"What do you want for breakfast? How about something different than cereals today," Esme pulled open the fridge door to look inside. "Toast, bacon and eggs?"

"Nuh-uh!" Elliott argued, shaking his head as he too peeked into the fridge.

"No?" she tapped her chin pretending to ponder. "I suppose I could make another batch of pankakes? Or…. how about waffles?"

"Waffies!" the boy shouted enthusiastically and Carlisle high fived him.

"Anthony, honey, what do you say? You like waffles, right?" Esme asked, turning to the other little boy half-hiding behind the doorframe to the kitchen.

He offered no verbal response of any kind, but what he did do was move into the room and grab a firm hold on his grandfather's pant leg.

Carlisle smiled and gently poked Anthony's side. "Come on, Tiger. Time to roll up our sleeves. Your nana is clueless when it comes to working a waffle iron. She's going to need our expert help."

"Oh, sweet delusional hubby of mine. Have you forgotten you have to be at work in less than half an hour?"

"I'll call and let them know I'll be a little late."

Just then, Anthony raised his arms signaling that he wanted to be picked up, something he hadn't done often, or at all, really, around his grandparents, unless there was some sugary treat involved and even then, it was still a rare occurrence.

"See, major bonding going on," Carlisle chuckled, hoisting the child onto his hip. "It's no big deal. Besides, I was going to be late anyway, seeing as Isabella isn't awake yet and I would like to check on her before I leave."

"Alright then, I suppose…. Hey sweetie, don't climb on those!" Esme rushed to Elliott, who cleverly had figured out how to open the kitchen drawers and use them as a ladder to get up on the counter top. "You could fall and hurt yourself."

"I elp," the boy responded, picking up a few random kitchen utensils and throwing them on the floor.

"You want to help? Right, well if you could find me a big, big spoon, and a measuring cup it would be of great help. I think they are in the bottom drawer though. Here let me help you down."

"K," the toddler said agreeably enough, letting himself be lifted and placed firmly on the ground again. He didn't stand still for long though, and soon took off running laps around the kitchen island.

"I'm still looking for the on/off button on that one," Esme shook her head, but smiled fondly.

"I don't think there is one. Let me handle this," Carlisle advised, stepping forward, efficiently blocking the way for the toddler. "Hey Elliott, could you help me pull up a chair for Tony? He'll need something to stand on when he pours the ingredients and whisks the batter." He winked at his wife, because sure enough, the prospect of being left out and missing all the fun was enough to halt the toddler.

"Me, me! I make!" the boy shouted, nearly tipping over one of the heavy wooden chairs in his eager to get it over to the counter where Esme had placed the eggs and the flour.

At this point, Anthony was the one feeling left out, the boy was squirming to be put down on the ground, so much so that he knocked his grandfathers glasses askew.

"Woha! Careful now, don't break grandpa!"

"Yeah, he's an old fart," Esme snickered, snagging one toddler under each arm. "Let me help you round up the troops, old man."

Under Nana Esme's close supervision, toddler faces were cleaned, hands washed, noses wiped and pyjama sleeves rolled up. Armed with spoons, the two little helpers eagerly got started on whipping up grandma Platt's gourmet waffles. However, when it came time to start cracking the eggs, Esme ducked out off the kitchen with a 'Have fun, grandpa!' over her shoulder.

"Wait, stop! Where are you going? I thought this was a joined effort?"

"You don't need me, you're the waffle expert, remember?" she teased her husband. "I'm only kidding. However, I think I just heard a car in the driveway, so you're going to have to hold the fort on your own while I go check on that."

Carlisle checked his watch. "That would be Agent Clearwater. He's right on time. Send Emmett out to speak with him."

"He might be right on time, but no one else is. I think we're going to have to offer him to come inside and drink some coffee while he waits. Emmett is still in the shower. Jasper has yet to make an appearance this morning and I have a feeling I'm going to have to go wake Edward… again. Poor thing has a lot of sleep to catch up on."

"Fine, go! I can handle this!"

"That remains to be seen," she laughed as she walked out the door

.

…..

.

A good night's sleep had done well to clear her head, but even with a fresh mind, Bella found herself no closer to solving anything than she'd been the previous day. Every stone she turned over just opened up more question marks. It didn't help that she had gotten a much a later start on the day than she had planned for, cutesy of Edward, who apparently had confiscated her phone-slash-alarm clock again.

