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: I've mentioned before how lucky we are to have the Dustjackets site, which is a great resource for writers. I've been spending some time there lately, which you'll see in this and future chapters of this story. A big thanks to the folks who put it together but please don't blame them for what I'm about to do with those transcripts...

October 23

Castle strode confidently into the Homicide bullpen, this time with a cardboard tray of warm caffeine for the full team rather than a single cup for Beckett.

"My man!" Esposito greeted him while extending a hand. "About time you started bringing coffee for the rest of us."

"I heard you're taking the first shot at the suspect," Castle replied. "I figured a good jolt might help get you in the mood."

"Yeah, I've heard Espo needs some extra stimulants to be effective," Detective Roselyn Karpowski snarked as she walked by, earning an indignant look from Esposito and a sharp bark of laughter from his partner.

"Never have, never will," Esposito bragged to recover some ground, though the grins and snickers persisted, much to his disgust. He grabbed his coffee a little more forcefully than necessary, then corralled his partner to prep while some uniformed officers brought up the suspect from Holding.

Beckett, instead of waiting in the observation room, took a seat at her desk to check on some forms while they waited for the suspect to arrive. As usual, Castle lowered himself into the seat beside her.

"Did I miss anything interesting last night?" he asked, referring to his decision to head home from Dr. Wilder's office. It had been getting late, the only thing left for the night had been paperwork, and he instead wanted to make a nice dinner for Alexis and his mother.

"Nothing but the paperwork that frightens you so badly," she replied, still wearing a smile. "Hey, maybe that'll be my costume the next time you host your Halloween party. I'll come dressed as a form NY16.3.5A."

"That does sound pretty scary," Castle allowed. "But as a single form wouldn't cover much, I'm willing to risk it if you are."

Beckett just smirked and shook her head, not looking to engage but happy to have some light, expected banter in the morning. In some ways it was more familiar than the coffee.

"So, do we even know who this guy is?" Castle asked.

"No," Beckett replied, blowing out some air in resignation. "He didn't have ID or anything that tied him to the area like a hotel card key. And his prints didn't turn up in the system."

"I guess that's not too much of a surprise," Castle replied while his eyes lifted and he started tracking Captain Gates as she rose and exited her office. As relations between them were still frosty, Castle tried to keep an eye on her when he was in the precinct. It baffled him, really, why he couldn't communicate with her. But the charm that came to him so easily seemed to flee at her approach, leaving him a stumbling, bumbling fool who only seemed to reinforce her already low opinion of him. It reminded him far too much of his interactions with Mrs. Leachman back in fourth grade. He'd even looked her up and was shocked to see that the old battle axe was still alive – he was convinced that she'd died and been reincarnated as Captain Gates, even if the timing didn't quite work out.

Beckett followed his eyes to see him watching the Captain. "Don't worry, Castle, she's not coming for you. She's heading for her usual cup of coffee, just on schedule. But did you know that she refuses to use the machine you got us?"

"What?"

"Yeah, watch her. She does this every morning – she'll walk to the elevator, turn toward the kitchen, look at your machine, then take the stairs down to the third floor."

"She hates me that much?" he asked, wondering how had dug a hole this deep already.

"I don't think so," Beckett mused. "She plays it off that way, but I think she doesn't know how to use the machine and doesn't want to ask."

"Huh," Castle replied, thinking about this. It made sense. Maybe Gates didn't want to appear anything less than authoritative. Maybe she resented a private gift she saw as an ethical violation. Or, maybe, she just didn't like not knowing how to use the machine. The first two reasons he couldn't address, but maybe he could do something about the third…

The ding of the arriving elevator recalled Castle from his musing and caught Beckett's attention, too. Two uniforms emerged from the elevator, both to the side and slightly trailing the handcuffed suspect they'd arrested yesterday for what's become known within the precinct as the "ME Madman murders." Gates hated the name and had been quick to try to stamp it out, lest the media pick up on it. Lanie hated the name even more, since it impugned her profession.

The suspect himself was a creepy looking everyman. A few inches shorter than Castle, he had dark, almost black hair that was desperately in need of a good wash and trim. His sallow complexion, hooked nose, and beady, dark eyes made him look like he should be teaching potions in the basement of a castle in Scotland.

