So, I know it's not that many reviews/alerts, but still, having them makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (:

Anyway, here is Part 4 of A Chill Runs Through Her Veins; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

As for the names of the two girls, I found it somewhere (can't remember where) and used them, with the ages they looked on the screen.

P.S. I have planned out the span of this, and it runs throughout most of the series so far, so any characters that crop up, I assure you, they were invented before I started writing, and all have their place (:

Disclaimer: yeah, just for the record, I don't own Castle…

X X X X X

The drive to White Plains was fairly uneventful. It gave Castle time to muse over Beckett's comments and retorts. He wasn't one to jump to conclusions; more like, spell out a million ridiculous scenarios and go from there.

He was startled out of his trance by the car door slamming. Beckett was already out and moving around the vehicle. Castle hastened to join her and, for once, didn't stumble clumsily whilst trying.

There were two young girls in the yard, peering carefully around the side of the house. Beckett would have thought the worst, had an older man, presumably their grandfather, run out from a hiding place, causing them to laugh loudly. A smile tried to make its way onto her face, but she refused it, remembering the severity of their visit.

"Mr. Davidson?"

Slowly, Beckett made her way toward the man and his grandchildren, reaching for her badge inside her jacket pocket.

The man reached over for a cane that was leaning against the house nearby, using it to fight his limp, before turning toward Beckett.

"Yes Ma'am," he said, a confirmation that he was in fact Mr. Ben Davidson, the father of their victim, "that's me."

She held up her badge and recited her name, an introduction that was now almost running on auto-pilot.

"Is there some place we could talk?" she asked, her tone and features softening as her gaze moved between the flustered grandfather and his confused and concerned grandkids.

"Yes, uh…" Mr. Davidson stammered, "Why don't we, uh, why don't we go inside."

He began to walk to the house, turning to the two young girls that remained perplexed.

"Girls, don't play in the street, okay?" he said, receiving a wordless nod from both of them, continuing toward the house, "Grandpa'll be out in a minute."

Beckett gave a look of consolation toward the girls, Simone and Bela she seemed to recall. Simone was the eldest, ten years old, while Bela was eight.

Almost the same age as Johanna, Beckett thought to herself, following Mr. Davidson inside.

The girls watched as their grandfather, the detective and her partner walked inside, before turning to each other.

"Do you think it's about Mommy or Daddy?" Bela asked, her voice hopeful. Simone sighed, and shrugged.

"I don't know," she consoled, "come on, Bela, let's play."

Inside, Beckett and Castle were sitting opposite Mr. and Mrs. Davidson. It was never an easy task to tell of the loss of a loved one, particularly under these circumstances. However, the two seemed unsurprised by the news. But, Beckett knew that just because it was expected, didn't mean it would be any less of a shock.

"I think we've known for a while now," Mrs. Davidson said, her voice shaky, "that Melanie was not going to come home."

Castle's gaze flicked to their hands, which were now desperately holding one another for comfort. He couldn't imagine the situation; being told that your only child, having been missing for five years, was murdered.

Beckett, however difficult this was, had to push through.

"What do you remember about the days leading up to her disappearance?" she asked, her voice calm and understanding.

"Well, uh, we talked to her, a couple of days before," Mr. Davidson began, "well, uh, my wife did, I mean…"

"Everything seemed to be fine," Mrs. Davidson said exasperatedly.

"She didn't indicate in any way that she was leaving?" Detective Beckett enquired.

She was met with shaking heads and a dismayed 'No' from Mrs. Davidson.

"We're aware your daughter had some…issues," Castle stated.

"That had nothing to do with what happened here!" Mr. Davidson snapped angrily.

"How do you know?" Castle pushed, knowing that Melanie Cavanagh's priors were worth something.

Mr. Davidson shook his head, dropping his eyes to collect thoughts before he continued.

"You know, now you sound like the cop who first had the case," he recited irritably, "convinced she'd run away, convinced she was still on drugs –"

"But you didn't think that," Beckett interrupted. She knew there was no use in riling up an interviewee; the emotion compromised their answers. But, she understood Castle's persistence, the victim's history a very pliable lead at this point.

Still, Mr. Davidson took a breath, and calmed enough to continue speaking, his hands clasped around his wife's.

