I think I slept another eighteen hours after I got back to Rochester. Unfortunately, it started me off on a strange week. The more I tried to forget about my bizarre delusion—the vampire one—the more it consumed me, and I was starting to think something was wrong with me. It wasn't just the vampire thing I couldn't shake though.

So, like any other time I needed to avoid thinking, I threw myself into my work. Since there were no murders attributed to the serial killer, I helped out on some regular cases: murders, rapes, as well as breaking and enterings. The hours weren't as regular, and I found myself on duty all hours of the day and night.

By Friday I was exhausted again and, I was looking forward to the weekend, or what little of a weekend I might actually have. I lounged at my desk and waited for my computer to shut down. Angela came into my cubicle and flopped down in the extra chair.

"I'm so glad it's Friday," she lamented, wiping her glasses on the hem of her shirt. "I'm definitely looking forward to getting my drink on next weekend."

I frowned and spun on my chair toward her. "Why? What's next weekend?"

She looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. "The Policeman's Ball. You're still coming, right? You told me you were."

Shit.

I'd totally forgotten about the annual charity event for the police department. Every year the theme was more cliché and outlandish than the last year: Caribbean Carnivale, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Sock Hop, and a variety of others, I'm sure. I vaguely remembered agreeing to go, since I'd found an excuse for not attending the ball every other year while I'd been here. I hated the thought of going, but it was a big deal for the department and the community. We needed the support, and it was a way the entire department could honor the profession and anyone we'd lost in the field. Out of supreme guilt, I knew I ought to go.

"Oh God," I complained, letting my head fall into my open hands. "I totally forgot all about it. I've been so busy with cases and my vacation. I didn't even remember to put it on my calendar."

"Do you have anything you can wear?" Angela asked, pulling her cell phone from her back pocket.

I arched an eyebrow in reply. I pointed at my wrinkled black pants and the clearly unironed blouse I pulled straight off the hanger that morning. "Ang, take a guess. I don't even know what the damn theme of the ball is!"

Angela was furiously texting, only half-listening to what I was saying. "Get your coat and purse. I just texted Ben, he knows not to expect me for a while. We need to head over to the mall and find you something to wear."

I grimaced but relented with a heavy sigh.

.:::::.

An hour later, I found myself in a dressing room at the mall, sitting in my bra and underwear as Angela scurried back and forth between the racks and my fashion room of doom. "Karma Chameleon" was playing on Muzak. There must have been an advertisement out front letting every teenage girl within a hundred mile radius know this was the place to be on a Friday night. Angela and I were the only females there over the age of eighteen.

Most of the dresses I vetoed while they were still on the hanger. I sat, shivering, waiting on the little stool in the dressing room for Angela to return with the next couture terribles. A gaggle of girls from the nearby room giggled uproariously, adding insult to the injury of shopping.

I dropped my head into my hands, wondering how I got here. I was trying on the same dresses as high school girls, stuck going to a horrifying formal event with my coworkers. Why did I agree to this?

"Bella? Give this one a go," Angela called from the other side of the door.

I sighed, ready to be done. "Ang, if it's neon pink, dusted with glitter, or so short you can see my hoo-ha, take it back. I can't bear another one."

I couldn't bear the laughter coming from the next dressing room either.

"It's none of the above. I promise. Just try it on?"

Angela's voice was pleading, and I couldn't say no. I opened the door and stuck my arm out. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the holy hell in a size four.

I cracked one eye open, but my apprehension wasn't warranted; the dress was beautiful.

It was a floor-length, navy blue, one-shouldered gown with a pleated bodice and a cascading ruffle that led down to a slit up the front. It had a sophistication that perhaps I did not, but I couldn't imagine not feeling beautiful and confident in this dress.

I turned my back to the mirror and stepped carefully into the garment, shimmying the fabric up my torso. I inched the zipper as far as I could on my own and let out a heavy breath as I turned to face my reflection.

"Well?" Angela asked, gently tapping on the door.

"It's—gorgeous," I admitted, gazing at the garment gently hugging my body. The indigo blue fabric complimented my pale skin and nicely contrasted my dark hair. I slipped my arms out of my bra straps to get the full effect of the dress. I loved the empire waist and the one strap that angled over the left shoulder.

