Castle looked at the large brick building of St. Francis and Cross Specialist Center. It looked nicer than regular hospitals, with an open yard of lush green grass surrounding it on all sides except for the limestone driveway lined with azaleas. No one was outside, and it could've passed for a Brownstone manor were it not for the enormous sign declaring it's name, the polished iron bars guarding the thick glass windows.

He whistled. "This is nicer than your apartment."

"If this is what you prefer, I'll remember that next time you invite yourself over," Beckett responded without a beat, unable to hide the smile in her voice. "Maybe we could have date night here."

"You know, if it weren't for the security cameras posted in every room with a double bed, I might actually think about that."

She laughed and elbowed him. "Shut up. And behave, all right?"

"You needn't remind me, detective," he grinned.

"No, no, no, no, Castle! You said you'd stop!"

"I was crossing my fingers."

"Why?!"

"Because it's funny watching you put up with my terrible accent!"

"Stop."

"You're no fun, old chap!"

"Call me old chap again and I will-"

"Can I help you?" a voice asked softly, giggling.

Castle noticed a face behind the frosted glass. Beckett pulled out her badge and held it close to the door. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. This is Richard Castle. Could we speak with who ever's in charge here, please?"

There was a click, and the door unlocked. He opened it for her, a gesture which she thanked him with a smile for, and they strolled inside. The hall was almost totally empty except for a few chairs and houseplants. And all the people. Doctors and therapists and visitors hurried across the room into the next hallway every few seconds. Yet somehow, it was still quiet and felt empty.

An incredibly tall lady stood there in hospital scrubs, her greying hair down to her waist. She spun around, laughing, until she got dizzy and lay down on the linoleum floor. She watched the pair with enormous, frighteningly curious but empty hazel eyes. "Hi. I'm Emmy. That's my nickname, actually. My real name is Emily Durham. But when I played with the little kids, they couldn't say Emily. So they just said Emmy. And so now I'm Emmy."

Castle saw Beckett shoot up and walk to snag a doctor so they could get to business, but he was fascinated. "I see. How old are you?"

"I turned 48 last month," Emmy informed him proudly.

"Wow, that's a big number. Happy birthday."

She said nothing, but continued to look at him with her big, wondering eyes.

"So, uh, have you always gone by Emmy?" Castle asked, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Yeah, just Emmy. Emmy, Emmy, Emmy. I've been here...a real long time. I remember my friends when I was a little girl, they were the ones calling me Emmy," she said in a slightly upbeat monotone.

"Emmy's a really cool nickname to have," Castle told her. "I wish I had a nickname."

"I don't like it," she said after a moment, pouting. "They said it's a stupid nickname for a big girl."

"Who's they?" There was no response. After a moment, Beckett turned to Castle and tossed her head, gesturing for him to follow her.

Castle sat next to her in the conference room, across from Dr. Gardner at the long, shiny oak table. One by one, he took out folder after folder. Castle started jiggling his leg up and down impatiently.

"So, Dr. Eilers, I understand you keep the security tapes of each session between a visitor and patient in the program you have set up," Beckett started.

"Yes, I do," Dr. Eilers nodded. "But these here are notes I made on Mr. Duncan as his psychiatrist. I thought they might be helpful."

"Of course," Castle agreed politely. "But, um, we really do need to see those tapes."

"May I ask the urgency?"

"We are concerned that the woman visiting him has been assisting him in some crimes. There was no photo on her report or security information," Beckett offered.

"Ah, yes, Sylvia Wessmary. You know, that girl was very secretive. Always had these oversize sunglasses on, even when it wasn't sunny. She had a scarf covering up her head top, and a burka, of sorts. Sylvia Wessmary doesn't sound like a very middle-eastern name to me, but I didn't question her about it. They had really bonded, I didn't want to accidentally sabotage their relationship," Dr. Eilers said, pushing his small dark glasses up his nose.

"What did Mr. Duncan do for fun? You know, how he kept occupied?" Castle asked.

"Oh, we have social activities between the patients, but Mr. Duncan was a reserved person. He preferred to stay in his room. In the beginning, he had brought some word puzzle game- I forget what it was. But he ran out, so he started making new ones to amuse himself. He liked puzzles, a lot."

"Could...could we see his old room?" Beckett inquired.

"I'm sorry, no. We're tight on rooms, and so his was passed on to another patient immediately after he left," Dr. Gardner explained regretfully. He snapped his fingers. "Ah, but those security tapes! Right, come with me to the security booth, I'll have Ian burn some extra copies for you folks to take back with you."

They walked down the security booth, a brightly little room with clear images flashing across the multitude of monitors. A young man with square ebony glasses framing bright gray eyes sat in a padded desk chair, studying the screens carefully. He looked up as the metal door swung open, flashing a smile.

"Hey, how can I help you?" he chirped.

"Ian, this is Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle. Would you mind burning Mr. Duncan and Ms. Wessmary's sessions onto a CD for them?" Dr. Eilers requested.

Ian poised his fingers back at the keyboard. "No problem. Date?"

"He's new here," Dr. Eilers mouthed to them. He turned to Ian. "You don't need the date here, son. Just check Mr. Duncan's file and it'll be there."

"Right, right, sorry," Ian laughed, doing as instructed. "My old job wasn't nearly this organized. We had to search the dates and root through everything until we found what we needed." He paused and frowned. "Uh, it isn't here."

Dr. Eilers scowled and pushed Ian aside. "What do you mean it isn't there?!"

"I mean, all the files of his surveillance footage are gone. They must've been deleted," Ian confirmed worriedly. He looked at the dynamic duo. "I'm sorry, about this guys. This room has his file's main database; if it's deleted from here, it's gone."

