First of all, I apologize for taking so long to respond to your kind comments, but school has been taking up most of my time. In fact, the chapter was finished last Friday, but I was unable to post it due to lack of time.
I have already replied to the two comments that have a fanfiction account, and for the two guests who also left their comments, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your kind words, and I hope you will enjoy the following chapters.
This new chapter has a slight time jump of a few months.
The reason for this is that the conversation Isabella has with Charlie the next day will be revealed later in the story, as it has a great impact on the plot.
Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this new update.
Regards.
The beginning of the end
"Forks Police Department, one moment please," I answer the phone in a monotone, automatic voice that I have perfected in the three months I have been working at the station. I open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out a notebook and pen. "How may I help you?" I ask politely, ready to take notes.
Most calls to the police station are for really trivial things. Some vandals defaced the school, someone didn't respect property boundaries and invaded someone else's yard, someone's dog is making too much noise, some driver broke the speed limit or ran a red light, and so on and so on. The calls, far from annoying me, cause me infinite grace that almost always brightens the gray clouds that still darken my mind.
The cops in the department don't understand at all how those little things make me smile, for while they knew me a little in those first few weeks I arrived in town, I didn't converse with any of them until I went to work as a sheriff's secretary, and none of them saw me at my lowest point when I was listless and almost in a state of malnutrition.
Just thinking about those first few weeks in Forks makes me shudder as I remember that eternal void of loneliness that I couldn't get rid of.
Once again, I have to thank the universe for that e-mail Charlie sent me.
I turn my mind back to the call and what they tell me over the phone makes me smile helplessly. This time, a hiker has spotted a giant russet-colored bear that sped across the road and caused him to swerve so badly he nearly hit a tree. What follows is clearly a lie, in my opinion, since bears are not as big as the one, he is describing in the first place, and certainly no wild animal would have stayed and waited for him to be okay before disappearing into the brush.
"Yes, I understand," I say when the hiker finishes his story and asks me to give the case top priority because, in his words, we could not let a wild animal of that size be on the loose. "I will pass the report to the chief of police as soon as he gets here."
The hiker thanks me and hangs up.
I remove the note from the notebook and pin it to the pending case board, which is currently empty.
I lean back in the comfortable chair that the police officers kindly gave me when I started working at the police station and I begin to enjoy my small breakfast, a small fruit cocktail courtesy of Gaby.
"Good morning, Isabella. Anything important on the agenda?" asks the police chief in a casual tone, entering the office with long strides.
"Just a call from a hiker who saw a huge bear, boss," I reply without stopping eating my fruit and playing it down. "I'll pass on the report in a moment." I nearly let him leave, then remember the message on the answering machine when I got to the office. "Also the coroner left a message for you. He asked you to call him back as soon as possible. " I watch his face carefully for any kind of a reaction.
"Okay," is his terse reply, and he continues into his office without another glance at me.
I groan in frustration.
At one point in my life, more specifically four months ago when I was still neck-deep in my depression, I would never have believed that anyone would be as curt as I was when engaging in conversation with another person. But Police Chief Evan Hale has proved me completely wrong.
Tall, dark-skinned, with hair as black as night and with a musculature that would be envied by an action movie star, he is the most curt and taciturn person I have ever met in my entire life. Even in our brief introduction, he showed no sign of emotion or displeasure on his grim face and might have annoyed me if I hadn't looked him in the eye.
He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.
An almost glowing electric blue, his eyes create a beautiful contrast with his dark hair and the few times I have seen him smile, I feel my insides churn in my stomach as I watch those blue eyes fill with a bright warmth.
It's just physical attraction, I tell myself, trying vainly to convince myself that those annoying reactions aren't a sign of any other kind of interest I might have in that imposing policeman. Besides, I'm not interested in that kind of relationship with anyone.
I mainly blame it on the fact that my first and only relationship with a guy had not ended on the best terms, to put it mildly.
It's so cliché that to this day I still beat myself over the head for having allowed that relationship to last so long, one year to be precise, although it felt like ten, and more than anything else to have shared so many experiences with that good-for-nothing man.
