"I endure."
- E. Lockhart, from We Were Liars
Two days passed with no news, then a week, and then two. I'd watched enough true crime shows to know that wasn't a good sign. I wanted Charlie to find a clue, I wanted him to catch this person so badly that I spent most of my time walking frantic circles around the Cullen's house. I wanted it to be just a run of the mill murder. But there was nothing to detect. No DNA, no witnesses, no sign of the rest of the body. It was as if the body parts had appeared on that sign out of thin air. It was driving Charlie mad. He was at the station 24 hours. Only going to his house to briefly shower and that was only after constant coaxing by both Bella and me.
Bella and I spent all our time locked inside the Cullen's house - which was sending us both a little stir crazy. The Cullens were almost always gone, running a perimeter, trying to get information, going out of town to talk to people elsewhere. They tried to co-ordinate with the pack, and were greeted with various levels of hostility, which meant that they were wasting a lot of time covering the same areas.
Bella tried to call Jacob, but he made it clear there would be no discussions. I wasn't sure what upset Bella more, that Jacob was unwilling to work with the Cullens, or that she was no longer close enough to him to convince him otherwise. I think that she realised in that moment that their friendship was over, gone somewhere, trickled away bit by bit like sand falling through a cupped hand. I knew how she felt. I didn't call Jacob, couldn't - even though I was dying to. I wanted to know that he was alright, that he was being careful. I was aware that he also wasn't calling me. I hated the idea that our meeting at the beach might be my one and only chance to see him.
No one knew anything about the killing. To me, and Carlisle agreed, it seemed very out of character for the Volturi to organise something like this, and then just leave. By the end of the two weeks, things around town were beginning to go back to normal. Everyone was convinced that it was some wack-job passing through town, and that the danger had passed. Charlie had to go home eventually, if just because there was nothing else he could do. He had stalked over every square inch of crime scene, ran every forensic analysis and spoken to everyone in town. The trail had gone cold.
The Cullens were less inclined to let their guards back down so soon, but even Edward had to eventually concede that there wasn't much danger in Bella and I leaving the house again.
We had a bigger issue anyway, Bella had gotten her period.
"I thought it was meant to, you know, happen straight away." Bella whispered, as she threw some sanitary products in our shopping cart.
"Maybe it was the stress of having a killer on the loose," I suggested.
Bella shrugged. I threw some ice-cream in the cart.
"I'm sure it will happen soon. It's perfectly normal for it to not happen first go." I assured her, everyone in the Cullen house, including myself, now knew a lot about getting pregnant, pregnancy, child birth and parenting. It was odd, to say the least.
I cleared my throat as we wandered the produce section, trying to find a way to say what I was thinking, but not sure how to broach it.
"Just spit it out," Bella said, bagging some apples.
"What do you mean?"
"I've been watching you chewing on something since the deli." Bella said matter-of-factly.
I sighed, "Well, I was thinking that I might pop back to New York for a couple of weeks. I have to get back to work for a bit, I have a show."
It was all true, but still I thought that Bella might see it as an attempt to flee a sinking ship.
"Sure," she said, grabbing some potatoes. "When's your flight."
"Day after tomorrow," I admitted. "I'm going to go and fix up the house tonight. I still have that bloody U-haul on hire. I'm going to box the stuff up and drive it to Seattle to be shipped to New York, then I've got a charity coming next week to clear out whatever is left. I'll be back a couple of days before Christmas."
"Ok. Do you need a hand with the house?" She asked as we checked out.
"No. I think I will probably need some alone time. Then I'll come home and you can comfort me by joining me in watching Love Actually and eating my weight in chocolate."
"Sounds like a plan."
She was depressed. I could tell. She seemed flat, deflated. I could tell she'd been hoping she'd get pregnant, if not just to bring a little light to the stifling anxiety that had been surrounding us the past couple of weeks.
"Could it really have just been some random killing?" Bella asked as we left - motioning to the rack of newspapers where the headline indicated just that.
"Honestly, I have no idea. We are the unluckiest people on the planet, if it was just a random murder."
"If it was a random murder, that would make us lucky, not unlucky." Bella pointed out, as we both fell into a moody silence, because what we both said was true.
