Chapter One

"Seriously Natalie, what part of 'stay the hell out of this', don't you understand?" John McBain snapped angrily from his desk as he tried unsuccessfully to get her to leave.

Shaking her head angrily, Natalie Buchanan marched toward him, her eyes flashing. "Why can't you just let me help you on this?"

"Like how you tried to help and almost got yourself killed by that George guy? Thanks but no thanks."

"John you're being ridiculous…" Natalie began.

"And you're being stupid." John slammed his fist angrily on his desk. "Jesus Christ Natalie, I have enough on my mind right now then to have to worry about saving you for the millionth time. Just leave this alone."

Natalie felt as if she had been slapped. "I never asked to be saved," she said coldly.

Rolling his eyes, John turned back to the picture he was studying. "Good, then you won't mind if I stop being your fucking protector and deal with more important things like finding my father's killer."

Trying not to let him show how much he had hurt her, Natalie stormed toward his desk and threw down the files she was carrying. Just as she was about to leave, the photograph on his desk caught her eye.

Before John could stop her she picked it up and studied it. It was date stamped in the corner, making Natalie think it was a screen cap of a surveillance video. The picture was of a man, faced down in a pool of blood. Beside it where the words, "Stop budding into this McBain or you're next," written in thick black marker. But that wasn't what caught Natalie's eye... Beside the body stood a young girl, a look of fear etched on to her small face.

Looking at the picture, Natalie was stuck with a strange sense of familiarity but before she could put her finger on it, John snatched the picture form her hands. "Get the hell out of here Natalie."

"John…" Natalie began, suddenly worried about the threat he had obviously just received, but John wouldn't hear her.

"Just go."

Suddenly shaken by both the picture and by John reaction toward her, Natalie turned and left the room. But for the rest of the day something about the picture plagued her. She knew it was probably something pointless, like she had been in that ally at some point, but despite her efforts, Natalie couldn't place what it was.

Later that night, Natalie bolted awake and looked over at her beside clock which read 2:04. Suddenly she jumped out of her bed.

It was that god awful dress.

Making sure she remained silent, Natalie rushed from her bedroom and made her way downstairs to the Llanfair living room. Closing the doors softly behind her she went over to the bookshelf to the right of the fireplace and skimmed through the contents until she found the photo album listed as Natalie.

Ever since finding out Natalie was a Buchanan, Vicki had been trying to make up for lost time by snapping as many pictures as possible – birthdays, holidays, weddings – anything that mattered, and Natalie remembered that Roxy had made sure to give Vicki copies of a few pictures that had been taken of her childhood. Hoping that Roxy had included her kindergarten class picture – the only school picture that existed of her – Natalie began to flip through the pages.

It was five pages into the album.

Her hands shaking, Natalie carefully tore the picture from its page and stood up.

She had to be sure.

Trying not to panic, Natalie grabbed her keys, quietly let herself out of the house, and then all but ran down the driveway to her car. Jumping behind the wheel, she peeled out of the driveway and made her way toward the police station, probably breaking about five traffic laws along the way. After pulling into the nearest parking spot, Natalie jumped from her car and ran inside the building, still clutching the photo. If Natalie realized that she was still wearing the duck covered pajama pants Jessica had given her for Christmas, she didn't care, nor did she care about the oversized unmatching Llanview University tee-shirt that covered them or the messy ponytail her red hair had been pulled back in.

At this point, nothing mattered.

Assuming that at this hour John would be back at the hotel room fast asleep, Natalie let herself into his office and crossed the room to his desk. Carelessly she pushed paper aside and went through files until she saw the glassy photograph peeking out. Picking it up with one hand, she held up the now creased picture from her childhood and looked at them together.

Feeling as if she may pass out, Natalie didn't even hear John enter the room until he swore angrily under his breath. "You know, the second you refused to throw that pool tournament I should have realized what I was getting myself into… God Natalie can't you…" John trailed off as he noticed her pale face and shaking hands.

"Natalie?" he asked softly, instantly knowing something was bothering her.

"Sorry," she said quickly, dropping the crime scene photo onto his desk and rushing toward the door. But, John was quicker and blocked the exit. Seeing that she was clutching something, John gently grabbed her and easily pried the picture from her still shaking hands. Letting go of her, John looked down at the picture, his eyes widening as he realized what he was looking at.

It was the same girl from the picture he had received earlier. The same girl who had stood beside his father's body after he had been shot.

His eyes narrowing, John looked at Natalie. "Didn't I tell you to stay out of this? Where the hell did you get this?"

Unable to meet his eyes, she looked away and remained silent.

Putting his hands on her shoulder, John's voice began to rise until he was almost yelling. "Natalie, who is this child… how did you get her picture?"

Finally meeting his eyes, Natalie drew in a shaky breath.

"It's me. The girl in the picture is me."