[Castle] Ch: 68, 69 & 70 [Tyger, Tyger] (Patreon)

An: 5.2k words and as promised, I ended the case. It was really hard lol. Aftermath will be in the next chapter.

--

Emerson once said, “All is a riddle, and the key to a riddle is another riddle.”

Before leaving Sterling Investigations, Kate’s team managed to squeeze one more truth out of Lupen Cullen.

His claim that he didn’t know who had purchased Cassandra’s files hadn’t survived much longer. Lisbon pointed out that Lupen had secretly photographed the buyer for insurance, which made his insistence that he’d never bothered identifying the man hard to believe. After another round of pressure, Lupen finally admitted the truth.

The buyer was Nathaniel Price.

Lupen had known who he was before handing over the files and kept quiet because admitting it made his situation considerably worse. Selling Cassandra’s investigation behind her back already threatened his career. Knowing the buyer was Allison Reed’s own attorney made the deal look far more suspicious.

According to Lupen, Price had been less interested in Allison herself than in what Cassandra had been learning about her. He wanted copies of Sterling’s work and updates on anything Cassandra appeared particularly interested in.

Lupen said he never asked why since he was making money.

Kate wasn’t sure she believed that part, but it was enough for now.

--

[12th Precinct] [Later That Evening]

The elevator doors opened, and Kate stepped into the bullpen with Lisbon, Jane, and Castle behind her. She carried the brown evidence folder Lupen Cullen had handed over.

Across the bullpen, Travis was already standing beside the murder board.

He had rearranged almost everything.

Allison Reed’s photograph remained at the center, though the information surrounding her had expanded considerably. Cassandra Wells sat on the left beneath a yellow heading marked POSSIBLE FRAME TARGET. Michael Rowan occupied another section with still photographs from the Weyland Hotel underneath the false identity.

Matthew Cole’s photograph had been moved lower and marked CLEARED FOR MURDER WINDOW.

On the right side of the board, Travis had created an entirely new section.

NATHANIEL PRICE.

Cho, Ryan, and Esposito were gathered nearby. A monitor beside the board displayed frozen security footage showing Price walking through Allison’s front gate.

Travis looked toward Kate as she approached. “Perfect timing.”

Kate noticed the new section immediately. “You’ve been busy.”

“Cho, Ryan and Esposito brought me presents from Allison's second home.”

Cho stood from the edge of Ryan’s desk and picked up the remote. “Neighbor had security cameras covering part of Allison’s driveway.”

He pressed play.

The footage showed Allison’s Mercedes leaving the property during the afternoon. Roughly twenty minutes passed before Nathaniel Price’s car arrived. Price stepped out alone, walked through the gate, approached Allison’s front door, and unlocked it himself.

Kate’s eyes narrowed.

Price disappeared inside.

The timestamp continued moving.

Nearly forty minutes later, Price walked back out, locked the door, and left.

Cho paused the recording. “That happened eleven weeks before Allison was murdered.”

Travis tapped the poisoning timeline already written across the board. “Right in the period Lanie believes Allison was receiving repeated arsenic exposure.”

Kate placed Lupen’s folder on Travis’s desk. “Then this just got considerably worse for Price.”

Esposito looked toward her. “What’d you find?”

Kate opened the folder and removed a photograph inside a clear evidence sleeve. She carried it toward the board and pinned a photocopy beside Nathaniel Price’s photograph.

The image wasn’t particularly dramatic. It showed Lupen Cullen leaving a restaurant while another man stood beside him near the curb.

That man was unmistakably Nathaniel Price.

“Lupen Cullen admitted Nathaniel Price paid him twenty-five thousand dollars for copies of everything Sterling Investigations collected on Allison,” Kate said. 

Ryan looked between the photograph and Price’s picture. 

Kate continued. “He took this photograph because he didn’t trust the guy and wanted insurance in case the deal came back on him.”

Travis gave a humorless smile. “For once, professional paranoia is useful.”

Kate nodded toward Lisbon, who placed Cassandra’s diary on the desk. “Cassandra eventually realized Lupen had sold her information. She confronted him, and sometime afterward she became convinced somebody was following her. The night before Allison died, Cassandra wrote that she believed whoever bought those files knew she’d figured something out.”

