Sixteen

Leah hadn't interacted with Emily since her cousin's wedding.

It was better that way.

With Emily out of her mind, she could breathe with the hope that one day, she would be free of her cousin. And maybe even Sam— oh, who she was kidding? Sam would always have a place in her psyche whether he was here or fuck-knows-where.

"That's perfectly normal," Aisha would tell her a few days after Sam had officially dropped off the place of the planet. All Leah knew was that he was in the Midwest. "No matter what's happened between you two, he's still your husband."

"And I still love him," Leah quietly admitted, feeling so ashamed, so duped. Pathetic.

One would think that after Sam's various stunts, Leah would despise the man. She hated him and his actions and his apparent inability to take her feelings into account, but she had dedicated seven long years to this man. She couldn't just flick him off her shoulder.

At least, not now.

"Of course, you love him, my dear," Sue would tell her daughter a couple of days after that, during their newly Saturday morning breakfast. Thankfully, Seth had decided to run off his "crew of baby nerds", as Leah would call them, and therefore wouldn't be in his mother's or sister's presence for quite some time. "Getting a divorce is a smart move, but no one said it was going to be easy, especially in regards to your feelings." She paused to sip some of her tea. "Have you begun the process?"

"We've only talked about it."

"That's what you said at the wedding."

"And nothing's changed," Leah mumbled as she played with her scrambled eggs. Her appetite was shot; it had been for quite some time. "He's gonna be away for a while. It wouldn't be right to start anything when I can't even talk to him."

Sue nodded in understanding. "Ah, it's one of those assignments." She took another sip of her hot drink. "Like you used to do. Like your father used to do." She shook her head. "I had never liked those assignments..."

"No one does," Leah pointed out. "But it's a necessary evil."

"Emily's been asking about him nonstop. Not to me, of course. But to everyone else, even Seth... that poor boy," Sue remarked. She cleared her throat and finished her tea. "I'm sorry—"

"No, it's fine," Leah insisted.

Because it was going to be fine. Leah was confident that she would reach a point in her life when she wouldn't cringe at the sound of Sam and Emily's name.

Two weeks passed, and it still wasn't fine.

"Sam's good and well," Aisha promised her one night. "Doing good work as usual."

Leah trembled at the sound of her husband's name, but she quickly composed herself. To a point where she didn't provide Aisha a reason to drop everything and rush to her aid. "Thank you," she said in the best-leveled voice she could muster. "Have a good night."

Emily decided to visit on a Sunday.

It had taken Leah all of her might not to slam the door in the woman's face, and threaten her with an arrest or a restraining order. Leah just stood under the threshold into her apartment, holding the door open, staring at her cousin through an impassive gaze.

Emily had less than a minute to state her case for being here. She might not have known about it, but Leah didn't give a damn.

On instinct, she glanced down, and her heart skipped a beat. There it was. Proof. A clear reminder of what she had always wanted, only to be denied countless times and relinquished to another, in her opinion, more undeserving person— Emily's pregnancy was beginning to show.

Emily must be about four months pregnant.

If she was someone else, and Emily wasn't her cousin, Leah would have gushed about it. Asked Emily how she felt and about the possible gender of the fetus. Even talk about baby names—but now, she could only sneer in disgust.

She had promised herself ever since receiving the devastating news that she would never take her frustration out on Emily's child. The child— he or she or maybe even they—didn't deserve her wrath. She would love her baby with all of her heart. She would be the bigger person, she had told herself, but now, staring at the protruding belly, she hated it with passion.

Her eyes snapped up when the horrible thought crossed her mind, hoping and praying she would never go down that deep end ever again.

"Leah?"

Leah's gaze hardened. She hated that voice. That sweet, innocent voice that belonged to a woman she had once considered to be her "sister". A voice that carried so much—she couldn't describe it— that she wanted to scream. She wanted to lunge at her cousin and strangle her. But that damn baby; it didn't deserve Leah's murderous attention.

Instead, Leah reminded herself that she ought to be the bigger person and, even for a short while, entertain Emily's presence. Just to see what bullshit she wanted to spew out today. "What do you want, Emily?'

"I want to know where Sam is."

Leah's eyes narrowed. What nerve, she couldn't help but think. What nerve, what audacity her cousin had to walk up to her apartment and demand for where Leah's husband was. "Leave."