Bella dropped me off at my old house and went back to the Cullen's to unpack the groceries. I told her to give me a few hours and I wasn't sure if it would take more or less time. I didn't know myself. I could take one step into the house and flee with the memories of it, or I could sink into them and not come out for the night. It wasn't just memories of Jacob I was afraid of, this was where I lived with Embry too. I always felt his presence in the walls.
At the door I took a deep breath, pulling out my keys and letting them dangle by the lock for a moment as I steeled myself. I had to do it. I knew I had to. It seemed like such a waste to leave it, empty, full of old things. I was rich, but I wasn't so use to money that I could throw money away without feeling guilty.
I opened the door and pushed myself inside, shutting myself in to stop myself fleeing straight back out. The lounge was exactly the same as I had left it, but it was dark from the drawn blinds and stifling hot despite the cold December air. I looked around, surprised that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I didn't feel anything. It was just a house I used to live in. God, the air was still and something smelt slightly bad - I bet no one ever cleaned out the fridge. That was going to be disgusting.
I wandered for a moment, before heading towards the kitchen. The door was ajar and at least it was lighter in there. This place needed some serious airing out.
As I pushed the door open I noticed something crunch under my feet, suddenly I was covered in something thick and sticky as a bucket cluttered to the floor. I struggled to wipe my face so I could open my eyes. I slipped on the floor as I tried to move, something was all over the floor. I slipped and fell, banging into the dining table on my way down. My hands struggled for purchase, found something on the table but only manage to drag it to the floor with me.
Lying in a heaving mess, I finally managed to open my eyes despite the sticky substance covering me head to toe.
At first, I couldn't quite register what had happened when I saw my hands covered in dark, thick blood. I must have hit my head I thought, stupidly - but then I realised it was all over me, covering my hands, my arms, my shirt. It was too much. Then the smell hit me, instantly making me retch. It was worse than anything I'd ever smelt. It made the air thick and my vision blur. I could taste it.
I scrambled to get up, my vision suddenly expanding to take in the room. On the dining room table was the torso. It was grey and rotting after weeks left to the elements. Someone had turned on the heat pump, making it putrid. There was blood everywhere, so much blood. The arm was on the ground next to me, where I must have grabbed it while I was falling. The blood was on me, all over me. The smell was everywhere.
I screamed, or maybe I was already screaming. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I struggled to the back door, but the dead bolt was locked. My hands shook as I banged on the door, the windows. I couldn't stop screaming. I wanted to rip my skin off. I could feel the sticky, foul blood coating my skin, my hair, my soul.
The wolves stalked out of the bushes at the back of my house, five in total - black, dark-silver, chocolate brown, sand and light grey. I didn't care. I clawed at the glass of the window, desperate to get outside. The windows wouldn't open. Sam changed into his human form, easily breaking the door down - not even bothering to put on pants. He grabbed me tightly as I screamed and struggled, dragging me into the backyard.
"Leighton! Leighton!" He yelled, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me. I met his eyes, unable to stand still. No, I was standing still, but unable to stop shaking. "We've got you," he said, his eyes unwavering. His voice stilled me a little. It was familiar, laced with good memories.
"I can't breathe," I choked, clawing at my throat. I held up my blood soaked hands and started to hyperventilate.
Sam pushed my hands to my sides, "Don't look at them, OK. Look at me."
He turned to the chocolate-brown wolf beside me, Quil, oh, it was Quil. "Get everyone here, even Houghton. Where is Jacob?"
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf was howling.
"What's wrong with her?" Another human voice, I recognised it too. It was Paul. But I couldn't turn my face to look at him. My teeth began to chatter in my head. I couldn't get the smell out of my nose. I lent forward and emptied the contents of my stomach.
"She's in shock," Sam said. "The rest of the body is inside. It looks like where he was killed."
I vomited again.
Houston arrived in a minute, a second.
"Boys, Leah." He greeted. I looked up from where sat on the grass. He kneeled in front of me. "Are you hurt?" He asked.
I shook my head.
"Sam, I have a blanket in my cruiser. Can you get it?"
Sam disappeared. I gasped, reached for him. Houghton grabbed my hands, "It's ok. You're ok. He's just gone to get you a blanket."
"I can't get the blood off," I choked, motioning to my face and my hands.
"I know." He said softly, his voice oddly comforting. "You have to leave it on for now, just until we can get some evidence. Is that ok?"
