"Why do you even have this book?"
"What do you mean 'why'? I bought it for research!"
"Research," Esposito's voice is dripping with disbelief, a hand darting across his own desk to snatch A Calm Before Storm from Kevin Ryan's hand. It's a nice book, one of the hardcover editions with a dust jacket that's in pristine condition and has Castle's face grinning at him from the inside cover when he flips it open, "Or maybe you just like it."
"So what if I do?" Ryan asks, a note of challenge to his voice as he gets to his feet, walking around the two desks that he and Esposito shoved together years ago when they started working together as partners; paired up at the suggestion of Kate Beckett, the very person to whom the book Espo is holding is dedicated.
Though neither of them knew that before yesterday.
"Look," he continues, ignoring the grin that Espo gives him as he also stands up, holding the book just out of easy reach with one of those smirks that sometimes leaves Kevin wanting to smack him upside the head. "When Castle started shadowing us, I figured it couldn't hurt to read his work, get an idea of what his next novel might look like. And you should be glad that I did," Ryan informs his partner, waiting until Esposito's gaze has swiveled back towards the book in question before he nudges the rolling chair the detective is standing beside, ensuring that the piece of furniture rolls directly over Espo's foot.
Esposito drops the book with a soft howl, and Kevin grins as he catches it, sitting himself happily at the edge of his partner's desk while Espo scowls at him and moves the chair out of the way.
"Why am I supposed to be glad that your fanboy ass kept all of Castle's books?" he asks, clearly annoyed by more than just Ryan's interest in the books.
Stifling the urge to grin, Kevin flips open the book, moving quickly past the title page and the copyright information to the subsequent page where two lines are printed in neat letters:
To KB;
Always.
"A rather innocuous, if sweet, dedication," Ryan says once Espo has scanned the lines, "But now we know who the illustrious KB is."
"Beckett," Esposito replies, glancing up at the murder board where her DMV photo is pinned beside Will Sorenson's to identify each of them as persons of interest in Sophie Ronson's murder. "Castle dedicated a book to Beckett….."
"He did," Kevin says with a quick nod, frowning when Espo reaches over to take the book again, flipping through pages at random almost as if he's searching for something specific.
"What is this book about, anyway?"
"Russian diplomat is beheaded by an ex-KGB agent known as The Fear. Storm's CIA handler, Clara Strike, hands him the case, and he tries to stop the guy before he murders some other diplomats and starts World War III," Ryan rattles off, "The more pertinent plot for us is that Storm follows a lead to the Ukraine, and while in Kiev he meets a graduate student named Kadie Bennett. He and Kadie immediately begin a fling of sorts that lasts the duration of the book, and Kadie uses her knowledge of Eastern European history and culture to help Storm navigate his way through some of the higher echelons of society in order to locate The Fear."
"Kadie Bennett," Esposito says with a roll of his eyes, "Hop, skip and a jump to Kate Beckett, isn't it?"
Ryan's acknowledgement of the question, as well as his answer, is just to nod. "She even, uh...well, the description in the book, she could pass for Beckett. It's spot on, except for the hair. Kadie is described with short, choppy hair."
"Beckett's hair was short when I met her," Espo replies, flipping to another page, "I suppose they have one of those relationships that's full of cliche saving the damsel in distress stuff?"
"The opposite, actually. Kadie's written as a girl who can handle herself, and she even gets Storm out of a tight spot when he first meets her and then again when they get trapped in a room while on the run from some Russians. She's the one that comes up with the escape plan," Kevin explains, grinning at the frown Esposito has on his face as he continues to flip through the book. "She doesn't take any crap from Storm, either. Whenever he tries to protect her, push her aside, or tell her what to do, she's quick to put him in his place. And then there's page 105….."
Lifting an eyebrow in his direction, Espo quickly turns to the page Ryan mentioned, eyes skimming what has to be one the more detailed and, well, intriguing sex scenes that he's ever laid eyes on. "Wow…." he mutters, shaking his head like a dog that's just been dunked in water, the last line of the page - one that features Storm lifting Kadie up and contorting their bodies for what looks to be an energetic round two - now seared into his memory, "Makes you wonder if the real thing was comparable to this, or if Castle just has an overactive imagination."
"Or maybe the real thing was better."
Both Kevin and Esposito flinch at the voice that sounds at their backs, turning in tandem to see Kate Beckett regarding them both with scrutiny, "Nice to see that the NYPD is keeping you busy, boys," she says, barely containing a grin as they both jump back to their feet, Espo dropping A Calm Before Storm with the desperation of a man trying to get away from a rapidly approaching fire.
"Hey, Beckett," Ryan drawls, giving her his best grin, though its strained at the edges with embarrassment, "What are you...uh…" he pauses, clearing his throat to get rid of the high pitch of surprise that he's speaking to her with, "What are you doing here?"
"Helping."
