Hey, guys. It's that time of the week. Once again, sorry that I didn't have time to send out personal thank yous. I very much appreciate the support and encouragement from all who reviewed and/or followed this story. Also, suz24 is an awesome beta. Without further ado...
Beckett tells the boys that they don't have to come with her, but Ryan insists, much to his partner's chagrin. It's not often that one of the men they arrest winds up dead outside of his cell with no explanation. Or if it is, they don't usually get a call about it.
A uniform named Ryker directs them to the crime scene, shamelessly flirting with her all the way, and is this really the time or place?
When they arrive, Dick Coonan's body rests against the iron bars, blood pooling beneath him. She's struck by the memory of the last time she saw him, of his gun pressed into her side as he tried to lead her out of the 12th as a hostage. Thankfully, she was able to swing a leg out and knock him off balance as Captain Montgomery fired a shot at his kneecap.
He said something to her as he was being hauled out on a stretcher, something she hasn't been able to forget. "This is so much bigger than you, Detective."
She credited it to the ramblings of a murderer, a murderer with a bullet in his leg. But she still had to wonder…
"Stab wounds," Ryan observes. "Multiple."
"Professional," Esposito grunts at his side. "Just like what he did to his brother. One fatal blow and more perforations to make it look random."
Her heart stops. "His brother."
"You don't think…" Ryan starts.
"No," she agrees grimly. "I don't think. I know. This is him. This is Richard Castle."
"We can't jump to conclusions," Javier murmurs, unintentionally mimicking her.
"Detective Beckett?" Ryker approaches again, this time with something in hand. "We found this inside his pocket. It's a letter addressed to you."
She takes the envelope with a shaky hand, feels the air behind her crackling with tension as the boys peer around her shoulders.
"Kate," she reads, breathless, "You're welcome. Sincerely, RC."
"Oh," the boys say in unison, their voices a blend of fear and sympathy.
She turns, eyes blazing, to Esposito. "Still think I'm jumping to conclusions?"
"I don't understand." She was supposed to thank him for killing a man that she put in prison? But why? "He kills people who murdered women. So why would he choose to avenge Jack Coonan?"
"Maybe he wanted to get your attention." Ryan takes a sip of his coffee from the guard's office. They sit around a table in the visitation room, lighting harsh against the white walls and chairs bolted to the floor.
"Jack Coonan wasn't his only victim." Esposito stands and starts to pace back and forth through the little room. As if she wasn't nervous enough already. "He murdered guys for hire. Maybe women too."
"But what does that have to do with me?" Dick Coonan, dead. Over a dozen knife wounds in the chest. Precise. Brutally stabbed and left there propped up against the bars of his cell. Like his brother. Like her…like her-
Now, wouldn't it be satisfying to find the man that killed her? To look him in the eye, to raise the knife—maybe the same one he used to kill your mother—and watch as he struggles, as the knife pierces his heart, blood gushing. To hold him there until he takes...his last…breath.
Oh. Oh, God. This can't be happening. "I want his body taken back to the morgue. Lanie can-"
"Beckett," Ryan soothes, laying a hand to her bicep until she flinches away. "The FBI is going to be here within the hour. It's their case now, their jurisdiction."
"No," she refuses and turns to Esposito. "Would you stop the damn pacing?" He halts, mid-step, left foot frozen comically in the air. She rolls her eyes. "We're taking his body back to the lab for Lanie to examine. After that, the FBI can ship it off to D.C. for all I care."
"Kate," Esposito murmurs. She hates when he calls her that in that tone of voice, hates it. It makes her feel weak and helpless. "Why is this so important?"
"This isn't just about Dick Coonan anymore. Not about Jack or Johnny Vong." Beckett presses her forehead to the curve between pointer finger and thumb, squeezing to relieve the tension.
"Then what is it about?" Ryan and Esposito synchronize again, and it's seriously freaky when they do that. Lord help her if she ever finds someone to finish her sentences.
"This is about my mom."
It takes some self-degradation and pleading to get the FBI agent in charge to finally relent. They can take the body to their morgue for twenty-four hours, no more than that. But that's all she needs. Just a little bit of time for Lanie to do her thing, compare his body with her mom's reports.
Dick Coonan. She looked her mother's killer in the eye and didn't suspect a thing. How the hell did Richard Frickin' Castle figure it all out?
A few hours later, Lanie's forcing her to sit down.
"I can stand, Lanie. I already know what you're going to say."
"Girl, get your butt in that chair before I make you."
They sit, and they talk, and the results are conclusive. All three murders, Johanna Beckett and Jack and Dick Coonan, they all match. Maybe it was good that she sat down because she's starting to feel pretty light headed.
"I know this is a lot to handle, honey. You want me to get you something? A glass of water maybe?"
"No, no." She definitely does not need to be coddled right now. "I need to be on this case. I need to convince the FBI to let me in. To inform me of new developments. Anything."
"Not right now, you don't. You're lucky you caught me when you did. I was almost out of here. It's late, and Montgomery's going to send you home in a heartbeat. He'll probably tell you not to come in tomorrow too."
Damn it, she's probably right. Montgomery's soft spot for her is as much a curse as a blessing.
"I need to know, Lanie." Kate's lower lip slips into her mouth, and she kneads it between sharp teeth. A terrible habit, but she's nervous. "I need to know why. Why would someone have a hit out on my mom? What kind of trouble was she in?"
"The case will still be here when you get back."
Beckett pauses for a moment, trying to come up with a sensible response, something that will make her friend understand. "You know, the cops who investigated this in the first place attributed my mother's murder to gang violence."
Lanie tries to frown at her because she knows where this is going but just ends up looking sheepish, and that's good. That means it's working.
"I knew that they were wrong. I just had a feeling, all these years. Now finally, finally, I'm getting some answers. You can't tell me to turn back now. This is what I've been waiting for."
"Kate," she sighs, "do you remember what you told me after your dad got out of rehab?"
Oh, now she's just playing dirty. "This is completely different, and you know it."
The doctor gives a sad shake of her head, closing the manila folder of crime scene photos and autopsy reports. "You told me that you could see him in yourself, and it scared you. You were drowning in your mother's case just like he was drowning in the bottle. You made a promise to yourself that-"
"Enough," she grunts, snatching the file folder. Of all the nerve. "Enough. You have no right."
"Kate," Lanie calls after her, but she won't stop. She won't give her the satisfaction. "Beckett!"
Montgomery sends her home, just like Lanie warned. Oh, Lanie. They'll make up later. Tonight, she needs to make a few phone calls to the fine federal agents on the Castle case. Then, she'll dig out her mother's files and construct a makeshift murder board, just like old times. But now, she has new names to add, new dots to connect. Maybe a bottle of wine would be nice too. And a bath.
Kate fumbles for her keys, cursing her frayed nerves and unsteady hands. It takes her a moment to realize that the door is already unlocked.
She's not surprised in the least when she finds him in her apartment.
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