Chapter 2: The Critic
Richard Castle frightened to make any sudden movements, unearths the nerve to say something. "Whatever it is you want..." he swallows, a hard lump forming in his throat," and then, "I have money. A lot of money."
Castle looks to Kate Beckett, a silent prayer on his lips, but she is looking to the ceiling, eyes cringing in pain.
The figure begins a low chuckle, filling the room in an uncomfortable humour. "Oh my dear Ricky," he says while turning the knife blade against Beckett's throat, "This is not about money. Not even in the slightest."
Growing impatient, Castle adds, "Then what is it that you want."
"Isn't it obvious? I'm crazy, Richard. Crazy to the bone." He leans down to smell the top of Beckett's head, the knife pushing her skin inward slightly. She inhales. "Do normal people hunt down and kidnap detectives? Do they break into buildings of famous writers?" He pauses shaking his head, "Which was all difficult, let me tell you."
When Castle does not answer, the stranger adds, "Tell me Mr. Castle, do normal people go through all this trouble just to have a little fun?"
"My guess would be no," Castle says. He looks to Beckett but she still has not moved. Her body twisted uncomfortably toward her attacker.
The stranger moves behind the chair now, releasing Beckett, the knife calmly pressed against her shoulder, "You must tell me Ricky, how did you like my little present?"
Castle remains silent, unmoving, continuing to search the stranger's face. He does not move toward her. Does not dare to create any difficulties. His back straight, he continues to keep his focus.
"The little red head. Was she accurate enough?"
Castle is lost for words and stares dumbfounded. His calm collected exterior melting away, leaving behind a shaking hand, a wobbly knee. The gift? The little girl died because of him?
"Not impressed with your present, eh Castle. Well maybe this one," he pauses looking down to Beckett, twisting the knife lightly into her shoulder, the light flooding in from the street catching it, "Maybe you'll enjoy this one a little more." He's leaning down, speaking into Beckett's ear. "I know I will." He kisses the side of her face, and Beckett muffles something back.
Castle takes a step toward him, hoping the stranger has not noticed. Beckett's assailant looks up quickly, the knife returning to her throat. Handcuffs are tossed in Castle's direction, falling to the floor in front of him, "Put them on Richard. We don't want any problems."
Finally Beckett looks to Castle. Caution in her eyes. Silent instructions.
Castle puts them on reluctantly, loose, his hands in front of him.
"Do you have a name?" It is Castle's blatant attempt at a normal conversation; an attempt to pull the attention away from the steady knife to her throat.
"You can call me a fan, Richard," he says placing his hands on her shoulders, the knife free from her throat. "I have been following you for quite some time now. Truth is, I miss Derek. But this new Detective, WOW! I think she has something that Derek never did.
"It didn't take me long to find this muse of yours, and you know Castle," he continues, leaning down, pulling Beckett's head back to brush his tongue across her cheek, "to tell you the truth, you did not do her justice, so much more delicious in person" he says while wiping his mouth.
Castle cringes, taking another step forward. The stranger notices and leaves Beckett's side.
"I've read your latest book Richard," his footsteps falling heavy across the floor, eyes dark and wild, blocking the light in the room, casting Castle in shadow.
"And what did you think," Richard says looking at him, eyes wide in the darkness.
He is waving the knife in Castle's direction now. "I'm not impressed. A total lack of detail." He stands a few feet in front of Castle, knife steady, Castle looking down at him, sizing him up, "But where are my manners."
A throaty chuckle and the stranger pulls a chair, offering it to Castle, sliding it across the floor.
Castle is motionless, and stares at the chair. He cannot give into this man. Cannot let him hold all of the cards, and as he looks to Beckett he realizes sadly, that he is without a plan. The stranger holding the entire deck.
"I suggest you sit Mr. Castle," motioning back to Beckett, "I don't think you're going to feel like standing for much longer".
More to come soon... Thanks for reading... loving the feedback... :)
