Building a Mystery
"Will I do?" Kate Beckett turned a full three-hundred-sixty degrees for Castle to see. "Do I look presentable?"
He swept her in one long, fully appraising glance. "Oh, you'll do," he told her earnestly, his eyes coming to rest on her face. Even without makeup she was stunningly beautiful. "Definitely presentable. No one seeing you like this would guess that just a few hours ago you were modeling someone else's pajamas."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Thanks for tossing my clothes in the dryer. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to—"
"Come in out of the rain?" he offered, his blue eyes dancing as a lopsided smile fell across his face.
Shaking her head, she disagreed, "No, not that. I know why I stayed out in the elements." Despite their two serious conversations over the course of the evening and early morning, she had yet to tell him what she was doing out in the rain. There were hundreds of things she wanted to tell him, each one competing for the opportunity to pop out first. But instead of addressing the topic under discussion, she decided to go with the light touch. "What I can't understand is why I didn't bother to toss them in the machine as soon as I got out of the shower." She laughed at herself. "Or why I didn't go home to change before I came over here in the first place."
"It doesn't matter, Kate," he told her softly, coming over to stand beside her. "You came over drenched. That's all there is to it. I'm just glad you chose to wear machine-wash clothes yesterday. You'd be in serious trouble if you'd gone with dry clean only."
He opened his arms in invitation and she only hesitated a moment before stepping into them. As she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder she indulged herself with a deep breath, breathing in his unique, intoxicating scent. No one smells like he does, she told herself. Delicious, masculine, strong. With just a hint of recklessness and adventure. Like everything else about him, a paradox. She closed her eyes, treasuring the fleeting moment.
Castle smiled as he pressed his lips to her soft auburn hair. "Stay, Beckett. There's so much I still want to say to you, so much I want to—"
She lifted her head from his shoulder and shook it. "Can't, Castle. I have somewhere to be this morning."
He frowned. How can she have somewhere to be? he wondered, puzzled as much by her desire to leave as by her mysterious destination. It's Sunday morning, for God's sake. Everyone who is anyone is sleeping in. Hell, most shops and restaurants don't even open until eleven. Studying her with open, wondering eyes, he finally broached the question foremost in his mind. "Where are you going?"
She laughed. "Really, Castle? Am I going to have to start giving you my personal itinerary every time I go somewhere?"
His frown deepened as he sighed. "No, that's not what I meant. It's just that—"
"I understand," she said softly. I really do, she added silently. You're worried about me. You're worried I might still be in danger. You're worried last night was last night, that I might not come back at all. One look at his troubled eyes confirmed her theories. Aloud she said, "You don't have to worry about me."
"Can't help it," he told her sweetly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "And for the record, I don't have to know your whereabouts every time we're separated. I really did learn my lesson with Alexis and the cellphone." He smiled briefly but it didn't reach his eyes. "But with Maddox on the loose I can't help but be concerned, Beckett. Maybe I should come with you, at least to your apartment. If everything checks out, if there aren't any signs he's been there, I'll be able to relax. I might even be able to let you out of my sight for a few hours."
"What about Alexis? Didn't you tell me she's due back around lunchtime?"
He grinned at her. "Believe it or not, Kate, I don't actually answer to my daughter. But even if I did, we're just going over to your place. It shouldn't take us that long."
She extracted herself from his arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "If I let you come with me to my apartment, do you promise to let me go, on my own, to run some errands? 'Cause I'm here to tell you, I don't intend to be attached to your hip every waking second."
He stepped away from her and shoved his hands in his pockets. She isn't asking all that much, he realized, knowing how much it must have taken for her to compromise enough to invite him to join her. Besides, I know her. If I push too hard, come on too strong, she'll bolt.
Making his decision, he said in a deep, quiet voice, "You have my word. I promise after we've scoped out your place, I'll leave you to your own devices. If Maddox hasn't shown up. If he has, all bets are off."
Seemingly satisfied, she grinned mischievously at him and teased, "In that case, don't you think you'd better finish getting dressed?"
He looked down at his clothes. Although he was dressed in his regular uniform of dark-washed jeans, button-down dress shirt and jacket, his ensemble was still incomplete. Wiggling his toes, he lifted his head and grinned at her sheepishly. "Guess I can't go out in public without shoes, huh?"
