The Lawyer (Part 3 of 3)

The next two weeks passed by without incident. There was no panicked call from Jimmy
telling me he'd been arrested or even a call from the 12th precinct requesting a follow
up interview. Jimmy's "alibi" must have held up under scrutiny. I was elated. Maybe I'd
get lucky and not see him for another six months or maybe even a year. I pulled his file
out from the stack of pending cases on my desk. It wasn't too thick; Gloria might be able
to cram it into the file cabinet drawer that was bursting with eleven years worth of
Jimmy's misdeeds.

Gloria!"

Dammit, I was doing it again. I needed to stop bellowing her name through my office door
and use the intercom. I picked up the receiver of my phone and then sat there with my
finger hovering above the keypad. Was it star 24, or 24 star? No, no it was 24 pound. I
pressed the keys in sequence, but nothing happened. I could work a computer, my iPad
and my iPhone but I could never seem to remember how to use the damn intercom, and
I also forgot that it was the reason I kept on hollering her name. The receiver was already
in my hand so I wasn't about to give up just yet. I tried pound 24. I heard a low beep, and
then a voice spoke to me from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Gloria?"

"No, this is Stephanie." Great, right sequence wrong number.

"Do you know where Gloria is?"

"No, but hang on a second and I'll check."

"Gloria!" The woman's voice echoed through the offices.

Wasn't that what I was trying to avoid? I could only shake my head as I waited. I could
hear some indistinct mumbling over the phone and then Stephanie's voice was back.

"Jennifer said that Gloria ran out of here about twenty minutes ago, and that she had said
something about winning the lotto and that she needed to buy a bottle of champagne."

"What?"

"That's what she said."

"Thank you, sorry to bother you."

"Not a problem Mr. Castle."

She hung up and I sat there with the phone pressed to my face wondering how she knew
it was me. I probably dialed her extension by mistake the last time. I hung up and grabbed
a pen and a post-it note. Note to self: NEVER USE THE INTERCOM EVER AGAIN! I pulled the
slip of paper from the pad and stuck it over the phone's display.

I knew a simpler way to find Gloria; I'd call her cell phone. Looking at my desk, it would be
easier said than done. My phone was currently buried somewhere beneath the piles of
contracts, decrees and wills that I had been working on all morning. I swatted at the papers
with the palm of my hand till I felt a square lump beneath one of the piles. I dug it out and
placed the call. Seconds later I heard music playing outside my door. Had she returned? I
listened as my phone dialed hers and the music continued to play, but Gloria never answered.
I grabbed Jimmy's file and went to investigate. Both Gloria's desk and the reception area
were empty, but I noticed that her cell phone sitting atop a pile of briefs. Where was she?
She always told me when she was leaving, for any reason, and she never, ever went anywhere
without her cell phone. I dropped Jimmy's file onto her desk and turned back to my office, but
then stopped; something else was nagging at me. I called Gloria's phone again and listened
for a few second before hanging up. I couldn't wait for her to get back.

While she was gone I had to field the calls that came in to my office. Gloria usually ran interference
for me so that I wouldn't have to deal with my more annoying clients. Not today. Today I got stuck
arguing with Mrs. Goldenberg's divorce attorney. He was trying to fight the prenup she had signed
when she married my client, Mr. Goldenberg, six years ago. I think the man was trying to annoy me
into a settlement. He was burying the divorce proceeding under tons of idiotic paperwork. Today he
was seeking spousal support for her dog, a yappy Pomeranian named Mr. FuFu. Thirty frustrating
minutes later, I finally had to hang up on the asshole.

As the receiver hit the cradle, two empty champagne flutes were placed on my desk. I looked up to
find Gloria peeling the gold foil off the top of a bottle of champagne, and I watched as the flecks of
gold began to litter the floor around her feet.

"Gloria, what the hell is going on?"

"We won the lotto!"

"We don't play the lotto."

"But we won anyway!" She stopped what she was doing long enough to pull a folded newspaper
out from under her left arm and she plopped it down on my desk. She then began untwisting the
wire from around the cork.

I picked up the paper and skimmed the front page. "Well, as happy as I am to see that the Yankees
won game five of the playoffs, I really don't see how it warrants champagne." I looked back up and
was shocked by a glimpse of the label as she struggled to pop the cork. "Especially a $300.00 bottle
of Dom Perignon! Woman, would you please tell me what is going on?"

