Two Edges of One Sword (Carlisle Cullen/Reader/Charlie Swan)

VII

An entire throng of people were still clamoring around the wide-open dumpster when you swung the door open. Your face scrunches in appall upon seeing the mob and your fingers grip the phone in your hand even tighter now. The lid was wide open, the corpse exposed for everyone who wanted to see. Some people in the crowd were screaming, some trying to lean in closer to take photos, and a perturbed feeling twists in your stomach when that smell bombs your nose again.

Your coworker appears behind you. 

"Don't hang up." Her hand crawls its way around your shoulder, rubbing it back and forth tenderly. She doesn't say anything about the people but from the tone of her voice, she's as dismayed as you are.

"Ma'am," the voice on the other line of the phone returns, "our cruisers are almost where you are. Would you be able to tell me your name for the officers?"

"(Name)." The cops were only a block away now, you're certain of it. The squeal of the sirens are inching closer and closer by the second. 

"(Name)--" you don't wait for her to finish and punch in the bright red button. You turn your body away from all the people, finding it almost unbearable to keep watching them.

"Why'd you hang up?" Your coworker's face pops back into view, the gaze she's giving you a troubled one. "They're not here yet."

"You can't hear them?" Your brow furrows and you toss a hand in the direction of the closing-in sirens. "They're practically already her–"

The sound of screeching tires interrupts your words, scarlet and blue lights bouncing off the buildings and pavements around you now. A car door slams shut before you even have time to see who has arrived, everyone's heads turn to look.

"Everyone away from the dumpster!" Your face falls limp in confusion when that familiar tone of voice rings through your ears again. "What the hell are you all doin'?!"

"Is that..." Your eyes try to shift through all the shuffling people now, too many passing in and through one-another.

"That's Chief Swan," your coworker next to you confirms, "he comes in all the time...horrible. It's horrible that he has to shoo all these people away."

She's right. The flock slowly, bashfully dissipates and there he is, turned away from the both of you and staring straight into the dumpster. He puts his hands on his hips and you watch him shake his head, yet he remains hushed.

"Shame that this is what he came for this time," you murmur.

More and more cruisers were pulling into the parking lot now, some beginning to clutter along the street. The police lights were everywhere now, on the buildings, on the people, all in your vision. A few officers had begun to get out, gathering yellow tape and road blocks from their trunks. You watched them gradually circle the area, the tape inched closer and closer as the minutes ticked by.

Your eyes linger back to Chief Swan, still alone in a brewing storm of peopled-chaos. His hands are still on his hips, he's still silent, and he's still gazing into the abyss of the bin. He doesn't move, instead it seemed like he was taking it in. A sick feeling rises in your throat when he finally turns around and displays a face akin to stone.

"Hi there, how ya doin'?" You're snapped out of a trance when your head whips around to see a round-looking woman in uniform, one of the police officers that had started to scatter the space. "I'm Lieutenant Olson with the Forks County Police Department. Would you folks be able to tell me your names?"

From the side of her chest your ears pick up indiscriminate chatter from a walkie-talkie. She flips a notebook out from her chest pocket and clicks a pen. You clear your throat.