CHAPTER ONE

                                                                            “The Pact”

C.J. Fitzpatrick stood gazing into her bedroom mirror, fidgeting with her copper colored hair and scrunching up her freckled nose.  Everyone had always told her that she looked just like her father who died before she was born.  Ever since she was a little girl her mother had told her that he died while in the marines from an accident in one of their practice drills.  C.J. was proud of her bold beauty, as her mother referred to it, because she felt special and kind of different.  Those who knew her called her C.J.  She hated what the C.J. stood for which was “Catherine Jeannette,” named after each of her grandmothers.  The only time she was called by that name was when she was in big trouble, having done something mischievous, or when her mother wanted to get her attention, which seemed to be very often.  She often was deep in thought about being a famous detective, which was her dream. She often pretended to sniff out clues like she had seen the detectives do on T.V. and her favorite detective Sherlock Holmes that she read about in books.  Becoming a sleuth suited her she thought, just like her name did, and she liked it just fine.