CHAPTER FIVE

GOOD SOLDIER

"You're going to have dinner with your mother and sister who you haven't seen in seven years?" Lena stared at Rosalee in slight shock from the shop counter. "How do you feel about that?"

Rosalee let out a breath through her nose, "I don't know. I'm trying not to feel anything until we're actually there. I'm glad Monroe is coming. I don't think I could get through it without him."

"I can't imagine he wouldn't agree to go with you," Lena said. "I wish I could offer words of advice. But before the in-laws, I never really had a family. What I have been able to learn is that no matter what, family is complicated and it's always gonna be a process. So, no matter what happens tonight, it's all a part of that process."

"Let's just hope part of the process isn't all of us at each other's throats," Rosalee quipped as she worked on an order at the table.

Lena nudged her, "I don't think your mom would reach out just to yell at you. And it's your father's death anniversary. She probably just wants her family together again."

"I hope you're right," Rosalee sighed.

Lena had been making her way to her car from the shop after Rosalee skipped off to dinner and got a phone call. She picked out her phone to see Nick's name.

"Hey, is everything okay?" she answered the phone worriedly.

"Everything's fine," Nick assured her. "I just have a favor to ask with a case Hank and I have right now. Are you busy?"

"No, I'm done for the day," she said as she got into her car. "What do you need?"

"Do you remember where my Aunt Marie's trailer is?" he asked. A few days ago, Nick had taken her there to show her all the books and tools and weapons Marie had collected in her trailer of their family once he decided she was ready to see more about wesen and Grimms.

"Yeah, I remember," she said.

"Do you think you could meet me and Hank there?" he asked. "We need some extra eyes to figure out what kind of wesen we've got killing people. It's specific so you don't need to worry, but we just want to find out what we're dealing with."

Lena agreed and drove for the trailer as Nick ran her through what they did know about the wesen. They stabbed their victims in the chest with some kind of spear with scorpion venom. Enough from a six-foot scorpion.

Lena of course, beat them to the trailer and let herself in with the key Nick gave her and started pouring through the books for something that fit what they were looking for. She had been there for over half an hour when Nick and Hank finally arrived.

Nick had greeted her, thanking her for her help before he sat at the table and started piecing together some ripped up letter they'd found in the fireplace at the scene of a double homicide. A man and his wife, the most recent in murders that seemed geared towards four military men who had raped a female soldier four years ago in Iraq.

Hank took the time to introduce himself to her though. "Hey, I'm Hank. You must be Lena."

"That would be me," she smiled as she shook his hand. "I'm told you're in the know about all this wesen stuff. Does that include me?"

Hank shrugged, "What Nick knew at the beginning. Unless you've figured anything new out."

Lena thought briefly about the bolts of odd powers she'd exhibited. Knocking over the jar at Rosalee's shop. Knocking Joe into the wall without touching him. But she didn't mention any of that. It wasn't important. "Unfortunately, no."

Hank gave her a compassionate nod and then gestured to the book in her lap, "What about anything about our killer?"

"That I may have," she said, showing him the page she'd bookmarked. There were a few illustrations of a being with the face of a lion and a giant scorpion tale. "Ever hear of a manticore?"

"A Manticore?" Hank repeated dubiously, peering at the drawing. "It's the right size."

"Well here's what they're about," she said, beginning to read what Nick's ancestor had written about their run-in with a manticore. "I first witnessed what I was later to discover was a Manticore while my command lay siege at the fortress of Hormuz. Pliny the elder described this wesen in his famous Naturalis Historia circa 77 A.D., tracing its origin to ancient Persia. The beast described had a most unusual body, reflected by a physical duality. Part lowen, it also had a scorpion-like tail which could protrude from its spine, having a spike-like nail at the end capable of injecting a great deal of poison. When I attempted to make a move on this wesen, I discovered there were several more in the ranks. I quickly put away my blade to conceal my identity as a Grimm. I was to learn they were some of the most lethal soldiers in our command, for they have no fear of death."

