Next instalment to this treacherous little portion. There is a lot in this part to deal with and yes, I'm finding it challenging and yes, I have written ahead some way. As usual, it's a must I remain in sync with the events as they rolled out, while the behind the scenes pieces are created and inserted. It takes effort to adhere to the characteristics created by Milmar and I often have to watch the related episodes to remind me how it looked. These strong characters carry flaws and we all are aware like every person on this earth but I won't write those flaws into ground, demean any of the characters. Enjoy this part. Thank you for the feedback. Love it and encourage more. For those who don't have an identity when you provide feedback, thanks for putting a name so I can recognize repeat messengers. Great idea.

Get on with it…..

Chapter 83

Upon Castle's arrival at the Precinct about 20 minutes after Beckett had arrived, he found his girlfriend alone at her desk. He passed her a red thermal cup. "Soup," he said, "It's what I cooked up the other day. Its heated, ready to have." The right side of his mouth lifted slightly in amusement when he saw Beckett's cheeks and part of her neck remained blushed from their earlier activities.

A smile bloomed over her face for a different reason and she looked up to his eyes, keenly taking the cup. "Soup. Thank you, Castle. I'm starving."

"I know." He replied with a smart smirk as he scanned the bull pen in search of the FBI team, before he added, "I know sex makes you hungry." He sat in his chair.

"Starves me," she said in hushed tones as she unscrewed the lid.

"Definitely improves your appetite." He turned about, "Hey? Where is everybody?"

"Ryan and Esposito are talking to Conrad's sister, and.." she peered into the soup cup. His chicken soup was delicious. She glanced up suddenly aware he was asking about the FBI agents, "Agent Shaw is briefing the Mayor."

Castle sat up, checked his watch. "Oh. He will be thrilled to bloody bits about the time. I'm sure he'll be less than thrilled to learn that Conrad is just another victim."

Beckett took her first sip, her eyes closed. She savored the taste. "Humm." She didn't care about the Mayor's woes one bit. She too was up in the earliest hours of the night.

"And she loves my cooking," he smugly stated.

"I do," she said between sips.

"And, the Mayor won't be too happy about his city being in danger either." Castle, who watched her with partial amusement said, "Nothing like the threat of being murdered by a serial killer to stifle tourism."

She smirked, "Yeah, and it doesn't help that everyone in the city thinks that we caught the guy."

"Speaking of Ben Conrad, what have you found out?"

"In ten minutes?" Beckett asked and he nodded, "Well, we got that he's 34 years old, never married."

"I'm going out on a limb here saying, judging from the relationship with his dog, Mr Bumpkins, Conrad didn't have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, well, other than the people that we've already run down from the dog park, he doesn't even have friends." She took another sip. "Leave alone a girlfriend."

"The man stuffed his dog," Castle stressed and watched the other two members of their team come from the elevator. They too had gone home, cleaned up and changed their clothes. Like him, they hadn't bothered to shave. If the truth be known, he hadn't had the time to shave with the messing around he'd got up to in the shower with Beckett. It had grounded and bonded them, allowed them to escape from reality for a snippet of time.

When the guys reached Beckett's desk they pulled over a couple of chairs and sat down where they could see the white board.

"You guys cleaned up." Castle commented just for the fun of it.

"Yeah," Ryan replied giving his head a scratch, "And it was friggin' hard not to climb into bed and sleep."

"It did cross my mind to fall into the sack too." Esposito added then pointed generally at Beckett.

"Where did you clean up, Chica, with no home?"

Without hesitation, Beckett replied with a dead straight expression, "I went back to Castle's joint. Used his shower. We fucked. Fresh clothes. Came back."

Castle choked on phlegm. "Say what?" He coughed out, his widened eyes projected at Beckett.

Inside a second she gave him a devilish smile, then became serious as she replied to Esposito. "I used the gym."

"I think someone is lacking sleep too." Ryan commented, looking over Beckett, not believing her one bit about the loft. "Making you delirious."

