Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story wouldn't be what it is without my wonderful beta, The Real Teacher, holding my hand and correcting my many errors. Thank you so much!

As always: thank you so much for all of your kind words and lovely reviews. They mean a lot to me.

- 10 -

I was just sifting through all of the phone calls I'd missed while I was in class – fifteen from Jake, eight alerting me to the fact that I had new voicemails and two from a number I didn't know – when the summons came.

"Bella Swan. Get your ass into my office, now!" Rose's voice boomed through the room, the whole writing staff of The Daily looking first at her and then at me, the looks of all but one conveying their sympathy.

All but one.

"You'll get wrinkles if you keep scowling at me like that," I snorted as I walked past Tanya's desk, smiling as I noticed the bruise beneath her eye and the remnants of the bloody lip she'd done such a poor job of concealing. "I don't think daddy is going to be too eager to pay for a round of Botox after all the money he splurged on 'boosting your confidence'." I let my eyes glide quickly to her scary fake boobs to make my point before I gave het my best bitch brow and quickly put some distance between the two of us.

Cowardly?

Maybe, but I preferred to call it sensible fighting behavior.

I faintly picked up on some of the profanities she threw my way as I entered Rose's office, the temperature dropping a few degrees from the arctic glares my editor-in-chief slash friend (though I was really starting to doubt the latter with the looks she was giving me) threw my way.

"Is there a problem?" I cautiously asked "You did get my draft, right?" I'd been in the hot seat once before but that was when I'd missed a deadline on an article about the severe understaffing in the general and technical department and the problems that was leading too.

"I did," she nodded, her face still sullen. "Jimmy is doing a final run-through right now."

"Okay." At least that probably meant that I wasn't the reason behind Rose's meltdown. "So what's the matter?"

I shifted nervously in my seat, knowing I was taking a hell of a risk, asking a direct question like that. From what I'd seen of 'angry Rose' over the years she could either admire my brass and give me an equally direct answer or she could jump all on my case and mash my skull in with a paperweight.

"You mean other than the fact that all of my senior editors appear to be glaringly incompetent?" she spat, her violet eyes blazing fire but for now she remained seated behind her desk.

Much to my relief.

I sighed. "What happened?" I figured that before I launched into my defense I'd better find out what it was that had her panties all up in a bunch.

Rose rubbed her temples, her eyes closing as she let out a little groan of relief. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you knew the Cullens?"

I paled, swallowing hard before I stuttered out my apologies. "I didn't think…."

"It's clear you didn't," Rose snorted. "But then again, do you ever?"

I scowled. "It's not like I didn't tell you on purpose! How do you think I felt, coming back from a quiet few weeks in Forks to find out my ex-boyfriend's dad had been accused of killing one of his students?"

"Eager to share with the rest of the class?" Rose snickered. "I mean…it's not as if your involvement with the Cullens wouldn't be useful…."

I shook my head. "Any involvement I might have had with the Cullens is a thing of the past."

"Is it?" Rose jested. "If Tanya is to be believed you were locked in a bust up with young Edward late last night."

"Right," I smirked. "Did Tanya also tell you about her bust up with Edward? I mean, not that it's any of my business but I don't think fucking your source is a very professional thing to do."

Rose made a face. "She did it again, huh?"

I nodded. "Not that I have any kind of firsthand evidence – and thank God for that – but the way he looked when I ran into him last night was pretty much self-explanatory."

Rose sighed as she went back to rubbing her temples. "Just what I fucking need right now…."

"And that's all you have to say about it?" I tried to control my frustrations as I spat the words at her. "One of your senior editors decides to whore herself out for a byline and all you do is bitch about the extra work it gives you? What about the reputation of the paper? Did you ever stop to think what would happen if the dean found out about this?"

"Stop it right there, Swan," Rose growled, her eyes spitting fire at me as she raised herself up on her elbows. "I know your jealousy prevents you from thinking beyond getting your revenge and believe me, if I'd been in your shoes I'd probably be the same but how and when I deal with Tanya Denali is up to me."

She fixed me with her gaze, making sure every word hit home before she added. "Not you."

"Fine," I grumbled, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "As long as you fucking deal with her. Lock her up in a janitor's closet for all I care but I'm not – ever – going to work with that bitch again or be in the same room as she is in, for that matter."

