.Small things- Chapter Two: Murder
Naturally, they slept in the next morning. Nothing of Javier's fit Kevin so he was forced to wear his slacks and jacket from yesterday. His shirt was beyond redemption and he knew he looked slightly odd in Javier's oversized clothing. They raced downstairs and into Javier's car, making it into the bullpen just as the clock was turning over for the hour.
"We're not late," they announced in chorus. Beckett flicked an eyebrow and opened her mouth but Castle beat her to it.
"Oh- oh!" he crowed "What have we here? Ryan and Esposito doing the walk of shame?" He grinned ebulliently.
"Run of shame, more like," muttered Kevin, who was still trying to catch his breath from the race up the stairs. They hadn't wanted to risk waiting for the elevator.
"Not even a denial?" demanded Castle. Esposito couldn't help but laugh. The man looked like a puppy that he'd just kicked.
"Denial of what?" he asked guiltily, more to humour the writer than anything else.
"You and Ryan were together last night!" accused Castle gleefully. His grin threatened to split his face in half. Kevin muttered something short and irritable under his breath. Javier didn't quite catch it but he could tell it wasn't polite. Or probably even anatomically possible. Kevin didn't curse much but when he did it was always slightly shocking to hear how inventive he could become.
"Grouchy, Ryan," said Beckett calmly "did Esposito keep you up last night?" She smirked as she and Castle high- fived one another. And that was it. The world may have moved for Kevin and Javier but life was going on just as normal. Beckett's phone went off and she turned away from the group slightly. Castle took the opportunity to leap into his best "annoying writer" mode.
"Can I put this in my book?" he begged "The subtext is all there in Heatwave. It would be so easy to put it into play in Naked Heat. The fans would totally love it if Raley and Ochoa-" he paused, interrupting his own train of thought. "I bet," he said excitedly "That the LGBT community would be lining up to buy it!"
"Glad we could boost your ratings," muttered Esposito as he reached for his drink.
"I wonder where I could fit in a sex scene," mused Castle "I'll probably need help with that he added and grinned smugly as Esposito choked on his mouthful of coffee.
"We've got a homicide," announced Beckett, putting away her phone. She watched with amusement as a rather red- faced Ryan reached across to pound on a gasping Esposito's back. Rolling her eyes she grabbed her jacket. "Come on, children," she sighed "Let's go play at a crime scene."
The young man was beaten so badly that his limbs were distorted and twisted and blood stained the concrete he lay on. By some cruel trick of fate, his face was nearly untouched. Only a thin trickle of blood at his temple reflected the damage done to the rest of his body. His dark blue eyes stared vacantly into space and death gave his skin an unnatural pallor.
"Jesus," breathed Kevin "Poor kid." A crowd was already gathering at the crime scene tape, drawn to the grisly spectacle of death.
"What we got, Lanie?" Beckett asked the M.E.
"Cause of death is massive internal haemorrhaging," Lanie said in clinical tones "No sign of weapons used. I'd say he was beaten to death with fists and feet. Multiple assailants. At least six."
"Time of death?" asked Beckett.
"I'd say early this morning- three or four am." Lanie told her. A sudden commotion by the tape caught their attention and they saw a pale faced youth ducking under. He avoided the uniforms guarding the scene and took a few steps until he had an unobstructed view of the body. And Beckett felt her heart twist at the sudden anguish on his face.
"Tye," he gasped. Right before their eyes he crumpled, his legs seemingly no longer able to hold his own weight. Beckett was closest and eased him down as he fell. His face was snow white and, instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him. This was one part of the job she knew she could never even begin to get used to. From his response she guessed that he and the victim had been close. Brothers, perhaps. Then Ryan and Esposito were there and helping her with the youth. They worked in smooth tandem to gather up the distraught young man and take him away from the crime scene. Kate watched them go for a moment until she felt Castle's presence at her shoulder.
"A group of people somewhere did this without even thinking of the consequences," she said, not looking at him. When she did turn there was anger mixed with determination in her eyes. "We will find them," she said "and they will be put to justice." Castle nodded, for once serious, and offered her hand to her feet.
Kevin's car was closer, and less threatening than, the patrol cars. Javier guided the young man to sit down in the passenger seat and Kevin offered him a drink from the flask of tea he kept for situations like these. Some of the youth's colour came back as he sipped at the warm, sweet liquid.
"I'm Detective Ryan and this is Detective Esposito," Kevin said gently "I'm sorry to bother you at a time like this," he continued "but we need to ask you a few questions."
"Sure," the youth replied. His voice was hoarse and empty.
"You obviously knew the victim," said Kevin "What's your name?"
"David," said the young man "David Brookson. And, yes, I knew him. His name is…was…Tye Malloy. He was my-" David stopped and both detectives saw how he flinched away, as though automatically bracing himself for a blow. They saw the breath he took to prepare himself. "My boyfriend," David said finally "We were lovers."
