Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.
It's still too early for lunch, so Beckett stops in the coffee shop on her way into the precinct. Thanks to that damned letter, her stay at the New Amsterdam Bank and Trust was brief and she's even more out of sorts now than when she awoke. She's got some theories and possibilities about Castle's latest missive, but she wants to bounce some ideas off her team. And that's best done after they've been fed and watered. Besides, she owes them.
Beckett takes the stairs rather than the elevator and goes directly to Gates' office upon arrival. After a brisk knock on the doorframe, Beckett notes her arrival and offers her boss a pastry. After receiving an almost-friendly dismissal wave and a disparaging remark directed at carbs, she makes her way over to their desks.
"Caffeine and sugar," she announces as she sets the drink tray and paper bag on Esposito's desk with a flourish. Grabbing her coffee and bearclaw, she steps back quickly, not unlike the zookeeper who tosses steaks to the lions.
The boys are still fighting over the pastries and drawing envious glances from the other detectives in the bullpen when Beckett settles into her desk. She knows the routine; the food and drink will only distract her partners for a few minutes, after which they'll come over to inquire about what happened after they left the bank yesterday or what prompted this morning's tardiness.
"At lunch," she says a few minutes later, just as Ryan and Esposito were preparing to approach.
"Empanadas?" Esposito asks, apparently speaking in code.
"Something like that," Beckett agrees. Their nods confirm that they know what's going on, that lunch will be another opportunity to figure out what Castle is doing.
Their lunch plans are imperiled within minutes. While they still have a daunting tower of paperwork to complete from yesterday's misadventure at the bank, both of the other homicide teams go out on competing calls within 30 minutes of Beckett's arrival. Gates warns them that they're up next should another call come in and encourages them to make 'acceptable progress' on their administrative obligations lest they be interrupted. Rather than risk her wrath by leaving for lunch, Beckett phones in a delivery order. They've made what Beckett thinks is acceptable progress by the time the food arrives. She relays this assessment to Gates after the food arrives, letting her know that the team is taking a fifteen minute lunch break in one of the workrooms.
"Thought we were goin' out?" Esposito asks as he ambles into the smallest workroom on the Homicide floor.
"Trying to compromise," Beckett answers with a grimace, knowing this isn't her forte. "We need to talk but Gates would've noted a lunch departure. I'm hoping we're okay in here, since we rarely use this room."
The boys nod, on board with both points. Gates doesn't need much provocation to grow short with them, and they only use this room as a last resort – it's claustrophobic, boasts mismatched and uneven furniture, and doesn't quite smell right. It's for these reasons that the room is usually left to host suspects and their attorneys (state-provided or otherwise). The usual occupants provide one more reason they don't like the room (and more than a few suggestions about the origin of the smell), but Beckett hopes that means the chances of being overheard here are the lowest of any place on the floor.
Before she distributes the sandwiches, Beckett reaches into her pocket and withdraws Castle's most recent letter. She opens the envelope reverently, extracting the letter and pressing out the creases with obvious care. Shooting each of the boys a look to ensure they note and follow her treatment of the page, she slides it toward them with a sigh.
"Read this," she directs with a nod. The letter may be facing them, but Beckett can follow their progress since she's already memorized the short missive. "I want to ask you about it."
Beckett,
I'm not sure whether to be impressed or disheartened that you're reading this letter. Your tenacity is well-known (and certainly a trait Nikki inherited), but I'd hoped you would slow your efforts. If you've come this far, I worry about the attention you might attract.
If I cannot get you to stop, I can at least encourage you to look in another direction. This one is not a dead end, but may become so, literally, if others become aware of what you're doing. I can't protect or hide everyone and this path exposes innocents. And while I don't want to weigh tragedies, I hope to at least spare those who have already suffered.
Please look elsewhere,
Castle
"What's this?" Esposito asks after finishing the letter, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Is he taunting you?"
This was the problem with her plan, Beckett knows. She wanted them to review the letter before handling their lunches so she could keep the paper clean. But she knows how much grumpier Espo gets when he's hungry. So, she passes the sandwiches and sodas around before she answers, but only after retrieving the letter from a pensive-looking Ryan.
