A/N… Thank you all for the big response on this fic. And thank you to the few of you that verified that there is county drug rehab programs in Washington! I'm glad. I'll let Detective Masen do what he does best…

~oOo~

Chapter 3

EDWARD

"There he is," Aunt Esme said when she answered the phone as I drove across town to Inferno.

"Hey, I would've called sooner, but it's been a little hectic," I explained needlessly.

"I'm sure, sweetheart. Did you get moved okay?"

I smiled because that's what Aunt Esme did – she just loved so effortlessly.

"I did, though Tanya is helping me unpack because I got called into work. In fact, I'm on my way to meet my partner."

"That Garrett is fantastic. He's so funny. Well, you two be careful. And if there's anything you need for that new place, call me. I'll see what I can do," she urged me.

"I'm sure I'm okay, but I promise. Tell Uncle Carlisle I said hello. I'll call you in the next day or so," I said awkwardly, because as much as what Tanya said about them was true – they truly loved me – moving in with them at fifteen had been a fucking nightmare. Not because of anything they did but the event that led up to it.

I shook my head to clear it. I couldn't focus on the past. I didn't have time because I was pulling up to Inferno.

By the light of day – midafternoon – the place looked rather harmless. A little dingy and rundown, but harmless, nonetheless. However, at night, the place was a disturbing show of nefarious activity – drugs, prostitution and, rumor had it, human trafficking. How the doors were still open was beyond me, but no charges ever stuck. James Hunt was a slippery fucker.

I parked next to Garrett, who was on a video call with Kate.

"Here! Edward, tell her. We're here on police business," he said, shoving the phone in my face.

"Hey, Kate," I said, rolling my eyes. "I promise you, this isn't where I'd choose to spend my afternoon."

She huffed a little but smirked my way. "Can you just…" She waved a hand toward me. "Just keep him out of trouble."

Grinning, I nodded. "I'll do my best."

Garrett pulled the phone back, saying, "See?" He beamed her way, pouring on the charm that he really only used on her. "You're the only stripper I need."

I snorted, shaking my head at her laughter. When the call was over, I looked to him. "Ready for this shit?"

"Fuck no," he replied, scrolling through his phone and holding up the picture of what looked to be a rather expensive yet gaudy men's bracelet. The clasp was broken on one end, and the other was stretched and ripped.

"That would've left a mark," I muttered, raising an eyebrow his way.

"Mm, I think so too."

"They get DNA off it?"

"Yeah, they're running it through the system now. Don't hold your breath. But we're here to see when Maria was here last, so let's go," he said, pocketing his phone.

The place was busier inside than I'd expected, but they were about to cater to the after-work crowd. My eyes adjusted to the darker lighting once inside, and I scanned the large room. To the far right was the raised stage. Two girls were working the four men sitting on stools at their feet. Just to the left of that area were small two-chair tables, most of which were empty, except one guy sipping what looked to be a soda, his eyes creepily locked on to the stage.

Seattle didn't allow alcohol or food in strip clubs, but most were set up next to or across the street from a legit bar. It was symbiotic relationship, and in this case, they were both owned by the same guy – Hunt.

Straight ahead were the darker, sectioned-off areas for lap dances or whatever else they could get. Those booths were empty.

A young girl with curly brunette hair stepped up to us, saying, "Hey there. I'm Angel. The cover is forty."

Garrett held up his badge, and the poor girl paled. "Who's runnin' the show right now?"

"Mikey Newton. He's in Nomad's, next door." She pointed to the side door.

Angel was wearing very little – a thin-strapped tank top, cut low and revealing, and tiny cut-off jean shorts. For a brief moment, Bella Swan came to mind. And the mere idea of her wearing what Angel had on made my palms sweaty. Forcing my attention on the task at hand, I stopped Garrett before he could head next door to the bar.

"Question, Angel," I started, pulling out the driver's license photo of Maria. "You know Maria Navarro?"

"Everyone knows Maria," she stated a bit sarcastically, and I raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, it's fucking true." She said that in a mumble, shrugging a shoulder and smirking when Garrett huffed a laugh.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Garrett asked.