Kate shook her head. "Preferably not. The last time you went shoeless on the streets of New York you were almost shot!" A sudden light danced in her hazel eyes. "Although, now that I think about it that does have a certain appeal . . ."
"Hey," he protested, "I wasn't in any real danger. The guy's safety was on the whole time, remember? Besides, if memory serves, I wouldn't have been in that predicament if a certain detective hadn't handcuffed me to the car."
She rolled her eyes. "Nice try, but I'm not taking the blame for that one, Castle. I didn't make you take off your shoe." She stepped away from him, heading for the door to his office.
"Always has to have the last word," he muttered under his breath as he stooped down beside his bed to retrieve his shoes. "File that under useful information."
"I heard that," she called as she exited the room.
He raised his voice intentionally as he retorted, "A case in point!"
A fraction of a second later he heard her voice drift back, "Shuuutttt up!"
Not quite able to suppress the smile that formed on his mouth, his blue eyes twinkled in unabashed delight. God, I love this woman! Kate Beckett may have her flaws, but she is still the sexiest spitfire I know. And she does have to have the last word! Shaking his head, he trudged over to his dresser, pulled open his sock drawer and selected a pair. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know I don't want to miss a thing.
Just as he perched on the edge of his bed to put on his socks and shoes, she suddenly rematerialized in the doorway to the bedroom. Sweeping him in a quick glance, she teased, "Come on, Cinderella. Tempus Fugit. If you don't come on, I'm leaving without you."
He laughed. "Are you always this bossy in the morning, Doll?"
"Castle."
He looked up at her. "What? Now I'm not allowed to call you that, either? It isn't food, you know."
"No," she agreed, "but after seeing your other doll, I'm not sold on that term either."
"Hah, hah. Very funny, Beckett." He slipped on his shoes and bent to lace them. "I'll be ready in a second." True to his word, he straightened and scrambled to his feet. Smoothing his shirt and jacket, he gave her a boyish grin. "Will I do?"
Why does he have to be so damned adorable? she wondered, her hazel eyes, brown in the overhead lighting of the loft, softening as she returned his grin with a small smile of her own. Cocking her head to one side, she furrowed her brows as though the verdict were in doubt. Then, biting down on her lower lip momentarily, she replied with a simple, "Uh-huh."
His face fell. "Do I look that bad? Is it the maroon? I told Alexis I thought it was too dark with my ruddy complexion."
All it took was a quick look at his crestfallen expression and she relented. His eyes, twin pools of deep blue, looked surprisingly anxious. I didn't realize he was so sensitive, she told herself, almost but not quite ashamed of tormenting him. With a soft sigh she admitted, "You look fine, Castle."
"Fine?" he frowned, not liking the adjective at all. Fine won't do, he told himself, pausing momentarily as he debated whether to change his shirt. I should have gone with the purple one. I know she can't take her eyes off of me when I wear that one. He lifted his eyes to her face and noted her expression. It was soft and sweet, shy and feminine. Making his decision, he flashed a reassuring smile as he walked toward her.
She drew in her breath as he stepped up. Like metal to a magnet, her eyes, irresistibly drawn, locked with his as the now-familiar feeling of heat spread across her cheeks. Great! she thought mirthlessly, I'm blushing. Again! What is it about his eyes that turns me into a silly schoolgirl? It's not like I haven't seen them before! We've been working together for nearly four years now. You'd think I'd be used to them, used to him.
But the truth was, despite their familiarity, there was something new in the deep recesses of his eyes when he looked at her. It was difficult for her to put her finger on just what that was. They had always been expressive. At times sparkling with interest and at others dark and mysterious, they were ever-changing and absorbing. Yet, as she stared deeply into them now, a new look settled in them, unsettling her. Then it came to her. For the first time in their relationship, his ardor, devotion and passion was unguarded. Tilting her head, she stared into his eyes again, this time with rapt fascination, her own eyes widening in wonder, green flecks starting to blend with the brown.
Castle was equally disconcerted, for Kate, unaware her eyes were telling stories of their own, had never looked lovelier. For the first time, she was truly standing before him without a single wall, without any armor, without any defense. Inching closer to her, he was careful not to break the spell. He could actually hear her breath hitch, could see her pupils dilate. A slow, teasing grin unexpectedly spread across his face. Amusement lightened his eyes to the color of the Caribbean as he gave an almost inaudible chuckle.
