Apologies for the delay, uni work etc demanded my attention.

He could answer the phone. He should answer the phone and tell them. Her. Tell her, who he assumes is Katherine's mother, that yes, what Ryan and Esposito told them is true. Their daughter is dead. He could just pick up the phone hello, my name is Detective Richard Castle, I am investigating your daughter's death, I am so sorry for your loss and that would be that because why else would he be in her apartment and answering her phone? It's the truth. And they deserve the truth. But at the same time, why can't they live in hope? Why can't they hold on to the idea that maybe they got it wrong, maybe she wasn't their daughter? Is it best to let them live in hope? God, he doesn't know. But he lets the woman stay on the line for a few moments more before she hangs up. They'll realise eventually.

People are always telling him that he needs to be more … empathetic. That being hard boiled, tough may get the job done but it doesn't make him likable. The hard part is finding a balance. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's not. Sometimes the people he works with help, a lot of the time they don't. A lot of it is his fault, he knows that, but he's not who he was two years ago and after pulling himself back he thinks he deserves some kind of trust.

Though, if they discovered that he was sat on Katherine's couch, not even investigating anything, just sitting, then he would probably lose whatever semblance of trust he's managed to garner. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't, and he knows that he shouldn't because it's a damn thin line he's walking as it is. And the victim, she's gorgeous and she's intriguing and there's no understandable reason for her to have been bound to that chair in that deserted building the way she was. And that intrigues him. She intrigues him. And he wants to know. The harsh tone of a phone – his phone this time – the death march filling the empty space alerting him to who it is without him having to look at the ID.

"You planning on visiting me any time soon?"

"I was just waiting for you. I know what you're like when I walk in half way through an autopsy and start asking questions."

"Well, I may just have answers to your questions."

"Great. I'll be there in half an hour."

He hangs up, but he doesn't move from the couch for another five minutes, the cogs turning over and over in his mind. Then he's standing up, lifting his hands up above his head and feeling the muscles in his back stretch. That's when he notices the glint of a key on the sideboard. He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't because the key needs to be returned to the superintendent and if he's caught then he's going to get in to some of the biggest crap of his life. But he does it anyway, slides the key into his back pocket. He can make a copy and then return the key tomorrow, feigning forgetfulness. The woman is nice, and he's a cop, and people trust cops. Tomorrow. He'll return it tomorrow.

Lanie Parish is the closest thing to a friend Richard Castle has. She's the one he goes to when his brain isn't functioning with the rest of his body and running of tangents that he can't possibly hope to keep up with.

"I was expecting you two hours ago." Lanie says, before he's barely got the door open. She has her back to him, and every time he says she has some kind of sixth sense she rolls her eyes at him. "What kept you?"

"Her apartment."

"Castle…"

"I'm fine. What can you tell me?"

She narrows her eyes at him anyway, as he expected her to, but turns to the table where the body is laid out. "Well, cause of death was almost painfully obvious. Toxicology reports were normal. If she was drugged, I can't find any trace of it. She was in good physical health, kept herself fit, no signs of physical or sexual assault."

"So, you think she knew whoever killed her?"

"Any evidence of an other half?"

"Not that we could see, but Ryan's gone to see her best friend to find out if there was anyone."

"Parents?"

"In denial. Upset. Confused. They want their daughter back." He leans against a metal counter, eyes trained on the harsh profile of the women on the table.

"Understandable. So…"

"So…?" His gaze flicks to Lanie, a hint of accusation, and frustration thrown in.

She folds her arms, "Richard Castle are you telling me that you have learnt absolutely nothing?"

"I have learnt plenty. I am just trying to solve a murder so two parents can bury their daughter. Justice. That's what I'm after." He turns to leave, has everything he came for, and he doesn't want to listen to the doubts that his friends and colleagues have for him.

"Yeah, I remember the last time you said that."

"Does no one here trust me?" He stops by the double doors, spins around on one foot to challenge her. But she's not looking at him like she's angry at him, like she pities him, or she's worried about him. He's not sure which one he would prefer.

"I think the important question is do you trust yourself?"

He does mull over Lanie's question. As he sits at his desk and stares at the irritatingly empty board, there are only two things on his mind; her, and her. Two women, one that came so close to being his downfall, another that good go the same way if he's not careful. He still dreams about her sometimes, all flaming red hair and blue eyes. He never caught Meredith's killer. He tries not to let it haunt him that she's the one that got away, that somewhere out there is a murderer that eludes him, who dances around just out of his reach, taunting him .

"Castle." Captain Victoria Gates is standing next to him, her approach, as usual, quiet and discreet. He likes that. It keeps him on his toes. "What have we got?"

