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A Haunting Past

Bella Swan is a homicide detective with a horrible past. A past almost no one knows about, not even her best friend, Alice. When Alice calls her one night in hysterics, talking about dead bodies in the house, it is the beginning of a terrible ordeal that will last months. Bella and everyone around her will be in horrible danger, and she might be the only one who can save the people she cares for.

This is a very dark and twisted story, therefore I am rating it 'adult'. I'm warning you now some things may be hard to read, so tread carefully. I hope you like the story.

1. Chapter 1: Death and Confusion.

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Chapter 1: Death and confusion.

I walked into the house full of confidence, positive that the evidence would be enough to put this son of bitch in jail for the rest of his life. I had been chasing his sorry ass for 8 months now, ever since the first victim. His victims were always female, between the ages 16 and 25. He raped them, tortured them with a knife for several brutal hours, then shot them point blank in the head. No one ever survived. He had killed 5 women, that we knew of, before we finally found him.

His name was James Riley, 27 years of age, and bastard from hell. He had light brown hair and was pretty standard looking, if you didn't count the crazed, homicidal expression on his face when you saw him. He was always very careful to cover his tracks, but he messed up after his last victim; she was able to scratch him and we were able to find his DNA under her finger nails.

We were on his trail for a while now, but the fucker kept eluding us. He always seemed to be connected to the victim; through work, social activities, you name it. It seemed he got to know his victim before he hunted her down. His first victim was Victoria Santos, who we believe was the trigger that set him off. She worked with him at the record store, and he was infatuated about her, but she turned him down time after time, and eventually she grew tired of his advances and told him he disgusted her. Three weeks later, we fished her out of the water, raped and brutally murdered. After that, each of his victim shared a close physical resemblance to Victoria, down to the flaming red hair she had.

So now here I was, walking to his living room, where I knew he would be waiting thanks to the psychological profile we'd been provided about his habits, with an arrest warrant in my hands. I wasn't worried about him fighting back; the profile stated he would be afraid of powerful females, unable to fight against them, even though he'd want to.

I walked into the living room, and sure enough, there he was, drinking a glass of vodka, watching a porn video. So gross! I stalked toward him and drew my gun; I might not fear him one bit, but I was no idiot. I had been doing this job for 9 years now, ever since my acceptance to the force after my 22nd birthday. I was one of the best - I never lost! I had my reasons to be the best, though no one knew them. No one knew about my past, and I intended to keep it that way.

"James Riley?" I asked, already knowing I had the right guy; I'd interviewed him enough. He turned to me, startled when he saw the gun, probably questioning how I got in here. Sure, I could have just rung the doorbell, but where was the fun in that? I wanted to shock them when I called out their name and whatever bastard I was after then turned to me and gulped as they saw the gun. It was an unusual arrest tactic, but nobody gave me grief over it - as I said, I am the best!

"Yeah?" He asked, slurring the word - he was drunk, that much was obvious.

"I have a warrant for your arrest for the murders of Victoria Santos, Annie Garner, Susan Willis, Sarah Moore and Annabel Freeman." I pulled him to his feet - he was too dazed to form a response, shocked that we had found him obviously - cuffed him and read him his rights.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand the rights given to you?" I asked the Miranda rights, hating to provide them, but knowing if I did not the case could go down the drain, I could NOT afford that. He nodded, still dazed as I took him with me for further questioning at the station, hoping to get him to confess.


James had refused an attorney, vowing he had nothing to do with the murders so he had nothing to hide. After 6 very long hours of us telling him of the evidence we had against him and us knowing the reason why he did it, he cracked. He told us every gruesome detail, revelling in his work, not a bit of sorrow in his tone. He wrote the confession down; there was going to be a hearing, but I doubted it would come to a trial, since we had his confession. He was going down and he fucking knew it!

