"How," she trails off in shock, hand waving aimlessly in the air, "How can you not know where he is? His car, his empty car," she gasps out, "was torched. Where would he have possibly gone? Where could he possibly be?"
"Well we're doing everything we can to track him down, Detective, but as I once told you: This is the Hamptons. We don't have many resources." Chief Brady shrugs, sitting down at his desk and powering on his computer.
"This is ridiculous," she mutters, standing up and stalking out of the office. She pulls out her phone and dials his number, even though she'd tried him a hundred times before getting to the scene and knows that his phone is off. "What the hell are you doing, Rick?" she sighs into the receiver, hanging up before leaving a message. What is going on?
As immense as the relief at hearing that he was not in his car is, it's overshadowed by a new feeling of dread. Because she knows, now, that Castle didn't die in a car accident. But she doesn't know where he is, and if he were all right he would have contacted somebody. He would have called her, and if his phone had been ruined in the car he would have trekked down the street to the café or one of the many other amenities. But he hadn't, and his phone is off, and he is gone. What the hell?
"Kate?" Alexis says quietly, following after and resting her hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"
"I'm trying to be," Kate compromises, turning to face his daughter. "He wasn't in the car," she smiles, making eye contact, "and I am so relieved. But if he wasn't in the car, where is he? His phone is off, has been since before Chief Brady even called me. So was it destroyed? Is that why he wasn't there, he went off in search of a phone? But the woman who called in the accident never saw him… he could've gone the other way, but we should've heard from him by now."
"So he didn't die in the accident," Alexis chokes out a relieved sort of laugh, not yet processing the rest of the information.
"It doesn't seem like it," Kate confirms.
"But something still happened to him," Alexis catches up, relief fading.
"I can't imagine he's perfectly okay right now," Kate shakes her head, agreeing. "He would have found some way to let us know he was all right. So that leaves us with two options," she shrugs painfully. "Either he crashed the car himself, a distraction, buying time to run, or-"
"He would never do that to you," Alexis denies vehemently, cutting her off. "How could you even begin to suggest that he would make us think he was dead so that he could run away? How dare you?"
"Alexis, I'm not suggesting that he was running," Kate tries to smooth it over. "I'm trying to think logically here, and one of the logical options is that he walked away of his own free will. I can't imagine that your dad would ever do that to me, and I know that he would never leave you hanging like this. Now, he could have gone off in search of help but been hurt; he could have passed out, fallen, something. But I think somebody would have seen him if that were the case, which brings me to the second option: somebody grabbed him. He may have crashed on his own and been picked up on his way for help, or, as the second burning car suggests to me, somebody else caused, or staged, the accident to cover their tracks."
"Why would anybody do that?" Alexis cries. "Who would do something like that?"
"Like we said before, Alexis, we can only speculate right now. I have some ideas," she swallows painfully, images of Bracken and his cronies, Tyson and his plastic surgeon, and any number of other disgruntled criminals or fans flashing through her mind. "But I think the best thing to do is to wait for CSU to sweep the scenes, see what we can get off of traffic cams and his phone records, before we say anything for certain." The prospect of having to wait even another minute crushes her, weighs down on her like nothing ever has before. She needs answers now.
"That could take days!" Alexis cries. "He could be dead by then!"
Kate bites her tongue before she reminds Alexis that he could be dead now. If the accident was a setup, as she is beginning to strongly suspect, then she has no idea what they're dealing with. They could get lucky, some sociopath searching for a ransom, and have Castle home in a matter of days. Somehow she doubts that that's the case, though, and she expects that it won't be an easy ride for any of them.
"We're going to figure this out," Kate promises, praying that it's not empty. "We're going to bring him home, no matter what happened." If only she could believe herself.
"What if this is it?" Alexis cries, throwing her arms out to the sides helplessly. "After everything he's been through, all of the things he shouldn't have survived, what if this is what does him in?"
