Castle and Beckett held hands loosely as they climbed the front stairs of the hotel, but there was no obvious sign of the convention as they approached the massive revolving doors.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Beckett asked.
It was at that moment that they crossed paths with a man wearing a James Patterson hoodie. Castle just scoffed in response.
"Never mind," she said, smiling.
Not ten seconds later, the last of her doubts were erased when they entered the lobby, where several huge posters and banners with the word CrimeCon hung from the ceiling to the floor.
"It's this way." Castle pointed to a giant arrow plastered to the wall, with the word Convention written on it.
Beckett followed her husband around the corner to the door, where a member of the staff intercepted them, and just when Beckett was about to flash her badge to skip the line, the man recognized Castle, and let them in. Ignoring the writer's satisfied little smirk, she marched into the massive ballroom, stopping briefly once inside to take it all in.
"Wow. They really went all out with this one, didn't they?" she muttered.
The place was huge and completely decked out for the convention; it was heavily decorated with fake police tape, not to mention about a hundred vendors and a couple of stands devoted to photo ops with the famous authors in attendance, complete with all sorts of props, from plastic knifes to magnifying glasses. There had to be at least a thousand people present who were making their way through the different booths, many of which had blackboards that proudly advertised their wares for sale, written with what looked like fake blood.
A number of people were cosplaying, wearing the elaborate costumes of different characters from crime mysteries. There were quite a few women in blazers with faux badges on their hips, whom Beckett assumed were Nikkis (which would always be a little disconcerting to her) and at least half a dozen Derrick Storms roaming around. In addition to the costumes, a lot of people were wearing hoodies and t-shirts with slogans and pictures in keeping with the theme of the convention.
The sight was a familiar one to both Castle and Beckett, as they'd both attended conventions and fan events very similar to this one in the past. However, as soon as they set foot in the room, heads began to turn.
There were plenty of people who didn't recognize them initially, of course, but there were enough in-the-know fans present, and they seemed happy to fill the others in on who they were. Soon enough, whispers and excited laughs began to fill the air, the volume of the chatter around them increasing by the second.
Knowing it was just a matter of time before they got bombarded by Castle's devotees, Beckett continued her path toward the smaller meeting room where they hoped to find their suspect, hearing more than seeing her husband trotting to catch up with her. She felt his hand on the small of her back at the same moment she saw the first smartphone pointed at them.
"Three, two, one..." he whispered in her ear.
"Mr. Castle! Hey!"
"Is that Nikki?"
"Oh my God, she's pregnant! Nikki is pregnant!"
A chorus of deafening squeals and exclamations rose around them, and in a matter of seconds, the duo was surrounded by eager fans trying desperately to get a selfie or an autograph.
After answering - or dodging, in Beckett's case - what felt like a hundred questions, posing for at least several dozen pictures and receiving a few very enthusiastic hugs, Beckett grabbed Castle by the arm and started leading him away from the gaggle of admirers, while he told a young girl for the third time that their child's name wouldn't be Nooki, the fan nickname for the fictional couple formed by Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook.
"But think about it, it could work for both a boy or a girl!" the girl yelled from the distance.
"We'll keep that in mind," Castle assured her over his shoulder, finally starting to make progress on their way to the room where the police procedure workshop was taking place.
To say the people attending the seminar were surprised to see them was an understatement. The stunned silence with which they were received was only broken when the person in charge of the activity intercepted them.
"Mr. Castle, what are you…I mean, this is a wonderful surprise to have you both here, but were we expecting you?" he stammered, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.
"No, and we're sorry for barging in like this," Castle said. "We're here to speak to Jane Alexander."
The young woman in question hopped out of her chair and beamed at them, looking delighted at having been picked out of the crowd.
"Is this about the fan contest? Did I win?" she exclaimed, obviously elated to have them there, if the way she couldn't stop smiling was any indication.
"I'm afraid not," Beckett said, drawing the girl's attention away from the writer. "Can you please step out and accompany us to the station?" she asked, flashing her badge at Jane when she'd gotten her full attention. The girl's smile dropped instantaneously. "We have some questions for you."
They watched Jane through the one-way glass for a few minutes, the young woman squirming uncomfortably in the hard metal chair. Beckett observed her carefully, looking for twitches and tells that she could use to her advantage when they questioned her. Castle, on the other hand, was still grumbling about the fans who had stopped them on their way out of the con to share their opinions on why Nikki Heat was superior to Derrick Storm.
"I'm just saying, you can't compare the two, Beckett! Entirely different characters, on every level. I mean, yeah, they're both 'good guys'," he contended, along with some exaggerated air quotes. "But seriously, apples and oranges." He finished with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.
"Why are you so bent out of shape about this, Castle? So you have a couple of fans who prefer Nikki to Derrick. So what?"
"So what? How can you ask me that? My characters mean a lot to me. I invest a lot of myself in their stories. I'd written books before the Storm series, but he really launched my career. I might be in love with Nikki, but in some ways, Derrick will always be my boy," Castle sighed dejectedly.
