Chapter Twenty-One
Hunter and Hunted

"London, noisy, noisome, nattering London: aged, ageless, dignified, eccentric in her ways - seat of empire, capital of all the world; that indomitable Grey lady of drab aspect but sparkling personality - was at her very, very best and most radiant. And Holmes, ebullient and uncommonly chatty, was in a mood to match."
Edward B. Hanna, The Whitechapel Horrors

Previously

Though Kate Beckett was as dedicated and resourceful as he was, equally committed to her own cause, Sebastian was well aware that the longer the case went without a fresh body, the sooner the media would move on to the next big story. As soon as the police presence in the Heights returned to normal, the trail would go cold and fresh murder cases would begin to pile up. Beckett's own shooting had gone unsolved for three years, and her mother's for over a decade.

Time was on his side and he knew exactly what buttons to push to make her and her superiors dance to his tune.

Sebastian Keller was a patient, practical man.

He would wait.

12th Precinct Homicide Division
Two hours later

"What do you mean nobody got a good look at him?" Captain Gates snapped over the phone on her desk. "He had to get into the building somehow!" The desk sergeant didn't have an answer for her. Package deliveries went through the scanner, but they were mostly looking for knives and guns, not carefully packaged human organs. His answers did not improve Captain Gates' mood by any stretch of the imagination.

Tory Ellis and Detective Hastings were hard at work poring over every second of security camera footage half an hour before and after Detective Beckett called in the building lock-down.

"I've gone through every security camera that wasn't down for maintenance today and haven't found a sign of a Caucasian male in a delivery uniform jacket," Tory replied when Gates showed up at her door. She was just as frustrated as the captain, but she had no real outlet for her frustration.

"Tory," Hastings interjected, before Gates could get wound up, "up until this point we've been focusing our search on a white male dressed as a messenger, but the logo on the back of the jacket is very distinctive, what if we search for that instead?"

"Hmm," Tory hummed as she began to reset the search parameters on her computer, "that might work."

"Get on that you two," Gates ordered, her blood was up and she didn't care who knew it, "this skell has been playing cat and mouse with my people once too often and I'm not having it. Not in my house!"

Gates turned toward the door, then turned back, her voice softening slightly.

"Oh, and Hastings, I've stepped up the details on you and Detective Beckett, effective immediately. I'm not taking any chances... with either of you."

Hastings nodded grimly, but her focus had shifted almost entirely on the task at hand, intent on pulling her weight in this investigation, even if she was stuck in the precinct.

Ten minutes later they hit pay-dirt.

When they increased the search parameters to an hour before the lock-down order, they found that the cameras at the main entrance had recorded a redhead pushing a hand cart wearing the slightly over-size messenger jacket in question (quite likely to discreetly cover her ample cleavage). She was the only messenger to arrive in such a distinctive looking jacket in the allotted time frame.

According to the logs, Samantha Waters had signed in, but there was no evidence she had ever left the building. They were able to track her movements for nearly forty-five minutes before losing her in a coverage gap caused by one of the building's five malfunctioning cameras, this one near the homicide squad-room - less than ten minutes before the package was found on Beckett's desk - where she vanished from the security footage seemingly without a trace.

A detailed sweep of the entire homicide floor located her in the nearby supply closet, unconscious, bound hand and foot with NYPD issue zip-ties, clad from the waist up in her bra and camisole. Just like in Detective Hastings abduction, she had both an injection mark on her neck and had never once laid eyes on her attacker.

A subsequent perimeter search outside the building quickly turned up her missing jacket and uniform shirt in a dumpster not far from the precinct, along with a very realistic looking NYPD detective's badge in one of the pockets bearing Beckett's shield number with traces of dried blood on the leather backing and belt clip. The shirt, jacket and badge were all sent to trace for analysis.

Though they were no closer to his identity, they could now surmise that their killer was not only a man of slender build, since he had to have fit in the woman's uniform shirt, but also had few distinguishing features that would make him stand out. It wasn't much, but it was more than they had the day before.

Gates knew instinctively that Beckett needed to stand down for a day or two. She had set up a fresh murder board in the break room while her desk was being swept for prints and trace evidence by CSU and hadn't removed her eyes from it since. Though trying her best to hide how thoroughly freaked out she was Kate was failing miserably. Gates had allowed her the distraction while arrangements were made for her security detail, but it was now well past time to send her home.

She wasn't going to accomplish anything in this state, other than to serve as a distraction to the other detectives working the case. It was going to be difficult enough to keep the top brass from ordering her to remove Beckett from the case as it stood.

Victoria Gates knew it was time to quit stalling and take the bull by the horns. She now had a very uncomfortable phone call to make.

Twenty minutes later

Captain Gates had been certain that Richard Castle would go ballistic after she called him and he did not disappoint. He charged out of the elevator and into the squad-room, making a beeline for her office like a bull in a China shop, showing none of his usual boyish charm in the process. Alexis trailed along behind him, one hand clasped firmly in his as she let him drag her along with him, fear and anxiety painted all over her face. She quietly whispered apologies as they went to everyone her father shouldered past on their path from the elevator.

"Kate!" Rick shouted, a mix of terror and anger in his tone. "Where's Kate? Where's my wife?"

Gates could tell this question was directed at her, by the look in his eyes which seemed to bore right through her straight into her soul. She had never seen the cold fury he was capable of until that very moment. Almost in spite of herself, she flinched internally and just barely managed to keep her bearing to hold his gaze. The last time Rick had barreled into the precinct this way had been the day Kate had disappeared during an undercover operation she had practically ordered Kate to lie to him about.

