Psycho Killer – Chapter 6

He was worried.

Kate Beckett was a strong woman, probably the strongest woman he had ever met. So her sobbing, pleading tone when she had called him earlier, worried him. Something really unsettling must have happened to cause her to call him like that. From earlier today, he knew that her current case was important to her. But now he was getting the feeling that it was bigger than she had let on. Whatever it was, Castle was determined to stand by her side and help in whichever way he could.

"Hey, here you go," the cute blonde behind the counter said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "That's a large cappuccino for Rick and a large skinny latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla for Kate, right?"

"Perfect," he replied with a nod, flashing her a polite smile. "Thank you very much."

The barista smiled back at him and he retrieved the cups, turned around and maneuvered his way around the people in business and casual attire, all waiting in the queue to order their midday hit of caffeine. The coffee shop was surprisingly full. Thankfully the staff was efficient, otherwise his impromptu decision to stop by on his way to the precinct would have delayed his arrival much longer than he would have liked considering his girlfriend's distress over the phone.

Castle adjusted his hold on the two coffee cups, but paused for a brief second as he reached for the push bar to open the door. Something had caught his attention as he'd walked away from the counter. He tilted his head slightly and scanned the crowded coffee shop. His eyebrows knitted together as he surveyed the seating area.

There was a couple, college age, sipping Frappuccinos and whispering to each other. There was an older woman, probably his mother's age, sipping from her large cup as she read from an opened hardcover novel laid out in front of her. There were a handful of people all staring down at their cellphones. There were at least two students with their laptops, taking advantage of the store's free WiFi. An elderly man was having coffee and chatting with a woman young enough to be his daughter, though was clearly not, judging by the way his hand rested on her thigh. And there was a group of women, middle aged, looking like they were having a monthly book meeting.

Shaking his head, Castle looked away. He could have sworn he had caught a glimpse of someone or something familiar. Having seen nothing to pique his curiosity—or paranoia—he pushed down on the bar and the door opened. It was probably just his imagination. Or paranoia. After all, he had just spent the last hour reviewing what had happened in Istanbul with his mother. He made a mental note to remind himself to discuss it with Kate, as well, but later. Right now, whatever was distressing her came first. With one last wary glance inside the busy coffee shop, he made his departure. Still, even as he stepped out into the sunny sidewalk, Castle couldn't shake off that odd sense of familiarity.

XXX

Damn.

That had been close.

Too close.

He ducked his head back up from behind the laptop, watching with narrowed eyes as Agent Rick Castle walked out of the coffee shop. Out of all the places the man could have stopped to get coffee, he had to choose this one. Shaking his head, Johann Kriedt adjusted the hoodie around his thin frame, pulling the hood up to conceal his features further.

He checked the time on his wristwatch, and sighed—only twenty more minutes until his appointment with Mistress Crimson. Being held captive by the United States government for the past seven months hadn't really provided him with the opportunity to satisfy in any of his favorite indulgences. Besides, after the last couple of weeks, he was in desperate need of a stress reliever that a normal dalliance wouldn't achieve, at least not for him. Thankfully, Mistress Crimson had been able to squeeze him in.

Johann Kriedt shrugged, shivering with anticipation at the mere thought of his favorite BDSM proprietress. And Mistress Crimson was the best. He'd been careful in setting up the appointment, mindful of the last time he'd been caught while visiting one of the dungeons in New York City. This time, he felt confident that neither the FBI nor the CIA would be able to disrupt his fun.

The shrill sound of his phone interrupted his seedy thoughts.

"Yes," he snapped.

"We have a change of plans," came the Knave's voice. "Sorry, Johann, I'm afraid you'll have to cancel your little appointment."

XXX

Kate Beckett was sitting on the edge of her desk when he stepped out of the elevator. Her body was slumped in a defeated fashion, like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. Her gaze was locked on the white board, which was covered in a timeline, notes, and crime scene photos. He recognized the photo of a distinguished African American man in uniform.

It was Roy Montgomery. Kate's former captain.

