Shared Obsession Chapter 92
"I'm sorry, Mr. Coonan isn't here," assistant Kari Drake informs Kate and Castle when they show up at Dick Coonan's office.
"When do you expect him?" Kate asks.
"I don't know," Drake admits. "There weren't any out-of-office appointments on his calendar and he didn't say anything about going anywhere."
"Can you call him?" Kate queries.
Kari sighs. "I've tried several times. My calls went to voicemail. Honestly, I was wondering what happened to him."
"When was the last time you talked to him?" Castle inquires.
"He was in the office two days ago and he called in the next morning saying he had business to take care of, but I haven't heard anything from him since."
"Has he disappeared like this before?" Castle questions.
"He's said he would be out of reach for a few hours or sometimes for a day, but unless he's been overseas, he's never been out of touch for this long."
"And was he planning to go overseas?" Kate asks.
"To the best of my knowledge, no," Kari replies.
As if swimming through thick soup, Dick Coonan slowly comes to consciousness. The last thing he can remember is ably and efficiently dispatching Vulcan Simmons according to his orders. And after that, nothing. He looks around, realizing he's in his own cabin retreat where he stores his weapons and practices his skills. A voice comes from somewhere out of eyeshot. "I have to leave now. I'd say good luck, but you don't deserve it."
Kate's unit bumps over the gravel-topped road in unincorporated woods north of the city. Castle consults the navigation on his phone. "The address on Coonan's property holdings should be just up ahead. Kate, Coonan could have an armory in there. Maybe you should have brought the boys for backup."
"I figured the locals would know the area better. There should be a trooper unit less than a mile behind us. And if we need more, we can call it in," Kate replies. "But we don't even know that Coonan will be there."
Castle points ahead. "Looks like he is. There's a vehicle out front, a Silver Escalade. Didn't Kari say that's what Coonan usually drives?"
"Yes, she did."
"Better call in the troops, Kate."
A state trooper peers through a fiber optic camera, inserted under the door of the cabin. Looks like he's alone," he whispers. "I don't see a weapon. He's just sitting there with a bottle in front of him. He could be drunk."
"Let's not take any chances," Kate whispers back. "We've tied him to one murder and he's implicated in more."
The trooper in command nods. "Full armed breach on my mark. Go!"
Coonan struggles to rise as the team breaks in but barely makes it to his feet. "Richard Coonan," Kate declares, "you are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Vulcan Simmons."
Dick Coonan doesn't remember much about taking out Vulcan Simmons, except that the job seemed easier than most. Simmons had been unexpectedly alone in his repair shop headquarters. His music had been blaring and Coonan had no trouble coming up behind him to plunge in his knife while Simmons was reaching for a steak in the freezer. But after that, everything is blank until he woke up in his cabin and heard the voice – or at least he thought he heard the voice. He's not sure of anything before the cops barged through his door. Still, if he followed the procedures he's used for over a decade, he didn't leave any clues behind. He always wore gloves, struck fast, and got away immediately, taking the murder weapon with him. As he told his lawyer, the cops shouldn't have anything.
With her black folder in front of her, Kate takes a seat opposite Coonan, with Castle on her right, opposite the attorney, Lyle Hoffsinger.
"You have no reason to hold my client," Hoffsinger insists.
"I think you'll find that we have more than enough to hold him and ensure the D.A. convicts him of first-degree murder, Counselor," Kate retorts. She opens her folder and removes a document, placing it on the table. "Fingerprints matching your client were found at the scene."
"That's impossible!" Coonan exclaims.
Hoffsinger reaches for the report and silently eyes the information. "It's a business open to the public. He could have left these at any time."
Kate pulls out another document. "This is an analysis of trace left at the scene. It matches the soil surrounding your client's cabin."
"Anyone could have been in those woods and left it," Hoffsinger protests.
Kate pulls out a photograph of a knife. "This was found at your client's cabin," Mr. Hoffsinger. She passes over an additional document. "As you can see, the ME found it consistent with Mr. Simmons's wounds. The blood on it also matched Mr. Simmons. Your client was there. He had the murder weapon and he used it. Game, set, and match."
Coonan hurriedly whispers in Hoffsinger's ear. "I need some time to consult with my client," the attorney announces.
"I wouldn't doubt it," Kate replies. "Let the officer at the door know when you're finished."
"Kate, do you really believe that Coonan would have been that sloppy?" Castle asks, handing her a mug in the break room. None of the matching kills have ever had fingerprints. He probably wore gloves. And tracking in dirt from the woods around his cabin? All he would have needed was fresh shoes. No one, except for you, is happier to nail his ass than I am, but something is off here."
"And you think that something is about six-four with hair no one that age deserves?" Kate asks.
"I think it's a real possibility. The agency wanted us to get this guy. And they wanted us to find those hard drives and turn off the dirty data spigot."
"Castle, even if that's true, it doesn't change anything. Did you see the panic in Coonan's eyes? Right now he only wants to save his own skin."
"And that would mean flipping on Bracken," Castle assumes.
"We'll find out soon enough."
"My client can give you someone much bigger and more dangerous than he is," Hoffsinger declares when Kate and Castle return to the box.
"Considering that your client is most likely a serial killer, that would be some trick," Castle observes.
"Who are we talking about, Mr. Hoffsinger?" Kate asks.
Hoffsinger shakes his head. "This is too big for an NYPD precinct."
"I can get an ADA in here," Kate offers.
"Too big for that. And it involves multistate crimes. We need someone from the U.S. Attorney's office," Hoffsinger insists.
Kate leans back in her chair, tapping her fingers on her folder. "I'll have to make some calls. But then, your client isn't going anywhere. I'll get back to you."
"Who are you going to call, Kate?" Castle asks, in the hallway outside the box.
Kate's finger traces a pattern on the skin exposed by the open top button on Castle's shirt. "I was wondering if Coonan could stand a taste of Hard Candy."
"A sweet notion. But how about the leaks in her department? If the Spolanos knew what she was up to, I doubt Bracken's network would have any trouble picking up on it."
"Point taken, Castle. Then what?"
"I don't know, but I'm willing to bet I know who would. And if he's gone this far, no reason he should quit now."
"But we don't know how to reach him."
"He said he'd reach us. I could call in my preliminary code to contact Gray and see what happens."
"Do it, Castle. In the meantime I'll put double – no triple – guard on Coonan in holding. We don't need another hit."
The secure phone of the man calling himself Anderson Cross buzzes a message alert. "Signal received," flashes across the screen.
The old man smiles to himself. "About damn time!"