Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.
A/N: Thanks for all the support for this odd little story. I've not replied to reviews as I've kept my head down to write in an effort to get this finished by Halloween. I'll keep pushing!
October 22
Frustration was running high days later, when medical reports (including a proper autopsy report), canvassing notes, and conversations with friends, family, and the Brooklyn Botanical Garden didn't meaningfully contribute to the murderboard. Thankfully, the gruesome nature of the crime scene hadn't leaked, else the press sensationalism would've been another irritant. Still, each team member could feel the chances of a resolution slipping away.
"Detective Beckett," called out Captain Gates authoritatively as she approached and a note extended in her hand. "A call just came in with a… scene… that has some similarity to the case you're working on. I need you there immediately and I need everything you and your team can give." It was a surprisingly direct statement, one lacking outright scorn or snide barbs about Castle's presence. "Your first job is to tell me if you think it's the same perpetrator. Because if it is…"
"… then the Feds will likely step in," Beckett nodded along. Personally, she'd ended up being okay with the last FBI profiler she'd met, but there was no guarantee that Jordan Shaw would draw the assignment. Besides, she didn't need Agent Shaw around to comment on the current fragility of her team or the personal issues challenging her recovery.
Gates retreated with a nod, sure that her message had been received. The team wasted no time in heading to their cars, splitting into the regular pairings for the drive to the address provided by the Captain.
This time, rather than a spooky Victorian townhouse, their drive ended at an upscale building that bore more than a few similarities to Castle's place on Broome Street. Even the doorman situation was similar – enough so for Castle to raise an eyebrow at the doorman who held an elevator for their immediate use.
"Eduardo's a friend," the doorman explained. Castle nodded and smiled before introducing himself and the team quickly. But everyone knew this wasn't the time for a chat, so Castle thanked the man and made a mental note to send him something nice.
A short elevator ride brought the team to the fifth floor, where they followed the sounds to an open door through which they could see their uniformed colleagues. Tracking the low voices, they found themselves in another kitchen, looking at another body.
"No autopsy this time," Castle blurted out, earning a few cross looks.
Lanie strolled in front of the group before turning to nod to the body sprawled on the dining table. "Writer Boy's not wrong," she allowed while stepping toward the body, followed by others. "Since this guy's brain is still where it should be and his chest hasn't been cracked open, my training and years of experience allows to confirm that he hasn't, yet, received an autopsy."
Castle tried to look contrite but still smiled when Espo punched him on the shoulder.
"So," Beckett interjected, "why do we think this might be related to the Delbruck case?"
Lanie answered before turning to point to the body. "Same COD – Dr. Hilltop was suffocated in the same manner as Mr. Delbruck. And the location of the body."
"What about the medicine?" Castle asked while surveying the body.
"What medicine?"
"Pimavanumab," Castle replied. "It was in Mr. Delbruck's medicine cabinet, but it didn't sound familiar."
"It wouldn't," Lanie replied before going over to her bag and pulling out a clipboard. "Pimavanumab is an amyloid antibody in clinical trials for early onset Alzheimer's Disease, agitation, and psychosis. You're sure you saw that in Mr. Delbruck's place, Castle?"
"Yeah," he replied, still inspecting the dead doctor. "The name caught my eye – reminded me of Pipavav, where my accountant grew up. Why?"
"If Dr. Hilltop was prescribing pimavanumab, then he's involved in the clinical trials process," Beckett interjected, anticipating the conversation. "He'd have paperwork in his office about other trial participants he's treating, right, Lanie?"
"Yes," the ME answered. "You think other patients might be at risk?"
"The killer took Mr. Delbruck's brain, but left Dr. Hilltop's body unmolested. That suggests there's something about Delbruck that attracted the killer," Beckett explained. "Now we find out he's taking an experimental drug and the doctor was taken out? We need to contact his other patients just to warn them, but if this is the same killer, we might finally have a peek into what he's doing."
"Now, this a case!" Castle marveled while Beckett drove them to Dr. Hilltop's office. Less than ten blocks away, they'd still opted to drive, though they left Ryan and Esposito at the crime scene to finish up. "Do you think the whole Board of Directors at pimavanumab's manufacturer is in on the murder, or do you think they have contractors for that kind of thing?"
"What?!"
"Yeah, probably contractors," Castle replied, taking Beckett's interjection as agreement. "After all, there are probably scores of people in the clinical trial. Can you imagine harvesting all those brains? That's a lot of work. Messy, too."
