Chapter XXXIII

Houston, Texas

Beckett spotted Sara Martinez leaving the hospital and heading to the huge, open-air parking lot twenty minutes after her shift ended.

She called after her and got an earful when she told Sara who she was. Why she was here.

"Are you crazy?"

"Are you stalking me? I told you over the phone that I have nothing to say to you."

"I have nothing to do with my family. With Salvador. With any of them."

"If you don't leave me alone, I'm calling 911."

Kate had tried everything from diplomacy to insistence to kindness and when it all failed, it left her exasperated.

In the end, she resorted to pleading.

"Damn you! If someone kidnapped the man you love wouldn't you go to the ends of the Earth to try and get him back? Wouldn't you try everything?"

Maybe it was the sheer desperation in her voice that finally softened Sara's face and got her to stop walking. "What are you saying? That my brother kidnapped your husband?"

Beckett exhaled, grateful that she finally stopped threatening to flee and call the cops. "Yes…I mean, no, he's not my husband. He's my partner…but I love him and yes, we have every reason to believe that Salvador is holding him captive."

Sara Martinez sighed and her gaze finally expressed an understanding that held no hostility. "I'm, well…if that's true, then I'm sorry. But I know nothing about it."

"I'm not looking for an apology," Beckett told her. "I just want fifteen minutes of your time. To see if there's something you know about your brother that could help me track him down. That's all."

"Fine." Sara conceded. "I'm not sure I'll be of much help but yes, we can talk."

So they sat down on the curb of a sidewalk at the far, quiet end of the massive hospital parking lot. A tall streetlamp illuminated them both and Beckett could see a tiny swarm of mosquitoes swirling around them. In spite of the late hour and the mid-October date, the air was still thick with heat and humidity. It felt like a sweltering July afternoon in New York City.

Sara pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her bulky purse. "Do you mind?"

Beckett shook her head after swatting a mosquito off her arm. "No. Go ahead."

Sara offered her one as well and Kate declined. Watching her light the cigarette gave Beckett a chance to observe the second-oldest of the four Ojeda siblings. Sara was still wearing her baby-blue scrubs. After having seen photos of her father and gotten an in-person glimpse of her mother in the interrogation room at the 12th, it was easy to see which parent Sara took after. Physically at least, she was very much her mother's daughter. Like Maria, she was slim and petite but that's where the resemblance ended. Unlike her mother, Sara's hair was so short it almost resembled a military cut and she seemed to have no use for either make-up or jewelry Not that she needed it, with her exquisite Audrey Hepburn-esque features.

"I know," Sara said. "A nurse who smokes. It's as much of an oxymoron as an Ojeda that's a nurse, isn't it?"

Beckett smiled. "No."

"It was a rough night," she added. "We lost two patients. A grandfather who had a massive heart attack and a seventeen-year-old kid who OD'd on Fentanyl. That's the age where your life's supposed to begin isn't it? Not for him. Fucking drugs. Sometimes I wonder if Papa had a hand in getting them here…"

"I'm sorry."

"You have kids?"

Beckett shook her head and Sara acknowledged her answer with a nod of her own. She took a deep, welcome drag of her cigarette. "It's my guilty pleasure on the drive home. One a day. That's all. But after nights like tonight, I might…" She turned to Beckett. "I might have another."

"I don't blame you.," Beckett confessed. "I've had worse vices."

Sara's dark intelligent eyes lit up with a trace of amusement as she exhaled a plume of smoke into the night air. "So, Sal, huh?"

"When's the last time you've heard from him?" Beckett cut to the chase.

Sara thought about it for a second. "Maybe two months ago?"

Beckett felt a jolt of adrenaline hit her. Truth was, she wasn't sure Sara had any contact with him at all. "So you are in touch with him?"

"That would be stretching it. He calls me once every few months when he's lonely 'cause I'm the only one in the family who'll pick up." She sighed through a cloud of smoke. "The only one who hasn't changed her phone number in years."

"You have a contact number for him?" Beckett's heart was racing now.

"No," Sara told her, crushing the hope that had swelled up like a balloon. "I never call him. He calls me but it's always from some anonymous number. He's always been good with gadgets and technology and he's paranoid as hell so he changes his phone, probably once a month? Cheap burners."

"Still I'd like to…"

"Trace the calls to my cell?" Sara finished for her. "Be my guest. You have my number. You've been pretty damn persistent about calling it. But I don't think it'll get you anywhere."

Beckett tried to hide her disappointment. "Two months ago? Why did he call you and what did you talk about?"