"He's right," Dr. Eilers sighed, running a hand through his receding hairline. "I don't know how this happened. We'll launch an investigation immediately. Until then, we'll let you know if we find anything."

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"Pretty sure that this Sylvia chick is our rat," Esposito told them.

"That's the thing," Ryan said. "I looked in NYPD records, we have no Sylvia Wessmary here. It's either a false identity or not a cop."

"Well, sure, she was smart enough to create a false identity," Castle agreed. "And Duncan's a tech major; he probably hacked the records and deleted all the video footage."

"So, we have nothing on her," Beckett sighed. "Great."

"We'll find out who she really is," Castle promised her.

"She is the key in solving this case. If we find her, we find Duncan. Finding her identity has to be our top priority," Beckett reminded them.

"We know, Beckett. So chill," Esposito snapped.

Beckett ran a hand through her hair, staring at the ground. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little on edge."

"We need to figure out the murder weapon, too," Ryan piped up. "That could tell us where he is."

"600 volts of electricity, bad ventilation, soot and wheel bearing oil," Castle recited. "Maybe it was the inside of a car, and he shocked her with the car's wires or something."

"It sounds more like the outside of a car," Beckett pointed out. "Near the exhaust pipe, with the soot and wheel oil."

"Yeah, but the ventilation-"

"A parking garage!" Ryan butted in.

"But then wouldn't there be gasoline, too?" Castle corrected. "Besides, it had to be abandoned. New York parking garages are not abandoned in the slightest."

"Why WASN'T there gasoline?" Esposito wondered.

"Maybe whatever the vehicle ran on was electricity," Ryan suggested.

"And that's where he got the voltage to kill her!" Castle cried.

"I don't think that's how it works," Ryan corrected. "What would he have done, poked her with a wire? Those burn marks were all along her back. My guess is she was laying on something that electrocuted her."

Beckett's phone rang. "Beckett."

"Um, Detective Beckett? This is Ian Dummeck from St. Francis's."

"Hi, Ian, how can I help you?" she asked.

"I...I found something in our records. Could I meet with you?" he requested, sounding worried.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Where?" Beckett agreed.

"You can just meet me at the hospital," he suggested.

"Okay. I'll be there." She hung up.

"Who was that?" Castle asked.

"Ian Dummeck from St. Francis and Cross. He wanted to meet with me about something...he sounded pretty on edge. I don't think he wants his boss to know about it," Beckett informed them. "He asked to meet me there."

"Okay, maybe he'll have some new information on it," Ryan said hopefully.

"Yeah, that's the plan. " She pulled on her fleece and headed towards the elevator.

"You know, Dr. Eilers said that Duncan liked to play word games...maybe that can help us find him," Castle offered.

"Word games? How will that help us?" Espo scoffed.

Castle thought for a moment before a look of shock crossed his face. "Becka Terinthetteck."

"What about her?" Ryan asked absently.

Castle ran to the whiteboard and wrote the name down. "Becka Terinthetteck. That name stuck me as familiar." Underneath her name, he slowly wrote a new name, crossing letters out from Becka's name as he went. He turned around with a mask of awe on his face. "Katherine Beckett."

"Anagrams!" Ryan cried. "I used to those all the time!"

"Maybe that's how Sylvia Wessmary chose her name. It's an anagram for her real name!" Esposito concluded.

"Sylvia Wessmary..." Castle thought aloud, closing his eyes. "Let's start with common last names. That's our best shot."

Ryan scribbled down the name on a legal pad. "Sylvia Wessmary..." he thought for a moment, and shrugged. "You can make Williams without the other L."

"Williams...where is that name familiar?" Espo groaned.

Castle's eyes grew wide. He looked at them. "Avery Williams."

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"Hey, Avery," Castle chirped, walking up to her in the breakroom."What's up?"

She looked at him brightly. "Hi, Rick! Nothing much. How's the case going?"

"Oh, I was just thinking, have you ever heard of anagrams?" Rick pretended to ponder.

Her smile dimmed slightly. "Hmm...you know, I don't think I have." She laughed. "Go on, enlighten me!"

"It's wear you switch the letters around in a word to make a new word. And our suspect's name is an anagram for Avery Williams, isn't that funny?" Castle smiled tightly.

"Kind of creepy!" Avery giggled, light brown eyes losing their sparkle.

"Very creepy, Ms. Wessmary," Castle teased.

Avery's smile dropped. "Excuse me?"

"That's your little pseudonym, isn't it, Sylvia?" Esposito confirmed, walking up behind her.

She spun around frantically. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Give it up," Ryan snapped, striding up to her. "We know you're Duncan's spy."

She closed her mouth for a few seconds. "How did you find out?"

"Sylvia Wessmary, Avery Williams," Castle chuckled. "Your anagrams aren't as clever as you think they are, Avery."

"Who hired you?" Esposito demanded.

"Oh, you know who hired me," she smirked. "Two weeks ago, I got a call. It doesn't pay bad, either."

"Where is Mike Duncan?" Castle asked fiercely.

"That I can't tell you."

Ryan strode forward. "Turn around." He handcuffed her. "Avery Williams, you are under arrest for the stalking of Katherine Beckett and Richard Castle, upholding evidence, and assisting a criminal. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you free of charge. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" he recited.

"You bet," Avery grumbled.

They walked her to the interrogation room. In the observation room, Castle pulled out his phone to call Beckett. "You know, I always knew there was something off about her."

"Yeah, she was always too perky," Espo agreed.

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Detective Kate Beckett. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Castle frowned. "She didn't answer. It went straight to voicemail."

"Why is her phone off?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know, bro. Where did she say she was going?"

"To meet Ian Dummeck at-" Castle paused and gasped. "Ian Dummeck..." He looked at the detectives in horror. "Mike Duncan."