"So, that's your theory? The drug company is what – collecting evidence of inefficacy or poor side effect profiles from their experimental treatment? Seems a little bit…"
"Far-fetched?" Castle interrupted with his Beckett impersonation. "Unlikely? Speculative?"
"No, hackneyed and unoriginal. Seriously, haven't you seen The Fugitive? The drug company is always the bad guy. That's too easy and, frankly, I'm a little disappointed you chose such a pedestrian theory," she lamented while shaking her head. "You didn't even try to suggest alien involvement!"
"Humph," Castle complained. "Try to build a plausible theory and get criticized for being outlandish. Try to offer a boring theory and get criticized for being conventional. A guy just can't win," he whined. "Okay, fine, Beckett. You want a more interesting theory? How about…"
"Oh look, we're here," she cut him off with a smirk, appreciating the serendipitous timing that shut down her partner's wilder flight of fancy.
"Nice digs," Castle narrated as they exited the car, his theory-building forgotten.
The partners entered the shiny glass edifice and followed the directory to the third floor, where they followed the signs to Mayfair Physicians, Dr. Hilltop's practice. Upon entering, Beckett sized up the operation and frowned at something she didn't articulate. Approaching the young attendant at the check-in counter, she carefully extracted her badge and flashed it unobtrusively so as to not upset the three patients sitting around the reception area awaiting their appointments.
"My name is Kate Beckett," she said, again not drawing attention to her title. "I need to speak with whoever's in charge of this group."
"I'm afraid Dr. Hilltop hasn't arrived yet," the young woman replied, looking concerned.
Face revealing nothing, Beckett nodded. "May I please speak with whoever's in charge among the physicians who are here right now?"
The attendant nodded, then scurried away, her departure obscured by shelves of medical records. After only a few minutes, a door beside them opened and the receptionist beckoned for them to follow her. A short walk through a ubiquitously beige corridor brought them to the door labeled as the office of Dr. Wilder. Beckett and Castle entered and took the seats facing a large mahogany desk, behind which sat a woman with long, dark hair secured in a low ponytail. She had sharp, grey eyes that observed them carefully. After making a quick assessment of Castle, the doctor switched her gaze to Beckett. The two seemed to scrutinize each other up before the doctor took the initiative.
"I'm Madeline Wilder, Dr. Hilltop's business partner. Anne told me about your courtesy in the waiting area – I thank you for not disturbing our patients," she prefaced her comments, prompting impressed looks from Beckett and Castle that were quickly quashed. "But I still won't release medical records without a warrant."
"Dr. Wilder," Beckett replied in a calm tone. "I need to begin our conversation with some unfortunate news, I'm afraid. Anne probably didn't see it on my badge, but I'm a homicide detective. I'm afraid that Dr. Hilltop was killed earlier today."
"Peter's dead?" she whispered in shock.
"I'm afraid so. We'll have some questions for you, but let us give you a moment. I need to call about the status of the warrant, so we'll just step outside your door for a moment."
The doctor nodded absently, already reaching for tissue with which to dab at her eyes. Slipping out quietly, the partners exited the room and closed the door quietly behind them before stepping down the hallway.
Castle, already curious about why they left the office, became more so as Beckett leveled an assessing stare at him. She studied him quietly for several long moments, until he started fidgeting under her regard.
"Castle, I'm going to do something I didn't ever think I'd do. Two things, actually," she corrected, blowing out a sigh. "I'm going to leave you alone with Dr. Wilder. I want you to finish the interview – you know what I'd ask, what we need to do."
"Where will you be?"
"Back in the car," she answered. "I'll be on the phone trying to get a warrant for Hilltop's records on the pimavanumab clinical trial participants, in case you fail in convincing Wilder to give them to you."
"What?"
"We don't have time to wait for the warrant, Castle. I want you to charm the information out of the doctor. From the way she checked you out, I think she'll be more than amenable to working with you."
"You want me to seduce the doctor?!"
"Not seduce, just charm," Beckett replied curtly, her blush belying her discomfort with this request. "C'mon, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor, get to work."
"She just lost her colleague!" Castle exclaimed, mentally scurrying to come up with an excuse to shoot down a plan that made him very uncomfortable given the current tension between he and Beckett. "It's a little early to play the ruggedly handsome suitor, don't you think?"
