226 Miles

Chapter 10

Steele and Castle found Ryan and Espo in the conference room pouring over missing person reports. Castle stopped at the murder board to add the new information about the saw and the unique qualities of the plastic sheeting while Steele continued into the room, sat down and filled the boys in on what they now knew, "This plastic sheeting could be a big break for us. Why don't you two see what you can dig up about possible points of sale in the area, where this stuff is manufactured and who buys it?"

"Got it," Kevin responded rising from his seat; grateful to finally have something useful to do.

Ryan and Esposito were headed out as Castle entered the room, "Leaving so soon?" Castle eyed the stack of reports that still needed to be reviewed.

"Going on a plastic sheeting scavenger hunt," Javi gave Castle a half smirk knowing what he was thinking.

Kevin stopped in the doorway, "See what I have to put up with, Steele?"

Javi shoved Kevin in the back hard enough to get him through the door. Steele smiled after them, "Those two are something else."

Steele's smile elicited a grin from Castle as he reached for the next file in the stack, "They're good guys; saved my life more than once."

The room went silent; Castle sank into the report. Moments later; he was distracted by emotion that wasn't his, his attention was attracted to Steele.

The brunt of the memory was staggering, gushing from the deepest regions of her mind. The violence of the concussion had knocked her back and from her feet; stunned her; momentarily delaying a response. Screams had roused her from the suspended state; propelling her toward the hellish scene; managing to seize hold of one, but not the other.

When Castle's eyes finally trapped hers, Steele's face had become a haze of what he could only describe as despair, "Morgan, are you okay?" He reached for her hand. It was resting on the table; balled into a fist; clenched and frozen.

Forcing herself free of the catastrophic memory that had abducted her consciousness, Steele's despondency over whatever had taken her in that moment was almost corporeal, "No, not yet anyway."

Castle could sense that Steele's story was at the surface; it was tragic; had changed her; was still changing her, "Stories are kind of my thing; if you ever want to talk about it." He reigned in his impulse to push for more; a hard learned lesson.

Steele relaxed as she gained some distance from this most recent encounter with the turn of events that had led her to New York; the 12th; to be sitting across from Richard Castle. The look on her face, his answer; she was clearly not ready.

Steele had been unaware of Castle's hand covering hers until that moment. She relaxed her fist; he gripped her fingers.

In a moment of maturity, surprising even himself, Castle decided to do something that he didn't normally do; leave whatever this was alone, "When you're ready; I'm can be pretty good listener."

Steele's response was to slide her hand free from his; a weak smile of gratitude, "Thanks Castle, but my story isn't ending up in one of your books."

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Dagget had been right; the meeting had gone on the rest of the day. In fact, lunch had been brought in so everything on the agenda would get covered. Luckily for Beckett, Senator Bracken had only stayed a short time; after having spun his propaganda regarding the operation, his continued presence served no real value or purpose. Kate counted the interaction as a win; she had managed to avoid both eye contact and having to engage in any conversation with him; polite or otherwise.

Bracken was a known entity to Kate and a malevolent one. Confirmation of his involvement came as no surprise. She was dealing with a man who didn't operate within the confines of any legal or moral code. She knew that Bracken found boundaries troublesome; provisional; open to being moved or eradicated all together. Inexorable proof of that had been left in an alley; years before; creating a repugnant bond that would remain until one of them was dead.

It was well after six when the group broke up for the night and Gellar addressed Kate directly, "Beckett, would you stay behind for a moment?"

Kate nodded at Emily; remaining in her seat until they were alone, "What's up?"

Emily's countenance was rigid; eyes difficult to read, but not because she was purposefully being misleading. She pulled a manila folder from the bottom of the stack of files she had been working from all day, "Before I give you this, I want you to really think about it; what it will mean if you take it."

Kate's eyes cut to the name at the top of the folder; Detective Morgan Steele. Her eyes flickered back to Emily, "Information is power, right?"

