth and latest girl was chained to a wall inside an abandoned warehouse. Hers was the most brutal; there were slices all over her skin, and it was obvious she'd put up a fight. Large, angry gashes lined her neck and head. The pattern was obvious: he was recreating the seven deadly sins. The first had been gluttony, then greed, then sloth, and finally anger. There were only three left, and he was working quickly.

It was my only day off in two weeks, and thinking about the Phantom made me want to call off my day off and return to the station, as much as my brain needed a break. It was now noon, and I was starting to grow restless. I lay in my bed, trying to sleep, but my mind wouldn't have that.

Where is he? I thought. When is he going to strike again?

I needed sleep; I knew if I didn't eat a nice meal and sleep more than four hours, I was going to be no use to my unit tomorrow. Reluctantly, I got up from bed and made myself a sandwich.

My house was very quaint. I could afford more, but there was really no need. My parents had both been dead for years now. My dad had gone first, a stroke claiming his life not long after Hurricane Katrina. It was right before my High School graduation, and I'd had to give his ticket to my Aunt Muriel. That saying about once a person loses whom he loves, he follows soon after—that was the case for my parents. My mom was never diagnosed with breast cancer, but that was what the autopsy said caused her death. It was only two years after my father's death, and I knew that she had to have known what she had. She hid it well from me. I regretted not having gone see her more often; I should have stayed living with her instead of moving into an apartment on campus when I started college. As far as I knew, she never sought treatment. At first I'd been angry with her for leaving me on this Earth virtually alone, but then I realized why she never wanted my or anyone else's help. She wanted to be with my dad again, and I could never be mad at her for that.

Pictures of my parents were everywhere in my small house. There was even one next to the speedometer in my Volvo, the only thing I had ever splurged on. I figured if I wasn't going to get a beautiful house, I may as well get a beautiful car. My mom had driven an old Volvo, and I could only imagine what she would say if she saw the one I had now.

Mom would either reprimand me for buying something so expensive or rejoice that I'd taken after her in my taste of vehicle. I smiled, remembering the last thing she had said to me before I found out she was gone. Her sweet blue eyes had been both kind and sad when she'd fussed me.

Thinking of her eyes made me choke on the water I was currently sipping. It had sprouted an idea in my head, so genius and thrilling yet I dreaded it at the same time.

I grabbed a light jacket and ran to my car.

"Edward?" James said through the crack in the door.

"Hello, James. Long time no see, huh?" I said, holding in a frown. The stale smell of cigarette fumed out of the front door and into my nose.

He grimaced and said nothing. "Are you going to let me in?" I thought about taking out my badge, but there was really no point. He knew what I was, even though we hadn't seen each other in months. He hadn't forgotten. He seemed to debate opening the door to me or not. He looked back into the house before looking back at me. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I just want to talk. I'm not here to arrest anyone." With that, he hesitantly opened the door wider and let me in.

I walked into the small living room, peering around secretly. He obviously knew better than to let the girls wander around freely, especially with me here. I took in the room before me, trying to ignore the horrible smell. I was the type of person to only smoke when I drank, so I wasn't used to the smell. I couldn't imagine sleeping here every night.

James clapped his hands together awkwardly. "Beer?" he asked.

"Sure," I said. I sat down on the small couch across from the television. James came back with two beers and handed one to me before sitting across from me in an old leather recliner. The sound of us popping open the cans in the midst of the silence made the elephant in the room only get bigger. I waited for him to take a sip before doing so myself.

"I think I know what you're here for," he said suddenly. I was glad we wouldn't be making useless small talk. I didn't care about him and he surely didn't care about me. Not anymore.

"What am I here for?" I asked him.

"That fucking murderer. He's…a fucking lunatic," James continued.

I huffed and muttered, "You're not much better." I knew he heard me, but he didn't comment, probably because deep inside, he knew I spoke the truth.

"You're not here to discuss my issues. You want to ask me questions about the Phantom."

"How did you hear that name?"

"It was in the paper the other day after the last murder. Not a very creative nickname, I have to say."

"I was thinking the same thing this morning," I said. James let out a low, fake chuckle. We actually agreed on something; it was a sign of the apocalypse.

It was silent for a few more minutes until I decided the sooner I talked to him, the sooner I could leave.