Castle stopped beside the board and folded his arms. “Price secretly buys Allison’s entire life from Cassandra’s investigator while already having a key to Allison’s house. Doesn't make sense.”

"Price probably didn't know everything about her, or he could be suspecting her of finding out the truth. So, he just wanted to be sure. But the point of why he or someone called us here is still a mystery," Jane said.

“Yes. That's a real mystery. But let's focus on what we have. So, Price has access to Allison's house in her absence,” Travis said as he pointed toward the CCTV monitor. “Which means he had the opportunity to tamper with her medication and contaminate the incense without needing to sneak around while Allison was home.”

Kate looked at the timeline. “Opportunity still isn’t proof that he actually poisoned anything.”

“Exactly,” Lisbon replied. “We’re getting closer, though.”

Captain Montgomery’s office door opened before anyone could continue.

Montgomery stepped into the bullpen with his reading glasses still in one hand. He looked toward the crowded murder board, then toward the group gathered around it.

“I leave you people alone for a couple of hours and suddenly my board has doubled in size.”

Travis leaned against the edge of his desk. “We found someone interesting.”

Montgomery walked over. “Start from the beginning.”

Kate shifted beside the board and pointed toward Allison’s photograph. “We can now say with confidence that Allison Reed was being poisoned for roughly three months before her murder. Arsenic was introduced through her medication and contaminated incense. The poisoning caused organ damage, neurological symptoms, confusion, and likely contributed to the hallucinations she experienced before the hit-and-run.”

Montgomery’s attention moved toward Cassandra Wells.

Kate continued, “The incense originally came through Cassandra, which made her our strongest lead. Then we searched Cassandra’s office and found evidence that somebody may have been deliberately building a case against her.”

She pointed toward the hotel surveillance still.

“The person who booked Room 814 under the Michael Rowan identity wore Cassandra’s watch and bracelet. Travis reviewed the footage and believes the person was disguised as a woman. Whoever it was repeatedly exposed jewelry that could later be traced directly back to Cassandra while hiding their face from every camera.”

Montgomery looked toward Travis. “You’re confident?”

“Confident enough that I wouldn’t arrest Cassandra based on that footage,” Travis replied. “The disguise looks staged. The walk changes whenever she's under a camera, the hip movements are exaggerated, but the shoulders stay too rigid. Plus, the same person came back after Allison’s murder wearing the exact same identifiable jewelry. It feels like somebody is advertising Cassandra’s identity while pretending to conceal their own. Also, I've gone through some old, unresolved cases, and it turns out Cassandra's office was robbed months ago, and she reported it. Among the stolen items were the watch and bracelet.”

Montgomery nodded slowly before turning back toward Kate.

Kate pointed toward Lupen’s photograph. “Then Cassandra’s private investigator admitted he sold copies of Allison’s surveillance file to Nathaniel Price seven weeks ago.”

Montgomery looked directly at Price’s photograph.

“Her attorney.”

“And apparently her boyfriend,” Cho said.

Montgomery’s eyebrows rose.

Cho gestured toward the monitor. “Neighbors saw Price visiting Allison late at night. One saw them kissing. Security footage confirms he came and went repeatedly, including visits when Allison wasn’t home. He had his own key.”

Travis pointed toward the poisoning timeline again. “That gives Price knowledge, access, and opportunity. He could’ve learned about Room 814 from Lupen’s files, learned which medications Allison used, understood her spiritual routines, and entered her house whenever he wanted.”

Castle moved closer to the board. “And Allison’s hallucinations would make her increasingly dependent on the people she trusted. Her lawyer already knew she was grieving and vulnerable, then somebody starts chemically making that instability worse.”

Montgomery’s expression hardened. “Do we know why Price would want her dead?”

Kate shook her head. “That’s still the missing piece.”

Travis' phone rang once. He took it out and checked the main. "Well, we might just find the missing piece now." He walked to the computer and opened the mail. 

He opened the first attachment and leaned closer to the monitor.

