Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. The content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Just4ALE.

A/N1: Hello, new readers. There sure are a bunch of you. Um, where did you come from? I'm used to only a loyal handful reading my stories. Thank you to anyone mentioning this one. I'm thrilled (and a little scared).

Sooo, everything I know about prison, law and medicine comes from TV shows. I did a bit of research and consulted a friend with a law degree as well as a practicing surgeon (thx mortangel!). That said, lawyers and doctors out there, please cut me some slack… I work really long hours in neither field (which is why you're getting this update a few days early - too much work to do this weekend).

Chapter 13

Aerosmith: Dream On

#

Prison.

Murder.

I killed my wife.

Time seemed to halt as the words floated out there, hovering near his mouth. All that was missing was the speech balloon surrounding it.

But this was no comic strip. And this sure as hell wasn't funny.

Emmett groaned. "Jesus, I hate when you say that, you emo-asshole. How many times…" His voice faded as a cloud enveloped my brain. I was caught like a deer in the headlights, staring at Edward, unable to look away. Emmett continued saying something and then the room exploded once again in a cacophony of voices. The noise finally shook me loose and I dropped my head and closed my eyes and ears to everything around me as I processed this newest information.

I'm a danger magnet. No, I'm a FUCKING danger magnet. Yeah. That's right. Now is the time to use any bad words I know.

Fuck. My. Life.

It wasn't enough that I'd participated in this stupid NSAR-SF and unwittingly stepped into hell knows what. Step back a little further: I was mugged while applying for the damn thing!

Now came the best part. For months, in the privacy and safety of my own home, I'd been chatting and developing a…"relationship" of sorts…with someone, and it turns out he's an ex-con. I mentally scoffed, remembering one of my conversations with Jake about 'Tony'…

~#~

"It's hard to have a relationship with someone you've never met, Jacob."

"Women do it all the time with prisoners," he said.

"So now you're comparing my "hobby" to those of women infatuated with murderers? You're crazy!"

~#~

Prisoners? Murderers? What the hell? Is my number up or something? If I find out Tyler is with the Mafia, I'm gonna go postal.

There might as well have been big-ass neon signs along the way flashing loud and clear not to do this race: "Danger! Danger Bella Swan! Danger!" And I fucking ignored them.

No, Edward isn't dangerous. He was a Boy Scout for God's sake!

But he'd just stated he killed his wife. I backtracked to Emmett's first comment, reaching out to recall all of what he'd actually said: "Jesus, I hate when you say that, you emo-asshole. How many times have we discussed this? You know it wasn't your fault."

"You'll just have to trust your gut."

My gut told me something was off. After all the times we'd talked, it just wasn't adding up. Could I have missed this? Was there anything-?

At that moment, a weird feeling hit me as another thought started to form. It was there, dancing on the edges, daring me to see it. It doesn't add up…

Snippets of conversations about Edward and his past ran through my head at light-speed: "One Sunday, when I was around six years old, my mom and dad took us to the park… Anyway, Lennon was shot about four months later…" "…child of the seventies. I'm almost ten years older than this guy." "Once upon a time, I was a doctor." "It all came out okay. It shouldn't matter."

The past is gone. It went like dusk to dawn…

The answer burst to the surface as I suddenly recalled one of his program segments from mid-April…

~twtm~

"Okay Fogheads, in honor of a certain big-name marathon that went on today, our first question of the night is about the Bad Boys from Boston. They're the biggest-selling American rock band of all time, and they hold the record for the most gold and multi-platinum albums sold by an American group. They also have the distinguished honor of being the only band I've personally seen three times in concert.

I'm lobbing this one at you for our first pitch of the night. Tell me the band's name, the two movies they appeared in, and the epic cover they did in one of those movies. The first one to answer gets… the admiration of all the other callers you beat to the punch…"

~#~

No. It doesn't add up at all, does it Bella? I needed one small piece of information.

I opened my eyes and quickly looked up, only to see Irina, her arms wrapped around him once more, while he stood looking stiff and uncomfortable in her embrace, taking in their arguments. This bitch is really pissing me off.

"Hold on," I said loudly. All conversation came to a screeching halt as six heads turned to look at me. My eyes were slits as I stared at Edward.

"How old are you?"

