Author's Note--Yes, I know this is story suicide. Espeically since I've barely updated my one other story. Well...that story is slowly coming together next chapter, and this has been on my mind for a while now. Summer is coming up as I just have to make it through one week of exams and then I'm done. I realize that this story is a big risk for many reasons, one of them being because I got this idea from the book, In the Woods. If you've never read it, you should. It's pretty good. So this story is kind of starting out like that, but the plot is going to be different when I post more chapters. Also, this is really different from the high school stories that I write since this story actually is based around their jobs. It might not be for some of my readers, but I can safely say that this is a troyella story. You don't have to worry about that. And one other thing, this is my first story that's in first person. I've tried writing like this before, but I find it much harder.

Please review and tell me what you think. I want the good and bad because I'm really unsure about this. I might post more, but I want to write out most of it before so that nothing gets screwed up.


The world is full of deceitful, lying bastards. It's not said so specifically in my job description, but I like to think it is. My job is to point out who's lying, who's humoring me onto a wild goose chase, or who's just completely psycho that they actually are valuable. But then again, our world is a funny thing in which people thrive to survive. I guess some might say that that was what I had to do. I was the only one in my family who went to college. I was the only one to drop out. I'm not saying that was the proudest thing in my life, but it's a start.

My mother never did go to college as she became pregnant with me right during the middle of her senior year of high school. She grew up in a family who were well past being alcoholics and down right dickheads. They disowned my mother as having a baby in the family would cost even more money than buying liquor down at the local gas station of the small town. In ways, escaping her home town was the best thing that could have happened to my mother.

My father was never one for school. He knew from the day he could comprehend things that he wasn't going anywhere in the states, and was instead taking over his dad's company. My dad's side of the family weren't drunks, but they weren't angels either as they liked to kick back too every once in a while. Their living styles consisted of something along the lines of the 1950s where it was the women's job to make the food, while the husbands supplied it. My grandfather's company consisted of not needing to go to college due to my dad's knowledge of the ropes around the office and corporation by the time he was graduating from high school. He had worked there for four years during his teenage life and then gradually began to take over.

I don't know the gory details or anything, but somewhere in between my dad's family pressuring him to be perfect, and my mother's side of the family who didn't want anything to do with her, they had met up somewhere when they were both on vacation and conceived me. They stayed in contact saying it was 'true love' and soon after, my mother moved in with my father.

I am told that I had a great fifteen years of existence. I wouldn't know this personally, but when I see pictures--which isn't often--and when I see my grandparents from my dad's side they always tell me stories in hope of my memory coming back. It never does, however, as why would someone want to remember their parents' death? No one, that's who. I am just an average girl, so why would I be the exception?

"Just to let you know, there's no funny business on my squad. What I say goes, you hear?" The gruff voice of my new Chief said as his beady black eyes glanced over me in an unsure manner. I just gave him one of my sweetest smiles, however, as he had every right to be suspicious. I was a woman who was new to being a murder detective. I wasn't even thirty yet as I was two years shy of it, which also added to his suspicion of how I actually got put onto his team.

"No worries Cooper." My innocent looking eyes beamed up at him as he was a good ten inches taller than me, had broad shoulders like a big football player, and a strong build for someone who was nearing their late fifties. And although I could pull off the innocent little act of reassuring him that I meant no harm, I knew it wasn't true. How could I be innocent looking after I supposedly watched my parents being murdered?

I have been told that it was late at night when the police had found me outside one of the many entrances to a bike trail. My teeth were chattering as my lips were nearly blue from hypothermia. It was in the middle of winter as there was snow three feet high. Burlington, Wisconsin wasn't known for heavy winter storms, but it gradually fell and built up to the point where school was shut down for a day or two.

I don't remember why my parents and I were out near the bike trail that was the most common one around. It ran around a park that held the local soccer fields for competition, and circled around a man-made lake, only to be surrounded by trees and bushes so you were cut off from the small city life. On a clear summer day you could see past the tree trunks, and fallen leaves and right through to the traffic that was always coming and going--mostly going.

My clothes were nearly soaked through, probably from falling into snow due to shock, and a red sticky substance was crusting onto my dark blue jeans. The blood didn't belong to me as it also was on the inside of my jacket and my t-shirt.

Two bodies were found that day and a living corpse of a girl who couldn't talk without being scared of everyone near her. The first body was of a woman who looked as if she was just sleeping. The only difference was that she had bruises around her neck--most likely due to suffocation. The other body was of a man who was worst off from the woman. He had deep gashes in his abdomen with blood slowly closing off the wounds as his body drained out. His blood matched the blood on the girl's jacket and clothing.

