Authors Note: Bit of a change, the initial story (being the one that encompasses the episode) will be six or seven chapters. But I have two additional scenes that I'm going to write that will follow after the conclusion. I'll post them to this story, as well, just to keep things all neat and clean.
Those extra chapters also come with a twist. So prepare yourself, or something. As a location note - native (or long-time) New Yorkers generally refer to the Avenue of the Americas by its original name - Sixth Avenue. So, in my eyes, it isn't a mistake.
As usual, spoilers for the promo for episode 6X09 'Disciple' as well as interviews by Tamala Jones and Andrew Marlowe. In no way do I believe this to be what will happen on the show, though I'd be seriously impressed if it did.
The evidence had come together slowly, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a financial statement and phone records painting the broader picture that, until now, had been muddled across two dead bodies and three crime scenes.
The two victims had a connection - payments made into bank accounts that coincided with cosmetic procedures each had undergone. Calls to and from burner phones, never lasting more than five minutes.
Ryan had partnered with Sully, running down the offshore accounts for the deposits with the assistance of the FBI while Esposito had paired with Karpowski, scouring what information they had to try and catch a lead on Kate's whereabouts.
And Castle? He had sat in his usual chair, lost in his own thoughts as the bullpen hovered around him.
It could have been minutes, or hours before he stirred, jumping to life as Esposito's voice cut across the sound of a half-dozen officers and detectives assembled, "We've got something!"
The canvas of Castle's block had turned up three witnesses, two teenagers that lived in the building beside his own and the deli owner on the opposing block - they had all recalled a dark blue SUV illegally parked in the alley between the two buildings, the deli owner making a note because it had prevented a delivery truck from parking to deliver packages and had instead taken up valuable street space at his storefront.
"The guy said he called traffic patrol but, by the time they arrived, the SUV was gone. He did write down the plate number, but it came back as bogus - no plate with that combination in New York state," Esposito explained, "Still, we have a specific make and model, and that's being ran down as we speak."
'Traffic cameras being pulled as well - the teenagers caught sight of the car as it backed out of the alley and headed north towards 6th Avenue. They also gave a description of the driver - though we aren't sure how much good it will do with a moving vehicle and it being dark," he continued, his training leaving him careful not to make too many promises that couldn't be kept.
The morgue was almost more than Lanie could bear, the knowledge of two bodies that so closely resembled herself and Javier encased within its walls alternately sending her spinning between fury and stone cold terror.
The fury was currently winning, as she sat on her stool and continued with her work, processing every test and filing away every detail she could discover in the limited evidence collected at Castle's loft.
It was the only thing she had done in days that had made her feel useful, though she had provided key evidence to Kate as the first body, her double, had dropped.
But it'd all gone so wrong so quickly, and she hadn't slept soundly since. There was a part of her that was convinced she never would again.
"Lanie, Espo said you had something for us," Kevin Ryan spoke as he pushed through the double doors, "Lay it on me."
She wash't surprised that Javier hadn't made the trip, he'd only glanced at the body that wore his face, anger flaring in his eyes. He hadn't stayed long after that, giving a shake of his head when she had tried to explain all the ways that they weren't similar.
"Yeah," she stuttered, shaking her own head to clear away the image of Javi's angry scowl as she turned towards Kevin, "CSU did the run down on all the fibers, but the blood and the syringe came to me. The blood, as you know, belongs to our girl and the skin cells left on the needle prove that she was injected with it."
"I tried to pull prints off the plunger and the handle, came away with a few partials, but none of them match anything in our system. The Feds have them now, and they will run them as well," she continued, recognizing her voice as it entered the tone where she was merely reciting facts as her brain knew them. There was no room for emotion - not until she had deposited every bit of information.
"The results of the drug in the syringe also popped, it's not anything you can buy over the counter or on the black market. This stuff was cooked up by someone who has a background in chemistry and pharmacy. Completely designer, laced with sodium pentothal to put her under, a cocktail of pain relievers and a dash of cloinidine - basically, they wanted to knock her out for a long time, and keep her quiet while she went under," Lanie said.
"So you think….." Kevin said, halting for a moment while he took a deep breath to steel himself for the question, "…you think they are going to hurt her - that maybe they already had?"
"I don't know that," she answered quickly, reaching out a hand to lightly touch his arm, "Going by the amount of blood on the floor, I'd say no but there are other ways to injure someone that have nothing to do with blood," Lanie said quietly, the threat of tears very real in her eyes as she imagined all the other things they could have done to hurt her best friend.