The expression on his face went from frozen, to surprised, to puzzled, in the span of two seconds. Irina smiled and looked up at him, her left hand patting his chest lightly. "Aw, she doesn't even know your age, Eddie." She wasn't fooling anyone. Her actions looked like she was trying to comfort him, but her words were aimed at me. I know him so much better than you, little girl. I saw red.

"Be quiet," I hissed, causing her to look at me.

That slapped the smile off of her face. She looked indignant and opened her mouth to say something.

"Irina," Kate said in a warning voice. Irina looked at her and Kate shook her head. Angrily, Irina shut her mouth.

I returned my stare back to Edward. "Answer me," I demanded, waiting to hear confirmation of what I already knew.

"I'm thirty-six."

Bingo.

I nodded. "You're thirty-six." I stood up quickly, my movements and the scraping sound of my chair across the floor shocking everyone. "You, get your hands off of him," I said, pointing at Irina. "You," I continued, looking at Edward and thumbing over my shoulder, "outside. NOW." I whirled around and stormed out.

Emmett chuckled as I stomped through the living room and threw open the screen door. "Oh, Eddie, I REALLY like her. Go get 'er, Doc."

I was halfway down the path when I heard the screen door open and shut behind me. I stormed over to the bike and waited. When I heard the sound of his shoes on the gravel behind me, I started talking.

"My parents were murdered when I was thirteen. One of the killers involved is still in jail."

I whirled around to look at him. He was standing about five feet away, gaping at me, clearly shocked by this revelation.

"You didn't kill your wife. You're too young. Murder generally carries a long sentence, and even if you shaved a year or two off of your education, you still couldn't have done it."

I put my hands on my hips as I started walking at him.

"Aerosmith is the only band you've seen three times. You said you saw them in '93 and then again in '01, at the same venue – Shoreline Amphitheater – just days before 9/11. Then you saw them with a buddy in '07 when they did a short tour of the U.S."

He could only nod dumbly.

"You were in med school in '97 when you saw that Fleetwood Mac concert. Even if you never went through an internship and residency, there's no way you graduated from med school, killed your wife, sat through a trial, went to prison, served time for murder, got out and could be working as a DJ for the past two years, if everything you've said on the air and in our chats is truthful."

His eyes widened. "Yeah, I remember everything you ever told me about yourself, 'Tony,' so do me a favor and just tell me the truth! No smart-ass comments, no dodging." I stepped closer until I was a foot away and then I put both hands on his chest and pushed. He staggered back and I moved forward with him. "And so help me God, if you even dare to think 'You can't handle the truth,' I'll knock you on your ass."

Clearly shocked, he took another step back and I realized I needed to calm down; my hands were clenched in fists at my sides and I probably had steam coming from my ears. I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. "I'm sorry," I finally said in a gentler tone. "All of this has just been so..." I paused. "How did she die?"

His normally expressive voice was monotone. "She was murdered. Shot to death."

"But not by you."

"No."

"Then why…?" I trailed off, gesturing back at the Winthrop house.

He ran his hands over his hair in that weird trademark move of his. "I didn't pull the trigger, Bella, but it's my fault she's dead. I drove her away and into the arms of another man."

The pained expression on his face tugged at my heart and I gnawed at my bottom lip as I took him in. At this moment, he looked older than his thirty-six years, this admission causing creases at his eyes, and his shoulders to hunch.

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath as I looked up to the sky. The sun was shining brightly and I knew this was going to be a long conversation. There was no way we could do this standing in this heat.

I turned and went to the bike to get my backpack from the saddlebag. Throwing it over my shoulder, I looked at him and nodded toward the McCarty house. I wanted privacy and shade for this conversation. He nodded and we walked in silence until we found ourselves on their porch. There was a small bench near the edge of the house away from the door. I went and sat down, putting my backpack on my lap. Without looking at him, I patted the space next to me, asking him to join me.

He sat down, placed his arms on his thighs, clasped his hands, and looked at me. I was suddenly nervous about this conversation and rather than fidget, I reached into the front pocket of my bag looking for the comfort of my lip balm. I felt the highlighter, mini flashlight, flash drive, eraser, and tube of superglue before touching the familiar shape of the Blistex tube.

