Chapter 4
The Fast and the Furious

Derek didn't know where I lived. No one did. Which is why, with thirteen urgent voicemails piling up in my cell, I decided to meet with him at the diner two blocks down from his apartment.

"Charlie, it's bad. Real bad. We are so fucked it's not even funny."

My answer was more annoyed than the frightened he was going for, "Language, Derek."

He shut his tired, bloodshot eyes. I noticed his golden hair was more disheveled than usual, and that his normally crisp polo was sporting an impressive pizza stain. Concern rose up inside me, but I effectively squashed it before it hatched.

I idly played with my spoon, "Well? What was so important that it couldn't wait?"

"Have you ever heard Rochester? Jacob Rochester? Yeah. Well he happens to be the most recognized detective in the entire world. He is related to the man who caught Al Capone. And it so happens Rochester was a close family friend, through his wife, of Raskovielsky. Charlie, he's coming here, to investigate you. We are fucked."

I moved my eyes from the spoon to my hands, inspecting my nails. I sighed, and my voice was irate when I answered him, "I can handle Rochester."

Derek threw himself against the back of his seat, an angry growl escaping him as he passed his hand over his face, "You just don't get, do you? I looked you up, Charlie. And you don't exist. There are no files. Nothing. No ID. No pictures. No record of you ever being born. You are invisible."

I raised an eyebrow, "I thought that would be a good thing."

"No. It's not. The fact that there is no information about you makes you even more suspicious. Hell, they probably think you're some sort of fucking CIA agent!" his face grew serious, "They are going to find you, Charlie. It's just a matter of time."

"I can't leave town. You know that," I said quietly, anticipating his next statement.

Derek sighed, leaning forward, "Charlie. Makoto will find out. There is going to be a hell of a lot of people after you. He reads the headlines, you know. I hate to say it, but you're running out of time."

I stared at him. I knew he couldn't tell what I was thinking. I was as responsive as a marble wall. And I didn't want him to know I was thinking. Because branded inside my head, everything I could see was Lucy. Lucy needed me. I was her guardian; I was her source of food and shelter. She was mine; she was everything I had. If anything happened to me, I don't know what would happen to her. And that was an insecurity I couldn't live with. I knew that once I got back, I would have to plan for the worse. Rochester, I might be able to handle, but Makoto was an entirely different story – he didn't have any laws to retrain him.

"Then find time," I fired right back.

"I can only do so much," he warned.

I sighed, "Do what you can. Stall. Mess with their files. Make sure the newspaper doesn't find out about the investigation."

"I can only buy you seven days at most."

"Seven days and seven nights, where have I heard that before?" I mused, chuckling bitterly to myself.

Derek's face darkened, "None of us could help what happened to the Red Butterfly. You know that, Charlie."

In an uncharacteristic moment, I let my cool, unyielding façade slip. My eyes burned and I let out a barely contained hiss of anger, "She was my mother."

Derek stared at the table underneath his hands, refusing to make eye contact with me. He gave me a few second to compose myself before he chanced a glance. A wry, albeit sad, smile took over his lips when he saw that I was back to my bored observation of the silverware before me.

"Seven days," I assented dryly.

"I will do my best, but I don't know how long I will be able to keep it a secret. You know how it is," Derek cautioned.

I gave a slight nod.

The waitress decided to show up, holding a steaming mug of coffee and a plate which overflowed with pancakes and syrup. She set them carefully in front of Derek, casting him a flirtatious look from under her heavily mascara covered eyelashes. When Derek chose to completely ignore her, instead fixing his thoughtful gaze on me, the curvy red head shot me a jealous and frustrated glare. I fought the urge to smile cheekily in her direction. Derek didn't even notice when she slipped her number underneath his plate.

"Charlie," he started, hesitantly, "I have to ask – why is there nothing about you? How can you be so invisible? I've know you for at least eight years and I don't even know your last name. I don't know where you live!"