The new material had come from a broader historical search around Allison Reed, Broderick & Vale, Nathaniel Price, and anyone connected to them through old civil cases, property records, archived newspapers, and business filings. Most of it looked useless at first. There were old articles about luxury developments, lawsuits involving contractors, regulatory disputes, and property transfers that had happened years before Allison became CFO.

Price's name didn't appear anywhere.

That bothered Travis more than if it had.

Kate stood beside his chair while the others gathered around the desk and nearby monitors. Travis forwarded the info to them for cross-checking. Ryan opened the court database on his own computer while Cho started cross-checking names appearing in the older articles. Esposito pulled up the civil filings connected to Broderick & Vale properties.

The first useful article came from nearly eight years earlier.

A gas explosion had torn through a luxury residential building on East 73rd Street during a major renovation project. The building belonged to a Broderick & Vale subsidiary, and investigators later found that the company had received several warnings about problems involving the gas system and aging boiler infrastructure.

Three people had died.

Several others had been injured.

Allison Reed had been a senior financial executive at the company at the time.

Travis slowed his scrolling.

Her name appeared near the bottom of the article in a paragraph discussing internal budget decisions made before the explosion. An outside engineering contractor had recommended shutting down part of the property until repairs could be completed. Broderick & Vale had instead approved temporary work while refinancing negotiations continued.

Allison hadn't made the decision alone, and nobody had ever charged her with a crime. Still, one of the financial approvals carried her name.

Kate read the paragraph silently from over Travis's shoulder.

The old article had been written before the lawsuit, before internal emails became public, and before reporters started looking for specific people to blame. At that stage, Allison had only been one executive among several involved in the renovation.

Travis opened the next attachment.

This one came from the civil case almost a year later.

The plaintiffs had argued that Broderick & Vale executives knew the building posed a serious safety risk and chose to keep residents inside because a full shutdown would've delayed refinancing and cost the company millions.

One internal email had become particularly damaging.

Allison had approved continuing temporary repairs while the larger replacement project was delayed until the following quarter.

The wording looked cold after people had died.

The company eventually settled the lawsuits for several million dollars without admitting criminal liability. Allison kept her position and later continued moving upward through Broderick & Vale.

Travis kept reading.

Price still wasn't mentioned.

Then he reached a tiny scanned clipping attached near the end of the archive.

It was a local funeral article.

The clipping showed mourners leaving a church after services for two of the explosion victims, Laura Bennett and her six-year-old daughter, Emily.

Travis nearly moved past it.

Then one face in the background caught his attention.

He stopped.

The photograph was grainy, taken from across the street, and crowded with relatives and reporters. A younger man stood several feet behind the immediate family wearing a dark suit. His hair was shorter, his face thinner, and nearly eight years separated him from the photograph currently pinned to their murder board.

Travis still recognized him.

He enlarged the image and placed Nathaniel Price's current photograph beside it.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

Kate leaned closer without saying anything.

Around them, the others noticed the change in Travis's expression and shifted their attention toward the monitors.

The funeral article never named Price.

It only listed the victims.

Laura Bennett, thirty-two.

Emily Bennett, six.

Laura's husband, Christopher Bennett, had survived the explosion with severe injuries.

Travis stared at Laura's name for another second before opening the public-record database.

The connection appeared almost immediately once they stopped searching for Nathaniel Price and started searching backward from Laura Bennett.

Her birth name was Laura Elizabeth Price.

Nathaniel was her older brother.

The bullpen grew quieter as the records filled in the rest.

Laura had married Christopher Bennett several years before the explosion. Their daughter Emily had been born two years later. According to the medical and civil records, Laura had also been pregnant when she died.

Christopher survived the blast, though the injuries destroyed most of the life he'd had before it.

He spent weeks in the hospital with burns, fractures, and serious lung damage. His testimony later became one of the emotional centers of the lawsuit against Broderick & Vale. He accused the company of knowing the building was unsafe and protecting its money instead of the people living there.

Allison's email approving the delayed repairs had been quoted repeatedly during those proceedings.

Christopher never recovered.

Eighteen months after the explosion, he took his own life.

The reports documented chronic pain, depression, prescription medication dependency, financial problems, and repeated psychiatric treatment.