That's all she says, any additional words cut off as Roy Montgomery opens the door to his office with a big smile directed her way, "Did the Feds kick you out already?" he asks as he approaches Kate, reaching in to give his former star homicide detective a hug that she returns with her own wide smile.
"Not yet," Kate says with a laugh, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear once they've separated, "But it wouldn't hurt to ask me again in a couple of months."
Montgomery's chuckle is light hearted though his eyes have strayed to the murder board where Beckett and Will's photos are on clear display, "If you've come for an update on the case, there's not much new," he begins, "Hotel security gave us a photo of the guy that phoned Sophie from the lobby during the rehearsal dinner, and uniforms are out looking for him now. Hopefully he'll be able to tell us what she needed the drugs for."
"The drugs?" Kate asks, looking at Ryan and Esposito, "That's the guy who sold Sophie the roofies?"
"Yeah," Ryan picks up the story from Montgomery, gesturing to the grainy security still, "That guy is Boyd Gamble. He's a low level dealer that I must have busted half a dozen times when I was working in narcotics. According to Sophie's phone records, he's the last person that called her before she died. Given his history, I'm sure once we get him in the box he'll confirm the theory we have of him selling Sophie the drugs that she used on Mike. And, with any luck, he'll be able to tell us what she wanted to do with them or pointing us towards someone who knows."
The nod that Kate gives to them is solemn, but there's a flicker of pride in her eyes, something that Ryan appreciates given that Beckett had been the one to initially train he and Esposito in homicide. Like any other job change, working murders had come with its own tricks and challenges, and though he'd only worked with her for eight months before she had left for Quantico, Beckett had been as invaluable to his success as a homicide detective as the two men standing next to him.
"It's good work, Beckett," Montgomery assures her, waiting until she has met his eyes and taken stock of how confident her former Captain is, "We'll get this guy."
"I know you will," she agrees, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans and rocking back just a bit on her heels, "But if you have no objection, I'd like to help put this one to bed."
From the wary look that slips onto Montgomery's face, Ryan expects his Captain to say no, and apparently so does Beckett because she's quick to step forward, blocking Montgomery's view of anyone but her, "I'm not going to tell you it isn't personal; it is. If it wasn't, I wouldn't be here. But this isn't for me. I knew Sophie, and I liked her, but she was Will's friend. He's the one that wanted her in the bridal party, and he's the one that's been cut up by her murder. I want to do this for him, Roy."
"The FBI won't like it, Kate," he sighs, scratching absently at his cheek while he sizes her up.
"Then we won't tell them. Anything I do is strictly off the books, the collar is all yours. I just want to help," she replies, her voice steady despite the soft plea that colors it, "Let me help get this guy; Will shouldn't have to go through what I have…..he should get to know that the guy who killed someone he cared about is rotting in jail."
All three of them know her history; just as they are intimately aware that her mother's murder case still sits unsolved in the file room down in the basement of the precinct. It's that knowledge, combined with Kate's plea, which seems to convince Roy, who gives a small nod of assent, "But you're on a short leash, Beckett. Don't do anything stupid that I have to report to your bosses in Washington."
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Kate replies, grinning when Roy shoots her with a skeptical look.
"Welcome back," he tells her, the shake of his head more in exasperation than annoyance as the phone begins to ring in his office. "And you owe me dinner before you leave town," Montgomery adds on his way back into the room, the words shot over his shoulder before the door closes on Kate's laugh of agreement.
As is custom the ding of the elevator announces his arrival to the Homicide Division, the double doors sliding open to admit Rick to a bullpen that's already in full swing at 9 a.m.. A creature of habit, his travel mug of coffee is clutched in one hand, a bag of pastries from the bakery just down the block in the other.
It's the scent of baked goods that has most of the cops who are hard at work lifting their heads from paperwork or swiveling towards the smell as they field phone calls. LT is the first to abandons his task altogether; following Rick past the row of desks, hot on his heels as he turns into the break room and deposits the bag on a nearby table.
The rule is simple: first come, first serve for whatever he supplies the division with and, with that in mind, the horde descends within minutes, snatching and grabbing at whatever they can reach while he busies himself with concocting the perfect cappuccino from the machine he had installed less than two months into his shadowing of Ryan and Esposito.
The NYPD mug he prefers now full of his work, Rick takes a large inhale of the aroma his second cup of the day gives off. A grin tugs at his mouth as he brings the cup to his lips, taking one long, leisurely sip while scanning the bullpen to take the measure of the day.
He certainly doesn't expect to see Kate, her slender frame dressed in tight jeans and a dark green sweater that accentuates the olive tones of her skin and the caramel strands of her hair. But she's right there, sitting at the edge of Esposito's desk, her attention absorbed in the murder board that must contain all the details of Sophie Ronson's murder.
In his shock the coffee goes down the wrong pipe, leaving Rick sputtering and coughing as the hot liquid burns a path down his throat. He tries not to make much noise, determined to only show himself once he's stopped gagging and his eyes aren't watering so heavily that tears are rolling down his face, but that's before he stumbles against the counter and half the coffee in his mug sloshes over the rim, scalding the back of his hand and drenching the sleeve of his coat.
