Reborn in Castle (TV show)

Travis sat down on the bench beside Sarah Kline, keeping enough space between them to feel respectful but close enough to keep his voice low. Sarah's hands still twisted the tissue into tighter knots, her knuckles white.

"I'm Detective Travis Wilson," he said again, softer this time. "I know this is the worst morning of your life right now, and I'm sorry you had to walk into that. But I need your help to understand what happened. Can you talk me through last night?" He took out his notepad and pen.

Sarah nodded quickly, almost too fast, like she had been waiting for someone to ask. Her voice came out small and cracked. "We had dinner here. We talked about the weekend. He said he wanted to take me to the Hamptons soon, maybe rent a place for a few days. He seemed... normal. Happy..."

She swallowed and looked down at her hands.

"I left around eleven. I had an early meeting this morning, so I kissed him goodbye at the door. He walked me to the elevator, told me to text when I got home. I did. But he didn't reply. Ethan always replies back, so I called him, but he didn't pick up. So, I thought his phone might be dead. But when he didn't pick up my call in the morning, I came to check and..."

She didn't finish her words.

Travis kept his expression neutral, letting her words settle while scribbling the testimony.

"Did he mention anyone coming over after you left? A friend, coworker, or delivery?"

She shook her head. "No. He said he was going to watch the game highlights and go to bed early. He had a big presentation today. He was nervous about it."

He asked, "Any recent stress? Arguments, money trouble, someone he was worried about?"

Sarah shook her head. "Not that he told me. We were good. Really good. He talked about proposing soon. He even asked what kind of ring I liked last month. I thought he was joking, but he was serious."

Her eyes filled again. She blinked hard.

Travis leaned forward slightly. "Sarah, I need you to think carefully. Did Ethan ever mention anything unusual in the last few weeks? Strange phone calls, late-night texts, packages he didn't want you to see, changes in his routine?"

She frowned, searching her memory.

Sarah frowned deeper, her fingers finally stilling on the ruined tissue as something clicked into place behind her eyes.

"I don't know if this is helpful," she said slowly, "but a couple of weeks ago... I saw Ethan outside a blood bank. It was on my way home from work one evening. He was standing near the entrance, talking to someone in scrubs. I pulled over because I thought maybe he was donating or something, but he looked... nervous. Like he didn't want to be seen. When I asked him about it later that night, he brushed it off. Said he was just meeting an old friend who works there. He changed the subject pretty fast."

Travis kept his voice even, careful not to push too hard. "Did he say the friend's name?"

Sarah shook her head. "No. He just said 'an old buddy from way back.' I let it go because he seemed uncomfortable. But it stuck with me. Ethan and I went to the same high school and college. We have basically the same friend group. I've never heard him mention anyone who works at a blood bank. Not once."

Travis nodded once, filing the detail away. "Which blood bank was it?"

"New York Blood Center," she answered right away. "The one on West 57th Street. I remember because it's right near that big deli we like. I was picking up sandwiches when I spotted him."

Travis pulled out his small notebook and jotted the name down. "Thank you, Sarah. That's actually very helpful. One more thing: what did you two have for dinner last night before you left?"

Sarah wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a shaky breath. She looked at him as if she wasn't expecting him to ask about food.

"Pasta," she said. "He made his usual carbonara. Bacon, eggs, parmesan, and black pepper. Nothing fancy. We opened a bottle of Chianti. I had two glasses, he had maybe one and a half. Why are you asking about dinner?"

Travis kept his eyes on her, calm but unblinking.

"No reason," he said.

He stood up and put his notepad and pen in his pocket. He took two steps toward the lobby doors, then stopped. He turned back, raised one finger, and pointed it straight at her.

"Just one last thing," he said as he took out his card and held it in front of her. "Call me if you remember anything else. And you are clear to leave."

...

