Disclaimer: I stayed under a month for this one :D.
A/N: How can it always be so ridiculously hard to find the beginning for a chapter?
So take the photographs and still-frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
He still heard the gunshots ringing in his head as he locked up her car in the hospital's parking lot. He'd known it. He'd known that this guy wasn't one to come quietly, and he'd had a feeling that things would take a nasty turn. He had told them to take their vests. Not that they would've helped, but he would've felt a little better knowing they had at least rudimentary protection.
'Follow the ambulance,' she'd said. She'd come through the door behind the second gurney, tossing her keys to him before climbing into the ambulance.
She met him at the entrance to the emergency room, accepted the keys without a word and turned, heading past the reception desk. Nobody questioned them as they weaved through people rushing across the corridor, carrying this instrument and that supply.
Passing one of the rooms, he caught a glimpse of Esposito half lying on a bed, gritting his teeth as a nurse stitched up his leg.
Castle remembered the Latino cop's curses when he'd been wheeled into the first ambulance. His pants had looked distinctly dark.
Beckett stopped two rooms down from Esposito's and gestured for him to take a look.
At first he only saw lots of sterile baby blue, the way the shapes were buzzing around the center of the room reminding him vaguely of the inside of a colored beehive. Then he started to recognize the different people, doctors, nurses, interns. Their formerly sterile surgery gowns and gloves were sprayed and coated in blood.
"How many times did you shoot him?" he asked.
"Three."
He swallowed. Three bullets weren't to be taken lightly, not even for a trained killer. Hell, one was enough to kill, provided it hit the right place. Even if the shots all hit non-vital areas, there was only so much blood a person could lose.
"Is Ryan in there?"
"No."
He gave her a look.
"Preston's sedated. Heavily, they assured me. And restrained by two sets of handcuffs."
He nodded. "So where's Ryan?"
"Talked to Gates," came the Irish detective's voice from behind him. Two uniforms flanked him.
"Let's go," said Beckett, nodding toward Esposito's room.
The uniforms took up station outside of Preston's room as the Castle and the two cops left.
They met the nurse at the door, which Ryan hurried to hold for her and then Beckett and Castle. After a long glance down the corridor he followed inside and closed the door.
The dark stain on Esposito's pant leg looked almost more sickening with the stark contrast to the white bandage that peeked through the tear.
"Whoa, man–" Castle began.
"I'll live," Esposito said, cutting him off. "Just a flesh wound."
Castle avoided the man's glare.
"What'd Gates say?" asked Beckett.
"She certainly wasn't pleased to be called at this hour," replied Ryan. "But news of a break in the 'John Doe' case caught her interest."
"What did you call Gates for?" asked Esposito.
"I told him to," said Beckett. "We can't very well keep him from her, with the shooting and your injury. Besides, there's a legit reason that we went to his place, and if we're lucky he doesn't know about Montgomery. Or doesn't think that knowledge would help him to get out."
"If." Esposito sounded skeptical.
"What should we have done instead?" Her voice was even. Forcibly even.
He huffed, but didn't give an answer. She raised her eyebrows at him before returning her attention to Ryan.
"Any orders?"
"Put up guards, interrogate him as soon as possible." To Esposito he added, "And to stay put until the doctor says you've recovered enough."
The man snorted in response.
"She's right," said Beckett. "We've got Preston now, and he's not going anywhere fast."
"So what do we tell Gates now?" asked Castle.
"I already told her that we IDed the victim on the subway footage, then saw a man who followed him," said Ryan. "We IDed the follower as Preston, got his address from DMV and went to take him in for questioning."
"And she didn't ask why that had to happen in the middle of the night?" asked Beckett.
"Actually, she did. She wants a full report first thing in the morning."
Beckett sighed. "Well, I guess in that case we'd better try to get some sleep. Come on, Castle, I'll drive you home."
She walked to the bed and laid her hand on Esposito's shoulder.
