The precinct was bustling with activity, but even with the additional distraction of the FBI setting up their war room, there was still a pervasive sorrow that seemed to be looming over the entire area. Some of it came from the fact that there was no movement in Montgomery's office – there would be a replacement assigned, but it hadn't happened yet. More of it was from the fact that the other police officers were well aware that they'd lost one of their own and had almost lost yet another the day before. People looked up when Beckett entered with Shaw, both of them holding a cardboard box filled with the items that Beckett had had at her house on her homemade murder board. Now that the investigation was official, there was no reason for it to be at home and not at the precinct.

A few officers and detectives greeted her with questions about how she was and how was Castle doing. More watched her, uncertainly; wanting to greet her but unsure if she was in the mood for any kind of small talk or questions and not wanting to be intrusive if she wasn't. Beckett greeted those who spoke to her and ignored the uncertainty of the others as she walked across the floor with the FBI agent.

"What do we have so far?" Shaw asked her team as she entered the war room and set the box she'd been carrying on the table. Beckett followed suit.

"Not much to go on," one of the agents replied. He brought up an overhead view of the cemetery on the large plasma screen hanging on what had been a bare wall earlier that day. "The shooter was set up here," he pointed to one spot that was behind a medium sized tombstone. "We are waiting for forensics to get back to us with ballistics and the crime scene evidence that they were able to find, but it's not going to be much to go on – unless we get lucky and the shooter used a distinctive or rare kind of weapon. Probably it's a high-powered rifle of some sort. The hospital sent us the slug they pulled from Castle and they're looking at it now."

Shaw nodded.

"Any sign of the shooter coming or going?"

"Yeah. We checked all the tapes from the area and most are accounted for. A couple of witnesses say they saw a white SUV, and we have one coming in about an hour before the funeral and the same rig leaving at a high rate of speed right after Castle was shot."

He brought up an image of a white blur in the street, pushed a few keys on his computer and it cleared up a little until they could make out that it was an SUV.

"Looks like a Tahoe," Beckett said, tilting her head slightly.

"We agree," the agent said. "But we're hoping that our lab guys can clean it up even more and maybe even find us a plate number."

"It'll probably be stolen," Beckett mused.

"Maybe," Shaw agreed. "But you never know. We might get lucky. At least we'll know what we're looking for."

Beckett nodded. Anything was better than nothing. Which was what she had before. She looked over at her desk, and at the empty chair sitting beside it. She already missed having Castle spout off some odd theory – like aliens, or time machines, or even a butler with a grudge. She felt a brief pang, and had to force down the urge to grab her phone and call him and see how he was doing. For one thing, he didn't have his cell as far as she knew. For another, she had things to do here. If something was wrong Esposito would let her know immediately, and she wasn't helping anyone hovering over him or crying on his shoulder.

"Kate?"

Shaw had noticed her distraction, and Beckett started, embarrassed and annoyed with herself for allowing it.

"Sorry. What?"

She gave Beckett a knowing smile that was slightly tinged with sympathy for her wanting to be in one place and held in another by perceived duty.

"We're thinking that we should try to link the parties one more time. You guys managed to figure out that there were three officers involved."

"Castle figured it out," Beckett interrupted.

Shaw wasn't surprised.

"There has to be another connection between those three and whoever ended up blackmailing them. We must be missing something. Let's go over what you brought in and integrate it with what we know so far."

OOOOOOOOO

Alexis and Martha stayed at the hospital until after breakfast. Then the staff shooed them away for a while, telling them firmly that their patient needed to get some rest so that he would heal faster. It was calculated, of course, since there was no way that a visitor could refuse once they invoked the length of healing time, and it worked just as well with Alexis, although she hesitated anyway, thinking that she might be able to just stay in the room and watch her dad sleep.

Castle vetoed that himself, though; telling her that as much as he loved her, the last place she needed to hover was in a hospital room. Her grandmother agreed with him, and with both of them ganging up on her, it wasn't long before she reluctantly agreed – as long as she was allowed back later in the afternoon.

Esposito had already introduced the girl and her grandmother to the FBI agents guarding the door, so he assured them that wasn't going to be a problem. By the time the two of them left for home, Castle was already asleep, worn out by a morning of trying to act fine for his daughter and hiding just how bad his stomach was hurting. Esposito walked with them to the elevator, and assured them that someone would call them if anything changed. Then, once they were gone, he returned to Castle's room to check on him once more, knowing that Beckett was going to ask about him and wanting to be able to tell her the latest. With his laptop and a book on the table that had held his breakfast, the writer had enough to occupy himself if he woke up and there was no one to talk to. Esposito checked the monitors once more, and then turned and left. He had a cop killer to find.

OOOOOOOOOO

Ashley was waiting for them when they pulled up to their apartment. They'd invited him to go with them that morning, but he'd told them he needed to go home and check in with his folks and get changed. Knowing that she needed him, though, he promised Alexis he'd see her as soon as he could, and in keeping with that promise he'd been waiting for them to get home. His reward was a smile that melted his heart to goo, and for that he would have waited for her for a month.

"Did you see him?"

Alexis smiled, and nodded.

"He was awake. And he looked okay."

"He looked wonderful," Martha said, just as relieved as her granddaughter was. She opened the door. "Ashley? Would you like to join us for lunch?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

He followed them into the foyer, and Martha turned to look at him.

"What do you have there?"

The young man looked at the stack of items in his hand; he'd forgotten he even had them.

"Your mail," he said, holding it out. "The mailman gave it to me when it wouldn't fit into the box."

Martha took the stack, looking at it with distaste. She hated the mundane routine of bills and ads. Most of the time fan letters for Richard – and herself (which was a bit rarer) – went to the agents and was sent over in bundles, so there was rarely anything interesting to her in the mail they received.

"What's this?" she asked, more to herself than to the youngsters, since they had both converged on the kitchen and were talking about Alexis' dad. She looked at the large yellow envelope that was addressed to her son in handwriting she didn't recognize. Which meant it wasn't from his agent or publicist. There was no return address, but it was clearly addressed to him. She set the rest of the mail down and hefted the package. Maybe a manuscript? That was entirely possible. And even better, if it was, then it would be something he could look at while he was stuck in bed. Hopefully something interesting to keep him occupied.

She set the envelope down on the stand by the door. They could drop it off when they went to see him that evening.