[Castle] Ch: 33 [Trapped] (Patreon)

AN: Another too big of a chapter with over 3.5k words. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

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[Location: Tunnel] 

The tunnel shook again.

Dust spilled from the cracked ceiling in thin streams, drifting through the weak beam of Travis’s flashlight before settling across broken concrete, rusted pipes, and old brick walls slick with moisture. Somewhere deeper in the darkness, footsteps echoed and then disappeared, swallowed by the maze beneath the city.

Kate sat against the wall inside a ruined maintenance room, one hand pressed over the side of her stomach while her breathing came shallow and uneven. Blood soaked through her fingers and darkened the fabric beneath her jacket.

Travis knelt beside her, one hand locked firmly over the wound, keeping pressure steady while his other hand held his Glock toward the broken doorway.

“Stay with me,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the entrance.

Kate tried to answer, but the movement pulled a sharp breath from her instead. Her face had gone pale under the grime streaked across her skin, though her eyes still carried that stubborn fire he knew far too well.

“I’m fine,” she forced out.

Travis glanced at her for half a second. “That’s a terrible lie, Beckett.”

A faint, pained smile touched her lips despite everything. “Still counts as talking.”

“Barely.”

Another sound moved through the tunnel outside.

Travis went still.

Kate saw the change in him immediately. His shoulders tightened, his breathing slowed, and the hand holding the gun adjusted by less than an inch. It was not panic. It was calculation.

Whoever was hunting them was getting closer.

The room they had found was half-collapsed, barely large enough to hide them behind a rusted metal cabinet and a pile of broken concrete. The old door hung crooked on one hinge, leaving a narrow gap into the passage beyond. If anyone looked too closely, they were finished.

Kate’s fingers curled weakly around his wrist. “Travis.”

“Don’t talk.”

“That’s usually my line.”

He did not look away from the doorway. “Save your strength. And next time, try not to go alone in tunnels.”

"Yeah, next time... I atleast broke his leg," Kate said with a groan.

She swallowed hard and leaned her head back against the wall, trying to keep her breathing quiet. The pain was spreading now, hot and deep, but what scared her more was the look in Travis’s eyes. It wasn't fear but something colder... dangerous.

“Tell me you have a plan,” she whispered.

Travis listened to the footsteps outside, counting distance, rhythm, and weight. Three men at least. Maybe four. One dragging his left foot slightly. Another carrying something heavier than a handgun.

His thumb shifted lightly along the Glock.

“I have half a plan,” he said. 

Kate let out a weak breath that almost became a laugh. “That’s comforting.”

"Trust me. I'm gonna kill them all and then I'll take you to the hospital. Till then, keep your eyes open," Travis said before switching off his flashlight. "Maybe think about our next date. That'll keep you awake. I mean, dying without watching your favorite movie will suck big time. Your soul won't get rest and you will probably haunt me forever."

"I'm gonna hit you," She let out a painful smile.

The footsteps stopped outside the room.

Kate held her breath.

A shadow moved across the gap beneath the broken door.

Bang! Bang! 

---

[Present time] [Approx 17 hrs earlier]

[12th Precinct]

Travis shrugged off his damp jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair. Kate went straight to the board and pinned up the victim photos in a row. Miriam Voss, Gabriel Rusk, Evelyn March, and Father Thomas Keane. On the way, they made some calls and tracked Keller's phone location to check his alibi, and it checks out.

Castle stood beside her, arms folded as he studied the names. “Four people, four heads, three labels, one film negative, and one extremely suspicious construction mogul with moisturizer under his eyes. I have to say, this killer knows how to open a chapter.”

Kate gave him a sideways look. “Try not to sound impressed by the person who dismembered four people.”

“I’m horrified,” Castle replied, lifting one hand. “Deeply horrified with narrative curiosity.”

Travis pulled a marker from the tray beneath the board and wrote the three phrases under the victim names.

Subject One: The Mind.

Subject Two: The Memory.

Subject Three: The Confession.

Then he drew a question mark under Gabriel Rusk.

Ryan leaned closer. “Why didn’t the filmmaker get a subject tag?”

“Maybe the film negative is the tag,” Kate said as she crossed her arms and looked over the board. “Or the killer didn't get time to put a proper tag.”

Castle pointed lightly toward Gabriel’s photo. “Documentary filmmaker. He records things. Maybe his role is The Witness.”

Travis nodded once. “Possible. The negative looked like a tunnel entrance, probably old subway access or a service passage. If Gabriel filmed something there, the killer wanted us to know.”

Kate looked toward Travis. “Alright, before we get buried in victim histories, explain Keller.”

Ryan turned toward him immediately. “Yeah, what did you see? Because from where I stood, he looked like every developer I’ve ever wanted to punch at a zoning meeting.”

