Castle didn't know how long he'd been asleep: he woke up on the cold, dirty floor. Probably the same place where he'd been attacked. Groaning and coughing (the sensations in his head and chest were not easy!), Rick first slowly rolled over onto his back, then, after lying down for a while, sat up, barely able to think.
The fire was smoldering somewhere nearby, Castle shook slightly from side to side, rainbow circles bursting before his eyes and ringing in his ears. He felt slightly nauseous. To get himself together somehow, Castle pressed his fingers into his temples, massaging with effort.
- What... devil's potion. I've been sniffing, - his nostrils flared like a guard dog's. - You son of a bitch. If I ever catch you. in my universe.
Rick struggled to lift himself upright with his legs and arms. He staggered with a jerk, but he didn't lose his coordination. It was impossible to think straight now, but it was necessary to get out of here as soon as possible...
The first step was difficult, but the second and third were a little easier. Wobbling like a shuttlecraft and balancing his arms erratically, Rick headed for where the exit was most likely to be. The flashlight was gone, but the wall was suddenly nearby. No longer thinking about the danger of collapse, Castle moved his hands over the rough brick, moving almost at random, and was overjoyed to find himself in the doorway: his fingers suddenly spread out into the void.
- Gods... heavenly! Holy... conspiracy! - muttered Castle, on weakened legs round the doorjamb. - To the green men... no mercy. no mercy...
He pushed his hand away from the wall, only roughly realizing the direction of escape, and at that moment, somewhere in the foggy sparks at the edge of visibility, the lanterns came on. There were more than one or two of them: accompanied by a rumbling stomp, they were coming toward Castle, relentless and impassive, and Rick strode toward them. He gesticulated languidly, whispered something hoarsely, though he seemed to be shouting, but no one was happy to see Castle: his eyes were dazzled by the bright light, and under someone's loud shout, the writer was thrown to the floor with a powerful, well-trained technique...
* * *
It was still quite light when they got to the supposed corpse, and Beckett wasn't sure what was going to happen there, but when the lantern beams illuminated a figure in the gloomy corridor, Kate's heart jumped with joy. The pill didn't do her much good, though, and on a powerful adrenaline rush Beckett put all her anger into that throw. She yelled something loudly and with a deft interception of her arm, wrapping it behind her back, she jammed the suspect's face into the dust. As always in such cases, Beckett was clearly convinced that she had to be as tough as possible, but the guy was no flimsy bone: under his unassuming blazer, his muscles were bulging, and his enormous torso only confirmed her initial judgment. And the dude didn't whimper in pain, didn't beg for mercy, but his throat made a weird clamoring sound, ending in a fit of vomiting. At least she had time to pull him to his knees before handing him over to the patrolmen...
The guy dragged to the exit was still muttering something about the will of chance, about the intrigues of the reptiloids and about the framing of the Creavers, but when she patted the detainee between his shoulder blades, she was already anticipating an uncompromising and harsh interrogation, in which no evidence could be avoided.
"He's got a swell cologne! Elite line, no less!" - flashed through her mind as Beckett carefully dusted herself off and looked around. Esposito had already run far ahead, and somewhere down the corridor the glow of his flashlight was flickering. And crossing her wrists in front of her with the flashlight and the gun, Kate followed in the right direction...
It was about thirty yards to the desired crime scene. Despite the coming dusk, through the doorway, Kate could make out Esposito's figure, the smoldering embers, and a sort of expected "criminal composition".
- So, Javi, what do we got? - after assessing the situation, Beckett holstered her weapon. - Of course, we'll deal with this lost guy, but we need to figure out what happened here.
Lighting up for himself and his partner, Esposito took a wary look at the cracked walls, the slightly alive floor slabs, and with an unhurried step, holding his hand out, approached the ashy, glowing embers.
- Careful! See that it doesn't collapse...
- I hope so. Who's that? - Kate followed her partner, biting her lip tensely. - The one we were expecting to see?
- You mean that guy? - Espo waved his hand at the frozen silhouette. - He doesn't look like he's going anywhere anymore!
Javier was the first to find himself at the fire pit, and after searching with his eyes and flashlight for an elongated splinter, he carefully turned the smoldering embers.
- Some documents or books had been burned here, and it was unlikely that our motionless friend had done it.