Taking it out, I applied it to my lips and then put it away. I finally looked at him; he was staring at my lips, but then his eyes shifted to meet mine instantly. I put the bag on the porch, then gripped the edge of bench and nodded, giving him the go-ahead. He took a deep breath, then turned and looked straight ahead as he spoke.

"My family moved around a lot when I was a kid. We lived in Chicago, New York, DC, and eventually San Francisco. Tanya was my girlfriend during my senior year at Lowell High School.

"She was pretty and smart. All the guys liked her; she was the all-American dream… tall, blonde - strawberry blonde actually- blue eyes. I was crazy about her…but my parents weren't. We had some money and they felt that she was more into it than me. Lowell is the best public high school in San Francisco; the city's top students – rich and poor – attended. The funny thing is they wanted me to go there rather than to a prep school so that I didn't get the "privileged" mindset that comes from having a little wealth. So I had a girl that wasn't part of the elite, and they looked at her like she was a gold-digger.

"We went our separate ways after high school. She got into UCLA and I moved out east and went to Brown, where my parents had gone. We tried to make it work for a little while, but it was too hard. We broke up that first year and didn't really stay in touch. Three years later, I got into UCSF for med school and returned back home.

"I was in my third year when I ran into her again at the bank, of all places. She was in a management trainee program. Her parents had since moved away, but she wanted to be back in San Francisco, so she'd returned when she graduated from college.

"She looked great, as always, and it was so nice to see her after all that time. We started dating again, much to my parents' dismay, but this time I didn't let their comments go. I fought with them and told them to butt out of my life. As a result of my decision, they decided my part of any future family wealth would be better spent elsewhere. It was horribly ugly. Within a few months, they were gone…and Tanya and I were married in a small civil ceremony at city hall the summer between my third and fourth year.

"Fourth year was a busy one; I was running around the country interviewing at different programs. Unlike many of my classmates who wanted to go into the more glamorous and lucrative fields like Orthopedics or Plastic Surgery, I was actually interested in exploring internal medicine. Some consider it a lesser discipline, but internists are kind of the 'doctor's doctor': they often get to act as consultant to other doctors to help solve odd diagnostic problems, and that appealed to me. I was fortunate. After all that running around, I got accepted to UCSF Medical Center's Internal Medicine Residency program, which was one of the best in the country."

I shifted and turned to face him, pulling my right leg up on the bench and hugging it, resting my chin on my knee. He looked at me again and gave me a small smile, shifting to face me as well. "Your first year as an intern is nuts. You barely sleep. You're practically a slave, but it was thrilling and I loved it. However, it started to take a toll on our relationship. I told her it would get better once it was over and we both did our best to give the other what they needed.

"Things improved a little during my second year of residency. I became somewhat friendly with a doctor I met during the first year. James was a good guy and we bonded on our similar backgrounds, interests and even alma maters. Schedules permitting, Tanya and I would go out with him and his girlfriend of the moment. Sometimes I'd just go after work to shoot some pool at his house and get his thoughts on some of my cases. Once or twice, I let him take me to the gun range; James couldn't shoot for shit – I was actually much better than he was – but he was into guns and liked to take his latest one out for a try. He was the one who convinced me to do one of my rotations in cardiology under him.

"Along the way, Tanya began to realize that my medical pursuits weren't particularly 'interesting.' I guess she thought I'd end up in a lucrative field, but it wasn't until we'd spent some time with James and she heard us discussing some of the specializations, that she realized my interests weren't going to immediately have us living James' lifestyle.

"I was a little surprised by her feelings on the matter: I thought she said she'd supported me, but she kept suggesting that it wasn't too late to change my specialty and wanted to talk about it. I promised I would, but I became so engrossed in various cases at work, I just didn't have time. The truth was, I didn't make the time. I didn't want to be forced to do something for money, and I was a little afraid my parents were right about her. I didn't want to know." He huffed and then shrugged. "As it turns out, Tanya not only liked the idea of James' lifestyle, she also liked James."

He suddenly stood and moved to the porch railing, looking out at the front lawn. "One night after a particularly frustrating day at work, I went over to James' house to talk about another in a series of odd cases we'd been researching. He was surprised to see me; imagine MY surprise when I heard Tanya's voice calling from upstairs, asking him when he was coming back to bed."

