Thirty-Three

"Looks like a classic shooting to me," Bella said as she took pictures to Lauren's body. Two shots to the body with blood everywhere. It wasn't an immediate death. "But this doesn't seem like a crime of passion. It seems like a hit?"

"Most likely," Leah said, eyes solely on the victim. Based on Lauren's injuries and the position of the body, she would've never made it, but would've seen it coming. "Embry said Mike Newton was arrested for the murder. He didn't even up a fight."

Bella looked up at the detective. "Of course," she groaned.

"Of course," Leah said, glancing to her right where Jacob and Embry stood, examining the murder weapon. A revolver, she noted. Mike went old-school. "I guess he no longer wants to walk around as a free man."

Bella grunted in response.

Sometime later, Leah found herself roaming around the large, three-bedroom condo with Jacob in hopes of gathering more information on the murder.

The crime scene was one of the "simpler" ones. No bodies were inside the walls. No one was cut into pieces. All the blood was concentrated in one area. But the crime scene was still one of the more upsetting ones. Leah had known the victim, spoken to the victim, tried to convince the victim to accept legal protection—

Leah took a deep breath, running a hand down her face as she walked on, only to be stopped by Jacob, who took her hand.

"We did what we could," Jacob told her.

Leah dropped her gaze to the wooden floor. "I know…"

He was right—They had offered Lauren witness protection, but she had declined. She had refused the suggestion so many times, insisting that she had everything under control. But the fact didn't make Leah feel any better. Yet another witness, dead.

"Hey, guys, there's something I want you to show you," Embry announced, emerging from one of the guest bedrooms. He then asked the closest officer to him for a bag of evidence. Once in his possession, he held it up high for the detectives to seek. "Look who issued a check for one hundred large."

Jacob took the bag, eyes growing wide as he examined it. "Edward Cullen…" he read. He handed the evidence to his partner and added, "Edward Masen."

"His lack of alias-creatively disappointments me," Leah remarked in a deadpanned voice as she studied the check. "It was issued a week after Lauren had returned to Chicago. The Cullens wanted to keep her quiet."

"Make sense. She was there at Mike's on the night of the ambush. She was Jessica's roommate, and friend and Carlisle had his sights on her."

"You think he sealed the deal?" Jacob asked.

Leah shook her head. "I don't think he had the time. Lauren went M.I.A. with Mike right after," she said, handing the evidence back to Embry. "So, the most likely scenario: someone found out that she had talked to us and wanted to silence her."

"C'mon on," Embry said, motioning the detectives to follow him. As they walked around the condo, the officer provided pointers to the crime scene. He had arrived there about twenty minutes before the detectives. "No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle. My guess: Lauren must've let Mike in without a problem."

"I didn't know they were that close…"

"Maybe she felt obligated to deal with him after he saved her life," Leah suggested, finding the entire situation ironic. She then peeked inside the bathroom. Nothing was out of place. She made a note of the clutter of make-up near along the sink's edge. "Cosmetics looked recently used. Maybe planning for a night out?"

"With Mike?" Embry asked.

"I assume so," Leah said. "He's the only other scene I'm picking up."

"Ditto. I just—" Jacob ran a hand down his face. "Mike may be Mike, but he's no hitman."

"Well, whatever he is, he confessed to cold-blooded murder," Leah said. "Embry, he's in custody?"

"Yeah, Jared and Thomas brought him in," Embry said, and then added, "I know it's getting pretty late, but now would be the best time to question Mike. He doesn't seem like himself, you know? I'll stay behind… Let me know if you need anything."

"Let's get this shit over with," Mike grumbled, once seated. He immediately slumped down his chair, crossing his arms and pouting. Not even like a teenager, but a man who had seen better days. Long gone was the scheming, cocky businessman who always boasted about his connections to both sides of the law.

He looked pathetic.

"Where's your counsel?"

"Does it fucking matter?" Mike snapped at Jacob. "It's over either way."

Leah and Jacob shared an alarmed look.

