A/N- Once again, I am overwhelmed by your comments and reviews- thank you.

To answer a couple of questions:

How long will this story be? I have 26 chapters outlined, but it could be longer than that. I try to update about twice per week as I can. I have no intentions of abandoning this story- I will see it through to the end!

Will there be a HEA? Yes, eventually, but it is going to get very rough after this chapter. I hope you'll hang in there with me!

Chapter 7-

Charlie's house didn't look at all like Edward remembered. He recalled very clearly that Chief Swan always took pride in his yard. Edward always saw him outside mowing and weeding, even between the cracks in the sidewalk.

But the house looked deserted now, like nobody lived there in months, or even years. There was no police cruiser in the driveway as Edward remembered seeing frequently. Instead, an older generation Volkswagen Rabbit was parked in the drive, and it looked like it could use a good wash. Edward knocked on the door hesitantly, doubting anybody was home.

He was surprised and relieved when he heard cursing and fumbling, and then the door was flung open. A very disheveled Charlie stood there, squinting out the screen door. "Edward?" he asked in surprise.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this Chief," he said apologetically. "I would have called, but I forgot to ask Emmett for the number."

"Enough with the 'Chief' shit. I'm retired," he said, as he opened the screen door. "Come on in."

Edward was startled by the state of the house. There were papers everywhere, mixed with microwave meals trays and empty fast-food containers. The television was covered in a layer of dust, and a computer with dual monitors was perched in front of it on the coffee table. Newspaper clippings, printouts from the web, and photos lined the walls. There was an investigator type corkboard set up in one corner that actually looked fairly organized, but then obviously devolved into chaos.

Charlie shoved some trash off one of the armchairs and motioned for Edward to sit. "So what brings you by, Edward?"

"I'll just get right to it," Edward said, sitting down on the edge of the chair. "I'm here about Bella."

Charlie looked at him curiously, his expression cautious, but silently urging him to continue.

"I recently started working as a social worker at the WCCW."

Charlie's face paled. "What happened? Is she okay?" he asked anxiously.

"She's fine, Chief," Edward assured him.

"You scared the shit of out me, kid. I can't help but think of all the things that can happen to her in a place like that. Assault, drugs… rape. I can't protect her in there. I'm supposed to be able to protect my little girl," he said, his voice starting to crack.

"I know she doesn't belong in there. I want to help with her appeal. Emmett suggested I come see you. What can I do?"

"I wish I could tell you. I've talked to ten different lawyers. They either take too damn long to respond or just plain don't want to help her."

"I only know that Renee set Bella up. Can you fill in the blanks?"

"I don't know if it'll help, but sure. Hell, I've looked at this a million times. Maybe you'll see something I missed." Charlie rose to his feet and made his way over to the organized corkboard.

"December 16th, last year," he said, pointing to a map of Port Angeles. "Bella met her mother here, at 3:30 P.M. for a late lunch. The bartender and waiter both testified that they saw both women in the restaurant, but didn't see them leave or get into any cars. Renee testified that a friend dropped her off and picked her up.

"According to Bella's statement, Renee ordered Bella two Long Island iced teas, and Bella ate a salad. Renee had half a drink." Charlie even had a receipt from the bar pinned up. "Now Renee could have been drinking earlier in the day, but the bartender couldn't testify to that.

"At 4:45, they left the restaurant. According to Bella, Renee said she would drive Bella's truck to a hotel, they would check in for one night, get a cab, and then go out to the waterfront.

"At this intersection," he said, pointing to a pin on the map, "the passenger side tires of Bella's truck went over the curb and struck and killed a three-year-old child. To Bella's recollection, she had been yelling at Renee to turn around. Renee asked her to tell the police she was driving, but of course Bella refused. Renee told her that she had two DUI's on record and believed that they would go easier on Bella because her record was clean. Renee continued to drive until hitting a tree head-on at this location." He pointed to another pin in the map. Strings tied to each of the pins led to photos of the separate accident scenes.

Edward nodded, impressed at Charlie's organization. He peered closer at the board and winced at the second accident scene photo, looking at the state of Bella's truck. The entire front end was crushed around a thick tree trunk. She was lucky to be alive.

"Bella told us later she hit her head on the headrest when the airbag deployed. She was dizzy and close to losing consciousness, but says she remembers Renee saying something like, "got to make it believable." She also believes Renee put something bitter in her mouth and forced her to wash it down with even more alcohol. That would explain the benzodiazepines they found in Bella's system. She never took anything like that before.

