Monster: Chapter 8
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.
Day 7: At the 12th Precinct in New York City, Early Morning, May 19, 2014
"There's nothing here," Kate laments, watching the video for the – she has lost count. She – and the boys as well – have been counting on the old axiom that criminals can't help but leave clues – whether consciously or unconsciously. It's just the way of the universe. But after a series of replay and reviews that would make ESPN proud, they have nothing. Not. One. Damn. Thing.
"We have looked at this from every angle, and so far, it is nothing more than what it appears to be," Captain Victoria Gates comments. "A ransom video without a ransom demand."
"A pre-ransom," Detective Esposito proclaims.
Kevin Ryan, fellow detective and best friend of Javier Esposito, remains quiet. He has seen the evidence, or lack thereof. Everything in his gut tells him they are not going to see a ransom demand – at least not the traditional monetary form of ransom. Something tells him that this is very different. It's personal. He can't put his finger on it, but he can't shake this haunting feeling of dread either.
"What if this isn't what we are thinking?" he asks the group at large inside Captain Gates' office. "What if this isn't a traditional kidnapping for money? What if it's personal? What if whoever did this is just trying to hurt Castle. Or you," he finishes, his eyes squarely on Kate.
"We've considered that," she admits, "but then why send a video? A video that shows him enjoying himself? Why would that be cause for worry?"
"Are you worried, Kate?" Ryan asks her.
"Well, yes but –"
"Then they've accomplished their goal," he tells her.
"Uh . . . did everyone just happen to forget about the lions in that video?" Esposito asks aloud. "That's not exactly –"
"No one has forgotten the lions, Javi," Kevin interrupts. "My point is, whoever did this has us chasing our tails. We're thinking about why this was sent to the mayor, what's the point of the lions, why does Castle look like he hasn't a care in the world . . . we have lots of questions without a single answer. We're shooting in the dark here. What if that's the point? What if that's what they wanted all along?"
"Okay, but why would anyone do that?" Captain Gates asks. "For what purpose?"
"I have no idea," Kevin admits. "But our lack of ideas or explanation does not render something to be wrong. We're still stuck on square zero and we are seven days into this now."
The group is silent for a moment, when Kate offers an idea.
"What if we take one more look, all of us, at the –"
"No," Esposito interrupts. "Sorry Beckett, but Kev here is right. You said it yourself. There's nothing here. But there is something somewhere, and we haven't seen it yet because we haven't been searching for it."
For a moment, there is silence in Captain Gates' office as the team considers Esposito's words. As with the past few days, the tensions immediately ratchet upwards as the lack of evidence, the lack of direction continually befuddles the team that is far more accustomed to finding clues others miss, seeing things others miss.
The ringing phone startles everyone, and Kate finds herself almost jumping out of her own skin.
"Dammit, we are wound way too tight," Esposito mutters as their captain walks to her desk and answers the phone.
"You don't say," Gates comments, giving a glance to the team. "Are you sending it –"
She is interrupted, and continues to listen, never taking her eyes off the three in her office. Without a goodbye, she hangs up the phone.
"Gather your stuff," she tells them. "A new video was delivered to the mayor this morning. We're off to his office to take a look."
Day 7: On an isolated island in the Tangier Islands, Early Evening, May 19, 2014
Richard Castle sits in his now very familiar spot, under the large tree on the southern side of the compound. He is alone this morning. His friends – no doubt – are sleeping off yet another meal. A meal that has put a new ray of hope into Richard Castle.
"Probably won't see them all day," he thinks to himself. In a warped, highly illogical way, he misses his companions. But the added solitude this morning – for once – is good. He needs this time alone. After five days of captivity with no answers, and to be honest – no good questions either – he finally has something to sink his teeth into; something to wrap his mind around.
First, there is a video camera here somewhere, and later today, when the sun is going down, he is going to start looking again. He doesn't want to alert anyone to the fact that he knows there is a camera, so he's waiting until it is dark, and even then he is going to try his best to make it look as nonchalant as possible. What he does with the camera when he finds out – well, he hasn't figured that piece out yet.
"But the one thing I know," he tells himself out loud, "is that where there is a camera, there is power."
This fact – more than anything else – is what excites the detained novelist. Power. Electricity. If there is a camera, he doubts that it is battery powered or solar powered. Too many variables for his captors to worry about. No, the best option is that the camera is highly concealed, and the wires drawing power even more so. He hopes and prays that whatever he finds is on this side of the fence. Over there, it does him no good. On this side however – well, that is something he can use.
