A/N: Hi all. Sorry for the two week hiatus. My new job has been a little overwhelming, but things are starting to settle down a bit so hopefully I can go back to my regular updates. That said, I won't keep you any longer and I hope you enjoy the new chapter. All the feedback and responses I've recieved for this story as been amazing. Thank you. :')
Oh quick disclaimer: there's a short one lined poem I used in this chapter that isn't mine so I want to credit that author, "Tru Baker"(?). I hope you don't mind that I'm borrowing your beautiful words.
Chapter 11
"Ahaha, what are you two talking about?
Rodgers stood there uncertainly in his kitchen, refrigerator door still open and gaping, like him, at his mother and daughter. Weren't they supposed to be out with their respective friends?
"Dad, what's going on?"
Alexis was the first to break the ice. Instead, Rodgers felt like he just fell into the metaphorical frozen pond instead of staying afloat. Immediately, he glanced at his mother, who gave up any pretense of having kept his secret and wheeled herself to the living area.
"Alexander, I told her everything. You freaked me out when you hung up the phone but let's sit down before we converse further; my ass is killing me from sitting in this uncomfortable wheelchair all afternoon."
Silently, Rodgers closed the refrigerator door and set the bottled water in his hand on the counter before moving over to help his mother to the couch in the living area. After settling her into the single armchair, he took his seat next to his daughter on the couch.
"Oh Dad, please tell me you didn't do anything stupid. It was bad enough you stole that police horse those few years back, but this?"
"Alexis, I didn't do anything!"
"Darling please. We all know you didn't murder anyone, but it doesn't matter what we think. It matters what that dear detective of yours thinks. She is the one investigating this case, isn't she?"
"Yes, Mother, she is," Rodgers replied dejectedly. "But she just caught the guy, or so I heard."
"You don't sound very convinced, Dad."
"Alexander, don't you dare go poking your head where it doesn't belong. It's over now, right? Let it stay that way."
"It just doesn't make any sense. Everything that I know about this case, which is minimal, I promise you, tells me that something doesn't add up. It just seems too easy that for most of their case, they had no leads and were looking into Richard Castle then all of a sudden, some psycho pops up and that's their guy? It's so simple, it's almost cliché."
"Dad, are you just mad that you became the red herring? Come on, even your ego can't be that big."
"Seriously, Alexander. That made about as much sense as Mouse Trap. Ended up playing that about eight times a week for a year—I still have no idea what it's about."
"Grams is right, Dad. You're not making any sense. I think you should just put it to rest. And I would say be careful of Detective Beckett but if she's no longer investigating you, then it should be okay, but please? Just be careful."
Rodgers looked from his daughter sitting adjacent to him to his mother on the armchair perpendicular to their couch. Each had worried eyes that as yet still brimmed with hope and love. They would respect his decision, but it was clear what they hoped he would do. How could he stand to disappoint them?
"Thanks, both of you. I'm sorry for making you all worry."
"Don't sweat it, Dad," Alexis smiled back. "Besides, if I have to bail you out of jail any time in the near future, you're gonna to need to raise my allowance. By a lot."
"Mine too," chimed in Martha, ever astute for a money-making opportunity.
At that, Rodgers pulled both his favorite women into a much needed hug. It's been a long day, physically and emotionally, and to know that he has such support, well, he can't imagine being any luckier. Murder case be damned. His name is cleared; it's water under the bridge. His alter ego is still intact, and his love life is … well, subsisting. He saw no reason to make matters any more difficult on himself or his family by confronting Kate about her case. He may be disappointed as a writer, but maybe sometimes, it is the "butler" who killed the victim—or in this case, the psycho who went on a serial killing spree.
His mother and daughter remained in the living area a little longer, all enjoying a brief moment of peace and calm now that things were settled and out in the open. They chatted about this and that before all called it a night. Alex turned in immediately, walking off towards his bedroom with more peace of mind than when he left it. His daughter and mother on the other hand, while still cautious, gave each other one final look at each other and his retreating form before shrugging off the night and choosing instead to believe in him. They both trusted that Alex would make the right choices, and even if he didn't, they would still stand by him.