Rose shrugged. "Very well." The smile tugging at her lips made me wonder whether Tanya would be a part of the editorial staff of The Daily for that much longer. After all, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Loaded-daddy-who-was-friends-with-the-dean or not, there was only so much you could turn a blind eye to.

"Still, you should have told me you knew about the Cullens," Rose continued, sharply steering the conversation back to the original topic. "I mean, if this had been the Seattle Times you would be filing for social security right now."

"I know," I sighed. "And I know I should have spoken to you the moment you first dropped Carlisle Cullen's name but it's just all so….."

"Fucked up?" Rose chimed in, pulling up her eyebrows.

I sighed. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to take you off the case?"

I frowned, rubbing my temples in an attempt to keep my head from throbbing. "I don't know. Should I be taken off the case?"

"I don't know." Rose's sigh matched mine. "God, you're right! This is fucked up!"

"I might have a lead though," I offered.

"On what?" Roses eyes shot up to mine.

"I told you I had to go back home for a family emergency this weekend, right?"

She nodded. "How's your stepmom?"

"Fine as far as I know," I shrugged, "but when I was there, Jake's dad Billy walked in when I was looking at the pictures I had of the victim…"

"The ones the brother gave you?" Rose interrupted.

I nodded. "Turns out her tattoo is similar to one found on a murder victim a couple of years back."

"Similar as in the same?" Rose asked, her frame leaning towards me.

"He couldn't be sure," I admitted, "but he promised to look through his old case diaries to see if there was something in there."

"Interesting," Rose nodded. "So what kind of tattoo did the girl have? She looked kind of middle class conservative to me. You know? Not the kind of girl to walk into a tattoo parlor and let some guy ink her up."

"She probably wasn't," I chuckled, remembering how I'd had to really look to see it myself. "It was small and tucked into her neck right beneath her hairline. She probably didn't want her mommy and daddy to know she'd gone and gotten a big old V permanently stamped into her neck."

Rose frowned, her face scrunched up in thought. "From the way you described it it's almost as if she'd been branded."

Now it was my time to frown. I hadn't thought about it like that. "You've got a good point."

"It's something worth pursuing," Rose smiled, "and it's got the added bonus that it won't get you mixed up with the Cullens all too much."

"So you're giving me the go-ahead?" I asked hopefully.

Rose nodded. "But the moment I find you breaking non-fraternization rules or trying to render one of my reporters out of business you're out."

"Aye, aye, chief!' I snickered bringing up my hand in a mock salute.

"Very well," Rose snickered as a small wave of her hand told me we were done. "Send in Tanya on your way out, will you? Oh and Bells?"

I turned around in the doorstep. "Yeah?"

"Nice remodeling job you did on Denali's face," Rose snickered. "It's a vast improvement as far as I'm concerned."

And just like that my day had become a whole lot brighter.

Tanya's face paled when I relegated Rose's request to her but I couldn't really find it in myself to care. It was about time Tanya found out what kind of bitch bad Karma could be.

I went home shortly after I'd watched her go in, thinking I might as well cook dinner to thank Angela and Ben for being there for me the other night. Cooking had always been a sort of comfort to me, the business of cutting up vegetables and dealing with hot pans and ovens allowing my mind to cool down for a while as I focused on preparing a nice meal.

Who needed therapy when all you needed was a good cookbook and some fresh groceries?

The rest of the night was calm, peaceful and predictable, just as I'd hoped. After dinner I retreated to my room to prepare for class and be out of the way for Angela and Ben to enjoy some gropage or whatever the hell they did in the living room late at night, while I prepped for tomorrow's classes.

By the time I pushed my books into my knapsack I was wiped out. My mind was spinning with all of the stuff that was going on right now and the fact that I'd gotten hardly any rest last night wasn't really helping. Between staying up late to compile lists and being fucked into oblivion by a guy I hated when I did drift into sleep my mind was a jumbled mess.

I sighed, knowing I wouldn't be able to come up with anything useful for my article right now. My mind was too battered to focus on anything long enough to be productive.

Nothing a good round of sleep couldn't fix.

Or so I hoped.

- x -

I woke up the next morning about an hour before I actually had to get up because my Blackberry was serenading me with Muse's Undisclosed Desires.

Jacob.

I was beginning to see a pattern here.

Why couldn't the guy take a hint?

"Jake?" I croaked, my eyes squinting against the light flooding in through a crack in the curtains. Strange how you only noticed stuff like that once you were awake….