"Melanie…wasn't the greatest of moms," he said quietly, looking at the floor then back to Beckett, "but she loved her kids. She would've never left them."

"What about her husband, Sam?"

Mrs. Davidson let out a small scoff, "He thought it was drugs too."

"You know he waited over a day before he reported her missing?" Mr. Davidson cried.

"She had run off before," Castle reasoned, once again forwarding the significance of her past.

"Look, I'm not gonna sit here and deny that," the older man began, "but if Sam thought our daughter was in trouble, why didn't he report her missing right away?"

Mrs. Davidson could see the antagonism in her husband's posture and words. She raised a hand to his shoulder, hoping he would remain calm. She knew his anger from the way the situation was handled originally, she felt it too.

"Why didn't he call for help?" Mr. Davidson continued, undeterred, "Even if she'd gotten locked up she would have been better off than –"

His wife squeezed his arm and gave an insistent sigh. He was getting riled up, letting his own angst get in the way. It wasn't so uncommon when it came to their daughter's disappearance.

"Ah, what the hell's the difference…" he mused, broken, shaking his head at his feet, "The time to ask these questions was five years ago."

He looked from his feet, to his wife, then back to the Detective opposite him, "But the cop who was on the case then didn't wanna ask them!"

Beckett could see the emotions were running high, and decided to leave it at that. She stood, along with Castle, thanked them for their help and wished them the best. Not that that kind of thing would help, but it reminded them of her intent to catch their daughter's killer.

"Sounds like they were pretty unhappy with original investigation," Castle said on their way back to the car.

"Yeah, well, from where I stand, they had every reason to be," Beckett agreed with a sigh, moving around to the driver's side door. She unlocked the door and stood facing Castle, who was continuing to talk.

"The guy whose case it was," he began, "d'you know him?"

Beckett shook her head, "No, Detective Sloan was before my time."

"He still around?"

"Well, if you count being a Sheriff in Jersey, then yeah," Beckett said, almost laughingly, "he's still around."

Sliding into the car, she glanced at the clock on the dash; 2pm. She took a look at her fuel gauge, and was relieved to see it full, meaning she wouldn't have to stop and get gas on the way back to the city.

She pulled out from the curb, and picked up her cell simultaneously. She was calling ahead to arrange an interview with Sheriff Sloan, but hesitated. Looking at the time, she would have to do it after she'd picked up Johanna.

Hmm, an afternoon of 'I told you so's' to catch a killer? I can handle that, Beckett thought to herself, smiling a little at the thought.

Castle was staring out the window, and didn't notice her musings. Beckett was thankful, otherwise she'd probably have to listen to his ridiculous questions or theories on her personal life.

She called in to Sloan, and arranged to speak with him at a café in Hoboken around 3:30pm. After that, she endured Castle's case-related shoptalk all the way back to the city.

X X X X X

Castle noticed the Detective looking nervously between her watch, her dash clock and the road in front of them. Since they'd hit the city, traffic had ensued.

It's supposed to be quiet, she thought, annoyed.

"You okay?" Castle asked, causing her head to snap to him. She wasn't upset or afraid, more anxious, like she was in a rush.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"You know, Sloan's interview isn't for another half hour," he said, "we have plenty of time."

She nodded. After that, he stopped talking, much to her delight.

Another glance at the clock made her sigh, as she pulled out her phone. She hit a key then called, waiting for the other line to answer.

"Hey, Kate!"

"Hey, Julie, how are you?"

"Ah, not bad, you know!"

Castle heard the woman laugh along with Beckett, before the latter spoke again.

"Understandable!" she said, "Look, I'm on my way back from White Plains, and I thought I'd make it but traffic –"

"You want me to wait with her?"

"Yes, please, if you could."

"Look, Kate, Faye is coming over today, I could just take her with me."

"Thank you, but no," she said, looking to the clock again, "I made a promise and I intend to keep it."

"I'm sure you will. See you soon."

"Thanks Jules, see you in a few."

Beckett ended the call and sighed in relief. The traffic was clearing, and there were only moments away from the East Village.

"Conspiring with the girls are we?" Castle asked, an eyebrow raised and a glint in his eye.

"Just doing my job, Castle," she said, navigating her way through the streets with ease.

"Part of your job is scheming with other women?" he asked disbelievingly, with the hint of a teenage boy in his tone, "Which, and don't take this the wrong way, I find intensely alluring."