Emily visibly flinched, but soon regained her composure. She forced a smile as if she wanted to believe that everything was relatively normal between her and the other woman. But when she finally gained enough courage to look into the eyes of her cousin, she knew there was no going back. She blinked, cleared her thought, and glanced down both sides of the hallway, aimlessly. As if she was taking a break to gather the right words that wouldn't result in the door being slammed into her face.

"It's been three weeks," Emily carefully said. Her gaze wisely dropped to the carpeted hallway floor. "I just want to make sure he's okay." She, perhaps unconsciously, began to rub her stomach. "It's not like him to be..."

Leah's gaze relaxed when the realization came to her. He didn't tell her. The bastard didn't inform the mother of his child that he was dropping off the face of the earth until, at the earliest, the end of the year. She couldn't believe this. It was as if the man was allergic to communicating with his supposedly loved ones.

"Working," Leah said.

"But he'd usually call me—"

"He's working. He's going to be gone for quite a while, but he's fine."

Emily seemed relieved by her cousin's words, but only for a moment. Her expression soon shifted into sadness and annoyance. "But why didn't he tell me?"

Because she's not my wife, Leah recalled her husband telling her. She supposed that was one of the aspects of their marriage he still held on to. But— she didn't know what to say or do. The wise thing was to keep her mouth shut; Emily wasn't considered immediate family or a dependent. But then again, she was carrying Sam's child. She had spent more intimate time with Sam in the last three years than Leah had.

Unfortunately for Leah, there wasn't a section in the police manual designated for handling pregnant mistresses.

The day passed since Emily's unplanned visit to the Uley household, and the conversation still irked Leah. "She's freaking out," she told Paul. "And it's driving me up the wall."

"I thought you weren't talking to her anymore?" Paul asked, handing Leah a piece of his bagel.

Leah quietly thanked the captain before biting off a piece. It was closer to eight in the morning, and while she was waiting for Jacob to get out of the usual morning traffic, she was sharing breakfast and words with Paul. He didn't seem to mind, especially once Leah promised him to lunch later.

"She dropped by unexpectantly," Leah said before washing down her food with coffee— extra light and sweet to calm her nerves. "She was asking for Sam."

"It's not your responsibility to tell her a goddamn thing."

Leah sighed. "I know that... but it's not about work. It's not just about work. She's not just some coworker. She's my cousin. My husband's girlfriend. She's carrying my second cousin, for goodness' sakes."

"Leah, no offense, but if she could disregard your feelings for the past few years, then you can do the same for the next few months."

Leah ended up making up a lie.

It wasn't a lie, per se, more like an embellished truth. And anyway, Emily should be grateful that her loyal cousin had gone to such lengths on her behalf. Leah could have ignored Emily and make her suffer—her mother would have appreciated it—but her conscious, as usual, had gotten the best out of her.

And now, here she was. On a Saturday morning where she would be sleeping in after a grueling week at her work but instead standing in the driveway of Emily's small home, providing the pregnant woman a bullshit excuse about Sam's absence.

"He's out of the country on assignment," Leah told Emily. "He's going to be off the grid for some time. Like a ghost, but like I said last time: he's fine."

Emily wasn't satisfied with her cousin's words. "And how would you know?" she bit out. "You haven't had a meaningful conversation with him in months."

Leah wasn't going to entertain Emily with her own vicious words.

"If anything happens, I'll let you know," she told her cousin calmly. "Until then, don't you ever drop by my house again."

Emily would eventually get the point.

Thank every deity under the sun, Leah thought.

Now, she could place her entire focus on her job without her cousin's nagging voice in her ear.

Being a part of the surveillance team wasn't the sexiest aspect of Paul's taskforce. It wasn't the gun-blazing, door-ramming, badge flashing kind of a team. It was just that: surveilling, spying, looking over people's shoulders without the targets finding out. Doing a lot of waiting and a lot of hoping to catch something good.

"It's like fishing," Jacob told her during the first day on the new assignment. "Just with criminals."

Although Paul hadn't put it into stone, it was heavily implied that Jacob was in charge of the three-person "surveillance" team, and Leah was perfectly fine with that. He was the one who had the most knowledge about just what the hell they were getting themselves into. Embry had unofficially declared himself as the detectives' back-up, and according to him, he wouldn't want to change his position for the world.

"There's too much action going on around here to be in charge of anything," Embry told Leah. "Right now, I'm a follower, not a leader."

Leah wholeheartedly agreed.