Yesterday, after the lions were fed but well before it got entirely too dark, he began to search the interior of the cabin. He used the notion of him writing on the walls – something he has been doing pretty much every day – as a ruse to check the walls, to search for something concealed. He hadn't found anything, much to his chagrin. That would have been entirely too easy, he realizes. Moreover, the lighting for any type of videotaping is bad inside, with just the single, small window providing light. He's convinced whoever is watching wouldn't have been able to notice him feeling under the weather while inside. Yeah, more likely than not, the camera is outside.
So he sits, this morning, alone, deep in his thoughts. He will search for the camera again later as the sun is going down. But for now, a single thought consumes him.
The Tangier Islands in Chesapeake Bay.
That's where the unfortunate man said he is. He has no idea what his name was, who he was, or why the man chose to give him this information. He can only assume that he was an unfortunate witness, seeing something he wasn't supposed to see, hearing something he wasn't supposed to hear. Or – and this is a possibility that just occurred to him seconds ago, perhaps he was a part of the group that kidnapped him, but had somehow run afoul of his colleagues.
No matter – the information he has been given is clearly invaluable. He knows – generally – where he is. Being a novelist, and a man who constantly asks questions, performs research and discovery, Castle knows of these islands. He's never been here before, never necessarily even wanted to come here. Nothing against the small group of islands, but there are so many other places on his list of places to go before he kicks the bucket.
He chuckles that this 'bucket kicking' may come a little sooner than he ever imagined, but pushes the thought out of his mind. He uses his finger to draw in the grass and dirt that he sits on, trying to visualize exactly where the islands are. There are a few island chains in the Chesapeake Bay, the Tangiers just being one of them, almost in the middle if memory serves. It occurs to him that this knowledge may come in handy. Two immediate thoughts come to mind.
"If I get – no, scratch that – gotta think positive," he reminds himself. "When I get out of here, and I'm going to get out of here, I need to be going west, east or north. All three are toward the mainland." He recalls from maps that going south could risk putting him into the Atlantic Ocean, and if that happens – well, cancel Christmas.
He recalls from his research that the islands are small - less than a few miles across, if that, if he remembers correctly. In his mind he imagines the best case scenario: He In his mind, he gets through the fence – somehow – makes it to the coastline of the island without getting eaten – somehow – finds a boat and makes his way toward the mainland – somehow.
"That's an awful lot of somehows," he laughs out loud, realizing the sheer lunacy of such a plan. It's outrageous. But these are outrageous circumstances he finds himself in.
Best case, of course, is he gets out of here and finds civilization, finds someone who could help. He frowns at that thought. If he were writing this book, the people on this deserted island would be in on it. They'd either be paid off, or too terrified to help, knowing the fate that would await them. Hell, for all he knows, whoever else that might be living on this island could be the source of meals for his friends out in the trees somewhere.
The second thought that keeps finding its way into his mind combines the two pieces of information.
"I'm on one of the Tangier Islands, and whoever took me is watching me with a camera," he thinks to himself, and smiles. "If they are asking a ransom – which is logical, because I'm not exactly poor – well, if they are asking for a ransom, then Kate or Mother will want proof that I am alive. They won't part with my money without some assurance that I'm still alive."
It follows that if they are keeping tabs on him, they probably have already sent a video to Kate or Martha. And the fact that he is still here means one of a few things.
First – they aren't paying the ransom. That's not even worth the thought. He knows that both women would pay for his freedom in the proverbial New York minute, no questions asked once they had proof that he is alive.
Second – they haven't paid the ransom – either because they are still pulling it together or because an amount hasn't been given yet. The latter is more likely, because weeks ago, he had made sure that Kate knew how to access his money in the event something happened. He had been updating his will, and the topic of money naturally came up. Neither of them counted on anything like this, though.
If they haven't given an amount, then that means they may send another tape – or multiple tapes. Who knows what their motivations are.
Third – and finally – they've paid the ransom, but his kidnappers have elected to leave him here. Given the fact that he has no idea who has taken him, and has no idea where to even start, well, this is the worst case scenario. Because he will never be found, in this case. Not alive, at least.
He stands, as the thoughts barrel through his head, and walks toward the water well. Dousing himself with a bucket, he moves back toward the southern side, and begins his daily morning regimen. Sit-ups, push-ups, and jogging. He smiles as he walks, knowing that he is up to about a mile and a half now. His legs are tired this morning. He knows he is pushing muscles that he hasn't used in years. Quite a few years. The possibilities continue to dart through his thoughts, as he begins push-ups.
Up. "Find me Kate."
Down. "Don't give up, Kate."
Up. "I'm still here."
