A/N - Hi everyone, Sorry for the slight delay. Hope you find it worth it. I appreciate all the favs and follows. We made it to 102 reviews, all of which are complimentary. Some are frustrated and some, well to the guest who liked the story, but found the long paragraphs hard to read, sorry, I'm not going to eliminate details. You can adjust the space between the lines so it's easier for you.

Anyway, this is a really long chapter. I thought about cutting it earlier, but I needed to give you wonderful faithful readers something positive.

As always, thanks to all the reviewers. You have made this so much fun!

Please enjoy this. I just finished writing this. Now, I'm going to get something to drink. I have a feeling you will need to relax too. ;-)

The Castle Wall

Chapter 19

The Light at the End

Beckett awoke where she had collapsed: leaning up against the wall, she was just so tired. She regularly went without sleep. Her job required it at times, but she couldn't remember being so bone-weary exhausted. So, she just stayed: crumpled, resigned, and alone. They had taken Rick. She squeezed her eyes shut. The wispy, floating images of him she had seen in her dreams were fading. The glimmer of light at the end of her tunnel was extinguished as fast as it had been lit. She sighed. She couldn't even cry anymore. The tears would not come. She couldn't think or feel. Silence, now, but a noise had woken her. She held absolutely still and waited for any sound. Nothing. She was alone. She couldn't trust her own senses. 'Wait,' she thought, 'they'd taken Rick.' A nagging voice in her pounding head said,' think about it, Beckett, how does this story make sense?' She identified the nagging voice's owner. It continued, 'they didn't open the hatch to get in.' She added, 'there had to be another way out.' She smiled. He even built theory with her in her head.

Kate, the one who had been kidnapped, victimized, felt weak and totally disoriented. She started to stretch the kinks out of her body. Detective Beckett, the one who was determined, stood and started blindly following the wall. 'Assess,' she thought, going back to her mental checklist. Whoever came and got him, came in through another entry, not the hatch. They were big, at least big enough to move an unconscious Castle. She could have dragged him if needed, but she had knowledge of how to use leverage and balance from her hand-to-hand training. So they were probably bigger than or at least as big as Rick. They could maneuver in the total dark. Hmm. How? Night vision goggles. She chuckled and then sniffed and brushed at a runaway tear as she realized that would've been Castle's theory. Focus. She came to the first corner of the dirt wall. Just like the rest of the wall, she stretched both up and down feeling every inch. She felt no openings. Her resolve was slipping. She stopped and struggled to control her panic by concentrating on her breathing: deliberate slow breaths. Closing her eyes, she pictured his face. Hard as she tried not to let it take over her mind's eye, that cocky photo from the back of the Storm books came swimming into view. It was not her favorite picture of him, no matter how iridescent and delicious his vibrant eyes appeared as they danced in the still shot. It didn't matter that his lips, turned up slightly in that cock-eyed smirk, whispered that he knew a secret. The photo was effective, but not her favorite. Her preferred picture was of the two of them, a truly candid photo taken by Lanie, no posing or primping. He was looking at her and she at him, as they danced an impromptu dance at The Old Haunt, all the love they felt unmasked and evident in the dim lighting at his bar. A perfect moment captured. The funny thing about that shot was that it was taken about a year and a half before they started dating. She tried to summon the poignant image, to displace the ever-present obnoxiously confident Castle book jacket shot to no avail. 'Okay, if I'm stuck with you,' she thought, 'you cocky, optimistic bastard, help me get out of here.' She continued her search.

"But I don't need my rights. This is just a big misunderstanding. I really just need to speak to Richard." She stared directly at Gates, her eyes wide and pleading.

Victoria Gates sat across from a woman who had lost any and all connections to reality. She was sure of it. She took a deep breath and met her gaze. "Mister Castle is not in the building at this time."

"But, I saw him. He was outside." Stoddard's voice rose as she became more frustrated.

"Ms. Stoddard, I'll need you to remain calm, please." Gates raised her eyebrows, but not her voice

"I'm sorry, sorry. Can I just talk to Richard, please?" She rubbed her palms over the tabletop, forward and back, exactly eight times.

Gates noted the compulsive movements and had an inspiration. "You know, you can tell me what you need to tell him and I can make sure he gets the message." She smiled at the woman, put both her hands on the table, slightly tilted her head to the right, and looked directly at her, but not too intensely.

