A/N - Merry Christmas! Ta-da! My gift for you - a new chapter! I actually got this done before the holiday, I didn't think I would. (I probably should have been doing some sort of prep work, but this is so much more fun!) Thanks again for all the reviews which equal warm fuzzies. I surprised you last time with some twists and turns. I think you all will enjoy this chapter also. Some questions get answered. Phew. Have a wonderful holiday, whichever holiday you celebrate! Enjoy peace & the warmth of family & friends. - Cheers! GeekMom

Only 13 days until the winter hiatus is over! (Gleeful shouting & dancing)

The Castle Wall

Chapter 15

Hurry Up and Wait

Kate woke abruptly. She did not remember falling asleep. Panic started to rise in her throat. It was still dark, but as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed that she could make out vague shapes. Either it was getting light or she was becoming a creature of the night. Oh my God, Castle. He was in her head even when he wasn't around. She allowed herself a smile at the thought. She and Castle did have some sort of connection. He was acutely attuned to her and vice versa. They had aligned over the years. She stood up and started identifying the objects she could only imagine last night. Last night, if it was last night. Kate had lost all sense of time. She thought there was some sort of roughhewn table in the middle of the room. She made her way and, wait, was it actually still getting lighter? If she could identify the source of the light, maybe she could find a way out. The ceiling was quite high and that was where the light was emanating. There was a gap between the ceiling and wall in the far corner. She made the height of the ceiling to be about ten feet. If she could move the table, maybe she could get herself out.

"Patricia Stoddard, put your hands in the air and don't move!" Castle stood there, his mind unwilling to accept that their quarry had willingly walked up to them. He blinked a few times. Esposito was busily locking Patricia's wrists in carbide steel.

"Richard?"

Someone was calling his name, but he was unable to speak. He was vaguely aware that Esposito was leading her up the steps.

"Bro, you okay?" Espo asked when Castle failed to follow.

Shock, he had felt this before. He needed to breathe. "Uh, yeah, I'll be up in a minute."

"Richard?" her voice was pleading, "I need your help."

Really? He could not comprehend what she was saying. Espo led her into the precinct. His help? His help, she needed his help. He tried to slow his breathing down. He bent over, took some deep breaths and slowly stood back up. The fog that was his body's reaction to the shock of seeing her here was beginning to clear. He started up the steps, still shaking his head.

Ryan was feeling a little put off by Javi asking him to stay here. Castle was his friend too. He stared at the mail icon on his computer screen. He was waiting for the ATM video. They had gotten a warrant quickly after the captain had persuaded the judge that haste was necessary. The elevator pinged. Ryan glanced up, expecting to see Castle and Esposito. A woman got off followed by Espo. No Castle. Ryan went back to his vigil, but then did a double take. He rose, looked at the white board and back to the woman. She was in handcuffs.

"Espo? What the hell?"

Esposito shook his head and didn't stop. He took her right to the holding cell. He closed the door and walked back out to the bullpen. He walked over to Ryan who was standing next to his desk.

"But, wasn't that?"

"I know."

"How?" More of the officers, detectives had congregated wanting to hear what was going on.

"Dude, she walked up to us on the stoop outside and asked Castle for help."

"What?" Captain Gates joined them. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know," Esposito still wore a shell-shocked look on his face. He had no explanation to offer.

"Where's Castle?" Ryan asked.

"Oh man, the dude is totally blown away. He needed a minute."

"I still don't understand. Why would she come here?" At that moment, the elevator doors opened to release a weary, baffled, astonished Castle.

"Where is she?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"Mr. Castle," Captain Gates began, "you won't be interacting with this suspect." He started to protest but she cut him off. "At all." There was no mistaking that tone. She meant it. "You are one of the victims," he winced at the word, "in this case and your involvement with the interrogative portion of the investigation will begin and end at your statement. Am I clear?"

Rick opened his mouth, a knee jerk reaction on the tip of his tongue, but then thought better of it. "Yes, sir. But Captain, what about Beckett?"

"We're going to get to the bottom of that in just a minute." Victoria Gates was hard. She was tough, smart, and ambitious and he knew, from his own brushes with her, determined. She would not let anything jeopardize attaining all the information she could from Stoddard, getting Beckett back and getting indictments and convictions for all of her crimes. He was content to let her lead the charge.