"He was lonely. Bored," Sara told her. "It's usually why he calls. Sometimes he wants me to lie for him."

"Lie?"

Sara shrugged. "Call an employer or a landlord for a reference. Stuff like that." She turned to her. "I don't do it, in case that's your next question. But it doesn't mean he stops trying. I don't like him, Detective. We're not close by any stretch of your imagination."

"Kate…"

"Kate. But he's my brother and sometimes I feel bad for the guy. He never fit in. Anywhere."

"What exactly is wrong with him?" Beckett asked her. "Our records don't show a medical diagnosis."

Sara chuckled. "You think Papa would ever let that get out? That one of his kids has mental issues? He'd kill him first."

"So he does have mental issues?"

"I honestly don't know," Sara told her. "He's never been clinically diagnosed with…anything. But he's always been odd. It's like we all knew something wasn't right. He'd stare at people so long it would make them uncomfortable. Say and do inappropriate things, even for a kid. He'd get obsessed with stuff. When he was in second grade, he got fixated on this pet bunny they had in class. Decided it was meant to be his, so one day after class he stuffed it in his pocket and took it home. When Mama told him he had to bring it back he tried to flush it down the toilet." Sara sighed and eyed her pack of cigarettes as though she was ready to grab another one as soon as this one was done. "He wanted to kill it because he said if the bunny couldn't be with him it was better that it was dead."

Goosebumps ran up Beckett's arm and they sent a shiver down her spine.

"After that incident Papa decided he was gonna be home schooled. And he got a beating. Every single time he did shit like that, Papa beat him. When I say beat, I'm not talking about a spanking. I mean, beat him, black and blue. Sometimes I wonder if my father damaged his brain. If that's part of the reason he is the way he is." Sara stared at the pavement and guilt was written all over her face. "I'd help patch him up sometimes, afterwards. But we didn't do much to stop it. None of us did. Not even Mama, although she tried."

"You were a kid yourself," Beckett reminded her.

"I know…"

"I saw that there was an attempt to file a restraining order against him. That it never went through."

"I know he got obsessed with some local weather girl when he was a teenager and I was in college. He decided she was his soul mate and that he had to have her. I tried to get him to stop but once Sal sets his mind on something, it's impossible. He got a hold of her phone number and home address…and he basically stalked her until she called the cops." Sara stubbed out her cigarette on the concrete sidewalk. "Papa wasn't impressed. But as far as I know, he made it go away."

"He was obsessed with a woman?" Beckett questioned. "I thought…"

"He's been obsessed with men and women. I have no idea if he's gay or straight. Bisexual or asexual," Sara told her, anticipating her question. "I'm not even sure if he's ever had a real relationship. He just…" Sara paused. "He gets fixated on certain people. They're usually minor celebrities…people he's seen on TV or maybe on the internet. I honestly don't know much of what he's been up to the last ten years. It's not something we talk about."

"Which brings me back to your phone call, what did you talk about the last time he called?"

"He wanted to see me. Wanted to see my kids. I have two, a son and a daughter." Sara exhaled. "I always say no. I don't want any of my family around them."

"Did he tell you where he was?"

"No. He said Papa was holding him prisoner in some cousin's house near Houston. That he was close by but wasn't sure exactly where."

"You didn't ask?" Beckett felt her frustration mounting again.

"Why would I?" A flash of anger was visible on Sara's face too. "In fact if he'd started to tell me, I'd have told him to stop. Don't you get it? I don't want to know! I don't want anything to do with him or my family, if I haven't made that clear already."

"So you just casually chatted with a guy that's wanted for attempted murder and washed your hands of it? Never even thought to call the cops?"

Sara stared at Beckett in disbelief and dusted off her scrubs as she got up. "If that's where this conversation is headed, we are done."

Beckett closed her eyes, wanting to kick herself. If she'd watched a rookie take this turn in an interrogation, she'd have kicked his ass too. "I'm sorry…" she mustered. "I'm just…frustrated."

Sara made no motion to sit back down on the curb. "Yeah, well. Take your frustrations out on the rest of my family. Not me." She started to walk away. "This is exactly why I don't talk to cops or anyone else. I spend more than half my life getting away from them but none of it matters. Cops still think I'm doing some part-time deals for them on the side."

"No. I don't think that," Beckett got up and caught up with her. "I keep hitting walls when it comes to finding my partner and knowing you talked to him while we were desperately looking for the guy…it just reminded me that I let him get away. My failure."

