As expected, Lanie is hard at work when Kate steps into the morgue, her bright pink scrubs standing out amid a room full of blue walls, silver instruments and white cabinets. Her closest female friend is bent low over a microscope, one hand focusing the lense to get a better look at whatever has been scraped onto a slide, the other scribbling in a shorthand that she doubts anyone but Lanie herself will be able to decipher.

Still, the medical examiner isn't so absorbed in her work that she doesn't hear the click of Kate's heels on the tile floor, and Lanie lifts her head from the equipment with curiosity and, once she's put a face to the sound, surprise.

"I thought I recognized those shoes," she tells Kate with a grin, tugging off her gloves and depositing them in the trash can at the end of the long row of cabinets to step forward and give her a hug, "What are you doing here, girl?"

Kate returns the hug, though she doesn't quite pull off the ready smile that her friend has when she pulls away to look up at her. She can't, not after a mostly sleepless night where guilt, longing, and regret all battled for control in the mixed up pot of conflict that she's cooked up for herself.

She had kissed Richard Castle. Kissed him until her lungs had begun to burn and demanded a replenishment of oxygen. She had kissed him and, immediately, considered if she should do it again.

She hadn't, but hours later, Kate swears she can still taste him on her lips almost as if she had spent the night stealing kisses in the shadow of a park.

"I wanted to talk to you," she tells Lanie in answer to her question, taking a seat on the rolling stool that's been pushed underneath the stainless steel table where autopsies are performed. It's empty for now, any bodies awaiting dissection and study regarding the cause of death stored in the containers that line the far wall.

Lanie's dark eyes are narrowed with suspicion from the moment she takes her seat, the curl of her lips pressing into a neat, noncommittal line. "Alright, we can do that," she says, temporarily turning her back on Kate to pick up a large pan full of instruments that have been dunked in some clear solution that smells strongly of bleach. The pan is placed on the table with a dull clunk, the liquid sloshing against the sides, and Lanie quickly adds a tray next to it. "What's on your mind, Kate?"

"I kissed Castle."

She says it quickly, adopting the philosophy that it's best to just put it out there. Much like ripping off a bandage, Kate thinks it might go over easier, but she sees Lanie's eyes go wide with surprise, watches her body jerk with it so that the forceps she's been carefully drying off go skittering from her hands and bounce across the tile floor.

"You what!"

"I kissed Castle," Kate repeats with a sigh, dragging both of her hands through her hair with miserable little groan.

"Does Will know about this?"

"No."

"Kate Beckett….."

"I know, okay," she groans again, covering her face with her hands for a moment, keen to avoid the steely glare that Lanie's giving her. "I know exactly what it sounds like, and I've been beating myself up about it since it happened. I feel horrible."

Lanie has picked up the forceps from the floor, placing them on the countertop where a myriad of other instruments and supplies are resting in various containers and piles, and while she isn't glaring when she turns back to look at her, there is a certain measure of disappointment in her dark brown eyes. "Then why did you do it?"

She knows why, but Kate finds that it takes her a moment to find her voice. "Because I've never gotten over him; not really," she tells Lanie softly, realizing that she's twisting her engagement ring up and down her finger, "I thought I had, but I saw him again and it all just…..it came right back."

"Oh, honey," Lanie gives a sigh, scooting around the table to reach out and grab one of her hands, "You never told me that you still cared about him."

"Because I didn't know how much," Kate replies, annoyed that she can feel another swell of tears building up and clogging her throat. How many times has she cried in the past 24 hours? She can't even remember, but she also can't seem to fight them off, "But I do and I just…" she pauses, swallowing back the worst of them in the hope that they won't spill over, "I kissed him," she says, "Will and I had a fight and I was upset, I wanted to talk to Castle, apologize for yelling at him and we got to talking about why we broke up. And I couldn't help it, because he still cares about me and I just leaned forward and kissed him. I keep trying to tell myself it didn't mean anything, that I just did it because I was upset, but….."

"But you don't think that's why," she replies, her gaze when Kate meets Lanie's eyes just a little too understanding.

But Kate doesn't deny it, giving a slow nod of her head even as the guilt rises up again, bringing a fresh wave of self hatred with it.

"So what happens now?"