Travis leaned against the edge of his desk, marker still in hand. “Keller lied. I’m sure of that. Doesn’t mean he’s our killer, though.”

Castle tilted his head. “That sounds painfully responsible coming from you.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Travis replied before nodding toward the board. “Keller said he left the site around four thirty yesterday and noticed nothing unusual. His left eye twitched when he said the place was normal. Tiny reaction, but it came right after Kate asked about anything unusual.”

Kate nodded slowly, replaying the moment in her head. “He also hesitated when I asked for the access list.”

“Exactly,” Travis said. “He had heavy makeup under his eyes, enough to hide dark circles. He smelled like coffee like he drank half a pot before arriving. His wedding ring was off, but the ring mark was fresh. He was tired, stressed, and hiding something personal or business-related.”

Ryan frowned. “Affair?”

“Maybe,” Travis said. “Could be an affair, a bad marriage, a late-night meeting, financial trouble, blackmail, or something related to the site. He also rubbed his thumbs together after denying he knew the victims. That’s a stress response. Then he licked his lips right after answering Kate, which usually happens when someone is trying to get through a lie without adding extra details.”

Castle pointed at Travis with his notebook. “So he lied about knowing the victims.”

“I'm eighty percent sure,” Travis said. “Or he lied about the site being normal yesterday. The problem is without hard evidence, Keller is just a nervous rich guy with bad sleep and expensive shoes.”

Kate tapped the marker against the board. “We can’t move on him yet.”

“Nope,” Travis replied. “Right now, we don’t have enough to drag him into interrogation.”

Castle looked disappointed. “There goes my construction tycoon secret murderer theory.”

Ryan took a sip of coffee. “Give it time. Rich guys usually have backup secrets.”

Travis looked back at the board. “For now, we dig into the victims. Their jobs don’t connect on the surface, but killers like this don’t pick random people and label them like museum exhibits. There’s a connection somewhere. We find that, we find the reason they were killed and probably find our killer.”

Kate nodded and picked up the phone from her desk. “We start with families. Spouses, siblings, close friends, whoever knew their schedules.”

“And we wait for Lanie’s report,” Travis added. “Cause of death, preservation method, time windows, traces, anything she can pull from those heads. And the tech team will take a few minutes to get a photo from that negative.”

Castle looked at the board again, his expression sobering slightly. “Mind, Memory, Confession, and possibly Witness. That sounds like a story about a secret.”

Kate glanced at him.

Castle shrugged, quieter now. “Someone knew something. Someone remembered something. Someone confessed something. Someone recorded something.”

Travis looked at him for a beat, then nodded. “That’s actually good.”

Castle blinked, then touched his chest. “I’m sorry, did Detective Wilson just compliment me? I need a witness.”

Ryan lifted his coffee. “Witnessed.”

Kate rolled her eyes, though a small smile slipped through before she turned toward her desk. “Castle, don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Castle said, already writing in his notebook. “It’s going directly into my head.”

"By the way, where is Esposito?" Travis asked.

"He's on a stakeout for an arson homicide case," Ryan replied.

The next hour turned into organized chaos. Ryan pulled basic histories on all four victims. Travis started building a timeline from the last confirmed sightings. Kate coordinated family contact through uniforms and kept one eye on her phone for Keller’s access list. Castle hovered around the murder board, adding theories no one asked for and occasionally landing close enough to useful that Kate let him keep talking.

...

[1 Hour Later]

The first person they brought in was a woman in her early forties named Serena Voss. She wore a black coat over a cream shirt, and her eyes were red in a way that suggested she had been crying. 

Kate sat across from her in the interview room with Castle beside her. Travis watched from the observation room with Ryan, arms folded as the recording light blinked red.

Kate placed a small photo of Miriam Voss on the table. “Mrs. Voss, I’m sorry for your loss. We know this is difficult, but anything you can tell us about your sister might help.”

Serena looked at the photo and swallowed. “Miriam and I weren’t close these last few years. She was brilliant, but she was difficult to talk to and she always had this habit of looking down on everyone.”

Castle asked. “She was a Forensic psychologist?”

“Yes,” Serena replied. “She consulted on criminal cases, mostly violent offenders. She had a private practice too. People came to her with things they couldn’t say anywhere else.”

Kate leaned forward slightly. “Did she mention being in trouble recently?”

Serena hesitated. “She called me two weeks ago. That was strange by itself. Miriam didn’t call unless someone died, got married, or disappointed her professionally.”

Castle blinked. “That is a very specific communication policy.”

Serena gave a weak, humorless smile. “That was Miriam.”

Kate kept her tone gentle. “What did she say?”

“She asked if I still had a copy of our mother’s old storage unit key since she lost hers,” Serena said. “I told her yes, but I didn’t understand why she wanted it. She said she needed to check something from years ago.”

Kate glanced briefly toward Castle before looking back at her. “Did she say what?”

