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.
October 23 (continued)
Back in the interrogation room, Castle shook himself in an attempt to clear Dunn's last question from his mind.
"My turn," he said, ignoring the sly smile on Dunn's face. "Are you responsible for any victims after Delbruck other than Kemp or Hilltop, or are there others?"
"Good clarification," Dunn applauded. "If you'd asked if there was anyone else besides Delbruck, we'd be here all day," he cackled. "But after Delbruck? Just Hilltop and Kemp. Though, I was ready to keep going until someone figured out what the hell was going on."
"All in the quest to find something challenging, eh?"
Dunn started to speak, then held himself back. Given that he hadn't exactly held his tongue during all the discussions to that point, his restraint was odd and caught Castle's attention.
"I was gonna say you don't know what it's like," Dunn admitted after a small pause. "But, if the others see you accurately, you actually might. Remember how hard it was for something to catch your attention after you ended Storm?" he asked. Castle found himself wondering if Dunn knew something about him, if he was regurgitating something he'd read from one of the detectives, or if he was just making things up.
"This life, this ability… it gets old real quick. People are small and petty. Doesn't matter if you're here or in a different country, we're all the same: focused on what we want, who we want, and how we want. The homogeneity of desire is sickening," he spat. "Do you realize that more than half of the seven deadly sins are about greed?" Dunn asked, looking slightly mad. "Either greed in itself, greed for consumption, greed for gratification, or greed for what someone else has."
For the first time since this whole bizarre case began, Castle felt the stirrings of an interesting character for his stories. He immediately squashed the thought and reserved his guilt for later.
"You know, I actually went and found a priest, just to see if my experience was unique. And you know what?" Dunn asked, eyebrows elevated on his forehead, "I actually managed to touch one who hadn't dallied with his altar servers. Can you believe it? He was actually a pretty good guy, at least relatively. Sure, he wanted things – like his deacon's daughter – but he mostly wanted things for his parishioners. But, who-ee!, the things he heard in confession. He's heard even more crap than I have! And all of it dripping black with greed."
"So, yeah, I hoped to find a break in the monotony. Just something other than a variant in the universal theme. I still want to know why I could barely hear them, but today's chats have proved to be an interesting diversion."
"Is that your question – why you had trouble hearing Delbruck and Kemp?" Castle asked, trying to mask his hopefulness.
"Looking for a softball, eh? Don't want another question about Alexis?" Dunn guessed shrewdly. "Go on, then," he assented with a nod. "Let's hear your theory. We'll see if it's as outlandish as your 'colleagues,'" he enunciated with a laugh, "seem to expect."
Castle accepted the point with a shrug, then spoke. "You must've already ruled out the obvious – the physiological effects of early-onset Alzheimer's, for which Dr. Hilltop had both Delbruck and Kemp taking pimavanumab," he ventured. Dunn just looked at him with raised brows but no other reaction, so Castle continued.
"But I'm not sure it's as simple as the manifestations of a horrible disease," Castle ventured, his voice drifting as he lapsed into his thoughts. "What are we all, really, aside for the self we define based on our experiences, hopes, and dreams? Hearing a doctor tell you that you're going to lose that – that you'll slowly unravel and, worse, that you won't even realize it as it happens – that's an especially cruel kind of death sentence. Death of the self before death of the body, I suppose," Castle pondered aloud.
"I've seen people here, suspects, who collapse on themselves as they realize that their lives as they know them are done because of what they did in a fit of rage or jealousy or envy or any other number of motivations," Castle continued. "A diagnosis like Delbruck and Kemp's must be even worse. I think that's why you couldn't hear them – not because of their disease, but because of what they lost, what they gave up when they realized how they were going to die."
Dunn looked at him seriously as he thought about Castle's theory. Slowly, he drew himself up and addressed the writer. "Thank you," Dunn offered solemnly, before a grin sprouted on his face. "That was the most fantastic line of bullshit I've heard in a long, long time," he laughed as he reclined again. "I know you're wrong," he said with confidence. "But it was a fascinating insight into how your mind works. And I've gotta say, I thought your buddy Esposito was biased about your contributions to their theory-building. But, if that was a good example of your usual offerings, Espo was a saint for his restraint."