"Does he know about your confession?" Jacob asked.

Mike shook his head.

"Let's get him in before you start talking," Leah suggested. She resisted the urge to give a sympathetic squeeze to the man's shoulder. He was no longer the Mike Newton from the past. Now, he was a murder suspect. "It'll make everyone's lives easier, including yours."

Mike didn't fight it.

Nothing much occurred during the wait for Mike's attorney. When the man, the expensive and talented Shapiro, showed up an hour later, he demanded to have the interview room alone with his client. The detectives respected their wishes. Fifteen minutes later, Shapiro announced that his client was ready to talk.

A plea bargain wasn't on the table, the attorney added with a frown. The decision wasn't ideal for the accused—Which only lead Leah to believe that Mike was insistent on going to prison for a very long time. He must've assumed that being incarcerated was being than being free.

Which meant he must've been seriously threatened.

Jacob was the first to speak. "What happened?" he asked, folding his hand on the table. He was exhausted, by the time of night, by the events from a couple of hours ago. "Just…" he looked up the fallen man. "Tell us what happened, and then we can see if an arrangement can be made."

Shapiro gave Jacob a sharp yet relieved look.

"I said I don't want a goddamn deal," Mike grumbled, slamming a fist onto the table, alarming only his attorney. "I just wanna be put away—Fuck everything."

Leah raised both eyebrows as Shapiro let out a long, exasperated sigh.

Well, then.

"Let's check again when you're done talking," Jacob suggested in the calmest voice he could muster. Gone was his usual snarky attitude, designated for the former business owner. Right now, Mike was just another murderer. "So, please, tell us. What's your side of the story?"

And Mike did.

Lauren had no business in Edgewater that night.

Or any night.

She was supposed to have been in the southwest suburbs, where her parents lived, attending the last of her online college courses—That was the arrangement she had made with Rosalie, in addition to receiving a settlement of one hundred thousand dollars.

Everything had been planned.

It was supposed to be easy.

Especially since Lauren finally had claimed that she wasn't fit for the fast life. All she wanted to do was ensure her graduation by the end of the Fall semester and move on with her life.

Mike had figured she was fine with the plan until he found out that she wasn't.

According to Lauren, she had decided to stay at the Edgewater condo because simply... How could she abandon such a place? It was lovely, fully furnished with luxuries item, and a drop-dead gorgeous view even on the worse of days. The condo wasn't hers; it had belonged to Jessica (apparently, given as a gift from Carlisle), who had been kind enough to lend Lauren a spare key.

That was what she had told Mike.

Mike had a feeling there was an alternative motive.

It was no big matter.

The reasoning wasn't important.

Wouldn't change anything.

Unbeknownst to Lauren, Mike had been plagued by a sense of dread ever since the night before, when he had been dragged into Edward's office, threatened at gunpoint to explain Lauren's less than advisable actions. Mike hadn't learned about Lauren's running month until that unfortunate meeting, not that Edward care. What he wanted was an answer and a promise that Lauren would be dealt with.

"Hey Mike, are we going far. Lauren asked, snapping Mike out of his throats as she led her further into the impressive apartment. She was dressed in a lovely summer dress, looked beautiful, really.

If Mike wasn't in such a terrible predicament, he might have shot his shot with the young lady.

"Nah, just down Broadway. How does Giordano's sound?"

Lauren sharply turned around with her hands cupping her face. "Oh my god! Yes! I'm so craving carbs, right now."

"Giordano's, it is," Mike said, flashing the young woman a fake smile. Without Lauren noticing, he tapped his waist a couple of times, make sure he hadn't dropped the necessary tools. Lauren was fully expected to be treated to pizza with a little stroll along Lake Michigan. Mike, however, had other plans.

He wasn't known for doing the mob's bidding He had made a vow during his second stint in jail that he wouldn't get in that deep. But Edward had found a way to convince him otherwise (the Olympic henchmen were also influential), and now, here he was.