"He's not taunting," she replies, carefully tucking the letter away. "He's connecting. Providing me with assurance that the case is being pursued the right way." Esposito looks doubtful, but at least Ryan's expression suggests he's open to this interpretation. Their reactions make her think back to Castle's comments about working with the boys again. "I think he hopes if I keep turning over letters, then I'll trust he's handing things the right way."
"Still sounds like taunting to me," Esposito replies. At least that's what Beckett thinks he said, since it was a little difficult to understand the words through his mouthful of food.
"And you still sound unwilling to extend him the benefit of the doubt," Beckett replies a bit sharply, unable to control her annoyance. She knows she bears a large part of the blame for Castle's unwillingness to work with the team, but Espo's attitude is an obvious and continuing deterrent.
"What did you want to ask?" Ryan interjects quickly, again playing the peacemaker as it looked like his partner was gearing up to react to Beckett's observation.
"When do you think Castle wrote the letter?" she asks, happy to move the conversation along.
Ryan again looks pensive before venturing an answer. "Before the hostage situation, right? Otherwise he would've mentioned it. Besides," he adds, pointing to where Beckett had stashed the letter, "he said he was worried about attracting attention, didn't he? That's kind of blown after everything that happened yesterday."
Though he still looks annoyed and his arms are still crossed, Esposito nods in support of Ryan's theory.
"I agree," Beckett replies, glad they went the same direction as her thoughts. "But that means he had the letter on him when he went into the bank yesterday, probably intending to leave it behind. So, why would he think we'd show up at the bank?"
"Javi and I were talking about this yesterday," Ryan answers, watching Beckett's eyebrows shoot up. "Not because of a letter. Because there's no sign of the New Amsterdam in any of the bank records of interest – from the conspirators back then or from Castle now. We wondered if maybe he was pulling out the cash he offered us to go into hiding. Thought maybe he offered someone else the same deal," he finishes with a shrug.
Beckett nods along while thinking about this possibility. "He wasn't just getting cash," she thinks aloud. "He could do that anywhere, but he thought we'd track him to that particular bank."
At that comment Esposito re-enters the conversation with a frustrated laugh. "Perfect," he grumbles. "So, he was there for the same reason as the perps?"
"You think he was after a safe deposit box?" Beckett asks, getting a trill of excitement even as she considers the thought. She's lifting her phone to her ear even as Esposito answers.
"Gotta be, right? Either that," he hedges, "or he needed to see someone who was there."
Rather than answer, Beckett dials a number, then asks to be connected to Officer Monfriez. After a short, business-only conversation, she hangs up and watches the screen of her phone until his email arrives. She forwards it to her partners, then opens the file.
"These are the safe deposit box owners," she explains as she starts scrolling through the names. "Probably safe to assume we can ignore Agnes and Gideon Fields," she adds morbidly as she thumbs through the list, hoping something will jump out at her.
She quickly grows frustrated. Her first pass provided nothing obvious and she can feel the names slipping through her mind as she starts on her second review and the boys receive the file and start their own review. What would make one of these names stand out? If Castle thought they'd track him to the bank, there must be something here.
Maybe it's not about the names, she thinks as she lowers her phone. Why would Castle assume they'd find out about the bank? Think about the letter, she reminds herself. What was that comment about 'weighing tragedies'?
"Oh, damn," she exclaims as she slaps herself in the head with her free hand, earning surprised looks from the boys. Leaning in over the table, she whispers a question even as she raises her phone again to look at the safe deposit box owners. "What was Evelyn's maiden name?"
"God dammit," Esposito growls, similarly annoyed at his oversight. "How could we overlook her?"
"It's Washington," Ryan offers quietly. "Her name was Washington."
With synchronized, ferocious thumb swipes, all three detectives send their displays scrolling to the bottom of the alphabetized list of safe deposit box holders.
"Remy Washington," Beckett whispers. "It's an acronym for Roy's wife and daughters: Rebecca, Evelyn, and Mary."
"So, what?" Ryan asks, trying to figure out what Beckett's thinking. "Roy had something of interest and hid it away in a box under a fake name? Even assuming Castle connected with Evelyn…"
"Which would've been easy for him to do," Beckett interjects, "since she knew him and we were all distracted this summer."