My outburst got her attention and she stopped pushing on the cork long enough to answer me.

"C24."

"What?"

"Section C, page 24." She went back to work on the cork.

I pulled out section C and flipped through to page 24. It took few seconds for me to find it but when
I did my heart began to race. She was right; it felt like I'd just won the lotto and I couldn't stop the
big ass grin as it spread across my face. I looked up at Gloria and she was grinning back at me. I
was suddenly impatient to toast our good fortune.

"Give me the damn bottle."

She was getting nowhere with the cork and gladly handed it over. I held the bottle by the neck and
applied pressure with both thumbs against one side of the cork. Gloria must have shaken the bottle
in her struggles to open it, because the cork shot across the room and a foamy geyser of champagne
erupted out, soaking my desk and Jimmy Karpowski's obituary.

I quickly aimed the gushing bottle away from my desk and proceeded to christen my leather chair
instead. Gloria made a mad dash to the bathroom and ran back out with a couple of hand towels.
I didn't care what got wet. Hell, I was tempted to upend the bottle and pour it over my head, but
having to explain later why I reeked of booze was not something I wanted to do, so I filled our
champagne glasses instead. When I finished pouring, Gloria passed me a towel and we both made
half ass attempts at cleaning up the mess. She made a quick pass with her towel across the back
and seat of my chair while I dabbed at the newspaper with mine. I was trying to save the soggy
pages so that I could finish reading his obituary.

Gloria saw what I was doing and stopped me. "Don't bother with that, it doesn't tell you what
happened to him."

"Do you know what happened?"

The sly grin crept across her face. "I sure do." She leaned on the desk and reached for the
champagne glasses.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Not until we have some champagne." She handed me a glass. "So hurry up and make a toast,
'cause I dying to drink some of this stuff."

"Alright." We both raised our glasses. "To Jimmy, I hope you burn in hell."

She tapped her glass against mine. "Yeah, you no good murderin', lyin', scum sucking piece of shit."

I laughed. Leave it to Gloria to say what I was thinking. I sipped my champagne and watched as
she downed hers. If I had known she was going to chug it like a beer, I would have gone ahead
and poured it over my head.

"Danm that's good stuff!"

"How could you tell? I'm surprised you could even taste it, much less breathe."

Hey! That one was for Jimmy. I'll slow down and enjoy the next one." She reached for the bottle,
but I snagged it off the desk and backed away.

"No more for you till you tell me what happened to him."

"Aww."

"You said after the toast. The toast is done, so spill."

"Fine, but do you mind if we sit first. I haven't eaten lunch yet and that glass of champagne
has already reached my toes." Gloria made her way to one of the two armchairs that faced
my desk and plopped herself down. I followed; and set my glass and the champagne bottle
back down on the desk before pulling the other chair around to face her. I sat down and
leaned back into the chair

So what happened?"

"Jersey PD fished his body out of the Hudson three days ago and the medical examiners report
said that he had been beaten to death with a tire iron."

"Do they have a suspect?'

"No. No leads as of today."

"If there were no leads then how'd they manage to find the murder weapon?"

"It was in him when they pulled him from the river."

"Who kills a man and then leaves the murder weapon on the body?"

Gloria held her glass out for more champagne. "I didn't say it was on the body."

"You said…" I realized what she had said. "Ooh…ow!" Somebody obviously wanted to make a
statement." I refilled her glass as I pondered the murder weapon. . Had his driver finally snapped?
Mob killings were business; a beating, that was personal.

"All I know is, he got what he deserved."

She was right, the how's and why's didn't really matter. "Do you know what we deserve?"

"What?"

"Lunch…anyplace you want to go, my treat."

"Why Mr. Castle, I thought you'd never ask." She took it as a cue to polish off her second glass
of champagne so I hurried to finish mine.

We set our empty glasses on my desk and I stood to offer her my hand. "Shall we, Mrs. Johnson."

She giggled. I think the champagne had now made it to her head, "Such a gentleman."

"I'm just making sure you can stand up without falling over."

"Now you had to go and spoil it for me."

"And we need to get some food in to you. I can't have you drunk off your ass before noon."

She pulled her hand out of mine. "Do you always have ulterior motives for everything you do?"

