Alexis
2:27 a.m.
The red digits on the alarm clock tell me nothing more than the fact that I won't be sleeping at all tonight. After Kate and I looked through every file folder, real or digitized, she'd talked me into going to bed. Dad hadn't made any of his own notes on Jerry Tyson or Dr. Nieman, and as much as I wanted to stay up and go through everything a second time looking for some kind of code he may have used, I knew that Kate would stay up with me even though she needed sleep more than I did.
So far I've done some yoga, turned on a noise machine, had a cup of Sleepytime tea, watched trash TV, and tried counting sheep. Nothing is working, all I can think about is the fact that dad is out there somewhere, probably injured and worried, and there's not a single thing I can do about it. I know how he feels, it must be so similar to Paris.
The thought catches in my throat and I sit up in bed, feeling like I'm suffocating. I would never wish something like that on anyone and the fact that my father is going through it is one of the worst things I've ever thought of.
I can't seem to really cry, so many of the tears have been let out already, and I find myself getting up from the bed. I just need my dad again, I need something of his. I need to feel like he's here, fake myself into believing he's close. Maybe then I can sleep.
I creep downstairs and across the room to his study, wanting to pull open the file cabinet drawers but knowing it will wake Kate and she'll be on high alert, probably jumping up and dashing in here with her gun. I can't do that to her, she needs the rest more than I do.
I sit down behind his desk and cuddle into the chair as much as I can, then spin it slowly around, my eyes coming to rest on the photo album he keeps on the bookcase behind the desk. I reach out and grab it, then turn the desk lamp on, flipping it open to the first page, tears springing to my eyes.
I sniffle through the first few years of my life, all the pictures of me and dad staring back at me. I've always loved looking at these, remembering how wonderful my life has always been, seeing how much dad loves me. But tonight it just hurts. I would gladly give up all those photos, even the memories, just to have him here with me.
I make it to the end of the album, to the most recent picture, one that Kate snapped on Easter just a month ago. How could it all change so fast? It doesn't seem real at all and I slam the book shut, angry at all of it. What will I do without him? How will I live my life knowing that he's gone? If we don't get him back, I don't know what I'll do.
My feet carry me into the bedroom and I push on the door carefully, peeking in. Kate is sitting up in the bed, a lamp glowing dimly and a book in her lap. She gives me a knowing, sad smile, then pulls the covers back on dads side of the bed. I only hesitate a moment before climbing up next to her. There must still be tear tracks on my face because she reaches over and runs her thumb under my eye before giving my hand a squeeze.
"Nightmare?"
"Can't sleep. It's not so bad during the day when we're actually doing something but it sucks when I just lay there thinking that we should be doing something."
"We might not be actively doing anything but rest is essential."
"What if dad isn't able to rest?" I ask finally, tugging his pillow under my head. "What if he's hurt?"
The last word comes out on a tearful squeak and she puts the book off to the side then settles down next to me, trying very hard not to let her own tears fall.
"I don't know what to tell you. I'm trying not to think about that but it keeps creeping in."
I nod, wishing she had something comforting to say. She's supposed to be the adult here after all, she's used to crisis, she…
"Kate?"
"Yeah?"
"What if he doesn't come home? What if I lose him like you lost your mom?"
I don't really think about the words before they come out, nor do I realize how they sound until I see tears on her face. She pulls me close and kisses my forehead and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest.
"I don't know. I wish I could promise you that it won't happen but I can't."
"I want my dad."
"I know."
She finally starts to really cry which only sends me into tears as well. I can't imagine how horrible it was to lose her mother like that and now to possibly lose dad as well, that's too much for one person to hold.
"Kate," I start finally, when both of us have calmed down a little. "If dad… if he never comes home… promise me you'll stay."
"What?"
"Live here. Don't go away."
"Alexis, this is your home-"
"And I want you here. It's your home too, it has been for a long time. Please don't leave us."
"I won't."
Her cell phone rings and she sits up, grabbing it off the nightstand so forcefully that the charging cord pops out.
"It's Lanie," she says quietly, accepting the call and putting it on speaker.
"Kate, I'm sorry to call so late," Lanie apologizes, as if this isn't more important.
"It's okay. What's up?"
"Sweetie, it wasn't him in that car."
"I know," Kate says with a sigh, one which almost makes me laugh.
"I know you felt that, but I can definitively say it wasn't him. Based on the length of the femur we recovered, the body in the car was that of someone at least four inches shorter than Castle. Most of the bones are just fragments, but they give me enough to work with and these remains don't match up with what would be there if it was Castle. Kate, it wasn't him in the car."
Kate's breath leaves her in a whoosh and my hands begin to shake. We already knew this, we felt it from the beginning, but to hear it told to us without a doubt is better than the light at the end of the tunnel or a candle in the dark.
"Lanie, thank you," Kate says finally.
"The boys are headed back to the city in the morning, they told me to tell you to stay put. They'll meet you at the loft as soon as they get there."
"Yeah, okay."
"You're not listening to me are you?"
"No."
"Kate, you be careful. You be really careful."
"I will Lanie, thanks."
She hangs up the phone and looks over at me, her eyes a wee bit lighter than they had been.
"We'll have more help now," she comments. "No more doubts."
"Kate if Jerry Tyson is such a meticulous planner, why would he place a body in the car that could be so easily be disproven to be dad?"
I can't tell by her face if she's already thought of this or if she's surprised that I have. She clears her throat gently and slumps back against the pillows, chewing on her lip.
"He wanted me to suffer. This is making me suffer, whether your dad is gone or not. He knew that. He knew that the loss would do me in, but the chase just might as well. He didn't need to be meticulous this time."
"He wants you to go looking for him."
"Yes, I think he does."
And she will. She'll walk right into gunfire, into a dark alley or an abandoned building, no Kevlar vest, no back-up. She'll risk her life to get dad back. She's going to go into this battle alone because that's what Tyson wants. That's the only way to get dad back.
"Dad wouldn't want you to do this, Kate."
"Do what?"
"Walk into something like this. It would kill him if something happened to you."
She's quiet for a moment before she turns to me, her face set in stony determination.
"Alexis, I will do whatever it takes to bring your dad back to you. Maybe it won't come to that, but if it does, I'm doing it."
"But Kate!"
"You promised me. You promised you would listen to me and do what I said."
"How do you know that Tyson will just let dad go if you do what he wants? What if he kills you both? Do you really want to leave me with no one, Kate?"
I know it's a low blow but her features soften just a bit.
"No, I don't. I don't know how this will go, Alexis. But you have to know that I will do everything in my power to make sure we all come home safe. If I fail, I hope I fail myself and not you or your dad. Understand?"
"Because you're the cop."
She nods gently and I sit up, leaning my head on her shoulder. I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go back to the Hamptons and sit with Gram and wait for news like usual. I don't want to be involved, I don't want to know all this. But I can't leave, I can't let her do this alone. Dad would never do that. I have to keep fighting, for him.