With a strangled swear, he drops the cup into the sink, flicking on the faucet to run his hand underneath with the rapid tap of heels across a wooden floor serving as the soundtrack. Before he's even managed to stop grimacing at the flash of pain, Kate's filling the doorway, her eyes full of concern.
"Castle, are you okay?"
He was right about her eyes when paired with that sweater. They seem infinite today, staring back at him from underneath curled lashes and expertly applied black eyeliner that has the tawny brown flecks somehow standing out far more than he remembers.
"I'm….I'm fine," Rick manages to mutter, aware that for the second time in as many days, Kate Beckett has arrived and knocked the breath out of him just by being in the same room. "Spilled coffee on my hand is all."
"Oh," she says it softly, a gentle smile on her face that he appreciates even if she is trying not to grin at his clumsiness. Without another word, she's reaching towards the drawer closest to the break room door, one that he can't recall anyone ever opening in his time at the Twelfth, revealing a collection of items that normally should be in a First Aid kit. All of the stuff has been carelessly chucked in the drawer to send whoever is in need of them on an expedition. "I actually started stocking this drawer when I was here," Kate tells him with that same smile, "I'm surprised they kept it up after I left."
But she's quickly withdrawn a large bandaid and closing the drawer, sliding right beside him to tug open the refrigerator and dig around until she's come up with a small green bottle. "Aloe vera," is her only explanation, even if he can read the logo printed on the front, the fridge door closing shut with a soft slam.
It flutters across his mind that he should tell her he can manage this part himself, that it's best for the both of them if he doesn't let her touch him. While the words are buzzing around in his brain, none of them manage to escape his mouth before Kate's taken the three steps she needs to get close to him. Being in direct proximity seems to be all it takes for his heart, the organ so unreliable these days when it comes to maintaining a steady beat, to start a furious gallop in his chest. The anticipation rises like a swelling tide because, standing with his backside pressed against the counter, he can see her hand reaching out, feel her fingers closing around his wrist just below where the angry red patch of skin is located.
Just as he expected the electricity that always existed between them is still there. The caress of her fingers against his flashes like lightning, igniting across his skin and Rick swears that the air in the room begins to crackle with it. Being this close to Kate he can see how her eyes grow a bit darker, those brown specks turning golden when she meets his eyes and leaving him sure that he's not the only one who felt the charge.
But Kate doesn't hold the gaze for long, dropping her focus towards his hand with a soft hum. Normally he would ask her something, try and think of some way to diffuse the tension that's risen so quickly between them, but he's absolutely out of practice with her and, even if he weren't, Rick sincerely doubts he would be able think of much of anything as she spreads a small bit of aloe on his skin and, with a slowness that is its own form of torture, begins massaging the stuff over the burn in tight little circles.
It's a mistake to look at her while she works, to see how the full pillow of her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and notice how there is a wrinkle marring the skin between her eyebrows; a mark of concentration that he's always found adorable on her. She's beautiful, the effortless kind that so many women would spend hundreds if not thousands of dollars to achieve, though Kate's allure has always been that she never particularly cared about any of that.
He swallows back a groan at the light pressure she uses, refusing to allow his mind to wander to the nights where she'd employed a similar grip on other parts of his body. It isn't any easier when she lifts her head, meeting his eyes with a quick look, one that ignites something within him and seems to detach his head from the rest of his body. Rick doesn't think as he steps forward, his body hovering so close to Kate's that he can feel how she's radiating body heat. For a moment, they both just stare, eyes locked and that indefinable heat swirling between them.
The ringing of a phone at a desk right outside the room breaks the spell, Kate jerking to attention with little more than a tug of the hand she's still holding between hers and the slight widening of her eyes. "I...uh….here…." she mutters, passing Rick the bandage with a pink flush to her cheeks and hurrying back out into the bullpen as soon as he's taken it from her.
He hangs behind long enough to cover the burn with the bandage, throwing away the wrappings and storing the bottle back in the fridge. Kate's settled herself back on Esposito's desk, her attention back on the murder board, but the two detectives meet his eyes in turn letting him know without words that they both saw the exchange in the break room.
Rick isn't sure exactly why his abdominal muscles tighten with worry, but the silence hangs thick between the four of them as he pulls up a chair, unable to stop himself from noticing how Kate won't look at him despite his sitting a few feet away.
"No forensic evidence left at the crime scene," Kate says once the silence has stretched on for another thirty seconds. She can't stand the tension, and from a practical point of view she does need to talk through the case thus far with the investigating team. It's a little odd being back in the bullpen, sitting on the end of what used to be her desk at the 12th Precinct; the one that Esposito inherited when she left. The boys are both to her left, each of them sitting in the rolling chairs that belong to their work stations, the very same positions that they took in the early days of their partnership and during the months they worked with her.
