Chapter Ten
"Dude," Esposito said. "How did you get her to let you back?"
"It was the lesser of two evils," Castle said. His shoes squeaked on the sterile floor as they ambled through the hallways to the morgue. The strong smell of antiseptic cleaning products used in the vicinity wasn't exactly pleasant, but it did bring old memories of early mornings and late nights to the surface.
"Man. I can't imagine what could have been worse than you coming back," Esposito said.
Castle gave him an insulted look, and Esposito backtracked. "Just that," he started, his voice quieter now. "Well, Beckett, I mean – she was pretty broken up after you left."
"She left," Castle said. "Not me."
"You stopped coming to the precinct though, right?" Esposito said. Well, yeah, he had. He'd never questioned whether or not he should come to the precinct the next day after the final argument. As far as he was concerned, they had broken up, even if it hadn't been expressly said. He couldn't have just turned up at the precinct like that, as if everything was okay. She wouldn't have wanted him to. Surely.
Esposito continued talking in the same breath, blissfully unaware of Castle's internal debate. "Either way, she took it hard. It was like I was looking at a woman from the past. She-" Esposito stopped up short. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this. You probably don't want to hear it."
"No, no, I do," Castle said quickly. "For the books, I mean."
Esposito continued, a little hesitant. "She cut her hair shorter, she didn't smile as much. Little things."
Castle was squeezed with the memory of what he was like after the break up. He had spent several weeks engaging in pure wallowing. The absence of the precinct had left him feeling a complete lack of purpose. He'd missed it. He'd missed groaning in the morning when his alarm went off and trying to navigate rush hour New York traffic. He'd missed gathering around the murder board and exercising his imagination with the wildest of speculations. He'd missed the sense of satisfaction and happiness that he got after a case was closed, knowing that he had helped to achieve some good in the world.
More than that, he'd missed her.
He'd missed her warmth beside him in his bed, making the early mornings more bearable, and the feel of her hand brushing his when they both stretched out to smack off the alarm. He'd missed locking eyes with her and spinning theories together over steaming mugs of coffee. He'd missed coming home with her at night after a tough case, unwinding with a glass of wine on the sofa and falling asleep later to the lullaby of each others breathing, legs entwined beneath the covers.
He'd missed letting himself love her.
They turned then into the morgue, the doors groaning slightly as they were pushed open. A smile spread across Esposito's face when he saw Lanie standing over a body with her back to them, writing into a file. "Chica," he grinned, coming up behind her and giving her a quick kiss on the shoulder, his hand tracing the back of her neck. He laid his other hand gently on her stomach, rubbing it with light, circular motions.
"How are my two girls?" he murmured.
"Hungry," Lanie said. She pulled Esposito's hand, bringing him around to face her. "Javi, I saw the body. Is Beckett okay?" Her concern was clear in her voice.
"She's holding up," Esposito said. "And Bracken wasn't her only surprise today." He made a grand motion towards the door. Lanie turned, and her jaw fell slack.
"Castle?" she said. "What are you doing here?"
"Long story, wait for the bestseller. I didn't know you were pregnant, or I would have brought balloons," Castle babbled. "Congratulations!"
He put a grin on his face, showing his old friends that he was happy for them. But inside, his stomach was twinging. Could Beckett not have thought to at least warn him...
"Thank you," Lanie said, interrupting his discomfort. She smiled at him, but it was curt. Her eyes trailed up and down his body, examining him like he was a body on her autopsy table. She looked like she wouldn't mind too much if he was.
"Perlmutter went on a break about fifteen minutes ago," she told them. "He should be back soon."
"He's back now," Perlmutter said, swinging through the doors. He motioned with an index finger for Esposito to follow him over to the body, rolling his eyes when Castle jogged along too. Lanie joined them, Bracken's body clearly proving to be more interesting than her paperwork.