"Oh, a few days. She comes and goes as she pleases, but she's one of the big-name dancers at night," Angel replied.

"Did she have any problems with anyone here?" I asked her.

Angel laughed. "Yeah. Like everyone. The other dancers are jealous, the bouncers have to pry men off her, and she's always fucking wasted."

"What about you? You have issues with her?"

"Nah, I don't care one way or the other. She gets me good tips when I work the floor the nights she's on stage, but whatever she does on her own time…" She trailed off, glancing between us, and I could see her finally put it together. "What happened to her?"

"She was found dead in the park on First couple days ago."

Angel's brow furrowed, and she shook her head. "Look, I just work here to pay my bills. They don't fuck with me because I'm not into anything other than doing my job and going home. But there are a few that get into all sorts of shit. Maria, she owed money to some people for drugs or something."

"Who did she owe money?" I countered.

"If you borrow from anyone, it would be through James. If you can't pay it back, he takes it out in other ways," she whispered, grimacing a little at the thought. "I honestly try to stay far away from it. I'm just trying to get through school."

Again, Bella came to mind, because she had basically said the same thing. She'd needed the money, but she needed out of Inferno because of the shady shit that went on behind the scenes.

"What's your real name?" I asked her.

She smirked. "Angela Weber. But Angel gets me better tips."

"Fair enough. Thank you," I told her, looking to Garrett and jerking my chin toward Nomad's.

The bar was a tad bit brighter than the club. Soft music was being pumped out of speakers behind the bar. The bartender was dressed similarly to Angel – shorts, revealing top – with bright-pink hair in braids.

"Good God," Garrett muttered. "Men are so easily swayed with this young girl bullshit. She's pushing thirty, or I'm not standing in front of you."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, but I didn't answer him. Guys could definitely be cavemen. The goal of these places was money – lots of fucking money – and nothing could sell better than sex. Young, pretty girls drew money in like flies to shit.

There were a few men sitting alone scattered around the bar. The booths that lined the far wall opposite the club had patrons in them, and the far back table was full.

"Hello, boys," the girl with the pink braids greeted in a sultry tone, and it took all I had not to roll my eyes. "I'm Tori. What can I get ya?"

"We're looking for Mikey Newton," Garrett told her, and she jerked a thumb toward the full table at the back of the room.

The table was laden with beers and food, and four men sat around it, laughing and joking. Garrett stepped up to the table, and the men went quiet, eyeing him like he was trouble.

"The fuck you want?" a skinny guy asked. He had light-brown hair with paid-for highlights, and he was wearing a watch that probably cost more than my truck.

The three men with him were huge. Two had tan skin and black hair – most likely Native American. The other was a black man with long dreadlocks.

Garrett, who had little to no shame, pulled out his badge again. "Lookin' for someone named Newton."

All heads at the table spun to the white guy with the highlights. Newton paled, but I glanced around the table. The guy with the dreads picked up a fry and shoved it into his mouth, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that the police were in the bar. The other two were glancing between us like they were watching a tennis match.

"Yo, Mikey, need me to get—"

"No, Jake. Shut the fuck up."

Jake looked thoroughly chastised, but he stayed quiet, shooting us an angry glare. However, it was the side glance Newton gave the black guy that made me pay attention as Garrett started to ask questions about Maria.

"When was the last time you saw Maria Navarro?" he asked them, and my eyes raked over the lot of them.

The black guy rolled his eyes, but he also eyed the swinging kitchen door. Jake was continuing his meal in silence, though with a slight shake to his hands, and the last man was narrowing his eyes at Newton.

"Oh, hell. I don't know. Probably a few nights ago. She had a knock-down, drag-out fight with one of the men paying for a lap dance. He wanted to touch, and that's a big no-no." Newton turned to the other tanned man. "Pauly, when was the last time you saw her?"

Pauly shrugged, his face passive, but the beads of sweat on his forehead were giving away his nerves. And I smiled when around his neck I saw a thick gold chain, and in the middle of his chest there was a large diamond-filled charm in the shape of a howling wolf. Pauly went to pick up his mug of beer, and around his wrist was a glaringly white bandage.

