Eleven

Richard Castle was in love with a beautiful chestnut-haired woman. He thought about her every moment he was awake and dreamt about her each night. She consumed his every thought. Her name was Patience Thorne.

Not since the beginning of the Derrick Storm series had he been so thrilled with a character. Eight weeks after his first shadow day with Kate Beckett he had developed the full plot for her inaugural novel: Every Rose Has Its Thorne. Though he'd initially thought his first post-Storm novel might be a standalone, the more he thought about the character, the more he realized she deserved much more than just one book.

Castle decided the book would open with Thorne at a crossroads in her life. She just ended things with her boyfriend of five years upon realizing he did not have the motivation (or, quite frankly, the talent) to be anything more than a constantly down on himself "starving" artist. She was beginning a new job in New York City after previously working in Boston. And, for the first time in eight years she is contacted by her older, estranged sister, who disowned her when she decided to become a prosecutor rather than a defense attorney.

The only detail Castle had yet to fully nail down was Thorne's reasoning for becoming a lawyer. Though he had one idea, he was not certain it was the direction he wanted to go in. He'd hoped to find that through his shadows of the lovely ADA, but she remained tight-lipped on her past. Considering she had generously allowed him to shadow her after the six week deadline, he did not want to press the issue too much, but still the curiosity plagued him.

Ever the resourceful writer, he hoped to dive into the details of her roots by calling her parents and setting up a meeting to interview them. His instinct told him she was closer with her father than her mother, so that's where he began. He looked up her father's contact information through New York University (thankfully he was still employed there) and was pleasantly surprised to receive an email back the same day, inviting him to the Beckett home outside the city for a Saturday afternoon interview.


Shortly before two p.m. on the day of the interview, Castle parked his bright red Ferrari outside the Beckett family home in a quaint residential neighborhood. After double checking the address, Castle tucked his sunglasses into the visor and stepped out of the vehicle. The two-story home had yellow siding and a navy blue front door and would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been for the wheelchair ramps wrapping around the side of the home to go in what he assumed was a back door.

He walked up the brick path to the front door and rang the doorbell. He only stood on the porch a moment before a thin, grey-haired man in a wheelchair opened the door. "You must be Richard Castle. Jim Beckett; pleasure to meet you."

Castle shook the man's hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

Kate's father led the way into the sitting room adjoining the front hall. The room was cozy with a floral print sofa and matching chairs on the opposite side of an oak coffee table stacked with books on New York architecture. Jim rolled his chair into the space between the two chairs, and gestured for Castle to sit on the sofa. "I'm sorry, my wife is on a business call right now, but she'll join us when she's done."

"That's alright," Castle said when he sat.

"Katie never told us someone was doing a story on her."

"Well, ah, it's not a story, per say," Castle confessed. Okay, so he had lied a bit in his email to her father, but it was much easier to say "doing a story about" than to explain "using her as an inspiration for my latest novel" in an email. "I'm actually a novelist. You may have heard of my work—Derrick Storm."

Jim nodded. "I think Katie's read those."

Castle smiled softly. "Yes, well, I'm working on a new series about a New York ADA and your daughter has graciously allowed me to shadow her for research."

Jim arched an eyebrow at him. "She…let you do that?"

"Ah…the mayor might have twisted her arm into it…"

He smiled and chuckled lightly. "That sounds more like my Katie."

Slipping his notepad and pen from his pocket, Castle flipped to a blank page and looked at the man across from him. "So did she always want to be a lawyer?"

"Well, we're a law-focused home, as you can imagine," Jim gestured around the room and Castle noted the various law degrees hanging on the walls. "From about the time she could talk Katie always said she wanted to be a lawyer like mommy and daddy. It was almost not even a question, which at times I regretted because I would have been just as happy if she'd chosen another path, but that wasn't for her. She went right from mock trial in high school to pre-law at Stanford. The only time I thought it might change was after my accident. I'm not sure if you-"

Castle shook his head. "Only what I've read in the papers."

Jim lowered his gaze to his lap and nodded. "Ah, yes, well it was a difficult time for all of us. I wasn't sure Katie would continue with her schooling but, for better or worse, it seemed to drive her even more. Ah," he paused when the clicking of heels could be heard and a woman appeared in the doorway. Castle stood immediately and tried his best not to stare at just how much Kate resembled her mother.

"Joanna, this is Richard Castle."

Castle stepped forward and extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you ma'am."

"He's doing research on ADAs for his next novel and he's shadowing Katie," Jim explained.

Castle smiled at her. "You must be very proud."

"Yes, well," Joanna said, smoothing her sweater before taking a seat in the chair beside her husband, "becoming an ADA at her age is certainly an accomplishment." From the way she spoke, he could tell it wasn't an accomplishment she'd want for herself. After flicking her eyes over his frame, Kate's mother asked, "Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Castle?"

"No, I'm fine thank you." He cleared his throat before raising his pen and notepad once more. "One of the first things I noticed about Kate was her drive. Where does she get that from? You, Mrs. Beckett?" He smiled at her, attempting to ooze out his usual levels of charm but it appeared, like her daughter, she was not entirely sold. She eyed him suspiciously, but before she could answer, the front door burst open.

"Hey Dad—Dad! Have you looked outside?! I think there's a Ferrari parked—Castle!" Clad in a long sleeve t-shirt, ankle-length jeans and ballet flats, Kate froze upon the sight of him. He could feel his face flush as his heart rate spiked; this was not good. Kate's eyes narrowed when she demanded, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Kate!" he said quickly, trying to come up with a decent explanation on the fly. Failing, he stammered, "I, ah-"

"You didn't know he was coming here?" her father asked.

Kate folded her arms over her chest, flicking her head and ponytail as she did so. "No. He didn't mention it."

From her tone he could tell he was verging on facing cross-examining Beckett, and that was not a place he wanted to be. Hoping to smooth things over he began, "Well, I was just-"

"Can I talk to you outside for a moment, Castle?"

From the look on her face, he wished they would stay inside so there would be witnesses to his impending murder, but he knew that wasn't an option. Dropping his chin to his chest, he walked into the hall where she held open the front door. He resisted the urge to wince as he passed by her and stepped out on the porch.

A moment later, she stepped out and slammed the door behind them. Folding her arms over her chest once more she hissed, "You had no right, Castle, no right to come here. Without my permission? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he sighed. "I just wanted to ask them some questions about you. You're not the easiest person to get close to, you know that?"

"Oh, and you know that how? From the eight weeks we've known each other? I am so sorry for not telling you my deepest darkest secrets in that time," she added with notable snark.

Shaking his head in frustration, he took a step closer to her. "I'm not looking for deep, dark secrets, Kate. I'm just looking for something—anything. Every time I try to ask you about yourself, all you do is change the subject."

"So naturally you thought I'd be totally fine with you coming and grilling my parents about my life."

"I wasn't grilling," he insisted, "I was just-"

"Leaving," she said for him. "You were just leaving."

He turned to her with pleading eyes. "Kate."

If his stare affected her at all, she didn't let it show. Instead, she opened the door and refused to look at him when she said, "Goodbye, Castle," and slammed it behind her.