"Maybe wishful too." Castle replied, "You know I wouldn't be able to refuse."

Kate laughed, putting a hand to her chest. "Oh dear. You're right, Kev. I'm lacking sleep."

"Aren't we all." Ryan glanced to his partner, cleared his throat and pulled out his note pad. He flipped it open and read his notes before he spoke again unaware Esposito and Beckett were nonverbally having a bit of a conversation.

Esposito was questioning whether she'd been serious about the fucking part of her statement. She blew it off as having a bit of fun with a shake of her head, a cheeky smile. Rick also got involved and shook his head slowly from left to right and back to the left, denying everything.

"You know." Ryan started, "Maybe you two should hook up." He glanced between Beckett and Castle. "It would solve a lot of sexual tension and we could double date."

"Ryan." Beckett said, "I was just having a bit of fun."

"Well, moving on then," Ryan continued, "Conrad's sister confirmed that he was a loner."

"No surprise there." Castle sobered up, although he remained a nice blend of somewhat surprised and annoyed with Beckett's tongue in cheek confession. It was way outside of her persona to behave such a way. Thankfully, she'd returned to being Detective Beckett, nursing a cup of soup rather than a mug of coffee.

"No," Ryan responded, "And he told his sister that when he lost his job a couple of months ago, that he spent his days emailing résumés from coffee shops that offer free internet."

Esposito continued, "And other than Bumpkins, his only other joy in life was the Knicks."

"Poor guy," Ryan said.

"Jordan said the profile indicated that the killer hunted Conrad." Castle reminded them, "If he wasn't a friend, then he must have met up with him somewhere where people strike up a casual conversation."

"We figure if he camped out with his laptop at a coffee shop, our killer could've sat down next to him, and they got to talking. Are you drinking soup at this hour of the night, Beckett?" Esposito said, "What's with you? You're full of surprises tonight."

"Castle brought it in for me. Its good. No surprises." Beckett answered as she got up from her chair, to go to the white board. "Conrad's sister said that he was a Knicks fan, right?" She closely studied the photos of Conrad's apartment.

She didn't see Ryan or Esposito nod. She didn't see Castle perve on her backside.

She turned about to look at Castle who quickly lifted his eyes. She gave him a look aware of where his mind was, then pointed at the board as she asked the gents. "What's missing from these pictures?"

Castle rose from his chair to have a closer inspection of the photos with the rest of the team, "Good taste?"

"Not the answer I'm looking for."

Esposito scanned the photos, "Area rug?"

Ryan chipped in, "Decent lighting?"

Beckett sighed, tapped the main picture, "A TV," she announced. "Which means he would have to walk to a local bar to watch the games."

"Yeah," Ryan commented, "If you're a Knicks fan you got to share your pain with somebody."

"True," Espo agreed and knocked fists with his partner.

"Okay," Beckett said, "You two take all of the coffee shops or internet cafes within a 5-block radius of Conrad's apartment."

"That are still open," Castle commented, with a lazy point at his watch.

Kate breathed deeper. "Yes."

The three men yawned, and she struggled to hold back one. She pushed through it. "Can you ask around and see if anyone remembers him talking to a customer. Castle and I will take the bars." She then pointed at Castle. "And if you keep quoting Jordan, I am going to turn the radio way up."

Castle sung with a high-pitched tone, "Jealous."

"Hey," Espo called as he headed towards his desk to collect personal items, "By the time we're done we should meet at that Starbucks for coffee and breakfast, that is, if you two don't have something else in mind."

Beckett checked the time, ignored his remark. "I'll text you when we're at the last bar."

"I'll text you," Castle butted in, "To let you know if she happens to cave in to her desires."

Esposito laughed, "You are in the shit so deep."

His back to Beckett, Rick nervously laughed. "And she's glaring at me right now isn't she?"

"Yep." Espo replied and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by. "Good luck."

