A/N I don't own Twilight, that's the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 7: Private Eye

JPOV

I was now the private eye. The tail. I couldn't decide if that was a step up or a step down from babysitter.

The synchronized swimming comment was all Edward wanted to discuss at lunch. Those eight words were dissected within an inch of their life. He was adamant it was directed at us. "She knows," he kept saying. "She was mocking us."

She had the audacity to even stare at him while smiling.

Emmett, ever the one to stir the pot, countered with his own theory, insisting that the smile was directed at him. "She couldn't resist my charm," he boasted, earning an eye roll from Edward and a scoff from me.

Rose and Alice stayed silent during the whole exchange. Rose was fuming—though not about synchronized swimming. No, her issue was far more pressing: there was no red BMW in the staff parking lot. She'd spent half of lunch brooding over that particular injustice.

And somehow, by the end of it all, I found myself convinced to follow the librarian around after school. Edward's obsession with her had reached new heights, and apparently, it was now my job to see what she was up to when she wasn't making absurd comments in the cafeteria.

So, there I was, trailing behind her as she left the school grounds. She walked—no car, no bike, just a casual stroll—heading toward the grocery store. Her MP3 player was blasting out the familiar rock tunes she seemed to favour, and every so often, she'd jump into a puddle, her happiness radiating off her in waves. It was so strong, so pervasive, that it was almost infectious. I found myself smiling as I followed her, despite the ridiculousness of my assignment.

She bought food—basic stuff, enough for one person—and a bottle of Chardonnay. The whole time, she seemed completely at ease, humming along to her music, oblivious to the fact that she was being tailed by a vampire.

"This is what it's come to," I thought, watching her pay for her groceries. "I'm stalking a librarian who jumps in puddles and buys Chardonnay."

But despite the madness of it all, I couldn't deny that there was something about her that kept me intrigued. Something in the way she carried herself, the way her emotions ebbed and flowed but always returned to that steady, unwavering happiness. It was… in a word – fascinating.

And maybe, just maybe, Edward had a point: there was more to Anya Simms than met the eye. Hell would freeze over before I'd ever admit it to the idiot. It would merely feed his obsession. And is big fat ego.

I arrived home after ensuring the puddle-jumping librarian was sound asleep. She didn't drink the Chardonnay, though—she used it to cook with. Fish. The scent had wafted through the air as she prepared her meal, the happiness still radiating off her in warm, comforting waves. It was strange how at peace she seemed, even in the quiet solitude of her evening, her classic rock music constantly on in the background.

My timing was impeccable, or so I thought, as I walked into the house just as Carlisle was attempting to calm Edward down—again. My dear brother was pacing the living room, a piece of paper clenched in his hand, while Carlisle stood with that patient, practiced calm of his.

"She knows about us!" Edward spat when he saw me, his voice taut with frustration. "And Carlisle is showing me her résumé like it's supposed to reassure me!"

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Carlisle. "Isn't that a breach of some sort of confidentiality rules?"

Carlisle sighed, taking the paper back from Edward's outstretched hand, looking a bit weary. "Really, Jasper? Confidentiality at a time like this?" Edward snapped before Carlisle could respond, his voice sharp. "This isn't about paperwork. She made that comment, she looked at me, and she knows."

I bit back a smile, keeping my expression neutral. "Edward, you're reading too much into this. People make comments all the time—comments that don't mean anything. And that résumé? It's just paper. I'd wager to bet that there's nothing in there says, 'vampire expert' or anything remotely close."

Brother dearest was not interested in a wager as he stood there quaking in frustration. He left me no choice but to send out a small dose of calm, as our father tried to talk him down the metaphorical ledge.

"Edward, you're letting your inability to read her mind cloud your judgment," Carlisle said gently. "Jasper is correct, there's nothing in her background that suggests she knows anything about us. She's just a librarian—a very qualified one at that."

"She's not just a librarian," Edward muttered, shaking his head. "She's different. And I'm telling you, there's something more going on here."

I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall. "Different doesn't mean dangerous, Edward. She's just… happy. Content. Maybe that's what's throwing you off. You're not used to someone being so at peace." I shot out another dose of calm.

He shot me a look, a mix of irritation and exasperation. "You heard the comment. You saw the way she smiled at me."

