I don't want to come back out of the darkness with no comment, but I also can't keep using the same excuse over and over. The older I get, the more time slips by in the blink of an eye. I just can't believe how long it's been since I've posted anything, despite that being my MO since I started writing. I love this story, though, and I'm here to see if through, even when nobody is left to read it. If you're still here, thank you.
A quick correction before we jump back in - I pictured CT geography wrong and stated originally that Reagan worked in Hartford and lived in Greenwich, thinking Greenwich was on the other side of New Haven (in other words, way closer to Hartford than it is. That would be like a 2+ hour commute one way, so oops). I haven't fixed this yet because I wanted to get the new chapter out, but will run through soon to correct it (and some other typos I caught while catching myself back up to speed).
And so days go by, one after the other, with little progress. The boys are close to having to pack up and head back to Manhattan, and Kate truly doesn't know what she'll do. The thought of going home, to his or hers, with his glaring absence looming in every darkened corner, in every singular cup of coffee, in half-slept-in beds, reflectionless bathroom mirrors and empty passenger seats, in puns that never come… it makes her ill, but the thought of staying here in what was meant to be paradise while the rest of the world moves on around her is equally sickening.
She stands at the edge of the lawn, watching as the storm clouds falter, the waves ebb and flow, and the sun filters through for the first time in days. Funny, she thinks, how the weather has managed to mimic her darkened state of mind all week. It's too bad she's got nothing good to feel with the emerging rays of light.
She's not quite sure how to find her footing. When her mother died, there was something tangible for her to hold on to. Her life was forever changed, and she knew there was no going back. Joanna was dead. That was that. But she didn't know if Castle was dead or alive, if she'd ever see him again, and it was a fine line that lay between holding it together and losing it completely.
She'd mourned her mother. She'd relived their best memories, she cried at her grave, and she fought with everything she had to find justice. But there is no grave to visit now, no answers at all, and reliving memories feels too much like giving up.
She startles when the rose she'd been running her fingers over, one of many placed carefully in the latticework of the archway at the end of the aisle, crunches between her index and middle fingers, practically turning to dust when she releases it. They'd tried to convince her to let them pack up the back yard, but she'd been desperate, wished so badly that it'd only be days before everyone was back together and the ceremony was on, but as she turns around, takes in all of the attendee seating tipped and soiled by the stormy weather, she knows it's time.
It's not giving up, she swears. It's not.
Her phone rings as soon as she hangs up with the rental company, a number she thinks she recognizes but doesn't have saved. "Hello?"
"Kate, what the hell is going on?" The woman on the other end of the line is furious, fire crackling behind each syllable she spits out.
"I'm sorry?" she asks, shocked, not immediately placing the voice and struggling to stick with the conversation.
"What the hell is going on?" she repeats. "Why am I hearing about Richard's disappearance online?" Gina. "How long has this all been going on that we've been left in the dark?"
"Gina, I'm sorry." She apologizes first, knowing to some extent that, while there have been more important things, Gina is right. That's not how she should have found out. "There's been a lot going on, and calling folks wasn't exactly at the top of my list, y'know? Immediate family was here and beyond that… we hadn't gotten that far."
Gina is quiet for a beat, and when she speaks again the anger has washed right out of the words. "No, I'm sorry, Kate. I can't imagine how this must be on you, and in the heat of the moment I snapped where it wasn't due. There's just a lot of damage control to do here, and learning from a trending topic was a shock, to say the least."
"It's not supposed to be out," Kate says, as if that could make any of it better. "We've been trying to keep it under wraps while we still had leads. We thought…. We thought maybe he'd be home by now, and nobody would ever need to know. I don't know who found out, or how. Some stuff aired here, just about the crash, but we hoped it was contained to local access. I'm sorry you found out that way."
"Had?"
"Sorry?"
"Had leads. Past tense? Are there any leads?"
"Not anymore," Kate sighs. "What we've had has dried up. If we can get an ID on one of our suspects, we may have somewhere new to turn but if not…. I don't know where we go next." It's difficult to admit to herself, let alone aloud.
There's a mutual silence, each woman listening to the quiet breathing of the other; neither are quite sure how to break it.
"The news reports here are fuzzy," Gina finally says. "We know that Richard is missing following a car accident, but that's the gist. When did it happen?"
"The day of the wedding. He crashed just a couple miles down the road, on his way home. There was an SUV stolen from a dealer in Connecticut that we believe is connected to the accident, but it was wiped clean and then torched, so we can't prove anything thus far. And we found his phone, with a recording made to sound like he was running. All in all, we're pretty fuzzy, too." She decides to keep her suspicions about Tyson from Gina – voicing them wouldn't change anything, anyway.
"Each day I go in, and it seems like we have something at the end of the line that we just have to tug the tiniest bit closer, but by the end of the day the line has unraveled."
Another moment of silence.
"What if every line is the same? What if every lead unravels before we can even dive into it? What if…" Kate trails off.