"Yeah…." he breathed, sucking in a long breath while hanging his head. The slight tremble in Kevin's shoulders wasn't missed, but Lanie didn't comment on it either, instead snapping the latex gloves off her hands and strolling to the sink to wash them.
He had pieced himself back together by the time she had finished, his detective mask back in place though Lanie could still see the cracks in the foundation.
"…..CSU found a fibers and hair on the rug, nothing conclusive enough to tell them if they are from the attacker or Castle's family. They've asked for samples from all of them, so a more decisive report should come in a couple hours," she added, passing two file folders across the distance as Kevin headed towards the door.
"Hey, don't tell Castle what I said," she added at the last second, a heavy sigh following the words.
"Don't worry, Lanie. I won't," Kevin said, shouldering his way through the doors and leaving her alone.
It was remarkable how easily he'd convinced them to fold. The thing about manipulation was that you had to find people who were lonely - someone who didn't quite fit in, had few or no friends but craved to be noticed, adored, revered.
The search for the two had taken months, Tyson had discarded countless possibilities along the way. He'd changed his own name, moved to California, and built up a steady flow of money. Of course it was obsessive, he was well aware that his fixation on Richard Castle and his girlfriend detective was the type of thing that could get you caught but the reward of breaking the smug bastard almost seemed worth it.
The Detective - Katherine Becket, inspiration for Nikki Heart and newly minted fiancé. It was almost poetic in the timing, having snatched her from the man's own home (and really, had he not learned to upgrade a security system?) just as they had committed their lives to one another. Had they set a wedding date? Did they have plans regarding children or adopting a dog?
He didn't know, and he only cared in the sense of devastation it'd leave behind when she was dead and the writer was left with nothing.
Not that he cared all that much about the writer, either. It was more the thrill of besting someone who had so nearly gotten him. The ability to plan, plot and execute with the swiftness and perfection that left a level of mystery and terror in its seeming unpredictability.
He'd left her on the floor, the hard concrete offering no moderation of comfort or warmth. It was now about suffering, about breaking her and then displaying it. The rush of adrenaline at the mere idea had captivated him - to know that he would be the one to put an end to the 'extraordinary' KB and her alter ego.
"Wake up, Detective," he spoke, the steel toe of his boot connecting with the bottom of her bare foot, "You and I have some things to do."
She liked to believe that she had a high tolerance for pain.
Through it all she hadn't screamed, had barely made so much as a whimper as the knife had scratched over her skin. The cuts were all shallow, mostly along her arms or her feet, though there were a few also dripping blood down her legs.
It was a strange sort of game, the kind that told Kate she wasn't here to make noise. He could have done things that were much worse, could have pushed her until she had screamed, though there was no scenario that would make her beg him to stop. No, she was here as bait, something to lure Castle into whatever the larger plot happened to be.
Tyson had been gone for some time, leaving her chained to a metal pipe that snaked across the walls and the ceiling. It was clear that she was in a warehouse, somewhere close to the water judging by the sounds from the open windows. The sound of waves, of boats speeding by along with the distant honk of car horns and the scream of sirens from somewhere to her left told her she was likely on the West Side, her knowledge of the major roadways that snaked around the city giving her a vague reference point.
But it didn't help much. She had tried boosting herself to the window by standing on the pipes though the chain threaded through the cuffs prevented her from being able to gain enough height or leverage to scale the wall. A search of the room had revealed nothing sharp or small enough to pick the lock of the cuffs.
When that had failed, she'd yelled for help until her voice had gone hoarse. No one had come to her rescue, not that she had expected they would.
Thoroughly tapped - that was how Castle would put it, she thought to herself, a reminder of their night handcuffed together in that basement springing to her mind as a steady gust of wind rattled the windows and she shivered slightly.
Her arm was beginning to throb again, the deep cut now crusted over with dried blood. She didn't know how much blood she had lost, but the combination of the injury, the drug still lingering in her system and both the lack of food and water were leaving her a little weak on her feet - she'd steadily ignored the feeling while Tyson had been pricking her with the blade, unwilling to give into anything that would give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken down.
But she was weak, and cold, and the desire to curl up and sleep was overwhelming. But Kate was stubborn, and she refused to let herself be caught unaware whenever Tyson came back.
He had gotten the advantage on her once, it wouldn't be happening again.