The lot fell to her to be one of the first, and flushed with excitement Beckett slowly, but with dignity, took the driver's seat. Here was where Castle's mentoring experience came into play: with precise, confident movements Kate adjusted her seat, adjusted the rearview mirrors, and remembered to fasten her seat belts. She squeezed the clutch, tried the gearshift, pressed the pedals, figuring out how to idle - there was nothing to complain about. But her palms were sweaty for some reason: Beckett put her hands to her thighs, draining them, and pulled a small plastic baby out of her pants pocket: it was the new driver's mascot Alexis had given her yesterday. And with such a message that it was immediately clear who had spoken from her lips. And now Kate was filled with mixed feelings: she dared not refuse Alexis, and at the same time she was the last person she wanted to take anything from Castle. But it was the former that overpowered her, and now the baby was resting comfortably between her tight palms and smiling his drawn smile. And Kate smiled back at him. Just don't let her nerves get the better of her. Just as long as she didn't forget something...

- ...time's running out, ma'am!" it was the unidentified Beckett examiner who clicked his seatbelt and pulled out a notepad and pen. - A great deal, if not everything, depends on your determination.

And Kate took those words as an order. Lip bitten to blood, tenacious grip on the steering wheel, tight contact with the pedals - Beckett was out on the town. And no matter how much she had to wheel, she wouldn't lose face, she'd be observant, careful, and cautious. And then she will definitely be on her own and independent, and Castle will be on his own. And there is hope that Pumpkin will understand him...

...The clock in the lobby of Guerre's was about six p.m. when Kate ran inside, delighted by the coolness of the many air conditioners. The maitre d' rushed lightning toward her, but was immediately stopped by a wave of his hand. Raising a curtain of painted bamboo sticks, Kate made her way inside the room and immediately rose on tiptoe, peering out at the table with her parents. She spotted her father at the window, in his usual spot, but her mother was absent for some reason. Shrugging her shoulders in bewilderment, Kate slipped over to the table. Her father sat with his back to her, glancing from time to time at his watch. In front of him was a bottle of red wine, three glasses, and a couple of plates of fruit.

Like a conspirator, Beckett quietly crept up to kiss Jim on the cheek. He jerked sharply in surprise.

- Hi, Dad," Kate said with a short, expressive chuckle, crouching across the table. - Why are you still alone?

Jim tried to fold the napkin he was holding properly, but it was so frayed and wrinkled that it remained a shapeless lump. And Kate realized that her father was nervous, but there was nothing special about it yet; her mother had been late before. And Kate reached for the apple.

Jim glanced at her hand and then frowned:

- Even on a day like this, our mother can't do without work. She said she had some important meetings that might affect the outcome of her case, but I'm still worried. She was so worried about you! By the way, did you pass?

- Yes!" Kate said gleefully, her emotions and memories flooding back into her.

- Whose car was it?

- From the driving school association, and our instructors weren't there.

Jim smiled understandingly.

- And remember what I told you after the car accident?

Beckett nodded yes.

- Well, I got through that moment, so here's our present for you! - And Jim put a bunch of keys in front of his daughter.

The moment was unexpected, and Kate's throat went dry at once: she both believed and could not believe her eyes.

- Daddy! Is that for me?

- Yes, there's a car waiting for you in our garage. Mom and I picked it out together. And now you can have a glass...

...The scribbled sheet of paper disappeared into the depths of her briefcase, and Joanna wiped her sweaty forehead with an effort. Who would have thought a two-hour conversation with the bartender would wear her out! Still, she had managed to persuade him to testify in Pulgatti's favor, which increased her chances of success. But what did it cost her! Beckett threw back a clinging strand of hair from her forehead, grinned bitterly. Yes, this case really wasn't easy, and it really "stinks. Well, who would have thought that the cops were behind Armen's murder? What is the world coming to? Answering herself, Beckett shrugged her shoulders perplexedly. Well, nothing, she had enough evidence to put "John Doe" behind bars! All the more reason for her colleagues to do their part and show her what they could get on the gang. Joanna smiled contentedly and ran outside up the sloping staircase of the bar.

The alley adjacent to the bar was empty, and only a black car with its headlights off was parked near the bar entrance, but Joanna paid it no mind. How many cars were there in the alley? Shaking off her skirt, Beckett clutched her briefcase to her chest and headed for the alley exit. She smiled. I wondered how Kate was doing. Probably passed her exam and was now sitting with her father at the Guerra, waiting for her. Well, today was her lucky day! The woman approached the car, noting to herself the dirt-stained license plates and the motionless silhouette inside. A man's, it seemed. Hugging his arms around the steering column, the man dropped his head on the steering wheel and seemed to be asleep. Joanna had already passed him, and at that moment the lock of the door quietly clicked behind her. Before she could look back at the hurried footsteps, a soft voice behind her asked:

- Mrs. Beckett?