Down: "I'm not giving up."
Up . . .
Day 7: At the Mayor's office in New York City, Mid-Morning, May 19, 2014
"When did this arrive, Mr. Mayor?" Kate asks as the team sits down inside the mayor's office. He points their attention to the monitor.
"Maybe half an hour ago," he tells them. "I called as soon as I received it. Haven't looked at it myself," he continues.
"Why not?" Captain Gates asks, with surprise.
"Evidence," the Mayor responds, affably. "I figured you and your team would want to see it as is – unopened – before I looked at it and possibly ruined anything."
Kate nods her head, impressed that Castle's friend would even go down this path of thinking. Smart man. She also notices the worry on the mayor's face.
"Let's open it up," Kevin Ryan says, picking up the envelope, asking for permission with his eyes.
"Go ahead, Detective Ryan," Captain Gates tells him.
Kevin Ryan opens the envelope carefully. He's not worried about unleashing anything – so far, there is nothing to indicate that anyone is trying to attack the mayor – or any of the detectives here, for that matter. Seconds later, another DVD sits in the hands of the detective.
"DVD player is right there," the mayor tells him, pointing to the unit. Ryan inserts the video and hits the PLAY button. Everyone's attention is drawn to the monitor. Suddenly, a title appears on the screen.
A Day in the Life of Richard Castle.
"This isn't funny," Kate Beckett comments, her face reddening and nostrils slightly flaring. She isn't sure what she expected. Okay, actually she knows exactly what she expected . . . what she was hoping for. A ransom letter. A ransom video. This doesn't appear to be either.
The title fades, and the strains of Bobby McFerrin's voice can be heard in the background.
Here's a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it, note for note
Don't worry, Be happy!
In fades the image of Richard Castle, sitting in what appears to be shade. He is just a couple of feet from the fence, sitting calmly. He doesn't appear stressed. He doesn't appear worried. He actually . . . is he actually smiling?
The two lions sit across from him. They look calm. They don't appear to be agitated.
"He's . . . he's talking to them," Esposito comments, almost under his breath. Too late, he realizes, as he sees . . . rather, he feels Kate's eyes bore into him.
"You're right," Mayor Weldon agrees, offer a quick sympathetic glance to Kate Beckett. He knows this is tough on her, and seeing her fiancée has to be both comforting – in that he is alive – and completely frustrating in that he seems to be . . . enjoying himself?
"He is talking to them," the Mayor continues. "And they don't seem to be acting very aggressive to him at all."
"It's almost like he is . . . it's almost like he's off on a safari somewhere," Kevin Ryan mentions. As much as Kate hates the idea, she has to admit her friend is right. The thought of Castle out of country on a safari, camping out in an area where the dangerous animals are fenced in . . . yeah, that's exactly what this looks like.
"Here's the problem though, folks," Esposito counters. "Who is shooting the video? And more importantly, why are they shooting the video? If this isn't a kidnapping, then why rub this in our faces? Why rub it in her face?" he finishes, pointing to Kate.
"Castle wouldn't do this, guys," Kate jumps in, struggling to believe the very words coming from her mouth. "He wouldn't . . ."
The tears come fast, far too quickly for her to contain. She turns her head away from her friends, and feels – surprisingly – the hand of Captain Victoria Gates on hers.
"He wouldn't do this to you, Kate," she says softly, using her first name.
"More than that, Kate," the mayor adds, also using the more familiar term to soften the news. "He wouldn't do this to Alexis."
The mayor knows Richard Castle very well, probably better than anyone in the room with the exception of Kate Beckett. They are personal friends – their families know each other. He knows that his friend loves Kate Beckett. He knows his friend has chased her for years. But he also knows how much deeper the bond is that Castle has with his daughter.
"No way would he run off and leave Alexis, do this to her," he continues. "No offense against you, Kate, he loves you – trust me on that. But Alexis? Alexis has been his world for almost twenty years. He could no more do something like this to her than he could stop breathing. No, this is a kidnapping, my friends. Any time – even one second – that you waste thinking otherwise is exactly that. Wasted time. And we can't afford that."
Kate smiles through her tears. She is thankful for the hand on hers, and she is thankful for the words she has just heard. The words ring true. She knows how Castle feels about his daughter. The fact that his daughter is now a young woman is immaterial. His feelings are the same. Still, the video is pretty damaging. He doesn't seem flustered. He doesn't seem trapped. He doesn't seem to be . . . captive.
"Let's look at the evidence," Esposito begins. "Because there is evidence here."
The team refocuses back on the detective, who begins to point a few things out.