So now, I was at the local police bar, having a drink - by myself, I hated company - celebrating my new victory when I got a call. My cheeks flushed a crimson red, as they always did when I was embarrassed, when my ring tone sounded through out the bar. It was the ring tone for my best friend, Alice Brandon, also my roommate. She lived with me in my house, along with her boyfriend, Jasper Whitlock, who was a good guy. Reserved and quiet, but very caring and gentle.

'I guess they know I'm bad, bad
I got a problem,
gimme the money

Shopaholics what they call'em
my addiction, my prescription,
gimme shoes and give me bags,
How much you want, I need 'em bad'

I tried my quickest to find my cell phone in my purse, where it was always buried when I was off duty, but I was not fast enough as I heard the snickers of others around me, responding to the tone.

"Damnit Alice," Cursing the ringtone she put in the phone for her. I smiled when I found it and picked up.

"Hey Allie, what's up?" I asked, using my nickname for her, smiling. She didn't know about my past either, but she knew enough to know it was bad and she always supported me throughout everything. She had been my best friend since I was 16, always trying to drag me with her on shopping trips.

My expression turned dark when all I heard were quiet sobs on the other side of the phone, alerting me that something was very wrong. Alice hardly ever cried, she was always cheery and the most brave person I knew.

"Alice, what's wrong?" I asked, turning very serious, almost using my official on duty, detective tone. A few other officers close to me turned their heads, curious as to what was happening. Again, all I heard were her sobs.

"Alice, speak to me! What's wrong?!" I asked, more loudly this time, drawing more attention. Something was terribly wrong and I did not know what. Finally, she bagging to speak; it was one word, but it was enough to put me back on duty for the night, officially.

"D-d-dead," she stuttered, crying even harder. My eyes widened in recognition. Someone was dead. Who? Was it Jasper? Please god, don't let it be him, don't let Alice suffer like that!

"Alice, who's dead? What are you talking about?" As I said this, the music cut off and every fucking officer in the bar was looking at me, hesitant, waiting for some kind of action.

"A-A-Angela W-W-W-Weber," She uttered and I was confused. Angela Weber was a girl I had gone to high school with back in Forks, she had been my only friend before Alice moved to Forks. The three of us were close then, but I had hardly heard from her in 7 years, ever since Alice and I moved to L.A.

"Sweetie, what are you talking about?" I asked, more softly now; sure, Alice could be sensitive, but why would she be freaking out over someone we hadn't had contact with for so long, dying? It didn't make sense.

"Downstairs... body... d-dead," Alice said, more clearly this time, more determined. My breath caught in my throat. Angela Weber was laying dead in my house?! What the fuck?!

I didn't ask more about the body, I knew enough. I signalled the bartender, a former cop himself, to give me a pen and paper. I wrote down my address, the message Alice gave me and motioned for him to send a unit over to the house. Still, I was pretty close, I had to leave now, but I knew better than to go by myself, in case someone else was in the house.

"Alice, where are you now?" I asked, knowing she'd be alone - Jasper worked late hours most of the times.

"I-I'm in my r-room; I l-locked the door. I-I'm scared Bella," She sobbed and I sighed a breath of relief, of course Alice was smart enough to know to lock the door. She lived with me, after all.

"I know you are, sweetie, just stay there and don't make a sound. I'm on my way over, I already called for back-up as well. I'm staying on the phone with you till I get there, okay?" I said, she silently thanked me and continued to sob. I didn't need her to talk, I just needed to hear her to know she's safe.

Meanwhile, I had grabbed my jacket, looked around to find someone I knew well to come with me and sighed when I saw my former partner, Emily Young - I worked with a more advanced team now, solving the more complicated murders. I nodded my head at her and pointed at my phone; she got the message and followed me out the bar, to my car instantly. I knew back-up was on the way, but I would get there first.

Emily got her gun ready as I drove, flashing my lights, breaking every speeding rule in the book. Emily questioned me about the facts, I told her I had none, except that there was a body in my house and possibly a murderer as well. She knew Alice as well, she had met her a few times in the past, and was concerned for her safety almost as much as I was.

