Guardian Angel
Chapter 18
Kate paces barefoot over the thick carpeting in her suite. She has access to any luxury she would want, and she hates it. What she needs is to be doing something, but at that moment, she doesn't have a clue what. After Castle checked in three times with Alexis, she urged him to get home to his family. Until she hears from C.S.U. about the bug, they can't do much brainstorming. When she does hear, he can use the second key to get up to the suite.
She considers taking his suggestion about the hot tub, but she can't sit still that long, and she can't see it being much fun alone anyway. Maybe she and Castle… Images swirl through her mind. Hell! Where did those come from? Her mother's less then subtle comments must be getting to her. "Mom, are you here?" she calls to the empty air.
Johanna shimmers into sight. "I was telling your Nonna that you made her sauce. She's sure that now that Rick's tasted it, he won't be able to stay away, even if you were a little heavy-handed with the garlic. She sends her love."
"Give her mine too, Mom, but I don't need you to double team me about Castle. With everything that's going on, I can't think about romantic entanglements."
"How would you know? You never had a serious enough relationship with anyone to be entangled. You always found an excuse to end them before you had to commit."
"And lose someone like Dad lost you? Like I lost you?" Kate retorts. "I don't think I could handle that."
"So you're going to cut yourself off from the joy of loving someone because you're afraid of the grief? What happened to my kick-ass daughter, who wouldn't let herself give in to the fear of anything?"
"Some bastard murdered her mother and sent her father diving into a bottle. He may be after me now too. I have to get him before he gets me. And I can't put Rick in the line of fire."
"He may be there anyway, Kate. One thing that we all find out when we leave this earth is that no human is truly in control, and when you think you are, that's when you really step in it. We need all the help — and love — we can get. Love is The Father's gift to this world, but he won't make you accept it."
An alert from Kate's cell blares, cutting off the exchange. Kate grabs her phone as a lifeline. "Detective Beckett, this is Carl from C.S.U. I have some information on the eavesdropping device you found. The military has never formally admitted to employing a design like it, but unofficially it's used in special ops. What you found is a version manufactured for civilian use. I'll text you the report. We traced the serial number to a survivalist shop out on Staten Island. I'm attaching the address, too."
"Thanks, Carl, I appreciate it."
"All in a day's work, Detective. Can't have some asshat bugging the N.Y.P.D."
"Are you going to tell Castle?" Johanna asks.
Kate digs her teeth into her bottom lip. "I guess I'll have to. He knows I was waiting to hear from C.S.U. I just don't want him stumbling into the hitman."
"You shouldn't be stumbling into the hitman either," Johanna advises. "Between the two of you, you should be able to figure out how to pursue your clue without getting killed."
"Mom, you're starting to sound like him."
"I did get you hooked on Castle's books," Johanna reminds her daughter.
Castle uses his key for the elevator but knocks on the entrance to Kate's suite. "It's me, Beckett."
Kate pulls the door open and closes it quickly behind him. "Did you get the info I sent you on the bug?"
"Uh-huh. And I forwarded it to Izzy, in case he comes up with something C.S.U. might not know."
"You think he will?" Kate asks.
"He always has interesting factoids. I don't even want to think about how he gets any of them. You didn't say anything about prints on the bug. Did C.S.U. find any?"
"No. No D.N.A. match to anyone but me, either. If our killer left it, he was careful."
"So, where do we go from here?" Castle asks.
"We need to check out that store on Staten Island."
Castle checks his watch. "They're probably closed now, but can't you just call in the morning?"
Kate shakes her head. "It's a lot easier to get information out of people face-to-face, especially if they don't know you're fishing for it."
"Are you talking about going undercover?" Castle wonders.
"Yeah."
"Then let me go," Castle proposes. "I could say I'm working on a book, like I did with McCallister."
"I don't know, Castle. Survivalists might regard an author as a member of the elite and clam up. If I go in, it would be better if I fit the profile."
"How about if we both go in as a survivalist couple? I've ordered a lot of stuff to be ready for a zombie apocalypse. I even went to zombie apocalypse camp."
Kate's mouth falls open. "Castle, you're kidding, right? A zombie apocalypse?"
"Bring it on. Make fun. But I know the language. I know the look too. Mother always tells me that the right costume supports a portrayal. If you want to play survivalist, I can help you pull it off. And I can get the togs we'll need to do it."
Johanna skewers her daughter with her gaze. "Kate."
"All right, Castle. You can play survivalist with me."
"Fine. I guess I'll go home now. I can get Mother to point me at her favorite costume supplier, and get us outfitted in the morning."
"Kate," Johanna prompts again, raising an eyebrow.
Kate draws an uneven breath. "Castle, wait. It's going to be a long night, and I could use some company. We could watch a movie, or do you think the concierge could find us a deck of cards?"
Castle chuckles. "He'd probably mark them for you if you asked. Are you a fan of Texas hold'em?"
"Given a choice, I prefer five-card draw. More strategy, less hype."
"Very true. All right, Kate, I will help you pass a couple of hours with cards — or whatever."
"Thanks, Castle."
"No problem. More grist for the Nikki Heat mill."
Johanna settles into a corner, with the slightest upturn shaping her lips.
"Where the f*** is she?" Coonan growls at his computer. Beckett found and disabled his bug somehow. And now he has no idea where she is. The big man's plant at the 12th reported that Detective Beckett is on leave, but an I.R. scan of her apartment shows it empty.
None of Coonan's usual street sources has come up with anything either. Maybe she's with that hack writer. Property records show him owning a loft on Broome Street and a house in the Hamptons. Unfortunately, the Broome Street address is a security building. If Coonan were sure Beckett was there, it would still take some doing to go after her. And even if he only hits light traffic, it would take him at least an hour and a half to get to the Hamptons. It could be one hell of a wild goose chase.
He checks the corner of his screen. It's almost midnight. He can put out a message on the web to certain acquaintances and get some sleep. What he needs may pop up in the morning.
