A/N: *waves* told ya I'd be back! This one is a short chapter, I originally wrote one that I thought was too long and couldn't figure where to cut it at so this one ended up being shorter.
Thank you to Fran and Brittlyn for editing! You guys are awesome.
**I do want to say, I still don't have a laptop! So I update from my phone or ipad and I write on my ipad. Updates are slow, I know. And I do read every single review you guys write, and they all mean so much to me, so don't think I'm ignoring, it's just hard to respond from my phone all the time. But I love you all! Thank you so much for your patience and your support... I'll leave you guys to it, see ya soon.
THE APOLOGY DEBACLE
I never in a million years thought I would be relieved to see Tyler Crowley again, but in this particularly strange and exact moment in time, I am. This will make my plan unravel a lot easier.
Innocently, I saddle up to the front desk window, as he chews on three—yes, three—beef jerky sticks at the same time, which I'm absolutely certain constitutes his breakfast, being as it's almost six in the morning. His attention is completely captured by some cartoon as his boot-clad feet are propped up on his desk. I really think processed foods have affected his brain.
Clearing my throat, I rest my head on my hand as I lean against the counter and look down at him through the bulletproof glass. After a few moments, I roll my eyes and knock smartly on the glass twice.
He shoots up, causing one small piece of jerky to come tumbling down from his vacuum of a mouth. I ignore the need to vomit and flutter my fingers at him in a shy wave.
Quickly swallowing, he presses on the small intercom button to speak through the glass. If he had a tail, it would be wagging excitedly as his drool drips over the keyboard at the sudden sight of me. "Sandy! What brings you back into the doghouse?"
I snicker at the coincidence of his comment, but he must interpret my laughing to find him funny by the way his eyes light up—which I can not decide is for the better or worse. "I was hoping you'd give me a tour?" I twirl a piece of my hair around a finger for good measure.
"Oh, uhm..." He looks around uncertainly. "Shift change is in about forty minutes? Can you wait a little bit?"
I sigh dramatically and look at my watch. "Ugh, I'm supposed to be at the airport in an hour. I was hoping you were free to catch up." I arch an eyebrow and offer a small smile.
His eyes snap from the clock to his right and back to my face a few times as he decides. "Sure. Okay. What the hell, yeah."
I smile brightly at him and walk around to the security door so he can let me in.
Making sure to keep my head turned away from any security cameras, so they do not catch my entire face, I follow Tyler down the long hallway over to super max.
"So, you, uh, come to Colorado often?" He pants next to me.
How he is out of breath from this walk is beyond me, but then I think back to the beef jerky and am not that surprised. "Not really. But when something piques my interest, I find myself here." I wink.
He clears his throat awkwardly, apparently not that well versed in responding to flirtatious comments when the tables are turned. "Uhm, yeah, so this is where we keep the guys you lock up. It's pretty sweet, state of the art..."
I tune him out, my eyes roaming over the large numbers painted on the doors—looking for a particular one.
"Where are your S-cells?" I ask innocently.
"Oh, Solitary? Uhm, back behind here. Those are super boring though, nothing but walls and doors."
"Can we?" I place a hand on his arm and try to smile through the beef and sweat stench emanating off him.
"Sure, yeah." He smirks, seemingly gaining confidence in my touch and placing his hand on the small of my back.
My spine tenses at this touch, but I try and relax to keep up pretenses, forcing a tight grin up at him as he leads me further into the prison.
Once my eyes land on the number emblazoned on a thick steel door with a small rectangular peephole, I send out a silent prayer that Tyler is indeed as stupid as he looks.
Deliberately tripping over my own foot, I fall onto the hard cement floor. I cry out a little just for dramatics and cradle my ankle.
"Oh shit, are you okay?" Tyler calls out, kneeling down beside me. His breath wafts through my nostrils, and I wince at the stench.
"No, I think I sprained my ankle."
Tyler makes to pick me up, and I freak out. "Here let me—"
"No!" I shriek, slightly horrified by the idea of being that close to him for the fifteen-minute walk back to the main office. "Get a wheelchair, please. I'd much rather you didn't hurt yourself, too." I say in a much calmer tone.
He looks around at the doors, unsure of how to proceed. I know what he's thinking. If he calls this in and asks for help, he'll be forced to deal with the consequences of his higher-ups for bringing me in here. But if he leaves me here, it is a whole other risk entirely.
"It's okay; these guys probably don't even know I'm here. I'll be fine for a few minutes." I reassure in a light tone.
He huffs before pointing a finger at me and musters up the most authoritative voice he can—which is borderline pathetic if you were to ask me. "Stay here."
