CHAPTER 3

Head lights flash through the front windows, a sure sign a car has pulled into the driveway. The lights turn off, so I approach the window and make sure the car belongs to my sister. It does. The clacking of my sisters heels approach the front door, so I walk and greet her at the door, pulling it open for her. She squeals a bit and pulls me in for a neck-breaking hug, so I squeeze her mid-section in return. A movement catches my eye, and that is when I notice my sister didn't come alone. "Um, Rose," I whisper. "There's a giant man behind you."

"Oh!" She pulls herself off me, "This is Emmett, Emmett, this is Bella."

I offer him a tight smile and take a small step back, "I thought Emmett wasn't getting out for two more months."

"I know, they gave him probation with community service, isn't that great?"

I stare blankly at her for a beat, the details sinking in rather quickly. "And I am right to presume he is on parole?" My eyebrows raised, Rose offering a pleading look instantly.

"Yes, I am," he answers for himself.

"And I am also correct to assume you have to stay in the vicinity of your address."

"Look, I know I should have rung first, but it was all so sudden, and I really didn't think you would mind all that much, I will be here too."

I stare at her blankly, unable to assess whether or not she is serious. "You thought I wouldn't mind?" I search for clarification.

"You know what he did wasn't really that serious, and this is for me. I wanted to be here with you Bells, and we could have easily remained in Seattle, but we didn't."

I rub my forehead and get out of their way. I stayed up to greet Rose, and I've done that, so now I'm going to bed. "Have a good night," I say over my shoulder.

"Bella?" Emmett says, I sigh, and turn around. "We'll talk more tomorrow, but this is for you." He offers a small brown envelope, my name written on the front in the now-familiar cursive writing of one Jasper Whitlock. I take it, not thanking him, and go to my room.

I shut the door behind me and flick the lock, as is my custom. I've locked my room since my teen years, and I haven't stopped. I flop down on my bed and peel open the envelope gently. I hadn't really expected anything from Jasper for at least another week, if he chose to reply at all after my rude, lone sentence.

I bend the small pages back the opposite way from which they are folded, then flatten them out on my lap.

03/04/2016

To Isabella,

I must say, I really didn't expect a reply at all, so as you may suspect, yours -however brief it may have be- came as a pleasant surprise. I am pleased you have given me the chance to explain my circumstances and I'd like you to know that everything I share with you will always be the truth. It's of course up to you to decide whether or not you believe what I have to say, but just know I have very little to gain by lying. The truth will set me free… literally.

As I mentioned in my previous letter, I had decided to try my hand at private detective work, which was actually turning out a good fit for me. The difference in each day, the pay, the people, the secrecy and intrigue… it all suited my eccentricities. Then, my last client happened. Aro Volturi. He told me his four children had run away and he needed my help to find them. We met in a public place in broad daylight, plenty of people about. We made our introductions and he said he was just going to duck into the café nearby, but he had gathered any intel on his kids whereabouts, it was just in the boot of his car, I could retrieve it myself while he got himself a coffee. Well, it wasn't a bag of intel. It was a bag of money. Cops swooped on me, he had managed to register the car in my name, paid drug mules to say I was their supplier… the evidence was damning. I never even seen him coming, but he had had me marked for a fall a long time ago. Some detective I am.

So that is my crime, supplying drugs, and no… I'm not guilty. I've heard most of the inmates here say that, and maybe some aren't, but my innocence is meaning less and less to me the more I hear it.

I was just speaking to Emmett in the yard, he is nice, and I've never seen someone love as much as he loves your sister. Try not to go too hard on him, he may be a criminal, but at least you know he is willing to sacrifice himself for those he loves… you really couldn't ask for a more worthy match for your sister.

So, enough of my babble, I don't want to waste too much of your time, but I hope you write to me once again.

With hope,

Jasper Whitlock

My lips press together until my mouth muscles tire, but I don't release the pressure. My first reaction is to assume he is lying, he is a convicted criminal after all. But then… then, there is the uncontrollable butterflies that flutter about in my stomach. Of course, this reaction would've had to happen sooner or later. It happens to most women that suddenly have a man's attention when they otherwise get unnoticed by the opposite sex their entire lives. He could be the world's most vile man for all I know, and he could be lying about his age… I wonder if that is even his name.

I read his letter once again, then again and then again, just to make sure I didn't miss anything. Grudgingly, I fold it up, and place it in my top drawer, I need some sleep.