She had been shot while giving the eulogy at his funeral. Kate had still been recovering, mostly mentally, from the incident when he'd come into her life. He could still vividly remember the vulnerable look in her eyes when she'd first bared her scars to him. He knew that it still haunted her, that she still had nightmares of getting shot and not waking up. He had hoped the worse was behind her, however, considering the emotional state she was now in, it appeared that it wasn't.

Castle sighed as he watched her, hesitating but a moment to collect himself, before stifling away his own worried in favor of hers. His own concerns and frustrations with Operation Looking Glass and what happened in Istanbul would have to wait. At the moment, Kate was the priority. She came first. Her burdens were now his burdens.

As he walked towards her, Castle glanced around the bullpen. It was relatively quiet, and he supposed that had to do with the hour. Most detectives were probably on their lunch break. He eased down beside her, resting his backside against the flat surface of her desk.

"Coffee," he offered in a low, reassuring voice.

Kate blinked her eyes and glanced up at him, smiling softly as she accepted the coffee cup from his proffered hand. "Thank you," she answered in a quiet voice, closing her eyes as she inhaled the rich aroma of her latte. She took a delicate sip, and he watched as her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Even in this state, haunted and dejected, Kate Beckett was an extraordinarily beautiful woman.

Twisting his torso, he reached behind his back and placed his own cup down. "Hey," he spoke in a soft voice to regain her attention.

"Hmm?" she hummed in response, still lost.

"Kate," he said her name, snapping her out of wherever it was she'd gone to inside her head. She looked up at him with large eyes. "You're not in this alone. I'm here."

A soft smile touched her face as she stared up at him, and the clouds that had been covering her eyes receded. "I know," she said, glancing down and reaching for his hand. He accepted, holding her hand tightly in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

Kate canted slightly into his side, releasing a long held breath, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to abate. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, holding onto him like a vice. Castle smiled tightly, watching as she took comfort from his presence, her strength returning to her. Something had happened, and he was dying to know what, but he chose to remained silent and waited her out, let her tell him when she was ready.

"Castle?" she furrowed her brow as she looked up at him. "What time it is?"

"Um…," he twisted their joined hands around to glance at the watch on her wrist. "Just after twelve."

"Oh," she blinked, almost numbly. "I was supposed to meet up with Alexis for lunch, but… I… I don't think—"

"Don't worry about it," Castle assured her, reaching inside his pocket with his free hand and retrieving his phone. He flipped the device open and sent a text message to his daughter. Kate watched his movements with large eyes; the ghost of a smile worked its way across her tired features. He tucked the TCD-74 back inside his pocket and looked back, noticing her expression. "What?"

"Nothing," she smiled a little more, and it did him good to see that it reached her eyes. "It… it's your phone. It's just kind of silly. With all the advanced technology you have at your disposal, you still carry around that old thing."

He made a harrumphing sound, shrugging his shoulders. "If it works, why replace it?" he asked rhetorically. She answered with a smile, leaning further into his side. He tilted his head, brushing a kiss against her temple. She sighed at the touch. "Want to tell me what all this is about?"

She nodded slightly. And then, in a quiet voice, told him. "The man who killed our victim," she gestured towards the white board and the photo with the name 'Orlando Costas' written beneath it in neat tight handwriting.

"Yes?"

Slowly, as if it was painful, Kate raised her free hand and placed it over her chest. "He's the same man who did this," she said, shakily. "No leads for 11 months and now this." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, averting her eyes. "I… I don't know what to do, Castle."

"Hey, it's okay," he attempted to reassure her, squeezing her hand again, and using his free hand to nudge her chin up so that their eyes met. "I'll tell you what you do, you find this bastard and you bring him to justice. Because, Kate, that's what you do. Most people come up against a wall, they give up. Not you. You don't let go. You don't back down. That's what makes you extraordinary."

She stared up into his eyes, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to disagree with him, but then the lingering clouds of doubt parted, and left behind the steely resolve and determination that made Kate Beckett one of the best detectives he'd ever seen. Of course, he'd freely admit that he might be a little bias on that assertion. After all, he was madly in love with the woman.