I nod my head obediently, waiting until I can no longer hear his loud breathing before shooting up from the floor. I dig in my back pocket, quickly retrieving the key card I had swiped from Tyler.
The last door didn't require a key card to exit, but I know that the third door Tyler will encounter needs a key card to get back to the main desk. He'll be stuck there long enough to give me the time I need.
I swipe the card and pull open the door, quickly sliding in before closing it behind me, slipping the key card back into my pocket.
My eyes take a moment to adjust to the poorly lit room. I look over to the far-right corner at Laurent, who is sitting in his cot, looking up from a book he had been reading prior to my entering.
"Sandy…" He states, arching an eyebrow in amusement.
"Laurent, hi." I breathe, trying to steady my breathing from the sudden rush of adrenaline.
"I'm quite shocked to find you here, unannounced and … unguarded" His eyes move from myself to the door, probably wondering how I was able to get in, having not seen the key card I hid quickly just a few seconds ago.
"Listen, I'm not here for long; I came to ask you a few more questions."
He smirks but nods and pats the empty space beside him on his cot.
I narrow my eyes at him slightly, contemplating whether I should sit or stand. I choose to sit, trying to appease Laurent by showing my trust in him. Besides, I probably have two inches on him in terms of height and have taken on much bigger men.
"I have to thank you for the favor you pulled a few months ago. Twenty-five years sounds a lot more pleasant than the life sentence I was looking at … Although I have yet to take the deal, it's nice to have on the table."
"What happened to Royce King?" I ask, ignoring his thanks. I don't have time for pleasantries and thank yous.
Laurent's eyes grow wide, fear evident in them. He shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat before he responds. "I don't have all the details, but I speculate that Royce became … involved with the wrong person."
My eyes widen in surprise at this, "Involved? With who?"
"He never said, but I believe one of the Bookkeepers knew but were hiding that person from him. They responded to his attempts at trying to find him by stealing his entire empire from him, seizing all his assets, draining all his accounts. They even had all his properties foreclosed and sold within a week. All he was left with was the car he was driving and the suit he was wearing.
He came into a mutual friend's bar one night, drunk and ranting. Apparently, one of the Bookkeepers had developed feelings for Royce, and when he didn't reciprocate these feelings, they fed lies to the love of his life and took her away from him. They keep her hidden from his reach. He started a wild search for the Bookkeepers, killing and threatening anyone who got in his way. He wanted revenge for what they did to him.
The first few months weren't pretty. He starting torturing and killing anyone he suspected could be the Bookkeeper's clients. A few of us went after him, but he always alluded all our attempts at catching him. Finally, when he killed too many Russians, they put a pretty hefty price over his head. He ran to Italy, seeking refuge with some very important people there…"
I suspect he means the Volturi, but I don't press the matter, I know I may only have a few minutes left.
My head nearly spins with all this new information. Who is this girl they took from Royce? I also have a hard time picturing Rosalie as the vindictive type towards a man who does not reciprocate feelings. She can have any man she wants, why waste her time on a thug like Royce?
"Do you know who she is? Or where she is?" I ask.
"No… I suspect they keep her close, though. That's all I know."
I sigh and lean back against the cold, concrete wall, staring up at the ceiling. This place always has a way of making me feel so insignificant and useless. For the second time coming here, I have achieved nothing.
Standing, I turn and thank Laurent for his time and make to leave.
"You've found them, haven't you?" He asks as my hand reaches the door.
I look back at him, not answering.
"How else would you know what happened to Royce?"
"I have good contacts." I shrug.
He smirks. "You're not really a Defense Attorney, are you, Sandy?"
"I'm many things, Laurent." I wink, swiping the key card, and stepping out, closing the door behind me quietly.
I drive straight over to the secondary office of Masen Accounting when I land. It is already well past ten and I imagine most of the surrounding shops have been closed for some time now. I send a quick text letting Emmett know I'm back and on my way.
I told Jasper I would give Emmett the update on Dad. There is no good way to break the news, but I think it would be just a tad bit better if it was in person and not over the phone. I try and wrack my brain for a way to tell him when I am interrupted by his incoming text.
Ok. Meet me out back. - E
I park my Beetle in a dark parking spot, shrouded mostly by the trees lining the lot, before slipping out of the car with my backpack.
Emmett is already waiting for me by the fire escape.
"You think we'll find anything here?" I murmur looking up at the red-bricked building curiously once I'm a couple of feet away from him.