"You know, I have other jobs in my life aside from being a Detective," she snapped back, turning a corner sharply. However, this did not distract him the way she thought it might.

"Like what?" he asked excitedly, before clicking in epiphany, "Ooh! Detective by day, hooker by night?"

She shot him a glare, before searching the curb for a parking space. He gave a small laugh, watching her expertly reverse park on the left side of the street.

"But seriously, you live for this job, how could you possibly fit in anything else?" Castle argued, climbing carefully out of the car as she did.

Beckett could see children and parents already littering the sidewalk across the street, and she searched through the crowd as she crossed.

"My other 'job' is a little more…significant," Beckett said, pausing for a moment, then moving quickly along the path.

"How could something be more significant than – why are we at an elementary school?"

Beckett shook her head at her oblivious crime-writer partner, before her thoughts were interrupted.

"Mommy!"

Castle watched as a small, brown-haired girl came running up to the Detective and threw her tiny arms around her. He was a little shocked, and a bit disappointed in himself.

Why didn't I see this one coming? he thought to himself, as he watched Beckett and her mini-me, mesmerized.

"Hey, JoJo," Beckett replied, smiling, before her daughter pushed her away.

"Mom, I told you not to call me that!" she said, stepping back, her arms crossed.

"Oh yeah, she's definitely yours," Castle smirked, causing the young girl's eyes to avert to him.

"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes mimicking those of her mother's in an interrogation.

Beckett laughed and turned away from the two, but keeping them in sight, as she spoke to Jules, leaving her daughter to hassle her tag-along.

"I'm Richard Castle."

"Like the writer?"

"The very same."

There was a pause, in which Little Beckett adjusted her posture. She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes became softer, but she still looked curious.

"And who might you be?" he asked, determined to move past the awkward stage.

"Why are you with my Mom?" she asked defiantly, tilting her head.

"I asked first."

"My question's more important."

"Oh, you're good!"

"Don't change the subject."

Castle was flabbergasted. He was getting outwitted by an elementary school kid!

"I'm doing a bit of research for my new book," he said with a nod, noticing Beckett and her friend – he assumed Jules – looking on in amusement.

"I know you are, but why are you with her now?"

"Oh, we're on a case," he added, understanding the context of her question. Obviously, Beckett had told her about their partnership.

"I'm Johanna, I'm eight," she returned.

"Nice to meet you, Johanna."

"Johanna?"

Her head turned at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Say goodbye to your friends, we have to go," she said, stepping over to where Castle stood, still in shock.

Johanna skipped over to meet her friends, hugging them, giggling and chatting.

"She is definitely your daughter," Castle said, shaking his head before looking to Beckett, who was smiling.

The young girl waved until her friends were around the corner, then turned back to her mother and Castle.

"Come on, Jo," Beckett called, holding out a hand, "let's go."

"Is he coming with us?" she asked, pointing up at the mystery writer.

"Yeah, Castle and I have some work to do so –"

"So where am I going?" Johanna cried, alarmed and looking a little frightened.

Beckett pulled the girl a little closer into her side, "You're coming with us, silly!"

Johanna jumped out excitedly, almost knocking into another couple.

"You mean it!"

Beckett laughed, shook her head, then led her daughter to the car. Johanna was giddy, skipping and humming her way to the dark vehicle.

"Then are we going to your office?" she asked. The prospect of going to work with her mother was exciting; she'd never been, but had met all of her workmates before. Granted, it was probably more the idea of seeing them than actually being allowed to go to the Precinct.

"Yes, yes we are sweetie."

"Will Javi and Kevin be there?" she asked, "And what about Lanie?"

Castle found that Beckett's daughter was just as adorable as the woman he got to work with every day. And, the pout Johanna gave upon discovering Lanie wasn't going to be there was identical to the ones Beckett used, but thought Castle didn't see.

They were now sitting in the car, Johanna buckled in the back, jabbering away excitedly about what she did at school.

"Hey Mr. Castle?" she asked, as they headed west toward New Jersey, "Did you know I've read all of your books?"

"Really?" he asked, intrigued, looking from a blushing Beckett to an excited Johanna, "And which one did you like best?"

"I like Derrick Storm," she said, "but I can't wait to read the one you're gonna write about Mom!"