Reborn in Castle (TV show)

[Monday] [12th Precinct]

The bullpen had its usual rhythm, phones ringing, keyboards tapping, officers moving back and forth with files tucked under their arms. Someone laughed too loudly near the coffee machine, and a uniform argued with dispatch over something that sounded like it had already gone wrong twice. It was controlled chaos, the kind that never really stopped.

The evidence room was quieter than the outside. The hum of old fluorescent lights filled the space while rows of shelves held sealed bags, boxes, and case files that carried stories no one had finished telling.

Travis sat at one of the metal tables, a stack of files spread out in front of him. A half-empty coffee cup rested near his elbow. He flipped through a folder slowly, eyes scanning lines, stopping now and then to recheck a detail before moving on. Then he found something interesting and was about to cross-reference some old files.

Just then...

The door opened, and Kate stepped in, holding her own cup. "Morning," she said as she walked in, taking in the mess of files spread across the table.

Travis glanced up briefly, then leaned back in his chair. "Morning," he replied before tapping the file in front of him with two fingers.

Kate stepped closer, resting her cup down on the edge of the table. "You're early," she said, one brow lifting slightly as she looked at the stack he had already gone through.

He slid the open file toward her. "There are no major cases or bodies in ponds. Figured I'd dig through the ghosts instead." He nodded toward the file. "Found something interesting... Take a look."

Kate pulled the chair across from him and sat down, flipping the file open. The paper inside was older than most, edges slightly worn, photos clipped to reports that had been copied too many times. Her eyes moved quickly across the first page, then slowed as she reached the case summary.

She looked up. "Black magic?" she asked, her tone flat but curious.

Travis leaned back, folding his arms loosely. "Voodoo," he corrected, like he had already gone through that argument in his head.

Kate flipped to the next page, scanning the details more carefully now. "You're serious?"

He nodded once. "As serious as a file that's been sitting here for eight years without a resolution."

She leaned forward slightly, reading aloud from the report. "Victim: Harold Whitaker. Male, fifty-two. Found in his apartment. No signs of forced entry. Cause of death listed as cardiac arrest." She paused, flipping to the attached photos. "Except…" Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Travis watched her read, waiting.

Kate tapped one of the photos. "These markings," she said, turning the picture toward him even though he had already seen it. "Symbols carved into the floor. Candles placed in a circle... This doesn't look random."

"Exactly," Travis said, leaning forward now, resting his forearms on the table. "Guy dies of a heart attack, but the scene looks like someone was trying to summon something out of a horror movie."

Kate flipped another page. "Detectives on the case ruled it a staged scene and since the victim worked in theaters, they closed the case, saying he died during practice."

Travis did not answer right away. Instead, he reached for another file from the stack and flipped it open with a practiced motion. He slid it across the table toward Kate, the paper scraping softly against the metal surface.

"Three years ago," he said, tapping the date with his finger.

Kate pulled the file closer and began reading.

"Victim: Daniel Mercer. Male, forty-eight," she read quietly. "Found in his apartment. No forced entry. Cause of death... cardiac arrest."

She looked at the attached photos. As soon as she saw them, her posture stiffened a bit. The carvings on the floor and the candle arrangement were exactly the same as the first one. Everything was placed with careful attention, as if someone was following a pattern instead of making it up as they went along.

She turned another page, then another, before looking up at Travis.

"This is not a coincidence."

Travis gave a small nod, as if he had been expecting that exact reaction. He leaned back in his chair and reached for the last file without looking, already knowing where it was in the pile.

"And this one," he said, sliding it across.

Kate took it and opened it immediately. The paper was newer, cleaner, and the ink darker.

"Three months ago," she said as she scanned the report. "Victim: Elise Carter. Female, thirty-six."

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she reached the photos.

"Yeah, I remember this case. We didn't find any foul play and had to close the case as death from cardiac arrest." She leaned back slightly, the file still open in her hands.

