When the Chief met Doctor Cullen

There were no street lights this far out on the highway. The only light Chief Charlie Swan could see was from the overhead swirl of Deputy Porter's patrol car, flashing red and blue against the glittery chrome of the roadway. Charlie pulled up slowly, knowing, instinctively, from the look of the gnarled vehicle in from of him, that a fatality was likely this evening.

"I called the doctor, chief," Porter announced, immediately following Charlie's approach, breath puffing up in a foggy stream from the cold. His shoes crunched against broken window shield glass as he made his way toward the deputy.

Charlie placed his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath. "This is Homer Smith's car."

Porter understood where Charlie was going. He took a deep breath before continuing in the factual way that his boss worked best with. "A passerby called it in. They noticed the car was upside down. Tried to revive Kylie, but..."

Charlie could see the tiny body crumpled against the pavement. Kylie Winters was fifteen. He remembered seeing her father, Jason Winters, at the diner a few months back, and after chatting for a bit, Jason had mentioned that Kylie, the older of his three daughters, had just turned fifteen. Charlie remembered, specifically, because his own daughter, Bella wat nearly sixteen.

Porter went on, "The bystander said that it was clear that Evan, who was driving, was already dead when they got there. They were positive they found a pulse on Kylie before they pulled her out, but she never regained consciousness."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Has, um…" He took another long deep breath. Evan Smith was seventeen. Charlie had grown up with Homer Smith and they often spent long summer afternoons fishing when they were teenagers. "…You said that new doctor been called? The one they just hired at the hospital. Doctor—"

"Cullen," Porter offered. "Yeah, Chief. Dispatch called him a little before I got on scene. He had already gone home for the day. He said he would be by shortly." Porter checked his watch. "That was about a half hour ago."

Charlie meandered, slowly, toward the car. Carefully avoiding the tiny body of Kylie Winters, laying so still near the passenger side door. Crouching to his knees, with one hand on the frame of the vehicle, he peaked in. Evan was still seat-belted in the driver's seat, arms flung up, like an excited kid who was about to head downward on a particularly wild rollercoaster. His eyes were still open, staring, glassy-eyed and adamantly at a destination that would never be realized.

While he observed this, swallowing down the bile that was churning in his gut, he heard the doctor's car drive up. He had never had the pleasure of meeting Doctor Cullen, but he had seen the young surgeon's resume when Charlie and the town council met to appoint the next doctor. Charlie had argued that such a distinguished medical professional—awarded multiple scholarships, graduated with highest honors, formally of the prestigious Harefield Medical Academy in Chicago—would never be satisfied with the miniscule salary that the township could offer him, let alone leave a promising career to come and work in such an isolated place such as Forks, Washington. It was with great surprise, that Charlie had been told that the good doctor had accepted the position, and he, his wife, and their children had been in town for more than a month. Beside Doctor Cullen's many accolades, Charlie was aware that he had a handful of adopted teenage children living with them, but unlike most of the local teenagers, he had never had cause to interact with any of them.

Charlie straightened, on creaking knees, when he heard the doctor approach.

"Good evening, chief," Doctor Cullen said, extending his right hand, a traveling medical bag was slung over his left. "I'm Carlisle Cullen. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

Charlie shook the man's hand, immediately recoiling from the chill of the doctor's skin.

"Forgive me," Carlisle explained. "The heat in my car doesn't seem to be working. My wife told me to take my gloves, but I must have forgotten them."

A simple enough occurrence, Charlie thought. They were on the first tip of winter, and it was freezing tonight.

"I can see something terrible happened here." Carlisle gestured to the scene at hand. Not wasting time with further pleasantries, Carlisle quickened to Kylie Winter's side. Charlie watched the doctor's deft hands examine the teenager. Feeling along the base of her skull before examining her outer extremities.

"She has a skull fracture, here," he explained to Charlie, pointing to the right side of her head. "Both of her legs were broken as well."

Oddly, Charlie noticed that when the doctor spoke, there was no condensation when his words formed, even though he could see his own breath, and that of Deputy Porter's as he continued to make calls on the radio.

Charlie knelt down on the other side of Kylie's body, his fingers grasping the cold stillness of her arm, trying to ground himself to the task at hand. "The bystanders who called 911 said they could feel a pulse, that's why they got her out of the car."

Carlisle was quizzical. "It's possible. The fracture, though. Her brain started filling with blood as soon as her head made impact with the passenger window. Even with immediate medical intervention, it's unlikely that she could have been saved."

"Was she… in pain. Er… aware at all?"

Carlisle removed his hands from the girl's body, eyeing Charlie with a deeper understanding. "What was here name?"

"Kylie." Charlie chocked back the thickness in his throat. "Kylie Winters. She is—was—fifteen."