This time at least, this wasn't her doing and she had better news for him.

"She's in the break room, Mr. Castle,." Gates stated, drawing on as much of her authoritarian posture as she could. "She received a package at her desk, allegedly from the killer. I've increased hers and Detective Hastings' security details, but I need you to take her home. If I could spare Hastings right now I'd send her home too, but your wife is far too distracted to help and most of the work is up to the lab techs anyway. I don't want to see your wife back here until Monday, understood?"

Rick swallowed hard, knowing his wife would put up at least a token fight against being sent home again. Kate had barely been back from the last time Gates sent her away and he knew she would not like it.

Rick was right, he could hear from the doorway of the break room as Kate made all of the same arguments she had when Shaw had kicked her off the Dunn case and Montgomery had sent her home with him nearly a lifetime ago. "This is like Scott Dunn all over again." Rick mused to himself, "The only thing missing is Jordan Shaw."

Just like Montgomery was back then, Gates was not taking no for an answer.

"Sir, this is my case," Kate stammered, her emotions leaking through her voice in spite of herself.

"And it will still be your case on Monday," Gates shot back, her tone a mild warning that she would brook no further argument.

"He's coming after me!" Kate tried again, her desperation almost pitiful for him and Alexis to watch.

"And if I was talking to anyone else, they would be riding a desk, right along with Hastings." Gates responded, her tone lowering an octave in warning. Which Kate missed.

"Like it or not, Sir, I'm on the front line." Kate tried again, standing defiant, her pride overwhelming her common sense.

"That's about enough, Detective," Gates snapped, the command in her tone clear for everyone in the squad-room to hear, "I gave you an order and I expect you to obey it, understood?"

Kate opened her mouth to protest, but was stopped by the arch of Gates' brow and the dangerous gleam in her eye.

"Not. Another. Word, Detective," Gates growled, her patience completely gone, "or I will be asking for your weapon and shield. Go home. Do not come back here before Monday, you are to consider that a direct order."

Kate nodded angrily with a muttered 'yes, sir' and stormed past Rick out the door, grabbing her jacket from the coat tree near her desk as she stalked like an avenging fury to the elevator. After jabbing the button much harder than necessary. She turned on her heel, and growled,

"You coming, Castle?"

It wasn't until the elevator doors closed that Kate realized Alexis had been with him this whole time, which caused her searing anger to dissipate almost instantly. She stood in mortified silence the rest of the way down to the garage level, an uncomfortable silence that continued all the way to Rick's car then all the way home.

Kate didn't break until the doors had closed on the elevator up to the loft. Choking angry sobs wracked her body as she clung to Rick's coat when they arrived on their floor, her resolve to hold firm completely gone. She knew that here at home she didn't need to be strong all the time, she could give in to her fear and anxiety, knowing in her heart that her husband would do whatever was needed to keep them safe. It had taken her two years to come to the realization that, just as she had alone in her apartment, here at home with her family, she could truly let go.

After drawing a hot bath and setting out a glass of wine for Kate, Rick set about making some phone calls. The first was to the precinct. Ryan filled him in on everything that had taken place that day, along with the gist of the note Kate had received. Rick shivered at the thought.

Shortly after the three of them had left, an NYPD uniform shirt, jacket and gun belt had been found stuffed on the top shelf of the utility closet where the messenger had been found, along with a 9mm Sig Sauer. The weapon had been issued to Kate during her brief stint with the FBI, but had disappeared shortly after Agent McCord had turned it in after firing her last year.

The ballistics matched the weapon used in the torture and murder of Vulcan Simmons. The report that it had been turned in by Rachel McCord had conveniently disappeared when Bracken had tried to frame Kate for his murder and had only resurfaced after his arrest. It had been obvious to Rick, even back then, that the frame had never been meant to survive serious scrutiny. It was just a means to isolate her so he could have her killed. After she was dead it would no longer have mattered if she was exonerated.

The blood found on the fake badge with Kate's number on it was still being tested, but Rick would not be surprised in the least if it came back as a match for Elena Markov. At the very least it would once and for all clear her name of that murder anyway.

The second call was to a security firm that his father had recommended after their brief encounter last year. He knew that Kate didn't really like Hunt, or whatever his father called himself these days, but if there was only one thing about his estranged father that he trusted, it was his dedication to their safety. A bodyguard for Alexis would be sent in the next couple days.

By the time Kate got out of bed to go to work on Monday, he would have all of his ducks in a row so that his mother, Alexis and Jim would be safe while he was with Kate at the precinct, along with additional security at the loft. He'd learned his lesson the hard way after Tyson had tried to frame him for murder.

Little did he know when he first conjured up the thought of Jordan Shaw that he would not be waiting for long before that particular shoe dropped.

**Author's note** Once again I would like to thank my talented beta, Cofkett for her timely assistance this morning. (after translating her corrections from English to American of course, :-P)

Yeah I know I'm taking a few liberties with Castle canon here, but Lanie did say the bullets were from a gun registered in her name, not necessarily one of her issued sidearms. Since she usually carried both of those with her, especially on this case, it would have been difficult to steal one from her apartment on such short notice without tipping her off. Her FBI issued sidearm however seemed like easier pickings for Bracken and his ilk.

To the anon reviewer who recently read and reviewed my other Summer 2014 Ficathon piece, "There Is Only The Battle" worry not, I have not given up on that one either and will be working on it again eventually. I know where I want to go with it, just trying to figure out how to get there from where I left off is all.

Have faith, I'm chipping away at all of my unfinished works as quickly as inspiration, and my return to work will allow.