Kate clutched his hand in hers. "Will you stay and help me?"

"If that is what you want," he said, nodding. "But, Kate… what are we going to tell your colleagues?"

She frowned and glanced down for a moment as she considered the situation. When she looked back up, an amused smile was forming its way across her lips. "They think you're a writer," she pointed out. "So we'll just go with that, say you had some writer's block and needed some inspiration, and I agreed to let you shadow me for the afternoon."

Castle knitted his eyebrows together as he mulled over her suggestion. "Are you sure about that?" he questioned, dubious of the cover story. It somehow didn't ring true to him, especially under the circumstances. "A writer and his muse fighting crime. I mean, doesn't that sound kind of ridiculous."

Kate shrugged. "I think it's romantic."

He grinned. The premise was a little absurd, but crazier things happen all the time. "It would probably make a great TV show."

She hummed in agreement, smiling broadly, the vulnerable and haunted look finally lifting from her eyes. "The best."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. It amazed him that even after all this time apart that initial spark of attraction which he had felt that very first time they'd met was still there, and stronger than ever. They were like the opposite ends of a magnet. Always drawn towards one another.

"If you're talking about the coffee in the break room, then I'd have to disagree," an amused voiced broke through, disturbing their moment.

Kate withdrew her hand from his almost immediately, nonchalantly spreading her palm out against her thigh. Furrowing his brow, Castle arched his neck to glance over his shoulder, seeing a Hispanic man, dressed in a red polo shirt and dark gray cargo pants, a detective's badge hanging around his neck, coming up to stand alongside Beckett's desk. The man looked him up and down with an assessing gaze, before turning his focus to Kate, and quirking up an eyebrow.

"Boyfriend's back?"

"Told you he was real," Kate replied with a triumphant smirk, playfully punching the man in the shoulder with her fist. "You remember Rick, Espo?" she asked, twisting her torso to retrieve her coffee cup and taking another sip of the warm liquid. She flashed Castle an appreciative look as she did so. He smiled, happy to know his coffee run had been a wise decision.

"Of course I do," Esposito held out his hand for Castle. "What's up, writer boy?"

Castle shook the man's hand, narrowing his eyes as the tough guy tried to tighten his grip. If his memory served him right, which it usually did, Esposito was ex-military—Special Forces, to be precise. He'd worked with a few in his day. Good guys. He wasn't yet sure which category Detective Javier Esposito fell under, but if Beckett trusted him, then Castle was inclined to consider him one of the good guys.

"Nothing much," he replied, grinning as he firmed up their handshake, not backing down. Esposito pursed his lips tightly when he realized he wasn't going to get the better of him on that.

Beckett watched their exchange with a bemused expression, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. "Rick's joining us on this one," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone that brokered no argument.

"Yeah," Castle added, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He was still dubious as to the believability of their cover story. "I've hit a bout of writer's block, so Kate offered to let me shadow her for the afternoon."

Esposito raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of them in surprise. "Really?" he frowned, moved around Castle to speak to Beckett, lowering his voice, though still loud enough that Castle could hear. "Beckett, are you sure about that? This isn't a typical case. He could get—"

"It's okay," Beckett declared with a decisive nod, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, Espo. He can be trusted."

"You're the boss," her colleague inclined his head, though Castle was quite certain that the man wasn't entirely convinced. Esposito cast a suspicious glance his way, before returning his attention to Beckett. "So, what's our next move?"

XXX

Beckett had to admit, their cover story for Castle's presence was a little flimsy. They really hadn't had much time to come up with something more plausible, so all she could do was hope that it would hold for as long as possible. Once Ryan arrived with some sandwiches from the deli down the street, they began filling Castle in on everything to do with the case, including some of the information about her shooting and her mother's murder she hadn't yet told him already.

Castle looked thoughtful as he stated at the white board, his keen eyes soaking up all the details. She could see the gears in his mind working. His glanced across the bullpen, towards the captain's office. Gates was standing behind her desk, on the phone.

