I will be offline for a bit again as we are neck-deep in foaling season. Anybody who ever had to wait for a mare to foal will know exactly what I mean. Stay safe everyone!

Beckett could feel the tension radiating from Gates' every single move, every eye contact, nervous twirl of her wedding band, every carefully chosen word.

The air in the spacious office was so thick you could cut it with a knife, questions buzzing through the air like darts, aimed to hit them as soon as they let their guard down.

The dreaded phone call with the chief had been a tightrope walk of power plays, vague assurances and systematic ways to protect the homicide department which was in danger of becoming a city-wide mockery after 3 brutal, unsolved cases.

Both women sailed the storms of open-ended questions as to why no suspect had been apprehended, why the killer had gotten close enough to leave a victim's body parts on a pizza delivered to the precinct and whether or not reckless driving had led to the killer getting away, expensive police property being demolished and an innocent civilian being killed.

As the conversation grew sterner, so did the direction of the questions.

Was Beckett's team not capable of running this investigation? Was it time to bring in somebody else? Had something within the case triggered her as a woman, potentially clouding her decision-making process?

They'd been difficult and insulting questions at best, coming at a time when she needed to be with her team the most. And yet, here they were, playing the political games that came with high profile killings that were holding the entire city in their grasp.

So far, the urgent press release to warn young women of a charismatic man offering rides seemed to do the trick- at least considering the fact that nobody else had called in another body. The chief had liked that approach, along with the widely distributed sketch drawing that included a description of the car.

If nothing else, their killer would know by now that they were catching onto him.

Unfortunately the chief didn't share her optimism that a case break was imminent, that their hard work would pay off before another innocent young woman would be slain.

Instead, he challenged them both to cough up results in the next couple of days or the case would be handed over to a more competent team.

The click signaling the end of the phone call had felt like a deafening blow to her best efforts and Beckett remained quiet, watching Gates hang up the receiver before leaning forward against her desk, arms crossed and resting next to the case file, her expression no less defeated.

"I realize that you and your team have been through a lot in these last few months…", the captain began and nodded understandingly, "And I have said it before, if you need help with anything, please let me know and I will get you all the support you need so that we can nail this sick son of a bitch. That said, please do everything in your power to stop him before we get dragged into another phone call like this, detective."

Nodding obediently despite the acid crawling up her throat, Beckett stood back up and left the thick air of the office behind, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart to a manageable rhythm.

She was no stranger to pressure from the brass as well as ill-conceived ideas on how she should be running her investigation. Naturally, in a high-profile case such as this, everyone was interested in apprehending a killer who had committed a series of heinous crimes.

But doing it right and making sure due process was followed for a successful litigation was a different issue altogether.

With her neck stiff and shoulders tight, she returned to the bullpen, her gaze drifting over to the boys' desk. Kevin had his head buried in case files that had turned yellow with age and Espo was intently staring at his desktop, brows knitted in deep concentration.

Castle was no longer sitting in the guest chair. Instead, she found him behind her desktop, eagerly typing away at something she couldn't see from afar.

Pursing her lips in slight irritation, she walked up to the writer, sensing that he noticed her arrival but was too deeply engrossed in his research to acknowledge her.

"Looks like you're making yourself right at home…", she said, unable to hide the sour undertone in her voice.

"I was getting bored…", Castle replied matter-of-factly, his eyes moving back and forth along the screen as he drew in another deep breath before continuing, "The situation with the car kept bothering me…and I think I know why."

With her attention drawn, Beckett circled the desk and leaned over to look at what caught Castle's attention.

Staring back at her was the fifty-something owner of the stolen Camry.

"He doesn't match our suspect's description and he only has a couple priors…petty crimes at best.", she blurted out, immediately regretting not giving Castle more time to explain his research and jumping the gun instead.

"And yet, he grew up in Michigan…", the writer said and turned around to face her, his serious expression signaling that there was more to come.

"Let me guess…on the east side?"

"Ann Arbor, to be exact. His family moved to New York when he was a teenager. But he still stayed in contact with his extended family in Michigan. Like his uncle…who worked for the State Police…"

"You have go to be kidding me…", she leaned closer, taking a moment to read through the additional information Castle had dug up during her absence, "So we have the connection."

"We have more than that.", the writer declared and used his injured hand to underline one of the pieces of information displayed, "Jeffrey Hughes has a son. I think we finally have our suspect."