Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't.

Are you following?

…..

Now she had Louise's best friend and some possible answers. Phone already in hand, she nodded to Castle and stepped out to get a possible location on their suspect.

…

8.

The two men remaining in the small space happily ignored each other waiting for the detective to return until Castle caught another person walk past and do a double take. After seeing the way Donovan had usurped and downgraded Castle's image, he really wanted to go out and get a haircut and buy a one of a kind T-Shirt Donovan couldn't duplicate. He could almost understand how stars were constantly changing their images. He would never tease Kate about Natalie Rhodes again.

"When was the last time you saw Louise before the fight this afternoon?" Castle asked, unable to take it anymore.

Donovan barely shrugged. "I saw her before she headed out this morning." The studied air struck Castle as odd.

"It's unusual the doorman didn't see her leave the building this afternoon."

"She probably took the stairs. Terry isn't exactly famous for his exercise routine; he probably missed her in the elevator."

"Terry?"

"The doorman," Donovan looked at him like he was slow.

"Right. That's too bad," Castle added. "It would have been helpful if we knew which direction she headed after she left you. No pun included," he added, waving a finger at Donovan's face.

"Too bad," Donovan echoed, not amused.

"That's quite the bruise," Castle observed. "How big is Louise anyway? Just for a description."

"5'2? About 120 pounds," he sounded bored.

"So she got you with the fry pan, huh? No defensive marks on your hands; I guess she caught you by surprise," Castle paused for a response but got none. "Are you going to file any charges?"

"Hadn't thought about it," Donovan muttered.

"Well, if you are interested, get one of your doctors to take a photo for evidence," Castle advised him, looking a little more closely at the bruising on Donovan's face.

Donovan just nodded, his eyes scanning the open bay for Kate. It annoyed Castle, but his mind was puzzling over the bruise pattern enough that he chose to ignore Donovan's inappropriate interest in his partner. It was already starting to bruise purple despite being a fairly recent injury, consistent with considerable force. But there was just something about the way the hot raised skin that was mottling…Castle was still staring when Donovan turned to face him fully.

"I'm heading to the bathroom," the man announced.

"Ah, I think you should probably stay put until Detective Beckett gets back," Castle stalled. He cast his eyes around until he lit on a bed pan. Without thinking about hygiene, he stooped and retrieved it before offering it to the man on the bed who was now glaring at him.

"I'll close the curtains," Castle offered, looking down at the strangely-shaped piece of equipment. With a frown, he studied the round flat structure and then back up to Donovan's face, but he was already slipping off the bed and Castle didn't have any choice but to follow him down the hall, bed pan in hand.

…

"Hey Ryan," Kate spoke into the receiver, shielding it from the latent sounds of the hospital.

"Hey, Beckett," he greeted her. "How's it going with Donovan?"

"Good actually; I might have a lead. Look, can you get a phone number for me? Kristie O'Sullivan. Her mother was one of our cases about two months ago."

"Yeah, sure. I remember it, but Beckett, before you go Esposito has some news. Hold?"

"Okay." The empty air made it clear to her that she was replying to someone who was already gone. She cast her eyes around the entrance of the hospital, thankful it wasn't crowded and she hadn't been forced outside or into a bathroom to talk. The corridor upstairs was sufficiently quiet but the glares from all the medical staff made it uncomfortable enough she had consented to move the offensive device away.

"Beckett?"

"Espo?"

"Hey. I was able to get a lock on where the photo was taken last night. Witnesses were a bust," he added before she could ask. "But I asked your doorman anyway, and she was there. Beckett, he said he saw Louise last night. She was actually trying to get up and see you. He said she looked really tense so he didn't let her up."

"Where did she go after that?" Maybe this woman wasn't a ghost after all.

"Your doorman said she headed north. He was off shift when you left this morning so he didn't get a chance to tell you. Ryan's working on finding video footage now."

"Okay," she breathed. "Thanks Esposito. I've got someone who might be able to give us a location and motive; Ryan is getting the number now."

"Let us know."

"Will do."

…

"Hello Kristie, this is Detective Beckett." She kept her eyes on her shoes watching the contact and hearing the firm click of the heel against the linoleum.