"Rest, Javier, and get better." A ghost of a grin appeared on her face. "You're no use to us like this."
He huffed, but still cracked a small smile himself. "Okay, Boss."
"You should go home, too, Kevin," she said.
The Irishman nodded. "I'll stay for a moment, though."
Walking beside Beckett through the hallway, Castle pulled out his phone. He cringed at the number of missed calls and unread texts the device presented him with.
There were, in total, five missed calls and about a dozen texts – all from Alexis.
Dad, how are you? – Do you know when you'll be home? – Are you alright, Dad? – DAD?
Unaware that they were still inside the hospital, his thumb flew to the little icon showing his daughter's smiling face.
"DAD!" The shriek that greeted him after only half a ring almost made him want to put the phone a foot away from his ear. His parental instincts didn't care much about his hearing, though.
"Hey, pumpkin," he said. Then she claimed the line again.
"Dad, where are you? Are you okay? It's late, and you didn't answer your phone, and I got worried… And Detective Beckett didn't pick up either–"
"I'm fine, Alexis," he cut in. "And Beckett's fine, too. I'll be home in–" He glanced at Beckett, who mouthed "fifteen" to him. "–fifteen minutes."
They passed through the waiting area, heading straight for the exit. The receptionist shot Castle a deadly look that he was totally oblivious to.
"I love you," he said. "See you in fifteen."
"Yeah," she replied, sounding a lot calmer now. "Love you too, Dad."
He hung up and pocketed his phone as they reached the car.
"I'm glad she didn't call the precinct," Beckett said as they settled in.
"How much did you hear?" he asked. With how loud his daughter had been at first, he wouldn't be surprised if Beckett had heard almost everything.
"Enough," she replied. "Three calls."
"Sorry. I just–"
"No, it's alright. The situation was… stressful enough to neglect your phone." She smiled a little. "I did the same."
The drive to his loft was quiet. Due to the late hour, Beckett pulled up in front of his building only ten minutes after the departure from the hospital parking lot. Castle unbuckled his seat belt, but then stayed in his seat.
After a minute, she prompted him. "What's wrong?"
He let out a breath and wiped a hand over his face. "I–I'm not sure. I guess it's the adrenaline… Finally wearing off."
In part that was true. He did feel a little jittery, just like about every other dangerous situation they'd been in. Even though he hadn't really been in it this time. But there was something else that kept him in his seat. A kind of deep-rooted anxiety, whose cause he couldn't precisely pinpoint.
"It's more than that, isn't it?" she asked when he still didn't move.
He groaned. "Maybe."
Another minute of silence passed.
"You should go up, or else Alexis is going to have another fit."
He nodded, turning slightly toward the door. Then he turned back.
"Come up with me," he blurted out.
She looked at him quizzically.
"I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm kinda starving," he replied. "And I'm sure there's something in the fridge that I can turn into something edible… And we could, I don't know, relax, maybe watch a movie?"
Her gaze softened. "Castle…"
"Come on, Beckett. You and I both know that you would only be poring over the case and not getting a second of sleep if you went home now."
She looked down at the console.
"It's way past bedtime for Alexis, and Mother is really not my first choice to watch a movie with…"
She smiled at that and looked at him again.
"And there's popcorn," he said, waggling his brows.
Her smile turned into a smirk. "You know, you didn't have to play the popcorn card…" He gave her a confused look. "I was gonna say 'yes' before you said that."
His face lit up at that. "Awesome. Let's go."
"So easy," she muttered under her breath. Her words were swallowed by the sound of him opening his door while she unbuckled her own seat belt.
A few minutes later he unlocked the front door to his apartment and was greeted by a tangle of red hair, whose owner wrapped herself as tightly around him as she could.
"Oof!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with mock indignation. "Hey pumpkin."
"I was so worried, Dad! Why didn't you answer your phone?"
