Author's Note: In which Kate continues to try to pretend nothing has really changed…

The Best-Laid Plans

Chapter 5

Kate wasn't sure she'd ever felt quite so… relieved, or something, to be called for a body first thing in the morning, Dispatch catching her as she was just about to leave her apartment for the precinct.

The body had been discovered early in the morning at a construction scene when the workers had arrived so she headed straight to the scene, sending Castle a quick text with the address instead of calling him. She was simply being thoughtful, not wanting to interrupt his breakfast with Alexis, as she knew he always liked to have breakfast with his daughter to talk about her day. It had nothing to do with a lingering self-consciousness of dreaming about him, fantasizing about him. Again. Two nights in a row now, she'd fallen asleep and dreamed of Castle, dreamed about having sex with Castle, dreams that had left her hot and bothered and needing to touch herself while imagining it was him in order to get some relief.

Thank god she had a case today, something to take her mind off things.

The victim proved to be a male, mid-40's, who'd been shot. His watch and wallet had been taken but, she noted, he still had his wedding band on his finger so this wasn't just a typical robbery either.

She listened to Lanie's brief summary of what little they knew at this point, that the victim had been shot with a small caliber gun sometime last night. Lanie gave her a narrow-eyed look and Kate was gripped by the admittedly irrational fear that Lanie could somehow see, know, just what Kate had done last night, who she'd dreamed about, fantasized about. Which was nonsensical, she told herself, Lanie wasn't telepathic. But it occurred to her that it might be a good thing Castle wasn't here yet because if Lanie did see the two of them together, well, Lanie might somehow notice something different especially since Lanie was already inclined to think that something might, or at least, should be going on between Kate and Castle. And Lanie of all people absolutely could not find out about their one night because otherwise Lanie would never let it go.

To distract Lanie–and herself–she blurted out the only thing that came to mind. "He's well-dressed. What was he doing at a construction site anyway and there's no evidence he was moved after he was shot, right?" The victim was wearing a business suit and Kate knew enough about clothes to be able to tell it was of relatively good quality and the construction site had signs posted indicating a hard hat was required so it was hardly the usual place to find a man in an undoubtedly pricey suit.

Lanie gave her a rather wry look. "Doesn't look like he was moved, no, and as for what he was doing here, I think that's your job, not mine."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Lanie."

With the initial summary of the murder done, Kate turned away, approaching the foreman of the construction site who'd been the unlucky one to discover the body. Todd Wildhain was pale but fortunately, appeared to be holding it together, was able to recount his story of discovering the body, who he referred to as "Mr. Ragar."

"Mr. Ragar? So you know the victim?" she interrupted, although she usually tried not to interrupt witnesses.

Wildhain blinked. "Oh, yes, his name is Devon Ragar. He's in charge of this project–I mean, he was," Wildhain winced a little as he corrected himself. "He runs Seward, who won the bid for this project." Seward, Kate knew from the signs around the site, must be the name of the construction company.

"How well did you know him?"

She listened to Wildhain's response, that Ragar was essentially his boss, who stopped by the site about every week or so to make sure it was proceeding on schedule, that sort of thing. But even as she listened, part of her brain couldn't help wondering where Castle was. She had expected him to have arrived by now. The scene wasn't far from the loft so it wouldn't have taken him long to get here. But he wasn't here yet and she couldn't help but wonder, with a little lowering of her spirits which she couldn't entirely deny, if this might be the start of Castle pulling back a little, if he'd gotten what he wanted from her and now would no longer be around for all their cases. She had thought that he would still stick around even after their night together but maybe he had only been trying to be a little more subtle about it, would make a more gradual retreat from working with her–them.

She caught Espo's glance and belatedly realized Wildhain had stopped talking and she hadn't responded. "So did you speak with him yesterday?"

Wildhain frowned a little. "No. He stopped by last week–on Wednesday–but I didn't see him here yesterday. He must have arrived here yesterday evening after we'd already stopped work for the day."

Hmm, that seemed odd. She exchanged a look with Espo. Probably the first little mystery they would need to clear up and maybe the reason for why the victim had been at the site would lead to the killer. "Do you know of any reason why he would do that, come to the site after you'd stopped working?"

"No, I don't. I suppose he could just have wanted to inspect our progress on his own but I'm not sure why he would. I don't think he ever has stopped by after hours before." He paused and then went on, "But maybe Mr. Menosky will know," he supplied.

