Kate Beckett, Investigator Chapter 31
As a soaking-wet Kate Beckett slogs into the loft, Castle holds up a large envelope. "This intriguing missive arrived for you today."
"What is it?" Kate inquires, droplets dripping from her hair as she steps out of sopping shoes and removes a drenched coat.
"Other than a back address of the American Bar Association, I have no idea."
Kate grabs paper towels from the kitchen to dry off. "And I don't suppose you put it over a light or something to try to see what's inside."
"Beckett, please! It wounds me that you believe I would try such an underhanded stunt. Besides, the envelope's too thick for that to work. I might have tried steaming it, but Eleanor was watching my every move, and I was afraid she might try sticking something over a hot mug of coffee or something and burn herself. So, I figured I'd wait for you to blow in. I didn't, however, expect you to do it literally. The forecast said the storm was supposed to bypass the city and head up to New England."
Kate stuffs wet towels in the trash. "Apparently, the storm didn't get the message. Look, Babe, I'm going to grab a hot shower. Then I'll have a look at the mystery envelope."
"I'll make a new pot of coffee – or perhaps you would prefer something more potent."
"I'll definitely take the coffee. And I'll see about the rest after I check out that envelope." A chill races over Kate's skin. "I need that shower now."
Kate takes another sip from a steaming mug before accepting the letter opener Castle offers. She pulls out a document printed on high-weight paper embossed with the Bar Association logo. "Wow!"
"Something shocking? Your eyebrows just jumped almost to your hairline," Castle observes. "Good shock or bad shock?"
"Good, I guess. I'm getting the Public Interest Award. This says it goes to law students who make outstanding contributions to public interest causes."
"Well, that's you, no doubt about it," Castle says. "No one kicks more ass of those menacing the public interest than Kate Beckett."
"I'm not sure that's true. Deirdre works as hard on her causes as I do. So do some of the other students I know. And I didn't even apply for this. I didn't put in for any awards."
"You never do. Tooting your own horn can grab attention. That's what book tours are all about. But people have been known to notice the exceptional, whether you mention it yourself or not. And we deliberately trumpeted the activities of this family fighting PFAS, as our defense against attacks from DePove and company. So, your efforts toward the greater good have hardly been a secret. Someone probably nominated you – maybe more than one someone.
"At any rate, are you in the mood for something stronger than coffee, or would you prefer to celebrate in some other manner? Normally, I would suggest seeing if Deirdre can cover Eleanor while we have a night on the town, but it's hardly the weather for it."
"Definitely not Champagne or anything else chilled," Kate decides. "But maybe some pasta with that red wine that makes me feel all – you know."
"I do indeed. After the last time, I bought a case. And I shall begin my culinary activities immediately."
"Didn't you have the last novella of your Adley Rains Trilogy due today?" Kate inquires as flames from the fireplace reflect from the ruby liquid in her goblet.
"I did," Castle confirms. "I put on a Lucy Orze video for Eleanor, and she fell asleep long enough for me to make my final edits and transmit it to Black Pawn. As soon as they run it through the final proofing process, it will be available for sale on all the e-book outlets. We also had a lot of pre-orders, so the customers should all have their downloads available very soon. It won't be the final nail in the PFAS coffin, but along with the work you and your father and all the others have been doing, it will help build the thing."
"Then you have something you can be proud of tonight, too," Kate notes.
"Actually, I thought we might indulge in something inducing more pleasure than pride," Castle suggests, snuggling closer on the couch. "After a full day of toddler mayhem, Eleanor is fed, dry, and, with any luck, should spend the rest of the night in Morpheus' arms. It has been a while since we entwined ourselves, Kate. We have enjoyed good food and your special wine. Perhaps this is the perfect night to further reward both our efforts."
Kate trails her fingers down his thigh. "Perhaps it is."
"An open bar," Castle notes as Kate enters the small hotel ballroom on his arm. "They're going all out. Your father told me he's coming, but the booze won't make things any easier for him."
"Yeah," Kate agrees. "He tries to skip professional events where they serve alcohol as much as he can. But he's been doing great since the Nesgadol civil trial and Waterhouse coming down on the company. He was able to turn all his efforts toward PFAS suits. That's easier, too, with public support rising. He told me he wouldn't miss this for anything in the world. He should be showing up anytime."
"Then we should get to our table and save him a seat where he can beam proudly while you accept your honors."
Heat rises in Kate's face. "Yeah, sure."
Kate rechecks her phone. "Nothing?" Castle asks.
"No, and if Dad got stuck in court or somewhere, he would have texted me."
"Maybe he's in a subway tunnel where he can't get a signal through. There are still a lot of spots like that. And trains get stuck in tunnels all the time."
"It's possible," Kate acknowledges. "But if he doesn't show up, I want to cut out as soon as they announce the award and find out where he is."
"I understand, but don't you have to make a speech or something?"
"Uh-huh, about the law being a tool for positive change. But right now, I don't care."
Jim Beckett has no idea where he is. The last thing he remembers was leaving his office to go to Katie's award luncheon – and then nothing. He's had experience with blackouts. When he was drinking, he could lose hours, even days, at a time. But he's well on his way to a ten-year chip, and his mind has been clear for almost all of the time he's been sober. He gingerly probes the back of his head before withdrawing his fingers. It's too dark to see what's on them, but it feels like blood. Could he have been mugged? He checks his pockets. His wallet is still in place, and so is his cell phone. Not a mugging. For a moment, he's hopeful as his phone lights up for him, but he has no bars. He enters a text to Katie anyway. If he gets a signal, even for a short while, it should go through. In the meantime, maybe his phone will give him enough light to figure out where he is. As far as he can tell, there's not much to see, just windowless walls and a metal door. He doesn't expect it to open, but he tries it anyway. It's locked tight. As his head pounds, he sinks down to sit on the floor, bracing his back against a wall. What the hell happened?