It was almost useless to try and keep the tension from showing on her face as she anxiously scanned the streets of Manhattan from the backseat of the slow moving SUV. People were streaming into office buildings from the early morning sunshine. For a moment she tried to remember when she had last done something as reassuringly normal as walking to work.

Her eyes focused on finding a building she had considered a nuisance for much of the time she had lived in New York, because the crews of the various Law & Order shows were forever in front of the building filming. Now the people inside the building were her only chance of salvaging the people she loved from a disaster she had helped create.

Finally she saw the building. Her hand first reached out to quietly undo the seatbelt next to her, her eyes briefly meeting the blinding blue eyes of the other passenger. She nodded slightly towards the building as her left hand reached into her sleeve to retrieve the sharpest embroidery scissors she owned. Flinging herself forward with great force she jammed the scissors into the neck of the driver as her other hand reached for the unlock button. "RUN!" she screamed, but it was unnecessary. The other passenger was already running into the crowd on the sidewalk. She didn't fight as the bodyguard grabbed her arm and slammed her back into the seat.

The other passenger had been trained well. Clutching onto her stuffed lion she looked for the first person in a blue uniform she saw.

"Can you help me?" she asked.

The man looked down, slightly shocked. "What is it, honey? Are you lost?"

"I'm Lysette Walton. Bad men hurt Mommy and me. Mommy said call FBI man Peter Burke, please, to help me."

Neal Caffery carefully studied the prayer book in his hand as Peter attempted to switch lanes. A very early edition of the Book of Common prayer situated inside, but it was wrapped in the cover of a 14th century work of art.

"I'd say its from the Tudor age," he said, still skimming over the pages. "It's a pretty early version of a Protestant prayer book. What makes it so valuable is that it the cover is made from a piece of Catholic ecclesial art from the 14th century."

Peter frowned. "Why is the cover 150 years older than the book?"

"When Henry the much married closed the Catholic church in England, people used the material parts of the church in various ways. Seeing something like this isn't all that uncommon."

"And you are sure its authentic?"

"As sure as I can be by looking at for four minutes. Why?"

"It was found in the coat pocket of a man shot through the head." Peter's phone buzzed in his pocket. "Peter Burke,' he answered. After a moment his eyes widened. "What precinct? No, don't move her. I don't know, buy her an ice cream or something. I'm coming right now." Calculating his fastest route, a bit of fast maneuvering tossed Neal and the five hundred year old book against the passenger side door.

"That was dramatic."

Peter debated taking Neal into the precinct with him. Even after racking his brain the entire ride across lower Manhattan, he couldn't place a kid who would turn to him for help. He had no clue what he was walking into, and that was not a feeling he liked. This was an instance when Neal might be useful. If nothing else Neal could color with the kid or something while Peter tried to make sense of this puzzle.

"A kid wandered into the 43rd precinct, said someone had been hurting her and her mother, and then asked them to call me."

They walked into the right conference room. Peter was surprised at how small the girl was. He wasn't good with ages, but she didn't look old enough to go to school. Switching into investigator mode, he didn't note any bruises on her and she hardly looked neglected. Her hair was cut into a bob and a barrette held her bangs in place, her sweater, skirt, stockings, and shoes were all in good condition. A strange looking stuffed lion sat in her lap, and the image of the lion was sewn onto the small messenger bag.

Peter realized Neal wasn't behind him any longer. He turned to realized Neal was staring, mouth practically agape, at the girl. Peter turned back as the girl looked up, and he saw the second bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen.

The first bluest pair belonged to the man next to him.