Don't own, obviously.....

Thanks to all my awesome reveiwers!! Cookies for you!

Horatio walked down the corridors of the lab, bathing slightly in the setting sun, and turned into trace.

"Mr. Wolfe." He said, in his ever-expectant tone. Ryan's head shot up from the microscope he was looking at.

"Um, yeah. Results on the heroin, same as the kind they pulled from the raid last week." Ryan handed over the piece of paper.

"And that there, is motive."

Horatio walked off to interrogation

"Mr. Rodriguez. You were skimming heroin off the Mala Noche; weren't you?" Horatio asked, looking out of the window, hands on hips.

"Nah. Who'd be that stupid?" Rodriguez dismissively spun on his chair.

"You see, Mr. Rodriguez, that's not true, now; is it?" Horatio asked again, turning to face him.

Calleigh, who had been simply sitting and observing the suspect, placed two graphs on the table.

"Mr. Rodriguez," She started, "y'all aren't understanding the severity of the situation. You were skimming drugs off the Mala Noche!"

"So you got the mules over here from Mexico, promising them a better life here; gave some of the drugs to the Mala Noche and offered the rest to the highest bidder. And no-one would ever suspect it." Horatio mused.

"But you didn't think they'd figure it out, did you?" Calleigh added.

"I ain't saying nothing till I see my lawyer." Rodriguez spat.

"You don't need to." Horatio waved in the uniform at the door. "Take him to booking please."

She was right where Horatio had left her before interrogation. Sitting in the break room, reading a book. Horatio could feel the envelope in his pocket as he walked in.

"Beila." The girl looked up at him and smiled a little. "What are you reading?" He gestured to the nameless book in her hands.

"My mother's diary." She smiled even wider. "She had quite the sense of humour."

Horatio sat next to her, curious to what she meant.

"There's one thing she's written, about the time she lived in New York, it says: 'New York, the place where they shall surely find a way to run a car on coffee.'" She paused, turning the page. A small photograph fell out. Being curious, Beila turned it over.

She nearly died of shock at that moment of time. She quickly hid it from the detective, who she knew had probably already seen it, just not all of it.

"Beila," Horatio started, and the girl turned and smiled at him. He reached inside his pocket and took out the small envelope, edging it towards her.

"What's this?" She asked, eyes filled with a childlike curiosity. The tinkle of metal was what greeted her as she tipped the contents into her hand. Horatio saw the look that came onto her face as she recognised the items.

"The….my Mother's…Wha….How….?"

"It wasn't relevant to the case, and you know….Sometimes, having something is good for you. It helps us to move on."

Beila held the necklace up to the light and fastened the clasp around her neck, gently touching the star as it glinted in the evening glow. "You know, I never saw my mother without this, and Grandma said that Mum got it when she was born. It's even in her wedding pictures. She always said…." She broke off again, tears constricting her throat.

"Cry if you need to." Horatio said his arms around her shoulder again. The girl indignantly shook it off and wiped the tears away ferociously.

"No." She stated firmly. "Everybody hurts, pain is a part of life, and I cannot allow it to rule me." More tears came, flowing down her face as Horatio simply took her in an embrace.

"Shh, it's okay, shh…" He comforted, rocking the grieving child, because essentially, that's what the girl was: merely a child, in a situation no-one wants to visit. There was a gentle rap on the door, and both occupants of the break room snapped their heads up. Beila wiped her eyes again.

And there it was, glaring at her like some kind of cardinal sin, begging her to cry, to let it all out.

And Beila had simply had enough. She stood up sharply, eyes dark with anger.

"For God's sake! I don't need your bloody sympathy!" She barged through the door and past the very startled lab tech, and ran through the corridors and out of the lab.

"Beila!" Horatio called, and barged past the lab tech, again. Reaching the doors of the lab, he cast a frantic look around the parking lot, pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Det. Berkeley's phone number.