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four
guilty as sin?
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Jackson and James, podcast hosts of Mysterious Minds, are two armchair detectives who investigate various cold cases. Each season of their show is dedicated to an unsolved mystery, and their podcast became critically acclaimed a few years ago after one case they were working on sparked a reinvestigation that led to an arrest.

The hosts contacted my family a year ago and offered to dive into Rosalie's case. Jackson said the lack of evidence, inadequate investigation from the police, and the fact that Rosalie was never found made her story interesting yet challenging, but they were dedicated to helping us.

Jasper was vehemently against the idea, stating they'd just use their celebrity to exploit our pain. But after Dad heard Jackson and James were successful in the past, he ultimately agreed, hoping it would create more interest in her case and bring light to some unanswered questions.

The first episode of Rosalie's story aired two weeks ago and is slowly gaining attention among true-crime fans.

That's why I'm spending my Saturday night on the couch with my cat Lucy, listening to the podcast and lurking on Twitter for conspiracy theories about Rosalie's disappearance.

I know it's unhealthy to immerse myself in all of this, but it's hard to think about anything else between the podcast airing recently and Edward suddenly appearing.

Lucy stirs from her spot next to me and jumps off the couch, stretching on my yoga mat on the floor.

I'd been sore after going too hard on the Peloton this morning, and I had every intention of doing yoga tonight. But then the couch happened and not moving felt better than being mobile.

"Way to guilt trip me for not working out," I tease her.

Lucy jumps back onto the couch and walks along the keyboard of my laptop, switching the tab from Twitter to the 'find a doctor' page on the website where Edward works.

His profile is already pulled up. As a surgeon, he averages a 4.8 out of 5 rating.

People love him apparently, but I question the validity of some of these "patients" leaving reviews. They could be fake after all because it's not like their names are signed. That'd be a HIPAA nightmare.

Lucy hisses at Edward's photo on the screen.

"Good girl," I tell her, petting her head and moving her off the keyboard.

My cell buzzes with a text, pulling my focus away. Setting my laptop on the coffee table, I pick up my phone.

It's Jackson.

I almost smile.

Jackson: Did you listen to episode three yet?

Bella: Yes. Currently listening to it for a second time.

Jackson: What'd you think about it? You know your opinion is important to me.

Bella: It was really well done. I know it's morbid to admit but sometimes listening to it helps me feel close to Rosalie.

No, no, no. I can't say that. Not only does it sound crazy, but maybe even pathetic.

I erase the text before sending it and try again.

Bella: It was good. I didn't know that thing about Edward's car. The police really didn't think that was something to look into?

I briefly think about telling him I saw Edward recently and want to try a little investigation of my own, then think better of it. I don't want to muddy anything.

Jackson: Yeah, that was a little shocking to find out. I don't know if it will lead to anything yet, but it always feels good when something new clicks into place.

Bella: For sure.

He types and types but sends nothing.

The podcast still plays aloud, Jackson's deep voice spilling out of my phone's speaker.

"How can someone just disappear into thin air?" he rhetorically asks his co-host, James. "They can't. There's always a reason."

"There's always a reason," I murmur as another text from Jackson finally comes through.

Jackson: I was thinking about you earlier today. When can I see you again?

I sigh.

I like Jackson.

I do.

I just don't feel emotionally available right now.

But have I ever been? I don't know.

Then again, maybe he's the perfect person for my emotional unavailability because he lives in New York.

We've spoken a lot over the past year—texts, phone calls, and even Zoom. But last month was the first time we met in person. He and James wanted to take Dad, Jas, and me out to dinner before the podcast aired to thank us for cooperating with them and giving countless hours of interviews and details of Rosalie's life.

Jasper wasn't much help, but they still wanted to include him. He declined the dinner invite, the same way he's avoided all interest in the podcast—unapologetically.

Dad went home after dinner. James went back to the hotel. And Jackson asked me out for one more drink.

We didn't talk about the case at all. Instead, he asked about me.

At one point, he said I was even more beautiful in person. I joked that he was more handsome over Zoom, but it was a lie. He was too good-looking and he knew it, striking with hazel eyes, thick dirty blonde hair, and a dark, trimmed beard.

At the end of the night, we kissed. He was respectful and it didn't go further than that.

Any woman would be lucky to catch his eye. He's smart, ambitious, and witty. I'm not sure I want more from him, but I worry if I don't appease him a little, he won't be as forthcoming with new information he learns. Or worse—he might change the narrative and shed Rosalie in a bad light. So I let him hang on a while longer.

Bella: When are you in town again?

Jackson: I'm currently in LA. I could be there next weekend.

Bella: Don't come just for me.

Jackson: What if I want to?

Jasper suddenly walks through our front door and I pause the podcast. He hates it when I listen to it and tells me to stop living in the past.

I usually throw out a morose, "But some of my favorite people are still alive there" and that shuts him up.

"Hey," he says, shutting the door and taking off his sneakers.

"Hey, I thought you were working tonight," I casually say as Lucy jumps off the couch and stalks down the hallway to my room.

Jas works nights at a bar he and Dad own, so I didn't expect him to be home this early. Before he responds, his eyes flick to my laptop, and he undoubtedly spots Edward's face on the screen.

Fuck.

Leaning over, I slam the lid shut.

"I did work tonight. It's two in the morning," he deadpans, grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting beside me on the couch.

I look at my phone to confirm he's right. I wonder if the late hour had anything to do with Jackson's obvious flirting.

