Author Note: Thank you for the great response so far! I had two readers guess the chapter title from Duran Duran's low-selling Pop Trash album from 2000 — Scoobylover68 and luvugreeneyedboy. Extra kudos to luvugreeneyedboy, who was also the only one to guess (after Chapter 9) something else that'll be revealed in this chapter.

Big thanks to Rita01tx for rec'ing this fic on her latest Rob Attack blog!

Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Chapter 13 – Last Day on Earth

Once again, I sit on pins and needles, this time waiting for Edward to tell me how his wife was killed. After another long drink from his beer, he takes a deep breath, then stares straight ahead.

"Bree's employer held a Fourth of July picnic in a park on Saturday, over the long weekend," he begins. "Not long after we ate, she started feeling sick. We assumed that she'd eaten something bad, maybe one of the dishes had been left sitting out too long."

"That makes sense," I nod when he pauses.

"But then she got sick again the next day, and again on Monday at my parents' barbecue. On the way home, she asked me to stop at a pharmacy. I thought she was going to pick up something for her symptoms, but… she bought a pregnancy test," he finishes in a whisper.

"Oh my God!" And just like that, I understand. Edward didn't just lose his wife last July — he lost his unborn child as well. When he learned of Rosalie's and Angela's pregnancies, he wasn't upset by memories of when Bree was carrying Masen, but because of his second child that would never be born.

"I need another beer," he chokes out, standing and rushing off to the kitchen.

When he comes back, he takes a long pull from the bottle before setting it beside him and scrubbing his hands over his face. "Bree was never really sick with Masen," he continues. "I think that's why it wasn't our first thought. But this time it was every single damn day. And not just in the morning.

"Finally on Friday, I encouraged her to stay home from work, and to see if she could get an appointment with her doctor. To see if it was normal to be that sick.

"I had a meeting scheduled that morning with my publishers about my next book. I had planned to take Masen along with me, but Bree said to just leave him in his crib. She had the baby monitor in our room, so she could hear if he needed anything. I kissed them both goodbye and then drove downtown to the office.

"After the meeting, it was about 11:30 when I got off at our highway exit. I sent Bree a quick text while I was waiting for the light to see if she wanted me to pick up something for lunch, if she felt like she could eat, but she didn't reply.

"When I got home and opened the garage door, Bree's car was gone. I thought at first that maybe I'd misunderstood the time of her appointment, or maybe the office had called back and said they could get her in earlier. But it was odd that she wouldn't have called or texted me to tell me she was leaving. I picked up my phone to make sure I didn't have a message from her, but there was nothing.

"The garage opened into our mudroom. I walked from there into the kitchen, and I saw that the back door was open." He swallows thickly and I start to get this feeling of dread about where this story is going. "I could hear Masen crying, so I ran upstairs. His room was right at the top of the stairs and he seemed fine at first glance, just hungry maybe. But then I went down the hall to the master bedroom."

"Bree was… lying on our bed," he whispers. "And there was so much blood. For as long as I live, I will never get that image out of my head. Her eyes were open and staring up at the ceiling, and… I knew she was dead."

Tears are running down his cheeks by this point. Mine as well. I can only imagine his shock and pain upon seeing his wife like that. And Masen, oh God, what if someone had hurt him too?

Unable to help myself, I scoot closer to Edward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He turns, resting his forehead on my shoulder as he cries. I don't know if there's anything I can truly do for him, but I run my fingers through his hair in what I hope is a calming motion. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, over and over.

We stay like that for several minutes before he lifts his head, staring at me through red-rimmed eyes. "Sorry," he murmurs, brushing his tears away. "It wasn't any easier." After another long drink, he buries his face in his hands.

"What did you do then, Edward?" I ask softly, rubbing his back.

"I ran. I grabbed Masen and I ran outside. I think I was screaming. A neighbor who was walking her dog came up to me, and I remember she kept asking me over and over again what happened. I must've choked out enough that she pulled out her phone and called 9-1-1.

