'Kate.'

'Nuh.'

'Katie-Lou, your cellphone is ringing.'

Pressing a hand to her eyes, Kate went to roll to her stomach and let out a little squeal when she couldn't. She sat up like a zombie in bed; eside her, Castle sat up too, looking at her like her cheese had done slid off her cracker.

'Kate?'

'I can't roll to my belly anymore. That means the baby's getting bigger!'

'Fantastic. Answer the phone.' It took a lot to make Castle's head hurt these days, but a ringing phone going unanswered fairly did it. 'Or can I do it for you?'

'It's Ryan,' she replied after a glance at the caller ID. 'Ryan, what do you want so early?'

'You, on our crime scene.'

'Shit. Where are you?'

'Sixty-Eighth and Fifth.'

'That'll be fun. See you in a few.'

Beckett snapped her phone shut, then looked over at her hubby, fluttered her lashes. 'I could use one of those breakfast burritos you always love to make me.'

'I'll make it two. You want tea to go as well?'

'Nah, I'll make a rookie squirm for me and do a run for the scary pregnant superior officer with a gun.'

'Now, now, we always tell RJ to play nice, do I have to remind you to as well?'

'Don't ruin my fun.'

She made it to the address of the crime scene, grinned when she saw an equally happy-looking Ryan on the sidewalk waiting for her with two Big Gulp thermal cups in his hands.

'Morning Beckett. Thought you could use a little Meredeth pick-up this morning,' he commented with a twinkle in his eye that told Beckett everything she needed to know about his good mood. Deciding not to let it weird her out this morning she simply returned his cheerful expression and sipped her drink.

'You're awfully happy today, Ryan.'

'Great day to be alive. You're looking very...motherly yourself today,' he decided. 'Yeah, that's the word.'

'I couldn't roll onto my stomach in bed this morning, the bump is getting in the way now, aren't you?' she cooed back at her belly as she rubbed it, then put it aside to be a cop as they climbed the stairs of the refurbished Civil War-era brownstone home. 'What do we have here?'

The rookie standing post inside the door had a name tag that read 'Cruz' and she was as green as Carey Parrish-Robbins' left eye, but held strong; once she saw them come in the door, her demeanour softened only slightly.

'Detectives,' she said with a slightly Hispanic accent.

'Officer, give us the bullet.'

'Helena Roland, sixty-five, of this address, was found in her living room with two gunshots.'

'Who called it in?'

'Her neighbour, they were supposed to meet outside on the sidewalk at six-thirty this morning to go to the Korean grocery. When Miz Roland was fifteen minutes late, the neighbour used her emergency key and let herself in.'

Beckett nodded, absorbing it. 'What's the neighbour's name, officer?'

'Umm...'

'These are important details, Officer,' Ryan reminded her, and though there was a small flush creeping up Cruz' collar, she didn't back down.

'I wrote her name down, it's in my notes, but...my partner, my trainer, he says using a notepad is for weak cops who aren't smart enough or who don't give a fuck. His words, not mine,' she added.

'If that were the case, cops would have been replaced with robots. Use your notes officer.'

As if to put Cruz at ease, Beckett pulled out her own scratch-pad with a pen and hovered it to prove Ryan's point. 'What's the name?'

'Francine Brecht,' Cruz recited.

'And who is the ME?'

'Doctor Shane Weaver.'

The dreamy look the uniform got in her eyes as she said the name had Beckett's motherly hackles going up. 'Watch your step, Officer. He's way taken.'

'Damn.'

She laughed, went into the living room crime scene while Ryan stayed behind to get the information on the neighbour from the uniform; sure enough, there was Shane Weaver. A little shudder went down her back as she realized this man was less than a year away from being her son-in-law. Now that was something to get squirmy over, at least if you dwelt on it for too long, Beckett thought, so she didn't.

Moving over, she leaned forward a little over his shoulder as she studied the body of Helena Roland, still in her bathrobe and lying in a pool of blood on her back with eyes wide in a fixed death-stare.

