Interesting. The first chapter generated a ton of alerts and favorites and a veritable cornucopia of letter bombs, outrage and a few really nice comments. Thanks.
The 'White Eagles' exist and are now part of the Serbian National Army but back in the day, they were just armed animals with axes to grind.
OM
She Learned the Truth at 17 – by Oldest Man
Chapter 2
Loft
Castle leaned back in his chair and put his stocking feet up on his desk and sighed. He was blocked. Plugged. Jammed up. Cognitively constipated. The atmosphere in the loft fairly reeked of defeat.
His 'women' were out and about. Alexis was enjoying a break from school and had gone to the Catskills with the family of a friend.
His mother would probably crawl in around 4am, too proud to acknowledge the 'walk of shame' she was performing.
Castle wrestled with the problem until he was utterly defeated. He had bumped off his long-time protagonist, Derrick Storm, and now was at a loss for what to write about. He needed to write. It was what he did and how he defined himself – Richard Castle, writer.
Storm had worn on him until he found himself repeating the same dialogue and he finally realized he was bored with his character so he killed him off.
He wrote an entire novel on a new subject but trashed it. It didn't sing to him and if what he wrote failed the 'singing test' after a month off sitting on his computer, he trashed it. He was his own worst critic, his own worst enemy.
He needed inspiration. In the past, he'd set up a wild-haired scenario for Storm to work his way through, and let the character develop the plot through his actions and words. Nothing was working now. His storyboard was blank.
Castle had even resorted to pulling out old manuscripts from years past that he'd never submitted and read them hoping for inspiration but it was no use. His muse had left him.
12th Precinct
"Yo, Beckett! It's almost 7pm and we're not going to get anywhere on this so I'm thinking I'm going to head out and start fresh bright and early."
"Yeah, Esposito, I'm right behind you. This whole case doesn't make any sense. Our vic is a shadow man. No family, no friends, just a job he goes to every day. He pays his bills and has a small savings account. He votes, has a credit card he never uses, a cell phone with no call records…"
"It'll be there in the morning, boss. I'm gone."
"Night." She hated walking away from it but felt like they'd hit a wall. She hated not being able to establish motive. She needed help.
"Castle." He answered the phone still leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, ankles crossed. He hadn't changed positions in the past hour.
"Castle, it's Kate Beckett." She hoped she wasn't interrupting anything. She'd accumulated quite the collection of Castle's novels over the years. Actually working with him and seeing how his mind worked brought the novels new life. She hoped he was writing again.
"Hey, Detective. How goes the detecting?"
"I'm up against a wall here and could really use new eyes. Can you come in tomorrow for a little while and take a look at our board and give me your opinions?"
"Kate, what are you still doing at the precinct? You're wearing yourself out and that makes for a cranky Kate and an ineffective detective. 10am work for you?"
"Yeah, I'm heading home. I just hate leaving it up in the air."
"I'll bet you forgot to eat again. You need to watch it, Beckett. A strong wind and off you go to parts unknown."
"Are you saying I'm skinny, Castle. God, now you sound like my dad. 'Eat something, Katie'. 'You're working too hard'. 'You don't have a social life'."
"You do need to eat and you need to sleep. A social life isn't all it's cracked up to be." There was something in the way he spoke of 'social life' that sounded bitter – something that she expected to pop out of her mouth, not his.
"So, changing the subject, how's the writing coming?"
"Ah, well, I wrote an entire novel after leaving you and I trashed it. It didn't handle the 30-day test very well so I trashed it. Wasn't very good and it didn't sing to me."
'Leaving me? Odd choice of words.'
"Sing to you? I'm trying to quash an image of a sheaf of papers dancing around on your desk, singing, and you doing your best Simon Cowell imitation. It's like a Disney cartoon gone bad."
She'd never heard Castle really laugh and it startled her but made her feel good. At least someone was happy with something from this case.
"Damn but I missed your warped and wry sense of humor, Beckett. I haven't laughed since – a long time ago. So, I have an indecent proposal. Bring what you have and swing by Maison Castle and I'll order Chinese or whatever tempts your delicate palate and we'll go over the stuff and see what we can make of it."
There was silence on the other end and he cursed himself for pushing into an area that was apparently off-limits. He knew what he'd meant but he was afraid she'd taken it another way. Thoughts of 'Alley Kate' flashed through his mind.
'Indecent proposal? Where the hell did that come from?'
"Or, I can just drop by in the morning." He broke the long 5 second silence.