"I wish I knew," she sighs, using her free hand to swipe underneath her eyes, "I know I have to tell Will, and he's going to be so angry and so hurt over this. We're already struggling after everything that has happened and this….." Kate pauses, grimacing at the thought even before she gives it a voice, "He's been worried about Castle since they met."

"With good reason," Lanie says, "Look, Kate, I met you after things ended with Castle, so I can't speak to your feelings about him or your past, but I've seen you with Will and you've been happy with him. You love him, and he loves you. Are you sure you want to risk that?"

"I love Will, Lanie," Kate's proud that her voice is steady when she speaks, some resemblance of control of her emotion coming back to her, "He's a great guy, but….."

"Castle," Lanie supplies for her.

She gives a nod, the slightest shrug of her shoulders to indicate how helpless she feels. "He's always been the one that got away," she admits, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as something seems to loosen in her chest once she's said the words out loud.

"Then maybe you're supposed to get him back," Lanie tells her, giving Kate's hand a soft squeeze, "You're my friend and all I want is for you to be happy," she adds with a smile, waiting until Kate has lifted her gaze from the tabletop to meet her eyes, "You've got to go where your heart leads you, even if that isn't the easy or the safe choice."

There's a certain spring in his step as the elevator deposits Rick onto the homicide floor; the coffee carrier secured between both hands with two cups rather than the usual single he carries into the bullpen. He's managed to balance the box of pastries on top; donuts, bear claws and other assorted baked goods crammed into the container that holds more than enough to feed the entire bullpen.

Today's the sort of day that he feels absurdly generous, the smile on his face so eager and so wide that his cheeks are beginning to ache but he just can't quite turn it off. It's impossible when he can distinctly remember the feel of Kate's mouth on his, the way she'd sighed into the contact and pulled him that much closer.

Rick takes his time in exiting the break room after he's dropped off the box, snagging a chocolate frosted bearclaw from the selection within that he carries with him to his usual spot. Kate isn't there waiting, a disappointment to be sure, but Ryan and Esposito are already at their desks, each of them lifting their heads at his approach to give him matching looks of disapproval.

Esposito's warning about staying away from Kate rings in his head, but he presses on anyway, smiling at them as if nothing could be amiss as he takes his seat. "Good morning, Detectives," he says and while Ryan stays silent, Espo gives a snort of derision.

"Do you have a hearing problem, Castle?"

Whatever question he might have been expecting, that one certainly wasn't it, and it throws him for a moment. All he can do is blink at Esposito in confusion, eyebrows drawing together while he tries to work out what the detective is getting at, "No….."

"Did you hear that, Ryan?" Espo asks, swiveling in his desk chair so that he can easily glance over at his partner, "He doesn't have a hearing problem after all."

"Huh," Kevin replies, "Are you suffering from short term memory loss?"

"No…" Rick says, flicking between the two of them in turn, and obviously the guy who is missing the joke. "Why?"

"No reason," Ryan says, shrugging his shoulders, "We were just trying to figure out why you would interference in an active police investigation."

"What do you mean?"

He's no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth than Esposito has dropped a file folder on the empty patch of desk in front of Rick, his eyebrows raised towards his hairline. "Go ahead, open it," he says, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair.

Rick has to find a spot to deposit Kate's coffee and the bear claw he's wrapped in a napkin before he can flip open the file. The woman who he's supplied breakfast is inside the folder, the angles of her face thrown into stark contrast with the lighting of the park. She looks like a movie star from the 1940s with those big eyes and sharp cheekbones as she sits on a swing with two cups of coffee identical to the pair he's brought to the precinct in her hands.

There are more photos after that one, photos that include Rick strolling up to meet her and the two of them involved in what he knows was a very intense conversation. With every new photo that he flips to, the two of them seem to be inching closer to one another, drawn together like a pair of magnets that are wholly unable to resist the pull that is exerted on opposite poles.

His stomach gives a quick flip at the next photo because, in it, he and Kate have collided, mouths fused together and hands gripping at one another like their lives depend on it. He's blushing by the time he's made it through the entire folder, a mixture of embarrassment at being caught and the still vivid memory of how she had tasted combining to leave his cheeks stained a deep rosy pink.

"All we did was kiss," he mutters, closing the folder before he does something ridiculous like try to steal the photo where Kate's grinning at him while he laughs at something she's said.

"Which is quite an achievement considering I specifically told you to stay away from Beckett," Esposito says, picking up the file and putting it back on the other side of his desk with what Rick assumes is other information and evidence pertaining to Sophie Ronson's murder.

