Things I don't know much about in this chapter: Fishing derbies in the Forks Area. But surely they have them, right? Also, I've never been interviewed by the FBI. Much like Quin, however, I am a big X-Files fan.
Chapter 9
An hour or so after the show ended, Alice had another vision.
"I see them going to Forks," Alice said. "But after that, nothing."
"So...they're interacting with the wolves?" Carlisle asked.
She shrugged. "Maybe... Maybe it's just another case of them not deciding anything yet?"
Carlisle considered this for a moment before speaking. "I'm not sure if I should call the Quileute and speak to them now or wait to see what comes of the agents' visit to Forks. Jasper?"
"I think you should wait," Jasper said firmly. "There's no need to go borrowing trouble. We're nowhere near them, and even if they consider the treaty 'broken' by what I've done, they aren't going to leave their own land to come looking for us. Worst case scenario, we can't go back to Forks in the future. I can live with that."
The rest nodded. "I agree," Emmett said. "Wait and see. Besides, Sam has your number. He'll call if he's got something to say. I mean, really, at this point do we even care what they think?"
"Of course we do, Emmett. I don't want to see the treaty thrown away."
"I think that ship has sailed," Rosalie said, looking pointedly at Jasper.
"Maybe. Maybe not. It didn't happen within the bounds of the treaty, and none of the people involved were from the treaty territory. While they may not be happy, I don't see them considering the treaty null and void. But you're right, Emmett. Worst case scenario will be us not being able to return to the Olympic Peninsula. A loss, to be sure, but one we can easily live with."
"Well," Rose said. "Now that that's decided, I think Emmett and I will be taking our leave. This opens a whole lot of other avenues for us to be watching. And deleting. So, we'll be back tomorrow afternoon, if that's all right with you?" she asked Carlisle.
He nodded. "That will be fine. You can call sooner if you need to. You know what to do, Emmett?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm on it. Don't worry, Carlisle."
"I'm not," the senior Cullen said, smiling. "I trust you."
Everybody filed out of the cabin and watched Rosalie and Emmett get into the truck and drive carefully back up the rutted lane towards the highway.
"Bella and I were talking about maybe going hunting" Alice said. Bella looked at her in surprise. Alice just stared at her, trying to convey some message. Bella didn't need to be a mind reader to guess what that message was.
"Oh, of course," Esme said, her gaze landing briefly on Bella before moving over to roam over the forest. "That sounds lovely. Do you think they'll be all right, Jasper?"
Jasper looked at Bella. He clearly knew something was up, that Bella had not made any such plans with Alice. He waited for a signal from her, and she sent it in the form of reassurance. He nodded slowly. "I think that would be fine...as long as they don't go too far out. Carlisle? That all right with you?"
"That sounds fine to me. I think we'll go, too, Esme. Let's meet back here in the morning. Peter, Charlotte, you sure you won't join us?"
"Nice try, Doc," Peter said. "But, no, we'll guard the fort while you're gone. Maybe try to win back some of that money Jasper owes me in poker."
Carlisle shrugged. "It's always worth asking," he said.
Christina sighed and lowered her head to the table, resting her forehead on her crossed arms.
"Everything points to vampires," Quin said, almost cheerfully.
"Everything points to a bunch of crazy people," Christina said, without looking up. "That Heriberto was running some sort of a sick cult, in addition to everything else he had going on, and whoever took him down used that information as part of the revenge package. We see it all the time, Quin."
"Are we even looking at the same evidence?" Quin asked in disbelief. "What about the housekeeper?"
"The housekeeper was scared of her own shadow, Quin, and obviously superstitious. It wouldn't have taken much for her employer to convince her that something supernatural like that was going on, not to mention the fact it would have been a useful threat to convince her to keep her mouth shut. And don't get me started on the three rescued kidnap victims they brought forward for us to interview. Their brains were so fried by whatever was used to keep them sedated for years that they didn't know their own names, let alone say anything to convince me that somebody was drinking people's blood. Come on, Quin, I'm not denying that we have a mess on our hands, but there's nothing supernatural about it."
"Whatever," he mumbled sullenly under his breath. "The Webb County sheriff is due here in 10 minutes," he added.