"Making excuses already?" Beckett teased in a tight voice. "Just go see what you can do. Like I said, I'll be trying to get an expedited warrant the usual way, so if your efforts don't go anywhere, we'll just follow that path."
Castle drew in a large breath, held it, then released it as he straightened his shoulders. "Just kept around for my looks," he grumbled in an undertone as he turned, walked down the hallway, and tapped lightly. After Dr. Wilder bade him enter, he flashed a quick salute and re-entered the office.
"Where's your partner?" Dr. Wilder asked.
"She's left to try to accelerate the process of getting a warrant," Castle answered, suddenly deciding to handle this interview differently than envisioned by Beckett. "That's her backup plan in case I can't convince you to release the information voluntarily."
"You can't," the doctor answered resolutely, "and I'm more than a little insulted that you think I'd break my ethical responsibilities so cavalierly."
"That's fair," Castle allowed with a nod. "That's why we're going to do this completely above-board. I'll tell you what happened, what we know, and why I think we don't have any time to waste with a warrant. If you don't agree, I'll leave immediately."
"Tell me what happened," the doctor replied, opting not to reiterate her position and end this interview as quickly as possible.
"Dr. Hilltop was suffocated, either atop his kitchen table or he was moved there after he was killed. The ME is still working on her report, so we'll know the details soon."
"Why the kitchen table?"
"It's a calling card, something that allowed us to connect the killing to one earlier this week. That crime scene was…," he trailed off. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself."
"I know who you are Mr. Castle."
"Then you know I'm not a police officer," he nodded. "I wanted you to have some context. I've been shadowing homicide detectives for three years. I've never seen anything like the crime scene earlier this week. One of Dr. Hilltop's patients was also suffocated and also found on his kitchen table. Unlike Dr. Hilltop, this patient was also the recipient of an amateur autopsy."
"What?!"
"It gets worse," Castle continued with a look of apology. "Whoever performed the autopsy also relieved Dr. Hilltop's patient of his brain."
"You're kidding."
"I wish. So, now you can see why we're concerned. Four days ago, Dr. Hilltop's patient was killed, his body violated, and his brain stolen. Today, Dr. Hilltop was killed in the same way, but without the post-mortem violence. We're very concerned that the attack on your colleague might be related to finding more of his patients. If so, they're in grave danger and the faster we move, the better."
"Can you tell me the patient's name, the one who died earlier this week?"
"Will you protect his confidentiality the same way you've protected Dr. Hilltop's other patients?"
"Of course."
Castle nodded and rolled immediately, as he'd decided he would do. "Steven Delbruck. He was in the clinical trial for pimavanumab."
"I can confirm he was a patient of Dr. Hilltop's," the doctor replied while looking torn. "But I'm afraid I still can't release any information for our other patients."
Castle nodded again, still not defeated. Instead, he turned to the usual questions, asking the follow-up after every negative response from Dr. Wilder: "Had Dr. Hilltop received any threats? Had any violent complaints been lodged with Mayfair Physicians? Were there any unsavory characters lurking about lately? Were there any disgruntled ex-employees, or unfortunate patient outcomes that might've invited reprisals from patients or their friends or families?"
The battery of questions unsettled Dr. Wilder, leaving her looking much less confident than at the beginning of their conversation. But she still didn't offer to release the information even after working through her answers.
Finally, Castle turned to his last option. "Dr. Wilder, I said I'd leave if you remained uncomfortable in identifying any of Dr. Hilltop's other patients in the pimavanumab clinical trial. Before then, may I ask for a compromise measure? Would you please call those patients? If we can confirm they're currently alright, then we can wait for the warrant." Not wishing to overplay his request, he didn't articulate what might be implied if someone couldn't be contacted.
Dr. Wilder studied Castle carefully, then nodded slowly.
Castle burst through the building's doors, nearly bowling over several people as he shot out onto the sidewalk. The sudden movement immediately caught Beckett's attention. She cut her phone call and fired up the cruiser, unlocking the doors just as Castle yanked the door open.
"Hilltop has a patient who lives alone and couldn't be reached. Everyone else was accounted for. But one guy didn't show for work today and couldn't be reached at his home number," he panted while handing to Beckett a bright yellow post-it note, on which was scrawled an address.
Beckett's cruiser power-slid to a crooked stop in the mouth of an alley next to a dumpy brick building that looked like it should've been condemned long ago. Bolting out of the car, she only saw Ryan's retreating back as her two colleagues charged inside, unwilling to wait even another ten seconds for Beckett to catch up. Per her request, Castle followed at a more sedate pace, though he didn't stay in the car as she would've preferred.
