Title: Crossing Spade

Summary: When the younger Spade sister joins the Missing Persons Unit, will she be able to keep her personal life separate from the job? What happens when the two intertwine?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Without A Trace characters. I do, however, own Andrea Freedom Spade. Please don't sue: I'm a poor high school student that just can't afford a lawsuit in today's society. Damn you society. Damn you.

A/N: In reality, I don't know much about Samantha's family life, so I'm making it all up as I go along. This chapter will include a little bit of violence/mention of child abuse, so if that offends you, leave now or forever hold your peace.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to write another chapter. I know that most of you have been in that place where you just seem to have no inspiration for a story, which is the place I'm trying to get out of. To all of my lovely reviewers, THANKS!!


"I just don't know why he'd do this. Billy has always been a good kid. He listens to his teachers, does the homework, everything he is told to do, Bill has always done it without complaint."

Billy's mom said, tears falling gently down her face. Danny and I have been at the Bernell residence for a little over twenty minutes, and that's the first statement that anybody has made since our arrival. His mother, Laura, was a sobbing mess, sitting on the sofa beside her husband, Tom.

"Mrs.Bernell, sometimes kids Bill's age don't think up these plans themselves, or they don't carry them out by themselves. Has Billy gotten any new friends lately? Maybe someone that you don't recognize?"

"Well, he's been hanging out with some older kids, high schoolers, I think. Those kids are just no good."

"Now, Mr. Bernell, you're not Billy's biological father, correct?"

"Right. His real dad left when he was four."

"Does Billy know his real father or does Billy's real father know him?"

"No. Jack, that's his name. Jack was an alcoholic when I got pregnant with Billy, and it only got worse the older he got."

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Flashback

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Samantha and I are only 16, still very much young and naïve. Our mother is hovering in the corner, crying loudly, while I stand in middle of the room, yelling at our father.

"Dad, you can't control my life anymore!"

"I can do whatever I damn well want, kid, and I won't be told otherwise!"

Dad raises his right hand and strikes me across the face, a large red welt indicating where his hand made contact. I hear mom gasp for a moment after hearing the smack of his hand across my face, but it no longer stuns me. This cycle of abuse has been going on for along time, and it no longer bothers either of us. Dad's drunk off of whiskey again, so much so that you can smell it on him. I lean down, picking my duffle bag up off of the floor, and look behind dad, to see Samantha sitting on the sofa. I shake my head, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling, and say,

"I'm sorry, Samantha. I just can't do this anymore."

I turn and leave the house. The next time I saw my parents would be at their funeral, less than a year later.

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End Flashback

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"Alright, Mrs.Burnell. If you think of anything else, no matter how small it might seem, you just give us a call at that number."

"Thank you Agent Taylor, Agent Spade."

We nod our head, and walk out of the Burnell household, which seems a little too perfect for its own good.

"Suburbia strikes back. Next thing you know, Martha Stewart will jump out and beat us to death with a Spatula."

Seeing that I'm not laughing at his joke, Danny turns to me, a look of concern evident in his eyes.

"Hey, Andrea, are you okay? You seemed kind of distant in there for a minute."

"Yeah, I'm fine. This place just reminds me of what I used to have to go through."

While my family seemed picture perfect on the outside, it was anything but nice on the inside.

"Are you sure? I mean, we can head back to the field office,"

"Danny thanks for the concern, but when I say I'm okay, I'm okay."

"You're so damn stubborn, just like your sister."

"You know what they say: Double trouble."

I say, drifting off in thought again, as we drive back to the office. The burnell's story just rubbed me the wrong way. Something is definitely going on behind the scenes of this suburban hell.