"And with power comes responsibility. This wasn't easy to get. You understand that I shouldn't have this; neither should you," Emily had cashed in a marker she had been holding on to for a long time to get this file.

Kate didn't think Emily was fishing for gratitude, but was trying to make a point, "Once you take this, you're not the same person you were when you arrived for work this morning. I've read your file Kate, researched you; profiled you. In the past, you've gone off the reservation for others; but this, this is about you; it's for you."

Kate's attention was equally divided between the file on the table and Emily's warning, "So my motives are a concern here?"

"Motives are always a concern here," Emily was talking about the AG's office.

Kate reached for the file; Emily's hand dropped flat on top of it before she could pick it up, "If you take this file, there's no going back. You can't undo it; you'll know things that you wouldn't have learned any other way and that knowledge will play a definitive role in what you do next. Be sure that it's what you really want; and believe me when I tell you, this route will cost you; it always does." Emily removed her hand from the file; releasing it to Kate's discretion.

Kate filtered through what she had seen and heard from Gellar in the past few minutes finding no ambiguity between words and expression. Kate's hesitation was obvious, but brief. The file disappeared into her notebook; the decision made, another line crossed. Kate thought she saw a look of triumph flash through Emily's gaze, but it was gone so quickly, she couldn't be sure. Kate turned toward the door, looking back with her hand on the knob, "Thank you for this."

Emily was packing the rest of her files into a briefcase, but stopped to answer her, "Don't thank me; not so sure I am doing you any favors by giving it to you." Emily locked the briefcase, "You didn't get that file from me."

Kate nodded, "Understood."

As Emily watched Kate leaving the room, she had a sudden and momentary impulse to try and protect Kate from herself with one last piece of advice, "Kate, there's a saying; let the devil catch you but by a single hair, and you are his forever."

Kate turned back to face her; paused; locking gazes; her intensity instantly spanning the distance between the two women. Having grown weary of Emily's blatant attempts to use intellect to manipulate, Kate fired back with resolve, "Here's a quote for you, Emily. The devil is an optimist if he thinks he can make people worse than they already are."

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Kate's arrival at the townhouse was eerily similar to the one the night before. The house was dark except for the entry way lamp; dark; silent and empty. Dropping her things in the hallway at the base of the stairs and heading for the kitchen, she thought about Castle and the six weeks' worth of nights that he had lived this experience; the end of a long day; a great big empty house; waiting for someone; someone who wasn't coming home anytime soon by choice.

As Kate poured a glass of wine, she thought about the file that was in her bag; a file she shouldn't have; a file that Emily assured her was a Pandora's Box. She had to admit that some of what Emily had warned made sense. There was no way to "unknow" something; and knowing would certainly have an impact on her actions and decisions going forward particularly where they related to Castle. On the contrary, knowledge was power and Kate was finding out quickly that power with all of its sharp edges went hand in hand with doing more.

Kate grabbed her glass, the bottle and when she passed by it in the hallway, her bag. She chose the den which was off to the left side of the stairs for its overstuffed furniture, soothing earthy color scheme, and large open patch of carpet between the coffee table and the fireplace.

To make even more space, Kate shoved the table up against the couch, placed the wine glass and bottle on its end and settled on the floor next to her bag. The wine hit her fast; one glass down already; she refilled it aching for the relaxation it would bring. She had eaten only a small portion of the catered lunch provided during the day's meeting; she had been unable to stomach more following Bracken's self aggrandizing rhetoric and there was nothing about food that appealed to her now.

The file felt heavy in her hand, and it wasn't because it was particularly thick for a seasoned detective on a police force for over ten years. It was the memory it invoked of past situations where a file Kate wasn't supposed to have proved useful; relevant and necessary. Kate stared at the front of the folder; hesitated, took another drink of her wine letting her eyes rest on a photo of her and Castle that sat on an end table directly in her sight line. It was an impulse shot Castle had taken with his phone in Central Park that had turned out beautifully; her head resting on his shoulder; his arm around her waist, her body turned and pressed into his; smiling into the camera; two people incontestably in love. She remembered when it had been taken. It was during her suspension from the precinct; one of those first intense days after their relationship had become intimate and they had actually made it out of bed. She remembered kissing him deeply; catching him off guard; he had almost dropped his phone in the fountain that was visible in the background of the picture. A pulse of emotion tightened her throat and chest; she couldn't figure out how they had gotten from that day to this one.