With her words she notices that they both look towards the murder board, their attention diverting from Castle to instead focus on the still incomplete timeline that they've constructed of Sophie's interactions in the day leading up to her death.
"The only thing we have from the crime scene right now is that her earring is missing," Espo tells her, gesturing towards the close up photo of Sophie's right ear. The lobe is stained with blood, an open cut from where the earring was ripped out of her ear.
"And that's odd," she sighs, glaring at the photo as if it's done her a personal wrong, "There's nothing to suggest that Sophie was killed somewhere else in the hotel and then stashed in her room. "
"If she were killed in her room, you would think that the earring would be there," Castle adds, "It's not a stretch to think that her murderer is the one who pulled it out of her ear, so where is it?"
"Maybe the killer took it as a trophy?" Ryan suggests, "Or straightened up after himself."
"Maybe," she concedes, though in her gut Kate knows it feels wrong. Trophies were usually taken by serial killers, or people with a deep-seeded connection to the victim or to the act of murder itself. The way Sophie had died, choked from behind as she had been, it felt like a murder committed in anger; someone losing their control and ending her life. An act of passion, spur of the moment, and not at all the sort that she would expect would lead the killer to take a memento.
But why?
"The last person to see her that we know of was Mike," Espo begins, pointing at the notation on the board where Mike and Sophie left the bar, "Security footage has the timing he gave us right, we have video of the two of them crossing the lobby from the hotel bar, and riding up the elevator to the rooms. No cameras in the hallways, so once they get off the elevator it's anyone's guess…."
"So, Sophie and Mike leave the bar just before 1:30 in the morning, he's already been drugged and he admitted to feeling those effects before he ever closed out the tab for the night," Kate says, getting to her feet, unable to resist the urge to begin pacing. She can feel the thread of something poking at her brain, all the information on the board right there and just waiting to be pieced together if she can just make the connection.
"Sophie's got her hands full," Castle jumps in, meeting her eyes and she's not surprised to notice that they're sparkling at her, the same sort of glint over working through a murder as he had when working on the plot for one of his books, "Mike's a tall guy, he's drugged, slurring his words, probably having trouble standing on his own. She manages to get him in the elevator, props him against the wall to pick the floor she needs."
"But it's the eighth floor," she adds with a frown, turning her back on Castle to check the board where, sure enough, there is a notation in Esposito's blocky writing that confirms Mike was found in an eighth floor closet, "He was staying on the thirteenth floor, so why the difference?"
"She wanted him out of the way," Rick says it a split second before her mind processes the information for herself, and Kate whirls around, a smile of satisfaction splitting across her face as he gets to his feet, his own grin matching hers.
"That's why she stole his keycard!" They both say it together, with enough volume that the bullpen seems to freeze for a moment and the attention of a couple dozen cops shifts from their own work to the two people grinning at one another like they've just won the lottery. Neither of them notice the attention, or the astounded looks that Ryan and Esposito are shooting their way, too busy smiling at one another and reveling in cracking open the case.
"The hotel said that Mike's keycard was last used at 2 a.m., right?" Kate asks, even though her eyes never stray from Castle's. He looks giddy, like a little boy waiting for permission to unwrap his Christmas presents, riding high on the adrenaline rush that she knows comes with finding that one thread that you can hopefully tug to put a killer behind bars.
He's never looked more attractive. It's a thought that floats through her mind and one that Kate quickly pushes away, unwilling to dwell on how he's standing so close to her, or how his tongue has darted out to brush across his lower lip.
She still remembers what that tongue can do.
"Right….."
Her lips purse with satisfaction at Espo's confirmation, that expression giving way to the scrape of her teeth against her bottom lip as Kate takes a moment to savor the first legitimate lead since she's stepped onto the case. "We need to go back to the hotel," she says, turning to look at the boys, " Let's see what was so important about Mike's room for Sophie go to the trouble of drugging him to ensure he wouldn't use it."
"Hotel records have Mike staying in room 1305 on Friday night," Kate says, consulting the small notebook that she nicked from Ryan's desk drawer when he wasn't looking, "And since no one has stayed in it since then and the NYPD hasn't allowed the hotel to clean the room, it should look as it did when Sophie was last inside."
Esposito holds up the key card as they approach the room in question, inserting it quickly into the slot. "Let's see what we've got."
The room is pristine, the only sign that the room is occupied in the suitcase lying open on the floor opposite the king sized bed that's still sporting the turn down service offered by the hotel.
Without speaking, Esposito turns towards the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light to begin his search and Kate strolls to the closet, opening the door to see a tux still hanging in its dry cleaner bag and a pair of polished black dress shoes resting on the floor. She's tugging on the blue gloves that are standard for crime scenes when Espo's voice floats back towards her, a forced casualness to the tone that automatically has her rolling her eyes in exasperation.
"That was quite a performance you and Castle put on at the precinct….." he says, and she turns with the dress shoes in hand in time to catch the detective's smirk in the bathroom mirror as he unfolds each of the towels in turn, checking that nothing has been stored inside them for safekeeping.
