Castle and characters belong to ABC. Thanks to Firestar385 for being my second pair of eyes.

Memorable Beginnings

The bullpen of the 12th precinct's homicide division was quiet. Muted phone conversations and the rustling of pages provided a background white noise for the three figures grouped in front of a large white board. The board was covered in text scrawled in different shades of dry erase marker as well as photos, receipts and computer printouts. The three individuals stared hard at the seemingly random groupings of information, trying to find the answer to a puzzle. The homicide of a young woman named Heather Pierce.

"I still think it's the brother's drug dealer."

"Castle, we have no motive." The lone female, Detective Kate Beckett, tapped her pen against her lips as she concentrated. "There's got to be something here that we're missing."

The taller of her two male companions tried once more. "I'm serious. Kyle Pierce owed his dealer-turned-loan-shark ten grand. Suppose the dealer only meant to send a message by beating up Heather, but it went sideways when she died?"

Detective Javier Esposito shifted his weight and crossed his arms as he glared at the murder board. "I hate to admit it, but Castle might have a good theory there."

With a heavy sigh, Beckett turned to Esposito. "Okay, let's check him out. We have nothing better at this point, so get his last known residence. He's got an active warrant for possession. It won't hurt to bring him in, rattle his cage and see what falls out."

Best-selling mystery author Rick Castle smirked, causing Beckett to roll her eyes. "Oh, get over yourself, Rick. Just because we have nothing better to go on doesn't mean you're right."

Beckett headed in the direction of the break room and Castle turned to Esposito, holding out his hand. With a defeated groan, Esposito pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket and slapped it with bad grace into the writer's waiting palm. "She only gave in because she got tired of you bugging her about the stupid drug dealer."

"Ah, don't be a sore loser, Espo. A win is a win."

"Whatever, man. Excuse me while I do some real detective work."

Rick smiled as he watched the Hispanic detective wander over to his desk and sit down to start the boring process of checking the dealer's records for addresses and associates. The best part of shadowing Beckett and Esposito for research was that he didn't have to do the paperwork slog that investigating required. He got to enjoy the exciting parts. Hopefully the drug dealer idea panned out and they had a viable suspect, so they could finally close this case.

It took several days of checking records, known associates and old hangouts to get enough information on their suspect to have a clear picture. Once that picture emerged, however, Detective Beckett was forced to grudgingly admit that maybe Rick Castle had been right. Neil Collins was branching out from drug dealing. He was now making high-interest loans to those who were desperate enough to risk owing a vig to a guy who would bust your kneecaps for missing a payment. Unless, you were in a position of power where a favor was equal to the interest you owed. Kyle Pierce worked in the D.A.'s office. Or, used to work in the D.A's office. They sort of frowned upon their employees using drugs. What favor had he refused to pay that cost his sister her life?

After being pulled back in for further questioning, Mr. Pierce refused to tell Beckett what Collins had demanded, only that he hadn't been able to go through with it and had tried to get the money together to pay the vig. Except he hadn't been able to get it in time. Kyle had no proof, but he had no doubt that Collins had killed Heather. It was something he'd live with the rest of his life.

Pounding the pavement had yielded a snitch willing to give up a location and time of a meeting that Collins was to attend. The snitch was probably hoping they'd put Collins away, thereby saving the twitchy addict from having to repay a debt. Having been unsuccessful in getting to Collins anywhere else, the meeting to discuss drug distribution was their best bet. As a bonus, it would net several other key players in the local drug trade.

Gathering her troops in the bullpen, Kate Beckett went over the game plan. She gestured to the photos on the reverse side of the murder board.

"Okay, this is Neil Collins." The man in the picture appeared to be in his late thirties with dark hair and cold grey eyes, glaring into the camera for a mugshot. "He has a history of possession, intent to sell, ADW and attempted murder. He served a little time, but managed to skate on most of it. He's known to be armed and is certainly dangerous. He's our target."

She gestured one by one to the other pictures encircling Neil's. "These are his known associates. Familiarize yourself with them. Although Neil is our main concern, grabbing any of these guys may yield valuable information."