"You're staring, Kate," he informed her, his hushed voice dripping with irony.
The words were enough to shatter her absorption and bring her back to the present. Her mouth hung open momentarily before she snapped it shut again. Her cheeks, already flushed from before, turned a dark, betraying red. When Castle chuckled again, thoroughly delighted by her flustered reaction, she glared at him, but the look didn't hold any heat.
Pausing to allow her to precede him into the living room, he switched off the light in his bedroom and pulled the door closed behind him. "That's okay," he teased again, "I'm used to leaving people speechless."
"You are so full of it, you know that?" she retorted.
"So, for the record, when I stare at you, you're allowed to call me on it, but when you get caught doing the same thing to me, I'm not supposed to draw attention to it? How's that fair?"
She laughed. "Life isn't fair, Castle. I'd have thought you'd have learned that by now."
Shrugging, he let it go. He was just content to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to know she was happy. Tentatively reaching for her hand, Castle threaded her fingers through his own then gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Ready?" he asked, smiling down at her, "Or do you want me to fix breakfast before we head out?"
Kate arched an eyebrow. "After the horror stories I've heard from Alexis I think I'll pass. I'd rather take my chances with the street vendors."
He pouted. "Wow, there's no loyalty left in this world is there? My own daughter has turned against me!"
That produced a soft, musical (for her) laugh. "Come on, Castle, you can't really blame her, can you? Marshmallows, chocolate and eggs? She probably thought you were trying to poison her!"
Bristling, he tried to withdraw his hand but she tugged on it, pulling him toward the door.
"I can make a decent breakfast, you know," he defended as he waited for her to step into the hallway. Pausing only long enough to close his door and lock it, he added, "You didn't complain the last time I made you pancakes. In fact, as I seem to recall, you enjoyed them so much you were pressing me to whip together another batch before Ryan and Esposito arrived to ruin everything."
His memory supplied a sight and sound picture of the event. Concerned for her well-being after learning Kate had been targeted because of his books, Castle had insisted on staying over at her apartment, to insure her safety. After a restless night spent on her couch he had risen earlier than usual and prepared breakfast for them. The setting had been intimate, perfect, until she had asked for the morning paper. One dead body and a swarm of detectives later, he had found himself trying to explain the innocent scene of domesticity to Ryan and Esposito.
I didn't mind their ribbing so much at first, he admitted to himself, because—damn it!—I wanted the situation to be the way they imagined it had gone down. But Esposito kept pestering me, arching his eyebrows, giving me those sly, speculative glances which clearly stated he wasn't buying the truth. And then . . . His eyes turned turbulent as he scowled. And then he cracked that infamous cheap shot about the pancakes. Pancakes are an edible way of saying "Thank you so much for last night." His face flushed again, just as it had then. He ruined pancakes for me! I can't make them for Alexis without thinking about it!
Kate, watching him surreptitiously, noted the heighted color in his face and knew without being told what he was thinking. She laughed softly.
"What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. I was just thinking about that time, too. You know, Sweetheart, you and I have very different memories of that morning." The term of endearment slipped out unconsciously.
That's because I shielded you from Ryan and Esposito, he told her silently, but aloud he managed, "I don't doubt it."
Pressing the button to summon the elevator, she shot him a quick glance. "Believe it or not, Castle, that morning happens to hold a lot of fond memories for me. When I went to bed that night I wasn't sure I could wholly trust you. When I woke up and found you fussing around the kitchen any doubts I had were gone." He lifted his eyes to meet hers and she gave him a shy smile as she finished, "I've trusted you completely ever since."
"Completely? Even after Montgomery, after I kept the deal and my connection to Mr. Smith a secret from you?"
The elevator doors parted, but as she was about to move into the lift, he tugged her hand, holding her back. He wanted an answer and he wasn't willing to wait.
Sensing his need for reassurance, Kate stopped, allowed herself a small sigh, and said seriously, "I trust you, Rick, one hundred percent. And I don't ever want you to doubt it again."
"Kate," he breathed unevenly, emotion roughening his voice. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she sidestepped into the elevator.