"Why did you have me under surveillance anyway?" Rick asks both of them, both shocked that they would go to such lengths and, if he's honest, a bit hurt that they did.

"We didn't," Ryan responds with a roll of his eyes as he gets to his feet. "Surveillance was set to tail Beckett since she's a murder suspect. Good thing, too, because if we hadn't had anyone on her, we'd never have caught you two playing tonsil hockey in the park."

"Tonsil hockey?" Espo groans, snatching up a small rubber ball from beside his computer monitor and flinging it towards Ryan's back as he scribbles on the murder board. It connects with his right shoulder with a light smack, bouncing back onto the floor towards Esposito's desk as Ryan gives a howl that largely muffles his partner's snort, "What is this? Seventh grade?"

As amused as he is by both Ryan's description and Esposito's reaction, Rick cuts across their bickering by raising his voice just a bit, "Sophie's murder was a crime of passion. An isolated incident. You've got no reason to suspect Beckett."

"Your opinion is what we would call a 'conflict of interest'" Esposito replies, bouncing the ball between his feet a few times, "given that if Beckett killed someone, it's gonna be awfully hard to ram your tongue down her throat when she's in jail." The grin he gives to Rick is merciless, and he doesn't even need to look to know that Kevin is doubled over with laughter.

"Both of you are jackasses, you know that?" Rick tells them, scowling in their direction until they've both worked through their laughter.

"So are you, bro," Espo says quickly, tapping the closed folder, "I told you to stay away from her so you wouldn't interfere with the case. Chances are that Beckett didn't do it, but until we find who did, every person connected to Sophie is a suspect, which is a fact that I know that you know."

"If Montgomery gets ahold of these before we close the case, he's going to throw you off of it," Ryan adds, taking a stack of paper from one of the file clerks with a muttered word of thanks as Rick sighs.

"She called me last night; wanted to apologize for yelling at me after you kicked me out of Will's interrogation," he says, "She was upset with Will, angry at the entire situation and when she asked me to meet her…..I couldn't say no. I've never been able to say no where Kate is concerned."

"You shouldn't have gone…."

"I know that," he replies, cutting off Esposito mid-sentence, "But I don't regret it. There were things that I've needed to say to Kate Beckett for a long time, and that was my chance to say them."

Ryan at least looks sympathetic when he steps over to pass Rick a stack of paper that a quick glance shows to be Will's bank statements. "I never really would have thought you and Beckett….." Ryan says with a shrug, ignoring Esposito's glare, "Neither of us knew you two when you were together, but she's…..she's different from your ex-wives. Down to earth. Compassionate….."

"She's different than any woman I've ever met," he admits, keeping his eyes on the financial records so he doesn't have to see the look that exchanges between the two detectives, "But it wasn't meant to be. Not then."

Clearing his throat from the sudden well of emotion, Rick lifts his head, holding up the sheaf of paper, "Anything specific we need to look for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary," Ryan replies as he takes a seat, snagging a highlighter from the shallow drawer in the center of his desk. "If Will and Sophie were having clandestine rendezvous, it'll show up."

"Will isn't your guy."

Ryan, Esposito and Castle all raise their heads in turn from identical stacks of paper, three pairs of eyes focusing on Kate as she stands in the doorway of the conference room that they've commandeered for their searching.

She steps into the room with all the authority she can muster, laying her coat on the back of one of the chairs before she hands the forensic report across the table to Ryan, "Lanie's official report. I went to see her this morning and she gave it to me to save you a trip to the morgue," she says, sliding out a chair to take a seat and doing her best to ignore the sparks of electricity she can feel from Rick's eyes being pinned on her.

"No forensic evidence other than the earring ties Will to Sophie's murder," Ryan reads from the paper, giving her a second glance to confirm the information. She nods her head immediately, a small relieved smile playing at her mouth.

"Lanie also said that the wounds on Sophie's back have metal deposits in them, and if we can find the object that caused them, she can match them. She's emailing photos of the abrasions to both of you."

"Well, we can't find any evidence that Will was involved with Sophie. For a man that has a trust fund, he sure doesn't spend like it," Esposito tells her, and Kate feels yet another weight lift off her shoulders at the news. Even if he's only confirming what she already knew, it's nice to have the doubts that have been roaming around in her mind silenced. "Most of his purchases seem to go towards the usual expenses: rent, car note, utility bills and the most extravagant thing he's bought in the past two years is an engagement ring and a plane ticket to Paris."