Stoddard seemed to relax a bit as she unconsciously read the captain's carefully projected body language. She stared at her hands for a long while. Gates, who generally was not the poster child for patience, was becoming exasperated and was about to try a new tact when, without preamble, Stoddard melodramatically slammed her fists down onto the table and shrieked, "They took my stuff! They took all of it! All the pictures, books, and everything! I want it back and since Richard works with you and because of our special relationship, I thought he could help find the people and get it all back. I have been collecting it for so long. It is mine, not theirs. I want it back, I need it back." She ended her tirade glaring at the captain, but not really seeing her.

Gates eyebrows shot into her hairline and she sat back a couple of inches in reaction to the sudden verbal onslaught. She held her hands up in defense instinctively. When Stoddard finished, Gates formulated a plan of attack. Stoddard came into the station because she felt her possessions had been stolen. In fact, all of the items that she had described, and more, were currently down the hall in evidence. Stoddard could not fathom that the police would had taken her collection. In her mind, she was a robbery victim, not a perpetrator capable of murder. Multiple murders were not the reason she was there. Gates scrutinized Stoddard. She took a deep breath before she continued. Gates could agree with her and take her side in an attempt to make her open up about Thomas Wagner, Mandy Griffin, and possibly Janet Marlowe. Her stalking of the Castles, no matter how extensive and profound it had been, would be secondary or tertiary to murder and conspiracy. "That's awful," she began in a consoling, sympathetic voice. "Everybody is entitled to his or her things. What was taken from you?" She began quietly, to gain her trust and see how much she was willing to divulge.

Stoddard looked into Gates eyes, measuring and determining if she could let her in on her secret. "I have a collection," she began quietly. She described her collection in detail, down to the color ink Castle had used in each instance that he had signed a book for her. She described the video cameras and watching Alexis. The offhanded remark, "That pretty little girl could have stayed with me when he went out of town." Gave Gates goose bumps and made her queasy. As horrible as this ordeal had been, it could have been so much worse. Gates absorbed it all, making notes, appearing to fill out a citizen's complaint when in fact she was building evidence to convict Stoddard on the stalking charges. She looked up when Patricia described the copy of Frozen Heat and it's inscription, 'To Alexis – A brilliant woman with a brilliant name. – Rick Castle'

"Why did he sign it to Alexis?"

"Oh," her eyes lit up, "It's our game." She clasped her hands together and held them over her heart. "I have always used a family name since I suggested it in our letters. I know he likes it. He talks to me more when I use a name he knows instead of just dull Patricia."

"Your letters, you write to him?"

"Oh yes," she offered eagerly, but her face quickly darkened. "He doesn't write back though. He works too hard," she said, proudly. Gates was having a challenge keeping up with the mood swings this woman was revealing. It was as if she was slowly tip toeing her way through a minefield.

"Which book was it and to whom did he sign it at the park on Saturday?"

"Hmm?" She got a wistful look in her eyes as she remembered. Her hands reenacting her handing the book to him and receiving it back. "Oh, Heat Rises and…Kate," her whole demeanor changed. She was suddenly tense and uneasy. Gates waited her out to see if she gave voice to her apprehension. Stoddard continued in a low voice that was dissimilar to the easygoing conversational voice she had used when describing her possessions; it was edgy, chilling, "Why does she have to be with him?" He has enough material now. She needs to go away."

"Who needs to go away, Patricia?" Gates established a first name rapport with the woman when she opened up about her collection.

She looked up and directly in Gates' eyes. "The detective."

"Detective Beckett?"

"Yes."

"How would you make her go away?" The captain, excited and sensing a breakthrough, reminded herself to tread lightly. She gripped the sides of her chair.

Patricia traced circles on the tabletop, repeating the same pattern with her fingers. "The same as that girl at the park. Thomas…" She started but her eyes glazed over as if remembering something.

"Patricia," Gates prodded, cautiously, "What about Thomas?" Gates brought her hands back to the tabletop and loosely laced her fingers together.

