Last time on Castle…
Ask me why I'm here.
You know, I ask myself that question every day.
That was Paula, my agent, with big news
about my book, Heat Wave.
Are they really making a Nikki Heat movie? Dude, did I call it or what?
And you are about to be immortalized on the silver screen.
Yeah, I'd like to report a murder. I did it.
He called to report his crime. It's like he did this for fun.
Nikki Heat. He dedicated this murder to me.
- Nikki Heat, I presume. - It's Beckett.
Special Agent Jordan Shaw.
Tell me everything you know about Jordan Shaw.
She is like the federal you.
If our killer is obsessed with Nikki Heat, then so are we.
So how long have you two been sleeping together?
- Excuse me? - I am not going to leave you alone.
Why don't you two escort the body to the morgue?
Once you're dressed, of course.
B-U-R…
- "Burn." Nikki will burn. - Somebody always has to die, Nikki.
If the man in the window was Ben Conrad,
he would've shot himself on the left side.
Ben's not our killer. Beckett.
What, Castle?
It wasn't Ben Conrad!
He's not the killer! The killer's still alive!
Goodbye, Nikki. Goodbye, Nikki.
Kate! Are you in there? Kate?
Kate?
Kate!
Kate?
Kate!
- You're alive. Oh, and you're naked. - Castle, turn around!
You know, your apartment is on fire,
now might not be the best time for modesty.
Castle, hand me a towel!
- The towels are on fire. - Well, what about the bathrobe?
The…
Do you have anything to wear that's non-flammable?
- Castle. - Sorry.
Give me your jacket.
- Don't look! - I'm not.
- Don't look. - I'm not looking.
OK.
- All right? - Yeah.
OK. I dove into the tub just as it blew.
Can you walk?
Yeah, it's just a little banged up.
- All right. Come on, nice and easy. - Yeah.
Nice and easy. Are you in any pain?
Well, not nearly as much as you. It's killing you, isn't it?
What?
Having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door.
You want me to start from the beginning?
- FBI. - Over there.
Beckett, how you doing?
Yeah, I'm fine.
What'd you see when you came home?
The doors were locked like I left them, the windows were shut.
I don't know, nothing seemed out of place.
But I don't know, because I thought the case was done.
It's not, but you are.
- What? - Until we find the right guy.
Wait.
This is my apartment, OK, my life, and my case.
OK, fine.
My rules. You do what I say, when I say, and how I say it.
And there will be a security detail on you at all times.
- Fine. - Good.
Fire's out. You can head up now if you want.
- Did anybody find my father's watch? - It's not in the hall.
Damage isn't as bad in your bedroom,
but your clothes do smell like smoke and explosives.
Does anyone know if insurance pays for dry cleaning?
I've got the blast seat here.
It had to have been a small device, otherwise I would have seen it.
The lab will have the breakdown by morning, but that's cyclonite.
The same thing we found in Ben Conrad's apartment.
- So, what tipped you? - It wasn't me, it was Castle.
Oh, our supposed killer, Ben Conrad, shot himself with his right hand,
yet the man that Detective Beckett and I saw in the window
was holding the gun in his left hand.
The shot went off just as soon as he stepped out of view.
He wouldn't have… Couldn't have had time to switch hands that fast.
Our real killer shot Ben Conrad, placed the gun in his hand,
making it look like a suicide.
We were outside the door.
We heard the shot.
- Go! - FBI!
There is no way else out of that apartment.
So if Ben Conrad didn't kill himself…
Then our killer was in the apartment the whole time.
- How the hell did we miss him? - Let's go find out.
Hey, guys, take a look in here.
- I think I found something. - What've you got?
Maybe his hiding place.
Whoa.
Discarded clothing.
The exact same outfit Conrad was wearing when we found him.
Right down to the fake beard to match Conrad's.
The killer wanted us to think he was Conrad.
That's why the man that I saw in the window,
the one from our eyewitness accounts, led us straight to Ben.
Which means the real Ben Conrad was being held hostage
in his own apartment the entire case.
He must have been bound and duct taped,
with no idea that he was being blamed for three murders.
Each of our victims was carefully selected
for their connection to Ben Conrad, making him the perfect patsy.
The killer's a chameleon, changing his identity
to get close to the victims.
He becomes Ben Conrad, becomes invisible.
Nobody's looking for him.
And then we come here, and we find exactly what we expect to find.
Our suspect dead on the ground. Case closed.
Meanwhile, our killer was right here, hidden in this secret room.
He was here the whole time and we missed him.