The 'saint' in question was sitting at his desk in the bullpen. Excluded from observing the interrogation, along with Ryan and Beckett, he was instead studiously trying to avoid eye contact with Beckett (due to his embarrassment about what Dunn said) and Ryan (due to his fury about what Dunn said). Neither Beckett nor Ryan looked any more eager to broach the brittle, awkward silence that separated them all.
Light tapping at keyboards captured his attention as he saw both other members of his team staring at their computer screens while looking for something or filling out some kind of forms. Or, he thought with a grim internal laugh, they were doing exactly the same thing as him: pretending to do something to avoid dealing with his colleagues.
The whirring of the printer on the low table to the side of their desks seemed to belie his thoughts. Beckett rose from her chair and stood beside the printer, occasionally pulling a sheet out to check the content before replacing it and waiting. Perhaps desperate to break the fragile tension, Esposito finally asked what she was doing.
"If Castle's right," she began with a nod towards the Interrogation room, "then someone's gonna show up and take our suspect away. I'm just making sure I've got a hard copy of our files before they arrive."
"Smart," he replied, annoyed that his distraction had prevented him from doing the same. "You, too?" he asked his partner, with whom he was still uncomfortable making eye contact.
"What?" Ryan replied, fumbling about. "No, I was just looking into something else?"
Something about Ryan's tone struck Espo as false, but he wondered if it was just the fallout from Dunn's accusations. "Something about Dunn?"
"Kinda," Ryan offered somewhat shiftily before looking at his screen and clicking his computer mouse a few times. "I was looking up Castle's reference to Buchanan. I think I found something."
"Oh?" Beckett asked before striding over to look over Ryan's shoulder. Ryan, himself, looked uncomfortable with this development but tried to appear calm.
"Joseph Rodes Buchanan wrote a book called the Manual of Psychometry back in 1885," Ryan started to explain before his partner interrupted.
"1885?! Figures Castle'd be thinking about some ancient weirdo theory. So," Espo asked while looking dismissive, "what's psychometry?"
"… 'also known as token-object reading or psychoscopy, is a form of extrasensory perception characterized by the claimed ability to make relevant associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact,'" she read from the online article on Ryan's screen.
"Baloney," Esposito replied on principle, ignoring entirely Dunn's dismantling of their group. "How's that supposed to work?" he asked as he rose from his seat and rounded the desks to join Beckett in looking at Ryan's computer screen.
"According to the theory, items have an energy field that transfers knowledge about the item's history to someone who's adept at recognizing the signals," Beckett replied, eyes still scanning the information.
"Total baloney. Energy fields, adepts?" Esposito scoffed. "Look, here," he continued while pointing at the screen, "it says the theory's been totally debunked."
"Yeah, except for the guy sitting in Interrogation right now."
"Hold it," Ryan interrupted with some urgency. "This talks about objects, not people. Does that mean Dunn could read physical things, too? Like the handcuffs we slapped on him, or…"
"Or the interrogation table?" Beckett wondered.
"The interrogation table that Castle's touched more than a few times," Ryan amended, looking concerned.
Beckett thought about his theory, then shook her head in dismissal. "I don't think so. Remember what Dunn said – he went after Delbruck because he couldn't hear him. Sounds like he's picking up thoughts, not 'energy fields' or something else. Castle just said he was familiar with Buchanan's theory, not that Dunn's a psychometrist."
"Yeah, 'specially since such a thing doesn't exist," Espo laughed. "Besides, even Dunn said he didn't know what Castle was talking about."
"Yeah, I guess," Ryan replied with uncertainty before turning his eyes back to his screen. His movement was a mistake, as it drew his partner's attention back to the same place.
"What the hell?" Espo erupted, poking so roughly at the screen that it nearly toppled over. "What's in this other tab of your browser?" he demanded, poking the screen again.
"It's not what it looks like," Ryan promised, his denial sounding weak even to him.
