I do not own Twilight.

Happy Friday! So, as you can tell, I moved this over to a story because it was really
confusing for some of you, so I apologize for that. I had no idea this would be a short story
and honestly wouldn't have continued without reviewer PM's and encouragement. I have
more small updates for the WitFit challenge in my notebook, but transcribing them in slow
going, so I'll be updating the prompts not applicable to this storyline over there. I know, my
head is spinning too!
Anyhow, to clarify again, this third chapter is simply part of Fictionista Workshops Daily
WitFit prompt for 12.14.09. The prompt word was "sea salt".
I wrote this in 2.5 hours and read through once and therefore this was very difficult for me
to just let go, hence the purpose of the challenge. I know I keep saying that, but it's
incredibly hard to just STOP rewriting. BAH! Just being honest. :) If you find ANY typos,
please, please do not hesitate to contact me. They drive me crazy! I appreciate it more than
you know.
WARNING: THIS IS RATED M. CONTAINS SUGGESTIONS OF VIOLENCE.
“Detective Norris,” Edward breathed in relief, a ghost of a smile on his face. Shaking hands
vigorously, both men searched each other’s expressions. “Anything new?”
The question was asked, though the answer was obvious. Edward’s heart ached.
Anything new. Detective Norris reigned in his inner devil, stepping through the doorway of
Edward Cullen’s office, his heels thudding on the plush carpet. “No, sir. I’m sorry–”
“Do you think it’s time to–” Edward began, cut off by Norris’ hand.
“Bringing in external investigators at this point will only complicate the investigation. We have
it under control, Mr. Cullen,” he said, knowing his intentions. “The best thing for you to do is
remain here and let us do our jobs.”
Your helicopters and cadaver dogs will find nothing. Save your precious money, Detective
Norris mocked internally.
Edward knew what the detective said was true, but frowned and crossed the room anyway,
headed for the bay window he’d taken to staring out of. Detective Norris followed behind
slightly, watching the man’s shoulders heave with a silent sigh.
Soon, Edward was lost in thought as Detective Norris observed him, both men now staring into
the abysmal forest at the property edge. With his hand on his forehead and his back turned,
Edward fought the urge to scream in frustration, the inclination rising like bile in his throat.
Remain here. Always the answer he never wanted to hear.
He wanted to let them do their jobs, but Edward had a feeling they were missing something. The
dogs had tracked Bella’s scent to the tree line before losing her, motorcycle tracks leading north
to the highway six miles in. Where had they taken her? Where was she?
As Norris watched, Edward’s thoughts wandered to his obsession: was she out there in his
forest? Dead and buried right in his backyard? No… he knew that wasn’t true. She was still
alive. He could feel it, he told himself. Partly because he believed he did and partly because the
crushing horror of that question was impossible to bear, the idea forcing breath from his chest,
this time in an exhalation Norris could hear.
Several seconds of additional silence passed, the heavy quiet of two men thinking. It was
moments like these that Norris felt a little sorry for Cullen. But again, there was a part of him
that enjoyed the control play. He’d rendered one of the most powerful businessmen in the state
completely… powerless. The detective was enjoying the other man’s discomposure.
“I know this is hard for you,” he said falsely, breaking the silence, taking one step toward
Edward, who remained still as a stone while he peered with dead eyes into the trees. “Please trust
that we’re doing everything in our power to find her.”
Edward nodded, again knowing that was true. Both detectives leading the case had excellent
credentials; he’d verified them for himself. Detective Norris seemed the detached type, but he
was reassuring and professional, while his partner Detective Hale struck Edward as a no-
nonsense investigator. All things considered, he was thankful for them both.
Remembering Detective Hale reminded Edward of her absence.
“Where’s your partner?” Edward asked vacantly.
Detective Norris’ stomach clenched, thinking of his new partner. He hated her almost as much as
he disliked Mr. Cullen.
“She’s analyzing the tapes from your security cameras.”