Beckett felt a surge of sympathy for him; she knew how much Castle cared about his writing, and how much time and consideration he put into crafting honest, compelling, imperfect characters. He wanted people to be able to see themselves in those roles, to ask themselves what they'd do under similar circumstances. His vision of humanity, both its strengths and flaws, was one of the qualities that first drew her to his writing.
"Castle, hey. Look at me." She reached out and took one of his hands, lacing their fingers together and squeezing her love for him and his passion into his skin. "Millions of people love your characters, all of them. Your book sales are proof of that. But, they're allowed to have a preference. For what it's worth, I think Rook is one of your most captivating characters."
He looked at her with curiosity in his eyes, urging her to continue. "In what way?"
"Well, first of all, Rook is more relatable. He's a regular guy with a pretty cool day job, sure, but he doesn't have any special training. He's not some über-spy who can kill someone with his bare hands, but he's got a sharp mind and he's one hell of a writer," she said with a sly grin. "And second, I wouldn't give Storm the time of day. I've met too many men like him: smartass supermen who think they own the world. But Jameson Rook? Sure, he's cocky, but he's not perfect. He's not as intrepid, or badass..."
"Hey!"
"...but I'd marry him in a heartbeat. He's you, Castle. That's why I love him."
Castle could only smile sheepishly, nodding at her in understanding. "Point taken."
"C'mon then, let's do this." And with that, she tugged on their joined hands and started in the direction of the interrogation room.
Jane appeared more like a timid girl than a young woman, looking very small sitting at the table in the interrogation room, her shoulders hunched and her hands shaking. She nearly jumped when the door opened and Castle and Beckett entered the room. They'd been nominated to conduct the interview when everyone realized they might get more out of her, what with her being a fan of Castle's writing and all.
"What is this about?" she asked them as soon as they took their places in front of her.
"Did you know Lauren Grant, Jane?" Beckett asked without preamble.
"Who?"
Beckett didn't answer, and simply placed a photo of the victim on the table before her in reply. Jane's eyes widened slightly in recognition, but she said nothing.
"We found some very menacing messages on her Tumblr and fanfiction accounts," Beckett continued, sliding the printouts towards the girl. "Messages you sent her, claiming that she was worth nothing. That she should die."
"Yes, okay, fine. I won't deny it," the girl answered at last, her voice shaking. "But that's what people do on the Internet. It's no big deal."
There was a pause in which nobody spoke, until Castle cleared his throat. "Actually, that's not true, Jane. Those are hate messages, some of which can be interpreted as threats."
"I don't understand... it was just trash talk. People do that in fandom sometimes. It didn't mean anything," Jane said.
"Oh, but we believe it wasn't just talk," Beckett replied. "Especially considering Lauren was found dead this morning."
"What?" All the color drained from her face, and for a moment, the young woman looked as if she was about to faint. "But... wait, do you think I...? No, I swear! I didn't do anything to her!"
"You threatened her, bullied her online for months, and you attended the same convention on the same day she was murdered."
"No, no, I swear!" Jane's cheeks reddened, and she looked at them, frantic, pleading. "I had nothing to do with it!"
Beckett and Castle just stared at her, waiting in silence to see if she would break down and admit something more. Their strategy worked. The girl seemed to deflate before their eyes, and silent tears began to drip down her chin.
"It's true, I sent those messages. I was jealous of her. Everyone loved her, and she was very popular, and I thought she didn't deserve it. That's why I sent them anonymously, to make her see. But I didn't kill her, I promise."
"So, where were you between seven and nine last night?" Beckett asked.
The girl shot a confused look at Castle before returning her attention to Beckett.
"We... we were at the convention."
"We?"
"Yes, me... and him," she said, motioning towards the writer.
"Excuse me?" he spat, straightening in his chair.
Jane fished her phone out of her pocket and pressed a button. There, on the lockscreen, was a picture of herself posing with Castle, displayed with pride.
"I was at the photo session last night. I got in line with some friends around six-thirty. It was supposed to be finished around nine, but it started late and the line was longer than expected, so we were there until almost ten," she explained.
Beckett looked more closely at the picture, and she could plainly see Castle was wearing the same clothes as the previous night. She nodded at Jane, handing the phone back to her.
"We'll need the names of the friends you were with, and we'll be checking the hotel security cameras, just to make sure you didn't sneak out," she warned.
"I didn't," she promised, and Castle and Beckett were halfway out of their seats when she spoke up again. "But heatwriter47, I mean Lauren, did. She was in line ahead of me, but she left without getting her picture taken."
"How do you know it was Lauren?" Castle questioned. "I thought you didn't know her personally, but you recognized her picture when we showed it to you, and you recognized her at the convention. How do you know what she looked like?"
Jane sighed in exasperation.
"She's posting selfies all the time. I follow her on Instagram and Snapchat, too."
"Right, of course," Castle said, nodding, while Beckett tried to suppress a smile. She always found it amusing when he made a technology-related slip. He was sure that, had they been alone, she would be cracking a joke about his age and being too old for platforms like Snapchat. "So, any idea why she left?"