Did I? I just wanted to celebrate over lunch. Why did I have to over examine every situation and
every conversation? This wasn't the first time I'd felt like a prick. I seemed to catch myself doing
this more and more lately.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

I was relieved when she laughed. "You should see your face." She moved towards the door.
"I'll just get my purse, set the answering machine and then we can go."

She left and I let out a sigh. I grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair and attempt to push
the cork back into the champagne bottle. These damn things never seemed to fit back in once
they were out. I managed to shove it a quarter of the way back inside before giving up. Gloria
was straightening the files on her desk as I stepped out of my office, and when I saw her slip
her cell phone into her purse; I just had to call her. Right Said Fred's 'I'm Too Sexy' began
blaring from her purse and it took everything I had to stifle a laugh as she frantically pulled
her phone back out and ended the call. I could see her cut a glance at me over her shoulder.

"Really?"

She was embarrassed, but she stood and faced me as she dropped the phone back into her purse.
"I'm not going to change it."

"And why not?"

"My husband thinks it's funny."

It was my turn to feign the one being hurt, so I grumbled at her as I headed for the front door.
"Come on, before you make me change my mind about lunch."

I heard her snort a laugh as she followed me out.

…..

Cocktails at lunch and more champagne that afternoon had us both nursing hangovers the next day.
Nothing was getting done by either of us, so I finally closed up shop around noon. We both worked
through lunch and stayed late the next day to make up for the days we'd lost. I hadn't cared at the
time, but now I was frustrated at having to redo all the paperwork that had been soaked by the
champagne. By five o'clock Gloria and I were the last ones left in the offices. As much as I hated to
work late on a Friday, I was determined not to work on the weekend. I had quit doing that years ago
and I wasn't about to let it happen now.

I was down to my last two contracts when Gloria appeared at my door with a stack of files in her arms.
"Where do you want these?"

I glanced at my watch before answering. It was now almost seven. I pushed my chair back and stood
to stretch my legs. "What do you have?"

"I finished that research you wanted on BanCorp and I've proofed the McClendon will. I also have the
transcripts done from John Arvil's deposition and I've got the final draft of the Silverstein trust for you
to review."

"Is that all?" I needed to get my blood flowing, so I met her at the door. "I'll take those."

She gladly handed them over. "That's all for me, I'm done."

"Lucky you."

"How are you coming along?"

"I've got two contracts left and then I'm done."

"Better you than me; of course that is why they pay you the big bucks."

"Thanks."

Her eyes wandered past my left shoulder and I turned my head to follow her gaze. "Are you really going to keep that?"

She was looking at the champagne bottle that I had set on the top of my bookshelf. "It's a reminder."

"You want reminder of Jimmy?"

"No, I want to remember that the next time we find the need to celebrate we do it without the champagne."
Gloria laughed and I shoved her back towards her desk. "Now go home before Brian comes looking for you.
You're already in the doghouse with him from Wednesday."

"Look whose talking." I watched as she headed back to her desk and collected her purse.

"Hey, I might be here till midnight, but I am not working the weekend."

"You better not." She headed towards the front door and I went back into my office. I was only a few feet
inside when I heard her talking to someone. I turned back to see who could be here at such a late hour.
The office door was partially opened and she was speaking to someone in the hallway. I could only see a
hand as it passed her a business card.

I spoke up to get Gloria's attention. "Who is it?"

She looked at the card and then at me. "It's Detective Beckett; she wants to speak with you."

What could she possibly want? Was she here to question me about Jimmy's death? He may be dead, but
I still couldn't talk about him or any of his past cases and I was certainly going keeping my thoughts about
his driver to myself.

The door was pushed open and there was the Detective looking a lot less stunning than I remembered
her the last time. Her hair was thrown into a haphazard ponytail and she was dressed in a pair of faded
jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it could stand a little one on one time with a steam iron. Her intimidating
boots were replaced by a pair of sneakers that made her seem small and fragile. Did she look harried
because of her work or was it something more?

"It's fine Gloria. I've got time for the Detective."

"Do you need me to stay?"

"I've got this, go on home and have nice weekend."

She headed out the door but not without a parting shot. "You have a good one too, and remember,
the weekend starts at midnight."

"I know, I know." I waved her off.

The detective looked worried. "Was I interrupting?"

"No, Gloria was just heading home and I'll be here for a few more hours. So, what brings you here
detective? Are you investigating Jimmy's death?"