"So…" I started.

"Edward, I don't know anything."

"What do you mean? How could you know nothing about this guy?"

"Royce handles everything, Edward. I don't really get a say in much. I've never dealt with the clients"—I scoffed at the word clients—"and I only see them when they walk out the bar."

"So you know no one that could possibly be a suspect? You have to at least know other pimps and other hookers. Had you ever seen any of the girls who were killed?" I asked.

James shook his head. "I knew one of them. The one that was found in a bathtub. I forgot her name, but I used to see her every once in a while. Edward, the other prostitutes don't come anywhere near our territory because they know that one of Royce's girls will always get picked before they will. They don't like the competition. So, no, I don't really see other girls leaving with men. I barely even see Royce's girls, and I practically live with them!"

Out of nowhere, I heard a retching sound nearby and turned my head to find the source.

"Don't mind that," James said, turning my attention back to him.

"What about Royce's girls. I know you don't see much of them when they're actually on the street, but has Royce talked about any men that wanted to…" I felt disgusted saying this… "rent one of yours, and he looked fishy and was turned away?"

I drank the rest of my beer while James thought hard.

"I mean, there was this one guy who wanted to buy. But he was turned away because he didn't have enough money, not because he was untrustworthy or anything." His answer was very satisfying, but I knew it was all I was going to get.

"Well, can you do me a favor?" I asked him. He frowned. "I just want you to keep a lookout for any strange man. From what I have guessed, he's going to be good looking, about 5'11", and in shape, enough that he could overtake a woman easily." James nodded.

I sighed and thought of something else, something that would surely make him want to help me catch this guy, if not for me, then for himself. "I would hate for you and Royce to lose a girl to this guy." I didn't mean one word of it, honestly. I would rather be brutally murdered than live one day like those girls, even if they were doing it willingly. I looked into James's face and tried to find the man I used to know.

He looked away from me as if he knew the purpose of my scrutiny. "Royce always checks the guys who buy. I don't think the girls are in any trouble," James said. I didn't believe him, but I wasn't going to push it. Every prostitute in the vicinity was in grave danger, and I bet they didn't even know.

"Tell the girls about what is going on. Let them know they should be wary with who to trust. I might even make a few rounds around Wryder's to see if I can find anything. And ask if they've heard anything. I mean, I know they probably don't associate with other hookers what with being the competition and all, but maybe they converse when they're out of your sight. Maybe they've heard some news or know what the guy looks like. Right now, I would take anything, even the color of his hair would help." James simply nodded at me again.

I spent another fifteen minutes on that couch talking about the Phantom with James. I didn't release any information I wasn't allowed to, but I gave him a good idea of how this guy's mind worked. My bladder called for attention just as I was getting up to leave, and instead of waiting the thirty minutes to get home and use my own bathroom, I started walking towards the one in the hall next to the kitchen.

"Wait," James called as I walked away from him, "What are you doing?"

"I just have to piss, and then I'll go."

"No, wait, use my—" Too late. I closed the door to the bathroom and turned around.

Before I could even get my hand to my zipper, I noticed a young girl slumped over the toilet, gagging weakly.

"Oh, my goodness. Are you alright?" I asked her. She had one arm wrapped limp around her legs, and the other was over the toilet seat, holding her head which was leaning over the bowl. I smelled the vomit, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the sight before me.

She started to look up at me, but her long brown hair fell in front of her face, hiding it from my view.

I quickly kneeled down and caught her hair before it could get into the toilet. I swept it back and gasped at how pale she was. She opened her eyes weakly and looked up at me. They were big, brown, bloodshot and so, so sad.

"Are you okay?" I asked her. "I'm sorry, that's a stupid question. Don't answer that." She gave me a look that said, You're right. Duh.

"James!" I called out his name angrily. He opened the door and looked down at her, blinking quickly. He always did that when he knew he was about to get bitched at.

"What is wrong with her? What did y'all do to her?"

"We didn't do anything. She caught a stomach virus last night and has been throwing up ever since. I moved her to this bathroom because I didn't want her to get the other girls sick," he said defensively.

The girl's eyes closed, and I knew she was about to pass out. "Have you fed her anything?" I asked him. He didn't answer. "James!"

"She had cereal this morning, but she threw that up, too."

