Two Days Later
December 18, 2009
"I was right!" Castle shouts as he closes his phone, pumping his fist into the air.
"What was that, darling?" Martha asks, sailing into the room.
"It was the brother. The case I was shadowing? They caught the guy."
"You're unusually chipper," his mother observes.
"I feel...different. Inspired, even." He gives her a look. "Mother, do remember the girl I told you about years ago, with the glove? She said she would put her name and number in a book and I put mine on a five dollar bill?"
"Oh, yes. Magic," she says, fanning her fingers.
"I feel like the universe keeps revealing her to me lately."
"Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm serious," he says. "When I went to get a trim earlier today, the woman who was cutting my hair was named Kate. And when I was in the car, a taxi advertising the musical Kiss Me, Kate pulls up next to me, which is strange because I'm pretty sure they closed that show eight years ago and—"
"What are you saying?"
"I think I'm supposed to find her."
"Didn't you try it years ago? You searched every book store in New York."
"Maybe I missed a store. Or somebody bought it and sold it back."
"Richard, you're getting married in two days," Martha says.
"Maybe this is cold feet. I don't know. But I need to find her."
Martha looks him over, thinking.
"Where do you start?"
Castle pulls up a chair next to Esposito's desk.
"You know, there's this girl," he says.
Esposito doesn't look up from his computer screen. "The case is closed, remember?"
Castle pouts, "I thought we had a connection."
"Funny."
Ryan walks over from the break room holding a cup of cappuccino.
"Hey, Castle," he says, taking a sip. "Thanks again for the new machine."
Castle waves him off. "Couldn't have you guys drinking that sludge. Tasted like a monkey peed in battery acid."
Esposito scoffs. "Don't you have some book signing to go to?"
"No, uh, I have this dilemma," the writer says, "I'm looking for a girl. But I only know her first name. And that she grew up in the city."
"Missing persons is down the hall and to the left," Esposito says.
"She's not missing, more like...missed?"
"I don't think we can help you," Esposito says, grinding his teeth together.
"And to think I was going to base a character in my new book on you," Castle says, miffed.
"Gee, I'm flattered."
Ryan perks up. "Really?"
"Did I mention I have access to a Ferrari?"
That catches Esposito's attention. He turns towards Castle. "What else do you know about her?"
"She likes strawberry ice cream."
"Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" Esposito gestures to Ryan. "Do you think he knows how ridiculous he sounds?"
"We met one night a decade ago. It was kismet, and I have to find her," Castle says.
"Aren't you getting married this weekend?" Ryan asks, setting his cappuccino down and sitting at his desk opposite Esposito's.
"And now it all makes sense," Esposito says with a disapproving glance. "Look, bro, this is so not worth a joyride in your Ferrari rental." He returns his gaze back to his computer.
Ryan picks up a pen and grabs his pad. "What did she look like?"
Castle lifts his chair and spins it to face the other detective.
"Brown hair, hazel eyes. Very tall," he rattles off and Ryan nods along as he scribbles down the details. "Her name is Kate." Ryan's pen pauses. "And her mother was killed. January, 1999."
Esposito tears his eyes from his screen. "How did you meet this girl, again?" he asks.
"We both reached for the last pair of gloves at Bloomingdale's."
"I see," Esposito says, sharing a covert look with Ryan.
Castle brings a flash drive out from his pocket and hands it to the blue-eyed detective. "I don't have her mother's name either, so I started looking into possible cases in that time frame with female victims who were anywhere between 40 and 60."
"How many did you find?" Ryan asks, taking the drive.
"Eight in Manhattan, twelve in the surrounding boroughs, and nine more in the greater state of New York. I also picked a few from around the country since I'm not even sure she where she was killed."
"So you looked through over twenty-nine cases?" Esposito asks, slightly impressed.
"Well, I only began investigating public records after I divorced my first wife a couple years ago. I got through maybe ten files before some of the stuff I ran across gave me the idea to write Derrick Storm, so now..." He gestures around them. "Now, I'm here," His phone buzzes and he glances at the caller ID. "I have to take this. Might be another lead." He throws the boys a hopeful look. "But if you find anything, let me know."
"Sure thing," Ryan says. He waits until the writer's out of earshot to say, "You don't think…"
"No way," Espo says, leaning back in his chair, his hands coming behind his head.
"We should tell him. Maybe it's her," Ryan says.
"She's engaged. He's getting married. What's the point?" Esposito questions.
"Fate," Ryan says.
Esposito eyes him. "Ever since you started seeing Jenny, you've gone soft."
"You're such a cynic!" Ryan protests.
"And you're whipped, Honeymilk."
"How's Lanie, again?"
Esposito stiffens.
"Too soon, bro. Too soon."
Beckett opens her apartment door that night to a trail of teacup candles leading down the hall. She quickly slips off her coat and hangs it up on the rack before following the flickering lights into the living room. She finds Will surrounded by white candles and scattered rose petals with a velvet box perched in his hands
"What's this?" she asks.
"A surprise."
"Uh huh," she says, nodding at the box. "Did you forget the part where I said yes already?"
"I know I got the size wrong the first time around, so—" he cracks the box open to reveal a modified ring.
She approaches him, some of the day's exhaustion lifting from her shoulders. "Will, you really didn't have to do this," she says, her arms circling around his neck.
"You deserve it," he says, kissing her. She smiles into him and he pulls back after a moment. "So I have some news," he says, settling his hands around her waist.
"Yeah?"
He pauses and then a grin splits his face. "I got the promotion."
"Will, that's amazing!"
"But it's, uh…it's in San Francisco."
"You're joking," she says, the air between them suddenly stiff.
"I'm sorry."
She breaks out of his embrace. "So what? You want to uproot our lives again?"
"Kate, you know how it is—"
"Did you even try?"
"How do you mean?"
"Did you even ask if you could stay?"
"I thought since—"
"I moved for you once that I would do it again," she fills in for him.
Guilt flashes across Will's face and Kate huffs.
"You know how hard it was the first time. I mean…" she trails off, taking in the candles and flower petals again. "Is that what this is?" she asks, gesturing. "Some way to soften the blow?"
"Kate, c'mon."
"Jesus, Will. Do you really think I'm that easy to manipulate?"
She walks away from him into the bedroom. He follows and watches her wrestle a carry-on suitcase down from the top shelf in their closet.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
She plops the case on the bed and moves toward the dresser and starts grabbing clothes from drawers.
"So what? Now you're just going to leave?" he asks, leaning against the door jamb.
"I need some space," she says.
"I think you're overreacting."
Kate tightens her grip around a blue blouse, her mouth thinning into a straight line. She stays silent, shoving things inside her case.
"Can we talk about this?" he asks.
She pauses and looks at him.
"You know what? I lost my keys yesterday. And I found them in the freezer. I feel like I'm losing my mind. The wedding planning. Our busy jobs. It's too much. I need a break."
"Where are you going?" Will probes.
"Oh, I don't know. Wherever I feel like it," she says, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Don't be like that."
"What? It's no big deal. Just like moving across the country, right?"
"Kate."
She picks her brush up from the vanity. "I need to get out of town and clear my head."
"I wish you wouldn't leave."
She glances up at him and sees the worry etched in his brow.
"My dad wants me to visit. It'll just be for the weekend," she says, calmingly.
"And then we really talk?"
"Yes, then we really talk."