"Come on," she urged, "We need to go."
His sigh, deliberately petulant, was long and drawn out. "Sometimes I get the feeling you enjoy toying with my emotions, Beckett."
She grinned wickedly. "Sometimes? Try all the time, Castle."
"You, my dear detective, are a mean, cruel beast," he informed her earnestly, but the lighthearted expression in his eyes belied the insult.
"I've been called worse," she informed him, then flicked her eyes to the top of the elevator doors as the numbers above lit up in descending order. Less than a moment later they were walking, still hand in hand, through the lobby and out into the drowsy Sunday sunrise.
After they procured coffee and muffins from a nearby sidewalk vendor, Castle quickly hailed a cab, holding the door open for Kate before sliding in behind her. Then, leaning forward, he gave the driver the address and sat back again. She immediately reached for his hand, her fingers lacing with his, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Comfortable?" he asked quietly, unwilling for his voice to carry in the front of the cab.
"Mmm," she murmured, "Perfectly."
It was almost a full minute later when she lifted her head and took a long sip of the steaming coffee. It was scalding hot, but she felt better after drinking it, more alert somehow. Her brain kicked into gear; her thoughts became clearer. The familiar taste of vanilla, mixed with the richness of the coffee blend was just exactly what she needed. Her mouth curved up at the corners out of sheer pleasure.
I love the way she loves coffee, Castle told himself, treasuring the moment in his heart. I would willingly finance all the coffee plantations in the world just to keep her plied, just to see that spectacular smile. Like a man dipping his toe in a lake to gauge the temperature of the water, he tentatively brought his cup to his lips and carefully drew in a miniscule sip. It was still a little too hot for comfort. He winced then blew a few times on the opening of the lid in an attempt to cool it.
"How are you able to just drink this?" he asked in awe, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
Deliberately taking an additional gulp, she replied, "Easy. It's conditioning, Castle. I've been drinking freshly-brewed coffee first thing in the morning for nearly twenty years now. Your problem is that you're too soft. You're used to waking up at eight, nine, ten o'clock in the morning. You're pampered, spoiled even."
"There's nothing wrong with liking the finer things in life," he shot back. "And for the record, I haven't slept in since I started shadowing you. Speaking of that, why is it people pick the most God-awful moments to report crimes?"
She laughed. "Why do people kill other people when they ought to be in bed?"
"Beckett, you're absolutely brilliant! Do you realize you've just done what no one else has ever thought to do? Prevent murders before they happen!"
She gave him a curious look, but when she caught sight of the devil dancing in his eyes, she had a sneaking suspicion she was in for a touch of torment. "I'm almost afraid to ask . . . but, what are you talking about?"
"Well," he drawled, "if people would just spend more time in bed together there would be far fewer murders. See, Beckett! Sex saves lives! Passion eliminates crimes of passion!" His comment elicited a chuckle from their cab driver and a roll of the eyes from his partner. Taking a victory sip of his coffee, he screwed up his face as the hot liquid scorched the roof of his mouth. "Hell, that's fiery-hot!"
"And that's where you came in," she quipped, enjoying his misery.
He gave her a sour look which just made her laugh again. Then, to her surprise, his expression changed and he pouted, poking out his lower lip.
"You could catch rain on that thing, Castle."
"You're supposed to kiss it to make it feel better. That's what kind, sweet women do."
"You are such a baby, Castle!" Despite her scathing indictment, she angled toward him and placed a soft lingering kiss on his mouth then, sitting back, asked, "All better?"
He nodded dumbly. Whatever comeback he had prepared flew out of his head. I can't believe it, he told his bemused mind, She actually kissed me—in a taxi!—in public! A glazed, dewy look came over eyes as he gave into his private moment of wonderment. Hold on to this moment, he instructed himself. You may never have another one like it.
Indeed, the taxi ride—and therefore the intimate flirting—came to an end much too soon. As the cab pulled up at the curb in front of Kate's apartment complex Castle scrambled out first, offered her a helping hand, then leaned back into the taxi to pay the driver. There was no need to ask him to wait. Within twenty minutes a plethora of taxis—checkered, yellow or otherwise—would be littering the streets.
In the meantime, Beckett tossed her empty coffee cup in a nearby waste receptacle.