It wasn't like I didn't want to talk or remember. I just couldn't as my grandparents were given custody of me. So many questions were left unanswered in the murder case, and I never spoke once. The police and detectives say that I was out with my parents back on the snowplowed trail, but I couldn't tell them the story of what happened after that. I don't remember seeing anything suspicious, I don't remember my father all of a sudden choking my mother and then killing himself--even though I know he didn't do that since the detectives ruled that out--and I don't remember anyone threatening my family before the attack.

Once the detectives started interviewing me day after day, they realized that I had nothing to say as I just sat there with wide glazed over eyes that were a lot bigger than they appeared. I don't remember their deaths, but I remember what happened afterwards at the funerals and countless questions being thrown my way. I didn't have amnesia of all things, however, as it was like I just blocked out that one day. I could still remember my mother baking me cookies when I was five, how my father came home late sometimes, and then the family dinners that we had with my grandparents every Sunday. But as time went on, and I forgot that horrible day even more, I soon started to forget myself as well. It was as if I was in a water color painting and someone added too much water. My memories started to blend together and I soon couldn't place how I reacted when my dad came home late, or what my mother cooked when the grandparents came over. I had forgot the little details about me, but not of my parents, and deep down, that bothered me.

Once my grandmother got so angry that she threw a glass vase at the wall. I still remember her sobbing, pleading with me to tell the nice detectives what had happened. I just took a step back and watched as my calm grandfather bowed down next to her shaking form, and wrapped his arms around her.

I wasn't sent away forcefully as I chose to leave this small town. My grandparents soon followed after I was sent to an all year school, only having a couple of weeks off throughout the year, but that was okay with me as for the first two years, I didn't even leave to visit my living family. They had moved out to California with me, only living two hours away, but what did I care? My grandmother could hardly look at me and my grandfather was busy trying to find some replacement for my dad at the company, even though my grandfather still owned mostly part of the company to bring in the money.

It was when my grandmother fell sick and had a heart attack that I cam home to visit. Although, I could hardly call their house in California home since I had never seen it before. She slowly passed away in the hospital, and there was nothing else we could have done. My grandfather should have been a mess, but he wasn't as he put on a brave face and gradually packed everything up in California to move back to Burlington, Wisconsin.

I had learned in a short amount of time that things happen for the hell of it. Life wasn't made for people to understand it right away, and some might never figure it out as it's a tricky thing wrapped around spider web after spider web of lies. You get caught up in one, and you'll never be able to leave it behind as you're stuck in the middle of it.

Year after year passed by me, and I never once looked back at my failed childhood. I don't know if I even tried to remember after the detectives stopped questioning me. It took them twenty months of trying to realize that I just couldn't remember a single thing. I could tell you their names, their births, and their childhood, but if you asked me about our past times together as a family, I simply drew a blank.

Instead of making myself go crazy in California, I studied my ass off while somehow making friends with one of the more well known girls of the school. My senior year I really started to live, and I liked it as that was the first time I let my guard down and actually experienced with things. It's still fresh in my memory as I can almost smell the bitter taste of my first cup of beer, or the puff of cigarette in my mouth. It burns unforgettably in my mind, as I much rather think of nicotine than my nameless childhood.

Somehow I had gotten into a good school for sociology and psychology, but I soon dropped out after three and a half years. I was so close to graduating that all it would take was another semester and some classes in the summer, and I would be done, but that was in the past, and I hate talking about my past.

I ended up working my way up to Murder as I had a knack for figuring things out. It's not because my parents' case went unsolved and that's my goal in life to find the killer. That's completely that opposite as there's just something about holding a gun and finding clues as to who might have done it.

I was led into an office that held about fifteen desks. Cooper was drinking stale coffee as I could already smell the blackness of it. Tired and eager eyes looked up once he stepped foot into the stuffy room with me following. I kept my head up, meeting every one of the pair of eyes looking at me. I was the only girl in the room, as surprisingly that didn't bother me. I was only hoping that my black suit pants and my white blouse with a matching blazer was on straight--not because I wanted to seduce anyone, but because I wanted to look professional.

The room was dark with a gloomy feel to it. Many men were at their desk, their feet up with their hands behind their heads; leaning back into their chairs with stubble on their chins. There were various other exits to the room as archways led into hallways where the interrogation rooms were, and then other rooms where specific cases could take over if they needed more room.

