A/N: I do not own CSI Miami or any of it's characters, affiliates...etc. This is just my imagination running with it! I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter One

Did She Talk

"What have we got Tripp?" Horatio asked the Texan.

Frank straightened, where he'd been squatting and nodded his head toward the kid. "Casey Colter, seventeen. Was at school, came home because she didn't feel good, found her adoptive parents. Hasn't said a word one since I've been here. Dialed nine-one-one, dropped the phone and curled up in a ball. They got her to stand up, but she hasn't moved since they put her there."

Horatio walked over to the girl and sat down beside where she was sitting on the brick wall that lined the driveway about two feet high. She had soft brown hair and eyes that matched almost perfectly. She had a vacant expression that suggested shock. "What's your name sweetheart?"

She didn't answer him. She didn't even move.

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt your parents?"

Again, no response.

"I'm going to find who did this, okay?" and he put his hand on her shoulder.

There was a single tear that rolled down her cheek.

"Hey, can I get a paramedic over here?" and he stayed there. When the medic showed up, he looked back at her. "I'm betting she's suffering from PTSD. Let's get her checked out, alright?" then he looked back at the kid. "They're going to take care of you. Okay? You go with them and I'll check in with you later."

She stood, but never acknowledged he'd even said anything.

He walked back over to the detective. "When is Tom supposed to be here?"

"Now." came the voice from behind him. He knelt down in front of the husband and wife duo. They were both together, face down, blood pooled around them. "Lets see, what have we got here?" he asked himself. "Been dead about two hours. Looks like multiple stab wounds on each side of the ribs, going horizontally between the ribs and into the lungs. Four wounds on each side, bled out quickly. I need to see the body closer, but I'd bet this is rage filled. Someone that knew them. Someone was angry with them. Very angry."

Horatio looked around the house. He was right. Several valuable items lined the walls but were left untouched. There was no warning, and no clue as to why this had been done. But, that was how it normally went. It was their job to figure things like that out.

Knocking on the door to the house, he waited as the woman answered. She was in her mid to late forties, with darker brown hair than the girls, and hazel eyes that slanted just slightly upward and a small nose. "Edith Summers?" She nodded and he flashed his badge. "Lieutenant Horatio Caine. I was checking on Casey Colter?"

"Oh yeah! Come on in!" she said softly. No stranger to fosters, she knew for them to call her last minute, it was an emergency situation. "She's in good hands here."

"The paramedics said they released her at the hospital?"

"Yep. A couple of hours ago. She's been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I've been instructed to keep her as quiet as possible and keep a close eye on her. She's in the living room."

He nodded and followed her in. The kid was sitting on the couch, exactly as she'd been sitting on the brick wall at her house. Same vacant expression, same position.

She took a deep breath. "It's like, the lights are on, but no one's home. She'll do what she's asked, but she doesn't directly respond to anyone. They said that was from the PTSD and they're sending over someone to evaluate her later today. Poor girl. They told me her parents were slain."

He nodded. "She found them this morning. I'll see if I can get through to her." then he walked over to where she was and sat beside her again as the woman disappeared around the corner. "Casey?" he said softly. "Sweetheart I wanted to check on you, like I said I would."

She didn't acknowledge him.

Using what elicited a slight response last time, he assured her again. "I'm getting closer to finding your parent's killer."

This time, there was no tear. No recognition at all. "Do you know anyone that would be mad enough to hurt them like that? Nothing was taken, so we're sure it was personal. Someone who knew them." and he took notice to her breathing quicken. "Casey?"

Tears started to fall down her face as she brought her knees to her chest and started rocking where she was sitting.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to find who did this. I promise. You can trust me. If you can think of anything, you let me know okay? You can call me at any time."

He started to stand and a shaky but firm hand, wrapped roughly around his wrist. Her breathing continued to quicken and she still had a blank expression, still staring at the floor. Squatting in front of her, he put his free hand on her knee. "Casey?" Her shaky grip tightened. She was scared. Someone had gotten to her.

She tried to breathe in deep but keep taking shallow breaths. She looked into his eyes for an instant, but as soon as she did, she saw the sorrow waiting for her and saw nothing but her parents laying there, covered in blood, dead.

There was recognition for a split second. Then it was gone. She was blank again. Her grip was gone on his arm and her hand wrapped back around her bent knees. Her breathing started to even out and the tears stopped. There was something there, underneath the trauma. It was simply going to be a matter of finding it, and helping her through it.

He stood from where he was and walked into the kitchen.

"Did she talk?"

He shook his head. "However, she did grab my wrist. Which I'm actually considering is hopeful because of how tight she gripped. Did they tell you much about her past?"

She shook her head. "But it's not uncommon for them to send me information after I've taken in a foster on emergency like this."

"I understand. Could you let me know when you find out anything?"

"Sure. You seem to be able to reach her. No one else can."

He looked in at the girl, from the other room. "Well, I just want to make sure she's safe. It can't be easy for anyone to go through finding their parents on the floor like that."

Nodding this time, she agreed. "My brother killed my parents when I was eight. I'll never forget walking into that one. That's why they give me cases like hers. I didn't talk for almost ten years afterwards. Although admittedly, I knew what was going on around me."

He studied her. "I killed my father, trying to protect my mother, and she wound up dying anyway."

"I'm sorry." she said solemnly.

He shook his head. "It's alright. It was a long time ago. But I can relate too." then he looked in at her. "I just hope I can find who did this to her."

"I don't know a whole lot about police work, but sometimes the most simple answer is the right one."

"Occam's Razor." he said simply.

She nodded.

Thinking about it, he admitted, "A lot of times, it is the simplest answer. So what would be the simplest in this situation?"

She shrugged. "That, I can't tell you. I don't know her situation enough. But I'm going to do whatever I can to protect her until you can find out. She will age out in a few months, but if she needs it, I'm not going to turn her out at eighteen."

He nodded this time. She likely would need it. But that didn't always mean she would take it either. He walked into the living room, touching her shoulder softly. "I'm going to go find out who did this to you parents sweetheart. When I come back, I'll have some information for you."

No response. He hadn't expected there to be, but it still saddened him to know there wasn't.