Edward slowly turned to face me and leaned against the railing. "I wish I could go back and redo what happened next. It was a huge mistake," he said bitterly. "I stormed in, shouting, asking how long this had been going on. James was trying to calm me down, but I felt so betrayed. I went to the game room to get a drink and they followed me, trying to explain. I was pouring my drink when Tanya told me she loved James.

"My head exploded and I threw my glass. It landed against the wall, just inches from them. I told them both what I thought of them, stormed out of the house, and took off on my bike. Not wanting to go home, I rode over to Marin and sat along the water in Sausalito for a while before coming back to the hospital. Somewhere along the way I grabbed a room to sleep. The next morning, I clocked in and started my shift.

"The rest was basically Murphy's Law in action. Shortly after I left, someone broke into his house and shot them both with James' gun. I was immediately the prime suspect. The fucking head cop investigating the case was relentless and so biased. It was like Inspector Javert was after me; he didn't look anywhere else. As the case began, I could see where this was going and I turned over whatever I had to Eleazar and Carmen, who were the only ones to stick by me during this time. Carmen had been a patient I'd saved when I noticed a drug she was using to lower her cholesterol was causing severe tissue damage and kidney problems; they were so thankful and sort of adopted me into their family. Anyway, in the end, Detective Voltorini had enough 'evidence' of my guilt, and it became an open and shut case."

I sat in rapt attention. "What did they have on you?" I asked incredulously.

"Witnesses who'd heard the yelling. My fingerprints all over his office, where we'd spent a lot of time discussing these Lipocol drug cases, as well as in the game room. My fingerprints on the smashed glass. Our shooting hobby, and how I was a much better shot than he was." He paused and shook his head. "And my fingerprints on the gun that he'd just bought the week before, which I'd held. Meanwhile, I couldn't find any of the people who'd seen me in Sausalito and/or hospital staff. Somehow the cameras missed me coming in. A year later, I'm in Folsom."

He looked down. "I'm not going to tell you about those first few months in prison, Bella. This whole story is ugly enough as it is. The only good part of it all – if you can even call it 'good'- is that I was in the courtyard one day when Emmett got shanked by another inmate. He was in on a seven-year sentence for attempted murder. Because of Em's size, he was generally left alone and acted as a protector of sorts for other inmates. After my medical training allowed me to save him from bleeding to death, he became my protector too… and a good friend. A year after I got in, Garrett joined us on a stint for grand theft auto.

Isn't that the way? Everybody got their dues in life to pay.

"Emmett got out in '05 and instantly married Rose; she waited all that time for him. Then in early '07 some new evidence came to light that exonerated me. They found the camera footage of me at the hospital and driving by a light in Sausalito. Come April, I was out at last, having served four years, but it was too late. My old life was over," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

We were silent. It wasn't until I heard him speak again that I realized I'd gathered my left leg to join my right and had been hugging them both to my chest, staring at the floor. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

So many things. Everything and nothing. I looked at him. "Wow. Edward, that's a lot…" I uncurled myself and put my feet back down on the ground and sat up straighter as I collected my thoughts.

"I have two questions," I began.

"Okay."

"First, why didn't you go back into medicine? You were in the clear. Couldn't you start over?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I was so raw from what happened, I just couldn't. I didn't trust that the system would ever back me if I needed it again. The hospital didn't help during the trial; from the administration's perspective, a second-year resident killed one of their lead cardiologists. My whole life was destroyed on my path to good, so I just decided to walk away."

I nodded. "As someone who's also tried to escape my past, I can somewhat understand that." I paused. "I guess the bigger question is… why do you blame yourself for this? She cheated on you."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Ever since that night, I wondered how I could have changed the outcome. Maybe if I'd been willing to talk. I knew she needed more attention, but I just didn't give it to her. Maybe if I'd put her first before my career. Maybe-"

I stood up quickly and walked over to stand in front of him. "Maybe nothing. Your friends are right. You're not to blame. You've spent all these years beating yourself up over two things that were completely unrelated. People cheat: THIS I know. That's why I'm not married anymore."

Hesitantly I reached out and touched his arm. "My parents were gunned down in front of me, Edward. Jake and Nessie – attacked in their house just two days ago. Murder is evil. You are not. You didn't kill your wife, nor were you responsible for her death. I don't know how long we'll be in each other's lives, but please, do me a favor, and never ever say anything like that about yourself in front of me again."