Castle shot Beckett a glance, who was just taking off her coat. She answered his unspoken question with a shrug.
So it was up to him how much he wanted to let his family know.
"We caught a break," he said to his daughter, "but then things turned pretty hectic and we had to act quickly..."
"Oh," was her only answer.
She kept hugging him for another minute, before he cleared his throat.
"I love you, kiddo, but I'd like to get out of my coat and shoes now... It's kinda warm in here, you know?"
She disentangled herself from him, a small, embarrassed smile on her face.
"Of course." She stared at him for a long moment, and he didn't dare to move. "I'm glad you're alright," she added.
Castle removed his coat and toed off his shoes in a manner that earned him amused looks from both women.
"I'll take your coat, Kate," he said, reaching past Alexis.
When the teenager realized his words, she jumped and turned around.
"God, Detective Beckett, I- I didn't see... I'm sorry I didn't notice you." Her face grew beet red as she rambled. "I mean-God... I'm glad you're alright, too. Just-what are you doing here?" After only a second's pause she added, "No offense, er, I mean..." Her face grew just a shade redder.
"Ca–your dad invited me," Beckett replied. "He said something about food, popcorn and a movie," she added with a hint of a smile.
"Ah… I see." Alexis still seemed a little unsure. "Uhm… What kind of food?" she asked, turning to her dad.
"I don't know," he replied offhandedly. "Whatever there is in the fridge."
"Uh, Dad, we haven't been grocery shopping in about a week."
"Really?" He thought for a moment. "Well, we should have bread and cheese, so if all else fails we can have grilled cheese."
He slung an arm around his daughter's shoulder as they wandered toward the kitchen.
"Where's Jake?" he asked, suddenly realizing that the man hadn't greeted him at the door.
"Miss me?" came Mansfield's voice from the dimly lit living room.
Castle only saw him when he rose from the spot where sat cross-legged. With his dark clothes he somehow blended very well into the shadows. It was a little uncanny how such a big man could practically be invisible.
"Just wondering if you're doing your job," Castle joked.
His venture into the fridge ended up being as (un)successful as Alexis had predicted.
"Okay," he said, "who's in for grilled cheese?"
Alexis and Mansfield declined, the former bidding the adults a good night before she climbed the stairs. Castle was relieved to see his daughter smile a real, relaxed smile after she gave him a peck on the cheek. He hoped that he wouldn't need to worry her like this again. At least not for a few days.
Martha came down at the same time, passing Alexis. She looked perfectly normal and at ease as she sauntered down the stairs, but the overly happy smile and tight hug she gave Beckett, who looked at least mildly surprised, and the way she looked into Castle's eyes and patted his hand belied her appearance. He knew that she had been worrying just as much as Alexis.
She turned straight around after greeting the two of them, claiming that she had only been waiting up for them.
While Castle busied himself with the sandwiches, Mansfield turned to Beckett.
"Been successful?"
"Somewhat," she replied hesitantly. "Sorry, can't talk about ongoing investigations."
"I understand."
For a minute the only sound in the room was the sizzling of heated fat.
"You want chillies on your sandwiches?" Castle asked.
"Sure," she replied.
He plucked a few from a glass he'd taken out of the fridge and spread them over the waiting slices of bread. Then he pushed the glass across the counter.
"Jake?"
The man grinned. "You remember."
"Of course I remember," Castle returned, now slicing cheese.
Mansfield reached into the glass and transferred two chillies into his mouth. He grimaced a little as he chewed, but still grinned after he swallowed.
"Nothing better than raw chillies," he said. "Though I still prefer fresh over pickled."
"Used to unnerve me," Castle said to Beckett, "when he just ate one after the other without breaking a sweat." He peered closer, then grinned. "Looks like those times are over."
Mansfield brushed a bead of sweat from his temple. "That's just the heat from your stove."
