TO MY READERS: I hope you enjoy Chapter 1 of Midnight's Embrace! I'm so excited to start writing again and to tell this story. I'll try and update it at least once a week!

(P.S. I just finished the first chapter tonight, so I've updated it here.)

DISCLAIMER: Though most of the names and locations have changed, I obviously drew a lot of inspiration from Stephanie Meyer, the original creator of the Twilight series.

1 ~ The Arrival

Outside of Terminal B in the airport, I scan the incoming cars for my dad's beat-up orange truck. My hands and arms are full with the luggage I've brought back from school, but I don't dare put the duffel bags on the filthy cement. I just silently pray Dad isn't late, although this is probably wishful thinking.

To my surprise, I suddenly spot the familiar orange rust bucket rumbling down the road. It's the normal amount of crazy-busy at the airport for a Friday afternoon, but Dad is able to maneuver the metal beast deftly against the curb. I smile as I walk up to the truck, although I still struggle to carry my luggage. Dad parks the car and rushes out to greet me. The closer he gets, the more I can see his dark brown hair has become littered with grays, and even his thick mustache is speckled with some white.

"Dizzy Izzy!" he shouts, not even waiting for me to put a bag down before embracing me in a bear hug. I grunt as the metal straps dig into my shoulders, but I endure it to enjoy Dad's embrace. Though graduation was only a few weeks ago, I've missed my dad like crazy. He was so proud when I graduated cum laude at the University of Phoenix, and he embarrassed me by having a ridiculous poster made with a terribly goofy picture of me that he waved while I crossed the stage. I wanted to be upset or angry at him for it, but I was just so happy that he could get the time out of work to come out for the whole weekend.

"Hey, Dad," I smile, gritting my teeth against the pain of the shoulder straps and the stubble of his unshaven cheeks.

"Oh, hey, sorry, Iz!" he says, letting me go and helping me slide the bags off. "I'm just so glad to see you."

"I'm happy to be home," I reassure him, stuffing the duffel bags and suitcases into the truck. "And I really appreciate you picking me up."

"Oh, please! I couldn't have a stranger greet Salem's newest detective when she arrived! What kind of chief do you think I am?"

"Hopefully, the kind I'll actually enjoy working for," I chuckle.

"Hey, c'mon, you know me. But just cause your dad's your boss, don't think you'll get any special treatment." I roll my eyes.

"Anyways, speaking of work! I know you're not scheduled to work until Monday, but I figured we could go to the station together and pick up your stuff. You know, gun, badge, partner assignment, the works."

"Oh, yeah, that'd be great! Plus, I wanna try to get the feel for the station beforehand. I wouldn't wanna get lost on my first day." I open the passenger-side door and slide in while Dad hustles to the driver's seat.

"Then, when we get that all settled, I've got a surprise for you at home!" he smiles, buckling up and putting the truck in drive.

"Aw, Dad, you didn't have to do anything," I say.

"What, you think you'd come home after four years at school and not have a party? And anyway, it's not that much of a party. It's just gonna be us, Ezekiel, and Billy."

"Oh my god, Ezekiel! I feel so bad I didn't get the chance to talk to him as much recently!" I exclaim.

Ezekiel Blackwood and I have been best friends since the first grade. For the longest time, we thought we'd do everything together. But when I decided to become a detective and was accepted to the University of Phoenix while he applied to local colleges for a teaching degree, we had to figure out a long-distance friendship. It was hard for the first few months, but we got the hang of it after a while. We eventually decided it would be best for us to switch which campus we'd be going to for each break. So, during the winter, Ezekiel would fly to Phoenix to escape New England's notorious cold, and I'd fly back home during the spring and summer breaks. Over the last few months, though, Ezekiel and I didn't get to meet or talk as much. We both got so busy studying for our finals, getting things squared away for graduation, and lining up internships or jobs after graduating that we lost touch for a bit. But now I can't wait to hurry up and get home to see him and Billy Blackwood, his dad.

Dad pulls out of the terminal, and we begin the forty-five-minute drive back to Salem. Most New Englanders think any drive longer than thirty minutes is a long trip, but I'm actually looking forward to seeing the beautiful spring change of scenery. Aside from the occasional chill during the winter months, Phoenix has nothing on New England's change of season in the spring and fall. Plus, while Phoenix has a wild-wild-west vibe going for it, I love Massachusetts's homey and old elegance.