"I know you probably won't believe me," Sara added. "But I had no idea that there was a warrant out for his arrest. It's not like he told me." She pulled out her car keys. "And attempted murder? Jesus. Who'd he try to kill?"

"One of my partner's ex-girlfriends. And me."

"Oh…" Sara finally stopped moving. "I'm sorry."

Beckett pulled out a business card. "Don't be. I believe you when you say you have nothing to do with them, but please…if he contacts you again can you try and get a location out of him. And if anything else springs to mind about him, anything at all, no matter how trivial you think it might be, please will you contact me? Anytime, day or night."

Sara took the card. "Okay. I will."

"Even if something comes to you tonight and you wanna meet up again tomorrow. I'll still be here in the morning."

"Look, Kate…I hope you find your guy and I really wish I could be more help. But I have no idea what the hell goes on in Sal's head, what's really wrong with him. Why he does what he does or where he is. I just answer his phone calls once every few months out of guilt, 'cause he's my baby brother and I feel bad that we didn't do more to help him as a kid."

"I understand." Beckett nodded. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Like the last dozen you asked weren't? "

She cringed. "You got me but I mean, about you…not your brother. Why'd you leave your family?"

"'Cause once I became aware of what they did I decided I didn't want any part in making the world an even shittier place than it already is?"

As difficult as Sara had made it to talk to her, Beckett had a grudging admiration for this woman, who'd disowned everything her family stood for in order to lead a decent life. It couldn't have been easy.

"I could've married some mobster's son," Sara added. "Done my part in expanding Papa's empire by merging our family with another one. That's about all that was expected of his niñas. I coulda had a pretty sweet life, if money's your thing. Instead, I married a dentist who spends one day a week giving undocumented immigrants free dental work and I'd do it all over again." Sara flicked her fob toward a green Nissan that beeped to life as its door unlocked. "Sometimes you gotta let go of your past, no matter how hard it is. Or how much it tries to tie you down. If you don't, you'll lose your whole future."

"Yeah." Beckett swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Maybe if I hadn't been so hung up on my own past, I would've been there for him…

Sara stepped towards her car. "Good luck, Kate. I mean it. And if you need to call me again, go ahead. I promise I won't hang up on you this time."

Beckett watched her drive off and then stared at the countless insects that were illuminated by the light beams of the parking lot.

She saw them swarm around her and wondered if coming here had been just one more exercise in futility.

Queens, NY

Two days later

I got him a treadmill.

I wasn't sure how it would work with the ankle restraint but it's long enough that he can use it. He tripped on it the first time he tried it and it made me feel so fucking bad. (I try hard not to curse in front of him. I don't want him to think I'm some dumb crook that can't talk properly. But in my mind I do it all the time. I can't help it.)

I don't want to hurt him. Ever.

I wanted to help him after he tripped but I didn't think he'd let me. Not yet.

But yesterday, I got an icepack for his bruises and I was gonna give it to him, but then I decided to do more. I held it against his bruised back while he was lying on his stomach on the bed and he let me.

He let me touch him!

I can't stop smiling when I think about it. And I think about it all the time. Like now, when I'm boiling rice in this shit room that's supposed to be a kitchen outside his basement bedroom. Our bedroom.

I don't think I've ever been this happy. In my whole life.

He's letting me in. Letting me be a part of him.

Like it was meant to be.

Salvador had gotten him a treadmill and a lap top, and Castle spent as much time as he could on both of them.

It was either that or lie on the bed and stare at the four walls around him.

He had no access to the internet on the laptop so all he could do on it was play games. Or write. He mostly chose the latter.

Writing had always been his escape. His comfort and saving grace when he needed it. And he desperately needed it now. Needed a distraction from this hellish existence, even if only for a few hours a day.

Because here, the days were endless. Minutes ticked by painfully slow, hours were like days and each day was an eternity.

He'd begun plotting, planning, and preparing for an escape, but if he did that with every waking moment, he'd lose his mind. They'd have to lock him up in a psych ward as soon as he got out.

So, without having any idea of how the first book was being received by critics and whether or not the sales were strong, he started his second Nikki Heat book anyway.

He'd had a rough outline of a plot swirling around his brain for some time, but now he was putting it down in words. He pretended that he'd officially received the go-ahead for a second book and that he had a deadline to finish it. He even had a title: Naked Heat.

It gave him a bit of unexpected amusement, picturing Kate's massive eye-roll when he told her. That is, if he'd ever get a chance to tell her.