Instead, Castle walked past the elevator and instead climbed the rickety stairs, consoling himself with the thought that he might be the one who stopped the fleeing suspect from escaping that way. After two flights, though, he was convinced he was far more likely to catch a tetanus infection than a bad guy. Judiciously avoiding the hand-rail or any exposed metal, he hastened his pace to the fourth floor, growing concerned that he was huffing a bit by the time he arrived.
Sounds of a struggle led him quickly down the hallway to an open door. Looking inside, he saw both Ryan and Esposito wrestling a tall, pallid, lanky man to the ground. The suspect must be stronger than he looked, Castle thought as he watched the commotion, until he realized that the suspect was coated in blood, which made him slippery. This, inevitably, prompted Castle to turn his gaze toward the kitchen table, where he saw another prone body.
Beckett stood between the table and her team members, weapon drawn as she ensured the suspect would go down if he were lucky enough to slip away from Ryan and Esposito. Being careful to step well around her, Castle circled slowly to approach the kitchen table.
Again, the body had been subjected to an amateur autopsy. But while the chest was exposed and opened, the victim's cranium was almost intact. From the saw on the floor and the wide line across the victim's forehead, it was clear that the detectives arrived in time to interrupt the 'procedure.'
"Beckett, a little help!" Ryan called out. Chastising himself for his distraction, Castle turned to lend assistance, but it was unnecessary. Esposito and Ryan had the suspect pinned – the call had been for Beckett to apply the cuffs. She holstered her weapon and approached with caution, before reaching out quickly to grab the suspect's wrist. She applied the cuffs expertly, nodding in satisfaction at the collar before looking at her hands in disgust, grimacing at the transferred blood she'd contacted on the suspect's wrists.
Castle had just handed her a handkerchief when the cavalry arrived. "NYPD!" shouted the uniformed officers as they arrived, only for Esposito to take command of the situation, handing off the suspect for transport back to the precinct and stationing others at the doors. Ryan, meanwhile, grabbed several other uniforms and tasked them with canvassing the other apartments of the building to see what they could learn about the unfortunate resident currently sprawled on the kitchen table.
Castle, superfluous, returned to his inspection of the victim. Clearly, this victim – Gene Kemp, according to a neighbor – wasn't as well-off as the first victim, Delbruck. The apartment was a testament to getting by on a limited income – the ancient television sat perched upon a plank of wood supported by cinderblocks. The kitchen table looked like it was salvaged and barely had the wherewithal to support the weight of Kemp's body. The dirty dishes in the sink were all mismatched, several pieces bearing chips or cracks that testified to a long, rough life.
Though it was probably unnecessary, given how they found Kemp, Castle borrowed some evidence gloves from Beckett and located the bathroom. Here, he learned two things: first, that Kemp was not nearly as neat as Delbruck – the bathroom was beyond disgusting. But, of more relevance to the case, Castle also found a yellow prescription bottle with half-a-month's supply of what he suspected was pimavanumab.
Leaving the bottle where it was, Castle returned to the kitchen, where some lab techs were scurrying around placing equipment. Lanie left them to their work, focusing instead on the body.
"You'll note that the technique has improved," she said as she pointed to the sternum. And, indeed, this time there were no jagged cuts or tears – the Y-incision was relatively clean. Also of note was that the victim had been stripped above the waist this time. Looking again at the saw on the floor, Castle noted that it was new and specialized – a bone saw, probably, and one that the suspect must've brought with him, since it was far too expensive to fit in with Kemp's apparent lifestyle.
"Looks like he had proper tools this time," Beckett, unsurprisingly, followed Castle's thought, though she nodded toward the table rather than the floor. There beside the body rested the "cracker" and snips Lanie herself would use to work through the breastbone and ribs of one of her patients.
"His tools are better than mine," Lanie complained lightly. "Newer, at least. And based on a quick look, he used the tools the right way. He's still a novice, obviously, but he's learning."
This assessment made Beckett frown. "Could his work here be explained by learning from Delbruck, or do you think he's had other practice since then?"
Lanie took several long moments to inspect Kemp's body before sighing and straightening. "He's either a quick study or there's another vic out there somewhere."
"We'll keep pushing on the warrant for Hilltop's files," Beckett replied as she turned to her partner. After an awkward pause, she forged ahead. "Castle, will you call Dr. Wilder, thank her for the lead, and ask her to set aside the files we'll need? We should have a warrant within a few hours. We'll run that down before we question the suspect."