"Can I see?"

I opened the fitting room door and Angela slipped in with a wide smile and bright eyes.

"WOW! You look amazing. How does it feel? Is it comfortable enough to wear all night?" She leaned against the door and adjusted her tortoise-shell glasses before folding her arms across her chest.

I smoothed my hands over the waist and my hips. "Yeah. I feel good—I mean, it feels good. Does it look okay? Is the slit in the front too high?"

Angela scoffed with a snort. "Bella, you look so much more than okay. And no, the slit isn't too high. It's just perfect."

Perfect. I wasn't used to that.

.:::::.

It was decided that I needed a strapless bra when I confessed to not owning one, and Angela was as serious as a heart attack about having underwear to match. I thought the whole thing was pointless, as no one was going to see them but me, but she promised it would complete the outfit and give me a confidence boost too.

Then of course there were shoes. Angela oohed and ahhed over four inch heels that would kill me before the night was over. I was thinking some flats were more my style, but I compromised and bought a silver pair of strappy heels that were only two and a half inches high. Maybe I wouldn't die in them.

I'd dropped nearly half a grand, and I thought I was pretty well set as we walked out to the car together until Angela said "Now all you've got left to get is your mask."

Excuse me?

"What mask?" I asked, hanging the dress in the back of Angela's crossover. I slammed the door and stood there, looking at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation that would make this new revelation make sense.

She didn't look at me as she climbed in the car. "For the dance. It's a masquerade, didn't I tell you that?"

Ah, no?

I rolled my eyes as I climbed in the car with her. "You most certainly didn't. A masquerade? Really? That's sort of corny."

By the way she was staring I'd obviously missed the point. "Oh c'mon, get on board. Every year it's a bit cliché, but it's fun, Bella. Everyone will be wearing a mask. It's the week before Halloween."

Maybe I was a big ol' party pooper, but all I could think of was that it would be a perfect opportunity for a serial killer to show up absolutely hidden in public.

"Yeah, alright," I relented, ready to have the night done and over with. "But I don't want to look like a butterfly attacked my face or a chicken landed on my head or anything. No Zorro masks either."

.:::::.

The Halloween store was full of children sword fighting, attempting to scare each other, or yelling "MOM, LOOK!" at the top of their lungs. I was going to choose something and get out—quick.

"Oh my God, look at that vampire!"

My head whipped around to the direction that Angela was pointing. My heart pounded and my breathing sped, and I had no idea what to expect. A large mural adorned the wall near the decorations. A striking vampire was bending over a swooning woman, and he was preparing to bite her.

"Sorry," Angela confessed, a little red-faced, "I know I'm totally weird, but that is hot."

She grabbed my elbow and steered me toward a wall of masks and other accessories. I couldn't exactly disagree with her though. The traditional image of the vampire in a cloak seducing the young woman was attractive, but was that just the fantasy? Was the alternative terrifying?

Grr! Of course it wasn't terrifying; there's no such thing as vampires!

There was a wall of masks to sort through. Venetian masks, harlequin masks, devils, angels, cats—things with feathers, lace, sequins, and ears or wings! It was overwhelming and just not me. To her credit, Angela tried to be helpful with her suggestions, but I knew I wanted something a little more subtle. After fifteen or twenty minutes of browsing, I finally found something I could work with. It was a sapphire blue matte glitter mask with some peacock feather eyelashes and a small spray of peacock feathers and turquoise and teal leaves in the front. It would compliment my navy dress perfectly.

Angela squealed and clapped a little when I slipped the mask on. I assumed that was a good thing and bought it.

I tried to keep busy all weekend. I went to the gun range, to the gym, and ended up getting called to a hit and run. I didn't want to think about Forks, and I didn't want to think about Edward, but my subconscious prevented me from fully separating myself from him. I had asked for space because things were moving quickly, and at the time I wasn't sure who he was to me: serial murderer or oddly intense hottie. The fact that I couldn't stop thinking of him only reinforced in my mind that we really had forged a connection, and that I needed to take a risk. A big risk. And I could no longer believe that he had a real connection to the man who killed my dad. Because he had cold hands he was a vamp—no, I wouldn't allow myself to go there—a killer? It was preposterous.

