Oolly crow. sorry about posting the last chapter twice. I'm sure you hated it. I guess I wasn't with it, with swimming in homework and family stuff. sometimes I really feel like I swim in homework. Also look out for the <>!

Hope you enjoy it!

DarlaH

Once I got home, I did what I did best, got an out a piece of paper and wrote down the facts.

· Cara Dewitt, no siblings, straight-A student, Modeled, acted, football team, all-girls school. -dead

· Boy, boarding school. –Alive

I looked at the picture of the boy again. Maybe I could get something out of this if I looked heard enough. I stared at the photo for a good 30 minutes until something caught my eye. In the top left corner, it was yellowed, just like the other photo of Cara. I stood up from my desk and before I knew what I was doing, ran out of my room and called, "Sherlock". Within seconds, he came out of his room with a confused look. "I found it Sherlock, this is another picture of a picture!" I pointed to the corner of the photo in my hand.

"Is that all?" he said, unsurprised by my statement.

My smile faded, disappointed by his response. "Well, um, yeah, I guess." This didn't seem that important to him, but I think there was more to this clue than he was willing to think about. I knew that this would help the case.

And without saying another word, he turned around and walked back into his room, shutting the door.

I frowned at the door, wanting to slug him as I clenched my fists. I thought it was important, this meant that these two people could be connected somehow because the yellow was at the same spot on both photos.

Just as I was about to walk back into my room, I realized that Sherlock's laptop was on the table in the kitchen. Without thinking twice, I walked over to it and hit the power button. The screen turned on and I saw I needed a password. I put my hands on the keyboard and thought about what it could be. 'Sherlock' I typed out and hit enter. It started load but stopped and in bright white letters said, 'wrong password'. "Dang it," I mumbled to myself.

I sat there for a minute and thought. What did he like? I let out a chuckle as I thought about Sherlock and his free time. 'Scottland Yard' I typed out and hit enter. 'Wrong password'. Out of frustration I entered, 'I can't stand him'. Of course, 'wrong password' popped up again. I ran my fingers through my hair as I held back some words that Miss Hudson would rather not hear from my mouth.

"It's not hard to figure the code out," Sherlock's deep voice said from behind me.

I felt my ears go red to match my hair. I was caught red handed. quick, think of something fast. "Well I don't know you so..." I said as I turned around to face him.

He walked closer to me and put his arms on each side of me so he could type on the keyboard. I watched his hands hit, '221B Baker Street' and hit enter.

'Welcome Mr, Holmes' the computer said in big white letters.

"There," he said calmly, then walked over to the pantry and grabbed a slice of bread.

I thought he would be mad about going on his PC, but he seemed to not care. I decided that saying nothing was best at this moment, so I hit the Internet tab and Googled Cara Dewitt. What it came up with was amazing, she was famous. Acted in a couple of low-budget films, modeled for a couple of bands I had never heard of. She was also a Nanny to a famous millionaire and his wife. She watched a young boy and girl. As I looked at the photo of her and the two kids and saw that the date taken was about five years ago. The boy looked like he was about eight in the photo, but he looked so much like the photo of the boy I had in my pocket.

"Sherlock. I think I found something."

"Yeah?" he said as he sniffed a jug of milk and made a face.

"I thought that was spoiled," I said mainly to myself.

"Why did you not throw it away?"

"Why do you not throw away moldy cheese?" I retorted, to make him shut up.

He walked over to the trash and tossed the milk.

"Look at this photo." I pointed to the screen showing the little boy and girl and Cara. "I think the boy is this one." I grabbed the photo I had in my pocket. "We need to find the family."

"That shouldn't be too hard."

For the next hour, we looked up everything about this family. For a second, I saw Sherlock just staring at me, but when I spoke about it, he looked away like it was nothing. We found out that the family still lived in London and the boy,18 now, went to a private school in London and the girl went to an art school in New York. "We need to call Lestrade," I spoke up as I looked at a photo of the young boy, now older. We found him, well, kind of. I pulled out my phone, "Lestrade?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Rori, and we found his family, the Michelson's. They live in Kensington."

"We're on it."

"We'll meet you there," I said and hung up my phone.

"I'll get a cab," Sherlock said and got up from his seat.

As we rode in the cab in silence, I heard Sherlock speak up. "You never talk about your family."

"There is a reason for that, Sherlock," I said not looking at him. He seemed to ask the hardest questions at the most inopportune times. Why did he want to know? He never cared about anyone except himself.

"Of course, there is a reason for everything."

I looked out the window in silence. What would hurt if I just told him a little? Would he use it against me, or was he trying to understand me? I let out a sigh and said, "I never knew my dad and my mum were bitter women. She left me when I was little, my grandmother took me in but she had little. Say what you want about me, but that's why I became a white collar thief. I was good at it and it gave me and my nan what we needed."

The cab stopped, perfect timing because just saying that much was a bit too painful. I got out of the car to see a huge white house. I couldn't help awe at the beauty for a second then regain my composer. Without waiting for Sherlock to follow, I walked into the house to see Lestrade talking to the Michelson's.

Of course, the Michelson's were both in tears. I couldn't help but let out a sigh of boredom as I rested my back against the wall in the corner of the room as I stared at them. I was glad I never had to be the one that told the family that their loved one was gone.