Most notable, though, was his demeanor. He looked like he was walking down the street of his own volition, not strolling towards an interrogation room while cuffed. As Castle predicted, it didn't look like his night in Holding had done anything to dent his confidence.

The only potential flaw in this assessment came when the suspect tripped. He started to go down and with his hands cuffed, he was in for a hard landing. Luckily, though, the uniforms were ready for this possibility, and a nearby Gates was quick to assist. After all, an injury suffered while in police custody – especially while cuffed – could lead to a very lucrative civil suit, not to mention fouling prosecution for the case at issue. So, those nearby were diligent in stopping the suspect's fall and returning him, despite much jostling, gently to his feet.

"Thanks, ma'am… er, sir," Officer Garr said to Gates. As a transplanted southerner, poor Garr had had a hell of a time overcoming his upbringing to refer to Gates by her preferred "sir," rather than "ma'am." He'd been called out several times already, and looked to be expecting another dressing down. To his good fortune, Gates either didn't want to do so in front of the suspect or recognized his effort in changing a long-held habit. Either way, she nodded, stepped aside, and watched the officers deliver the suspect to the interrogation room.

"Ready to watch the boys get some answers?" Beckett asked Castle as they both turned from the scene.

By the time Beckett and Castle reached the observation room, the suspect was in Interrogation and cuffed to the table. Esposito and Ryan were letting him stew for a bit, using the old trick that isolation in the foreboding room would loosen the suspect's tongue. Again, Castle was skeptical.

After five minutes, during which the suspect looked supremely at ease, Esposito and Ryan made their entrance. Both appeared stoic and unapproachable. They sat at their side of the table, each placing a manila folder on the table as threatened fodder for questioning.

"There aren't many challenges left," the suspect said with a smirk, breaking the silence, "so I hope this'll be one, even though it doesn't look promising. Who's gonna start, the liar or the criminal?"

Beckett was impressed that neither Espo nor Ryan responded to this goading from the suspect. Which was good, because Gates had just entered the observation room, much to Castle's concern.

"For the purposes of the recording," Ryan said, resuming the interrogation while Espo sat and leveled a baleful stare at the suspect, "you have affirmatively rejected counsel and chosen to represent yourself. Is that correct?"

"Ah, so the liar leads off the inquisition," the suspect replied. "Yes, Honeymilk, I understand that I have access to counsel and have chosen to forego the charade."

"Mister…," Ryan trailed off, realizing they didn't yet have a name for the suspect. Worse, the suspect seems to have picked up on one of Ryan's unfortunate nicknames. Interested in addressing this imbalance, he asked "What should I call you?"

"My name is Kenneth Dunn," the suspect replied while cutting his eyes at the one-way mirror behind which he suspected interested parties were watching.

"Mister Dunn," Ryan replied, surprised the suspect offered his name so easily after refusing to provide it during the booking process, "we need to ensure that you understand your rights to counsel. If your decision to represent yourself is based on the belief that…"

"Look, Liar, I understand my rights. I understand the system. I don't need your counsel and I don't want your counsel," Dunn offered resolutely. "Now, can we move this along? I'm getting bored already."

"Mister Dunn, I assure you we've been truthful about your access to counsel…"

"But you haven't been truthful to others, have you, Liar?" Dunn interrupted. Leaning forward, he ignored Espo's stare and engaged directly with Ryan. "You've got all these saps at the precinct fooled, don't you, Liar? They see your natty clothes, your obsequious demeanor and write you off as inconsequential, don't they?"

"Mister Dunn," Ryan interrupted, attempting to draw the discussion back to the homicides. "You've been arrested on very serious charges. We need to talk about what happened to Delbruck, Hilltop, and Kemp."

"No, I don't think so. How about we talk about Whelan, Shannon, and O'Doul?"

When Ryan didn't follow up, Esposito finally broke his stare at Dunn and turned to his partner, only to see an unrecognized mix of anger, shame, and… fear?

"What's going on?" Beckett though aloud within the observation room. "Who are Whelan, Shannon, and O'Doul?"

Having posed her questions rhetorically, Beckett was surprised when Gates answered.