"The Port Angeles police were on the scene of the first accident within 5 minutes. They found the truck 10 minutes after that, about a mile from the first scene. Bella was in the driver's seat, unconscious, seatbelt on. Both airbags had been deployed. There was no sign of Renee." Charlie pointed to a photo. "This was taken while they were waiting for the paramedics."

Edward's heart pounded as he looked at the photograph of Bella in the driver's seat of the damaged truck. It was hard to see clearly with the deployed airbag blocking the view, but he could see part of her face, which was red and swollen around her eye, and a large gash across her cheek.

"Paramedics took Bella about five minutes later. Forensics took a sample of blood from the grill. It matched the first scene." Charlie pointed at a photocopy of the forensics report.

"No fingerprints?" Edward asked.

"They didn't take any. Honestly, I don't think I would have either. They didn't have any reason to suspect anyone else was in the vehicle, so why would they? After Bella told her story, they went back and took prints from the impounded truck, but they didn't find anything clear enough to be usable."

"What about the passenger airbag? It would only deploy if someone was in the passenger seat, right?"

"It's not that uncommon in older vehicles, trucks especially, for both airbags to deploy. It happens enough to not arouse any suspicion. Newer cars have fancy sensors, but her truck didn't."

"What about footprints leading away from the truck?"

"Again, they weren't looking for it. You watch too many crime shows. They took a few pictures at the scene and took the sample off the grill, that's all. I actually went back to the woods a couple of days later to look around myself, after Bella told me the full story. Of course anything that was there had washed away by then."

"And the child's mother didn't see anything?"

"She says she didn't. She was focused on trying to help her kid, poor woman. Anyway, they didn't even let me see her in the hospital. She was out for two days, and when she woke up was immediately placed under arrest."

Edward's eyes followed the trail of information, and his fingers brushed against a photo of Bella in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask on her face, and a trail of wires leading down to her chest. Her eye was bruised and swollen. "Jesus," he whispered. He stared at the picture. Of course he hated to see Bella looking so frail and bruised, but he also felt like there was something off about the picture, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Yeah, she looked pretty rough there. She had an orbital fracture, or a broken eye socket." Charlie pointed to a lab report. "They took a blood alcohol level, .10. A tox screen showed benzos in her system too. I couldn't believe it- Bella would never take drugs.

"It was about ten hours after she woke up that they let me in to see her, and she was so scared," he said, his voice starting to crack again. "She told me what happened. They questioned Renee, but she denied everything, of course. She has stuck to her story- says she wasn't in the car, and her friend picked her up.

"Who was the friend?"

Charlie pointed to a photo at the corner of the board. Edward could see they were running out of space. "Fred Stanton. Repulsive man- he gives off some weird vibes- hard to be around him too long. I can't put my finger on it, but something's off about him. Renee has apparently been living with him. I dug into him a little bit. Apparently, he's recently come into a decent-sized inheritance, which is probably why Renee is with him. She must have him whipped good, because their stories match to the letter and never waiver. He says he dropped her off and picked her up."

Charlie sat back down in his chair and put his head in his hands. "This is all my fault," he lamented. "I ended up hiring a real shit lawyer. He seemed great at first- he had all the right answers. I was sure he was going to nail Renee's ass to the wall. Then something just changed at the trial. He fumbled, he hardly asked any of the questions we discussed. It was almost like he was deliberately trying to sabotage Bella. I just can't make sense of it.

"As far as Renee, she's sticking to her story. I'm not a psychologist, but I swear that woman is a sociopath. She has no ability to feel emotion. No guilt. No remorse. She hasn't swayed once from her story, and I can't find a single thing to prove she was there. There were no cameras at the restaurant. They didn't drive very far, and didn't pass any traffic cameras or run any red lights. I even saw some video taken from a doorbell camera, but it was too far away to see into the cab of the truck. All of the pieces are stacked against us. The only thing I can think to do is try to find something on Renee to make her turn."

"Or maybe make her friend turn?" Edward added. "Maybe we could get to him?"

"I actually applied for a PI license- it should come through any day. I want to follow her for a few days. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I'll know it when I see it. And when I get it, I want to make sure anything I collect is squeaky clean."

"Why a PI license? Why did you retire from the force?"

"Well first of all, I don't have any jurisdiction in Port Angeles to conduct any legitimate investigation. Plus, I've put my twenty in and then some. I found I just couldn't focus at work, not until I fix this mess. So I put in for my pension and this is my full time job now. Honestly, the only thing I miss is my cruiser. My friend's son fixed up that beater out there, though. It gets me from A to B."

"Do you need some help around here? I can help you sort out some of this stuff," Edward said, looking around at the chaos.