Stoddard closed her eyes and pressed her lips in tight against her teeth. She began to breathe deeply in and out through her nose. Gates could hardly hear her as she began again. "Thomas hurt Richard." She regarded Gates, her eyes, agitated, wide. "I told him not to. I warned him." Her voice continued to rise and she scraped the fingernails of both of her hands across her thighs. "Why did he hurt him? He knows how I feel. He let me down." She smashed her fist onto the table. "He said he loved me, but he knew how I felt about Richard. He did it on purpose. He was weak and pathetic," she sneered.

"Patricia, do you know that Thomas is dead?"

She looked directly at the captain, "Of course," she began and the continued apologetically, "he was weak and he didn't listen to me," she talked calmly, conversationally, as if they were old friends catching up on their lives. "I said not to hurt Richard, but he did, he…he was jealous, so I had to make sure he would never hurt Richard again."

"How?" Gates prompted.

"I smothered him," she said as her eyes focused on the memory instead of being here in the room with Gates. "I went to his room and let him know how disappointed I was. He was no good to me anymore." Her voice trailed off. Gates had goose bumps crawling up and down her arms that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Stoddard looked at the table and hid the slight smile on her lips. Gates swallowed and closed her eyes, certain that she had lost her to her mania, but then Stoddard started speaking again. "Thomas killed the girl who was seducing Richard," she said flatly.

Gates sat shocked for a millisecond and then produced a picture of Mandy Griffith from the file. She slid it across the table to Stoddard. "Is this her?" Patricia nodded. Gates scowled as if in deep thought. "Did he know her? Why would Thomas want to kill her?"

More silence as Patricia studied Mandy's face. Gate's toe started tapping.

"No, he didn't know her. He killed her because I told him to."

Liam Buchanan slowed his blue Ford van as he came to the crossroads. He turned on his signal to make the turn. "Damn it," he muttered. The sheriff's car was sitting there. The sheriff always seemed to be watching them. Liam felt like he could not make a move without seeing the son of a bitch or one of his deputies. This game of his was becoming tedious. He pulled past, not making eye contact. Buchanan made sure that he followed all the laws: no speeding, turn signal. He appeared to have gotten by and crested the hill about a quarter of a mile from the crossroads when he noticed the cruiser in his rearview with its lights flashing. He knew better than to run from it so he pulled the van to a stop on the side of the road. Liam sat in the driver's seat, waiting for the sheriff to come forward. It was an unusually long wait this time. He had been pulled over by this sheriff numerous times: he knew the process. Liam could feel his patience wearing thin.

Sheriff Kevin Callis could not believe his luck. One of his quarries had just driven by him. The question was should he wait the ten minutes for the New York cops or detain the elder Buchanan and keep him separated from his baby brother. The plan specified that he ought to let it play out, that he should wait for the detectives. His gut said to arrest the bastard before he met up with his brother. Take them down one at a time. They were less formidable apart. He turned on his lights, but not his siren because it would echo and may alert Joe. Liam pulled the van over. Callis decided to make him sweat a bit, making note of every detail.

"Kate!" Castle yelled her name repeatedly. His mouth had not been taped this time around. Beckett liked to point out that he definitely knew how to use his mouth...for talking. 'God, he thought, shaking his head, 'he needed to get out of here: even he was grimacing at his own innuendo. He could not stand up nor could he use his arms or hands, but he could yell. It was painful, to be sure. His cracked rib made each breath misery. "Kate!" He barked, lack of water and the continuous shouting was taking a toll on his throat. He continued anyway, hoping, praying Kate or someone would hear him. "Kate! Oh please, help, help us! Anybody? Help!"

Joe Buchanan greedily eyed his prey through the goggles. He frowned. This would be no fun. She was unconscious. He liked to feel the terror and helplessness. He started toward her. She was hunched up against the far wall. Pathetic. This was the great Nikki Heat. Just like Castle to embellish the truth. He stopped. There was a noise from the tunnel. Making an annoyed face, he turned away from Beckett, made his way back to the fissure, and slipped through. He took the goggles off outside the room and dug his light out of his jeans pocket. He could have navigated the multiple turns and twists in this labyrinth in the dark. He and Liam had the tunnels memorized. "Kate!" Castle's contemptible and ineffective whine was getting louder as Joe crept closer to his prison. The room he was in was tiny; Liam picked it because of the restriction it placed on Castle's movements. "Kate!" 'God,' he thought, scornfully, 'We should have taped his mouth again. The asshole never shut up.' "Kate! Oh please, help, help us! Anybody? Help!"