"Does your captain know all this?"

"No," Esposito answered with a shake of his head.

"And we don't tell her," Beckett spoke up, causing all three men to look at her, each with a different expression. "If she finds out this is a match to my shooting she'll take me off the case."
Castle nodded.

Ryan looked reluctant. "I don't know, Beckett," he offered, looking solemn. "Maybe you should be off this case."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing questioningly.

"They tried to kill you once, Beckett. You keep going on this way…," he paused, glancing up at Esposito for support, but found none. "What's to keep them from trying again?"

Beckett understood his point, and respected him for voicing it when he knew it was going to be an unpopular opinion. "I get you, Ryan, I do," she said, earnest in her gratitude for his forthright honesty. "But what's to stop them now? No," she shook her head. "I've been waiting a year for this and I'll be damned if I let someone else screw this up."

"This Cazadores shot caller you've got locked up in holding," Castle spoke up after a long pause. "You think he's in on it."

Beckett shrugged. "I don't know."

"But he's definitely hiding something," Esposito added.

Castle inclined his head, scratching his jaw. He narrowed his eyes as he thought. Beckett rubbed her hands together as she watched him mull over everything they'd told him about the case. Finally, he looked up, locking eyes with her. "Let me talk with him," he said, then added, more quietly, "alone."

Beckett opened her mouth to protest, but then he gave her a pointed look, reminding her with just his eyes that he was a highly trained CIA operative and could handle himself. Plus, she knew from experience, having witnessed it first hand, that Castle was skilled at interrogating.

"Fine," she agreed.

"Beckett!?" objected Esposito.

She flashed her colleague a heated glare, hoping to silence him, but it didn't work. But we wasn't going to back down. He grabbed her arm, nudging her away from the white board, out of earshot from Ryan and Castle.

"This is insane," he hissed out. "You can't be serious, Beckett. Don't let your feelings cloud your judgment, or I'll be forced to agree with Ryan."

"Rick can handle himself," she fought back. "You have nothing to worry about."

"He's a freaking writer!" Esposito snarled, no longer bothering to keep his voice quiet. "He has no business going into a cell with a thug like Vincente Delgato."

"If I say he can, then he can," insisted Beckett, narrowing her eyes and flaring her nostrils as she stared Esposito down. She stretched her back, rising to her full height, enhanced by her heels.

Esposito held her gaze for longer than she expected, but he eventually cracked. As she knew he would. She felt a little guilty of taking advantage of his loyalty, but right now, she needed answers. And she knew that at the moment, her CIA boyfriend was the one most capable of getting her those answers.

Turning away from the defeated Esposito, Beckett looked towards Castle. "You've got one hour."

XXX

The break room door opened, and Ryan hustled in with Esposito not far behind. The latter shut the door, pausing momentarily to glance back at Beckett, watching as she sat back down at her desk and took a sip of her coffee.

"Hey, Javier," Ryan said, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Man, this just feels wrong. We need to tell Gates."

Esposito turned away from the closed door and walked closer to Ryan, lowing his voice as he spoke. "Why? So she can send Beckett home? You think that's going to work? You think that's going to stop here?" When Ryan shook his head, he continued. "She's going to investigate this case, Kevin, whether she's on it or not. The least we can do is have her back."

Ryan let out a sigh, but inclined his head in reluctant agreement.

"What about her boyfriend?" he asked, after a long silence. "You really think he's a writer?"

Esposito scowled and glanced back out the break room windows at Beckett. "I don't know, bro," he admitted, looking conflicted. "He's got an awfully firm handshake for someone who supposedly sits around all day and writes. And Beckett wouldn't normally divulge so much about a case to just anybody. Something doesn't sit right about that."

"Look, Javi, all because the guy has a firm handshake doesn't mean he's dishonest and up to no good," Ryan said, letting out little chuckle at his partner's paranoia. He stepped over to the counter and grabbed a coffee mug. "Besides, Beckett trusts him. Are you questioning her judgment?"