“Oh…” Edward sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, still dazed, recalling their last dinner
together though nothing encouraged that memory. It made him feel good. Having lost his parents
so early and with Alice being so much younger, Edward had never had the experience of
watching a woman cook for him, or take care of him. But Bella did both, and enthusiastically,
because she enjoyed it. She had been in the kitchen preparing their meal for nearly an hour while
he’d wrapped up his workday. The domestic scene tugged at a place deep inside of him.
“Why are you using this salt?” Edward asked, curious.
“What do you mean?”
“The granules are huge,” Edward noted, shaking the bottle.
“It’s sea salt.”
“I can read that,” he replied, glancing between her stern concentration and the bottle. She was
stirring the spaghetti sauce with vigor, the red liquid bubbling.
“I prefer to cook with that,” she answered. He liked that she had a system and ingredient
preferences, even if he teased her about them.
He smiled, though her determination to stir blinded her to his amusement. He had promised
himself in that moment that one day, this kitchen would hers.
With a deep breath, regret hit him hard again and once more he wished he’d mustered the
fucking courage, the tenacity to just ask her. He’d had the ring for so long, but the fear of her
hesitation or worse… acquiescence out of guilt had kept him silent. They had been dating for
only six months.
“Mr. Cullen…” Detective Norris began, drawing Edward’s attention back to their previous
conversation. “My visit today was to touch base, but also to inform you that tonight there will be
several hundred volunteers and police officials combing your property again. The temptation to
leave your home and assist will be overwhelming, but I need your word that you’ll remain
inside.”
Edward nodded blankly, tracing the tree line from the window again, picturing the evil thieves in
his mind, wondering how they’d done it. Detectives Hale and Norris believed Edward’s house
was invaded by the perpetrator, stealing Bella away as she typed at her desk. Her shoes still lay
underneath, the crooked mousepad the only indication of a struggle.
She was taken quickly, out of his very house, out of the office she had just settled into.
Suddenly, Norris’ phone rang, startling both men from their exchange. Edward glanced once at
Norris’ apologetic expression before returning to his fixation.
“Excuse me. It’s Detective Hale.”
Edward didn’t respond, his thoughts returning to that same mix of worry and faith, to more
memories of moments now lost to the past.
Excusing himself, Norris quietly left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Irritated now,
he flipped open his phone.
“Norris.”
“James, I have something here you need to see,” Detective Hale said urgently, sounding
mesmerized. Norris’ stomach dropped again.
“Can it wait?” he asked, testing.
“No. It can’t.”
*
The blindfold was disorienting, but she could sense the woman moving and watching her, the
terrifying sense that a predator was near so profound she shivered from mortal danger. And once
again, Bella wondered what the woman looked like. Why she was doing this. She knew they
were after Edward, but why?
“I know your type,” said the woman, smirking as she swiveled quickly in the chair Bella had
felt with her foot. The motion, the fear, the anxiety of the woman’s erratic movement made Bella
tremble again. She was so cold, so scared. “You grew up poor. Working class. Married money to
feel worthy of… whatever it is bitches like you feel worthy of. I used to taunt girls like you. I bet
you were fat and ugly until your twenties, too.”
Bella didn’t respond, nor did she dare to correct the juvenile woman’s wrong assumptions. Bella
had never been fat or poor, though she’d never had money like Edward. She had worked hard for
what she had, her profession chosen because she loved to teach, that passion trumping any vanity
or desire for material goods.
“Fucking speak!” the woman barked, grabbing Bella’s tangled hair with sharp claws that made
her yelp. Holding Bella’s head stationary, Victoria moved closer, smelling Bella now, wondering
if she should bathe her. That would be wild, she considered, imagining the silent woman
trembling and naked. She would hose her down like a dog and take a picture for Edward Cullen,
one she could send from the satellite phone once contact was made. Once the real fun had begun.
Victoria stared at Bella’s upturned face curiously, wickedly relishing her revenge as Bella’s
mouth opened wider in fear, like a gaping fish out of water. Smiling, Victoria laughed at the
helpless girl she would kill once she had her money, once her robbed estate had been avenged.
She decided Bella should know, to begin preparing for the inevitable.
