“Give me the least likely first.”
“Well, she’s your daughter,” he pointed out. “Genetically half you. I used to tease you about how your mind was on a different frequency than the rest of ours. Perhaps she runs on the same.”
This didn’t work for me. “But you hear her mind just fine.
He put a finger to my lips. “I’ve considered that. Which is why I think this next theory is much more likely.”
I gritted my teeth and waited.
“Do you remember what Carlisle said to me about her, right after she showed you that first memory?”
Of course I remembered. “He said, ‘It’s an interesting twist. Like she’s doing the exact opposite of what you can.’”
“Yes. And so I wondered. Maybe she took your talent and flipped it, too.”
I considered that.
“You keep everyone out,” he began.
“And no one keeps her out?” I finished hesitantly.
“That’s my theory,” he said. “And if she can get into your head, I doubt there’s a shield on the planet who could keep her at bay. That will help. From what we’ve seen, no one can doubt the truth of her thoughts once they’ve allowed her to show them. And I think no one can keep her from showing them, if she gets close enough. If Aro allows her to explain. . . .”
I shuddered to think of Renesmee so close to Aro’s greedy, milky eyes.
“Well,” he said, rubbing my tight shoulders. “At least there’s nothing that can stop him from seeing the truth.”
“But is the truth enough to stop him?” I murmured.
For that, Edward had no answer.
35 DEADLINE
“Headed out?” Edward asked, his tone nonchalant. There was a sort of forced composure about his expression. He hugged Renesmee just a little bit tighter to his chest.
“Yes, a few last-minute things…,” I responded just as casually.
He smiled my favorite smile. “Hurry back to me.”
“Always.”
I took his Volvo again, wondering if he’d read the odometer after my last errand. How much had he pieced together? That I had a secret, absolutely. Would he have deduced the reason why I didn’t confide in him? Did he guess that Aro might soon know everything he knew? I thought Edward could have come to that conclusion, which explained why he had demanded no reasons from me. I guessed he was trying not to speculate too much, trying to keep my behavior off his mind. Had he put this together with my odd performance the morning after Alice left, burning my book in the fire? I didn’t know if he could have made that leap.
It was a dreary afternoon, already dark as dusk. I sped through the gloom, my eyes on the heavy clouds. Would it snow tonight? Enough to layer the ground and create the scene from Alice’s vision? Edward estimated that we had about two more days. Then we would set ourselves in the clearing, drawing the Volturi to our chosen place.
As I headed through the darkening forest, I considered my last trip to Seattle. I thought I knew Alice’s purpose in sending me to the dilapidated drop point where J. Jenks referred his shadier clients. If I’d gone to one of his other, more legitimate offices, would I have ever known what to ask for? If I’d met him as Jason Jenks or Jason Scott, legitimate lawyer, would I ever have unearthed J. Jenks, purveyor of illegal documents? I’d had to go the route that made it clear I was up to no good. That was my clue.
It was black when I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant a few minutes early, ignoring the eager valets by the entrance. I popped in my contacts and then went to wait for J inside the restaurant. Though I was in a hurry to be done with this depressing necessity and back with my family, J seemed careful to keep himself untainted by his baser associations; I had a feeling a handoff in the dark parking lot would offend his sensibilities.
I gave the name
I stood by the fire to wait, holding my fingers close to the flame to warm them a little before the inevitable handshake. Not that J wasn’t obviously aware that there was something up with the Cullens, but it was still a good habit to practice.
For one half second, I wondered what it would feel like to put my hand in the fire. What it would feel like when I burned. . . .
J’s entrance distracted my morbidity. The maître d’ took his coat, too, and it was evident that I was not the only one who had dressed up for this meeting.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” J said as soon as we were alone.
“No, you’re exactly on time.”
He held out his hand, and as we shook I could feel that his fingers were still quite noticeably warmer than mine. It didn’t seem to bother him.
“You look stunning, if I may be so bold, Mrs. Cullen.”
“Thank you, J. Please, call me Bella.”
“I must say, it’s a different experience working with you than it is with Mr. Jasper. Much less… unsettling.” He smiled hesitantly.
“Really? I’ve always found Jasper to have a very soothing presence.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “Is that so?” he murmured politely while clearly still in disagreement. How odd. What had Jasper done to this man?
“Have you known Jasper long?”
He sighed, looking uncomfortable. “I’ve been working with Mr. Jasper for more than twenty years, and my old partner knew him for fifteen years before that.… He never changes.” J cringed delicately.
“Yeah, Jasper’s kind of funny that way.”
J shook his head as if he could shake away the disturbing thoughts. “Won’t you have a seat, Bella?”
“Actually, I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’ve got a long drive home.” As I spoke, I took the thick white envelope with his bonus from my bag and handed it to him.
“Oh,” he said, a little catch of disappointment in his voice. He tucked the envelope into an inside pocket of his jacket without bothering to check the amount. “I was hoping we could speak for just a moment.”
“About?” I asked curiously.
“Well, let me get you your items first. I want to make sure you’re satisfied.”
He turned, placed his briefcase on the table, and popped the latches. He took out a legal-sized manila envelope.
Though I had no idea what I should be looking for, I opened the envelope and gave the contents a cursory glance. J had flipped Jacob’s picture and changed the coloring so that it wasn’t immediately evident that it was the same picture on both his passport and driver’s license. Both looked perfectly sound to me, but that meant little. I glanced at the picture on Vanessa Wolfe’s passport for a fraction of a second, and then looked away quickly, a lump rising in my throat.
“Thank you,” I told him.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and I felt he was disappointed that my examination was not more thorough. “I can assure you every piece is perfect. All will pass the most rigorous scrutiny by experts.”
“I’m sure they are. I truly appreciate what you’ve done for me, J.”
“It’s been my pleasure, Bella. In the future, feel free to come to me for anything the Cullen family needs.” He