I'll get the evidence team down here. See what they can find.
- Beckett. - You are supposed to be dead.
- I'm sorry to disappoint you. - It was supposed to be over, Nikki.
It was supposed to be done. But now, now I have to keep going.
No!
He used her cell phone and then he left it on, so we could trace it.
Gloria Rodriguez. It's her ID badge from a hotel in Midtown.
Probably on her way home from work.
Huh, found a slug.
Letter etching?
No, it looks clean.
The other murders were planned.
This one was done out of anger. Wanting to be in control.
All because I lived.
You can't blame yourself for that.
How did he know you lived?
He was watching.
At the aftermath.
Everything about this guy's profile tells me
he was watching at the other crime scenes.
Yeah, but the first thing we did was compare crime scene photos.
Yeah, I know, we ran them through facial recognition
but he was there. I know he was there.
He wouldn't be in the crowd, he'd know that's where we'd look.
No. He hides in plain sight. He's a chameleon.
We didn't see him in the crowd because he was dressed as one of us.
Same cop, 30 photos, not one of them has a clear shot of his face.
That is not a coincidence.
- He knew where the camera was. - He knows our playbook.
I'm gonna get Ryan and Esposito to canvass the other uniforms,
- maybe they can get a description. - Not that it'll do any good.
The last sketch we got of this guy, he looked like Ben Conrad.
OK, do you have a better idea? 'Cause I'm all out,
and if we don't catch him soon, he's gonna kill again.
- You can't take this personally. - The hell I can't.
He just blew up my apartment. I think that's pretty damn personal.
Do you know how they caught Son of Sam?
A parking ticket. Berkowitz parked too close to a fire hydrant.
All we need to find is our parking ticket, and we catch this son of a bitch.
As smart as he is, he's got a fatal flaw. Hubris.
It's not enough for him to be smart, he wants us to know it.
He wants us to know he fooled us.
All of his first victims,
the personal injury lawyer,
the dog walker, the taxidermist,
they all link back to the death of Ben Conrad's dog.
How could our killer have known all the players in someone else's life?
He must've known Ben Conrad.
So that's where we start.
We treat Ben Conrad as the first victim in this case.
And then we find out where he intersected with our killer.
- Dad! - Hey. Hey! I'm all right.
- I'm all right. I'm all right. - Where's Detective Beckett?
At the precinct.
I can't imagine how she survived that explosion.
- Where was she when it went off? - She was there.
She jumped into the bathtub.
The bathroom door and the cast-iron tub protected her from the blast.
Dad, why is that person going after Detective Beckett?
Well, at the moment, all we have is a theory, but…
But we know more now, and we have a strategy.
- Do you think he'll come after you? - No, sweetheart, I'm going to be fine.
You are stuck with me for a long, long time.
You know, I'm supposed to move out today, I think I should stay here with Alexis.
Well, there's no need. Montgomery has someone keeping an eagle eye
on our building, but all the same, we should be on the alert.
I need to go change, go back and help.
See? He's OK.
Hey.
Hey. Where is everybody?
Ryan and Esposito are talking to Conrad's sister,
and Agent Shaw is briefing the mayor.
Oh…
I'm sure he'll be less than thrilled to learn that.
- Conrad is just another victim. - Hmm.
Nothing like the threat of being murdered by a serial killer to stifle tourism.
Yeah, and it doesn't help that everyone in the city thinks
that we caught the guy.
Speaking of Ben Conrad, what have you found out?
Thirty-four years old, never married…
I'm going out on a limb here and saying,
judging from his relationship with his dog, Mr. Bumpkins,
he didn't have a girlfriend.
Yeah, well, other than the people that
we've already run down from the dog park,
- he doesn't even have friends. - The man stuffed his dog.
Well, Conrad's sister confirms that he was a loner.
He told her when he lost his job a couple of months ago
that he spent his days emailing resumes at coffee shops that offer free internet.
And other than Bumpkins, his only other joy in life was the Knicks.
Poor guy.
Jordan said the profile indicated that the killer hunted Conrad.
If he wasn't a friend, then he must have met up with him somewhere
where people strike up a casual conversation.
We figure, if he camped out with his laptop at a coffee shop,
our killer could've sat down next to him and they got to talking.
His sister said that he was a Knicks fan?
What's missing from these pictures?
- Good taste. - Area rug.
- Decent lighting. - A TV.
Which means, he would have to walk to a local bar in order to watch the games.
Yeah, if you're a Knicks fan, you gotta share your pain with somebody.
