19
Leaning against the doorframe in the kitchen Emmett and Rosalie shared, he watched the love of his life pretend she was okay. When he met the beautiful Rosalie Swan eleven months ago, he fell for her instantly. It was the cliché story of bumping into each other, literally, in the library and falling madly, passionately in love at first sight. At least, for him. Rosalie had been guarded, and quiet, but she'd agreed to go on a date with him. And then a second, a third, and a fourth. It had been on their fourth date that she told him about her parents' murders, her kidnapped sister, and he understood why she was so quiet and guarded: she was alone in the world. Even though she had James, she never really let herself love anyone just in case they were taken from her, like her parents and sister had been.
Emmett had understood that fear. When his parents were killed in a car accident, he'd been so angry, bitter even. His mother was the heart of their family, and their father the backbone that kept them all together. Losing them had almost destroyed his family. If he hadn't had Carlisle, Jasper, and Edward . . . Well, mostly Carlisle and Jasper, who knows what he would have done. Edward had been checked out since the day of the accident. He came out of the accident with a broken leg and a shattered heart. He never recovered from losing their parents, never let go of the guilt he felt of their deaths. At least not until he laid eyes on Bella. She was healing him, even if he didn't know he needed healing.
"You about ready?" he asked, causing her to tense as she looked over her shoulder. "I'm worried about you, babe."
"I'm fine," she lied.
"No, you're not." Emmett pushed away from the doorframe and walked over to her, sliding his hands along her hips, wrapping them around her back. "Talk to me."
"I don't know," she whimpered. "I just . . . I want her back so bad, Emmett, but she's not the same little Bella that she was when she was eight years old. You know, she used to follow me around everywhere. Always wanted to play with me and my friends. Used to annoy the crap out of me, but I missed her so much. So fucking much!" She brought her hand up to her lips. "He broke her. He . . . he got her pregnant at thirteen years old, for fuck sakes. How could he do that to her?"
"I don't know, Rosalie. Men like Sam Uley . . . Well, I shouldn't call them men because they ain't men. Real men don't put their hands on little girls in any way. They're scum, lower than scum. They think they can take what they want without consequence, and, sadly, he has been able to up until this point. But Bella, honey, she needs us to love her, to hold her together, to keep her safe."
"But she doesn't want me back. She's afraid of me," Rosalie cried, falling against his chest. "I can't lose her again, Emmett. I can't!"
"And you won't," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "Now, come on. Let's head over there, okay?"
Rosalie nodded and sniffed back her tears as she leaned away. Emmett wanted nothing more than to take her pain away, but he couldn't, because even though Rosalie loved her sister, Bella didn't know Rosalie. The real Rosalie, the woman who suffered in silence for eight years, shut her heart down so she wouldn't get it broken again. He would have to do everything he could to change that, he thought.
Somehow.
Half an hour later, Emmett pulled his jeep up in front of Carlisle and Esme's house. He and Rosalie shared a smile when they saw Edward and Bella on the porch swing together. They climbed out and met in front of the jeep, him wrapping his arm around her as they slowly made the walk up to the front of the house, not wanting to startle her.
Emmett would be lying if he wasn't a little concerned about Edward getting too close to Bella. It was clear to all of them that he cared for the girl, that she was as important to him as he was to her, but was it too important? Edward had a fractured heart, and Bella's soul had been ripped apart. Was it healthy for them to be as close as they were, as fast as they had come to need each other?
"Hey, Bella," Rosalie said, speaking so softly he wasn't sure she would hear her.
But Bella smiled, a beautiful, warm smile that lit her entire face, and looked at Rosalie. "My Rosie."
"Did you sleep okay?" she asked, sitting on the edge of one of the white wicker chairs Esme had put out on the porch when they bought their house.
Bella frowned, before shaking her head. "Couldn't sleep. I . . . I don't like the room. It's too big, too bright."
"Oh, I don't much like sleeping in a big, bright room, either."
"You don't?" she asked.
Rosalie shook her head. "Never have, so you know what Emmett and I did?"
"No."
"We got some black curtains, and we bought a lot of furniture so the room would be darker, and not feel as big," she explained with a laugh. "We made the room perfect for us, and it helped me sleep better at night."
Bella frowned. "Oh."
"Hey, what's wrong?" Rosalie asked, reaching out and placing her hand on Bella's knee.
She looked down at Rosalie's hand before shifting her eyes up, meeting her gaze. "It's just . . . I don't have a room, do I? This isn't my . . . home, is it?"
"No, I guess not," Rosalie admitted, shifting her eyes to Edward before asking, "Bella, where had you been . . . staying . . . before Carlisle almost hit you with his car?"
"He didn't almost hit me," she argued, sitting up straight. "I ran in front of his car!"
"Why?" she asked. "Why would you do that?"
Bella frowned. "I don't know. Just did."
"Where'd you go after? After he got you pancakes, where'd you go?" Emmett asked, pulling one of the wicker chairs over closer and sitting down. "Where did you sleep, honey?"
"Sleep?" she whispered, pulling her knees up against her chest, her eyes darkening and for a moment, Emmett worried that he had pushed her too hard, too fast, but then she said, "In the building with the broken window. He said I had to stay there, but I would sneak out when he would leave me alone."
"Why would you go back if he left you there alone?"
Bella just stared at her. "Because he told me, too."
"But he wasn't there, was he?" she asked. "I mean, he'd leave you alone for a long time, right?"
Bella nodded.
