Kate is granted permission to go out on to the veranda that morning. Kelly breezes in to the room, wearing that same shade of smile and leaving behind a trace of some perfume that smells of powdered sweets. She gives Kate the same warnings about running off in to the woods she gives her every time they meet; you'll die, you won't get far, sweetheart you have no idea where you are, or which directions which, better stay here where you're safe. She had to visibly stop herself from laughing when those particular words had slid from Kelly's primped, pink lips. Whether out there is worse than what faces her in here is not a question she wants answering. Regardless, she craves the fresh air that the house, stuffy and damp smelling, does not provide. She doesn't hear anything in the woods, doesn't see anything either, despite Kelly's continuous warnings about the guards that are supposedly guarding the place.

However, she has a blanket from the bedroom, a cup of coffee from the kitchen, and to her surprise, a swinging bench seat that hangs from the wooden beams above her. It's comfy, it makes her feel more relaxed than she has been since she first woke up in that room. She thinks that maybe this house was once used for something other than Kelly's nefarious schemes, a family home, or a holiday home, or something. Innocent. It's innocent. Or used to be. The thought of that being tarnished and ruined by whatever is going on here sends a shiver down her spine, and she curls up further into the blanket, her knees pressing against the underside of her chin.

"Hey."

The intruder makes her jolt, the hot coffee spilling against the skin of her hand. She swears, sucking the burnt skin into her mouth.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you jump."

"It's – it's fine. Wasn't scolding. Just took me by surprise."

"Can I sit?"

"It's a free country, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah… but…just because you can doesn't mean you should." He looks somewhat unsure of her, his eyes keep flicking from her to the woods and back again. He's restless, shuffling back and forth with his feet, fists curling into his palm and out again. She's used to the tics that make themselves known when someone is nervous, has seen them in court more times than she cares to count, and they've long since stopped making her feel nervous.

Kate laughs. "Isn't that the truth. Room for two."

He smiles and settles on the padded seat next to her. He seems like the guy who actually likes to swing on these kinds of things, and lo and behold, it takes only a matter of seconds before his foot is pushing the seat backwards and forwards. Kate thought it would annoy her, but is surprised to find that it doesn't. "So… you're…"

"Richard Castle."

"Right. Cop. They let you out?"

"I promised to be good." He replied, the corner of his mouth curling up into half of a smile. "So, you're Katherine Beckett."

"Kate. But yes."

"Happy Birthday."

"W-what?"

"It's the Seventeenth of November. That's your birthday, right?"

"Oh, um, yes."

"Then Happy Birthday. Not much of a birthday, I'll admit, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Yeah, something like that. I thought I'd be spending my birthday in a courtroom."

"Big case?"

"Yeah. The Bracken case. Big, dirty businessman. It's been in the news actually, big arrest. They've been trying to get him for years, but he's constantly hiding behind dirty cops and millions of dollars and they've never so much managed to lay a finger on him. Until, one day, some kid with a hero's complex manages to sneak his way up through the ranks with a tape recorder and busted him for murder, fraud, blackmail… there's a list as long as my arm."

"Oh! Are you Bracken's lawyer?" The way he asks it makes it seem like he already knows she isn't; already knows that she wouldn't touch Bracken and his filthy, dirty operations with a hundred foot bargepole. It rattles her cage slightly, this man who came out of no where and thinks he can flash her some charming grin and weasel every single piece of information out of her. Damnit, she hates that it's working. The idea of her being Bracken's lawyer though, is down right laughable, and she lets him know it.

"As if. No, I'm prosecuting. Or I should be." Pressing the tips of her fingers to her forehead, she winces. "Of course, they're going to have someone else take my place now."

"I'm sure they're more than capable."

"Oh, I know. There are some amazing lawyers at our firm, and they're perfectly capable of taking him down. It's just… well, you know. You'd got your sights set on you being the one to do it. It'll probably be Horowitz."

"You like Horowitz?"

"He's in the office next to mine. Very focused, doesn't like the limelight, which is good for a case like this. Less likely to blab when you hate the cameras."

"Fair point."

They sit in amicable silence for a few minutes, the sound of the wind in the trees the only noise save for the rhythmic creaking of the seat.

"Do you think we could go?"

"What, like run away?"

"There's no one here. No one's watching."

She shrugs. "I wouldn't bet on it. Hidden cameras everywhere, probably. Plus, Kelly said there were guards."

"Have you seen any of them?"

"No… but we have no idea where we are. We could run in to the woods and keep walking for days and not come across any kind of civilisation. It's November. You really think we can survive for that long?"

"So, it's either die here or die out there?"

"At least we'll be comfy here."

"You sound pretty resigned to your fate."

"I'm already dead, remember?"

