Chapter Fifteen

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So, none of this is mine. I wrote the first chapter for a contest and now, I'm expanding it. What I own ... a condo and too many books. What I don't ... Twilight and all its characters.

We're going to find out what the hell happened to The Swan Dive? And to Uncle Jimmy? Have faith, kids.

Chapter Fifteen


As we walked to my SUV, my cell phone rang. It was Bella. "Dolce," I sang.

"Edward," she croaked.

"What is it? Bella, what's wrong?" I asked.

"The Swan Dive ... it's gone!" she sobbed.

"What do you mean?"

"It's been blown up," she cried. "And I can't get a hold of my uncle. Edward ... I can't lose him."

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Home, but I want to go to the diner," Bella whimpered.

"Don't, baby. I'm going to check it out," I whispered. "I promise, I'll do everything to make it okay. Your uncle is probably fine and his phone was ..." I blew out a breath, a tear slipping from my eye. "I love you. Stay there. Is anyone with you?"

"Alice, Esme, Zafrina and Lauren," she sniffled. "I was trying on wedding dresses ... Please, find him, Edward. He's all I have left."

"I'll do everything ..." I trailed off. "I love you. So much, Bella."

"I love you, too," she sobbed, ending the call.

I blinked over to Jasper. "Well?" I asked.

"The entire block's been shut down. The diner is not even there anymore," Jasper said. "I don't know if Jimmy was working, but if he was ..." He grimaced. "I'm sorry, Boss."

"Don't say that yet," I growled. "I'm not going to have Bella's last living family be ... Let's go. Use Claire, find out all you can."

"Got it, Boss," Jasper nodded as he backed out. I sent a prayer, hoping that Jimmy was okay. He had to be okay.

As we drove to the Swan Dive, I sent a text to Emmett, my father and any of the guys who were available. Garrett was on the phone with Claire, getting information about the alleged gas leak. Alleged, my ass. Jasper parked around the corner and we made our way to the remains of the diner.

It was a hole in the ground. There was nothing left. It was a smoldering pile of ashes. I walked over to one of the few fire department personnel that were still milling around. "Whoa," I muttered, my eyes wide. "What happened?"

"Gas main leak," a burly guy answered. "The owner was getting ready to open up when he called it in. He said he smelled gas when he walked into the kitchen. The operator said for him to get out. That operator was a fucking genius."

"Did he?" I asked. "The owner? Did he get out?"

"Yeah, but he was thrown almost clear across the street when the place exploded," another guy answered. "He was in bad shape. Where'd they send him?"

"Chicago Med," the first guy answered. "You know the guy? The owner? An older dude, with shaggy blonde hair."

I shook my head, not wanting to raise suspicion. "No, I don't. I liked to come here every so often. Was it really a gas main leak?"

"We've got an arson investigator on the way, but with the amount of damage to the building ..."

"The fact that the building is not here anymore," the second guy snorted, interrupting the first one and gesturing to the smoldering rubble.

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