"Ah, great. You're up!" Jake's much too chipper voice came from the other end.

I let out a frustrated huff. "I. Am. Now."

"Did I wake you, babe?" he asked, the smile in his voice telling me he wasn't mourning the half hour of quality night rest I was missing out on as intensely I was. "Sorry."

"No you're not," I grumbled, "or you wouldn't be calling me at stupid o'clock. And you remember our last conversation, right? We've technically broken up."

"We're on a break," Jake corrected me, "and it's eight AM, Bella! Normal people are supposed to be up by then."

"Well, my mom always said I was special," I hissed, sitting up now that I knew all hopes of crawling back under the covers for another ten minutes or so would be out of the window. "Was there any particular reason why you're waking me up at this ungodly hour or do you just like pissing me off?"

"Aww," Jake cooed with mock disappointment, "can't a guy just call his girl and tell her he loves her?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not if his name is Jacob Black and he and said girl are on a fucking break! So why don't you tell me what's up before I hang up and go back to sleep."

Jake snorted. "So you don't wanna know the news my dad has for you?"

Well, that got me awake. "Billy found something?"

"I thought that might get your attention!" Jake's snicker on the other end of the line was a bit too victorious after my taste, but for the sake of getting information I was willing to let it slide for now. "And he's standing right beside me if you want to talk to him…."

"Gimme!" I all but snarled into the receiver. "Please Jake?"

"Wow! Impatient much?" Jake chuckled, but before I could yell at him about how you should never tease your ex-girlfriend before 8 AM, a rustling sound told me Jake had finally realized just how much of an ass he was being and had handed the phone to his dad.

"Bella?" Billy's voice sounded as hesitant as always, a testimony to the man's refusal to get used to modern day technology.

I snickered as I thought how Billy would have been much better husband material for my mom than my dad had. But then again it would have made me and Jake brother and sister which was kind of gross, come to think of it.

I shook my head to get that pretty disgusting thought out of my mind. "Hey, Billy! How are you doing?" I spoke apprehensively. I didn't know what Jake had told Billy or what the old man thought about the turn out relationship had taken.

But there was only one way to find out.

I could almost hear his smile though his words as he replied. "Can't complain, though I have to say standing by the stream all day on my own can get a bit lonely. Not that I want your dad to bail on my sister, though."

"I can imagine," I snorted, relieved that apparently Billy was as eager to talk about my relationship status as I was.

He and I had always been close, even before I started going out with Jake. I hoped that wouldn't change now that Jake and I were sort of no longer together (though apparently our opinions differed about that).

Back when I first moved to Forks I'd tried tagging along on my dad's fishing trips, hoping it would be a good bonding experience. The only thing it turned out to be was completely and utterly boring. Really? What in the name of all that was holy could be so interesting about staring at a piece of string all day? I didn't get it, even though my dad and Billy seemed to be happy to spent their days sitting in this rickety old rowing boat that was a miniature Titanic waiting to happen and just stare out in front of them, the only sound being when they took a swig from their beers or when one of them finally caught something. I just didn't get what all the excitement was all about. "So how is Sue?"

"She's doing much better," Billy reassured me, "but that's also turning out to be a bit of a problem."

"How so?" I frowned, wondering how someone getting better could be problematic. Recovery was a good thing, wasn't it?

Billy snickered. "You dad's got a full-time job trying to keep her in bed."

"Ah." Somehow that wasn't surprising at all. I should have known that my active and bubbly step mom would hate being cooped up in her bedroom without any outlet for her creativity.

"She actually pelted poor Seth with grapes yesterday when he wouldn't let her out," Billy continued. "Somehow she'd gotten it in her head that the poor boy would be willing to disregard Charlie's command to keep her in bed, even if it meant locking her up or strapping her down. It took Leah to finally get her calmed down and willing to at least give it another day before she tried getting down the stairs."

My eyes nearly budged out of my head. "Leah did something useful?"

Billy let out a loud snort. "I know. We were all amazed."

"Maybe there's hope for her yet," I smiled, at the same time thinking it would be unlikely that my scary, perpetually PMS-ing neo-goth of a step sister would ever change into something resembling a normal human being.

"Maybe," Billy snickered, "but I didn't call to bash on my poor niece. I have news."