"What happened to you?" I asked Pauly.

"Attempted suicide," he stated without much emotion.

Grinning at Garrett's snort, I looked back at Pauly. "Looks like you're feeling happy again," I pointed out, but I silently asked for Garrett's phone. "Recognize this?" I held out the picture of the broken bracelet, which was almost a perfect match to the chain around his neck.

"Nope."

Before I could ask another question, Pauly launched himself out of the chair and through the swinging kitchen doors.

"Fuck me," I grumbled, taking off after him.

Pauly pulled pots and pans and rolling garbage bins down to stop me, but I leaped over them just as he slammed out the back door that spilled out into a back alley. He took a left, practically knocking over a few employees outside smoking. We were at a full run, and I was catching up until he took another turn.

The next alley led out to a fairly busy street, and Pauly barely managed to get across without getting rammed by a garbage truck. I took advantage of the stopped truck to follow into the next alleyway. The scent of garbage and piss and vomit filled my nose, making me want to gag, but I pushed harder because up ahead was a chain link gate. Pauly jumped, grasping the fencing and starting to climb, and I slammed into him to make him lose his grip.

He kicked wildly, catching my temple, and my vision blurred a little, but not enough to make me let go.

"Let go, or this'll be worse for you," I told him, pulling at him until he fell to the ground. I pulled my 9mm, pointing it at him. "If you move, I'll shoot you."

"You can't—"

"Who you gonna tell?" I asked him, turning him over to cuff him. "Don't ever play fucking poker, asshole. Your face gives you away."

Once he was secure, I pulled out my phone, dialing dispatch. "This is Detective Masen, badge number 8501, requesting assistance." I rattled off my location and hung up just as Garrett called me.

"Tell me you caught him."

"Yeah, I just called for a uniform to tote his ass to the station."

"Ten-four. I'll come to you."

"I didn't do nothin'!" Paul snapped from his curled-up position in the alley.

Rolling my eyes, I looked to him. "You have the right to shut the fuck up."

~oOo~

"Jesus, Masen. You okay?" I heard behind me as I watched Pauly fidget nervously in Interrogation Room 2.

"Yeah, Chief, I'm fine."

Chief Banner was a good man, easy to work with. He was older, with dark hair that was graying at the temples. He grasped my face, eyeing the split above my eyebrow as I pulled the paper towel away from my brow to see that the bleeding had slowed down.

"Lucky hit," I stated, smirking when he chuckled. "You gonna tack on assault on a police officer?"

"Maybe. But you're gonna have a helluva headache tomorrow." He pointed to Pauly. "He our guy?"

"He was most likely there when the vic was killed. There were more than one set of shoe prints at that park. That wound on his wrist matches the broken jewelry found in her hand. The lab is running a DNA match right now. We were waiting on them before we went in. Whether he was alone or acted alone is the question."

"Well, we now have enough for a warrant to search his place and to hold him as a 'person of interest.'"

Nodding, I glanced up when Garrett walked up, holding up a file folder. "Huh. What do ya know? DNA matches." He grinned, patting my shoulder. "Clearly I'm the good cop in this scenario, since you threatened to shoot his ass and all. I'll go first."

I waved him on because he was enjoying this way too much.

"Did you?" Banner asked in a highly amused tone.

I shrugged but nodded. "I may have warned him after he kicked me in the fucking face."

"Jesus, Masen." He cracked up.

Pauly was legally Paul Lahote from the Quileute reservation a few hours west of Seattle. He had a long list of priors – domestic violence, possession, battery, assault. He'd done time for petty shit. His job title at Inferno boiled down to bouncer and security. Currently, he was on probation for the possession charge, so no matter what, he was staying in jail when we were done questioning him.

"Oh, Pauly," Garrett sang sadly with a deep sigh. "You're in some seriously deep shit, buddy." He slapped down the folder onto the table and took a seat across from him. "Not only did running make you look so, so guilty, but we have your DNA on a bracelet found in Maria Navarro's cold, dead hand. A bracelet that kinda, sorta matches the chain you were wearing."