"I know it's a wreck, but it don't bother me. I appreciate the offer, but I'll clean it up at some point. I'm a grown man, I can clean up after myself."

Edward accepted his response, not wanting to step on another man's pride- even if he was itching to pick up a trash bag and then maybe mow the lawn before he left.

They talked a bit longer, but were no closer to figuring out anything new about Bella's case. They exchanged numbers, and Edward started back home.

While on the highway leading out of Forks, Edward passed the turnoff that would lead to his parents' house, and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't even considered visiting while he was in the area. They had recently returned from an extended vacation in Hawaii, and besides a brief phone conversation where they let him know they were home safe, he hadn't spoken to them at all. He quickly decided to make the turn and headed toward the house.

As he always did, he hesitated at the doorstep. He only really lived there for a year, and it never really felt like home. He always felt the urge to knock as a guest would. He pushed that feeling aside and opened the door, sticking his head inside. "Mom?" he called.

"Edward!" she exclaimed, emerging from the kitchen. "What a nice surprise!"

Edward shut the door behind him and his mother, Esme, wrapped him in a very warm, very comforting embrace.

"Sorry to just drop in on you. I was in the neighborhood."

"Nonsense- you're always welcome here, announced or not. Too bad your father isn't home, he would have loved to see you!"

"He's back to work?"

"He is. Although I think a few months sabbatical did him good, I know he really missed being at the hospital. He's so dedicated."

"He is," Edward agreed. He knew Carlisle once hoped that Edward would follow him into medicine, but he never felt pressured by him. Carlisle was just as proud to see him walk across the stage with his Bachelor's in Social Work, and was there cheering just as hard when he received his Master's.

"So, what brings you to town? I didn't expect to see you until Christmas!"

"That's really coming up, isn't it? It snuck up on me this year." He made a mental note to pick up some gifts when he got back home. "Actually, why I'm here is a bit of a long story."

"I've got the time, and I'm interested to hear it," Esme said kindly, her voice filled with motherly concern. "I can see it on your face, something is wrong."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You were never very good at hiding your emotions- not from me anyway," she said with a gentle smile. "Is it your new job?"

"In a way. Do you remember Chief Swan's daughter, Bella?"

"I know of her. I don't think I've ever met her."

"Well it so happens that she is an inmate at the WCCW. Did you hear anything about her getting arrested?"

"It sounds vaguely familiar. I remember hearing that she got herself into some kind of trouble, but you know I never pay much attention to gossip. What does this have to do with you?"

Edward tugged on the ends of his hair, as he often did when he was anxious. "I'm in love with her, Mom."

Esme frowned. "Oh dear, that must be hard. And how does she feel about you? Does she feel the same?"

"She does."

"You must know that you can't have a relationship with her- not when she's incarcerated. You would be putting your whole career at risk." Edward completely understood her concern, and was grateful that she didn't show any sign of judgement- only worry.

"Trust me, I'm well aware of that. There's more, though." Edward shared her story from the beginning, ending with his visit with Charlie.

"That poor girl," Esme said when he was finished, wiping a tear from her eye. "What can I do?"

"Do you know any lawyers that specialize in false imprisonment?" he asked, doubting that she did.

"No," she said thoughtfully. "Not exactly. Wait just a second, though… what was her name?" Esme pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her long list of contacts. "I'll know it when I see it. Yes, Rosalie Hale!" she said triumphantly. Edward felt his phone buzz in his pocket when she forwarded the contact.

"Who is she?"

"I met her at a charity event in Seattle about a year ago- real smart woman, probably not much older than you. She runs a small charity- I can't remember the name of it. If I remember correctly, she works with women who were either coerced or forced to participate in criminal activities by an abusive partner. It's not exactly what you're looking for, but maybe she can help, or at least point you in the right direction."

"I'll definitely give her a call, thank you." For the first time since seeing Bella again, he actually felt a tiny glimmer of hope.

Before he left, he said, "Oh, and if you happen to find the time, you might want to drop in on the Chief. He seems like he's had a real hard time since Bella went in. He'd probably appreciate a home cooked meal." He knew Esme wouldn't mind- she'd actually be glad to do it. She loved to take care of people. In fact, Bella reminder him of her in many ways.

Even as young as she was, Bella always tended to take care of the house and cooking. He knew Charlie and Emmett loved her dearly, but couldn't help back then wonder if they were taking advantage of her kindness, or if they appreciated her as much as they should.