Two weeks had past Leah had been unofficially transferred to the Unit that shall not be Named (also now jokingly known as the Voldemort Unit), and she found herself sitting inside a surveillance van, parked on the street curb opposite of Mike's bar. An actual inconspicuous van for once. It wasn't the usual white-oh-so-obvious van. It was navy, and she was impressed.

She had been alone in the vehicle for about twenty minutes while Embry was making a quick lunch run. Jacob was sitting up top of one of the mid-sized buildings to get a better view of a conversation happening on the fifth floor located about a block from Mike's place. She was adjusting her camera when she heard a knock on the van's back window.

Finally, food.

Leah quickly opened the door, and Embry climbed right in, closing the door behind in using one hand while carrying two bags of fast food from a burger place in another.

"No salad?" Leah asked, cringing at the sight of the food. She loved fast food, but it was a horrible thing to consume for someone who would essentially be a sitting duck for the next few months.

"Who eats a salad on a stakeout?" Embry asked, offended. "Salad is the devil."

"You're just like Jacob," Leah snatched the bag and mumbled thanks as she opened it. Goodness, the hot fries smelled so good.

"One order of veggie burger and fries ain't gonna kill you," Embry insisted, playfully rolling his eyes as he sat next to Leah. "You'll be fine."

"I don't have wolf-metabolism, thank you," Leah reminded the man, removing the foil from her burger. It took her a moment to realize what she had said just said. She quickly adjusted. "All jokes aside, thank you."

"No problema," Embry said with a grin. He opened his mouth and then closed it, cocking his head to the side, studying the woman. "So," he cleared his throat. "So, you know about…" he stalled, moving his hands in a circle.

"Subtlety is not a strength of yours."

"So, I've been told..." Embry trailed off, and his grin returned. "Oh, okay. Well, that's good. Save me from having that inevitable awkward conversation..." He leaned in a bit and whispered, "So, uh, you don't mind?"

"Jacob told me about himself like a week after becoming my partner," Leah said before devouring some fries. "If I had a problem with you guys, I wouldn't be here."

"Nice to know—Wait, he told you that soon? That's weird. He's usually quiet about that stuff."

Leah shrugged. "He said it wasn't a big deal, so it's not going to be a big deal."

"Sounds good to me."

"I have a personal question if you don't mind."

"Shoot."

"Were you born with it?"

"Yeah."

She wanted to ask about Paul but then remembered what Jacob had told her a while back. The guys, they needed to reveal themselves on their own time and their own terms. "Oh, nice to know."

"Yeah."

Leah then glanced at her screen, showing the front of Mike's Lounge from an angle. At her far right, she could see Jane of the Volturi walking out of Mike's with her usual passive expression. Mike was a few yards behind the woman, looking as grim as ever. "That girl is like... sixteen."

"Technically, eighteen," Embry corrected. "That was her age when she had turned. Apparently. But don't let the looks fool you, she's bat-shit."

"Like Victoria?"

"Nah, different," Embry said. "See, Victoria looks crazy. Jane, over there, just looks like a high-schooler trying to be a goth. It's scarier."

"Hm..." Leah reached for her burger. "Is this pertinent information? Should we save it?"

"Aren't you the official detective?"

"Well, considering you know more about vampires than I'll ever know, I'll give you some authority. This time. Only temporarily."

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Jacob this..."

"Shut up, and answer my question."

"Nah, we don't have to include it. Jane's been scaring the shit outta Mike for years."

"Hm," Leah said as she watched Jane entered her car. "Interesting."

"You know what's more interesting? Word on the street is that they're dropping the Denali case," Embry said. "At least until the dust settles. But Jenks still wants to go after someone about the missing bodies. You can't steal bodies from a morgue and get away with that."

"It'd be a lesser charge than double-homicide," Leah argued, reaching for her fries again. "You'd think after all this time, those fools would understand that they have a better shot walking away if they worked with us rather than with the feds."

"Yeah... well, common sense isn't used as much as we'd like."

"Got any idea who did it?"

"It's a stretch, but Yorkie may be onto something."

"Yorkie?" Leah raised an eyebrow. "As in Dr. Eric Yorkie?"

"That guy is like a goddamn supernatural-nerd. He thinks it has something to do with a covenant."

"You mean, the Deal?"

"Nah. The covenant," Embry said. "It's a set of some laws made back in like the Roman times. Made for vampires; they've been following it ever since with the most powerful coven in the world keeping track of it."

"The Volturi."