"Jesus, James, she's not some dog you can lock up and forget about. And you should know not to give milk to someone with a fever! She needs water!" Her lips were cracked and dry; she was dehydrated. Her eyes fluttered open before closing again. I pulled her away from the toilet and into my arms. Her skin was hot, the fever trying to rid her body of the sickness. I carried her into the kitchen, James following close behind.

"Get her a glass of water," I ordered, angry that he had ignored this poor, sick girl. "And some crackers, too."

He did exactly as I said while I sat the girl in a chair. She was in and out. I helped her drink the water and broke the crackers into small bites for her. She ate two little packets and drank all the water, which was less than I would have liked, but good enough.

She slumped over the table and I let her sleep.

"What is her name?" I asked James. He looked from me to her, thinking. I raised an eyebrow, wanting an answer.

"I forgot."

"How could you forget her name? It's not like you have fifty girls here," I said.

"She's new. I forgot her name. It starts with a B, that's all I know." I rolled my eyes at him and turned my attention back to her.

"I'm going to get out of here," I said, standing up. "Make sure you keep giving her water and a little bit of food. If she keeps throwing up, call me. I would tell you to bring her to the hospital, but I know you're not going to do that." He huffed and turned away from me.

Before I could take a step away from them, the girl made a soft sound, trying to get my attention. She was too weak to lift her head, so I leaned over to see her face. She looked slightly better. I smiled at her and urged her to say what she wanted to. I may not have liked the decisions prostitutes made, but that didn't make them my enemies. More often than not, I felt sorry for most of them.

The girl opened her eyes more and shifted her head a tiny bit to see me better. Her eyes surprised me. Even bloodshot, they were so beautiful and expressive. There was so much depth in the way she looked at me, it was like she was trying to tell me something, but I had no idea what.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

"Um, you're welcome," I replied. She closed her eyes again. I straightened up and addressed James.

"Don't forget, keep your eyes open." With that, I walked out of the house and into my car. I drove a little faster home because then I did really need to pee.

The rest of my day off was spent on the couch watching television. There was this show called Jersey Shore that kept me entertained. I felt kind of disgusted with myself for actually sitting through two hours of pointless reality television, but I couldn't help it. When Jersey Shore was finished, I watched Keeping up with the Kardashians. And then I vowed that my next day off would be spent elsewhere, preferably a place without a TV.

The girl's pale, sick face haunted me throughout the day. I went to bed and dreamed of her, this girl whose name started with a B. I wondered what could have possibly made her want to sell her body for money. She was pretty even while being so sick; why didn't she just find her a sugar daddy or something? It wasn't the best idea, but it was surely better than working the corner.

The next morning I was awoken by unpleasant bile rising in my throat. I rushed to the toilet and vomited, realizing I'd caught the virus from the girl. I wasn't angry, though; I was glad I'd gotten close enough to help her, even if it did get me sick in the long run. I called Marcus and told him I was sick and would be no use to them until I got better. He just told me to feel better and come in if the vomiting slowed. I agreed and called one of my partners on the Phantom case, Alice.

"Hey, Edward. I heard you were sick," she answered cheerfully. She was always cheerful, even when examining blood soaked, dead bodies.

"Yeah, I got a stomach bug. How is everything going there, Al? Any news?"

"Nothing, Edward. We had the Jenson girl searched for prints twice, and I talked Greta into searching the rose one more time. I'm waiting for results now."

She was doing exactly as I would have done. I couldn't ask for more, but I was still pissed that we were getting nothing. "Well, I guess all I can say is hopefully we'll find something tomorrow." It was what I had said every day for the last two weeks.

"I bet you're sick of saying that," Alice said, sighing.

"You have no idea."

"We'll catch him, Edward."

"Yeah, when? When he's finished murdering every prostitute in town? Do you have any idea just how many women sell their bodies in this city?"

"Edward…" I immediately felt bad for letting my anger out on Alice. She didn't deserve my frustration.

"I'm sorry, Alice. That was uncalled for. I just want to find this guy."

"Me, too. And I want a day off. Jasper bought us a new electric stove a few days ago, and I can't wait to actually have time to cook something with it." I chuckled. She was the only woman I knew who jumped at the opportunity to cook something. Her husband, Jasper, was a divorce lawyer, and made a shit ton of money. We were all good friends. Alice didn't even need to work once she married Jasper, but she wanted something to do while he was gone, and she loved fighting crime with me.