[12th Precinct – Bullpen – Mid-Morning]

Travis stood in front of the case board, arms crossed, staring at the photo of Ethan Mercer taped at the top. The man's driver's license smile looked almost mocking now. Below the photo, evidence photos and notes were pinned in neat rows: close-ups of the blood streaks on the wall, the torn sofa cushion with its clean knife cut, the empty medical-grade bottles from the fridge, the single black high-heeled shoe, the pristine bedroom safe with its dust outlines, and the calendar page showing the recurring red-circled dates 2-5-6-9.

Ryan stood beside him, hands in his pockets, head tilted as he studied the layout.

"You really think he faked his own bloody kidnapping?" Ryan asked, voice low enough to stay between them.

Travis kept his eyes on the board. "We'll know once we get the forensic reports. If the blood matches his DNA and the volume lines up with someone drawing and storing it over weeks, then yes. If it's someone else's blood, then we have a real crime scene and a body to find. Either way, everything will come to light after the reports."

Ryan rubbed his jaw. "Cold. Leaving his girlfriend to walk into that mess and think he was taken or dead."

"Oh, don't feel bad for the girlfriend," Travis said as he sat on the chair and took a spin. "Guess why?"

Ryan asked, "She lied about something that you somehow detected after examining the crime scene?"

Travis pointed a finger at him. "Bingo!" He took the notepad and handed it to Ryan. "See something interesting?"

Ryan flipped through the notes, scanning quickly. He stopped at the dinner part. His brow furrowed when he remembered the half-eaten takeout containers still sitting in the fridge during the scene walk-through.

"Carbonara," Ryan said slowly. "She said he made carbonara last night. Bacon, eggs, parmesan, black pepper. Opened a bottle of Chianti."

Travis leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. "Exactly. The fridge had no bacon, eggs, parmesan block, or empty wine bottle in the trash or recycling bin. The takeout containers were from a Thai place two blocks away, pad see ew and green curry. Labels still on them. There was no pasta pot in the sink, colander, or greasy frying pan. And from what she said, Ethan had an early meeting, so he couldn't possibly stay late to clean everything up. Yet, the kitchen was spotless except for the staged blood."

Ryan looked up. "So she never ate dinner there last night."

"Or she did," Travis said, "but not with him. She left earlier than she claimed. Maybe she came back later, maybe she never left at all. The single high-heeled shoe doesn't match her size. She was wearing flats when she came in this morning. Size seven. The shoe on the scene was eight. Someone else wore it. Or planted it."

Ryan handed the notepad back. "You think she's in on it? Helping him disappear?"

"Possible," Travis replied. "Or she caught him in the act of staging and things went sideways. Either way, her story has holes big enough to drive a car through. Well, all will be revealed once the report comes. And I've put two uniforms to keep an eye on her. So, let's see where this mess goes."

...

On the other side of the bullpen, the elevator doors slid open.

Kate stepped out first, jacket slung over one arm. Castle followed two steps behind, already in full storyteller mode, gesturing with both hands.

"...and then the killer takes the victim's fingers one by one," Castle was saying, voice carrying just enough to reach half the room. "Not for trophies, mind you. For a very specific ritual. Each finger represents a different sin the victim committed. Thumb for pride, index for greed, middle for wrath. By the time he got to the ring finger, the victim was begging for the pinky because he knew what came next."

Kate didn't even look at him; she sighed.

She spotted Travis and Ryan at the board and headed straight over. Castle trailed her like an eager shadow. She stopped in front of the board, eyes already scanning the photos before she even spoke. "What are we working on?"

Ryan stepped in smoothly and filled her in.

Kate listened without interrupting, her gaze moving from the staged blood patterns to the fridge photos, then to the calendar and the empty safe. By the time Ryan finished, her expression had settled into that sharp, focused calm she got when things started lining up too cleanly.

"So," she said, folding her arms, "we've got a financial analyst who possibly drains his own blood over weeks, stages a violent kidnapping, empties his safe, and vanishes. That's either desperation… or planning at a level most people don't reach."