"So, either she tells him or he figures out Roy left something behind," Ryan continues. "What's his play? He gets the key from her and goes to open the box himself? That doesn't seem likely, if the bank would even let him in."
Beckett nods, similarly concerned with that incongruity. "What if…," she postulates, thinking out loud again, "what if Evelyn had the key but didn't know where the box was? Those keys are unique and often unlabeled as a security measure."
"Seems weak," Esposito adds as his contribution. "But maybe Cap did something like that to protect his wife. Castle's still got a problem, though – he gets the key, somehow figures out where the box is, but how does he get in? If there's any owner information on file he's screwed. Martha might've taught him how to act, but Castle can't really pass himself off as a black woman. He'd still need Evelyn but his 'note' said he wants her safe…," his voice drops as he realizes what he just said.
"Shipton," Beckett answers with another slap to the head. "That's why she was nearby. She's a bit younger than Evelyn, but with a fake ID and a convincing story? Castle was probably running reconnaissance. And then…"
"And then the perps walked in and cracked open all the boxes for him," Ryan finishes the thought after Beckett trails off. "When everything wrapped yesterday, who were the last ones in the bank? Castle, the perps, and that guy Lynch, who was Shipton's boss. Castle probably just walked right back, opened the box, and walked out with whatever was inside."
"He had a bag," Beckett groans, remembering what Castle tossed into the back seat as he slipped into the sedan yesterday. "I assumed it was his change of clothes, since he was dressed as a paramedic. But it could've had whatever was in the box, too. It was right there!" she sighs in frustration. If their theory is right, she was sitting within three feet of whatever Castle retrieved and had no idea.
"Gotta say, if this is what happened," Esposito offers after they all think about their theory, "then that was pretty damned smooth. It's one thing to come up with a plan like that, but then to see it through when everything goes to hell?"
That sounded almost complimentary, Beckett marvels. Better not draw attention to it, just in case pointing it out makes Esposito recant.
"So, what'd Castle do afterwards?" Ryan asks. "He must've dropped you off and run with whatever he got?"
"Uh, no," Beckett admits. She's not comfortable being put on the spot. On the other hand, if Castle did grab something from the bank, then he showed a ridiculous amount of patience in waiting afterward. Either that or he was willing to put it aside when she asked him to spend some time with her… "He, ah, joined me for dinner," she admits with a blush.
From the boys' ridiculous looks of shock, someone might think this was the most surprising portion of their conversation. But their stunned looks quickly turn mischievous, with Esposito speaking first.
"So, Beckett – this dinner," he drawls. "Kinda sounds like a date to me."
"Me, too," Ryan adds with a grin, unable to keep himself from looking out the window and to the bullpen at large. Where there must be an odds sheet or a pool or some damn thing related to a wager, Beckett suspects.
"Give me a break," Beckett replies in aggrieved consternation. "We'd just left the scene of a hostage situation!"
"So, time for a life-affirming debriefing, then," Ryan summarizes with a smug nod. "Didja go try out those private tables at DiChiara's again?"
"We had burgers and milkshakes," Beckett replies in a dignified voice, though she knows she's blushing furiously. "In public, thank you very much. And that's the last thing I have to say about it. Except this," she adds ferociously when she noticed both of them looking into the bullpen. "If I hear one word about it, one reference to a bet, one titter, one joke, or even see a single knowing look, I'll hurt you both. You're the only ones who know, so I'll know who talked."
"But…," they say in unison.
"Not. One. Word."
They both visibly deflate, but only after Beckett's fierce look emphasizes her words. Things with Castle are hardly stable and the last thing she needs is jokers from the precinct adding more pressure. She's fought this for so long that she almost feels like she's daring karma to deprive her of his companionship after the precinct learns they're spending time together.
"Beckett," Ryan ventures after an acceptable amount of silence, "are you worried?"
"Damn right I'm worried," she replies without thought. "But what are you talking about?"
"The scope of what Castle's doing," he answers with a broad arm gesture. "He must be involved in something big, right? He's got these people helping him…"
"Like Lynch and Shipton," she nods.
"Right," Ryan agrees. "I guess my question is whether he's using them or they're using him."
Maybe they should go back to talking about her dinner date with Castle. Better that than hearing some of her own concerns raised by someone else.
