Esposito followed Beckett and Castle along the well-used walkway toward the main office of the downtrodden building the VSN Center was operating out of.
In any other situation, the broken siding and deteriorating roof of the pale-blue duplex reminded him of a rescue mission, the interesting assortment of characters strewn across park benches or walking the pathways surrounding the place only adding to the depressing atmosphere.
He'd never been here before.
Last time he saw Lafayette was at the hospital, where the psychiatrist had been given a spacious top-floor office with ornate sculptures, a staff of twelve nurses and high-end furniture to conduct his business.
This…this was a surprising change.
His mind was struggling with the notion that all these men out here were veterans, having fallen off the deep end, not seeking or receiving the help they so desperately needed. These were fathers, brothers, heroes that society had so readily forgotten about…like so many other things that mattered.
He didn't notice that he'd fallen back until Beckett turned around just before reaching the front door, her warm gaze scanning him worriedly.
"You ok, Espo?"
Hiding his deep feelings toward the situation beneath a half-hearted smile, he cocked his head at her.
"I'm fine."
She nodded, knowing it was a lie but respecting his need for privacy given the circumstances. As usual, unlike her, Castle continued to stare at him with those prying eyes, as though he was profiling him for a new book.
Unnerved by the shameless curiosity, Esposito glared back at him, starting to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles as he walked toward the writer, the threatening gesture sending the taller of the two men scurrying after Beckett.
As it turned out, the outside of the building was in as bad a shape as the inside, the dilapidated floors and walls speaking of many years of abuse and a distinct sense of fire and health code violations.
This wasn't exactly what he'd envisioned as a center receiving generous grant money to help combat veterans.
At the end of the long hallway, a sparse nurses' station greeted them, manned by a lady in her late sixties, helping a man with a missing arm fill out some paperwork.
Judging by his age, Javier figured him to be Vietnam or Korea material.
As they approached, Beckett flashed her badge, announcing their arrival per usual.
The not-so-usual part included the man jumping out of his chair in undisguised horror, staring at them wide-eyed, his entire body shaking as he pointed his finger at the group.
"It's death! It's the death angel! It's him!", he screamed and backed into a corner, causing one of the scenic pictures along the wall to drop to the floor, the glass shattering upon impact.
Frozen in his spot, Castle looked over at Beckett, receiving nothing but a shrug in response, then turned toward Esposito, his brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a grimace.
"The guy said he, not her. Who do you suppose he's talking to, you or me?"
"Yo, why would he be talking to me? It's you, man. All those books you write. Killing off people. That's what you get, death angel.", Esposito countered indignantly and watched the nurse and a set of arriving orderlies calm the patient down, then escort him along the hallway to the outside, though not without significant resistance.
"Well, that was interesting.", Beckett muttered nervously, drawing in a deep breath as they waited for the nurse to return, the older lady eyeing them suspiciously as she sat back down behind her desk, taking a moment to readjust her glasses before checking her appointment book.
"You must be the police officers here to question Dr. Lafayette?"
"That would be us."
"He will be ready for you in a few minutes. He's just finishing up with a patient. Just please do us all a favor and keep this short. Dr. Lafayette has a long afternoon ahead saving the lonesome souls of this city. And as you just witnessed, there's a dire need."