"Sophie is a different story," Ryan picks up when Esposito pauses, keen to do something about the wounded look Castle has on his face as he looks at the ring Beckett is still wearing on her left hand. "She was broke. There is only eighteen dollars in her bank account and all of her credit cards are maxed out. She withdrew her last one hundred dollars to come to New York."

"We had been told by Eleanor that Sophie was having some money trouble," Kate replies, pulling a small pile of papers towards her, "She called Eleanor about a month after our engagement party and asked her to pay for her flight and when Eleanor said no, Sophie called Will and told him that she couldn't be in the wedding."

"So what changed?"

"Will was the one who wanted her included and his mother is far too traditional and uptight to let him have a girl be part of his party, so I asked her to be a bridesmaid; mostly because it was important to him. When she said she had to drop out I decided not to replace her," she says, "But then she called back in October and told Will that she had changed her mind, that she'd solved her money problems and wanted to be in the wedding if we would still have her."

"That didn't seem suspicious to you?" Esposito asks.

"Not really. Everyone comes up short from time to time, and Will just said that she'd gotten a new job so I just let it go and forgot about it."

All four of them lapse into silence once she's finished explaining, the three cops in the room flipping through paper while the writer sits with a mind full of memories and questions. Rick had expected that the next time he saw Kate, she'd be without her engagement ring, that she and Will would have had a discussion that culminated in the end of their relationship.

He had been so sure after last night, after their talk in the park and the kiss they had shared that Kate wouldn't stay with Will but, now, he can feel the disappointment and the hurt creeping in. Maybe Alexis and his mother had been right, maybe Kate wasn't to be trusted with his heart. Hadn't she already broken it before?

"...Ryan, how much did Gamble say that Sophie paid him for the drugs?" Esposito asks, interrupting Rick's pity party before it can really get started.

"Two hundred in cash," Ryan replies, tapping on the notation where it's written on the murder board they've wheeled into the conference room.

"So how did she get the money? Even if she withdrew that hundred bucks to buy the drugs, she was still at least hundred short. There is nothing in her bank statement that indicate she made any charges on her way from Los Angeles, and she didn't have enough credit left on her cards to charge it there. So how did she pay for food or a cab from the airport to the hotel? There's nothing at all after that last withdrawal."

"When did Sophie take the money out of her account?" Kate's voice has an edge to it, prickling at all of their ears with what feels like the beginning of a new thread to pull. She's sat up in her chair, a certain measure of expectation and knowledge brimming in those green eyes before anyone can answer.

"Wednesday."

"A day before she left to fly to New York City…."

"I thought Sophie arrived on Friday. Laurie and Lanie both told us that the first time either of them saw her was the luncheon that you had for them," Ryan replies, pausing when Kate lifts her arm and passes him a piece of paper.

"That's because we all thought she did arrive on Friday, but according to that flight manifest, Sophie was here in Manhattan on Thursday."

"So what did she do between Thursday and Friday?" Esposito asks the room at large.

"Dunno," Kate replies, "But it might explain where she got the extra money."

"Doesn't explain how she paid for her dress or her flight," Rick speaks up, shaking himself out of his moping to watch the three cops in the room with him start putting the pieces of the case together. Ryan and Esposito are looking at him with confusion, but there's a look of understanding in Kate's gaze which is to be expected given that she's recently planned a wedding. "Kate just said that Sophie told Will she had come into some money, and they both assumed it was because she'd gotten a new job, but if the increase in income had been a job, it's not likely she would still be broke. I've got statements from September, October, and November and her checking account balance is never over four hundred dollars."

"Her bridesmaid dress cost nine hundred," Kate mutters, her cheeks burning dark pink when Ryan and Esposito turn to her with shock on their faces. "Her shoes were another two hundred."

"How in the hell…" Esposito swears.

"Eleanor is a believer in spending extravagantly," she sighs, answering the question that no one dares to ask, "She planned most of our wedding, including picking the dresses for the bridesmaids. I picked the color, but not much else. Certainly not the price."

"I don't know a girl alive who isn't obsessed with picking and coordinating every detail of her wedding. My sisters were maniacs," Ryan says, a different sort of awe in his voice when he looks at Kate. "You are to be commended, Beckett. Handing over control like that."