The two men chuckled, and Beckett soon joined in. Then Mansfield related his version of how he and Castle had met, with Castle throwing in mild protests from time to time, and before Beckett really noticed, Castle had placed a plate with three sandwiches in front of her.
Hungry as she was, she took a hearty bite from one and immediately started coughing.
"Careful, Kate," Castle said, "mind the chillies."
He got up and took three glasses out of a cupboard, filling them with water from the tap before he placed them on the counter.
"Here, have a drink."
She gratefully accepted the offered glass and drained half of it in one swig.
"You could've warned me," she said, mock offense swinging with the words.
"Sorry," he said easily. "But, you see, if you fail to pay attention to that, you really need a break."
She rolled her eyes at him.
They finished their sandwiches with less coughing, but another refill of water. While he was still munching on his last bite, Castle pulled a bag of popcorn from another cupboard and put it in the microwave.
"You want to join us, Jake?" he asked.
"Nah, I think I'll turn in, too."
"Okay. You found everything?"
"Yup. Good night, Rick. Detective."
Beckett mumbled something like a "Good night," around a mouthful of sandwich as Mansfield went into the living room. She swallowed, then glanced at her watch.
"It's already midnight, Castle. Do you think a movie is such a good idea?"
"Tell me, could you sleep now?" he asked in return.
She made a face. "No, probably not."
"See? And in case you suddenly get tired, you can stay the night."
She fixed him with a glare.
"In the guest room," he amended. "Upstairs."
"Doesn't your friend sleep there?"
"Nope. He asked to sleep on the couch in the living room, so that if someone were to break in, he'd be the first they run into. Means we'll have to settle into my office for the movie, by the way."
Her glare softened and she nodded before she popped the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth.
"Staying here might be better than driving home in the dead of night," she said after swallowing, watching his face light up a little.
The microwave pinged, and he busied himself with the popcorn, dumping the contents of the bag into a bowl and adding salt and butter flavor. Meanwhile, she collected the plates and put them into the sink, then refilled their glasses once more.
They quietly made their way through the living room and settled into the armchairs in his office. Castle insisted on pushing them together, and Beckett didn't object. Instead of turning on his smartboard, as she had expected, he set a projector up on the shelf behind them and hung a white canvas on the far wall. After a minute of fiddling, he handed her his laptop to pick a movie.
Feeling the need for something funny, she scrolled through his Netflix list until she came upon one that she wouldn't have expected to see.
"You told me you didn't know 'Forbidden Planet'," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"What?"
"You remember, right? Last year, when you told me you'd never seen it before."
He just looked away, fighting an embarrassed grin.
"I should've known," she said, "there was no way you hadn't seen it."
"How do you know I haven't watched it after that?"
She smirked. "First, you wouldn't ask that if you really had. Second, it says here that you first watched it years ago."
He chuckled. "Guilty as charged."
"Then why did you tell me you didn't know it?"
He shrugged. "I… don't know. I just did, I guess. Kind of an impulse."
"You know that we'll have to watch it now, right? And you don't get to pretend you don't know all the right places to laugh at."
"No problem."
Still grinning, she passed the laptop back to him. He hooked it up to the projector and started the movie.
…
Waking at half past six the next morning, Beckett almost regretted letting Castle charm her into coming up and watching the movie with him. But she knew that he'd been right when he'd said that she wouldn't have gotten any sleep if she had gone home after dropping him off. This way she'd had at least four hours of sleep, and truth be told, she could run on less. That her caffeine intake increased exponentially with every missing hour of sleep was something she liked to ignore.
Wincing at her pre-coffee headache, she quickly changed out of the T-shirt and sweats that Castle had given her and back into her old clothes. She took a minute to make the bed and ball up the clothes, setting them on top of it, before she ventured downstairs.
She was surprised to be greeted by the aroma of fresh–and, more importantly, hot–coffee midway down the stairs.
"Hey, Castle," she greeted, sitting down on one of the stools at the island.
