Three

"This changes things."

Leah nodded as she and her partner entered their car. "This changes everything," she said, buckling her seat belt. No other word was spoken until Jacob started the vehicle. "Is this car bugged?" she asked.

Most likely, it wasn't, but with the new policy changes, "mandating" cameras in all police-issued cars, she needed to be sure that she and Jacob could have an "off the record" conversation.

"Not that I know of."

"Good—So, I suppose with this new development, the fact that the Cullens and the Denalis may be involved, we have to address the terms provided in the Deal. Of which, admittedly, I don't know specifics…" Leah looked up at her partner. "But I have a good feeling that you do."

Jacob rested both hands on the steering wheel and squeezed it, hard. Hard enough to Leah to be worried that the man was moments away from bending it. Jacob deeply inhaled and exhaled before quietly saying, "In its entirety."

"Can you explain it to me?" Leah asked carefully. She might not know much about it, but she was well aware that the Deal was a touchy subject for every in the law enforcement community. The agreement was dubiously legal; no doubt would cause an uproar if the general public got wind of it. It was so controversial that its details weren't known to everyone employed by the Chicago Police Department, not even her.

She had accidentally found about the Deal months ago, not because of her coworkers but because of Sam. "It was a slip," he had told her before downing a couple of beers to swallow his disappointment in... himself. Only those who came in contact with those involved knew about the Deal; they had all been sworn to secrecy.

Leah had no idea what her husband had been referring to. Who were they? What did the Deal consist of that made it so secretive? She had wanted to ask so badly, but Sam—he had looked like he had been moments away from whisked away by the FBI.

"Leah…"

"Please," Leah said, almost to the point of begging. "I can handle it. I know it's supposed to be a secret, but if you want me to help you with this case, I need to know the truth."

Jacob finally looked at her; his eyes hesitant, nervous even, pleading for Leah to let the topic go. But Leah refused to falter and eventually, Jacob relented. Releasing a sigh, he rubbed the steering wheel and finally released it. "The truth is: we all have to pick our battles."

"What do you mean?"

"We're cops, right? Our job is to protect and serve. We try to do that every day, but we can't catch every single bad guy. We can't prevent every single crime. Why? Not because we don't care. It's because we're not perfect. We gotta... what's that called? Use cross-benefit analysis. We gotta take chances. We have to maintain the peace."

"I don't understand..."

"We're not omnipotent," Jacob said, loosening his grip on the wheel. "There are times when we have to do some give-and-take. But it's all for the better good. Or at least, that's what they're trying to sell to us."

"Sell what?"

"The Deal."

Leah's gaze dropped to her lap.

"I don't like it. Never have. But I get it. It's a tit-for-tat. It had worked for so long, but then she had to get killed."

"Jessica."

"She was human. Humans are supposed to be untouchable, unless under certain circumstances. See, we only recognize crimes that involve humans. Whether it's corporate fraud or whatever—it always involves humans. Right?"

Leah nodded. "Right."

"But under the law, the supernatural isn't protected. We may walk around like we're one of you, but once the public or the authorities find out about who we really are, we don't have the same rights."

"But that's not right," Leah contested. "You're people. Just like the human race. Okay, yes, you're different... but shouldn't you fight for it?"

"C'mon Leah, how do you think a layman's gonna react when we come out? Out and proud? Do you think they're going to let us live? You think they'll let us work and walk in the same space. Shop at the same place without giving us Hell? Fuck no," Jacob said, raising his voice. "If someone, who's not you, finds out what I'm a..." He stopped and let out a deep breath, "I'll be done for. Who's going to let me investigate homicides? Some fools are gonna probably think I am the goddamn killer."

Leah wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but she would only be lying. She didn't want to lie to Jacob. Instead, she swallowed and quietly asked, "...but why the Deal?"

"Because certain law enforcement agencies believe that it's better for everyone to let the other side win some battles," Jacob replied. "Just as long as it doesn't involve humans."

"So, you either have the Deal..."

"Or we have to come out. Most don't think it's worth it. You know, it may create a panic. It's a threat to public health. Like I said: we gotta maintain the peace."

"And exactly how is Deal going to impact our case?"

Leah patiently waited for a response.

"It's going to make our job a lot harder," Jacob eventually said.

"But it's not impossible?"

"Nothing's impossible," Jacob replied, suddenly becoming determined as he put the gear into drive. "We're going to find those damn bastards, and pray that Jenks would prosecute them."

"The vampires?"

Jacob's expression turned stormy—Leah cleared her throat. Right, Jacob was not their biggest fan. He could tolerate them and had done so in the past, but only because he wanted to keep his job. One day, Leah would ask him about it.