"Whew," Hank sighed out. "I don't like that "no fear of death" thing. It's not healthy." He turned to his partner to ask, "Nick, what do you got?"

Nick seemed disturbed by whatever he was reading. "A confession..." He turned to look over at them grimly. "To the gang rape of Frankie Gonzales. Looks like Troy finished writing it just before he was killed."

Lena sagged into the small couch she was sitting on and she took in what happened to this poor woman four years ago.

"The colonel was right," Hank said. "This is about her."

"She's our Manticore," Nick said, standing with the taped together letter.

"She killed Ron, Troy, and Bobby. There's only one cowboy left," Hank added. They prepared to leave, but Lena stopped them.

"Guys, I'm not sure it's her," she said, setting the book aside.

They turned to her, confused, "What do you mean?"

"I don't think she would want them dead," she said.

"Even after they—" Nick started to ask.

But she cut him off, not wanting to hear that word again, "Yes, even after that. She's a victim but the crime has been ignored. They got away. They denied that what they did was wrong. She would want justice, not revenge. She would want them to own up to what they did, admit it, pay for it. They can't do that if they're dead."

Nick didn't really seem like he agreed with her, but Hank played mediator, "Maybe you're right, maybe not. But whatever's going on definitely has to do with her and we have to talk to her."

"I'm not saying it's not because of what happened to her," she said. "The victim always wants justice. It's who loves the victim that wants revenge. Figure out who loves her."

Unfortunately for Frankie's case of defense, Nick and Hank found her harassing the last man left at his car when they picked her up, arm still bleeding from where she carved the date of her rape into her skin over and over again. But she still denied everything.

"I didn't kill anyone."

Nick sighed, "Frankie, we know you did. First Bobby Hammond in Phoenix. Then Ron Hurd... you caught him at the VFW."

Frankie looked genuinely surprised, "I didn't even know they were dead."

"You followed him home," Hank pointed out.

"To talk!" she insisted.

"But when you didn't like what he said, you killed him," Hank surmised.

She shook her head strongly, "No, I did not."

"And what about Troy Dodge and his wife?" Nick asked, skeptically. "You didn't kill them either?"

She shook her head again. "No."

Hank didn't seem to understand. "So, what, you tracked down the four men who raped you just to say hi?"

She seemed surprised that they knew so much. Her voice shook as she spoke, "I spent the last four years of my life trying to get past that night... Going over every minute of what happened to me. They got away with it. I'm the only one who's paid for this. I didn't deserve what they did to me. I was a good soldier. All I wanted was for them to confess, and they wouldn't."

Nick paused as she said exactly what Lena seemed to think the situation was. How did she know so confidently without even meeting Frankie? She seemed so sure and it looked like she may have been right. He leaned forward, speaking lowly, "We know what you are."

She turned to him, "What?"

"I'm a Grimm, and you're a Manticore, and that's how you killed them," he deadpanned.

She almost smiled. Almost. "That's what you think?"

"That's what we know," Hank said.

She scoffed at him, "Then you don't know much." She tilted her head and black feathers sprouted out of her skin, as a dark beak grew out of her nose and her eyes turned pale yellow.

Nick leaned back, completely shocked.

"What?" Hank asked, seeing the change in Nick's face as he stared at Frankie.

"She's not a Manticore," he answered, still not believing it.

"What is she?"

"Steinadler."

Frankie tilted her head again and turned back, frowning at them, "It was a Manticore that killed them?"

Hank remembered Lena's parting words to them in the trailer – figure out who loves her.

"Who else knows that you're here?"

She frowned at him, "Nobody."

"Frankie, somebody else knows you're here. Who did you tell?" he pushed.

"The only one is my old C.O., but he's in the hospital," she explained. "I went to him looking for help to find these guys. He said I was wasting my time. I didn't care. I had to do something, or I was gonna kill myself. But I did not kill them."