Mike blamed himself for Lauren's betrayal. He should've let her die that night in his lounge, conscious be damned. He had tried his best with the woman; he warned her countless times of the dangers of being a rat. Hell, he had even taken Lauren across numerous state lines to ensure her (his) safety- He thought he had everything under control.

He was wrong.

And now, Lauren had to pay for it.

And then, Mike would have to, as well.

While Lauren was in the main bathroom, applying the final touches to her made-up face, Mike roamed around the hallway, occasionally running a hand over his choice of weapon, a Ruger Blackhawk Revolver, a classic given by his husband before the old man's untimely demise.

He thought about interrogating Lauren. After all, she was relaxed, excited even, she might be more inclined to answer his questions without much of a fight— But he didn't have time for that. In fact, he didn't have time to hang around. Thankfully, Lauren had felt the same way; she emerged from the bathroom, not once looking up. Mike took the opportunity to pull out his piece.

Lauren's eyes eventually met Mike... and the gun. She froze, staring at it in horror and disbelief because slowly raising her gaze to Mike's impassive one. Drawing in a breath, she took a couple of steps back. "W-what are y-you...?"

Mike didn't provide an answer. He pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. Lauren slumped onto the ground, still alive, but barely. Coughing up blood, she laid on her side, slowly moving her hands the slow waterfall of blood emerging from her torso.

She wasn't going to make it.

A relief that couldn't be enjoyed.

Mike watched Lauren die.

Dropping the gun, he stared. He couldn't move— this was his second kill; the first happen years ago, completely out of self-defense. There was no self-defense in this one... or maybe there was? The law wouldn't accept it, but Mike had just prolonged his life just a bit longer. If he hadn't done anything, by midnight, his head would've been hand-delivered to Edward.

Mike told himself he didn't have any other choice.

That was a lie.

He could've done something.

The idea to kill Lauren, at the time, had seemed to be the best choice.

But now, as Mike thought about it, pacing around the living room, ready to pull out his hair. What was he thinking? Lauren being dead wasn't going to change anything. Edward and his family were never going to trust him again. No trust meant no protection.

He could've run and most likely would've gotten away with it. He had the perfect opportunity: there was a party going on across the hall, loud and raucous. No one had rushed to the room when he tired the shots, even if they did, Mike had about a good ten minutes to escape—

But he stayed put.

It was stupid, completely illogical, but then again, so was this entire experience.

Mike cursed under his breath, ready to break something until he took notice of a signed check. Interestingly enough, it wasn't addressed to any, but he assumed it was Lauren's hush-money. He considered taking it, addressing it to himself, and go out on the lamb. One hundred large could do some damage.

Or he could destroy it, forget about it, and accept his fate.

Mike chose the latter.

He called 911 moments later. After gently hanging up the phone, he pulled out a chair from under the dining room table and sat down, having a clear view of Lauren's body. He glanced at the gun still on the floor and sighed—He was fucked, and he had no one to blame but himself.

He gave the cops ten minutes.

"Police!"

Mike swore as the police barged into the apartment. He glanced at the murder weapon. It was still loaded with a few bullets. If he wanted to, he could quickly reach for it and turn this until a gunfight. But he ultimately decided against it; the cops were here because he had made the call.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me—Mike?"

Mike cleared his throat. He was hoping the arresting officer wasn't someone he knew. "Long time, no see…" he mumbled.

Jared motioned for the other cops to scope out the apartment while still having his gun aimed at Mike. Maybe he thought the man would make a run for it? The worry was unfounded; Mike wasn't going to run.

Eventually, Jared moved behind Mike. He pulled his out handcuffs and grabbing the other man's wrists. "Mike Newton, you are under arrest for the murder of Lauren Mallory. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know." Mike shook his now shacked hands. "Let's get this shit over with."

Jared finished reading the Miranda Rights, grabbed Mike by the arm, and led him towards the front door, notifying everything that he had apprehended the suspect. "Why did you do it?" he then asked.

"Why?" Mike let out a maniacal laugh. "That bitch fucked up my life."

