The young woman sighed, throwing her comforter to the other side of her bed. On her nightstand sat a glass of stale water, a book, a casefile, and mugshots of a handsome young man with bronze hair and honey golden eyes.
She lay there, her body adjusting to the cooler temperature of the room, her arms developing chills, yawning and stretching, before she finally rolled out of bed and made her way into her kitchen.
The kitchen had mismatched cabinets, an old stove, and an old white fridge. She was still working on updating the appliances and counters, but it was a working kitchen, and that's all she needed and all she could have asked for.
The kitchen housed memories for her that she couldn't process most days, making it hard to cook there.
The living room housed memories though, too.
And so did the bathroom.
And the master bedroom.
And her bedroom.
It made it hard to live in this house.
On the walls, there were several pictures of her as a little girl, from birth to young child. Bright eyed and happy, laughing at the camera, perched on a man's' shoulders. In some there was a woman, most there were not. There were some where the girl with mahogany brown hair was holding a roasted marshmallow, some where she was covered on mud, two in princess dresses, and three where she was playing with a younger boy she hardly remembered.
She thought often of taking the photos down, as each one was tied to a memory of her father.
But she left them.
The fridge didn't have that much food in it, as she had just returned after a long leave of absence.
She prepared breakfast none the less.
She danced to some music, mostly enjoying the peace and quiet the small house in the quaint town brought her, but also thinking through her case.
It was a big one, the biggest one of her career thus far. Not only was she almost ready to close the case on her father's disappearance, she would also be able to close three more cases linked to the same man as well.
Edward Cullen.
The man had eluded the police for twenty years; twenty years, she had never known where her father had gone, what had happened to him. But now.
She could finally get closure and bring closure for the other families harmed by this man.
Today, she would close the case on Edward Cullen, and hopefully begin trial proceedings.
A knock on the door startled her, but she answered it none the less.
On the other side of the door stood Dr. Carlisle Cullen, Edward Cullen's brother. Or something like that.
The man was stunningly beautiful, with the same honey colored eyes as Edward, though his hair was a much lighter shade; a blond that shimmered in the sun, and not in the sun. He was tall, muscular, and always wore the most caring expression. He was a force to be reckoned with.
"Good morning, Detective." He said, "I'm so sorry to barge in on you so early, but I was wondering if you would take a drive with me."
She was curious, but none of her alarm bells were ringing, so she went with the man (though she knew she probably shouldn't have).
"What is it, Doctor?" She asked.
He sighed lightly, a smile forming around his lips, "I've asked you to call be Carlisle. But it's nothing too important, really. Just something I thought might pertain to my brothers' case."
"Ah, yes, well." She said. "I appreciate the help, but Edward really is kind of fucked. The evidence is stacked against him."
"I know, but I thought it would pertain."
"Very well." The woman said.
The car had pulled up to the Cullen home in Forks. There was another car in the driveway, which she thought curious. She paid no mind, walking to the front door behind Carlisle.