Another Chance

Chapter 24

Micah plops down opposite Alexis at her table at Java Hut. "My aunt just died."

She reaches across the table to take his hand. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

"She's been sick for a long time, heart failure. The medication worked for a while, but finally, the muscle was so weak it couldn't pump anymore, and she had too much else wrong with her to be eligible for a transplant. The funeral is going to be the day after tomorrow. She always said I was her favorite nephew. I had to be. I was her only nephew. But I used to go to her apartment to fix things and just keep her company.

"She had a crush on Leslie Nielsen. We watched all his old movies together, the serious ones and the funny ones. I think I must have seen Tammy and the Bachelor about 10 times. I believe Aunt Golda had a fantasy about rescuing his character from a plane crash, herself. Anyway, since I spent so much time with her, my family wants me to do the eulogy, and I have no idea what to say. I've never done anything like that before. I've only been to one other funeral when my grandfather died. I don't even know how they work."

Alexis reaches up to brush the hair from his face. "I've only been to three, my grandparents on my mother's side and the one for Captain Montgomery, who was Kate's boss. She was almost killed there. But even without that, they were all different. What people said was different too. I think you just speak from your heart. What you told me about watching movies with your aunt might work - maybe you should leave out the thing about her crush on Leslie Nielsen. Or you could talk about what she taught you, how she coped with her illness through the years. Whatever made a difference in your life. Think of it as one of the stories you wrote in a creative writing class except that you and your aunt are characters. I can help you if you want. It should sound like you, but I can make sure you don't split any infinitives. I always used to catch that in stuff my father had me red pencil."

"Thanks. Just having you with me will make it easier to write. Could you come to the service too? Neither one of us has a class that morning."

"Whatever you need me to do."

Kate rolls her tongue around in her mouth. "Tamera, this is incredible! I've never tasted a cake like this. What's in it?"

The chef smiles smugly. "Cinnamon, butterscotch and a few trade secrets. I was thinking that you might like to have two cakes or a big one with multiple tiers. That way you can please the chocoholics in the crowd and have a cake like this for your guests who are allergic to chocolate or just don't like it."

Castle takes another forkful of his "Dead of Night" cake. I can understand allergic, but who wouldn't like chocolate? Anyway, I'd go for the tiers. It fits with the layers I am constantly peeling back on my bride. Wow! That didn't come out right."

"I like the multiple layers too," Kate agrees, smothering a giggle. "That way no one feels like they're getting second best."

Tamera takes notes on her iPad. "Tiers it will be. Bride and groom on the top?"

Castle clears his throat. "Kate and I are still discussing that. She wants to go the traditional route, and I was thinking more Han Solo and Princess Leia."

Tamera taps her purple and orange fingernails against the back of her tablet. You could do a little of both. Some bride figurines come with white hooded gowns. They look a little like Leia. And we can find a groom with either a brown coat or a vest."

"I would definitely go for a brown coat," Castle decides. "And maybe a little gun on his…" He catches the slit-eyed expression on Kate's face. "No gun."

Tamera lays her tablet on the tasting table. "Then I guess we're set for now. You let me know as soon as you can if there are any adjustments – guests with dietary restrictions, that kind of thing."

"'We will," Castle promises. "And thanks for meeting us so early. Kate's shift starts in less than an hour."

"Not a problem," Tamera assures him. "When you bake, this time of morning is like the middle of the day."

Castle rubs his eyes and yawns as he and Kate step out of the elevator. "I could use more coffee. "You?"

Phones ring all over the bullpen almost simultaneously. "Yeah. From the sound of things, we're both going to need it."

Kate's phone sounds off just as she reaches her desk. Her teeth almost drawing blood from her lip, she writes down the details. Shots were fired from a Soho apartment building toward the building across the street and the sidewalk below. People have been hit. The caller who phoned 911 was hiding behind a car and couldn't see how many but reported that the bullets just kept coming. Kate scribbles, "lg cap mg," on a sticky note. As Castle returns from the break room, he silently hands her coffee in a to-go cup and they both head for the elevator.

Uniformed units are already setting up a cordon around the devastation when Kate and Castle get there. Paramedic units have arrived, and more are screaming their way to the scene. Uninjured witnesses are still being guided by uniformed officers into the shelter of the lobby of a nearby building. Before going in to begin questioning them, Kate takes in every detail she can. The shots would have had to come from a higher floor or the roof. Squads of cops will be searching for exactly where. The shooter is probably long gone. Most of the buildings have back stairs and back doors. Some have exits from basements. If she's lucky, there will be a trail of some kind, but she's not putting much faith in that. She's just hoping the sniper stayed in his nest long enough to leave something - sweat, saliva - behind. If the lab can get a phenotype from the DNA, they'll at least have some idea what he looks like and maybe even more than that.

In the meantime, she, Castle and the other detectives including the boys, can talk to all the available witnesses. It's possible someone saw something or knows enough about one of the victims to come up with a motive. It's a long shot, but sometimes there are little scraps of information that make no sense until they're put together, and no one is better at doing that than Castle.

His face is white, and he's pulled his coat tight around him to fight the chill that comes as much from the horror of the events as from the temperature. She feels it herself, but it seems to hit him harder. If anything, that's what she loves about him. She knows now that what she'd pegged as self-centered and uncaring when they first started working together, was just a defense mechanism against being crushed by the unspeakable acts witnessed by cops on a regular basis. He cares - way too much for comfort. He uses his stories to try and make sense of what would otherwise be unendurable tragedies. Sometimes she wishes she could do the same.