AN: Okay guys! This is supposed to be a quick story. Actually it was supposed to be a Halloween one-shot, but somehow it's getting away from me. Grr. I am fighting the urge to really expound on the OFC. She just so wants a voice here! So if everything feels a little quick, well, it is. I'm going for short here! Short I tell you! Darn plot bunnies…

Chapter 1: Prologue

Carlton Lassiter stormed the building, his partner, Juliet O'Hara, right at his heels. Cries of 'clear' echoed in the silence following the capture of the drug lord and his minions. Lassiter and O'Hara let McNabb and company read the perps their rights and continued downstairs. The basement was the only place left to be cleared, and Lassiter wasn't taking any chances. Hillcroft and his gang weren't just run-of-the-mill drug pushers, they were big-time dealers. No stone would be left unturned, no room left unsearched.

The damp chill of the basement greeted them, the musty scent of moisture oozing from the grey cement walls. Only the typical clutter of cardboard boxes broke the grey-walled monotony, the faint light of October dusk filtering through the tiny window and barely making a dent in the gloom. A bare 60 watt bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting wavy shadows as the thump of footsteps upstairs jarred it.

Lassiter made a mental note to confiscate the boxes. A paper trail was just what they needed to wrap this case up in a nice, red bow. He caught his partner's gaze and jerked his head towards the plain wooden door that bisected the basement. The hastily-assembled walls and unpainted sheetrock almost made him think it was a newly built room, but evidence of mold growing spider-like across the base quickly dissuaded him.

As they moved closer to the door, Lassiter became increasingly suspicious. There was a bar lock on the door. Heavy duty. The kind that most people put inside their doors to keep people out. But this one was on the outside of the door. That could only mean one thing. The room was meant to keep someone in.

His eyes met O'Hara's and she nodded, frowning. He raised his hand and motioned for her to keep back. Sliding the lock over with a heavy snick, Lassiter readied his weapon and threw open the door.

He paused for a long moment, taking in the scene. It looked like a prison cell. A cot sat against the far wall, a small brown blanket folded neatly at the end of it. A cardboard box peeked out from under it. The only lighting came from another bare bulb, this one inset in the ceiling. Lassiter kept his gun at the ready as he entered the room. The poor lighting meant deep shadows, especially in the corners of the room. O'Hara followed him in, her familiar presence as comforting as the gun in his hand.

O'Hara gasped lightly, and Lassiter stiffened.

"What?" he demanded, his eyes scanning the room for danger.

"Look," O'Hara whispered, her voice concerned.

Lassiter spared a glance back at her, his eyes following her gaze as she stared at the wall behind him. He only took a moment to look and then returned to his search, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he gritted his teeth.

It shouldn't have been disturbing. A child-like drawing of a landscape. Trees and sunshine, clouds and birds. A simple black-and-white sketch in what looked like pencil. But the drawing, combined with the lock, made his stomach clench.

He looked into the small, dark alcove to his left. A bathroom, half-lit through the doorway: just cement and plumbing; a showerhead and a sink, a toilet and a tiny plastic mirror- dangling from a nail. A white toothbrush and a roll of toothpaste perched on the edge of the sink. A black comb sat on the opposite side, strands of long, dark hair tracing across the white porcelain. A bottle of cheap shampoo and a bar of soap waited under the sink, a navy-blue disposable safety razor carefully leaning against the bottle.

O'Hara still waited in the doorway, making sure that no one could sneak out while he cleared the room. There was only one place left to look. The right side of the room was nothing but shadows; only the barest outline of walls could be seen from the doorway. For a fleeting moment Lassiter thought he saw movement.

Looking over at O'Hara, Lassiter jerked his head towards the far wall. She nodded sharply. The Glock was heavy in his hands as he crept forward, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and he immediately faced in that direction.

"Freeze!" he shouted, "This is the police, come out with your hands where I can see them!"

For a long moment nothing happened, and Lassiter felt a twinge of doubt. Maybe he'd seen a rat. Then- movement. From out of the pitch-black corner of the room, a tiny, pale foot appeared. The edges of a tattered brown dress, white, trembling hands, a dark cascade of hair, and dark, wide eyes.

Lassiter immediately lowered his weapon. There was no way she could have a weapon on her, even if she'd tried. Her ragged brown dress barely covered her body, the spaghetti straps knotted in several places, the bottom roughly torn to a uniform length at her knees.

The woman continued forward, watching him with the intensity of a cornered animal. She stopped several feet in front of him, and he could hear O'Hara's stifled gasp as she came into view.

The woman looked at him, her eyes boring into his so attentively that he had to fight the urge to look away.

"You've come for my brother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Who is your brother? Who are you?" O'Hara asked gently as she moved closer. The woman flinched and took a step back into the darkness.

Lassiter gestured for O'Hara to stop, keeping his eyes on the woman.

"Answer her," he demanded after long moments of silence.

The woman's eyes fell to the floor for a moment before she took a step closer to him and met his eyes.

"Ernesto Hillcroft," she said softly, "I am Angeline Hillcroft." She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together, "And I will testify against my brother."

Lassiter nodded sharply and holstered his gun.

"I am Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the SBPD, and this is my partner, Juliet O'Hara."

Angeline nodded, her eyes falling to the floor as she crossed her arms protectively.

Lassiter took a step towards her and she looked up, fear flashing in her eyes. He slowly took off his coat and reached forward, draping it across her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, pulling the warm, over-sized grey jacket around herself unconsciously.

"Please," Carlton said, reaching out his hand, "Come with us."

She studied him for long, silent moments and then took his hand.