Roughly shoving Ryan aside, Espo leaned over and took control of the computer mouse, navigating the cursor to click on the other tab, which opened to the homepage of Marlowe Academy.
"You stalking her now?!"
"No!" Ryan yelled in reply, before realizing that his outburst risked drawing attention from others in the bullpen. Getting himself under control, he whispered roughly. "I'm worried about Castle. You know he's probably getting torn up in there – taunted at least, but maybe worse. You know the first thing he's gonna do when he gets out is worry about Alexis. I thought we could call and make sure she's okay," he explained, warily trying to gauge reactions. "And we should call his mom, too."
"Why, you got a thing for her, too, Fenton?" Espo railed back, not mollified by Ryan's explanation.
"It's not like that!" Ryan insisted.
"Espo, let it go," Beckett entreated, stepping back to signal the need to calm things down by creating some distance.
"Says the partner who thought Little Castle needs a good, hard…"
"Espo!" Beckett barked in her most authoritative voice, collecting the attention of all on the floor. "We're not gonna do this. Dunn's obviously very good at sowing dissension. Everyone has secrets. The fact that we hold them tight allows us to function but also gives him leverage. But that only works if we let it."
Again, Esposito looked less than convinced.
"Look," Beckett continued in a more reasonable and regular tone of voice. "I'm sure Ryan did what he had to do in OC. I'm sure you did what you had to do in Special Forces. Same for me in Vice. We all have a past. But you know what?" she asked quietly before pinning them each with a look. "It doesn't matter. All we need to know about each other," she paused before backing up a bit, "all we need to trust about each other, is what we've accomplished as a team. We're the best Homicide team in the city. We've been that way for years. Trust our experience. Trust what we know, not what Dunn's trying to sell."
"Why did you kill Hilltop?" Castle asked, back in the Interrogation room where it was his turn for a question.
"Why not?" Dunn replied with an indifferent shrug.
"Because he was a physician with patients who depended on him? Because he had partners, family, friends?" Castle replied, getting upset despite his intentions. "Because he was a human being?"
"Not much of one," Dunn scoffed. "Did you meet Maddie Wilder? Talk about an inappropriate name," he said with a sad shake of his head. "There was nothing 'wilder' about her in the sack. Seriously, you'd think a workplace romance would have a little more passion. Something you've given a lot of thought, right, Ricky?"
"Not my turn to answer a question," Castle replied tersely. "So, you killed Hilltop because he was sleeping with his partner?"
"And three of his patients, his wife's best friend, and he was finally making inroads with the neighborhood girl who used to babysit his kids," Dunn replied. "See what I mean? Pull back the public image and he was just as big a pig as anyone else."
"So, that gave you the right to kill him?" Castle pushed, intrigued by Dunn's callous disregard and upset about it.
"Yes, no, who cares?" Dunn replied blandly. "He's dead. Some people will cry, some will be relieved. He was pretty sure his wife knew about the affairs. Now she can take his life insurance and go screw the pool-boy."
Castle held up his hands, still encased in the evidence gloves, and extended his index fingers and thumbs as if framing a camera shot. "Portrait of a remorseless killer."
Dunn shrugged again. "Yeah, that's about right," he agreed. "But if I didn't off Hilltop and park his body on that table, it would've taken you forever to find me and then we wouldn't be having this lovely chat," he said with a coquettish giggle while batting his eyes at Castle. "If you're gonna feel bad about anyone, think about poor Stevie Delbruck. There's a guy who built the perfect life, who worked hard to get it. Then, Bam!" he shouted while knocking his cuffed fist on the table. "Sorry, your wife's dead. Sorry, your kids can't handle the memories of your lifelong home and moved as far away as they could. Sorry, here's a shitty little subdivide where you can fade away into nothingness while you'll be helpless to forget the love of your life. I think I did that dude a favor."
"Sad," Castle agreed with a nod, though he was probably talking both about Delbruck and about Dunn's amoral outlook.
"Life," Dunn replied laconically. "But," he continued, "it's my turn for a question, right? Speaking of 'sad,' why are you here?"