"First – look at the time stamp on this video," he begins. I'm sure they wanted this time stamp here so we would see the date. The date is yesterday."
"Okay, so what?" Captain Gates asks the question everyone else is thinking. "Does it matter if it was yesterday or two days ago, or –"
"Yes, sir," he interrupts. "It matters very much. At least now we know that Castle is still here – most likely either on the east coast or, worst case, somewhere in the central time zone."
"How do you figure, bud?" Detective Ryan asks.
"This video was shot yesterday, 2:13 in the afternoon," Esposito replies with a smile. "Any crazy thoughts we have that he is in Africa on a safari – look, Federal Express or not, no way they are getting a video to us overnight from that far away."
The team nods in unison, as Ryan chips in with his thoughts.
"Could be west coast, but it would have to be Southern California, may Arizona," Ryan mentions. "He's wearing nothing but those boxers again and the upper west coast is still a bit chilly for that, wouldn't you think?"
"Boxers!" Kate exclaims, a bit louder than she has intended.
"What about them, Detective Beckett?" the Mayor wonders aloud.
"They are the same boxers," she replies, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. "Same shoes, same boxers," she finishes and is ready to speak again when the Mayor interrupts.
"Look at his face," he tells them. He's sideways to the camera, facing the fence.
"He hasn't shaved," Kate notices.
"That's odd," their captain muses aloud.
"It's more than odd, sir," Kate tells her. "Castle is . . . well, Rick is –"
"You can say it, Kate," Esposito laughs, breaking the tensions a bit. "We all know Castle . . ."
"Yeah," she allows herself a chuckle. "Rick is meticulous about his looks, you all know that."
"Don't we," Mayor Robert Weldon smiles as well.
"I may be reaching here," Kate continues, "I admit that, but – to me – the only way Castle doesn't shave his face –"
"Or comb his hair!" Captain Gates adds. "Look at his hair – it looks like he's been swimming and just let it air dry."
"Maybe there's a pool," Ryan wonders. "Probably has a bar somewhere and –"
"No!" Esposito blurts out. "Don't wonder, don't play what if," he tells the team. "Stick to the evidence in front of us. We don't know if there is a pool. We don't know if there is a bar serving drinks. All we know is what we see."
"And what I see," Kate continues, picking up confidence with each word, "is a mentally strong man, being held captive, making the most of the situation, trying to stay calm. The Richard Castle I know wouldn't be freaking out. He'd be pondering, wondering, thinking, yeah even playing air guitar. But I also know that if he could change clothes, he would, trust me on that. And if he could shave, he would, trust me on that also."
"So the fact that he hasn't done those things tells us that maybe he can't do those things," Esposito adds.
"And that means he is being held captive," Ryan agrees
"But then why no ransom?" the Mayor asks.
"Again – like I said earlier," Ryan replies. "I don't think this is a ransom kidnapping. I think it's meant to hurt, not make money."
"So . . ."Kate considers her words carefully, pulling the thoughts together. "So let's assume that he is somewhere east of the Mississippi. That's a big area to consider."
"Look at the evidence," Esposito reminds everyone.
"What are you thinking, Javier?" Kate asks.
"First, let's get someone who knows plants, trees, stuff like that –"
"A horticulturist," the mayor chimes in.
"Yeah, one of those guys," Esposito smiles, undaunted. "Let them look at the videos, focusing on the greenery. We don't know squat about agriculture and what-not, but who knows – perhaps something we see in the video is . . . is –"
"Indigenous to a specific area," Kate nods, appreciating the fact that her friends are now morphing into serious detective mode.
"Second," Kate continues with her own thoughts now, "let's put the word out, rather – the question – Who in the world is missing two lions right now?" she asks. "Their numbers are dwindling, and they don't fit in overhead storage," she smiles, drawing nervous laughter from everyone.
"It's a good idea," Ryan agrees. "Check the zoos – every single one of them in the country. It will take time, I know, but if a freaking lion disappears, that's got to be news somewhere."
"We'll also check incoming manifests from the past month," Captain Gates adds. "See if someone brought any in to the country."
"Good idea," Kate agrees. She realizes that someone who runs a kidnapping scheme is a criminal, and so that person may bypass immigration and habitat laws – but they have to start somewhere. Anyway, just asking the questions sometimes turns things up.
"Look," Kate says, standing up now and feeling stronger than she has in days. "It's time for us to stop acting like friends, liked grieving and fearful loved ones. It's time for us to start acting like detectives," she finishes.
"All right," Captain Gates says, reaching over to the remote control and hitting PLAY again. "Let's look at this again – as detectives."