Leah nodded. "You think Jenks' going to prosecute vampires, providing that they were the ones who did that to Jessica?"

"Yes," Jacob said, and then, "No." He groaned. "I don't know. If we have a strong, fool-proof case, he would have no choice. He's not like the others. Vampires don't faze him. Not that much."

"And if that doesn't work?" Leah asked just as she felt a familiar vibration in her coat pocket. She retrieved her personal phone and checked the text message. It was from Sam, asking her to meet up for dinner. In public, of course. Leah supposed he was finally ready to talk—

But she declined the offer. She was working. Surely, Sam would understand.

Her husband didn't reply.

"We call in the feds," Jacob said as he backed out of the parking space.

The detectives visited the LaPush Hotel around 8:00 pm. It was an ideal time to stop by, especially with no member of the press present. The hotel manager, growing increasingly annoyed with all of the Chicago Dahlia fanfare, had issued an ultimatum barring anyone not with the police were allowed to camp around the hotel grounds between hours of 5:00 pm and 8:59 am.

The idea to visit was spurred by receipt of camera footage, thanks to a subpoena; it was helpful but only to a point. The video captured Jessica checking into the hotel, alone, entering the elevator, alone and relaxed; no one was following her. She was alone the entire time. Leah and Jacob wanted to find what the footage could not.

The left half of the 29th floor was closed off to the general public. Ten rooms in the vicinity of the crime scene were no longer ready to be booked until the investigation was over (or until the public no longer deemed the area as "creepy" or "haunted"). The room, itself, had its front door locked with numerous strings of caution tape around it and a police officer standing guard.

The detectives greeted the rookie with a cup of coffee and foil-wrapped burger (his request) before entering the room. Nothing had been moved except for the victim's body (an outline of the corpse was taped to the cleaned carpet). And the blood—the blood spilled on the floor, found on the walls had been scrubbed clean.

But Leah could still see her. Everything. The spatter, the pool of blood and guts. Jessica. Such a pretty young woman, lying on the burgundy-carpeted floor in two pieces, in the nude, with her dark eye-shadow and scarlet red lipstick. Her penciled-in eyebrows. The authentic diamond studs in her ears. Her black sequin mini-dress strewn across the bed…

"You see her?"

Leah stared at the floor, slightly frowning. "I don't think I'll ever not see her." She looked up at her partner. "You?"

Jacob dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves. "Every night," he admitted, crouching down next to his partner. He ran his fingers around the carpet, looking to see if there was anything the CSI team missed. "Every time I pass this damn place…"

Leah nodded. "So, there were no signs of a break-in," she said, half question-half statement, as she walked around the bedroom, stopping at the door. The door itself seemed normal; the frame appeared unscathed.

"Right," Jacob said, pulling out a chair from under the table adjacent to the bed. He leaned back on it, looking up at the ceiling. Aimlessly. Musing.

"So, we can assume that she knew the killer," Leah said. "No one in their right mind, associated with certain organizations, would open the door for just anyone and not put up a fight."

Jacob sat back up. "Unless the perp was too fast for her?"

"Even so, we have no signs of a struggle. No reports of shouting. No reports of anything breaking…"

"What are you thinking?"

"Jessica was associated with the Cullens and the Denalis, both of which are known for their illicit business. Jessica was working for them. Maybe to pay for school? Maybe this was a botched deal?"

"Okay, so what if that's true? Who would be involved?"

"The Volturi?"

"The Olympic coven and the Volturi would never make a deal," Jacob said. "Now, I may not know the specifics of vampire politics, but I do know that much."

"What about their affiliates?" Leah offered. "I'm sure the Olympic doesn't know every single person that works with the Volturi. Maybe the Volturi caught up to an Olympic ally, made an offer they couldn't refuse?"

Jacob drew his eyebrows together. "It sounds plausible, but it's just that…" he trailed off, trying to gather the right words. "This isn't like them."

Based on past experiences, Jacob was right. All three families were known for handling their business on the low; that was one of the reasons why it was so hard to prosecute any of them. (Others being that the Olympic coven "supposedly" had the infamous Rosalie Hale on their payroll, and the Volturi more-or-less having diplomatic status—long story).

"Maybe the hitman got it all wrong?" Leah suggested. "Do you think this is the work of Felix or Santiago?"

"I just can't see them doing this, even for retaliation," Jacob said. He didn't appear to be in tuned with Leah's musings. "They're expert hitmen. They do their business and go right to the next one. They don't have time to mutilate someone like that."

