A/N - I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who has commented, favorited, followed, and stuck with this story. You make me feel so good. I don't know if you're aware, but this is actually my first fan fic. I have finished others, but this was the first published. Your kind words and especially the theories of what will happen next really spur me to keep going. Serial reviewers (you know who you are) You're incredible! Thanks so much!

The Castle Wall

Chapter 14

Missing Pieces

He glared at the murder boards. Stark, white and unforgiving. He looked at the faces. Gina. Janet Marlowe. Mandy Griffith. Thomas Wagner. He closed his eyes. It was here. It was right here. He was missing it, the final puzzle piece. He needed to clear his mind. He leaned up against the edge of Beckett's desk scrubbing his hands over his face and back through his hair. He let his palms come to rest covering his eyes.

He didn't hear Espo or Ryan as they approached. "Hey Castle," Ryan shouted eagerly, "Oh man, you've got to come see what we found!"

"Yeah, bro. This will make you feel better." Espo chimed in. They led him back to the small conference room where Ryan had been combing through the videos.

"So, I went back before last Thursday on the tapes," Ryan began. "Mostly it's your family, the housekeeper and doorman and then Beckett, pretty regularly," he smiled conspiratorially and winked. Castle caught it and grinned back.

"Anyway," Espo continued, taking on the role of grown-up, "in addition to them we have," he stopped and indicated the screen. Ryan hit the play button and a figure came into view. He was wearing the same hoodie as the mysterious second letter writer or deliverer. All three friends watched the video. Espo and Ryan traded a significant glance when the guy tried the door, was scared away from it by something. He started down the hallway, stopped and looked back and directly into the camera.

Recognition dawned on Rick's face and he whispered, "Son of a bitch."

She came back from her walk to the grocery store and found that there was still a cruiser parked across the street from her apartment. 'That's odd,' she thought. 'They usually didn't hang around after a drug or vice bust.' She stopped at the corner. A couple of women she had seen in the neighborhood passed her, whispering. She had a feeling and it was not a good one. It had been a while since she had to endure the whispers behind cupped hands, the stolen glances and accusations. The paranoia began like a small tinny tapping noise, gradually rising, getting louder until it was all she could hear. Patricia held her hands over her ears, and turned down the alley. She looked up and down the alley, before climbing onto the fire escape ladder. It was not hard. She just walked up the stairs to her living room window. It was locked, but she had to get away from the judgmental eyes that she now saw everywhere in the street. She grabbed a flowerpot, checked the alley again and thrust the pot through her window. She held herself still, listening. She did not hear anyone or anything save the muted city noises and the tapping. Patricia shook her head, trying to clear the noise unsuccessfully. She pushed her hand in the jagged hole to slide the lock on the window frame, cutting her arm in the process. She pulled the gashed limb back out of the window. She felt strangely detached from it as the crimson liquid flowed down her arm to her elbow where it dripped steadily onto her sweatpants. She watched as each drop soaked into the gray fabric, leaving tendril patterns that snaked on the pants. It was fascinating. A noise in the alley below pulled her back to her task. She scrutinized the area of the sound, her gaze darting through the alley like a ping-pong ball. It was a cat. She sniffed and shook her head to clear it. When she scraped her hand across her face to clear the fog impairing her vision, she became aware of her bleeding arm again. She dismissed it, wiped it on her pants, and opened the window.

Patricia climbed into her own living room, straightened herself up, looked around and immediately noticed things out of place. She perceived every minute detail. Details that were just a little bit off. Her desk had been ransacked. To her anyway, anyone else would have seen the bills neatly stacked and organized, but she saw that they were slightly askew. She slowly walked through her apartment noting an open cabinet in the kitchen, a towel out of place in the bathroom. Her bedspread was wrinkled. It was never wrinkled. She surveyed her bedroom for further damage. She crossed the shabby rug to the closet. Where were her locks?

Patricia's hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she would have sworn that the temperature dropped suddenly judging by the goose bumps mutating her smooth arms. Her collection! She swung open the door to her closet and looked around. She took a few halting steps into the room and yanked on the string attached to the light. Gone! Her whole collection was gone. Her books, her photos, the letters, the videos, everything. Everything she had of him was gone. She spun once and then twice, trying to comprehend that it was not there. Everything was gone. The room started spinning on its own. The tapping reached its crescendo. Patricia screamed and collapsed in a heap in the center of the empty closet. The closet was dark when she came to. She tried to stand up, but stumbled. She was light-headed and disoriented. She made her way to the bathroom. It was darker. She estimated late in the afternoon, but not yet sunset. She considered her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothing disheveled. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her red-rimmed eyes were sunken and vacant. She had been violated. She opened the top vanity drawer. She pulled out a brush and pulled it through her hair. She would go see him. He worked with the detective. They would listen to her story and catch whoever broke into her home and stole her collection, but first, lipstick.