Breakfast had turned into more of a brunch affair, complete with two overstimulated, rambunctious little boys. Fun times!

Once the food was gone and the table was cleared, Bella found herself being ushered back into bed again. She didn't mind though, with Seth keeping Edward out of the house for the day, she was hoping to get some actual work done.

Pulling up the case file on her laptop, Bella scrolled all the way down to the end of the document and focused on the most-recently added notes.

Maria Giovanna Nahuel.

Born: November 12th, 1984

Parents: Giovanna Theresa Nahuel and Rafael Geosappe Nahuel.

Birthplace: Turner, Oregon.

Driver's license issued in Madras, Oregon.

SAT test scores were also from Madras, Madras High School.

She picked up a pencil and made a few notes on a scrap of paper. The girl had been eighteen when she moved to Seattle, her scores and grades had been good enough to get her accepted to University of Washington. She wrote down 'Scholarship' and a big question mark. Then after another moment of thought she jotted down 'Attendance?' and 'Student Health Services?'

She then went back to reading the rest of the case file. From a criminal standpoint, the woman was clean. There was no criminal record. No misdemeanors or felonies. Not even a speeding ticket or unpaid parking ticket. Reasonable credit score, fully taxed and insured, everything was in order. Her frown deepened as she read the next few lines.

Marital Status: Unwed.

Children; one.

Jamison Anthony Eduarte Nahuel

Born: 17th of February 2008.

Birthplace: Seattle, WA. Swedish Medical Center.

She picked up the pencil again, this time outlining what she needed to get done and the order she need to do it in. Investigating the insurance records was at the top of the list, closely followed by taking a look at the university stored student information. There was also the matter of locating the law firm where sh-…

Just then, Alice flung the door open. "Hands off that dingy keyboard Swan!" she said with a wave of her finger. "I have orders to treat you to an at-home spa day.

Bella blinked, feeling a bit ill-prepared to tackle Alice this early in the day. It wasn't even noon yet and Alice had been acting oddly unpredictable all morning. Why wasn't she jumping at the chance of spending the day with her nephews, for instance?

"Green tea facial scrub, manicure, pedicure, foot massage, the works…" Alice rattled off, as she burst into the room.

"That's sweet of you Alice," Bella managed to cut in. "I appreciate the thought, but honestly, that sounds kind of exhausting. I'm supposed to be resting. No stress, remember?"

"Nonsense, your blood pressure was the same this morning as it had been the last few readings. You're doing great."

"Well that was before the scale tried to tell me I've gained five pounds over night. Wish I'd known that before I let your mother stuffed me to the brim with waffles and toast and bacon and….. If I hurl on you by accident, I'm apologize profusely in advance." It was more information than she had planned on sharing, but it all just spilled out. "Seriously, I feel like crawling behind a rock and never come out again. If I can find one big enough that is…"

"Yes, because you're getting so big," Alice snorted, unceremoniously pulling back the blankets. "Look at that bump, it's huge!"

"It is. In the last few days I've gone from hardly showing at all to having a football up my top," Bella grumbled. She had never thought of herself as a vain person, but damn... it was no fun ballooning up like that.

"Stop complaining! It's not like you're fat, it's all baby. What you need is some pampering. You'll feel like a new person when I'm done with you."

"How about we do this tomorrow or later this week? It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"You're not talking your way out of this! Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today," Alice chirped with forced cheerfulness. "Seriously, when was the last time you shaved your legs?"

"Oh gosh, I'm not sure, last week, maybe… or the week before that?" Bella admitted, feeling a bit disgusted with herself. It wasn't just her legs that had been neglected. She wasn't a particularly 'girly' girl, but to go a over two weeks without shaving was pushing it even for her.

"It's even worse than I thought. You HAVE to let me do this!"

"Alice…. I don't HAVE to let you do anything. "

"Two hours," she pleaded. "Give me two hours."

"Alice…" Bella sighed, thinking that her friend was just being dramatic for the sake of drama. However, as it turned out she was only slightly right, this time.

"Please, I need something to do with myself, " Alice sounded unsure, which was quite a rarity for her. "I need something to turn my thoughts off." Her voice sounded strained, as if she was struggling not to laugh or, maybe, cry.