The pain in his eyes slowly evaporated as surprise and a bit of wonder replaced it. He looked down at my hand on his arm and I immediately went to pull it away. His hand shot out to grab it as he said with a small smile, "Deal."

I nodded and shook his hand. "Deal."

We stood there gazing at each other, our hands clasped in our handshake, when Emmett came walking out.

"So, are we good?" Emmett asked. We turned and saw him standing on the porch stairs, carrying Hallie. Rosalie, Garrett, Kate and Irina were all making their way up the path after him.

I let go of Edward's hand and I backed away from him. He was still looking at me as he responded, "Yeah, Em, we're good."

"I'm glad," Emmett said with a grin as he joined us on the porch. "And now for the million-dollar question: What's your story?"

~#~

An hour later, the McCarty living room was silent as Edward and I finished talking. With Hallie safely playing in her room, I'd told them everything I knew. I spoke about the treasure hunt: how it was sponsored by Edward's station, how it worked, and why Jake and I signed up. I told them about what happened just a day and a half ago at Jake and Nessie's house: the new home, the planned sleepover, pizza, thinking it was Quil when the doorbell rang, and all that I'd heard downstairs. Then Edward joined in to help explain what happened since: my breaking into his house, getting the money at Jake's, beating up Chuck, the cell phones being traced, the chase through the Presidio, and the escape by boat and then bike.

They were all curious about Jake and Nessie's disappearance and threw out some of the same theories as Edward. Maybe Jake was into something. Maybe he staged it. For some reason, none of them thought as I did: maybe the thugs took their bodies to dispose of them. My heart started to hurt and I had to ask them to stop.

Since it was clear that it had to do something with NSAR-SF, Emmett and Garrett asked tons of questions about the stops Jake and I had made. While I couldn't recall the exact names, I listed the neighborhoods we'd stopped in, as well as all the types of shops I could remember: pharmacy, toys, wine, cameras, shoe repair, lingerie, sporting goods, video, Chinatown souvenirs, candles, cards, and coffee. Since Jake and I separated a few times, I didn't know all of them.

"I have a question," Rosalie interjected, surprising me. She'd been noticeably quiet during the discussion. Moreover, her body language had shifted dramatically during that time, changing from friendly to almost angry, her arms folded across her chest as she sat on the sofa next to Emmett. "Why did you come here, Edward?"

Edward looked surprised. "What do you mean? We needed a place to hide out for a while."

"That place isn't here."

Emmett gasped. "Babe!"

She turned to look at him. "No, Emmett. Just no. We've spent five years building our lives and forgetting the past." She pointed to his tattoo. "Never look back." She looked at Edward again. "And now you've come here with trouble nipping at your heels. I don't know why you'd think this was okay."

"Rosie, you know Edward is like a brother to me," Emmett said.

She looked at Emmett again. "And like you, I'd do anything for him, but he's put us all in danger for her!" she said, gesturing at me. "Look at them. They barely know each other. They just met in person a day and a half ago. She's not even his girlfriend. She's nothing to him or us!"

Looking at Edward, she said, "Edward, you know I love you, but I won't let her ruin our lives. We've got a family to consider now. You can't 'hide' here," she said looking at me.

Edward sat motionless as he took this all in. I didn't know what kind of reaction I expected, but silence wasn't it. Suddenly, exhaustion overwhelmed me. I felt defeated and lost. I just wanted this nightmare to be over.

Dream on.

I didn't want to cry in front of everyone, so I put on a brave face and stood up quickly. "You're right. I don't want to disrupt your lives and I certainly don't want to endanger them. Look, I'll leave." Edward's head popped up, a surprised look on his face. I ignored it and continued. "You don't need this complication, but I need to ask a big favor: could I just wash up and get a little rest before then? I'm kind of wiped-out and I need to recharge so that I can figure out my next step and head off again."

"Bella, what do you mean…?" Edward whispered. I met his gaze quickly and looked back at Emmett and Rosalie.

Emmett looked at Edward, and then at his wife, before turning to me. Concern was evident on his face. "Sure kid. You can nap in the spare room. Second door on the left, just past Hallie's room." He started to rise. "Here, I'll show you."

I picked up my backpack. "No need. I can find it. Thanks. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can."