"I think that's a call you should make," Castle replied, again uncomfortable with Beckett's presumption about his connection with the doctor. "I'll probably say something I shouldn't."
"But you're the one she'd like to hear from."
Beckett might've seemed calm about this situation, but Lanie was not. She whipped her head around to stare at Castle, incensed about the possibility of him pursuing someone else, especially during a case.
"I didn't take your advice to flirt with her," Castle replied, updating Beckett and defending himself in the same breath. "We had a reasonable conversation about what was happening and she agreed to check on Hilltop's patients."
"Oh," Beckett replied, looking surprised but pleased. "Okay, I'll give her a call after Lanie finishes her initial review."
After shooting each of them an odd look, Lanie turned back to calling out her observations, slowly circling the body. Though she was attentive, Castle could tell Beckett was anxious to get moving. She fidgeted, moved too sharply, and resolutely refused to look at the door; the last was a dead giveaway for how desperately she wanted to get to the warrants and the suspect. Finally, even Lanie picked up on Beckett's mood, and drew her initial assessment to an end.
"I'll make sure you get my report as soon as it's ready," Lanie promised while making a shooing gesture towards the door. "Now you get moving and make sure we don't find any more autopsies that weren't performed by Perlmutter or me."
"I can drive," Castle offers, hoping her distraction will lead her consent. As always, his ploy failed.
"No need," Beckett replied with a smirk, disconnecting her call and lowering the cellphone from her ear. "Dr. Wilder is copying the files for us and a uniform will meet us at her office with the warrant," she explained as she unlocked her cruiser and opened the driver's door, looking smug. "And I got a text from Espo – we're gonna let the suspect cool his heels in Holding for the night and take a run at him in the morning."
"You think that'll work?" Castle asked after sliding into the cruiser, adjusting his derriere over the pesky busted spring in the passenger seat, and belting in. "I get that suspects are usually a bit more pliable after a night in lock-up, but this guy, he seems different."
"We haven't even spoken to him. In fact, you've barely seen him," Beckett replied with a cocked head. "What makes you think he's different?"
"Think about the kind of nerve it would take to walk into someone else's house, kill them, then lay them out on a table and perform an impromptu surgery – with power tools! It's loud, it's really messy, and it's really, really gross. But none of that bothered this guy. If he can deal with that, then I'd be surprised if sleeping on a lumpy cot with snoring neighbors would put him off his game."
"Maybe," Beckett allowed while maneuvering out of her less-than-regulation parking job. "But you'd be surprised. Sometimes people who are remarkably strong in one dimension are surprisingly weak in others."
Even as she said it, Beckett realized that her comment applied to her at least as much as anyone else. And as she realized it, her voice dropped and cadence changed, clearly drawing Castle's attention to her thoughts. Beckett's grip on the steering wheel tightened and she flinched, increasing her focus on the road in an effort to move past her comment.
Castle noticed both her comment and her white knuckles. Recognizing signs of her discomfort, he turned his head to look out the passenger window. The motion, and his silence, prompted a relieved smile from his partner that he couldn't see.
"So, Castle," Beckett interjected a few moments later, glad to have the opportunity to change the subject and to turn to a happier topic. "Did my invite to your Halloween Party get lost?"
Castle chuckled, turning back to her. "Sorry, partner, no party this year. You'll have to find another excuse to break out your naughty nurse outfit. I suppose I could oblige, if you…"
"No, thanks, Castle, I'm good," she replied primly, though he didn't miss the playful look in her eye.
"A good nurse? Not quite as exciting, but I suppose it could still work," he allowed, exaggerating a pensive look while stroking his chin in contemplation.
"No, you goof, I mean I don't need a costume opportunity," she replied with a huff. "Why no party?"
"Too much going on," he answered quickly. "A good party needs lots of planning, and I was busy with… Alexis this summer."
Just as she had done earlier, Castle realized only as he was speaking that what he said conveyed a bit more insight than he'd planned. Yeah, he was plenty busy this summer, but it was working on Beckett's case and trying to figure out where she was, not anything to do with Alexis.
And, just as he'd done earlier, Beckett extended the courtesy of pretending not to notice the comment or what it revealed.
Someday, Castle thought to himself as he turned again to look out the side window, we're actually going to have to talk about what happened this summer and how – if – we can go forward.