They'd already spoken with the Laredo police chief, who'd been very helpful. Unfortunately, he'd been unable to add any more information to what he'd already provided them. He had, however, been able to get them an interview with his cohort from across the border in Nuevo Laredo. At first they'd been hopeful. There was no reason for the man to talk to them at all at this point, but he'd been more than willing to come over and discuss the case with them, and share any additional information he might have that they didn't.
He'd been very friendly and helpful—on the surface—but when all was said and done, they didn't know much more than when they'd started. He had been the one that had set up the interviews with Heriberto's housemaid and the three kidnap victims that were still in the area. Quin had found the information gleaned from them fascinating; Chris had found it next to useless. She also thought the Nuevo Laredo police chief was hiding something, or at least keeping his own theories to himself.
The sheriff on their side of the border wasn't unable to add anything to what they already knew, either, except for something about a bear that had gone missing out of a locked cage at about the same time as the other "activity". Another dead end. Christina didn't know why the hell the man thought they'd be interested in a missing bear...or the possibility of a chupacabra in the neighbourhood, whatever the hell that was.
"Okay, what now?" Christina asked after the man had left.
"Run the pics we've got, see if anybody recognises them?" Quin said.
"We still don't have a way to tie them to our side of the border. They might be Mexico's most wanted, but they're nothing to us yet, not officially."
"I don't think they're very wanted at all in Mexico," Quin said. "I get more of a feeling that they're thankful to have one less cartel to worry about."
"Yeah, but now they have to deal with all the others moving in and fighting over the territory. I'm glad things haven't quite gotten to that point over here, at least not yet."
Quin's phone rang and he picked it up. Christina couldn't tell what was being said on the other end, based on his "uh huhs" and "yeahs", but whatever it was, it had him looking excited.
"Well?" she asked when he finally hung up.
"We may have a U.S. link!" he said, excited. "They've tracked the Prius. It was stolen from Butte, Montana, and then reappeared near the owner's house several weeks later, during which time it appeared on our footage down here."
"The plates matched?" Christina asked. That was odd. They were clearly Texas plates in the video footage.
"Nope. That's an interesting point, too. The plates were from a red Prius from northwest Texas. Somebody switched the plates."
"Huh. Simple, but clever."
"Well, it certainly slowed us down a little bit. So...is that enough?"
She hesitated. "I don't know... We'll have to check with the home office."
"Well, what about if I told you they found a body near Butte a few weeks after the car reappeared? A body that had been mauled by scavengers, but according to the coroner's report, had suspicious looking wounds on its neck?"
That got her attention. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Well, that changes everything," she said, a feeling of excitement building in her. She loved the hunt, she really did. All thoughts of beaches and boat drinks disappeared. "Let's go ahead and get the ball rolling."
"I've always wanted to visit Butte, Montana," Quin said.
"Suddenly, so do I."
Butte, Montana turned out to be more than a little helpful.
"He stole a Dodge Charger? After he stole the Prius?" Christina asked, rewinding the video surveillance from the storage facility and watching it again. A blurry figure that vaguely resembled their Jack Bauer was seen hot-wiring a 1967 purple Dodge Charger before driving it away from the facility. He had another figure with him, who was even more blurry. Smaller, and possibly female. Possibly the third person from the video from Nuevo Laredo, but there weren't enough details to be sure.
"Hot-wired, and then took it for a joy ride to the airport, where he dumped it. There is no record of a Jack Bauer flying out of Butte that day, or any other day, either," said Quin, who had spent the morning at the airport. "And nothing from their security cameras. All the data banks were wiped during a lightning storm a couple weeks ago. "Maybe he just liked taking joy rides."
"Or maybe he flew to Texas and his partner drove the Prius," Christina wondered.
"Well, we've got people checking on any mysterious deaths between here and Laredo during that time period, just in case," Quin said. "Now, on to this Larry Abrams. Mr. Abrams went on an installation call on the afternoon of May 2nd. He returned to the office late in the afternoon and was seen by several coworkers. He did not mention anything unusual occurring to him that day, and as far as his friends, family, and coworkers know, there was nothing 'odd' going on in his life. He disappeared from his house that night. His wife was working that night—and has a rock solid alibi—and he was never seen again. His body was found by rock hounds searching the quarry on the afternoon of May 5th. It had been badly mauled by animals, and the cause of death was undetermined, although he did have a broken neck. The coroner noted the odd bites on his neck, but there was no reason to believe anything other than an odd accident had been the cause of death. Do you want to exhume the corpse?"