I found myself at the café, hoping he'd be there, and I started to compose a text a dozen times but never sent any of them. I was sure of him, I was sure I wanted to try to be with him, but I didn't know how to do that. I didn't know how to extend myself, to trust, to be open without being needy or co-dependent, and not be the weird girl obsessed with murder.

Maybe I could ask Angela. She and Ben seemed to be positively normal in the relationship department. We had made tentative plans to get dressed and ready together on Saturday before the ball. I knew I could trust her, but it was just another person I had to warm up to.

On Monday, the week of the Policeman's Ball, I was awakened at 5:00 a.m. by my cell phone ringing.

"Swan, it looks like we have another one. The Tech Unit is on the way to Palmyra, New York. It's a small village, and the Chief of Police gave us jurisdiction. I'll text you the address after I call Newton."

The chief was brusque but the frustration was evident in his voice. If I felt pressure to solve the crimes, I knew he felt it tenfold.

I dressed in the dark and hurried outside, holding my bag between my teeth and shoving my arms into my coat sleeves. As I fumbled through my bag for my keys, I had the odd feeling that someone was watching me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I got goose bumps. I knew it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. I got in the car and locked the door before considering that this whole vampire thing was making me ridiculously paranoid.

The drive between Rochester and Palmyra was quick. City blocks gave way to checkerboard fields and woods. I turned off the state highway onto a private access road marked with No Trespassing signs. The road dead ended, and I parked behind the Tech Unit van. I didn't see Mike's car, but I could see the Tech Unit working in the woods under the lights. I stopped at the van and grabbed a few pairs of rubber gloves and stuffed them in my pocket.

I began walking over the uneven ground, leaves crunching under my feet. There would be no sneaking up on this scene. Even in the dark, I could see a man in camouflage gear leaning up against a tree. A compound bow was by his side, and the agony in his face was illuminated by the screen of his cell phone. I assumed he had stumbled upon the scene.

"Morning all, what do we have?" I called aloud, careful to keep my distance from the center of the scene where the grass was tallest and ochre leaves heavily coated the ground.

"Well," Angela sighed, wiping her forehead on the sleeve of her jacket, "we've got a vic, but that's about all we know."

I was confused. "Gender? Race? Age?"

Angela shook her head. "Nada. But if I had to guess, I'd say we have a middle-aged female."

I frowned. "Is the decomposition that bad?" I got out my notepad and started jotting some preliminary notes down.

"I'm afraid so. We'll need forensics to ID the vic."

I knew the tests could take days, weeks even, to identify the age, gender, and race of the person. Even if there was a missing person report filed, we'd have to wait until we had confirmation to declare who it was.

"So, in the current state, how long has our vic been out in the elements?" I asked, seeing the red lights from another cop's car in the distance.

Angela sighed and shrugged a little. "Tough to tell. We had a hot summer. It could be as soon as a couple months, but as much as a year. I would guess at least five or six months though."

I jotted more notes down, but suddenly I stopped writing. "Wait. If the body is in a state of severe decomp, how is it that the Chief thought it might be related to the other crimes?"

"Well," Angela began, "there's substantial damage to the throat and the back as with the other victims. We won't know until we do some testing if it was post-mortem damage caused by an animal or if it was the wound that caused the death."

Based on all our other victims, and the vast amount of time that had passed since this person died, I didn't think we'd find any concrete evidence from the probable murder itself, but if we could find some evidence of an animal attack that might point us in the right direction.

"That's Larry over there." Angela indicated to the man leaning against the tree. "He's the one who called 911. He was really shaken up when we got here."

I nodded and heard the sound of leaves crunching behind me and knew it must be Mike. He joined me, looking as tired as I felt. "The body is in a bad state of decomp. Angela said it's probably been here a few months at least. I can't imagine there's any evidence left. The guy over there found the body and called it in," I said under my breath.

Mike nodded. "Lead the discussion. I'll pick things up as we go."

