Chapter 1110 The Prison Break Plan (Patreon)

Nowadays, everything’s digital—even if they weren’t using cutting-edge AI, cross-referencing lists wasn’t exactly rocket science anymore. Castle clearly wasn’t skilled in Excel, and Jack hadn’t expected him to be helpful there anyway. But running errands like fetching coffee or snacks for afternoon tea? That was his forte.

As daylight faded, the results came in—and the team was shocked. They didn’t find any visitation records showing Dr. Monroe had visited the prison. But they did find something completely unexpected.

“Nurse Greg? Are you sure that’s not a mistake?” Castle asked around a mouthful of donut.

“And for the past three years, he’s been visiting a female inmate at Bedford Hills Women’s Prison named Amy Porter—every week,” Jack said as he spread the freshly printed report across the table.

On it was a photo of the inmate in question—a brunette with a delicate face, who looked to be barely in her twenties.

“She was sentenced to 30 years for aiding and abetting in an armored car robbery attempt. She was the getaway driver. A security guard was shot and killed during the robbery, and during the trial, Greg testified as her character witness.”

“You’re saying... they’re actually a couple?” Castle looked stunned.

“Mhm.” Beckett tilted her head toward him, inviting him to take it from there—and Castle didn’t disappoint.

“Dr. Monroe was investigating medical fraud at the county hospital, maybe even uncovering a drug smuggling ring. What if she discovered that Greg had been stealing medication and secretly funneling it to Amy inside the prison?”

“And Amy’s been selling it behind bars,” Beckett added. In low-security prisons, illicit drug sales could be a highly profitable business.

“So I was right all along!” Castle looked smug. “Greg’s motives weren’t as pure as everyone thought. He wasn’t just being the warm-hearted BFF of all those lady doctors—he was manipulating them.”

“Esposito, get in touch with the warden at Bedford Hills. Tell him to have Amy Porter’s cell searched immediately and bring her here for questioning,” Beckett ordered.

Esposito nodded and picked up the phone.

But two minutes later, the Latino detective set the receiver down with a strange expression on his face.

“They said Amy Porter had a stroke this morning.”

Even Jack was surprised. “The records say she’s 25, weighs under 120 pounds. A stroke? Seriously?”

Esposito raised his hands innocently. “And they’ve already transferred her to the county hospital.”

“The county hospital?” Castle asked, bewildered. “What, there are no hospitals closer to the prison?”

Beckett answered before anyone else could. “Because only the county hospital has a secure medical unit. And wouldn’t you know it—Greg works there. Bit too convenient, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a coincidence,” Jack said, pulling out his car keys. “We’re not dealing with medical fraud here—we’re looking at a carefully orchestrated prison break.”

—

At the county hospital, Beckett approached a familiar face.

“Dr. Phillips,” she said to the cane-using female doctor. “Do you have a patient transferred from the prison, named Amy Porter?”

“We did,” Phillips replied, looking puzzled at the urgency. “But she didn’t make it. She died during an MRI scan.”

“She’s dead?” Beckett repeated, stunned. Once again, the case had taken a sharp left turn.

Jack didn’t hesitate. “Call Kevin and Esposito—have them lock down every exit. We’re going to the morgue.”

Ten minutes later, one of the hospital staff opened a cold storage drawer under the group’s watchful eyes. When the body bag was unzipped, it revealed a corpse—an African-American woman in her fifties.

Beckett was still holding Amy Porter’s photo, ready to match the face—but clearly, that was no longer necessary.

—

Late that night, the NYPD team, plus Jack from the FBI, Castle the writer, and Lanie the medical examiner—who’d been called in to help—sat slumped around the 12th Precinct, exhausted and wide-eyed.

“I still can’t believe it,” Castle muttered. “That guy Greg played us all—including our very own criminal psychology expert from the FBI.” He earned a middle finger from Jack.

“I’ll admit, the guy’s a genius. His prison break plan was impressive. But that doesn’t mean he killed Dr. Monroe,” the FBI agent said firmly.

Even Lanie had confirmed how Greg had managed to pull off the prison break. But as far as Monroe’s murder was concerned, Greg had an airtight alibi.

“Maybe he had an accomplice,” Castle suggested, clearly not ready to let it go. “Considering how he charmed half the hospital into being unwitting accessories, it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone willing to help.”

“Help murder someone?” Jack shot him a skeptical look. “None of those doctors even slept with him. That suggests what he had with Amy was real. So who would be ‘noble’ enough to take the fall for a murder just to help a pair of prison-crossed lovers get their happy ending?”

“Maybe it was about money—” Castle tried, but Beckett cut him off.

“Esposito and Kevin are digging into Greg’s finances. For now, Lanie, why don’t you walk us through how they pulled this off?”

Perhaps because she usually worked behind the scenes in her autopsy suite, Lanie seemed unusually energized to have been brought in for this briefing.

She pulled over the “Greg Galaxy” evidence board that Kevin had assembled earlier and made a sweeping gesture with her hand across it.

“Every single one of these women who had a ‘close’ relationship with Greg contributed—directly or indirectly—to Amy Porter’s escape. The key? Prescription drugs and paperwork.”

“We figured that part,” Castle raised his hand politely. “But how exactly did Greg fake Amy’s death?”

“First up—pharmacist Lisa Ackerman,” Lanie began. “She slipped Greg a tube of Acetyl Hexapeptide-3. It’s a botox-like compound—typically used in anti-aging creams.”

“But if you apply the whole tube to one side of your face at once—” Jack jumped in.

“It causes temporary facial muscle paralysis—mimicking stroke symptoms.” Lanie smiled. “Gold star, Agent Tavoller.”