"We're sorry for your loss," said Javier softly.
"No you're not!" spat David; anger so much easier than grief "You don't give a damn about my loss. You're just doing your jobs and there's nothing you can do to bring Tye back to me!" He was on his feet now and green eyes flashed in fury. Fury that couldn't quite hide the pain.
"We'll do the best we can to find who did this." Javier said as reassuringly as he could.
"We can't bring Tye Malloy back," Kevin said "but we can try to find his killer. Please let us try and help you."
"The last time I went to cops they didn't give a flying fuck." David said quietly "I survived what those bastards did to me. But Tye didn't."
"You were attacked before?" Kevin asked; notebook and pen in hand. David leaned to one side and pulled his shirt up. Across his ribs there were lines of scarring.
"They had a knife when they did me," he said tonelessly "I lived. Tye found me bleeding and saved my life. Now they've come after him. And I wasn't there to save him."
"This wasn't your fault," Kevin said gently "If you think you know who the killer was then please tell us."
"I'm a student at the college." David began "I was in my first year when Tye and I met. I was attacked not long after we got together. A few members of the football team. The future of our country." He sneered as he said it, making the words a mockery. "Brawny, bullnecked and as homophobic as they come," he told the two detectives bitterly.
"We're very sorry," Javier said softly "Thank- you for your time and co-operation." he added and Kevin could see that, while the words were rote, the feeling behind them wasn't.
"Can we get you anywhere?" he asked David, not sure that the other was completely steady on his feet.
"I'll call my parents," the youth said "They'll pick me up." He fished out a phone, and then turned back to the two detectives. His eyes were shadowed and every movement seemed to take a lot of effort. "Thank- you," he said quietly before walking away.
"Poor kid," sighed Javier. Kevin reached out and gripped his arm briefly. Although the contact only lasted a fraction of a moment, Javier felt immeasurably better for it.
"Let's go tell Beckett," he said and they wound their way around parked cars and back to the crime scene. The body was being wheeled past on a gurney and they sidestepped to let it past.
"What we got?" asked Beckett and Kevin flipped out his notebook.
"Victim's name was Tye Malloy," he began "The guy at the scene was David Brookson, his boyfriend."
"Apparently," Javier picked up where Kevin left off "There's a large anti- gay attitude around here. Brookson says he was beat up two years, and he's got the scars to prove it."
"He know the attackers?" Castle asked.
"Says members of the college football team did a number on him." Javier told the writer.
"He thinks the same people killed Malloy." Kevin told Beckett.
"Have uniforms bring them in," instructed Beckett "We'll put them in a box and see if we get anything. Castle, you're with me," she added as she turned to go.
"You OK?" Kevin asked, reaching out to twine his fingers with Javier's.
"It gets to me," his partner admitted "Some guys beat him because he wasn't straight and now there's a chance they've killed his boyfriend for the same reason. What with you and me… it just gets to me," he finished and Kevin squeezed his hand.
"I know," he said "but the least we can do is put these guys away for as long as possible."
"Yeah," sighed Javier and they turned for their car. Eyes followed them. An older man was watching them from a nearby building, a hard look on his face. He frowned. He'd dealt with law enforcement personnel before. They were tedious but, in the long run, they were easy enough to deal with. He'd arrange for there to be an example when the opportunity arose.
Beckett stared at the youth across from her. He hadn't spoken a word since he had entered the room; leaving his lawyer doing all the talking. He was certainly strong enough to have beaten a man to death, she supposed. He was definitely muscled enough to have her wondering about steroid usage.
"Mr Mason," she said, not allowing her frustration to show through "You have bruising on your knuckles. Bruising consistent with a fist fight. No-" she corrected herself "Bruising consistent with beating a man to death." She followed the verbal attack with visual; laying out pictures of the battered body of Tye Malloy. James Mason didn't even flinch. "Do you know this man?" she demanded. James Mason spoke his first word of the interview.
"No," his voice was disinterested.
"Are you sure?" she pressed "because I'm wondering where you did that to your hands."
"Boys and I were playing bloody knuckles," he shrugged.
"Where were you Saturday night?" she asked.
"With my boys at a private venue," he said calmly.
"Can anyone vouch for that?" she asked. He shrugged.
"Staff members," he said "And my Dad." Kate sighed. This was getting her nowhere.
"Thank- you for your time," she said reluctantly and watched them leave with a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Beckett." She turned as Ryan and Esposito poked their heads through the door.
"Anything?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.
"No," Esposito shook his head "Not a thing. If they did do this then they've had time to practice their stories."
"Even tried playing up our relationship a bit," said Ryan "Didn't even get a rise out of Black. He's a tough guy." He grinned suddenly "Castle saw the interview and he's been in his writing corner ever since." Beckett glanced over at the tiny table in the far corner of the room and smirked at the writer's frantic typing.
