Hello! I'm Bmangaka, and this is my new story. I'm not too sure about it, so critisism will be greatly apprieciated. Flamers are pathetic little fools who subject other people's happiness to their lonliness and upset.

Don't own!!

The hot sun of Miami shone down upon the holiday makers on the packed beach. The marble sands making the most fair of complexions look healthy and bronze.

A family of three sat, near the curb, on towels, giggling and laughing. The two carbon copy women looked slyly at one and another, before launching at the man in blue khaki shorts.

"Oh, ladies!" The man said through his laughter. "How very impolite of you! At least by me a drink first!" He turned to the visibly older woman and kissed her hand. "Does your mother know you are out, darling?"

"Dad!" The young girl exclaimed, the laughter in her eyes obvious. "You are being such a snob!"

The man in question raised his nose to the air and the girls doubled over with laughter. They wiped the tears from their eyes and sat up a little straighter, looking out at the sea, the youngest face pensive.

"Don't worry so much! Relax a little." The mother said. "You'll do fine." The two adults stood up.

"Would you like an ice cream, to help you chill?" The father asked with a smile.

The smile was returned. "Sure. I'll stay with the stuff." The girl replied.

The couple linked arms and walked lazily away.

A car squealed around the corner.

And then three things happened simultaneously.

The tinted windows rolled down.

The guns went off with a flash and a deafening bang.

And the girl on the beach was suddenly all alone.

Horatio Caine stepped out of his department issue hummer; suit straight, expression blank.

"What have we got, Eric?"

The muscular Cuban stood up and pointed towards two bodies on the pavement. "Sarah and Michael Conway. Tourists, here from Britain. Their only daughter's over there." He turned and pointed towards a teenager facing the sea, her shoulders hunched.

"You talked to her yet?" Horatio questioned. Eric's head shook disappointedly.

"No-one's gotten two words outta her. We were hoping you could, H."

H smiled ruefully. His reputation with children preceded him. Walking across the pavement, the cement clicking under his shoes. Sitting next to her, the first thing he noticed was her vivid red hair.

"My name's… Horatio Caine. And I'm trying to help you. Will you let me?" He said gently.

The girl wiped the tears from her cheeks with her pale hand. "You shouldn't sit down. You'll ruin your suit. And since no-one in America seems to own an iron or washing machine, it would be costly and a disaster." She said in her thick British accent. Horatio bit back a smile.

"I know this will be hard. But can you tell me what happened?"

The girl's eyes brimmed with tears again, and the lieutenant felt instantly guilty. "My Mum and Dad said they were going to get us an ice cream…" The tears threatened to overflow, but the girl dutifully stayed strong. "And then there was a tire screech, and the gunshots and….and….and…." The tears came thick and strong now.

Horatio put his arms around the slim shaking shoulders, holding her, supporting her as the sobs subsided into nothingness. Then he remembered he didn't know her name.

"Sweetheart, what's your name?" He said, feeling the head resting on his shoulder.

"Beila Hope Conway." She said quietly.

"It's a beautiful name… How old are you?" He probed again.

"Fifteen. I turn sixteen soon though." She said, obviously trying to make the point that she wasn't just some child. Horatio smiled despite himself, he'd been just like that at that age; mind defiant that he wasn't young, that he could take care of himself.

"I want you to go with this policewoman," he pointed towards the female uniform a few metres away. "So you can get some things from your hotel room, then come back to the crime lab…and I…will see you there." The girl nodded mutely in response and stood, dusting sand off her long tunic.

Eric walked towards H.

"Please tell me she's not a mute."

"She is not Eric…..She is just a scared child." Horatio sighed. He always hated cases that involved children. "Her name…Is Beila, and she's fifteen." He took his sunglasses of and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Beila…." Eric said. "It's a Jewish name, from Russia." A department issue hummer drove up, followed by a Medical van.

"The brigade is here!" The blonde woman called as she stepped out, turning to the African American woman next to her, eyebrows raised at the sombre mood at the scene.

"What happened here, Horatio?" Alexx questioned in her motherly tone as she set down near the bodies.

"At around noon, a car turned the corner there," He paused pointing at the corner the car had turned earlier. "And shot at the ice cream hut there," He paused, pointing at the other landmark in question. "And killed two tourists. Now ladies and gentlemen, we have a teenager, all alone, and in a foreign country…..let's get this one wrapped up as soon as possible."

"Horatio." A voice from behind said, turning around the team saw Det. Jake Berkeley.

"Detective." Horatio acknowledged, nodding his head slightly.

"All accounts are the same. Our vics went to the shack, the car came-black with tinted windows-window rolled down, guns went off, and what's done is done." He finished, flipping his notebook shut.

"But…" Horatio started, placing his sunglasses back on his face, "It's not over yet."

Okay, so probably the worst one liner in the history of CSI, but tell me what you think!

Bmangaka out!