"It's way too late for us to be working. We've crossed the proverbial line." Ryan said as he followed Esposito to the elevator.

When they were gone, Rick returned to his chair he sat in and pointed at her the cup of soup. "You finish that first, and then we'll go."

"Gotta visit the bathroom on the way out too." She replied as she collected the cup. She consumed some then passed it to Castle to share.

Before he had any, he glanced around, then asked, "What the hell, Kate?" He placed the cup back in front of her.

"What?" She inquired innocently, also noting what he'd done with the soup cup.

"You said we fucked?" He hissed.

She shrugged. "I dunno, Castle. Maybe it's time we shared." She picked up the soup, had a sip.

"Share we're dating yeah, but …." He sat back and studied her, really unsure about what she'd been thinking when she made that statement. Yeah, he understood she was playing with the guys, but surely even she had to admit she had skated on thin ice. The guys only had to take an altered perception of them and they would be able to see they were in a relationship.

"I'm sorry," she said placing the soup cup on the desk. "It was silly of me."

"Sure was, Honey." He tried to hold of the sarcasm to little avail.

"But hey, Shaw's figured us out."

"That's Shaw. She's gone when this case is over. You're gonna be staying at my place and the guys are with us every day. Maybe it's time we let people know." He suggested unsure how she would react.

"Wait up Buddy." Beckett suddenly sobered and sat up, looked right at him. "Let's see how things go there at your place and then we'll assess what we want to do."

"Fair enough. But no more outbursts like that one, deal?"

"Deal." Beckett replied.

He stood up. "Let's go get this done. I need some rest." He walked off.

Beckett remained at her desk, processing what he'd just said, aware he was pissed off. She understood she'd shocked him, but she'd also surprised herself, how flippantly she'd come out and basically confessed to her work colleagues about their secret affair. It'd come from nowhere.

She followed him but continued to the bathroom without saying anything. She used the cubicle stared vacantly at the back of the door. At the basin, she stared at herself in the mirror wondering what the hell had got into her. She was tired, appeared so in her face. She was pale in complexion. There was fear in her gut and her eyes expressed that fear. She was going to be living with Castle. The writer. The writer whose works her mother had enjoyed reading. The novels had been a common place for a teenager and a mother. She'd accompanied her mother to his book signings, him a man, her a skinny lanky teenage girl who read his novels. Here she was, a grown woman, moving in with that man because she didn't have a home. When he was present, she was fine with the concept, but alone, she was fearful.

Lungs that craved oxygen forced her to draw in air in a deep and sudden inhalation.

"Shit."

She turned off the faucet. "Its late," she whispered to the face in the mirror, "I'm tired, just cool it and get this case finished."

While Esposito and Ryan worked their way through late night cafes, Castle and Beckett virtually completed a dry pub crawl. With their previous discussion behind them they quickly regrouped and carried on as normal.

Castle repeatedly expressed how much fun it would be if she was off duty and they were cruising the bars rather than how reality had brought it about. She decided to lock him into the suggestion, and then he suggested they should also invite the rest of their gang. Hire a car to drop them off and pick 'em up. The time it took them to visit each bar and question each manager on duty, Rick managed to book in a date and had texted the invitations. Finally, when they were entering the last bar on the list, he had also booked flights to Vancouver and a table for two at a new restaurant he wanted to try.

It was also the last bar where they finally struck gold. The jointed sported a big banner above the bar that read, Home of New York's very own serial killer Ben Conrad!

Castle couldn't help by laugh in joy. They had found another clue.

Beckett managed to put the bar lady on the wrong side when she said the banner would have to come down as the matter was still an ongoing investigation.

The bar lady share that Ben Conrad had talked about the death of his dog and had cried about it he was so emotionally affected.

They learned that Conrad mostly drank alone and watched the games by himself. The bar lady did recall a couple of weeks ago, he had struck up a conversation with some guy.

She said the guy was average looking, a bit off, like Conrad. They had sat at a high top and shared a few drinks.