"You found something?" I asked, trying to keep my excitement from becoming too obvious. This was a murder case we were dealing with and I thought that it required at least some respect.

"I did," Billy immediately replied. "It's a good thing I always kept my personal case notes because…well….. to say the similarities are striking would be an understatement."

I quickly made my way over to my desk, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper to take notes as I waited for Billy to elaborate. "What have you got for me?"

"A lot, actually," Billy said. "It turns out this was one of the last cases I worked on from start to finish….you know, before I got shot?"

I nodded, not that he could see that through the phone, remembering what Jake had told me about his father's accident on the job.

Billy had been in high pursuit of some lowlife piece of scum who'd tried to run from his arrest when suddenly the punk pulled a gun on him and started shooting. It would all have turned out okay, since the perp was a pretty crappy shooter, had it not been for one of the bullets ricocheting off the wall and hitting Billy right in the back, damaging his spine and confining him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. It was the nightmare of every cop and his family.

"I think that's why I remembered the tattoo," Billy went on. "Normally you would forget about stuff like that but not in this case…."

"Was there anything particular about it?" I asked tapping my pen against the bare sheet of paper in front of me in impatient excitement.

Billy chuckled. "How about the fact that someone had tried to scrape it away?"

I sucked in a huge breath of air, my stomach revolting against the pictures my mind came up with. "They…what?"

"The medical examiner who'd dealt with the case thought it was done with a standard kitchen knife which seemed logical at the time seeing as the crime was committed in the victim's home and the body was found lying in the kitchen amidst the contents of the cutlery drawer," Billy went on. "The murder was committed with another weapon though…..probably a dagger, going by the size and depth of the incisions…."

I tried to keep my mind from dwelling on the fact that it was a person we were talking about here. A young woman with hopes, dreams and ordinary hang-ups of the kind that every young woman – quite like myself – usually had. "B-but how was the case similar?" I asked, after taking a few deep breaths. "You said the tattoo was….damaged…"

"I said they'd tried to scrape it away," Billy interrupted me, "but when I thought about it I remembered the ME telling me that he thought the killer had been disturbed…that he had to flee to avoid discovery before he'd completed his gruesome mutilation of the victim's corpse."

"So the tattoo…." I started.

"We could still make out the shape of it – the same V-shaped tattooed on your victim's neck – and piece together bits and pieces of the letters surrounding it."

"There were letters?" I gasped. Of course, there were. It was the same tattoo. It had to be.

"From the bits and pieces we were able to piece together two words: Terras Irradient," Billy went on, "but that was pretty much where that particular lead ran dry."

I frowned. "Why?"

"The phrase, which translates to 'let them give light to the world' is the motto of Amherst College and with the victim being an Amhest alumnus we figured she just got it as a token to her time there."

"But Jane wasn't at Amherst," I countered.

"I figured that much," Billy sighed, "which was why I've contacted my old SPD precinct and talked to one of the guys on charge there now. This is something they need to know."

"Of course," I was quick to reply, Billy's hesitance taking me a little aback. Did he really think I was so dead set on making a name for myself in the field of journalism that I would prevent justice from happening? "Did they say anything to you about it?"

"Not that much." Billy sounded a bit frustrated. "Just the usual 'we'll look into it'."

"I'm sure they must be busy," I offered. "I mean, no cop in his right mind would pass up on a lead like that. They must be flooded right now with all of the research and stuff."

"Probably." Billy sounded as if he wasn't so sure. "And even if they won't pick it up, I can always count on my ex-future-daughter in law, right?"

"You bet!" I chuckled, a look at the clock telling me I had to hurry if I wanted to make it too class in time and feed my already grumbling stomach. "Look, I have to go."

Billy chuckled. "Of course. I keep forgetting you're still a student with all the serious research you've been doing."

"Don't remind me," I grumbled, once again cursing my mom and her cookie educational views that made me a whopping two years older than everyone else in my class. And two years in college meant geriatric in the eyes of my fellow students. "Thanks for the information. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

I could almost hear Billy shrug through the phone. "Anything to prevent an innocent man from going down for another man's crime. I knew the Cullens back when they lived around here. Not very well, mind you, but well enough to know that Carlisle Cullen is as decent a man as I've ever seen. I have a hard time believing he could commit a crime as cold blooded as this."

I nodded. "I can't believe it either, no matter how strongly the evidence points towards him."