"So, how's everything been on the beat? Should I prepare for any interesting cases when I clock in on Monday?" I ask, ignoring the awful Boston traffic until we hit the more scenic route of the drive home.

"Nope! The City of Peace is living up to its name right now. You and your partner probably just be dealing with some patrolling and field training for the first couple of months. But you will both be paired with Angela Weber for the field training. Out of the entire department, she's the best officer to give the rookies to."

"Angela Weber?" I repeat the familiar name, trying to pinpoint the feeling of déjà vu. "She was four years ahead of me in high school, wasn't she?"

"I figured you'd remember her. Izzy with the elephant brain. She never forgets!" my dad says with a smile. "Weber's a great officer. I think you'll learn a lot from her."

Taking the exit off the highway, the scenery suddenly shifts to early summer in the quaint little village. The trees along the cobblestone streets have awakened, and the pots along the windows of the various buildings have bloomed. I roll my window down and breathe in the clear, crisp summer breeze, reveling in the familiar warmth of my hometown. This time of year is my favorite. I much prefer the earlier parts of the summer when things aren't so hot and humid. I used to love the fall here as a kid, but from the end of September up to Halloween is an absolute shitshow in Salem. While I was in school on the other side of the country, I didn't have to deal with all the tourists running around in witch and Hocus Pocus costumes eager to have their fortunes read. I can only imagine what it'll be like now, especially as a rookie cop.

After another few minutes of driving down the lively streets, Dad pulls into the police station parking lot. A couple of officers spot Dad as we head into the station and give him a nod as we pass by. Dad's been the chief of police in Salem for the past twenty years after spending fifteen years on the force. When the chief Dad worked with retired, Dad was recommended by his predecessor, considering his impressive track record. The biggest break my dad ever got was locking up the scumbag who murdered fifteen women in 2004: Silas Grimm. After Dad arrested the bastard, the police found an additional ten bodies in Grimm's basement while they swept his place for evidence. Though he stuck by his claim of innocence, there was just too much evidence, and the judge sentenced him to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Now, Grimm resides at the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center. To this day, the guy still claims he's innocent.

Once we enter the station, the receptionist gives Dad a big smile and waves while she chats on the phone. Other officers loitering around the entrance either nod or give him a quick "Hey, Chief" as we pass by. I smile at my dad, beaming with pride as the police chief of Salem, Massachusetts, gives short but polite greetings to his subordinates. Everyone recognizes him as their superior, but I know Dad still sees many of his fellow officers as his coworkers and, in some cases, his friends. Dad and I round the corner to his office, and the Chief's Assistant, Waylon Forge, greets us at the door. Waylon was my dad's partner when they first started the force together back in 1989. Unsurprisingly, Waylon became Dad's closest friend and eventually became my godfather. In spite of my dad's superiority, he and Waylon's relationship never really changed.

"Henry!" Waylon exclaims, clapping Dad's hand and giving him a brief hug. After greeting him, Waylon turns his attention to me. "Wait a minute, this can't be Dizzy Izzy! I think you picked up the wrong girl at the airport, Henry."

"Hi, Waylon," I say with a smile, walking up to him to give him a hug. "It's really good to see you. How are things?"

"Oh, you know your dad, always keeping everyone on their toes." Waylon exchanges a goofy grin with my dad, who just rolls his eyes. "But enough about me! How are you doing, Big-College-Grad?" I chuckle at Waylon's over-the-top enthusiasm. Always the jokester.

"I'm good! Definitely looking forward to starting on Monday," I reply.

"Oh, I bet! Just look out, 'cause your daddy might give you more than you ask for," he warns.

"Ah, shut up, Way," Dad interrupts. "If you'll excuse us, I need to give Izzy her stuff so we can get to her welcome-home party that you were too good for."

"Hey, c'mon, now! You know someone had to cover for your ass here while you partied all night long." My dad smirks and gently shoves Waylon aside to get to his office.

"Alright, I suppose I'll let the two of you get on with it," Waylon concedes, heading down the hallway. "I'll see you first thing Monday morning, Officer Isadora Swann." He salutes both of us before spinning on his heels into the bustling station.

"I guess some people don't change, huh?" I smirk as I follow Dad into his office.

"Yeah, your Uncle Way certainly is as goofy as ever. Although, that's usually a good thing. Means things are good around here," Dad replies. He walks around his huge oak desk to the bookcase behind it and grabs a large pile of stuff from the top.