We walked over to where the man in camo was sitting against the oak tree. He quickly tucked his cell phone into his breast pocket.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm Detective Swan, this is Detective Newton. We understand you found the body?" Mike and I both readied our pens and notepads for Larry's reply.

He coughed uncomfortably; his hands shook as he readjusted his baseball hat. "Yeah, I'm Larry, I own the land and the deer blind. I came out this morning to bow hunt, and I found th-the body on my walk up to the blind."

Poor guy was pasty and pale and so obviously affected by what he'd seen. The guilty could never fake it this well, and serial killers were too smug and proud of themselves and sought out the attention they could receive for their 'achievement.'

"How long have you owned the property?" Mike asked, his eyes darting between the bow and the deer blind.

Larry shook his head. "I've owned it seventeen years, and it's been months since I've been out here. Months! I work third shift as a security guard, and I finally got a couple weeks off to come out and hunt. You don't think I did this, do you? I didn't do this! I don't even know who that could be!" His eyes darted between Mike's and mine in an appeal to hear him out. His voice broke and trembled with fear as he tore the hat from his head and shielded his eyes.

After the display, I didn't think he did it, not for one minute, but I would investigate it because I owed it to the department and to the city of Rochester. "Don't worry, Larry," I issued calmly. He pulled the hat away from his face, and his dark eyes appraised me skeptically. "Let's just talk, okay?"

While Angela and the team searched for clues, we asked him routine questions about his whereabouts that morning, who else lived with him on the property, if he knew of any missing persons, or if we might find anything suspicious in a background check. He was beyond cooperative, and his voice held none of the elusiveness or vagueness criminals usually engage to throw us off or seek out attention. Larry seemed to be doing okay until the coroner's van arrived and the gurney and body bag rattled over the uneven ground, then the tears started all over again.

Mike dismissed Larry with a stern warning not to leave town and with the knowledge that the department would be stopping by in the upcoming days and weeks. As the body was loaded up, I found Angela taking off her gloves.

"Anything?"

She sighed and braced her spine with her hands as she did a back bend stretch. "No, damn it. We'll look at the body in the lab, and we'll probably come out in daylight to see the deer blind and the tree stand, but I doubt I'll find a thing."

As the sun peeked over the horizon, we returned to the station to run a background check on Larry and see if he would have any connection to the other victims. While we waited to ID the body, we'd search missing persons to try and narrow the results. Because the death occurred outside Rochester for the first time, I'd made the decision to do a little research on my own and see if any other neighboring counties were experiencing anything similar.

It seemed like it would be another long week of research and interviews. Mike and I spent the afternoon filming a short interview with the local news and with Ben for the newspaper. As soon as the story broke, the P.R. rep for the police department and the Chief spent the rest of the day fielding calls and giving sound bites to the press.

Tuesday and Wednesday, Tyler, Mike, and I teamed with the Impact Team to search through dozens of missing persons files, beginning three months ago and going back a year. We also furthered our investigation of Larry. He had no connections to any of the other vics, and he easily passed the lie-detector Mike oversaw on Thursday. As I suspected, we concluded that he had nothing to do with the serial killings—whether the body found on his property had something to do with the case was another matter.

By Friday we had made little progress with anything. Forensics had returned to Larry's property in daylight and searched his blind and tree stand. No human blood was found. Mike, Tyler, and I were forced to admit that our John or Jane Doe could be from any of several counties in the region and it was futile to target just one county. The mood in the office was somber at best, and all the while, looming over us, was the Policeman's Ball on Saturday night. The Chief and the mayor debated canceling, but they conceded that the charity work the department provided was far too important to abandon.

I slept in on Saturday, the first day I'd been able to since my vacation ended. I made coffee and lazed about as I flipped through the latest issue of Guns and Ammo while waiting for my nail polish on my fingers and toes to dry. The garment bag that held my dress hung on the bedroom door, and my shoes and accessories were bagged up on the floor. The sight of them alternately caused me panic and exhilaration. I didn't go to my own high school prom or college formals either. A Friday or Saturday night usually found me alone in my dorm with ill-gotten hooch, or at a small party shyly trying to impress boys I thought were better than me. It never ended well.