Being the number one nerd in school, I was completely floored when the most popular guy in school, none other than Nick Thompson, the star and captain of the soccer team, had asked me to go with him as his date to the prom. Obviously, I said yes, elated and extremely happy.
My parents bought me a beautiful pale blue dress that matched my brown hair and blue eyes perfectly, and I spent the whole day doing a complete makeover, from a bookworm to a confident, self-assured girl. The look I received from Nick sent my ego through the roof, for while my friends at school had told me I was pretty, no boy had ever looked at me with that burning gaze of desire and wonder.
The date was everything I had dreamed about and hoped for so long. He had even splashed out on renting a limousine, although we shared it with his friends, but in general, everything was magical. From slow dancing with dozens of people watching, to when he walked me to the door of my house and gave me a tender goodnight kiss, just like they did in books and cheesy movies.
I was living the dream of first love until reality set in.
The biggest obstacle was my inexperience, obviously. I had never had a boyfriend, or even a date, so I had no basis for what a romantic relationship between two people should be like. My friends were of little use since they knew as much as I did about relationships; we people in my inner circle had simply devoted ourselves entirely to our studies and had ignored the finer points of relating to other people beyond academia.
In retrospect, I think that from the moment Nick realized how clueless I was when it came to dating, he began to manipulate me and control every moment of my life. From deciding which people I could have contact with at Caltech when I started my studies, to dictating what time I had to be at my apartment after classes were over.
Naïve as I was, I thought he was only doing it because he cared about me, although my mother had noticed certain behaviors she didn't like about Nick and had told me that my relationship with him was not healthy, but naturally I didn't listen to her.
The stark reality set in when Nick arrived by surprise to visit me on a weekend in Pasadena.
That day I had arranged to study with a classmate of mine. An exercise that the professor had given us had been difficult, and I offered to go over it with him in my apartment for peace of mind, which he gladly accepted. We spent the entire afternoon studying and solving the problem and just as we had finally finished, the front door opened and in walked Nick, whose face darkened when he saw me with another boy.
All hell broke loose, and it was like I was seeing someone else. That couldn't be Nick, the one who gave me my first kiss, took me on my first date, took me to the movies and with whom I had my first time. That Nick was ranting furiously and making death threats to my frightened study partner, who fled from my apartment as fast as he could.
I remember trying to stop Nick, but all I got was a big punch in the face and then I fell face first to the ground, my head spinning and a tight feeling in my chest as the gravity of the situation sank in. I followed Nick with my eyes, blurred by the pain, and the only thing I could see was when he suddenly vanished, almost flying out of the entrance to crash against the wall on the other side of the hallway. In the distance, I managed to distinguish the tall silhouette of someone else, but I was never sure who it was, and by the time I got my wits about me, they were gone.
Nick, in his haste to chase the other boy, tripped over the entrance mat and hit the wall hard, breaking his wrist in the process. That was the version told by a neighbor who allegedly saw the scene.
But I have always been pretty sure that someone else intervened and gave my ex-boyfriend those fractures. And Nick also said the same thing in his statement to the police, although the lack of evidence of what happened and my reluctance to back up his statement made his testimony invalid. I was able to press charges and have him prosecuted for deliberate assault, but I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible and only asked for a restraining order, much to the anger of my parents, who thought the law should be tougher on him after what he put me through.
AS much as I appreciated their concern, I ignored them and simply let it go, choosing to take the whole saga with Nick as a learning experience and a valuable lesson not to let anyone ever control me like he did again.
"Dwyer, I'm talking to you!" A scream interrupts my memories, making me jump like a cat, knocking over my fruit in the process. A rare mumbled curse slips out as the juice makes a mess all over my desk.
Loud laughter echoes through the office and I scowl at the person who scared the hell out of me.
"I hate you," I mumble through my teeth as I wipe my desk and the nearby floor with a napkin.
"You love me, girl," contradicts Vanessa, still teasing me.