"Then she asked if there was anyone she could call for me. I couldn't think, I couldn't remember anyone's number, but I had my phone in my pocket, and so she found Mom in the Contacts and called her. She couldn't have been far; she got there only a few minutes after the police and ambulance.

"One of the cops kept asking me to tell them what happened, asking me where I'd been. It was like he thought my near hysteria was all an act and I'd been the one who killed her!" he cries. "I remember Mom was ready to rip him a new one for even the suggestion. I explained that I'd been in a meeting downtown, and he went looking through my car until he found the ticket from the parking garage that could prove that."

I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that Edward didn't have to spend days — or even hours — as a suspect in his wife's death. "How did they get a lead on the real killer?"

"I don't know how long it had been… the cops were still there processing the scene. The bank called my phone because there'd been a large withdrawal at an ATM. Mom answered it and she gave the phone to one of the cops right away. They asked the bank manager to go through the security footage from the ATM."

"And that would show who made the withdrawal from your account?" I ask.

"Yeah," he nods. "It was the big story on the local news that night — the murder and a photo of the man from the security footage. The picture was grainy, but he was in a dark-colored car. Bree's car was a light silver."

"So… if Bree's car was missing from your garage, but the ATM withdrawal was made from a different car, then there were two people involved?" I piece together.

"Yeah, that was their theory. The next day, one of them — the guy in the ATM footage — turned himself in. He swore that he had no involvement in Bree's death, and that he hadn't even known that she was dead until he saw the TV news broadcast.

"His story was that he and his cousin had broken into the house, assuming we'd both be at work. They planned to take electronics or jewelry, or whatever cash they could find. But then they went upstairs and found Bree. Her purse was on the table beside the bed, so they grabbed that and took out her wallet. They threatened her into giving them the PIN for the ATM card. And then he said that he left to go withdraw the money. They'd decided that the second guy would stick around in case she'd purposely given them the wrong PIN.

"After he got the money, he sent a text to his cousin to let him know that the PIN had worked. And cousin said he'd leave in Bree's car, take it to a chop shop or whatever, and then they could meet up to split the money.

"It took a couple of days but the cops found his cousin. He denied everything, any involvement in the murder or even burglary. He gave an alibi, but the police were never able to confirm any of it."

"So it was one man's word against another," I muse.

"Not quite," he shakes his head. "They had the texts from the first guy's phone to his cousin. After a day or two, they found Bree's car and the second guy's fingerprints were in it."

"So he'd clearly lied about his involvement."

"Yeah, and that made it easier to believe the first guy's story. But they were afraid that it wasn't quite enough. The cops came around door to door to all of our neighbors, asking if anyone had heard or seen anything unusual that morning. One lady across the street said that she thought she'd heard a gunshot while she was outside working in her garden. At the time, she'd just dismissed it as a late firecracker, but now that she knew Bree had been shot that morning, she'd realized it may have been a gunshot.

"According to the neighbor's testimony, the noise was just before she went back inside the house. She'd turned on the TV when she came in, and it was the end of The View, so just before 11. The ATM withdrawal was made at 10:49am, with the texts sent right after that. There was no way for the guy who withdrew the money to have gotten back to our house in that short amount of time, so he couldn't have done it.

"That was enough to get a grand jury indictment, but we were all a little worried that a jury would never convict. The evidence was really all circumstantial. We could place cousin near the scene that morning, and we know he drove off in Bree's car, but we had no murder weapon, and no trace of her blood found on his things or in the car."

"But who else could've done it?"

"It doesn't matter," he shrugs, "not if a jury found reasonable doubt."

"Something you said earlier… telling your story — did you have to testify at the trial?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I was actually the first witness for the prosecution. They needed me to set the stage, but also to head off any attempts by the defense to claim that I had killed her. The cops kept that garage parking ticket proving I'd been downtown and what time I left the garage, which they entered as a trial exhibit."

"Were you allowed to watch the rest of the trial after your testimony?" I ask curiously.

"Yeah, I sat with my family in the back once I was done."