Nathaniel Price had been living in London when the explosion happened.

Employment records showed that he'd been working for an international legal firm and returned to New York several times during the lawsuit. One archived photograph showed him sitting behind Christopher during a hearing.

Kate's eyes moved from the article toward Allison's photograph on the murder board.

The connection had been sitting in public records for years.

Nobody had noticed because Laura had used her married name, Nathaniel had never been directly involved in the litigation, and Allison had only been one executive among several connected to the renovation decisions.

Then Travis opened Price's professional timeline.

Nathaniel returned to New York permanently shortly after Christopher's suicide. Over the next several years, he built a successful private-client practice handling estates, trusts, investments, and personal legal matters for wealthy clients.

Then Daniel and Sophie Reed died.

Six months later, Nathaniel Price became Allison's attorney.

That timing changed everything.

Travis pulled up the intake records from Price's firm.

The file claimed Allison had been referred by another attorney after Daniel's death.

Ryan cross-checked the name against older records and found that the supposed referring attorney had retired years earlier.

A call confirmed the rest.

The man remembered Allison Reed because her family tragedy had been widely reported, but he'd never referred her to Nathaniel Price and barely knew Price professionally.

The referral had been invented.

Travis stared at the timeline as the shape of the case finally became visible.

Price hadn't accidentally entered Allison's life.

He'd chosen his moment.

Years after losing Laura, Emily, and eventually Christopher, he'd watched Allison lose her own husband and daughter. She became isolated, vulnerable, and desperate for help managing the legal and financial consequences.

Then Price appeared.

He became her attorney.

Later, her confidant.

Eventually, her lover.

The bruises and burns Lanie found no longer looked like random domestic abuse disconnected from the murder.

The arsenic poisoning didn't look like a simple attempt to kill her slowly either.

Price had spent months weakening Allison, confusing her, making her doubt her own mind, and allowing the neurological effects of the poison to intensify the grief and hallucinations she was already experiencing.

Even the Matthew Cole hit-and-run now fit into the pattern.

Then Price, the same man potentially poisoning her, had stepped in as the trusted attorney helping her survive the consequences.

Castle looked toward the board without his usual excitement.

Jane stood several feet away, studying Price's photograph with a colder expression than before.

Travis finally rose from his chair and walked toward the murder board.

He placed the funeral clipping beneath Nathaniel Price's photograph. Then he added the anniversary article beside it.

The entire case suddenly looked different.

Price had known Allison long before Allison knew him. He'd known her role in the decision that preceded the explosion. He'd watched his sister and niece die, then watched Christopher collapse afterward. And years later, when Allison herself became emotionally broken, Price had found a way into her life.

Kate stood beside Travis and stared at the timeline.

"He didn't fall in love with her and eventually decide to hurt her," she said quietly.

Travis kept his eyes on Price's photograph before saying, "He planned all this from the start."

Right now, they have too many theories. They need solid proof to connect Price to Allison's murder. If not, the evidence they currently have could point to Cassandra as the killer. Before Kate could mention this...

Travis’s phone rang.

He looked at the unfamiliar number before answering. “Detective Wilson speaking.”

For half a second, there was nothing except broken breathing and what sounded like wind rushing across the other end.

Then a woman whispered, “Please, somebody’s trying to kill me.”

Travis’s expression changed instantly. He tapped the speaker button and placed the phone on the desk while Kate, Lisbon, Esposito, Jane, the Captain, and Castle turned toward him.

“Who is this?” Travis asked, keeping his voice controlled.

“I’m Cassandra Wells,” the woman replied between desperate breaths.

Cassandra’s breathing became more frightened. “He is trying to kill me.”

A metallic crash sounded through the speaker, followed by Cassandra sucking in a sharp breath.

Travis asked, “Tell us exactly where you are.”

“I’m near the docks,” Cassandra whispered. “There are warehouses everywhere, and I don’t know the street name. I ran through a fence after he found me.”

Kate grabbed a pen while Esposito pulled out his phone and started bringing up dock maps.

“Look around carefully,” Kate said. “Give us anything you can see without exposing yourself.”