Castle tried to glance subtly at her stomach. How far along was she? Five, maybe six months? Castle wasn't about to claim he had extensive knowledge in the area, but he did have a certain red-headed ex wife that he'd waited on hand and foot for nine months, and he was willing to hedge his bets that Lanie was at least halfway through her pregnancy.
"Can I help you?" Lanie snapped, making Castle jump. Okay, so maybe his ninja skills needed finer tuning if he was that incapable of doing something subtly.
"If we're all quite ready," Perlmutter said. "I have information I believe you want."
"Shoot," Castle said, motioning for him to begin.
"No, stabbed," Perlmutter said. "Honestly, have you paid attention to anything today other than your detective?"
Castle opened his mouth to protest and shut it when he saw the grins that Lanie and Esposito were trying – and failing – to hide. It seemed that, for the time being at least, silence would be golden.
"Mrs Bracken, thank you for coming down."
Beckett looked out through the shutters of her office, watching as Ryan shook hands with the widow and lead her into the break room. She reached over to her desk to pick up the file case, her eyes lingering on her phone. Really, she should update the mayor, but she'd convinced herself she was holding back because the investigation hadn't fully taken off yet. And that was certainly part of the reason, but she was also waiting because she knew her chances of being permitted to continue supervising this case were slim. If she was in the Mayor's position – if she had a captain whose detectives were investigating the death of a man whose body was poised in the same way the captain's mother was almost twenty years ago - hell would freeze over before she'd allow jurisdiction to remain with them. And then, if a message was found written in the victim's blood, declaring wishes for said Captain's mother to 'live long'? That Captain would be put into an interrogation box faster than Castle could eat a can of whipped cream.
She pulled out the page she had on Bracken's wife. Sheila Bracken. Age 51. Born in Pittsburgh. She was squeaky clean with a complete lack of criminal record, not even so much as a speeding ticket. She'd been cleared of any suspicions of being an asset to murder, claiming blissful ignorance to her husband's private dealings.
Beckett tucked the file under her arm and headed over to the break room. She walked into the room quietly and hovered by the doorway for a moment, surveying the situation. Bracken's wife was seated in a low couch, her black hair twisted into a tight bun visible over the top. Closer to her scalp, hints of silver and grey crept up, like spilt ink slowly oozing across a page. Ryan was seated opposite her, hunched over a notebook as he scribbled quickly, trying to keep up with the woman as she gave her statement for her whereabouts the night before.
"And you only returned to New York today when we contacted you?" Ryan checked.
"Yes," she said, crossing her hands on her lap. "It cut my vacation short."
Ryan's eyes found Beckett's and they exchanged a look. She shut the door behind her then and came forward to shake hands with Mrs Bracken. The older woman stood. What she lacked in stature, she made up with steel posture. She gave Beckett a once over and spoke before Beckett could open her mouth to introduce herself.
"I know you," Mrs Bracken said, holding Beckett's hand in a vice grip. "You were the leading detective in the case against my husband."
Beckett plastered on a smile, resisting the impulse to cringe. That certainly wasn't the best of beginnings. "Yes, I was," she said. "I'm Captain Kate Beckett. I'll be assisting my detectives in the investigation of your husband's homicide. I'm very sorry for your loss."
For a split moment, Sheila Bracken's eyes glazed over. "Kate Beckett," she murmured. Beckett twitched, her hand still locked with the other woman's in a handshake that was far, far too long than necessary. Mrs Bracken came back to reality, immediately dropping Beckett's hand. She wiped her palm on her coat, not even trying for subtly. "Of course," she said, the haughty edge returned to her voice.
"Have a seat," Beckett gestured, as she herself settled down beside Ryan. Mrs Bracken sat down gingerly, sweeping her blood red coat under her. It matched her lipstick, which was smudged on one of her incisors.
"Mrs Bracken, I know this is difficult, but can you think of anyone that would want to hurt your husband?" Beckett asked. When she'd asked Bracken himself the same question five years before when she was assigned to protect him, she felt empowered, on a high from the irony of the situation. Now, asking his widow the same question, she felt foolish.
