Everything Changed.

The News

                                                                              Kate's POV

        Processing a crime scene is never easy. When it's the parents of a 13 year old girl, it's even harder. I took a deep breath to clear my mind as I walked into the home where the bodies lay.

        "What've we got Lanie?" I asked our ME, Dr. Lanie Parish.

        She's the best in the biz, and she also happens to be my best friend.

        "Honestly Kate, I'm not sure. This is all preliminary, but it looks like a poison of some sort. I'll know more once I get them back to the lab. I feel confident that we can rule out any blunt force trauma, and I'm not seeing any GSWs."

        "Thanks Lanie. Do we have a time of death yet?" I questioned, hoping to get more information.

        "I'd say between 8:30 and 10:00 PM. I'll let you know when I know more."

        "Thanks Lain. Do you know where the girl is?"

        "Kitchen." Lanie sighed. "Oh and Kate? Be gentle with her. She's really shaken up."

        I ran a hand through my hair. "Of course." 

        I strode into the kitchen and almost missed the young girl curled up in a corner, leaning against some cabinets, clearly trying to make herself as small as possible. I stepped over to where she was sitting, my stilettos eerily click-clacking on the porcelain floor. I crouched down until I was eye level with the girl.

        "Hey. I'm Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. Do you want to go sit somewhere more comfortable?" I asked, trying to be as gentle as possible.

        In response, she buried her head even further into her arms and slightly shook her head. Not wanting to pressure this poor girl, who has already been through enough, I sat down beside her on the cool kitchen floor.

        "What's your name?"

        For the first time since I walked in, she raised her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she had visible tear tracks down her cheeks. I felt my heart break, knowing all too well what she was going through. I was 19 when my own mother was killed.

        "Bree Phillips." She mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.

        "Alright Bree, would you be okay with coming back to the precinct with us to answer a few questions?"

        She nodded her approval, but seemed to pale at the thought of leaving with us.

        Ten minutes later, I was back at the 12th precinct sitting in the break room with Bree. She appeared to have calmed down a bit, but still looked on edge and jumped at even the slightest noise.

        "Okay Bree, I just need to ask you a few questions about your parents. What did they do for a living?" I started with something easy, as not to freak her out. 

        "Mom was a stay at home mom, and Dad worked at the Coeur D'Alene Mines Corporation. Oh my god, I just can't believe they're gone!" She sobbed, her voice rough and cracking, clearly showing she'd been crying. I could feel tears prickling at my own eyes, threatening to fall at any second.

        "Now I know this is hard, but can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your parents?"

        The hardest question of all. No 13 year old should have to think about who'd want to hurt their family.

        "No. Everyone loved Mom and Dad. They were good people, Detective Beckett. I can't understand who'd do something like this."

        Her head drooped, as if it were becoming too heavy for her neck. She continued.

        "I mean, I know that Dad had a little scuffle with this guy he worked with, but nothing that would result in this. I think his name as Jameson Meyers."

        There was a knock at the door, and Esposito stuck his head in.

        "Hey Beckett, could I have a word with you?" 

        "Sure Espo. Bree, just wait here, I'll be right back." 

        Esposito and I stepped outside and closed the door. 

        "Toxicology reports are in. The Phillips' were definitely killed with cyanide." Esposito murmured, his eyes purposely avoiding mine.

        "And?" I asked somewhat impatient, knowing that this easily could have waited.

        "Forensics did some tests. There was the same cyanide in what was supposed to be Bree's school lunch today. Kate, Bree was supposed to be killed with her parents."

        My knees went weak, and my palms felt clammy. How could that scared, innocent girl in there be an attempted murder victim?

        I hovered in front of the door to the break room, hesitating to reach for the doorknob. My mind was swirling with dozens of unanswered questions, but all that mattered right then was making sure the girl on the other side of that door knew she wasn't going to be abandoned.

        "So?" 

        Bree was staring up at me with huge. hopeful eyes, full of innocence. I took a second to regain my composure and clear my head before speaking.

        "There's been a development. You can't go back to your house tonight. Your parents were poisoned; it was cyanide."

        Bree opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

        "There's more. The same poison was found in your sandwich; the one packed in your lunch for today. You were supposed to be the third victim. I'm so sorry Bree."

        Bree stumbled backwards, and I braced myself for the yelling, crying, anger and blame that was inevitably coming. I didn't expect what happened next. Bree's eyes rolled back in her head, and there was nothing I could do before she hit the floor.