"Bitch stole that from me. I haven't seen her in days."

"Oh, now, don't lie. We know you were there."

"I didn't kill that bitch," Paul growled, leaning forward. "She stole that from me."

"Yet you didn't file a report."

Paul scoffed. "Why the fuck would I do that? It wouldn't do any good. Cops aren't exactly my favorite people. But I woulda got it back eventually."

"How's that?"

He smiled wolfishly, shrugging a bit. "She'd have come to me for…other stuff."

"Other stuff," Garrett repeated.

"Yeah, yeah… Her man's doin' time, so she needs lovin' from somewhere."

"Ah hell," I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. "Whitlock."

"You know 'im?" Banner asked me.

"Yeah, he was my last sting before coming over to Homicide." I turned to face him. "Inferno is riddled with drugs and underground bullshit. I only stopped one dealer. There's plenty more left in there, like a fucking infestation."

Banner glanced up when Paul slapped the table, saying, "I want a lawyer."

Garrett gathered up his file and exited the interrogation room. When he joined us, he said, "Oh, he was there, but I'm willing to bet he'll never squeal on who actually killed our vic."

"You might be right," Banner said, waving a hand toward the two-way mirror. "Get him his lawyer and then process him. He's violated his probation, so he's going to jail no matter what." He turned to me. "You. Go home, ice that head, and take the weekend. We'll start fresh on Monday, see if we can't narrow down just how many at Inferno had a part in killing that girl."

"Sir."

~oOo~

BELLA

I'd just set the alarm and locked the door to Common Ground when I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around to see Detective Masen checking his mail in the building foyer.

What made me gasp was that his dress shirt, tie, and suit jacket were spattered with blood, and it all seemed to have come from a split just above his heavy brow.

He turned to face me, giving me a weary smile. "Bella," he said through a heavy sigh.

"Are you okay?" I asked, simply because he didn't look it.

He nodded, starting for the stairs, but he stopped and faced me. "I… I owe you an apology, Bella. About before… I don't think you're less than anything. I'm sorry if that's how I came across."

I studied his face, and he looked sincere. "Thank you for saying that."

He started for the stairs again, but I stopped him. "Come with me," I stated, passing him by on the steps. "Let's clean that up." When he didn't move, I waved him up. "Come on."

He looked too tired to argue, so he followed behind me silently up to the second floor. I unlocked my door, holding it open until he stepped inside.

Pointing to the kitchen table, I said, "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

I walked to my bathroom for the first aid kit I kept underneath the sink. I'd cleaned up more split lips, busted knuckles, and black eyes than I'd care to admit. Jasper was always in some trouble or scuffle or whatever.

I came back to the kitchen to see Masen gazing around my apartment, but he started a little when a blur of black fur darted up onto the table to look him in the eye.

"Hello," he greeted my cat, and for the first time, he made me smile, because that was delivered way gentler than I'd expected. Even better when he reached out to pet him.

"Sid, get off the table," I said, nudging my solid black cat until he jumped down to the chair opposite Masen.

"Okay, Detective, who did you piss off this much?" I asked, opening the first aid kit.

"Please, just…Edward."

Glancing up, I met his gaze. Those green eyes were warm and tired, and despite the cut above his eye, he had an unbelievably handsome face. He also seemed braced for whatever attitude I tended to throw his way.

"Okay, Edward. Who whooped your ass?"

"A suspect got in a lucky kick."

My eyebrows shot up, but I focused on the gauze and peroxide to clean the wound. I stood next to him, dabbing the cut and pausing when he hissed a little.

"You probably need stitches."

"No, I'm okay."

"It'll scar."

He grinned, chuckling a little. "I'll live, Bella. Thank you."

Edward's smile was disarming in its beauty. His whole face transformed. It was powerful, causing those green eyes to crinkle and his head to tilt a little. It caused a lock of his unruly hair to spill to the middle of his forehead. I gently brushed it out of the way so I could continue to clean him up. But for a second or two, I was stunned stupid by that gorgeous smile.

"I may have some butterfly bandages. I'll look."