"You should've left her alive," Officer Cameron told him as he led Mike out of the apartment. Two other officers followed in tow. "You saved her life. She might have saved yours."

When Mike finished his recount, no one said a word. The detectives occasionally glanced at each other, both wondering: What the fuck? Shapiro just sat there, rubbing his hands together, forehead creased in thought. There was no doubt that the attorney was searching for any way to talk his client out of accepting a lengthy sentence.

Leah doubted there was anything to do. Lauren was a victim of a hit. It was pre-planned. The murder was cut-and-dry. It would be a miracle Mike wasn't convicted with Murder-One or at least Murder-Two, using the "crime of passion" excuse. Manslaughter was out of the question—Not even an esteemed defense attorney like Shapiro could pull that off.

Jacob was the one to break the uncomfortable silence. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Mike shook his head.

"How did you learn about Lauren's…" Leah waved her hand, trying to find the right words. "How did they know Lauren talked to the police?"

"They have eyes and ears everywhere," Mike said, voice raspy. "Word got around."

"Did Lauren tell you anything?" Jacob asked.

Mike shrugged.

"Can we speak outside?" he requested, jerking his head in the direction of the room exit. Once outside with Leah, he ran his fingers through his neatly gelled hair and said, "He wants to be put away forever, but I can't let him that happen like this. I do not want to face a legal malpractice suit."

Leah wasn't Shapiro's biggest fan, but she did feel for the man. He was in a tight spot, and there was nothing she could do about it—She stopped her train of thought. "This may be… unprofessional to ask, but I promise I'm not trying to screw you over but, I know your rates aren't cheap. Your clients are usually millionaires or more. So, why him?"

Shapiro narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going with this, Detective?"

"How did he become your client?" Leah wondered.

"Rosalie Hale referred me to him."

Leah cocked her head to the side. "You work for her?"

"I work for no one," Shapiro declared. "You cannot become one of the top fixers in this country from your work alone. You need a powerful network. A couple of weeks ago, Hale informed me that Mike Newton would be charged for kidnapping. That had been the plan: I get him off, Lauren keeps her mouth shut with her money, and everyone goes home happy."

Leah slowly nodded. "I get it now," she said. "He had no choice… I'm going to have to talk to our ASA. We can't agree to any arrangements without his presence. I'll let him know that Mike ideally wants to spend the rest of his life in prison due to fear of life—"

"Witness protection is out of the question," Shapiro stressed.

"Prison isn't necessarily safer," Leah reminded the attorney. "The Cullens can easily arrange someone to silence Mike in Cook County. And you know how prison deaths are handled… it's going to get slipped under the rug." She clapped. "Okay, here's the deal: your client gives us more info, and we will make sure he gets what he wants. No questions asked."

Shapiro scoffed. "Give you more? What else could you possibly want? He literally confessed to a murder."

Leah's waved off the lawyer's comment. "Yes, and we will definitely use said confession, but what we need is more information on the Cullens. In particular, Esme and Esme."

"Carlisle's dead."

Leah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "We know."

Shapiro eyed the detective as if trying to read the woman's mind. Eventually, he stopped. "I'll talk to him," he promised.

"Thank you."

"Well, this is certainly an interesting development," Jenks said the following morning, during a meeting with Leah, Jacob, and Embry. The trio had just finished explaining the entire situation to him. "Mike Newton would rather have the entire kitchen sink thrown at him than spend another night as a free man—How's your captain holding up?"

"He hates everyone and this job," Jacob said. "I just think he needs a vacation."

"Don't we all," Leah mumbled, crossing her arms. She then asked, this time in a clearer voice, "So, do you think you can make something happen?"

"I can make something happen," Jenks confirmed. "In fact, I'm in the middle of making a few things happen, including doing something about the Deal. I can't promise anything, but it's about damn time we do something." He slapped the top of his desk. "We have three dead humans, a dead informant, countless others from different species dead—and everyone was connected to the covens. And I'm sure the feds have better things to do than steal our cases because a bunch of cowards is running the Cook Country Justice System."