"It would have been very peaceful for Kylie. Just a quick sense that something happened, but she likely felt nothing after that." Charlie watched Doctor Cullen squeeze Kylie's tiny hand, once, quickly. "Can I examine the other one?"

Charlie gestured to the car. "Evan," he explained. "Evan Smith. Seventeen. No pulse. No signs of life."

Carlisle knelt in front of the shattered driver's side window. Disregarding the rain and dirt soaking into the knees of his fancy trousers. Charlie watched him reach his hand in, examine what he could of the boy. "He is expired," Carlisle confirmed. "Likely instantaneous. He was seat belted. I would wager, though, that Kylie was not. Her legs—that kind of blunt force trauma indicates that she rolled when the vehicle did."

Charlie looked back at Porter, who stood off to the side.

"That's correct, chief. The bystanders said that Kyle was not wearing her seatbelt. That's one of the reasons why they could get her out, as well."

"I'll have to examine them further at the morgue before I can give you anything more conclusive."

Porter spoke up, "Evan and Kylie were good kids. There's no way that either of them were drinking."

Carlisle pushed himself out of the car window, straightening. "Of course not, forgive me for suggesting such a thing. I merely meant that an autopsy would reveal in greater detail what caused both of their deaths. My guess would be blunt force trauma for both of them, most car crash fatalities are such, but I would need to do a full examination, and yes, toxicology, to be absolutely certain. I am not suggesting that either of them was, in actuality, intoxicated at all."

Charlie was struck by the way the doctor was articulating. Carlisle Cullen had such a classic, almost timeless way of speaking. It reminded Charlie of the old silver screen movie stars that his mother loved to watch before she died.

Charlie didn't like to think of any of the townspeople driving under the influence, but he knew it was done every day, and despite the law, or common sense, people would continue to do it. "We understand, Doctor Cullen. Porter, will you make sure the county coroner is called to pick up the bodies and do a further examination?"

"Sure, chief." Dejected, Porter walked away to do his duty. Charlie understood his deputy's frustration but the doctor was right.

"If you'd like, chief, they can be transported to the hospital. The Mason County coroner is over fifty miles away and will no doubt have a backlog. I spent part of my residency observing autopsies. The hospital in town is equipped to do the work."

Charlie put his hands on his hips, contemplating. "Are you saying, Doctor Cullen, that you can adequately perform the work in town?"

Carlisle nodded. "I am, and I would be happy to. It would take several days, possibly a few weeks, to get results back from the country examiner. I have firsthand experience on the delays in state run facilities. This way, we'll have answers. Possibly as early as the morning. I can see to the examination as soon as we're through here."

Sucking his teeth, Charlie nodded. Both surprised and concerned. "I'd be much obliged to you for that, but don't you have a family to get back to?" He checked his watch, a well-worn antique that had once belonged to his father. "It's past ten o'clock."

Carlisle smiled sympathetically. "It's no bother, truly. My wife would understand. Especially under the circumstances. She has a tremendous soft spot for children."

"Again, much obliged." Charlie left the doctor to rely the new instructions to Porter, who was already specifying orders to dispatch. When Porter finished confirming the arrangements, Charlie approached the doctor again.

"The paramedics are on their way to transport the—" his voice, thickened, "—Bodies."

Carlisle looked down. Kyle Winters was still laid out on the wet concrete a few feet away from them. "I take it you knew both victims?"

Charlie swallowed. "I grew up with Evan's dad. We used to go fishing when we were his age." He pointed at Kylie, who's hair was billowing around her face in the night wind. "I was just talking to Kylie's dad. She just had a birthday." Charlie knew he was revealing too much, his feelings were clouding his ability to do his job. "I need to head out to the Smith's and the Winter's. Tell them what's happened here."

"I can see this is difficult for you, chief. If you'd like I'd be happy to assist you with telling the families. Sometime having a doctor available to confirm there was nothing to be done, can be advantageous."

Again, Charlie was struck by this stranger's kindness. By the look of him, Carlisle Cullen couldn't be more than thirty years old, but he spoke and acted with a wisdom that belied his years. "I'm much obliged for the offer, Doctor Cullen, but would help me the most is seeing to these two kids, here." He gestured to Kylie and the car, where Evan remained. "Will you accompany them to the hospital."

"Of course, chief. I'll stay until the tests are done."

"Alright then. Porter?" The deputy scurried over when he was called. "Doctor Cullen's going to accompany Kylie and Evan to the hospital in town."

"The ambulance is on the way, chief."

"Good. Doctor Cullen?"

"Please, call me Carlisle."

Nodding, Charlie went on, "Carlisle, I need to go inform the Winters and the Smith's families about what happened."

"I'll stay at the hospital until it's done, chief."