"Yep. They're like the gatekeepers, as crazy as that sounds. Anyway, making vampire babies is super against the law that usually results in capital punishment. So... my guess, or I suppose, Eric's is that Sasha made a vampire baby. The Volturi got pissed because of the covenant and decided to take matters in their own hands."

"Tanya seems like the vindictive type," Leah said. "She doesn't do well with letting things go. Why hasn't she done anything about her family's deaths?"

"I don't think they think they have much of a justification." Embry downed some of his Gatorade. "Sasha fucked up— it's kinda like with made-guys. Yeah, they're important in the mob but if they mess up—"

"They get tossed aside."

"Yeah, because suddenly, they're bad for business. No one would want to deal with that guy."

"So, Sasha and Vasili's death is going to be ruled as a murder-suicide."

"Inconclusive, according to Bella. But that case is gonna get closed sooner or later."

"Ain't that a shame."

"I guess that's life," Embry said with a shrug. "Anyway, the more important cases are the Dahlia case and the Slaughterhouse case."

"What about Demetri?" Leah asked. "Heard any word on the street about him?"

"Oh, right, I forgot about him." Embry paused. "I think we're making that case on because of the possible connection to the Dahlia case. Didn't you and Jacob say that he was fucking around with Jessica?"

"We have reasons to believe that they were intimately involved."

"Kinda interesting that he had died weeks after she had."

"Interesting, indeed."

When she wasn't spying on people, Leah was unofficially in charge of shaking loose the stronghold that Judge Sorio had over the Dahlia case and getting some personal intel regarding the Slaughterhouse case, and Leah was perfectly fine with that, too. She figured that the only route she could take and getting through Rosalie, and possibly Riley—the man was a mystery. For someone who had just become a member of the James' Gang a couple of years back, he seemed to know a lot of things.

"What is your boss planning to do, in terms of reacting to the slaughterhouse murders?"

Leah didn't bother easing Riley in. She had texted the informant about an hour earlier, demanding his presence in a secluded area and did not plan on spending more than a few minutes with the man. The meeting had to be short and straight to the point.

Riley seemed perfectly in-tune with Leah's plan. "My boss doesn't take any shit," he said in a low voice, occasionally checking on his surroundings. He appeared more paranoid than usual, not that Leah could blame him. It was half-past nine, a time that generally coincided in an uptick of coven-gang activity. Victoria's men (as well as other organizations) were roaming around the city as the detective, and her informant knew. "She doesn't let things go. She's still pissed off about James, and it's been ten years."

"I thought James was killed last year?"

"That's what they want you to think," Riley said. "He's been dead since '08. Killed off by one of the Cullen boys. Edward, I think it was."

"Got any proof?"

"You wanna bring him for that?"

"You just implicated him in a murder," Leah said.

"It's... it'd be a waste of time," Riley said. "I may not know much, but I know that. No one's looking for James except for Victoria; it wouldn't be worth it."

"Then tell me something I can arrest them for," Leah quietly demanded. She hated being in this position, knowing that she had someone, but really didn't have anything; she needed proof. And from the looks of it, the man next to her didn't have any to give her. She decided to switch gears. "Is she going after Edward?"

Riley shook his head. "Victoria hates Edward for what he did, but I guess she knew he was only doing his job. She puts most of the blame on Carlisle."

"Tell me about him."

"Who, Carlisle?" Riley dug his hand into his pockets and carried on, "Used to be a doctor. Decent man if you're not on the wrong team."

"You've met him?"

"Only a couple of times," Riley said. "He acts like he runs shit. Like run everything, but you can tell by one look at him that he's just a figurehead."

Leah tilted her head, fascinated by the man's admission. "And who is the one actually calling the shots?"

Riley shrugged. "Like I said, I've only met him a couple of times, and none of them had been present."

"Edward?" Leah offered, hopeful. Paul would have a field day if that were the case. Jenks would probably go streaking up and down Michigan Ave (but perhaps after midnight where they wouldn't be many people on the road).

Riley shook his head. "He's up there. Like second-in-command, but he ain't running the family. He's more like a leader than a follower."

Leah did her best to hide her disappointment. "What else can you tell me about him?"

Riley snorted. "What is this, twenty-one questions?"

"Why else are we keeping you around?" Leah reminded him, raising an eyebrow. She smirked at the man's pained, annoyed groans. "So?"

