Psycho Killer – Chapter 13

Castle ran down the street at a desperate clip, shoving and bumping his way past the other pedestrians, ignoring their irritated shouts. His entire focus was on getting to Kate Beckett before it was too late. He had excellent recall, a very useful talent for a spy, and from what he'd seen at Kilmer's hotel suite, his former partner had intended to plant explosives throughout Kate's apartment. Castle didn't waste a second to think, spurring into action the second he knew the woman he loved was in danger, and likely was unaware of this.

She wasn't answering her phone. His heart clenched with worry after every unanswered ring. He pumped his legs harder, willing himself to go faster.

He jammed his thumb against the redial button on his flip phone, and brought the device back up to his ear as he listened to it ring. "Please, pick up. Pick up," he mumbled as he maneuvered his way across the intersection. He dug his heels into the sidewalk and pivoted to the left, increasing his speed. "Pick up!"

Just as he was about to hang up and try again, she answered, her voice cheery and happy, pleased, oblivious to the threat to her life. "Hi, Castle," Kate greeted, sounding so much different than she had when she'd stormed out of the precinct earlier that night.

"You're not safe!" he launched in without further preamble, his chest expanded as he heaved in a quick breath, clenching his jaw as he weaved around an elderly couple out for a late evening stroll. "He's always had a backup plan. He's not done. Kate… I think he might've rigged your apartment to explode."

He darted around a corner, and nearly sighed with relief when he saw the shadowed profile of her building. He rushed forward, waiting for her to respond, only to be met with an electronically modified voice, faded and muffled, sounding like it was coming not far from Kate's phone.

"Goodbye, Kate. Goodbye, Kate."

"KATE!" Castle screamed, hooking to the right so he could jog across the street towards her apartment complex, when…

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the entire neighborhood. Castle let out a sharp gasp as he was thrown back against the balustrade of a brownstone across the street. He turned his back to the overwhelming heat, and closed his eyes, swearing loudly as he gripped the railing for support as the shockwave from the blast burst forth, knocking over unsuspecting pedestrians. Castle hissed and spun back around. His heart dropped at the sight before him. The crackle and spit of fire merged with the cries and screams of bystanders caught up in the concussive force of the explosion.

Castle stood on the street corner, gaping in horror as he stared up at the flames billowing out of the apartment windows.

Kate.

Her name echoed throughout his mind with a frantic desperation. Not wanting to waste another second with the gathering gawkers, Castle sped across the street, bursting through the front door of the building. He found Mr. Hostetler, the building manager, stumbling out of his apartment, bushy eyebrows raised in alarm.

Grabbing the older man's arm, Castle drew his focus. "Get everyone out of the building," he instructed. "NOW!"

He was already making his way towards the stairs before Mr. Hostetler could even respond. Castle's heart beat profoundly within his chest, his concern for Kate's wellbeing growing exponentially by the second. He climbed the stairs two at a time. The building alarm had sounded, and Castle had to push his way past other tenants as they rushed to make their escape. The faint sounds of the billowing inferno raging in Beckett's apartment were unmistakable at this point. There was another boom from up above and the whole building seemed to quake. People screamed and started to panic.

Castle snatched up a careening toddler, saving the child from tipping down the stairs and being trampled by the stampede of frantic tenants trying to escape from the building. The little girl screamed, loud and earsplitting, her tears running rivers down her flushed cheeks. He clutched her to his chest, trying to soothe her, all the while the rapid thump of his heart skipped erratically at the delay.

He needed to get to Kate. But he couldn't just abandon this child. Need and duty warred inside him as he struggled to calm the wiggling toddler in his arms.

"Annabeth!" a woman in a lavender night robe shouted, the panic of a terrified parent evident in her voice. She skidded around the second floor landing, rushing towards them. "Oh thank God!"

Castle carefully handed the crying toddler over to her mother, who thanked him profusely with watery eyes. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to get going. She glanced back at him with a confused expression as he gripped the railing and leapt up the stairs. He breathed through his nose, gritting his teeth as he ignored the burn in his legs as he vaulted up the remaining steps. Castle let out a frustrated grunt as he shoved his way through the stairwell door and stumbled into the hallway.

Bouncing off the wall, he used the momentum to propel himself towards Kate's apartment. As he got closer, Castle could see the damage the explosion had inflicted on the surrounding building structure. A support beam had punched through the wall and into the corridor, blocking part of his path. He had to squeeze past it to reach Kate's apartment. Debris littered the floor, and smoke filled the air. Castle shielded his mouth with his arm as he approached her front door.