It was well passed midnight when Charlie drove his patrol car passed the hospital, noticing that the Doctor was in fact, still working, by the simple fact that his car was still parked in the parking lot. Charlie had driven to the Winters' house first, then over to the Smith's farm near the Reservation. Informing next of kin about a death had never come easy to Charlie, and it was harder when he was conveying the deaths of children and teens. He had only had a handful of underage fatalities in the last twenty years, but they never got easier.

When he parked his patrol car in the parking lot of the hospital, he pulled out his wallet, thumbing the well-worn picture of his daughter, Bella, from her thirteenth birthday. He missed her every day, and resolved to call her in the morning. There relationship was strained, mostly because his relationship with his ex-wife had been tumultuous, at times.

After locking his car, he stepped into the hospital. The overhead lights were dimmed, with the exception of one glowing light under the door. Charlie followed it, knocking once he got close enough.

Carlisle's voice acknowledged him, and told him to enter from the other side.

As Charlie opened the door, he could see Carlisle pulling a hospital sheet over Evan's body, covering the telltale signs of an autopsy.

"Doctor Cullen," Charlie greeted. He noticed that the doctor had changed into green surgical scrubs.

Carlisle removed the cloth surgical mask. "Carlisle, please."

"That's right, I'm sorry." Charlie brushed his hand across his face, there was a course layer of hair growing across his cheeks.

"It's alright, it's been a difficult night. How are the families? The Winters' and the Smith's?"

"They took it hard, as to be expected."

"Naturally."

"Were you able to pinpoint anything from your examination?"

Carlisle sighed. "All of the signs of blunt force trauma. At this point this is nothing conclusive regarding external forces such as alcohol, although," Carlisle paused, crossing his arms, weighing his words. "I could smell alcohol contents in Evan's stomach when I did the examination."

Charlie recoiled, but only slightly. "I guess I wasn't aware you could do that."

"It was faint, and nothing to go off of. We'll have to see the results from the toxicology tests."

"I see." Charlie had learned not to be surprised by his job; however, he could be shocked. "I appreciate you staying so late, Doc—Carlisle. Most doctors wouldn't go the extra mile like that."

Carlisle smiled, affected by the kindness. "How long have you been a police officer?"

Charlie sighed, although the conversation was not unwelcome. "Seems like my whole life sometimes."

Carlisle chuckled, understanding the sentimate.

"More than twenty years," Charlie wet on, confessionally. "My wife and I were getting a divorce, and both of my parents weren't doing well health wise. My mother had Alzheimer's, and my father had lost his mobility. I got a job at the police station, hoping to stay close, and one thing led to another... And here I am." He immediately felt embarrassed to have revealed so much about himself, but Carlisle was easy to talk to.

"Do you have any children, chief?"

"You can call me Charlie. And yes, one," Charlie noted, delightedly. He couldn't hide the smile forming on his face. "A daughter. Isabella. She just turned sixteen."

"That's wonderful."

"Well, Carlisle. You said you were married. What does your wife do? I heard in town that you have a few kids as well?"

Carlisle explained, "My wife Esme is an architect by nature. She's busying herself with fixing up the house we just bought near the river. We actually have five children currently."

"Five?" Charlie wasn't exactly surprised. He had heard from the rumor mill in town that the mysterious new doctor had five adopted children that had been enrolled in Forks High School. School had been in session for more than a month already, but he had never seen or heard anything from any of the Cullen teenagers.

"Yes. I admit, it is a bit unusual. My wife and I are very young. We adopted two teenagers from a distant relative of hers, their twins, Rosalie and Jasper. We also adopted three other siblings who had been orphaned, Emmett, Edward, and Alice."

Charlie couldn't hide his shock, "That's amazing. I can't think of anyone else who would have opened their homes to so many teenagers. But then again, I can't think of any other doctors who would stay at the hospital until 1:00 AM to conduct an autopsy, either."

"My wife Esme loves children. She couldn't refuse any of them."

"And do you plan on having any of your own?"

From the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Carlisle turn to gaze out of the window, contemplating the night-black of the forests beyond the parking lot. "Perhaps one day. It's late, Charlie. Let's see each other out. There's nothing more we can do tonight."

At the front door the hospital, Charlie shook Carlisle's hand again. Once more he was shocked by the chill of the other man's skin.

"We'll have the test results in the morning. I'll call you at the station as soon as I know anything."

"Thank you again, Carlisle. For everything."

Charlie watched the doctor's sleek sedan drive away into the quiet darkness of the night. Charlie felt strange in the doctor's presence, as though the hair on the back of his neck was always standing on end, yet he couldn't deny the young doctor's kindness or fastidiousness in caring for the young teenagers who had died tonight.