He swiveled around, a smile coming to his face. "Hey. Coffee?" His hands were reaching for a mug and the pot without waiting for her response.
"God, yes," she said, half groaning.
He passed her the full mug, and she downed the contents in one swig, not bothering to add anything. He refilled her cup, then poured one for himself before sitting down across from her. She waited for the caffeine to kick in before she spoke.
"How do you look so… awake? You can't have had more sleep than me."
"I."
She shot him a confused look.
"It's 'You can't have had more sleep than I,'" he clarified. "Although it has become widely common to substitute 'me' for 'I' in many cases, it's–" He interrupted himself when her confusion morphed into a death glare. "Sorry," he said. "Occupational hazard."
She shook her head. "Don't mess with my grammar before I've had my full dose of caffeine, Castle. And I'll have you know that it's three times as much as normal when I haven't had a good night's sleep." With that, she raised the mug to her lips and guzzled down her second coffee.
"I don't get how you can do that," he remarked, taking a sip of his own drink.
"What?"
"Down a cup of almost boiling coffee like it's no big deal. Doesn't it, I don't know, burn your throat?"
"Not as much as it used to," she replied, holding out her mug for another refill. "And besides, that's all part of the experience."
He poured the last coffee from the pot into her mug. "Do we need more?"
She gave him a 'duh' look, so he got up again, getting another pot started.
"Seriously, how long have you known me, Castle?" she asked, smiling as she attacked her third cup, albeit slower this time. "I can live off the stuff if I have to."
He snorted. "Yeah, I know. I'm kinda surprised that you don't have coffee running through your veins. The way you drink it… Like a vampire drinking blood." He paused, and she could see the gears turning in his head. "Ha!" he exclaimed with a grin. "I know, you're a coffee-vampire."
She didn't dignify his joke with a verbal response, although she couldn't quite control the smile that played over her lips.
Now that the caffeine started to work, she became gradually aware of the apartment around her. She turned around and noticed that the couch was vacant.
"Where's Mansfield?"
"Grocery shopping," Castle replied, "with Alexis."
"This early?"
"You wouldn't ask if you knew about the state of the fridge."
"And you're comfortable letting her go?" She didn't question Mansfield's capability to look out for the teenager, but she was more than a bit surprised that Castle hadn't just asked the man to go alone.
"Yeah," he said, "why not? We caught Preston, right?"
A sinking feeling settled into her guts. She wasn't really surprised that it was back, since she'd known that it would be, but she'd hoped to escape it a little longer.
When she'd sat in the back of the ambulance, carefully watching Preston as the paramedics had worked on the wounds she'd inflicted on him, her body and mind still high on adrenaline, she'd realized it. It had been like a kick to her guts, coming out of nowhere as she'd stared at one of his hands.
She hadn't told the others yet. She knew she should have, but somehow she hadn't.
Castle noticed the change in her expression, from the easy smile she'd worn only minutes before to positively depressed. He didn't like that in general, and even less now, when it was likely connected to this case.
"What's wrong?"
"It's…" She took a deep breath. "Preston's not my shooter, Castle. Tech pulled a print from the rifle, remember? Preston's prints are on file, so they would've matched if he'd been the shooter."
He absorbed the news silently. He'd been too optimistic, too blind to see what was actually right in front of him. He should've known. During the three months of her absence, he had memorized the whole case file, every detail there was. How could he have forgotten? How could he not have seen?
Now that she'd said it out loud, she actually felt a little better. Or maybe relieved was a better word. Because she didn't really feel better, destroying his little bit of good mood. But he needed to know, to help her figure out what was going on, and what to do. And to be able to look out for his family.
He worked his jaw for a moment before he replied. "I'm sorry, Kate. I should have seen that."
She'd expected some different reactions, but no apology. "It's not your fault, Castle. I didn't see it either, and I've memorized the whole file."
"Yes, so have I."
