Chapter Eight: These words they strike like lightening.
They make four copies of the manuscript in the end. The first in a blinding flurry of a rush as they divide it up between the three of them – Beckett, Ryan and Esposito all disappearing to separate floors of the precinct to copy approximately one hundred and forty pages each, on three different photocopiers to save time. They make it back to Gates' office with the original literally seven minutes before the FBI agent dispatched to collect it arrives. (The other three copies they make later – one for each of them plus a spare just in case.)
The special agent from missing persons is aloof and cold as he takes the precious cargo from the twelfth's captain's hands. And despite Gates' imperious demand to be kept apprised of any leads the Feds discover as a result of it – the man departs without acknowledging any debt to the police department or its officers as he leaves them behind.
Kate's been on a roller-coaster all day now, and holding her own valiantly against the twists and turns and drops and highs. But the dirty look the Fed shoots her as the elevator doors close on him, Castle's precious book tucked under his arms – it's the final straw that's just too much for the dark-haired detective today, and she finally breaks down.
Esposito's been running interference for her, been her shield this far, but in this moment the sight of Kate so broken just ruins him. He turns to Ryan helplessly - the plea effortlessly visible in his dark eyes and therefore it's Kevin who almost scoops Beckett up out of the chair behind her desk and half drags half carries her into the break room.
He closes the doors and then closes the blinds, hiding Beckett's melt-down from prying eyes before he comes to sit beside her, his hand finding her shoulder.
"Let it out." He whispers softly to her. "Just let it out Beckett . . . no shame in that."
The young Irishmen digs in his suit pocket for the cloth handkerchief his wife always makes him carry – he hands it over wordlessly, his stomach pitching when Beckett grabs for it solely to hide her eyes.
Her too-thin shoulders are shaking but she's remarkably quiet and it unnerves Ryan to see her expending such a huge amount of energy as she fights to hold so much of her anguish inside. He's never doubted – not for several years now - that Kate Beckett had feelings for Richard Castle – and he was so happy for them when they finally got together. But somewhere deep inside him he realizes that he's always assumed that maybe Castle loved Beckett more – just because the author is so open, so clearly has such a massive heart.
But it's blinding clear now he was wrong about it.
It's been blindingly obvious – now that he comes to really think about it – for all these last five months.
Ryan's beginning to see that Kate's slipping, losing more ground by the day, as little bit by little bit Castle's absence is destroying her . . . the person she once was vanishing slowly before his eyes.
He hates it.
How are they supposed to stand witness to it as she dies by increments of a shattered heart?
"Kate." He shakes her shoulder, shakes her hard until she looks at him.
"We're going to find Castle – tell me you believe that." He demands, and there is not a trace of doubt or a hint of placating in his tone.
She blinks as she looks at him; tears sitting on her lush eyelashes, dampness on the planes of her face. She studies his features intently – seems to almost be searching for herself in his gaze – and then she hiccups . . . and miraculously she smiles.
"I know." She whispers, taking a deep and shuddering breath. "I still believe it Ryan . . . I do."
Kevin smiles back, relieved as her shoulders straighten and she exerts the force of her will, for now at least forcing the broken parts of herself to hold together.
"It's just . . . "Her voice is shaky though, and that's all she gets out before she bows her head and scrunches up her eyes.
"It's just that the dumb FBI are worse than useless and those pages they've taken away so callously belonged to him." Ryan says for her.
Her bent head nods.
"Gates' is right – we don't need the original – but . . . I wanted it. I still want it . . . I need to hold what he held in his hands Kev . . . I need to touch what he did. And giving that up . . . it kills me."
Ryan takes a shallow breath, hurting for her so badly he wants to scream. He searches desperately for something to say, someway to lend her the strength to get back up and do this.
"Look I know it hurts Beckett . . . but we have his words okay. And we know what we're looking for in them – if there's actually anything there to find. It took time for Castle to write that book . . . time and lots of it . . . so we can be hopeful that he's alive – and that's the best news okay. His words are going to get us all through this Kate – I promise."
She's silent for a long moment but then she gets back on her feet, directing a small but genuine smile at him.
"You know what." She says. "You're right . . . isn't that what his words have always done?"