He turned off his light, secured the goggles back over his eyes, and soundlessly slipped into the room and remembering the low ceiling, bent down. It had been a while since he had been in here. It still smelled like the body. Liam brought Castle to this room to separate him from Beckett. "Kate!" He watched Castle through the goggles. He sat in the dirt, helpless with his arms bound. Joe considered just smacking him to shut him up, but where would the fun be in that? He slowly reached up and took the goggles off of his head, simultaneously switching on his mag light. He shone it directly in Castle's face.

He left the turret lights flashing as he and his right hand deputy Doug Houser approached the van. He unclipped the restraining clip on his holster and held his hand on his gun, ready to draw. Doug did the same. They approached both sides of the van and could see Liam in his rear views. "Liam?" Callis called when he reached the quarter panel of the driver's side of Buchanan's van. "Step out of the vehicle…now." Nothing happened. Callis had lost sight of Doug, who was on the other side of the van. He called out, "Doug?"

"Yeah," the answer came immediately.

"You got eyes?" Callis' way of asking if he could see the suspect.

"You bet, chief."

"You equipped?" Callis' speak asking Doug if he had his weapon drawn.

"On it, chief." Houser unclipped and drew his nine millimeter. Callis did the same.

"Liam Buchanan, step out of the vehicle with your hands where we can see them." The driver's door cracked open. Liam poked his head out and slid out of the seat. "Get on your knees and put your hands on your head." Liam complied, but kept his derisive countenance directed toward Callis. The two men never broke eye contact. Doug came around from the other side of the van, weapon still drawn. Callis kept his preferred weapon, a forty caliber Glock 22 trained on Buchanan's head while Doug put him in handcuffs.

Liam's eyes narrowed. "Jesus, Callis, what's the charge? Did I run a friggen stop sign?" He sarcastically asked. Liam and Joe had been targets of this particular sheriff for quite a while. He continually hassled them about one thing or another.

"No charge yet, Liam, just suspicion…and a warrant. Callis signaled and Doug began his careful scrutiny of the van.

Esposito, Ryan and their entourage pulled off of the highway about an hour and a half ago and had been travelling the winding mountain roads of the Catskills. They had made it to Denning and quickly made it to the crossroads where they were meeting the sheriff. They saw that flashing emergency lights on the side of road.

"Javi, that's the van," Ryan said, pointing to the blue van currently being searched by the locals.

"Yeah, it is." Espo looked like it was feeding time at the zoo. "Let's join the party."

He pulled his cruiser to a stop behind the sheriff's car. Ryan called the captain to make her aware that they had reached their destination. When Gates wanted to be in the loop, her detectives knew damn well that they should keep her in the loop. He spoke to an officer, left a message, and turned to Esposito, "Gates is in the box with Stoddard."

"Whoa, I'd like to see that tape when we get back." There was a predatory and hungry look painted on his face at the prospect. "It'll be like watching a prize fight."

Ryan raised one eyebrow and smirked, "Yeah," in agreement. "Let's see what we've got here."

The two got out of the cruiser, Espo had his hand on his Sig. Ryan called, "Sheriff Callis?"

The man with his gun pointed at the suspect waved his left hand. "Over here." The two other cars from the twelfth pulled up and six uniformed officers and two other cops in plain clothes exited their vehicles.

Esposito and Ryan made their way to the sheriff and introduced themselves.

"Glad to make your acquaintance," Callis said. "This is Liam Buchanan," gesturing to the man face down on the pavement. "This is his van. I believe it's the one that you're looking for."

"Pretty sure it is, Sheriff." The detectives turned to the newcomer.

"Detectives Ryan and Esposito, this is Deputy Doug Houser, my right hand." The boys shook hands. "Doug, what do you mean?"

The deputy smiled, "We got 'em. Those sons of bitches, we got 'em. There's blood all over the back of that van, pieces of duct tape," he paused for dramatic effect, "and this." He held out an IPhone. "It's got a lock on it, but I'm guessing it's the writer's."