The room was silent as I made my way down the hall. I found the spare room and stepped inside. As I closed the door, I heard them talking.

"Jesus, Rose, that was harsh. After all she's been through?" Garrett said.

"Shit," Edward muttered.

Kate cleared her throat. "Well, that was pleasant," she said sarcastically. "Speaking of hair…"

My tears started flowing the second I was alone. Worried that they'd hear me, I went into the bathroom and turned on the water for a shower. Mercifully, it warmed quickly and I jumped in, crying as silently as possible. Knowing that the sooner I napped, the sooner I could leave, I washed up quickly and threw on Edward's t-shirt and sweats. I towel-dried my wet hair and collapsed into the bed, trying to figure out my next move.

I needed time to think, but where could I go? If they knew my history, they were probably watching for me in Arizona. Maybe I could go to Wyoming or Colorado and hole up in a small mountain town. Maybe I could buy a clunker car and take off; I was sure Rosalie would drive me to a used car lot to get rid of me quickly, but wouldn't they need to see my driver's license if I did that? Even if I used Nessie's license, it would put me on the grid.

Maybe there was a train I could stow away on, just like you see in movies. Hide out and just go anywhere and leave it all behind… including Edward. I'd involved him enough. With his history, he didn't need any more trouble.

The thought of leaving him brought on a batch of fresh tears, and I quickly covered myself up with the sheet and cried myself to sleep.

Dream Tony/Edward came to visit me again on our blanket in the meadow. He looked different, younger somehow… and more real.

"I'm gonna miss you," I said to my dream friend.

He smoothed the hair from my face and leaned in to kiss my forehead. Lying down next to me, he reached for my hand and clasped it in both of his.

"Don't worry my Izzy-Bella, I won't abandon you…"

~#~

It was late afternoon when I heard music softly playing. I felt movement, heard a click, and then again felt the bed move once again. As my conscious mind awakened, I felt the warmth of another hand in mine. I breathed deeply and instantly recognized it was Edward.

It hurt to open my eyes since they were puffy and likely swollen from crying. When I finally managed it, I saw warm green eyes.

"Hello," he said with a smile.

"Hi," I replied shyly. "Did you sleep here too?"

"Yeah, I came in about an hour after you. You were passed out."

"I'm exhausted. You must be too." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry I dragged you and them into this, Edward."

He released my hand and then I felt him gently tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. "I'm not," he said quietly. I opened my eyes again. "You're the first new friend I've allowed myself to have in a long time, Bella."

There's that damned word again.

I took notice of all his features as he lay there next to me. He had pretty eyes and a beautiful smile which might look feminine if it wasn't set among his more masculine features – angular jaw, thick eyebrows, straight, perfectly-formed nose.

I frowned as I took him in. He looked different, but what-? Oh! I blinked and sat up as it hit me.

His ponytail was gone.

"Holy shit," I gasped.

He sat up slowly. "What?" Noting that my eyes were trained on his head, he smiled sheepishly and ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, yeah. Irina cut it for me. This is the real me."

The action seemed so natural and I now understood why it looked so odd when he'd done it with the long hair.

I reached out and he followed my hand movement as I touched his head and ran my fingers through his hair. It was soft and thick, and our combined actions gave him a mussed-up, just-rolled-out-of-bed look.

Yeah. I know the real him.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

I nodded. "You look good." Understatement. "You look like you." You look freakin' gorgeous.

Shit.

I quickly withdrew my hand and scooted back to sit with my back to the headboard. "Irina cut it, huh?" I asked, trying to keep the venom out of my tone. The wench aggravated me.

He sighed and then moved to sit next to me. "My first year out of Folsom, I just hopped on my bike and rode. I met Kate during my travels. She was a bookkeeper for a bar that I frequented as I passed through a small town, not far from that motel. We hooked up on and off, nothing serious. When Garrett got out and joined me, it was all she wrote for our time together."

"A few months later, I was traveling through again and Kate's sister Irina was visiting. She's a hairdresser in Reno. We hooked up. She wanted more. I didn't. After I got the job at the station, I didn't see her as often and it just faded away."

He reached for my hand and held it on the bed between the two of us. We both looked at our clasped hands. "I didn't want to be emotionally close to anyone. I was raw from what Tanya had done and my guilt over my part in it all. Physical encounters were all I could take. Just sex."