"I'd wondered where he'd got to," she said, a reluctant smile still on her lips. A smile that faded as she glance at the clock. "It's late," she said "You guys wanna call it a day?"
"I've got paperwork to do," groaned Esposito.
"And I have a meeting with the principal of the college," added Ryan.
"Do you need-" began Beckett but he cut her off with a headshake.
"I'll be fine," he told her "Go home and sleep, Kate. You look wiped out." Beckett knew he meant it. They rarely used her first name so she probably looked as tired as she felt for Ryan to drop the formalities.
"Be careful," she told him and he grinned.
"It's been a while since I've been in front of a head teacher but I'm fairly sure I'm a little old for detention," he said, ignoring her exasperated eye roll.
"You obviously never met the dragon who ran my school," Castle announced from behind them "I wouldn't be so sure about my safety if I were you Ryan."
"I'll take my chances," Ryan called over his shoulder as he entered the elevator.
"See you boys," said Beckett, hurrying after him to share a ride down. The last thing she heard was Castle saying to Esposito "So… about this sex scene." She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.
Kevin sat patiently in the foyer of the college. Lessons were long over but the secretary assured him that the principal was in his office. He wished he knew the man's name. The records that they had been sent were not up to date so and he had no idea who he was going to be talking to.
"He'll see you now," the secretary announced cheerfully. He stood and followed her to an opulently furnished office. The man behind the desk looked vaguely familiar and his heart sank as the secretary announced "Detective Ryan to see you, Mr Mason." Mason. Edward Mason. The father of one of their main suspects in an on-going investigation. Damn. At the hard look the man was giving him, he wished all of a sudden for back-up. Oh well, he mentally sighed. Might as well get this over with.
The interview went about as well as expected. Mason was polite, barely, but absolutely useless. Kevin shook hands with a false smile plastered firmly on his face before he left. It was dark outside, and cold with it, and he realised with a start that winter was nearly there. Fumbling with his keys, he didn't notice anything odd about the approaching car. The squeal of rubber on tarmac was his first sign that something was wrong. He went for his gun on instinct but could only fire off one shot before they were on him, spilling out of the car and mobbing him. The shot went wild, ricocheting off of a car door and embedding itself in a concrete pillar. The first blow he took connected solidly with his gun arm and he didn't even have time to curse before the weapon went flying. He already had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. No matter how well trained you were there were always going to be situations like these. The no- win kind. He went low, below the belt, and dropped one of his attackers with a well-placed knee. Now wasn't the time for pretty fist cuffs; he knew that. He was quite probably fighting for his life, so he didn't mind fighting dirty. He took a blow to the head that dazed him momentarily and felt his arms being pinned. Bracing himself against his attacker he kicked out with his feet and felt someone fall back. He wrenched an arm free and rammed an elbow into the nose of the man holding him. Blood spattered the back of his neck and, as he felt the hold loosen, he twisted his leg round and floored his attacker. And knew the moment that he'd done it that he'd made a mistake. The man went down all right but he took Kevin with him. The rough impact with concrete winded him and, as he lay dazed, a boot connected high in his ribs, leaving pain skittering up his chest and neck. And he knew that it was over. All he could do now was roll with the blows and hope for a miracle.
He ignored the instinct to roll into a foetal position in favour of imprinting his attackers into his memory. They'd covered their faces but he looked for any features he might be able to identify them by. He wanted to put these six guys away for good. Six men. His cops mind ignored the pain and began making connections. Were these the six men who had killed Tye Malloy? Hand hoisted him up to take a backhander across the face. Even as he fell he realised that he recognised the ornate ring that had just split his lip. Carl Dunn. One of their suspects. A boot slammed into his lower back, and pain rammed icy fingers into his body.
"Faggot." One word; hissed, but the voice was low. Low enough to be Chris Gains. Another suspect. Hands lifted him and a knee slammed into his lower ribcage. His attackers were strong. Hadn't Beckett wondered about steroid use? A kick in the hip flipped him over and his body sang in pain. A strong kick. Strong enough for a football player? There was a sudden explosion of agony as hands gripped his shoulders and wrenched. The pain made him feel sick. He could barely breathe through it. He was kicked again and felt something in his ribcage crunch. He couldn't see through the pain, couldn't breathe, and couldn't scream. Was this how Tye Malloy had felt, he wondered? The crunch in his ribs turned into a snap as he was kicked once more. His thoughts wondered to Javier. His partner. His lover. Another kick in the ribs had darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision. He hoped Beckett kept Javi away from this crime scene. He didn't want the other man seeing him like this. Broken. Battered. An empty shell. A kick in the skull had oblivion finally swirling up to take him. The last thing he saw was a number- plate. He took the digits with him into the darkness.