"Jimmy Karpowski's dead?"

"You didn't know?"

"Sorry, I haven't been at work for the past week. That's part of reason why I'm here. I've been suspended
and I think I need a Lawyer."

"Suspeneded? For what?"

She looked uneasy and glanced up and down the hallway. "Could we take this somewhere more private?
Hallways have ears."

She was edgy and paranoid. What was I about to get myself into? "Sorry, come on in." I waved her on
into the reception area and shut the door.

"My office is this way." I walked past her and she followed. I set the files Gloria had handed me down on
the corner of my desk and offered detective Beckett a seat. She refused my offer and instead began pacing
my office. I leaned against the front of my desk and waited for her to speak. When she did, it was to grill me.

"Who are you Mr. Castle?"

I was confused? "Who am I?"

"I checked up on you. Aside from being a successful attorney, I can't find any background information on you?
So who are you?"

"Is it really relevant to why you need a lawyer?"

"It's relevant to me. I like to know who I'm dealing with. And all I know about you is that you obviously have
an assumed name and that you work for the mob. So unless you can clear up these two issues, I'm out of here."

I couldn't help but laugh at her assumptions. She stopped pacing and headed towards the door. "Wait, detective…
I was just laughing at how wrong you were. Please, let me explain." She stopped outside my door and turned back.
She didn't come back in; she just stood there with her hands on her hips and waited for me to speak. I couldn't
help but notice her right hand, as it unconsciously felt for the gun and badge that were missing from her belt.

"I changed my name years ago for personal reasons."

"So, you have something to hide?"

"No…yes…I value my privacy."

"Not good enough." She turned to go.

"Fine, you win…I'll tell you why I changed it."

She turned back again, but still came no closer.

Not many people knew this and I was a little embarrassed to say it. "It was vanity."

"What?"

"Vanity. I didn't like my last name." I was relieved when she relaxed and took a few steps back into the office.

"So what was it?"

If I didn't tell her I knew she would walk. "It was Rogers."

"Rogers, what's wrong with Rogers?"

"Nothing. That was until I became an adult and after about the tenth time someone called me Mr. Rogers, I knew
I would never be able to hear my name without an image of that sweet talking, cardigan wearing, children's TV host
popping into my head."

She laughed. It was proof, even all these years later that I was right to change it.

"So you took your stepfather's name."

"God no, Richard Pritchard, that would have been worse!" She laughed again and I made my way from the front of
my desk around back to my chair in the hopes she would feel at ease enough to sit. Something was still holding her
back, and it was in her next question.

"Well, now that that's cleared up can you tell me why you would defend a mob hitman?"

"An alleged mob hitman." Crap, I knew as soon as I said it I was being a prick again, and I could see her take a
few tentative steps back towards the door. I needed to apologize, and fast.

"I'm sorry; the damn lawyer in me just doesn't know when to shut up." She stopped walking, but I found her face
was hard to read. "For the record Detective, I work for this law firm, not for Jimmy so I didn't have a choice when
they gave him to me eleven years ago. I do regret being too good at my job sometimes, but I refuse to compromise
my integrity just because my client is a "tool"." I sat down in my chair and scooted it in to my desk. When I looked up,
Detective Beckett was sitting in the chair across from me. I guess I had satisfactorily answered her questions. Now
it was my turn.

"So tell me, why were you suspended?"

She squirmed in her chair, and I could tell that getting her to open up was going to be difficult. It might be best
just to push my luck and see what it gets me.

"Does it have anything to do with your mother's murder?"

I'd caught her off guard. Her face blanched and I couldn't tell if she was going to run or cry. She did neither.

"How did you…?" She whispered her question but never finished it. I could see her mind racing over what her next
move would be, so I repeated her question.

"How did I know?" I opened my bottom right hand desk drawer and pulled out her folder from the hanging file
labeled 'Current Contacts'. She flinched when I dropped the folder onto my desk. "You checked up on me, so it's
only fair for you to know that I checked up on you." I didn't like the way her brow furrowed.

"It's not what you think detective. I research all the people I have dealings with during a criminal case. It's just
procedure, nothing more."

Her fingers clenched the armrests of her chair and now she definitely looked like she was about to run. I
needed to make her participate in this odd version of truth or dare that she was making me play.