"It wasn't a performance, Espo," she sighs, plunging a hand into the shoes to feel for anything that have been dropped inside, "It was putting the clues together. Nothing more than that."
"Sure looked like something," he replies quickly, the heavy thunk of a toilet lid being lifted accompanying his words.
Coming up empty on the shoes, Kate places them back in the closet, reaching for the tux after a careful slide of her hand over the empty closet shelving. "Looks can be deceiving." Maybe it's not the best reply she could have come up with given the snort that she hears Espo give in response, but she ignores it, instead checking all the pockets of the suit as well as the jacket lining.
"They can," he continues after a moment of silence, Kate turning to hang the tux back and move on further into the room, reaching behind the dresser to feel for anything that might be taped to the back, "But sometimes they tell far more of the truth than words do."
His voice loses its odd echo as he steps from the bathroom, standing and watching her open all the drawers and close them in turn when she's assured they are empty before he speaks again, "Why didn't you ever tell us?"
She stops in her search at that question, one hand wrapped around the drawer handle of the last one she checked, "That I dated Richard Castle?" Kate asks, looking at him with some measure of surprise, "By the time you or Ryan came to the precinct, we'd been broken up for years. He got married again, he moved on, and it never seemed important."
"Even when you heard he was following us?"
"I was in training at Quantico by then, Espo," she sighs, opening the drawer to the desk that, like all the others she's looked at thus far, is empty. "Far away from the NYPD. Whatever my past was with Castle had no bearing on what he was doing with the two of you."
"I can understand that," Esposito says, kneeling beside the nightstand to check underneath it and then open the drawer, "But I think you're wrong about one thing."
"And what is that?"
"You said he moved on, and he hasn't. Not really. And I don't think you have either."
Kate doesn't let herself react beyond the fingers of her right hand curling into her palm as Espo finishes checking the nightstand and moves on to the suitcase that's spilling its contents onto the plush carpeting. Espo's the second person to point out that Castle isn't over her, but he's the first one to toss her into the ring with Rick.
She isn't sure how to feel about it, other than a renewed flood of the guilt that's been plaguing her since she shared a piece of her would-be wedding cake with Castle in the hotel ballroom.
With a sigh, Kate rubs absently at the dull throb that's beginning once again between her eyebrows, turning towards the final piece of furniture that they've haven't checked, the second nightstand, one that has been crammed between the bed and a connecting door to the neighboring hotel room.
A door that she realizes with a start is standing ever so slightly ajar.
"Hey Espo…." she calls, waiting until he's stopped rummaging through Mike's belongings to point towards the door, "Here's a question, why would the connecting door be open?"
"It usually wouldn't be, not unless you knew the person staying on the other side…."
Grasping the door handle with her gloved hand, Kate pulls it the door completely open and raises her other hand to touch the adjoining door. It creaks open at her touch, affording her a view of a hotel room that's identical to Mike's in furnishings and decor, but with the absence of a suitcase taking up space on the floor.
"What is so important about this room that you would drug a man to gain access to it?" Esposito asks as they both step into the room, a space where nothing seems out of place.
"If we figure that out, we might discover a motive for murder," she replies, skirting around the dresser and approaching the bed that, as with Mike's room, is wedged close to yet another connecting door. Her grip is firm when she grasps this handle, the door unmoving when she tugs at it.
The sparkle of something metallic catches her eye as Kate turns back towards the room, the morning sun streaming through the window to highlight the edge of what she quickly recognizes as a silver hoop. Even before she kneels down to pick it up, she knows what she's found, but she's careful in retrieving the earring from underneath the bed, grasping it between her thumb and forefinger and lifting it up to get a better look.
The earring is just what she expected, a small silver hoop lined with a row of delicate beads that make a soft clicking sound as they clink together with any movement. It's the mate to the one that she had last seen in Sophie's right ear, and a quick peek at the carpet underneath the bed yields Kate a couple drops of blood.
"One mystery solved," she says to Esposito with a grim smile, "There's a bit of blood on the carpet, so we've found where Sophie lost her earring."
"Still doesn't tell us what she was doing in here…."
"No," Kate agrees, approaching Esposito with the earring and sliding it into the evidence bag that he unearths from a pocket in his jacket. He's still in the midst of labeling the bag with a sharpie tugged from the same pocket when the whirr of an electronic lock sounds at the main entrance to the room, the door opening a moment later.
The gasp that falls out of Kate's mouth comes without her permission, her eyes going wide in surprise as Will's frame fills the doorway, his own face contorted with surprise.
"Kate what are you doing in my…" the question dies off once he spots Esposito, a flicker of understanding replacing genuine confusion and then, when all the pieces have slotted into place, a cold layer of anger and resignation.
"What are you doing with Sophie's earring?" she asks, something heavy and hard taking root in her chest at the way Will seems to deflate at the question. Whatever he might say to the contrary, Kate knows him, and the defeat that glides over him like a suit of armor is as good as an official confession that he's played a larger role in all of this than what he's admitted thus far.