Once the murmurs of agreement died down, Beckett nodded and stepped up to her desk. "Suit up guys, and be careful. Let's head out."

Adrenaline was running high as the officers in the room scattered. One officer in particular couldn't help a feral smile. This was manna from heaven. If the timing worked out just right, it was a chance to get the monkey off his back with no one the wiser. He could go back to being an honest cop and not in some scumbag's back pocket. One phone call at just the right moment would do it.

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Living in a room at an SRO was depressing for even the most strong-willed. The place reeked of despair and lost dreams. No amount of scrubbing in the world would erase the decades of grime and sadness from the walls or floor. The furnishings were shabby at best and even a full bottle of bleach didn't keep the room's occupant from cringing every time he stepped into the old shower.

The young man took a good look around the room to be sure he'd left nothing out that would give the game away. Raking long, thin fingers through his shaggy auburn hair, he huffed out a frustrated breath. He was getting so close to finishing this that he could almost feel the clean crisp sheets waiting for him back at his own apartment. Icy blue eyes narrowed in determination as Kieran Doyle opened the door and headed out to a meeting that would hopefully yield gold.

It was a long walk through the biting early winter wind, but the area between Kieran's shoulder blades didn't feel so much like a target out in the open. He could more easily defend himself on the streets, more easily spot a tail. He avoided the dangers of taking the subway, even if it meant hoofing it so far.

Going undercover in a drug-dealing organization was dangerous enough. Going into one with possible ties to dirty cops bumped it up a few notches. His previous life had been removed and his new one put in its place. Even if a dirty cop looked him up in the system, all they'd find would be Kieran Doyle. The narcotics cop looked forward to closing this case and getting back to his own life. If it was even possible to completely shed Kieran at this point, which he was beginning to doubt.

Halfway to the designated building, the pay-as-you-go phone buzzed in his pocket. Stepping over to the quasi-shelter of a storefront wall, Kieran pulled the cell out and checked the number. He thumbed the green button and brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, boss. I'm not too far-. You're not going to be there? Do you still want me to go? Okay, boss. Sure. You want me to make the deal if the offer's good? Nothing over 50K, right? I'm on it. I'll call you when the deal's done."

Ending the call, Kieran deleted the number from the call list then slowly pocketed the phone. He hunched his shoulders inside his worn leather jacket, shivering at the bitter wind. This wasn't good. Anything unexpected was suspect, and this was definitely unexpected. This meeting had been in the works for two months and his boss bails at the last minute? Kieran suspected the fingerprints of some dirty cop somewhere in this. But the cards had been dealt and Kieran would have to play his hand. Either he was blown or not. If not, then something else was going on and he wanted to know what it was. If he was blown, he'd have to either bluff or muscle his way out of it. The young cop wished he had something other than the tactical knife tucked in his back pocket, but Collins didn't allow guns at his meetings. To prevent his own murder, no doubt.

He stepped away from the wall and continued on his way, feeling like he had lead weights in his worn Converse shoes. He'd been stupid to agree to this whole fiasco to begin with. Although he'd been on the force nearly six years, he'd only been in Narcotics for two. This assignment had been a baptism by fire from the beginning. He only hoped he didn't go down in flames.

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At a staging area several blocks from the target building, the group of detectives and uniformed officers met to go over everything one last time. Assisting each other with their body armor, they listened as Detective Beckett went over the sequence of events. Detective Esposito volunteered to go in first. Officer Blaine raised his hand and offered to cover the side alley. A couple more agreed to take the back alley. Rick Castle was given strict instructions to wait down the block until given the all clear. The rest were given their assignments, with nods of agreement and understanding of their roles. Everyone loaded up and headed in, each readying for the upcoming raid in his or her own way.

Once parked out of sight of the building in question, the officers all proceeded quickly and quietly down the street. Those assigned the ground split up to cover their designated side of the building. Esposito jimmied the lobby door and the rest followed behind as he led the way inside and up the stairs to apartment 401.

