Castle: Delusion

Tuesday 25 December

19.23

Twelfth Precinct

After years of shadowing the NYPD, Castle wasn't at all surprised by how quickly the Homicide department assembled around its best detective. Nor should he be taken aback by Beckett's ability to switch into Detective Mode. Yet in the face of the disappearance of her daughter, it was chilling that when she had called to tell him that she had found Erin's broken phone the voice that had spoken was not Kate's. Devoid of emotion, matter of fact yet urgent and direct. When he and Alexis had run into the alley, without speaking the three of them had looked up at the surrounding buildings, twisting in circles, searching every brick as if Erin could be hidden, just out of reach, behind the city's walls.

Captain Gates arrived at the precinct at the same time as Esposito and Ryan, still, like him, in their Christmas Day attire. As soon as she had been informed, Gates had issued an Amber alert, making the vanishing of Erin McDonnel a high priority case involving as many departments and resources as possible. As she stepped out of the elevator, across the bullpen her eyes met his. He craned his neck to Beckett busy rolling up her black turtleneck sleeves, her coat and crutches thrown over her desk, one crutch on the floor.

He looked back at Gates; between them the precinct was alive with activity. Of course, she would send Beckett home; he well knew the captain's strict policy against any detective working a case to which they are personally attached (Beckett hadn't been allowed to investigate the murders Erin had witnessed). Pleading, he shook his head and with the slightest of grave nods she agreed. She easily grasped that in this moment no one, including her, had any authority over Kate Beckett.

Now he watched as beneath an A4 headshot of Erin on the murder board (lined with limp green tinsel), with a black marker she wrote out the timeline of her disappearance, their perfect Christmas Day dissected into a crime scene, a plot line to one of his mystery novels.

That the missing child was the daughter of one of their own was not mentioned. Only the solemnity with which everyone set about their tasks and the way no one looked directly at Beckett demonstrated how distressed the team was on her behalf. For all he cared for Erin, he knew that however frightened he was, it was tenfold for Beckett. Her response, he could see, would be to focus on how to find her: the investigation, the procedure, the gathering of evidence. She would be methodical and professional, and thoroughly detach herself from any emotion. To distract himself from his overactive imagination, to prevent an endless reel of horrific scenarios, he swallowed his knot of fear and focused on Beckett.

Ryan and Esposito marched to the murder board, information in hand. Beckett crossed her arms as she waited for their reports. Castle sidled to stand beside her, removing his black bow tie and dinner jacket as he listened.

Ryan spoke first. 'We've got a house to house going on within a five-block radius.'

'The alley is blocked off and CSU are all over it. There are fresh tyre tracks, and the phone and bag are being checked for prints,' added Esposito.

'There are no cameras in the alley itself, but we checked the street cameras that would show anyone entering the alley, from either end.' Ryan exchanged glances with his partner and shuffled his feet. He looked at Castle instead of Beckett as he said, 'Erin entered the alley at 16.49. Within seconds a car, a grey Ford Taurus, followed her in. A few minutes later it left via the other exit. Only one person was visible: the driver. Erin never walked out.'

As if playing musical statues, no one flinched. Castle's first thought was that Erin had been abducted by a vengeful criminal that Beckett had helped to convict. He searched her stony face unable to tell if she shared his theory.

'How many minutes? Exactly,' said Beckett. Only Castle beside her could detect the tremor as she removed the lid of the black pen and turned back to the board, hand raised.

'Er…' Ryan looked down at the paper in his hand. 'Three minutes.'

'And the make and model of the car? Do we have-'

'-the registration?' Ryan interrupted 'Yes. It's been checked.'

Castle sucked in a breath. 'Do we have a name?' he asked, his voice higher than he would like, as Beckett dropped her hand from the board before she had written anything and slowly turned back to face them.

The two detectives regarded each other as if silently arguing who would reveal the next piece of information. Esposito lost.

'There was a single male driver, young, teenager, early 20s maybe, it's hard to tell. The vehicle is registered to a Brian Walker. Fifty-five years old. Lives in Brooklyn in a single-family house.'

Without ceremony, Beckett pushed her colleagues apart, stretching around the back of her computer to grab the one available crutch on the desk. Did Beckett recognise the name? Ryan ducked as she swung the crutch over his head as she spun back.