- True. - OK, you two take all of the coffee shops
within a five-block radius of Conrad's apartment,
see if anyone remembers him talking to a customer.
Castle and I will take the bars. And if you keep quoting Jordan,
I'm going to turn the radio way up.
Jealous.
You know, pub crawls are supposed to greet you
with a smile and a shot of Jager.
Not, "No, we've never seen that guy before, keep moving."
This is beginning to feel pointless.
Buck up, Castle. I've got a feeling this place is different.
It's still an ongoing investigation, so we're going to need you
to take that banner down.
I was just trying to work an angle.
You should understand what it's like being a woman in a man's world.
Um, did Ben Conrad ever talk to you about the recent death of his dog?
Sure. He loved to flap his gums to me about that little drop-kick.
One time, he cried.
Well, what about the other customers? He ever talk to them?
He mostly drank alone and watched the games.
Though, a couple of weeks ago, he did strike it up with some guy.
- Can you describe him? - Average-looking.
A bit off like Conrad. They sat at that high top over there.
I figured hey, birds of a feather.
This other guy, did he ever pay with a credit card?
The only time he ever said two words to me was the other week
when he asked me to call him a cab.
- Do you remember when? - I remember exactly when.
The Knicks were in overtime and I missed the end while I was on hold.
Thanks.
Cab company said that they sent a taxi there,
10:45 the night of the Knicks game.
- You got the drop-off point? - Yeah. West Village,
- corner of Varick and Downing. - Home?
You know, I bet about 50,000 people live within walking distance of that corner.
- We could canvass local businesses. - For an average-looking white guy?
I mean, we can't even be sure what he looks like.
Looks aren't the only method we have to identify him,
we also have behavior.
You think you can identify him through behavior?
Well, originally, his behavior seemed inconsistent,
but that was because he was pretending to be someone else.
We know a lot more now.
He is a show-off,
a game player with an exceptionally high IQ.
But it's not enough to be smart, he also has a pathological need
to validate it, which tells me that he probably belongs to an organization
like Mensa or Prometheus.
He's a chameleon, so we can assume that he's living under a stolen identity.
And he is literate.
He has already shown certain dispositions in his fascination
with Nikki Heat, so we've drawn up a list of periodicals and magazines
that he likely subscribes to.
- I get half of these. - Yes.
And you also kill people for a living. In your books.
This is a pretty wide net.
So is Varick and Downing, and so are memberships in high-IQ societies,
but put them all together, and sometimes we get lucky.
You mean like Berkowitz's parking ticket?
Oh, it's not always that neat. You just keep adding pieces
of the puzzle until a picture emerges.
Collated subscription information from the profiled periodicals,
as well as member lists from high-IQ organizations within a one-mile radius
of the Varick and Downing area.
We got seventeen hits.
Run the names through our database.
Most serials have some kind of indication of violent behavior,
criminal or psychiatric records.
Negative for any matches.
All right, at least we gave it a shot.
I'll have our teams interview these guys…
Huh.
- "Huh," what? - This one here. Chris Doherty.
He's got a recent driver's license,
but according to his Social Security number,
Chris Doherty died six years ago.
He's living under a stolen identity.
So, does it say where our dead guy supposedly lived?
His address puts him half a block from Downing and Varick.
OK, now I'm officially impressed.
Don't be. Not until he's in our custody. Let's roll.
Go, go, go!
Den's clear.
Bedroom's clear!
All clear.
He's done this before.
Hey, I signed this. "To Scott. Write what you know."
Scott. Do you remember him?
No, but I sign hundreds of books.
His manifesto?
- His manuscript. - Dead Heat?
"Heat examined the bullets,
each of them perfectly engraved with a letter.
She rearranged them like Scrabble tiles until they spelled her name."
A book. All of this over a damn book.
He was writing about his murders long before Nikki Heat.
Night Terrors.
Looks like it's about killing prostitutes in Seattle.
I remember that case.
I thought they caught that guy.
Not so much "caught" as "found dead."
He hanged himself.
Another patsy, just like Ben Conrad.
He gets away with murder. Why would he write about it?
Why risk it?
Writing is probably a symptom of his psychosis, like taking a trophy.
He both memorializes the deed, and distances himself from it
by turning fact into fiction.
And then along comes Nikki Heat,
tailor-made for his psychosis,
one part fact, one part fiction, just like him.
Who better for him to challenge?
He must have known, by going after Beckett,
we'd realize Ben wasn't the killer. Why tip his hand?
It's part of the thrill.