- Yes," she stopped, "to what do I owe the pleasure?

She tried to turn to face him, but did not have time. The hot breath burned her neck, and a red-hot rod was thrust into her back. She choked on the words, mixing them with the blood gushing from her mouth, but all she heard was an indecipherable gurgle.

- W-w-what? W-what for?

- You know best, ma'am!

The murderer struck the victim again, and then again and again; he smiled maliciously as he stabbed, then picked up the flaccid body and struck again.

She could no longer hear or feel anything, only the pain, shrinking her whole body, growing in her chest and preventing her from screaming. Consciousness passed out, lips moving, trying to get one last word out, bubbles of blood blowing on her dead lips: "K-Kate."

After a while, it was over. The killer dragged the victim by the armpits to the wall, rested his back against the bristling foundation. He looked around cautiously and squatted down, watching the victim's last convulsions with a satisfied smile. Businesslike, he examined the blurring puddle of blood, took the briefcase from his dead fingers to gently pull out the cardboard folder by the edge. The killer did everything thoroughly, taking his time, savoring every move. He glanced through it, grunted contentedly, and slipped it under his arm. He wiped the knife with a handkerchief and put it in a previously saved bag, shook out his purse on the ground, scattered the contents carelessly, took his wallet, checked the pulse, took the chain off his neck.

The woman was already dead. Though her body still held the remnants of heat, giving it away to the blood-damp earth, the sky reflected serenely in her still eyes. The murderer took another critical look at the crime scene and made a farewell gesture with his hand.

- So long, goodbye to his colleagues!

Then he dove into the car and gave the gas...

...Joanna never came, and, realizing that there was no point in waiting for her, the father and daughter packed up to go home. They walked in silence for the last half hour, holding hands tightly. Some vague feeling of uneasiness languished both of them and made them walk faster.

Now they could see the familiar walls and a lattice fence with a lush flowerbed framed by bushes, and Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise: There was a black Ford with a blinker outside the house, just in front. As they got closer, a man in a gray blazer and jeans got out of the car and took a few steps toward them.

- Mr. Beckett? - he stopped two steps away from them and froze with his hands in his pockets. The man's jaws moved lazily, chewing gum.

- Yes!" answered the father, clenching his fists in a vague premonition.

- Detective Raglan! - the cop introduced himself: he reeked of stale breath and banana stench. And for some reason Kate felt an instant dislike for the unshaven man with the gorilla-like sloping forehead and forward jaw. His eyes were as empty and colorless as a frozen perch's, and it was impossible to see any emotion in his tired, wrinkled face.

- What can I do for you? - Jin frowned and grasped her daughter's arm in a painful grip as her heart pounded in her ears, clogging the sounds around her, and with the quickening heartbeat grew an incomprehensible uneasiness.

- I need to talk to you about something very important," Raglan spat a lump of gum and made an unpleasant grimace. - Specifically, a ride to a lineup. It's not far from here.

The timbre of his voice was casual, as if it were a selection of pizza toppings or a routine inspection of a service weapon, but Beckett was starting to feel the ground beneath her feet. Holding onto her father's white knuckles, Kate both believed and couldn't believe what had just now transpired.

And then there was a convulsive sob beside her, but it was impossible to turn her head: the world swirled before her eyes and collapsed into an abyss, her legs turned into cotton pillars, and to keep from falling, she grasped her father even harder and with both hands. Raglan was still muttering something, moving his colorless lips, but she could no longer make out a word. Her ears felt as if they were laced with molten wax, which now burned from the inside, taking her breath away, but could not stifle the copious tears that were now pouring of their own accord.

- Mummy!" whispered Kate, unable to believe that such a familiar word had become a symbol of bitterness and sorrow. - Mummy!

She turned her head toward her father and winced: his face had grown dead like a baked apple, wrinkled and puckered, his mouth twisted and agonized, his always lively, intelligent eyes as if veiled in ashes of grief.

And Jim, too, was crying, unashamedly, and large tears were leaving a wet trail on his sparkling silk shirt. And Beckett could feel his fingers shaking.

- Where to go?

The detective looked from head to foot at the couple frozen in front of him and feigned sympathy with the movement of his bushy eyebrows.

- Please get in my car!...

