Another Auld Lang Syne

Chapter 4

Is Thy Sweet Heart Now Grown So Cold?

"Dad?"

Jim looked up into the concerned expression of his daughter. He hadn't seen her enter the diner or come to their table.

"Hi, Sweetheart. I'm sorry," he said as he got to his feet. "I didn't see you come in." He kissed her cheek.

Kate took off her overcoat and tossed it on the bench seat. "Or see me stand next to the table for a full minute. What's up?"

Jim sighed, warring with himself. He never spoke about the people he sponsored, not even in the abstract, but Rick's story and struggle had been weighing heavily on his mind to the point, apparently, of distraction. Maybe just sleep deprivation. After they finish ed their coffee, he had gone to his apartment and stayed up listening to him war with himself, questioning his decisions and berating his weaknesses until Rick had exhausted himself.

He made eye contact with the waitress, who came immediately with a cup of coffee for Kate and a refill of his. He added his usual half a teaspoon of sugar and stirred the black liquid, lost in the swirls of the liquid.

"Dad?"

He jerked his eyes up to hers. "Sorry…sorry."

"Why don't you just talk about what's on your mind. Is it a case? Something personal?" She reached across the well-worn tabletop and covered his hand. She noticed that the skin on the back of his hand seemed thinner. Looking back up at him, she still saw the sharp, bright intelligence she had always admired in her father, albeit wrapped in a tiredness she rarely saw. As a child, she would search his eyes for evidence of that quiet and quick wit oft kept hidden beneath the austerity of his profession. Her mother had reveled in his secreted sense of humor as if she was dancing under a waterfall. He kept his humor held in reserve, but sometimes it would saturate their days like the spring thaw filled gullies and streams.

His eyes held no humor then. They were laced with concern and an ache that she could almost feel in her own bones.

Jim Beckett inhaled and sighed deeply. "It's someone I sponsor."

"The man you were going to see last night?" Kate offered.

Jim raised his eyes. He narrowed his gaze as if cross-examining a witness. "How do you…"

"Just something you said, Dad. I'm a detective, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah and yes; he is the man I saw last night. He underwent a tremendous shock." Jim sighed again.

Kate reached across the table and squeezed her father's forearm. "Dad, you are above reproach when it comes to your discretion." Jim raised his eyebrows. "But, if you need to talk about his situation, I…just…well, just don't use names. I'm a very good listener and I might even be able to help."

Her father, who was not prone to, sighed again. "Maybe it will help." He signaled the waitress for refills of their nearly full cups. The woman raised an eyebrow, but dutifully added a splash. Kate wondered what had her dad so distracted. Jim realized and sheepishly apologized with his eyes and waited until she had left them alone again to begin. He absentmindedly tore a strip from the paper placemat and played with it, rolling, and unrolling it until it curled on its own, a habit he had picked up to keep his fingers busy after he quit smoking before she was born.

Kate parted from her father in front of the diner and blindly walked down the street. She'd kept her own reactions and emotions carefully bottled up in front of her father. He had definitely seemed lighter than when she first arrived, but she knew that was because she had taken on a part of his burden. She empathized with him as he began his tale, happy that she could provide an ear for him as he had done so many times for her.

She practically jumped at the opportunity to help, maybe not so much to help her father as she purported, as it was to help herself feel better, a chance at redemption from the sins that had revisited and blindsided her the previous day.

In fact, she haughtily basked in the prospect…until she recognized the story. She denied it as mere coincidence at first, but as he continued, she slowly succumbed and the culpability consumed her as readily as a twig in an inferno. The realization doused her like the grimy icy water splashed onto unsuspecting pedestrians by an inconsiderate cabbie. Her father had been speaking about Rick, she had no further doubts. She was the woman who had left him, letting him think she was dead. She was the woman who took his kind heart: the heart that took care of everyone he knew and many he didn't; the heart behind the smile and humor that made you laugh when you wanted to cry; the heart that had loved her. The heart she carelessly discarded along with the torn fishnet stockings and cheap makeup of the assignment.

"Maybe this woman didn't realize," she'd offered weakly as she sat across from her father. She flipped her palm over. "Maybe she just didn't know everything that happened."

"Come on, Katie, you're a cop. Do you just use the people involved in your investigations and then never check on them? Is that what they teach?"

The question wasn't fair. Most of the people in her investigations were dead. "No, of course not…"

"Then she shouldn't have left him either."

"Sometimes, as a cop, you don't have a choice," she ardently contended. "Sometimes, it's for the best; for the greater good. Sometimes it's because you fear for your life or the lives of those on your team."

Jim listened but shook his head. "Any way you slice it honey, Jack wasn't treated right, and he reacted poorly and then you know how the dominoes fall."

To keep his identity safe, they'd agreed to call the man he was sponsoring, 'Jack,' and the woman in his story, 'Carla,' but after a few moments, as Kate put it together, she'd excused herself to the ladies' room.