Serena shook her head. “No. She just said she had misjudged someone once, and now people might pay for it.”

Castle leaned forward. “Misjudged someone professionally? A patient?”

“I think so,” Serena replied. “Miriam sounded shaken, which wasn’t like her. Then she told me to forget she called.”

Kate wrote that down. “Do you know if she kept old case files in that storage unit?”

“She kept everything,” Serena said. “Files, notebooks, old recordings, patient letters. She was obsessive about records.”

Kate nodded. “We’ll need the unit address.”

Serena reached into her purse with trembling fingers and pulled out a folded receipt. “I wrote it down after the officer called. I don’t know why, but I thought you’d ask.”

Kate accepted it carefully. “You did the right thing.”

Serena’s eyes settled on Miriam’s photo again. “Did she suffer?”

Kate paused. She did not look away. “We’re still waiting for the medical examiner’s full report.”

Serena understood what that answer meant and nodded once, her composure cracking just enough for her to look away.

Behind the glass, Ryan exhaled quietly. “Misjudged someone. Probably wasted someone's life.”

Travis nodded without taking his eyes off the room. “And a storage unit full of old files. That might be our first real door.”

...

The second interview came twenty minutes later.

Gabriel Rusk’s younger brother, Nolan Rusk, walked in wearing a leather jacket. He looked like he had dressed fast and slept badly. His hair stuck up in places, and one hand kept tapping against his knee before the questions even started.

Kate sat across from him while Castle leaned against the wall with his notebook ready.

“Nolan,” Kate said, “when was the last time you spoke with Gabriel?”

“Three days ago,” Nolan answered quickly. “He called me from some payphone, which was weird because Gabe never used payphones. He said his cell was being tracked.”

Castle’s eyes brightened with interest. “Tracked by whom?”

Nolan shook his head. “He wouldn’t say. Gabe was paranoid sometimes when he worked on a project, but this sounded different.”

Kate wrote that down. “What project?”

“A documentary,” Nolan replied. “He said it was going to make his career. Real crime, buried history, city corruption, missing people, all that stuff he loved chasing.”

Castle glanced toward Kate. “That sounds like several bad decisions stacked inside one camera bag.”

Kate ignored him and kept focused on Nolan. “Did he mention the construction site?”

“No,” Nolan said. “He mentioned tunnels. Old service tunnels under Manhattan. He said the city forgot how much it buried under itself.”

Kate placed the bagged copy of the film negative photo on the table. “Do you recognize this?”

Nolan leaned closer. The moment he saw the image, his face changed.

“That’s from his footage,” he said. “I saw it on his editing monitor.”

Kate sat straighter. “Where was that tunnel?”

“I don’t know,” Nolan replied, panic creeping into his voice. “He wouldn’t tell me. He said if I knew, I’d become part of it.”

Castle raised a hand slightly. “Part of what?”

Nolan’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “The Hollow Men.”

Kate looked up from her notes. “The Hollow Men?”

“That’s what Gabe called them,” Nolan said. “I thought it was a working title. He said there were people in the city who erased lives. Records, witnesses, everything. He said they didn’t kill people right away because dead people attract questions. They made people disappear from paper first.”

Castle’s expression turned serious now. “That is terrifyingly marketable.”

Kate gave him a look.

He lifted both hands. “Sorry. Wrong room.”

Kate turned back to Nolan. “Did Gabriel say who he was investigating?”

“No names,” Nolan said. “Just initials. M.V., E.M., T.K., and someone he called the Architect.”

Kate’s pen stopped moving.

Castle looked toward the mirror.

Behind the glass, Travis straightened slightly.

Ryan muttered, “Architect. Construction site. Keller builds building. So, in a way we can call him architect.”

Travis narrowed his eyes. "Or he might be our next victim and Architect is just a code word like our other victims."

...

The third interview was with a nervous young man named Adrian March. Evelyn March’s son arrived wearing a postal service jacket and grief that looked too fresh to process properly. He kept rubbing both hands together, eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to walk in and tell him this was a mistake.

Kate gave him a few seconds before starting. “Mr. March, your mother worked as a city records clerk?”

“Retired,” Adrian said. “She left eight years ago after stress issues. That’s what she called it.”

Castle sat forward. “Stress from the job?”

Adrian gave a bitter laugh. “Mom worked city records for twenty-seven years. She handled death certificates, property archives, sealed files, court requests, name changes, missing person entries. She saw every ugly thing people wanted stamped and forgotten.”

Kate rested her hands on the table. “Was she in trouble recently? Maybe she looked afraid after a call or a meet?”

Adrian nodded before she finished asking. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“She started checking locks three times every night,” Adrian said. “She bought a shredder. She made me promise that if anything happened to her, I’d burn the blue box in her closet.”

Castle’s brows lifted. “Blue box?”