I've never met anyone louder or more prone to play pranks than Officer Vanessa Smith, whose Cheshire cat grin makes her look even more mischievous than she already is. Standing just over 5 feet tall, her deceptively small and slender figure keeps many from taking her seriously as a defender of order, but a month ago I saw her subdue a big, drunken troublemaker at the local bar with a headlock that would have been the envy of any professional wrestler.
When she told me later that night that she had been in Jiujitsu classes since she was a child, my respect for her grew to even greater heights, coupled with a great admiration for her dedication and discipline to herself as she continued to practice the martial art on her days off in Portland.
Although that didn't take away from the fact that she got on my nerves every time she managed to scare me in my moments of musing.
"If the boss scolds me for throwing food on the floor again, I'm blaming you," I growl as I try to clean up as much of the mess I made as possible.
"Oh, come on. It's not that big of a deal," says Vanessa, downplaying my annoyance as usual and sitting casually in my desk.
"Don't you have anyone else to bother?" I ask her with annoyance.
"Ferguson and Brown haven't arrived, Johnson asked for the day off and the boss..." Vanessa shudders theatrically. "The boss is the boss. I wouldn't mess with him," she finishes firmly, something I agree with.
"Coward," I sneer at her, unable to resist the jibe.
She shrugs and removes herself from my desk.
"I need to finish my report from last week's crash," Vanessa says as she sat down at her desk, her mood shifting to glum frustration. "And I can't remember where the hell I left the damn statements." She mumbles the last part through her teeth, rifling through the mess of paper on her desk.
" I already turned in and filed that report two days ago, Vanessa" I inform her in an expeditious tone. "The report you have pending is the witness statements from those campers who found the body in the Calawah River two days ago." I shudder at the same time as I remind her.
Vanessa looks just as uncomfortable and a shadow of uncertainty crosses her face.
"The coroner wants to talk to the chief today," I say quietly, and her eyes go wide in surprise. "He left a message on the answering machine when I arrived."
"Why hadn't you told me?" she asks in a hiss, annoyed but clearly not wanting the chief to hear us arguing – again.
"I don't want to meddle in this case anymore," I confessed.
The truth is that the little I had seen in the report that the chief brought when he went to investigate the case was more than enough to send a shiver through my whole being, because some instinct in me was screaming that something was not right about a body bled to death with a horrible wound in the neck. Even afterwards, I regretted the brief research I had done in the police station files the day before that caused me to not want to know anything more about that murder. Since I was almost certain that it was a murder.
Despite what the chief and Johnson had said when they found the body, noting in the log that they had found a large wound in the victim's neck that could only have been caused by an animal given its violence, none of them believed that any beast could wait patiently for the body to bleed out and also not eat the corpse.
Only two days have passed since the discovery and everyone at the police station is on edge about any information even remotely related.
"Damn it," Vanessa bursts out in frustration. "The only interesting case around here in months, and I miss it because of some stupid teenagers who vandalized the mayor's office."
"I have a feeling this is more serious than it looks," I half-whisper and she leans closer to me, noticing the conspiratorial tone in my voice. "I went through the precinct files yesterday and came across several reports that matched the description of our body. There were 7 bodies that were found around Forks and another 10 more in the surrounding towns near Seattle and Olympia that matched the description of the one the chief found in the river." I keep my voice low, glancing toward the chief's door in case he heard us.
Vanessa looks at me in true amazement. "Damn," she curses under her breath.
"The dates are between 2005 and 2007," I continue my story quietly, dropping to a whisper as I go on so Vanessa is practically on top of me again as she strains to hear. "But you don't know what the scariest thing about this case is. The files we have here are almost all physical, I still have many to upload to the system, and you'd that in big cities all files of this type should already have been in the police's database for years, but when I wanted to look for the digital file with the serial number, it looks like the file doesn't exist. I thought it was a coincidence, but none of the 10 findings are documented or filed in any police database, which makes me think that someone is making a great effort to make sure that this does not come to light." I finish with a note of alarm in my voice.
"Maybe it's a cult!" whispers Vanessa, just as alarmed as I am. "Or it could be..." But she is interrupted before she can finish her theory.