I was nervous about the evening for a plethora of reasons. For one, I was sure either the serial killer would be masked among us tonight, taunting us, or there would be another murder. I was also nervous for myself and my innate tendency to be socially awkward. Most of all, I wasn't sure if I was more scared that Edward Cullen would show up or that he wouldn't. I knew his family had given substantial donations in the past, but that didn't mean they would attend the ball tonight.

I sipped my black coffee and imagined him there. What would I say? Would he bring a date? Perhaps it would break my heart or cure my curious obsession.

In the afternoon, I threw on jeans and my MSU sweatshirt before I tidied up the apartment a bit and packed up what little makeup I had so I could get ready at Angela's. My arms were heavy with garment bags, shopping bags, and my makeup bag when the doorbell rang.

I couldn't imagine who it was. I didn't give my apartment number to the cab company I called not thirty minutes ago, and I was sure as hell not expecting company. I dropped the bag containing my shoes halfway down the hall and kick them toward the front door while tripping over them as whoever it was at the door knocked this time.

"HANG ON!" I hollered out, frustrated, feeling the furrow between my eyes forming. I flung the bags from my arms onto the couch, probably wrinkling my dress in the process, but right now the whole ordeal seemed like a big pain in the ass.

I squinted through the peep hole in the door, surprised to see a girl in a bright yellow hoodie. There was something in her hands, but I couldn't tell what it was. As she lifted her hand to knock again, I opened the door and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, thank God you're here!" the girl gushed, stepping closer to the threshold. I barely had time to register the logo of a local flower shop on her sweatshirt before she started talking again. "I was supposed to deliver this half an hour ago, but I got behind. Anyway, here you go, have a good afternoon."

She shoved a clear box into my hands and hurried to the stairs around the corner from my apartment. Stunned, I shut the door behind her and stared down at the pink lily nestled in the box.

It was simple and perfect, delicate, yet daring. I could smell the sweet, light aroma curling out of the box like the silver ribbon cascading around the stem. A small card was tucked inside the box. It bore the flawless penmanship I'd seen before.

To: Bella

From: A Stranger

I knew exactly who it was from. How did he know I'd be going tonight? Did it mean he would be there?

A swarm of butterflies fluttered inside me, and I bit back a smile. I didn't know what to do or how to act around him in front of my co-workers, but I felt sure that letting go of my suspicions was the right thing. And letting go of the vampire thing was next.

The cab I'd called arrived only a few minutes later. I was hoping to drink away my anxiety tonight, and I didn't want to worry about my car. I struggled to gather everything in one armful and be mindful of the star-shaped blossom inside the plastic box.

My arms burned with exertion, the burden of packages in my arms made it feel as though they would fall off as I made my way downstairs and across the parking lot where the cab waited. The driver had the courtesy to climb out and open the back door as I approached. Cinderella and her coach, I thought sarcastically, shaking my head. There was nothing princess-like about me.

"Thanks," I grunted, flinging the stuff into the back seat and shaking my arms out.

He doffed his hat slightly. "Running away from home, honey?" he asked with a raspy chuckle.

I scoffed. Little did he know I didn't really have a home to run from. "For tonight anyway," I answered, slumping down beside my stuff. I was exhausted already, and the evening hadn't even started yet. This was why I didn't get dressed up and go out—I didn't have the patience.

The ride was short, and the driver kept trying to make polite conversation, but I wasn't interested. I sat with the Star Gazer Lily on my lap, my mind jumping from one thought to another. Why would Edward send me a corsage? How did he know I was going tonight? Was he going? What if I looked like an absolute idiot?

UGH!

I willed myself to stop. It wouldn't do me any good to speculate, and if I knew anything about Edward Cullen, it was that he was unpredictable.

I texted Angela to let her know I was close, and she volunteered to send Ben down to help me carry stuff up. I was grateful. He was the kind of guy you could hardly believe was real. I was glad Angela had found him.