"I mentored him." Rick sat in the conference room, staring at the screen. "I mean, I actually sat down and discussed his technique, his story ideas. I taught him how to self-edit." He shook his head, in confusion and betrayal. "Unbelievable!"

"I ah, interviewed him at the park crime scene yesterday." Espo added, "He seemed like a cool dude."

Ryan shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "Castle, is there any chance that this is an elaborate prank?"

Castle's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Seriously? Ryan, you read the note. Who the hell jokes around like that?" He snatched the note off the table and read, "You're done. You're dead. You're all dead. Who pulls this kind of prank?"

"Hey bro," Espo intervened, "look, we know, it's serious. Just that we've known you to joke around," he looked at Ryan for assurance, "and he needs to make sure that this isn't some lame-ass hoax gone sideways."

"Yeah, Castle, I didn't mean anything by it." He held up his hand and scrunched up his lips, "Sorry, man. I'll send a car to pick him up now."

"No Ryan, it's...I'm sorry," he puffed out a chortle, "I'm most likely more irritated because I haven't eaten, just like," he blinked, "...just like Beckett said." He looked around, rising and then down at his watch. "Speaking of Beckett, did either of you see her come back?"

"No," they answered, in unison. Ryan looked at his watch while Espo glanced over at the break room. Castle picked up his phone, opened his favorites, and pushed her icon. He listened, shook his head and said, "Voicemail."

"I'll call Remy's," Ryan offered.

Espo went into the large conference room and asked if anyone had seen her. He returned to Ryan and Castle and shook his head. Ryan joined them and reported, "Terri said she left with her order about thirty-five minutes ago."

"It's a five minute walk," Castle said.

"Yeah, I know."

The three of them looked at each other for a half a beat. They all were thinking it, but no one wanted to say it. They grabbed their coats and headed to the elevator. Ryan and Esposito stopped long enough at their desks to collect their guns. Castle tried to reach her on his phone again.

They exited the elevator on the ground floor. Castle shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Nothing," he said to the others. They exited the front doors and descended the steps. Castle looked both right and left down the street, before joining the boys headed south towards Remy's. He was trying so very hard not to panic. Maybe she ran into someone she knew and stopped for coffee. Maybe they gave her the wrong order and she doubled back, no, Terri would have told them. He was running out of alternate theories. His mind kept coming back to the stalker's threats. Phrases like 'All you ever have to do is say the word and I can take care of your problems.' or 'I would do anything. Absolutely anything.' and 'She is worthless now; you've used her as much as you can so just dump her before she traps you.' were drowning out any rational thoughts.

He followed Ryan and Esposito down the block. They could see Remy's sign through the next intersection. No Kate. It was colder and getting dark. The sun had set a few minutes ago. Castle was running now: panic and fear fully engulfing him. He lost that battle as they neared the diner.

They reached Remy's and looked through the window. No Kate. Ryan went in and talked to Terri. No Kate. Espo looked around the outside of the restaurant, back to the alley behind by the dumpsters. No Kate. They re-grouped outside on the sidewalk in front of the diner.

"Terri said she headed back up the street toward the precinct." Ryan said as he nodded in the direction they came. Castle searched the immediate vicinity with his eyes. No Kate.

Esposito pulled out his phone and called the precinct. He checked with L.T. on the fourth floor and the desk sergeant one last time to see if she had returned. He shook his head to Ryan and Castle who were watching him hopefully. No Kate. They began to jog back towards the precinct. Castle was acutely aware of his surroundings. Hyper-aware. He fished out his phone and hit re-dial again. Esposito slowed as they came upon a pocket park. These little parks littered the city. They were a half of a lot of green grass and may have benches or play equipment. They were the brainchild of some previous parks commissioner. This particular one had a bench that faced the street and a birdbath nestled on a stone patio in front of the bench.

Espo stopped, put a finger to his lips, and asked, "What is that? Is that Hot Blooded by Foreigner?" They stopped and listened.

Castle heard the song he had programmed into Beckett's phone. It was his ring tone on her phone. He had programmed it over her objections, but he knew she appreciated the joke; she had not changed it. "It's her phone."

Something caught Ryan's eye as they searched for the source of the music. He walked over to the bench and bent down. "Guys," he called. Castle and Esposito joined him. He had found a bag full of Remy's hamburgers and fries. A drink carrier with three chocolate milkshakes, the fourth shake, a strawberry one, was only half-full, lying on its side. Just behind the bench was Kate's purse and cell phone. Castle reached down for her phone, but Ryan caught his hand. He sighed, "It's a crime scene."

Esposito sighed, dialed the precinct again and told the officer on the phone, "Detective Kate Beckett is missing." He gave instructions about APBs and patrols. Castle only half heard what he was saying.