"Guys, this is Gabriella Montez. She's new to Murder." Cooper huffed out once again, and I had a feeling that he wasn't as excited as I was to be the first girl on his squad. I guess I would just have to prove myself, after all, he sort of knew me. He was one of the detectives who interrogated me one of the first nights my parents' bodies were found. I don't know if he still remembers due to me remembering him as a very young guy, so it's possible I just slipped his mind after all these years.

Just as I was able to sit down, I had already told Cooper that I didn't want to give a little speech about how grateful I am to be on his squad, my brown eyes caught onto a pair of blue eyes that were so powerful, I was nearly startled by the intensity. The eyes belonged to a man who I soon learned was called Troy Bolton. He had the tan, dark skin that looked like it took weeks of tanning to get. Chestnut brown hair with it swooping in front of his eyes. He looked young as he, like me, could pull off looking like their twenty instead of being in their thirties, of course, I still had two years until I actually did reach that age.

I remember on my first day that his eyes never left mine when I was assigned my desk. There were files on it already which I was supposed to go through, but nobody liked doing that. I couldn't wait for my first real case, but until then, this older guy who looked like a retired war veteran showed me the ropes of the office. I was naïve when it came to it as I thought he would only have to show me the ropes for a couple of days, a week tops, but instead he stuck to me like glue for a whole month. It was ridiculous in some senses as I knew how to work my way around in the office as this wasn't exactly my very first job, just my first time being in the Murder department.

I went about my business like any new person would have. I drank the bleak coffee that someone made every morning, I sat at my desk with one foot propped up on the chair that I rolled over from the desk that no one sat at near my own, and I went through report after report.

I remember it being a very rainy day. We seemed to get those quite often lately, although it never started off as rainy as the sun liked to deceive people. I got to work by my red jeep wrangler that was rusting at the sides. Although I hated the car with a passion, I just couldn't seem to get rid of it as it was a gift from one of my deranged Uncles who I had barely talked to in my life. But nonetheless, the car had grown on me, and although it wasn't the most professional car, I still drove it around.

The car liked to make a mockery of me, however, as the only problem that I was having with it that day was that there was no cover for it. So when the sun liked to disappear and rain started to pour down, I ended up getting soaked. That only happened once though as I was smart enough the second, third, and fourth time to stay late at the office, and to just wait out the storm. I could have asked almost anyone to give me a ride and they all would have offered, but I hated taking advantage of someone like that. I always felt like I owed them something, and that wasn't a feeling I wanted to feel.

I don't know what was different about that day. The sun had disappeared in late May and the rain had started. It was actually kind of chilly when the past week all the days had been in the eighties. I figured my giddiness and decision was based upon the conversation I just had with Cooper. He told me I was being assigned a partner in a couple of days. He didn't know who, and he didn't seem that happy about it, but he said the words that I was earning to hear ever since I joined the squad.

The rain was now falling on my head as I was trying to get my car to start. I had a feeling that it had something to do with the engine or the battery, or maybe even both as whenever something like this happened, I would just go to the mechanic, and have him fix it. I wouldn't listen that well as usually I have other important things to think about; like who was one of the main suspects in the case Gordon--the old war veteran--was working on.

I pulled my black leather jacket closer to my shivering body. It wasn't a thick leather jacket that cut off at the waist, as it was one of the thin jackets that went to at least my thighs. If I had to describe this jacket to anyone I would say that it's not one that you would see motorcycle people wearing, but one that Sarah Michelle Gellar has worn on the set of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I didn't have an umbrella with me as I let the rain soak into my head as my body was pretty much drenched.

I wanted to scream so bad in frustration, but stopped as a car with very bright lights pulled over. The window rolled down as the windshield wipers on the red car was going crazy due to the rain.

I mustered a smile as I recognized the man in the car being Troy Bolton. His eyes appraised my wet figure before he raised an eye brow towards my car that was being stubborn. "You need some help?"

I smiled a real smile now as I put my hand up to my brow in a sailor salute to block the rain from landing in my eyes. "Thanks. If you wouldn't mind," I continued talking as he got out of the car, the rain instantly soaking his strong built figure. "I brought it into the mechanics just a week ago, but I have no idea what they did to it."

Troy popped the hood without even having to think about it. He glanced sideways at me as I came to stand by him. He looked like he was concentrating very hard as I watched his hands fiddle with a dirty looking knob. "So you don't even know what you paid him for?" I meekly shook my head no before I saw Troy roll his eyes and mutter, "Girls."

I just laughed it off as my grandpa always did warn me that I trusted some people too easily, and in my line of work, that was a bad thing. "I really do appreciate this. I don't know what I would have done if you didn't stop."

