"I don't know." Alexis couldn't have sounded more uncertain over Rick's cellphone.

Rick and Kate were sitting in her car, away from anyone who might tell them they couldn't do what they were planning. Hell, Kate was considering saying they couldn't, even as she listened to him talking to his daughter.

"Honey, if you're not happy about doing it, fine. It's just … we need to see Kazia, talk to her, and her Embassy is saying no." Rick glanced at Kate, who wouldn't look at him, just sat in the driving seat, ostensibly watching the passersby.

"What about?" she asked, then went on before he could answer, "Keith."

"Yes."

"Do you think she was involved? I mean, Kazia's not the brightest in the school, but I don't think she'd hurt anyone."

Rick pondered, for maybe a microsecond, whether to tell his daughter the truth or not, then went with his gut. "We think her and her brother stole Keith's body from the morgue."

Now Kate whipped her head around and glared at him. He shrugged his shoulders in his 'she's my daughter, what am I supposed to do' gesture.

"Dad …"

"She's not going to be arrested, if that's what you're worried about," he went on quickly. "She comes under her parents' catchall of Diplomatic Immunity."

"You don't think she killed him?"

He avoided the question. "We just need to talk to her."

There was a long pause, and he could imagine Alexis biting her lip as she considered. "She wasn't at school today," she said slowly.

"Gives you a perfect excuse, then. To call, find out if she's okay."

"I suppose." She still didn't sound convinced.

With a flash of red hot guilt, and the fervent wish that the thought hadn't ever crossed his mind, Rick said, "It's okay, sweetheart. Don't worry. We'll find another way."

"What about Keith?"

"He'll … I suppose he'll turn up." He tried to make it sound like a joke. It didn't work. Kate raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't comment.

"And he might not." Alexis sighed, audible even over the cell. "I'll call her. Tell her I have some notes from the classes I can give her, so she doesn't fall behind. I'll ring you back." She hung up abruptly.

Rick closed his phone down slowly. "Okay, now I feel bad."

"So you should." Kate almost tsk'd but stopped herself in time. That would be going too far.

"She could have said no."

"She's your daughter. What little girl wants to say no to her Daddy?" She stopped, replayed the words. "Okay, that didn't come out quite right, but you know what I mean."

His lips twitched. "She says no to me a lot. And that didn't come out quite right, either. I meant over things she thinks I shouldn't do."

"Like borrow police horses."

"A horse. One. Singular." He now smiled more fully. "What can I say? I have a frivolous nature."

"I think that's probably the nicest way of putting it."

"And I'm sure you could come up with a lot more, in graphic detail."

"I'm sure I could." Kate shook her head. "I just don't like using Alexis this way. And not just because it doesn't follow procedure."

"Procedure isn't going to get us in to see Kazia, is it?"

"It should. That's what police work is about, following the rules and making the arrest stick."

"As far as I can see, that just isn't going to happen, not with Kazia and her brother. But at least I have an alternative."

She glared at him. "This isn't a competition, Castle."

"Of course it is." Seeing her about to protest, he went on quickly, "Us against them. The good guys versus the bad guys. And we win."

"Not always."

"Mostly."

"Okay. Mostly. I'll admit we've got a pretty good clean-up rate."

"The bad guys go to jail and we go have a coffee." He settled back into the seat, waiting for the phone in his hand to ring.

"But that wasn't what I meant."

He raised an eyebrow as he half-turned to look at her. "Then what?"

"You and me. We're not in competition."

His face had an odd, almost wistful, expression. "Aren't we?"

"No. So you don't always have to try this one-upmanship with me."

"One-up-womanship. Wouldn't want to be labelled sexist."

"And don't do that."

"Kate, I'm not quite sure –"

"You go and do things without telling me. Whether it's … following me into a building when you've been told to stay in the car, or talking to an international jewel thief because you interviewed him for one of your books, you think it's okay to go ahead and let me know afterwards. Well, it isn't."