"Three victims. Eight years apart, then three years, then three months," she said, thinking out loud. "Same setup. Same cause of death. No signs of struggle or forced entry."

Travis rested his elbow on the table, watching her connect the pieces.

Kate flipped back to the first file, then the second, then the third. Her eyes moved between names, addresses, and occupations.

Then she stopped.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the page.

"Wait."

Travis leaned forward slightly.

She pulled the first file closer. "Harold Whitaker: Theatre technician." She reached for the second. "Daniel Mercer: Stage manager." Then the third. "Elise Carter: Costume designer."

She looked up at him, her expression sharpened by realization.

"They all worked in the same theatre."

"Bingo!" Travis said, pointing a finger at her. "At one point in their lives, all three of them were in the same building, working together. They could've been a production, a play, or a team improv. Something they all worked on together."

Kate nodded, the idea settling in.

"If we can figure out what that was…"

"…we narrow down everyone involved," Travis finished.

Her eyes met his.

"And if this is a pattern," she added, "then someone else from that group is next."

Travis pushed himself up from the chair, the metal legs scraping lightly against the floor. "And considering that he amped up his game from years to months... we're already behind."

Kate stood up right after him, grabbing the files and stacking them together.

"Let's not stay that way," she said.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, already heading toward the door.

"Field trip?" he asked.

Kate picked up her coffee, took one last sip, then threw it in the bin.

"Field trip."

They stepped out of the evidence room together, the noise of the bullpen rushing back in like a wave. Phones, voices, movement.

They took the elevator to the ground floor and made their way to the garage.

"You're not going to call Castle?" Travis asked with a curious look because every time a case pops up, she always calls Castle.

Kate shrugged, saying, "He's busy with his new book launch."

--[15 minutes later]--

The car rolled to a stop near the theatre's parking. The building looked old, its façade lined with faded posters from past productions. A sign above the entrance read "Velmont Grand Theatre", the gold lettering slightly worn.

Travis turned off the engine and got out of the car first. He stretched his back. Kate came around from the other side. He closed the door and adjusted his jacket while his eyes wandered across the street. Then he stopped.

"…Hey," Travis said, tilting his head slightly as he looked to his left. "Isn't that Castle?"

Kate followed his line of sight.

Across the street, near a red Ferrari parked along the curb, Castle was leaning casually against the car like he owned the entire block. Except right now, his attention was clearly somewhere else. A young woman had her hands on his shoulders, and the two of them were very much caught up in their own little world, completely oblivious to everything around them.

"Wow," Travis said, shaking his head once. "Guy's schedule must be packed. Book launches, signings… and this."

Castle and the girl started to make out.

Kate watched the scene for a second longer. She flinched a bit. Then she turned away without a word, like she had already filed it under things she did not have time to care about. Travis noticed how quickly she hid her expression.

She started toward the theatre entrance.

Travis glanced back once more at Castle, then followed after her. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath as he walked, "real busy."

Kate reached the doors and pushed them open, stepping inside without slowing down. The shift from the street into the theatre was immediate. The air inside carried that familiar mix of dust, old wood, and stage fabric. The lobby stretched out in front of them, dimly lit, with framed photos of past performances lining the walls.

There were a couple of workers cleaning up the place. And on the stage were a few artists, practicing for the night show.

A middle-aged man in a pink suit, standing near the stage, noticed the duo. He turned around and walked toward them. He was carrying a cane and was wearing too many gold rings on his fingers.

"That guy looks like a pimp," Travis whispered to Kate.

"Focus, Detective," Kate said with a little smile.

The pink suit guy stopped before them. "How can I help you today, mister?" He extended his hand toward Travis.

Travis moved his jacket to show the guy his badge. "Detective Travis Wilson. NYPD." He then pointed at Kate. "And this is Detective Kate Beckett. You in charge of this place?" He asked without shaking his hand.

--

Find me in the link below for advance chapters: https://unknownmaster.carrd.co/

[20 advance chs] + [Modern Family: 15 chs Early access]