Ryan pulled out his phone and pressed Castle's icon to place a call. Immediately the IPhone started playing an obscure song called Milk and Honey. Esposito chuckled and Ryan rolled his eyes and screwed up his lips. "That's Castle's," he acknowledged. "I'm betting that it's Castle's blood, too," he said indicating the floor of the van.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Callis added. "Well detectives, this is your case. Joe's at the house, we have visual confirmation. How do you want to proceed?"

They secured Liam in the back of Callis' car. Callis called for the other two cars to meet them where they were at the crossroads. After all the introductions, Esposito briefed the entire cooperative team on their suspicions and a plan of attack. Callis' deputies offered tactical information regarding the house and grounds, including the newly observed underground entry that Deputy Wilson reported.

"Underground?" Esposito asked for clarification.

"Yeah, um, he just opened a hatch, dropped in ah, a ladder, and kuh, climbed down." Mark Wilson, nervously explained to the New York cops.

Ryan grimaced, "to where?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Could be a dry well or a storm cellar," offered Reynolds.

Sheriff Callis looked at the sky. "We're losing the light; I think the hatch is our best bet. Why the hell would Joey go down there, if that wasn't where he was keeping them?"

Espo nodded, "Agreed. I still want teams to clear the rest of the property."

Callis met his eyes. "Fair enough." He rubbed his eyes and signed the paperwork to have the van moved to impound.

Their plan in place, the city cops, and the rural cops, got back in their cars and headed toward the Buchanan farm.

Castle slammed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of light. He was too late: he was effectively blind. "Who's there?" He demanded. "Joe? Jesus, Joe, let us go and I'll see what I can do with the police." He listened for a response: nothing but footfalls. Panic rose in his throat and he began to breathe heavily. He got up on his knees. "Jus, just tell me why? What did I ever do? Oh God." Tears threatened to spill from Castle's eyes as he thought of how he had let down Kate and Alexis. He shook himself and cleared his mind, 'damn it, think.' He was not done yet. "Joe, um tell me about this place." Maybe if he could get him talking, he could buy some time. Delay the inevitable.

"Shut up," Buchanan spat.

"It reminds me about the place you wrote about, where the girl was left in your first book."

"God, can't you ever just shut up?" Castle could hear that he was truly agitating Buchanan.

"What really happened to her? Did you lure her out here and leave her here? Did she make you mad? How did she really die? Is your work of fiction really an auto-biography?" Castle pushed and needled. He was stalling, for what, he did not know, but words had always been his escape, maybe it would work now.

"It was Liam," Buchanan's voice was low, dangerous. Castle had prodded the sleeping lion.

"What do you mean? Who is Liam?"

"I've told you. Liam is my brother." He was silent. He still held the light steadily in Castle's face.

"Is he an older or younger brother?" Castle really didn't care, but he needed to keep him talking.

"Liam is my older brother. He killed her." Buchanan's voice was almost inaudible. "He raped her and wanted me to, but I didn't."

Castle's mind raced. It was creepy, the calmness in which Buchanan spoke. "Good, that's good, Joe," Castle encouraged.

"No," he screamed, "no it isn't! You self-absorbed freak! You should always be there for your brother! At all times!" All traces of calm were gone.

"Even if your brother is hurting someone?" Castle yelled back at him. He knew he was pushing. He didn't relent. "Did Liam hurt you, too?"

The light, which was still in Castle's eyes, temporarily swung down as Joe's backhand, made contact with his face. Castle, who was still on his knees, smacked into the wall. He struggled to right himself. He cringed when he felt Buchanan's breath, hot and moist right next to his ear. "He did what he had to do to teach me. Don't ever say anything against my brother. You have no idea what we had to do to survive."

Castle licked his lips and continued. "What did I ever do, Joe? Why am I here? I thought we were friends."

"Friends?" He paced as best as he could in the cramped chamber. "You self-centered arrogant bastard! Friends with you?" Castle heard him take a ragged breath into his lungs. Then he was quiet. After a long moment, he continued. "You did nothing, but cut me down, tell me I wasn't good enough, that my stories were too dark, that your's were better, that you had everything and I had nothing, that I didn't have any talent…" He stopped his tirade suddenly. Castle's mind was desperately trying to recall any conversation they had had which might have been misinterpreted. There was none. Buchanan's sick, damaged mind had latched onto Castle and made him the root of all of his psychosis. Rick's heart pounded in his chest. He was pulled from his thoughts as Buchanan pulled him up by his bindings. Castle's head crunched into the ceiling, he felt a new stream of blood trickle down his forehead. Buchanan got behind him, pushed him through the opening, and roughly guided him through the tunnel.