"It's hard to keep control when you are on the road all the time with work," Kate admits, fidgeting in her seat when all three of them continue to stare at her. She knows what it sounds like, how it appears to most people that she'd been so unconcerned with her wedding. She had told herself at the time that the ceremony had been the important part, though she had never said it aloud to anyone that but Will, too concerned that people would think she was lying to cover disinterest with platitudes. "Anyway, Sophie would have spent at least a couple thousand to be in the wedding with the dress, the shoes, the flight and the hotel."

"So the money came from somewhere else, since she definitely didn't have that kind of cash," Rick adds.

"But where?" Espo sighs, staring at the murder board with a long sigh.

"No, Laurie, you were great," Kate mutters into the phone, scratching absently at the headache that's been persisting between her eyes for most of the afternoon. She and Ryan had hit the phones immediately after they'd found the flight manifest, talking to everyone from her cousin Maria to Will's Great Aunt Ruby, a woman with a loud New Jersey accent who knew every bit of gossip involving the latest season of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, but couldn't tell Kate a thing about Sophie.

Even her dad, who she had called with reluctance because Jim Beckett would immediately hear her frustration and hesitance from the moment she said hello had been little help, though he had insisted that she meet him for dinner.

Laurie Hill, the one person she had maintained contact and a friendship with since Stanford, is the last on the list, and Kate crosses her name off as she hangs up the phone. Three hours worth of calls had given her nothing but a throat that aches from overuse and shoulders tight with tension.

She doesn't know where Esposito and Castle have gotten to, but it's a relief to have spent some time without Rick's gaze following her everywhere. She had spent the morning pretending not to notice the curious or the wounded looks he sent her way, or the multiple times she'd caught him staring at her engagement ring with a frown on his face. Kate hadn't asked him what the fascination was with the ring. She already knew.

They had kissed and Rick had taken that to mean she was leaving Will.

Just the thought has her stifling a groan, burying her face in her hands while her head gives another insistent throb of pain. She knows there is likely a bottle of aspirin in the first aid drawer in the break room, but Kate makes no move to stand up and retrieve it, instead using the moment of silence to internally berate herself for the choices she's made in the past 48 hours.

The reality is that she's scared. Scared to break Will's heart, scared to accept Castle's. Scared of making the wrong choice and ending up with nothing.

"Kate."

The sound of her name has Kate jerking her hands away from her face, Will's hesitant smile the first thing that she sees. He's standing at the side of Esposito's desk, her old work space, watching her with concern and a bit of worry. Even so, she's happy to see him, and she summons up her own tired smile, pushing the rolling chair away from the desk to get to her feet with the intention of giving him a hug.

He wraps his arm around her carefully, the contact still a bit stiff, but she leans on him anyway. It's comforting and familiar; she fits against him like they were made to go together but, now, it feels wrong. Now, Kate knows what isn't there.

There is no spark, no frisson of shock and pleasure that slices across her skin. If it were ever there, it's been gone for so long that she can't remember the last time touching Will seemed to make her come alive and it makes her inexplicably sad.

"You look exhausted," he murmurs once she's pulled away, sliding her hands into the pocket of her dress pants. "I can get you some coffee if you want…."

"No," she says quickly, placing a hand against his arm to keep Will from rushing off anywhere, "I'm on caffeine overload as it is. I just need sleep."

"And for this to be over," Will supplies, glancing around the bullpen, "This place looks exactly the same."

"Budget cuts," Kate hums with a shrug of her shoulders, "They don't leave much room to redecorate."

Her joke doesn't seem to find its mark. Will's response is a blank look of confusion, one that doesn't last very long as the elevator opens to deposit another group of people onto the Homicide floor. At the front of the pack Kate spots Eleanor, her dark hair carefully styled to brush her shoulders and a red dress topped with a black coat covering her tall frame.

"Will, darling!" Eleanor announces, making sure that her voice carries just enough in the crowded bullpen so that cops and civilians alike will take notice of her. She's elegant in how she approaches her son, giving the lightest hug and a quick kiss to his cheek that has Will's face showing the hint of a blush that she never notices. "Hello to you as well, Kate."

"Eleanor," Kate replies neatly, her face a mask of politeness. "What brings you here?"

"I was asked to come down," Eleanor says, "One of the detectives called, they want to ask me some questions about Sophie."

