Beckett ignored Dr. McCormick's protests at once again being locked in the interrogation room from the moment she entered. Her hands clutched at the file of useless information, eyes locked on McCormick as she waited for Castle to sit down before following suit.
"My detectives are going through your files," she informed the shrink. "They'll find whatever you were looking for."
Dr. McCormick sighed, head tilting back against his chair. "I wasn't looking for anything," he argued. "Nothing bad, at least."
"So you were looking for something?" asked Castle. "What was it?"
Another sigh, a deep breath as the doctor shifted in his seat once again. He pressed his hands against the metal tabletop, leaning forward, open and honest.
"I knew from the crime scene photos that there was no way the killer escalated directly to murdering Antonio Chavez that way, so there must be another victim. I figured that if I went through my files, I might be able to find someone who fit."
She sucked in a breath, swallowed in a feeble attempt to disguise it.
That was exactly what her precinct was in the middle of doing.
"And?" she prompted.
"And I found someone. His name is Oliver Malone, and he was arrested for assault about three weeks ago," said Dr. McCormick. "A psych evaluation was ordered to assess the cause of his rage, and we learned he had a severe phobia of needles."
She nodded, silently urged the doctor to continue.
"He was found dead of a drug overdose about two and a half weeks ago...with multiple needle marks."
Oh. That was promising. Castle seemed to think so, too, since he was already pushing himself from his seat, mumbling about how he was going to find Oliver Malone's file and have the team look into his death.
But he stopped before he could reach the interrogation room door, Dr. McCormick's voice echoing through the room.
"Wait."
"What?" she asked.
McCormick took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to answer. "There's one problem with Malone being a victim." He paused, eyes falling to his fidgeting hands. "I didn't do his psych evaluation."
She slapped the image onto the murder board, scrawled the cause and time of death beneath it in shaky handwriting.
"Victim number one, Oliver Malone," she told Castle.
"We're sure?"
She nodded. "I had Lanie look at the ME report and crime scene photos. The MO matches, death caused by the victim's biggest fear and she noticed pale ligature marks on his ankles and wrists. She's sure it's the same guy."
Castle swallowed at that, shoulders sagging with the deep breath he took. "So, Dr. McCormick-"
"Is no longer a suspect," she finished for him. Disappointment clouded his eye, at the words, and she forced herself to look away before it could worsen the ache in her chest.
A messy version of her handwriting wrote alibi below McCormick's picture.
She could feel Castle staring at the back of her head, the board, the word as she wrote it.
"So we're back at square one," he murmured.
She turned back to him at that, reaching out to rest a hand on his elbow, ease the tension in his shoulders.
"No, babe, we're not," she said. "Actually, we finally have another suspect."
His eyes went wide, bright and blue and filling with hesitant hope. He stared at her, glancing at the murder board only briefly, and shifted his arm until her arm fell to her side, the guise of professionalism returning.
"The doctor who did Malone's psych eval?"
She smiled, nodding her head. With her free hand, she reached past him to swipe a second image from Ryan's otherwise untouched desk. That one ended up on the murder board right next to the picture of Dr. McCormick.
"Dr. Angela Payne," she said.
"Well, with that last name…"
She rolled her eyes. "Not why she's a suspect, Castle," she reminded him. "Dr. Payne is a new employee. Her work is currently being supervised by McCormick, which is why he had access to Malone's file, and she has access to all his files, including Chavez's and Burton's."
"So, are we going to pick her up?"
Despite the worry lingering in her chest, she smiled. "I already sent someone to bring her in."
Dr. Angela Payne was fairly young, for a shrink. Young and nervous, picking at her fingernails from the moment the interrogation room door had closed behind her. She stared at her hands, occasionally letting her gaze trace the walls, eye the security camera in a corner of the ceiling until finally giving in and yelling into the silence.
It was only then that he and Beckett slipped into the room, calming the doctor's shouting protests at being locked up.
"Three people are dead and two of my detectives are missing," said Beckett. "Your comfort is not my top priority."
Dr. Payne's eyes went wide, panicked. "D-dead? Three people are dead?" She paused, jaw going slack as realization seemed to dawn on her. "Is this about Dr. McCormick?"
"Not anymore," said Castle. "Not unless you made it about him."
"Me? How could I- You think I did this?"
Beckett leaned over, brow hitched in question as Angela's attention shifted from Castle to her.
"Did you know Oliver Malone?" asked Beckett.
Dr. Payne frowned. "Yes," she said. "I- Dr. McCormick and I did his psych-"
"What about Antonio Chavez?"
She nodded. "Yes, but-"
"And Lora Burton?"
"Yes, her too, but I didn't kill them," said Dr. Payne. "I knew them through work, saw each of them once, for their psych eval, and that's it."