Holding the bag with the muffins in his left hand and Kate's hand in his right (she was now holding his coffee for him) Castle was content to let her lead the way into the building. The doorman, a pleasant enough man of Indian heritage in his mid-twenties, saw them coming and had the doors open for them. Sweeping them in a quick, all-knowing glance, he greeted them by name.
"Good morning, Detective Beckett! Mr. Castle, good to see you again. Early case this morning?" He looked down at their hands, still entwined.
Kate felt her cheeks flushing again, but she met the doorman's eyes steadily. "Not exactly, Jai."
"Actually, Jai, I'm just seeing Detective Beckett home. As a perfect gentleman, I couldn't let our first date end without seeing her safely to her door." Castle wiggled his eyebrows at the younger man before steering Kate past him and toward the elevators.
Waiting only until the doors closed behind them and she selected her floor, she wheeled on him. Her eyebrows knitted together and her eyes blazed as she laid into him, "What the hell was that, Castle! Do you have any idea what you just did?"
He gave her his most innocent, cherubic expression and prayed it would be enough to defuse the bomb he felt certain was about to detonate. Putting out his free hand to brace himself on the rail, he waited for the explosion.
"You can't tell Jai that sort of thing," her tone changed from one of attack to a quieter, deadlier one. She was serious, as serious as he'd ever seen her.
"I think when he saw us holding hands he kinda put two-and-two together, Kate."
She waved that away. "I don't care about that! I don't care what Jai guesses; I'm not responsible for his assumptions, whether right or wrong. But now he has that information, Castle."
"Why should that matter?" he asked, confusion etched on his face. "Is this relationship going to be a big secret from everyone on the planet?"
An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu came over her. Didn't we just have this conversation a few hours ago? Didn't I reassure him then I'm not ashamed of our relationship? She sighed and forced patience back into her voice. "You've missed the entire point. If Maddox is watching my apartment, the first thing he'll do is scope out what the doorman knows. Jai's a very friendly, very talkative guy, Castle. The first hint of interest Maddox shows in talking with him, he's going to open up like a rosebud in spring. Before, all Jai could tell him was that I keep erratic hours because of my job—information Maddox already knows. But now—" she paused, biting her lower lip to conceal an involuntary quiver before finishing: "Now Jai can tell him we're dating."
And then he understood. All of it—her anger and her concern were for his benefit. She didn't want him involved or endangered. For a moment, his eyes locked with hers and he thought he could see all the way into her shadowed, haunted soul. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, never looking away. "I didn't think. And you're right; it was reckless."
She dropped his hand to run hers through her hair. Castle recognized the movement as something she usually did to buy time while she thought of what to say. This time, however, she surprised him. "I don't think he knows about you," she said softly, raising that same hand to his face. Her touch was gentle but it still managed to thrill him to his toes. "I've been through hell, and I've come out on the other side, Castle. I've lost my mom. I've lost almost everyone else close to me: Montgomery, Royce, and in some respects, Dad. I've dealt with it—I've dealt with all of it. But I can't deal with losing you." She paused for a mere second then choked on her next words, "Not you."
Unwilling for him to see the tears welling in her beautifully expressive hazel eyes, Beckett turned away from him. Not wasting a second, Castle put out a hand, took her arm and turned her back to face him.
"Oh, Kate," he whispered hoarsely, "You're never going to lose me. Not to Maddox, not to anyone. I love you."
He took more than her breath with the words: he took her whole heart. And it was enough.
He gathered her into his arms and covered her mouth with his, kissing her with all the passion of the night before. That kiss was reassuring, gentle and possessive all at once, yet it was also something more. Something so achingly sweet, patient, and tender it brought another wave of tears to her eyes. And then she knew it was true. His love was big enough, strong enough, encompassing enough that nothing would tear them asunder. Not petty misunderstandings, not secrets, not even outside forces like Maddox.
As he lifted his head to look at her again, his breathing quick and uneven, she began to tremble uncontrollably. Please, God! she prayed fervently, Help me keep it together until I get inside the apartment. Please don't let me break down here!
As though the Almighty were granting the desire of her heart, the elevator dinged, breaking the intense, intimate moment. Seconds later the brakes caused the box to jerk before smoothly coming to a complete standstill.