His mind flashed guiltily to the file sitting on his desk at home, but he pushed it away. Not the right time for that. "I know. And I'm sorry," he said instead, but for a moment wasn't sure what he was apologising for.

She stared at him. "You are?"

"Yes. Sorry that it upsets you. That I upset you."

"You didn't –"

"But sometimes I can go and get something out of a jewel thief because of who I am. For exactly the reason that I'm Richard Castle, best-selling author. And because they won't talk to you." He paused. "Besides, sometimes it's the only way I can get a reaction out of you." He was back to being immature, and he grinned widely to prove it.

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Because I like you."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

"And you like me." He smirked, just a little. "I've seen the looks you give me. When you think I'm otherwise engaged."

"I don't like you. I … tolerate you."

"Well, you know what they say, tolerate today, love tomorrow."

"They don't say that!"

"I just did." He loved it when her eyes flashed like that. "Besides, I'm not letting you know afterwards. You're in it, with me, right from the start."

"Believe me, that doesn't make me feel better."

"I could, though. Make you feel better. Just give me a few –" The phone went in his hand, saving some portion of his anatomy from being poked, prodded or tweaked, knowing Kate. "Hi, honey."

Alexis spoke quietly. "The diner round the corner from the school. She'll be there in half an hour."

From her clipped tone, Rick knew he'd pushed things, maybe too far, and it set up an ache in the area he'd always considered as his heart. "Half an hour. That's great."

"Oh, and I remembered who the other girl was, the one who goes out with Peter Trask. Her name's Rhiannon Docherty."

"Thanks, kitten."

"Don't. I'm not happy about this, Dad. I'm only doing it because of Keith, because I can't stand the idea of him ... lying somewhere."

"I know. And I'm sorry I had to ask."

"Yes." She disconnected.

He stared at the phone for a moment before sliding it back in his pocket.

"She'll forgive you," Kate said, wondering why she felt the need to console him as she pulled the car out into the traffic.

"Not sure I'm going to forgive myself," he admitted sadly.

---

The diner was of the traditional variety, used by a lot of the kids from Alexis' school once lessons had finished, grabbing a cold drink before heading off for home and homework. A polished chrome counter ran down most of the length, while the tables were covered in bright red and white plastic, blending in perfectly with the red seats.

They weren't difficult to spot, sitting opposite each other in the far corner, their heads dropped as they apparently studied textbooks. Wearing the ubiquitous jeans and t-shirts, the boy's had a picture of a heavy metal rock band currently popular emblazoned across his skinny chest, while Kazia had her back to the doorway, her long blonde hair caught in a ponytail.

Rick half-turned as they stepped inside. "There they are."

Kate nodded. "Now we play this easy."

"Hey, I'm just following your lead."

"If only that were true."

They made their way down the diner, sliding into the outer seats, Kate next to the girl, Rick the other side, keeping Kazia and her brother from leaving.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jerzy complained, his accent slightly more pronounced than his sister. "This table is taken." He winced as Kazia apparently kicked him.

"One sa policyjni!" she hissed.

"That's right," Kate agreed, sliding her badge onto the table top. "Cops."

"You speak Polish?" Jerzy asked, surprised.

"Not really. But most cops know what police sounds like in other languages."

"And we don't talk to cops." Kazia let the word fall in a sneer and deliberately turned away.

"I remember you, from Polidori's," the boy said, nevertheless, tension making his voice crack a little as if he'd only just got used to puberty. "You were talking about Keith."

He winced again, and Rick was pretty sure he was going to end up with bruises all over his calves.

"About how he's dead," Kate added.

The twins glanced at each other, and Rick had to try not to smile. They'd never make spies, either of them.

"Is he?" Kazia asked. "You didn't say."

"Mmn." Kate studied them. "You don't seem very surprised. Or particularly upset."

"Oh, I am."

