Shared Obsession Chapter 36
Lewis Jenks Esquire sits next to a nervous Charles Wyler across the box's table from Kate and Castle. "You have no reason to hold my client."
"In fact, we do," Kate returns. "He lied to Detective Sloan when he was investigating Melanie Cavanaugh's disappearance and to me in my investigation of her death. That's making false statements to a police officer. It's also obstruction. But I'm a homicide cop. I might be convinced to put that aside if Mr. Wyler will tell me what he knows about Melanie's murder."
As Wyler leans toward Kate, Jenks puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head. "My client is asserting his 5th Amendment right against self-incrimination."
"So he is admitting to involvement in a crime," Kate responds.
"Not in any way that can be used against him in criminal court, which I'm sure you know, Detective Beckett. If you're trying to implicate him in a murder, he's not about to help you. So if you want to charge him with obstruction, go ahead, so I can get him bailed out. Otherwise, we're leaving."
Kate's eyes flash as she reaches for her cuffs. "Stand up Mr. Wyler. You are under arrest for making false statements and obstruction. I'm sure your counsel has already informed you of your rights but…." Kate carefully intones the words of the Miranda warning.
As Kate finishes processing Wyler, an alert blares from her phone. "The fed court?" Castle asks as she checks her screen.
"Yes. We've got the go-ahead to check the eyelash DNA against the military database. I'm going to let the lab know immediately. So we may have a name in our pockets when we talk to McCallister. But right now, we have to figure out how Melanie got in that freezer. The hair was hers, but CSU couldn't find any prints but Bolland's. Whoever put it in the storage unit must have wiped it down. With Wyler refusing to talk, I don't know where we go from here."
"Beckett, when Melanie did actually run away, to whom did she run? Her file listed a Kevin Henson. If he was her lover, she might have talked to him about what was going on in her life."
"You have a point, Castle. I'll have the boys see about locating him. He's probably in Philadelphia."
"And in the meantime, while we're waiting on the DNA, we could talk to McCallister's buddy, Raglan," Castle proposes.
"Yes," Kate agrees. "We can."
His clothes hanging loosely on a gaunt body, John Raglan gazes up from a chair broken in to fit a form he no longer has. I remember you, Detective Beckett. The chemo for cancer screws up my memory, but I remember you. You were just a teenager then, tears still streaked on your face. But you were demanding, screaming at me actually, that I find out who killed your mother and bring them to justice."
"But you didn't," Kate responds softly. "You told me her death was random violence. But it wasn't was it? And I think you knew it."
"So, who told you to go with the random violence fairytale?" Castle presses. "It was the same story your friend McCallister went with about the death of Celia Lawrence. Was it your sergeant, your captain, who?"
Raglan shakes his head. "No one that low. It came from above, way above. One guy gave the orders for most of what the NYPD did back then. He had power, power you wouldn't believe. And he has even more now."
Kate crouches, staring Raglan in the eyes. "Was it William Bracken?"
Raglan's sigh rattles in his chest. "If I say yes, I'm dead. That doesn't matter much. I'll be dead soon anyway. But you'll be dead too, Detective. So will Mr. Castle, and anyone else who gets in his way. Pull back now. No one who goes against him survives. I've seen it, a lot more than you know, a lot more than your mother and Ms. Lawrence. There's a trail of bodies. He's the dragon, and whoever gets in his way gets burned."
"So tell me, Raglan" Kate pleads. "Testify to it, so I can put an end to the murders."
"I can't," Raglan declares. "It was bad enough to see a girl grieve for her mother. I'm not about to help the woman she is now kill herself."
"Maybe we'll have better luck with McCallister," Castle suggests as Kate stalks down the hall to the elevator. "Once we have an ID for whoever left that eyelash behind, we'll have more leverage. Can you check with the lab?"
Kate pulls out her phone. "Damn right I'll check." She chooses a contact and thumbs the speaker button. "This is Detective Beckett. I need my results from the military database concerning the Celia Lawrence murder."
"Detective Beckett, they just came through this minute," a tech reports. "They're going into an email. You should be getting it any second."
Kate watches as the notice appears as a band across the top of her screen. "Got them! Thanks!"
"Good luck, Detective. I hope this gives you what you need."
As Castle eyes the screen with her, Kate opens her email. "The eyelash belongs to a Lochlan Jackson. He was special forces but tossed out with a dishonorable discharge. He would have lost his benefits and probably any chance at a decent career."
Castle nods grimly. "But someone wanted to put his skills to use." He shudders. "And he may still be doing it. I don't see any contact information since the Army kicked him loose. But if New York is his killing field, he may still be here."
"If he is, we'll find him." A text dings. "This is from Ryan about my inquiry on Melanie's ex, Kevin Henson. Looks like he made a move from Philadelphia to South Jersey. He got busted there for cooking meth. He's serving his sentence in the Southern State Correctional Facility. We should go talk to him."
"What about McCallister and Jackson?"
"The current case comes first, Castle. You know that."
"We could divide and conquer. What if I stay behind and do some digging while you go to South Jersey?"
"You don't have a badge, Castle. You can't just go knocking on doors asking questions. And you heard Raglan. Asking the wrong one could be dangerous."
"Kate, if there's anything I know how to do, it's digging out nuggets of useful information from the online deluge of irrelevant and erroneous data. I will attach myself to my keyboard until you return."
"You don't have to wait that long to let me know if you find anything. You have my cell number."
"Yes, I do. You go ahead to South Jersey, Beckett. I'll keep the home fires burning."
Placing a large mug of Dahl's special blend on his desk, near his cell phone, Castle puts his feet up with his laptop across his thighs. "Lochlan Jackson, not the commonest of names," he murmurs. "So what are you into? Soldier of fortune stuff? Militias? Something out there has to appeal to your lust for blood and misbehavior." Castle's fingers move swiftly over the keys as if man and machine meld into one. "And there you are. You just couldn't resist posting your critique of Long Island Warrior in Real Combat Magazine, could you? How fortunate for me that the editor was a consultant on three of my books. And I'm guessing the mag at least verified your email before accepting your post. And maybe, just maybe, you have a subscription." Castle reaches for his cell. "Let's find out."