The cab driver pulled into their apartment complex on the opposite side of town from mine. It was considerably nicer than mine. Ben stood near the sidewalk, staring down at the display on his smart phone. He tapped furiously on the screen, and I feared the worst—that another murder had taken place.

I paid the driver and tipped him well. On the sidewalk, Ben stuffed his phone in the pocket of his cargo shorts and hurried out to help me. I didn't say anything, but I tried to ascertain what the serious set of his jaw meant. I handed him the garment bag and the bag containing my shoes while I took my bag of accessories, makeup, and the lily. I thanked the driver one last time before I shut the door behind me. I barely waited until the door was closed before I spoke.

"Is something wrong? Did something happen? You looked pretty serious as I pulled up. Did a story break?" I was hurrying to keep pace with him as he approached the door to the building.

He snickered. "Something's serious alright. A serious ass whooping. Ang and I were playing chess, and I'm screwed. I was googling chess strategy to see if there was any way I could win."

I was embarrassed. I felt the heat singeing my face. "Oh."

Ben punched in the code to get in the building on the keypad on the door. My building didn't have one of these, but it would be smart for sure. "Relax, Bells. Enjoy the night off," he replied, holding the door open for me.

"Yeah, I know." Ben was right. I dug into my bag and turned off my phone. The world could wait.

.:::::.

Angela and I caught up over shots of Irish Crème Liquor as we got ready. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching her put the final touches on her makeup. Angela's look was subtle and pixie-dust kissed. Her hair was in a high ballerina bun to go with her fuchsia pink tulle dress and mask.

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror for a moment. I couldn't imagine my face all done up that way. All I could see was the faint pink scar across my orbital bone from when a perp busted my face last year.

Angela frosted her lips with an icy-pink gloss and nodded at her reflection, seemingly pleased. "Okay, you're up, Bells."

I rose from my seat on the tub and sat on the edge of the vanity between the twin sinks. The bottle of liquor sat on the far side of the bowl to my left, near where Angela had the curling irons plugged in. I grabbed the bottle, causing Angela to giggle.

"I promise, it won't be that bad," she teased, grabbing my makeup case from the floor. The contents clattered around as she gently pawed through it and produced a small black compact of eye shadow. "This alright?"

I nodded. "If you think it looks okay with the navy?" I asked before taking a swig from the bottle. The taste on my tongue was smooth, but I liked the burn after I swallowed it. I shuddered with a smile.

"I think it'll look good. Pretty, smoky, ya know? It'll tie in nicely with your shoes and jewelry too."

Angela set to work using a soft brush to apply the silvery-grey makeup to my eyes. I'd never had anyone put makeup on me before. It tickled, and I fidgeted and blinked a lot. Ben checked in often and told us to let him know when we were five minutes away from being ready to leave. He said he'd wait until then to change because that's as long as it would take. Angela teased him that all our preparation would be worth it, and he'd apologize when he saw how gorgeous we looked when we were all dressed and ready. I couldn't help but wonder how their relationship worked. It seemed so smooth and effortless, but I knew it couldn't be that easy. Ben was a reporter, and it was his job to out a story. Angela was a scientist, and she waited weeks sometimes before having the right answer proven to her. The media and the police department had an interesting, codependent relationship that was occasionally at opposite ends of the spectrum, but Ang and Ben never let it get in the way.

I had always been preoccupied with death. It ruled my life. Losing my parents so early made me realize how precarious life was. I thought about the loss a lot, and I encountered it nearly every day at the workplace. I couldn't leave my cases in files at the office however. The people who died were always on my mind. They were mothers, brothers, sons, girlfriends, and they meant something to someone. I was always racking my brain to solve the crime that had taken their life too early. I kept pictures and notes on them, I called their families to keep up to date, I went to their memorial services, and I always tried to think outside the box to solve their murder. I couldn't help but think of death, and I couldn't help but be the tough girl either. Even as a kid, my dad always encouraged me to be strong. I didn't cry when I skinned my knee, and he and mom didn't gasp when I'd fall off my bike either. Instead they'd said "John Wayne, Bella!" to remind me to be tough and brave.

