A/N: Okay, Chapter 3 is up and running. Trust me, I am going somewhere with this as we will see in progressing chapters. You all know the routine; R&R, please and thank you, which will determine just how fast I get the next chapter up.

Chapter 3

The morning dawned clear and bright and Savannah was up and moving before Horatio had even finished his morning shower. When he came into the kitchen, it was to find that Savannah had already gotten the coffee going and was getting ready to slide a freshly cooked omelet on to a plate at the table.

"Oh, good morning," she said, smiling nervously, sliding the omelet onto the plate and returning the pan to the stove. She quickly poured him a cup of coffee and placed it within reach of his plate, having seen how he took his coffee at the restaurant last night. Her father had been a mean SOB first thing in the morning, especially if breakfast wasn't ready on time. She didn't know how Horatio was going to be and decided not to take chances by getting breakfast going for him. His fridge and cupboards were reasonably well stocked with enough foodstuffs that she could get a decent breakfast going.

"Good morning," Horatio replied, smiling back and sniffing appreciatively.

"I made breakfast if you're hungry," she offered tentatively.

"I appreciate that," he said, sitting down at the table. "However, you don't have to do this all the time."

"Kinda got into the routine back home," she admitted, already working on the next omelet.

"Your father?" he asked, digging into his breakfast.

She nodded. "He used to get real cranky if he didn't get his breakfast on time," she admitted.

"Well, since I'm used to living alone, that's not likely to happen," he replied. "And by the way, this is very good."

She blushed at his praise. Horatio was beginning to realize that she probably didn't get much praise, mostly put-downs and insults.

Once Savannah sat down at the table with her own breakfast, they discussed the day's plans. He wrote down his cell phone number for her in case there was a problem and she needed to get in touch with him. Once they finished eating, he brought out a map of Miami and suggested a couple of points of interest for her. He also advised her on transit information as well as advising her on a good bank branch once he found out that she had a fair amount of cash on her, something she really didn't feel comfortable carrying around all day. They agreed to meet up for lunch later on that day.

After creating an account at a local bank, one that Horatio had recommended, depositing her cash and paycheck, and getting a temporary bankcard, Savannah began to explore Miami. She found a couple of the spots Horatio had recommended and completely enjoyed herself. She also wisely bought a hat, sunglasses, and some sunscreen. While both Miami and Ladonia got a fair amount of sunshine, Miami was closer to the tropics and the ocean, creating a different sort of heat and humidity.

When it was time to meet Horatio for lunch, Savannah managed to make her way to the crime lab with little difficulty. Horatio found her in Reception, doodling with pen and paper.

"Hey there," he said, smiling.

"Oh, hi, Horatio. How's your day so far?" she asked, putting the pen down.

"Fairly routine," he replied, noticing the drawings with curiosity. If it was one thing he appreciated, it was art, especially someone with artistic talent. "May I see?" he asked, indicating the paper. Shyly, she pushed the paper towards him. His eyebrows went up; the drawings were ink character studies of people. She'd even done a profile view of the receptionist. The drawings reminded him of the works of Michelangelo; they were that good.

"You have some real talent here," he said.

"It's nothing much, just doodles," she replied, going scarlet.

"If these are just doodles, I'd like to see what you produce when you're not doodling," he said, studying the drawings.

"Papa and Andrew always told me that artistic talent was a worthless talent and discouraged me from ever taking it seriously," she admitted.

Horatio chuckled softly. "That is where they are wrong. This is really good and if you took your art seriously, well, I can only just imagine what you could produce. People pay big money for this kind of work."

"I don't understand; why would someone pay for something that's just scribbles on paper?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Because there are people who appreciate art," he replied, putting an arm around her shoulders and moving towards the elevators.

Over lunch, Horatio coaxed Savannah to tell him about her art, especially her preferred mediums. They were, to no surprise, charcoal and pastels. She had used both soft and hard pastels before and liked combining the two.

"Papa used to hate it when I came home from school because my fingers were always dirty from the smudging I'd do in my artwork," she admitted.