"Kate!" he shouted, hoping she could hear him over the crackle of fire and the creaking of weakening wood. "Are you in there!? KATE!"

There was no response. Either she was unconscious or deeper inside the apartment. With frantic eyes, he examined the locked door, checking for signs of a potential backdraft. Seeing none, he reared back and lowered his shoulder.

With a low grunt, Castle rammed against the front door, knocking it off its weakened hinges. He let out a surprised noise as the door gave way, toppling down with it as it collapsed. Castle fell into the burning foyer of Beckett's apartment, wincing as his knee hit the floorboards hard. The whoosh of heated air made him pause, and he stood there, momentarily dazed and overwhelmed by the fiery tumult surrounding him. The flickering flames illuminated the apartment in a kind of macabre dance of light. As he delved deeper into the apartment, he almost felt like he was Orpheus traveling into the pits of Hades to rescue Eurydice.

Beckett's apartment was a blackened, burning mess. He could barely recognize her eclectic bohemian décor. Her living room had been torn to shreds by the explosion. The couch they had made love on the other night was in shambles. The ceiling fixtures hung precariously, threatening to fall. Her bookshelf had been toppled over in the blast, chard and ruined books were scattered across the floor. Castle wanted to weep at the image, but he couldn't spare a second's thought of dispensable material. Kate Beckett had to be his priority.

"Kate! Kate!" he swiveled his head around, calling her name, desperately searching for any sign of his girlfriend. He held up a hand to shield his face from the flames licking the top of the ceiling. The creak and groan of the overhead beams weren't reassuring. "Kate!"

And then he heard it, just barely, over the din of flickering and snapping flames. A cough. He jerked his head around wildly, frantic to trace it back to its source. When she coughed again, Castle zeroed in on the direction.

Shoving a singed board out of his path, Castle cried out to her, attempting to reassure her that rescue was on its way. The bathroom door had been blown off its hinges, lying askew across the floor. He kicked it out of the way. Blinking his eyes and holding an arm up to shield his face from the crackling flames along the doorsill, Castle plunged into the smoky air.

The bathroom had faired a little better than the living room, though much of it was still in shambles, and the stack of towels in the corner were on fire. The mirror above the sink was cracked and splintered, a sharp piece dangling off the side. Kate coughed again. Castle pulled his gaze away from his distorted reflection, catching sight of her fingers curling around the lip of the tub. He let out a strangled sound of relief, and rushed for her.

"You're alive. Oh thank—and you're naked!"

She gripped the edge of the tub as she attempted to right herself, giving him an eyeful. "Castle," she croaked out, halfway between a sob and a gasp.

"Here, let me help you," he reached down for her.

Kate accepted his proffered hands with a sigh, and he helped her up to her feet. His eyes skimmed over her naked flesh, covered in soot and grime, noting the purplish bruises from her fight with Kilmer, as well as the new cuts and scrapes that had resulted from the recent explosion. Despite her battered appearance, Castle could not deny his girlfriend was a beautiful woman. He couldn't help but admire the view in spite of the circumstances.

"Rick… I need you to focus. It's not like you haven't seen any of it before," she let out a scratchy chuckle, curling her fingers into his biceps for support as she tried to find her balance.

Castle grinned back at her, pleased to see her sense of humor was still intact. He flashed her a suggestive wink and waggled his eyebrows, delighted when she rewarded him with a slightly less than normal roll of her eyes. He gently guided her out of the tub, one leg at a time. She winced when her bare feet made contact with the debris strewn floor.

"Towel?" she questioned, blinking hazily.

"Your towels are on fire," he stated with a slight smirk, trying to instill some humor into the tragic events.

He was rewarded with a tight-lipped smile, before she continued. "Well," she swallowed, her tongue flicking out to wet her dry lips. "What about a bathrobe?"

Castle jerked his chin to his right, and she followed his gaze, seeing the frayed and blackened remains of her robe. "How about my jacket?" he offered.

She gave a slight nod. Kate took a cautious step back, still a bit banged up and dizzy from the force of the explosion. She dropped her hands from his biceps and grasped the side of the tub for support. Castle watched her with concerned eyes as he quickly removed his jacket.

"So," he began as he helped her into the garment. "How'd you end up naked? Not that I'm complaining."

Kate smirked at that, gracing him with a quick flash of her brilliant hazel eyes, before she gingerly rotated her shoulder to slip her arm through the sleeve. "I was in the middle of taking a shower," she explained. "I was able to dive into the tub just as it blew." She let out a shaky breath at the end of her explanation and slumped back against him.