...Without trying to stop the profuse tears, Kate ran into her room and threw herself headlong into bed, face first on the pillow. The tears continued to choke her, and it didn't get any easier; on the contrary, she wanted to beat with all her might, drowning out the physical pain of her soul. And lying still didn't work either, and Kate banged her head into the mattress, rolled from side to side, and her luxurious braid twisted in rings, tangled, buried by the tips somewhere under her body. And Beckett finally couldn't stand it. She sat up abruptly on the bed and stared at her blurred reflection in the closet wall for a few seconds, crumpling her silky braided hair, then tossed the braid away with undisguised hatred. That was it, life had gone to hell, and now nothing would ever be the same. There would be no cheerful lawyer Kate Beckett, no sober-minded, smiling, head-carrying Jim. And there won't be the very life that still goes on and on. It was taken from them, with the ruthless blade of that son of a bitch, chopping up the future in one fell swoop, desecrating the past, and making the present uncertain. And what would happen to her now?

Clenching her teeth, howling, Kate tilted her head back, pulled inexorably to the ground by her silky, woven pride. The one her mother loved so much to tuck. It had been their ritual together, a tradition that disappeared in the blink of an eye. Mom is gone now, and neither will the braid. Feeling the wailing in her chest overcome by an incomprehensible but unrelenting anger, Kate jumped out of bed and pulled out the drawer of her desk. Her hand reached for a pair of scissors...

...Three days passed like a fog. Kate looked down into the kitchen, and saw a sorrowful but familiar sight: her father, with his hand around the neck of a bottle, holding his wedding portrait with the other. He looked scruffy: a stale shirt, stubble for days, and eyes red from sleeplessness. He lifted his head with difficulty and looked at his daughter, his eyes full of pain.

- W-where are you going? - He asked, stammering. - W-won't you sit down with me?

Beckett twisted her head desperately, afraid she would change her mind, and her father cried and dropped his head again. Seeing this for a day in a row was unbearable, and Kate jumped out of the house, struggling to hold back her sobs. Unable to see or hear anything, she mechanically moved her feet like a somnambulist, not knowing where she was going or why. Only when she stepped onto the crossing still at a red light, a nearby horn made Kate turn her head: There was a car in front of her, hot from running and the heat of the sun. The man behind the wheel, in a shabby stetson, stuck his head out the window and opened his mouth to curse, but he faltered when he saw the girl dressed in black. Her whole mournful appearance screamed grief, and the man sat down silently. He waited till the girl was back on the sidewalk, and looking cautiously at the mourning figure, he drove away.

What was she to do? With difficulty Kate looked up, and through the tears that choked her, she saw a huge "U" across the street, indicating the entrance to the subway.

And the illumination came suddenly, spontaneously. Biting her lip, Beckett headed down the subway, made her way to the right platform, and boarded the train. In about an hour she was at the door of the driving school. She grinned sadly at the familiar sight, and pulled the door open without hesitation.

It was the same inside: the unchanging lemon color of the walls, the unchanging counter with the air conditioning blaring, the same familiar Rachel with her head low.

Trying to control herself, and with a weary wiggle, Kate approached the counter.

- Hello! May I see Mr. Castle?

- How do you do, miss? - The fat lady chattered excitedly. - How do you do?

- I passed..." said Kate in a colorless voice. "So answer my question: where can I see him?

She didn't understand why Rachel had grown so sad.

- You know, he doesn't come around here anymore. His third book was very successful, sales are increasing day by day. And I bought it for myself, too. What did you want?

It was only now that Kate saw what Rachel was reading. It was a thick folio, printed on good paper, in a beautiful black and red binding. And admiringly, the fat woman twirled it in front of her face, but something evidently read in the girl's gloomy face, suddenly she blushed and averted her eyes to the side.

- Sorry, if you're not in the mood. So...

- Talk to Mr. Castle.

- I'm telling you he's no longer with us, but if you want, I have his new home address and phone number. You want it?

Stiff-faced, Beckett took a step back. A mischievous thought flashed in her head, but Kate was instantly put off. She was nobody to him, no need to beg, no need for sympathy either. Just as long as she had the strength to deal with her grief.

Beckett took another step back, turned toward the exit, and heard the sound of a chair being pushed back. Then footsteps slammed on the linoleum, and a plump hand with short fingers sank on the girl's frail shoulder.

Kate turned around slowly: With a guilty smile Rachel was holding out a piece of paper to her.

- What is it? - Beckett said indifferently.-Why are you giving it to me?

- Don't refuse, miss, at least take the schedule of his presentations for the month ahead," the woman hurriedly rambled on, as if she feared she would not be listened to. - Rosa gave it to me. Take it, maybe you'd like it for yourself, too.

Unbeknownst to her, Beckett agreed and took the grease-stained sheet, involuntarily clutching it as if it held the key to her future.