"Not yet," Christina said. "For now, we've got the pictures and his report. We've got Jack on the local surveillance video, proving some sort of link to this area. That's enough to get those 'wanted' pics sent out and the call made to America's Most Wanted. Did anybody check out Larry Abram's last service call? Maybe there's some sort of connection there?"
"Actually, no, they didn't. Like I said, up until we called they had no reason to believe that the death was anything but an accident. An odd accident, but an accident nonetheless."
"Well, then, I guess you and I should take a little walk, huh? Got the address for that service call?"
Quin pulled out a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. "I do indeed." He handed it to Christina.
"This isn't an address," she said, looking at the paper for a moment before looking up at him. "It's directions."
He nodded. "Odd, isn't it? No address for the service, and it was prepaid for a year from an anonymous source, which we're attempting to track down right now. Ready for some hiking? It's not an easy stroll, according to the local boys."
She shrugged. "Sure. There's nothing to worry about, is there—other than grizzly bears and the possibility of a crazed killer waiting for us at the other end of the road?"
"A crazed killer who wanted the dish package with all upgrades," Quin said. "How bad can he be?"
The pair stood in front of the pile of ashes and bits of timber where a log cabin had once stood.
"Shall we add pyromaniac to the list of attributes for our person of interest?" Quin asked quietly.
"If they were tied to this property some way, then yes, I'd say our group certainly has an affinity for fire," Christina said. "But we have no way of knowing if they were here. Hell, we have no way of knowing when this fire took place. The locals have no record of it even occurring," she said. The first thing they'd done after hiking up to the cabin—having had to leave their car a half mile down the trail—was call the local authorities. Understaffed and underfunded, they'd shown very little interest in the burned cabin. They had no record of anybody living there, and as long as it was fully out and showed no signs of spreading, at this point they didn't care. They'd send somebody out later in the week to take a look around, they'd assured the agents. But unless they found some reason to consider it a crime site, that was as much as they could—or would—do.
"Well, I'm pretty sure it took place afterLarry the Cable Guy's visit," Quin said.
"You can't just make assumptions like that, Quin, in order to make your theories fit," Christina said, exasperated.
"No, but I can identify a half-melted satellite dish in the wreckage," he said, not bothered by her accusations. He carefully picked his way through the bits of charred wood before kicking at the dish. Reaching down with a gloved hand, he picked up the remains of the dish, shook the ash off of it, and held it out to her. "Wanna take it back?"
"Let's see what else we come across. We'll send a team up here tomorrow to tag and bag everything."
Quin poked around a bit more, but Christina kept her distance from the wreckage. "Looks like maybe a television..."
"That would follow, wouldn't it?" she asked wryly. "Must be a generator here, too, unless they took it with them. And a generator means gasoline. Check to see if there's any footage of somebody buying gas in cans around that time period."
Quin nodded. "Will do. You want to stay here or go back to D.C.?"
"Let's stay here a couple more days, then go back to D.C. Any word on when they'll run that segment?"
"Two weeks from Wednesday. Plenty of time for us to chase down any other leads we might come across here," he said.
"All right. A few days here, till we're sure we've found all we can, then back to D.C. to wait. I'd like to look into Heriberto's business ties, see who his enemies were, that sort of thing. See if we can figure out who might be behind all this, who's calling the shots."
"It could just be a personal vendetta," Quin said. "The man had several hundred people kidnapped. You can't tell me that didn't piss somebody off, somewhere."
"Maybe. But this sort of thing is usually indicative of something bigger, some sort of power play on a major scale. And if that's the case, I want to make sure it's not somebody on our side of the border that's making that play. These two came from Montana and appeared to have returned here when they were done. Butte, Montana doesn't really strike me as a hot spot for criminal activity, let alone a home base for an up and coming crime syndicate. I just wish I knew why they were here."
The Washington, D.C., summer was shaping up to be hotter and more humid than normal, and Christina was dying. She didn't usually mind the heat, especially if it was accompanied by an offshore breeze, but of course, in D.C., it wasn't like that. And the humidity was killing her. Tempers were short, and hers was no exception.
She was sure if anybody bothered asking Quin, he'd tell them that her temper was always short.