I had no idea how to relate to a man. In my experience they were freaked out by the fact that I spent so much time thinking of the dead and that I wasn't needy enough. I had always been self-sufficient and level-headed. Maybe I wasn't girly enough; I went fishing and whittled wood with Jacob, Rachel, and Rebecca. I played in tide-pools and wanted to ride a dirt bike for as long as I could remember. I wasn't grossed out by my vics. All of my relationships had been brief, and I craved a connection so badly that I made hasty decisions that came back to haunt me the next morning.

Angela had the same strength and passion, so how did she and Ben do it? Was there something special about her, him, or both of them? Was I lacking something?

"Relax your eyelids, Bella. You're squinting."

Angela's voice broke me out of my reverie. "Ang, how do you and Ben do it? How do you stay together? How do you guys give each other the professional respect you deserve and need, and how does he understand the morbidity of the job?"

Angela pulled the cap off the tube of liquid eyeliner with a pop and paused. "Well… wow…you've been thinking of that for a while, haven't you? No wonder you were so quiet."

"I'm sorry," I offered lamely, feeling a hint of embarrassing taint my cheeks. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but I am curious as to how you guys are so awesome."

She hadn't moved yet; she remained frozen in contemplation, her dark eyes had a far-away gaze. "I don't know," she began slowly, shaking her head and resuming her work. She bit the eyeliner cap and leaned in closer, holding the pen in front of my eyes. "Close," she instructed. "I hate to sound cliché and fated or whatever, but I really think I found the right guy, ya know? I mean, Ben just accepts me for who I am. We both know our jobs could easily ruin everything for us, but we've chosen each other first and foremost."

She stopped for another moment, and I cracked one eye open before she lined the lower eyelid. I took advantage of the silence to open my eyes and ask another question.

"But, how did you know he was the right one?"

I felt totally lame for asking this, like I should have been able to figure it out on my own, years ago.

Ang scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I wanted to be myself around him. I wanted to tell him the most personal details of my life, my hopes, the really embarrassing stories from high school and college. I just knew I could trust him. He respected and accepted me for exactly who I am. I didn't have to change for him, but there were things I wanted to do—like learning Asian cuisine, and he learned how to ski for me. I think meeting a new person can foster the change in you that you didn't realize you wanted or needed."

All my life I'd experienced change. All I wanted was some semblance of permanence. I wanted exactly what Angela had—someone who'd understand me and take me as I was.

"I'm happy to talk about this, but what prompted it, if I may ask. Is there someone?" Her eyes were wide and bright.

Was there someone? I wasn't sure. "I—I don't know. Maybe?" I closed my eyes again, not wanting to see her face as we discussed this. She took the hint and finished lining the other eye.

"That would be—awesome!" Her voice betrayed her excitement, and she squeaked a little. "Do I know this person? Is it someone at work?"

I didn't want to answer this question. Edward was Angela's former classmate, and I had pried into his family's personal life when I still suspected him of the crimes. If things didn't develop between us as I hoped they would, I didn't want Angela's pity either. And if I was being 100% honest with myself, I didn't want her to share anything negative about him.

"No, no one at work," I answered, skirting the first part of the question. "It's early—very early, and I have no idea where it's going, but I know my track record. Guys couldn't handle my job, couldn't handle the creep factor, and couldn't handle my devotion to solving cases. I'm preparing for the inevitable rejection, but I think I could really like this guy."

"Oh, Bella, Bella," Angela said as she finished lining the bottom eyelid. "Then they weren't the right guys. Maybe your time with them was to make you more comfortable with dating and with yourself. I don't know who this new guy is, but be up front with him. Tell him what's important to you and what you want. Don't settle for anyone. Now open your eyes and see how beautiful you are."

I opened my eyes and slid off the vanity. To say I was surprised when I turned around and saw my reflection was an understatement. My eyelids were dusted with a smoky plum near the lash line that faded into a charcoal grey at the crease, and finally the brow was sparkling with a diamond sheen. The eye was lined in indigo blue that matched my dress and next to my pale skin it made my usually dark eyes pop. Even I had to admit, it was beautiful.

"Wow," I admitted, unable to think of anything else to say. "Thanks."