"Don't tell me you won't still check up on me now that you have my real name. It's what we do Detective."
She knew I was right and she relaxed back into the chair.

"You may be right about that, but don't think you know me."

I needed to do something to break the tension she was creating between us. I felt a few minutes apart might help.

"I was just about to get something to drink from the lunch room when you arrived, do you mind?"

"No, go ahead."

It may have been a ruse, but there was no need not to be a gentleman. "Can I get you anything, a soda or some water?"

"Water would be great, thanks."

As I headed to get our drinks I could only guess at what had happened in the past two weeks to turn the
strong, confident, self assures woman that I'd met into the disheveled, paranoid train wreck now sitting in
my office. I was only gone long enough to grab a couple of bottled waters and I was surprised to find her
standing when I returned. Her back was to me, but I could tell she was holding something.

"I have your water." I stepped forward and held it out to her.

I was surprised to see what she was holding. "What is this?" She turned towards me and held out the picture
frame that had been sitting on the left side of my desk.

"Well, since you're determined to know everything about me, it's a picture of my wife Kiera and our four daughters."

"You're married?"

"Yep, it'll be fourteen years next month." I tried to hand her the water bottle but she kept on staring at the
picture as she held it out to me. I set the bottles on my desk and gently took the picture from her. "I don't
usually have it out when clients are here, but then again I didn't know you were coming."

She looked confused and I could tell by her next question that she had made some assumptions about me.
"You don't wear a wedding ring."

"No, once I realized this job would have me working with people of questionable backgrounds, I did
everything I could to keep my private life private. Luckily changing my name all those years ago has
made it relatively easy to do." I set the picture back in its place and looked back up at the Detective.
She was almost out the front door when I caught up to her. I put my hand against the door and
shoved it closed.

"Where are you going?"

She spoke to me but she wouldn't look at me.

"I can't involve you in this. I'm sorry, it was a mistake." From the waver of her voice I could tell
she was upset.

"Look Detective, I may not know the whole story, but it's obvious you're in trouble and you need
help. So come back inside and let's talk about it."

'I'm sorry, I can't…it's all changed. You've got a family."

I tried to help her brush it off as just a misunderstanding.

"Look Detective, I want to apologize if you thought I was single, but don't be embarrassed about
flirting with me the other day. I was actually a little flattered that you were interested to tell the
truth. It made me feel nineteen again."

Judging by her next comment it seemed that I was the one who had misunderstood. I think she
was talking to herself more than me.

"You were perfect, single…with questionable ties to the mob." She rested her head against the
door and let out an exhaustive sounding sigh. "Now I have to start over."

She needed my help because there were some things in this world that a gun and a badge couldn't
protect her from.

"You wanted a pawn, someone expendable."

Her reply was barley audible.

"Yes."

"I don't know if you realize it, but you've left a trail of used pawns behind you and they seem to
have lead you to Senator O'Brien."

I had her full attention now, but judging by the fear in her eyes and in her voice, I wasn't sure I wanted it.

"You need to forget about him and me. You need to forget I was ever here. You need to burn that
file you have on me and tell your secretary to forget me she ever saw me."

I wasn't ready to give up on her. "Please, let me try and help you. There has to be something I can do."

Her next comment and the tear that slipped down her cheek was the deal breaker. "The stakes are too high.
The only thing you could possibly do…is die."

I must have taken my hand from the door because she opened it and quickly walked out of the office and
my life without another word. I never said goodbye. I didn't watch her walk away. I just quietly closed the
door…and locked it.

…..

After a week of the jitters, I finally came to the conclusion that I'd let her paranoia get the better of me. How
could one woman's murder all those years ago lead to the creation of an evil villain that nobody knew about
except her? I'd gotten it all wrong; she wasn't living in a Shakespearian tragedy. She was pretending to be
a comic book action hero fighting mysterious sinister forces lurking in the shadows. I was finally able to relax.
The only thing I had to worry about this weekend was helping my youngest pull her first loose baby tooth.
The first one was always the worst.

I would have gladly relived that hour long crying session every moment for the rest of my life if it meant I could
take back the following Monday morning. To quote Joe DiMaggio, it was like déjà vu all over again, only this time
without the champagne.

I was just about to enjoy my morning espresso when Gloria burst into my office. She had her own coffee in one
hand, a file folder between her teeth, and another newspaper tucked under her arm. When her other hand let
go of the doorknob it quickly reclaimed the file folder.