They'd made precious little progress in their attempts to find out anything more about their mysterious Jack Bauer and his two friends. In fact, they were now in a holding pattern, waiting for a miracle—more specifically, waiting for somebody to call in after that damn show aired.
Christina had her doubts about the show being able to help, although it had been immensely helpful on cases in the past. After all, the YouTube video of the attacks had had several million hits. Or at least, that was the estimated total. Right now it was only at about 1,500. For some reason, the video kept disappearing off the website, along with several other links and sites it was on. Obviously somebody didn't want it out there in cyberspace. At any rate, she couldn't imagine that somebody out there hadn't seen it, recognized the faces, and contacted somebody about it. After all, the figures, blurry as they were, appeared to fall clearly in the demographic that was known for its heavy use of the social media available.
But no, they'd had no leads. They were sitting there, after two weeks of fruitless searching, waiting for a phone call from a television show.
Much to Christina's surprise, the phone call actually came. Within 15 minutes of the segment airing, they received a call from the show with a name and phone number to contact. Quin wanted to be the one to make contact, but Christina refused to let him. She in no way wanted him "contaminating" the informant with any mention of aliens or other oddities.
Christina spoke on the phone for almost 20 minutes to a woman from Seattle, Washington. She took notes the whole time, despite the fact that the conversation was being recorded. She also spent a lot of time rolling her eyes. After wrapping up the interview and reassuring the caller that they did not, in fact, need to meet with her in person, Christina finally hung up the phone.
"Well?" Quin asked.
"Well...that was a classic revenge call. Talk about painful. She had all the signs of being a woman scorned. Lucky for us, she also gave us some valid information. Assuming she's telling the truth, which will be easily verified. Our Jack Bauer is apparently actually one Jasper Hale, and he apparently graduated from Forks High School in Forks, Washington, in 2005."
"Where the hell is Forks, Washington? I've never heard of it."
"Me either. But I'd like to point out that if this checks out, your vampire theory has flown out the window and into the rising sun. Vampires don't go to high school, last time I checked."
"It would make the perfect cover, though," he argued.
"It would be a little difficult to do, considering that most schools are operating during the daytime, as opposed to the middle of the night."
"Maybe he isn't a vampire. But I'd bet money he's something other than human," he said, sounding stubborn.
"Maybe you're right—he's NOT a vampire," Christina said, rolling her eyes. "But he's not an alien, either. Let's go, Mulder. I'm booking us on an early flight to Washington. At least we'll be out of this damn heat and humidity."
Out of the heat, maybe, Christina reflected 20 hours later as they were driving through the dripping greenness that was the Olympic Peninsula, but definitely not out of the humidity.
"It is mostly temperate rain forest," Quin pointed out when she complained about the weather. "And look at those woods! All sorts of things could be hiding in them and we'd never know about it."
"Yeah. Like gang bosses gone to ground, smuggling headquarters..."
"Little green men," he said cheerfully. "Bigfoot. E.T. ..."
"Ted Kaczynski wannabes..."
Quin rolled his eyes.
"All right. To each his own. Look, it's only 30 miles to Forks," she said, reading a passing sign. "Did you remember to have Margaret make our reservations?"
"Yep. Four nights at the Forks Motel."
"Sounds lovely. What time is our appointment with the local law enforcement?"
"We meet with a Mr. Charles Swan, chief of police, at 4PM."
"Any information on him?"
"Not much. He's been on the force since soon after graduating high school, and he's been police chief going on 13 years now. He was out on patrol when I called yesterday, but the dispatcher set up the appointment for us."
"Good. We'll go there first. We should just about make it by 4."
They parked in front of the municipal building that housed the police, jail, city hall, and a variety of other city service offices. The lot was almost empty, and when they entered the building most of the offices appeared to be dark and locked.
"Early Off on Fridays?" Quin asked.
Christina shrugged. "Budget cuts, probably."
"Fishing derby down at the rez," a woman's voice came from behind them. They turned to see a woman walking down the hall towards them. Her straight dark hair and bronze colored skin indicated Native American connections. "Almost everybody's gone. You must be here to see Charlie. He wasn't real happy that you weren't willing to wait until Monday for this."
"Err...yes, I'm Agent Christina Vlodak and this is Agent Quincy Anderson," Christina said.