Other doubts were starting to creep in too. A toxic by-product of having way too much time to ruminate inside his own head.

Doubts that they even had a relationship to salvage.

Sal had called the switchboard at the 12th to ask for Beckett. Had put his burner phone on speaker for Castle's benefit and the person who answered had told him that she was out. That she could take a message for her.

"See? She's okay. Alive. Not dead. Cops are hard to kill, trust me. You can write now."

He'd desperately wanted more information but Sal wouldn't budge. And he'd caved on all his other demands. He'd stopped drugging his food, gave him a laptop and ordered some cheap treadmill off Amazon that he'd installed a couple of days ago.

Castle had faceplanted on it thanks to that fucking chain that kept him tied to the bed and ended up with another set of bruises. It flooded him with rage all over again. Made him want to attack Salvador as soon as he got close enough and take his chances, come what may. But instead he tamped down the urge and discovered an opportunity.

He let Salvador get close. Let him put not only an icepack on his bruised ribs and rest a warm, tentative hand on his thigh. It made his skin crawl but it also made him realize what it meant to his captor. The pure, uncontainable joy that was written on the man's face.

If that's what it takes to distract you…

Castle shuddered at the thought and fought back a wave of nausea.

Turned his attention back to the words on the screen in front of him and let his mind drift back to her when they started to blur. The electricity of her touch when her fingers trailed his skin. The way her lips took possession of his. That soft, pulsating warmth of her flesh, spread out on his body after they made love. That glorious feel of her breasts in his hands. The way her sleepy face lit up when he brought her a coffee first thing in the morning.

What he wouldn't give to hold Kate in his arms right now.

If he got another chance to make love to her, he'd take all the time in the world and catalogue every inch of her body. Let it sink into his memory for the rest of his life.

He was so in love with her.

And yet, he was starting to wonder if he was a fool.

She'd kicked him off her last case and consequently out of her life. She'd made no contact with him since then. Hadn't answered his texts. Hadn't shown up at the launch party. All of her focus has been on tracking down her shooter and finding his link to her mother's murder.

So why did he still have this unshakeable faith in her? This irrational belief that she was moving mountains to try and find him?

Was he that blinded by love?

Her words on the last morning that he saw her echoed in his head: "I love you, Rick. Whatever happens today won't change that."

He exhaled. Maybe it was foolish, naive optimism. But it was sustaining him, so he'd be damned if he wasn't going to hang on to it.

He thought of how much courage it had taken to let him undress her in daylight that first time in the Hamptons. She'd been so afraid that she was shaking.

And still she trusted him.

You had faith in me when it was impossibly hard for you, so now I'm gonna do the same.

Salvador Ojeda entered the room, jarring his thoughts. He was holding what was no doubt his dinner on a plate.

Castle glanced at the time on his laptop. It was one of the best things about having access to a computer. Being able to keep accurate track of time and become aware of their daily routine.

He handed him a paper plate with some fish, boiled vegetables, and rice on it. Everything was cut into small pieces as though he were a child, because the only utensil he got was a plastic spoon.

"Thank you," he mumbled, as he'd done ever since Sal stopped drugging his food. It was just one more gesture aimed at getting him to let his guard down.

Castle had pushed himself up against the headboard to eat, and Salvador sat at the other end of the bed staring at him as he ate, as he did every night. Castle focused all his attention on the food.

"Do you like fish?" Sal asked him while he was eating.

Castle nodded. "Sure."

"I want to make you healthy food," he told him. "But I also want to make you what you like. I want to make you happy."

Castle choked down the last pieces of broccoli. "I know you do. But you're right. I should eat healthier."

Salvador grinned. "I know cheeseburgers are you favourite. You mentioned it in that interview in Suspense Writer's World."

"Yeah…"

"Maybe for your birthday, we can celebrate with cheeseburgers and cake."

Castle's felt a sickening warmth rise up his throat. His birthday wasn't for another six months. The thought of…. "Yeah…" He raised his head to look at his captor, barely able to croak out the words. "That'd be nice."

He decided that he'd let Sal get closer tonight. If he wanted to bring him another ice pack and touch him again…he'd let it happen. No matter how much it revolted him.

It was the only way to earn his trust.

Just because he still had unwavering faith in Kate didn't mean he could wait around to be rescued. He had to find a way out.

"What's your favourite?" he asked Salvador, feigning interest. Starting a conversation that might very well last the rest of the evening.

But he could do this.

After all, he was raised by a consummate actor.