"Let's not think like that right now. It's still early, and maybe it'll all be a fluke. Maybe he got himself lost," she tries to laugh it off, picturing him cutting through the woods across the street instead of walking down the side of the road, anything other than what she's becoming more and more certain is the reality.
"You don't really believe that," Alexis whispers.
"No…. I don't," she sighs, wrapping her arm around the girl and squeezing. "C'mon. Let's go see what happens next."
She wants to take charge. She wants to take charge so badly, Brady proving that he yet again has no idea what he's doing. But she's in no state of mind to lead an investigation right now, knows she holds a bias and will find evidence where there is none and miss it where it is. Which is why she agrees with him when he suggests that the women return home, wait for the reports to come back and see where they are the next day. As much as they all want to be there for each new piece of information that comes in, they all need to rest. She especially needs to get a clear head so that she can take an unbiased perspective in the investigation into his disappearance. Castle.
"Kate, your dress," Alexis points out mournfully when they step out into the sun. She steps forward, brushing her hand over the dirtied chiffon, pulling one end of a tear up to meet the other.
"Doesn't matter now," she brushes it off, fighting back the tears once more. She can't cry for her ruined dress, not when he's out there somewhere, who knows where. Of course, when she thinks about it, it's just another metaphor for their ruined perfect day. "Let's just go."
Martha calls for their driver, and three of them sure are a sight for sore eyes as they lean against the building while they wait. Kate: tall, elegant, marked. Alexis: smaller, beautiful face smeared with drying tears. Martha: making every attempt at holding it together for her girls and, by proxy, Richard. All three with reddened, swollen eyes, tears lurking in their depths. Minds racing, the worse imaginable thoughts at the forefront.
When they get home it's practically abandoned, guests, caterers, and clergy all cleared out. Kate stands at the edge of the back patio, the white chairs and archway spanning out before her.
It all fell apart. She sighs, stepping down to the grass, strolling down what was to be the aisle. She imagines everyone they'd invited, picturing them in the seats, ducking her head down as they all watch her walk towards him. Finally she reaches the end, kisses her father on the cheek, pretending she doesn't see the tears in his eyes as he nudges her towards him. And there he is, standing proudly under the archway, head held high as he beams at her.
"Kate, Sweetie?"
And just like that, it's all gone.
"Kate?" Lanie prods again, coming up to stand beside her best friend.
"It's all gone, Lane," Kate rasps, throat raw from the combination of smoke, screams, and standing on the precipice of sobs. "Fallen apart. Our perfect day." She can't let it go, may never let it go. "I don't know how to do this," she shudders, falling into Lanie. "Tell me how to do this."
"Oh Kate. You don't know what's happened, not yet. Don't do this to yourself. He could be on his way home right now."
"You don't really believe that," she chokes out Alexis' words.
"No, I don't," Lanie admits, frowning. "I just don't want to see you fall down this cliff. Not again."
"Part of me laughs at the idea of ever falling down again. I came out the other end and I'm stronger for it," Kate grits. "But the other part of me knows that this will be so much worse than my mother. I don't know how to keep my head up. I don't know how to pretend that I'm okay. I don't think that I can let this go."
"Sweetie, a few years ago you never would have admitted any of that, to me or to yourself. You're already doing this, and we're going to be fine. We're going to get through this."
"I don't know how," Kate repeats, turning back to their wedding arch, watching him reach out for her hand to slip on the ring, leaning in to kiss her immediately after, too eager to wait. "Somewhere along the line, he became everything. He made me a better person, but I don't know if I can be that person without him."
They stand side-by-side, the two parts of Kate battling each other as they watch the sky darken before them, the sun setting feeling like the sealing of their fate. Tomorrow was a new day, a giving her time to gather herself before diving into their investigation, but it was also a day farther away from Castle. A day was plenty of time to tear him apart, lock him away, bury him… tomorrow he could be gone, and she could never know, living her life with the hope that she would see him again one day, or she could stumble upon it one day, and know that she would never see him again.
She can't decide which is worse.