Her eyes flicked to Travis.

"You're leaning on the planning theory?" She asked.

"I'm like 80% sure it's a staged scene. The remaining 20% will be revealed when we get the reports," Travis replied with a small nod from his chair. "He built the scene like a script. Every detail is placed to sell a story. Only problem is, he overperformed."

Kate's lips pressed into a thin line. "They always do."

Castle, who had been unusually quiet for almost five full seconds, suddenly lit up like someone flipped a switch in his head. He stepped closer to the board, pointing at Ethan's photo with the excitement of a man who had just found his next bestseller.

"Oh, this is beautiful," he said, eyes wide. "Not the crime, obviously. The structure and the ambition. This guy didn't just want to disappear. He wanted a full rebirth."

Kate didn't even look at him. "Castle."

But he was already going.

"Think about it," he said as he paced. "A financial analyst has access to money. He knows how to move it, hide it, and make it look clean. He drains his own blood, creates a horror scene, and disappears without a trace. That suggests an exit plan with a payoff at the end."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You think he stole money too?"

Castle snapped his fingers. "Of course he did. Nobody goes through this much effort just to start over broke. That empty safe?" He pointed at the safe photo on the board. "That's preparation. Cash, documents, maybe offshore account info, all gone before the show even starts."

He leaned in closer to the board, lowering his voice like he was pitching the climax of a novel.

"Then comes phase two: a new identity. This may include plastic surgery if he is serious about it. He needs a new name, a new country, and a new life. It should be somewhere warm and quiet."

He straightened and spread his hands like he was revealing the final scene.

"I'm talking private island. White sand, blue water, no extradition treaties. He's sitting on a terrace, wearing linen, smoking Cuban cigars like he earned every second of it, while everyone back here thinks he's dead."

Ryan let out a short laugh. "You skipped a few steps there."

Castle shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Details. The point is, this guy didn't just run. He planned to win."

Kate finally turned her head and gave him a look. "Or he made one mistake too many and we catch him before he even leaves the state. Besides, we don't even know whose blood was in the apartment."

Castle smiled. "Also possible. Less poetic, but still satisfying."

"And don't forget the lying girlfriend. She's definitely hiding something," Travis pointed out.

Castle pointed his finger at him. "Cuban cigar with his girlfriend in his arm. Classic con ending."

Kate looked at the photos again. "If he's running, she's either his weak point or his partner."

Castle tapped the photo of Ethan again, almost affectionately. "Run all you want, Mr. Mercer. Every good story has a third-act twist."

Travis gave a side nod. "Yeah," he said. "And we're about to write it."

"By the way," Castle looked around. "Where's Espo?"

"Wait!" Travis stood up. "You haven't heard what happened to Espo last night?"

Castle looked at Kate.

"Yeah, Castle. We called you, but you were probably having fun with another one of your female fans," Kate replied with a somewhat serious expression.

Caste then looked toward Ryan. "Don't tell me!" His eyes widened.

"Oh yeah, Castle. Espo left for the Bronx last night and went to that haunted theatre to check it out. And..." Ryan said as he sat down on his chair.

Castle gulped whatever little saliva was left in his mouth.

He continued, "...the uniforms found him lying in the alley beside the theatre. He was knocked out cold from shock."

A hand grabbed Castle's shoulder from behind, making him jump up in shock, "Eeekk!" He turned around and saw Espo, standing right before him with a knowing smile.

"What's wrong, Castle? Seen a ghost?" Espo asked.

Caslte took a deep breath as he noticed everyone laughing. "Haha! Very funny, guys." He pointed at Ryan. "That wasn't cool. What if I had a sudden heart attack?"

Kate chuckled, "Relax, Castle. Lanie's downstairs. I'm pretty sure she can fix you up..."

Travis chimed in, "Or your corpse."

--

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