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Pack Boys

Summary:
Everything started so innocently, a simple bonfire upon the beach, but then things got complicated. Lives were changed and hearts were shocked... (A La Push gang Fan fiction) Image Hosted by ImageShack.usChapter 25 is out!!!


Notes:
We had a little too much fun with the packs valentine's day one shot, so we decided to make it into a whole story!


13. Old coffee

Rating 3.3/5   Word Count 715   Review this Chapter

I picked up the Number One dad mug that sat on the corner of my desk and took a sip of the now cooled coffee. I winced as I remembered how my little girl had been so excited to give me mug for a belated birthday gift when she had come to visit many years ago. My little girl who was...It still choked me to think about it, even though it had been months since her funeral.

I sighed, glancing up at my open door. The letters spelling out Chief Swan were visible on the beveled glass. I took one last sip before putting the bitter black coffee back on the worn coffee stained ring on my desk. I moved the gray mouse and the ancient computer hummed to life.

When Jake had runaway last year, right before my daughter's wedding, I had begun to think more about runaways. Billy had not wanted me to file any reports about the disappearance of his son, but that hadn't stopped me from looking into it. I hadn't realized that between 1.6 and 2.8 million teens ran away in the United States each year. I couldn't help but imagine how many of those kids could be just like Jake, or even Bella. Jake had been gone for over two months, and Bella had disappeared on more then one occasion herself.

I had decided that as a Police Chief, I would do all that I could to help the families of runaways. It had been hard to look at Billy during those months. I don’t think many people recognized the pain so dimly reflected in Billy's eyes when Jake had gone missing. That was why I had convinced the town council to purchase a computer program for the police department that would connect us onto the national runaway network. This way we could see pictures and descriptions of runaways and upload our own cases to it.

It was now a long rehearsed practice for me to spend a few minutes each day before my shift ended to look through the new files. Some of the pictures were of mere children, kids hardly 6 or 7 who had run away. I passed by each picture and glanced only at the names and ages quickly, hoping maybe that I had seen one of these kids by chance, if only to give there parents hope that they were still alive and well.

I stopped on one picture. The bright eyes of the girl staring back at me seemed to trigger something in my mind. I quickly read the description next to the picture.

Name: Mashaal Hashmi

Hometown: Dallas, Texas

Birth date: 5/8 / 1990

Last seen: March 13, 2008 at home.

That’s when it clicked. The scene replayed in my head slowly. I had been at the hospital, getting the correct paperwork about another car crash on the outskirts of town. Some stupid kids, home from college, had been drunk driving on the road that the Cullen house had been on. She had been with Jake and one of the other boys from La Push, I think Embry was his name. I was certain that it was her. She had the same smile and soft features. I knew that I had seen her before; her face flashing at me as I shifted through the pictures.

I sat back in my chair stunned. This was the first time the system had actually worked. I quickly wrote down the information next to her picture. I scribbled each detail down before scrolling down to her families contact. I added the number to the bottom of the page. I folded the slip and slid it into the front pocket of my uniform.

I stood up, ignoring the dull squeak of the chair. I turned off the computer in a single press of a button. I deftly flicked off the lights and shut the door behind me. It was time to go back to my dark empty house and left over pizza. It hurt just to see the house without lights on, cause that meant that she really wasn’t going to be sitting in the kitchen her book in her lap waiting for me. It meant that after all these years, I really was all alone.