"Sue Clearwater-Swan. Right through here," she said, opening a glass door with "Police" painted in large black letters across the glass. "If you could make it fast, he'd probably be a lot more happy to help," she whispered, leaning in to Christina as she walked past them.
"We'll keep that in mind," Christina said. She turned to Quin and mouthed the words "Fishing Derby?" before rolling her eyes.
"Charlie!" Sue called out. "You've got company!"
"Thanks, Sue," a man said, walking out of a door on the other side of the main room, which was almost as empty as the rest of the building. A single officer—also clearly Native American, and one of the largest men Christina had ever seen—occupied one of the desks. Other than that, they were alone.
"I'll wait out here for you," the woman said, giving him a quick hug, which appeared to embarrass him a bit, before crossing the room to sit by the desk of the other man.
"Charlie Swan," he said, extending his hand to Christina.
"Agent Christina Vlodak," Christina said, shaking his hand firmly. "And this is my partner Agent Quincy Anderson." The two men shook hands.
"We really appreciate you agreeing to meet with us this afternoon," Christina said.
"Yeah, well, it isn't often that we get the feds coming to visit us here," he said, indicating the doorway he'd just come from. "Wanna come in and have a seat?"
"Thank you," Christina said, walking ahead of him into what appeared to be his office. "I promise you, we'll try to keep this initial visit as brief as possible."
"Initial visit?" Charlie said, sounding surprised. "Jenny didn't say anything about this being a multi-visit type of thing."
"We didn't give your dispatcher any details, I'm afraid," Christina said, not sounding apologetic at all. "But it's possible that we may be in the area for a few days."
"All right...well, what can I do for you?" Charlie asked, seating himself behind his desk and gesturing to the other two chairs for them.
Christina and Quin sat down. "I don't suppose you watch America's Most Wanted, do you?" she asked.
"Can't say as I do," Charlie said with a half-smile. "I'm more of an ESPN type of guy. I really don't like for my work and my entertainment to intersect, if you know what I mean."
"I can fully appreciate that, Chief Swan."
"Please, call me Charlie," he said.
"Charlie. All right, well, we'd like you to watch this video clip, if you would," Chris said. Quin pulled a pad out of his bag and slid it across the desk towards Charlie. He hit the play button, then sat back down again. While Quin was setting that up, Christina quickly looked around the room. The wall was decorated with a few certificates, some fishing prints, and a few mounted fish. The desk was almost devoid of any personal touches, aside from a picture of Charlie with the woman—Sue—that they'd met outside, in what appeared to possibly be a wedding photo and another photo showing a young dark haired woman wearing a white dress and a young man with reddish hair in a tuxedo. That one was definitely a wedding shot.
The video started to play, and Christina turned her attention back to watch Charlie, observing his reactions to what he was seeing. There were none.
"Well, that's some odd goings-on," he said when the video was done.
"To say the least," Christina said. "We have a possible ID on one of the men in the video, and we have reason to believe that he is from Forks. We were hoping you could positively identify him for us."
"Be glad to try," Charlie said, his voice carefully neutral. Christina had the distinct impression that they were now dealing with Chief Swan, as opposed to Charlie Swan.
Christina nodded at Quin, who brought out the close-up stills they had of the three people from the video.
Charlie studied them all carefully. He put two of them down but held on to the third. "These two, never seen 'em before. But this one, yeah, this one I know. Dr. Cullen's boy. Jasper Hale."
"You're positive about that?" Christina asked, hope rising in her. Finally, maybe, they were going to make some progress.
"As positive as I am about anything, Agent Vlodak," Charlie said, sounding sad for some reason. "My daughter Bella married his foster brother."
Christina and Quin sat in stunned silence. Whatever they might have been expecting the man across the desk from them to say, this was not it. In fact, Christina thought, they never would have even remotely considered something like this.
Christina also thought that Quin must be devastated to see his alien and/or vampire theories going up in smoke. Surely this would be the final nail in that coffin.
"Does that mean you have a way for us to contact this Jasper Hale?" Quin asked, all business now.
Charlie was shaking his head slowly. "I'm afraid not..."
"But you're family," Quin said.
Christina found herself letting Quin take over the interview, her eyes sliding to the wedding photo in its frame on the desk.