Angela smiled. "Glad you like it. You're almost set."

After adding some deep red lipstain and some mascara, Angela got to work on my hair. "Anything in particular that you want to do?" she asked.

I snorted. I usually wore my hair in a ponytail. "No, you have free reign."

She pursed her lips and tapped her cheek as she thought momentarily. "Okay, I've got something. If you don't like it, speak up. Bend over at the waist."

I raised an eyebrow and shrugged, doing as she said. I trusted her, and I was pleased with the end result. She did an upside down French braid that started at the nape and finished at the crown. She added the rest of the hair in a ponytail, curled it, and pinned the curls to make the braid more visible. It was more than I was used to, but it still felt like me. I felt uncomfortable wearing the corsage on my dress or my wrist, so Angela bobby pinned it in my hair. I could smell the fragrant bloom every time I moved my head.

We both got dressed and discussed what options we had for jewelry. I decided not to wear a necklace, and I wore a silver diamond bracelet I'd been given by my college roommate's family when I graduated. Wanting to feel the protection and connection to my petrified wood cross, I looped the chain around my wrist too.

Dutifully, we gave Ben five minutes' notice as Angela and I stepped into our shoes and got our clutch purses ready. Angela and I did one last shot together before going downstairs with Ben, who was dressed in a tuxedo complete with a Venetian jester's mask.

My mask sat in my purse as we rode over and I nervously fidgeted and finally settled on rubbing my cross charm like a worry stone. I felt sick and nervous as we drove into the center of the city along the Genesee River to the convention center. Angela and Ben bopped and sang along with the music, but all I was thinking was that I'd catch a cab when we got to the convention center and go home.

Like a gentleman, Ben dropped us off at the door before parking the car. Perhaps sensing my fear, or seeing that my face was a little green, Angela grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as we waited for Ben.

"There's no reason to be nervous, Bells. This is just a party. We'll have dinner, a few drinks, dance a bit, and have fun. Put your mask on."

Fun, I could I remember that, right? I needed to let go of some of my anxiety. If there was a murder tonight, someone was on duty who could handle it. I would pick up the case on Monday. I couldn't prevent the crime. I was still nervous about seeing Edward tonight, however, and I couldn't tell Angela that. I sighed and tied the mask around my head. I was surprised to feel more comfortable in it. There was a sense of anonymity I didn't expect to find comfort in. I helped Angela tie hers as we giggled.

She held my hand until Ben came in, and we turned in our tickets, got our table assignments, and made our way to the ballroom where we could hear music playing. People streamed in all around us, all dressed in tuxes and gowns—all masked.

The ballroom was dimly lit by chandeliers, and framing the dance floor were bare tree branches painted black and lit with purple light. It cast an eerie shadow on the walls. White twinkle lights were draped from the ceiling with black tulle, and each table was adorned with a beautiful spray of peacock feathers and candle centerpieces. It was magical, mysterious, and sensual.

No one was dressed alike. Some took the costume very seriously and wore Victorian ball gowns and pompadours while others wore much more modern attire. Some wore full masks that were more appropriate for Halloween; others wore Venetian masks like Ben, or half-masks like me and Angela. Regardless, it was a beautiful spectacle.

We managed to find our table easily and sat down as a waiter brought trays of champagne. Tables filled quickly, some people introduced themselves to their neighbors while others whispered conspiratorially. Some smiles looked familiar, but in the dark you couldn't be sure if you were talking to someone you'd known half your life or just met.

A large group came in the doors all together and, although they were masked, I recognized the Cheshire cat grin and the shock of bronze hair immediately.

Edward was here.

Author's Note: Epic thanks to kisbydog08 and duskwater2153 for the beta.

Hi readers! I'm trying to be sweet so you're not too angry about the cliffhanger. The next chapter is written, but I've got to make sure I didn't leave any loopholes before I post. I'm hoping to update in just a couple weeks. Hang in there and be patient with me, yeah? Thank you for reading.

Did you ever go to a formal event? High school homecoming or prom? Has anyone ever been to a policeman's ball? Do you like getting all dolled up, or are you more like Bella and dressing up isn't your thing?