Cassandra stayed silent for several seconds before speaking again. “There’s a number painted on the building. Warehouse Seven. Big white seven beside a loading door. There's also a big 48 in red on the wall. I’m inside somewhere near the back.”

Esposito immediately turned his screen toward Kate. “I’ve got a Warehouse Seven near Pier Forty-Eight. Old shipping storage complex, mostly abandoned.”

Travis looked toward the phone. “Cassandra, listen carefully. Stay hidden and keep this call connected.”

“I can hear him moving,” Cassandra whispered, and the fear in her voice tightened everyone around the desk. “He’s inside the building.”

A distant voice suddenly carried through her phone.

“Cassandra!”

She gasped and moved quickly, footsteps striking concrete while something scraped beside her.

Travis snatched up his jacket. “We’re moving right now.”

Kate grabbed her weapon and looked toward Esposito. “Call patrol and tell them to approach without sirens until we’re close.”

Lisbon already had her coat in hand. “I’m coming with you.”

Castle reached for his own jacket before Travis pointed firmly toward him. “You’re staying here.”

Castle stared at him. "There is absolutely no chance I’m staying behind while a psychic is being hunted through an abandoned dock warehouse.”

“Trust me on this one,” Travis said. "Stay here."

Travis entered the elevator beside Kate, Lisbon, and Esposito. “Castle, if we find ghosts, I promise we’ll take pictures.”

The doors closed before Castle could answer.

...

Less than fifteen minutes later, Kate’s car turned hard into the dock complex with two unmarked vehicles following behind them.

Rain from earlier still covered sections of cracked pavement, reflecting the yellow security lamps mounted along several warehouses. Warehouse Seven stood near the far edge of the property, an aging concrete structure with loading bays facing the water and rust spreading around its metal doors.

They stopped well short of the entrance.

Travis got out first and checked his weapon while Esposito moved beside another vehicle. Lisbon scanned the roofline and windows while Kate studied the building.

“No visible movement,” Lisbon said.

Esposito looked toward the side alley. “Patrol’s two minutes behind us.”

Travis listened.

His enhanced hearing pushed beyond the wind, distant traffic, and waves striking the dock supports. Somewhere inside the warehouse, shoes scraped quickly across concrete.

Then came another sound.

A woman breathing hard.

Travis pointed toward the western side. “Cassandra’s somewhere toward the rear half.”

Kate gave him a quick look because she knew exactly how he had determined that. “Esposito and I’ll circle around and find the rear entrance.”

Lisbon nodded toward the loading doors. “I'll take the front with Travis.”

Kate caught Travis’s arm before moving away. “Don’t do anything ridiculous.”

Travis gave her a faint smile. “You too."

She and Esposito disappeared along the side of the warehouse while Travis and Lisbon approached the front.

The loading door had been left open by several inches, just enough for Travis to see darkness beyond it. He drew his weapon while Lisbon took position against the opposite side of the entrance.

From somewhere deeper inside came another faint scrape.

Travis met Lisbon’s eyes and pointed toward the opening.

She nodded.

They slipped inside.

The warehouse smelled of saltwater, rust, old wood, and machine oil. Rows of shipping containers and metal shelving divided the massive interior into narrow corridors, while several overhead lamps flickered weakly above them. Large portions of the building remained completely dark.

Travis stopped for half a second and listened.

Cassandra’s breathing came from somewhere ahead and slightly to the right.

Another set of footsteps moved more carefully behind her.

Travis pointed toward the right side. Lisbon understood and moved beside him as they advanced between two rows of stacked crates.

A man’s voice suddenly echoed through the warehouse.

“Cassandra, you’re only making this harder!”

Lisbon tightened her grip on her weapon.

A crash came from farther ahead, followed by Cassandra crying out.

Travis and Lisbon immediately picked up their pace.

They reached the end of the aisle just as Cassandra stumbled from behind a shipping container. Her coat was torn near one shoulder, her hair had fallen across her face, and panic filled her expression when she saw two armed figures approaching.

“NYPD!” Travis called while lowering his gun slightly so she could see the badge clipped near his waist. “Cassandra, get behind us!”