- Save something, we need clues, - Beckett clutched the flashlight under her armpit and walked around the fire pit, pulling on her gloves as she went, and sat down beside a motionless figure sitting in a shabby old chair: it was a man, motionless and dead, with his face turned toward the sky. His mouth was ajar, his lips were curved in fierce agony, and his forehead was riddled with uneven dark wrinkles. The victim was dressed in rags, and a common kitchen knife with a brown handle was sticking out of his chest, right in the heart area. Kate gingerly touched the victim's neck: Lainey would be more precise about the time of death, but while the experts were being brought in, we should do some digging ourselves. And Kate turned to Esposito:
- So, Javi, what's the catch?
He was still spreading the scraps of paper out in front of him, pressing the smoldering edges neatly with his sole:
- It's hard to say who hated this read. Maybe it was just author squabbles, or maybe someone didn't have wood, but somewhere these books had to be gotten? In such quantity... Wait, though...
Javi raked a thick layer of ash from the edge and pulled out a burnt book binding: thick crust, once colorful printing destroyed by the fire, and even part of the book's title with the author's name. It was only necessary to brush the embers off the edges, and then Esposito handed the cover to Kate, who approached him.
- I think you'll be interested to know whose books were burned here.
And Beckett read "...astle."
It is clear that nobody treated him with any ceremony: they blinded him with flashlights, deafened him with shouts, and twisted his hands behind his back without any pity. They also pressed his face into the dust and dirt, regardless of his well-being. And he did vomit, a little, and suddenly sharpened sniff perceived somehow everything around and at once: the chemical stench of synthetic covers and poison under his nose, the smoke of the fire, the mustiness and decay of the ruins, the sweetness of his own vomit, but the most stunning dissonance in the midst of these ruins was a persistent, bright, recognizable aroma of cherries. And Castle suddenly realized that that scent really clung. None of his girlfriends used such a scent, which meant that its owner was a person of special qualities. And since she showed up here, she's a female cop. And who knows what other discovery fate will bring him...
- Oh, gods, my head hurts, - Castle was still feeling the foreign chemistry, consciousness was returning and slipping away, but sitting handcuffed in the back of the police limousine, Rick was trying hard to make sense of the situation. He'd obviously been lured by a bonfire of books and then, near the corpse, poisoned with something. Whether it was ether or something else, Castle felt deathly thirsty, and with every cough it hurt his temples.
The engine rumbled, and the car started up smoothly. Occasionally falling out of reality, Castle swayed his whole body in time with its movement and tried not to listen to the soft conversations of the cops. In principle, it was clear that they were taking him to the station, and to which one - it didn't matter...
The way to the station, through the evening traffic, lasted almost two hours, and after a bottle of water, given by the cops, Castle really felt better. His throat was practically gone, his thirst was dulled, and his thought process was working faster than the rush. There was still time to think about how to properly brief the cops on the situation, and Castle hoped to be out of the station before the party was over. True, his clothes were in disrepair, and his face was covered in a dirty crust and dust. Reaching for the phone, which no one has not yet seized, Castle once again reread the last messages: scolding and sarcastic - from Gina; full of excitement, concern and sympathy - from mother and daughter. And wrote off corresponding to the spirit. Now the most unusual and interesting thing was to come, and if plan A didn't work, then plan B should be thought of at once...
- ...have you been read your rights, Mr. Castle? My name is Detective Beckett, - an unusually stern and grim, but dazzlingly beautiful in appearance, in a cloud of cherry scents, the lady confidently entered the interrogation room and sat down opposite. Under her arm she held a thin folder, most likely - with an unsolved case. His case, and how events would unfold could only be theorized. Right now he was a suspect, but that was fundamentally wrong. In fact - he is a victim, and will defend his status in every possible way. But who was she, this officer who sat across from him and glared at him with her sly, mistrustful gaze? What's so special about her, apart from her attractive appearance and rare scent of perfume? Perhaps that's not why she's here!
Displaying his most charming smile, Castle perched himself on the back of a chair for a full view. A burgundy blouse with a shallow neckline, her hair in a bob, slightly sloppy but not at all ugly. Complete absence of makeup, an eye-catching mole on her left cheek and very beautiful eyes. Brown-green, expressive and a little sad - they looked at him carefully and strictly, and Castle liver felt how his soul enters the feeling of some incomprehensible novelty and excitement. Even having said the duty phrase about his rights, the woman - a cop beckoned to the writer with his whole being. And Castle saw the situation as a challenge.