Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Chapter 4

Castle moves out of the Hilton Garden Inn the very next day. He transplants himself and his meagre collection of belongings to a smart little bed & breakfast in Back Cove, about ten minutes walk from Kate's aunt's house. He tells himself he's not stalking her. It's just prettier, more coastal and he doesn't have to try as hard to sleep over the noise of aircraft taking off and landing early in the morning.

After he explained to Libby Perkins that the boys had told him Kate had gone to Portland, though they didn't really know why, and that he had called her father the previous night to find out if Kate knew anyone in Maine, the older woman had nodded sagely before falling strangely quiet. When he asked if Kate was staying with her she went so far as to swerve the question, and when he pushed the issue all he got out of her was that Kate was out working, that she had picked up a casual, seasonal job as a waitress at a nearby restaurant. Castle sat in dumbfounded silence for several minutes chewing over this startling piece of information, trying to decipher what it might mean for her and, consequently, for him, while Aunt Libby calmly sipped her tea beside him.

At length, she placed her cup down carefully on its saucer and turned towards him. "That you came all this way tells me a lot, Mr. Castle. Katie must be important to you."

Castle sat up taller in his chair. "She is. She really is."

"But that my niece left town without telling you why or where she was going also tells me a lot." The woman was as canny and cool-headed as an old school, cold war spy. "And since she's been here, some of her behavior has given me the distinct impression that she doesn't want to be found."

Castle clasped his hands on his knees and leaned forward, trying not to push but finding himself unable to hold back. "What sort of behavior?"

"She changed her name for one thing."

Castle shook his head, as if eliminating water from his ears. "I…I'm sorry. Did you just say that Kate changed her name?"

"Are you hard of hearing, Mr. Castle? Yes, that's what I said."

"Any idea why? I mean, other than that she doesn't want to be found. Did…did she seem scared to you?" His heart was suddenly hammering. "Was she worried that she was being followed? Pursued by someone?"

"Not everything in life is as mysterious as one of your novels, Mr. Castle. No, I think Katie just wants some time for herself. Time to think. I get the distinct impression she may have had her heart broken back in the city," the woman said, regarding him pointedly over the top of her floral teacup.

The mix of sangfroid and clever humor she managed to display in a single glance was masterful. Libby Perkins already had the power to unnerve Castle with no more than a loaded look. She was beginning to remind him more and more of Kate. Though thankfully she had a distinctively looser tongue than her, considerably more reserved, detective niece.

"Did she tell you that?"

Libby had shaken her head. "She plays her cards close to her chest that one. Always has. Even when she hurt herself as a child, she'd hold it in until the pain passed rather than caterwaul as little children have a tendency to do. But I can tell." Libby tapped the side of her nose, sagely.

Castle stared at the rug. "I was a bit of an idiot back in New York."

Libby raised her eyebrows, waiting. "Oh? How so?"

"I started following another cop. Kind of broke our partnership."

"Broke? Or bruised?"

He bravely met Kate's aunt's gaze. "I guess that's the big question."

"No, the big question is what are you going to do about it?"

"Fix it, if I can. If she'll even see me."

"Well, there's nothing I can do about that," Libby said, suddenly standing, signaling that their lunchtime chitchat was over.

"I appreciate everything you've told me so far. And it was great to meet another member of Kate's family."

Libby paused by her chair, her hand falling to Castle's arm. "You seem like a kind man, Mr. Castle. And from what Katie's told me over the last few years, she seems to value having you in her life. Don't mess up a second time. That girl doesn't trust easily."

Castle nodded rapidly. "I'll do my best. I promise."

She had walked him to the front door, where he shook her hand. Just as he was turning away to walk down the front steps, Libby had said, "I hear the seafood's pretty good at Milo's Fish Camp, if you're looking for an early supper. Don't tell Stevie I sent you or I'll never hear the end of it," she added, with a theatrical wink.