"You're going want to read this." She set her coffee down on my desk and handed me the folder. "Not that.
That's just the final draft of the McClendon will, unless he calls and changes it again." She pulled the paper
out from under her arm and waved it at me.

"This is what you need to read."

I didn't reach for it; instead I had to go and be a prick again and say the wrong thing.

"Who died this time, wait don't tell me…Mrs. Goldenberg!"

It was the look on her face that told me I'd screwed up, even before she threw the newspaper at me.
"You know some things aren't meant to be funny!" She stormed out and slammed my door shut before I
could apologize.

I knew I'd better read it quick and then go and apologize before she had time to stew. The paper had
glanced off my chest and landed on the floor to the right of my chair. When I leaned over my armrest to
pick it up I couldn't help but notice the glaring front page headline. I suddenly felt ill and the room started
to spin, my eyes wouldn't focus and it took a couple of wild grabs before I managed to snag the paper
from off the floor. I held it tightly to my chest and tried to wish away what I'd just read, but I knew that
could never happen. Front page ink was like a tattoo, it was permanent.

I took a moment before I uncrumpled the pages from my fists and smoothed them out on my desk. This
couldn't possibly be true.

POLICE CAPTAIN AND DETECTIVE FOUND SHOT TO DEATH AT PRIVATE AIRFIELD POSSIBLE MURDER, SUICIDE SUSPECTED.

The bodies of Captain Roy Montgomery 60, and Detective Katherine Beckett 31, both assigned to the 12th Precinct,
were found dead early Saturday morning at a small private airfield thirty miles west of Jersey. Autopsies determined
that Captain Montgomery received two fatal gunshot wounds to the chest while Detective Beckett sustained one
fatal shot to the head. The Police Commissioner is personally heading up the inquiry into their deaths,but refuses to
comment about an ongoing investigation. Unnamed sources from within the 12th precinct have confirmed that
Detective Beckett was suspended from the force by Captain Montgomery nearly two weeks ago. Sources also say
that the Detective had undergone several departmental psychiatric evaluations during her career and that her
suspension was due to her emotional instability.

I'd read enough. I didn't know what to believe? Did I believe in the strong confident woman I'd gotten to know
that day in the coffee shop, the frightened, scared woman who came to my office, or the dead woman with the
single gunshot wound to the head?

All I knew for sure was that she was dead and I was scared.

"Gloria, Gloria!"

My door flew open seconds later. "What!" I could tell she was still mad at me but right now, I didn't care.

"Come in and shut the door."

I must have looked as bad as I felt, because she didn't argue with me. She quickly shut the door and sat down.
I didn't want to frighten her too but I had to get this done.

"I need you to get Jimmy's last file and anything you may have written down about Detective Beckett and bring
it to my office." I opened my bottom desk drawer pulled out her file. "I then I need you to forget that you knew
who she was and that she ever came here. Do you understand?"

She looked confused. "You're starting to scare me. What's going on?"

"You don't need to know. Just bring me what I asked for." I folded the newspaper and handed it back to her.
"Get rid of this." She turned to leave but I stopped her when my eye caught a glimpse of the bookshelf to her
right. "And take that damned bottle with you."

She left without a word and returned about twenty minutes later with what I wanted. She placed Jimmy's folder
and a stack of miscellaneous papers on my desk. She then made a point of placing the card she'd taken from
the Detective onto the top of the pile.

"I think she deserves more respect than you're giving her."

I picked up the card and looked at the stark blue of her name embossed upon the bright white background.
I still felt the need to save her, or at least to save her card. She did deserve more than she was getting.
She had no family. Who would there be to remember her? Why the hell did I feel so responsible for her, I
barley knew her.

I looked up at Gloria to reply to her accusation. "I'm only doing what she asked me to do." I knew it wasn't
enough, but it was all I had left to offer.

…..

Little did I know at the time, but I did have more to offer, and that I would be forever grateful to the woman
who came into my like for a few breif hours and wound up changing my life forever.

Author's note: This chapter ran longer than I expected so I will wrap it up with an epilogue. I also ask that I not be villified for the way things have ended.
In this story I wanted to highlight to possibility of what could have happened had Castle not been in her life. The following epologue will bring the story full circle, so
bear with me, I promise you won't be disappointed.