"No, no, no, no," I stuttered, scrambling away from him across the grass. I large, rust-brown wolf stepped over me, positioning itself between Houghton and I. It growled, low and menacing.
"Jacob," Houghton put his hands up. "You've got to get out of here man. She's ok. The police are coming - you've got to all clear out."
He was right, I could hear sirens coming closer. I didn't know which would be harder to explain - the pack of wolves or the cut up body on my dining room table.
Jacob turned to me, his wolf form as familiar as his human one. He moved towards me, sniffed, moaned low and sad. "I'm OK." I told him. "Go."
He hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then left.
#
Charlie came first, and then detectives, and then more detective and then more police. There was an endless stream of people poking me and prodding me and talking to me, and even more trampling through the house, taking with them any memories I had hoped to discover there.
Houghton never left my side, and I suspected it was an order from more than one of his bosses. But still, I was grateful. When I was ordered to strip out of my clothes, underwear and all, he was the one ordering everyone away as he helped me into some forensic scrubs and piled my bloody clothes into evidence bags and out of sight. When I had finally been given the OK to clean myself, after every part of my body had been swabbed and photographed, he rushed into the house and appeared back at my side with a bucket of warm water and a face cloth. He gently wiped the blood off my face, my hands and arms and then helped me tilt my head back as he poured the water over my head to rinse my hair. Even helping me towel it dry.
I couldn't seem to do anything but stare at the flashing police lights. I couldn't even lift my arms to help Houghton clean me. I could still smell the stench of the body, feel the thick, sticky warmth of the blood on my skin, see the mangled corpse on my dining table. God, I hoped he was already dead when they did those things to him.
Charlie came over well after the sun had set, offering me a cup of coffee. I held it, but didn't drink. He pulled Houghton aside, bending their head together and speaking softly.
"How's she doing?" Charlie asked as I strained to listen.
"She's catatonic. In shock. She needs to go home."
"Yeah, well that's not going to happen." Charlie growled. "The Feds want to take her to the station to interview her."
"What?" Houghton spat, "That's ridiculous! She's given 15 statements since we've been sitting here. What more do they want?"
"Apparently they've had a new witness come forward, she saw a U-haul at the school on the night the body was dumped."
Houghton flashed a glance back to the U-haul that was parked behind us in my driveway. His eyes briefly met mine, I gave an imperceptible shake, I didn't do this.
"What witness?" he asked.
"Mrs Crawford just got back from two weeks with her daughter in New Jersey. She left on the night the body was dumped and saw a U-haul turn into the school at about midnight."
"Mrs Crawford thinks I'm her son. He died twenty years ago." Houghton laughed, "They don't seriously think she's a suspect do they? The coroner said the bones were sawed through, she wouldn't be strong enough to do that on her own."
As they were talking two men in dark suits approached me, they were like something out of men in black.
"Miss Summers," they greeted me with no smile, no sympathetic look like everyone else had been giving me. "We wondered if you might come with us down to the station to answer some more questions."
I took a deep breath, the air around me still smelt like rotting flesh. I stood up, my legs shaky beneath me. Houghton rushed over, I held my hand out to stop him.
"Sure thing," I answered. I was trying my best to look as innocent as possible, but the truth was that I knew why this boy was killed. I might not have killed him, but I was the cause of it nonetheless.
"Detectives, how about I bring her to the station in the morning and we can all have a chat." Charlie said, his voice was non-negotiable but the detectives weren't listening.
"I think we should do this now Chief," the blonde said, swatting him away like a fly. "While it's still fresh in her mind."
I cringed, there wasn't a time when it wasn't going to be fresh in my mind.
"Okay, I'll bring her now." Charlie grumbled, not happy.
"I think its best if you weren't there Chief, all things considering."
All things considering was that he was clearly not impartial to me. It was obvious by the way they stood as a protective wall between me and the detectives, I had noticed that Houghton's hand continued to flick towards his holstered gun - I'm sure the detectives noticed it too.
"It's Okay, Charlie." I said, resting a hand on Houghton's arm. The last thing we needed was a shootout in the street over this. "I'm happy to go."
The detective smiled, cold and calculating. "That's a good girl," he patronised me. "Now, you're welcome to have a lawyer present if you need one."
"No, I don't need a lawyer." I assured him, as he lead me to their car and put me in the back. I looked eyes with Houghton as they drove me away, a feeling of impending doom nestling in my stomach.