Author's Note: I'd like to thank phnxgrl, southerngirl1, and TORONTOSUN for their reviews. southerngirl1: She has had a tragic past. It is that past that defines her and influences most of her decisions. This chapter starts right after the last one ended. Enjoy!

Chapter 26

Lanie looked up as the two women walked in. "I have something for both of you."

Beckett was hoping that the verdict on Francis Locken was first. "What is it?"

"First, the knife. The majority of the blood belonged to Ewan Brebnor. When the crime lab took the knife apart, they found dried blood where the hilt and blade meet. DNA came back to Jim Beckett."

Beckett sat on a nearby stool. "So that knife killed my father too."

Lanie nodded. "Yes."

Karpowski gestured to Francis Locken's body. "Who killed him?"

"Alex Stevens. I did several wound molds that closely resembled a Wingwalk knife. Also, I checked for her usual signature. Wound depth is consistent with her previous victims, but the angle is off, which makes sense considering those wounds were inflicted postmortem. He would have already been dead and on the floor by the time she delivered them."

Beckett's brow creased. "So how did the copycat's knife end up at the apartment? Alex?"

"That would be my guess. Remember the fingerprint in dried blood that you found? It matched Mr. Locken here. He was the copycat."

Karpowski turned to Beckett. "Alex probably brought it with her. Dr. Parish told me that one of Brebnor's wounds showed signs that the knife was left in his body for several minutes before it was extracted."

"So Alex pulled it out of his body so we would know her victim was the copycat." Beckett took a deep breath and stood. "You got your man."

Karpowski shook her head. "No, Stevens did. You were right. She would kill him if she found him before I did." She held out her hand. "Good luck, Kate. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Roselyn." Beckett waited until Karpowski had left to turn back to Lanie. "How many stab wounds?"

"Including the three for her signature and all the defensive/superficial ones, 147." Lanie pulled back the sheet to expose his torso and pointed to a group of wounds on his chest. "Any one of these four was the fatal blow. Three punctured his heart and this one severed the aorta. They were all delivered in quick succession, so it's hard to tell which blow was the one that ended his life. Whichever it was, death would have been fairly quick after that."

"That's a lot of rage."

Lanie nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Lots of defensive wounds; he put up a fight, but it wasn't enough." Beckett paused. "I'm glad he's dead. Now I know who killed my Dad and I don't have to prove it."

Lanie looked at her friend. "Are you okay?"

Beckett sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Yeah. I'm... relieved. I didn't have to wait as long for the truth." Beckett paused again to wipe another tear. "Um, is there anything else I need to know?"

"I don't have anything more at the moment, but I'll let you know." Lanie took Kate's hand before the detective left. "You know I care about you and understand where you're coming from, but be careful what you say about Locken being dead. Someone else might misunderstand you."

Beckett nodded and squeezed her friend's hand. "Thanks, Lanie. Keep me posted."

"Of course."

Meanwhile...

Alex sat in the dark bedroom staring at the gun in her hands. It was just a piece of cold steel, but that steel held the power to take a life or inflict excruciating pain. Some used them to take away their pain. I'm in pain, and I want it to stop. She turned the gun in her hands. It would be so easy. All she'd have to do is point and shoot. The pain of her guilt and sorrow would be wiped away in an instant. No more pain.

A tear ran down her cheek and the gun started to shake in her hands. Why am I still alive? When Viper had tried to rescue her son, The Gentleman had killed her for that. But he didn't have me killed when he killed Sloan. It didn't make sense. And she didn't really want to be alive anymore. Besides, the information Sloan had found on The Gentleman was enough to put him away for ten lifetimes. That had to be a good enough revenge.

Alex closed her eyes and raised the gun. Maybe it would be better to end her pain on her terms instead of waiting for The Gentleman to do it. She took a deep breath and pressed the gun to her temple. She was about to pull the trigger when a soft creak rang out from the living room. She opened her eyes and looked at the screen of the iPad to see a man in Special Forces gear creeping across her living room. In the doorway behind him were two men in similar dress. Behind them was The Gentleman.

Alex lowered the gun and silently crept to the doorway, hiding in the dark. The creeping goon glanced around the corner and then deftly swiveled into view, silenced gun raised. Before he could move farther down the hallway, Alex fired her own gun, the bullet entering his skull right between his eyes. The goon's body instantly went slack, crumpling in full view of The Gentleman and his other two men. Alex glanced back toward the iPad in time to see the two men go into a ready position while another man grabbed The Gentleman and moved him behind the door frame.

"Stand your men down or I'll drop a few more!"

The Gentleman pushed the man who had grabbed him out of his way. "Come out and we will talk."

Alex grabbed the iPad so she could be sure no one would sneak up on her and made her way to the bend in the hall. There she set the iPad on the ground and took a stance where her body was mostly protected by the wall with her gun poking around the edge. The Gentleman was mostly protected by his goons, and Alex didn't know how many men he had brought with him. A frontal assault was out of the picture in this situation.

Apparently The Gentleman wasn't satisfied with that. "I told you to come out."

"So you can kill me? No thank you."

The Gentleman decided the impasse they were at was probably the best he was going to get. "Fine, I suppose this will have to do. Why did you kill Francis Locken?"

Alex laughed derisively. "You really have to ask?"