'You coming, Castle?' she said. She stared at him with blank expectation. Startled into action, he grabbed her coat and the other crutch. She might be barely able to communicate but thank goodness she wanted him by her side.

'Wait, there's more,' said Esposito as they were already five steps to the elevator. 'We checked into this guy. He doesn't have a record. He's married to one Lynn Walker. They don't have any kids, but they're registered foster parents.'

Castle closed his eyes as he braced himself for what was coming next.

'They were the couple that briefly fostered Erin.'

xxx

20.29

Brooklyn

Followed by a squad car, like a bat out of hell, Castle drove Beckett's Dodge Charger and with sirens blaring they sped past the skyscraper lights of Manhattan and crossed the East River to the more low-rise borough of Brooklyn. They turned off the sirens with a few streets to go and slowed down to crawl along a wide, straight residential street. Like the surrounding streets, many houses were decorated with Christmas lights; some, despite the modesty of the neighbourhood, appeared to have spent a small fortune. Signs for 'Santa Stop Here', sleighs on roofs - one house had a Santa seemingly stuck upside down entering a Velux roof window, his black boots pointed to the stars – giant inflatable snowmen, and families of reindeer lit up their route.

Sandwiched in the dark between one purple, neon pink, gold, green and white discordant assault that offended even Castle's aesthetic sensibility and a house with tasteful warm-yellow lights simply outlining its contours, they pulled up to a barely visible, simple two-storey single house. It was no bigger than a four-bedroomed and was detached from its welcoming brightly lit neighbours. The small patch of green in the yard was plain; half-melted blackened clumps of snow instead of flowerbeds lined the paving to the front door. A large cherry tree stood by the sidewalk, partially obscuring one side of the house. There was no space for a garage.

Peering through the windscreen, he scanned the Walkers' residence, following Beckett's darting eyes.

There was no sign of the grey Taurus seen entering the alley.

Beckett signalled the two uniforms to stay in the squad car while she led Castle shivering – he had left his black dress blazer at the station - to the front door. She would have calculated all routes in and out of the house by now, he knew.

The windows at the front of the house were dark; no Christmas tree was visible. A sorry-looking wreath hung on the knocker. A minute after knocking, and ringing the doorbell, they heard a door opening and a light illuminated the small square-paned window above the knocker. A woman in her 50s - thin, mousy-haired, a faint tinge of yellow to her skin, and having enjoyed a festive drink or two - answered the door. She smelt of stale cigarettes. An orange cracker hat dropped over one eye. Embarrassed, she pushed it out of her face.

'Bit late for carollers,' she giggled, looking them up and down. She noticed then the squad car parked behind them. 'Can I help you?' she asked, frowning.

'Are you Lynn Walker?' Beckett flashed her NYPD badge not bothering to introduce them both.

'Yes?' The woman crossed her arms, wrapping them tightly around herself. 'Is there a problem?'

Beckett held up a picture of Erin. 'Do you recognise this girl?'

The woman put on the glasses hanging on a tatty string around her neck and squinted at the image. Castle noted the shift in her demeanour as she seemed to sober up. He glanced sideways at Beckett who stared unblinking at Lynn: assessing, calculating, judging.

'Um yes,' she stuttered. Then she gathered herself. 'That's Erin McDonnel. What's she gotten herself into now? I always knew that one was trouble.'

He felt Beckett stiffen but her voice remained calm and professional. He had no idea how she kept her composure.

'She's missing. May we come in?' Beckett didn't wait for an answer, planting a crutch in front of the door, forcing the woman to step back.

Sweeping her thin hair across her scalp with both hands, removing the paper hat, Lynn said, 'Well, I'm sorry to hear that but I don't know what that has to do with us.'

Indistinct voices, possibly from a television, came from somewhere at the back of the house. The trio stood in an uncarpeted small hallway with doors either side and stairs ahead of them. The dominant colour was beige, matching the pallor of the woman; the walls, the stairs, the doors, and the pale wooden floors – once varnished but needing some attention – blended into one. An unpleasant smell, maybe damp, tickled the back of his throat.

Despite the eerie, depressed air, Castle's instinct told him that Erin wasn't here; if she were he was sure that he would feel her presence. Even with people, this house felt empty. The woman, unsympathetic as her tone was, seemed genuinely confused.

