As Nana took Anette down the hallway to the guest room, Damon staggard out of his room, almost bumping into them. Damon is 16, and almost as tall as I am, making him a little over 6' 4". He was here for the holiday's, but normally he's at his prep school in Massachusets. I admit, I miss him like hell when he's gone, and like to having him back, even if it's just for a few weeks. Gotta love Christmas break.

As Damon passed by Nana and Anette, he did a double take, nearly running into the wall. I knew he was looking at Anette, but I was still surprised for some reason when he asked, "Hey, dad, who's the hot chick?"

I don't know why it never hit me before, but I realized at that moment that Damon was now a teenage boy, whose hormones were telling him that it was worth risking cooties in order to have physical contact with a girl. I realized that he may prove to be a problem with Anette in the house. "Easy boy," I said. "It's not Christmas yet, so the girl is not for you."

Damon laughed and said, "Darn it. And that was on the top of my list for Santa to." We both lauged, before he said, "No, seriously. Who is she?"

"Her name is Anette," I explained. "Nana found her on the porch this morning. I'm letting her stay here until we can locate her father."

Damon craned his head, trying to get another look of Anette. "Yeah, well, it's a Christmas miracle. It's not every day a hot chick lands on your doorstep. I think I might start believing in Santa again."

Even though I knew he was half joking, Damon's words bothered me. "You be nice," I said, using my serious voice. "I get the feeling that girl is more than a little messed up, and not nessisarily for reasons that are her fault."

Damon looked back at me, and I could see that he to was serious. "You think she was abused or something?"

I nodded. "I don't want you asking her questions about that though," I said. "I already tried. You have to be careful talking to that girl. Say one wrong thing, and she shuts off."

"Weird," Damon said. Then he added, "Don't worry, I'll keep my distance." I could have hugged him I was so greatful.

Suddenly, there was a scampering of feet down the hallway. "Anette, come back!" Nana called from the guest room as Anette bolted down the hallway. Since Damon was still standing in the hallway, Anette ran right into him. The two fell – Anette landing on top, Damon on the bottom – with a loud thud!

I could hear both get the wind knocked out of them, along with a few other choice words being muttered. Anette muttered something angrily in what I believed to be Russian, while Damon muttered something in what was clearly English. "Hey, watch your tounge," I snapped.

"Sorry, sir," Damon said, somewhat sarcastically. He then grinned and looked at Anette. "Well," he said, "This is awkward."

Anette stared at Damon for a moment, as if deciding what action to take next. Then, so fast it almost made me jump, she leaped off of Damon, colliding with the wall. Her eyes were wide, and her skin even paler that usual. Standing up, she muttered, "I'm…sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" As she said this, tears began to form in her eyes. Before either I or Damon could say anything, she scurried off, back outside.

"What was that all about?" Damon asked, getting up.

"I told you," I said, "She's just a little messed up.

Damon gave me a skeptical look. "A little?" he said.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "All right, a lot," I said. "And that's why I need you to behave. I really think she was abused, and I don't want you doing anything to set her off."

Damon looked hurt. "Why just me?" he asked.

"I'll give the same orders to Jannie and Ali," I said. "I'm just a little bit more worried about you."

Damon opened him mouth, then decided better of it. I was about to say something else to him, when the door opened again. Anette walked through, clutching a worn back pack. She paused for just a moment in front of Damon, before blushing and continuing down the hallway. As a thought struck me, I called after her, "Anette!"

She took a moment to respond. "Yes, Mr. Cross?" she replied.

"Would you like to clean up a bit?"

Another pause. "Clean…up?"

"Yeah, you know. Take a shower, wash the dirt off of you. That sort of thing."

"I…suppose. If it is all right with you."

"Of course it is, Anette. That's why I offered. Nana, can you show Anette to the bathroom?"

I heard Nana sigh. "I suppose so," she said. I turned back to Damon. "Why don't you get some breakfast or go back to bed? Why are you up so early, anyways?"

"Some of the guys and I were going to shoot some hoops," Damon said. "And if you want the good hoops, you got to get there early. That and your talking woke me up."

"Well, I apologize for that," I said, pushing him towards the kitchen. As he left, I heard the shower in the bathroom turn on. I stood in the living room for a moment, before yelling, "Hey, Nana, what's for dinner?"