"I mean, for someone who was apparently in love with him." If looks could kill, Kate knew she'd be the centre of a charnel house several miles across. "You haven't even asked how."

Kazia's chin went up. "How?"

"Someone drained his blood. All of it." Kate shook her head. "And then someone stole his body from the morgue."

"Stole it."

"Yes. You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork that creates. And too much paperwork makes me cranky." She looked at Rick. "Isn't that true?"

"It is," he agreed, playing his part. "Very cranky. So cranky sometimes she threatens to shoot me."

"But that's not just over paperwork."

Neither of the Bazylis were taken in.

"And you think this has something to do with us ... how, exactly?" Jerzy asked.

"You were Keith's friends," Rick said, looking from one to the other. "You must want to know what happened to him."

"Of course."

Kazia sent her brother another glare, then turned to Rick. "You're Alexis' father, aren't you?" she said, staring at him as if maybe she could read his thoughts from the back of his skull. "The novelist."

"Rick Castle." He smiled. "Nice to meet you properly."

"So this was all … what, a set-up? She arranged this?"

"Because I asked. She's worried about you."

Kazia scoffed. "I don't think so. Have you come to arrest us?"

"No. Just to talk," Kate said gently.

"You know you could be arrested," Kazia pointed out. "Just for talking to us."

"Why?"

"Because we said no. They asked, at the Embassy, and we said no."

"Kazia, as far as your Embassy is concerned, we just came in for a coffee," Kate said, smiling slightly. "And you two are here. Coincidence."

The girl gave a very unladylike grunt. "Yes. Such a coincidence."

"Let them talk," Jerzy said, apparently the more sensible of the two. "What can it hurt?"

"One poznaja."

"One nie poznaja wszystek."

"Zamykany."

Kate and Rick exchanged a look. They might not know what the siblings were saying to each other, but from the hostility between them it probably wasn't complimentary.

"Our parents have Diplomatic Immunity," Jerzy said firmly. "You can't arrest us."

"Why would we want to do that?" Kate leaned her elbows on the table. "Did you steal something?"

"Idiota." From the yelp Jerzy gave, Kazia had also kicked her brother again.

"That one I got," Rick said.

"Where's Keith's body?" Kate asked.

The girl shook her head firmly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why should we know?"

"You were clever, keeping your faces away from the cameras," Rick said. "Well, most of them."

"What?" Kazia now looked afraid, and she exchanged a worried glance with her brother.

"Yes. You missed one. As clear as day."

"It was night."

"High sensitivity." He knew Kate wouldn't mind him exaggerating, not this time. Considering not a word of this was going to turn up as evidence in court.

"And how did you know it was night?" Kate asked in turn.

"You said."

"No. I didn't." She leaned forward again. "Kazia, we know you took Keith's body. We just need to know where he is now."

Rick gazed at her. "He's not coming back, you do know that?" He kept his voice soft, talking to her like he talked to Alexis when she was little, when she was scared there were monsters under the bed. "Whatever you did, wherever you put him, he's not going to rise again. He's dead, Kazia."

Her eyes flashed, and she spat, "Przekrecaja was."

Rick glanced at Kate. "Did she just swear at me?"

"I think she did." Kate put her hand on the girl's arm, feeling the bones under the frail flesh, establishing a connection. "His father is grieving. How do you think he feels not only knowing his son is dead, but that his body has been violated?"

"He hasn't been violated!" Kazia insisted, but the fire that had burned a few moments ago was dying back. "He's going to live again. He has to." Tears slid down her cheeks.

"What the pathologist had to do to him ... he can't come back."

She seemed to fold in on herself. "Not true. It's not true."

Jerzy reached over the table but he couldn't get close enough. He looked at Rick. "Please?" he pleaded. "My sister?"

Rick slid out from the seat, Kate following, so that Jerzy could move in next to Kazia. He put his arms around her. "Shh. To jest w porzadku. Wszystek bedzie jest w porzadku."