Pounding. Her head was pounding. She opened her eyes, but it did her no good. She was sprawled on a cold floor in total darkness. She sat up and evaluated her situation and herself. Except for the pounding, she didn't seem to be injured. There was quite a painful lump on the back of her head. Try to focus, Kate, she told herself. What happened? She tried to stand and found that she was still a little dizzy. She sat back down as a wave of vertigo and nausea hit her. Okay, she thought, reconstruct. She went to Remy's, got their food and headed back to the twelfth and then nothing. How long ago was that? She checked her pockets: no phone, her hip: no gun. It couldn't have been for very long, she wasn't hungry. The few sips of strawberry shake were still sustaining her. She felt around on the floors. Concrete and dirty. She stood up cautiously, wiped her hands on her coat and strained her eyes for any lessening of the darkness. She stretched her hands over her head. Well, at least she wasn't in a box. She couldn't reach the ceiling. She reached directly in front of her. No wall. She tentatively took steps forward until she felt a cold wall. It was not concrete. It was earth. She had to be in some sort of root cellar. In New York? She questioned the conclusion. She left her jacket on the floor to mark her beginning spot and followed the wall. She mapped out the four corners. It wasn't very big, maybe ten by fifteen feet. She didn't find a door, hatch, or window right away. She had to have been put in here somehow. She completed the circuit, got back to her jacket, and put it back on. It was damp, cold, and dark, very dark. Once she understood the room's size, she tentatively started exploring the center, feeling around for anything to help her escape.

"It has to be Patricia Stoddard."

Castle had his arms folded, leaning against Kate's desk, shaking his head. "No, Espo, if Beckett has taught me anything in the past four years, it's that you can't assume you know the correct answer just because it fits the story. Is she the most probable? Yeah, duh, but we shouldn't stop looking at other possibilities too. Kate doesn't have the time. We need to work it from all angles."

They had arrived back at the precinct after CSU finished processing the scene where Kate was most likely abducted. Espo called Captain Gates, who was on her way in. An APB had already been issued for Patricia Stoddard earlier that day, but now with this update, she would be pursued relentlessly.

"Got the feed." Ryan burst into the argument. He had been on the phone getting any traffic cam footage. All three huddled around his computer monitor as he pulled it up. He quickly ran through the video until he approached their time window, just before sunset.

"There she is!" Castle exclaimed, pointing at Kate's image on the screen.

"Yeah, but she is just on her way to Remy's at that point." He fast-forwarded again. "There she is coming back. I lose her just before that little park."

"So we don't have video of the actual attack." Captain Gates stated as she walked into the bullpen. All three men turned to face her.

"Not yet," Ryan replied. "There's an ATM across the street. It may have picked something up. I'm waiting on a warrant right now."

"Which Judge?" Victoria Gates was a patient woman, but there was no excuse for waiting on a warrant when one of her people was in danger.

"Marchetti," Ryan answered and before he closed his mouth she was closing her door and on the phone. "Cool," he said turning around to Esposito, "we'll have it within the hour. Where's Castle?"

Espo headed out of the bullpen, "He stepped away after the video. I'm going to find him." Espo motioned for Ryan not to follow, "I've got this, bro. Stay and wait for the video." Ryan nodded.

He should have grabbed his jacket. He was standing on the steps, off to the left of the doors, out of the way. It was colder, now that it was dark. He liked it. The bitterness bit at his exposed skin as brutally as his guilt bit at his conscience.

"It's not your fault." Esposito walked down the steps to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

Castle was already denying the statement. "If I had just gone with her…"

"You both would be gone."

"Are you saying that I couldn't take Stoddard?"

"No, I'm saying we don't know what's happened." He raised his eyebrows. "Are you saying that Beckett couldn't take Stoddard?"

He hadn't thought of that. He looked at Espo.

"There has to be something we don't know. Kate would have taken that bitch down."

"Okay, but if I had been with her maybe the odds would have been better."

"Maybe, but bro, I didn't go with her either, neither did Ryan. This is unproductive."

Castle turned toward his friend, "Javi," he began.

Esposito caught the look of desperation and helplessness in Rick's eyes. He didn't make him say it. "I know. I'm scared too, but we'll get her back, I promise."

Castle assessed Esposito. He believed him. Rick rubbed his hands up and down his arms amidst the tremors from the chilled air. "Let's get back to work." He smiled with more assurance than he felt. They started up the steps, but halted at the sound of his name.

"Richard? Richard Castle? I need your help."

They both turned. Shock. Disbelief. Rick blinked his eyes, willing the apparition in front of him gone. He had lost it. He was totally hallucinating. He nudged Esposito, who also was stunned and unmoving. He forced his jaw closed. It was still hanging open at the sight before them. "Espo?" He waited for a response. Nothing. "Javi," he asked not taking his eyes off the woman in front of them, "is it just me or is Patricia Stoddard standing on the steps of the twelfth precinct?"

That seemed to bring Esposito out of his wordless silence. He blinked and cleared his head while reaching for his gun. He un-holstered his Ruger smoothly and aimed it at Stoddard. "Patricia Stoddard, put your hands in the air and don't move!"