"Probably both, at best," she admits with a sigh, recalling Castle's comments about how he's 'made his deals' to protect Alexis. What did he do, what did he promise, to win the support of someone like Lynch, someone who's part of a 'group'?
"That's been buggin' me, too," Esposito admits. "Who are these people? That Lynch guy knew about my time in the Forces. He just walked in to the hostage situation and took over."
"I'd like to know their remit," Beckett admits. "Castle said he hasn't done anything illegal but it sounds like he's done some horrible things," she adds, watching the boys grow increasingly concerned. "Who could give his efforts at least the patina of lawfulness?"
This question causes more silence among them, as each detective wonders about men (and women) in black, the alphabet soup of agencies with whom they've occasionally crossed paths. The experience is rarely pleasant and often sinister. Huffing a laugh to herself, Beckett finds herself wondering if she's going to find herself drugged and waking up in a car again…
"Espo," she finally says after noticing Gates surveying the bullpen, apparently taking inventory of who's around at their desks. "Can you do this?" When he furrows his brow at her vague question, she hesitantly explains. "Can I trust you to help me help Castle, without sniping or backbiting? Because there's something only you can do, but not if you're going to endanger him with your attitude."
"My 'attitude'?" Esposito fires back, offended and angry.
"Yes, your attitude," she answers, matching his words and his anger. "I don't know if it's guilt or wounded pride or what, but you've been a jerk about Castle since I came back."
"Bullshit."
"Fine," Beckett replies, turning her head. "Let's break the cardinal rule, then. Ryan," she asks while pinning him with a glance, "has your partner missed an opportunity to slam Castle since I came back?"
With Esposito looking at him just as fiercely as Beckett, Ryan finds himself caught in a vise. Turning his head from one to another, he tries to find words that are honest, will calm this situation, and won't sell out his partner. Unfortunately, he can't find anything that meets all three of those conditions. So, knowing the firestorm it'll cause, he reaches for humor. "I plead the Fifth."
"Thanks, bro," Esposito spits out. "Nice to know you've got my back."
"Fine," Ryan replies, annoyed at finding himself caught in the middle. "You've been a jackass. 's that what you wanted to hear?" he asks in frustration, obviously trying the direct approach with his partner. "Tell me this – if someone kidnapped and tortured me, what would you do – sit there and take shots about how I tried to track them down? No," he answers his own question. "You'd be leading the charge."
"You're my partner," Esposito replies easily as if this explains everything.
"And he's mine," Beckett answers. "You don't like him, don't like that he's not a cop? Fine. Will you help him as a favor to me?" she asks earnestly. "I'm worried, Javi. I want my partner back at my side. I want him in my life," she adds, knowing how he'll interpret that admission. "But he's doing dangerous things with dangerous people. Help me bring him home?"
Esposito sits back in his chair, still looking angry but clearly thinking about what he's heard. While he didn't seem to accept their characterization of his treatment of Castle, the direct plea from Beckett surprised him. A personal plea from his boss is unprecedented.
"What do you want me to do?" he finally asks.
"Do you know anyone from your Special Forces days, someone who's still connected, who you trust completely?"
Esposito furrows his brow again, surprised by the question. "Yeah," he answers slowly, nodding his head.
"Lynch has a boss," Beckett explains. "When yesterday's ringleader balked at his authority, Lynch replied by saying he worked for the guy who resolved some situation at a research facility in Tuweitha. Whatever that meant, the perp recognized it and didn't press for Lynch's credentials again."
"Tuweitha?" Esposito replies. "That was enough to get them to surrender?"
"Well," Beckett hedges theatrically, "Lynch's boss apparently also has the pull to get yesterday's perp's sprung to work for him," she explains, smiling at Ryan's incredulous reaction. "And when Lynch said his boss might find it easier to kill them than have them chucked back in prison, Trapper John believed him."
"Shit," Esposito replies in an awed tone. "This is gonna get real ugly, isn't it?"
"That's what Castle said," Beckett agrees. "Can you find out who Lynch's boss is, this guy who did something in Tuweitha? But only ask if you absolutely trust your source," she reminds him. "Whatever's going on, we're trying to help Castle, not compromise him."