For the first time since she saw Sophie's dead body, Kate asks herself one of the questions she's been steadfast in ignoring: could Will have possibly murdered one of his close friends?
When locked in a windowless room that contains nothing but a few chairs and a table, time is relative. What feels like 20 minutes proves only to be five when Will flips over his left wrist to look at his watch. He's already been waiting for over an hour, left to do nothing but stew over how he got himself into this mess and to stare at the one way window and the solitary door in turn, alternately wondering how many cops were watching him through one and which of them would walk through the other.
He hears the door handle click before he sees it move, the creak of the lock turning seeming to echo in the small room. Kevin Ryan, the other half of the partnership that brought him into the precinct and the cop that initially interviewed him yesterday, enters the room first, a thin file in his hands that he quickly drops onto the table.
Ryan doesn't really bother him, he seems to be a good cop and Will knows from conversations with Kate that he's a good guy, but he makes no move to greet him. No nod, no smile, just a dull stare. Though, really, it isn't Ryan's fault that this happened. He knew better than to withhold important information, how many times had it been drilled into him during academy training at Quantico to always tell the truth?
It's only through Kate intervening that he wasn't brought to the precinct in handcuffs and subjected to a couple hours in general lock up, and he's grateful for that, even if that feeling is currently at war with annoyance at himself for being so arrogant and careless.
He hadn't known Sophie's earring was missing, he hadn't seen her body beyond the glimpse that he managed before uniforms and crime scene technicians shooed he and Kate from the room. If he had known…
Will swallows against the thought that immediately pops into his mind, a bitter taste coating his tongue that is a perfect representation of how he feels. If he's honest with himself, he can admit that he would have gone looking for the earring, and certainly would have taken the time to ensure that it wasn't discovered in his room; the one piece of evidence that ties him to Sophie on the night of her murder and, in turn, has the power to wreck his life.
Despite himself, his eyes flick to the one way mirror on the opposite wall, and he can't help but wonder if Kate's on the other side, preparing to listen to everything he says. She's already angry, he knows that much, but by the time he gets to leave the room Will knows she'll be much worse than that.
The shuffle of footsteps in the hallway beyond the interrogation room quickly yields a second body, and it takes every ounce of control that he has not to roll his eyes at Richard Castle. With just a glance, Will notices the hard gleam in the writer's eyes, the way that his mouth holds just the shadow of a smirk. He's undoubtedly pleased to see him here, sitting in a chair that so many criminals have occupied through the years.
"I didn't do this," he tells Ryan as both men take seats across from him, the single door pulled closed by a uniform that he doesn't remember seeing at the crime scene yesterday.
"That's what all the guilty ones say," Castle replies before Ryan can even open his mouth, and Will scoffs at him, removing his hands from the tabletop and stuffing them between his knees lest he lose his temper and use his right hook on the man that likes to pretend he's a cop. "But you can save us some time and just tell us why you killed Sophie."
"I didn't," Will says a second time, sparing Castle a quick glance while Ryan keeps his eyes trained on the open file in front of him. "Sophie was a close friend of mine, I'd never hurt her."
"And yet we found her earring in your room," Ryan speaks up before Castle can unleash whatever retort he has for Will, "The lab confirmed the blood on the carpet matches Sophie Ronson's, and given that she was in your room less than an hour before she was killed we've got a good reason to believe that you were the one responsible for her death, Will."
"What happened?" Castle asks, and though his voice is casual, the ice that reflects in his eyes is that of a man that would like nothing more than to toss Will into a cell and throw away the key, "Did you tell Sophie to come up to your room Friday night? Get in one last fling before you strapped on the ball and chain?"
"Of course not!"
"Oh come on," he speaks right over Will's protest, "One woman for the rest of your life? That's quite the commitment. Why not grab another beautiful girl and get it all out of your system. Happens all the time, doesn't it? After all, you've known Sophie since you were kids, haven't you? Maybe it's not even the first time you've met up with her for a little rendezvous…."
"Castle….." Ryan mutters, glancing towards the writer as Will feels the muscle in his jaw begin to throb given how hard he's clenching his teeth. "Stop."
"I'm gonna be straight with you," the detective continues once Rick has gone silent, still staring daggers at Will from his place across the table, "This looks bad. I asked you yesterday when you had last seen Sophie and you told me that it was in the hotel bar before you went up to your room, that she and Mike were having a drink. And, now, not only do we know that you lied, we've got physical evidence that puts you with her just minutes away from her murder. You're a federal agent, Will. You know we can hold you at least 24 hours if we want, keep your lawyer tied up in all sorts of paperwork while we go digging around for more evidence; evidence that we'll find if you killed Sophie."
"I didn't!" Will repeats himself again, the fuse of his anger finally beginning to burn as Castle gives a small scoff and rolls his eyes in response to his denial. "Does he have to be here?" he asks Ryan, unclasping his hands to gesture at the writer, "He's not even a cop, and he clearly has it out for me."