We arrived at my house in no time, thanks to my crazed, adrenaline educed driving. I drew my gun as I got out of the car and headed to my front door with Emily. The door was left ajar; definitely not a good sign. Alice always closed the door behind her as soon as she entered the house - my rule.

Emily was silent as she followed me into the house; she was familiar with it, had been there a couple times to work on cases with me. As soon as I stepped inside, the smell of blood attacked my nostrils - yeah, it sounded crazy, but I swear I could smell blood, it smelled like copper and salt. It used to make me sick - USED to.

I gasped when I entered the living room; the entire room was covered in blood, and sure enough, on the floor, the body of Angela Weber lay, slaughtered. I had seen a lot, but this was beyond sick and the fact that I used to know her, didn't make it any easier. Also, the scene indicated she was murdered in this very room, in my very own house! On the wall before us, a message was written with Angela's blood, directed to me.


I gasped with shock, no-one knew about that nickname, not a living soul knew! Not even Alice! I could only think of one person who could possibly know, and the thought almost made me faint. If it hadn't been for the fact that Alice was upstairs, scared to death, I probably would have freaked out, big time!

Carefully and silently, Emily and I slowly made our way up the stairs, to Alice' room, hoping, praying she would be fine. I had disconnected my conversation with her once I arrived at the house, not wanting any sound to alert anyone to our presence. I had promised Alice she'd be fine for a few minutes; I hoped she was. I couldn't bear it if anything were to happen to her, NOT her!

When we reached Alice' door, there was blood on it too, as well as another message.


This could only mean one thing; he'd go after Alice as well, maybe even Jasper too, just not now. I just had no idea when. I knew the door would be locked and I didn't want to shock Alice by trying the door knob or knocking, so I called out. Confident the murderer was not in the house anymore, but still on my guard.

"Alice, it's Bella. Can you open the door? I'm here now," I heard some shuffling, a turn of the lock, then the door knob. The door opened to reveal a, in blood covered, Alice in hysterics. Had he touched her? He better not have. When she saw me she broke down; her legs gave in and I caught her before she could fall, not caring it would cover my clothes with blood as well. She hugged me and hung on for dear life. In the distance, sirens were coming closer, back-up was coming. Emily was making a call for an ambulance, to be on the safe side; neither of us knew if Alice was hurt or not.

"Alice, are you hurt?" I asked her, needing to know. She didn't look up but I felt her nod against me; I asked her to show me, so she did, slowly. I was seeing red when she showed me the long gash in her right arm, from her shoulder to her wrist; that's where the blood was from. Though, I suspected some of the blood on her was from Angela as well, there was just too much blood.

"I'll get you to the hospital, I promise. An ambulance is on its way, you'll be okay Allie," I said, using my nickname for her again to reassure her it would be okay in the end. Though I doubted she would be the same after experiencing this type of horror, no one ever was the same - I would know.

I didn't question her yet, I would wait till she had Jasper with her, she would be more comfortable that way. She cried on my arms for what seemed like eternity, as the house filled with more officers. Once the ambulance finally arrived, they took Alice with them; I offered to go with, but she convinced me I would be of better use here; she seemed calmer now. I walked back into the house once the ambulance drove off.

My lieutenant started to make his way over to me, but I held up my hand, showing my phone, indicating I needed to make a call first. He nodded and gave me some space as I called Jasper.

"Bella?" Jasper asked after picking up on the first ring, immediately cautious; I almost never called him, and never this late. He knew something was up.

"Jazz, don't freak out on me, okay? But, Allie's on her way to the hospital," I said, remorse in this voice; I felt guilty for letting this happen. This was my fault, this was aimed at me, I knew as much.

"What happened?" He asked through gritted teeth; not wanting to show his emotions, but clearly worried for the woman he loved. Alice and Jasper were soul mates, I knew enough to know that.

"Someone attacked her in the house; she's cut pretty badly, but she'll be okay," I said, knowing what question would follow; he needed to know everything.

"Was she..." -he sighed- "...raped?" he asked, forcing the word out. I was glad this was one question I could say no to, I was sure she hadn't been raped. If this was done by who I think, he didn't do ‘casual’ rape, besides, Alice would have told me straight away.