Esposito grunted out a response at that, clearly displeased with the implications. "No," he grumbled. "But you have to admit, it's damn peculiar. When was the last time Beckett brought in a boyfriend on a case?"

"Um… a year ago, those cases with Demming," Ryan offered.

"Those don't count. Demming's a cop," Esposito dismissed with a wave of his hand. "This Rick Castle guy isn't. Did she ever bring that doctor boyfriend of hers in on any cases?"

"Nope," Ryan answered as he finished pouring himself a cup of coffee. He placed the pot back in its cradle. "But there was that bomb case. He was there to help you guys out of the freezer."

"Yeah, yeah, but did she ask him to stick around and help solve the case? No," Esposito asserted. He turned away, staring back out at Beckett, watching as she stood up from her seat and stepped over to the white board. "This case is different. She's different because of it. All I'm saying is that I think there's more to this Rick Castle than meets the eye. And whether or not Beckett truly knows that guy or not is irrelevant. Love can blind a person, Kevin. You above all people should know that."

"You saying I'm blind when it comes to Jenny?" he asked, a little offended at the notion.

"A little, yes," Esposito smirked. "Would you seriously have drunk that kale smoothie if she hadn't been the one to make it for you? And be honest with me, Honey Milk."

Ryan wanted to disagree, but he closed his mouth. His partner was right. No one else could have made him drink that disgusting smoothie. He'd done it for Jenny, because she wanted him to drink it and because he loved her. "Fine, I concede your point," he said, leaning back against the countertop and taking a sip from his cup of coffee, grimacing at the awful taste. "So, if Castle isn't a writer, who do you think he is?"

Esposito narrowed his eyes as he thought. "I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say a spook, or something like that," he shrugged. "I'd been around enough of them during my days with the special forces to recognize that arrogance."

"He didn't seem arrogant to me," Ryan said, frowning, trying to recall whether or not Beckett's newest boyfriend seemed the pompous, egotistical type. "He seemed quite friendly, if you ask me. And the way he looked at Beckett. Man, I don't think you could fake that look. Now, if we're talking about arrogant boyfriends, I think Beckett's last one would take the cake."

"You're getting off topic, man," Esposito grumbled.

"Look, Javi," Ryan stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder. "I agree there's something… unusual about him. But until we have evidence to the contrary, I'm still inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Fine," Esposito conceded. "Just… keep an eye out."

Ryan nodded, reaching for the door. "I will."

XXX

The metal doors rattled closed behind him, and Castle stared across the cell at the muscly thug. He'd dealt with his kind before. All talk. You gave them a real threat, and they caved… fast. Vincente Delgato glanced up, glaring at him from behind dark eyes and a bull of face. The man's countenance was all bravado, smug and arrogant. He thought the police couldn't touch him. That no one could. But he was wrong. Deadly wrong.

"Who are you?" the man grunted out.

"Just a friend."

Vincente scoffed, giving him a once over. "Not my friend, that's for sure."

Castle smiled, putting on an indifferent expression. "True," he said, stepping closer. "But they've got enough on the drugs and weapons charges to put you away for at least five years. Five years of your life," he said that last bit slowly, almost tauntingly, hoping to get a rise out of him. But the man didn't budge, simply glared back at him with contempt in his eyes. Castle smirked, and casually walked across the cell, sitting down on the bench beside the thug.

Vincente remained still, not at all intimidated.

"What's that worth?" Castle asked in a soft voice, low and threatening. "Look, man, I know you didn't kill Orlando. But he called you and talked to you for two minutes. And you were in that alley." He paused, turning his head to stare directly at him. "Why? That's all they want to know."

Vincente remained quiet and stoic, not moving, refusing to talk.

Castle smirked, leaning back against the brick walls. "Look, I get it. You're not going to rat out anybody. I get that. Hell, I might even respect that. But it doesn't mean I'll accept that. Or that I give a shit about you." He placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder, a not so subtle attempt at intimidation. He was being obvious on purpose, wanting the man to know he was threatening him.