"Ribs," she yelled back. "Why?"

"It all right if I invite Sampson over for dinner?" No, I did not find it strange that I, a fully grown man, was asking his grandmother permission to have a friend over.

"Sure, why not?"

Smiling, I went over to the phone, picking it up. I dialed a number, and listened as it wrang. "Hello?" a tired man's voice came.

"Sampson, it's Alex," I said.

"For Christ's sake, Alex, do you know what time it is?" Sampson asked, a slight annoyed tone to his voice.

I wasn't phased one bit. "Damon's up, so it can't be that early."

I heard Sampson chuckled. "All right, Brown Sugar. You got me there." I heard some rustling, and figured Sampson was getting out of bed. "What is it you want, Alex?" he asked after a moment.

"I was wondering if you and Billie wanted to come over for dinner tonight. We're having ribs."

"Alex, you know what my answer is going to be, every time," Sampson said. "Of course."

"Great," I said. We fell into an awkward silence for a moment. Then Sampson said, "Now, what is it you really want, Sugar?"

I chuckled slightly. Sampson knew me too well. "You going into work today?" I asked.

"Of course. Why?"

"I was wondering if you could check up on something for me."

"What?" There was a slight edge to Sampson's voice.

I sighed, and said, "When you go to the station, I want you to look up all runaway cases that have been reported in the last couple of days, or weeks even."

"Again, why?"

I hesitated, then said, "This morning we found a girl asleep on our front pourch. About 16, long black hair, ivory skin, and blue eyes. She wasn't dressed for the weather, and she was covered with bruises. She had never seen a black person before, John."

Sampson laughed slightly. "Well there's a crime, right there," he said. "What else is up with her?"

"Well," I said, "She's very obsessive about her weight, and she's already pretty thin. And here's where it get's strange, John. This girl is more obedient than our neighbor's dog. When you tell her to sit, she sits. When you ask her a question, she answers, even if she doesn't want to."

"Well now, that is strange," Sampson said.

"You're telling me," I said. "And if you ask her something that touches on a nerve, she shuts off. Just like that!"

"You thinking abuse or something?"

"I'm not thinking. I'm dead certain. That's part of why I wanted you to come over tonight. See for yourself. Tell you the truth, she's scaring me a little."

"Don't worry about it to much, Alex. She's with you now, which automatically makes her safe. Very safe. What's this girl's name anyway?"

"Anette. Anette Lamberdin."

"All right. Did she say where she was from?"

"New York City," I answered. "But, truth be told, I think she might have been lying."

"Well, if she was, we'll find out," John said. "I'll look it up as soon as I get to work, all right, Sugar?"

I grinned. "All right," I said. "I'll see you and Billie tonight, then." With that, the conversation was ended.

As I turned back to the hallway to return to my room, I bumped into Anette. Her hair was sopping wet, so she must have just gotten out of the shower. She looked a lot better without all the dirt and grime on her. "Well, don't you look nice," I said brightly.

Anette looked at me, and again I was struck by how dead her eyes seemed to be. "I…look nice?" she repeated quietly.

I smiled. "Yes," I said. "Now I'm looking at a pretty young lady instead of a dust bunny."

I had said that in the hopes of making her smile. That didn't happen.

Anette stood there, her expression lost. I saw her mouth the word pretty several times. She looked as though she were remembering something.

"Anette," I said, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes widened, and I knew she was back to Earth. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I'm not pretty. I can't be pretty!"

I could tell she was about to have another episode. "Anette, what's wrong?" I asked, worry evident in my voice.

"I can't be pretty!" she gasped, her eyes filling up with tears. "I don't' want to be pretty!"

"Why not?" I asked. When she didn't answer, I said, "Anette, why not?"

She looked up at me, and her eyes were the saddest thing I had ever seen in my life. They had fear, so much fear in their gaze. "Because," she wimpered. "If I'm pretty, then I have to play. I don't want to play anymore, Mr. Cross." With that, she ran back into the guest room.

I stood there a moment, shocked at what had just happened. I don't want to play anymore…I had a bad feeling about what her definition of "play" was.

A hollowness formed in my stomach. I knew what it meant. Anger, only the purest and strongest kind. I hoped John could find something on this girl, because I wanted to find whoever she lived with. I wanted to make them pay, for putting such a look in that innocent girl's eyes.