Brown eyes sharply focused, Esposito waited until everyone was set. At Beckett's nod, he stepped back and kicked in the door. All hell broke loose.

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The meeting had gone fairly smoothly so far. Kieran was in the process of negotiating a better price when Collins' cell phone buzzed. The loan shark/dealer checked the number, put the phone to his ear and his eyes went wide from whatever he heard. Without a word, he bolted for the window, unlocked it and flung it open. He was already on the fire escape, and starting his descent, when the remaining men in the room broke out of their shock at the sudden move.

Instinctively, Kieran knew what was coming. Why his boss had backed out. Friend or foe, someone was about to come through the door of that apartment. And someone had just warned Collins. He took a step toward the window to follow and the front door burst open. An object flew into the room and Kieran had just enough time to close his eyes and slap his hands over his ears before the world exploded.

Even prepared, the flash-bang was disorienting. Kieran had almost made it to the window when a strong hand grabbed his arm and jerked him around. Knowing someone had warned both Collins and his boss, Kieran didn't know which cops in the room were good and which were bad. He decided not to take any chances and aimed for the one place he knew a cop in body armor was vulnerable.

Kieran couldn't help a slight wince in sympathy as the Hispanic officer howled in anger, unable to stop the instinctive doubling over from the agonizing pain in his groin. Kieran took what that brief moment afforded him and clambered out through the window to follow Collins' hasty exit down the fire escape. He heard the sound of a gunshot, giving him a jolt of adrenaline. Kieran was two flights down when the rattle of metal above him indicated that the Hispanic officer had recovered from his kick to the groin and was in pursuit. Kieran did not want to get caught. Good cop or not, the muscles in that guy's arms promised a hell of a beating if he caught up to Kieran. The young officer picked up his pace.

Ignoring the sounds coming from above him, Kieran stepped onto the ladder leading from the bottom landing to the alley floor. He was only a few rungs down when he caught the scene near the mouth of the alley. Collins was on the ground, a puddle of blood spreading out around him. A tall, grey haired officer was kneeling next to him, placing a gun in the dead man's hand. The officer must have heard the rattle of the ladder, because he jerked his head up in surprise to stare into Kieran's eyes. The officer raised the gun in Collins' hand and pointed it straight at Kieran.

"No!"

Before Kieran could say another word, a loud bang echoed nearly simultaneously with the searing pain in his shoulder that jerked him off the metal ladder to the hard alley below. Then, nothing.

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Officer Blaine couldn't believe his luck. He stationed himself in the alley and scrolled through his cell's contact list until he came to the code name for the man making his life a living hell. He waited long enough to get the timing right then pressed send.

"It's Blaine. It's a raid. Get out, now."

It only took a moment to hear it: the sound of a window slamming open four floors above him. Blaine pocketed his cell and waited patiently as Collins thundered down the fire escape, the noise from the flash-bang sounding through the open window.

Collins practically slid down the ladder to land with a thump on the alley floor. He turned and spotted Blaine, shooting the officer a shit-eating grin. "Thanks for the warning, officer. I'll be sure to give you a break on next month's interest."

Raising his weapon, Officer Blaine quirked a grin of his own. "I don't think that will be necessary." And he pulled the trigger.

Walking over to kneel by the body, Blaine searched and found the dead man's cell phone. He slipped it into the pocket of his cargos. The officer then pulled a gun from Collin's waist band and started to wrap the dead man's fingers around it. After all, Blaine had fired in self-defense. A rattle of metal above him made Blaine jerk his head up in surprise. A kid in torn blue jeans and faded leather jacket stared back at him. Collateral damage. Blaine couldn't have a witness. He raised the gun in Collins' hand and took aim. The kid's startling blue eyes flashed with fear and he began to raise a hand.

"No!"

Blaine pulled the trigger. The impact of the bullet tore the young man from the ladder to land in a heap on the hard ground below. Blaine stood and took a few steps toward the still body to be sure he was dead then heard thumping feet above. Looking up, he saw the figure of Javier Esposito rounding the stairs to the bottom landing. The Hispanic officer took in the scene below him and caught Blaine's eye.