He finally got a response. Vincente looked at him with a hard expression. "You can stop with your threats," he said. "You're as foolish as that lady cop. You can't touch me. You guys have regulations against that sort of thing."

Castle tightened his grip on the man's shoulder, and he watched as the man's face contorted in a grimace, his eyes unable to hide the flash of surprise… and fear. "Oh, that's where you're mistaken, my friend," he hissed out in a low and deadly voice, one he'd used quite often when he'd had these kinds of 'talks' with the various lowlifes he encountered in his line of work. He'd broken them. And he'd break Vincente Delgato. "I'm not with the police."

XXX

Beckett took one last sip of her coffee, before tossing the empty cup into the trashcan alongside her desk. She licked her lips, and sighed, forever grateful to Castle for bringing her a cup of coffee that was made outside of the precinct. The coffee in the break room was atrocious. It tasted like a monkey peed in battery acid. She grimaced at the thought alone, and was just beginning to contemplate making a quick run down to a coffee street down the street when the elevator doors opened on a ding and her boyfriend stepped. From his serious expression, she deduced he'd broken Vincente Delgato and got the thug to talk.

"Castle…," she gasped out when he approached her desk. "You didn't—?" her voice trailed off, unable to complete that question out loud.

"Torture him?" Castle finished for her with a feigned hurt look, placing a hand over his heart. "Really… you wound me, Detective. You think that little of me."

"Castle," she ground out, crossing her arms and giving him one of her glares. "Enough with the dramatics. Just answer the question."

He smirked. "The answer is no," he said, much to her relief. She didn't know why she'd been worried—her morals and ethics, maybe—but it eased her guilt at breaking protocol and letting Castle speak with Vincente alone in holding. "There was no need," he continued. "We just had a good talk. And I just made things really clear to him. That's all. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

She grumbled under her breath, but nodded her head. At least nothing happened that would come back to bite her in the ass. Castle stepped into her personal space, and her breath hitched up. He moved a hand up to brush back some loose strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes, tucking them behind her ear in a shockingly intimate public display of affection. His fingertips skimmed along her cheek as he dropped his hand and sought out hers. She closed her eyes, and exhaled, letting the tension free as their hands intertwined. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, before pulling back when Esposito, followed closely by Ryan, stepped over to join them from where they'd been waiting at their desks.

"You get anything, Writer Boy?" Esposito asked with a teasing smirk and narrowed eyes. Beckett could tell he wasn't completely convinced with their cover story. She just hoped he wouldn't push. Thankfully, at least at the moment, he was putting the case first.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Castle grinned triumphantly, hamming it up for their cover story, much to her annoyance. But she'd take that as long as she got some answers. "Our friend down in holding admitted to speaking with your victim, Orlando Costas, last week on the phone. He said Orlando was looking for money. Vincente offered him a job, but Orlando declined, knowing if he returned to the Cazadores there'd be no leaving this time around. All he wanted was a loan and was hoping Vincente could help him out with that."

"Did he give it to him?" Beckett asked.

"No," Castle shook his head. "Vincente claims Orlando said he had something big coming up and that he was good for it, that if things went the way Orlando was hoping, he'd be able to pay him back in full, and then some."

Esposito raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Did he say what?"

"No, he didn't," Castle frowned. "But, Vincente did cough up to getting another phone call the day of the murder. Orlando was freaking out, desperate, saying it had all gone wrong, talking about how they wanted to kill him."

"Who are they?" Beckett asked, her heart rate picking up with the information they were getting.

"According to Vincente, Orlando didn't say," Castle shrugged. "But he could tell he was scared."

"Why did he call Vincente?" Esposito questioned.

"Protection," Castle said. "Orlando offered to rejoined the Cazadores for protection. So Vincente agreed to a meet up, but by the time he got there Orlando was already dead."

"Did Vincente see anything?"

Castle nodded. "White guy, six foot. That's all he said."

Beckett exchanged a look with Esposito. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

He nodded. "Sounds like this could be someone similar to Lockwood."

"Lockwood?" Castle questioned with a frown.