"Mr. Menosky?" she repeated the unfamiliar name.

"Paul Menosky," Wildhain clarified. "He's Mr. Ragar's business partner."

Wildhain was telling them how to let in touch with this Paul Menosky when a taxi pulled up just outside the crime scene tape and Kate felt her renegade heart leap in her chest as Castle emerged–more, because he emerged with their usual coffees. She stamped down on the stupid little flare of warmth in her chest because she knew that their usual coffee place, while it was reasonably on the way between the loft and the precinct, was in the completely opposite direction from where they were now so Castle had gone out of his way just to get their usual coffees. No wonder it had taken him this long to get here.

"Look who decided to grace us with his presence," Espo greeted Castle with the mild jibe.

Castle didn't smile at the jibe but then again, it wouldn't have been appropriate at a murder scene and in front of a witness but she studied Castle for a moment. Something about him, his expression, seemed a little off to her, but before she could pinpoint it, Castle blinked and addressed Mr. Wildhain.

"I'm Rick Castle. I take it you discovered the body?"

"Mr. Castle consults for us," she inserted. "I'll fill you in later, Castle. Mr. Wildhain, you were saying?"

Wildhain blinked and then answered, "Er, yes, well, Mr. Menosky generally oversees the finances of the company so he doesn't usually visit the site at all. Mr. Ragar was the one who usually met with clients, suppliers, that sort of thing, and kept tabs on our progress to report back to the clients."

She thanked Mr. Wildhain and gave him her card if he remembered anything further before releasing him and then directed the boys to contact Mr. Menosky and bring him in for questioning while she and Castle went to break the news to the vic's wife.

Castle was silent on the drive and she threw a few glances at him, wondering again if something was up. He looked somber but that could just be his thinking about the case, telling the victim's wife.

They arrived at the victim's home and she paused for a moment after she parked, inwardly steeling herself as she always did.

"Do you always have to be the one to break the news?"

She glanced at him. "It's not a rule, if that's what you're asking."

"But you don't ask the boys to do it." It wasn't a question and of course, by now he had worked with her for long enough that he knew that was true.

"It's my job," was all she said, simply. The worst part of her job but it didn't mean she would delegate it to the boys or anyone else either. She couldn't delegate this task, owed more than that to the victims and to their families.

After a moment, he volunteered quietly, "For what it's worth, you're good at it. I don't know how you do it."

Her lips tightened and she opened her car door, stepping outside, knowing that he would follow.

They were in the elevator when she found herself admitting, almost more to herself than to him, "I wish I weren't that good at it."

He sighed a little. "Yeah," he murmured and it occurred to her with an odd sense of surprise that he understood what she meant, because the only reason she knew what to say in these situations was because of her mom, and somehow, there was an odd sort of comfort in that, in his understanding without her having to explain.

She knocked and after a moment, the door opened to reveal a blonde woman, her expression already clouded with worry and becoming more so when she saw them. Kate could see that the woman would have been pretty if she weren't so worried, in a sort of helpless-looking way. "Mrs. Ragar?"

"Yes, I'm Natalie Ragar, can I help you?"

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett and this is Richard Castle."

Kate sometimes thought, and now was no different, that what she might hate most about her job was the way people reacted to the announcement of her title, Mrs. Ragar's immediate pallor, one hand coming up in one of those reflexive gestures of distress.

"Oh god, it's my husband, isn't it? Devon didn't come home last night and I was just going to call Paul to ask if he'd seen Devon but if you're here–"

"I'm so sorry," she began, as gently as possible. "I'm afraid your husband's body was found at his construction site early this morning."

"The construction site? Was it–" Mrs. Ragar's voice shook and she swallowed before finishing, "was it an accident?"

Kate shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Mrs. Ragar, I'm sorry but would you mind if we asked you a few questions about your husband?"

Mrs. Ragar stepped backwards, moving almost as if in a trance, her eyes filling with tears.

Castle produced a small package of tissues from his pocket and gave her one. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he said quietly. "Why don't you sit down?" He made a gesture with a hand and Mrs. Ragar responded to the suggestion, as people–mostly women but some men too–tended to when Castle spoke in such a voice, the blend of suggestion, sympathy, and just the faintest hint of direction. He might say he didn't know how she did it but in that, it occurred to her that he did himself an injustice. He was better at it than he thought, good at gauging emotions. And then too, it helped that Castle was able to show and act on his compassion without the sort of professional detachment Kate herself tended to be bound by. It was, she supposed, another way in which they made a good team.