"Well I would have hoped that you would use common sense and go inside." He shut the hood of my car and wiped his semi dirty hands on his dark black sports jacket that didn't go with his suit at all. He cracked a smile, "But then again, I don't think someone would have just driven past you. You're pretty hard to miss."

"Why's that?"

He paused for a second with a smirk on his face. He walked over to the drivers side of my car and started the car after a second without any problem. "For one thing, a stranded woman in the rain who looks half as good as you would be the average guys dream, but you? You appeal to every guy out there."

I wondered for a moment if every guy out there meant him too, but I didn't ask it as I watched him walk over to his car. Before he could drive away something inside of me told me to stop him. After all, he did fix my car, but he never told me how.

"Hey Bolton?"

He looked up with a smile that said that he knew I was going to stop him. "Yeah Montez?"

"You never told me how you fixed my car." I looked briefly towards my beat up jeep wrangler.

Instead of answering me, however, he asked me a question instead. "Do you have a top for that car?"

My shoulders went up and down as the rain kept falling. I don't know if what Troy said was true or not as I didn't feel that hot in that moment. But then again, I bet Troy knew what he was talking about as he just had this aura around him that said he knew what was up with other people. He was good like that and it made me think to myself, 'why doesn't this guy have a permanent partner?'

He was good looking. Actually, he was better than good looking with his intense blue eyes, sandy brown hair that crossed just above his eye line, his muscles making up his arms filling out his suit nicely as if you took one look at him, you would think he wasn't a detective but an athlete or actor.

"Not really."

"Want a lift?"

Although my remaining family worked in Burlington and had spread throughout the Southeastern Wisconsin, and even though my work was stationed near Madison, Wisconsin, I lived in Milwaukee. I lived in the better part of the city in my own apartment flat.

Even though I was a girl, and you would think that I would take my time to decorate everything accordingly to color, I didn't really jump right into that. The color of the open walls were a light yellow that matched the dark cherry brown wood that outlined everything. I had big spacious windows that looked down into a mini courtyard that all tenants had. My sliding glass window opened to a little flat landing of a roof, so that if I wanted too, I could lay out there and look up at the stars.

I never really did get around to personalizing the place though as there were hardly any pictures.

Troy did a low whistle when he stepped foot into my apartment. Although my place was out of the way for him, he didn't turn down my dinner invitation. I figured making him whatever I could find for dinner would be enough payment for him fixing my car.

"Nice place." He looked around as I just smiled and continued into the kitchen that had all the essentials.

"Thanks. My grandpa got a good deal. He knows the owner." I opened the fridge and pulled out a beer for me. "Want one?"

I was expecting him to still be near the door, not right behind me. I nearly jumped when I felt his breath on the back of my neck. He took one step back with a crooked smile on his face and nodded. "Sounds good."

Troy walked along the edge of the counter, running his finger tips over the green and gray marble.

I had made dinner, Troy unexpectedly helping me with the pasta and simple sauce. It was going on midnight when we had finally decided to put everything away as our talking prolonged the task.

"So how did you get into Murder?" He asked me when rinsing off his hands and then drying them on the pale yellow towel.

I leaned back onto the counter before propping myself up so I could sit on it. "I applied and the Chief hired."

Troy chuckled at my naïve answer as I knew he was looking for more information than that. "Come on Montez, don't hold back. You and I are the only ones who are under thirty, so how'd you do it? I know the Chief doesn't have a wife, so…"

I mockingly rolled my eyes as I knew what he was suggesting. "I didn't sleep with him. And if I were you Mr. Bolton, then I'd be careful when saying those things. If the wrong person heard, that could be your's and their job."

He stepped closer to me and leaned against the counter space next to my leg. "Then what's your secret Montez?"

I smirked before leaning in and whispering in his ear, "I'm just that good." When I pulled back I laughed at his expression on his face. "What about you Bolton? What's your story?"

"That's a mystery wrapped inside a murder case," he joked with a chuckle, and I had a feeling he expected me to laugh too as that was work humor, but I just stared at him with wider eyes than usual. He must have got the feeling that he said something as he looked at me with concern. "Something wrong?"

I bit my lip. I suddenly realized that I would always be lying to Troy, deep down, no matter how far of friends we become, I would always be lying until I managed enough courage to tell him about my parents and my past. Although it technically wasn't lying if he didn't ask me directly, but I knew about my parents and he didn't, and in ways that upset me that I wouldn't always be able to tell Troy the truth when he asked about them.

"…no." I looked up at him with a small smile. "I was just thinking about what could possible be that bad in your past. Care to explain?"

Troy smiled, "If that means I stay here longer? Sure."

We were starting to become friends, and I liked it. Maybe a little too much.