The best information they received, what potentially might have them break the case wide open, was the bar lady told them she had ordered a cab to pick up the guy when the Knicks were in overtime. While on hold to the cab company she had missed the end of the game. She remained pissed off about it so her memory was crystal clear. Exactly the break they needed.

They skipped the breakfast date at Starbucks and headed back to the Precinct with fresh bear claws. Beckett contacted the cab company while Castle made fresh coffees. The cab company confirmed their records indicated there had been a cab sent to the bar at 10:45 on the night of the Knicks game. The same cab had dropped the passenger off on the corner of Varick and Downing, West Village.

After writing it on the white board, Beckett put it out there to the team who quietly sat consuming bear claws and coffee, that she thought about 50,000 people lived within walking distance of that corner.

Even if they only focused on searching for an average-looking white guy, they were still searching for a needle in a haystack. They weren't even sure what he looked like.

On Shaw's suggestion, they started to delve in to the behavioral side of the killer. Originally, the team noted his behavior seemed inconsistent, but they understood that was because he was pretending to be someone else. They knew a lot more now. They deduced he was a show off, a game player with an exceptionally high IQ. Shaw believed the killer also had a pathological need to validate his intelligence, and most likely was a member of an organization like Mensa or Prometheus. It was agreed that he was like a chameleon, could blend in with the environment. They decided to assume that he was living under a stolen identity. Beckett nominated he would be of average appearance which would enable is ability to hide in the background. They agreed he would also be literate. He had already shown certain dispositions in his fascination with Nikki Heat. They opted to follow up the writing side. Using their technology, the FBI team drew up a list of periodicals and magazines that the killer most likely subscribed to.

Sitting on the edge of a desk with Beckett beside him, Castle scanned the sheet of paper that had the list of magazines. "I subscribe or get half of these," he confessed and set his eyes upon Beckett who happened to roll hers. "I do." He insisted.

"Yes," Shaw agreed, half amused by the expression he also gave his partner. "And you also kill people for a living. In your books."

Beckett who lowered the paper, commented "This is a pretty wide net."

"So is Varick and Downing and so are memberships in high IQ societies. But put them all together, and sometimes we get lucky." Shaw replied, her eyes back on the monitor.

"You mean like Berkowitz's parking ticket?"

"Exactly Beckett." Shaw said, "But it's not always that neat. You just keep adding pieces of the puzzle until a picture emerges."

They gathered closer to the FBI's smart board.

Agent Avery explained to the dozen or so present, "We collated subscription information from the profiled periodicals as well as member lists from the high IQ organizations within a 1-mile radius of the Varick and Downing area. We got 17 hits." He presented the list on the screen.

Shaw said, "Run the names through our database. Most serials have some kind of indication of violent behavior, criminal or psychiatric records."

Avery had the computer run the list. Beckett leaned against a desk expecting it to take a while but within a minute the search was complete.

"Negative for any matches." Agent Avery stated a little deflated.

"All right." Shaw said momentarily stewing on that outcome, "Well, at least we gave it a shot. I'll have our teams interview these guys."

"Huh." Avery muttered to himself, his eyes on the screen.

Rick was also looking at it already piecing the information together. "There's a link." He noted mainly to Beckett.

Simultaneously, Shaw turned back to face Avery, "Huh, what?"

"This one here," Avery pointed at the screen but didn't touch it. "Chris Doherty." He glanced to Castle who bobbed his head with enthusiasm. "We've got a recent driver's license, but according to his social security number." He lowered his hand a fraction, "It says here, that Chris Doherty died six years ago."

"He's living under a stolen identity." Beckett said.

"So, does it say where our dead guy supposedly lived?" Shaw inquired.

"Yes, Ma'am, his address puts him half a block from Downing and Varick."

Beckett smiled, glanced to Castle, "Okay. Now I'm officially impressed."

"Same," Castle replied.

Shaw said, "Don't be. Not until he's in our custody. Let's roll."

TBC