The Other Path

Chapter 74

Kate stretches contentedly in bed. "When Dr. Drake assumed you'd be creative, she had no idea."

Rick rolls over to face her. "Tit for tat there. And very nice ones they are. But then, they match the rest of you." He winces a little as he props himself up on one elbow.

"Are you OK, Babe?"

"Fine. Better than fine. Just a little sore, but no more so than I get from my exercises. And our workout was infinitely more pleasurable. Perhaps we can fit it into my regimen."

Kate runs a teasing finger down Rick's chest, avoiding the still-angry-looking incision. "I think that can be arranged." The wake-up song sounds from her phone. "Damn! I've got to get going."

"Now that you've nailed Jolene, what are you going to do? More supervising of interrogations?"

"Uh-huh. That and writing up the Robinson case."

Cronut bounds into the room, and Rick reaches out to ruffle the fur on the dog's neck. "His ears still perk up at Robinson's name." Cronut barks and trots away. "I bet he's going to get his leash. Feel like a stroll before breakfast?"

"It better be a short one. Gates is on the warpath about hours again. I think her in-laws must be visiting. She's arriving early and watching to make sure everyone's in by beginning of shift."

"I know how she feels. The last time Meredith came to town, Alexis suddenly developed a much heavier class load at Columbia, and I couldn't wait to hide out at the precinct. That didn't keep Meredith from trying to follow, but fortunately, she got sidetracked by shopping. Maybe Gates can sidetrack her relatives somehow. Isn't her mother-in-law a pilot? I saw a blurb in The Ledger about a new exhibit at the sea, air, and space museum. As distractions go, the aviation museum on the island wouldn't be bad either. And it's a nice long drive. The round trip would fill a day and maybe an evening too if the visitors stopped for dinner on the way back."

"That's not a bad idea. I'll mention it to Gates if she starts ranting. But we really should get moving if we're going to give Cronut time to do his thing before I'm due at the 12th."

Rick maneuvers his legs over the side of the bed. "Roger that."


As a boom shakes the walls of the loft, Cronut skids on the wooden floor, running to Rick. The trembling dog presses his body against the legs of his new master. Rick reaches down to stroke the trembling canine. "That probably had half the cops in the 12th diving under their desks." He pulls out his phone. "No alerts. Wait, here, breaking news. 'A yet unexplained sound rocks lower Manhattan. More to follow.' That wasn't too helpful. I hope Mama Kate's all right."

Rick's phone rings as he's about to call his wife. "Babe, are you OK?"

"The noise scared the hell out of Cronut, but we're fine. How about the precinct?"

"Fine too, but we don't know what happened. Gates is on the phone with 1PP, but it's probably too soon for them to know anything either."

"Maybe it was a supersonic plane," Rick suggests, "with some superduper secret mission."

"Hardly secret if it makes a sound like that."

"Point taken. But the airspace above New York City is supposed to be closed to aircraft flying above 1100 feet. Still, the last I read, no decent defense against the planes exists. Homeland Security has been squabbling over that for years. And it still wouldn't prevent disasters like 9/11 from happening again."

"Hang on a sec. Gates is coming out of her office. Hey. I'll call you back."

Gates raps on a whiteboard for attention. "People, 1PP just got the first report on that sound. Apparently, it was caused by an unidentified aircraft flying at Mach 3."

"Unidentified aircraft," Ryan echoes. "A UFO?"

Gates and Esposito simultaneously turn to him with chilling stares.

"No, Detective Ryan," Gates responds through a clenched jaw. "We are not discussing little green men. We suspect an experimental aircraft strayed from its flight plan. Whose aircraft is yet to be determined, but no damage has been reported so far. So all of you get back to work. We'll have civilian volunteers fielding citizen inquiries, and the rest of you should continue with standard procedures. I'm expecting all reports to be turned in on time."

"Well, that's it," Esposito declares as he and Ryan return to their desks. "Some flyboy screwed up. End of story."

"Not much of a story," Ryan grumbles. "I bet Castle could have come up with a better one."

"Which would be as much fiction as little green men," Esposito retorts.

"They're gray," Ryan mumbles and plops back into his desk chair.

"A Mach 3 aircraft, and they don't know who was flying it," Rick considers skeptically when Kate calls him back. "A plane like that costs at least $200 million to build. You don't just lose it. It sounds like something I'd write for the opening chapter of a Storm novel. There's got to be more to it than straying from a flight plan."

"Ryan was thinking little green men."

"They would be gray, but I doubt it. Aliens attempting to conceal themselves from Terran eyes wouldn't announce themselves that way. That was a human foul-up, and I'm betting it was a doozy."


At first, the flight-suited man floating on the East River looks like an abandoned toy or a deflated raft. His true nature becomes apparent only when a clean-up crew pulls him closer to shore. With no interrogations looming, Kate leads her team to the body's location on the pier. Perlmutter looks up from the deceased flier. "He didn't drown. He was shot elsewhere and dumped."

"What was the TOD?" Kate inquires.

"Detective, the man was in cold water for I don't know how long," Perlmutter replies impatiently. "I'll need to get him back to the lab for more tests before I can give you an accurate estimate. However, rigor mortis is present, suggesting he's been dead for at least an hour."

"Can you tell the caliber of the bullet?" Kate presses.

"The entry wound looks like it was made by a 9mm, but I'll have to dig it out to be sure."

"That doesn't narrow it down much," Ryan notes. "There must be millions of 9mm weapons in the state and more in surrounding areas."

"And there's no telling if the killer was local," Kate adds. "Any ID on the victim, Perlmutter?"

"Did he have a wallet? No. I've already sent off the fingerprints. Nothing so far. I'll let you know if CODIS has a match for his DNA."

Esposito points at the flight suit. "That isn't U.S. military issue. Whoever this guy was flying for, it wasn't Uncle Sam – at least not officially."

Kate studies the body. "I don't see any insignia. Either John Doe didn't want to be identified, or he was part of a shadow operation. Or maybe both."

"Too bad Castle isn't here," Ryan comments. "He'd love a case like this. You going to show him the pictures, Beckett? I'll bet he'd have a story about who this guy is."

"No bet," Kate replies. "I'll show him the pictures. And maybe one of his old contacts that are always coming out of the woodwork will have a clue."