Edward Cullen, FBI Special Agent & Psychic

Chapter 3

Summary: Edward Cullen is the unacknowledged grandson of Harry Houdini from whom he's inherited strong psychic abilities. Together with his closest friends: a Hoodoo man, two Witches from the Louisiana Swamps and an honest to God Guardian Angel, they work to solve crimes that ordinary law enforcement is unable to solve.

Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer started it all. I've borrowed her characters, but this storyline is mine.

A/N: Please remember this is a work of fiction, and as such I've taken "liberties" with some things. However, there are Hoodoo men or Root Workers in real life who can do unbelievable things. There are also powerful psychics who prefer to call themselves witches as well as Guardian Angels, but I have never seen one myself. So with the above in mind, please just accept this as a work of fiction and enjoy the world I'm creating. My undying thanks to my Beta JoanOfArt and to buggins74 who pre-read for me. Wouldn't be able to do this without you!

Come join me on my Face Book page for this story line. Just search for the title of this story.


Chapter 3


I arrived at LAX around four pm and arranged for a car service to take me to my hotel as I don't wish to have to drive in this town.

I called the switchboard at the LA FBI office and reported that I had landed and that I was on the way to my hotel, or rather the suite I'd upgraded to at The Redbury at Hollywood and Vine. I've paid more for hotel accommodations but this was a rather quick trip and sometimes one had to take what they could get especially when it was last minute.

Once I did the rapid check in, I called the LAPD's Captain Molina and informed him of my arrival and where I was staying as well as giving him my cell phone number. He in turn gave me Detective Swan's cell number. I didn't waste anytime contacting her as I wanted to get started on this new case right away.

"Swan" she answered. Her voice was lower pitched than most women voices that I knew. Smart women cultivated low voice registers since men seemed to respond to them in business better than higher pitched ones.

"Detective Swan, this is Special Agent Edward Cullen. Captain Molina asked me to get in contact with you regarding the Maldonado case."

It seemed to take her a beat longer to reply than necessary. I could hear her "Aww Shit! Fucking Federal Bureau of Intimidation" coming through loud and clear.

"Special Agent Cullen... I'm at USC Medical Center at the moment. The autopsy is underway now if you want to observe, or I can meet you after at the precinct and we can discuss the case files."

"The autopsy will most likely be be in the end stages by the time I find my way around. Let's meet at the precinct and go over your notes." It had been several years since I worked with a woman in the field. I was determined to not treat her any differently than I would a male police officer.

Everything Emmett had told me about her indicated that she was very professional and extremely good at her job. Although we would have to get over the hump of her feeling that I was invading her case. I could appreciate those feelings, and she was right. I, however, had skills that would work in favor of both of us, if I could get her to relax a little.

From what I could tell from listening to Detective Isabella Swan's mind, she'd be defensive towards me until we could come to a common ground. She was no nonsense and quite frankly, I didn't want any either. What we'd be up against would be looking for anyway to worm into our working relationship to keep us from discovering what was going on, and why. That was all I could tell from Detective Swan's thoughts at this point. She was very difficult to read, very difficult indeed. Maybe that would be a good thing. I'd not be subjected to a continuous inner dialogue of useless information. Perhaps when I was in closer proximity to her I'd be able to better read her.

A little over an hour later, I was ushered into the office of the Director of Special Operations through which the Detective Bureau works and reports. I was of course shown complete courtesy and even given an empty office from which I could work if I so desired.

I viewed the "office" that I'd been assigned. To say it was dark and dingy would be an understatement. Snorting to myself, I vowed to try not to do any work from here if at all possible. I of course knew that was the idea. Seldom was the FBI really welcomed by any city law enforcement agencies. I couldn't blame them either. Most of my colleagues tend to look down their noses at "lesser" agencies. In some respects I could understand that thinking. Those of us within the Bureau had to have at least a four year college degree in accounting, computer sciences and IT, Language; and Law and maintained at least a 3.0 GPA.

I however, didn't view things as my colleagues did. I'd met individuals who had no formal education whatsoever and could think circles around me even with my impressive 4.0 plus G.P.A. from Harvard. I'd never judged individuals by their lack of formal education. Horse sense and or street smarts counted much higher in my estimation.

Most police personnel who managed to attain the higher ranks were extremely intelligent, but didn't flaunt it so they would be able to interact with "the troops" without ranker.

As I stood looking at the cracker box I'd been given to use, it's phone rang. Curiosity got the better of me and my spidey sense told me it was for me.

"Hello" I answered like I belonged.

"Agent Cullen?" It was Isabella Swan.

"Yes, this is he. And you are?" I asked just to be polite.

"This is Detective Sergeant Isabella Swan. The autopsy is done now and I'm back at the station. I could come down there if you'd like and go over the findings with you."

"No, I'll come to you. I'm sure your office is better lit and more, ah, spacious than the one I've been assigned. What floor are you on, or where are you?"

I'd hear it in her mind where she was, but thought it best let her tell me.

Ten minutes later I walk into her office space. I was right. It was better lit and definitely more spacious.

Detective Sergeant Isabella Swan didn't stand when I entered her office, but continued to sit leaning back into her chair. "Christ! Another pretty boy. I bet he'll make a pass at me and I'll be forced to put him down," I heard her think, though it was not very loud which meant she was somehow shielding her mind from me. Unusual.

Walking up to her desk I extended my hand to shake hers. She slowly brought her hand up to mine and we shook. There was a slight tingling in my palm. Unusual. Huh. Interesting.

Without a comment, however, I sat down and looked at her expectantly, ready to listen. I was here to find out what was going on and who was responsible.

"Hmmm, very interesting." Isabella thought, "Maybe this one's for real and not like the other jumped up small minded FBIs I've dealt with in the past.

There was a thick folder sitting on top of a pile of other file folders that was in the forefront of her mind. It was this folder that she handed me without comment.

"Let's see what he thinks of this..." she was thinking.

I read the file and smiled to myself at her shock that I was actually here to do a job.

I looked up at her after going through the file and said, "Would it surprise you to know that this is not the first one of these cases I've come across? That there are indeed at least twenty other cases similar to this one?"

That comment got me raised eyebrows.