"To bedzie nie. To nigby bedzie jest znowu. " She sat with her head against her brother's chest, muttering under her breath, only one word in a dozen in English and making sense. "Wrong place," they heard, then she started to shiver as if she was cold. "All wrong."

"Jerzy," Kate prompted. "Where's Keith?"

"We weren't doing anything wrong," he insisted, looking up, his pale blue eyes filling with tears himself. "We thought ... Keith ... he wanted ..."

Kate sat down, leaving Rick standing, unsure of what to do with himself. "Go on, Jerzy. Keith wanted what?"

"To live. To live again. To be happy."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Jerzy ..."

"Nothing he didn't want!" He held onto Kazia, who was crying silently. "He decided! To live forever!"

Rick took a deep breath. This wasn't something he'd expected, not at all. Everyone was geared up to catching a murderer, someone who'd kidnapped his victim, sucked every drop of blood out of his body with … what was the phrase? Malice aforethought? And now this?

Kate, on the other hand, hadn't shown more than a flicker of an eyelash in surprise. "What happened?" she asked.

Jerzy glanced at his sister, but she didn't move. "He ... Keith found the place. The warehouse. He said it was special. A special ... he used a word, I don't remember. But he wanted it to happen there."

"You killed him?"

"Not kill. We didn't kill!" the young man said strongly, then his voice dropped away. "He wanted to live forever."

"Without Liz?"

"That's what he said."

"Tell me, Jerzy."

It came out in halting words, his command of English slipping as he explained how Keith had convinced them to help. "Peter's father ... he's a doctor. A surgeon. He operates on hearts."

"A cardiologist."

"Yes." They could see Kazia was listening to every word, but she didn't interrupt. "He has a machine, a portable heart pump that he uses in demonstrations. Peter borrowed it." A look of disgust passed across his features.

"So it was Peter's idea?"

"No! It was Keith. All Keith. He kept saying he wanted to …" Jerzy swallowed hard. "He persuaded us."

Kate glanced at Rick, both of them remembering Elliot Trask saying Keith was more than capable of talking his way out of any trouble. Or talking someone into it.

Jerzy was still speaking. "I couldn't ... Peter put the needle in. I was supposed to but ... I was afraid. And when I saw it hurt, I thought ..." He went paler that ever, just remembering it. "It seemed to take forever but one minute Keith was talking, almost laughing, then ... he was quiet."

"We waited," Kazia said, so quietly they could hardly hear. "As long as we could. Waited for him to wake up, to show us the way. But he didn't, and it got light, and ..."

"We left him." Jerzy was crying, just another fifteen year old boy trying to deal with loss. "We didn't know what else to do."

"To jest dobrze, moj brat," Kazia said, comforting him now. "It's all right."

"Where's Keith now?" Rick asked, going down onto his heels so he could look into their faces.

Jerzy pulled himself together, wiping at his cheeks with angry hands. "We left him at Rhiannon's."

"Rhiannon Docherty?"

The boy nodded. "Tak. We couldn't leave him in that place, with the bodies of the dead, to be put into the cold earth and wake up alone."

"He won't wake up, Jerzy," Rick said.

"I know," he whispered. "It's too late now."

Kate felt something crawl up her spine, but all she asked was, "Where does she live?"

---

They couldn't arrest Kazia or her brother, of course. What Kate and Rick had done wasn't exactly illegal, not in the strictest sense, but any information they'd gained wouldn't be admissible in any court. At least something good had come out of it, and no matter what happened to him, Michael Neidermann would have some sort of closure.

They were driving in silence, each occupied with their own thoughts, Kate behind the wheel as usual. The trouble was she could see Castle out of the corner of her eye, and although he was looking out of the window she thought she could detect a slight sense of smugness about him. "Stop it," she ordered.

"What?" Rick looked round at her in surprise.

"Just stop it."

