Takes place between New Moon Chapter 15 and Chapter 16. This was originally going to be part of Chapter 16, but the scene rehashed too much information we already knew for the main story.

I might use bits and pieces in Chapter 16, and will definitely allude to the scene having taken place.

Please note, this is very much a draft chapter, so there may be the odd "does something" or "looks around" prompt for myself to add in actions.

Unusually for the time of year, the sun burned bright and hot, high in the sky above Seattle. Carys, dressed for the weather she had expected following that morning's weather forecast rather than the sun-drenched streets she was passing through, adjusted the waist of her thick velvet dress. A last-minute addition to her bag on Thursday, she had not been sure if she would have a need for the outfit, but it had paid off so far. She only needed it to do one more job that weekend.

Beneath her coat, it moulded itself to her body. Long-sleeved and deep red, it wrapped around her torso, accentuating her waist, hips, and chest in a way that drew and deflected eyes in equal measure. Just as she needed it to. It was a camouflage of sorts. Save for a red lip to match her dress, her makeup was non-descript but would likely appear expensive for the lack of flair. She wanted to blend in, and a mixture of ostentatiousness and subtly would do that far more than if she were to employ just one of the two.

The dress was one which she had bought in the summer sales the year before, in anticipation of its being worn sometime around Christmas. It was now the end of February and was its first outing. The coat was one that she had been wearing for over a year, and therefore worn in, comfortable, and could be believed to conceal status. Her bag was the reason for her visit that morning to a shop almost as expensive as the one she had taken refuge in a week before.

Carys took a deep breath and tried to ease the nervousness that gripped low in her belly. She adjusted the large bag over one elbow, then plunged her hand inside. She found her phone easily, the only thing within, save a notepad, pen, and the tags that she had tucked away and half-zipped into one of the inside pockets so that she could later return it.

Staring up at the building, Carys thought about the different sense of anticipation that had gripped her the last time she was there. The first and only time she had visited.

It was now Sunday, and the last day she could poke around in Seattle before she returned home for work. If all went well, she would glean enough information plot her course during the coming week.

Her digging on Friday and Saturday morning had given her a starting place, but after the refreshing relief of a few hours' sleep, it had eventually left her little to nothing to go on. Riley Biers had disappeared almost a year before, and so, it seemed, had any evidence of what might have happened to him.

Carys, of course, knew that he was a vampire, but she did not know whether he continued to reside in Seattle, or if he had simply returned on some errand the night she had seen him with Richard. Images of the alley flashed once more before her eyes, and she shuddered despite the unseasonable weather. Richard had been changed in January at the earliest, and Carys would be kidding herself if she discarded the evidence of disappearances and dead bodies.

They lived there.

The question she returned to time and again was: where?

Biers' last known sighting had been at a bar downtown. Carys had gone there the afternoon before and had found the bar.

There had been no witnesses either to Riley or to the fire which had dropped through the building sometime in the months following, his disappearance. What she had found could far more have been described as a shell than a once bustling bar. Boarded up and left to ruin, it was waiting on some developer to buy the land and no doubt finish what the fire had started.

That left Richard.

While she couldn't be sure of the last place he had been seen, she knew where his apartment, and therefore his concierge'd building, was. A visit may be able to shed some light on his movements preceding his "leaving town".

What she really didn't want was for Monica, Sarah, or anyone else to know that she was poking around.

Carys dialled her home phone number, and then started having a one sided conversation with her voicemail when it rang through.

Adopting the best imitation of Rosalie's accent, she chattered away about nothing in particular for a few minutes, striding back and forth before the glass walls and doors that adorned the entrance to Richard's apartment building.

Twice, she caught the eye of the concierge standing guard at his desk within, and flashed a brief polite smile, pointing at her phone before holding up a single finger.

I'm coming in, I just have to finish this call, it said without a word.

Carys knew it would be the best way to begin - to make it seem as if she had something to attend to, but was comfortable enough in her ultimate welcome that she saw no reason to rush. By the time she went in, the concierge would already have settled on an impression of her.

When, a few minutes later, she glimpsed a couple exit one of the lifts to the far side of the lobby, she ignored them and carried on her pretend conversation. They reached the door at the same time she did, and she held it open for them once they had buzzed their way out, letting it fall closed a moment later.

