Wow, time is flying. But as promised, here's my weekly update. I'd like to start maybe updating a little more frequently, but I'll have to speed up the writing process if that's ever to work out. Your reviews and follows definitely make a difference, and I'm grateful for them. And once again, thank you to suz24 for beta-ing this chatper.
Now, how about that premiere? There was so much good stuff packed into such a little episode, I had to watch it twice. Certainly met my expectations, and I can't wait for Dreamworld, yikes!
The elevator doors open to mass chaos.
"Beckett!" Esposito greets her in a huff, dodging detectives moving around in a flurry of paperwork. "Where have you been?"
Her eyes narrow, and she glances at her father's wristwatch. "It's only eight-thirty. What's going on?"
In a flash, he's guiding her into one of the tech rooms, hand at her shoulder. Not one to be manhandled, she gives a grunt and shrugs him off. "Espo-"
"Sorry, sorry. This is big, Beckett. This is huge. I tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail."
Damn it, Tom. He must have turned off her phone sometime after she fell asleep. Probably around the same time he shut off her alarm. Damn it.
Ryan sits at the desk with a few other guys, running through the same camera footage over and over again on the big screen from different angles. The images pause.
"What do we have?"
Her fellow detective spins in his swivel chair to face her, brow knit into concern. "About an hour ago, I got a call from tech. They found a guy on the security cam of a jewelry store local to Reilly's. It was time stamped at 1:57 am."
"Okay, so that would match Greene's estimated TOD. Was he coming or leaving?"
"Leaving, definitely leaving. Not just that, though. He was carrying rope."
Geez. "You have a clear shot of this guy? Run it through facial rec-"
"Already done."
"Got a match?"
"Do we ever," Esposito says, crowding up behind her. "Show her the footage, bro. Run it from the top."
Ryan clicks the computer mouse, and the feed starts to run again. The video is grainy—clearly, the camera is outdated—but she squints to focus in on the approaching figure. It's a man, probably about six foot, six foot one. He's wearing a two-piece suit and dress shoes, hardly the outfit for a good old-fashioned homicide. In his grasp, there's a long, brown line of rope and something else that she catches with a silvery glint, probably a knife or maybe scissors. He stops walking suddenly, looks to his right and to his left, find the camera of the jewelry store with his eyes.
His face. She recognizes that face. Holy hell.
"I know," Javier speaks over her shoulder. He must be able to interpret her reaction, her realization, and is practically vibrating with energy. "Not such a silly theory anymore, huh?"
No, no, not so silly. Because the man on the screen is the Copycat Vigilante, Richard Castle. And he's waving.
"All right, people. We have a forty-eight-hour window, more or less, before the media catches wind of this development. Let's make it count." Captain Montgomery ends his speech with a clap of his hands, and the detectives are dismissed to their respective posts.
"Sir!" Beckett calls, following her boss into his office. "Sir?"
"Yes, Detective?"
Montgomery has always been one of her greatest allies. As so many others doubted her abilities back when she was in training or an officer on the Vice Squad, the Captain believed in her. For that reason, she hates to ask too much of him. Not when he's already done so much for her and her career.
"I just wanted to know if my team will still be running point in this investigation."
He smiles. "Of course, Beckett. You're the one who got handed the case in the first place. Besides, I want my best people on this one."
Kate tries not to blush—she's never been good at receiving commendation—and staggers awkwardly out of the room. "Thank you, Captain."
Esposito is yelling at someone on the phone while Ryan types furiously at his keyboard, and why oh why did her stupidly considerate boyfriend let her sleep in? His thoughtfulness, more like thoughtlessness, has left her floundering to gain control of her own case when everyone else is already caught up and working ahead.
She flinches at the click of the receiver slamming down into its cradle as a few muffled curses leave her teammate's mouth.
"It's going to take another day to get the warrant for camera footage from the pawn shop on the corner. Apparently people care more about privacy than justice."
"A day?"
"Markaway says he'll see what he can do."
Ah, Judge Markaway. Sure he will. "We can do without it. Traffic cameras, Espo."
"There's nothing. We can't track him walking past the street we already spotted him on. It's like he disappeared."
Ryan quits scrolling through online files to join the conversation. "If he's such a Houdini, why'd he walk past the jewelry store in the first place? He must've seen the camera."
"He wanted to get noticed," she says grimly. "He wanted to be seen because he thinks we can't catch him." The younger detective looks at her like she just crushed his favorite toy, so she continues, "We will catch the cocky bastard, though. We'll bring him in and lock him up for good."
"You'd give him life in prison?" Esposito poses the question as he twirls a pen between his fingers.