From the look that Eleanor saddles her with, her future mother-in-law is in complete disapproval of being asked to present herself in a police station, which is all the more reason Kate has to press her lips together to stop her grin from forming. It's not funny, not really, but she and Eleanor are so completely at odds that she's long since just accepted her joy at seeing the woman thrust into unideal situations for what it is.

"Ah," she says once she's mastered control of her expression, spinning lightly on her heels to see Ryan nudging his way between two uniforms with apology written on his face. "Here's Detective Ryan now."

"Mrs. Sorenson, Will," Ryan addresses them as he approaches, "Thanks for coming down. We've got just a few questions that we want to ask you. Beckett, if you'll take Mrs. Sorenson, I'll take Will and we'll get this taken care of. Shouldn't take long."

He's good, Kate will give him that much, because Ryan has no sooner asked her to deal with Eleanor than he's swept Will off towards the empty break room and left the two of them standing in the bullpen.

"Let's get on with it, Katherine. I have far better things to do today than this." Eleanor says, interrupting her preoccupation with watching Will take a seat on the battered couch in the lounge. It's just as well because a moment later Ryan has closed the door, cutting off her view of him.

"Follow me," she tells Eleanor, resisting the urge to turn and take her towards interrogation to instead stroll through the rows of desks. The conference room is still empty, and Kate holds the door open for the older woman, securing it behind her once she's crossed the threshold.

She picks her chair carefully, choosing to sit at the head of the table to force Eleanor into one of the other seats that ring the perimeter. It's nothing more than a slight purse of her lips, but Kate sees the disapproval anyway.

Eleanor Sorenson liked to have control. She especially liked to exert it over people who didn't fit her ideals, so wrenching it from her, even in something as small as seating arrangements, is its own small victory.

This is Kate's room, her space to control, and she doesn't acknowledge any of it the woman's disapproval. She just slides her notebook and pen over from the seat adjacent and lifts it to the paper to make a quick notation of the date, the time, and who the interview is being conducted with.

"We retraced Sophie's steps leading up to her murder," she begins, deciding it's best to explain why an additional interview is needed. "I know from previous statements that you've made to the police that you thought Sophie arrived in New York on Friday, is that correct?"

"When you say 'we', are you implying that you are a Homicide Detective?" Eleanor asks, a combination of amusement and spitefulness on her face. "I didn't know that FBI Agents could also work for the NYPD."

"I've agreed to help the department with this case," Kate explains quickly, "So if you'll just answ-"

The voice that cuts into her sentence is painfully polite, though Eleanor's eyes are shooting daggers at her from across the table. "Oh, I see," she says with the slightest nod of her head, "So, if I'm to understand this correctly, you offered to help the New York Police Department to solve a case and, in the course of helping them, brought my son and your fiancé into this building and allowed him to be interrogated for murder as if he were a common criminal."

"Yes," she answers, using every measure of control that any of her law enforcement training has taught her to keep her voice and her face emotionless.

"Hmm," Eleanor sighs, her dark eyes roaming around the room for one overly critical pass before they land squarely back on Kate. "I wonder what it must be like to be that callous. It truly is a special type of person who wears the physical representation of commitment and love on her hand and not only arrests the man who gave it to her, but helped locate the evidence to earn him a trip to jail. What Will continues to see in you, I have no idea."

Kate can feel her hand trembling with anger, a boiling pit that bubbles up from somewhere deep in her gut. Eleanor's dislike of her had never been a secret, but it had always been something that she and Will had taken in stride. But, now, it ricochets across the room with the same force as if Eleanor had reached across the table and slapped her.

"Answer the question," she says softly, ignoring the flare of pain and the hurt, "Did you believe that Sophie Ronson arrived in Manhattan on Friday?"

"Of course," Eleanor replies, "That was the first time I saw her. Shopping in the hotel store."

"And you didn't ask her about her flight or any of her travel arrangements?"

The sigh is one of exasperation when it comes, accompanied by the slight roll of her eyes, "I didn't mention it. I complimented the dress that she was buying when I saw her, recommended the seaweed wrap that they do in the spa and I left. Given that Sophie and I had a disagreement over money, specifically over this trip in particular, it would have been rude to bring it up. She clearly wasn't lacking for money, and that was the important thing. She picked herself up and made her own way."

"Did you talk to her after that initial meeting?"

