Shattered Lies

Chapter 21

Why the frowny face?" Castle inquires as Kate puzzles over an email on her computer screen.

"I'm reading the report from CSU on the location from where the sniper took out the Bratva shooter."

"I don't know why they're even bothering to try to identify the guy unless it's to give him a medal. The man he killed had a bead on us. If our mysterious savior hadn't shot him, we might both be dead - Palicki and his men too."

Kate grasps the arms of her desk chair. "That may be true, Castle, but it's still a homicide. It may be a justifiable one, but a man is still dead."

Castle studies her expression. "But that's not what is wrinkling your beautiful brow."

Kate sighs. "No, it isn't. Our sniper cleaned up after himself. There was no shell casing. CSU didn't get any fingerprints, and there weren't any cups or water bottles to pull DNA from."

"I'm sensing a 'but.'"

"Yeah. CSU swabbed the drain in the bathroom of the nest he was occupying. Maybe he spit when he was brushing his teeth or cut himself shaving, but they found some DNA there. The suspect wasn't in the system, but someone with a 50 percent match - a son - was."

"Then that should be good news. Who's the son?"

"You are, Castle. The suspect in the homicide of the Bratva sniper is your father." Castle can't draw any air into his lungs or force any words from his mouth. He just stares at Kate. "Babe, are you all right?

Castle scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't know." He presses his palms against her desk to push himself out of his chair. "I need to take a walk; clear my head."

"Do you want some company?"

"Not until I can process this a little. I'll see you later."

Hunt paces the age-scarred hardwood floor in Rita's apartment in the East Village. "I screwed up. The N.Y.P.D. got a sample of my DNA."

"Why does that matter?" Rita asks. "You're records aren't accessible to them. The company would never let anything be traced to you."

Hunt slams his fist against the wall. "I'm not in their system - but Richard is."

Rita nods slowly, blowing out a long breath. "They'd get a parental match."

"And Kate Beckett would get the report. She must have it by now, and she's probably told him."

"Told him that his father saved their butts? There are worse things, Hunt. Would it have been better if you'd missed?"

"I don't miss. You know that. If I did, I'd have been six feet under a long time ago."

"OK, so now Richard knows. What are you going to do about it?"

Hunt leans against the wall he just punched. "Nothing. You know as well as I do that if I make contact with him, I'd be putting him in the crosshairs of people a lot deadlier than the Bratva. I wish I had a chance to explain."

"Well that's the job, isn't it?"

Jackson sinks into a chair. "Yeah. That's the job."

Edgar waits near the FBI building, leaning against his car and turning his favorite mechanical pencil over and over in his fingers. According to the text he received from Agent Danberg, Sidney is officially being freed. There is just a stack of bureaucratic crap to cut through. Edgar isn't going to speculate about how Danberg knew that, but he is grateful for the heads up.

As Sidney comes toward the parking lot, it's almost like looking in a mirror. Sidney's hair is shorter than Edgar's, but then he's always kept it that way.

Sidney stops suddenly on seeing his brother. "Does the prodigal return?"

"The prodigal never went anywhere, Sid. I even tried to pick up Scalpel so I could take care of him, but the police wouldn't let me near your apartment. By the time I could get in, he was gone."

"So what have you been doing?"

"Trying to make things right. I even helped out a little in getting rid of the Russian mob in Brooklyn. I heard you did too. I just can't tell you from whom. I doubt anyone shed any tears for that racketeer they called Glava, who killed himself. There was a 24-hour festival in Little Russia after the last of his mob was rounded up.

Sidney smiles in spite of himself. "I spent some time there. The baker, Slotnik, made some great ponchiki, almost as good as Mama's."

Edgar puts his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I don't know if you'll ever forgive me for what I put you through, but I hope we can talk. Want to get a coffee?"

"Make it a chai."

Castle still isn't home when Kate returns to the loft, but Alexis is putting together a quiche. "Did your Dad call?"

Alexis stops mincing chives. "Uh huh. He said he'd be home soon, and if you came in, to tell you he's all right, but he sounded weird. What happened Detective Beckett? Did the two of you have a fight or something?"

Kate slowly hangs up her coat. "Nothing like that. Your Father just got some news that he's trying to get a handle on. He may tell you about it when he's ready, but right now he needs some time - and I don't think a hug or two from his favorite daughter would hurt either."

"I'm his only daughter, but I think I understand. It's like when Gram got the part of the crazy granny in a play when she wanted the lead. She just had to get used to people seeing her differently."

"In Castle's case, I think it's more like seeing himself differently, and he has to adjust to it. But I believe he will." Kate points to the partially filled pie crust. "Can I help you with that?"

Alexis shakes her head. "I've got it, but you can make a salad if you want. Dad likes extra tomatoes."

"I know." Kate rummages through the produce in the refrigerator and digs out four red globes, still on the vine. "Then these should do it."

Castle rubs his thumb over his key for a minute, before unlocking the door to the loft. Thoughts are jumbled in his mind, and walking the streets of New York hasn't made them any straighter. Some things are clear. His father may have saved Kate's life, or his, or both, but he still killed someone to do it, before removing every trace he could of his presence. It seems so cold.

Did he just leave Mother all those years ago, or has he been keeping watch? Does he know he has a granddaughter? Does he care? Why not reveal himself? Is he a super-spy or wanted criminal? Scratch that. A criminal's DNA would have been on file. So Daddy Dearest hasn't done anything against the law - or at least has never been caught.

The questions keep plaguing him from out of the dark, no matter how hard Castle tries to push them away. How could his father desert him like that? And if his father is a killer, did he inherit the genes? Is he one too? Rick shivers as he walks through the door.