"Colonel Desai?"

She nodded, "He's the only one that gave a damn."

Nick and Hank convinced her to call the Colonel so they could track where he was. Lena was right. Desai must be the Manticore who was getting vengeance on Frankie's behalf. He had even said they deserved what they were getting when he and Nick interviewed him over skype. Only, he obviously wasn't in New York getting chemo.

"Hello."

"Colonel, it's me, sir," Frankie responded to her CO on her cell in an even tone.

"Frankie?"

"How's your treatment going?"

His voice was quiet and resigned. "You know I'm not in the hospital. You're with the police, aren't you?"

Frankie frowned, "Tell me it's not true, what they're saying."

"I'm just getting the justice you deserve," he told her. "I told you they'd never confess. I should have done this years ago. I let you down. I let myself down. I failed in my duty. Take care of yourself, Frankie."

He hung up but it was enough time for them to get the trace. Hank grabbed his coat as he read the address on the map, "He's at the VFW."

Nick and Hank raced to the VFW, hearing the clear sounds of a fight going on inside when they arrived. They drew their weapons as they entered the bar, seeing old man Desai and the last rapist, McCabe, standing in front of each other. McCabe was glaring deadly at Desai with a knife in his hand.

"McCabe, back away!" Nick ordered loudly.

But McCabe advanced on the older CO and stabbed him in the gut with the steel blade. Desai let out a pained groan and fell to the floor.

Hank turned his weapon on McCabe, "Drop it. Turn around. On the ground. Hands where I can see them."

McCabe still seemed cocky and relaxed as he dropped the knife and kneeled, folding his hands behind his head. "It was self-defense."

"Yeah?" Hank huffed as he grabbed his hands. "Not what we saw." He cuffed McCabe and started roughly pulling him out of the VFW.

Nick was bent over Desai, trying to block his bleeding wound. The old man looked up at Nick, breathing painfully, and said, "You can't arrest him for what he did to Frankie, but you can for what he did to me."

Nick and Hank watched Frankie carefully as she ready the confession Troy had written right before he was killed.

"Troy wrote this?"

Hank nodded, "Apparently, he couldn't live with it either."

Frankie let out a huge sigh of relief. Like all her pain had reached a plateau. "This is all I ever wanted."

"The D.A. will probably want you to testify," Hank told her.

She nodded strongly, "I can do that."

Nick felt she should know one more thing. "The colonel left the hospital four weeks ago. They'd only given him three months to live. This was his shot at redemption."

There was a flash of grief in her eyes. She wished he didn't feel the need to kill for her. Or die for her, like he had. But she couldn't deny her appreciation that he cared so much for her and making things right for her. "The colonel was a good soldier."

"And so were you," Hank said.

It was dark when Nick got back home, and found Lena reading Sense and Sensibility on the couch with a glass of wine. She gave him a weak smile as she saw him walking in. "Did you close the case?"

"Uh, yeah," he murmured. "Just not the way we thought."

"How so?" she asked as he came to sit at her feet on the couch.

Nick sighed, head still wrapping around his thoughts. "Well, you were right. About pretty much everything. Frankie wasn't the manticore killing them. She just wanted them to confess to what happened. But her old CO, always felt he failed her when he couldn't get her justice after she reported it. And he was dying. So, this was his last chance to make things right." He looked at her, sagging into the couch. "You called it."

"It was just a gut feeling," she said, setting her wine and book on the end table.

"I think it was more than that," Nick said carefully. "You sounded so sure. You knew what you were talking about. Like you'd been through something similar."

Her whole face dropped. She gripped her wine and drank the rest of the glass without saying a word.

"I can't imagine…" Nick started to say, thinking about what she'd told him about living on the streets.

But she cut him off, voice shaken yet strong. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm here if…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she repeated, standing from the couch, gathering her book, and making her way upstairs to the guest room without saying goodnight.

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