"Katherine Beckett, thirty four. Lawyer at her parents firm, lives in Manhattan. Shot in the head by a pre-aimed gun when the superintendent opened the door of the space being renovated. Parents don't think there is anyone at work who would do this, don't think she has a boyfriend, there was nothing at her apartment to say otherwise, but Ryan's going to see her best friend to see if there was anyone, one night stands, friend's with benefits."

"Robbery?"

"Doesn't look like it. Purse was still there, apartment was impeccable. No signs of assault either, you know, apart from the gunshots. If you were asking me I would say relationship went wrong, she wanted less, he expected more. She left, he got angry, maybe he followed, took her from the street."

"So we're looking for someone who knows where there is deserted space, has access to it, someone who is clever enough to set a gun up the way they did. Military?"

"Likely. May be homeless, knows spaces where he can sleep in peace."

"Have we questioned the owner of the building?"

"I wanted to, but Esposito doesn't believe he's the killer. I want to question the builders, the owners, and the people in the offices next door. There must be CCTV, someone who saw something, knows something. Ryan's pulling whatever he can get."

"Anything from the canvas?"

He shakes his head. Nothing came back, all the people asked had sworn they hadn't seen her, they hadn't seen anything suspicious, absolutely nothing. Even though he hates doing it, and he's glad he has all the officers at his disposable to do the canvas for him, he wants to go back and do it again. The officers at the Twelfth are more than capable of doing their jobs, of asking all the right questions, but he's the detective and he's trained in the art of interrogation. And he's good at his job. He's good at getting answers out of people unwilling to co-operate with him.

"I think I might have something."

The detective and the captain turn, finding Ryan walking towards them. "Detective?"

"I've just been to see Madison Queller. She was our victims best friend. I asked her if there was anyone she was seeing, a boyfriend, girlfriend, friends with benefits, you know. She said no, she was too busy with work to even think about keeping up a relationship, but she remembers something from a few weeks ago. They'd gone out for a drink, Maddie had something to celebrate, a birthday I think. Anyway, at this bar, some guy started coming onto our vic. She wasn't interested, turned him down, but he kept asking and asking, kept buying her drinks, talking to her. In the end the barman had to intervene and throw him out. Maddie said that Kate pretended like she was okay but she could tell that it had freaked her out."

"Ske-"

"Sketch artist? Already on it." He gestures over towards the break room where a young blond woman is huddled over a piece of paper with Jarvis, their resident artist. "As soon as that's done I'm going to take it to the bar, and all the ones in the local area and see if they recognise him."

Gates shakes her head. "Tomorrow detective. It's late. I think everyone needs to go home and sleep. Start again in the morning."

"I don't mind-" Castle pipes up, sitting up a bit more in his seat.

"Tomorrow, Detective Castle." Gates carries the order with a glare, one that just makes him shrink back again. "That's an order. Go home."

He doesn't want to go home. The key to Katherine's apartment burns a hole in his pocket on his drive to his mothers. It is late, and he'll be lucky if his mother is even awake (who is he kidding, of course she will be), but his daughter, that's a different question. Maybe he'll just leave Alexis asleep and sleep on the sofa instead. It would save disturbing her but he's not entirely sure he wants to face his mother's constant questions about his job. The parking outside of Martha Rodgers apartment, thankfully, is kind to him. And even from here can see that her apartment is still flooded with light.

"I didn't expect you tonight."

"I wanted to see my daughter."

"She's asleep."

"Daddy!"

"No, she's not." He bends down in time to stop his seven year old taking out his kneecaps, scoops him up into his arms where she wraps her arms around his neck. "Hey, pumpkin. You have a good day at school?"

"We told stories!"

"Stories, huh? What was yours?"

"A mermaid! And all her family kept making all the ships sink and everyone kept dying but she tried to save everyone."

He sees his mother raise her eyebrows, and he makes a mental note to maybe not be so giving with the details of his job. "Maybe you can tell me all about it on the way home?"

She nods against his neck but he knows she's going to be asleep before he even gets her to the front door.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course. You know I love having her. I just wish that you would pick a better profession. Something safer, Richard. After everything with Meredith, if something happens to you, I don't want to imagine having to raise Alexis. I mean I love her, you know I do, but I think I was lucky enough to raise you, I don't think I can raise two."

"You know I need to do this job, mother. You know I do. And I know it scares you, and I know it scares Alexis, and I know the risks. Especially after Meredith, but I have to do it. I can't do anything else."

She doesn't look like she accepts this as an answer, just like she never accepts any of his answers when it comes to his line of work. She'd rather he did something ridiculously safe and boring like be a librarian, or a teacher. But she shakes her head anyway, kisses his cheek and combs her fingers through Alexis' hair. "Let me know when you're home."

He nods. She doesn't need to tell him anymore, it's something he does on instinct now. Alexis is a heavy weight in his arms, asleep quicker than he expected, and he juggles her on to one hip as he slides her school bag on to his free arm. "I'll see you tomorrow."

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