"What happened, man?"

Mind whirling to come up with a plausible explanation, Blaine shrugged. "Dunno. Collins shot the kid as he was coming down the ladder. He heard me behind him, turned and pointed his weapon at me. I had to shoot him."

Esposito made a quick descent down the ladder to land at the young man's feet. "Damn. You okay, Blaine?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Collins is dead."

"Yeah, well, good riddance."

Blaine watched as Esposito knelt next to the young man on the ground and placed his fingers on the side of the pale neck to check for a pulse. "This one's alive, Blaine. Call for a bus."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Hoping the stupid kid would die at the hospital, Blaine had no other choice but to get on the radio and call for an ambulance.

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Bursting into the room right behind the flash-bang, Esposito caught a flash of movement near the window. He lunged forward and caught the fleeing figure by the arm, spinning him around. The kid couldn't have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two. The detective only had time to take in wide cobalt eyes, a narrow face and shaggy auburn hair before the kid swung a hand around to push his weapon to the side, then caught him in the balls with a bony knee. Esposito howled in anger and pain, doubling over as the suspect lunged through the window and beat a hasty retreat down the fire escape.

Taking a deep breath, willing away the deep throbbing in his groin, Esposito growled and pulled himself out onto the fire escape. He was going to beat the shit out of that kid when he caught him. He could hear the fugitive thundering down the metal stairs a couple of landings below. Javier slung his weapon over his shoulder and followed as quickly as he could. He only had one more flight to go when he heard a shout, followed by a gunshot.

By the time he rounded the final flight onto the last landing, he could see the kid lying on the hard ground. He was unmoving and Officer Blaine stood nearby. "What happened, man?"

Blaine looked up at him, his weapon hanging loosely at his side. "Dunno. Collins shot the kid as he was coming down the ladder. He heard me behind him, turned and pointed his weapon at me. I had to shoot him."

Esposito stepped onto the ladder and made his way down. "Damn. You okay, Blaine?"

The older officer shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Collins is dead."

"Yeah, well, good riddance." Although, Beckett would be pissed that she didn't get the chance to get the truth of Heather's murder out of Collins.

Esposito knelt next to the young man on the ground. He was lying almost all the way over on his left side. The left wrist was bent and already swelling, and blood seemed to be coming from his chest or shoulder, as well as seeping out from under his head. Esposito couldn't tell if the kid was even breathing. He leaned over to rest his fingers on the pale, sweat slick neck to check for a pulse. The thrumming beat beneath his fingers was faster than it should be, but at least he was alive.

"This one's alive, Blaine. Call for a bus."

Hearing Blaine put in the call for an ambulance, Detective Esposito slipped on a pair of gloves and began to go through the suspect's pockets. He found a few wrinkled bills in a front pocket, along with a prepaid cell phone. Javier scrolled through the call list and found it empty. This kid was careful, whoever he was. From the back pockets of the worn jeans, the detective found a tactical knife and a leather wallet. Flipping open the wallet, he found some cash, a re-loadable credit card and an I.D. Kieran Doyle, twenty-two years old.

"Well, Kieran, you've certainly had better days." Pulling an evidence bag from one of the cargo pockets of his pants, Esposito dropped the found objects into it and sealed the top. He looked up at the sound of running feet to see Castle rounding the corner to join him in the alley.

"Castle, I'm pretty sure I didn't hear Beckett give you the all clear."

The writer shot Esposito a boyish grin and leaned over to brace his hands on his knees to get a good look at the wounded man on the ground. "I heard the call for an ambulance and just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Who's this guy?"

"His name is Kieran Doyle, but that's all I know. He's not one of the known associates of Collins."

Twisting around, Castle nodded his head in the direction of the other body in the alley. "That's Collins, I presume?"

"Yeah. Beckett's gonna be pissed."