I type a quick reply to him before I forget.

Bella: I can't next weekend, but soon.

"Soooo," Jas draws out.

"So."

"What the hell are you doing, Isa?" he asks, not letting me off the hook.

I play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"Why did I see that bastard on your laptop?"

I could lie. But there's no use.

"I saw him," I admit. "Edward Cullen is here, in Seattle."

I'm not about to tell him how I've more or less been stalking the man for the last two weeks. I don't want to sound crazy.

Jasper frowns. "And?"

"I'm just curious what that asshole has been up to all these years," I offer lamely, but Jas knows me well so he knows something more is going on.

"Nuh-uh. Answer me. What the hell are you doing?"

"Maybe I can finally find out the truth—"

"No."

"Maybe—"

"It's done. It's been almost twenty years. Move on."

"How can you say that?" I glare, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "She was family. A sister."

He swigs his beer and then one-ups me. "She was my twin sister."

"All the more reason to—"

"To what? Take him down? Jesus. It's not up to you to dole out justice."

I grit my teeth. "You're so fucking wrong."

"This shit was already investigated. What makes you think you'd be able to find out the truth any more than someone trained to do so?" he fires off.

"I guarantee the shitty Forks police fucked up somehow."

"Yeah, maybe. But Mom and Dad fought hard for answers. There's no proof there was anything foul with the investigation."

"Ha! You know the way it all went down was shady. They barely even questioned Edward! He was literally the last person ever to see her, and they didn't try harder to get a real alibi out of him."

"They. never. found. her," he says with punctuated persistence. "What were they supposed to do?"

"Search his car? Check it for DNA or evidence? I mean, that's the last place Mom and Dad saw her, right? But no—the Cullens had Edward's car professionally detailed days later in the next town over and said it was because they were going to sell it. Explain that."

Jasper watches me for a second with narrowed eyes.

"You've been listening to that stupid fucking podcast, haven't you?" he accuses. "Between that and your Peloton obsession, I'd say you belong to two cults."

"Peloton isn't a cult, it's a lifestyle. And yeah, I have been listening to the podcast," I admit, but keep it to myself that I've started a friendship of sorts with Jackson. I don't want to be berated for that, too. "It's not stupid. The research, background work, and production Jackson and James put into it are amazing. They won a Pulitzer Prize for some of their previous work." Jasper does the blah blah blah gesture with his hand, but I ignore him. "It's been super enlightening. You should give it a listen."

"No, thanks."

"Why?"

"Because I fucking lived it," he stresses, raising his voice, and I finally feel a little guilty. "You're lucky you were just a kid, Isa. You got to avoid most of it. So I don't understand why you're putting yourself through all of this."

"Oh, I'm lucky?" I laugh darkly. "I'm not sure I'd use the word lucky to ever describe me. But fine. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to upset you or make you relive anything. I just think… I mean, Edward's right here. So close. I can't let the opportunity pass me up."

"Okay, talk to me—what are you going to do?" Jasper asks before amusement brightens his gaze. "Citizen's arrest? I'd love to see that. You're five foot three on a good day."

"I'm five foot four," I correct, shoving him. "And this isn't funny."

"I disagree. It's downright hysterical how stupid this is."

"Don't you want justice? You lost your sister and your mom because of him. He deserves to pay."

"Yeah, of course, I want that. But it's not up to you. Or me. Let karma do its thing."

"Karma?" I huff a breath. "Just come with me to the coffee shop on Monday. If you saw Edward, you'd feel differently."

"I don't know. After seeing that picture of him on your laptop, he's still pretty hot. I might be more conflicted if I see him in person," Jasper jokes.

I make a face. "Can you be serious for a second? I just mean once you see him, what he did might hit you harder. It's one thing to imagine him but to see him living and breathing, impatiently ordering some shitty coffee in his fancy-ass suit just like… no. Karma is a shady, flaky bitch and I'm not going to rely on her. Or you." I poke his arm to make my point. "If you're not down, then fine. I don't need your help—"

"Good, you won't get it."

"Or your advice," I insist. "I can befriend Edward somehow. Earn his trust. Date him? It's ballsy, and I'm not sure how I'll fake liking him, but maybe he'll open up. Maybe I can eventually snoop—"

"Lame," Jas remarks dryly. "It won't work."

I'm defiant. "Well, seeing him triggered me."

"Then call your therapist. Don't start going down the damn rabbit hole."

"I've been down the rabbit hole for a long fucking time," I say simply. "Now I'm trying to dig my way out to the other side."

"What if Edward remembers you?" he challenges.

"I doubt it. We barely met, and I was a kid. Like you said, it was almost twenty years ago. And it's not like he ever came to our house. Rosalie spent nearly all of her time at his place when they were dating."

"Okay. But hear me out—what if he's married now?"

"Then I'd counter that with, is he happily married?" I ask rhetorically. "But no, he's not married. I would've found something online about that."

"He could already be in a relationship though. Engaged?"

"So? People cheat all the time."

Jasper breathes out a laugh. "I'm not saying I have morals, but you're gonna be a homewrecker now?"

"Tit for tat." I lift my chin a bit. "He wrecked my home first."

"Listen. Even if he's single, you can't guarantee he'll want to date you. No offense. I mean, you're…" He waves his hand around my face, then says, "Objectively attractive and all but—"

I throw a pillow at Jas, cutting him off. "I'm not worried about that."

"Why not?"

"Because," I say, coolly calculated. "I'll be whoever Edward wants me to be."