Updated AN 2012: Swirlytwirly here, editing this story from the beginning. It shouldn't take too long, since there are only four chapters, but I'm back! Once I finish correcting the chapters, I will start updating again. I promise! After every chapter is updated, there will be an updated Author's Note with it.

AN: Well, here's chapter one! This is my first White Collar fic. The idea just came to me yesterday when I was watching it. Please R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar and never will. :) I only own the two characters I made up; Shaun and Alicia and any more I make up along the way.

"Another stolen painting," Peter said. "Replaced by a forgery. The security guard claims not to have heard a thing, or noticed anything unusual. None of the surveillance tapes had any useful footage. Most likely, someone tampered with the tapes."

Peter Burke shoved the newest case file to the side of his desk and leaned back in his chair, releasing out a sigh. Unconsciously, he ran his head through his thinning hair. He had seen three other similar case files throughout the past week, and still hadn't the slightest idea about who the culprit was. It was frustrating him to no extreme, especially since this crime seemed so juvenile. He had dealt with so many more complex cases, but this case, this simple case, had them stumped.

"People are noticing that forgery too quickly," Diana said. "It's almost as if our guy wants us to find the forgeries. He's gloating."

"Or he's getting sloppy," Neal said. He had already expressed his theories to Peter, that whoever the culprit was, he or she has done this for a long time. Neal was sure that there were plenty of other forgeries that hadn't been caught yet, and that now the criminal was starting to slip up. Their hubris was beginning to get in the way.

"But the fake is only needed until he sells the painting. Which means he's selling them fast then. He's probably lining up clients before he actually steals the painting. Then he could sell the painting almost immediately after he stole it. By the time anyone notices, the painting is long gone. The forgery doesn't have to work for a while, it just has to work for a day or so," Peter said with a scowl. "Diana? Has anyone come forward? A witness? Any one?"

Diana shook her head. "As of now, no. Peter, I don't think there are any witnesses. The security guards can't count. None of them ever noticed that someone even snuck into the building."

"Maybe we can figure out where he's going next," Jones said. "Obviously he's hitting museums and galleries at night. There can possibly be a pattern to it all. Our best option is to catch him in the act."

"I doubt he's actually getting that sloppy," Neal said dryly. "But we can try. That is, if we pinpoint where he is going to strike next. Jones, can you bring me a map of the area where the crimes has occurred? I think I can narrow it down."

Jones nodded and hurried off.

"We'll have to have people undercover, scouting the area. obviously we can't have people guarding the exits. That'll scare him off. Some of us can pose as guards though. And others as bystanders," Diana suggested as Jones returned with a map. He handed it to Neal.

Neal took the map and laid it out on a table. He grabbed a pen and circled four spots on the map, each museum that had been hit already. Then, he grabbed a red sharpie and began circling any other museum or gallery that was in the area; anything that could be considered a target. There were five possibilities withing the area.

"Well, it's a start," Peter said, but he still didn't look to pleased. There was no way to know which one would be targeted by the con artist next, or when. And the bureau didn't have enough man power to station people at all five locations. They had to condense it a specific spot. "Diana and Jones, look through the case files and see if you can come up with anything new. Neal, come with me," Peter directed as he slipped on his coat.

Neal placed his fedora on top his head and asked, "where to?"

"I figured that you can examine the forgeries," Peter said as the two walked out of the office.

"You think the guy left a signature on the paintings?"

"If there is, I know you can catch it," Peter said. "And a signature could be in the database."

"Which leads to a lead," Neal concluded.

"Exactly."

Shaun McKnight grinned to himself as he entered his apartment. He had just made his fourth sale of the week, and was working towards a fifth. He had two clients on hand, both of whom were battling each other in a bidding war to get the desired painting. Which was just fine with him, as long as he got paid in the end.

He was going for the fifth steal tonight, and the thought of it made his grin spread more. Each time his artifice worked, a tidal wave of pride crashed down on him. Shaun had been doing this con for almost a year, traveling from big city to big city. So far, during the month he'd been there, New York was the most lucrative of them all. And it was the most interesting city. He met fascinating people, went to fascinating places. The city was a quick adjustment for him, perhaps because he grew up in New York State. It was familiar.

But New York had one fatal flaw: it was competitive. The city drew in too many cons like him. And some of these people came territorial, like Alicia. His gaze trailed toward a note on his glass coffee table as he thought of Alicia, his newfound adversary. From what he heard, she was a few years older than him, and always worked in the city, pulling off heists similar to his own. She left the note for him as a form of a threat, but her efforts at scaring him away were futile. apparently, she disliked that Shaun was playing his hand at her game in her city. Still, she was no major threat to him, more like a nuisance.

Shaun picked up the note once more. It read:

You better stop, child. I've been at this longer. Revenge is cruel, especially my revenge. Heed this warning, get out of my city, my area. - Alicia

The teenager scoffed every time he read the note. Who was she to call him a child? He was young, but certainly no child. He found the note ironic, because whoever this Alicia was, she was behaving like a child. Shaun chuckled at the irony as walked into his bedroom. He let himself drop on to his bed, and fell asleep a few minutes later. He was going to need rest to prepare for the plans he had for the night.

"Peter!" Diana called walking toward his office, where the door was left open.

Peter analyzed each sentence that he read. A stack papers were cast aside to the other side of his desk, since he had read them all already. Twice. And still, he found nothing new. Neal was sitting lazily on the couch reading as well. Looking at the forgeries had not been helpful at all. There were no signatures or clues that could have hinted at who the criminal was. Neal scrutinized the forgeries for hours, under Peter's watchful eye, and came up with nothing. It was frustrating and tiresome. The two returned Peter's office defeated and began combing through the case files once more.