She stared at her reflection for a long time. The diner's restrooms were as drab and dull as she felt. The worn, outdated fluorescent lights cast a greenish tint to her pallor. She studied the way the light cast shadows and the way it made her hair seem to droop and left it listless and lifeless. The way she'd left him.

She was going to call, she really was, but as time and life rushed forward, the urgent concern faded to a distant ache somewhere behind her sternum. She'd think of him from time to time, assuring herself that he must have surely moved on. What they had was merely a fling: a kind man drawn to the person he thought she was by curiosity and daring and not just a little bit of knight in shining armor syndrome.

Kate washed her face as best she could and rejoined her father. He made a few more arguments and she tried to put herself out of the story, but she failed miserably. He had to know something was wrong with her and after her father stopped talking, he tilted he head assessing her and pursed his lips. After that, the conversation moved from 'Jack" to his law cases to questions about her work and if she had been dating anyone.

Dating anyone? She almost laughed. "No...no one," she said quietly. As she lifted her eyes to her father's assessing gaze, she added, "There's really no time between cases and paperwork..."

"And coming up with excuses," he offered knowingly. Jim assessed his daughter and then shook his head. "Katie, life moves fast."

"I know, Dad," she did not quite whine like her know-it-all sixteen-year-old self, but it was close.

Jim shook his head again. "I know you do, Honey, but there is more to life than your job. Take Carla for instance, if she had just opened her eyes to everything Jack brought her and felt for her, at least two lives could have been immeasurably different."

"You mean Jack's and Carla's? They could have lived happily ever after?"

"No. I mean Jack and his daughter."

"What...he has a daughter?" Kate asked woodenly. She knew Alexis, of course. As a single father, Rick doted on his girl and introduced them after they had been together for a while. She should have realized that he wouldn't have had them meet if he wasn't comfortable doing so; if he wasn't falling for her. It would be too difficult for a child to understand the complicated dance of dating.

Jim stared at his daughter. "Yeah," he sighed again. "He lost custody a couple of years ago. He'd been sober for over a year when his ex decided she needed to be a mom all of a sudden." Shaking his head, he added, "I was out of town."

"So, he's been alone?"

"Yeah. His mom lives in the city but gave up on him. I don't think they're in touch. At any rate, he didn't mention her yesterday."

"That must be hard."

"It's common."

"What is?"

"It's a form of self-punishment. Isolating yourself from the people you've hurt, even if you've already asked their forgiveness." He looked directly at her. "You remember that we didn't really speak for a while even after I sobered up?"

Kate nodded.

"I'm going to check on Jack. Maybe encourage him to call his mom."

"I think that's a good idea, Dad." She inhaled sadly. "He sounds like he could use a friend."

The snow had just begun to fall. He felt out of place. Almost like he was committing a wrong. If he were honest, he was. No matter how much his mind nagged him to just go home, he waited. Glued to the bench. He just couldn't wait for the weekend today.

Rick warred with himself for the remainder of the sparse minutes until the bell rang. He stood from the bench as the dismissal sounded, hoping to get a glimpse of his daughter. Her hair had always made it easy to pick her from a crowd.

The throng of students gradually cleared, leaving only a few crestfallen stragglers whose rides had been late. As desperately as he tried to snag a peek, he somehow missed his girl. He sighed, sat back down on the bench, and held his head in his hands.

"Dad?"

He raised his head quickly, stood, and spun around. She called to him from a bus window on the other side of the playground fence.

He mustered a smile for her. Just seeing her gave him strength. "Hi Pumpkin. Where are you going?"

"An overnight museum trip," she answered.

"That's so cool!"

"I know. Mommy didn't want to come, but can you?"

His heart seized. No. He wasn't allowed to go. Meredith and the courts made sure that he was never put in a position of any authority over his own daughter. "I'd love to, Pumpkin, but I can't."

This had been a mistake. Confirmed by the expression on her face. Another hope he had dashed. He'd let her down far too much.

"That's okay..." she turned away from the window. "Ms. M. says I have to close the window now. I love you, Dad."

"Oh, I love you, too, Sweetheart. See you soon," he finished as the window slammed shut. He just stood there completely conspicuous and felt wholly exposed as he waited for the bus to pull away. He waved but didn't know if Alexis had seen it or not. His daughter was growing up without him.

He knew and fully accepted that it was entirely his fault, even if Jim had tried to convince him otherwise.

The elevator doors opened but no one stepped out. Ryan craned his neck and caught a glimpse of Beckett leaning against the back wall.

"Beckett?" he called and she startled, inhaled, and walked off the elevator just before the doors closed.

"You okay, Beckett?" Esposito asked as he and Ryan came to stand in front of her desk.

She still stared, lost in thought. Blinking, she looked up. "Sorry, sorry. I just have a lot on my mind."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. I'm good, guys." She shook herself free of the cobwebs of her thoughts. "Where are we on..."

"Beckett?" Montgomery called from his office.

Kate raised her eyebrows and walked into her commander and mentor's office.

"Boss? I figured you were going to take the day."

"Why would I do that, Brian?"

"Well...um...you know..." The bartender jerked his head toward the freezer.