I finished flushing the wound, and I rummaged around in my kit, finding the last few butterflies. "Aha!" I held them up. "This may keep the scar smaller, at least."

He didn't say anything, just let me finish the task at hand. When I was done, I walked to the freezer and pulled out a small gel ice pack.

"Here. This will help with the swelling." He started to argue, and I added, "I know where you live, Edward, so just give it back when you're done."

Again, the smile that curled up his face was simply stunning. He reached over to run a gentle hand over Sid's head and then scratched beneath his chin.

"It's my turn for an apology and a thank-you." Edward faced back my way, and I added, "I'm sorry for giving you shit. It's not you. It's me."

He chuckled. "Sounds like a breakup."

Snorting, I shrugged. "No, I just… I think I've tried to keep Jasper on the straight and narrow my whole life, so it's just pure habit to defend him. And I aimed that at you when I should've probably aimed it at him. And for that I'm sorry, but I need to thank you for putting in a word at KCC, because they moved him into the rehab dorm today."

"How'd you know I said something?"

"Your name was on the paperwork."

He looked genuinely shocked at that piece of information, but he stroked Sid, who was purring like a motorcycle, one more time. "My mom had a cat when I was a young boy. A Siamese named Sam. He slept in my room."

"That's Obsidian. Sid for short."

"Good name." Something not dark but heartbreakingly sad crossed his features, and he stood up from my table. "I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry the system is fucked up."

I laughed. "Fucked up, backed up…whatever works."

"Exactly."

He started for the door, but I had one more question.

"Did you catch them?" I asked, gesturing to his head.

Glancing down at his feet, he nodded. "Yes, but we don't think he worked alone."

"You mean Maria?"

"Yeah." He sighed deeply. "That place… Inferno… I'm glad you got away from there, Bella. Just stay away from it. It's a—"

"A hot mess. Yeah, I'm aware. Who'd you arrest?"

"A bouncer named Pauly."

Wrinkling my nose, I nodded. "All the bouncers are basically James's do-boys, the leg-breakers. Enforcement. It's where Jasper started. He got me the job serving because I needed the money. Mikey, Laurent, and…" I sneered, shaking my head. "Jake. They've all got their hands in everything that goes down there. James has a relative at City Hall or some shit. He will never get caught."

"Yes, he will. Men like James have egos the size of mountains, so eventually they get comfortable, which leads to mistakes," Edward answered smoothly, if not a bit threateningly.

"I hope you're right, but he's still dangerous. They all are."

"Maybe. But so am I." That wasn't delivered with an ego or a threat. It sounded like a stated fact, something he'd learned to live with for a long time. "How'd you…" He trailed off, waving it away and reaching for the door.

"How'd I what? Go from working for tips to owning this building?"

He shook his head. "It's none of my business, Bella. Forget I asked."

"Are you asking as my new neighbor? Or as Detective Masen, who's investigating the murder of my brother's ex?"

He barked a laugh. "Just Edward the neighbor."

"It's a long story, Edward the neighbor," I teased a little, because this was a different side to the cop I thought I knew, and I liked this side. "When you have time for coffee, come down to the shop and I'll tell you."

"Fair enough." He held up the gel pack. "Thanks again. I'll return this when I'm done."

"No worries." I let him out, locking the door behind him and turning to face Sid, who was back on the table. "Seriously, Sid? Get down off that table." He merely sat down, wrapping his inky black tail around his feet. "You're judging me, right? I feel I'm being judged."

I leaned back against the door, realizing I forgot to ask Edward why he'd put a word in at the jail. Pushing off the door, I scooped Sid up.

"Off the table," I growled into his neck, and he merely purred and rubbed my face with his. "And stop judging me."

~oOo~

A/N… Now you've met Sid, who is your typical judgy, I-do-what-I-want, mini black panther. I want a Sid. Not even joking. LOL I also kinda want a T-shirt that says, "You have the right to shut the fuck up." Because that is a useful sentence.

Anyway, a bit more on the case and a smidge improvement between Edward and Bella.

Okay, so see you Sunday for When Angels Fall, if you're reading that too, and next Tuesday for this one. Until then… Mooches, Deb ;)