Okay, so I've caught up to my Chapters on here (argh, not what I wanted). So I am currently writing out Chapter15 in draft. I've only proof read this chapter about 3 times, so if there are any inaccuracies or wrong locations etc, please please pleeeeeease let me know, as it's a pet hate of mine.

Either way, who doesn't love to have a review on here [nudge nudge] lol.

Enjoy!

Chapter 14

So here we were, three days later; stepping out of Sacramento International Airport after a four hour flight from New York.

"Right, you guys head to the hotel and get some food." Elena instructed as we waited in line for a cab. "Rachel and I will head to her apartment first and meet you there." She explained.

I looked at Antonio, Nick, Reese and Clay. Although old enough by Pack standards to hold his own, Antonio forbade Noah to come along to help. Instead instructed him to stay at Stonehaven with Jeremy and the twins and concentrate on his studies.

As an available cab approached, Clay opened the trunk and placed all the baggage inside, and proceeded to hold the door for Reese and Nick as Antonio took the front seat.

"Clay." Elena sighed rubbing the bridge of her nose as her husband shut the door behind Reese.

"Where you go, I go." He stated. "Same said for you." He nodded in my direction.

Elena waved the taxi driver on and grumbled a 'fine' under her breath before getting into the next car that pulled up.

"What the hell?" I panicked as the elevator door opened onto my floor of the apartment building. I strode down the hall towards my door, unmistakable due to the cross of yellow Police tape. I cast a wary look back to Elena as Clay pulled down the tape and pushed open the door with his fingertips, the lock seemingly busted.

We all drew back in unison at the smell of blood. I gagged, and stifled the smell with the cuff of my denim jacket, surveying my surroundings. All of my possessions were strewn about, signs of a struggle – that much was obvious. Flecks of blood were splattered on the wall, and a large stain had settled into the carpet. Judging by the smell and the vibrancy of the red, it had to be no more than forty-eight hours old.

"Come on, you don't need to see this." Clay told me and led me out the room, as Elena pulled out her cell phone.

"Paige? It's me." Elena declared talking into the receiver.

I could easily hear the woman on the other end, but my mind fizzled out with an audible conscious pop! I stared ahead at the far wall, my mind running wild. Something had happened in my apartment, and that something reeked of Werewolf.

"Yeah, business as usual…" Elena continued. "Can you look up any news articles for the Santiago Press – more precisely into any attacks in the Gateway House Apartments?"

After she was done talking to her contact Elena looked at me with the same wide-eyed expression as before. "What is it?" Clay asked.

"We need to head to the Police Station, now."

I was staring at my reflection, sitting in a nondescript room with dull grey walls, and only a table and four chairs adorning the small space. Yes, I was waiting in a police interrogation room. And what had I done? Nothing but become involved in a serious case of mistaken identity. Well, that was how the police were referring to it.

Speaking of which; were they intending on keeping me here for much longer? I stretched out my arms, as my ears pricked up at the sound of soft footfalls approaching the room. I could hear the man outside clear his throat quietly before closing his hand around the door knob.

"Ms. Weston?" I looked up to see a man most ordinary looking. Black close cut hair, Mexican heritage, quite a sallow complexion if I'm honest; with a pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose. No doubt I'd forget this guy's face by this time tomorrow. "Good afternoon, my name is Lucas Cortez." He introduced.

"As in…?" I was having trouble placing his name, as he sat down in the chair next to me.

"Forgive me; I'm a friend of the Danvers'. My wife is Paige Winterbourne-Cortez."

Ahh, Elena's contact. I nodded in recognition.

"I'm only here as a precaution – you're not under any duress. The police just want to ask you a few questions." He explained to me.

"Then why are you here, exactly?"

A half corner of a smile. "I was in the area. Now, if you're not comfortable answering anything you are well within your rights not to respond to any of their questions. Do you understand?" I nodded, just as two officers in suits entered the room.

"Miss Weston, I am Detective Cassidy, and this is my colleague; Detective Wilkes." They sat down in the chairs opposite. Detective Cassidy was obviously the more vocal; Wilkes just nodded his head at the appropriate time. "We need to ask you a few questions as to where you've been the past week." He explained.

"Okay." Was the only word my throat would allow to pass through my vocal cords. I caught sight of Wilkes looking at me. How green are his eyes? I snapped the question shut as it was imperative I paid attention. "I was travelling across the country, to visit some friends in New York State."

"Right…" Cassidy mumbled rifling through some papers he'd brought in with him. "And what day was this?" He asked still looking at the papers.