Castle stumbled along in the dark, pushed from behind every time he slowed. He caught glimpses of the tunnels from the erratic swinging flashlight in Buchanan's hand. His throat was dry and he had trouble swallowing. "Joe," he said, trying to get the man to talk again. His answer was a mind-numbing crunch to the back of his head from his flashlight. It brought Castle to his knees again. Buchanan hauled him up by the tape and pushed him forward. They struggled along for what seemed like an eternity to Castle until he crashed into bars. "Whe, where are we going?" Castle asked. Buchanan pushed Castle back and held him against the wall. He opened the gate, shone the light right under Castle's face and answered. "I'm going hunting."

The answer chilled Castle to the bone. He was desperate to come up with some sort of plan. If he were incarcerated here, no one would ever find him. Hunting? He was relatively sure that he was the quarry. Buchanan grabbed Castle to shove him forward through the gate, but as soon as he was in front of Buchanan, Castle threw his head backwards and head butted Buchanan in the face. He quickly turned and used all of his remaining strength and tackled him. He had dazed him; blood was trickling from his broken nose. 'Assess.' Castle looked around the tunnel and tried to make out any features in the dim ambient light of the flashlight, which was now aimed at the ceiling. He could not go back the way they came. That was certain death. He continued to survey his surroundings. His heart leapt. Through the gate, there were stairs.

"Oh my God," she said quietly. She found it. There was an opening in the room. She berated herself for not having found it earlier. They might have escaped. She forced all second-guessing and regret from her mind. It was time to go. She squeezed through the crack and eased into the darkness, feeling in front of her with her hands, taking cautious, probing steps with her feet. She kicked something with her toe. Beckett reached down and felt the floor. It was a pair of goggles. She slipped them over her eyes. Instantly, she was able to see. She made her way along the corridor. It was eerily quiet. Beckett came to a crossroads she peered down all three choices. It appeared lighter in the tunnel to the right. She cautiously headed through it, whether it was her salvation or doom, she did not know.

Espo and Ryan led the team around the house. They, Callis and Houser were led to the hatch by Wilson where he had seen Buchanan descend. The other teams were dispatched to the house, barn, and grounds. The hatch was open and they approached it quietly. The ladder was still propped against the side.

Ryan whispered, "What the hell," while lying next to the hole and making a sweep of the tunnel with his flashlight. "Clear," he said. They descended the ladder and surveyed the room. It had concrete walls, ceiling, and floor, and a drain in one corner. There was an archway cut into the earth that led to a tunnel, unlike the room, these walls and ceiling were dirt. Esposito estimated from the climb down the ladder that the ceiling was a good ten feet below the surface. The crept through the tunnel single file. Esposito followed by Ryan, Callis, and Houser. They stationed Wilson outside the entrance to prevent an ambush from behind.

Esposito raised his left hand in a fist. The team came to a halt. He looked behind him with one finger to his lips. He had heard something. He aimed his flashlight to the floor, needing the element of surprise if they met Joe Buchanan. They stayed there, frozen in their spots as they listened to the footfalls getting closer. They were erratic and stumbling coupled with shuddered breathing. Whoever this was, they were injured. Espo saw a shadowy form come around a corner. He cautiously raised his light and yelled, "NYPD, freeze!"

Kate instinctively held her hands over her head, but yelled, "This is Beckett, badge number 41319, don't shoot, I'm unarmed and alone!"

Ryan rushed past Esposito and shone his light on Beckett. He hugged her, followed by Esposito.

Callis cleared his throat. "I hate to break up this reunion, but we still got a killer on the loose and we still don't have Castle."

"Castle, oh God, Javi, Kev, he was with me and they took him." She started sobbing, the toll of the ordeal crashing down around her. She turned to head back down the tunnels.

"No, hey, no, no, Beckett," Ryan said as he grabbed her. "We've got this; we'll find Buchanan and Castle. You need to get…" His words were interrupted by three rapid successive gunshots echoing from the other side of the barn.

Kate's eyes grew wide as she screamed, "Castle!"