"Of course," she responds immediately, narrowing her eyes. "Why, wouldn't you? He's killed fourteen people."
"Fifteen people," Ryan murmurs over the rim of his coffee cup.
"Yeah, but those were stone cold killers. They murdered women, children."
"Never proven," she points out, but the other detective ignores her.
"This guy, he takes the law into his hands when justice is corrupted, you know?"
"Real life superhero," his partner muses. She can practically see the stars in his eyes. Come now, Kevin. But then he sobers. "Shame he had to kill 'em."
"You guys have watched way too many Batman movies. But that's beside the point, the point being that it's our responsibility to catch this guy. I see two possible avenues of escape." She stands to scribble on the whiteboard. "Either he stuck around for a little while and then hopped a cab, or he entered one of the apartment complexes nearby. And that means our next move is-"
"More canvassing," the boys groan in unison. Well, they can moan and groan all they want. They have a job to do, and they have to do it fast before the press descends like vultures and ruins their chance of ever catching this guy.
"Stop whining," she uses her most authoritative voice. "And start doing."
She makes them wear their vests, won't let them knock on doors without the protection. Esposito tries to refuse, all macho, arms crossed. But they're looking for a serial killer, a man who's already taken fifteen lives. What's another cop or two more? No, they'll be prepared.
The first apartment complex on the checklist is old and rundown. The carpet is faded and the curtains are threadbare. The doorman—she's surprised this building even has a doorman, but he's more of a security guard, and that kind of makes sense in such a rough neighborhood—is honest, at least. He was the one on post during the night of the murder, but he was taking a nap from midnight 'til four and didn't catch a thing. Lovely.
They start knocking on doors, units with windows facing the street only. Ryan and Espo take the second floor, and she takes the third. They'll work their way up. Her partners protest, but she's used to flying solo. She can handle herself just fine.
Most of the tenants are uninterested and unhelpful, no surprise there. Living in this city often desensitizes people to little things like murder. She passes the guys on her way up the stairs to the fifth floor. No luck for them either. They might have to call in some unis to help; there are way too many buildings around here for three people to cover with their time constraints. Finally, though, in apartment 5C, she finds someone who might be able to help her.
"As a matter of fact, dear, I did see somebody wandering around the streets this morning. Come, come in!" The elderly woman waves Kate in with her cane. She has warm eyes, white hair, and dons a purple sweater covered in tiny embroidered kittens. Her frail form is swallowed by the knit monstrosity, and the detective fights the urge to chuckle. She's a cute old lady. "Let me make you some tea!"
"That's quite all right, thank you, Ms-"
"Oh, you can call me Nana." Right. Okay.
"So…Nana, you said you saw someone outside your window early this morning? Wandering?"
"I did, I did indeed. And let me tell you, he looked a wee bit suspicious to me, pacing in the alleyway like a crazy person for a solid hour."
"Could you tell me what time this took place?"
"Oh, around three or so? Maybe two? I can't be certain. I had a difficult time settling down last night. It's the insomnia, been coming and going ever since Barry died four years ago. He was my husband." The detective feels a pang of sympathy for the older woman, Nana. "I don't feel as safe here without him. I guess you could say I'm a little paranoid, always watching out the window."
Kate gives her a little smile. "That habit might help us out a great deal today. Now, tell me, did you see the man in the alley leave? Which way he went?"
"Oh, well, I was worried about him. I called a cab service and asked them if they could circle around."
Did she hear that correctly? "I'm sorry, what?"
"Yellow Cab, dear. It took the driver about twenty minutes to get here, and the man seemed a bit flustered at first, but he accepted the ride. I have the phone number if you want to try to speak with whoever picked him up."
"Seriously?" Esposito asks in disbelief when she relays the information, as if she would be making this up.
"If what Nana said is correct, we're looking at a different time frame. Ryan, you scrub the surveillance tapes again. Espo, you get on the phone with Yellow Cab and find out who picked our guy up. Then, we'll bring him in."
When they do finally find their cab driver, Abhinav Malik, he comes willingly, almost eagerly.
"You telling me I was driving round a serial killer? A real live serial killer?" the cabbie asks in broken English. He's middle-aged, dark-skinned, balding. And he looks like he's about to fly out of his seat with excitement.
"I'm afraid so." Kate deadpans. "Now, can you tell us where you drove this man?"
"Yes, yes. It is all on the GPS. I take him to a yard full of empty warehouses. Old buildings, very old. I have the address. I have to tell my family. A real live serial killer, and here I am."
She tries not to roll her eyes. Everyone just wants their fifteen minutes of fame or a story to tell. "I'd like that address now, Mr. Malik."
Thanks for reading! Stay with me, now. Next chapter's going to get a little bit interesting.