From a door at the end of hallway, the dining room Castle presumed, a very tall, heavy-set man entered and stood beside Lynn, towering over her. The image of a lumbering giant, like the one in in the endless screenings of the Harry Potter films Alexis made him watch when she was younger, popped into Castle's mind.

Beckett flashed her badge again then addressed him. 'You own a Ford Taurus, registration New York D513H?'

Lynn answered instead. 'Yes, we-'

'It's not outside. Where is it?' Beckett demanded, holding the giant's dazed gawp.

The man, Brian Walker, Castle guessed, began to speak. 'Our son took it this morning.' Lynn touched her husband's elbow in warning. He frowned down at her, bewildered.

For the first time since leaving the precinct, Beckett flicked her eyes to Castle.

'Your son?' she said, slowly.

Castle jumped in. 'We thought you didn't have any children, that you're foster parents?'

'Yes, that's true but, Tommy,' - they looked at each other proudly - 'we've fostered him for years, we think of him as our son,' said Lynn, smiling.

Along the hallway wall hung a series of posed studio and school photographs of children, some individual, some grouped. Beckett turned away to scan the images. All were of girls, apart from in the centre where three framed photographs of the same boy about 10 years old, then older and taller - 14 years old maybe - and then finally a high school graduation photograph were displayed. Sandy-blonde hair and freckles and all-American. She pointed at the boy. 'This is Tommy?'

'That's him,' confirmed Brian.

'He lives here?' said Beckett, continuing to scrutinise the photographs. The graduation was dated July 2012.

'Yes. But look, I don't see…why are you asking about our car?' he asked, stupidly.

'Erin McDonnel was abducted from an alleyway in Manhattan. Your car, driven by a young white male, followed her in and left a few minutes later,' explained Castle when Beckett didn't speak - instead she peered closely at the beaming graduation picture of Tommy. 'If Erin lived here only a few months ago then Tommy – who you say has the car - evidently knew her,' he theorised out loud, unable to hide the accusation.

Leaning heavily on her crutches, Beckett turned back to face them. A muscle in her jaw pulsed. Her lips twitched. Her eyes blazed.

Lynn flared her nostrils. 'You said she was abducted. You're saying you think our boy abducted her? No, no, no, you got that all wrong, there's no way.' With feet wide apart, ready for a fight, she waved a pointed forefinger. 'He's a good boy. That girl must have got in the car voluntarily.' Brian pulled his wife to him, grabbing both her shoulders while she covered one of his hands with her own, her other arm clasped around her waist.

'Then why did we find her phone smashed?' interrogated Castle. 'There was only the driver in the car when it left. Doesn't sound to me like she did anything voluntarily.' He could feel his own anger rising. The couple's defensiveness was slowing things down.

'That girl was bad news from day one,' exploded Lynn. 'We told, them, didn't we, Bri?'she yelled, looking desperately up at her husband. 'We told them, the child services, we can't have her here, making up stories, undoing all the good work we've done with Tommy-'

'With all the children we've cared for,' interrupted Brian, nodding enthusiastically.

'What stories?' said Beckett, deathly quiet.

'She was violent!' Lynn screeched.

'What. Stories?' Beckett repeated, every muscle in her body taut.

'It doesn't matter, it was all lies! Now you need to leave.' Lynn pointed to the front door.

'Where is Tommy, Lynn? Why does he have the car? It's Christmas Day. Why isn't he here, at home with his family?' pressed Castle, stepping closer to the woman.

Just then the door from which Brian had come through opened and a teenage girl, a little older than Erin, lounged, a cigarette in one hand,arms stretched against the doorframe.

'What's the shouting? I heard someone say Erin.' Before Lynn or Brian could react, Beckett strode, as if she didn't have a broken ankle, to the end of the hallway, bundling the girl back into the room and slamming the door behind her. Castle gaped awkwardly at the Walkers who stared back open mouthed.

'What's she doing? She can't-' Castle made his gait as large as possible against the much larger Brian, blocking their route.