Kate came in bright and early the next morning, wanting to wrap up the case sooner rather than later so she could get a jump start on her partial day off. For once, she actually wanted to get out of the precinct earlier than normal, and she found herself completely okay with that thought. She liked Alex and it was about time she owned up to it without feeling guilty about it. She is not a workaholic. Much.
"Hey, Beckett. You're in early."
"You're one to talk, Esposito. Miss Ryan a little much?" she teased back. "I hate to break it to ya, but he isn't in yet."
"Oh ha ha, Beckett," scoffed Esposito as he walked over to the murder board beside her. "Glad this one is over huh? To think it was just some dude with a loose screw."
"Yeah …"
"Hey, you want me to start taking the board down?"
"Naw, it's alright. Leave it up for a little longer while I finish up the paperwork; it'd be nice to have the timeline reference."
"Sure, whatever you say boss. Oh hey, look at what the cat dragged in."
Kate looked up from the board long enough to see Ryan step off the elevator.
"Shut up, Esposito. What are you two doing in so early?" Huh, Ryan must have heard them even being as far away as he was.
"Working hard, unlike a cer—"
At this point, Kate decided to cut in. "Just finishing up the case. Have a good night out with Jenny?"
"I did, Beckett. Thanks for asking." Ryan responded, almost with a tongue sticking out at Esposito.
Kate let Ryan have his moment for a bit before finishing her comment as she walked back to her desk. "Good. Then you won't mind staying a little later today cataloguing all the evidence for these three cases."
Even without turning, she could tell Ryan's jaw probably went a little slack while Esposito smirked back at him. Honestly, she didn't mean to give Ryan a hard time like everyone else seemed to, but he was just such an easy target sometimes. Despite working for homicide and dealing with all the cynicism in the world that comes with the job, Ryan still had such a boyish innocence about him that—if he wasn't such a little brother to her—she would call cute.
"I'm teasing, Ryan. No, you both deserve to clock out early today given all your hard work on this case. So let's get this paperwork done and get outta here, eh?"
"Yes Boss," and "You got it, Beckett," sounded back at her as she settled into her desk and pulled up all the papers she needed to get this job over with as soon as possible. She had a lunch date waiting for her.
Alex felt a little uneasy, riding in the elevator full of cops getting off and entering with each floor that he ascended. He had to constantly remind himself that the case was over and even if it wasn't, he promised his family he wouldn't get himself involved. But with each floor he climbed, his claustrophobia only heightened until he managed to stumble his way out onto the open bullpen that some assistant down in the lobby had told him would be home to his Detective Beckett.
Though uniforms and those in plain clothes milled about all over this floor too, the open space eased his heart rate a bit. It wasn't until he saw Kate sitting sublimely at her desk, diligently focused on her work, that his heart completely stopped. It never ceased to amaze him, regardless of how many times he saw her, how stunningly she arrested him. Though there aren't many windows where her desk is, in the middle of the office-like floor plan, light still managed to find her and accentuate her sharp jaw while softening her luscious brown locks. The woman was a contradiction but one he relished in solving, with her permission, of course.
Rodgers must have stood there for some time or breathed too loudly somehow, by the exit/entrance of the elevator, but regardless of what alerted him to her, he found himself now staring into the eyes of his detective, instead of her back. And the minute their eyes made contact, her lips subtly lifted into such a graceful smile that he couldn't help but return the sentiment with a broad grin of his own. From there on, his feet did all the work, and he found himself by her desk without consciously being aware of willing his body forward.
