"Lanie called to confirm that ballistics were a match for the gun found on the scene." Ryan walked up to the murder board, added the information under the crime details. "Victoria Van Houten was definitely killed with her own revolver."

"Anything else?"

"No, she's still waiting on some results; says she'll have an update for you in the morning."

Kate nodded. "Espo?"

"Yo, so we put Dominic DeLuca in with a sketch artist to get an idea of the guy that the victim supposedly had the affair with."

"With whom," Castle said.

Espo's eyebrows knitted. "What's that, bro?"

"It should be, 'the guy with whom she supposedly had an affair'…" His voice withered away at the end of his sentence under the intense glares of the other detectives. "Never mind."

"Anyway…" Esposito pointedly directed his gaze back at Kate. "All we have on the mystery man so far is, and I quote, 'tall guy, blond hair, kinda, what's it called these days, hipster-looking, wears glasses.'"

"Well that narrows it down to about a third of the population of the Lower East Side," Kate muttered, rubbing her temples with the tips of her index fingers. How was there seemingly no momentum with this case? It felt like one step forward, two steps back. And that with everybody from the media down to the Chief of Police seemingly breathing down her neck.

"Dominic DeLuca's alibi seems solid too," Ryan added. "Called his work. They confirmed he got in this morning at seven sharp. He lives and works in Brooklyn, so given the time it'd take on the subway or by car to even get over to Park and 67th, then get back… There's no way he could've killed the victim and be at work by seven a.m."

"Not only that." Vikram appeared behind Ryan, startling the detective so badly that he scrawled a long jagged line across the murder board.

"Dang it, man!" Ryan reached for the sponge, swiping an edge to the blue marker line, trying to avoid erasing any of their collected information. "How do you always sneak up like that?"

"Ninja skills," Vikram stated wryly.

Castle snickered. "Nice."

"Came to let you know that I checked DeLuca's subway card, ran it for travel times," Vikram continued. "He swiped his card at six twenty-eight this morning at Alabama Ave station."

"Which confirms that he was definitely in Brooklyn during our window of death," Ryan concluded.

"Okay, so that pretty much rules out Dominic DeLuca as a suspect," Kate said, while Castle lifted DeLuca's photo off the murder board, moving it from beneath the header for 'suspects' to the 'witnesses' section.

"What about the women you interviewed?"

"Anita Alon, the victim's business partner, dropped her daughter off at daycare around 7 this morning. Daycare confirmed the time. She Uber-ed from their home to the daycare, then straight on to her office because, she stated, she needed to be on time for an early morning meeting. The Uber driver confirmed the driving times and the route, which rules her out as a suspect, too." Again, Castle moved Alon's photo from one side to the other on their board once Esposito had finished his summary of the alibi.

"And as for Claudia Lombard," Ryan consulted his notes, ticking off the salient points. "The check-in system at the yoga studio confirms she got to the studio at six forty-one a.m., and checked out at eight twenty-two. She took her own car to get there, and Vikram located it on traffic cam footage at several points along the route she said she had taken."

Vikram nodded in agreement, Kate wrote down the additional details, and Castle moved Claudia Lombard's photo. As if prompted by some transcendent inaudible voice, they all stepped back as one, eyeing the board.

"So all we have is a husband with a weak alibi, a supposed affair with a mystery man for which there is very little proof of it having happened, and the fact that the husband knew about said affair?" It was less question than statement as Castle summarized her thoughts.

"A crazy, unsubstantiated theory wouldn't be unwelcome, Castle," she needled her husband a little, needing a dose of his out-of-the-box thinking, even if just to get her thoughts redirected along some alternative paths.

"So what if-? No, what about-" Rick leaned against the desk behind him, eyebrows knitted in thought. "Hm, no. I got nothing." He shook his head. "The husband's still the most likely suspect, though that is completely boring and way too predictable."

"Be that as it may," Kate said, "let's bring him in again. Grill him on what he knew about the cheating."

"Will do, boss," Espo nodded. "Not you, though."

"Yeah, don't you have somewhere to be?" Ryan planted himself next to Espo, an eyebrow quirked as he eyed her. What would they do with themselves, she wondered, if they couldn't gang up on her?

"Party with the rich and famous, huh?"

"Oh right!" Kate looked at her watch, surprised by how late they were running.