"Detective Ryan participated in some undercover operations prior to joining your team, Detective Beckett," she explained carefully. "It would seem that your Homicide suspect is also surprisingly informed about our Organized Crimes operations."

"Do we need to put the brakes on this interrogation?"

"No. Better to keep him talking before we assess what Dunn knows and how. Hopefully, Ryan will keep him talking. Then we can follow up on the other charges the suspect's apparently begging for."

"What did you say?" Ryan finally whispered harshly.

"Is he always like this?" Dunn asked conversationally as he turned to face Espo. "Seriously, you'd think a cop would be a better actor. Though I suppose he was a good enough liar to get into Siobahn's pants. She must be pretty thick, or pretty desperate."

"Shut up!" Ryan shouted as he stood abruptly, his sharp actions sending his chair flying out behind him. "You don't know a thing about her!"

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Dunn jeered in reply. "You seem to care an awful lot about someone you haven't called. Just love 'em and leave 'em, eh, Fenton?"

"You bastard, I'll…," Ryan started to growl before Espo grabbed his bicep and pulled him back down into his chair. Still surprised by his partner's uncharacteristic outburst, Esposito decided he'd take the lead on the interrogation to allow Ryan some time to regroup.

"Mister Dunn," Espo began, trying to bring the proceedings back under control, "where were you on the October 18th?"

The suspect turned his attention back to Esposito and focused on him with an odd intensity, head cocked and eyes bright.

"Mister Dunn," Espo prompted.

Dunn continued to stare at Espo until it looked like the detective was going to ask yet again.

"On the 18th?" Dunn finally replied, sitting back in his chair and stoking his chin. "That was a bad day," he ruminated, drifting in memories not even a week old. "Things had been rough for a while. My fiancé started acting strange. Disappearing at odd hours, and she couldn't look me in the eye."

"What's your fiancé's name," Esposito asked, while Ryan sat mute and fuming at his side.

"Sonia."

Esposito blinked, then started to talk, but paused again. He pushed back a growing sense of unease and attributed the chill than ran down his spine to simple coincidence.

"Where is Sonia, Mr. Dunn?" Ryan finally spoke again, breaking into the flow of the interrogation to pursue a lead that he expected to lead to yet another victim.

"Don't worry, Fenton, she's fine. Well, as fine as she can be in prison, but she's still breathing."

"What the hell is going on?" Beckett asked again within the observation room, marveling at how awry the proceedings have gone. "I guess 'Fenton' was Ryan's name while undercover, but who's Sonia?"

"We need a last name," Gates answered. "But from the look of Detective Esposito, he already knows whoever Dunn is talking about."

"So, Mr. Dunn, what were you doing on the 18th?" Espo repeated himself.

"Well, I finally figured out what was going on, what my fiancé had done," Dunn confessed in a low voice. "So I went home and I packed a bag. And then I grabbed my passport, cleared out my savings account. I was ready to abandon everything because I couldn't picture a life without her."

Dunn finished his answer and sat quietly, looking expectant. Ryan, confused, was about to follow-up when he instead turned to his partner. Rather than impatience at the seeming non-sequitur from the suspect, Espo showed only dazed shock.

"I still remember what she was wearing," Dunn interjected again, recalling Ryan's attention. "She had this great dress on – she was always into labels, you know?" he asked rhetorically, pitching his words to Ryan. "It was for dancing. We went salsa dancing on Friday nights."

The sound of crumpling paper commanded the attention of those in both the Interrogation and observation rooms. Esposito, looking enraged, was glaring at the suspect while his hands on the table were crumpling the papers in the manila file folder.

"Oh, wait," Dunn continued with a laugh. "I'm sorry, I was confused. I wasn't the one who was ready to throw away a career in law enforcement, to turn my back on all the duty and honor I'd choked on in the Forces. That was you, wasn't it, Detective Sergeant Esposito, Sir?" he ended with another bark of laughter and a mocking salute.

"Fuck you," Espo seethed from his side of the table, where it looked like it was taking all his willpower to refrain from leaping at the suspect.