"They all came?" I ask, surprised.

"No… not all of them could get time off work every day. But at least one person was always there with me."

"And the trial took two and a half weeks?" That seems long to me, but I've always heard that murder trials can take longer than other crimes.

"No, it was under two weeks. I had to get there early to go over my testimony with the prosecutor, then there were a couple days of jury selection before the opening statements. Two days at the end to deliberate. The fact that it took so long to come to a decision meant that not everyone was on board with a conviction right away. We were all confident in the burglary and auto theft charges, but not the murder charge."

"Can… what's his name? The cousin?"

"I don't dignify him by using his name," Edward says angrily.

"Oh… sorry." I had noticed that he never referred to the cousin by name. "Can he get the death penalty?"

"No, not in Illinois, not for several years now."

"Too bad," I mutter. I'm not usually pro-death penalty, but in this case? It seems so senseless. "Do you know why he shot her?" I ask apprehensively.

"He still denies doing it, so no. But the prosecutor proposed that he was either afraid that she'd be able to identify him, or… that he tried to assault her and she fought him off."

"Is there evidence of that?" I ask quietly.

"The exam showed no evidence of rape."

"I almost don't know what to say, Edward. God, I am so sorry you went through that. I'm sorry that your wife's life was cut way too short. And your unborn child — I can't even imagine! I know this was difficult for you, so… thank you for trusting me enough to confide in me."

"It's not that I wanted to keep it from everyone, I just… it hurts too much to think about. I have to concentrate on Masen and his future just to get out of bed every morning."

"I understand."

"No, you don't. No one can. I don't mean that in a bad way, just… unless you've lived this nightmare, you can't know what it's like. And just…knowing that it's all my fault…"

"What!?" I exclaim. "It's only the fault of the man who pulled the trigger! How could you even think that?"

"It's my fault she stayed home! Not just because I asked her to, but I'm the one who got her pregnant six months after we had Masen. I'm the one who left her alone while I went to a meeting. I'm the one who thought we lived in a safe neighborhood and didn't need a home security system."

I roll my eyes. "The stars aligned for this horrible thing to happen, but it was not your fault, Edward. You were being a caring husband when you suggested she get some rest and go see a doctor."

"Mom has been trying to tell me that…"

I smile sadly. "And you should listen to her. It sounds like your family has been a big help to you."

"They were," he nods. "My mom and Bree's parents planned the funeral and everything related to that. I couldn't do it. Once the cops were done with the house, I still couldn't go back inside, so my family got everything we needed immediately out of it. Mom helped me put the place up for sale. She and my brothers helped pack everything up for the movers. I was pretty much useless in those first few weeks. Maybe I still am."

"You're not. You're an amazing father to Masen. And you've finished your next book, right?"

"Yeah, almost," he agrees. "I still feel like I'm living someone else's life sometimes. Like I don't know how to move forward."

"I think… you just keep taking each day as it comes, and every day will be just a little bit easier."

Edward turns to look at me, giving me a small smile. "And rely on my friends, right?"

"Absolutely! I'll be here for you — and Masen — whatever you need." I open my arms and he smiles, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

"I'm gonna go up to bed, sleep while Masen sleeps," he says, pulling away.

"Are you sure you'll be OK?"

"Yeah." He licks his lips. "I'm no worse than I've been in the last six months."

"All right." I stand up from the couch. "Thanks again for confiding in me."

Edward follows me to the foyer and I instinctually lean up to kiss his cheek as I walk out the door.

A/N: So, there's the story of Bree's death! It was inspired by a real life home invasion murder from November 2015 which made the national news because the victim was young, pretty, blonde, and a pastor's wife.

I took some creative liberties with the timing of the trial to only be six months later, as I think her killer is still awaiting trial after nearly two years. Google tells me it was scheduled for March 2017, but since there are no later stories, I assume it was postponed.

So where do Bella and Edward go from here? He's trusted her enough to tell his story, but now what?

Next update on Thursday, where we'll learn why Bella's Google search came up empty.