"Then why don't you tell me something that will convince him to get off your back?" Kevin asks, "Because right now you are our best suspect. I'm giving you a chance to come clean, to tell me what you left out yesterday."
For the second time, his eyes rove towards the mirror and Will has an absurd wish for x-ray vision, some way to check and see who is listening on the other side. While he could ask Will knows he won't do it, unwilling to give Castle more ammunition with which to press him. If he asks if Kate is watching his interrogation, both writer and cop will want to know why and he just can't admit that he wants the first time his fiancé hears the story of his history with Sophie to be when he's got an opportunity to fully explain everything.
With a sigh, he lifts one hand, idly running his fingers through his hair, "I left the bar about one in the morning, and just like I told you, Sophie was still sitting with Mike and having a drink. I went straight up to my room, changed clothes and crawled into bed, and I passed out. My uncle Teddy had insisted on doing tequila shots before I left. I had already been on the way to drunk before that, so you can imagine where I was after three shots."
"I went to sleep, you know? I didn't know anything was happening until someone crawled into bed with me, and before I knew it a pair of hands sliding down my pants," he sighs again, giving one short look to the mirror that's full of the best unspoken apology that he can manage under the circumstances, "My first thought was that it was Kate, that she'd gotten lonely, changed her mind about spending the night apart…."
"It wasn't Kate, was it?" Ryan asks, ignoring the low rumble that he can hear at his side from Castle.
"No. I had….I mean, I kissed her before I had really opened my eyes, but I knew as soon as I touched her mouth that it wasn't Kate and I flipped out. When I opened my eyes and realized it was Sophie, I pushed her away, and she slid off the bed onto the floor. I guess that's when her earring came off, but she was standing up and hurrying out of my room before I could do anything else."
"And why was Sophie in your room, Will?" Castle's voice is dangerously low when he speaks, nearly predatory, "In my experience, girls don't just show up at your hotel room in the middle of the night unless they've been given a previous invitation."
"Detective Ryan….." Will begins, though he stops before he ever asks for Rick to be removed from the room. It's a lost cause given the look on Ryan's face.
"Answer the question," the detective says. "Did you have a sexual relationship with Sophie Ronson?"
He doesn't want to answer, and both of the men sitting across from him seem to know it. Ryan's looking at him with apprehension, whereas Castle is glaring at him like he would enjoy committing a second murder. "We did; years ago, way before I ever met Kate. But that whole thing was a mistake, beginning to end. I thought Sophie knew that, that she agreed with me that we weren't a good fit."
"Why did you lie yesterday?"
"I knew how it would sound," Will sighs, running both hands over his face as if the move will somehow allow him to escape from his nightmare, "And I didn't want Kate to know. I never told her that Sophie and I had a past."
"So in all the years that you've been dating Kate, even after she agreed to marry you, you never thought you should tell her that you had a relationship with one of your close friends?" The question is a clear challenge, Castle lightly poking at him with knowledge gleaned from their conversation in the bridal suite. Kate had told him about Rick, but he'd never done her the same courtesy, and that quiet accusation serves to burn the remainder of Will's patience until it's little more than a pile of ashes.
"You lied to your fianceé, just like you lied to the cops, Will. And you are right, your story about Sophie sneaking into your room? It isn't convincing. In fact, it sounds like a lie; a lie told by a man who is trying to avoid a murder charge."
"Castle!"
"Okay, I want him out of here!" Will yells over Ryan's reprimand, "He's discounting facts and gunning to put me in jail because he's still got a thing for Kate."
"You don't get to make demands," Castle replies, his voice growing louder to be heard over Will's continued protests, "Murder suspects are the ones who answer the questions in this room."
"Is that right?" Will asks, his whole body tense with anger that's made his face flushed and his jaw ache from grinding his teeth, "Well I'm done answering questions until he's out of here," he tells Ryan, watching the detective get to his feet and walk to the door.
It takes two quick taps on the metal door before it pops open, and Kevin stands there, his own blazing glare fixed on the back of Castle's head. The writer is still sitting in his chair, his own anger radiating from every inch of his large frame, but he doesn't move, not until Ryan snaps his name, "You're done," he says, making no move to acknowledge the grunt of annoyance that Rick gives, "Send Esposito in here, and we'll walk through your story again Will."
There's a certain vindictive pleasure in watching Richard Castle lumber through the door, in having Ryan slam it closed behind him and take a heavy seat back in his chair. Within minutes Javier Esposito has entered the room, his face contorted into an equally annoyed expression as he slides into Castle's vacated chair and asks Will to start at the beginning when he left Mike and Sophie at the bar.
In his anger, Rick allows his feet to carry him wherever they want to go. He ends up in the break room, leaning back against the long countertop that holds the espresso machine and the two standard coffee pots, fingers digging into the laminate countertop until his knuckles begin to turn white.