When the elevator doors parted, Beckett was the first one through them. Castle hesitated only a fraction of a second before following her. They walked down the hallway in silence. Far from awkward, the stillness between them was comfortable. In fact, for the first time since leaving the taxi she felt herself starting to relax. Her stiff muscles, especially in her neck and shoulders, eased up on the tension causing her to hope rather than believe the knots in them were starting to loosen.
But when they drew even with the door to her apartment, she froze as a wave of apprehension swept over her, overwhelming her senses and turning her skin to gooseflesh. Shivering, she admonished herself: Don't be ridiculous, Beckett, the door is locked and it doesn't look like it's been forced open. Everything is fine. It's not like Maddox is going to be calmly waiting to kill you on the other side. Pull yourself together! Castle is going to think you aren't emotionally equipped to handle anything. First you start to break down in the elevator; now you wig out before you even get inside your place! Narrowing her eyes, she dug in her pocket and produced her key.
Beside her Castle kept a diligent watch on her face, worry causing deep lines on his forehead. He sensed her uneasiness, but was powerless to help. Putting her hand on the knob, she started to turn it, but he laid a hand over hers.
"Maybe you should let me go in first. Just in case," he volunteered, straining to keep his voice light and casual. The last thing he wanted to do was unnerve her further.
That was enough to snap her out of her irrational fears. All of her training and instincts kicked in and Detective Kate Beckett was back. Rolling her eyes, she snorted, "Yeah, right! And since when have I ever let you enter an apartment in point position? Forget it, Castle." With that she automatically put her right hand to her hip where her weapon used to sit. The absence of it strengthened her resolve; she threw open the door and stepped inside.
To her immense relief, everything looked the way she had left it. Stepping to the side to let him enter, she moved toward the kitchen counter where she set down his coffee. Sure enough, her banker's box with all of the things she'd brought from the precinct was still there, untouched. She frowned. Not quite untouched, after all. The parade of ivory elephants, something she always kept on her desk to remind her of her travels, was poking up, visible over the rim of the box. She was certain she hadn't left it that way.
You're just jumpy, she told herself, willing the cold finger of Fear to stop pressing down on her spine. No one has been here. Nevertheless she was unable to shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
"Everything just the way you left it?" Castle asked, turning on one of the lamps in the living area. He absently picked up her throw pillow, the one with the embroidered smoking gun, and held it up. "Still packing heat, I see."
She smiled at that. "Thanks for reminding me, Castle. I should probably check my Glock."
His blue eyes smoldered as his mouth curved up boyishly. "You are so sexy when you talk weapons, Beckett. So, just out of curiosity, where do you keep it? Under your pillow? In your nightstand? I know—your underwear drawer! Want me to help you look?"
She rolled her eyes again. "Sorry to disappoint you, Castle, but you aren't getting into my drawers, underwear or otherwise. Just stay put." Walking over to her bookcase, she removed three hardback books, all in dust jackets, and reached behind them.
"You keep your weapon behind your books?" His tone was incredulous. Without saying a word, she passed the books to him. He glanced down, saw the title on the top one, and his mouth curved up in appreciation. "Classic! And I'm flattered, my dear detective. What better place to hide your firearm than behind In a Hail of Bullets?"
"Glad it meets with your approval," she grunted, as much for effect as from the effort of reaching into the space. Then unexpectedly she frowned in bewilderment. Her fingers strained to reach the slick black case that should have been there. Should have, but wasn't. A wave of pure nausea rippled through her as her earlier suspicion hardened into conviction. At some point, someone had been in her apartment and stolen her gun. She dropped her arm to her side and turned to face Castle.
Reading her expression, he knew in an instant something wasn't right. "Kate?"
"It's gone, Rick." She put out a hand helplessly then dropped it to her side again. "He's been here."
"You don't know that, Kate. You could have just moved the gun yourself. Forgotten where you put it. Maybe when you took it out to clean it the last time. Maybe it's by your television or something." He looked around the living area again. His eyes widened. "Oh, my God! Kate, whoever stole your gun stole your TV, too!"
"I hate to break it to you, but I don't own a television," she told him dryly. "And I always put the gun back after I clean it. No," she continued, pacing now, "Maddox has definitely been here. This has his hallmark stamped all over it, Castle."