"I suppose," Leah said unconvincingly as she continued her sweep around the room. She stopped upon receiving a string of text messages on her personal phone: One was from her mother, confirming the lunch she "insisted" they had on the weekend— she would be there. Another from Seth, begging her to tag along to watch the newest Marvel movie—sure. A third from Aisha St. Pierre, a detective in the Special Victims Unit and a classmate at the police academy (and the closest thing to a best friend)—yes, they definitely needed to talk.

And the last one from Sam. Never mind, he texted. She stared at the message; it wasn't anything special, but it still stung. Because she would hear the disappointment behind it—she wanted not to care. Fuck you, and your feelings, she tried to respond. But instead— Sorry.

"We'll find out tomorrow when we meet up with Jessica's roommate," Jacob said, standing up. "She has to know something."

Three days after Jessica Stanley was found mutilated in her hotel room, the detectives visited the home the victim shared with Lauren Mallory, located along the row of condos on Sheridan Rd., overlooking Lake Michigan. They were in the Edgewater section of Chicago, not Lincoln Park, as provided in the background check—Lauren had mentioned to them during a phone call that Jessica had only recently moved in November.

Lauren had also mentioned that she was ready to cooperate in the investigation. She didn't leave the detective waiting long.

"Good afternoon, Miss Mallory," Jacob greeted. The detective gave the young woman his patented-warm smile. He usually played the good cop with his friendly face, and Leah often played the bad one (although he had to remind her that this was recon, not an interrogation). It worked for them, and it worked for the police force.

"Good morning," Lauren said, keeping her guard up.

"We just want to ask you some questions about your roommate," Jacob said.

"You mean Jessica."

"Yes," Leah clarified. "Jessica Stanley."

"Just questions," Jacob insisted. "Like we had said over the phone."

Lauren's nerves quieted a bit, and she allowed the detectives to enter her home. "I have nothing to hide," she declared. "I've seen countless cop shows. I know the drill." She paused. "Are you sure I don't need a lawyer?"

That was a dangerous question that Leah always hated answering, but she said, "Not unless you have a reason to."

Lauren's eyes widened slightly. She nodded, understanding the detective's point before checking with Jacob. And when he verbally agreed with his partner, she led the detectives into the living room and offered the detectives to sit down on the sofa. She, herself, sat on the love seat, opposite of the guests with only a small table between them. She was composed, still a little anxious, but composed.

The condo was a decent two-bedroom apartment, owned by Lauren's parents; that was Lauren's justification of being able to keep up with the mortgage. As far as the detectives were concerned, part-time waitresses wouldn't be able to afford such a place, especially one overlooking the lake.

"I feel terrible for not doing anything," Lauren said, eyes downcast. She twiddled with her thumb and bit her lip. "I just can't believe she's dead…"

"How long have you known Jessica?" Leah asked.

"Three years."

"You two were close?"

"As close as roommates could be," Lauren said. "I mean, we were friends. Sort of. But not best friends."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"That morning. Right before I headed to work, Jessica told me she didn't have to work that day, so she stayed behind. She was making some eggs when I left."

"What time specifically?"

"A quarter to eight."

"Did she mention anything about her plans for that day?"

Lauren shook her head but then nodded. "Oh… she did mention that she was going to meet up with this guy. The name escapes me, but they were gonna meet in some bar downtown."

"What time would that be?"

"Don't know. Nighttime? Probably during happy hour?"

"Did she provide some details about this guy?"

"No, not all. All I know was that he was an Eastern European guy, claiming to be an aspiring model."

Leah nodded as she jotted down the notes. Aspiring model. So, the man had to be young and attractive. "Did she have any other plans?"

"Yeah, she was going to spend the night at a hotel."

"When did she plan on coming back?'

"The next morning," Lauren replied definitively. "She said she was spending the night downtown. She often books a room at LaPush for herself. I guess she wanted to think she was rich or something."

Leah nodded. So, that explained why the hotel room was under her name. A room that, on average, cost six hundred dollars a night.

"For herself?" Jacob asked. "She books a room at LaPush for herself?"

Lauren shrugged. "Yeah, I know it sounds a bit weird, but this is Jessica. She has uh… a reputation for being adventurous. I guess it was a birthday gift to herself or whatever. January 15th is her birthday; she was twenty-four." She let out a dry, humorless scoff, and mumbled, "Ain't that something?"

The detectives exchanged a look.

Lauren let out a dry cough and offered, "I guess you'd want to see her bedroom?"

The detectives nodded. They didn't technically have a warrant; they were only here to ask questions, but since Lauren had been the one to offer first, they could get away with it without getting yelled at by their captain. They both rose from their seats and followed Lauren into the bedroom.

Leah and Jacob roamed around once they entered the room. It wasn't anything special — a medium-sized neat bedroom furnished by two beds, two dressers, and two large closets with mirrored doors. Jacob focused on Jessica's dresser as Leah approached Jessica's closet. It was slightly opened.