'She's just trying to find a missing child,' he appeased, motioning with his hands to calm down. 'Tell me more about Tommy,' he said, softly. It was clear they had found the culprit, but he needed to mollify the Walkers; they would need as much information as possible to track him down. 'So that we can eliminate him from our enquiries,' he said, offering a smile that hurt as his skin stretched.

The couple relented a little although they looked nervously over his shoulder at the closed door behind him.

'What's his full name?' he asked, doing everything he could to temper his voice and body language; inspired by the many times he had watched Beckett, he could play good cop.

'Tommy Cawood. He came to us when he was just eight,' Lynn said, eager to correct their assumptions as she stepped out of her husband's embrace. 'He'd had a terrible time and he was so shy and quiet at first. He struggled at school, to talk to us even but as the years have gone by, he's blossomed,' she smiled over her shoulder at Brian. 'Sure, he's no scholar but he's got his high school certificate and he's getting jobs.'

'You've obviously been wonderful parents,' he seduced. As if making small talk at a boring cocktail party, he enquired, 'What kind of jobs?'

In unison they shrugged. 'This and that.'

'You don't know what his jobs are?' Castle's eyes darted between them.

'He's a young man, he needs his privacy, we don't pry. He's finding his way. He's even got a girlfriend,' defended Brian, shifting side to side like a swaying Redwood.

'Is that where he was going today? To work, or to see his girlfriend?'

'Um, work, I think. He got a new job a couple of weeks ago. Needs the car to get there. He had the same bag he's been taking every day,' explained Brian, recoiling as Lynn elbowed in him the stomach.

'Every day? He's a hard worker.' Castle stepped in closer, friendly. 'Tell me what happened when Erin was living here,' he probed, quietly.

His attempt charm them failed.

'He liked Erin! He would never hurt her, never hurt anyone. He's a gentle soul, he loves everyone,' Lynn pleaded, her hands clasped before her as if praying. 'He understands foster kids, he just wants to help them when they come here. He knows what they've been through. She just didn't understand that! She gave him a black eye. We had to protect him. She had to go!'

He was about to investigate further when Beckett charged in, making them jump. She ripped the graduation picture of Tommy Cawood from the wall and stuffed it into Lynn's terrified face.

'Where is he, Lynn? Where is he?'

'I…I…don't…know,' she stammered.

Shoving the picture behind her into Castle's chest, the force making him step back as, shocked, he accepted the frame, she thrust a finger into Lynn's face, pressing her against a wall. Spit rained as Beckett yelled, 'Erin is my daughter and if Tommy touches one hair on her head! So, help me-'

As Brian lurched to intervene, Castle grabbed Beckett around her waist, lifting her centimetres into the air as he dragged her, thrashing, out of the house. As he was unable to keep hold of both the frame and Beckett, the glass of the photograph smashed as it hit the floor.

'Kate, what happened in there? What did the girl say?' he panted as he deposited her on the frozen grass, holding her hips to both keep her steady and to stop her running back into the house.

'He's obsessed with her! He's been stalking her for days!' she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

'For a couple of weeks?' he asked, grimly, putting the pieces together. Tommy Cawood, pretending to his deluded devoted foster parents to have a job, had been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to pounce. He felt sick as he realised the girlfriend was also imaginary and what it revealed about how Tommy perceived Erin.

She nodded and sobbed. 'All this time, she's been in danger and we - I - didn't know. This whole time, I should have been protecting her!'

'We didn't know.' He shared every inch of her guilt.

As quickly as she had detonated, like pulling an extraordinary magic trick, she calmed, her game face back in place. She beelined for the Charger, waving at the uniformed officers who jumped out of their car.

'Get an APB out on Tommy Cawood,' she instructed in the lower register voice she only uses at work. 'I want his picture everywhere. Find that car.' She pointed back towards the house. 'Get CSU in there and strip the house from top to bottom. Take those two to the precinct, I want them interrogated, we need to know everything about where Tommy might go. And get child services in here – those kids are not safe.'

xxx

Wednesday 26 December

01.08

The loft

The loft was dark when they trudged in. Finally, Gates had successfully sent Beckett home. He had never seen the captain be motherly. 'Go be with your family,' she had urged, looking past Beckett to meet his eye as she spoke. He was gobsmacked to realise that she knew about their romance, and she didn't care. 'We are doing everything to find her, there's nothing you can do that we're not already doing. We won't rest until we get her back to you.' Beckett had huffed and protested but he had cajoled her.