She stared at him for barely a second before running toward them.

A gunshot exploded through the warehouse.

Travis caught Cassandra around the arm and pulled her behind a stack of crates as the bullet struck metal several feet away.

Lisbon dropped behind cover and raised her weapon. “Drop the gun! Don't make this harder.”

Price appeared between two containers roughly thirty yards away.

He wore dark pants and a charcoal shirt beneath a light jacket, holding a pistol in his right hand. His expression changed when he saw Lisbon. Then his eyes moved toward Travis.

“Stay out of this!” Price shouted.

Travis kept himself between Cassandra and the open aisle. “You tried to kill a person and shot at the cops. We’re considerably past staying out of it.”

Price fired again.

Lisbon ducked as the round struck the edge of the container beside her. She leaned around the opposite side and returned one controlled shot, forcing Price back behind cover.

Cassandra pressed herself against the crates with both hands shaking badly. “He found me at the motel. I thought I’d lost him, but he followed me all the way here.”

Travis glanced toward her while keeping his attention on Price’s position. “You’re safe with us. Stay down and don’t move until one of us tells you.”

Another gunshot cracked through the warehouse.

Travis heard Price moving immediately afterward.

“He’s changing position,” Travis warned.

Lisbon shifted toward the next piece of cover. “Can you see him?”

“Not yet.”

Travis could hear him, though. Price was moving toward the center aisle, probably hoping to reach Cassandra from another angle.

Travis adjusted his position and waited.

A shoe scraped concrete... jacket brushed against metal.

Then Price stepped out.

His pistol swung toward Cassandra’s hiding place.

For Travis, everything slowed.

Price’s arm seemed to crawl upward while his finger began tightening against the trigger.

Travis moved his sights several inches.

He fired once.

Bang!

"ARGGGG!!!" Price screamed.

The bullet struck his gun hand, and the pistol spun away before bouncing loudly across the concrete floor. Price grabbed his injured hand against his chest and staggered behind a forklift.

Lisbon immediately advanced. “Nathaniel Price! Keep your hands where I can see them!”

Price looked toward his fallen weapon.

Travis raised his gun slightly. “Don’t even think about it.”

For a second, Price seemed ready to surrender. Then he ran.

“Of course,” Travis muttered as he took off after him.

Price sprinted toward the rear of the warehouse, weaving through machinery and stacks of shipping equipment. Travis followed at a believable pace despite knowing he could’ve crossed the distance almost instantly.

Behind them, Lisbon stayed with Cassandra while speaking into her radio and directing the approaching uniforms toward the building.

Price shoved over a metal cart as he ran.

Travis jumped around it without slowing much.

“Price!” he shouted. “There’s nowhere to go!”

Price ignored him and slammed through a metal door near the rear wall.

Bright evening light spilled inside.

Travis followed several seconds later and saw Price freeze in the narrow service yard behind the warehouse.

Kate stood directly in front of him with her Glock aimed at his chest.

Esposito appeared several feet to her right, covering the side exit.

Price looked from Kate to Esposito, then slowly turned his head as Travis stepped through the doorway behind him.

Kate’s voice remained completely steady. “Get on your knees.”

Price clutched his injured hand against his chest while searching desperately for another way out.

Esposito moved his aim slightly higher. “You really don’t want to make another bad decision.”

Price finally lowered himself onto his knees.

Kate stepped closer. “Put both hands where I can see them.”

“My hand’s been shot,” Price snapped through clenched teeth.

“Then move it slowly,” Kate replied. “You’re still getting cuffed.”

Travis approached from behind while keeping his weapon trained on Price.

Esposito holstered his gun and moved in, controlling Price’s uninjured arm first before carefully pulling the injured one behind him. Price groaned as Esposito locked the cuffs around his wrists.

“You’re under arrest,” Esposito said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Price’s breathing remained heavy while anger replaced the panic on his face.

Travis holstered his weapon.

Lisbon came through the rear door a moment later with Cassandra beside her. Cassandra looked exhausted, shaken, and dirty from hiding inside the warehouse, though she was still standing without assistance.

The moment she saw Price restrained, some of the fear left her face.