"Or maybe there are a couple of gossipy gossips who are sticking their noses where they're not wanted." The boss's deep voice makes us both let out a scream of fear and almost topple off our chairs.
Evan Hale is towering over us with that grim, serious look on his face, only this time he has a raised eyebrow and is looking at us with annoyance.
We didn't even hear him leave his office.
We quickly stand up, both our faces on fire with embarrassment at having been discovered, and mumble hurried apologies. Vanessa gives me a look of apprehension, as if waiting for me to say something to ease the tension, and just as I'm about to do just that, the boss fixes me with those hypnotic blue eyes and decide I'd better keep quiet.
"It seems to me that I was quite clear on Monday that there would be no talk about what was found in the river," says the chief, his stern voice laden with annoyance. "No comments, no gossip, no whispers and no theories either." His voice is getting colder and colder and I'm cringing at every word; out of the corner of my eye, I see Vanessa doing the same.
"And what is the first thing my staff decide to do?" Evan asks rhetorically, answering himself immediately. "They do everything I told them not to do, and they don't even have the delicacy to wait for me to leave before disobeying me." His eyes are glittering with fury now.
"I'm sorry," Vanessa and I say at the same time in hushed tones.
The boss just looks at us sternly and then shakes his head in resignation.
"Ferguson and Brown should be here any minute," he comments suddenly, and we exchange quizzical looks at the change of subject. "When they arrive, show them into the boardroom. You should be there too." It's an order, and thankfully in his usual more measured tone.
"Yes, sir," Vanessa and I reply like soldiers.
The boss just snorts and goes back to his office.
"Fuck, now we really pissed him off," Vanessa says grimly, and I can only nod.
Ferguson and Brown arrive at that precise moment and instantly spot our guilty looks; after some prodding, Vanessa tells them what happened, including the scolding, which earns us a mocking look from both officers.
I take the time to fetch some donuts from the break room to bring into the meeting, feeling the hunger from my interrupted breakfast beginning to set in and knowing it will be appreciated. Sure enough, I get several thanks, especially when I reveal I've also made coffee.
"Turn off the light, please, Isabella," the boss asks me once everyone is settled in, then gets up to go to the blackboard at the front of the room. He turns on the projector and we all sit up straighter to pay attention to what he has to say. "As you know, we have a very particular case on our hands that has generated a lot of controversy and speculation among us." He throws a flaming glance in my direction and at Vanessa, whose cheeks light up as she gets caught with a mouth full of a donut. "With recent events and because of my secretary's reckless investigation, I think it is important that I explain to you the reason I ordered that no references be made to this particular case.
Now it's my turn to be embarrassed, both for the wake-up call and for the part about being called reckless.
"You all read the case report and saw the photographs. So, everyone came to the same conclusion that Johnson and I did," said the chief continues, and we all nod. On the projector the slides of the case cycle by, and I try not to look too closely at the gruesome photographs. "What has happened here is something serious, not only for the murder of a man who on Sunday resided in Alaska and the next day showed up dead in the Calawah River"
That really gets everyone's attention. This is new information, offering new possibilities, and judging by the close focus everyone is paying to the screen, they're thinking the same thing I am.
"Now more than ever, it is imperative that we exercise extreme caution regarding the information in this case." A somber look passed over our boss's face and we all match his seriousness. "Unfortunately, the body has disappeared from the morgue, and we do not know what or who was responsible for its disappearance." Several people have moved to speak, but the chief raises a hand to stop us and we all sit back in silence. "I do not want to speculate on this, and I ask that you do not do so either. I have a feeling that this case is more serious than it seems."
His final pronouncement seems to hang in the air, and I take a moment to process it.
So, the boss thinks the same way I do, which is both worrying and liberating at the same time. Liberating because I know that at least I'm not exaggerating about the case, and worrying because then whatever is going on really is serious.
"Johnson and I will handle this as discreetly as possible, despite the lack of a body and the fact that the county prosecutor's office has already closed the case and declared it death by wild animal attack." More troubling information, but not much I could do about it. "I will delegate the other minor cases to you three." The chief points to Ferguson, Brown and Vanessa in succession, all of whom nod quickly. "That's it, you're dismissed."