Leah raised an eyebrow. She never thought she'd hear those words from the prosecutor. He had always made a point to defend his colleagues.

"So, they're taking the Riley case?" Embry asked.

"They don't want to," Jenks admitted with a sign. "Like I said, they have better things to do. Other things besides dealing with this vampire-mess. Thankfully, that case is cut and dry. Riley was killed because he talked."

"To me," Leah quietly said. The guilt was still there. She hadn't done anything wrong, she knew that, but her involvement made her sick. "He was talking to me."

Jacob and Embry shot her a sympathetic look.

Jenks furrowed his eyebrows. "How did that happen?"

"He shot me," Jacob answered for Leah. "And then, Leah shot him. Nothing fatal, completely justified. So, to avoid having the Deal screw everything up, we've…" He moved in his hand in circles. "Unofficially agreed to let the altercation slide for his cooperation."

Leah cleared her throat.

So, they might have broken a few rules that night.

If Jenks was surprised or alarmed by events, he didn't show it. Then again, not much seemed to faze him (or anyone) anymore. "Well, it seems that backdoor deals are the only we can get things done around here," he said. "Now, let's talk about the newest murderer on the docket. Mike Newton, what the hell happened?"

"The Cullens found out that Lauren had been speaking to us," Leah said. "And they directed Mike Newton to deal with the problem."

"So, he did," Jacob said. "Two shots to the torso. Mike confessed to the entire thing. He doesn't want one, but Shapiro is insisting on a plea deal. He's looking at Murder-Two instead of Murder-One."

Jenks blinked. "Newton wants Murder-One?"

"He wants to spend the rest of his days in prison," Leah explained. "It's a safety-thing."

"Ah." Jenks nodded. "We shouldn't have any issue with the Deal," he insisted. "Mike's human. Lauren was human. Plus, there's a confession. Trial may not be necessary, which is ideal. The last thing we need to discuss this drama in front of a jury."

"We're not entirely done with Mike," Embry said. "During a scope of the crime scene, we found an uncashed check for one hundred grand. It was signed by Edward Cullen."

"Also known as Edward Masen," Leah added. "We seem the check was given to keep Lauren quiet. She might have decided to speak to us because she had developed cold feet."

Jenks nodded and then asked, "Any news from our favorite fixer?"

Jacob and Embry looked Leah's way.

Leah shrugged. She hadn't spoken to Rosalie in weeks. The fixer had been evasive since Emmett was hand-delivered to the ATF. "No," she said.

"I wouldn't be surprised she was involved," Jenks said. "Not in the murder, per se, but in the bribe."

"We'll check it out," Leah offered.

Jenks put up a hand. "No," he said, expression more serious than ever. "I'll deal with her. Tell your captain that he should be expecting a visit from me soon."

Jenks ended up visit the station later that night, moments before Leah and Jacob planned to leave. The only reason why the detectives were staying back was to wait for Embry to finish his report so that they could all depart together. Quil was having a little get-together at his bar.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries with the Assistant State Attorney, the detectives watched as the stone-faced, determined Jenks enter Paul's office. The captain had expected the visit, and in typical fashion, went straight to the point.

Leah sat down at her desk, playing with some files, trying to appear busy. She wasn't much of an eavesdropper, but Jenks had informed her and the team that would he visit the station. She assumed it had to do with their earlier conversation. Plus, Paul's door was open; his office blinds weren't drawn.

Jacob copied his partner's actions.

A little eavesdropping never killed anyone.

Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say at this time.

"I need you to arrest Rosalie Hale."

Leah's eyes widen as Jacob made a surprised noise in his throat. They both looked over their batches of files to share a look. Neither had seen this coming. Rosalie Hale, arrested? She never got arrested for anything. She had been cautious about toeing the legal line.

Paul seemed just as surprised as his detectives. "For what?"

"Conspiracy."

"To commit what?"

"Conspiracy," Jenks said. "I'll explain everything later."