I had almost forgotten about Lucas sitting beside me until he took a little notepad from his briefcase. "Erm, Tuesday - the Fifth." I mentally counted; we were now on the Twelfth.

Cassidy nodded making little notes, as did Mr. Cortez beside me. Meanwhile Wilkes kept up his rather convincing impression of a statue. "And on what day did you arrive at your destination in New York?"

"Friday, the eighth."

Cassidy made a slight face. "You took three days to travel across the country?" He said somewhat confused.

"Is there any reason why you are so interested in the time it took my client to travel?" Lucas asked with an edge of boredom to his voice.

Cassidy shrugged. "Just impressed that's all."

"I didn't sleep much." I countered. "I spent most of the day driving."

"What were you driving; our records show you own a ford Fiesta?"

"I traded the car in for a motorcycle, it's quicker."

At this statement Cassidy's face lit up. "That's right, in Cheyenne. You part exchanged your car-" Check the notes once again. "- for cash, did you not?"

"Gentlemen." Lucas warned. "Where are you going with this?"

I looked at Detective Cassidy, as he was stared down by the lawyer, his eyes returning to me expectantly to answer his question. "I did, yes."

"And we have a statement from your ex employer that you suddenly handed in your notice, without any warning. Just upped and left to travel across the country. Does that not come across as slightly suspicious to you?"

"Only if you see it that way." I felt myself starting to get defensive as I could see Wilkes eyes glittering in my field of vision.

Cassidy lent forward on the desk. "And what way should we be seeing it?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave or two.

I let out an impatient sigh, biting down on an impending growl. "I left because an ex of mine showed up, okay?" I lied fluently. "I've had some trouble with him in the past, so I ran – let's just put it this way, he left more marks on me than the occasional hickie. Not that any of this is your concern." I scowled as Cassidy seemed fairly put out, leaning back in his chair.

"But why clear your accounts and pay for everything in hard cash?" He asked sternly.

They looked at my bank statement? The bastards! "He's been known to access my bank account before, so I didn't want to leave any trails with my card payments to let him know where I was." Finally, a use for all the movie knowledge I've collected over the years.

"Can you put a name to this ex-boyfriend of yours?" Cassidy asked pen poised.

"Terry Marshall." I stated, giving myself a mental high five.

"Description?"

"This should be better for you Detective." Lucas spoke up, pulling out an envelope from his briefcase, passing over a surveillance photo of a man in his thirties. I heard myself gasp, and flinched at seeing the photo of Terry Marshall.

This didn't go unnoticed. "This him?" Cassidy asked a hint of condolence to his tone. All I could do was nod mutely. "Rachel - can I call you Rachel?" He asked.

I shrugged.

"Rachel," He continued. "Do you recognise this woman?" He handed me a large black and white image of a woman lying on her back. She had dark hair, a round face, marred by a bloody cut and bruising to her left temple and a ragged slit in her throat.

I didn't have to act swallowing the bile I could taste on the back of my tongue. I felt the colour drain from my face. All I could do was shake my head.

"She bares an uncanny resemblance to you, don't you think?" He added, passing over another image, a colour photograph. The same girl, only in this scene she was smiling at the camera, a drink in hand. The resemblance was clear, only her eyes were a more muted blue, her lips a bit fuller, hair outgrowing some side swept bangs.

"I still don't know who she is, I'm sorry." I passed the photo back.

Cassidy fidgeted. "It was the body of this woman who was murdered in your apartment Miss Weston." He slipped back into the formal use of my name. "I'm assuming on the details you've given me on your ex boyfriend, that he could be our number one suspect." Cassidy's eyes flicked to his partners before returning back to me clearing his throat.

"Miss Weston, going by the evidence before me; this looks to be an intentional threat on your life. With your permission I want you to have a police escort with you at all times until this man is in custody."

Okay, that - I wasn't expecting. "Oh, I don't want to waste police resources." I stammered.

"Officers, if it's easier on your staffing recourses I could keep an eye out for Ms. Weston on your behalf." Lucas spoke up.

Wilkes blinked. "Excuse me?" Cassidy asked.

Lucas slid a business card across the table. "My profession goes beyond a lawyer gentleman, I also happen to be a Private Detective."

Cassidy laughed, rolling his eyes to his colleague.

Lucas leaned into my ear, speaking loudly enough so the officers could still hear him. "Why don't you wait outside, your friends are bound to be getting a little disgruntled by now."

"Sure." I agreed, gratefully getting to my feet. I nodded to the two Detectives and gladly left the stuffy little room.