Author's Note: I'd like to thank MaineCastle, southerngirl1, and phnxgrl for their reviews. We're starting this chapter a little after the last one ended. Enjoy!

Chapter 12

Mrs. Conklin looked like she'd spent the morning crying when she let them into the apartment. Beckett looked around, noticing an eclectic mix of modern and comfortable furnishings and decorations. The Conklin home told Beckett that the couple lived modestly for the most part, striving to ensure that their home was functional first. The widow offered them seats on the worn sofa and sat herself in the armchair within easy reach of the tissues.

"Did you find something?"

Beckett nodded. "Yes, that's why we're here. I have some more questions, and I'm hoping you might be able to help me."

"I don't understand. I thought John was killed in that explosion this morning."

"Unfortunately, I think he may have been a part of causing it. Has he been acting strange lately?"

Mrs. Conklin shook her head, still stuck on Beckett's first sentence. "There's no way he was involved. That's not the kind of person John was."

Beckett leaned forward. "Mrs. Conklin, I don't believe he was a willing participant. We do know he was the one who welded the manhole covers shut…"

"No, you're wrong."

"Mrs. Conklin, we have him on video and there are welding burns on his arms. I'm sorry, but he was the welder."

Castle leaned forward, speaking softly. "We don't think he did it voluntarily. There is a strong possibility that he was forced to be involved. That's why we need your help. He may have unconsciously broadcast something. In the last few days, can you think of anything that seemed out of character? Anything at all?"

She grabbed a tissue. "I tried to call him at work three nights ago and he didn't answer. I asked him the next morning and he just said he was away from his desk. I didn't think anything of it."

Now that Mrs. Conklin was talking, Beckett jumped into questions. "Did you notice anything on his body?"

She shook her head. "He'd sleep during the day. For the last few days, he wouldn't let me go into the bedroom while he slept. He said he was stressed at work and needed his sleep, so I didn't question. I never saw the burns you mentioned."

"What about bruises?"

"What bruises?"

Castle straightened up slightly. "He had several bruises on his chest that suggested he'd been in a fight recently. Do you know anything about that?"

Mrs. Conklin shook her head. "No, he never said anything about a fight." She blew her nose. "Did I not know him at all? None of this is making any sense."

"I know this is a shock. I've been in your shoes; I know how overwhelming all of this can be."

"Who have you lost?"

Beckett swallowed to try and stop her tears. "My parents. The hardest part is trying to understand why. Closure will come, justice might, but why is sometimes elusive." Beckett handed Mrs. Conklin her card. "We may return with more questions, but if you think of anything else, please give me a call."

She nodded. "Okay."

In the elevator, Castle pulled Beckett into his arms. "We'll figure out who's responsible."

Beckett returned the embrace briefly. "It's Karpowski's case right now."

"I've never known that to stop you before."

"Yeah and every time I threw myself headfirst into my mom's case, it almost destroyed or killed me. I can't repeat that pattern with my dad's."

Castle nodded. "I understand. We'll get through this. And when you are ready to pursue his killer, I'll be right here. I promise."

Ryan waved them over when they walked in. "The Conklin's were living paycheck to paycheck, and no large payments came in recently. If he was in debt, their bank account doesn't show it."

Castle turned to the board. "Maybe he was getting loans from a shark for his gambling. That would explain the lack of a paper trail."

Esposito nodded. "CSU came back on those bits of paper. Castle was right; they are chads from a race track betting site. I've been putting together a list of known bookies who deal with horse racing. Maybe Conklin worked with one of them."

Beckett turned to Esposito. "Has CSU given their report on the evidence from the scene yet?"

"Not on everything. I asked about the cover and they said the welds on that one were weak because of subsurface porosity, slag inclusions, and incomplete fusion. An experienced welder wouldn't have made those errors."

Castle took down the photo of the manhole cover. "What causes all that?"

Esposito leaned back in his chair. "The subsurface porosity is little cavities in the metal that you can't see because they're beneath the surface."

Castle tilted his head in agreement. "Hence the name."

"Slag inclusions are non-metallic stuff that gets in the middle of the weld. Some of these slag inclusions can cause the subsurface porosity."

Beckett raised her hand. "Like fluids from vehicles, that sort of thing?"

"Exactly. Dirt, plant debris, rubber particles from tires; if it gets on the road, it could end up around the manhole cover."

"What about incomplete fusion?"

Esposito held up two fingers. "Both subsurface porosity and slag inclusions contribute to incomplete fusion."

Gates had been listening to their conversation from her office doorway. "So because Conklin was making these welds quickly, and without proper training, he didn't do them well."

Beckett nodded. "That led to the manhole cover getting blown sky high."

Gates took a step into the bullpen and leaned against her doorframe. "So why was that cover the only one to break the welds? He had to be making the other welds just as quickly."

"I can answer that." Ryan had turned his chair around to face the group. "Three nights ago he called in sick to work. Normally he reports at 11pm and goes until about 8am. Dawn that day was 6:45am, so he only had a few hours to weld all the covers shut without being seen. The covers at the other end of the street had five two-inch welds. The last couple only got four."