We parted with the usual pleasantries, Jake coming on the phone for a minute after I'd said goodbye and another thank you to his dad to whine me out on when I was coming back to Forks. By the time the call finally ended much of my euphoria had given way to my usual bad morning mood again.

The guy really couldn't just take a hint.

Why didn't I dump him properly when I had the chance?

Oh, right.

Guilt.

When I emerged from my room about half an hour later, freshly showered, dressed and my mind already stewing on the information Billy had just give me, the house was empty. Angela and Ben must have already left for class or decided to get some breakfast at the diner across the street.

They did leave coffee though, bless their hearts.

I was glad to be alone, the peace and quiet affording me some room to think and get my head sorted out in time for my first class of the day. God knew I needed to pay attention in my Journalism Ethics class since I was unfortunate enough to end up in Professor Rhodes' class.

Siobhan Rhodes was a force to be reckoned with, both within and outside of the Department of Communication. One of the longest sitting members of staff at the whole university (making her old enough to rival Methuselah) she was revered as much as she was feared for her strict opinions on the level of accomplishment expected by students and members of staff alike and the way a student was supposed to behave; her retaliation swift and scathing if she found one of her students or colleagues lacking in either of those two requirements.

I smiled, pouring the black liquid of the Gods into my traveling mug as I hunted for a couple of granola bars to munch on while I walked to class, all the while remembering how she'd made the guy sitting next to me in my freshman class cry one day because he had been ill-prepared for her class.

He should have known better.

But I didn't have much time to dwell on what may or may not happen in class. I had more important fish to fry in the next half hour or so before I had to leave for class, and the first order of business would be the question on how to proceed with the information Billy had handed to me.

I was torn.

Part of me knew that I was in too deep. Serious and potentially dangerous research journalism like this was the playing field of seasoned reporters working for major newspapers such as the Seattle Star, not for a journalism major who's most remarkable achievement to day had been the uncovering of a plot to cut down a few old and very beloved trees because they blocked the sunlight from pouring into the offices of some of the university bigwigs.

On the other hand I knew that this was a huge chance to put myself into the picture with some of my potential employers. This was my final year and if I wanted to gain any form of meaningful employment in this economy I knew I had to really bring it.

This might be the one and only chance I got.

Then there was the part of me – the true journalist – who was just chomping at the bit at the realization that I could be on my way to find something huge. I mean…the information I had may help prove that Carlisle was innocent – not that I wasn't already convinced of that – and solve a murder case or at least be the first news reporter to write about it, seeing as the Seattle Police Department might beat me to it considering their superiority both in resources and manpower. Either way, this was what it was all about, the chance of a lifetime, the golden ticket to enter Willy Wonka's factory of cutting edge journalism. I would be mad if I wasn't so excited about this.

And then there was the Edward thing.

I sighed, remembering the very vivid dreams I'd been having about him – or better said: about the two of us – I'd been having the last couple of nights.

I was beginning to see this was going to be a problem.

Why wouldn't the guy leave me alone?

It was almost like the moment that I'd convinced myself that I hated his guts the guy started haunting my dreams, making me realize that my head and my heart were so not agreeing on this.

God! My feelings were such a jumbled mess.

I had been in love with the boy Edward used to be and had hated the way we had parted ways. But even though he'd yelled at me, fucked my enemy and seemed to be convinced that I was supporting the wrong team in his dad's court case, I still couldn't deny the burn of attraction I felt every time we came face to face or – if I was being completely honest – when I just thought about the guy.

Forget problem. This was going to be a disaster.

"Miss Swan," a sharp voice cut through my thoughts. "If you are not prepared to pay attention in my class then I would suggest you pack your things and leave."

I changed color, suddenly remembering how I'd made my way to school and into Professor Rhodes' classroom while I had been deeply immersed in my own personal cluster fuck.

"My apologies, Professor. It won't happen again," I was quick to apologize, shaking my head to clear it of all thoughts of Edward and focus on the never-ending bore that was Ethics of Journalism.

By the time professor Rhodes finally released her class most of the students had drifted into a semi-comatose state, the monotonous drone of the professor's voice only being disturbed when she caught someone actually drifting into sleep or otherwise visibly not paying attention.

Tanya was clearing out her desk by the time I finally made it to The Daily, her face immediately pulling into a scowl as she saw me walk in.

