Chapter 1

It was bound to happen. You couldn't spend your days dealing drugs and whoring yourself to anyone who offered you 5 dollars; then not end up dead in your own bed. It was bound to happen.

Cole Phillips fell back into the cushions of the beat up piece of shit sofa she had been sleeping on since her mother had moved them to New York City a little over 7 years ago. The entire apartment was the size of her friend Lucy's bedroom and she felt mildly embarrassed as she watched all of the different police and crime scene people traipse over the place.

The tiny apartment felt even smaller as people snapped pictures of her mother's dead and beaten body, trying with all of their might to ignore the skinny pre-teen sitting on the sofa. When someone did approach her it was to offer lame condolences or smile at her with pity, like she needed anymore of that.

Cole looked at her watch, it was a man's watch one of those big chunky knock off Rolex watches. She had found it at the train station the day before her 6th birthday and begged her mother to have it fixed for her. Alas she walked herself home that day to find her mother with the bedroom door shut and a hot pink sticky note telling her that there hadn't been enough money for birthday gifts that year.

Cole found the watch tossed into the bathroom garbage and with the help of her computers teacher had it in working order before the end of the week. She hadn't taken it off since; it was a testament to what she could do on her own.

1:17 am, in less than 5 hours she had to be at the bakery shop downstairs, get in as many hours of work as she could before she had to make an appearance at school. She let her mind wander to big Tom the bakery owner that had his small shop at the bottom of their building. She wondered if he could hear the commotion going on in her little apartment. Probably not, he would have been up to check on her inviting her to spend the night on his couch and then trying to get her into his bed.

She felt the bile in her throat rise and was about to duck out of the apartment, she had her last month's wages tucked into her sock and could've easily found a cheap little motel room to crash in until the police or social services inevitably caught up with her. Her plan was put to a stop when she heard his name muttered.

Richard Castle, the Richard Castle.

Cole's dark eyes darted over to the make shift book shelf at the end of the sofa where she had half a dozen mystery novels written by the author that was standing in her doorway, and then back up to the man himself.

He was trailing behind what had to be the lead investigator for the case and he looked like a love-struck puppy dog. His eyes were trained on the detective and he was smiling even as she rolled her big eyes at him.

She watched as the tall beautiful brunette disappeared into her mother's bedroom and heard her ask the pretty medical examiner for cause of death. The writer himself did a very writer-like thing; he scanned the room taking in the despair their victim lived in. She knew he was trying to build a story for their victim, give her a background. Cole let out a small laugh at the thought of her mother as a victim and then laughed wholeheartedly at the knowledge that her mother had finally managed to get Richard Castle into her bedroom.

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and Cole fell back into the sofa, plastering the same look of boredom back onto her face. She watched the detective and the writer pop their heads around the corner to see where the laughter had come from. They shared a silent look and then began to approach her.

The detective pushed aside a pile of old gossip magazines and sat down opposite her on the coffee table, while Richard Castle made himself comfortable on the arm of the sofa.

"My name is Detective Kate Beckett, and this is Richard Castle." Cole looked up at the detective and then over at the writer but her mouth remained closed.

"I'm sorry for your loss..." she let the sentence hang, waiting for Cole to introduce herself.

"Thanks, as you can see I'm devastated." Cole played with the hem of her t-shirt noticing once again a silent conversation pass between the two adults; she wondered how quickly that would get old.

"How old are you sweetheart?" Richard Castle asked and she was surprised at how genuine he sounded. Most of the time when men called her sweetheart it had this leering perverted pitch to it, like they were imagining her naked. She found the pet name far too innocent to be anything other than genuine as it came from the Author's lips.

"I turned eleven last month." Both of their eyes widened and Cole couldn't help the smile. She was tiny always had been but people were always thinking she was older than she actually was. It probably had something to do with the black around her eyes and the fact that she had practically been raising herself since her grandpa had died.

"What's your name?" The detective asked. Her voice purposefully softer than it normally would have been.

"Cole,"

"Cole?" the writer repeated.

"My mom has a thing for men, as you can see." Cole nodded to the bedroom and both adults made the obvious choice to ignore the comment.

"We'll need to ask you a few questions Cole, is that ok?" The writer asked and Cole felt her shoulders shrug before she had even made up her mind up to answer. Cole looked up at the two adults and sighed she was pretty sure she wasn't going to be getting any shut eye before work. She looked back in the direction of her mother's bedroom and for the millionth time in her incredibly short life felt nothing but hatred for the dead woman on the bed.

A/N – Just a warning this won't be very case oriented other than what needs to be said to move the story along. I'm just not good enough at planning out murders and stringing them along. Sorry!