"Do you mind?" Leah asked Lauren.

Lauren shrugged. "Go right ahead."

Leah carefully slid back the door and peered inside. It was a mess, full of clothes and shoes and books. Nothing looked odd. Nothing smelled too odd, and—she stopped, pulled out a tissue from her coat pocket, and bent down to pick up a pair of stilettos—authentic crystal-studded Louboutin's. Although Leah was far from a fashion connoisseur, she knew that those red-bottomed pumps had to, at least, cost several hundred dollars. She looked around and found a few more pairs.

Gucci. Fendi. Chanel. Hermes. Yves Saint Laurent...

"Your roommate had quite the taste," Leah remarked.

"Yeah, she was a shopping-fiend. She would only wear name-brands. Damn, some things cost more than people's salaries."

"If you don't mind me asking," Jacob started. "You both worked at the same dinner?"

"Yep."

"How much you get paid an hour?" Jacob asked.

Leah listened intently for Lauren's answer. There was no way with her limited income, horrible credit and non-existent that Jessica should be able to afford a closet-worth of expensive merchandise. Or maybe she didn't buy them. Maybe they were gifts provided by a wealthy benefactor. Either way, it didn't look good.

"Um… we're waitresses. It depends entirely on the day and the people," Lauren said, staring at the shoe, and then muttered under her breath, "Not enough to afford those. That's for sure."

Leah put down the shoe and mouthed to her partner, "We gotta get a search warrant," when Lauren looked away. Jacob nodded in agreement.

"Did she have any other means?" Leah asked.

Lauren hesitated to answer. "I don't know for sure…" she quietly said, flinching under Leah's suspicious gaze. "I've never asked her about her money. She paid half the bills with no problem, so I've never bothered. Maybe she had some long-lost rich relatives?" She paused. "Or maybe… now, this is gonna sound so bad because Jessica was a great girl, but I think she was, you know, flaunting herself."

"A stripper?" Jacob suggested.

"Escort?" Leah offered.

Lauren quickly shook her head. "No, no, that's not what I meant. It's just that… I think she was a sugar baby or something. I mean, that would explain the random exotic trips, and the clothes, the jewelry, right?"

"Jewelry?"

"Oh, you gotta see this." Lauren led the detectives to Jessica's dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a metal box. It was locked with no key in sight. "I obviously can't open it, but I know she has stuff on here—You know that movie Titanic? And that necklace Rose wore?"

"The Heart of the Ocean," Jacob quickly said, ignoring the slightly amused look from Leah.

Jacob, rumor had it, loved that movie.

"Yeah, that's the one. She has one in here," Lauren said. "But it's red. Ruby, maybe?" She held out the box for the detectives to take. "Here. Take it. I have no use for it, especially since it belonged to a dead person. Not trying to get haunted, thank you."

The detectives declined. Leah chided herself to not asking for a damn search warrant; she made a mental note to demand one when they return to the precinct. "You can put it back," she said. "Thank you. We'll definitely keep in touch."

After their conversation with Lauren Mallory, the detectives visited the Office of the Medical Examiner and were able to extract more information from Bella and Eric regarding Jessica Stanley.

Leah opened the file and began to read from the unofficial, unfinished autopsy report, "She died from cardiac arrest. Possibly induced by an unknown substance," he read and then looked up. "Probably poison." She shook her head and repeated, "Poison."

Jacob didn't say a word.

Leah continued, "Estimated time of death, between 6:00 pm and 8:00 pm. All lacerations are post-mortem. DNA tests on the neck wound ruled negative, so did was the substance found inside her vagina."

"Lube?"

"KY Jelly, to be more specific. Nothing on when it was applied, but I'm saying, based on semantics, it couldn't have been inserted long before her death. I mean... you know."

Jacob let out a low chuckle and began to drive away. "So, she probably had a date that night, and let him—"

"Or her."

"Or her inside her hotel room, got busy, and shit escalated. Real quick," Jacob said. "They found nothing? No semen, no saliva?"

"Nada," Leah said. "And here's the thing: the poison had to have come from the neck wound. There were no signs of needle marks or any poisonous substance in her digestive track or nether regions."

"She was bitten."

Leah figured as much. "The prep wanted to turn her?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, kill her," and then further explained. "A vamp's bite has two purposes: it can kill or turn you. It depends on what happens after. So, if a vampire bites you, you die; if he wants to turn you, he'll make you drink his blood. Then you're revived."

"She wasn't revived."

"Nope," Jacob said, peering up at his rear mirror and quickly turned around.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "We're not—?"

"Later. First, we're gonna pay someone a visit."