"What's wrong, Alice?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Come on, I can see you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset. I'm just… I'm just PMSing and letting stupid stuff get to me. Jasper said something this morning that I… I just don't want to think about."

"You two got into a fight?"

"No, not really. He just told me…something, that really threw me off. "she shuddered almost violently. "You know what? I really don't want to talk about it, or even think about it. You're getting your legs waxed whether you like it or not! …Please? "

"Uhm, to be honest, I'm not sure I trust you with hot wax right now, but if you really want something to do, you could always help me wash my hair."

"And paint your nails?!" Alice bargained. "Geez listen to me, I sound like a real nut job! I should have gone with Edward to Seattle, to that Volterra place, this morning. At least then I'd have something constructive to do with my time rather than just letting my mind run rampant… . Not that this isn't constructive, it's just that…"

"Don't sweat it. I get it. I hate lying here doing nothing. And yeah, you should have gone with them to Seattle. In fact, I would have insisted on it, had I been awake when they left. I'm not sure I trust Edward and Seth to get along and get the work done. Maybe it's not too late for you to drive there and meet up with them?"

"Ha, you just want me out of your hair," Alice huffed. "Speaking of hair, let me get my stuff!"

.

…..

"Still nothing?"

An innocent enough question, yet seeing as it was the fourth time it was asked it hit a nerve big time.

"Stop asking every two god damn minutes!" Edward snapped, fighting the impulse to connect his fist with nearest wall or face. Temper control, he reminded himself, clenching and unclenching his fist.

Special agent Seth Clearwater turned around and stared hard at him, "Cullen, we're not here for a drink… or a good time. I'm doing you a favor, one I'm not even getting paid for. So unless you got something important to say, keep your eyes open and your mouth shut!"

"Sorry, man. It's just… this place," Edward made a vague gesture around the Volterra nightclub. "It gives me the willies and not in a good way."

Seth all but rolled his eyes as he replied. "Great, because gut feelings are so reliable. I was hoping you'd give me something a little more substantial to work with."

"I told you I recognized the entrance for sure," Edward replied, ignoring the jibe with some difficulty. He understood all too well where the other man was coming from. It wasn't like Edward had expected his memory to magically reappear the minute he stepped foot inside the place, but he had secretly hoped for some sort of deja vu experience, or 'aha' moment…. or something. That had not been the case though, unfortunately his memory was still as blank as it had ever been.

"I've definitely been here before, but that's it. Nothing else jumps at me at the mome-…"

"There's the manager again," Clearwater interrupted him, motioning with his head towards the bar.

Edward turned to take in the sight of the pale faced, slick-haired man that had been the one to first allow them entrance to the club. Phone in hand and security in tow, he still looked anything but happy to have them there. It wasn't like he could refuse them to take a look around though, not after Seth had flashed his shiny badge.

"I bet you he just got off the phone with his lawyer. I bet you we'll be hearing a different tune from here on out," Seth commented, as they watched the man shut his phone and put it in his pocket.

"I bet you Bella will be pissed when she hears that you claimed to be here on official FBI business," Edward muttered through the corner of his mouth.

"He wouldn't have let us inside if I hadn't said that," Seth shrugged, then slapped Edwards shoulder, "Come on, he's waving us over. Let's go see what he has to say."

"Mr. Volturi, it's quite a nice place you've got here," Seth opened with a compliment.

"Please call me Caius. Did you guys have a good look around? Things tend to look different in daylight. You should come back tonight to get the full experience."

"Maybe we will do that. You said you've had some work done on the interior? Can you please tell us about those changes?"

"Yes, well the paneling in here is new," Caius Volturi answered with a sweeping motion in the general direction of the far end wall. "Along with a new lounge seating area up front, a few more VIP booths in the back and two LED underlit dance platforms. Also we've extended the bar and added specific ordering stations."

"I see," Seth responded, leaning against the bar. "But the general layout of the place is the same now as it was three and a half years ago?"

"Yes, petty much," the man nodded in response. "Ah, there is Vicky now," he paused, snapping his fingers, before explaining. "Victoria Sutherland, the waitress I was telling you about. She is our longest working employee here at Volterra."