"You'll find him," Gina says confidently, making assumptions on the cause of another sudden silence.
"No, it's not that. There's a reason that every lead has deadended. He's smart, he knows exactly how to toy with us. He knows exactly how to feed us what he wants us to know. He knows where the cameras are and what angles to take to obscure their images. And there's a path I think we neglected to check. Gina, I have to go. I have another idea I need to track down."
Kate hangs up before the other woman can protest, running up the back lawn to retrieve her case notes from the kitchen counter. She finds Reagan's information, gives the woman a call to gather more information that she's not sure why they hadn't in the first place.
"Reagan, hi, this is Detective Beckett. Do you have a moment for a few follow-up questions in regards to your stolen license?"
"As long as they fit into the next twelve minutes, absolutely; I can't be late for my next meeting."
"I won't keep you," Kate agrees. "I'm just hoping to get some more information on the vehicle that the officer was in when he pulled you over. You mentioned it was unmarked, and forgive me if you already told Detective Ryan this, I just want to be sure I have all of our information straight, but did you catch what the model was? Did you notice if it was a true unmarked police car, or if he had just thrown a set of lights in the dash?"
"I don't know much about cars, so I can't say with any certainty, but it looked like a typical cop car you'd see in older detective movies. It was a tannish color, thin and rectangular, if that makes sense. Sharp. It didn't have smooth edges or anything like that. There weren't lights mounted anywhere outside; when he pulled me over I saw them flashing from the windshield – I don't know if they were mounted to the ceiling or the window, or if they were stuck on the dash."
"That's great Reagan, thanks. Did he pull away first, or did you?"
"He did. I was a little unsettled, and I wanted to make sure he wouldn't be following me. Of course, now that I think about it, he had my license info and he could have found me if he wanted me. Oh God, he still could, couldn't he?"
"We have no reason to believe that you are in any danger," Kate assures her. "I have my suspicions about the identity of the man who pulled you over, and if I'm right he did all of this to get to my fiancé. You just happened to have been the unlucky scapegoat.
"I know I'm running short on your time, so before I have to let you go, did you happen to catch where, or if, he pulled off of the highway?"
"He was still on, headed towards Manhattan, when I pulled off in Greenwhich."
"Thank you Reagan. One last question; any idea how fast you were going?"
"I didn't go over 65, scared for another similar experience, and he stayed within the same general speed while I was with him."
"That's incredibly helpful, thank you again." Kate is quick to call into the precinct and relay the information on, calling to work with New York State Troopers to try to track down footage of the unmarked car going through the border toll.
They'd assumed that he would have been quick to get off of the highway, to lose track of the cameras, and when their first pass of highway footage hadn't turned anything up they moved on to other leads, but now that those were dried up, and now that she was convinced in his identification, she knew that Tyson would lead her to something.
What that something was, she had no idea. A clue? A tease? A trap? At least any of the above would give her some sort of answer. A clue might bring her to the next lead, a tease might not get her any closer but would let her know that Castle was alive somewhere, and if she found herself in a trap? Well, at least she might find herself locked in a room somewhere with her fiancé.
She's hanging up from an update with those combing through toll cameras when Gina calls back.
"I know this is probably the last thing you want to do right now, but I think you should make a statement. I've made a few calls, and I can have you Skype into Today this evening, to air tomorrow?"
The rest of the team may not be convinced, but Kate was. Appealing to the captors wouldn't make any damn difference, not when they thrived on the pain; this wasn't about ransom or recognition. But if there was any chance that Castle might see it, might know that she was absolutely not giving up on him, that made all the difference.
"Okay."
"Oh. Okay, amazing. I'll get you connected with the producers. I have to be honest, I thought that was going to take a lot more convincing."
"He has to know that I won't let him go." It wouldn't hurt if she could pull off the idea that she didn't have any suspicions yet, either. If she could get Tyson feeling any cockier, he might slip up.
She showers after the call, gets herself ready to be on the other side of an investigation for the first time in a long time.
Her clothes are professional, her hair is pulled back and her makeup is flawless; she'll never give Tyson the satisfaction of falling apart.
She takes a seat in Castle's office chair, and she can almost feel his outline in the worn leather. It doesn't take much more to feel his body heat emanating from it, either, to feel herself draped across his lap and his arms twisted around her waist. To feel like, just for that moment, everything was normal again and they were celebrating their marriage anywhere and everywhere they wanted.
She's taking a sip of the scotch she's hidden off to the side, it mimicking his body heat pressed against her for the few seconds it takes to go down, when the video call on the laptop in front of her connects.
"Detective Beckett," the young woman on the other side greets. "We heard rumors yesterday morning, and I'm so sorry to learn that they're true. I'm going to get you set up with Robin in just a moment, but I wanted to go over the parameters with you and make sure we're all comfortable here."
After agreeing to their guidelines and questions ahead of time, Kate is suddenly on screen with Robin, and it's another moment where reality slaps her across the face.
This is really happening.