"Let's go, Castle."

'Like I said, totally whipped,' she heard Espo mutter to Ryan behind her back. It made her smile. If he was whipped, she wouldn't have it any other way.


"Oh, Katherine, you look ravishing!"

Kate felt a blush rise into her cheeks, and smoothed her hands down over the lines of her dark purple dress, skeptically eyeing the way it hugged her hips before it fanned out into flowing folds of airy fabric. "You think so?"

"Absolutely stunning." Martha nodded, stepping closer. She seemed to mull something over for a second, her eyes skimming across Kate's face, and then ran a hand over Kate's hair, and rested her palm against the side of the younger woman's face.

"And don't worry, no one can tell just yet."

"Tell?" Kate's breathing quickened, her hand sliding down over her belly before she could stop herself from the revealing gesture. "You know?"

"A mother always knows," Martha said with a knowing smile. Kate felt her knees go watery, and then Martha seemed to realize what she had said. She grabbed for Kate's hand, cradled it in both her palms. Her skin felt like tissue paper against Kate's, thin and delicate as it stretched over the older woman's bones.

"Oh, I'm so sorry darling, I shouldn't-"

"No, no, Martha please, it's…" Beckett scrambled for the right words, to arrange the tidal wave of conflicting emotions into some semblance of sense.

"It's okay, actually," she said at last, finding it to be true. This woman had welcomed her with enthusiasm and warmth and open arms, had become the closest Kate now had to a mother figure in her life, and Kate was so grateful, valued the unwavering support and her unique wisdom.

"You must miss her terribly, going through this."

"Every second," Kate whispered, blinking against the sheen of tears that was clouding her vision.

"Oh, darling girl," Martha cooed, folding Kate into her arms, and Kate let herself sink into the motherly embrace. She thought back to her earlier conversation with Rick, about no one's days being guaranteed, about living life to the fullest, day by day, and so she hugged his mother tightly, and said,

"I love you, Martha."

"Oh." Martha pulled away, her hands cradling Kate's shoulders as she looked at her with a watery, delighted smile.

"I love you too, Katherine." She swiped at a tear at the corner of her eye, and Kate laughed a little self-consciously, felt herself biting her bottom lip again.

"Now enough of that," Castle's mother declared decisively, hooking her arm around Kate's elbow and dragging her along out of the bedroom.

"Let's get going. Before we completely ruin our makeup."


"But I didn't kill her! I swear!" Luciano DeLuca was leaning forward on the table, palms lying open in supplication. "Why would I kill my wife?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ryan looked over at Espo, shrugged as if the potential motives had only just occurred to him. "Money?!"

"Or, say you started feeling encumbered by a wife and child," Espo started ticking off their theories. "Didn't wanna be a dad; all that responsibility… You wanted your freedom; the life of the successful bachelor actor, the parties, the women…"

"But I loved her!" DeLuca pleaded.

"All that money sure woulda come in handy…" Ryan nodded.

"No! I didn't care about-"

"Or maybe," Detective Esposito turned to stare down DeLuca, "you wanted to punish her. You were so angry at her for cheating on you that you killed her."

"You-" He gasped. "You know about that?"

The detectives nodded. "Question is," Ryan asked, "why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"I didn't think it'd matter," he muttered. "Why blemish her character now that she's dead?"

"Cut the crap, DeLuca. You hid information pertinent to her murder!"

"So what if I did?" He straightened in his chair. "I'm not an idiot. I knew it was gonna put me right on top of your suspect list. Would you even have looked anywhere else? I didn't kill her; so why shouldn't I protect myself?"

Espo stabbed his index finger over the legal pad on the table. "You wanna not be on top of that list? Talk. Who was she having an affair with?"

"I don't know!"

"What did she say when you asked her?"

"I didn't ask." The two detectives just waited, let the silence dangle like Damocles' sword. "Look, all I know is what my brother told me he saw. She didn't know I knew."

"Why didn't you confront her?"

"Because-"

"Because what?"

"Because I didn't want it to be real, okay? Because I wanted to keep what I had. And I wanted-" The man hunched over in his chair, hung his head. "I wanted my baby."

Ryan felt, not for the first time, that he really wanted to believe this man. He couldn't trust it; he had to follow the evidence wherever it led them. It was his job. But he'd wanted to believe in this love story. He was getting sappy. His lovely Jenny, his amazing children, they'd made him sappy.