"No, Alice would have told me otherwise. She was cut, that's all. She's on her way to L.A. Memorial, you should go. If they give you trouble about seeing her, give me a call. I'm sorry this happened, Jasper," I said, feeling the need to express how truly sorry I was; they would never know how much sorrow I felt for letting this happen.

"It's not your fault Bella, thanks for calling me. Bye," He said, then the tone went dead. I was sure he would be racing to see her right now, but still careful not to get into any accidents; he knew this was the last thing Alice would be able to afford.

Once the detective saw I was finished with the call, he came over to me, a gloom expression on his face.

"You should get changed, Bella, we need the clothes for evidence," He said, using my first name, something he only did when the situation was bad, which it was. I nodded and went upstairs to change. I cleaned myself up a little, splashed some water on my face and got rid of my blood covered clothes. Unfortunately, when I looked into my closet, I saw that all my clothes were ripped to shreds. Every single last piece. I looked into the dirty laundry, only to find the same fate underwent those clothes as well. I couldn't borrow clothes from Alice, she had a much smaller size than me, also, she wasn't as tall as me - I wasn't tall either, but taller than Alice at least, which was saying something.

Finally, I was left no choice but to rummage through Jasper's clothes and put some of his on; they were too big for me, but they would have to do. Thank god someone invented belts, or my pants would have fallen off. I didn't really care about embarrassing myself, I had better things to worry about.

Everyone looked at me with confusion once I reached the living room, better yet, the scene of the crime. I sighed. "All my clothes are in shreds," I explained, they nodded, mumbling something about how odd this all was. This was not odd to me, not even Angela's gruesome murder. Because, once I examined the scene more closely and calmly, I realized this was almost an exact copy of the scene that occurred so many years ago. The only way for it to be exactly like then, would be for there to be a second body.

"There should be a male body in the basement," I spoke out, my voice sounding foreign to me. I sounded hollow, dead, much like I did when it happened the first time around. Everyone looked at me again, some wary, some concerned.

My lieutenant spoke up, "What makes you think so?" He asked, I shrugged and told him I'd explain later, but that we had to check the basement first. Six of us, including the lieutenant and myself, made our way down the basement. And sure enough, there was the second body; it was that of Ben Cheney, Angela's high school boyfriend and if I'm not mistaken, he was her husband. It was an exact replica of the scene so many years ago and on the floor, next to the body, was another message.


I couldn't help myself when I read that message, I ran up the stair, into the bathroom and puked my guts out. I never ever threw up, so everyone was shocked when I did now. Still, I couldn't get myself to care about what they thought, this was all becoming too much.

"We found something!" I heard one of the detectives yell; I cleaned up my act and ran into the living room, wondering what they found. Before, all they found were the bodies, the messages... and me. Nothing more, nothing less. So what more did he leave this time?

"Show me," I replied, authority ringing through again in my voice, I was back in police mode, trying to ignore the fact that this was not a normal case and pretending this was just any other case as usual. Tony, I knew his name was, handed me some gloves, which I put on, then handed me an envelope.

I opened it, carefully, if there was saliva on the seal, I needed to be careful not to ruin the evidence, though I doubted we'd be so lucky. I gasped when I saw the content of the envelope and let it fall to the ground, oblivious to the fact that it fell into a dried up pool of blood. Everyone looked at me as I started to hyperventilate and tears began running down my cheeks.

My knees buckled in and I felt someone catch me before I could fall into the blood; I wasn't aware of my surroundings any longer. I was sinking into the black hole I locked myself in for so many months, years ago, drowning, falling deeper and deeper.

"Get a medic over here!" I heard a male voice shout, faintly, in the distant. I was no longer aware of it.

Inside the envelope, there were pictures, of me, my mother and father. Pictures taken on the night it had happened, pictures filled with horror and blood. Pictures I tried so long to suppress in my own mind, and now all I could see were those images. It was all I could see.

It was my past.