Ambling back the way she came, she started to wrap up the phone call, adjusting her bag once again. After pressing her phone to her ear with one raised shoulder, she reached a hand inside the bag, rifled around for a moment or two, and made a show of huffing.

Seemingly preoccupied, Carys allowed the next man who exited the building to hold the door open for her.

"Thank you," she said, before walking through with her attention still fixed, and, to the phone, added, "no, not you. I shouldn't have to tell you what a hundred damask pink roses looks like," as she continued rifling.

Abandoning her search, she flicked her wrist and sent the two handles straight back to settle in the crook of her elbow as she strode across the lobby.

"I don't have it on me, I must have left it at the hotel. Look. I'm here now, and-yes, yes..., no. Yes. Alright. I'll see you then."

Sighing for effect once she had ended the call, Carys stepped up to the desk, rolled her eyes, and grinned at the concierge, who was attempting to mask the fact his gaze had been firmly fixed below her collar for the past minute.

"Sorry about that," she said, removing her coat, which she then slung over the middle of her bag. "Husbands."

She dropped her shoulders, and gently rested one wrist onto the counter, showing off the ring she had bought for the occasion and planned to return along with the bag.

"I wonder. Are you able to help me? I'm looking for a pied à tierre in the city, and I was recommended this building by...," she thought for a moment, then shook her head and sighed through another grin, waving her hand. "Honestly, I think it was my husband. He has a friend who used to live here... Charlie...? Something. Anyway. He's dead set on me at least seeing the place, but I can't for the life of me remember which day the open house was."

Friday. She had seen it in the paper.

The concierge smiled. It was the politely strained sort of smile of someone who had had enough of people for the day and was waiting until his shift was over to go home and sleep.

"Friday," he said, "There is another one, but not until next week. Mrs...?"

"Thornton," Carys supplied with a faint wrinkle of her nose which had more to do with using her most hated surname than the pretence.

When lying, she had heard it was best to stay as close to the truth as possible, and so she had chosen her middle and last names to go by.

"Please, call me Ivy, I'm still not used to my married name, but Lyle simply insists one day I'll wake up and forget I was ever called anything else! Can you believe!?"

The concierge grinned, either at her display or her oversharing.

"I don't suppose," she went on quickly while she had him somewhat on her side, "There's any way I could get on the list for next Friday? Oh, wait, no. Damn." Carys' brow furrowed as she fished her phone from her bag and checked through her messages. "Lyle's flying out on Friday...," she whined lightly, biting her lip and casting a mildly worried glance around the lobby. "I promised him I'd see if I liked it, you see? He doesn't think we need to because we could just have it renovated if my step-daughter doesn't like it, but I wanted to get a feel for the whole building before..."

The concierge, having watched the expressions that flitted across her face, smiled again when she trailed off.

"I've worked here for ten years," he told her kindly, expecting her response. "I know all there is to know about this place."

Carys' eyes lit up, and she dropped her phone lightly to the counter, steepled her fingers, and stared at him with all the appeal she could muster.

"I don't suppose I could pick your brains for a bit of information, could I?" she asked, as if unsure of his willingness to help. "I've got step-children, you see, and... Well, I know the area's good and all, but they're...," Carys' face twisted a little with concern. "It would be for my eldest step-daughter," she lied. "She's starting at the University of Washington this year and doesn't want to live on campus. She's so particular, I have to make sure it's as good as Lyle thinks."

"Oh," the concierge said, his mouth forming a perfect "o" as he nodded in understanding.

It was what Carys was bargaining on: that he would think she was trying to get in with her new husband's children while they accepted he had married a woman who (despite Carys' best efforts at making herself look older) was not that far off their own age. It wasn't too dissimilar to the truth, again.

"There are a lot of younger people in the building," he supplied after he had collected himself. "Very sociable, the co-op board makes sure of that. There are a few overseas students living here as well, and a number of professionals."

"Oh good. I think the apartment was a two bed? Was it?" Carys asked.

"Three," the concierge corrected as she knew he would. There was only one apartment available, and it would likely be snapped up well before next Friday's showing. "Seventh floor, with an excellent view of the bay. It's a family of four living there at the moment."

"A family... Okay... So it would likely need an overhaul, but she could do with a study room...," Carys said to herself, noting the concierge's changing attitude.

He was indifferent when discussing the flat, but had failed to hide his pride when telling her about the people. He had all but beamed with it when telling her he knew all there was to know about the building.