"I'm guessing it had something to do with the guy she was talking to."
"The guy?" Beckett inquired.
"Yeah, I could see them at the entrance to the ballroom from the line," Jane explained to them. "It looked like they were arguing. It seemed like he was trying to convince her to leave with him."
"So you think they knew each other?"
"I suppose so. I mean, I thought he might be her boyfriend or something. It looked like they left together in the end."
"Would you be able to describe the boy to a sketch artist?"
"Sure." Jane fell silent for a moment, and then, she looked at them with a spark in her eye. "Do you know what I think? I think she was into something dangerous, something dark, you know?"
"What makes you say that?" Beckett asked, leaning unconsciously towards her.
"I don't know. It's a better story," the girl shrugged.
At that, Castle had to fake a cough to hide his laugh, while Beckett rose from her chair with an epic eye roll.
While he followed her through the door, Castle could have sworn he heard her mutter "like writer, like fan."
Castle grew uncharacteristically quiet after Jane's interrogation, until he was reduced to single syllables and grunts of agreement by the time they made their way home that evening. He picked at the dinner they worked side-by-side to prepare, assuring her that he was fine when she asked him what was on his mind.
But when he turned down his favorite potato chip fudge ice cream after dinner (which he had taken to keeping stocked in their freezer since the start of her pregnancy), she knew it was time to speak up. She plopped down next to him on the couch, snuggling into his side and taking his hand in hers.
"Listen, Rick, you know I'll give you space here if that's what you really want. God knows I'm the queen of pushing people away when I probably need them most." That managed to get a laugh out of him; they both knew of her notorious obstinance all too well. "But I know you, and I know that something is weighing on you, and I just...I want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk about it."
He shook his head, hesitant to continue. "I'm not trying to shut you out, Kate, I promise. I'm... I worry it's gonna sound silly."
"Sillier than killer zombies and invisible men?"
"Touché, Beckett." He took a deep breath before continuing, and she had to dig her nails into her thigh to keep herself from reaching out and smoothing her fingers across his creased brow. "I've been thinking about Lauren, about her participation in the Nikki Heat fandom. And I can't help but wonder... is that what got her killed? Was being a fan of my books what ultimately put her in danger?"
"Oh, god, no! Rick, how could you think that?"
"How can I not? It seems like her involvement and her popularity made her a target for animosity. I... I..." he trailed off, grappling to find the right words, and she squeezed his knee in encouragement. "I know what it's like to be targeted by critics, Kate, but I have the advantage of my previous successes to bolster me. I have the luxury of being able to ignore the people who look to tear me down, but Lauren? She was bullied by her peers and by people who claimed to love the same things as her. What does that do to a person's confidence?"
"I honestly can't imagine, babe. But you bear no responsibility for what happened to that young woman. And you know what? I'll even go so far as to say her participation in that fandom enriched her life in the end, and you are responsible for that. There's this camaraderie that's been built because of your stories. Readers find joy and solace in your books, and then they can share those feelings with other like-minded people. Castle, your novels brought them together. They've gained friendships and inspiration because of you. I don't know what we'll find when we finally track down Lauren's killer, but one thing I can say for sure: the Nikki Heat fandom, and by extension, you, are in no way to blame for what happened to her. That's completely on the person who took her life."
The smile he gave her in response wasn't the full-wattage version she was used to, but it was genuine and grateful. "You sure you're not a therapist, Beckett? 'Cause you're awfully good at these pep talks."
"Just chalk it up to years of perfecting the art of stroking your ego."
That earned her a crow of laughter, and she was grateful to see him getting back to his usual, gregarious self. "Oh, I can think of plenty of other things that you can stroke..." He pinned her with an intense gaze, and she felt butterflies erupt in her belly. Maybe they could salvage the rest of the night after all.
"And I'm game, however... not to put a damper on your improved mood, but I have to tell you that Gina called when you were changing earlier."
Castle groaned loud and long at that, his head flopping back onto the couch. "Calling about Heat Storm, no doubt. Damn this writer's block, Kate. And damn my ex-wife for reminding me of it tonight."
"She's just doing her job, Castle. And to be honest, she genuinely seemed more interested in your well-being than in the status of the book. She even asked me how you'd been lately."
"Uh oh, Gina showed concern for me? She must really want me to get this book finished," he added with a healthy dose of snark.
Kate slapped him on the chest at his cheekiness. "Oh, stop it. She knows you've been through a lot, that we both have. You're working through it, but that work takes time."
"I wish that felt like enough. Ugh! When will this damn block be done with me?"
Kate pushed herself up and off the couch then, extending her hand to her husband in invitation and pulling him in the direction of their bedroom. "It'll happen when it happens, and not a moment before. Be patient with yourself, babe. And in the meantime, why don't you take your wife to bed and make love to her?" she added with a backward glance and a seductive smile.
"You had me at take your wife to bed."