"What the…"
Castle instantly felt his hands get sweaty, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails were leaving half-moon shapes in his palms.
He'd circled Montgomery's desk expecting to see some ransom letter strewn together with pieces of cut-out newspaper, maybe an angry audiotape or any of the stereotypical tokens that came with a kidnapping.
But this? This was enough to make his knees grow weak.
"These guys aren't armatures.", the Captain whispered, his lower lip twitching slightly as he struggled to find the right words.
The confirmation was in the grainy photo sitting in Montgomery's inbox, the black, grey and green shades that blended together to form a haunting image that tore on Castle's heartstrings.
Next to him, he heard Ryan suck in a sharp breath, bending down to take a closer look, his shaking fingers touching the monitor as though it would help bring things to life.
Using his advantage in height, Castle stayed back, doing what he always did; memorize the scene he was given.
The picture had been taken in a basement, or some sort of darkened, windowless room with barren concrete walls and floors. One large pipe against the back and three smaller ones ran top to bottom, likely sewer and water lines to a large building.
Next to them, Beckett sat strapped to a metal chair, hands and feet cuffed to the framework, the chair itself chained to one of the pipes. Her hair was disheveled; her black jacket partially tore open, a dark bruise appearing high on her cheek.
Her features were rigid, defiant, her anger so strong he could feel it reverberate through each of the grainy pixels.
Next to her stood a man in black battle fatigues, his head covered by a hoodie, the type you could see in westerns when the executioner brought out the criminals to hang. The outfit almost seemed comical, put on, as though the man was making up in attire what he lacked in criminal conviction.
He was aiming a handgun at Beckett's head, just an inch away from her left temple, finger on the trigger.
The camera was sitting on the floor, several feet back from the scene, in front of a small drain.
From that angle, he hadn't noticed Esposito until he followed Ryan's index finger to the curled-up form on the ground, nearly hidden by the many shadows that obscured the image.
Esposito was lying on his side, head resting on the barren floor, not having been given the courtesy of a chair for one reason or another.
Castle couldn't tell if he was dead, didn't even dare to think he might be for fear of his thoughts becoming reality.
Ryan had been one step ahead of him, his fingers tracing a spot around his partner's head.
"Can you zoom in? I think there's blood. Lots of it."
"There is. Not enough to convince me that he's dead though.", Montgomery added solemnly, meeting Castle's glance for a brief moment, both men worried about the graphic nature of the photo and it's repercussions for Ryan's sake, "I'll see if we can trace the email address this came from. You should also know that there was a short note attached to it."
"Whatever money they want, I'll get it together and…", Castle began, only to see the Captain raise a warning hand.
"All the note said was "do nothing". No ransom demands, no mention of money, no deadline. That's it."
"What's that even supposed to mean?", Ryan chimed in and straightened back out, his blue eyes never leaving the screen, "Do nothing? That mean we're supposed to just sit here and wait?"
"Right now…we have nothing else to go by.", Montgomery countered, sensing tempers flaring in his office, "Let's have the forensic IT guys take a look at this, see if we can figure out where this picture was taken. The car was found fifteen miles north of Richardson's apartment, which is a lot of buildings to canvass. The better we can narrow down our search area, the sooner we can find them."
Castle could tell that Ryan was ready to rebut when he opened his mouth briefly, then shut it again.
Even from his distance he noticed the other man shaking, the disturbing image enough to put him into a deep state of shock.
Castle felt the exact same way, his heart aching at seeing Beckett hurt and in trouble. The gun to her head, the gloved hand holding it, a bloodied, lifeless Esposito to her feet; it was a scene that tore on his inner self control a lot more than he cared to admit.
"I know it may sound like a stupid question…", he began, shoving one hand into the pocket of his blue jeans to keep from fidgeting, "But should we email back?"