"Perhaps if you asked me five years ago, I would have had an extensive list to provide you with," Mrs Bracken said. "However, since his departure from the political track, William's old enemies faded away, and he had little opportunity to forge new ones. Obviously," she tacked on.
"About that," Ryan said. "Your husband was under house arrest?"
"Yes," she said.
"Only, we didn't find his ankle tracker on his person," Ryan said.
"I don't know anything about that," Mrs Bracken said. "I told you, I've been away for the past week."
"Was your husband alone in the house often?" Beckett asked.
"Well, I was hardly going to stay chained to him now, was I?" Mrs Bracken retorted.
"With all due respect, ma'am, there's no record of you ever trying to file for divorce after your husband was tried. Could I ask you why that is?"
Mrs Bracken's steely eyes flickered to the blinds, and then back to make contact with Beckett's. "Because if there's anything I've learned, it's that a piece of paper is never enough," she said, her voice softening ever so slightly for a moment before regaining its haughty tone. "I loved my husband, and the vows say for better or worse for a reason."
Her eyes glanced back at the blinds before the door was opened by a middle aged man with a grey suit and receding hairline. "I'm Mrs Bracken's lawyer," he announced.
Beckett stood up to shake his head. "I'm Kate Beckett. I'm the captain of this precinct."
"Brent Adams. Nice meeting you," he said. He spoke as though he was biting down on a lemon. "The next time you have questions for my client, you can speak to me, first. We're leaving, Sheila."
Mrs Bracken was already picking up her bag. "With all due respect, Mr Adams," Beckett said. "My detectives are on a busy schedule, and if contacting your client directly is the most time efficient method of pursuing this investigation, that is exactly what they will do. You're welcome to accompany her to any future interviews, of course."
"My client is in mourning," Mr Adams shot back. "If you harass her, I will sue your department for all it's worth."
"Noted," Beckett said.
Mr Adams nodded and ushered Mrs Bracken out of the room and in the direction of the elevators.
"That was pleasant," Ryan said, once they were out of earshot.
"Oh, yeah," Beckett replied, tucking her few notes into a file and handing it to him.
"What do you want me to do now?" Ryan asked.
"Make sure her alibi checks out and then get in contact with whoever was monitoring Bracken's tracker. I want to know where it is and why there was no alarm sent when Bracken left his house. Or why it wasn't reported if there was."
"You think someone's dirty?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," Beckett sighed.
Ryan nodded. "On it," he said.
As Ryan made his way to the elevator, the doors pinged and slid open. Castle and Esposito emerged, with Esposito waving a file in the air. "Yo, Beckett!" he called. "You wanna see Perlmutter's report?"
As Beckett approached the boys, she noticed a fresh gash on the back of Castle's hand. "What happened?" she asked, taking his hand in hers to look at it.
"I, uh, I tripped Perlmutter while he was holding a scalpel," Castle said sheepishly.
"Too bad you missed it," Esposito joked. "It almost got his face."
Beckett smirked. "You were lucky," she said softly. "It could have gone a lot deeper." She ran a finger along the skin beside the gash. She could feel the tendons in his hand, could feel how soft – oh. She suddenly became aware of how close they were standing, how she was practically stroking his hand. She dropped it quickly and took a step back.
"Show me what you've got, Espo," she said.
Esposito started recounting what Perlmutter had told them. Even as she paid close attention to what he was saying, her hand was tingling with the memory of Castle's skin against hers. She tried crossing her arms, and then shoving her hand in her pocket, but she could still feel him. That was the problem with Castle. He was like a stain that wouldn't wash out, a wound that healed but left a permanent scar.
Would the scar he left on her ever fade?
I know this update has taken forever, and I'm genuinely very, very sorry. Thank you all for staying patient with me! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. One day left until the premiere!