Huh. Just sex. I'll bet it was good. I smiled wistfully. "Clearly you have a type," I said, looking at him.

He was still looking at our hands, as he began rubbing mine with his thumb. "Clearly my type has changed," he said softly, turning to look at me.

The force of his look combined with those words nearly knocked the breath out of me. What was he saying? Just like when he'd fixed my cuts at his home, I felt that energy between us, only it was stronger this time. He looked down at my lips and back at my eyes. "Bella, I–"

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. "Bella? Are you awake?" Emmett asked.

"Uh, yeah." I scrambled off the bed to open the door.

Emmett looked at me and then at Edward sitting on the bed. He nodded down the hall. "You might want to see this."

We followed him to the living room where the rest were gathered. Kate swiveled in her seat by the computer in the corner as we entered the room.

"I hope we didn't wake you, but Edward said he'd be getting the two of you up around now." She gestured at the computer. "After he went to sleep, we got to wondering whether there was any news on your friends, Jacob and Nessie…" she began.

I froze. "And?" I managed to choke.

Garrett shook his head. "Nothing. Just articles about his new business from several months ago, and a few mentions of him at various events here and there." I looked at the computer screen behind Kate and there was the Team Jacob picture from the Bay to Breakers.

My heart started racing so fast, I thought it was going to fly out of my chest. Meanwhile, my feet felt like they were glued to the floor. Then I felt two hands on my shoulders as Edward stepped closer to me. He was almost flush against me when he leaned down and whispered, "It's okay, Bella. I'm with you." I nodded and relaxed a little as I moved closer to the computer.

Kate clicked to another page. "We did find something else. It may be nothing… but the owner of one of the Treasure Hunt shops was found dead yesterday morning. She ran a camera store that participated in the event, and you mentioned you stopped in a camera store…" she offered.

I leaned in and scanned the brief clip:

The body of a woman was found in a dumpster in the Mission early Sunday morning, police said. Two employees of a gaming company spotted the body from the third floor of their office building.

She was been identified as Victoria Hammond, 34, from San Francisco. Ms. Hammond was the proprietor of HV Photo, a camera store in the Hayes Valley section of San Francisco.

The store was one of thirty establishments participating in the Great Treasure Hunt event sponsored by KFOG this past weekend. KFOG officials…

I grabbed the mouse and clicked to scroll down. There, embedded in the article, was a small photo of the redheaded woman from the camera shop where Jake and I had gone.

I gasped. Images and voices hit me all at once as the dots connected instantly:

The two big, scary men.

"We need to talk, Victoria."

The voices at Jake's and Nessie's house.

'Dee'

"Demetri." "Felix."

Flash drive.

I whirled from the computer and maneuvered around everyone as I ran back to the spare room to grab my bag. I returned to the living room just as quickly, rooting around the front pocket until I felt it.

Everyone was staring at me when I looked up and shoved the object out in front of me. I stared at Edward and said, "This is what they're after. Jake and I must have switched them by mistake when he dumped my stuff out to inventory our collection on Saturday night."

"Should we look at what's on it?" Irina asked.

"No!" Garrett exclaimed. "It could open up immediately into some website account. We don't know if they'll be able to trace that thing to this location the minute you pop it in. I mean, I'm no computer expert, but you never know. You need a much better security system than this."

Everyone was quiet as we looked at the object in my hand. Finally, Emmett spoke.

"Dude," he said, looking at Edward, "I know you won't want to do this, but you have no choice. I think it's time to pay a visit to The Oracle."

A/N2: Hmm. I wonder who they're going to see now? (I think it's Warren Buffett, the Oracle of Omaha. Hubs thinks it is the lady from The Matrix. ;) What do you think?)

It's all coming together, bit by bit. (And the ponytail is gone! Yay!)

As always, thank you to my badass beta Irritable Grizzzly (who just won the Hidden Star Award for Best Beta! Woo hoo!)

Please review.

Post A/N: Also not mine – lyrics from Aerosmith's Dream On and line from the movie A Few Good Men.

Answer to Tony's questions:

- Aerosmith
- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band ('78, staring Peter Frampton & the Bee Gees!) and Wayne's World 2
- Come Together (great Beatles cover)

Finally, Inspector Javert is the relentless policeman who chased Jean Valjean in Les Misérables.