The trip in the patrol car was silent and dragged on forever. Beila rode the elevator in silence, the uniform at her side silently appraising her the entire time. She slid the key card into the side of door, and it chirped cheerfully.

Beila didn't feel very cheerful. She felt the tears rising in her eyes again, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to breathe. She could see the clothes that her mother had told her to tidy away before she'd met them at the beach, something in her haste she hadn't done.

The diary her mother wrote in religiously was perched on the side, something she'd never thought of reading. She picked it up, and threw it in the bag with the other bare essentials. Then, she reached for her parents' wardrobe, and pulled out a pair of her father's boxer shorts, and a t-shirt she knew her mother had commandeered many years ago, it had NYPD blazoned across it. She'd never gotten to the bottom of that mystery, and now, she never would.

Everyone was focused on this case. Tourist cases always put pressure on the department, but with this one, they had a child survivor.

The girl with the red hair entered the crime lab, uniform at her side; strange looks were past ahead of her, looks of sympathy towards her. Dressed neatly in her nineteen-fifty's style flared pinafore and dolly shoes: maybe she was drawing a little too much attention. She knew that people in Miami probably didn't wear clothes like hers, but in Miami, people didn't seem to wear much-period.

"Miss Conway." Horatio said as he walked up to them-Beila and the uniform, that is.

"Lieutenant." She nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Nice to see you again."

Horatio silently appraised the girl, noting that she was casting a veil over her grief and pushing it away, to be dealt with later, in private. He smiled mentally at the strength; the girl had been raised well, and her parents should have been proud. He gestured to the seats just behind him, and nodded for the uniform to get back to her other duties.

"How…..are you holding up?" Horatio asked his voice as gentle as always. The smile on the girls face was rueful.

"As well as can be expected," She paused, taking in a deep breath. "Did they…Did my parents suffer?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure they didn't suffer, Beila."

Some tears escaped her eyes, as she angrily rubbed them away with the heel of her hand. She was not going to cry. Not here, not when she knew that the people here must have suffered some sort of loss too.

Horatio smiled at the bravery and placed an open hand on her shoulder. "Can you wait here for me?"

The girl managed a mute nod as Horatio stood up and headed for the lifts.

The morgue was as quiet as ever, the only noise being that of Alexx talking to the dead.

"Horatio." Alexx said warmly. "Come to talk about my newest angels?" She said, stroking the dark hair of Michael Conway.

"That I have….Alexx."

"They died almost instantly, Horatio, poor babies didn't know what hit them."

"Were they wearing any trinkets?" Horatio asked. Alexx sighed inwardly; she should've known this was going to happen.

"Well apart from their wedding rings, there was the engagement ring….and this." Alexx paused as she picked up the necklace. "The Star of David."

"She was Jewish, Alexx."

"Are you thinking a hate crime?" Alexx asked, shocked.

"No, the crime……wasn't aimed at the Conway's……..The crime was aimed, at the ice cream hut." Horatio pulled out his cell pone, and pressed speed dial.

"So what are you looking for? 'Cos I ain't done nothing! I di'n't have nothing to do with those murders. Hey, your warrant doesn't cover there!" The owner of the shack said, storming over to the freezer where Calleigh was currently pulling the crates of ice cream out, and placing them on the floor.

"On the contrary, Mr. Rodriguez. It covers everything in this hut. Now if you aren't going to let me do my job, then I will have Det. Berkeley take you to booking for obstruction."

Well, that shut him up. Horatio stood up from the freezer he was searching.

"Mr. Rodriguez, are you supplying drugs to anyone?" He asked, hands on hips, eyes boring into the suspect.

"What!?" The man spluttered out. "Hell no!"

Horatio held up the evidence bag in his hand. "Really, because there's too much heroin here for it to simply be possession." He looked at the Spaniard. "Book him."