Confession Chapter 52

"The lab report came through on the snake," Kate announces, regarding her computer screen.

"And?" Castle prompts.

"The pattern matches the marks on Morgan's throat. DNA from epithelial cells found on it matches Morgan too. That's enough to take to the DA. We've got Ivan cold."

"But we still don't know the story," Castle protests.

"We have the story," Kate insists. "Ivan was trying to come up with Morgan's youth formula. He couldn't, so he killed her to get it and the family trust."

"Uh-huh, but why would he have to do that? Why was he living in an apartment instead of in the mansion with his mother? Why would a son have to kill his mother for her secrets and his legacy? Why wouldn't she just pass them on? And where does Gore come into the whole thing? Admit it, Kate. You're curious too."

"All right, I'm curious. But we already have all the evidence we need."

"Still, wouldn't the case be even stronger with a confession?" Castle argues. "You could work your special Beckett magic to pull one out and get the story at the same time."

Kate sighs. "And you won't be satisfied unless I give it a shot."

Castle reaches for her hand. "Neither will you."

A shackled Ivan Girosol gazes across the box's table at Kate and Castle. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"No, you don't, Mr. Girosol," Kate agrees. "But the way things stand right now, my report will say you committed cold-blooded murder. With no extenuating circumstances, that's a life sentence with no parole."

"And there won't be any plants around where you'll be serving it, either," Castle says, "just a lot of animal predators only technically defined as humans."

"But I can help you, Ivan," Kate insists. "We know Morgan was your mother. Your DNA proves that. And we know you strangled her with a snake from Proppa Props. We can prove that too. A prosecutor can use those facts to paint a picture of you as a vicious monster. But if you can make me understand why you did, what you did, I can try to convince the DA to cut you a break. So, what happened, Ivan? Why did you do it?"

Ivan slumps in his chair and draws a shaky breath. "The DNA may say Morgan Gorlois was my mother, but that's the only way she was. She never wanted a son – or any child. But for hundreds of years, the family has always required heirs. My father would have inherited the rights to the mansion and the family trust. And he would have wanted to pass it on to his child. But he died before I was born. My grandfather died young too, which was why my Grandmother Ingrid lived in the mansion, and then my mother. I was supposed to join her, but she never wanted any part of me. She hired a nanny to take care of me until I was old enough to send away to school. She disowned me when I returned. She had all the resources of the trust and thought I had no way to get what was rightfully mine.

"But I found a way. I had visited my Grandmother Ingrid on breaks from school and got to use the library. Gore, the librarian, helped me find what I wanted – the old building plan for the mansion. There was a cellar entrance for the delivery of coal, long forgotten after the heating system was modernized. But I never forgot it. I used it to come and go, exploiting what I knew about the building to observe unseen. I knew about my mother and the formula she made, trying to stay beautiful. As they say, it was only skin deep. Inside, she was as ugly as sin. But skin deep was enough. I knew what it was worth and I did my best to duplicate it. And I also knew about her fear of snakes, her nightmares. I had to hit Gore, and I'm sorry about that. He didn't deserve it. Still, it seemed only fitting that my mother's nightmares should come true. But before I could pull the snake tight, she coughed in my face. Her last breath gave me the flu, can you believe it? How could any mother treat a son the way she treated me? I only wanted what was rightfully mine."

"I understand how Ivan felt being sent away like that," Castle confides as he and Kate return to the bullpen. "There were times that I got pretty furious at my mother for shipping me off."

Kate strokes his cheek. "But you didn't try to kill her. Just the opposite. In her hour of need, you took her in."

"I guess that's because I always knew she loved me and was doing the best she could. Ivan never felt any love from Morgan. No one should live without love."

Kate stretches up for a kiss. "No, they shouldn't."

Three months later

The work of grand juries is supposed to be secret, but Elizabeth Weston's prosecutors kept the lid on the one hearing evidence against William Bracken even more tightly than usual. Neither the Ledger nor any other traditional media outlet gave it a whisper. Blogs speculated but had no reliable information. So when the indictment came down accusing their Senator, many residents of New York were shocked and even disbelieving. The environmental advocates whose banners he had wrapped around himself at every conceivable opportunity felt shame, denial, or both.

As it worked out, neither Kate nor Castle was called to testify. There was too much other evidence and too many other witnesses. But Kate insists on being in court for Bracken's arraignment. She needs to see it and hear it, and federal proceedings aren't televised. Cameras and recording devices aren't even allowed in the courtroom.

Kate sits midway back in the small visitors' section, her slim hand enfolded in Castle's. The arraignments to which she's accustomed are rapid affairs, often taking only a minute or two. The defendant pleads and the judge goes on to the next case. This one is different. Famous defense attorney, Leo Cadwalader, offers a flurry of motions, bombarding an increasingly impatient Magistrate Judge Alana Chikiris. Cadwalader is insistent that a respected figure such as Bracken should be released on his own recognizance.

Judge Chikiris' dark eyes narrow. "Mr. Cadwalader, the amount of respect your client commands and his position in the community are as irrelevant to this case as your argument for dismissal under the 'Speech and Debate Clause.' As I previously stated, not one single charge contained in this indictment pertains to Mr. Bracken's official duties as a United States senator. And to the matter of whether he is a flight risk, the considerable influence and network of contacts he has established in that position, constitute just that. So bail will be set at $10 million with the conditions of his release to surrender his passport and wear a tracking device. He will be allowed such movements as are necessary to carry out his obligations as a senator, receive any necessary medical care, and attend religious services if he so desires. Otherwise, he will be confined to either his residence in New York or his residence in Georgetown. Any violation of these conditions will result in incarceration. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Cadwalader, Mr. Bracken?"

"Yes, Your Honor," a slightly flushed Cadwalader responds.

Yes, Your Honor," Bracken echoes, his politician's mask unable to completely disguise his anger.

"Damn!" Kate mutters as she and Castle leave the federal courthouse.

Castle wraps his arm around her shoulders. "I know. I wanted to see the judge throw him behind bars too, complete with the 'Law and Order' sound effect. But he's been running roughshod over the law for at least 20 years. It's as much a part of him as breathing. He won't be able to stop now, and the minute he makes a slip, Judge Chikiris will throw his ass where it belongs."

"Are you sure, Babe?"

"Not only did she put it on the record, I could see it in her eyes."

A smile begins to curve Kate's lips. "That's one perp walk I really want to see."

Castle presses a kiss to the top of her head. "And I'm sure every media outlet in the country, not to mention anyone in the vicinity with a phone, will rush to bring it to you."