And Ryan smiles back - nodding.
Castle's case of course - isn't theirs, but under the circumstances Captain Gates gives the three of them the whole day to work on it anyway. It's unexpected and its good of her, and at first Kate's surprised - but then she sees it in her bosses dark eyes and realizes this is the only way Gates' can give the finger to the FBI – and so with a tilt of her head that signals her appreciation – she gets back to it.
First things being first, they jointly decide its best simply to read. It sounds obvious but it's so very tempting to just start pouring over the four hundred and seventeen pages full of words and start their hunt for clues. They're afraid they'll miss things if they go that route though, and after all its the 'story' . . . its got to be the story itself that's supposed to help them.
So they've all agreed to start there.
Kate reads more quickly than the boys – not as quickly as Rick can – but certainly fast enough, and she's enthralled by the book within minutes and four chapters in before she knows it.
She looks up from the photocopied pages and for a brief moment - her heart pounding in her chest - has this difficulty separating the fiction from her reality. Every damn sentence feels like Castle is trying to tell her something, the story feeling so eerily familiar that it somehow barely feels like a 'novel' at all. She takes a breath and tells herself she's being foolish, and she goes back to it.
Nikki is called to a late night crime scene and finds not one but two bodies headed for the M.E's slab. Melanie Cavanaugh and Dana Sullivan - both shot dead . . . and at first glance by each other. The murder weapons appear to be on the scene and gunshot residue tests prove positive on each victim's right hand.
But then of course the 'Castlesque' twists begin – and she can't stop her smile – it's just all so damn him.
Dana and Melanie have apparently never met each other – and neither has a motive to want the other one dead. They share no friends or acquaintances, don't appear to have any easily uncovered enemies and as both are single and childless – no one seems to benefit from their deaths. It gets more confusing once the ballistics comes back and it turns out neither gun found at the scene is a match.
Nikki and 'Roach' are then getting nowhere fast, as the interviews and potential leads dry up and it seems their case might end up unsolved. Until of course it promptly happens again.
Two more bodies in an alley late at night – each once more appears to have shot the other, only this time one is a man and the other a woman. And to add to the confusion, both of the bodies have this time been stripped of any identification.
The three detectives are stumped and spend the next two chapters trying desperately to chase down their latest victims ID's. There are no fingerprints in the system, no DMV records, and no potential DNA matches. No one has reported either of them missing, and no one calls in to identify them when the department goes public for assistance.
Four bodies - and a case that just keeps getting both weirder and colder.
But then to make matters horribly worse for Nikki, Rook – whose away on assignment in Columbia goes missing.
Kate gets to this part, almost at the end of the fourth chapter and her heart is triple timing in her chest. She's almost afraid to read on – and the way Castle has written Nikki's fears for Rook – how it echoes all of hers for him – its like he knows exactly what she's been going through without him . . . and she can't describe it – how this makes her feel.
She pauses in her reading, takes a deep breath and then she presses on.
Nikki is spiraling and caught between á desperate desire to go and hunt for Rook, and staying where she is and doing her job - then out of nowhere she gets a text message from Rook's phone – containing two names, nothing else. She tries to call him back - but his number is disconnected.
The names don't mean anything to Nikki Heat - but Kate Beckett cannot say the same.
'Thomas Gage' and 'Tracy McGrath' and its at this point that Kate drops the pages onto her desk, and almost hyper-ventilating now as she takes a break.
She's pacing in circles when Javier notices.
"Beckett?" He asks concerned, nudging Ryan until he gets his partner's attention.
"Kate . . . what is it – what's wrong?" Ryan says.
Beckett stares at them, she tries to articulate.
"There's a second set of names in the book – and I can see it – they're going to belong to the second set of bodies."
Espo turns pages and hunts for the part Beckett has clearly reached before him.
"Okay." He says, jabbing his fingers and repeating them when he finds it. "You recognize those names too?" He asks looking confused.
Beckett nods.
"Yeah." She replies shakily. "Oh God . . . yes I do."
"And that's bad?" Ryan asks carefully.
Kate shrugs, "I don't know – I don't know . . . but the last time I heard those names . . . Castle and I were working with the CIA.