"Look, I'm okay or at least I will be." He sighed, "Just takes time, right? And we're going to be busy: we made the crime news," he said as he plopped the day's paper down on the bar. "I haven't read the whole article yet, just the headline. You know what they say about publicity." He threw Brian a smile he didn't feel as he rounded the bar to take inventory.

Brian picked up the paper. He pointed and said, "Not a bad shot of the exterior." After leafing through a few pages he found the article and read, "The Old Haunt, a Soho pub and eatery with a checkered history added to its notoriety on Thursday when a dead man was found in the freezer. Cause of death was still unknown but…" Brian stopped reading the rest of the article.

"But, what?"

"Oh nothing, it just drones on."

Rick grabbed the paper from his well-meaning employee. "Cause of death was still unknown but most of the patrons know of the bar's ties to the seedier side of Lower Manhattan's underworld. Current owner Richard Castle," Rick paused and shook his head before continuing, "who purportedly has ties to the Cattivi-Ragazzi crime family, was not available for comment, but has been questioned before in suspicion of homicide when one of the bar's regulars, also his girlfriend at the time, was murdered. Jesus."

"I'm sorry, Boss."

"It's nothing. I know I'm on the level and you do, right?" Brian nodded. "Then what does the rest matter?" He threw the towel in the bin and said, "Let's get ready to open."

"What do you know about Richard Castle?" Montgomery asked without preamble as she sat in the chair across from his desk. Kate felt the icy tendrils grasp her heart as if she had been in the freezer.

"Um…"

The captain held up his hand. "This is the guy, right?" he didn't wait for her answer. "This is the guy that my predecessor, Captain Trudeau, basically used, along with a very green patrol officer, in order to maintain an operation. An operation, I might add, that ultimately failed."

"He's not the vic… he's the owner of the bar."

"Yeah. The one you had a fake relationship with."

"It wasn't…it wasn't fake." Montgomery raised an eyebrow. "Not to him, I mean." Not to herself either, if she was being truthful, but she had justified and explained away her feelings so many times as confused and only doing her job for many years at that point.

"And now?" Montgomery asked in that false nonchalant way of his. He glanced at some papers on his desk to complete the effect.

Kate gripped the arms of her chair. "Now, sir?"

He raised his eyes and suddenly his gaze became very intense, almost intrusive, searching and scanning her. "Do you have feelings now, Detective Beckett?"

"Well," she licked her lips. "…obviously, I feel bad about what happened…how it…what happened to him…after."

"Yes, the investigation – a major cluster fuck, if you ask me."

Kate nodded.

"So, I am going to assume that I don't have to worry about your professionalism." His eyes bored into her. She swore the temperature shot up ten degrees.

"No sir, the job comes first."

Montgomery eyed her for a long moment. Maybe he recalled that his first ever assignment as Captain of the 12th was because someone put the job first and ruined lives. A life. "Where are you on the current investigation?"

Where was she? She was completely unprofessional, that's where. That's what her mind wanted to blurt, but she said, "We're waiting for COD and the ME's report. Neither the owner or the employees recognize the vic."

"It's all over the news. Some hotshot reporter from the Ledger has even mentioned the past investigation and I am here to tell you that as far as the NYPD is concerned, that train wreck will not be commented on or discussed. Clear?"

Kate nodded.

"Good, now solve the case as quickly as possible." She stood and made it as far as the door. "And Kate?" She turned back to face her mentor. "It's not always about the job."

Kate sat down at her desk. It felt like she hadn't been there in weeks instead of hours. She opened her computer and checked her emails, entirely aware of the glances her team and passersby threw her way. She had bundled her way into a self-made veil of sorts, ignoring the whispers and looks, when she startled because her phone rang.

"Beckett," her voice cracked as if she hadn't spoken in years.

"Are you okay?" Lanie asked. Kate could picture her friend's wide-eyed expression, just from the tone of her voice. An expression laced with concern.

"Yeah, just concentrating."

She said, "Okay," but Kate could tell she wasn't okay – she was worried.

"Really. What did you find?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Seems to be the flavor of the month."

"Our vic is Salvatore Rossi, he had priors in the system. According to his record, he's a member of the Pericolo Family."

"Wait, are you saying this was a mob hit?"

"He had a slug in the middle of his brain, small caliper, but from the lack of blood in the freezer, I'd say he was killed somewhere else and moved there."

After she had automatically put the information on the murder board, Ryan and Esposito stood at the corner of her desk, waiting for instructions.

"Come on, Beckett, it's the next logical step in the investigation."

Yes, she wanted to scream. She knew what needed to be done, but after learning what had happened to his life … she let the thought drop. She could be professional. She owed that to him. She could show him that not all police investigations could be as messed up as Charlotte's murder had been. She could exonerate him and herself – prove that she could be human.

She turned away from the staring contest with the unyielding board, stopped trying to pressure it into revealing a different path. There were none.

She sighed and looked ta her team. "It will only be for questioning – we're not charging him."

Ryan and Espo exchanged glances and then simultaneously nodded.

Pursing her lips, she ordered, "Go pick him up."