"Maybe not. One of the suspects upstairs may be able to provide us with proof that Collins either killed Heather, or had someone else do it." Castle knelt next to Esposito and tilted his head to get a better look at the unconscious man's face. "He doesn't look like a drug dealer. He looks more like a college kid in dire need of a haircut."

Snorting in amusement, Esposito shook his head. "Have you learned nothing in the last six months with us, Castle? Looks can be deceiving. If he didn't have anything to hide, he wouldn't have been in a room full of scumbags and wouldn't have assaulted a police officer."

"Assaulted a police officer?" Castle shot Esposito a piercing look, the corners of his mouth drifting up into a smile. "Do tell."

"Never you mind, Castle." There was no way in hell that Javier was going to tell the annoying writer that a twenty-two year old kid got the drop on him and kicked him in the nuts. Esposito stood and tucked the evidence bag of Kieran's belongings into his inside jacket pocket. "Blaine, you get an ETA on that bus?"

The older officer was hovering between Collins' body and the unconscious Doyle, and he shrugged at Javier's question. "No."

Castle stood as well and gestured at the blood. "Shouldn't we put pressure on his wounds or something?"

"Nuh-uh. Dude fell from the top of the ladder and he obviously hit his head pretty hard. Might have a spinal injury. We don't want to make it any worse. The bleeding doesn't look life-threatening, so better it's to just leave him alone until the medics get here."

It looked like Castle was about to protest, but was cut off by the arrival of Detective Beckett. "Castle, I thought I told you to wait until I gave you the all clear."

"Told you, bro." Esposito grinned as the writer squirmed under Beckett's glare.

"Yeah, but Esposito was here. I knew it was safe."

"No, you didn't. Next time, listen to me when I tell you something." Beckett turned to her partner, ignoring Rick as he opened his mouth to protest. "What the hell happened, Espo?"

Detective Esposito gestured to the dead body of their suspect and shrugged. "Officer Blaine said Collins shot my suspect as he came down the ladder. Collins then turned, saw Blaine and raised his gun. Blaine shot him."

"Dammit. Listen, let's tape this area off until CSU and IA get out here. Play it by the book." Beckett turned to the other body in the alley. "What's this one's story?"

Pulling the evidence bag from his jacket pocket, Esposito joined her and handed it over. "Don't know. Name's Kieran Doyle. I'm guessing he was here representing an interested third party in the deal going down.

Frowning thoughtfully, Beckett knelt down to get a better look at the pale face. "Why would Collins shoot him, though?"

"Maybe he thought Kieran was the one who snitched on him?"

"Here's an even better question." Castle stood behind them with his I'm-a-brilliant-writer-so-heed-my-words grin. "Why is it that Collins got out before it all went down?"

Both detectives stood and gave the writer their full attention. Esposito shot him a puzzled look. "How do you know he was out before we entered?"

"Well, if Collins was on the ground already and in a position to shoot Doyle, who'd had time to make it all the way down to the ladder, he had to have been given a head start."

Esposito glanced at Beckett and nodded. "Castle's right. I was first through the door and Doyle was heading towards the window when I grabbed him. Collins was already on his way down by then. Had to have been."

Latching once more onto what wasn't said, Castle smirked. "Wait, if you grabbed Doyle, how did he get away from you? You're built like a tank. That kid can't weigh more than a buck fifty soaking wet."

Esposito glanced from the smug writer to Beckett, who'd raised one eyebrow and was smiling knowingly. He was saved from having to admit what happened by the arrival of the ambulance. All three stepped aside to give the medics room to work. They grouped on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alley, then Beckett took a few steps away to get Blaine's statement. By the time she was finished, the medics were loading Doyle onto the gurney, strapped to a backboard with a c-collar firmly in place.

Pocketing her small black notebook, Beckett nodded in the medics' direction. "Someone needs to go in with them and stay with Doyle until we can get his statement."

"I'll go, Detective." Blaine stepped forward and smiled. "I'm sure you guys have better things to do."