"Detective Beckett," the voice was warm enough despite the basis of their acquaintance that Beckett had to wonder if Donovan wasn't wrong about Kristie's slight obsession. It was possible; after all, losing her mother had warped her relationship with Royce.

"I'm sorry for the call," Kate paused, thinking about how best to broach the subject.

"Don't," the voice on the other end caught. "Please don't tell me…"

"No!" Kate hastily exclaimed. "Nothing like that." the sigh of relief was clearly audible. Kate remembered that relief was never a feeling she had experienced after a phone call with the police after her mother was murdered. "I just have a few questions for you."

"About my Mom?" the voice was so much smaller than it had been when she answered the phone and Kate wanted to kick herself for putting her through it all again.

"Not exactly. Firstly, how are you?" She owed Kristie that.

"Fine," came the automatic answer and Kate decided to wait her out, wait for the truth. "Better," Kristie managed a few seconds later after a deep breath. "I'm really doing much better."

"I'm happy to hear that."

"Thank you, Detective. But I'm sure that isn't the reason you're calling." Avoidance.

"I actually wanted to ask you about your friend, Louise Prenton."

"Who?"

"Louise Prenton?" Beckett frowned. Had she picked the wrong case? The time line fit, the daughter-mother relationship fit. She would have remembered any cases like those: they were harder.

"I'm sorry, Detective. I don't know any Louise Prenton."

Kate felt her hope sink sickly. "Oh. Well, thank you all the same. I'm sorry to have bothered you, but it's good to hear you're doing well."

"I really am. My brother got a new apartment and I got a new boyfriend."

"Oh?" more than half her attention was working over the cases again, trying to find the right one.

"He's nice. He understands," Kate could practically hear the smile. "He does have this urge to wrap me up in bubble wrap and hide me away sometimes though," Kristie's exasperation snuck through at the end.

"I know the feeling," Kate agreed wryly.

"It's not bad," Kristie offered shyly. "It's better than my ex. He just didn't understand when my Mom died. He tried; I know he did, but…"

"I'm sorry." She was and she was a little guilty that she could focus all her attention on the conversation.

"Don't be. He actually liked you a lot."

"I don't remember him," Kate frowned.

"I don't think you ever met, but he saw you walk me out of the precinct one time. He was always asking what you said, maybe looking for hints about the right things to say."

"What was his name?" Kate asked, feeling a tightening in her shoulders.

"My ex? Tom. Tom Donovan."

…

There were definite downsides to being a cop, homicide or otherwise. One of those was a very graphic imagination when considering all the things that could go wrong when you left someone you loved alone with a crazy person. She had been too eager to get away from Thomas Donovan to think about what would happen if she left them alone together. The furthest the thought had gone was her consideration that Castle wouldn't do anything too rash when they were being watched by so many medical staff.

When she got off the elevator she broke into a light jog, ignoring the looks she got. People ran in hospitals all the time. The sound of her heels alerted the medical team at the small station and a doctor stepped out to intercept her.

"Can I help you?"

"NYPD," she flashed her badge impatiently. "I'm here for Thomas Donovan," she tried to move around him but the older man tried to turn and follow her, blocking the hallway.

"Ah yes, Mr. Donovan. Some bruises and a slight contusion to the back of the head."

She tried to push past.

"There's no need to hurry, Detective," the man tried to assure her, looking up at her with comforting eyes from under a pair of shockingly white eyebrows. "He'll be fine. We have security, though from what I could see, the injuries were self-inflicted."

Beckett froze.

"What?"

"The bruises don't support an assault," he told her very earnestly.

Leaving the small man behind, she ran past the rest of the staff at the desk and the few people waiting in the chairs until she could see the far end of the ward. The curtains were still drawn back but the only person she could see was a nurse with an armful of new linens who had paused in surprise to watch Beckett's abrupt arrival.

"Where are they?" she demanded. The nurse looked flustered, looking around for support.

"They?" the doctor caught up to her.

"Where are they?" she snapped at the nurse again, her breath barely squeezing through the panic crushing her chest.

"Mr. Donovan?" the young woman stammered. "He and his brother?"

Kate just stared at her.

"They left about ten minutes ago."

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