"Who would want to take your son?" Lestrade said in a firm but soft voice.

"I-I don't know....." the women sobbed as her husband comforted her.

I looked around the room and only saw designer furniture and professional photos of their family hanging up. For a family that pushed their kids away, they sure liked them a lot. My eyes stopped at a little photo of the son with a homemade wooden frame. It was out of place, so I couldn't help but walk across the room to pick it up. It was a photo of the young boy smiling with his school uniform on.

"When was this taken?" I asked as I held up the photo.

"I don't know, like a eight years ago. Why?" the husband said in a deep voice.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the same photo of the young boy. If this was a school photo, it would be easy for anyone to get this photo. Everyone that had a year book could pull this out. I looked at the folded photo in my hands until I spotted a brown smug in the corner. I thought that was just the camera, but what if it was the photo frame. "Is there a list of who has been in the house within the last two weeks?"

"Sure. Lilly will help you with that," the father said and snapped his fingers. Within a minute, a brown head petite older woman came around the corner. "Lilly, she wants the list of people who have been here in the last two weeks."

"Of course, follow me," she said in a deep voice as she walked up to me.

I followed her obediently as she led me through the kitchen, then to her office in a back room.

She flipped through some documents and then pulled out a piece of paper. "Here is the list," she said as she shoved it into my hands harshly.

"Thanks."

"Now leave. We don't want you here."

"Well that's rather rude," I stated as I racked my brain, trying to figure out why she was acting like this. However, I came up with nothing when I couldn't recognize her.

"Rori Anderson. We have no need for criminals in this household."

A light bulb when off in my mind. She knew me from the crimes I committed. I suddenly remembered where I had seen her. I was going to show her how to do my kind of work, except I ended up using her and she got caught instead of me. I was not proud of that day but I figured it was better for her then I. If only she knew what I was doing now. Saying nothing back to her, I turned around and walked out of the room.

"You may not recognize me but I know you Rori."

I stopped and turned back to face her. "I do recognize you. It's been a while hasn't it? About two years? By the look of it, you gave that up. I wonder if the lovely family you're working for knows your past?"

"You gave up on me."

"I was going to get CAUGHT," I shouted at her, unable to keep my voice level. She had to understand that it was a fish eat fish world out there.

"So the oh so great Rori threw me under the bus to save her own skin. Doesn't look like you're so great after all."

I gritted my teeth as I resisted the urge to give her a piece of her mind. She got off with a clean slate. I made sure of that when she got caught. But she just thinks I am so low. I had a reason for what I did. But she didn't deserve that explanation. I was finished with conversation so saying nothing I walked back into the room where Sherlock and Lestrade were, talking to the parents still.

Sherlock looked up at me and tilted his head towards the door. He had what he wanted from them and so did I.

As soon as we got to the apartment I took out the list and read it over.

<>

"Found anything yet?" Sherlock asked me after about 30 minutes of me looking it over the list.

"No," I said, not taking my eyes off the list as my mind went through every name to see if I remembered any of them for my white collar days. If they hired Lilly, maybe they hired more white-collar criminals. But that made little sense, why would they do that when they were rich and had kids? It didn't seem safe.

To my surprise, this family seemed to hire a lot of white-collar criminals like myself, maybe they already knew it. At least eight of the names stuck out to me. But I need photos and files, not just names. I needed to hack into the Scotland Yard data base.

I watched Sherlock walked over to the kitchen, then go into his room. I watched the door close quietly behind him as if cueing me to go to his computer.

It was easy to hack onto the database. It only took me about 10 minutes and I was on. I looked up the first name that stuck out to me. Emily Sweet.

Her file was clean, and she was so small she almost looked helpless. No, she couldn't be the one that took the boy. I went through five other names until I came to the name Fredrick Wilcox. I remembered him. He was a psychopath, just about as mad as Zane himself. I ran into him on the streets a couple of times and he always carried a camera with him.

That was it, I didn't care how much information I needed, that was our man. I copied his address onto a piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket. I was still deciding to either tell Sherlock or go myself. After thinking about it, I convinced myself that it was smart to tell Sherlock. But since I since he was busy though I had some free time.

Now that was solved, I still had a case to solve myself.

Where was Kale.

For the next 30 minutes, I looked for crimes relating to Kale's style and expertise, but I found little anything. The only thing helpful was a news article about some crimes where some jewelry was stolen, but no one got hurt. Kale was good about breaking into houses without tripping alarms and unlike his brother, he hated causing physical pain to people. The crime was done last week on the south side of London. I knew this was a stretch, but this was the only lead I had. I wrote the information of the owner and stuck that paper piece in my pocket as well.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice said from behind me.

"Nothing," I said bluntly and hit the power button to shut everything off, erasing any proof that I hacked onto Scotland Yard.

"Did you find any more information on Scotland Yard data base?"

I didn't bother coming up with a lie to cover myself. "Yeah, here," I said and handed him the paper with the address of the killer.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Almost sure."

"We should call Lestrade then."

I nodded as I handed him my phone.

"Oh and Rori, good job of hacking on the database. I had only seen one other person do that, and it took him 30 minutes."

"Thanks? I guess," I said as I got up from the chair I was sitting on and walked into my bedroom to get ready.