"Like I said: he's the second-in-command. He has like fifteen people directly under him. He's smart, even presents himself as a gentleman or some shift, but he's a fucking asshole. Pompous asshole especially since he has a blonde bitch representing him—"

"Hey, Rosalie Hale is an accomplished defense lawyer. Just because she's damn good at her job doesn't mean she's a bitch," Leah chastised, and then, "As you were saying."

"Sorry," Riley grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I hear he's been getting disgruntled with his boss lately. I guess he's tired of cleaning up his shit."

"Shit, like what?"

"Like his girlfriends," Riley bit out. "The fact that he's using more and more humans in his operations. The fact that he's been fucking around with the goddamn ATF. Word on the street was that he had killed a few agents back on St. Patrick's."

"You know, for someone who had put a bullet in his leg, he seems to have taken quite a liking for you."

"In my defense, he did shoot my partner first," Leah told Jacob later that night over the phone. "It was nothing personal."

"Oh right, he did," Jacob let out a soft chuckle. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep at it."

"Thank you," Leah said with a smile. She had always been a sucker for praise… and Jacob's laugh, it seemed. "Oh, and about those rumors concerning St. Patrick's…"

"I'm going to tell Paul to refer that case to Team Two. They're gonna have a field day."

"You've worked with the Cullen's, right?" Leah asked Jacob and Embry the following afternoon as she adjusted her headphones. She was watching Victoria have a conversation with one of her guards, and she did not look happy. Or was speaking in English.

They were in a surveillance van parked a couple of blocks from their target: a small coffee shop in the near north side, currently hosting a disclosed meeting with the members of Victoria's gang—a meeting they had only known about because of Riley.

"They're not exactly fans of our kind..." Embry mumbled, writing down his findings in his notebook. He was surveilling a different target, located in a couple of buildings west of the coffee shop, currently holding some more of Victoria's men.

Leah nonchalantly rolled her eyes as she adjusted the volume on her laptop screen. "You know what I mean."

"I've done some cases involving them," Jacob said. "Which all fell through because of our lovely judge, but I can't say that I'm an expert."

"Carlisle Cullen, he's in charge, right?"

The men shared looks and shrugged.

"As far as we know," Embry said.

"Would you have known that if no one had told you?"

Embry glanced at Leah. "What are you getting at?"

"It's just something Riley had said..." Leah said, trailing off as she leaned closer to the screen. A new person had just arrived. "He thinks Carlisle's just the figurehead."

"So, who's running the show?" Jacob asked.

"That's what I want to know," Leah muttered. "You've never picked up on any vibes? I had asked about Edward, but Riley's convinced that he didn't want the position."

"Fascinating," Jacob whispered. "Just fascinating."

Leah was never a fan of talking people off the ledge.

Especially if that person was Jason Jenks.

"Are you sure you can't do anything about the autopsy?" She had to ask him. She had to ask him many times so he could finally comprehend the gravity of his conclusion that he was stuck. He couldn't be stuck. He wasn't allowed to be stuck, not with over twenty murders Paul's team had to get to the bottom of. "There's nothing you can do?"

Jenks was defeated, something he had never expressed before in front of the detective or front of anyone. He loved portraying himself as a stubborn, unmovable mountain; it made people, even criminals and corrupt politicians alike, respect him. "I don't have any leverage," he complained. "I have nothing. Not even a goddamn scare-tactic."

"Isn't an FBI intervention a big enough scare-tactic?"

"One would think," Jenks grumbled. "I thought getting this autopsy injunction removed by doing some under the table shit. But I have nothing right now."

"Oh, come on, there has to be some tax violation or some other little crime that can bring them to us," Leah said. "Something."

"I got nothing," Jenks replied. "We don't even have anything to arrest anyone on, never mind get an indictment. Twenty murders associated with those bastards, and we don't have a damn thing."

"We can't be pessimistic."

"I'm not pessimistic," Jenks argued. "I'm being realistic."

"So, are you suggesting we give up?"

"No," Jenks sighed. "No. Just pray for something I can use as leverage."

"I'll talk to Rosalie again."

"I don't think it'll help, but you can try."

And try, Leah did.

"You have to give me something."

Leah hated begging, and she refused to allow the lawyer to think that was what she was doing. The detective maintained a steady gaze and a passive expression as she tried to talk some sense into Rosalie.

It was the second Monday in May. Two days after she had promised Jenks that she would provide him (and Paul) with some good news about the Dahlia case's progress. She couldn't come back empty-handed.

