Confession Chapter 28

Kate and Castle lie in each other's arms simultaneously filled and spent. The sound of the loft's door opening penetrates the edge of Castle's consciousness. The clicking footsteps that follow could be made by nothing other than Alexis' new spike-heeled booties. He had far from approved of their look on his teen-aged daughter, but the usually sensible Alexis insisted that all her other friends wore them and she wanted to see what they were like. He hopes she abandons the experiment before she needs a podiatrist or orthopedist. He feels the warmth of Kate's body pressed against his. Unfortunately, a poor choice of footwear isn't the only thing that needs abandoning. He and Kate need to be out of bed and dressed before Alexis decides to recount her day or request his signature on a permission slip. "Beckett," he whispers against her hair. "We need to get up."

Kate stretches, flinching a little as muscles that hadn't figured into her training regimen protest. "What?"

"Alexis is home. We need to get up."

"Oh." She pushes back the sheet they'd pulled over themselves, revealing her bare legs still entwined with Castle's. "That was…."

"I know," he agrees, pushing himself up against the checkered headboard. "If it weren't for Alexis' untimely arrival, I'd think I was dreaming."

Kate levers herself up beside him, cupping his now-stubbly cheek. "It was the first thing I've truly wanted to believe is real in a long time. Well, maybe the second."

Hearing noises from the kitchen, Castle bounds out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor. "Only a teenager would make a beeline for food after an evening scarfing down pizza. But any minute she'll come checking on what I'm up to. She always does and chastises me for procrastination if I'm falling behind deadline. Sometimes I think she's Black Pawn's mole."

Fastening the front clasp of a bra Castle found surprisingly lacy, Kate shakes her head. "A mole wouldn't be that obvious. She's just looking out for you. She thinks you're overly distractable."

"When did she tell you that?"

"During one of her visits while I was in the sublet."

"I see. Anything else?"

"That you need a woman in your life who loves you more than your titanium card – her way of warning me off if I wasn't really into you."

"And are you really into me? Although from a biological standpoint, I suppose it goes the other way."

"Castle, we were right in the middle of figuring out how to nail Bracken. Would I have taken a moment away from that if I wasn't?"

He presses a hasty kiss to her lips before buttoning his shirt. "No, you wouldn't. He slips his watch back on his wrist. "It's ten o'clock on a school night. Alexis should be going up to bed pretty soon. I can take you home or we can re-attack our Simmons research. Mother's play let out about a half-hour ago. Unless she has a rendezvous, she'll grab a quick after-show supper and probably be home by midnight. With any luck, we could ask her for the lowdown on number 10. Or I can ask her and call you first thing in the morning."

"I don't want to wait that long if I don't have to," Kate says. "I'd rather go back to digging around. But I could use some coffee."

"That makes two of us," Castle agrees. "I think a fresh pot of dark roast Arabica is just what we need."


With an actor's observant eye, Martha quickly comes to a conclusion as to why Kate Beckett would still be at the loft. "About damn time," she thinks to herself. But she's not about to press Richard about it, not yet, anyway. "Darlings," she gushes. "We had the most extraordinary performance tonight. There was that wonderful beat before the applause broke out that showed the audience was completely rapt. And you'll never guess who was in the front row."

"Who, Mother?" Castle prompts.

"Lyle Dirksen Smothers, one of the craft's most generous angels. He has the means and influence to make sure any production gets the funding it needs. His approval could mean a successful launch for any future show."

Castle knows an opening if ever he's heard one. "So Smothers is high on the show business influencers' list."

Martha's hand sweeps through the air. "Number one."

"Martha, I'm curious," Kate says picking up on Castle's cue. "I always hear about who's number one on a list like that, but never about anyone else. Who would be like, uh, number 10?"

"Number 10," Martha repeats, pulling off her lime green gloves finger by finger. "I suppose that would be Michaelson Rafferty. He started out as an actor, a man who has pleasant features in his twenties but doesn't have the bone structure to be truly handsome as he matures. A lot of actors like that go after character roles or try to break into directing. Rafferty took a different route and went into business, very successfully apparently. Then he came back to make his influence felt by investing in projects he likes – especially if they cast whomever he's playing bedtime bingo with. I've had to take a couple of ingenues in the plays he's funded, under my wing to help them translate their acting talent to the stage. Poor things had skills but not particularly for the spoken word."

"I think we get the picture, Mother," Castle says.

Martha gives him a knowing smile. "As do I. But I'm off to bed. I must be fresh for my morning yoga class. And I'm sure you two are busy with – something."

"Good night, Mother," Castle says as the older woman starts toward the stairs.

"Good night, Martha," Kate chimes in.

"Castle, she knows," Kate whispers, as Martha disappears behind a door on the mezzanine.

"Beckett, believe me, her acting performances notwithstanding, Mother isn't subtle. If she disapproved, she'd say so – or give me the look. It will be fine. Better than fine. We have a new connection now to Simmons – Michaelson Rafferty. And a money guy with a taste for pretty young things is a tabloid journalist's dream. I'm guessing some enterprising soul must have trailed him into the woods by now. We just have to find out who."


Kate had expected to be at least a little sleepy when showing up at the precinct in time to meet Gates' strict sign-in requirements. She isn't. If anything, she feels energized. And she hasn't even had coffee yet! She's looking forward to using the machine in the break room to craft one of the lattes Castle taught her how to make, but she can't take much time to do it. Gates frowns on any break longer than 10 minutes, but that works out all right if Kate takes her coffee back to her desk. As yet, she hasn't noticed the captain using the machine. Maybe Gates doesn't know how or maybe she doesn't like good coffee. Kate is trying to figure out what the new captain does like, but it may take every detecting skill she has.


Castle sets a mug of fresh coffee far enough away from his keyboard to avoid any spillage catastrophes and brings up his subscription search engine. He'll be looking into Michaelson Rafferty, but first, he wants to know more about Captain Victoria Gates. If he's going to worm his way back into the precinct, he'll need to be as informed as possible. He stares at his screen as he brings up a bio. "Sonofabitch!"