Gates nodded. "Because he was running out of time, he made fewer welds and they were done very quickly."

"This might help too." Castle had Esposito pull up a clip he had just emailed from his phone. "I just looked it up. This is from the Mythbusters episode I was talking about earlier. This small scale test shows what happens in a deflagration." He gestured as the video played. "The gas starts burning here, but the pressure is here. Now obviously in this clip the manhole covers weren't welded shut, but in our case, until the pressure reached the weaker covers it had nowhere to go. Once it got to that faulty cover, the pressure was released. None of the other covers needed to break their welds because there was a pressure release point."

Beckett took the photo of the manhole cover from Castle and returned it to the board. "Has CSU finished their analysis of the sewer yet?"

Esposito shook his head as Gates returned to her office. "Not yet. I'll keep checking."

"Good." Beckett checked her watch. "I've gotta go. I'll be back in a couple hours." She grabbed her coat and headed for the elevator.

The boys turned to Castle for an explanation. "She has an appointment with Dr. Burke."

Ryan's brow creased. "Still? It's been six months."

Castle became defensive. "She feels that speaking to a therapist is helping her to heal. I don't care how long it takes as long as she's healing."

"Sorry man, I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised."

Castle waved it off. "It's okay. The subject is just a little touchy, that's all."

When Beckett left the therapist, her emotions were a little raw. The last few sessions had been fairly easy to get through, but this one had been rough because she'd realized that Thanksgiving was coming up in a few days. The reality that both her parents were gone had sunk in by now, but the little things like birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries were tiny reminders of the emotional sucker punch she'd been served six months ago. She sat in the car with her eyes closed, taking deep breaths to slowly put the armor she needed at work back on.

After a moment the armor was in place and Beckett pulled out of the parking space. Her journey back to the precinct saw her running the case in her head. The thing that bothered her most was the location. Castle's theory that it was a dry run made sense to an extent, but it was still a perplexing question. Of all the streets and sewer pipes in the city, why that pipe under that street? Beckett made a mental note to pull up the sewer system map when she got back. Maybe if they could see how the system worked in relation to the city, they would have a better understanding of the motive.

Beckett pulled into a spot near the precinct and sighed. Reporters were loitering on the sidewalk outside the front doors again. As a cop, she'd dealt with her fair share of media hounds scratching at her heels for quotes, but today the crowd outside the precinct was bigger. No doubt they were here for Conklin's murder; the strangeness of his demise and 1PP's tight lips demanding that the wolves go somewhere else for their sound bite.

She took a deep breath and readied herself for the barrage of questions. A part of her wanted to call Ryan and Esposito down to help back her up, but she disregarded the idea. She was perfectly capable of dishing out a few "no comments" and "we can't release anything at this time." No need to pull them away from their work. She had exited her car and was almost across the street before the hounds noticed her and swarmed the detective.

"Detective! Where are you on the investigation?"

"What can you tell us about the victim?"

"Can you confirm there was an explosion at the crime scene this morning?"

"Why won't the Brass tell us anything?"

"What was the cause of death?"

"Is the FBI going to be called in to investigate the bombing?"

"Is it true a manhole cover was the murder weapon?"

"Why are the Brass trying to keep the public in the dark?"

"Was the bombing this morning part of a terrorist attack?"

Beckett remained stoic. "The investigation is still young. At the moment, we don't have anything to release."

She had almost reached the door when one more reporter called out a last question. "Can you comment on your father's murder at all?"

She powered through the doors and bee-lined for the elevator. The car arrived and she boarded it alone. In truth, she was glad for the brief amount of solitude this gave her. How dare that reporter ambush her with such a touchy subject? Didn't he know what she might be feeling? By now the media was very familiar with her story. Bracken's arrest and subsequent trial had been as big a story as OJ's trial. After all, her mom's murder and the lengthy investigation had been on newsstands and in the news for months. The defendant had been a US Senator of all things! Of course the story would be big.

She took a stuttering breath and blew it out. On a normal day, she probably would have been able to handle that question better, but after the session she'd just had with Dr. Burke, that question stung. She wiped a rogue tear off her cheek and struggled to rebuild her crumbling armor again. She had to stay strong for a couple more hours. Castle would see the pain, he knew her too well not to notice, but she couldn't afford to break down just yet. They had a victim to speak for.

Meanwhile...

The "reporter" walked away from the crowd satisfied. Detective Beckett hadn't verbally responded, but the tightening of her jaw, the way the muscles of her neck had stood out, and the sudden rigidity of her spine had spoken volumes. The subject of her father's death was still a very sore subject for her, and that was what his employer had hoped for. As long as she reacted badly to being reminded about it, she was in the headspace his employer wanted Detective Beckett to be in.

He made a quick call. "She's still hurting. How do you want me to proceed?"

His employer's sophisticated tongue was thoughtful. "I am working out the rest of her punishment, but the next step has not been decided yet. Just maintain surveillance for now."

"You got it boss." The "reporter" hung up. The Gentleman knew what he was doing.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Leave a review below!