Poised on her sofa, Kate sat with her feet tucked under her, a glass of wine resting within her reach on the table, and one of her favorite Richard Castle novels open on her lap. Sliding her fingers across the cover and over the top of the pages she found her bookmark. She was close to the end, in that part of the story where anything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and everything looked bleak for the hero. But soon enough, the next chapter probably, the protagonist would manage to turn everything around and make it right. In any case she already knew he would, she had read it before.

As Kate came closer to emptying her glass, she stumbled over a scene she had forgotten about, a scene she usually skipped when she read that book.

The hero had thwarted the villain, but not without a few casualties. A young girl was left without a mother, and a husband without a wife. The girl was screaming and the hero felt so guilty.

"Guilt won't bring my mom back!" Tears rushed down her cheeks but her eyes were fierce and accusing.

Kate shut the book, she didn't feel like finishing it. Tightening her jaw, she struggled not to let her tears fall. She made it to the kitchen with her empty wine glass before letting out a sob. As she leaned over the sink her necklace was hanging down outside her shirt where she usually kept it hidden.

She pulled the ring up to her mouth and rested it against her lips.

"I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Kate whispered it like a prayer, like the words could lead the way to salvation.

Years of therapy and she still felt both wronged and guilty.

And all the time she spent searching for justice she fell deeper into the pit she dug herself, as if the truth could lead the way to heaven, or maybe just hell. All that time her own stubbornness was pulling her under, and no one was there to lift her out.

Last week Kate had met her dad for lunch, talked about work, talked about her failed dating attempts.

She read the sadness in his eyes when she said she didn't mind being alone anyway, her job was enough stress.

(They were both alone; Johanna had left them that way.)

"Are you just going to keep working forever? What do you want, Katie? Really?"

The truth she couldn't say caught in her throat.

(I just want her back.)

"You miss her. We both do." Jim grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Everything eventually ends. You know that as well as anyone. But there are some people who are so much a part of us that they'll be with us no matter what. Don't let go of your mother, but let go of her murder, Kate. Do it for you."

Taking a deep breath, she stared out the window to avoid his gaze. "Not now," she mumbled. "Not like this."

"Kate." Jim looked on hopelessly as his daughter walked out.

This was the most important thing in her life, she couldn't let go of it. Not until she found salvation, or heaven or hell.