Edward turned to see a woman with fiery red hair walking towards them. He could tell that Seth was looking at him from the corner of his eyes, to see if he would display any sign of recognition. He didn't. He shook his head and Seth went for his badge, "FBI, special agent Seth Clearwater. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"What is this about?" the woman asked, looking over at her boss from under her bangs.

"'The Live and Loud Birthday Bash', in April three years ago," Seth explained, without giving the other man time to respond. "Ms. Sutherland, where you by any chance working that night?"

"Maybe… Why do you ask?" she replied vaguely.

"I'm looking for someone, "Seth answered equally vague, before pointing at Edward, "Do you recognize this man? Edward Cullen?"

"No," she narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head.

"What about this woman?" he produced a photograph from his back pocket and passed it to the waitress.

"No." Another head shake.

"Are you sure? She called herself Angela Weber, though she was born Larissa Grey."

"Sorry, don't know her, never seen her."

"What about Maria Nahuel? Is that name familiar?"

"Nope," she answered, eyes unblinking.

"Are you sure?" Edward interrupted, growing impatient with the way Clearwater was tiptoeing around the subject. "We believe she was working here that particular night. She wore a nametag and a uniform of sorts….white shirt, black skirt. She had her hair, which I believe was dark, pulled back with hairpins. "

"Did you say white shirt?" the redhead inquired. "Then she must have been part of the cater staff. As you can see our colors are, and have always been, purple, black and silver," she added, motioning first to her own outfit and then towards the rear of the bar counter where some guy was restocking the shelves.

"I'll be speaking with the caterer next, Ms. Sutherland. You've made a good point," Clearwater responded, shooting Edward an irritated glare, clearly not liking the way he had taken over the questioning. "But for now lets talk about this place. How many were on your payroll that night, Mr. Volturi? In total, including bouncers and security personnel? "

The bar manager waved his hand dismissively. "You realize this was over three years ago, right? You can not expect me to remember something little like that off the top of my head."

"Of course not, but if your papers and records are in order, you shouldn't have any problem looking it up for me. I want names and contact information. I'll leave you my card and I expect to hear back from you within, shall we say, the next 48 hours."

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid we've had a high turnover of part time staff in recent years."

"Excuse me," the redhead interrupted. " Did you have any more questions for me? I need to get back to restocking my station."

"We're almost done… Just a few more questions. You're a waitress, right? What exactly do your work tasks consist of?"

"I'm a cocktail waitress," she shrugged. "I take orders and bring people their drinks. When we're hosting a bigger event, like the one you mentioned, I usually work in the VIP section. If I did indeed work that night, I can assure you my only interaction with the cater staff was when I yelled at them in passing for getting in my way."

"Maybe it will jog your memory if I tell you there was a seafood buffet. "

She gave him a look that said 'Are you for real?'. "I serve drinks, nuts and lighter refreshments. That's my job and usually that's more than enough to keep me busy."

"Of course, I imagine it must have been a hectic night. The reason I'm asking is because there were some complaints regarding the food. That's why I thought it might jog your memory. I've been told a number of people had allergic reactions to the shrimps. Do you know anything about that?"

"Not really, no," she exchanged a quick glance with her boss.

"Some sort of chemical contamination," Seth offered, not willing to let the subject drop just yet. "Something about the shrimps having a nasty aftertaste. They had to pull back two of their dishes. Ring any bells?"

"Well, yeah… Now that you mention it. Though, I only heard about it afterwards."

"The food was not our responsibility," Caius, the bar manager, thought it wise to cut in. "From what I recall three people got some mild rashes and a fourth guy went into anaphylactic shock and had to seek medical attention. But I believe you already know this…"

"I sure do," Seth responded, throwing his hands up, pointing at Edward, " The fourth guy, the one that had to spend the night in hospital, happens to be standing right here next to me."

"My apologies!" Caius hurried to apologize, though there was no trace of guilt or regret in his demeanor. "I must say I'm a bit confused. I though t you said you were here regarding a missing person. Like I said before, the food was not our responsibility."

"The missing person we're looking for is Maria Nahuel; the woman who we believe took care of Mr. Cullen when first started showing signs of suffering from an allergic reaction."