Esposito and Ryan had interrogated the Walkers, separately, for hours. Coupled with the account the girl had given Beckett at the house, gradually a picture had emerged of repeated accusations of harassment and inappropriate behaviour by Tommy towards girls at school - 'lies, all lies,' Lynn had spat. The Walkers had Tommy moved from school to school, always blaming the institutions for bullying towards their son.

Erin had been the first foster child, however, that had caught his eye and the girl had never seen Tommy so taken. When Erin had accused him of trying to touch her in her room, Lynn had angrily dismissed her. A few days later, Erin thumped Tommy, giving him a bloody nose and a vibrant black eye. The two other girls had witnessed Tommy leaving Erin's room having heard the commotion so he couldn't deny who had hit him. Tommy had tried to downplay the severity of his injury and had begged them to let Erin stay. It had been Lynn who had insisted she leave.

In the weeks after Erin's departure, Tommy had been subdued, depressed even. Then his spirits had suddenly lifted but a few days later the family were contacted by Child Services because Erin had run away. He had then descended again into a sulky despondency. Until a month or so ago when the light reappeared in his eyes. He spoke to them at mealtimes, and the whole household had felt a weight lift. He claimed it was because he had a new girlfriend – Brian and Lynn were overjoyed - and then two weeks ago he told them he would need the car for a new job.

On the couch a figure yawned and stretched in the moonlit darkness.

'Dad?'

'Hey, Pumpkin,' he whispered.

He could now make out two more figures beside her. Alexis turned on a lamp revealing a rapidly blinking Jim Beckett and Martha, their legs covered in a thin blanket each; they threw them off and stretched their arms towards them.

Beckett shrugged backwards, avoiding their haggard faces. They dropped their arms and let her be as she staggered up the stairs.

Martha and Jim led Castle to the couch where he collapsed in a heap. A pile of unopened Christmas presents lay untouched beneath the tree.

'What's the news, Dad?' said Alexis, dropping beside him and snuggling into his chest. 'They're going to find her, right?' Martha sank down on his other side, fiddling with the trim on her pink satin pyjamas.

Tightening an arm around his daughter, he filled them in on what they knew about Tommy Cawood. The investigation now centred on tracing the car. Police had managed to track it as it headed north but once it was out of the city, they lost trace of it.

Standing awkwardly in a pair of Castle's burgundy pyjamas, with a quivering voice Jim asked, 'How is Katie?'

Castle sighed and scrubbed his face. What could he possibly say? That as a cop she knew better than anyone the enormity of the situation: the possibility she had lost her daughter forever. That comforting platitudes of reassurance were useless. That the only way for her to cope was to put it all out of her mind and focus on the case. Which had worked until it had been clear she was adding nothing. Having intimidated Lynn Walker, she couldn't conduct the interviews. Watching the interrogations through the observation room and waiting around while other departments did their jobs had made it harder to hold herself together. After Gates's encouragement, he had convinced her to come home to grab a couple of hours sleep so that she could re-join the hunt better equipped.

'I'll go check on her.' Adrenaline was wearing off and his heavy muscles ached and burned. Jim patted his shoulder as he passed him, and Castle reciprocated. The two men paused as they allowed themselves a few seconds to silently share their terror.

Castle opened the door of Erin's room. On the bed, facing away from him, lay Kate, her legs drawn up, a pillow hugged to her chest with one hand while the other splayed over the empty space on the mattress. Clambering over her were the four kittens demanding her affection. Impatiently, they sniffed her hair, curled into the crook at the back of her knees and pushed themselves into her face as if asking 'When will our Erin be back?'

She didn't move a muscle.

He wanted to join her on the bed, to spoon behind her and pull her into him. He wanted to hear her say, 'This is just a dream. In the morning, all will be well.' But he knew he had to leave her alone. That to be strong, she needed to remain uncomforted. If they voiced their fears, the scenarios that must surely be assaulting her, they would both fall apart.

His cell vibrated. He backed out of the room closing the door gently behind him.

'Yes?' he whispered. He didn't want to wake her; he doubted she was asleep but she needed the rest nonetheless.

It was Esposito. 'We've found the car.'