"Alright, Officer Swann," he smiles as he walks back over to me with the pile in his hands. "Here are your first couple of uniforms, gun and holster, and your badge."

I look down at the pile, noting the shiny badge that glistens on top. The uniform items are in a large plastic bag on the bottom, and the gun, holster, and badge are situated on top. I carefully take all of it out of Dad's hands and gently shift everything on the top to get a look at the nameplate on the shirt: I. Swann. I take in a deep breath and smile up at my dad, seeing that he has tears in his eyes.

"Aw, Daddy," I say, putting a reassuring hand on his.

"Now, wait just a minute, Isadora. I want to talk to you for a minute before we go," he says in a serious voice, blinking away the tears. "I know your Uncle Way and I joke around a lot, but you're in the big leagues now, sweetheart. You need to be careful and make sure to have your head on a swivel. You're gonna have a partner, and I'll say the same thing to you as I will to her: You need to have each other's backs. Once you put this uniform on and strap that gun to your waist, you're not Izzy anymore. First and foremost, you need to remember that you're an officer of the law. You can't let your emotions get the best of you, and you have to keep your wits about you.

"This isn't gonna be like learning in a classroom on campus. You're going to be out in the field, getting hands-on experience of what it means to be an officer of the law. And I'm not gonna lie to you: It's not gonna be easy. Most days, it's gonna be boring as hell, or you'll get so frustrated you just wanna punch a wall. But when you come into this building to work, you best believe we expect you to be every bit the professional you were taught to be at school. Just because you're the Chief's daughter doesn't mean you're gonna get any special treatment. And do not be surprised if some of the officers give you a hard time. But as long as you remember the basics, keep up with your training, and trust your instincts, you'll do just fine. And that's the best way to earn the respect of the officers here. Do I make myself clear?"

I straighten my stance and look my dad square in the eyes when I reply, "Yes, sir."

The harshness that was in Dad's face during his speech suddenly melts away and he smiles back at me.

"Alright, then," he says. "Now. How about we head on over to the party of yours?"

"Welcome home, Izzy!" As soon as Dad and I cross the threshold and step into the living room, Ezekiel and Billy shout their synched greeting at me. Both of them have ridiculously big smiles and their arms up, gesturing to the "Welcome Home" sign that's strung up across the brick above the fireplace. I set down my pile of work stuff on the first step of the staircase to the left of the living room and head over to the guests.

"Oh my god, you guys didn't have to do this," I say, bending down to embrace Billy Blackwood.

"Of course we did," he replies as he hugs me back. "And I believe the banner was your dad's idea anyway. Always with the cliches, that man."

"I heard that!" Dad shouts as he climbs up the stairs to my room to drop off my luggage. I laugh as I pull away and smile at Billy.

Billy Blackwood used to work at the Salem police department with Dad and Waylon, acting as a representative for the Massachusett Tribal Nation. The Massachusett Tribe—while an hour away from Salem—was where Billy and his family grew up. Then, he met Ezekiel's mom, who lived in Salem, and they ended up starting their life together there. Though still a highly respected member of their community, Billy helped to solve a lot of racial discourse and violence against the Native American tribe. He mostly communicated with the tribal leaders over the phone unless there were any violent crimes that took place, meaning Billy had to make the two-hour round trip to examine the scene for evidence. It wasn't until 2010 when he was shot in the back by a robber while off-duty, that Billy became paralyzed. It took a long time for him to get better, and it took even longer for him to get used to using a wheelchair, but he made it thanks to Ezekial's determination.

"Ahem…" Ezekiel slowly rolls his dad away and steps in front of me with his classic tilted smile.

"Oh my god, Zeke!" I practically shriek, slamming into his chest for a hug.

"Whoa!" he gasps as I tighten my arms around his back. "Alright, McClain, Jesus! You wanna get arrested for murder before you even get on the beat?" I chuckle as I let Zeke go.

Zeke and his dad share the same long black hair and dark brown eyes, but their similarities end there. Whereas Billy's dark complexion has been creased by age, Zeke's skin is smooth. He's gotten a lot taller than me—almost a foot and a half—and it looks like he's been working out. Without having to search too hard, I find the red and black fish tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his left shirt sleeve that Zeke got when he turned twenty-one.