"Smudging?"

"Using your fingers or a special pencil to blend or fade the colors when working with either pencils, paints, charcoals, or pastels," she explained. He nodded in understanding; he had an idea.

On his way back from his second crime scene of the day, after lunch, Horatio spotted an art supply store and pulled in.

"Good afternoon, sir," said the woman at the counter. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Actually, yes. I'm, umm, I'm looking for some art supplies for a friend. Her preferred mediums are charcoals and pastels, both soft and hard," he said, looking at the dizzying array of colors and art supplies.

"Okay, does she have any supplies of her own?" the clerk asked.

"None, as far as I know. She was never encouraged to take her art seriously," he admitted. He pulled out the doodles Savannah had done earlier that day, as well as the quick one she'd done on a napkin while they had been at the restaurant. The woman's eyes went wide as she studied the drawings.

"Your friend has talent. Okay, let's see what we can do," she said.

Horatio decided to leave the supplies with the receptionist, knowing Savannah would be there when she came to join him for dinner. The art supplies included a heavy-duty sketchpad with a clip-board-style back, a set of charcoals, eraser, and blender in it's own case, a nice set of soft pastels and a set of basic hard pastels. There was also a can of spray-on fixative and a nice bag for the whole thing. The receptionist promised to give Savannah the bag when she came in, and also promised to play Devil's Advocate since Horatio had a feeling Savannah wouldn't feel comfortable accepting such a gift from him.

In the mean time, he refocused himself on the current cases.

There was one robbery that Ryan Wolfe was working on in conjunction with another detective, a drive-by shooting with, thankfully, no casualties, just a lot of bullets. Calleigh had that one. And he and Eric Delko had just processed a hit-and-run that was looking more and more like it was alcohol-related. Just another day in the neighborhood.

He went about his routine, doing progress checks on his team and boring paperwork. At one point, Calleigh stopped by his office and handed him a folder; it contained the photographs of Savannah from yesterday. He scowled when he saw them; the abuse had been going on for some time, judging by what the UV filter photos were showing.

"Also, just out of curiosity, I called the Ladonia hospital and checked out their medical records for any of Savannah's ER trips," Calleigh said.

"And?"

She indicated a report under the photos and he pulled it out, his eyes going over it. "Fractured arms in various places, busted ribs, broken cheekbone, the usual for a victim of physical abuse," she replied. "I also spoke to a Sheriff Donaling, the local authority for that area, and he had quite a lot to say, and none of it good, except in regards to Savannah. Called her a good-natured girl and the best damn waitress he'd ever known. In regards to her father, however, it was a completely different subject. It turns out David Abbot has quite the violent history, especially with alcohol. Donaling's tried repeatedly to get Savannah to press charges but she was always too scared to do so. David has, however, been arrested numerous times on alcohol-related charges."

"And the boyfriend, Andrew?"

"Andrew Jackson, age twenty-two, already charged with assault on an ex-girlfriend," she reported. "The charge was later dropped."

"Any idea why?"

"Donaling figured it was because Andrew was from a very prominent family who forced the girl to drop the charges; he was never sure how. All he knows is that the girl was found in a creek a week later. He fingered Andrew but with no evidence, the case went cold."

"And Savannah became his next victim." Calleigh nodded. "Okay, good work; I appreciate this."

"No problem. How's Savannah doing, by the way?"

"She's settling in reasonably well, but time will tell. I did, however, discover that she is quite the talented artist," he said, showing her the drawings Savannah had done.

"Wow. These are good," Calleigh said, her eyes going wide.

"She called those 'doodles.' I'm hoping, as part of her healing progress, to encourage her talent. It seems that David and Andrew both discouraged her from seriously pursuing art, calling it a waste of time," Horatio explained.

"That's a good idea. If these are doodles, I would love to see what she could create when she isn't doodling. Heck, I'd place good money on her being able to get some serious commissions," Calleigh said.

"So would I," Horatio said. "So would I."