Greg stood in the lab, his mind spinning with questions. He couldn't place where he'd seen this girl. Finally it hit him. Tristan. The girl who had stayed with his family for a summer and had suddenly disappeared. Where she had gone to nobody knew. The police thought that she had run away. Now she was here in Las Vegas over a decade later. "Greg. Earth to Greg, we need to go. There's a dead guy in a dumpster calling your name," Sara called to him.

"Coming. Hey, have you met the new girl?" Greg asked her, nonchalantly.

"Yeah, really quiet one. Are you coming or am I going to have to leave you?" Sara threatened.

"I'm coming. Can I drive this time?"

Tristan sat on the cold tile in the bathroom. After promptly emptying the few contents of her stomach, she had crept to the corner and stayed there for several long minutes. She glanced at her hands. They were noticeably trembling. He's here. I can't believe it. Now he's going to start asking me questions. I actually found a job I like, and now I'm gonna have to move. Tristan slowly got up and after splashing water on her face, returned to her work.

A few minutes before her shift ended, Tristan was filing data into the computer. The door slowly swung open behind her. "Tristan," Greg came to stand beside her.

"What do you want?" she asked him, never taking her eyes off of the screen.

"Well, for starters, I would like to know where you disappeared to. My parents were worried sick about you." He reached past her and covered the computer monitor. She swiveled around in her chair. Greg saw a hint of sorrow that was quickly concealed by a stony glare.

"How are your parents?" Tristan unsuccessfully evaded the question.

"They're doing great. But I'm sure they would like to know where you ran off to." Greg crossed his arms and waited.

"I didn't know that people actually cared about foster kids," she muttered under her breath. She hoped he would be offended and leave her alone.

"Tristan Wescott, why don't you just tell me where you went. It's been over ten years. Can't you just give me an explanation?" Greg almost shouted at her. She flinched and mentally steeled herself. He stopped his tirade and stared at her.

"I can't tell you. I was told not to tell anyone. If I tell, something bad could happen. Leave me alone, Greg. Please, everything's better that way." Tristan knew that she was babbling, but she had to get away from him. "I need to go clock out. I'll be back at my normal shift tomorrow. Just go away." She turned off the computer and exited the lab.

Tristan hated the long walk back to her apartment. She let herself in the door and flipped the lock. Throwing her bag onto the floor, she headed for the perpetual bookshelf. Her cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered.

"Hello, Tristan, this is Ecklie. I have another question to ask you. One of the night shift lab techs will not be returning to work. I want you to take her position on the night shift." Tristan wanted to protest, but she knew that Ecklie wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I guess I could," she replied, really wishing she could say no.

"Thank you, Miss Wescott. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated." Tristan almost laughed at his words. He sounded like he was reading out of a book. In fact, he probably was. She clicked the phone shut and threw it onto the couch.

Tristan was now finished with her third day on the night shift. She had carefully avoided Greg at all costs, and he also seemed to be ignoring her. The other CSIs were nice to her, but Tristan's evasion of Greg strained any possible friendships.

A knock on the door startled her. Tristan eyed the door suspiciously. She grabbed her unread copy of War and Peace and went to answer the door. No one was outside her apartment. A note was tucked between the screen door and the wall. Tristan unfolded the small scrap of paper and read the hastily scrawled words.

Tristan,

There's no use in avoiding me. I'm like an unlucky penny. I see that you walk to and from work. So, I will be at your apartment at 3:00 pm. We are going to talk whether you want to or not. Then we'll ride to work together. Enough of the hide-and-seek game. See you mañana.

Greg

Tristan lay on the couch in a pool of misery. She was half-tempted to hunt down Greg's number and call him a thousand names. He never talked to me that summer. And I thought that he hated me. Then again, I don't remember much about that summer. Tristan's thoughts were drawing perilously close to bringing back unwanted memories. Unfortunately, sooner or later, she would be forced to tell him. She'd been holding in secrets for far too long. Sighing softly, Tristan moved into a more comfortable position. It was going to be a long night.