Kate is busy filling a heavy pitcher with beer and a second with water and ice when the door opens and the sound of heavy footfalls on the worn wooden boards catches her attention. She mops up a spill, distractedly loading the black rubber tray, always on the move, before she gets a chance to check out the source of the noise. When she does her heart lurches right into her mouth, goose bumps rise all over her bare arms, and her stomach drops to the floor. That her nipples tighten beneath her shirt is the most galling physical effect of all, since she's spent her time in Maine, and even the days before she left home, trying to forget him. She has thrown herself into work, seven days in a row now, made new friends faster than ever before, cleared her head to consider a new future plan, and yet here he suddenly is, undoing all of her hard work in a single alarming heartbeat.

"Hey, Beckett."

His voice is rich as ever, and mostly warm, but there's a note of uncertainty in it that betrays the confident smile he's trying to keep on his face.

"Sorry. You must be mistaken. My name's Perkins. Stevie Perkins," she says, giving him a determined, chin-up, I-dare-you stare.

"Stevie. Right, sorry," he nods, playing along for now if it'll get her to talk to him rather than throwing him out.

She seems disconcerted that he follows her play so easily, that he doesn't seem phased to hear that she's going by another name, doesn't insist on calling her Kate.

"Jesus Christ," she mutters, shaking her head to shrug off whatever's just come over her so that she can carry on working.

"You got a minute?"

"I'm working," she forces out, low and between clenched teeth.

"That's fine. I hear the seafood's good. I'll take a seat at the bar, grab a menu. Just be over here," he says, thumbing towards a high stool near the open window.

Kate closes her eyes for a second, lets out a long, slow breath, and then she hoists her tray of drinks and heads out onto the deck to deal with her real customers, all without ever looking back.

She's gone so long he wonders if she's just up and skipped town. Again. Eventually another girl appears from the kitchen to serve him. She's young, early twenties, Irish with red corkscrew curls and a complexion so white that it glows. Her name is Orla Byrne, he soon learns, and she's over for the summer on a J-1 visa from County Meath, about fifty miles from Dublin, where she's studying psychology with dance. How that works he has no idea, but she's a bubbly, friendly girl, and they're soon chatting up a storm.

"So…the other girl who was here before…" he asks, between sips of cold beer, fishing. "Stevie, I think she said her name was…"

"Oh, aye," Orla grins, while she polishes a glass. "You like her?"

"I…I just wondered if she's on a break or…" Castle flounders, looking around the restaurant for clues as to where Kate might have gone.

"You do like her, so you do." the girl teases, pouring a fresh serving of peanuts into a bowl for Castle, a gesture he guesses means someone likes you round here. "All the guys like Stevie."

Castle feels his blood turn to ice water at Orla's off-hand remark. "All the guys. Right. So this Stevie is…she's popular?"

"Yeah, she just fit right in from day one. Must be a week now. But I feel like I've known her forever."

"Must be fun working with another woman in a place like this," Castle notes, glancing around at the beer brand memorabilia on the walls, the worn leather-topped bar stools, the dented brass rail beneath his feet, and the battered old jukebox in the corner by the restrooms.

"Stevie's great. Deals with the local drunks for me now. So there's never any bother."

Orla is small, pretty and exotic looking for Maine, so it's no surprise to Castle that men would try to hit on her or hassle her a little.

"She looks like she can handle herself," he comments, dying inside as he lies by omission to this sweet girl who's almost the same age as his daughter.

"Yeah, this one time she—" Orla breaks off to beam a wide grin at someone just over Castle's shoulder. "Were your ear's burnin'?" she asks with her lovely Irish lilt, and Castle stiffens, knowing exactly who he'll find if he turns around.

"No," Kate answers easily. "Should they be?"

"We were just talkin'" says Orla, a little shyly.

"About me?"

"Sure. Who else?" she laughs as she blushes. "Mister— I'm sorry I don't right know your name," says Orla, now looking to Castle.

But her eyes widen in surprise when Kate fills in the answer before Castle can.

"This is the famous American mystery novelist, Richard Castle, Orla. He's not usually so shy about introducing himself."

Orla stares at Castle. "You two know each other?"

"After a fashion," Castle admits, watching as Kate goes behind the bar to stand next to her younger coworker. They make an attractive pair. Castle's quite sure the owner's takings must have gone up since he hired them both.