"Hmm... Well, it's a beautiful space, and the photos looked fantastic, but... Well..." Carys trailed off, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Drawn in, the concierge caught himself halfway through a forward lean. "Well?" he asked gently.

"Oh, nothing," she said, waving her hand about in front of her face. "I just... Well," she continued, leaning in a little as she let her voice lower to a stage whisper, "I heard, I think? That there was something a few months ago about some woman going missing from the building, and I'm just a little concerned. Lyle's set on the place, and it's so close to good shops, restaurants, so central, and she'd be able to get to college easily - so I really didn't want to worry them, but...," she trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the air.

After a few seconds studying Carys' worried expression, he shifted and shook his head, letting his guard down. When he started talking, it was as if a valve had been released and he was close to excited about being able to talk about it.

"It was a man, but there wasn't any foul play involved. He's still renting the apartment, he just-"

Carys leaned in. "He just...?" she repeated when he paused.

"It was a bit strange for everyone else," the concierge told her, finally staring into her eyes. "One day he's talking to anyone who would listen about this big promotion he was expecting, and then poof! Some people thought something had happened to him when he didn't show up for a work party, but he always looked like the flighty type. Sure enough, he got in touch with people a week later."

"Just like that!?"

"Just like that."

"And he really didn't tell anyone he was leaving?"

"I saw him at the Irish pub down the road just before he left; heard him talking, so I knew. Weird thing was, I could have sworn he said he was going on a business trip, but then later his family came by to see the apartment-"

"Of course," Carys said, not having to feign her interest.

"-and I got talking to his mom. Seems he took more than just a week's luggage with him, emptied his checking account-"

"No!" Carys breathed.

"-left just enough to cover everything for six months in another account, and-I really shouldn't be talking about this." Looks around the empty lobby.

"Oh no, of course. If it's going to get you in trouble or something?"

"I wouldn't worry about that. I'm known for my discretion, is all."

Carys, thinking that was a definite lie, simpered. "I'm so glad to hear it. So many people aren't these days... If you're sure nothing bad happened?"

"Absolutely. Your stepdaughter won't have anything to worry about, not here; safe as can be in this building. Twenty-four hour concierge, cameras in the lobby and elevators, and the main door code's changed monthly. I see to it myself."

"Oh, well, if you're sure," Carys sighed, pressing a hand to her chest as if relieved. "I guess I'll tell Lyle he can go ahead. A lot of younger people, you said?"

"Lots. This isn't one of those you never see your neighbours kind of places."

"Good. She's so focused, I'd hate to see-ah, sorry." Carys' phone had begun to ring, and so she grabbed it from the counter. "Ah, right on schedule! It's Lyle again, probably wanting an update. Thank you so much for your help."

Spinning on her heel after receiving a smile and "Absolutely," from the concierge, strode unhurriedly back towards the doors.

"Lyle, great timing as ever," she said.

"I hope Lyle isn't going to become a thing," Carlisle responded hesitantly. "And what exactly is going on with your accent?"

"Nope to the Lyle," Carys replied, having reached the doors.

She waved at the concierge one last time, and he buzzed her out. He had to take his eyes off her body to do so, and she just about stopped herself from glaring at him, having to remind herself that she had chosen the dress for a reason.

The moment she reached the freedom of fresh air, she dropped the American and added, "Just investigating vampires in Seattle and thought it was better not to use real names or accents."

Carlisle laughed.

Carys, after a beat, chuckled nervously along.

When he had recovered from his laughter, Carlisle said, "I've missed your jokes this week."

"Mhmm," Carys replied, a touch shrill, trying not to let on that she had told him the truth. "At least you can't say I didn't warn you," she said after a moment's hesitation.

Carlisle laughed again. "But Lyle? Really, darling?"

"I was hitting a concierge up about a flat in Seattle to see if I could get any good gossip, and your name's too bloody unusual," Carys told him as she headed back towards her car. "Good for Washington Uni if any of the kids were going there, but lots of people so wouldn't be good for Jazz."

"Bella was set on it," Carlisle replied quickly. "And Jasper will be glad you're practising again at the very least. Was the apartment any good?"

"Ah, I mean. A hella expensive three-bed's not really Bella's style. Anyway. How're you? Any news on the prodigal son?"