"And you never will," I passed my frigid eyes over him.

Derek shook his head, "But Charlie, there isn't even any proof of your birth! In the virtual world, you don't exist! Even I exist, for all of my efforts to be invisible like you."

A silence fell over us. The diner was quiet, only a few shady costumers left at these outrageous hours of the night. Derek heartily dug into his pancakes, using the napkin with the girl's number to wipe of his sticky fingers.

I laughed, "I thought you would appreciate someone to warm your bed tonight, lothario."

He smirked at me playfully, "Tonight I'm going to work full time on you, Princess."

I scoffed, passing over his flirtatious inclinations as per usual. My cell phone rung in my pocket. I would have ignored it, but I couldn't afford that luxury. I stood up, and made to leave.

"Rochester will find you. He has solved every case he has ever been assigned," Derek voiced.

I turned to him, "There is always a first time."

Derek glanced at me in wonder, "How can you be so calm, Charlie?"

My face displayed no emotion, "It's my job."

The curvy red-head almost knocked me over as she scampered over to Derek's, now free, table. I rolled my eyes, taking out my cell phone as I tossed a few pennies into the jar by the door. The small bell at the door made a frustratingly happy noise as I swung open the door of the diner and step out into the pouring rain. I quickly flipped up the hood of my black jacket, curling my nose in disgust at the monotone climate of Washington State. I hated the rain. The cell phone rang more insistently in my hand. Sighing, I flipped the black device open, bracing myself for Jason's harsh voice.

"Charlie," I spoke, beginning my way down the dark streets.

"Charlie? That's you name? Wow. I like it!"

I almost dropped the phone in completely shock. And I never, ever, am surprised. My job is to be informed, prepared for anything. But even though I had only met him once, there was no mistaking the rich voice on the other side of the line. It was that boy. Embry Call.

He was still jabbering on about my name when I sliced across his words, cold as ice, "How did you get this number?"

He was smiling, I could tell, "A magician never reveals his secrets, Charlie."

My voice was deadly, "How did you get this number?"

"So, tell me, what are you doing, Charlie?" he began, mischievously.

"Don't call me Charlie!" I snapped angrily.

A pause, "It's your name, isn't it?"

I refused to answer him, pressing the phone closer to my ear, my knuckles turning white, "This is an unlisted number. How did you get this number?"

A light chuckle, "I have a friend who is good with computers."

"I do too, and unless you want him to make your life a living hell, I suggest you forget this number, my name and any contact we ever had."

I was going to hang up, when his voice piped up, happy as ever, "I don't give up that easily, Miss Charlotte."

My heart stopped in my chest.

"How do you know that?" my voice was a hoarse whisper, nothing more than a breath of fear.

A sizzling sound came over the phone and I imagined he was cooking, "Know what? That your name is Charlotte? Come on, just how thick do you think I am? You're a girl, and your nickname is Charlie. Unless you had odd parents that named you with a distinctly male name, I'm willing to bet that your name is Charlotte."

"Who are you?" I almost shouted into the phone.

His voice was slow, as if he were explaining something to a two-year old, "Embry Call. I live on the La Push Indian Reservation near Forks."

I felt my hands shake, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm someone who's very interested in you," came his light answer.

I barely caught my phone in time before it hit the floor. The faraway sound of traffic was muted in my ears, and all I could do was stare into the dirty blackness of the night streets, highlighted by the sickly yellow glow of the lampposts. There was no one to see me. I was alone, and I felt the cold wetness of the ever pouring rain sweep into my skin.

His voice echoed in my head: someone who's very interested in you.

Oh god.

The clock was ticking.

And the plot thickens. Even more than before :grins: So, tell me. There is a lot of information in this chapter; it's a big set up point for the next couple of chapters. Are there any questions out there? Anyone confused? Just let me know. I am really proud of how this came out, but I may have skimmed over something that needed more detail. So. Drop me a little review - you know I love to hear from you!

AneleTiger.