Mrs. Ragar was sniffling and wiping away tears as she asked rhetorically how she was going to tell her kids. Kate saw the almost imperceptible wince cross Castle's face, knew the mention of children would affect him, but he only made a few comforting murmurs, handing Mrs. Ragar another tissue and gently disposing of the first one when it became too sodden.

They gave Mrs. Ragar a couple minutes to recover, waited until Mrs. Ragar sniffed and wiped at her tears before looking up at Castle and then at Kate. "I–you have questions about Devon?" she ventured, her voice slightly shaky but somewhat more controlled.

"We've spoken to Mr. Wildhain, the foreman at the site, but he wasn't able to tell us why your husband would have been at the site yesterday evening. Did your husband happen to mention what his schedule was yesterday?"

"He… he told me he wouldn't be home for dinner because he had a business meeting but I don't know who he met with." She gave a fluttery little gesture with her hands. "He didn't like to bother me with details of his work, always told me I should focus on our kids."

Mrs. Ragar seemed very much in the traditional housewife mold so Kate rather doubted she would be able to tell them much that was useful but she still had to ask.

"I see. I'm sorry to ask this but can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your husband?"

Mrs. Ragar's eyes filled with tears and she shook her head before she was able to answer, in little more than a whisper, "No, oh no. Devon is a good man, a good provider."

It was the usual answer, the one Kate had been expecting. She caught Castle's glance and gave him an almost infinitesimal nod and he responded with a look that was little more than a shift in the set of his lips. When had she and Castle begun to communicate through such subtle gestures? (And why was she still noticing the shape of his mouth?)

"You said your husband never came home yesterday. When did you last hear from him?" Castle stepped in.

"Yesterday afternoon. He called to let me know he wouldn't be home for dinner."

"Were you surprised? Was your husband in the habit of not being home in the evenings?"

"It wasn't unusual for him to have meetings after work, with clients or suppliers, but he always came home afterwards. Yesterday, after dinner with my kids, I waited up for him for a little while but fell asleep. I didn't think… didn't really worry until this morning… oh god, how am I going to tell my boys? What are we going to do?" Her voice broke and Castle handed her another tissue.

Mrs. Ragar's tears slowed. Kate shifted slightly and saw Castle's glance, noting peripherally just how attuned to her Castle always seemed. It was almost as if he had a sort of sixth sense so that even when he wasn't looking at her, he somehow registered her movements. She retrieved one of her cards from her pocket and gave it to Mrs. Ragar.

"Thank you for talking to us, Mrs. Ragar. If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to contact me. We're so sorry for your loss," she repeated her usual words, aware as she always was of their inadequacy even as she knew too that there really were no adequate words in such a situation.

Once they were back in her car, Castle sat back, resting his head against the headrest with a little sigh, and she noticed for the first time that there were faint lines–of tension?–around his mouth and he looked… well, not like himself. For almost the first time, she was reminded that he was actually almost 10 years older than her. She never thought about the age gap because he usually acted like such a boy, didn't look his age at all. But today, at least right now, he almost looked his age.

"Everything okay?" The words escaped her of their own volition.

"Fine," he clipped out in a tone that indicated the opposite.

She felt the word, absurdly, like a rejection, tried not to react or feel a twinge of something like hurt. It seemed like a pointed reminder that he really wasn't interested in anything more than sex, wouldn't want a relationship. A reminder that in some ways, no matter how much time they had spent together, they weren't confidantes, did not talk about personal things, not really. Admittedly, she didn't share personal things with basically anyone outside of her dad and Lanie often, and with Lanie, it was usually at Lanie's insistence, but it occurred to her that Castle wasn't that much more open than she was either.

Not that it mattered and not that she cared, she pulled herself up short. She didn't want or need to know if anything was bothering Castle at all.

And anyway, they were in the middle of a case.

When they returned to the precinct, they found that the boys had brought in the victim's business partner, Paul Menosky, so they could ask him about the victim's business meeting last night.

To her surprise, though, questioning Menosky about the victim's business meeting evoked an immediate reaction, Menosky abruptly looking uncomfortable.

Kate straightened up and beside her, felt Castle tensing slightly as well. "Mr. Menosky, what do you know about this business meeting?"

Menosky hesitated.