Adrian nodded. “Yes. It's a metal box with a combination lock. I didn’t touch it after I heard that she... I... I didn’t know if I should.”

Kate kept her voice steady. “We’ll need to collect it.”

“Yeah,” Adrian said quickly. “Take it. Please. It may be able to help you find her murderer.”

Kate studied him for a second. “Did she mention any names?”

Adrian looked down. “She kept saying she should have said no. That she changed one file and ruined a life.”

Castle’s voice lowered. “What file?”

“I don’t know,” Adrian said. “She never told me. She just said it was meant to fix something. But later, she found out it was actually meant to get rid of something."

Kate wrote the word slowly.

Erasure.

Castle leaned back, his earlier excitement gone now. “That sounds like Gabriel’s Hollow Men.”

Adrian looked between them. “What does that mean?”

Kate closed her notebook. “It means your mother may have been connected to something bigger than her own death.”

Adrian’s face tightened. “She wasn’t a bad person.”

“No,” Kate said, gentler now. “But she may have been scared of one.”

...

The last interview...

Sister Helena Ward arrived from Saint Dymphna’s Church in a plain gray coat and black veil, her face calm in the way some people became calm after seeing grief too often. She had known Father Thomas Keane for nearly twenty years.

Kate offered her water. Sister Helena accepted it with a polite nod and folded her hands on the table.

“Father Keane was a good man,” she said before Kate could ask. “Troubled, but good.”

Castle looked up from his notebook. “Troubled how?”

Sister Helena looked at him carefully. “Priests carry many burdens. Some belong to them. Some are placed there by others.”

Kate leaned in. “Did he seem afraid or troubled recently?”

“He seemed resolved,” Sister Helena said. “That frightened me more.”

Kate’s eyes sharpened. “Resolved to do what?”

“To speak,” Sister Helena replied. “After many years of silence.”

Castle’s pen paused. “About a confession?”

Sister Helena looked down at her hands. “He never broke the seal. He never told me what was said. But he told me once that there are moments when law and faith stand on opposite sides of a locked door.”

Kate exchanged a brief look with Castle. “Did he keep records?”

“No confession records,” Sister Helena said firmly. “But he kept journals... Personal reflections. He wrote when something weighed on him.”

Kate nodded. “Where are those journals?”

“In his room at the rectory,” Sister Helena replied. “I can show your officers.”

Castle stepped closer. “Did he mention the Hollow Men?”

For the first time, Sister Helena’s composure changed. Her fingers tightened slightly around the water bottle.

Kate noticed immediately. “You’ve heard that name.”

Sister Helena looked at the mirror, then back to Kate. “Father Keane did not use that phrase lightly. He said it once after visiting an old military friend. He said hollow men build graves without touching shovels.”

Castle’s expression shifted. “That’s disturbingly poetic.”

Sister Helena nodded faintly. “He was a chaplain. He knew men who did terrible things and needed God afterward. He believed some people never sought forgiveness because they felt no guilt at all.”

Kate’s voice softened. “Did he believe someone was coming for him?”

Sister Helena’s eyes lowered. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t he call us?”

“Because he thought he deserved whatever judgment was coming,” Sister Helena said quietly. “I disagreed, but he had already made peace with fear.”

That silence stayed in the room longer than the others.

When the interviews were finally over, Kate and Castle stepped back into the bullpen to find Travis and Ryan already standing at the murder board. Travis had added four new lines beneath the photos.

Miriam Voss: misjudged someone.

Gabriel Rusk: filmed hidden tunnels.

Evelyn March: changed a file.

Thomas Keane: kept a confession.

Kate stopped in front of the board and crossed her arms. “They were all connected to an erasure.”

Castle nodded slowly. “Someone was psychologically evaluated, filmed, legally erased, and confessed about afterward.”

Ryan pointed toward the question mark under Gabriel. “The missing tag could be The Witness.”

Travis wrote it beneath Gabriel’s name.

Subject Four: The Witness.

Kate stared at the four labels now.

The Mind.

The Memory.

The Confession.

The Witness.

Castle took a quiet breath. “This killer isn’t just displaying victims. He’s building a table of contents.”

Travis capped the marker and looked at the board with a grim expression. “And Keller might be the Architect. Which means the killer might go after him next.” He looked at Ryan. "Send some officers to keep an eye on him. We won't take any risk. And get that blue box." 

"On it," Ryan nodded as he walked away.

"Alright, how about we go and check out that storage unit?" Travis asked.

"Alright, you go to the unit, and I'll check out the church," Kate said as she put on her coat. "And take Castle with you." She was already walking toward the elevator before Castle could argue or say anything.

"Did I do something? She looks really angry," Castle asked as he racked his brain to find what he did to her in the past couple of days.

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AN: It's so hard to write an OG case lol, but somewhat fun too. 😅 Hope this one was alright.