"I can't believe how big you've gotten, Zeke!" I exclaim, gesturing to his frame. Zeke chuckles like it's no big deal, but I can see the blush peppering his cheeks.

"Honestly, and with no disrespect, you have, too!" he says. "I know police officers need to be in shape, but damn! How much do you lift?!"

I snort at that but flex my arm muscles just to show off. Though I was in Phoenix for four years, I didn't start going to the gym regularly until the summer of my senior year. I started going to the gym every single day, whether early in the morning before classes or at night, I dragged my ass to the campus recreation center every damn day. It took a while, but I finally achieved my goal of deadlifting 200 lbs. Combined with leg and abdomen exercises and kickboxing sessions, the 1.5-mile run requirement for police officers became a cinch: My record time is six minutes.

"200 lbs., thank you very much," I reply, striking a goofy body-builder pose. "Now I can tackle anyone to the ground."

"I feel sorry for the stupid son-of-a-bitch that tries you, lemme tell ya," Billy guffaws.

"In this day and age, a girl needs every possible weapon at her disposal," I say, throwing an uppercut at an imaginary opponent. Zeke shrugs and bounces in front of me, holding up his fists in front of his face.

"Alright, Tough Girl, let's see whatcha got," he says, giving me the "bring it" gesture. I smirk and gently throw a jab at his hands, but he swoops out of the way.

"Hey, hey, hey! No rough-housing in my living room!" Dad yells as he bounds down the stairs. "Take it outside, you two."

Zeke laughs and starts bouncing backward to the backdoor. I bounce after him, throwing a few more gentle punches that Zeke dodges. He doesn't even turn away from me to open the backdoor, using only one hand to pop it with the other one still guarding his face. I chuckle and continue bouncing toward him until we reach the back porch.

"Alright, time out there, Rocky," I say, dropping my fists and leaning against the porch pillar. "So, how are you? I'm sorry for not keeping in touch the past couple of months."

"Hey, no worries, I get it. And communication is a two-way street, so I'm sorry, too," Zeke says, squatting on the armrest of one of the porch chairs. "Things are going well! I've got a job lined up for next year at Bates Elementary."

"That's great! I'm so happy for you!" Zeke nods with that signature smile.

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it. And you, Officer Swann, reporting to duty on Monday! That's so exciting!" I nod, too, but the smile fades pretty fast.

"Yeah, that's a word for it," I say.

"What's wrong?" I glance at Zeke, who's eyebrows are pinched in confusion. "I thought becoming a cop was your dream."

"It was! Is! But coming back home just made me realize how much pressure there'll be on me. You know, with being the Chief's daughter and all? I'm just…nervous." I take a deep breath and exhale quickly, finally feeling relieved to have gotten that off my chest.

"Hey," Zeke says, standing up and walking over to me. "Being 'the Chief's daughter' does not have to be your identity. You're Isadora Swann, Police Officer. Any relation to Chief Swann becomes moot once you put on your own badge and uniform. You're gonna pave your own way, Izzy. I know it." I smile at Zeke and nod my thanks.

"I appreciate that, Zeke. Thank you," I reply, slinging my arm around his shoulders. I let out another sigh. "God, can you believe that we used to be just a pair of goofy kids making mud pies in the summer? Now we're working professionals." Zeke snorts.

"I know. Who let that happen?" We both chuckle and move to go back inside when Zeke stops me.

"Oh, by the way! I wanna take you out to drinks tonight at Olde Main Street," he says.

"Yeah, that'd be great!"

"And…there's someone I want you to meet…" he continues. The blush returns to his cheeks, this time more pronounced. My mouth gapes open.

"Zeke, are you…? Do you have…?" I stammer.

"I met her at school, and we've been dating for a couple of months. Her name is Roselina, and she's a high school history teacher."

"Wow, two history teachers. I'm sure you two have spent a lot of time nerding out together," I laugh.

"She's really great, Iz, and I'd love for you to meet her."

"Oh my god, absolutely! I would love to!" Now it's Zeke's turn to sigh with relief.

"Awesome," he says. "So once we get the two elderly folks in there settled down, then we can ditch and head to the bar." I groan exaggeratedly as we walk back into the house.

"Ah, yes. The party of four will most likely consist of reviewing embarrassing photos of me from middle and high school. Fantastic." Zeke chuckles and gently shoulder-checks me while we walk back to the living room.

"Welcome home, Dizzy Izzy."