Castle swallowed thickly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then how would you explain the killer's knowledge of all three victims' psychological health, information you were privy to?"
"I don't know," answered Angela, voice growing louder. "But I didn't kill them. I would never kill anyone."
"Well then," said Beckett, "do you have an alibi for two nights ago, from eight through to the next day?"
Dr. Payne nodded, rushed the movement, stuttering her response. "O-of course I do," she said.
Castle took a deep breath, tried to calm his racing thoughts. But she couldn't have an alibi. She was their best lead, their only lead.
"Two nights ago, I was on a double date with my boyfriend and our friends, and the next day I was at work."
"Is there any way I can confirm this?" asked Kate, her words suddenly laced with quiet disappointment.
"Yes. I-I have pictures." She reached down, tried to grab her phone only to be reminded that it had been set aside prior to her entry to the interrogation room. A uniform officer was the one to bring it in.
Dr. Payne unlocked the device, tapped the screen a few times before handing it over to Beckett.
It only took a glance for him to realize her alibi was confirmed.
His breath caught, burned as he sucked in a shallow, shaky breath. Anger welled, his hand slamming against the table as he pushed himself to stand.
He charged from interrogation, into the break room, slamming doors closed behind him as he went.
It only took Kate a few seconds to follow. He heard the door click shut, the rustle of blinds as she drew them closed, the click of her heels as she stepped towards him. Her hand landed on his elbow, the other smoothing down his back, calming his racing breaths.
"It'll be okay, Rick."
He wanted to believe her, but last time they'd dealt with a serial killer... it had turned into a four-year cat and mouse game that had culminated in his wife almost being killed.
Last time something had felt this big... they'd thought it was over until he and Kate were bleeding out on the kitchen floor, until he'd seen a man killed right in front of him.
But it would be different this time. It had to be.
It would be.
Right?
Castle's breathing was far more even when he came out of the bathroom, and relief unraveled in Kate's chest at the sight. He joined her in her office, offering a shaky smile as she reached over and handed him the coffee she'd made for him.
"Better?" she whispered.
He nodded. "Thank you."
There was a pause as he took a sip of his drink, as she took a moment to ensure that he was truly doing better. She was beyond worried about Ryan and Esposito, some of her best friends, who were trapped in the clutches of a serial killer. But she was worried about her husband, too.
Satisfied with his well-being, she nodded her head, stepped closer to him. "I've been thinking," she said, "what if we've been going about this all wrong?"
His brows furrowed. "How so?"
"We've been trying to identify the killer," she began, "but to find the boys, and hopefully whoever took them, we only really need to know where they're being held."
"Well, going based on the killer's identity is usually the best way to figure out where they hold their victims," he reminded her.
She tampered her smile, stepping even closer to her husband. "Or, based on the identity of who the killer wants us to believe is responsible."
"McCormick?"
"Think about it, Rick."
He nodded, and she watched the familiar sight of his features twisting with concentration, the budding light of understanding in his eyes.
"The true killer went so far as to place fingerprints on the body," he said. "He may have also chosen a lair that, if found, would also be linked to McCormick."
"Exactly." She smiled.
He mirrored it. "You're a genius."
"If it works," she reminded him.
But her heart was already thundering with the same hope that shone brightly in his eyes.
The room smelled of smoke, just a subtle, lingering odor that had memories of far worse flames flashing to the forefront of his mind.
The explosion. The crackling. The heat. The smoke. Burning lungs. Spinning head. Fading world. And-
"Do you know the key to hurting someone?" asked their captor, looking up from the fire she had just put out, far too close to Ryan's feet. "You have to gradually intensify the cause of their pain. A taller building, a bigger needle, more contact with a snake, more time underwater." She paused, waited for him to tear his eyes open and stare at the flicker of the lighter. "A bigger fire."
Ryan groaned at the mental image. Beside him, Esposito remained silent, having long since given up on engaging with their captor.
It didn't keep her from talking to him, though.
"You know what the best part about this is?" she asked Espo. "You guys make it so easy to make you both face your biggest fears at the same time."
She fell silent, the click of her heels echoing loud as she stepped around them. One elbow landed on each of their chairs when she leaned over, whispered to them both.
"Kevin here is scared of fire, which is great, dangerous, deadly." Her head turned to the left, smile widening. "Which is great for upsetting you, Javier." She paused. "Tell me, how empty does your life have to be, given that your biggest fear is failing to return him to his family?"
Silence fell. Esposito managed to swallow back any response he may have had. Ryan, on the other hand, did not.
"Javi," he breathed, but his partner silenced whatever tell me it isn't true or thank you that was welling in Ryan's chest with a slight shake of his head.
Besides, their captor was already walking away, taunting them further as she disappeared behind the corner.
"I think," she said, "it's now time you two graduate from measly pieces of paper being burned."