That statement somewhat threw her off. Sure, she knew that he'd worked to find a lead for months during the summer, and ever since the mysterious Mr Smith had called, he'd had it in the back of his mind. But she hadn't thought he'd go to the same extent that she did. Actually, being honest with herself, she had hoped that he wouldn't obsess over her case like she did with her mom's–which had become her own a while ago. Because she knew what that did to a person, had experienced it first hand.
She took a breath. "Let's not talk about who should've noticed, but didn't." She looked straight into his eyes. "Let's talk about what this means for the case."
He opened his mouth in the same moment that the front door opened. To his relief, Alexis and Mansfield walked in, laden with shopping bags.
"Hey Dad, we're back," Alexis called out.
"Hey, pumpkin," he returned, shooting Beckett a look that meant 'we'll talk later'.
Mansfield trodded past her, as she slipped out of her shoes, and dropped his bags onto the counter.
"Morning, Detective," he said to Beckett.
By the way his gaze lingered on her for a second longer than what could be deemed 'normal' and then flitted over to Castle, both of them knew that he'd caught onto the fact that something wasn't quite right. He didn't say anything though, just went back into the hall, presumably to get rid of his coat.
Then Alexis entered the kitchen, a smile and "Good morning" directed at Beckett on her lips. She placed her bags beside the others and started to put things away.
Castle was trapped in a dilemma. On the one hand, he didn't want Alexis to panic, didn't want to panic himself, really. And he didn't want her to know too much; then again, she'd seen Kate get shot, so what 'more' was there really that he could keep from her in an attempt to protect her psyche?
On the other hand, he actually wanted her to stay inside until they closed this case. Hopefully for good, too. He knew he couldn't make her do that just because he was having his 'protective dad jitters', though, so he would have to settle for asking her to be extra careful. But even for that she'd need a reason.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Beckett beat him to it.
"I should go home now," she said with a glance at her watch. "Get changed, and prepare my report for Gates."
"Right," he said automatically. "Give me a minute–"
She interrupted him. "Actually, I think it'll be best if I talk to her alone. Cop to cop, you know? If you're not there, she won't be able to take it out on you."
He nodded, though he didn't like it. Didn't want to let her go out there alone. But, he realized, it was her call, so he respected it. "'Kay. Give me a call when you're done?"
"Of course." She smiled at him. "We've still got some tough nuts to crack."
"Right on that."
He rose in time with her, following her into the hall. His hands fell to the lock and handle while she slipped into her boots and coat. He flipped the lock and held the door for her.
"Be careful," he said as she stepped out.
She turned and gave him a tight-lipped smile before she walked down the corridor and vanished into the elevator.
He closed the door with a sigh, mentally preparing himself for the conversation he was about to have, and the explanation he'd have to give his daughter.
…
A good two hours later, Beckett waited impatiently for Castle to step out of the elevator. She took another look at the file that was spread out on her desk, then glanced longingly at her empty NYPD mug. Of course she could just get up and make herself another cup, but it had been over twenty minutes since she'd ended her short phone call with Castle. She expected him to come in any minute, preferably with a large coffee for her in his hand. She didn't even care what kind it would be, though knowing him, she was pretty sure it would be her favorite. She could use that.
Gates hadn't taken the news too well, even though she'd known the critical elements already. Beckett had been forced to listen to a ten minute long rant about proper suspect take-down procedure and "how to have your partner's back so he won't be nearly killed".
To prevent her temper from getting the better of her, she'd tried to remember the lessons Royce had taught her about taking down suspects, and how he'd sometimes made fun of what the textbook said. She'd had to fight a smile when the memory of an incident involving the almost loss of her top had popped into her mind.
She wondered what Gates would think of that approach.
Beckett cast a look across the room. Ryan was on the phone with someone. A few uniforms were populating desks farther away, filling out paperwork and drinking coffee.