When he set the extra coffee cup he held in his hand on her desk, her eyes demurely dropped as she thanked him with a brush of her fingers against his. His gaze continued to be enthralled by her as she brought the cup up to her lips to sip delicately at the brown elixir. How someone can even sip so bewitchingly from a paper coffee cup is beyond him, but Kate Beckett pulled it off. Oh how I envy the cup of coffee that gets to kiss your sleepy lips awake every cold and bitter morning …
"Ahem, sorry Alex." What? Is she speaking? He should probably be paying attention to the words coming out of her lips, not those said lips, huh? "I'm almost done with the paperwork. Just give me a few more minutes?"
"Oh yeah, sure. Take your time," he smiled back. He would be content to just sit here and watch her work.
"You can pull up a chair if you'd like. I won't take long, I promise." Wow, apparently, Kate Beckett is also a mind reader. No wonder she makes such a great detective.
"No, it's alright. Since you won't be taking long, anyways." Plus, he didn't know where he'd find a chair to pull up next to her desk and some other detectives across the way seems to giving him some very curious looks he's not sure he's comfortable with. There's a Hispanic detective that keeps smirking at him while nudging his partner(?), an Irish looking guy, that's steadfastly gossiping back.
"Ahaha, suit yourself then, Alex."
Seeing as how Kate had already placed her concentration back on her work (probably so she can get away from the prying eyes of her co-workers, not that he's complaining), Alex decided to have a look around the bullpen. It wasn't often that he got to walk into a police station and observe its activities so casually. Who knows, maybe he'll find the need to use something he saw here in his next novel.
And that's when he saw it, this white board with a detailed timeline and pictures strewn about with words/phrases scrawled here and there. He found himself drawn to what must be a murder board, with the captivating photos of what looks to be his murder scenes brought to life. Before he fully reached the board however, his path was blocked by the Hispanic detective he noticed earlier.
"Yo, Beckett. You might want to tell your new boy here not to mess with official police business."
"What-"
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex heard Kate respond, but all that was registering to him were the pictures that came into fuller focus as he stepped closer. Again, that same gut feeling returned as he looked over all the photos on display here. Something isn't right.
"Your details are off on here."
Kate and the Hispanic detective must've been in a deep conversation or something when he interrupted them, because they apparently forgotten about him enough to be surprised when he spoke up.
"I'm sorry, what?" At least the Irish detective was polite enough to follow up with him when Kate and the Hispanic one continued to stare at him. Pretty soon, all three of them began to inch forward as they crowded around him and the murder board.
"Your details. They're off," he continued. "The roses on this girl's body, the one used in Flowers for your Grave? They're grandiflora, not hybrid teas. And this man should be suffocated by a plastic bag, not strangled with a necktie, if you're claiming it to be Hell Hath No Fury. And as for this last one, Death of a Prom Queen? Her dress should've been blue, not yellow."
"What are you talking about, Alex?" During his little speech, Kate must have gravitated towards him even further because now she's standing by his side as they both stare at the murder board.
"I'm just saying, these murders? They don't exactly follow the book. But you said your killer was some psychopath, right? I guess that wouldn't matter."
"Yeah, no, he has Pervasive Developmental Disorder…"
"PDD? For an obsessive, isn't it almost impossible for him not to get the details right?" Oh he's meddling again, isn't he? But he couldn't help it. He knew his books, and if this killer was going to maim his work, the guy should at least do it with some honesty and keep the faith of his novels.
"I—no, you're right, Alex. I don't know what to say. But a Richard Castle fan huh? I wouldn't have pegged you for one," she teased.
"Ahaha, I'm a literature professor. I read all sort of works." Weak, he knew, but maybe Kate wouldn't read into that any further.
"Mhmm." Her noncommittal response seemed to show just that. Her focus now was entirely on the murder board in front of them.
"Naw. No, no no. Don't tell me this amatuer is getting to you. Beckett, really? We just wrapped this case," the Hispanic detective finally spoke up again.
"I know, Esposito but if you think about it, what Alex here is saying makes sense. And since I'm digging holes into our theory—Marvin Fisk first murdered, the guy from the diner, and then he kills Alison, his social worker. And then he kills Kendra Pitney, also from the diner?"