"You have a date with IA, Blaine. Officer involved shooting, remember?" Beckett was surprised the man even offered, after what had just happened. "You have a report to type up, statements to give, and you won't be allowed off the desk until you're cleared. It's all formality, but we have to jump through their hoops. You know that."

Officer Blaine nodded and wandered back over to lean against the far wall. Esposito watched him, brow wrinkled. Something was off. Javier needed time to sit and think about what was bothering him about what had gone down during the raid. What better way to avoid paperwork and have that time to think, than to babysit his suspect?

"I'll go, Beckett. He's my arrest, anyway. Evading, assaulting a police officer-shut up Castle-and I'm sure I can think of something else to nail him with once he wakes up."

Beckett nodded, eyes tracking the stretcher as it rolled past them on the way to the ambulance. "I doubt he had anything to do with our murder, but maybe he knows something."

Esposito left Beckett berating Castle for not waiting for the all clear, followed the medics to the bus and waited outside the rear doors until they had Doyle stabilized. Once the second medic climbed out, Esposito took his place in the jump seat at the head of the stretcher. The paramedic shut the doors and walked around to climb into the driver's seat. With a few blasts of the siren to announce their intentions, the ambulance pulled away from the curb and blended into the traffic.

His suspect now had an IV line in his uninjured arm, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, a pressure bandage over the wound in his shoulder and more bandaging around his head. Detective Esposito glanced at the name tag pinned to the uniform shirt of the female paramedic across from him. "So what's the damage, Garcia?"

Glancing up from her paperwork, clipped to a thick metal clipboard, the medic frowned slightly. "His left wrist appears broken, and there's the gunshot wound. His lungs sound good, though, so that's one less thing to worry about. A fall from that height, he might have spinal injuries. The head wound is probably his biggest issue right now."

Swaying with the movement of the ambulance as it made its way to the hospital's ER, Esposito let her get back to her notes and he let his mind drift. There was something bothering him about what went down in that alley. Castle was definitely right, in that Collins had received some sort of warning, since their suspect had had time to get to the alley so quickly. But that wasn't what was off. It was something else.

Javier rewound the incident in his mind, trying to make sense of it. Doyle had gone out the window. He'd followed. He'd heard a shout, a gunshot and found Blaine at the bottom with two bodies. Two bodies. One gunshot.

"Holy shit."

Catching Garcia's curious stare, Esposito shook his head and grabbed his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He swiped his thumb across the screen to unlock it and pressed the speed dial for Beckett's phone.

"Hey, Espo, what's up?"

"Yo, Beckett. Listen, get the IA guys to lean on Blaine."

"Espo, are you serious? Why?"

"I'm pretty sure I only heard one gunshot when I was coming down the fire escape. If Collins shot Doyle and Blaine shot Collins, there should have been two. And close together, going by his story."

"You think Blaine's dirty?"

"Or just trigger-happy and trying to cover his tracks. I don't know. But something smells about the whole thing. Someone warned Collins that we were coming in. I don't think it's safe leaving this kid unprotected. He either saw something, or knows something, that someone doesn't want out in the open. I'm going to stick with him at the hospital until he can tell us his story."

"I'll see what I can dig up on this end, Espo. If you can't be absolutely certain about the number of shots you heard, we'll need Doyle's testimony. Keep me updated on his condition."

"Will do. Later."

Looking up after disconnecting the call, Javier caught Garcia's eyes staring at him. The medic smiled as she leaned forward to check the IV drip. "I think I like my job better than yours. Mine is a lot more straightforward."

Quirking a half smile, Javier shrugged and pointed at the still-unconscious Doyle. "It's usually a lot more straightforward than this. What was a simple homicide investigation has now dragged in some unknown factors, including this guy. I have no idea what part he plays in this."

"Well, I hope he gets a chance to tell you, Detective." Garcia gently lifted the patient's eyelids and flashed a penlight at his pupils. She frowned at the sluggish way the pupils constricted at the intrusion of bright light. "He took a hell of a hit to the head, though. I'm not sure what he'll remember if and when he wakes up."