"So what did you do yesterday?" she asked.

"You're never going to believe me," I answered. She knew my past with James.

"Try me, Edward Masen."

"I went see James."

"What? What made you want to do that? It's been like—"

"Eight months, I know. I just…thought he would know something."

"Did he?"

"If he did, he hid it from me. He gave me nothing. I made him promise to tell me if he found out or saw anything." Alice snorted. "I know his word doesn't mean much, but I hope I got through to him."

I pulled the phone away from my face as vomit crawled up again and I retched into the toilet I'd been next to all day. When I was done I rinsed my mouth and brought the phone back to my mouth.

"Well, that sounded like fun," Alice said, chuckling. "I'll let you go, Edward. Try to feel better. Get some rest, drink some water, watch some TV."

"Ugh, I'm so sick of TV."

"Then rent a porno."

I groaned. She laughed.

"I'll keep you posted. If anything comes up, I'll call you ASAP."

"Thanks, Al."

"Bye, boo!"

"Bye."

I pressed the end button and walked out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I crashed on the bed and turned the television on. Jersey Shore was playing again, and I just couldn't make myself change the channel.

The next day I felt infinitely better and went to work a little early, anxious to see if anything had been found. Alice hadn't called me later, so I knew nothing came up, but I was still hopeful.

The day was full of Alice and me riding around the last crime scene and asking neighbors if they had seen the Jenson woman with a man when she entered the building. Lots of people turned us away, not wanting to get involved, but there were a few households who tried to help.

Afterwards, Alice and I returned to the station and called a meeting for every agent on the case. I brought the face pictures of the girls into the room and began to ask if anyone had found anything today. Of course, no one had. I wasn't really expecting them to have solved anything. The Phantom was far too intelligent. Deep down, I knew we were only going to catch him if he wanted us to.

I wrote down the four deadly sins that had been used so far, each under the picture of the victims.

"There's only three left: envy, pride, and lust. But just because there's only three left doesn't mean we can let these three future victims die. I am going to patrol the Quarter tonight with Alice, and I want all of you to break into groups of two and—"

I was interrupted by Marcus, who opened the door to the meeting room and gave me a look that told me it was urgent. "Hang on," I said to my group and walked out to talk to him.

"What's up?" I asked him.

He shook his head and sighed. "Another girl was just found in a dumpster behind a gas station in Gentilly. I need you to get together a few people and get there as soon as possible." I nodded solemnly. He gave me directions to the new crime scene and I did exactly as he said.

I told everyone what happened and picked out four people to follow Alice and me to the scene.

Alice and I were the first to arrive. We showed our badges to the police blocking the gas station and they let us through the yellow Do Not Cross tape.

"Shit!" I said when I looked into the dumpster. I had to stand on a bucket to be able to peer into it. I got down and kicked the dumpster with my foot. Alice took a look next before putting a hand on my shoulder to calm me. I laid my hands on my hips and took a minute to forget my feelings on what was going on long enough to get my job done.

"Lift her out of the dumpster," I ordered the people around me. They did as I said and laid her down on the ground. The blood splatter analysis took pictures of the ruined body while I tried not to vomit.

The woman's breasts had been cut off, and there was blood leaking from her center, but I didn't get any closer to find out why. Her lingerie was soaked in blood, and I had a feeling what this deadly sin was: lust. I watched as they put the white bag over her body and loaded her into the coroner's vehicle to have her examined.

I ran my fingers through my hair and asked the group of detectives if they had found anything in the building.

"The rose is over there," Will said. He pointed towards the barbed wire fence behind the dumpster.

I walked over and took a look at the beautiful flower. Alice followed me. It was hanging upside down from the barbed wire, a small string tied to the bottom of the stem.

"What does it mean, Edward?" Alice asked.

"It means the next victim is going to be hanged."

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter! Can anyone guess how Edward knows James? And what sin is the Phantom going to use next? I got the idea of killing prostitutes from that show, Dexter. I love that show! I hope you guys aren't too grossed out with me yet. Cause it's going to get crazy.

I want to hear your thoughts! Please review! I slaved over this chapter. I think I deserve a comment in return! :)

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