"True," I agreed, "but I saw the way she jumped in puddles on the way to the grocery store, how she hummed to herself while buying fish and a bottle of wine. And then I saw her cook, eat, and go to bed like any other normal person."

Edward frowned, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. "Normal people don't make cryptic comments and then act like nothing's wrong."

"She's eccentric," I said with a shrug. "That doesn't make her a threat."

Edward turned back to Carlisle, who was still holding the résumé. "And what does this prove?"

Carlisle sighed, looking at the paper in his hand. "It proves she's who she says she is, Edward. A librarian with a solid background in archival work and a passion for literature. Nothing more, nothing less."

Edward wasn't convinced, but at least he wasn't pacing anymore. He stood there, tension still simmering beneath the surface, but he was calmer than when I first walked in.

Score one for the empath!

"Look," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to reality. "If she really knew anything about us, she wouldn't be casually shopping for groceries or jumping in puddles. She'd be running for the hills or, at the very least, showing signs of fear. But she's not. She's just living her life."

Edward didn't respond, but I could see the gears turning in his head, the conflict between his instincts and his logic. Carlisle caught my eye and gave me a small, grateful nod, as if to say, "Thanks for trying to talk him down."

"Let's keep an eye on her, sure," I added, "but let's not jump to conclusions. Not until we have more than a hunch and a résumé to go on."

Edward finally sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. "Fine. But I'm not dropping this. Something about her isn't right."

"Fair enough," I said, knowing this was probably the best I could hope for tonight. "But let's not lose our heads over it."

And one more dose of calm for good measure as my dear broody brother retreated up the stairs to is room, like the sulky teenager he would be in perpetuity. Seriously, what the fuck was Carlisle thinking when he changed him?! And on that thought, I turned to the man in question. "So, what does it really say?" I asked, nodding toward the paper still in his hands.

Carlisle smiled slightly, folding the résumé back up. "Just what I told Edward. She's a librarian with a background in archival research. Nothing out of the ordinary."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You'd think we'd have bigger problems to worry about than a happy librarian. But why her? Why was she hired over the other candidates?"

Carlisle leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "All of her references spoke very highly of her organizational skills, her ability to manage large collections, and her attention to detail. Given the state of the school's library, it was, as the teens say, a no-brainer."

I couldn't help but smile. "So, she was hired because she's good at dealing with chaotic messes?"

"Yes," Carlisle agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And it seems that skill is already being put to good use."

"Still," I mused, "it's not every day we meet someone who perplexes Edward this much."

"True," Carlisle conceded. "And that alone makes her worth watching."

I sighed, giving him a wary look. "Please tell me you're not going to ask me to play junior librarian now."

Carlisle laughed, the sound warm and reassuring. "No, Jasper, I won't ask that of you. But you may be called upon to keep an eye on Edward. His obsession with Anya is growing, and we both know how he can get when something doesn't add up for him."

I nodded, feeling the weight of that responsibility settling in. Jeessh, you're not exactly selling the assignment Carlisle. "Right, keep Edward in check? I'm all over that."

Carlisle's smile faded slightly; his tone more serious now. "Just make sure he doesn't do anything rash. We don't need any unnecessary attention—especially not over something that might be harmless."

"Understood," I said, already mentally preparing myself for the task. Edward was relentless when he got fixated on something, and it was clear that Anya had become his latest puzzle.

"Let's hope she really is just a librarian," I added, half to myself.

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "You mean a puddle-jumping librarian? Really, she jumped in puddles?"

I couldn't help but grin at the memory. "Yes, she did. Walked all the way to the grocery store, music blasting in her ears, and jumped in every puddle she passed like it was the most natural thing in the world. I've never seen someone so… carefree."

Carlisle chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, that's certainly not what I expected. But maybe that's part of what's throwing Edward off. It's hard to reconcile someone so seemingly carefree with the possibility of them knowing our secret."

"Exactly," I agreed. "She doesn't act like someone who's afraid or hiding something. She's just… living her life. I repeat – she's eccentric, not a threat."

Carlisle's smile returned, though it was more thoughtful now. "Keep an eye on her, Jasper. Not just for Edward's sake, but because I think there's more to her than meets the eye."

I nodded, the memory of Anya's infectious happiness still lingering in my mind. "I will. But if she keeps jumping in puddles, I might end up enjoying this more than I expected."

Carlisle laughed softly. "Just don't let Edward hear you say that."