Chapter 11
Castle stared at the screen in front of him, found himself glancing yet again from the computer to the series of photos taped to the white board. Pictures of Johanna Beckett's exhumed body, a replica of the knife used to stab her in the back. They had examined the wound, the weapon. They had pulled long hours, night after night, staring at case files, cold cases, looking for matches. They had found three.
Four people had died, and the police had done nothing. They had covered it up, brushed it under the rug.
Castle swallowed. He felt like he was going to be sick.
Days, weeks, had passed since he had seen her. Thanksgiving had come and gone. He had broken away from the case long enough to have a pleasant day with his family, but the tension had still been in the air - in the way that Alexis looked at him, and at the board in his office - worry swirled with guilt. He had brushed it off as worry over finals.
They laughed and sang carols while putting up the Christmas tree after dinner, a Thanksgiving tradition. The turkey wasn't even cold yet, and they were stringing up holly.
"No, wait." Castle held up a hand, reaching out for the star Alexis was unwrapping from the taped bubble wrap sleeve. The girl must have been the one to put it away last Christmas.
"What is it, Dad?"
"Not yet. Let's wait to put the star on until Christmas Eve."
Alexis pinned him with a confused look but handed over the sparkling gold object with no objections.
"Why?"
Castle's mind returned to the picture in his office, the one he stared at day after day: Kate hanging ornaments on the tree.
"'Tis the season for miracles."
A written confession from Gary McAlister, John Raglan's old partner, had found its way to the board, in exchange for a new identity in witness protection.
"Easy for you to judge now, but you got no clue what we went through. Gangs taking over the streets. We called it 'incarceration.' We'd grab them, hold them for ransom from their own people, knock them around a little bit. Once we had the money, we'd put them back on the street. Everything was fine until Bobby Armand got in the way of us grabbing Joe Pulgatti. We didn't know Armand was an FBI agent, but he got in the way and ended up dead."
"What does this have to do with Johanna Beckett?"
"I had nothing to do with Johanna Beckett. That was someone else."
"Who?"
"Someone you'll never touch. When her daughter figured out what had happened with Pulgatti, started putting it all together, people got worried."
Esposito leaned over the table, close enough to smell the stench of sweat rolling off McAlister's brow.
"Which people?"
"This is so much bigger than you could possibly imagine. Kate Beckett woke the dragon ten years ago, Detective. I'd advise you let the sleeping beast lie."
"What did you do to Kate Beckett?" Ryan stepped in, leaning over next to his partner, both of them staring McAlister in the face.
"She got too close and the people in charge got worried. We were ordered to take care of it."
"Why didn't you just kill her?"
Castle blanched behind the one-way mirror.
"Killing people leaves bodies; it's messy. This way we killed two birds with one stone, so to speak."
"What do you mean, two birds?"
McAlister smirked.
"We killed Dick Coonan and framed Kate Beckett for it, planted the gun in her apartment."
He looked back and forth between the detectives.
"You got your confession. Now, you gotta hold up your end of the deal."
Esposito didn't move for a long second, his gaze holding McAlister's until it was clear that the former cop was finished.
Castle stared at the blinking cursor. They had it, that confession - a statement proving that Kate Beckett was innocent. All of Raglan and McAlister's cases were being reopened, many overturned. He glanced at the calendar sitting on the corner of his desk: December 9.
Kate Beckett woke the dragon…
He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. They had a confession, papers would be pushed through, and Kate would be let out of jail. Free. But free to what?
This is so much bigger than you could possibly imagine…
Would there be people coming for her, for them? The cursor blinked at the end of his paragraph, the tale he was spinning about the Beckett women, about Joe Pulgatti, about John Raglan and the dragon.
They needed more. They needed to slay the dragon.
He stood from his desk, stretching his arms skyward as he arched his back. Alexis would be home soon. Her exams were done, and she was coming home for the holiday. She had said something about a ski trip with her friends.
