Shared Obsession Chapter 74

"Why didn't they tell us where to bring the money?" Alfred queries the group huddled over the stacks of bills.

"They're testing you. It's not unusual," Kate replies, trying to be as calming as possible.

"Which means," Sorenson jumps in, "that we'll need to test them. "We'll need proof that they have Angela and that she's OK."

"What if they don't give any? What if they refuse?" Alfred agonizes.

"How can you think that?" Theresa hisses.

Alfred steps back under Theresa's assault. "I was just saying…."

"You think she's dead?" Theresa accuses.

Alfred retreats further. "No, of course not."

"I should have gotten up. I should have never let you watch her," Theresa wails.

Alfred winces, throwing his hands in front of his face. "Don't say that!"

"Don't tell me what to say!" Theresa screams pointing at the door of her husband's studio. "Tell me, Alfred, was it worth it?" She grabs a vase and hurls it at his drying painting. "Was it worth our little girl?"

Theresa is keening in the center of paint-splattered shards as Kate approaches. "Ms. Candela, Theresa, you can't give in to your fear. Neither you nor your husband is responsible for what happened."

Theresa turns on her, eyes aflame. "You don't have children, do you, Detective? If you did, you'd understand how it feels to have someone claim to be taking care of your child while satisfying his ego throwing paint at canvasses not good enough for anyone to want. I have to pay the gallery to show them. Did you see that in our financial records? I have to pay for everything. And the one thing Alfred was supposed to do, the most important thing, he …."

The phone rings. The FBI techs flip switches and jam on their headphones. Kate urges the Candelas back into the living room. "Come on!"

"Remember, no proof, no money," Sorenson instructs. "We have to be firm on that."

Theresa swipes her sleeve over her tear-stained cheeks and nods.

Sorenson points at the phone. "OK. Here we go."

Theresa grabs the receiver. "Hello."

The grating sound of the altered voice fills the room. "Listen carefully. Any deviation and your daughter dies."

Theresa's voice quavers. "I understand."

"A civilian, not a cop must make the drop, or we kill the girl. We see the police or the FBI, and she dies. You have the money?"

"Yes, $750,000, like you said," Theresa confirms.

"Put it in the backpack and bring it to the northeast corner of First Avenue and 47th Street. There's a mailbox there with a cell phone taped underneath. We'll text further instructions once you're there. When we have the money, we'll call with the girl's location."

"Ask for proof that Angela's OK," Kate whispers to Theresa.

Theresa hunches over the phone, her mouth almost touching the plastic. "You won't get any money until I know that my little girl's OK."

Tense silence freezes everyone in the room until a tiny voice says, "Mama?"

A relieved smile spreads over Theresa's lips. "Hi, Sweetheart!"

The disguised voice returns. "You have one hour."


Sorenson and Beckett study a map laid out on the kitchen counter while Castle looks over Kate's shoulder. "Once they get paid, there's no incentive to keep her alive," Sorenson asserts. "So I'll make the drop. Figure we'll place our people at a one-block radius from the mailbox…"

Alfred's tall frame fills the doorway. "No! They said no cops."

"It's OK," Sorenson assures him. "I've done this before. They won't know I'm an FBI agent."

"And if they do?" Alfred questions.

"Mr. Candela, we need this to go as smoothly as possible," Kate says.

"She's my daughter, and we're going to follow the instructions to the letter," Alfred insists. "They said no cops. "Look, I'm her father, and I can do this. Do I make myself clear?" Drawing himself up, he strides away.

"No way we can send the father," Sorenson proclaims. "Too many things could go wrong. He's too emotional."

"But what choice do we have?" Kate asks.

"Me," Castle interjects.

Kate whirls to stare at him "What?"

"They said to send a civilian. As Agent Sorenson is so delighted to point out, I am one. And I don't have Alfred's emotional investment."

"No, absolutely not," Sorenson declares.

"Hey, the NYPD already has a signed waiver from me. I've been on operations with Beckett for months now – successful operations. I'm accustomed to police presence. I know how to keep my eyes open. I'm even used to having a vest under my shirt. And better than that, my haircut and my attitude don't scream fed. I spotted you as one the minute I saw you, Sorenson. These kidnappers are smart, and they obviously boned up on FBI procedures. They'll make you as fast as I did," Castle warns. "So your choice is between a nervous and tormented father and me, and you'd better make it fast."

Kate looks up at Sorenson. "Castle's right."

The agent smacks his palms on the counter. "You can't be serious."

"He's been with me on cases before, and he doesn't crumble under pressure. He even saved my life once, Will. He can do this. And he is our best shot."

Castle fingers the spot a bullet hit his arm. "Just don't say shot."


Kate smiles wryly up at Castle as FBI tech Crawford fits him with a wire. "This is usually the part where I ask you if you've thought things through. You don't have to do this, Castle."

"If we stand a chance of putting Angela in the live 40%, we both know that I do."

"These people are alert and dangerous, Castle. You can't lose focus," Kate reminds him.

"I don't intend to."

Crawford steps back. "Ready to go."

Castle draws in a deep breath. "Thanks. I guess I am too."

As Crawford leaves the room, Rick reaches up to caress Kate's cheek. "Hey, it's gonna be OK."

"And if you get yourself killed, what do I tell Alexis?'

"You won't have to tell her anything, she'll probably try to kill you on sight."

Kate presses her hand against her mouth to smother the giggle threatening to explode from her lips. "That's comforting."


Beckett and Sorenson watch from an unmarked car as Castle carries a green backpack toward a mailbox. "OK," Castle murmurs, "approaching the target. Are you reading me?"

"Got you, Castle," Kate responds, "But don't talk any more than you have to. The kidnappers could be watching."

"Roger that." Castle crouches down in front of the mailbox and retrieves a cell phone. "Your fed gang and the boys all need to hang back. They just texted me, 'We're watching you.'"

"Could be a ruse," Sorenson suggests.

"Nope," Castle replies. "They just texted again, 'You're wearing a black raincoat.'"

"OK, they can see you. That doesn't change anything. Just be careful," Kate urges.

Castle reads a new text. "They say cross the street and head west on East 47th." He picks up his pace. "Next stop 1201 First Ave. That's just ahead." Castle enters the crowded lobby of a large building. "They want me to leave the backpack at the shoeshine stand and exit by the side door. All right. I'm at the stand."

"Have him make the drop," Sorenson tells Kate.

"Castle, leave the pack then walk away," she instructs.

Ryan and Esposito enter the lobby, scanning the crowd for Castle. The crush of bodies blocks their view. "Coming in. We don't have him yet," Ryan reports.

Castle drops the bag at the stand and keeps walking. "I just left it. Headed out."

"Esposito, Ryan, you got eyes?" Kate queries.

"I see the shoeshine stand," Esposito says.

Ryan spots a man with a green backpack striding toward the exit. "I've got the backpack. Asian male. Long hair."

Esposito tackles the suspect and grabs the backpack. It's stuffed with newspaper. "Ryan, Ryan, wrong guy!"

They stare at a crowd full of people carrying identical green backpacks.