Will lied to Kate. It's the only thought that he can focus on; the sharp edge of his anger burning white hot. His protective nature demands that he lash out at something, preferably Will, to unleash the worst of it, but Rick settles for knocking his fisted hand against the countertop until it's throbbing with enough pain that it serves as a distraction.
"What the hell!" Kate's voice is shaking with anger, those four inch heels of hers tapping rapidly against the floor as she barrels into the break room. He can tell from the glare that she's aiming his way that she's furious, and it only becomes all the more clear when she steps right up to him and digs her pointer finger into his chest. "You have no right to accuse Will like that."
Whatever else he might have expected her to say, defending Will Sorenson a couple minutes removed from being given a play by play regarding his history with one of her bridesmaids would have been low on the list.
"He lied!" He doesn't quite yell the words, but they're said with enough force that it seems to ring through the empty break room, "He lied to you, he lied to Ryan and Esposito, and he purposefully mislead an investigation."
"And yet none of that gives you the right to sit there and imply that he would happily cheat on me, Castle!" Kate snarls the words at him, pacing a couple of steps away before she's spun on those heels and stalked right back to insert herself into his personal space once again. "What goes on in my relationship with Will is none of your business, and it's not your place to defend my honor!"
"I was only….."
"Trying to throw my fiancé in jail?" she asks, eyebrows raising towards her hairline as if daring Rick to contradict her, "Trying to get your licks in because you don't like him? Either way, it's not your place! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself without your interference, and its not your job to steer the direction of a murder investigation! You aren't a cop!"
"So what? You are just going to forgive him? Pretend that nothing ever happened?"
His only answer is the flash of her eyes, the press of her lips into a thin line on her way out of the break room. By the time Kate's made it to Ryan's desk to gather her coat, Esposito and Will have stepped out of interrogation and Will darts ahead, hurrying to catch her and stop her from approaching the elevator.
He doesn't make it, reaching the elevator as the doors slide closed on one of those steely glares that Kate is so good at giving, and Will seems to sag against the metal barriers, one hand lightly smacking the flat surface with a muttered swear.
The elevator has arrived back on the homicide floor a couple of minutes after Will has shrugged into his coat, scowling at Rick when their eyes meet across the bullpen. He shrugs off any idea of returning the look, taking notice of Ryan's glance of warning and feeling the burn of Esposito's eyes on the back of his head.
The latter detective waits until Will has stepped into the metal cage, the numbered lights ticking downward to deliver him to the lobby before he stands up, striding the length of his desk and stopping directly in front of Rick to give him the second scowl that he's received in less than five minutes. "Do you know how lucky you are that Ryan and I haven't thrown you off this case?"
"Of course, I -"
"Don't talk," he snaps, extending a hand in the universal sign for stop, "I'm only going to say this to you once, Castle. You've got to stay away from Beckett and from Will. If you don't, I'm going to toss you into lock up for interfering with an investigation and just being a general pain in the ass."
"Wait a minute, Espo!"
"I'm the only one talking right now," Esposito says, plowing right over his objections to ensure that his point is heard, "You've still a thing for Beckett, I get it, we've all gone crazy over a girl before, but you cannot let that mess up your perspective on this case."
"My perspective?" Rick asks, staring at Espo with a mixture of surprise and disbelief, "Will was with Sophie less than an hour before she was killed!"
"That doesn't mean he's the one who did it. Twenty minutes would be plenty of time to get into Sophie's room and kill her, and Will isn't the only person that might have a motive to do it, but you want him to be the guy so badly that you can't see it."
"What are you talking about?"
To his left, Kevin Ryan gives a sigh, tossing down his pen and abandoning his paperwork for the moment to size Rick up, "You haven't considered this from the other angle," he begins, gesturing towards the photos of Will and Kate that are stuck on the murder board.
"Which is?"
"That Beckett killed Sophie," Espo says.
"Oh please, like Beckett would ever….." he scoffs at the two of them, wholly unwilling to even take a step down that path.
"She might," Ryan corrects him, "And if you weren't so set on pinning this on Will you'd be the first one to spin a story about how Beckett decided she didn't want to spend the night alone and that she headed to Will's room only to see Sophie leaving. Beckett told me in our initial interview that she went to her room just after 11 p.m., which meant that she wouldn't have known either Will or Sophie had just come upstairs; as far as she would know they could have a couple of hours together. And the idea that Will would cheat on her, that he would do so with someone in their wedding just hours before they were getting married, it upset her so much that she went to confront Sophie in her room. They argue, things get heated, and in a few minutes Sophie's dead."
"It would never happen," Rick repeats once Ryan has concluded his story.
"Which is exactly why you have to stay away from her, and Will, until we've closed this case," Esposito says again, pointing towards the elevator that is on yet another ascent from the lobby, "Go home, Castle. Get your head screwed on straight and come back tomorrow."
A/N: The book summary for A Calm Before is taken, in part, from the archived version of the Richard Castle website. Other elements, including Storm's visit to Kiev and Kadie Bennett are my inventions for the purposes of this story.