The agents in the room bristled as well, all having known me since I was born. They all considered themselves family, and they were fully ready to pound the shit out of anyone involved in this crime. Edward sensed the precariousness of his situation, and wisely closed his mouth.

"I didn't do anything," he mumbled. "I swear, I didn't..."

"Alright," Harry said suddenly. "Let's take a break, give Mr. Cullen some time to consider his actions. Perhaps when we return, Mr. Cullen, you'll be prepared to start telling us the truth." Harry walked out of the room, followed by his team. Edward was alone in the room, staring at the closed door.

"I didn't do anything," he whispered to himself. "I didn't..." He looked down at the table, and his eyes fell on my picture, the one that Harry had shown him. "Oh, Jesus... Bella," he groaned, his voice full of regret and despair. "I'm so sorry, Bella... I'm so sorry..."

I started to get up, to leave the room and get some air. I just couldn't watch Edward anymore. It was pathetic, and I was supposed to be angry and hungry for his blood. Instead, I found myself feeling sorry for him, wanting to comfort him, to let him know that I understood, more than anyone, exactly how he felt. But the guards burst in the room, right at that moment, and hauled Edward away, back to his holding cell, I assumed. They were going to let him stew for a while, then come back at him and hit him from a different angle.

I stared at the empty room.

The videotape from the bar was still playing on the monitor, in fast forward, and I watched myself walk into the bar.

"Oh shit," I said softly. It was surreal watching that entire evening on the grainy black and white video. The laughing, the flirting, the touching. It disgusted me now, after the fact, and I kept seeing hidden meaning in all of Edward's actions. Then, he grabbed my hand, and we walked out of the bar. I knew what came next, and I hoped Charlie didn't have video from the elevator - I knew it existed, but I didn't think I could sit in the same room with my father while I watched a man grope me and shove his tongue down my throat. Thankfully, Charlie's head was down, his attention directed to his outdated Blackberry.

My attention returned to the monitor. Jake, the bartender, watched us walk away, then he motioned to a man sitting at the end of the bar. I remembered him. He was young, just barely old enough to be in a bar. The man said something to Jake, and right at that moment, I saw myself pop quickly back into the video. I had forgotten my purse, grabbed it from the bar, and disappeared again. There were no captions at this point in the video. I supposed the agents had concentrated on the interaction between Jake and Edward, and once Edward left the bar, they had moved on.

But as I walked out of the frame, Jake said something back to the man, and they both laughed. Then, the man got up and walked out of the bar.

The scene had entirely slipped my memory, and it wasn't until that moment that I remembered the exchange. It meant nothing to me at the time, and admittedly, my thoughts were on my baser desires, what I planned to do to Edward when we reached his suite.

I remembered what he said, what they were talking about when I walked up. But I had to have confirmation, I had to see it again, to be sure.

"Charlie," I said urgently. "We need to watch that video."

"What video?" Charlie asked, his attention immediately returning to me and the situation at hand. "The video we just watched? The video of that son of a bitch picking out his victims?"

I shook my head at him. I had no time for his theatrics, I needed to find out if I was right.

"No, after that," I said.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked. "Did you remember something?"

"I think I did, Dad, but I don't want to say anything until I'm sure. Can we... " I gestured to the interrogation room.

Charlie stood up and grabbed my elbow.

"Let's go."

He ushered me into the room and stood in front of the monitor, the urgency of the situation demanding that neither of us take the time to sit. Charlie was anxious to put a nail in Edward's coffin, and he was going to do everything he could to get there. He grabbed the remote from the table and started to rewind the video. I grabbed it from him in frustration.

"Just let me. I know what I'm looking for."

I rewound to when we left the bar, heading for the elevator, and hit play, at normal speed this time. I watched the interaction between Jake and the third man, stopping after I picked up my purse. I replayed the scene over and over, and I was confident in what I had found, what I had remembered.

"Dad," I said with a deep breath. "I think Edward's innocent."

Here we go...

All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)