"So?" the Hispanic detective replied.
"So he starts with a murder of convenience, and then escalates to a murder of someone he knows very well and then goes back to a murder of convenience? It doesn't make any sense."
"Where are you going with this, Beckett?" the Irish one seems to catching on a little more quickly but he's still missing the main point.
And since Alex already made it this far, he might as well continue to share his thoughts. "Someone set up your guy—Kyle, was it?—to take the fall!"
The Hispanic detective didn't correct him on the name, only challenged him further. "Okay, smart guy, if it's not him then who was it?"
They were now beyond the point of introduction, Alex and these two detectives who, as he now saw, clearly worked with Kate. But he's on a roll so he just kept speaking as if these were his co-workers as well.
"From what I'm hearing Kate say, you're not looking for a serial killer, you're looking for a good ol' fashioned murderer, someone with motive. If this was a novel plot I was analyzing, the killer would've only wanted one of your victims dead. He would've killed the other ones just to cover up the crime. That's why Kyle is your perfect suspect. At three murders, you don't need to look for motive because mentally unstable serial killers don't have one. Your real killer had to have known both the intended victim and Kyle fairly well."
"Yeah, and the only victim who had any real knowledge of Kyle's obsessive condition would've been Alison Tisdale," Kate continued, almost excitedly. "Alison's the key; she's the one the killer is trying to hide."
"Well as far as we know, she wasn't seeing anyone, and none of her other case files fit the profile." The Hispanic detective was still trying to dissuade their logic from breaking down the case they already seemed to have closed but Alex could tell Kate was resolute. He definitely got to her. There was a determination dancing in her eyes that he had not yet seen, and admittedly, this side of her was hot!
"Well, somebody had to have known something about her." Alex could see that Kate had already changed her mind on the case and given the command her voice was beginning to take, he knew there was no stopping her. "Esposito, I want you to go back and look into Alison again. Go deeper this time and look into her family and history. Ryan, you check back into Richard Castle. He was the last lead we had; maybe he knows something about that letter we considered to be our breaking evidence. Heck, the guy writes murder mysteries for a living; what if he purposely slipped that letter into his fan mail for us to find?"
Both detectives were already returning to their desk, one grumbling a bit more than the other, when Kate turned to Alex and addressed him individually. He could already see the apology in her eyes before she spoke the words.
"Alex, I'm so sorry for doing this again, but I think lunch is going to have to wait, one more time. You were amazing, thank you for all your insights! But that means this case is back open so can I ask for your discretion here?"
Her eyes bore such sincere regret that there was no way he could fault her for wanting to see her work through. Hell, that little bit of rapport they built there while tossing theories back and forth really got his blood going and seeing Kate in her environment, well it was mesmerizing.
"Of course, Kate. I understand." Really, he did. "I guess I best be off then?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll call." Kate was already returning to her desk, leaving Alex with no choice but to walk off towards the elevators. Before he made it even a foot past her desk though, her hand reached out to still him. "Hey Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"You'd make a great detective, if you ever had to quit teaching."
Kate was smiling, and that was probably the nicest compliment he'd ever had. Forget all the book reviews raving about his insight into the human psyche and the finer details of death, this one mattered more, simply because it came from her. He wanted really badly to lean down and brush his lips against hers but with the way her hand was rubbing circles against his wrist, he could tell this was probably the most physical she'd let it get at her place of work. So instead, he settled for taking her hand in his and giving her only what can be described as maybe the most intimate handshake ever.
"Thank you, Kate. I'll be waiting for your call."
And with that he walked off, leaving her to her work. It was only when he exited the elevator in the lobby and he cleared the precinct building that he recalled Kate's instructions to the Irish detective she called Ryan. He had been so caught up in the excitement of the case and all the theory building with Kate that it didn't click in his head immediately how she just asked Ryan to dig back into Richard Castle.
Crap. So much for not prying.
