A/N: So "Queen of Cliffies" is added to my title? I'll take it.

"Her Majesty, Queen QuinnLark, Ruler of Angst and Cliffies."

Fascinating!

;)

Enjoy!

Just a Word from a Sad, Sad Girl

E.C.

I rest my chin in my hand. My brain feels heavy and full, and stare out the plane window as the wings slice through clouds made from the billions of gallons of water beneath my feet. The vodka on this goddamn flight isn't strong enough for today.

We land at JFK and I'm escorted away from my gate by a team of suits and into a black car. Reny, Lexie, and Walker are with their grandma, Renee Clayton, but I'm going to get my girl. I'm not leaving her with that evil bitch after what Bella has told me.

I think Mrs. Clayton would've slammed the door in my face if my attorney - a real one this time - hadn't been present, and if Reny hadn't run to me with her arms open.

"Dad!" She screams, leaping to me and sobbing on my shoulder. "This is terrible. Why are they doing this to my mom?" She's a little girl in a sad world, and there's nothing I can say to make it go away. I'm no author of fairytales for my daughter, and I cannot create something with puzzle pieces that don't fit together.

The only foundation we have put in place is that Jacob Black died of a gunshot wound to the head, the initial investigation is still underway, and Bella Swan-Black is being held for questioning.

Her attorney, Garrett Rosenberg, is a firecracker and the only reason I'm taking a breath in this moment. I'm promised he's the biggest defense attorney in New York, and he's all hers. My attorney and hers have arranged a meeting for us, and I'll head there as soon as my daughter packs her things. But she won't. She refuses to leave Lexie and Walker. Reny is the perfect big sister, and my heart is full of pride for her.

So I sit in a single-windowed room beside Alec MacPherson, my lawyer, and Bella's ... we wait. The attorneys busy themselves with reading the paperwork before them, but I'm lost to my mind. Could she have done something so drastic? The woman I saw that day in the beach house was shattered and pained, but not capable of murder.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it wasn't murder. It was self-defense. Yes. That's its.

Or maybe she didn't pull the trigger at all.

Her father is the one who called for an ambulance. I know that from what my attorney has told me, and they've cleared Charlie of suspicion because they have a time stamp on the toll bridge when he entered the city. He couldn't have been in two places at once.

There isn't much to go on here, and I'm waiting. Just waiting.

And it's all blurry with lights flashing and words echoing around. Either I'm exhausted or I'm not really here, but there are a million things happening at once.

Bella enters the room with a detective escorting her. Rosenberg asks if she's under arrest and when the investigator says Bell is not, that there has been a turn in the case, and the attorney ensures she's released into his custody. Now we don't have to do this here. We don't have to talk where the walls have ears.

We leave the precinct to a slew of photographers and reporters snapping pictures, hoping for some sign of guilt or innocence by capturing her soul on film. Election Day isn't worth the news coverage to miss the moment she leaves the police station. And I wish I'd thought this through. I'm in my uniform, proper and professional, and easy to spot as I walk behind her. I can only imagine the way they'll start guess and digging to find out who and what I am to the slain Senate candidate's wife.

We enter an Escalade with dark windows and the attorneys slip in after us.

"What the fuck happened, Bella?" I ask as soon as the doors shut and only my and our attorney's ears are privy to the information from her mouth.

"He's dead. They don't have the evidence to hold or charge me with it, so I'm released. They'll keep investigating." Her words are only informative, nothing deep; no exposure to light.

I look at her lawyer and know he's not letting anything in his poker face slip. I'm as lost as Reny, I come to realize, and I don't know who will be here to rescue any of us if it blows up.

When we arrive at a Manhattan penthouse, Rosenberg tells us the kids are on their way, and I hope this will chip at some of the scared, heavy ice blocking her from me.

"Did you ...?" I ask.

Her hazel eyes meet mine, and a bolt of lightning shoots through them. "I ... Nope." Her p pops, and I'm left to stare at her back as the children come rushing into the room and she gathers them up in her arms.

xxxxxxx

A/N:

Only a few more chapters, people!

And the end ... It'll blow a few minds. ((Get it? LOL))