"You know?" she snapped, her eyes spitting fire. "I can understand you're jealous at me for landing the hottest piece of ass in town. But ratting me out to Rosalie? That's low even for you!"

"Me jealous? Yeah right!" I snorted. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble there, T-Rex, but I was all over Edward Cullen years ago."

I was dancing on the inside as I watched Tanya's face fall, her brow furrowing as the two brain cells in that empty head of hers no doubt started mulling over how Edward and I might have met. "I don't believe you," she concluded in the end, her face betraying her false confidence.

"Your funeral." I shrugged. "But the next time you meet up with lover boy, ask him who his first girlfriend was."

Tanya's eyes narrowed and I could see that those very same two brain cells were now working very hard to come up with a comeback, but faith, it seemed, was on my side because at that same moment the door to Rose's office swung open and Grace came out, looking rather forlorn.

Rose frowned. "Are you still here, Denali?"

Knowing that this was as good a chance as I was going to get I quickly rose from my desk and made my way over to the coffee corner – the breathing heart of The Daily – but not before turning around for one last dig at the filthy whore who'd defiled my favorite sweatshirt. "Enjoy my sloppy seconds, Tanya."

I didn't feel the need to inform her that I'd never gotten as much as a proper French kiss out of Edward Cullen. That was on a strict need-to-know basis as far as I was concerned.

When I made my way back the bitch had left the building, probably in search of her next victim, giving me the opportunity to actually get some work done on my next article. With two editions of The Daily already out this school year I was eager to see my name back in print. Tomorrow would be the day the articles Tanya and I had written about Carlisle and Jane would appear in the paper, having been preceded by a detailed in memoriam on Monday and an overview of the what happened as far as we knew in today's paper.

It was about time we posted something new.

Not that I didn't think Grace and Tyler hadn't been doing great jobs on their articles but it was the same shit anyone could read in the Seattle Times or just about every other random Seattle newspaper.

I looked up to see Rose's statuesque form outlined behind the blinds that shut her office off from the rest of the newsroom, her hands gesticulating wildly as she spoke to someone on the phone.

The pent up anger and frustration behind her frantic gestures made me smile sadly, wondering who the poor schmuck was who found him (or her) self on the receiving end of Rosalie's wrath. Looking at her it was easy to forget that she and I were in the same boat. Like me, she would be out there; looking for a job by the end of the year and like me she knew this was her big break. But unlike me there was a lot of pressure on her shoulders to follow in the footsteps of previous editors who'd gone on to take jobs at big national newspapers.

It was why the job of editor in chief had never really appealed to me.

Taking a deep breath I set back to work, knowing there was one thing I could do; one thing to help both of us get what we wanted: write kickass articles.

Signing in to the LexisNexis database as soon as my computer had booted up I typed in the name of the first victim – Bree Tanner – hoping my search would come up with something.

There was plenty.

As was the case with Jane, the murder of a young female student had garnered quite a lot of attention back in the day, though there had never been enough evidence to arrest even as much as a single suspect.

No mention of the tattoo, though.

As Billy said, it seemed to have been regarded as an insignificant detail at the time.

I printed out some of the more detailed articles about the case to take back home with me for a closer study before entering a new search query, this time focusing my attention on what I knew about the tattoo.

As I'd suspected most of the many links matching my query had something to do with Amherst College, seeing as Terras Irradient was the university's motto. My eyes stopped when they found an entry that appeared to be completely different and – much to my surprise – was written by a former reporter from the Daily.

The truth behind the Volturi: How a seemingly innocent fraternity seized command over our university.

The first thing that popped out at me as soon as I had clicked on the link was a picture of a woman, clad in only a simple white sheet that revealed her Rubenesque figure as well as the pendant that hung around her neck.

I gasped, immediately recognizing the pendant's V-shaped form, my eyes scanning down as my heart sped up, knowing it had found something.

Something bigger than even my wildest dreams had been able to come up with.

What do you think the Volturi are? Innocent fraternity or crime syndicate? And what's the deal with Jake and Tanya? Will he ever get the message and let Bella go? Is this the last we've seen of Tanya? What will Bella do with all the information she's uncovered?

Let me know what you think. One of the things I love best about writing a murder mystery is reading everyone's theories. Some of you are very close…..

Follow me on twitter for updates on my updates, the sounds or pictures that inspired me when I was writing and other random musings. I'm missbaby25 over there.

As always: reviewers will get teased.