Suddenly a large paper cup appeared under her nose, and the heavenly smell of vanilla-scented coffee invaded her nostrils. She was smiling already as her eyes traveled up the arm that was connected to the hand holding the cup to finally meat her partner's gaze.
"Hey, Castle," she said. "Thanks."
"Thought you could use a little pick-me-up after dancing with the devil," he replied, sitting down in his chair. He let her have a good-sized drink of coffee before he asked, "So, what's the news?"
"CSU searched his apartment all night. They found a shotgun and several other weapons, including a rather impressive collection of knives."
"So looks like he really is a hitman."
"That, or he just has a thing for weapons. Anyway, they also found a laptop, but it's heavily encrypted, so there's no telling when, or even if, we'll get to see what's on it."
"Crap. What about a phone?"
"Nothing. He could have lost it in the fight on the roof, but they checked that, too, and didn't find anything significant."
"A professional killer without a phone? Sounds impossible to me."
"That's what I thought. If anything, he'd have a burner phone. Ryan already checked, there is no phone registered to his name. Nor does he have a credit card, by the way."
"What? No… How does this guy live?"
"Cash, obviously. I assume that he gets paid in cash or by check, given that we didn't find any record of a bank account either."
"Fake identity? The more we know about this guy, the more it looks like he isn't–"
"Nope. Of course I checked that. He's on file, and his background checks. Anthony Preston is definitely a real person, and he's the guy I put three rounds in last night. The only thing I could think of would be an account under another name, but somehow I don't believe that. In any case, we asked all banks in the tri-state area to check if they have a customer that fits his description, though we shouldn't expect anything to come from that."
"True. What bank keeps pictures of their customers on file?"
"None, because that would mean extra paperwork."
"Okay… So with the laptop practically useless, do we even have anything? What about prints?"
"None in his apartment, aside from his, Espo's and mine. And while the place is neat, it isn't extremely clean, so I don't think he wipes everything down after he has a visitor."
"Neighbors?"
"Uniforms talked to them today. All of them are singles, live alone and are hardly home at all, so they didn't know anything. Most of them couldn't even connect his name and face."
"So basically, we've got nothing. Except him."
"Yep. I talked to the doctors, they say we might be able to talk to him later today. If we're lucky."
"If? He's not going to die, is he?"
"No, they say that he's quite stable. They're just not sure if he's strong enough to stay awake long enough for us to gain anything from asking questions."
With the briefing finished, they fell silent while Castle processed the new information. The facts were really not helpful at all, rather discouraging, actually. That a suspected professional killer was supposed to be able to live–and work–without a bank account or a phone confused him. True, the man had a laptop… But he must own a phone, too, he thought.
"So… do you believe he doesn't have a phone?" Castle asked.
"The evidence says there isn't one…" she replied, "but my gut tells me otherwise."
"Yeah, mine too…" he paused, then shot her a mischievous look. "CSU is done with his place, right?"
She smirked back, hand reaching blindly for her phone.
"Come on, Castle. Road trip."
…
They went through Preston's apartment with a fine-toothed comb. Twice. Checked the walls for hidden compartments and the seams on the mattress. Pulled all the books from the single shelf in his living room, dug around his drawers and kitchen cupboards. Not even the toilet's water tank held anything except, well, water.
Apart from the nick in the wall next to the kitchen, the bullet holes in the closet door and desk drawer and the broken-out window, the apartment could have belonged to any hard-working, law-abiding New York citizen.
Just not a professional killer.
They went up to the roof next, quickly discovering that the chimneys all had metal grids worked into them, most likely to prevent things from falling in. After one pass across the whole roof space, they ended up at the trapdoor that had become a trap for Esposito the night before, in a very literal sense. The room underneath was small, and the single door that led out and back into the building was locked. With nothing else in the room, there was nowhere to hide anything.
Frustrated, Beckett leaned against the vent next to the trapdoor.
"This doesn't make sense," she complained, hands resting on her hips. "How would this guy be able to operate without a phone?"