Kate immediately walked toward her. “Cassandra Wells?”

Cassandra nodded while staring at Price. “That’s him. Nathaniel Price.”

“We know,” Kate replied. “Are you hurt?”

“I fell a couple of times, but he didn’t shoot me.”

Lisbon rested a hand lightly against Cassandra’s shoulder. “Paramedics are outside. They’ll check you anyway.”

Cassandra swallowed and looked between all of them. “I didn’t know who else to call. I found Detective Wilson’s number from a friend of mine he helped last year before the tunnel incident.”

Travis gave her a reassuring nod. “Calling was the right decision.”

Sirens finally became audible outside the complex as patrol cars entered the dockyard.

Esposito pulled Price carefully to his feet and took him outside.

Right now, Cassandra Wells was alive, Nathaniel Price was under arrest, and they finally had the man who could explain what had really happened to Allison Reed and why he used Red John's signature.

...

...

[On the Way to the Hospital]

The ambulance moved through Manhattan with its lights flashing against the dark streets, carrying Nathaniel Price toward the hospital while rainwater reflected blue and red across the windows.

Price lay strapped to the stretcher with his injured hand heavily bandaged. Every movement sent another pulse of pain through his arm, though that barely mattered anymore. Cassandra was alive, the NYPD had him in custody, and whatever plan he'd spent months building had collapsed within a single evening.

A uniformed officer sat near the rear doors with his hands resting calmly across his lap. He hadn't spoken since they left the docks.

The male nurse beside Price checked the IV line, adjusted one of the monitors, then reached toward the metal tray beside him.

Price barely noticed until the nurse turned back with a thin surgical blade between his fingers.

Something about the man's expression made Price's stomach tighten.

The blade moved quickly.

Price jerked against the restraints as the nurse drove it into the side of his neck. His eyes widened, and both hands instinctively moved toward the wound while a broken, choking sound escaped him.

The officer didn't move.

That terrified Price more than anything else.

The nurse leaned closer. His expression remained almost gentle, as though he were comforting a frightened patient rather than watching him die.

"Oh, Nathaniel," he whispered. "Look at what you've done to yourself."

Recognition slowly entered Price's eyes.

Red John smiled.

"When I allowed you into the Blake Association, you were given something very few people ever receive. Protection, influence, access, and an invisible shield from the very people who were supposed to hunt men like you."

Price tried to speak, but his weakening voice couldn't form anything understandable.

Red John tilted his head slightly. "You swore loyalty to the Tyger, and then you used my name as some cheap little trick to drag Patrick Jane and the CBI across the country."

His smile faded into quiet disappointment.

"Were you trying to impress me, Nathaniel, or were you trying to climb higher?"

Price stared at him helplessly.

"Did you think that mimicking my art would win my favor? Or did you arrogantly believe you could use my reputation as a ladder to elevate yourself within our shadow family?" Red John leaned closer as his voice dropped further. 

Price's breathing became weaker while the officer continued watching from his seat without the slightest concern.

"Either way, you failed to realize that the Tyger protects its own, yes... but it tears apart anyone who tries to ride its back. You weren't just a clumsy copycat, my friend. You were a traitor to the brotherhood," Red John whispered.

Price's eyes flicked toward the officer.

The officer gave him a faint smile.

That was when Price finally understood that nobody inside the ambulance had ever been taking him to safety.

Red John watched that realization settle in before speaking again. He leaned close enough that Price could barely see anything beyond him.

"Tyger, Tyger, burning bright..."

Red John watched Price's strength fade while his expression remained perfectly calm.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price."

...

[Hospital]

The hospital staff opened the door and found a big smiley on the ambulance wall with a bloody note:

Welcome to New York, Patrick. I do hope you didn't travel all this way just to look at amateurs. This one lacked the proper discipline. He forgot who holds the leash. Keep looking. I am closer than you think.

Price's bleeding body was lying on the floor. The officer looked at the staff with a smile. 

Before anyone could respond... 

The officer took out a gun and placed it under his chin.

“Tyger Tyger.” 

Bang!

Then there were two more gunshots. The driver and the officer at the front killed themselves.