The Other Path

Chapter 34

With the local CSU crawling all over the remains of the shack, Kate begins to head back to her car. "Are you all right to drive?" Rick asks. "I'm still shaken by the blast, and you were closer than I was. We could get some kindly local officer to give us a lift to a nice room for the night and come back for the car in the morning."

"Did you have someplace in mind?" Kate asks. "I thought you came up here to go camping."

"I did. Well, Alexis and I did. But one time, there was an unexpected downpour. Then the tents collapsed. And even the stubborn redhead decided she wanted a warm bed. We got lucky and found the Limon House. Not only did we get warm and dry, but breakfast in the morning was excellent. Limon's not far from here. I could call and see if there's a room available." Rick picks a wood shard out of Kate's hair. "And we could both use a shower."

"You may have a point," Kate concedes. She sniffs her sleeve. "But I'd hate getting back into these clothes."

"The Limon has a little gift shop with area-themed sweats and stuff. They'll have mountains and trees on them – not exactly New York City sartorial splendor – but clean."

"All right," Kate agrees. "Sold."

"That's all you have?" Rick inquires of the voice on the phone. He pulls out his credit card. "Fine. I'll take it."

"What is it? A single next to the ice machine?" Kate asks as Rick puts his phone away.

"The Honeymoon Suite. King-sized bed and all the perks, including a double-sized shower. Apparently, the bride and groom had a falling out before the wedding, and they canceled. The unhappy couple's loss is our gain."

Kate closes her eyes. "I'm sorry for the bride and groom, but the room sounds like heaven."


Groaning, Kate snuggles deeper into Rick's body as her text alert sounds.

"You're not going to check that?" he asks.

She groans again, pushing herself up in the Limon House bed, and grabs her cellphone. "The Poughkeepsie police have Abraham Hayes. They're holding him for boobytrapping the shack. But we can go question him about Menkin's murder. I can get the state troopers to take us back to the car, so I can drive there."

"You don't sound enthusiastic," Rick notes. "Usually, you can't wait to put the bad guys in the hot seat."

"I've been thinking about it. I don't see a guy who likes blowing things up like that, killing someone with a spear. If he could get that close, why not blow up the yacht or shoot a grenade at Menkin? That, and I can barely move. I think every chip of wood that hit me left a bruise."

"This from the stoic Kate Beckett. Wow! Perhaps you should give yourself some time. The unhoneymooners originally reserved this room for a week. We could probably pick it up for at least another day."

Kate throws her bare legs over the side of the bed. "No. Hayes might be crazy enough to do anything. I need to question him."

"I know I could use a couple of pain pills. Shall I call downstairs for a twofer?" Rick offers.

"Yeah. Please."


Abraham Hayes doesn't meet the stereotype of the wild mountain man. In fact, nothing about him looks wild. His hair is cropped short in a military cut. He's clean-shaven and wearing clean clothes. It's only his eyes that hint at disorder behind them.

After a hasty trip to the Poughkeepsie Garment Mart, with her badge hanging around her neck, Kate looks professionally cop-like. Rick would rather have one of his made-to-order shirts, but at least his clothes aren't a distraction as he sits at Kate's side. "Mr. Hayes," she begins, "I'm Detective Kate Beckett from the NYPD. This is Mr. Castle. We're the ones the bomb in your shack blew up."

"Obviously it didn't," Hayes observes, "or you wouldn't be sitting there. But from the scratches on your face, I assume you were close – and you were trespassing. So, what were you doing on my property?"

"We came to ask you about a spear you bought," Kate replies. "It's the same type of spear that killed Senator Menkin."

"Who?" Hayes asks with apparent sincerity. "I'm a sovereign citizen. I don't acknowledge the authority of officials of the federal government. I don't keep track of who they are, and I wouldn't waste a valuable weapon on one of them."

"A valuable weapon," Rick repeats. "Why did you buy it?"

"To hunt. You can't rely on anyone but yourself for food. I eat what I kill or gather."

"You relied on someone else to make your spear," Rick points out.

"I can use a snare if I need to," Hayes declares.

"That was no snare in your cabin. Why did you booby trap your home to blow up?"

"My home?" Hayes smirks. "That wasn't my home. I live off the land. I can live anywhere. That's just the place I knew they'd come looking for me."

"Who'd come looking for you?" Rick asks.

"The illegitimate state that claims my money," Hayes asserts. "They wanted everything. I'm not giving them anything."

"Are you talking about the IRS?" Rick queries.

"Damn thieves!" Hayes responds.

Rick nods. "I sympathize, man. I didn't even want to look at what my business manager had to send off to them last quarter. But that pays for everything we share, the roads we drive on, the armed services that defend us."

"I defend myself!" Hayes retorts.

"With a spear?" Kate injects.

"With whatever I need to use. But I didn't kill any senator."

"So, where were you three mornings ago?" Kate questions.

Hayes glares. "I don't need to answer that. You have no authority over me. I don't need to answer anything."

Kate smacks her palm on the table. "Fine. Then you can sit in your cell,"

The corners of Hayes' lips twitch upward. "Only until my lawyer comes."

Rick runs his hand over his face as he and Kate leave the Poughkeepsie interrogation room. "A sovereign citizen with an attorney on retainer. I wouldn't have thought of writing a character like that. You think he's got a tax lawyer?" Rick pulls his cellphone out of the pocket of his new slacks. "You know if Hayes is into this sovereign crap he probably tweets about it. Sh*t! I'll be damned."

Kate peeks over the top of Rick's screen. "Did you find his Twitter?"

"His corporate profile. No wonder he hates taxes. He inherited the majority of stock in Toconocorp. He lives off the land all right. He owns half the real estate around here. If he doesn't catch enough food, he can buy the supermarket. But I doubt he'd kill Senator- corporate taxes are too high - Menkin. If anything, they'd be kindred spirits. But I guess that puts us out of suspects."

"Or maybe put us where we should have been looking. The spear sent us off in another direction. But in most cases, we look at people close to the victim first: spouses, girlfriends, boyfriends. So who knew Menkin's habits well enough to figure out how to kill him with a spear?"

"Or send someone to kill him with a spear?" Rick adds. "Menkin's murder may have nothing to do with politics. It could be very personal."