On Valentine's Day, he stopped by the house to pick up a book from Emmett. Later that evening, he had plans to attend a school dance with a group of friends from the baseball team, which just got started for the Spring semester. He didn't have a date to the dance; if he couldn't go with Bella, he didn't want to go at all, but his teammates pressured him into it.

When Bella answered the door, all thoughts of the school function left his mind. Bella appeared paler than usual with red-rimmed eyes. She was clutching a handful of tissues like a lifeline. For a minute, he thought she'd been crying, but then she erupted into a violent coughing fit, and he realized she was sick.

"Hey, Emmett's not here," she said between a fit of coughs.

"You're sick?" he asked, concerned. He wondered if he should call his father to come check on her.

"I feel like crap, but I'll live. What did you need from Em?"

"I just came to pick up a book- did he leave it for me?"

"No, but you're welcome to go up and check," she said, motioning to the stairs. Edward ascended the staircase quickly and found the book he needed on Emmett's desk. When he returned to the ground floor, Bella was on the couch, surrounded by laundry. As she was folding a stack of towels, she started coughing again.

"Bella, are you really okay?"

"I'm fine- it's just a cold. I know I probably look like hell."

Edward smiled. "Well, your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it."

"Ass," she muttered, but managed a tiny smile.

"If you're sick, you should be in bed, not doing laundry."

"Well these towels aren't going to fold themselves, and I, for one, like clean towels."

Edward snatched the towel she was currently holding from her and flopped down next to her. As he started to help her fold, he said, "You know, I don't think Charlie or Emmett would be upset if you asked them to help out around here. Especially if you're sick."

"I like taking care of them. It makes me happy. It's like… my way of showing them how much I love them." She coughed and then sniffled loudly.

"Should I call my dad? You don't sound so great."

"It's just a cold; I'll live. You should probably go, though. I don't want to get you sick too."

"I'll take my chances," he said. Noting that she looked a little flushed, he brushed her long bangs back from her face and felt her forehead. She was burning up. "That's it, you're done with housework," he said firmly. "You lay down right here, we'll put on one of those goofy romantic comedies you like so much, and I'm making you some soup."

"Edward, you really don't have to…"

"I mean it. It's time that someone took care of you for once."

"Okay, fine. You win." Bella grabbed the afghan from behind her and pulled it over herself as she laid down. Edward tucked in a little tighter around her.

"Thank you. Now what kind of soup do you want?"

"I think there's some split pea in there."

"Split pea?" He asked, wrinkling his nose. "Not chicken noodle? Not tomato? Split pea?"

"I like what I like," she said shrugging under the blanket.

"Whatever you say, weirdo," he joked, pushing her shoulder playfully.

"You love my weirdness."

"Truly, I do," he admitted. "What movie?"

"Hmm… She's All That."

Edward scanned the bookshelf in front of her where a decently sized collection of DVD's sat. Finding the correct one, he scanned the back and scoffed. "Popular jock gets together with a beautiful, but very odd, school misfit," he summarized.

"I love that movie," she said, yawning. "I want it to be real," she said so quietly he wasn't sure he heard her right. Maybe it was just the fever talking.

But he wanted it to be real too.

On Monday morning, Edward was energized as he walked into the conference room for their weekly staff huddle. Rose couldn't talk to him yesterday, but agreed to call him today around noon, just a half-hour before he was due to meet Bella. He hoped he would be able to give her some good news.

He ignored James as he walked by and took a seat between Angela and Mike. As the head guard, James ran this meeting every week. From Edward's limited experience, the meetings tended to be brief, and for this he was grateful. He had a busy day ahead of him with several residents to move around and finally do away with the tripled rooms. He also knew there were a few transfers coming in later that afternoon, and he wanted to get his paperwork together.

"Good morning," James said from the front of the room. "I want to start by introducing the newest member of our staff, Victoria Wilde. Some of you met her over the weekend."

Edward scoffed internally. James had given him no such introduction or welcome when he started. He looked up to see a tall, very thin woman with shocking red hair that fell in wild curls down to her waist. She looked absolutely feral, with narrow eyes and a scowl frozen on her face.

James continued to prattle about a few announcements from the Warden, most of which didn't concern Edward. He was beginning to zone out until James said, "Over the weekend we tossed cells in Pod A. There were a few drug infractions and two of the girls got a little wild and were sent to Seg to cool off."

"Which two, and for how long?" Angela asked, genuine concern in her voice. Edward was disgusted with the blasé way James made that particular announcement. While he understood the need for segregation at times, using isolation as a punishment, especially for minor infractions, was abhorrent to him.

"Standard seventy-two hour hold," James answered. He looked directly at Edward when he added, "Jenkins and Swan."