'Morning, Doctor Weaver,' she said, and nearly had to stand up when Shane jumped. 'A little edgy are we?'

'Alexis sits her counseling boards this morning so she can do an advanced therapy practicum in the fall. Yeah, I'm a little wound up.'

'Care to discuss a homicide to occupy your time?'

'Very much so. Miz Roland had her clock punched sometime between eleven and two last night.'

'That's a pretty big window,' Beckett observed.

'And I'll tell you why right now.' Shane used a small silver reaching wand to point to the gun-shot wounds. 'These are made in the gut with a nine-mil, and she didn't move. Ever seen Reservoir Dogs?'

'Of course.'

'This is almost exactly like Mister Orange losing blood over let's say a six-hour window, the body is slowly pumping it out, right? This woman was on blood thinners, ergo, the window is actually shorter than what it could have been.'

'Okay. Any other anomalies I should know of?' Beckett asked, then blinked as she felt the head-rush. 'Oh, damn, baby.'

'Excuse me?' Shane looked at her like she'd sprouted wings.

'No,' she laughed, then rubbed her belly. 'This one is making me a little dizzy.'

'Then sit your preggo-butt down before I sit it down for you and sic my fiancee on you.'

'Noted.'

'So, the neighbour says...' Ryan trailed off as he walked in, saw Beckett looking a little pale. 'Everything all right?'

'Just a head rush, no biggie,' she replied, but for the Irish cop, this was more than enough motivation. He looked around, snapped his fingers at another uniform who apparently was there for decoration. 'Officer.'

'Brennan,' he said with a curt nod. 'Yes sir.'

'Go down the block to Beanie's Coffee Shop, bring back a decaf Earl Grey tea, extra large with triple milk and one sugar. Real sugar, not that fake shit.'

'Yes sir.'

Brennan took the ten Ryan offered with a promise to return the change and was off like a shot; back in the townhouse living room, Ryan put his hand on Beckett's shoulder. 'Are you okay?'

'Ryan, you've got two kids, you know what this is like.'

'And after the shock and stress we've all gone through with Meredeth, we're not taking any chances with you either,' he reminded her. 'You seeing any bright dots or feeling fuzzy at the edge of your vision?'

'No, I have a perfect eyesight to kick your ass if you don't lighten up,' she responded with a snap.

'Hello, hormones,' Shane muttered, packing up his field kit as his assistants came in with the stretcher and black body bag. 'Oh, by the way Detective-'

'What?' Beckett fairly growled at him.

'Just letting you know that Alexis and I are going to take RJ off your hands tomorrow night since it is your anniversary and all.'

'Thank you,' she replied a little more civilly before turning back to Ryan. 'As I was saying.'

'Yeah, yeah, you're a big ol' toughie, just like the rest of our female friends. But right now, it's my job to watch out for you.'

'Just don't...hover, okay? I'm not helpless.'

'Understood.'

Brennan returned a few minutes later with the tea and a few sips into it, Beckett smiled. 'Okay, this does help.'

'There you go.' Ryan's smile was triumphant as he looked around the living room. 'A place like this is going to have an alarm system correct?'

'Yes, sir, Detective.' Brennan cleared his throat when both of them looked at him. 'Cruz and I, the female uniform on the door, we were first responders and the only thing we did was shut off the alarm system so it wouldn't interfere with us calling in the four-twenty.'

'Okay. We'll get your prints for disqualification and you'll need to tell us what time that was so when we track the software use down, we can eliminate you from that as well.'

Beckett sipped her tea, sighed. 'Meanwhile, the bump and I are going to see if we can recreate anything, but from the looks of it, this one is going to be a real puzzler, right baby?'

Brennan opened his mouth to make a comment, but caught Ryan's shake of the head in time. 'Dude, you wanna keep your balls,' he murmured, 'I suggest you don't make fun of her little butterball.'