"I'll explain later," Beckett promised with a quick smile and then walked over to the white board, uncapping the marker and adding the new information.

"If Orlando was having money troubles that required him to seek out an old gang contact for a loan, then there should be some evidence of that," Ryan said. "I'll recheck his financials."

Beckett watched as he dashed back over to his desk.

"They must have been tapping Orlando's phone. That's the only way they got there first," she finished adding the latest details Castle had coaxed out of Vincente Delgato and spun around, brow furrowed. "But how did they know to target Orlando for the job?" She looked to Castle and Esposito. She could tell her boyfriend was thinking, but he wasn't used to investigating like she was. He was a field operative. He had handlers and other people that did the analysis side for him. But she didn't allow that to discount his reasoning skills.

"Because he was desperate for money," Esposito said.

"Possible," Beckett nodded. "But how did they know that? How did they know his background?"

"You said Orlando was in the military, right?" Castle asked, his eyebrows knitting together in thought.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Then maybe that's how they knew him," Castle supplied. "Outside contractors usually look for ex-military. Maybe he was hired by someone he knew."

Beckett bobbed her head. "That's a place to start, yes."

"Yeah, Kate, but whoever's gotten close to that secret is dead," Castle said, concern leaking its away into his features. "I think it's clear that we're in over our heads here."

Her head jerked sharply in Castle's direction, and she stared at him in shock. She couldn't believe he just said that. Beckett had to stop herself from retorting back with a reminder that he was a CIA agent and that he'd been in far hairier situations than this, some of which she'd been involved with and witnessed first hand—escaping from the torturous clutches of a certain South African mercenary came to mind. Instead, she opted for narrowing her eyes and clenching her jaw, growling inwardly with frustration. She knew that as her boyfriend he was worried for her, but she needed him to be Special Agent Rick Castle right now and not her boyfriend.

Esposito let out a light laugh, and glanced towards Castle with a dismissive look. "Speak for yourself, Writer Boy."

Thankfully, before Castle could issue out a reply to that, Ryan approached with a handful of papers. "Orlando's full financials just came in," he explained. "He was underwater and overdrawn, until last week when a wire transfer for ten grand hit his account."

"Let me guess," Beckett smirked ruefully. "Untraceable?"

Ryan nodded.

"So it's a dead end?" Castle asked, and Beckett turned her head back to glare at him, wondering what was up with him. It was like he was hoping they'd run out of leads. He could simply be playing the part of a writer, or he could be serious. At the moment, Beckett couldn't tell which one it was. But before she could call him out on that, Ryan spoke up.

"The deposits are, but the debit withdrawals are not," he said, handing the printouts to Beckett. She took them, and gave them a quick glance.

"Right when the money came in Marisol started using it to pay bills," Esposito put in.

Beckett looked up from the papers. "Wait, if Marisol knew about the money—"

"Then she knew Orlando was up to something," Esposito finished, and the two shared a knowing look.

"She lied to us," Beckett ground out angrily. She hated it when witnesses lied, especially when they were loved ones of the victim. How was she supposed to do a proper investigation when she constantly had people covering up for one another?

Ryan inclined his head. "Not only that, but according to the bank records, she cleaned out the entire account an hour ago."

Beckett scowled, handing the papers back to Ryan. She sidestepped around Esposito and Castle, and reached inside her desk to retrieve her gun. "She's on the run."

She quickly strapped her gun into place, and grabbed her coat. Within seconds she was off for the elevator, with Ryan and Esposito on her tail. But as the doors shut, she couldn't help but notice that Castle had remained behind, still sitting on the edge of her desk. He looked up at her, and offered her a reassuring smile. She bit her lower lip and nodded in understanding. To maintain their cover story he couldn't follow her out into the field. It would raise too many questions. Though she felt confident that if the situation were dire, and not just them going out to pick up a fleeing witness, Castle would be with her, by her side, ready for a fight.

Her last sight of Castle before the elevator doors rattled shut was of him turning away and reaching inside his jacket pocket to retrieve that archaic looking phone he valued so highly.

She wondered who he was calling.