"Okay. Let's look at the money. You had a lot to gain with your wife's death-"

"No, I didn't," DeLuca interjected, indignant now. "We had a prenup that covered that. Even in the event of her death. I insisted on it when we got married; I didn't want her or her family to have any doubts or questions when she married me."

"And yet in her will, she bequeaths you a substantial amount of funds."

"Those funds weren't for me. We discussed that. It was all money from her trust fund, money she already owned. She did that for the baby. So I'd have sufficient means to raise our child if anything ever-" He swallowed hard.

"Under these circumstances, all the inheritance, all that family fortune eventually goes solely to Sander, her twin brother."


"Oh, darling, what a party!" Castle's mother sailed up to him, champagne glass in hand. "Almost as many people as for my book launch."

"Thank you, Mother." He raised his glass, clinked it to hers. "Supportive as always."

"Yeah, well, I do what I can." She smiled, leaned against his arm for a moment as they sipped champagne, observing the crowd.

The large ballroom sparkled with lights that glinted off the silver and pale blue-grey décor and accent pieces chosen to match the coloring of the High Heat cover art. A large display of his latest book sat in the center where he'd been spending a substantial part of his evening so far, signing books and conversing with publicists, members of the press, book critics, friends, and fans. It was a roaring success: the champagne flowed freely, the hors d'œvres were delicious, the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the positive advance reviews were, so far, outweighing the negative ones.

"Just one more after this," Martha mused, toasting her glass to someone who'd recognized her, smiling at her from a distance.

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"Well isn't the next book the last one of your contract?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You haven't even thought of what might be next, have you?" He shook his head. In fact, he had not. How had it not occurred to him? Was there going to be more of Nikki Heat? Should there be? There was value in knowing when to end a series; in hindsight, he thought he should've ended Derrick Storm about six books earlier than he had. And yet, not writing Nikki… It made his heart ache, a kind of visceral pain lancing through him.

"Oh, Richard. You have perfected the art of procrastination, my boy." His mother patted him on the arm, and, having succeeded in her mission to thoroughly discombobulate his thoughts, she scampered away into the crowd. He stared after her.

"Hey, babe. What's got you so pensive?"

He felt physically relieved by the sudden presence of his wife by his side, the knot under his ribs loosening, unraveling. He shooed away the thoughts.

"It's nothing. Tell you later," he reassured her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her into his side.

"Careful, my cheese!" She held up her plate so it wouldn't spill at the sudden movement. Kate plucked a cube of smoked gouda off her plate stacked high with cheese and grapes, pushed it into her mouth, closed her eyes as she chewed.

"Oh god this is so good," she moaned around her mouthful, and he laughed.

"Cravings?" He stole a cheddar cube off her plate and she glared at him.

"Don't you know it." She nodded, selected another piece of cheese and a purple grape. "At least this is good calcium."

They stood observing the guests for a while, Kate quietly eating next to him. He finished his champagne, placed the glass on an empty tray when a waiter passed by. At one point he noticed Alexis in the crowd, giggling at something her date was saying.

"Hey, is that Officer Hernandez, over there with Alexis?" Kate asked.

"Huh." Castle squinted at the man. "Sure looks like him." His daughter waved when she saw them, and he grinned back. "That's interesting."

"Did you know they knew each other?"

Castle shook his head. "No." He watched them for a few moments, intrigued by this latest development he'd been so unaware of, until Alexis and her date had melted into the crowd of guests, disappearing from his view. Kate swayed against him to the light piano music that filled the room, her arm brushing his while she snacked from her cheese plate.

"Thank you. For the dedication." Kate turned to him, her eyes meeting his, and warmth welled through him at the untainted pride, the heartfelt wonder shining in her gaze. "I love it."

Rick tugged her closer, ran his other hand across her stomach while he thought back to earlier tonight, when he'd observed her open his new book with solemn reverence. The look of awe on her face when she had brushed her index finger across the two lines as she had read his message for her. It reminded him of the first Nikki Heat book party, the first time she had found his awe of her reflected in the lines printed black on white and irrefutable onto that first page. The way she had looked at him then, flushed and flustered. He'd kept the dedication a surprise ever since, never tired of this very moment when he gifted his words to her.

To K. B.

For always and more.