"Katie, I would if I knew what it was I was doing. Or are you complaining because I'm breathing? Only that's something I'm not giving up, even for you."

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Two things, Castle. One, stop calling me Katie or I swear I will pull over and shoot you. And two … stop thinking 'I told you so'."

"You know what I'm thinking now?"

"Yes."

"Hmmn. I have to admit, I've never considered making Nikki Heat psychic. I did have Derrick encounter one once, if you recall, which you would since you've read all my books. In Storm Warning. But I can't say the character was one of my best."

"Just stop."

He shrugged. She didn't even want to banter, and if that was the case, things were worse than he'd imagined. Maybe another tack was involved. "As it happens, I wasn't thinking 'I told you so'. If anything, I was wondering what made them go along with Keith over this. They must know they committed murder."

"Manslaughter. If it ever came to trial." She glanced at him. "Diminished responsibility, like Michael Neidermann." She exhaled heavily. "Anyway, they didn't think it was murder. Keith told them he wanted to live forever."

"You believe that?"

"That he told them?"

"No. That he wanted to live forever."

They'd pulled up at a red light, and Kate took the opportunity to half-turn in her seat and look at him. "What's that brain of yours suggesting?"

"Kate, look at it. He loses someone, loses them violently, a girl he wanted so badly that he didn't try and stop her going to Polidori's, that when she died he joined himself, just to be closer to her. His bedroom, that shrine, the roses … what does it say to you?"

"Obsession."

"Love. The desperate love of a teenager."

"This isn't Romeo and Juliet."

"No? You think Shakespeare wasn't writing from real life?"

The light changed and they moved off again. "All right. So he was in love. Not everyone decides to become a vampire just because they lost someone they loved."

"And maybe he didn't, either."

"Castle, we have a body. Okay, had a body, but we're going to get it back. This wasn't some cry for help."

"Oh, I agree. I think he meant it. With every last drop of his own blood."

Kate concentrated on taking a tight right corner, then spoke slowly. "You think this was suicide."

"What do they call it when someone makes a policeman shoot them? Suicide by cop? Maybe this was suicide by vampire wannabes."

"That's …"

"Bizarre? Oh, I'd agree with you there. But think about it. His father said he was getting better. Trask said the same thing, that he seemed to be getting over Liz's death. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was happy because he'd made the decision to kill himself."

She wasn't ready to shoot him down in flames, not yet. "Then why all this charade? The vampires, the blood … why not take all those anti-depressants he'd been hoarding? I should think three weeks worth would be enough."

"Because there are such things as stomach pumps, Katie."

She was so engrossed in what he had suggested that she didn't notice what he'd called her. "You realise there's no way we're going to know for sure."

"I know." Rick slumped back a little in the seat. "But you tell me the pieces don't fit."

"I hate to say it, but maybe they do." She turned the engine off.

"We're here?" He sounded almost surprised.

"We are." Opening the door she climbed out, feeling the early evening sun warm on her skin as she looked at the large building, immaculate grass lawns and well-tended bushes in front, the land dipping away fairly dramatically behind.

Rick quickly followed, reading aloud the sign hanging on the wooden frame. "Docherty's Funeral Parlour. Open when you need us." He shrugged. "It almost sounds welcoming, doesn't it? You know, come on in, pull up a chair, we'll bury you and you won't even notice the difference."

"It's for dead people, Castle."

"No it's not," he disagreed. "It's for the ones that are left. The dead are dead. They don't care if you put them in the ground in a solid gold coffin or toss them out with the trash."

"I'll remember you said that one day."

"When I'm gone, I'm gone," Rick continued as they headed for the double doors, panels of stained glass inset in the top of each. "They can have whatever parts of me that might be useful to someone else, but the part that's really me, the bit that looks out through my eyes? That's somewhere else."

"Heaven?"

"I'm not sure I've made my mind up about that yet." He dropped his voice as they walked inside. "I'm planning on taking a very, very long time before I have to decide."