“I’ll kill you,” Victoria stated, a streak of childish, sadistic pleasure passing through her at the
sight of Bella’s further trembling lip. Fear surged through Bella, adrenaline spiking her heartbeat,
the primal urge to flee danger making her captivity more painful. “Mr. White is a bit of a pussy.
You wouldn’t know it with the badge and the gun and the giant cock, but he is… I’ll have to do
it myself. And I will.”
Before she could fear for her life, for the promise of death, the woman was touching Bella,
running her sharp fingernail down Bella’s face, tightening her grip on Bella’s hair. Again, Bella
tried to swallow, her throat sandpaper dry, the scratching sensation somehow suffocating.
“I bet he liked fucking you,” the evil woman decided, petting Bella like a dog now, long fingers
roaming. “I’ve seen him in his little power suit, so clearly compensating. I went to Yale with
little boys like him. Playing big boy to get the trophy whore. The question is…” she continued,
her grip not lessening, her finger trailing to Bella’s collarbone now, poking strangely at the
indentation. “Did you like fucking him? Or did you pretend, like most of us do…”
The woman’s question inspired automatic, sweet memories of Edward making love to Bella,
touching her the way he always did. The pit of her stomach ached for him, for what he must be
going through. The worry, the terror. And only once was their lovemaking what one could
consider fucking...
“Bella,” he gasped, the grip on her wrists tightening.
“Yes…” she moaned, feeling him move faster, giving into her request, pressing her back against
the wooden porch. The blanket from the house wasn’t under her anymore, only padding his
knees from the brutal wood. She loved it, loved feeling the contrast; his soft, but firm body
locking her against the hard surface. The pleasure and heat of him filling her took over, the
tension in his arms increasing, straining with the task of giving her more.
“I love you,” he whispered, moving faster with his own admission, their hips smacking, and skin
glistening. She groaned, the delicious satisfaction of his raw lust and subsequent determination
sexier than anything she’d ever seen.
“I love you,” she managed, tightening her grip on his strong shoulders, feeling beautiful, feeling
powerful. Her strong man, the quiet, loving man she wanted to marry was losing himself in her
body. Losing himself to her touch.
He moaned in response, his gradual increase in tempo so erotically perfect she struggled to
breathe. Ducking his head down to her neck, she caught a glimpse of his face in pure, unrivaled
ecstasy. More and more, he was letting go of his restraint, his eyes clenched tight, his full mouth
whispering her name once more. Like a prayer.
“Bella…”
Clenching her eyes tighter to fight back tears, behind the blindfold she remembered that moment
like it was yesterday, that one memory inspiring several more. Like vague hallucinations,
moments of their time together pushed in and out, blurred and fleeting, painful and desperate.
Bella wondered if she might be going crazy, if the deprivation of food and water were warping
her mind. Increasingly, her imagination had grown into something else entirely.
“Answer me!” the woman demanded through gritted teeth. Bella felt the woman’s hot breath on
her cheek, but refused to comply, her composure faltering for just a moment before recovering.
She would never answer, not because she was scared, but because there were no words. Even she
had never understood why he loved her the way he did, why he wanted her exclusively. And the
way he shook from quiet passion while moving inside of her, the way he cradled her head and
stuttered shallow breaths in her ear when they made love—those pieces of him were hers only.
Sacred memories.
Love for him swelled her heart then, threatening to break her open, so sharp and boundless she
could hardly bear it. Bella shuddered as the woman sighed in resignation, dropping her grip with
an annoyed groan. A few indefinable noises later, the woman was suddenly far away again.
Behind the dark cloth, a tear slipped from Bella’s covered eyes, absorbed by the material.
“I have ways of making you talk. We’re just not there yet.” The woman promised, the door
audibly opening and slamming shut without another word. Once more, Bella was left cuffed and
bound to a pole in a dank room that smelled of mold and stagnant water.
Like clockwork, the strains of Beethoven began once more; frantic strings a dark opening to the
Fifth Symphony she knew all too well now.
Pressing her eyelids together to maintain her strength, she was thankful for the mask now,
thankful that bitch couldn’t see her love or despair. Because deep down, Bella knew she would
never feel Edward again.