Castle held her gently in his arms, his brow furrowing with worry. "You okay? Can you walk?"

"Ugh," she coughed, but nodded tentatively. "Yeah, I'm… just a little banged up."

"Okay," Castle relented, holding her tight. "Come on. Nice and easy."

"Yeah."

They made it out of the bathroom without trouble, stopping briefly in the doorway as Kate surveyed the ruin of her apartment with mournful eyes. Castle glanced around, following her gaze. He could sympathize. Her entire life… gone, in a matter of moments. Kate's lower lip trembled.

"Gone," she murmured. "It's all gone."

"But you're alive," Castle insisted. "That's what matters."

She swallowed, and he watched the motion of her throat as she did so. She slowly turned her face back to his and offered him a watery smile. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes. That's what matters."

"Here, let me carry you," Castle grunted slightly as he swept his arm under her legs and hauled her up into his arms, ignoring her protestations and objections.

"I can walk," she insisted with gritted teeth, even as she tightened her grip around his neck.

"I know," he asserted, carefully maneuvering his way around the fallen beams and shattered furniture. "I just don't want you to accidently cut your foot."

"Is that so?" Kate huffed, unconvinced, while she rested her head against his shoulder.

He hummed in confirmation, and adjusted his grip on her, as he turned his back to the wall, shielding her from the snapping flames still engulfing her living room. "Just trying to prove chivalry isn't dead."

She let out a little laugh at that, and then coughed, squeezing his neck tighter as her body shook. Castle ducked his head down as he carried her through the threshold and out into the building corridor. He paused then, giving her some time to recover, before he continued.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked, concernedly.

"A little," she acknowledged, and then glanced up at him with a slight bemused expression. "Not nearly as much as you, though."

"Huh?"

"It's killing you, isn't it?"

"What is?" he furrowed his brow in confusion.

Kate offered him a soft smile. "Having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door," she supplied, though from the look in her eyes, it was obvious she knew he had been in far dangerous situations than this. Still, that didn't lessen his appreciation for her playful words.

"Pretty heroic of me, wasn't it?" he chuckled, pursing his lips as he adjusted her weight in his arms. "It's good here," he said, gently easing her down to her feet. Kate clutched onto his shoulder and hand, leaning on him for support as they moved down the hall towards the stairwell. "So, should I start from the beginning or what?"

Despite the exhaustion and fatigue surrounding her eyes from her most recent trauma, Kate Beckett smiled up at him and laughed. It was more than Castle could have hoped for.

XXX

Detective Kevin Ryan sat at his desk, leaning his elbow on the surface as he rested his forehead against his knuckles. Agent Castle had asked him to look over the Montgomery's wedding album in hopes he could discover what it was that Maddox had been looking for when he'd had Orlando Costas steal it. Thus far, he hadn't really come up with anything. A lot of the wedding guests had their faces crossed off with a red marker. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Yawning, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretched his arms up over his head and twisted his neck around, trying to work out the kinks. Perhaps he should call it a night and go home to Jenny. After the events of the day, and his bad parting with Javier, it might be nice to go home to the comforting and reassuring embrace of his loving wife.

Straightening back up, Ryan reached out and turned the page, figuring it wouldn't hurt to at least finish glancing over the photos in the album before calling it a night. There was a photo missing in one of the slots, and he frowned. He flipped back to the previous page, and nothing was amiss. Ryan hunched forward and narrowed his eyes as he turned to the next page, seeing another collection of photos with faces crossed off… except for one. A distinguished looking man with dark hair stood off to the side of the newlyweds as they cut the cake. Unlike the other guests, his face was circled.

"Son of a—"

Okay, to be honest, Ryan hadn't expected much to come from his assignment, but this was just bizarre. There was something eerily familiar about the face staring back at him from the decades old photo. Leaning back, he arched his neck and glanced across the bullpen at the other white board that stood there. While everything with Beckett was going down, Karpowski's team had caught a case. Squinting his eyes, he could just make out the headshot of the yet unnamed victim.

It was the same man.

He had aged, of course, but it was most definitely him.

Grabbing his desk phone, Ryan pounded in the number for the OCME. It was late at night, so he wasn't surprised when the phone rung for several minutes before it was answered.