Still nothing. A long 5 seconds.
"Detective?"
"Twenty minutes, Castle. No funny stuff."
"Maybe the morning would be better, Detective." There was a chill in his voice that wasn't there before. It was the chill of 'Alley Rick' and she realized what she'd said and how he'd interpreted it.
"I meant nothing exotic like fricasseed turtle spleens. I'm more the Mac 'n Cheese kinda girl. See ya in twenty, Rick."
Castle's Loft
Rick cleared away the dishes from the breakfast island and summarized what they had to date while he worked. He did some of his best thinking while doing something mindless like washing dishes or making a quick meal if he was alone.
"No prints at all. No hands – something you failed to mention until I had my mouth full, by the way - a faded tattoo that no one can identify, and no family or friends have come forth to claim the body, right?"
"I thought you'd read that in my notes already. The 'no hands' thing I mean. But that about sums it up." It didn't seem like a lot but it represented 3 days of investigation.
"Okay, Kate, I see it like this. The killer doesn't want the victim identified from his prints so he whacks off the guy's hands with a sharp – very sharp – weapon or tool after he shoots him in the back of the neck, execution-style. From the ME's report, the killer was either really, really, really tall or the vic was on his knees when he was killed, right?"
"Yes, Castle, he was either 11 feet tall or our victim was kneeling or lying down given the angle of entry." She listened to him with her eyes closed 'seeing' what he was imagining in his mind as if he'd written it down.
"Kneeling, Kate, because given the angle, he'd have to be lying with his face balanced on his nose and I can't see a man just lying like that, waiting to be shot. Can you?"
"Nope. Go on. I'm curious to see where all this plays out."
"There's nothing on our victim earlier than 2004 when he just pops up into existence. No credit card records, no arrest records, no tax returns, no nothin'. Vasili Szendy just pops up."
"That's right."
"I think he was in Witness Protection or some other government program and whoever he was hiding from found him and killed him."
"That's pretty far out there, Castle. Still, it's worth checking out. I have a friend in the FBI I could ask. Unofficially, of course."
Castle felt a moment of what? Jealousy? Whatever it was, he put it aside and concentrated on the case before him.
"Nothing from his coworkers? He didn't play on the company softball team or bowling league?"
"He worked in a warehouse, Castle, driving a forklift. No bowling league, no softball. He came to work, worked, and then left. Never missed a day."
"Hmmm, dead end there."
"There is one thing though. Esposito was interviewing one of the non-English speakers from Central America – it's probably nothing…"
"We got nothing now, Kate."
"The man told Esposito that our vic worshipped the Devil." She watched his face light up and almost laughed. He could be such a little boy sometimes. It was one of his most endearing qualities. He seemed almost – innocent, at times. He gestured 'more', with his hands, his eyes alight with eagerness.
"The man said that when their boss announced that a coworker had passed away that the man made the 'Devil's Cross'."
"Interesting. Eastern or Greek Orthodox Catholic. Means our victim is of Eastern European heritage or an immigrant. My money's on immigrant."
Beckett realized something. While she was with Castle she never made any attempt to hide her scars. She relaxed here without fear of being gawked at. It was a new feeling and she liked it.
"Castle, look at the time! I have to be at work in 7 hours. I hate to eat and build theory and run, but I'm going to be a corpse tomorrow if I don't get some sleep. Thanks a million for helping us. I think we finally made a breakthrough."
He loved her smile and was tickled that he was instrumental in causing it.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow around 10ish?"
"Yeah. That'll be great. I might have something back from the FBI by then. We'll talk with Dr. Parrish in the morning about the tattoo, too."
And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind a bemused author who would swear on a stack of Bibles that he smelled cherries.
Castle grinned and walked into his study and started writing.
12th Precinct
9am
Beckett glanced up at the sound of the elevator door opening. Lately the elevator had sounded cranky and the door normally jammed about half-way open or closed but not this time.
'I might have known that the damned thing would perform perfectly for him. Must be a girl elevator.'
Rick walked over to Beckett's desk and deposited a large Starbuck's coffee container in front of her and then turned and looked at the board. She'd posted some of their theories but had left others off pending a conversation with Lanie.
Kate stood up and leaned back on her desk, holding her cup of coffee and staring at the board. "Thanks for the coffee, Rick. My mind was wired and I didn't get to sleep as soon as I needed to and the damned alarm seemed to go off the minute my head hit the pillow."
She glanced over at him and took in his appearance – nattily dressed but tired looking, as if he hadn't slept at all.