When he heard her voice, Peter looked up to see Diana standing in the doorway. She was smiling triumphantly, an expression that gave Peter hope that they finally found the lead they were looking for. "Yeah? What happened?"

"A girl came here to see you. Said her name was Heidi Villetta." Diana was grinning furiously. "Looks like we have that witness you hoped for. She's waiting downstairs."

Peter and Neal exchanged glances before shooting up from their seats and walking out of the room. Diana followed them in suit as Peter asked, "When did she come?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

"What exactly did she say?" Neal inquired, sounding skeptical.

"She said she knew who was our guy, and where he would be heading tonight."

"She knew all that?" Neal asked incredulously. Diana nodded at him, but Neal had his doubts. There was no such thing as a "perfect witness" or "anonymous tip" much like the girl she just described. Witnesses didn't know it all. They didn't see everything that happened, but usually gave some details that helped. Anonymous tips were usually brief, unhelpful blurbs of vague information, since usually the anonymous person was afraid to come forward. He gave Peter a wary look, and he returned it. Something wasn't right.

"It's worth a shot," Peter said. "I'll ask her the questions. You watch her and see if she's telling the truth or not. "

When they went downstairs Neal saw that a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, or younger was standing there. She wore a long, navy pea coat that clung to her petite body, and black stilettos that looked like they'd break her ankle if she tripped. Her pale blond hair was neatly pinned up in a bun, and her hazel eyes fixed themselves on Neal and Peter. Her expression was neutral, but Neal felt she was holding something back.

"Hello, Miss Villetta," Peter greeted her. "I'm Agent Peter Burke. This is my partner, Neal Caffery. Thankyou for coming forward with the information you have." They shook hands quickly.

She smiled gently, "Oh no problem, Agent Burke. The moment I realized what he was doing I decided to come forward. What he's doing is wrong."

"Who is exactly is 'he'?" Peter asked.

"Shaun McKnight," she answered. "Well, that's his real name. I know him as Tripp Calder. That's the alias he is going by."

"How do you know all of this?" Neal asked.

"I've met the kid a couple of times. He's a friend of a friend, you know? Originally, he said his name was Tripp and that he was nineteen. But then he slipped up one day around my friend. She found out his real name, age, everything. Such a shame he's using his smarts to steal," she sighed.

"What exactly do you mean by kid?" Peter questioned curiously. Neal looked at him for a second, processing what she said. Kid?

"He's seventeen," Heidi told them. "Barely. His birthday was less than a month or so ago.

"You're kidding," Peter breathed. Seventeen. A teenager had evaded the FBI. A teenager knew how to make forge paintings. He knew how to act sly and how to steal. The information was baffling. "What else do you know about him?"

She bit her lip, and thought for a moment. "From what I gather he's an orphan. I don't know much about his family or anything. He graduated two years early from high school, like I said: genius. He lives in an apartment in the Upper East Side. His hair is as pale as mine, and he has a boyish face, like he just looks youthful. He isn't all that tall, but he isn't short either. Maybe five 'seven or five 'eight. He's flat muscled. And for the life of me, I can't remember the color of his eyes. But none of that matters," she brushed off dismissively.

Neal was examining her behavior, looking for a flaw. He couldn't find her tell, which would have indicated whether she were lying or not. And everything she said seemed truthful, but almost too truthful. As if it rehearsed. She had enough details, but didn't have all of them. She had specifics, but she wasn't too specific. And she sounded genuine. But Neal knew that something was off, he just couldn't pinpoint what.

"It doesn't?" Peter raised a brow.

"No," she smirked. "Because you want to know where he is going to steal from next. I know for a fact that he'll be at the this little art gallery called, Star. It has lots of pricey paintings, and sculptures. My friend found his plans to sneak in and out of the building in his apartment. She told me about it because she was too frightened to come forward to the police. When she asked me to come forward with the evidence she found, I couldn't refuse." Heidi handed a folder manila folder to Peter. "She stole the plans from his apartment, when he wasn't looking."

"Thank you," Peter said, taking the folder from her.

This is too perfect, Neal thought doubtfully.

"I must get going, I have a meeting for work soon. Have a nice day Agent Burke." Heidi's smiled that pretty little smile again that Neal had begun to dislike in the ten minutes that he had known her.

"Of course, thank you for coming forward," Peter said politely. "Have a nice day."

"You're welcome," She said, and the smile returned. She looked at Neal. " ," she added curtly, before turning on her heel and walking out of the building.

"That went. . . Great," Peter said, looking confused. He and Neal shared a look, knowing that something was up. "I'll get Jones. With luck we'll catch this McKnight kid tonight."

"With luck," Neal repeated, though he sounded distant, as if deep in thought. "And what about her?"

"We'll look into that after we catch the kid," Peter said. It was so bizarre for him to say kid.

Meanwhile, the young woman, who had just walked away from them, was smirking as she walked outside and put on a pair of Gucci sunglasses. She had just charmed and deceived a fed, and was quite proud of herself. She knew his consultant was skeptical, but that didn't matter. Just as long was McKnight was out of her way.

If only she had given Peter and Neal her real name. Then maybe they would have realized that she was a lot worse than the young Shaun McKnight.

Oh yes, Alicia Fox was much more of a threat. But since Shaun underestimated her, he didn't know that. She assumed that he'd learn his lesson after this though.

Too bad he'd only learn that lesson after that Agent Burke fellow, and his handsome partner arrested him.

AN: I hope everyone liked this chapter. Please Review. I really want to hear everyone's thoughts on this story.

-SwirlyTwirly