She pushes the door closed, and unchains it. She pulls the door open, and allows him to step inside. He looks at the scene in her living room. There are papers everywhere. She leads him to the couch. She points.
"Have a seat," she says flatly.
"What is all of this?" he questions.
"A case file," she answers solemnly.
"A case file?" he takes one of the nearby pieces of paper. He looks at the date on the top, "From September eighth, two thousand, and eight?"
"Yes," she confirms, with a nod.
"Why this case? What about this case haunts you? I am assuming that it is unsolved?"
"Yes."
"You have other unsolved cases, what is special about this one?" he wonders looking at her face, and not the papers surrounding them. She sits on the arm of the couch. She looks at the papers, and then she looks at him, before she answers.
"It wasn't my case," she responds, desperately avoiding making eye contact.
"That explains why I couldn't find anything that made sense."
"Excuse me?" she arches an eyebrow.
"I did a search on NYPD cases from the past ten years on this date. I didn't find anything that stood out."
"That's because it wasn't an NYPD case. It wasn't a case that I worked."
"You didn't work on it?"
She shakes he head, "No."
"So whose case was it?"
"New Jersey State Police, and the FBI," she reveals.
"What was the case?"
"It was a missing persons case."
"Missing persons?"
"A little boy," she adds.
"Why does a case involving a little boy from New Jersey, from five years ago, haunt you? Could you have done something to prevent it? Did you know the kid?"
She doesn't make eye contact. He locks eyes on her face, despite the fact that she refuses to look at him. He tries to read her. All he can see is a look of despair on her face. Finally she answers, in a hushed tone, "Yes."
"Yes? To which one?"
"Both," she responds quietly.
"Kate what is going on?"
"September eight two thousand and eight a two year old little boy went missing."
"Are you the one who found him?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"So..." he tries to fill in the details of the story.
"They didn't find him."
"He has been missing for five years?"
She swallows hard, choking back tears, "He went missing on his birthday."
"You knew him?"
"Castle," her voice cracks.
As he scrutinizes her body language, and her facial expression she avoids his glance. She stares at the floor. She wears a look of anguish. He can see that she is on the verge of tears. He realizes that he is having difficulty filling in the details, because it's her story to tell.
"Kate?"
She looks up, she finally makes eye contact. She exhales, and the tears spill from her eyes. They begin to trickle down her cheeks. He carefully collects the papers that lay at rest, between them. He gently places them on the coffee table. He scoots forward, towards her. He reaches out, and takes her hand. He squeezes it, and simply looks at her.
"You can tell me," he says in a quiet, reassuring voice.
"I can't," she shakes her head.
"You can tell me anything," he insists.
"Not this."
"Please," he begs her.
"There are a lot of things that you don't know about me," she reminds him.
"I want to know about this one. Tell me about this one, please."
"His name was Dominick," she begins.
"Dominick?"
"It was his second birthday," she continues.
"Ok."
She turns away from him. She pulls her hand out of his. She vacates her seat. She frantically goes through the piles of papers. She meticulously places them in order, in a neat stack. She places the stack back into the manila folder. She hands the folder to him.
"I can't," she shakes her head, "Just read it."
He takes the folder from her, and she leaves the room. He carefully reads the case file. He looks through the included crime scene photos. At the very back is a picture, of the little boy. He's got dark curls, hazel eyes, and a big smile on his face. Castle closes the file folder, and then gets off the couch. He exits the living room, and heads towards Kate's room. He finds her sitting on the bed, in silence. He stands in the doorway. She looks up at him. He enters the bedroom, and takes a seat next to her on the bed.
"I read the file," he admits.
"So then we don't have to talk about it."
"We still have to talk about it," he disagrees.
"Everything is in that file."
He shakes his head, "No there are a lot of things that aren't in that file."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Anything."
"I don't want to talk about this."
"But you need to," he argues.
"How do you know what I need?!"
"Because I know you, or at least I thought I did."
"I can't do this."
"Kate, please," he begs.
"This was a mistake."
"Please. What I want to know, those things are not in that file."
"It's thirty six pages worth of documents, and twenty four pictures. What more could you want?"
"I want you to tell me about Dominick."