"Immunity," was Rosalie's simple response.

Leah blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I can discuss some things, just as long as my client receives immunity."

"If your client receives immunity, the public is going to find out," Leah explained to Rosalie. "Everyone's going to know that your client is a rat. Even Carlisle wouldn't appreciate that."

Rosalie sighed. "Then there's nothing I can help you with."

"If you continue down this route, your client and possibly you will be sent straight to Alcatraz," Leah argued. It was a small bluff, but from the way Paul and Jenks had been cooperating begrudgingly with the feds, the arrests were indeed not out of the question.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The feds are going after everyone," Leah said. "And I mean everyone. I'm pretty sure your name is going to show up on an indictment one of these days."

Rosalie sat up in her seat and eyed the detective, "And you know this, how?"

"I may just be a human," Leah replied. "But I'm a human with connections. I know things."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"And I know you're going to need my help eventually, so let's the cut the bullshit and come up with a compromise."

"You know, if you were anyone else, I wouldn't even be entertaining this idea," Rosalie said, frowning. She wasn't happy about it, but she had always been a reasonable woman with a keen knowledge of the law.

"I'm flattered," Leah said. "I assure you. This conversation is under the table."

Rosalie stood up to go to her mini-fridge that was sitting on a table behind her couch. She opened it, returned an opaque pitcher, reached down for the glass, and began pouring the drink. It was stark-red and a little on the thick side—blood. "And how will that ensure me that a certain federal law enforcement agency doesn't make a special appearance?"

Leah looked beyond the couch. "Like I said, I have connections," she said, maintaining a straight face. Her appearance, the tone of her voice, they had to remain level. Showing no weakness, no ounce of a lie. She did have these connections, albeit shaky ones. She knew a couple of federal agents— FBI, DEA, ATF. And Aisha used to work for the ATF; she might be able to help out. All in all, in truth— she supposed, she was making a bluff, hoping that Rosalie wouldn't call her out on it.

Rosalie eyed the detective, studying her, waiting for the other woman to crack under the gaze of her amber eyes. They maintained eye contact for a bit before Rosalie broke it. She released a sigh, staring out of the window ahead of her, crossing her arms.

"He didn't have a choice," she eventually said quietly, picking up her glass and returning to the couch. "It had nothing to do with Jessica—he didn't care much for her. It had everything to do with the public. Imagine what would happen if the autopsy becomes public? She died from a bite. From a person? There would be hysteria all over."

"Then why go to Bella first?" Leah asked. She made a concerted effort not let her happiness, and her surprise was conveyed through her voice. She couldn't believe Rosalie took her for her word— but now, Leah had no choice but to pull strings. "If Edward wanted this, he could have just gone straight to Sorio."

"He didn't want to deal with him, but your coroner-friend did not give him much of a choice."

"So, he had simply let it go?" Leah asked, finding that hard to believe. Edward was in the mob; the mob just didn't let things go in that fashion. Not without an ulterior motive.

"Sometimes, people like being told, no. It reminds them of their humanity. Of the fact that not every single damn person they encounter is a pushover."

"So, he had let it go because Bella had amused him," Leah wanted to clarify, still not believing her ears. When Rosalie confirmed everything, she let out a snort. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I don't joke about these matters."

Leah didn't follow up on that statement. "So, in your professional opinion, how do you make this injunction go away?"

"That is for your and the Honorable Sorio to decide," Rosalie replied. "And I highly advise you strike up a deal soon. I hear the permanent injunction hearing may be coming up sooner rather than later."

"Duly noted."

Rosalie made a sound before taking a sip of her drink. "He had nothing to do with Jessica's murder."

For some reason, Leah believed the lawyer. "And what about Esme Cullen?"

"Esme?" Rosalie shook her head. "No, she had nothing to do with it."

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Because I've known Esme for decades," Rosalie said definitively. She took another sip, and, "She wouldn't do such a thing."

Something told Leah that Mrs. Cullen wasn't as innocent as Rosalie wanted her to believe, especially not after speaking with Riley. "She didn't have to deliver the final blow," she suggested. "Or rather, bite. She could've known about it."

"And have you spoken to her?"

"Briefly."

"And?"

"She made it known that any conversation with her had to be made in the presence of her lawyer," Leah admitted. "Seems a bit, you know, defensive."

"Any person in their right mind wouldn't speak to a detective without their lawyer," Rosalie rebutted. "Especially her."