"I outlined four chapters and got two done and emailed off for editing. I think I've overcome the block."
"What happened to letting things sit and then checking out their singing abilities?" They'd leaned into each other as they spoke and Kate didn't feel any discomfort at all. In fact, she found herself leaning against him, shoulder to shoulder.
"The stuff I wrote was perfect. It just flowed off my fingertips like automatic writing or something. It's so good to be back in the saddle again."
"When you're ready I'll introduce you to Lanie Parrish, our M.E. Be careful though; she's got a strange sense of humor." She was pleased to hear he'd overcome his block. She looked forward to his next novel.
"No time like the present." They walked out together and Kate felt his hand on the small of her back. It felt warm and comforting even though it was just Castle being the gentleman he'd shown himself to be.
They were almost to the elevator when Captain Montgomery called Castle in and handed him a thick sheaf of paper saying, "If you're going to shadow Beckett, there are forms to fill out. Have them back on my desk before you leave tonight."
On the elevator ride down to the morgue Castle looked through the 2-inch thick stack and whistled. "I didn't have to fill out this much paperwork to get in the Army."
"You were in the – "
"Long time ago. Long time." His face asked her not to ask and she didn't. She understood the look but not the reason behind it.
Morgue
"Dr. Lanie Parrish, this is Rick Castle, the guy I told you about. He's got some questions for you about the current case."
Lanie raised an eyebrow at Kate who silently mouthed "Please?" The doctor folded her arms across her ample chest. "Like what kind of questions?"
"Were you able to determine what kind of knife or tool was used to sever the deceased hands? Is there some way to enhance the victim's tattoo so that Kate can get a image and maybe ID the victim? Are you always so prickly when a guy asks you questions?"
"No. Whatever it was, it was razor sharp. A single stroke so that rules out most machines so it was probably a machete or something along those lines. I can try to get an enhanced image using black light or chemicals. And it depends on who the guy is asking the questions."
"Would a hatchet do the job?"
"Kate, why all the questions? And just who is this guy?" She knew from their girls' night but wanted to hear Kate's explanation. If the look on her face were any indicator, it should be very enlightening since she had nothing good to say about his when last they spoke.
"Rick's working with me on 'freaky cases' and the Captain's given his okay to shadow me if those papers he's lugging around are any indication."
"Okay, Rick, yeah, a really sharp hatchet with a thin blade could account for the clean cuts. Let's see what magic I can conjure up and cast on the tattoo."
Rick was examining the enhanced tattoo on the dead man's upper arm using a large magnifying glass. "Do you happen to have an erasable marker or pen? I need to fill in some blanks here."
Both women stood behind him and looked over his shoulder as he 'drew' an image. They both stepped back in surprise when he said "Bastard!"
"What is it Rick." Kate had never seen the look of disgust on his face before, not even when she'd insulted him in the alley months ago.
"I need access to the internet. Dr. Parrish, do you have – " She nodded and pointed to her office. A few minutes later they were all looking at a color photograph of a shoulder patch for the Serbian 'White Eagle Militia'.
"Ethnic cleansers in Croatia. Killed countless innocents, raped and murdered their way across the country. The worst were charged with war crimes but few were punished. Our victim was an apparent exception."
"That supports your assumption that he was from Eastern Europe."
"But rules out Witness Protection. Still, you should probably check with your FBI guy, Kate."
Thinking back, Kate realized that contacting the FBI had been prudent but costly. The Feds had swooped in and claimed the body as well as all the evidence and documents related to the case in the name of 'national security'.
Since the FBI had claimed jurisdiction, the case was 'closed' and the matter forgotten. Castle, however, would not let it go, resulting in their first real fight.
"Beckett, that's just so much crap and you know it. The Feds come in, push us aside and walk off with everything leaving us with what?"
"A clear board, Rick. We have other cases pending and besides, you proved your value again and even Esposito has warmed to you and Lanie thinks you're some kind of Sherlock Holmes with a laptop."
"This isn't about me, damn it, it's about – never mind. I just can't believe you're going to walk away from – "
"Castle, if you don't like the way we do things, you're welcome to go and find another playground."
He stared at her for a few seconds and then walked out of the precinct without another word.
She saw Esposito looking at her with a frown, shaking his head. He mouthed 'not cool, Beckett' and then turned back to whatever he was doing.
He was right. It wasn't cool. Not at all. She pushed the one man she felt absolutely comfortable with right out the door.
It was a first for her. She'd driven someone she cared about away.