"This is a murder investigation," she began, her tone the persuasive one she used on reluctant witnesses. "Now, the person Mr. Ragar met yesterday may well have been the last person to see him alive. What you tell us now could ensure that your partner's killer is brought to justice."

There was another beat of silence in which Menosky pretty obviously weighed his options and then he finally answered, somewhat uneasily, "Devon was my business partner and my friend for almost 20 years but he was not a saint. He had a weakness: women."

Beside her, she sensed Castle's expression change. "By women, you mean, he cheated on his wife?"

His tone had hardened a little too, a thread of judgment entering it, and she deliberately shifted her elbow just the slightest bit until it brushed Castle's, the most subtle thing she could think to do to get his attention.

Menosky grimaced faintly. "Yes. He couldn't seem to help it; it was like an addiction with him. He'd tell Natalie that he had a business meeting and sometimes, he did, but most of the time, those 'meetings' were assignations. I–I don't know who he was supposed to meet with yesterday, if it was a woman or an actual business meeting but the likelihood…" He trailed off, making an awkward little gesture.

"Mr. Menosky, do you know if his wife was aware of her husband's habits?" she asked. They would need to confirm with Mrs. Ragar of course but it was worth asking, in case Mrs. Ragar decided to lie about it.

Menosky's lips twisted. "She was. There was… some trouble a few years ago. Devon mentioned that he and Natalie were having difficulties, had mentioned divorce, but they worked it out. He'd promised her he would stop and he did for a while but then…" He made the facial equivalent of a shrug but finished, "But lately, things have seemed fine between Devon and Natalie."

"But Ragar was still cheating," Castle inserted, his voice flat but at least no longer sounding so condemning.

They asked Menosky a few more questions, asked for access to the victim's office and work computer, which he readily granted, and then sent him on his way with the usual instruction to contact her if he thought of anything potentially relevant.

She and Castle left the conference room and summoned the boys from where they had been requesting the victim's phone and financial records, giving them a quick run-down of what they had just learned. "This gives the wife motive," she stated the obvious. "And she has a soft alibi, said she was at home with her kids but they're teens and she could have slipped out or just hired someone. Look into it. Castle and I will head to the victim's office, see if we can find out who yesterday's meeting was with."

Beside her, Castle shifted and she felt his sudden scowl, heard the huff of breath, not quite a noise of skepticism but close to it, as he swung abruptly around and focused on the murder board. What the hell was his problem?

Espo and Ryan both looked at Castle and then glanced at her, hesitating, before she directed a look at them. "What are you waiting for? Go."

They went.

"Castle," she clipped.

Castle glanced at her, his shoulders set in a way that broadcast his displeasure, his expression harder than she could remember seeing it in a long time. Yeah, something was wrong but they couldn't have it out here, in the middle of the bullpen.

She jerked her head and turned to head back into the conference room, waiting until he closed the door behind him.

"Why do I feel like I've been called into the principal's office?" he made an attempt to joke with one of his usual smirks.

She narrowed her eyes at him. The words might sound like his usual self but the tone and the look were off. His smirk didn't reach his eyes, looked forced. "Do you want to tell me what's up with you?"

"You really think the wife did it?" he retorted. "Her husband was a jerk so of course that means his wife has to be a potential killer?"

"If the victim was cheating on her, it gives her motive and you know the spouse is usually a possible suspect regardless. What's your problem, anyway?" She didn't actually think Mrs. Ragar was guilty; the woman had given every appearance of being honestly grief-stricken. But Kate had also been a cop too long not to know that she couldn't just trust the appearance of sincerity. Murderers were often very good actors, at least when they had to be.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then finally muttered, "I don't like cheaters."

She blew out a breath. "Nobody likes cheaters but you know that doesn't change how I do my job. You can't possibly be saying that because the victim cheated on his wife, he deserved to die?"

That made him blink and his shoulders lowered a little and she realized with a surprising little flicker of relief that whatever had been bothering Castle, he was mostly himself again. He tipped his head back and sighed and then looked at her again. "No, you're right." He grimaced and moved one hand in a vague gesture that was somehow reminiscent of a shrug. "I had a bad night and not a great morning and then finding out the victim cheated… I was angry but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Sorry."

She remembered belatedly that she had thought this morning that he looked off somehow. Apparently she'd been right. "You want to talk about it?" she offered, a little cautiously.