Kate smiled at the memory in the same moment she folded back the cover of the file. Paper clipped inside the front cover was an 8X10 of Detective Morgan Steele in her blues. Even in uniform, you could tell she was beautiful; blonde hair, blue eyes; symmetrical feminine features. Confirmation that Steele was exactly Castle's type didn't faze Kate; Lanie's concerned call had all but prepared her for that.

The file was organized chronologically from 1992 to the present. Kate read each page of information and then laid it out in front of her on the carpet as if she were organizing information on a murder board. Morgan Steele was a legacy at the MPD. Her father and grandfather had been cops on the same force and had even served eight years concurrently in the same district. She had one brother who was presently a patrol Sergeant in the second district. Steele had multiple commendations and a couple of reprimands for minor procedural infractions. She had received one suspension; the reason given was insubordination and nothing more.

When Kate finally reached the part of the file that would detail Steel's final six months in DC, she took a moment to look over everything she had learned. Morgan Steele had a solid career behind her. She had started just like everyone else on patrol though her ascension through the ranks had been rapid. Steele had spent some time experimenting with vice, robbery and narcotics before landing in homicide where she had remained until a little over a month ago when she abruptly relocated to New York and took the job at the 12th.

From what Kate could tell the precipitating event had actually occurred five months before the move to New York. Dagget hadn't been kidding when he said that Steele had endured a bad fucking day. The report was esoteric in that a clear account of the events was given without going into extensive explanation, but Kate found out more than enough for her concern for Castle to billow beyond the strictly personal ones she had been battling since Lanie's call.

Six months before Detectives Steele, London, Vasquez and Spencer where looking to question a confidential informant they had worked with previously who was known to be an associate of a triple murder suspect they were having trouble locating. Their suspect had used a gas furnace to try and make a hit over a meth deal gone bad look like an accident. The only problem was that he had gotten drunk the same night and run his mouth all over town about what he had done. The CI who was known on the street as Izzy was located after some digging into and rousting of some of his friends. The team was able to track him to a house that had been in foreclosure for several months and had long been abandoned by its ousted owners. After obtaining a warrant, the team had done some recon on the house. As far as they could tell, Izzy was alone there and the two entrances; one in the front and one in the back; offered the only way in or out since the windows were covered with bars. The idea had been for Steele and her partner of four years Jack Spencer to go in the front door while partners Lina Vasquez and Trevor London took the back. They hadn't been expecting trouble; Izzy had never been violent, a little stubborn, but never violent.

The reports went on to detail the events that followed. The plan had been to knock on the front door, give Izzy a chance to come out and then go in and get him. That was exactly how they had extracted him on two previous occasions. That was not how it went this time since as it turned out it wasn't Izzy in the house at all; it was their triple murder suspect.

Jack Spencer had been the senior detective on the warrant and was in charge. For reasons never explained in any report that Kate could find in the file, Spencer changed Steele and Vasquez's assignments. Minutes before they planned to make entry, Spencer ordered Steele to the back of the house to breech with London and Vasquez teamed up with him to take the front. Everything went according to plan until Spencer kicked in the front door.

The explosion was described as enormous by witnesses; some said the foundation to their own home shook with its force. Others spoke of searing red and blue flames that mushroomed out the front door igniting the remnants of the roof that had collapsed on the front porch like kindling for a campfire. Everyone agreed the officers never had a chance.