"Detective Esposito, I want you to let her stew for a while. I want you to lead the interrogation so please be prepared. I do not want her to plead out or make a deal with the DA. You get a confession, are we clear?" Her eyes were clear and driven. Her expression: unwavering. She was not going to lose this one.

"Yes…"

"Captain? I just got the ATM footage." Ryan interrupted from his desk.

Ryan forwarded through the footage until just before the time window. Castle, Esposito, Gates and several other cops stood around Ryan's desk. He pushed play. All four of them watched the playback. It was grainy and as it was focused to capture activity within a few feet, the image across the street was blurry. Castle knew better than to get his hopes up, but it was part of his nature. He was optimistic, even on his darkest days; there was usually a glimmer of hope.

"And there's Beckett." Ryan's voice broke through his musing. Castle examined the image on the computer screen. It was fuzzy. He sighed. You could barely make out Beckett. Then it happened. All four of them startled when the assailant seemingly came out of nowhere. He hit her from behind and she was knocked to her knees. He dragged her deeper into the park, behind the bench, held something, a rag, over her mouth and she went limp. The man stood, surveyed the area to make sure no one was there to witness, bent down and picked up Kate and disappeared into the gathering darkness of the park.

There was no sound, not even breathing. They had collectively held their breath. The captain was the first to break the stunned silence. "Ryan, see if you can get this enhanced. Also, check to see if there are any traffic cams on the other side of that park. He had to exit somewhere. I do not think this was random. Thoughts?" She expectantly looked at all three of them.

"I'll check the surrounding blocks' videos. If he took her any distance, he would have needed a vehicle."

Espo added, "It's disappointing that we can't see his face, but," he expounded, "I've seen that hoodie before."

Castle stood up, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Do you think it's the second letter writer?" He could feel the glimmer explode in his chest.

"I think it's worth following up. We know who left that letter under your door."

"What is this?" Captain Gates asked.

"When we watched the psycho's…"

"Suspect's," Gates corrected.

Espo pursed his lips and continued, "Yeah, the suspect's video of Castle's hall we ID-ed the guy who shoved the letter under his door."

"What?" Gates asked, "Why are you still here? Get going, if it looks like the same man…"

"Captain, we didn't have the connection until we saw the ATM footage. The letter writer was on the back burner to Beckett's disappearance," Ryan offered.

"Who is it?" She demanded.

Castle spoke up, "It's Joe Buchanan." He gave further details, "He is an up and coming author. I looked over some of his earlier manuscripts and offered suggestions at the behest of Black Pawn. He said that he had been a fan of my work for years. I thought we had a good working relationship, although we are no more than acquaintances. I have no idea why he would have sent that letter or attacked Beckett."

"Well, let's find out," she turned to her detectives, "get a warrant and search his place."

"What about Stoddard?" Espo asked.

"Make no mistake, detective, she will be dealt with, but our priority right now needs to be Detective Beckett. Get going."

"Yes, sir," was the simultaneous reply and both of the detectives picked up their phones to start the process.

Things were happening fast and yet too slowly for Castle. They had identified Buchanan as the prime suspect in Kate's abduction but now had to wait to get a warrant to search his residence. He sardonically thought that the wheels of justice turned a little slower at the break of dawn on a Monday morning. He paced, not able to concentrate on any one thing, his eyes involuntarily and repeatedly contemplating the door of the lockup. He flitted from desk to desk. He walked to the break room, started to fix coffee, went back to Beckett's desk, empty-handed to write down another note about Buchanan. He was puzzled. There was no indication, which he could recall, of anything but a mutually respectful working relationship with the young man. Castle racked his brain for any indication that it was anything else. He tried to be honest with himself; did he do something to elicit such a venomous response? Nothing. He looked around for his coffee, made a face and went back to the break room. He was absently stirring his coffee and rubbing his ribs. It hurt to breathe. God, everything hurt, but he didn't have time for it. He turned to return to the bullpen, grunted in pain and nearly ran into Lanie. The ME came up to check on the progress the boys were having in retrieving her best friend. She saw Castle staring into space and came in to check on him.

"How're you holding up?"

"Oh," he said surprised, "I'm okay." His face said everything but the word 'okay'."

Lanie pursed her lips, "Mmm hmm, I don't think so. When's the last time you took any pain meds."

"Lanie…" Castle began.

"I don't want to hear it, writer-boy. How are you supposed to be helping to get Kate back if you can't even breathe…?"