"Why am I here? I'm here because you recently killed three people," Castle tried, though he feared he knew where Dunn's question was really pointed.
"Come now, Ricky, let's not play games. Why are you here at the precinct? Why do you continue to wait for Beckett? I can tell you, with absolute authority, that it's never gonna happen."
"Maybe, maybe not," Castle allowed, trying to stay aloof.
"You're not listening, which – between you and me – seems to be a constant belief about you held by everyone in this office," he laughed. "But face the facts, man! She preferred Demming to you. Then she preferred Davidson to you. Now she prefers being alone to you! Don't you get it? She'd rather be alone than face the prospect of private time with you!"
Castle sat at the interrogation table and tried not to flinch. He'd worried about the scenario – having his heart stomped upon. But, of course, it's even worse than he imagined. First, everyone has their own voice of doubt; that eternal, internal whisperer of insecurities. Turns out it's much worse to hear your own insecurities clearly articulated by someone else.
But it's the second issue that truly left Castle feeling beleaguered. He knew someone was watching the Interrogation, but not exactly who. The best case, he realized with a grim shake of his head, is that Gates is alone in the observation room. Then he'd only catch hell for his personal regard for his partner. But if Beckett was in the room, too, he realized that his humiliation would be all the deeper and his degrees of freedom for his reply would be even more limited.
Screw it, Castle thought as he looked across the table at Dunn. Beckett had her own worries about this interrogation and he'd been foolish enough to disregard them. If I've got to pay the price anyway, he though fatalistically to himself, I might as well get my money's worth.
"You're mistaken," Castle said as he leaned forward and smiled in a show of bravado. "I know this must be a foreign concept for you, but I can say, with absolute authority," he said with a grin, happy to throw Dunn's words back at him, "that Beckett has no idea why I came back to the precinct. I'm afraid your information about my motives is out of date."
"You can't lie to me," Dunn offered, looking angry enough that he'd risk ending their game of Q&A.
"I'm sure I can't," Castle agreed while waving his gloved hands to emphasize the protections he'd taken against Dunn's unique talent. "But Beckett? I can lie to her."
"What the hell is going on around here?" lamented Gates rhetorically in the observation room. She was starting to seriously regret drawing the captaincy of the 12th. What had seemed like a dream job when finally offered to her had been nothing but trouble from the off. First, she needed to clean up the mess left behind by a corrupt (not that they'd ever admit that and tarnish the reputation of the Department!) captain. Then, there was the whole fiasco of being forced to allow the troublesome civilian to gallivant around Homicide crime scenes. And then they find a suspect who revels in sowing discord and exposing fault-lines in what she'd thought was a solid team of detectives. And If Beckett's team was so riven by secrets and lies, she had little hope that other teams were any better.
A sharp knock on the door pulled Gates from her maudlin thoughts. Turning, she opened the door to see an angry looking Beckett flanked by a prim-looking woman in an austere gray suit over a high-necked blouse. The outfit was accentuated with a black scarf, black pumps, and black leather gloves.
Looking beyond the pair in the doorway, Gates saw three men dressed similarly, including the gloves. One was sitting at Beckett's desk while the other two stood behind Esposito and Ryan, clearly overseeing the transfer or deletion of the booking forms for Dunn.
"Excuse me," Gates said sternly, happy for an officious prompt to regain her usual composure. "I'm Captain Vic…"
"Captain Gates," the visitor beside Beckett interrupted, "I'm here to take custody of the suspect currently in Interrogation. This folder contains the transfer documentation. We'll take him now."
"That's not how this works," Gates replied. "We're going to step into my office, review the paperwork, then call… Hey! You don't have the authority to go in there!"
The stern visitor paid no attention, instead opening the door to Interrogation without knocking.
"Sorry, Ricky, but mom's here so playtime's over," Dunn said with a laugh as he recognized the woman standing in the doorframe.
"You're just laughing because it was my turn," Castle joked weakly, trying to make himself feel better and failing.