He paced the room. There had to be something they could do.
McAlister was gone, anonymous, in protective custody. Raglan was dead, Pulgatti had told them everything he knew, corroborating much of McAlister's confession. There was nothing else. They would get Kate released from prison. And then she would be killed at the hand of the dragon.
He ran a hand through his hair, the ends of his tattered bathrobe brushing against his pajama-clad legs. He could feel the anxiety rising in his chest as a hand ran down his face.
He had investigated this, torn it wide open, and she would be killed because of it. They both would.
A knock pounded on the door and he jumped, hurried across the apartment, sparing a glance through the peephole before cracking the door open, peering out at the person on the other side.
"Rick Castle?"
"Yes."
The man held out a pen and clipboard.
"I need you to sign please."
Castle released his vise grip on the doorknob, allowing the door to swing open wider, and grabbed the proffered object, scribbling his signature sloppily on the slip of paper.
"Merry Christmas," the man stated as he shoved a thick manila envelope into Castle's hands.
Castle mumbled a reply as he shut the door, returning to his office to sit behind his desk.
He flipped up the tab on the back of the package, ripping the flap up with the edge of his finger. Sliding the contents out, he let the collection of papers fall to the desk before rifling through the stack.
His hands sorted through the pages, spreading out the contents: files, pictures, names, faces.
It was there; it was all there. Proof, everything they needed… His lips turned up into a wide smile, his face threatening to crack as he let out an amazed laugh.
"Merry Christmas, indeed."
He scrambled for the envelope, turning it over to see the label. No return address.
His phone rang, and he reached for it blindly, his fingers curling around it, bringing it to his ear.
"Castle."
"It's Esposito. Montgomery's dead."
The smile fell from his lips.
Kate was sitting cross-legged on the bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, when the door buzzed open. Her eyes rose from the grey, chipped cinder block she had been staring at for the better part of the morning. It wasn't like there was anything better to do. Doreen was looking down at her, the guard's normal frown replaced with a soft smile.
"What?" Kate huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She didn't want to go see the nurse. She didn't want her hour of time in the library. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to be left alone.
"The warden wants to see you," Doreen answered.
Kate cocked her head to the side before wiggling in her spot to get more comfortable - her back pressing against the unforgiving wall for support.
"Tell her I'm busy with a standing lunch date and have to reschedule. I'll call her."
Doreen let out a snort, taking a step into the room, and Kate turned to her, wary. The guards never left the doorway, unless the prisoner was causing problems, but then they were only in pairs. This time there was only Doreen, there wasn't even backup in the hall.
"Trust me, Beckett, you want to go see the warden."
Kate's body uncurled, the blanket slipping from her shoulders as she stood, holding out her wrists for the guard to cuff.
Doreen shook her head, the smile not leaving her lips, a kindness in her eyes that Kate hadn't seen in the ten years she had known the woman.
"Not this time, Beckett, come on."
Kate followed the guard down the hall, giving her only a sideways glance as Doreen held open the door to the warden's office.
"Beckett, have a seat," Warden Carter greeted with a wave of her hand.
Kate sat, her hands wringing in her lap, forearms pressing on her thighs, willing her lower limbs to stay still. She was trembling.
"Ma'am?"
She couldn't form any other words, her chest constricting as she stared at the woman, maybe ten years older than herself. Her hair was pulled back in its normal, severe bun, ears devoid of jewelry, face covered in little to no makeup.
"An order was hand delivered to me about twenty minutes ago, Beckett." She slid a file across the desk and Kate stared at it, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she could hear the rushing of blood in her head. She reached out, her fingers shaking as she pulled the piece of paper towards her, reading the words. She reached the bottom of the page and swallowed. She started at the top again, her brain still not comprehending.
She couldn't…
"Ma'am."
"You're free to go, Beckett."
"But I…"
Kate's head spun. She wanted to laugh, to cry. She felt like she was going to throw up, her throat closing as she gasped for words.