"No, hold up. It was guy…. " the waitress suddenly shook her head, speaking directly to Edward. "It was a guy that took care of you and drove you to the hospital. I saw when you were lifted off the floor and led out to the car."

"Ms. Sutherland, I thought you said you only heard about this incident afterwards?"

"No, I saw it, I just didn't know what it was I saw at the time. There was a commotion. I mistakenly though security had broken up another drunken brawl. We get those quite often, you know" she paused, facing Edward again, "You were led, or carried I suppose, by three guys. They brought you out through the kitchen and the delivery entrance. Only one of them got in the car with you and it was definitely a dude."

"Peter Whitlock?" Seth and Edward, both asked at the same.

She shook her head. "I don't know… He was blond… I think..:"

"Can you show us?"

"What? The backdoor?"

"Yes."

"Uhm, sure… This way," she walked them into the staff only area behind the bar. It was a large space, littered with cabinets and storage units and of course, shelf after shelf of glass bottles. There was an open archway leading into what looked to be a break room.

"I was getting more ice, so I came in through this door and went over to the freezers on this side," the woman pointed, scratching her head. "You see that table? You were slumped on the floor next to it. After they got you back on your feet, you all went out that way," she pointed in another direction. "That's pretty much it… I didn't pay much attention…"

Edward looked at Seth, then his eyes focussed on the table in break room, trying to imagine himself lying on that floor. Suddenly he felt a roaring in his ears. He recognized the cheap looking, dark stained, oak flooring. His mouth filled with saliva, and his stomach lurched. He had definitely seen it before, even had his face pressed up against it, if this flash of memory was anything to go on.

"Cullen, you alright?"

He jolted at the sound of Seth's voice "The coloring and grain pattern… I was here, face down on that floor, the room was spinning. I couldn't… breath," he panted. Suddenly dizziness threatened to engulf him, so he gripped the nearest thing to keep his legs from giving out on him. He had no wish to see that floor up close again.

Edward wasn't sure how much time passed before his mind started functioning again. He had a vague recollection of hearing Clearwater order everyone out of the room. He also remembered croaking out a request for something to drink. When the tightness in his chest finally began to ease again, he found himself sitting on a chair with a glass of something pale and bubbly in his hand.

He trembled and spilled some of the liquid on his knee. This somehow triggers a new set of memories. "Cold, and wet," he muttered.

"Do you want a towel?"

Edward looked up and saw a weary looking Seth Clearwater hovering some distance away. "No, I meant I was already cold and wet when I ended up on the floor. I must have already been outside… The car, the parking lot, that whole ordeal must have happened before the shrimps, or whatever it was that got me sick, happened."

"That would be the logical order of things," Clearwater agreed. "Anything else?"

"Not sure, but I think I only went inside again to look for Jasp-… No, damn it! Peter… I was looking for Peter,"

Edward tried to stand up, but swayed so violently that Seth had to grab his arm. "Sit down, relax! Let me get you some more water."

He watched Seth retrieve a bottle of sparkling spring water, flavored with Grapes and infused with organic ingredients, according to the label.

Bottles… there was something about bottles… green ones… small ones…

He shook his head to rid the feeling, but that only caused the pounding behind his temples to intensified.

Alcohol, there had definitely been alcohol in those bottles. This wasn't news though, he already knew he had been drinking that night.

Then he thought of something else. "Someone, not Peter, a… a female I think, was urging me to drink water and eat something… to sober up."

"The same woman that was in the car with you?"

"No, not the woman from the car. She got pulled aside by some boss person and yelled at for disappearing, I think. Something about taking breaks she wasn't entitled to take."

"So there was two women?"

"I don't know, maybe? I don't think the car woman wanted me to sober up. I don't think she wanted me to go inside and look for Peter. I'm pretty sure she was trying to get me to leave…with her… but I wouldn't. I didn't want to….I…" He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a series of deep breaths before he spoke again. "She smoked cigarettes. She wore stilettos… and then she disappeared. I just wanted to find Peter and leave."

"Anything else?"

"No," he shook his head. "I want to leave. Can we please leave…Like, right now!"

"Of course," Clearwater agreed willingly. "How about we go get some lunch? Then we can come back and check out the parking lot."

"How about we leave and never come back," Edward grumbled, though he knew the other man was right. This wasn't over yet, not by a long shot.

…

…..