"We could always survive. I'm a cop. It's in my nature to survive."

"And you really think that you could do it out there?" Just the thought of being out in those woods with nothing but the thin cotton clothes on her back, and this man as her back up is making her shiver, and she tugs the blanket closer around her. Maybe she could go and get another mug of coffee.

"No, I think we could do it out there. Come on. The woods can't go on forever, they'll end eventually. And then there's going to be a road, or a house, or a car, or just somebody. They can tell us where we are, lend us a phone, keep us safe. What's stopping us?"

"No, it was more like…" Hollie frowns at the paper, and then holds her hand out for the pencil. "Can I?"

The sketch artist dutifully hands over the drawing instrument. It's not often he does so, but Hollie seems quite competent in sketching out a rough guide of what the nose, in her eyes, is supposed to look like. "It was dark, so for all I know this could be entirely wrong, but that's pretty much what I remember."

"That's… fine, this is great. We can send this out to the bars, diners, shops in the area. If he's confident enough to march in to a building and fake arrest somebody then I have a feeling that he's going to New York pretty well. Find costume shops, see if he bought something from them. Probably paid in cash, didn't want the paper trail to trace him back to a computer or something."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"Not at this moment. But if you remember anything, something he said, another detail, anything, then you give me a call. Any time, okay?"

"Sure, you've got my number, right?"

"Yep, just in case. LT here will walk you to the elevator." Hollie grins, and trails out of the conference room with the officer. "I hope you find him!"

Ryan sits back in the seat, and pushes his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. It hurts like hell, but somehow it's worth it. He can feel the beginning of a tension headache forming somewhere in his skull and wants nothing more than to go home and sleep for a thousand years. "Yeah, me too, Hollie. Me too."

"How are you doing?"

Johanna Beckett places the plastic box full of her daughters case files, and journals, on the corner of Ryan's desk. "I'm… I… I miss her. She was my only daughter, you know? But I'm okay. I think. Jim is… finding it harder. I don't think he's fully accepted it yet, he still thinks you made a mistake."

"We are-"

"You're sorry. I know. But that doesn't matter. I bought Katie's files. But here's the thing, me and Katie, we're very protective about our notes. They're our clients."

Ryan picks up one of the journals, a large, heavy-bound leather thing that looks like it's seen years of use. Flicking through it quickly, he comes to an understanding. "It's in code."

"Just in case of a subpoena."

"Good trick. Can you decipher it?"

Johanna nods. "Sort of. She based it off of mine, it isn't the same, she adapted it to something that works for her. Some of it I can work out, but others… it may be a bit harder. I can try my best. Or I can leave you a kind of decoder. Whichever is easiest."

"Well, I think you're the expert here. If you don't mind helping?"

"No, not at all. We've both taken the week off from work, and our second in command can handle and anything I can do to try and help you catch whoever did this to my daughter then I'll do it."

If it was a more socially acceptable thing to do, Ryan may have stood up and applauded her. He's met many families, many parents that have been in her position, many children too, and some of them, in the face of adversity and grief still choose to power through. "You can set up in one of the conference rooms. If you need paper I can bring you some. We always have plenty in the supply rooms."

"Would I be able to take this home with me, or do you need it for evidence?"

"I… I think that you could take it. You could work from home."

"I wouldn't, I'm a lawyer I understand the whole chain of evidence, but my husband… he's… I don't want to leave him alone for any long amount of time."

"I understand. The case she was working on at the minute… was there any concerns about that one?"

"You heard of William Bracken?"

"Yeah, the business tycoon with the corrupt… everything? She's on that case?"

"She's prosecuting. But Bracken, he's not the kind to kill someone like…" Johanna swallows, hard, before carrying on, "he does things quietly. He stays behind the scenes, pays people to put a knife in their kidneys in the middle of a dark alley. This doesn't feel like him."

"Where's he being held?"

"Sing Sing. He doesn't talk to anyone except his lawyer though, just so you know."

It's long past the time someone would ask her what she wanted for her dinner. Kate can barely see the trees outside of her window for the inky blackness pressing up against the glass. It's been hours since she last saw the cop. Castle. He told her to call him Castle. Kelly had come out, maybe half an hour after their conversation, and instructed both of them back inside. He had gone somewhere else. She can't hear him through the wall any more; he's probably in some other room away from her where they can't conspire and plan and scheme.

"Sorry, you must be hungry. Alas, tomorrow is another surgery."

"What are you doing?"

"Well we did one ear, now we've got to do the other, you see? It's no good you being asymmetrical, that would never do. It's an early surgery though, so lucky you, you can eat by lunch. Did you enjoy your time outside? I hear you met our other guest?"

"What are you doing with him?"

"Oh, something … violent, probably. You know how Jerry is, he just loves to play with his food."