He noted the vein standing out prominently on her forehead, the dark circles under her eyes, and the strain in her face. Instantly making a decision, he swiftly crossed the living area to stand beside her. "Let me try. You know, sometimes all you need is a tall, ruggedly handsome man with long arms . . ." He reached into the space and felt along the shelf before finishing his sentence. ". . . to find things for you." Pulling out the black box, he presented it to her with a sweet smile.
"Thanks," she said simply.
He shrugged. "What would you do without me?"
Fall to pieces, her eyes told him, but her mouth said, "I don't want to find out." She opened the box, removed the Gen4 Glock 17 and proceeded to check it. The clip was full, a single bullet in the chamber. Satisfied everything was as it should be, she replaced it. Looking up, she caught Castle with a priceless expression on his face. "What?"
"I can't begin to tell you how incredibly hot you are with that gun," he murmured.
"Castle!" her voice was laced with exasperation. "Cool it!"
Cool it, she says, like it's that easy. He smirked. "I can't exactly flip a switch, Doll."
Her eyes, scorching lasers, zoned in on him as she glared. But, when he flashed her an engaging, lopsided smile, she was charmed in spite of herself. Feeling the beginnings of another blush creeping up her neck, she turned away from him and walked over to the dining room table where her laptop was set up.
As he watched her walk away, amusement lightened his eyes. For some perverse reason of his own, he was thoroughly enjoying the newfound power he held over her. It still amazed him that 1) she had held her gun in her hand and hadn't shot him, 2) she blushed every time he complimented her, and 3) he had gotten away with calling her "Doll" without her making a comment. Improvement, he told himself, encouragement making his spirit spread its wings and take flight.
Meanwhile Kate stood in front of her laptop, a frown marring her otherwise serene countenance. Something about it looked off. Didn't I leave the lid closed when I left yesterday afternoon? I could have sworn . . . She shook her head, amused at herself. Snap out of it, Beckett! So you forgot to lower the lid. Big deal. The jump drive is still there. If Maddox had been in here, wouldn't he have taken that with him? But despite her mental pep talk, she was left with the nagging impression something wasn't right. Like a perfectionist who can't help but straighten a crooked picture in someone else's place, she couldn't leave it alone.
Pressing the power button, she waited for the screen to come to life. Her eyes fell to the ribbon on the bottom of the screen. As her finger moved across the touchpad, navigating the cursor to the file folder icon, she gave a small gasp. It had that tell-tale box around it, indicating the application was open. Suddenly a knot formed in her stomach. I never leave any of my programs open!
"Castle, come here," she commanded, her voice urgent.
Having retreated from the living room to the kitchen to collect his coffee (it was finally at a drinkable temperature), he was just raising the cup to his lips when she spoke. Inadvertently jumping at the sound of his name, he managed to splash coffee in his eye. Wiping the moisture away, he made a face. Smooth, he chided himself. So, so smooth, Castle! He glanced over at Beckett. Apparently she hadn't seen it happen. Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked over to join her.
"What's up? Oh, nice picture, Beckett!" He was looking at the image on her desktop, a vivid picture of a jellyfish against a very blue backdrop.
She cut her eyes over to him. "It came with the computer." Then, straightening up, she pointed, "See that? I never leave that open. Someone has been messing with my computer."
He frowned. "Are you sure? When I'm writing, I leave tons of documents and files minimized. I find it saves time, especially if I have to go back and check something."
Pursing her lips, she frowned again. "I'm sure, Castle. I usually leave things minimized too, but only while I'm working on the computer. But I always close out everything when I'm through." And lower the lid.
He looked pointedly at her flash drive. "And do you always leave your memory stick in your computer, too?"
"If I don't need to take it with me," she answered automatically. "Castle, I know I sound like a crazy woman, but I'm telling you—"
"You aren't crazy," he interrupted, "Your nerves are on edge. It's understandable, Beckett." Giving her a reassuring smile, he encouraged, "Open it. All your files have time stamps for the last time they were accessed or saved. If someone was on your computer, that'll tell us."
"Okay."
Opening the application, she dragged the cursor over to the drive and clicked. A millisecond later a list of the files appeared onscreen. Castle leaned forward, his eyes quickly scanning the names and times.