A young man in his mid-twenties dressed a conservative but expensive black suit appeared from a doorway, the coloured light from the glass windows sending a kaleidoscope across his face before they realised the red hair was real, and brighter than anything they'd seen. Even Alexis' hair seemed pale in comparison.

"Good afternoon," he said quietly, his hands clasped in front of him. "My name is Patrick Docherty. Are you here to see a loved one in our chapel, or perhaps you have family arrangements to make?"

Kate fished her badge out of her pocket. "We're here on business."

His demeanour changed, his back straightening. He smiled. "I hope we haven't done anything wrong."

"That depends. Are you related to Rhiannon Docherty?"

"She's my little sister." The smile faded. "Nothing's happened to her, has it?"

"Is she at home?"

"No. At least, I haven't seen her today." Anxiety warred with annoyance. "What's she done now?"

"Do you have a storeroom? One that isn't used?"

"Well, there is …" He stopped. "What's this about?"

Kate hated answering a question with a question, but that was often the nature of police work. "Where's your father? Is there someone in charge we can speak to?"

He shrugged eloquently. "That would be me. My parents are at a funeral convention in Atlanta. Looking at all the new biodegradable coffins on the market, that sort of thing. They won't be home for another couple of days."

"And this storeroom. Where is it?"

"I didn't say there was one." Patrick Docherty wasn't being taken in. "Do you have a warrant?"

"Do I need one?" Kate countered.

"Maybe. If you don't tell me what this is about."

"Your sister knows a young man called Keith Neidermann."

Patrick's face clouded. "Yes. She did. He's dead." Then his eyes widened. "You don't think she had anything to do with it, do you? Rhee wouldn't. She couldn't."

"Patrick, we just need to see the storeroom," Rick said encouragingly, smiling faintly.

The young man looked unsure, then obviously came to a decision. "It's down here." He led the way into the shadows of a corridor, then to a doorway at the back. "This is the oldest part of the building. We don't use it anymore," he explained, taking them down a short flight of steps that could have been better dusted. "There's access from an alley behind, and I keep telling my dad he should convert it into a receiving area, rather than bring the deceased in through the front, but he won't hear of it."

"He believes people shouldn't be afraid of death?" Kate asked.

"I think it's more a case of he doesn't want to spend the money." He blushed as red as his hair. "But I didn't say that."

"And we didn't hear," Rick assured him.

They stopped outside a heavy metal door, and Patrick rattled the key fob, finding the right one. Finally he slotted it home, turned it. The door swung open silently. "We keep it oiled," he explained. "Although I can't help thinking, down here? It should squeal."

Rick grinned. "I agree. More … authentic."

"You stay out here," Kate said to Patrick, opening her jacket and pulling her gun. She glanced at Rick. "I'd tell you too, but you wouldn't listen."

"Of course not. Is that necessary?" Rick whispered, looking at the weapon seeming so at home in his partner's hands. "He's not likely to jump up and attack us."

"If he's here. But someone else might be around."

"Who are you talking about?" Patrick asked, but nobody answered as they went quietly inside.

There was no-one else. At least no-one alive. Kate lowered her gun, staring at the tableau laid out in front of her.

"Shit," Patrick said, having ignored Kate's order not to come in.

"Seconded," Rick breathed.

The room was exactly as Patrick had described it, just a store room, with metal shelving on two walls, and a large double exit padlocked from the inside. Just a store room. Except …

A table had been set up dead centre, covered with purple satin, a pillow of the same fabric at one end. A display of perfect white lilies reached up in supplication in a vase just beyond, while light was provided by four tall, heavy sconces, one at each corner, the flames of the thick cream candles moving faintly in the breeze from the open doorway. Wax dripped audibly onto the floor.

It was morbid, it was macabre, but it was also entirely in keeping.

"I'd better call it in," Kate muttered, her hand already reaching for her cell as she gazed on the last mortal remains of Keith Neidermann.