"In passing, I'm sure, but nothing significant."

"And no one told you about speaking to her, that Sophie had mentioned coming to New York a day early?"

"I've already said no," Eleanor replies, "Now do you have any other questions, or can we put an end to this incredible waste of time?"

Kate is torn between saying yes just so Eleanor will leave the room and taking her time in writing up a set of notes on the interview just to further annoy the woman. She goes with the latter, slowly composing her thoughts and impressions to paper and replacing the cap on her ballpoint pen when she's finished.

"You can go," she says, "But we might need to speak to you again."

She sincerely doubts that they will need Eleanor again, but it's immensely satisfying to see how annoyed Will's mother is as she gets to her feet, "Let's hope not," Eleanor replies, swinging her enormous leather handbag onto her shoulder before she strides out into the bullpen.

"I've had a brilliant idea."

Castle looks less like the dejected and sad man that had sat across from her earlier in the day when he hurries into the conference room, waving what looks to be a generic dvd case in the air. "Your explanation about the bridesmaid dress started it. We know Sophie got her money from somewhere, but we haven't been able to trace it through her bank account. But she bought a bridesmaid dress and a pair of shoes, and, lucky for us, Eleanor Sorenson has expensive taste. So expensive that there were only nine boutiques in Los Angeles that sell that particular dress in that color."

He looks cute, pacing back and forth in front of the table with his eyes sparkling with the excitement of a lead that also seems to fall into the category of being a good story. Despite herself, Kate feels the beginning of a smile forming, and she lifts her hand from where it's been fisted under her chin to discreetly hide her mouth. It's a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in her head and Eleanor's rather effective dressing down. Rick's excitement forces Kate to pull focus from the moping and internal debate that she'd been having since Eleanor left, her voice carrying through the bullpen and insisting that Will take his mother to lunch.

Will hadn't stopped to ask if she wanted to go, he hadn't even looked for her, which was just as well given the tension between them and the fact Kate wanted nothing to do with his mother for the time being.

"Espo and I called all those stores, asking for the names of individuals who had purchased the dress from September to December and we got a hit," Rick rattles off, waving the disc case yet again, "And this is freshly downloaded security video from the store in question where, it so happens, Sophie paid for her dress and all the accessories, in cash."

"You can add rent payments to that," Esposito adds as he leans into the room, "Just talked to Sophie's landlord and her last three rent payments were all in cash too."

Kate is still watching Castle with amazement, incredibly proud of his investigative prowess and impressed at what his brain can do. "Shall we watch a little bridal shop surveillance?"

The three of them have to go back into the bullpen, crowding around Esposito's desk chair as the disc loads on his computer. The video begins to play immediately; the angle looking to be from the corner of the room as Sophie enters from an adjoining space with a woman that Kate suspects is an employee at the boutique.

Sophie's tugging at the dress when she enters, fussing with the wrap that had been, according to Eleanor, intended to add both elegance and modesty. The full glimpse that the camera shows of her face is brief, but Kate's instincts demand that she take notice of the apprehension that clouds Sophie's face, the reluctance in her body language when she turns to the right and steps out of camera range.

The angle changes quickly, shifting to another view of the room that is much wider than the first. From here, you can see racks of dresses hanging on walls, the shadow of a trio of mannequins in the distance and, once again, Sophie. She steps forward tentatively, stopping in the center of the frame to face a figure that can't been seen at first.

When the body lumbers to its feet, Kate can't help but gasp, covering her mouth in shock. She doesn't need to see the face to know who is in the video, but Teddy crosses over in full view anyway, walking in a slow circle around Sophie to give his nod of approval.

"The boutique owner confirmed that Teddy paid for the dress in cash," Esposito says, "Sophie told him as they stood at the counter that she didn't know if she could go through with the plan. And he told her that he'd gone to a lot of trouble and fulfilled his end of the bargain and now it was her turn."

"I just don't get it," Kate says, glancing at Espo and Castle in turn as if they can flip the switch that will suddenly gift her understanding. "Teddy was supplying Sophie with money? Why would he do that?"

"Doesn't matter. This is enough to drag him in for a more official chat," Espo replies, stopping the video playback and carefully scooting his chair from the desk. "Lucky for us, Uncle Sugar Daddy is due for a visit in an hour for his follow up interview, we don't even have to send uniforms to pick him up."