"You know this is why he only goes for a certain type of woman, right?" Dunn asked Ryan while he tapped on his temple, completely ignored Esposito's impotent fury. "It's why he never made a play for Beckett – too worried that she'd figure out how ready he was to jump at being a criminal. 'Course, that doesn't stop him from fantasizing about her," he confided while making a rude gesture. "But he's not the only one, eh, Fenton?"

Victoria Gates wasn't sure what was going on, but she recognized carnage when she saw it. Next to her stood a mortified Detective Beckett, head down and cheeks red. Slightly behind her stood the writer, looking blank and being uncharacteristically quiet. In the Interrogation room, Detective Ryan looked ashamed and Detective Esposito like he was going to burst a blood vessel. And amidst this chaos sat the suspect, leaning back in his chair and looking supremely satisfied at the chaos he'd wrought.

"My office," she commanded to Beckett and Castle while rapping smartly on the glass to signal a break to Esposito and Ryan. Waving to Karpowski to have her keep an eye on the suspect, she turned to the detectives leaving Interrogation. "We need to regroup."

Dunn's smile broadened as he heard the knocks on the one-way mirror. "Sorry, boys, looks like they're pulling the JV team. With any luck, the Varsity squad will present more of a challenge, but somehow I doubt it."

For once, Captain Gates hoped that Castle would say something inappropriate, if only to break the tension.

Gathered in her office, the three detectives and the writer all looked painfully awkward around each other, fearful of engaging after the revelations Dunn had offered. That there was such painful reticence to make eye contact seemed to support the notion that there was truth to at least some of what the suspect had said.

With a sigh, Gates sat behind her desk and tried to assess the damage. "Detectives," she started crisply. "I appreciate that confidences and confidentialities may have been violated during the interrogation. I need to verify some of what we heard," she said, ignoring the renewed blushing on some of the cheeks in the room, "so we can figure out how to proceed. And the clock is ticking, so while I'm going to steer clear of personally sensitive topics, I need you to cooperate unless you've got a fine, official reason not to do so."

Met with silence, the Captain proceeded.

"Detective Ryan, is it fair to say that 'Fenton' was an alias you used on an undercover operation involving Whelan, Shannon, and O'Doul"?

"Yes, sir."

"And Siobahn…"

"Is Siobahn O'Doul. She was… involved."

Gates paused, but opted not to engage. Whatever happened on that assignment was part of Ryan's time in Organized Crime and she decided to leave that to them, though doing so incensed the sensibilities she'd honed in Internal Affairs.

"I see. Detective Esposito, were you engaged to a woman named Sonia?"

"Yeah."

Gates nodded again, deeming his answer sufficient for current purposes. "Can either of you speculate as to how Mr. Dunn learned these things about you?"

"My case was confidential," Ryan started, looking relieved at the opportunity to address a relatively innocuous topic. "It's not still active, but we pulled me out in a way that'd allow me to go back in, if necessary. So, hearing that it's blown will piss off the guy's down in OC. But as far as how Dunn knew about it? Had to be from someone inside, a mole. OC'll be even more pissed about that."

"I'll reach out to them once we finish Mr. Dunn's interrogation," Gates offered. "Now, Detective Esposito?"

Shaking his head, Espo reluctantly took his turn to answer the question. "Had to be someone close to my family. I don't talk about her. Ever," he declared, which Ryan confirmed with a disgruntled nod. "But before she… did what she did, she'd come over for family meals. Mama liked her but Abuelita adored her. She damn near took my head off when I told her Sonia'd left me. They only learned about the engagement after Sonia was gone, so it's not something any of us talk about."

"Very well," Gates sighed, earning looks of relief as the four in front of her realized that Dunn's other comments weren't going to be discussed. "I'm afraid that we must assume you are both compromised until we can ascertain how Mr. Dunn became privy to your secrets."

The pair nodded glumly, understanding the rationale but still upset about being pulled out of the interrogation.

"I'll still want you in the observation room while Detective Beckett and I take a run at Dunn."

"Sir?" Beckett asked, startled about being paired with the prickly new captain.

"Neither of us were involved in the matters addressed by Detectives Esposito and Ryan, and I'm not so far removed that I can't still run an interrogation," she volunteered, speaking in a voice that dissuaded objection. "Besides, you were cleared to return to duty. It's not like you've got anything to hide, right?"