Castle advocated for himself, "I can bre..." She cut him off with a glare. Lanie was incredibly perceptive. Unlike Perlmutter, she had an affinity for the living and preferred their company to the dead. She was a great sounding board or a swift kick in the ass if she judged that you needed one. He could understand why Kate liked her so much. Castle liked her too, even though he couldn't get away with anything around her. Maybe that's why he liked her.

"I'm not buying, so you can stop selling."

"Lanie, I need to keep a clear head."

"I'm not saying take the whole drugstore, just an ibuprofen." She held out her hand. She came prepared with the pain meds. Resigned, he took them out of her hand, popped them into his mouth and downed them with his coffee. He turned his head back to her and opened his mouth for inspection.

"Nice. Now get back to work,'" she ordered and strode out of the break room. Castle followed in her wake.

Espo handed Castle his jacket, "Just got the warrant, come on." Castle handed his coffee to Lanie and joined Ryan and Espo in the elevator. Hope.

Kate squinted at the crack in the ceiling. She was winded from moving the heavy wooden table across the uneven rough floor. She estimated that it had taken her the better part of a half an hour. It was finally in place, the closest she could get to the crack. She hopped on top of the table, stretched her arms above her head, but she still was short by about a foot. Now that she was closer, she realized that it was indeed a hatch. She tried jumping for it. Her fingertips brushed against the wood. She jumped again. It moved.

Patricia Stoddard stared blankly at the floor of the holding cell. She did not know why she was here. She had approached Richard, but as usual, he was with someone else, the Hispanic detective and he handcuffed her. She had to get out of this room to see Richard; she needed his help. Why did he ignore her? She had to get out now. She tested the strength of the door; locked. The wire walls were also too strong for her to get through. She threw herself up against the door to no avail. She sat back down on the bench, frustrated, and began to rock forward and back. She curled her knees up to her body and hugged them, her hands fisted so tight that her fingernails dug into her palms drawing blood from several half-moon lacerations. She did not notice.

Castle sat in the back of Ryan and Esposito's cruiser, vaguely aware of the passing scenery. Everything was wrong. He felt like a rock, jagged and spiky, tossed around in a tumbler, with no control, no direction. He had never been so out of control of his own life since he became an adult. Life with Martha was unpredictable and as a child, he often felt totally at someone else's mercy. It was not a feeling he liked. He worked very hard to have a handle on all aspects of his life, not to let circumstances surprise him. That had all gone to hell this weekend. Not only that, but he had to come to grips with his mishandling of, well, of everything. As he ran a hand through his hair, his shirt cuff scraped across the still raw abrasions on his face. "Damn it," he grumbled.

Espo looked at him through the rearview mirror. He nudged Ryan and nodded his head toward the mirror. "You okay, Castle?"

"Yeah," he said not wanting to get into a long discussion.

"Good, we'll need you at one hundred percent if this Buchanan dude is there."

"Do you guys really think he's got Beckett?" He had been around this a thousand times in his head. It didn't make sense, not that any part of this story did.

"It's what it looks like," Ryan encouraged. "Either way we have him on the threatening letter, we'll break him on Beckett. The guy on the footage certainly could be him."

Esposito slowed as he took the last corner and then parked the car. They waited for the back up.

Captain Victoria Gates had never made it a secret that she did not approve of Richard Castle shadowing her best detective. When she took over the twelfth, she kicked him out. That was over a year ago. He weaseled his way back onto her homicide team. Over a year later, she had to admit that in addition to being noisy, distracting, and a general nuisance, he was genuinely helpful most of the time. There was just something about him. She shook her head as she sat behind her desk in her office. She had been going over all the aspects of this case. It certainly appeared that they had Stoddard dead to rights. There was overwhelming evidence that she was guilty of the murder of Thomas Wagner and complicit in Mandy Griffith's murder and in Gina Cowell's assault. They had yet to connect Janet Marlowe. She had examined the evidence gathered from Stoddard's apartment. It was chilling. She held no great love for Mr. Castle, but begrudgingly, she accepted him as a part of their team and she could only imagine what it must be like to find out that you, your family, friends and even your co-workers have been stalked for many years. There were pictures of Castle and his family, but also pictures of her detectives outside of the precinct, at crime scenes, at his bar. There was even one of Gates. They both appeared to be exiting the precinct at the same time. It was not flattering of her. Castle was holding the door open for her and she was shooting him a look of contempt. She did not remember the incident, but she made a mental note to try to be kinder and more appreciative in the future. She shook her head again. The last thing she wanted to do to before Stoddard's interrogation was to review the video from Castle's hallway. She headed to the conference room.