We get up from the table, each of us deep in thought as we filter out of the boardroom, but as I'm about to leave the boss calls me back.
"One moment Isabella, please."
I stand in the doorway frozen, thinking he's going to scold me again for disobeying him; judging by Vanessa's pitiful look, she thinks the same.
"Close the door, I would like to talk to you alone," he orders.
Now the other three police officers are looking at me with extreme curiosity, but none of them make any comment or attempt to come to my rescue.
I close the door as requested and sit back at the table, waiting for the boss to speak.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, facing each other but not meeting one another's eyes.
"I want to be direct and honest with you, Isabella," the chief finally says after what seems like a great debate in his mind about how to start the conversation. "I know who you are and what you were doing before you came to Forks and before you make any assumptions, I want to clarify that it wasn't Chief Swan who told me about your life or anything like that," he hastens to add and I breathe a small sigh of relief. "I did a little research on my own about Isabella Dwyer and imagine my pleasant surprise to find out that my secretary was a genius who left one of the best institutions in the country and moved halfway across the country to a small town that doesn't even appear on some maps."
Now he has my full attention and for the first time I can look him in the eye without feeling those pesky butterflies in my stomach.
"I can only speculate your motives for such a decision and I'll keep them to myself, I promise you that," he continues. "The fact is, I need your help. This case is already strange and I think a genius with an eidetic memory would be vital to discover many things that Johnson and I might have overlooked." He waits patiently for my answer.
I feel stuck in place, many emotions building up in my head, mainly anger and indignation at this clear lack of respect for my privacy.
"I don't appreciate you meddling in my life." My voice comes out cold as a grave and I can see with satisfaction that even the imposing Evan Hale stirs uncomfortably at my tone. "If your investigation of me was as invasive as I believe it was, you know better than to meddle in my affairs." Now that really sounds like a threat, but I'm so furious at the invasion into my past that I don't care.
"I know, and as I told you, your motives are all yours and I will keep my speculations to myself," he replies calmly, then gets up from his chair and goes to one of the filing cabinets across the room. He opens a drawer and takes out a heavy yellow envelope that he places on the table in front of me. "This is my file, and it basically details my whole life since I turned 18." The envelope has the crest of some army division on it and it takes me a great effort not to give in to the burning curiosity to open it and see what I can discover.
The chief continues. "I apologize for invading your privacy, but from the first moment I saw you I knew you were more than a girl looking for a job to survive."
I stare at him, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.
"You are simply too efficient to go unnoticed," he declares and once again I don't quite know how to take his statement.
"I imagine this is a test of trust," I remark as casually as I can, taking the envelope and weighing the implications of him giving it to me.
"Basically, yes," he replies, deceptively calm given that he's presenting his whole life to me. "It's only fair after doing what I did." He gives a slight shrug.
"Very well, I will help you in any way I can in the investigation." I get up from the table, taking the envelope tightly between my hands. The boss mirrors the movement and as I'm about to walk out the door, his voice stops me in my tracks once again.
"I was anxious to start working with you, Isabella," he says in a tone I can't quite identify, and suddenly my heart is racing and I feel a tingling sensation all down my back. It takes a moment for the boss to realize the tone I had used and he quickly turned around and turned his back on me, while I awkwardly walked out of the boardroom.
I quickly make my way to the bathrooms, ignoring the curious gaze of the three officers who are watching me expectantly, and lock myself in there to try to calm down.
I don't want to explain to anyone why my face is suddenly red as a tomato and why with just one sentence that annoying man has made my anger disappear and replaced it with an emotion I don't want to admit to.
I almost instantly regret agreeing to help him; no doubt it will be difficult to be around him for the next few days.
Or so I tell myself.
P.S. As you can see, I changed the name of the story.
"Life, Death and Madness" is the original name of the story, but the day I published the fic I was reading the new chapter of "Double or Despair" and for some reason this last word stuck in my mind.
Don't forget to comment on what you thought of the new chapter.
Regards.