He hesitated and for a moment she thought he would shut her out as he had earlier but then, after a moment, he answered, his tone unusually flat, "I had an argument with Meredith last night."

His ex-wife. It occurred to her that Castle didn't generally betray any real negative emotions about his marriages, either of them. He grumbled about Gina, his editor, and had made some joking asides about his second marriage and then there was Meredith's brief visit last spring–when he had slept with Meredith, she abruptly remembered–but for the most part, he always seemed to shrug off his marriages as if they didn't bother him, hadn't mattered much. But maybe his quips and jokes about his marriages had been meant as a disguise, misdirection, from his real feelings about his divorces.

Even as she thought it, Castle was continuing, his voice becoming caustic. "She was supposed to come out to visit Alexis over Memorial Day next weekend but then she called me last night to cancel because she got a better offer."

A better offer than spending time with her own daughter? Okay, so Kate didn't actually know Meredith but still… "She didn't actually say that, did she?"

His lips twisted. "No, not in so many words, but she said she was invited to some fancy weekend party at a big-shot director's house up in Napa instead so the meaning was pretty clear."

She inwardly winced. To choose some Hollywood party over a weekend spent with her daughter–it said a lot about Meredith, none of it good. And no wonder this case had upset him, the contrast between Mrs. Ragar, who appeared to be a traditional housewife who essentially devoted her life to her kids, and with Meredith, who wouldn't give up a party in order to spend time with her daughter. "Is Alexis okay?"

He sighed, the anger in his expression softening, sliding into worry and something like grief. "I told her this morning and she says she's fine."

She felt a spike of concern. "She says she's fine but you don't believe her?"

He made a small face. "No, it's not that," he admitted slowly. "Alexis, well, she stopped expecting anything from Meredith a while ago. This isn't the first or the second or even the tenth time Meredith has canceled plans to see Alexis so Alexis is used to it by now. I sometimes worry that she can't be as fine as she says she is but as far as I can tell, she really is okay. I'm the one that isn't okay with it." He gave a bitter little laugh that had nothing to do with humor and sounded entirely unlike the Castle she knew, the sound seeming to grate at her. "It's like the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. That's basically what I do when it comes to Meredith. I keep thinking she'll do better and then she doesn't and I keep getting angry. Alexis might be okay with it but the problem is that she shouldn't have to be and that's what I can't quite get over." He paused and then grimaced. "However much sense that makes."

"It makes sense," she assured him quietly, feeling the sudden urge to reach out and touch him, for once not out of any physical attraction but just to comfort him. She clasped her hands together instead because touching him just out of comfort wasn't something they did. For that matter, touching him in general wasn't really something she did, aside from occasionally elbowing him or pinching his ear or something like that. Teasing, absolutely platonic touches like she would give to either of the boys too and that was all. (Well, except for their one night of sex, which was never happening again. And she shouldn't even be thinking about that now.)

He met her eyes again, his expression easing, so he looked more like his usual self, if somber. "Anyway, that's why I've been upset, letting this case get to me so much." He made a self-deprecating grimace. "Rookie move, I know. I might just sit this case out. I'm not going to be great company."

"No," she blurted out unthinkingly, surprising herself a little, and then went on, trying to sound cool, bland. "You don't have to sit the case out. Now that I know where you're coming from, it's okay, we can deal. Anyway," she added, managing a faint teasing smile, "who says you're great company at normal times?"

The tease surprised a little laugh from him. "Touché."

She felt an absurd little leap of happiness at making him laugh, brightening his eyes, and went on, emboldened by her success. "And I seem to remember that you pride yourself on having been instrumental in helping us solve tough cases?"

The deliberate reference to what he'd told the Cosmo reporter in that ridiculous interview last fall provoked a small smirk that looked more natural, more like his usual self. "Well, if you put it like that, it's my civic duty to assist."

"If that's how you want to put it, I suppose," she drawled with mock reluctance and sternly hid her ridiculous urge to smile. And realized that she'd been wrong earlier. Whatever else she and Castle were–colleagues and work partners, even one-time sex partners (and it would only be the one time, she reminded herself again)—their friendship was very real too.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: I'm ignoring the part of canon that has the Princeton summer program starting on Memorial Day because it's ridiculous as most high schools in the U.S. don't get out for the summer until June.

Apologies in advance but I don't think I'll be able to post next week as I'll be going out of town. I'll try to post earlier than usual the following week so you won't have to wait a full two weeks for an update.