Charlie was still shaking his head. He picked up the photo and stared at it for a moment before replacing it on the desk, face down. "I'm sorry. My daughter and her husband were killed in a car wreck a few weeks after the wedding. His parents moved back to Alaska soon after, and aside from exchanging cards at Christmas with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, I haven't really stayed in contact with them. I don't know what became of the older children at all."
"But then, you can at least put us in contact with them..."
"Yeah, I can do that. It's a post office box, you understand. I'm thinking they probably live pretty far out. Real nature lovers, that family."
"No phone number?" Christina asked, re-entering the conversation.
"No," Charlie said. "I had it at one time. They moved, though, like I said, and I don't think I ever got their new number. Like I said, we didn't have much contact with each other after the accident."
"Of course," Christina murmured. "I understand." Actually, she thought it was odd. In this day and age, they were exchanging Christmas cards but had no other forms of contact? Their kids had been married, for God's sake. "Well, what can you tell us about Jasper Hale from when they lived here in town?" she asked.
Charlie sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and considering her question for a moment. "I'll tell you this—I never had a spot of trouble, not with any of those kids. Aside from the youngest stealing my daughter away. The family moved here when they were in high school. A household of five teenage kids, all of 'em adopted. Well, that spells trouble loud and clear to someone in my position, especially with how young Dr. Cullen and his wife were. But I never heard a peep from any of 'em, and nobody in this town had any reason to complain, either." Charlie then launched into a brief history of the Cullen family's short stay in Forks, Washington. Christina noted that the story didn't hold too many in-depth details, but then, Charlie did reiterate—frequently—how the family liked to keep to themselves. His story wrapped up with his daughter's wedding to their youngest son, the subsequent death of his daughter and her new husband within days of their return from their honeymoon, just a week before they were due to start college at the University of Alaska, and finally the parents' return to Alaska.
It was all very informative...but not. Christina sighed. Well, they would definitely be spending the weekend poking around town and talking to other people, and then she supposed they'd be heading up to Alaska to track down the post office box and its owners. That, at least, was a firm lead.
"Well, we'll be checking around town for a few days, talking to people and such, just so you know," Quin said, standing up. "Thank you for taking the time to see us."
Christina and Charlie stood as well. "No problem, no problem," Charlie said. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help. Here's my card, though." He pulled a business card out of a holder on his desk. "Feel free to call me if you need anything else while you're here. You might check over at the hospital, where Dr. Cullen worked. They might have more contact information than I do. And over at the school... They're closed for the summer, of course, but somebody is usually around in the office in the mornings, come Monday..." He shook his head and spoke again. "I just really find it hard to believe that that is Jasper Hale in that video. Are you sure that it wasn't doctored up or something? I know that that's done all the time. I just can't believe he would do something like that."
"We're sure the footage has not been tampered with. And according to some of the surviving witnesses, they believed that what you saw in the video was indeed real and not staged in some manner. Of course, this all took place in Mexico. We have no way of investigating the scene of the crime, not that there is anything left to investigate, as it was burned to the ground soon after the events that you saw took place."
"Well, I don't know... I suppose if you say it's real, it might well be. But I just can't imagine him doing something like that."
"We'll keep that in mind, sir," Christina said politely, moving towards the door. "We'll be sure to keep in touch while we're here and let you know if we need anything else."
Charlie walked them to the front door and watched them as they left the building and drove out of the parking lot. He then turned to the two people who had been watching silently from the back of the main room.
"Well," he said, "that was interesting."
"That's putting it mildly," the large man said. "What do you make of it?"
"I don't know, Embry," Charlie said, shaking his head, "but I don't like it. Something's not right. You saw the video?"
"Yep. Googled it as soon as you started talking about it. Didn't take me more than a minute to figure out what they were talking about and find it online."
"Huh," Charlie grunted.
"I'm going to have to tell Sam about this," Embry said.
"I know, I know. I wouldn't ask you to keep it from him. But I think I better make a phone call."
Embry nodded. "I think you better. Gonna do it now?"
"No time like the present. Derby plans are shot to hell now, anyway," Charlie said. He walked back to his office and over to a safe, quickly opening it and removing a cell phone. He powered it up and hit a few buttons, raising the phone to his ear. It rang a few times before being picked up.
"Hello, Carlisle? It's Charlie. We've got a situation here in Forks..."