"Then why didn't you leave? Go to the police? Get help?"
"The police?" she asked, frowning. "Why would they help me? I'm nothing, a nobody."
"No, honey, you're definitely a someone, someone important," she insisted. "But I don't understand why didn't you go to the police? Dad always told us that the police were there to help us, remember?"
Bella shook her head. "They never helped," she whispered. "Even when they came by, after . . . after he first took me away. When we lived in the house by the water, they came by, and I tried to get them to help, but they didn't. That's why we had to leave, why we ended up inside the building. He said they got too close. He blamed her, said she was drawing too much attention to us. That's why we had to leave."
"Her?" Rosalie asked, a look of horror springing up on her face. "He had another girl?"
Bella slowly nodded. "She wasn't a good girl, either, though. She cried all the time. Used to scream for him to stop, for him to leave us alone. And then the police came to the house, said she had stolen some food from the store. He told them he would pay for it, and they left, but . . . but then she was gone, and we had to leave. We didn't stay in one place for very long. Said it was too dangerous."
"Where'd she go?" Emmett asked, knowing what she was going to say even before she said it. "Honey, you said she had gone, but where had she gone?"
Bella shifted her eyes to Edward, who gave her a subtle nod before she whispered, "He killed her."
The silence that followed her statement was thick, tense. It wasn't until the sound of Beth crying trickled out of the house and Bella smiled and scrambled to her feet, hurrying inside that they were able to take a breath. Edward moved to followed, but Emmett put his hand up, stopping him.
"Go help her, Rosalie," he whispered.
She tried to smile before she followed her little sister inside, leaving just Emmett and Edward on the porch.
Emmett dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Jasper's name under his text messages, sending him a quick, '911, got more info. Call A.S.A.P.' before shoving his phone back into his pocket, and turned back to Edward, who was watching the front door with an intensity that worried him. "Sorry, man, she just needs to be the one helping her a while."
"Yeah, I guess so," he whispered.
"You okay, Edward?"
"Of course I am," he lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"The same reason none of us are all right, man." Emmett reached out and placed his hand on Edward's knee. "That girl has all of us second thinking our lives, Edward. But I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine," he said, again.
"You haven't been fine in three years, Edward."
Edward clenched his jaw tight and looked back toward the door. "Mom and Dad would be helping her, too. Mom would be shoving pancakes into her all day, and Dad would be out hunting this son-of-a-bitch."
"Yeah, they would," Emmett agreed. "But we're all trying to help her, Edward. All of us. It can't just be you, or Carlisle."
Edward's lips trembled as he looked back at Emmett. "I couldn't save them, Emmett, so I need to save her. I have to save her."
"We will save her," he said, shifting over and sitting on the porch swing with him. "Together, we will save her, and help you, too."
—SfH—
Jasper felt violently ill as he put the lid back on the box and tucked it under his arm. When he walked into living room, he found Garrett standing next to the front door with Newton and Crowley.
"Why would the Tribal Council cover for Sam Uley?" Jasper demanded.
"How would we know? We're not from the reservation," Newton blabbered.
"I don't give a fucking shit," Jasper snarled. "You've lived fifteen minutes from there for how long? Hmm? Sam Uley brutalized Leah and Emily for years! Years!"
"We didn't know," Crowley lamented.
"How could you not?" Jasper asked, shaking his head. "Leah, Emily, Bella? Those were your girls, and you failed to keep them safe."
"You think we don't know that?" Newton asked, his lips trembling. "The Swan murders, Cullen? That was my first murder case, my first missing girl. My only ones, actually, and they've haunted me every goddamn day for the last eight years. You stand there and act like we haven't looked for that girl, that we hadn't tracked down every fucking lead that came to us, but guess what? There weren't many!"
"Bella Swan belonged to all of us, Cullen," Crowley added. "She was one of ours, and we had to stand there and tell a twelve year old little girl that not only had her parents been viciously murdered, but that her little sister had been stolen and we didn't have a damn clue to go on. We stood there and watched as Rosalie Swan lost everything and there was nothing we could do."
Jasper took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . I know you didn't . . ."
"Look, gentlemen," Garrett said, putting his hands up and stepping between Jasper and them, "Let's not lose our focus here, and that's finding Sam Uley before he finds the Swan girl, okay?" He turned and looked at Jasper. "Now, what's in the box, Cullen?"
Jasper shifted the box so that he was holding it in front of him and once again pried off the lid. "He never let that girl have a moment to heal. He was always there, always reminding her that he wanted her, that he, in his sick and twisted mind, owned her. Emily Young killed herself because that's the only way she could free herself from him."
"Jesus Christ." Garrett reached out and picked up one of the pictures. This one of Emily on the front porch of the very house they stood in. It looked like she had just gotten home. Even in the picture there was sadness in her eyes. He turned the picture over. "This was dated last week."
"If he knew where she was every minute of the day, Cullen," Garrett said, shifting his eyes from the picture to Jasper, "how can you be sure he doesn't know where you're holding the Swan girl?"
In that moment his phone vibrated with a new text. Jasper shoved the box of pictures into his hands digging his phone from his pocket. A message form Emmett: '911, got more info. Call A.S.A.P.'
"Gotta go Cap," he murmured, giving Garrett a look before hurrying out of the house. He had barely taken a step onto the porch when he saw him sitting in a zippy little sports car across the street, his dark eyes locked directly on Emily's house and a creepy smile covering his lips. Sam Uley was watching them.
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