The rest of the trip was made in silence as the medic finished her notes, then prepared the IV bag and moved the O2 line from the on-board tank to the portable one strapped to the foot of the stretcher. The ambulance swayed and bumped as the driver pulled in and parked in the ER bay. Garcia's male partner opened the back doors and pushed on the latch to release the stretcher. He smoothly pulled the stretcher out of the back, pausing to let the legs drop and lock. Garcia hopped out and slid the metal clipboard behind their patient's pillow, then grabbed the head of the stretcher. She lowered her end down from the loading position and nodded at her partner, then they wheeled their patient over to the ER. Detective Esposito climbed down from the back of the ambulance, shut the doors and followed the medics through the sliding glass doors.

A blast of warmer air hit the detective as he followed the stretcher's path through the doors and into to a trauma room. He held up the badge hanging around his neck by a chain at the questioning frown from a doctor in pale green scrubs. "He's a suspect."

The doctor nodded, turning his attention to his patient. "Just stay out of the way, Detective."

Javier stepped back against the wall, well out of the way of the controlled chaos, as the medics rattled off their patient information to the doctor and nurses, who were busy moving Doyle from the stretcher to the hospital gurney. Patient transferred, Garcia held the clipboard for one of the nurses to sign off on her paperwork. She flashed Esposito a smile as she and her partner pushed their now-empty stretcher from the room.

"Good luck with your case, Detective."

"Thanks."

Medics gone, Javier switched his attention back to Doyle. The bandages had been removed so the doctor could get a look at the injuries and a nurse was busy cutting the young man out of his clothes.

"Hey, can we bag those for evidence?"

The tall red-headed nurse nodded and pulled a large evidence bag from a cabinet. She sealed the bag with Doyle's clothes and shoes, scribbling the date and time along with her name in the box printed on the front. She handed it to Esposito and went back to her patient, all without a word.

A new pressure bandage had been put over the gunshot wound when the nurses lifted the rails and unlocked the bed to push it out of the room and down the hall. Esposito didn't feel the need to follow. The kid obviously wasn't going anywhere for a while. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room out into the hall, next to the door, and sat down to wait. He dropped the evidence bag in his lap and pulled out his phone. It looked like he'd be playing Angry Birds for a while.

It was a long wait, and Angry Birds had long since lost its appeal by the time Doyle was ready to be taken up to surgery. By then he'd been brought back to the trauma room, taken out again, brought back, taken off the backboard and had the c-collar removed. The doctor had stitched up the head wound. The patient was wheeled out one last time, on his way up to surgery, with Esposito trailing behind.

Dropping into a much more comfortable chair in the surgery waiting room, Javier called his boss to give her an update.

"You have any news, Espo?"

With a sigh, Javier ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Nothing yet. Doyle's up in surgery. He hasn't so much as blinked, though, since they brought him in. I think the head injury might be pretty serious. I don't know how much help he's gonna be."

"Well, then we have a problem."

"How so?" Esposito sat up straighter in his chair.

"So far, Blaine's story is playing out. Collins' hand tested positive for gunshot residue and his fingerprints are all over the weapon we found next to him. We'll need the bullet they fish out of Doyle to see if it matches Collins' gun, but it looks legit up to this point."

Javier slouched once more, still sure he only heard one shot. "Who caught the body at the morgue?"

"Lanie."

Well, that was one piece of good news. If anyone would catch anything odd, it would be Dr. Lanie Parish. "Have her take a good look at the body. I'm telling you, Beckett, I only heard the one shot."

"I believe you, Espo. But we'll need proof before we go accusing a fellow cop of covering up a bad shooting. Besides, this is IA's baby. We still have to solve Heather's murder."

Esposito knew full well that they already had enough to focus on, trying to solve their homicide. But if there was anything the detective couldn't abide, it was a dirty cop. "I hear ya, Beckett. Doyle still may know something on that score, so I'll stick around here until I know something."

"Keep me in the loop, Espo."

"You got it. I'll call you later."

Disconnecting the phone, Javier glanced at the battery life. Still enough juice for some Texas Hold 'Em while he waited.