"So…what's the deal? Do you know him or not?" Orla asks Kate this time.

"In a past life, we used to work together. Isn't that right?"

"I don't know about past—"

"You left. End of."

"I didn't leave Ka—Stevie. It was always supposed to be temporary. I thought you knew that."

"Oh, believe me, I did. And now it's over."

Kate takes off her apron and dumps it behind the bar. "I'm taking my break. I'll be out on the back deck if you need me," she tells Orla, before pouring herself a large glass of ice water and disappearing with a thick book under her arm.

Castle sits on in stunned, embarrassed silence for a moment or two before Orla takes pity on him and hands him a second beer. "Well, that was dumb," she says, pushing the bottle towards him.

"Which part?" Castle grumps, swigging from the sweating bottle.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"She's your friend. I probably shouldn't."

"Right. But I got the distinct impression she's your friend too. Maybe even a little more than that."

"You'll make a good barkeep, Orla. Intuitive, know when to listen and—"

"When to shut up," Orla finishes, beating him to it.

Castle slumps a little. "Sorry."

"No worries. Sure, I've heard a lot worse, so I have," she offers with a pleasant smile. "You know where I am if you wanna talk."

"Actually," Castle says, hopping down off his stool, "I think there's someone else I should be talking to." He slaps a twenty on the bar and tells her to keep the change.

"You're a good sort, Mister Castle. Even if your books are a little far fetched," Orla boldly adds with a wink as he leaves.


"Your friend seems nice," Castle opens with when he finds Kate sheltering from the afternoon sun under a large patio umbrella out on the back deck.

"Careful. She's sharper than she looks," Kate replies without lifting her head from the book she has open in front of her.

"Then she must be razor sharp." But his small talk clearly isn't cutting it.

"Castle, what are you doing here?"

"Mind if I sit?"

"Free country."

"What are you reading?" he asks, sliding the book out from under her hands before she can think to hold onto it.

Kate takes a deep breath, fighting a surge of indignation. "Please just answer my question."

Castle's eyes widen a little when he sees the subject matter of what turns out to be a thick legal prep book: The LSAT Logical Reasoning Bible.

"You're studying for the LSATS?" he asks, his blood running even colder.

"I'm thinking about it."

"Wh…why?"

"Because that's what you have to do if you want to go to law school."

"I…I didn't know you'd decided to…"

"It's just one of many avenues I'm exploring," she tells him, snapping the hefty book closed.

"Where would you study? Back in New York?"

"I haven't decided anything yet."

"Yeah, but you must have thought about it."

"I considered re-enrolling at Stanford. But the memories…" She shakes her head. "University of Maine has a good law school. Right here in Portland."

"You…you've thought about leaving New York? Permanently?"

"I've thought about a lot of things, Castle. Only one thing I do know. I can't go on with the status quo."

"But I thought you loved your job?"

"I did…I do."

"Then…what? Why leave?"

She hears approaching footsteps on the deck and closes up tight as a clam. "I can't talk about this now. I have to get back to work."

"Then when? Can we meet later? Have a drink, dinner or something?"

Kate stands, the large book clutched to her chest. "Castle, go home. You shouldn't have come."

Castle stands abruptly too, almost knocking his chair backwards. "Kate, talk to me. Please?"

"It's Stevie," she insists.

"Bullshit. Look…just talk to me. Before you make a big mistake."

The owner of the restaurant suddenly arrives from the end of the small pier, saving Castle from a blast of indignation. He has a bucket of fish guts swinging from one filthy hand. A swarm of squawking seagulls circles overhead. "Stevie? Everything okay? This guy bothering you?" Dan calls out, eyeing Castle with undisguised suspicion.

Kate smiles at her boss as she swats at a fly. "No, Dan. It's fine. He was just leaving."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere until you—"

"Castle, please…don't make a scene," she begs, holding his gaze for the first time today. Just a couple of heartbeats connect them, and then she immediately looks away.

Castle deflates. "Fine. Then I'll come back tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that until you talk to me."

"Suit yourself," Kate mutters, tucking her book under her arm and heading back inside to don her apron.


Thank you for reading.