The sun was fully up but it was cold. Autumn had taken a firm hold in New York. Castle watched morosely as leaves fell lifelessly to the sidewalk. Esposito surreptitiously glancing in the rear view every few moments. Their back up arrived in the form of four uniforms in two marked cruisers and two detectives from the twelfth: Karpowski and a new guy, Reynolds, in an unmarked car. After strapping on their vests, a briefing from Esposito, and a discussion of strategy, they moved towards the apartment building, Castle behind the detectives, the unis deployed to the front and back of the building. According to the DMV records, Buchanan lived in half of the first floor of a brownstone that had been converted into apartments.

The team crept up the cement steps. The steps curved back toward the building on either side and were framed by decorative brick walls, which posed as planters. Espo opened the door and the squad leap-frogged down the hall until they came to apartment 1B. Ryan tried the knob, but it was locked. Espo took up on the left with Reynolds on the right. Ryan was ready to kick in the door and Karpowski poised with her service weapon, behind Esposito. Espo held up three fingers and silently counted down by dropping one finger at a time. When he dropped his final digit, Ryan kicked in the door. Shouts of 'NYPD' were heard from all of the detectives, followed by 'clear's'. It was frustrating. Buchanan wasn't there. Rick was still in the outer hall. He heard a noise behind him and thinking it was a uniformed cop, he casually turned. He stopped short and gaped at the intruder. Joe Buchanan's timing sucked.

The two men stared at each other. Castle regained his composure first. "Joe, we need to ask you some questions." He cautiously approached Buchanan. Buchanan looked like a tightly coiled spring: fear, and panic in every nuance of his body language. Castle held his hands, palms up, in front of him. He kept eye contact, but tried not to let the toll of the weekend show in his eyes. "Come on, Joe, let's go and have a cup of coffee and talk about this." Castle knew that he should have called to the team, but he couldn't see a way to do that without spooking Buchanan. "We can go, just the two of us, and just talk."

"Talk," Buchanan sneered, "that's all you do. You talk and talk, but you never say anything. You are so fake!" His voice had started to rise. Castle hoped someone inside would hear him. Buchanan continued: his voice a sickening falsetto as he mocked Castle. "Oh, look at me, I'm mister wonderful, mister I know everything, and you are dirt. I don't have the time for dirt." He rocked his head from side to side for emphasis.

"Joe," Castle began, scowling, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from.

"No! No more talking! And you don't get to call me Joe. We're going for a walk." Seemingly, from out of nowhere, Buchanan produced a hunting knife. He gestured to the entranceway waving the knife.

"Now, um, Joe, uh, you want to think about this. There are cops all over the place. Let us not get anyone hurt today. Just put the knife down." Castle swallowed, trying desperately to replace some of the moisture that swiftly disappeared from his mouth, all while trying to appear calm. Fate was with Buchanan that morning as suddenly a gunshot cracked through the relative quiet of the neighborhood. As the uniforms outside ran into the adjacent alley, Buchanan led Castle out of the front door and down the street. Buchanan glanced behind him to see if anyone was following and Castle saw his chance; he pivoted into Buchanan's path, hitting him low, but misjudged his momentum. Buchanan overcompensated and in regaining his balance, he slashed Castle's forearm with the knife. He pushed Castle further down the street and into the back of a blue Ford Econoline van. Buchanan jumped in after Castle. Castle was lying on the floor of the van and kicked Buchanan as he jumped. Buchanan backhanded Castle across his face; his college ring aggravating Rick's already bruised face. Rick was dazed. He felt his arms yanked behind him and duct tape wound around his wrists. Buchanan rolled Castle onto his back and applied a strip of the tape to Castle's mouth. Rick purposely made eye contact with Buchanan.

He scoffed, "You don't scare me mister big shot," he shook his head, "you're worthless, you know it?" He paused to lick his lips and kick Castle's ribs. Castle grunted as he heard one of the previously bruised ribs snap. Buchanan made his way to the driver's seat. "Don't look so upset," he said to the rear view mirror, "we're going to see Beckett."