"The usual?"

"The usual," Leah confirmed as she sat down at the bar. She took two deep breaths, thanking every deity under the sun that she was officially off the clock and checked her surroundings. It was after happy hour by the time she had arrived, so the crowd had died down some. Most of the patrons were staring up at the wall television's watching sports. She could see Jared Cameron in the distance laughing away at some video a friend was showing him. She made a note to say hello if he ever came her way. There were only three other people at the bar with her, all far away enough that she could hold a conversation without worrying about eavesdroppers.

"Thanks."

Leah pulled out her wallet but then returned it at the sight of Quil's disapproving look. For the past few months, she had been trying to convince the bar owner to let her pay for her own before. For the past few months, he had completely disregarded her request. His excuse? He could sacrifice a couple of beers per week.

"You're not gonna fight about this?"

Leah let out a dramatic sigh. "Is there any point?"

Quil smiled as he retrieved the beer and handed it to Leah. "One beer for the lady."

"When is this ever going to end?"

"I am a man of my word, and Paul is a man of his," Quil declared, and then, "How's life?"

Leah looked up at Quil. He seemed a bit tired, overworked. Just like her. It was probably because of his patrons roaming around the place like they had no sense. Although he had three other bartenders around, he still wouldn't be able to relax for a while.

"Same old, same old," she replied. "And you?"

"Can't complain. Officially hate young professionals and frat boys, but all and all, can't complain," the bar owner said before shouting out some orders for his bartenders. When he finished, he carried on, "Haven't seen you or the guys in a while. Everything's okay?"

"You know Jared's back there."

Quil playfully rolled his eyes. "He doesn't count."

Leah smiled. Since officially being under Paul's wing, she had been seeing the man more often. He was a part of the task force, working a couple of liaisons with the ATF. All and all, a good cop, according to the captain, just needed to work on discovering a time and place for his antics.

She looked around again, looking for nothing in particular, but ultimately stopping at the television above Quil thanks to the red "Breaking News" sign that ran across it.

It was a news report, an update on the Slaughterhouse murders. Leah could only imagine what the media had on their hands, which wasn't much because the police didn't have much. Except for the species of the victims, but the detective doubted any of the press would be that bold.

"...have confirmed that thirteen of the sixteen victims had been shot execution-style before being moved..."

Leah sighed. That was information she had known for months. She supposed this was a testament to the public relations department at work and the federal agencies. Usually, when there was a high-prole case (like the Dahlia's), the police would actively seek out help from the media. The media relayed the information to the common man, but due to the sensitively of the subjects involved, the police was treating these cases just like the usual, run-in-the-mill gang-related cases.

Paul would be proud.

"Crazy stuff," Quil remarked, leaning against the bar, glancing up at the screen as he dried off some glasses. "I heard the Slaughterhouse case is more messed up than the Dahlia's."

"It's about the same," Leah muttered before taking a swig of her much needed a drink. "Annoyance-wise."

Lack of information and suspects-wise.

"Better you guys than me," Quil said. "I'm not cut out for that cop-life."

"It's not that bad..." Leah said, shrugging. Not entirely good. Not entirely bad. That was probably the most honest Leah had ever been about her career. But she supposed she could say the same thing about her life—there were always valleys and hills. Just focus on the hills, and everything would be just fine. "Honestly, the most annoying part is dealing with politics."

"So, I've heard," Quil said. "You think it's gonna get better?"

"I wouldn't be in this job if I didn't," Leah said, dropping her gaze. The media wasn't saying anything new. "If we can move past St. Patrick's, then we can move past anything."

"I'll toast to that."

"Hey, Quil."

"Yeah?"

"I got a question," Leah said. It was out of the blue, didn't necessarily have anything to do with the news report, but it was a thought that had existed in her mind for months. "If you don't mind."

"Go 'head."

"Do you get some of... you know, as your customers?"

Quil blinked, but then soon realized just whom the detective was referring to. "Oh, you mean leeches?" He thought for a moment and shook his head. "Never. I mean, not that I know of."

"Never?" Leah found that interesting. This bar wasn't marked; it wasn't known mob hang or even a cop hang out. "I'd thought with so many people being crammed in one place, inebriated by some drinks that this would be prime hunting ground."

"Even the supernatural abides by territorial agreements."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "And your bar is a part of said-agreement?"

"No vamp in their right mind would come to the same bar as a bunch of wolves."