"Hi, yeah… this is Detective Kevin Ryan out of the 12th," he spoke hurriedly. "I'm calling on behalf of Detective Karpowski about the recent gunshot victim that arrived this afternoon… yeah, the one with two in the chest and one in the head," he glanced back, trying to read Karpowski's scrawling words. It appeared she had been waiting on the lab to get back on fingerprints to identify the victim. "Um… yeah… We were wondering if fingerprints came back yet? They did! Do you have a name?" He waited for the technician to check the records. "Michael Smith? Yeah… thanks." He hung up and released a long breath. After a long moment, he shook his head. "I've got to call Castle."

XXX

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged with a nod, glancing down at the various folders scattering his desk, one opened to a black and white photo of the late NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery in his dress blues. It was a department headshot, taken for records purposes.

After a quick chat with Castle over the phone earlier that evening, and considering the recent details his friend had revealed to him, he had decided to expand his examination of the Johanna Beckett case to include the late captain. He had just discovered the murdered lawyer had had some off the books meetings with the late NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery. He'd been surprised to find surveillance notes in the CIA dossier on Montgomery indicating the brief meetings between the pair. Apparently, the late captain had been of interest to someone within the Agency. The matter was dropped when Johanna Beckett died, however, according to the notes, the Agency had still kept tabs on Montgomery's dealings over the years, though growing more infrequent as time went by.

"Yes. I understand. I'll confer with Agent Castle as soon as—"

"No need to continue with the obfuscation, Agent Danberg," interrupted NCS Director Samson York with a gruff, yet bemused voice. "I already know that you and Agent Castle have been in communication."

"I… um… sir—"

"Relax, son, you're not in any trouble," York assured. He paused, and Danberg heard a sigh. "Look, Martin, I need you to watch over Rick. He's been different since meeting this Detective Beckett. I need to know his head's still in the game. There's been some chatter about something big going down. Soon. And with Castle's reports on Kilmer's presence in New York, the stakes have just got higher."

"Does the Agency concur with Agent Castle's assessment on the possibility that Raymond Kilmer is 'The Knave'?" Danberg questioned, interested in the answer. He had to admit, it was plausible, and the timeline did fit. And with the additional information of confirmed sightings of the arms dealer Johann Kriedt—who had strong connections with the Knave—in a local S&M dungeon, the pieces just seemed to fall into place. Both men in the same place, it was too much of a coincidence for even the Agency to ignore.

"There's still some talk on that," York gave the party line. "But off the record, I agree with Rick. He may be emotionally compromised right now, but he is still a damn fine agent."

"That he is," Danberg concurred. He glanced down and checked the time on his wristwatch. It was late. "Should I contact Agent Castle now, or wait until the morning."

"Now," York commanded. "With the threat assessments being run here, we need to act fast. The Vice President's going to be in New York tomorrow night and he's refusing to cancel his trip, so we need to ensure his safety. We've looped in the Secret Service and I'll be heading to Washington shortly to brief the President. In the meantime, I need you and Castle to be my eyes and ears on the ground in New York."

"I can do that, sir," Danberg said, opening a drawer and retrieving the FBI badge provided to him by the CIA for cover.

"Good," York said. "Keep me informed."

And with that, his superior ended the call. Danberg stood up from his desk, clipping the fake badge to his belt. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and shrugged it on. Pulling his service weapon out of another drawer, he holstered it, and walked out of his office. Adjusting his tie, Danberg made his way down the corridor, stopping long enough to glance inside the command center, remembering those hectic days last October when he'd worked alongside Agent Sophia Turner, admiring her drive and determination, all the while unaware of her duplicity.

Danberg blinked his eyes, startled when he saw a flurry of activity around one of the computer terminals. Taking out his keycard, he buzzed himself into the command center. He stepped up onto the center platform and stared at the large flat screen hanging in the center of the room displaying an explosion in Tribeca.

Immediately on alert, Agent Danberg turned to find Agent Riley. The younger man was sitting at his station, punching away on the keyboard. He strolled over to him. "What happened?"

"C4 explosive just blew out an apartment on the corner of Varick and Franklin," Riley informed him.

Danberg narrowed his eyes. Those street names sounded familiar. "Varick and Franklin?" he echoed, trying to piece together the connection. It took but a moment for his synapses to spark his recollection. "Beckett!"

"Huh?" a confused Agent Riley glanced up at him with a furrowed brow.

Danberg was already heading for the exit. "Call Agent McCord, have her meet me at the scene."

"McCord? Isn't she working some case for the AG right now?" Riley hollered after him.

"I don't care," Danberg shouted back, pushing the glass door open. "This might involve the case she's working. Call her!"

Riley let out a nervous breath, squaring his shoulders in preparation as he picked up the phone and made the call.