"When was the last time you personally worked on these?"
Crossing her arms, she sighed. "I pulled up the one on Montgomery yesterday afternoon. I was going to delete it, but . . ."
"You couldn't quite bring yourself to do it," he finished for her.
Afraid he was upset, she purposefully kept her eyes averted from his face. "I'm planning to get rid of everything."
"Kate, look at me."
She lifted hesitant hazel eyes to his face. To her surprise, he wasn't angry or hurt, just sweet and understanding. And she released the breath she didn't know she had been holding.
Castle studied her quietly for a brief moment then said, "You know that big murder board I keep in my office? Of course you do, stupid question. I had all of our notes on it. Tons of files, all the information fanning out in a web of conspiracy and lies. Months—years—of hard work."
She looked at him in astonishment. "You created a murder board of my mother's case?"
His blue eyes were troubled, suddenly unsure how she would take it. "Yes. But you have to understand," he rushed on, "I wanted to protect you! I thought: What if I can solve this thing for her? Then you wouldn't be in the line of fire! The Dragon wouldn't be able to come for you, and . . . I could potentially save you from yourself. By giving you the answers you so desperately wanted, I thought I'd be able to give you the closure you deserve." He faltered, whispered, "I'm sorry. I had no right."
She placed a hand on his arm. "No, Castle. I'm not angry, just—surprised. I, uh, I think it's sweet."
His spirits lifted. "You aren't going to shoot me?"
She smiled. "Not for that."
Wrinkling his nose at her, he said, "Very funny." Then letting his eyes fall back to the screen, he returned to the pressing issue. "So, when was it you accessed Montgomery's file?"
Tapping her chin as she tried to remember, she closed her eyes. "I left the precinct around five, came home, deposited my belongings on the counter, changed out of my work clothes, and then pulled it up—so, around quarter to six."
"How many USB ports does your laptop have?"
"Three. Why?"
He held up his left index finger. "I want to try something." Fishing in his pocket for his keys, he produced his own jump drive. "I take mine with me everywhere I go," he explained simply before sticking it in the computer. Quickly highlighting the files on her drive, he copied them to his. "Huh."
She looked at him in confusion. "What?"
"It didn't change the time on your documents."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Positive. Well, there went that theory."
Her eyes, usually so clear, were clouded with anxiety. "So, hypothetically, someone could have inserted his own drive in my computer, copied the files from my stick, and we'll never know?"
"Yeah, looks that way. Of course, we could always get someone at the 12th to take a look at it." He ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, Beckett."
She tried to laugh it off. "Don't worry about it, Castle. It was a good idea. You're probably right, anyway. My nerves are on edge. I wasn't exactly in a good place yesterday afternoon. It's more than likely I just hit the wrong button and didn't close it out." She didn't really believe that, but it was better to reassure him than to give into her irrational fears again. "Even if someone did make a copy of my files, he wouldn't have gotten anything damaging. I never save work documents on here, and everything on my mom's case is still over there." She nodded her head in the direction of her louvered shutters.
"That's a relief."
Biting her lower lip, she thought long and hard. "You know what? I think I'm going to take it down."
His eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure you want to do that? Kate, you don't have to—"
"Shh. It's okay, Castle. I want to do this. I told you I was walking away from the case and I meant it. I have to let this go. I can't afford to keep it hanging over me." With determination she marched over to the window and pulled open the shutters. Then she froze as unimaginable, unspeakable terror ripped through her body. She stood there, her entire being trembling with a mixture of shock, fear and something akin to indignation.
"Looks like someone beat you to it," he said grimly, standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.
All of the doubts, all of the suspicions that her apartment had been infiltrated by the enemy were confirmed. Surprise gave way to cold anger as her hazel eyes, brown and darkening by the second, blazed. The feeling of personal violation left her reeling, but she forcefully thrust her vulnerability aside.
"It's gone, Castle. All of it is gone." Her tone was surprisingly flat, emotionless. Then with a surge of fury, she said, "Maddox!"
She turned to look at Castle squarely in the eyes. He saw the fire burning in her eyes, saw the stubborn set of her jaw, and for a fleeting instant had an urge to shield himself from the intensity. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he spoke, his voice calm and clear, "You can't stay here, Kate."