"Honestly, no. This place has minimal security, just a locked door up front. They also share this building with other businesses; I doubt he leaves sensitive shit lying around."
"Then why have this office?"
Em shrugs nonchalantly. "Keeping up pretenses maybe? That other office is kinda out of the way for locals who live in town; this office might bring in more legit business."
"Doesn't hurt to check, though."
"We'll head up through the fire escape and come in through some private investigator's office."
I nod and start making my way up through the fire escape.
Emmett was right; we find jack shit. We could tell by the simple fact that it took me a mere few seconds to pick the lock to Carlisle's office but still went in to make sure there was not anything there.
He walks me to my car as I give Jasper a call.
"Find anything?" He asks as soon as he answers.
"Nothing... That's the last place that we know of. Where else could he keep that file?" I rub my forehead, growing frustrated at the wall we have hit on this case yet again.
"It makes sense, the Volturi being so prestigious. I don't blame the Bookkeeper for using extra measures to protect that file. We're just going to have to look harder. Is there anywhere they've mentioned? Vacation spots? Favorite cities?"
"No, nothing," I repeat the question to Emmett, but he has the same reply.
"My only guess is that they keep it on them. Or someplace safe, someplace they know no one will ever look."
"What, like under his pillow?" I snort.
"Sort of ... I don't know. I think he keeps it somewhere in the house, where there's always someone nearby who can protect it. That's also the place that has the best security."
"I'll check his office again, but there wasn't anything locked up the way he has at the office. He doesn't even have a safe in there, from what I could see."
"Just keep an eye out, I'm sure it's there somewhere."
I doubt the Cullen's have that file hidden deep in a flour jar, but I don't voice this. "All right. I'll tell Em. We'll keep looking."
"I think I've almost got this new code cracked on the files you swiped from the Marion office. It's different from the other one, but they have some similarities. Should only be another day, maybe less."
"Sounds good. How's Dad?" I glance up at Emmett, who looks intently back at me.
"He's... Good. Actually, he's taking this a lot better than any of us expected. He'll be all right, Bells. Don't worry."
"Okay. Thanks, Jazz. Talk later, love you."
I hang up, taking a little too long putting my phone back into my pocket.
"So, how's Dad? Still awake?"
Clearing my throat, I look up at Emmett. "Yeah, he's still awake."
"Why is no one telling me more than that? What's going on? I thought he was fine?"
"He is, Em. He's going to recover just fine ... It's just that ..." I look away, tears eagerly waiting to spill over. "The doctor said that he suffered a traumatic injury to his spinal cord ... A lot of his nerves were destroyed, and he um ... The doctor says he won't know for sure until Charlie recovers a bit more and he can run a few more tests but ... But he doesn't know if Dad will be able to walk."
"What do you mean? Like for a few weeks?" Emmett's eyebrows scrunch in confusion.
"No ... For life." I rasp, tears freely sliding down my face. "He said he's hopeful that through physical therapy and some other stuff I didn't understand about regeneration, Dad might be able to walk again at some point. But they have to run more tests. He said best-case scenario; Dad will only need to use a cane after a year or two of physical therapy."
"And what's the worst case?" He mutters coarsely.
"Worst case ... He won't ever have any feeling from the chest down. But they haven't determined how severe the damage is, yet."
Emmett lets out a long breath as he rubs his eyes. "Well, shit."
I bit my lip hard, trying to keep my composure. Suddenly, large warm arms wrap around me. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself as Emmett silently holds me.
"It'll be okay, Bells. He'll be walking in half that time, you'll see. He's the strongest in the pack, remember?" He whispers.
I let out a half chuckle, half sniff. "Yeah, I remember."
"Go home and get some sleep, Bells."
I watch him as he walks over to his car. When he's only a few strides away from it, I can't hold it in any longer. "Wait!" I call, jogging over to him.
Em turns, confusion all over his face.
"I'm ..." I sigh, looking up at the clear night sky, willing myself to come up with better words. Words that make up for the cruel ones I threw at my own twin brother, words that convey my regret and remorse. "The things I said—"
"I know." He cuts me off before I can start. "I'm sorry, too."
I let out a sigh of relief, giving him a sad smile.
"You're still an idiot," Em remarks, rolling his eyes. "But you're my sister, no matter what you do."
"Thanks ..." I chuckle in response. "Are we okay?"
"Are you still with Edward?" He arches an eyebrow at me seriously.
I look down at my sneakers, trying to avoid his question and also to keep me from asking him the same thing, but about Rosalie.
"We'll be okay, Bella. I just wish you would listen to me."
I glance back up at him and nod my head. "I know ..."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