The after incident reports filled out by Steele and London detailed their actions following the explosion. London who had only been with the detective team four months had followed Steele to the front of the house where the devastation he found froze him in place. He outlined in his own report that he had been unable to assist his fellow officers due to the intensity of the blaze. His description of how Steele had run into the fire kicking burning debris free from Detective Vasquez and how those actions had enabled her to pull the injured officer from the inferno was the most detailed account in any of the reports. Steele's report never mentioned London after his arrival with her at the front of the house following the explosion.

Kate stared a long time at the picture of Steele's boots. They had apparently melted to her feet causing extensive second degree burns. Vasquez had lived two weeks with third degree burns over 70% of her body before succumbing to infection; Spencer was dead at the scene. Trevor London transferred out of homicide three weeks later.

"Fuck!" Kate jerked herself to her feet. As horrific as the incident was, she found herself more concerned about Castle, Javi and Kevin. The events of what happened that day were here; but the story was not. There was something unspoken; obscured; flat out missing. She knew it for a fact; she had lived it; she had done it. There were incident reports just like these back in New York; ones she had played a pivotal role in fabricating. Though the majority of her dead captain's file was true and a testament to the kind of cop he became, there were actions and events whose omission skewed his story. Montgomery's mistake that killed an agent; the role he had played in kidnappings and extortion; the team's discovery that he had been the third man; the showdown in the hangar; every bit of it true, all of it buried with him at her behest. Kate' decision to bind her team together with lies of omission preserved her captain's legacy, but it had distorted the story; leaving the truth to be found in pieces and reassembled by only those who dared to look closely enough to see beyond the camouflage. It had taught her that when you knew what to look for, camouflage wasn't hard to spot or see through.

That experience is what made the omissions from Steele's file so glaring and obvious leaving Kate with questions that were not going to be answered; at least not here. Though she had the mandatory release from a departmental shrink to return to duty, was Steele really ready to be leading a new team after losing half of her old one only six months before? If she was handling everything well, why did she return to work sixty days after the incident only to quit and take a job in New York three months later? Kate knew why; Morgan Steele was running; running from a past that would follow her wherever she decided to try and hide. It would follow her and take her over when she least expected it; when it was most dangerous; when it could get someone else killed; when it could get Castle killed.

Kate stared for the next hour at her matrix of information. The more she thought about it; the more certain she became. Emily had been right and Kate was loathed to admit it; this had been a mistake. What if the situation was reversed and Morgan Steele was cross legged on the floor of her New York apartment digging through Kate's professional life judging her actions and her fitness to do her job? What if that file actually included everything; what happened with Montgomery, the efforts to track and punish her mother's killer, her interactions with Bracken? Detective Kate Beckett could not be uncovered through a file and she was forced to admit, neither could Detective Morgan Steele.

Kate suddenly began tearing at the timeline that had been constructed from confidential information that should never have fallen into Kate's hands in the first place. She was angry; furious really. She had allowed herself to be seduced by how easy it had been to do the wrong thing by telling herself it had been for the right reasons; an argument that was obviously not foreign to her. She had felt threatened; insecure; afraid and instead of just telling Castle how she felt, she had resorted to this and the only way she could see to make it right was to tell him what she had done.

Kate jammed the file back into her bag. She was returning it to Emily first thing in the morning; not even wanting it in the house. Kate grabbed her cell and trudged toward the stairs. She stopped briefly looking up at them; they seemed steeper than any night before. As she climbed them, her mood continued to disintegrate. Even the thought of the New York trip had been tarnished by her actions. She would have to tell Castle tonight and hope he would understand and forgive her. As she reached the landing at the top of the third floor her thumb hovered over the call button. Kate knew telling him was the right thing to do, but it most certainly wasn't going to be the easiest.

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It's settling deep into her bones, weakening the solid foundation of her belief in them. Her confidence, security, like steel that was forged through fire, solid and unbreakable, becoming brittle and weak when exposed to the cold.

(Follow at castleficlets)

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Quote References:

"Let the devil catch you but by a single hair, and you are his forever."

Ephraim Gotthold

"The devil is an optimist if he thinks he can make people worse than they are."
― Karl Kraus – Austrian Writer