Chapter 1111 Love Letters (Patreon)

Medical examiner Lanie continued her briefing. “After Amy faked a stroke using the cream, she was transferred—according to prison protocol—to the county hospital’s secure unit.

Then, Dr. Phillips scheduled her for an MRI. Meanwhile, Greg used his connections in the ER to acquire morphine and naloxone.

When he brought Amy into the MRI room, he injected her with a heavy dose of morphine, enough to induce a near-death state.

Then Dr. Charlie, acting in good faith, quickly signed the death certificate. Once Amy was moved to the morgue, Greg immediately revived her with a shot of naloxone.”

“Completely insane. One slip, and Amy wouldn’t have needed reviving at all,” was Jack’s blunt evaluation. Even with access to advanced medical knowledge and experience, he would’ve considered that plan massively risky.

“Sounds like something straight out of Pulp Fiction,” Castle marveled.

Lanie gave a half-shrug. “If you ignore the murder of Dr. Monroe, this might’ve been... kind of romantic.”

“Maybe,” Beckett conceded. “But unless we can break Greg’s alibi, we’ll have to assume he had help. You guys dig into his social media. I’m going to check out his apartment. Issue a statewide alert.

And considering this escape plan was three years in the making, their escape route is probably well-rehearsed. Focus on routes heading toward Canada.”

She glanced at Jack. “You coming with me?”

“Uh… nope,” Castle replied, lifting a cardboard box. “These are the letters the prison just delivered. All written by Greg to Amy. I think I’m better suited for this job.”

—

Two hours later, Jack returned to the 12th Precinct and found a bleary-eyed Castle and Beckett still flipping through letters—hundreds of them.

He set down another box, and the looks on their faces were pure despair.

“These are Amy’s letters back to Greg. I found them at his apartment. Maybe you two can find their Zihuatanejo.”

Zihuatanejo—a small island in southern Mexico—was, of course, the place Andy Dufresne dreamed of in The Shawshank Redemption, a symbol of freedom after prison.

After sharing the pizza Jack brought back, the team resumed reading. Beckett rubbed her sore eyes and muttered, “They’re just love letters. No codes, no metaphors. Nothing that points to a prison break.”

“Then read them as a romance novel, not a mystery,” Castle said dramatically. “These letters contain the souls of two people in love.”

Jack shivered. “Aside from Amy insisting over and over that she’s innocent and how much she misses Greg—what else did you find?”

“Oh, her darling Greg misses her just as much,” Beckett said, waving one of the newer letters. Her tone was somewhere between sarcasm and exhaustion.

Castle, meanwhile, was still deeply engrossed. “Listen to this—‘Every day without you feels like a year, but my love for you grows stronger and—’”

He paused, frowning.

“Stronger?” Beckett guessed.

“No. Harder,” Castle replied, making a face. “More... rigid.”

“A double entendre?” Jack asked, clearly disturbed by how long they’d endured this.

But in fairness, considering the couple’s modest educational background, the fact that they’d written and exchanged over a hundred love letters over three years truly did suggest real love.

After all, in today’s public school system, most kids could barely spell their own names. A few awkward word choices were forgivable.

Beckett flipped to one she actually found moving. “Listen to this: ‘I can’t bear to see you suffer. Find someone new. Be happy. If anyone in this world deserves happiness, it’s you.’”

“I just read the reply to that one,” Castle said, digging through the box and pulling out another letter.

“‘There aren’t many things in this world I still believe in. But I believe in our love. No matter how many obstacles we face, no matter how hard you try to let me go, nothing can stop what I feel for you. I love you.’”

He looked Beckett straight in the eye as he said the last two words. They locked eyes and smiled at each other for a long few seconds—like it was their own confession.

“Is this the part where I shout ‘Just kiss already’?” Jack groaned.

Sure, it was entertaining to watch, but at this level of mushiness, the awkwardness was almost physical.

“What are you talking about?” Castle quickly rubbed the stubble on his chin, eyes darting around.

Beckett gave a tactical cough and smoothed her bangs, pretending the little moment had never happened.

Feeling Jack’s smirking stare, Beckett cast around for a distraction—then suddenly remembered their original goal.

“So—if you were reuniting with the love of your life after three years apart, where’s the first place you’d go?”

“Hotel.”

“Motel.”

Castle and Jack answered in unison.

“You two serious?” Beckett gave them both a look of disdain.

“Uh, Jack’s probably more accurate,” Castle mumbled. “Considering they’re on a budget and trying to stay off the radar… motel is more practical.”

“You think that’s what I’m questioning?” Beckett sighed, exasperated.

“Okay then, your turn. Where would you go?” Jack asked as he poured himself more coffee. Looked like it was going to be another late night.

Beckett hesitated, then threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Somewhere romantic? Somewhere meaningful?”

“Like the place they first met?” Castle’s eyes lit up. He dug through the box and pulled out one page, reading aloud.

“‘I’ll never forget that cold, rainy night I saw you at the Burger King in Hillsdale.’”

He snapped his fingers triumphantly. “There it is. Hillsdale, New Jersey.”

“Burger King? That’s their meaningful spot?” Beckett scoffed.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds dumb,” Castle admitted, not noticing Jack silently pulling out his phone.