They had done it.
"Go home, Beckett."
Kate's eyes met the warden's.
"But I've got nowhere to go."
Warden Carter smiled as she stood up from her desk, leaning over to look at the other woman.
"You've done your time, Beckett. Actually, according to this, you've done someone else's. Go on, Kate. I'm sure you'll figure something out."
Kate's legs buckled as she tried to stand, the page now clutched in her fist, her fingers threatening to break through the thin paper. She turned, part of her still waiting for someone to yell at her to stop, to threaten to shoot.
"Oh, and Beckett?"
Kate jumped, whirling around to face the warden, who had stepped around the desk and was now leaning against the front.
"Merry Christmas."
Kate glanced at the calendar on the wall. December 21, 2012.
Drawing in a deep breath, her lips trembled up into a hesitant smile.
"Merry Christmas."
Doreen was standing outside the office door, a cardboard box in her hands. She held it out to Kate, whose hands reached up mechanically, grasping the sides, the paper ordering her release crinkling as it smashed against one edge.
"There's a room where you can change down the hall."
Doreen led her there, and Kate followed, once again.
For the last time.
The guard motioned to a single stall bathroom at the end of the hall and Kate stepped inside, placing the box on the floor. The only clothes in the pile were the ones she had been wearing when she was arrested ten years before - faded bootleg jeans with a frayed hole in the knee and a graphic t-shirt with a swirled pattern on the front. Kate pulled them on over her utilitarian, prison-issue underwear, slipping her feet back into the plain white slip-ons she had been given weeks before. She pulled on her hooded sweatshirt, noting how baggy it was. Everything was baggy.
Kate jumped as someone pounded on the door, and she turned the handle, peeking out the crack.
"Here."
Doreen held out a hairbrush with an elastic tie wound around the end, and Kate grasped it, pulling it inside before pressing the door shut, her other palm pressed firmly against the wood.
She was in a bathroom. Alone. She looked down at the paper again, smoothing the wrinkled edges so that she could read the words again - those surreal, glorious words.
Pulling the brush slowly through her hair, starting at the bottom, she worked out the knots. She worked it into a quick braid, letting it fall down her front before turning back to pick up the box, light with the limited contents of her life, the purple blanket folded on the top.
She walked out into the hall, turning back to flip off the light at the last minute, her hand almost getting caught in the door.
There was a buzz to her left and Kate startled as the barred door slid open, the bright light of the day streaming in from the other side. She stared out at the room for a second, moving only when Doreen pressed on her shoulder, steering her towards the light - freedom.
"Be safe, Beckett."
Kate nodded, the words rattling around in her mind, their meaning lost in the haze.
The outer door slid open, and Kate stepped out into the cool December afternoon, her feet made contact with the pavement, one in front of the other, until she made it past the last gate, the guard nodding at her as she stepped onto the asphalt of the parking lot.
She squinted as she looked around the space. Surely there was a bus to bring her back to the city. It wasn't like she had a car waiting for her or any money to hail a cab. Unless of course this was some elaborate hoax or dream or her brain had finally decided to do her in and drive her completely mad.
"Hey."
Kate jumped as the voice sounded next to her ear and she whirled around to find herself face to face with a grinning Richard Castle.
"Hi." She worked her throat to force the word out past her chapped lips.
"You ready to go?"
She nodded, swallowing her anxiety.
She was more than ready.
"Where?"
"Home."
"I don't have a home, Castle."
He reached out, taking the box from her arms. Turning back toward his car, he waited for her to step up to his side.
"Yes, you do. It's a secure building with an extra room and someone who cares about you."
Kate felt a smile pull at her lips as she fell into step beside her... writer. Home. She glanced over, seeing the shining object dangling from his hand. Her smile grew. She shouldn't…
She reached out, her fingers encircling the key, tugging it from his grasp as he let out a squeak in protest.
"Fine, but I'm driving."