Castle came over and leaned against the vent next to her.
"Well, he could have lost it… Or someone stole it," he said.
"Not helping, Castle. We have to assume that he had one last night."
After a minute of silence, she changed her approach.
"Okay. Derrick Storm is on a secret mission, acting as a normal citizen in a small apartment. His laptop's encrypted with the best that the CIA has to offer, so he's not worried about that falling into the wrong hands. But he has this burner phone that he needs to get in touch with his contact. He knows someone's after him, to find out who's leaking information to outsiders, and those people are standing on the other side of his door.
"He decides to escape to the roof, taking the phone with him. But the people follow him, and he knows he won't get past them. So he decides to try to take them on in a fight, but he can't do that with the phone on him, because if he loses, they get it and his contact. So he has to hide it. He's on the roof and he has to hide it. The chimneys aren't an option, and he knows that the little room under the trapdoor isn't either."
Castle picked up her thought.
"No, he's lived in this building for a bit, and the first thing he did after he got the phone was think of places to hide it–places nobody would ever think to look. That's why he's not even trying to hide it in the apartment, because that's where everybody would look. The chimneys are just as obvious; he knows, he's been in the business long enough to know all the obvious, and many of the not so obvious hiding places. He wouldn't have come to the roof if he didn't have a plan, a place to hide the phone…"
Castle trailed off, mentally crossing out ideas as he zeroed in on one. He pushed off of the vent and walked to the edge of the roof. Beckett followed suit.
"You have an idea?" she asked.
"Just…" he replied, carefully leaning forward to look down over the edge. "Ha!"
"What?" she asked, leaning forward too, a hand on his upper arm.
If that was meant to steady him or her was unclear to both of them.
He pointed down. Following his outstretched arm, she saw the dumpsters huddled against the side of the building; the open dumpsters, to be precise. From their position on the roof they were just able to see the light blue of plastic trash bags stopping the dumpsters open and spilling out onto the ground.
"You think he dropped it down there?" she asked, though the idea began to make more and more sense to her.
"Yep," he replied. "That's got to be the only place you could hide something like a phone when you're up here and in a hurry. That is, if you want to be relatively certain that it's in a place nobody's going to even think of."
"Well, you did."
He leaned back, retreating a step from the edge, drawing her along. "Let's go and check."
…
An hour and a half later, a rather smelly and grime-covered pair of detective and writer left the elevator on the homicide floor. Ryan went to meet them in the middle of the bull pen when he noticed their arrival, but recoiled a few feet away from them.
"Ewww… Where have you been?"
The two partners stopped, shared a look, and fought a silent war against the laughter that was trying to erupt from their throats. Finally Beckett reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic evidence bag containing a small, simple mobile phone. She handed the bag to Ryan, who accepted it apprehensively, carefully holding it between his thumb and finger.
"See if tech can pull some information from that," she said.
"Is that… his phone?" the detective asked.
"Better be," Castle replied. "I wouldn't like to think that we crawled around in dumpsters for nothing."
Ryan gave the two of them another quick once-over before he scurried away.
Beckett smirked, then sniffed at the sullied arm of her jacket. She rolled her eyes.
"Well, he's right about one thing: we smell."
"True," Castle said. "A shower and fresh clothes wouldn't be bad right now…" He took a step back and looked her over, his gaze turning into a playful leer. "Although this kinda takes 'talking dirty' to a whole new level."
She raised a brow at him. "Seriously?"
Their eyes locked, and both leer and frown softened. Finally, after a few eternal minutes (or maybe just one, neither of them was sure), Castle broke the silence.
"Well, I need to go home, then," he said, starting to walk back to the elevator. "You coming?"
"No," she replied, "I should stay here in case the tech guys are quick. I keep spare clothes in my locker, and the gym has a shower."
"'Kay. Give me a call if anything comes up?"
"Sure." She walked toward the stairs. "Castle?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
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