"Trust me, Ricky, I've found our conversation fascinating. I'd like nothing better than to get inside your head."
That ominous promise (especially considering the souvenirs Dunn took from Delbruck and Kemp) seemed to spur the visitor to motion. She stepped into the room, approached Dunn, and unlocked the cuffs securing him to the table with her own keys. She helped him rise with a hand to his elbow, before spinning him to cuff his wrists behind his back. All the while, Gates scanned the documents in the folder and scowled at her lack of control.
As the visitor led Dunn from the Interrogation room and to the group of her waiting colleagues, Castle began to feel uneasy. Dunn reveled in causing mischief, in throwing around harmful secrets like an anarchist might hurl bombs. His silence seemed ominous. Each step toward Beckett's team and their discreet guests seemed to build the suspense as each member of the team who'd encountered Dunn stepped nervously while awaiting another revelation.
"Miss me?" Dunn mugged for the taciturn, gloved visitors. "I left you a nice present, though, right?"
"It was delightful," the woman leading the visitors replied in a calm voice. "There are some folks who are anxious to talk to you about that. We'd best not keep them waiting."
While Dunn looked indifferent to this statement, the NYPD members (and their resident writer) displayed a more complex range of emotions: anger at the way they'd been summarily dismissed by the gloved officers or agents or whomever; frustration at the likely consequences for their cases of losing their main suspect; embarrassment at what Dunn had revealed to others; relief that he'd soon be gone, taking his unwelcomed revelations with him; and, finally, shame at how naked their relief were to others.
So it was an odd assemblage that escorted Dunn to the elevator to take him away. And with every step, the smile on his face grew larger as he delighted in the awkward tension that grew more cloying as they neared the elevator.
"You've been such wonderful hosts," Dunn erupted just as one of his guard went to press the elevator call button, "it'd be a shame to leave you without some parting gifts."
The gray-suited minions stood resolutely silent, ignoring Dunn and his comments. Beckett's team, Castle, and even Gates took deep breaths as they prepared for one last assault, though at least one thought about bolting.
"Ryan," Dunn started, causing the young detective to flinch. "Don't let Espo give you any shit about your Lolita thing for Alexis. If he starts, just tell him your fantasies are far more boring than what he got up to with your sister. And Javy, should you decide to bury the hatchet, don't take him home for dinner – he hates your mama's cooking."
From the enraged look on the boys' faces, Castled experienced a small instant of displacement. Despite the seriousness of the moment, he couldn't help but marvel at the quantification of rage, about how insulting a man's mother's cooking was apparently tantamount to sleeping with another man's sister.
"Detective," Dunn continued, turning to face Beckett, "it was a real pleasure. You've given me so much to think about I'm not even going to leave you with a parting shot. I mean, seriously, it's gonna take me months to figure you out, even with the head start from Doctor Burke," he marveled. Beckett, meanwhile, lowered her head at the confused looks she garnered at the mention of her therapist. "But I think I'll start with pondering this question: how could it be, after all that's transpired between you, that you didn't even think about calling Ricky here while you were hiding away this summer? And after that beautiful confession, too! To not even think about him – how can that even happen?"
"That's enough!" Gates finally interjected, again too late. Figuring she'd learned nothing new since Dunn last touched her and thus there was no additional risk, she drew close to get in his face as she defended her detectives. "I've had more than enough of your petty little power plays. Run along to your handlers and next time you want a challenge, try to make yourself a respectable human. There's a challenge for you!"
The ding of the arriving elevator punctuated the moment but did not distract Gates or Dunn.
"Oh, Vicky," Dunn smiled in response as he clapped his cuffed hands. "Keep fighting the good fight. Keep cleaning up the precinct. Keep your fierce reputation intact, and keep yelling," he said as he was ushered into the elevator. Turning in place to face her from inside the elevator car, he fired his parting shot. "But do it quick, because Victoria?" he asked as the doors began to slide closed, "I can barely hear you."
A/N: More soon, I hope. Lots of travel in the short term, which usually means time for writing (presuming I don't leave my computer at the security checkpoint again...)