"It is your fault that Sloan Linklater is dead. Your failure to complete your contract coupled with your idiotic and pathetic attempt to conceal his whereabouts brought about that particular outcome."

"And Locken was The Chameleon. That target was on his back starting with his murder of Jim Beckett and the subsequent attempt to frame me for it. Some people may consider imitation as the sincerest form of flattery, but not me. Killing Sloan that way was the ultimate insult. And now it's your fault that Locken is dead."

The Gentleman looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're the one who gave me his name."

Clarity replaced confusion. "When you were pretending to be concussed. I must admit, I was impressed by that little bit. Didn't exactly pan out for you though, did it?"

Alex's gut clenched in emotional pain, but she persevered. "This meeting won't go your way either. If you kill me, you will never be safe again. Sloan made sure of that."

Confusion clouded his features again. "What do you mean?"

"Information. He dug really deep. Found enough to bring you down or make sure you'd be hiding under a rock for the rest of your life. I'm wearing a heart monitor connected to a dead man's switch. If I die, a signal stops sending which releases the files to every law enforcement agency on the planet."

"You didn't."

Alex stepped around the corner tapping her chest. "Go ahead. Kill me and find out."

The Gentleman was frozen. His men still had their guns raised, but they were waiting for his approval. Alex stopped in the middle of the hallway facing them, her gun pointing at the floor by her side. Part of her was hoping they'd shoot, but most of her had woken from her depression and was ready to fight.

"Prove it."

"I know your real name is Vincent Volkert and you're originally from Maine. Your father was a lobster fisherman and your mother…"

"Enough!" The Gentleman let out a shaky breath, his anger just barely contained. "Stand down, men. She's won this round."

Slowly, the men lowered their guns, most looking like they were questioning their employer's sanity. Alex wanted to put a bullet in Volkert's skull right now, but she didn't have the shot. The men had closed ranks around him and only little slivers were still visible. Alex stepped back in case the retreat from their side was just a ruse.

Before they left, Volkert made one parting comment. "Don't think you're off the hook. I still expect you to complete your contract. If you don't, it won't matter that you're wearing that sensor. I'll kill you anyway."

Meanwhile...

Beckett gathered her team together when she got back from the morgue. "The Locken case is ours. Wound molds prove that the knife was a Wingwalk. Lanie counted 147 various sharp force injuries on his body, four of which hold potential as the fatal blow."

Esposito gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of rage."

Ryan nodded. "Explains how blood got everywhere."

Beckett finished updating the board. "What did you find, Ryan?"

"Something to chill your blood." He led them over to his computer. "I was watching the footage from the cameras in the area and found this."

He pushed play. For a few moments, cars crossed the screen and pedestrians wandered by. Then a lone figure entered the frame, turned to face the camera and glared right at the lens. Her look was challenging, as though she was daring them to catch her. Beckett felt a chill go up her spine. The Alex she had known up to that point was nowhere in sight. This woman contained a darkness within her that made her dangerous.

Castle shuddered next to Beckett. "I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't that. I think the temperature of the room just dropped a few degrees."

"She wanted us to know she did it." Beckett straightened up. "And she's just getting started."

Her team turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"The murder of her fiancé was most likely an execution designed to punish her. Within a few hours the man who wielded the blade is dead, and she wanted us to know she did it."

Ryan stood up. "So why would she just be getting started? The man who killed her man is dead. That's it... right?"

Beckett shook her head. "No, he was only a weapon, just like Rathborne was for Bracken when my Mom was murdered. Someone is pulling the strings; someone is in charge here."

"Who?"

Beckett went back to the boards she'd set up with Karpowski. "My guess? The Gentleman. A lot of our cases lately have been circling back to him. He's involved and I'm betting Alex won't be happy until he's dead too."

Alex hadn't let go of the gun since The Gentleman had left. She was still nervous that he would change his mind and return to kill her anyway. The dead goon was wrapped in a tarp to ensure his blood didn't seep into the floor any more than it already had. She was trying to think of the best way to dispose of his body. She didn't want to dismember his body and even if she did, she didn't have the tools necessary to do it. She couldn't leave him there because then his body would be tied back to her. Alex sat on the couch and let her head fall back to stare at the ceiling.

The roof. She could drag him up to the roof and then push him off to make it look like he had jumped. Or at least wasn't killed by an assassin. She would have to strip him of the tactical gear first, but it would probably work. She set the gun down and got to work, wrestling the dead weight out of all the gear. That meant he was left in a pair of boxers and a tank top. Not ideal fake suicide attire but it would have to do.

The only thing she would have to worry about now were witnesses. Alex checked the time to see it was only 9:30pm. People in her building were still coming and going at this hour, but things were usually quiet in the wee hours of the morning. I guess I'll just have to wait.

At 2am, Alex left the apartment, walked to the roof, and propped the access door open so she would have easy access later. Thankfully no one met her on the way up or back. The story was the same as she dragged the dead body up to the roof. It was easy enough to push him over after that. Alex even made sure he went feet first to make it look more like a suicide. Afterward she cleaned the apartment with bleach and left, moving to a different safe house so she wouldn't run the risk of speaking with the cops when they did their canvass. This safe house was smaller and more of a cave than most of her other properties, which suited her just fine. It was time to turn her attention to the contract.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Thanks!