He needed to escalate in order to feel alive.
Or he's a psychotic obsessive-compulsive,
and has already decided how it has to end.
Agent Shaw.
Been dusting for prints trying to get an ID.
Problem is, there aren't any.
That's not possible, you can't live in a place without leaving prints.
Unless he doesn't have any.
He likes to play with fire, maybe he burned them off.
Well, without prints, we can't get an ID.
We don't need an ID, put this back where you found it.
Let's un-ass this place right now.
He's got to come back sometime.
Agent Shaw, the surveillance team is moving into position now.
Copy that, standing by.
Be advised. Our subject is a white male,
6'2", approximately 200 pounds.
Profile suggests he's studied our tactics and has prepared for contingencies,
so communicate, people.
If he shows, no one, I repeat, no one is to make a move
until Agent Shaw gives the order.
Man, it's all here. The engraved bullets, the cat-and-mouse phone calls,
the cipher, only it's…
It's Nikki Heat investigating, and she's always one step behind him.
- Until now. - Castle,
what part of "un-ass" don't you understand?
All of it.
For future reference, it means get the hell out and don't take anything.
Un-ass. Nice. Un-ass.
Is he always like this?
Castle has the attention span of a cocker spaniel.
Mmh, and the loyalty.
The way he follows you around.
From what I've observed, this unorthodox partnership
works well for you.
For now.
Is it enough?
Is it enough for you to hop on a Learjet six times a year,
catching serial killers across the country?
I'd be lying if I said it was easy.
How do you manage?
You miss a few birthdays and make a lot of phone calls.
My husband tucks her in every night,
tells her that Mommy's off slaying dragons.
The trick to this kind of operation is having enough personnel in play
to take the target down,
but not so many that he can smell a trap.
Which is why we have to get our people to go downwind.
Avery, tell our guy on the roof to find another spot,
I can see him from the street.
Say again.
The guy on the roof, southeast corner, the one with the binocs.
We don't have anybody up there.
It's him. All units, be advised.
We have contact, southeast corner of Bedford and Downing.
Subject is on the roof.
We're blown! All units, go hot now!
Stay in the van, you're the target.
Now you know what it's like for me.
Take it.
Seal off the west side.
That's him.
He must've jumped the rooftops.
He's getting away.
Beckett, wait!
Pardon me.
NYPD! On the ground, now!
Get down!
Stop!
Stop! Police!
Watch, watch, watch!
Freeze image.
Zoom in.
Run it.
Running facial recognition.
- Scott Dunn. - Busted, you smug jackhole.
Foster child, sealed juvie record,
three-year stint in a Bay area psychiatric institute,
and a single arson conviction.
- Where he burns his hands in a fire. - He hit all the clichés.
Last seen February 15, 2004. Six years ago, he simply disappears.
I want every bit of research you have on this guy on my desk, half an hour.
I'll have my guys contact Dunn's family in case he reaches out.
- You're out. - I'm sorry. What?
- I told you to stay in the van. - I just broke this case.
- I need people backing me I can trust. - Whoa, hold on…
Sorry, Detective. You're off the case.
She's got jurisdiction, Beckett. There's nothing I can do.
Sir, this is my case. He's coming after me.
Like it or not, I'm already on the front line.
You and Castle found him, that's the hard part.
They've frozen his financials, they've alerted TSA,
his face is all over the news. We got him cornered.
And you're the one who taught me that when you have an animal cornered,
that's when they're the most unpredictable.
Yes, and that's also when they make mistakes.
He does something stupid, and we will take him down.
And you've been running flat out for days, you need to go home and get some sleep.
- Sir, I don't have a home. - Yes, you do.
It's a secure building with an extra bedroom,
with people who care about you.
With the Federal detail at the door, it's the safest place in the city.
- Thank you, Castle, but I couldn't. - You can, and you will.
Detective, I took that security off of your apartment
and that gave him an opportunity to get to you,
and I'm not gonna make that same mistake twice!
Consider it an order.
Well, who would have thought that I would be homeless and case-less in one day.
I know I'm the king of going rogue, but you were right to chase after Dunn.
And Agent Shaw was right to kick me off the case,
I would have done the same thing if I was in her spot. I'm too close to it.
I'm sure after all this, you're a little sorry you let me follow you around.
No, not this.
All the other annoying things that you do, but not this.
What about you?
Are you sorry that you ever wrote Heat Wave?
The way I look at it now, if it wasn't for Nikki Heat,
this guy would've just gone on killing
because he wouldn't have met anyone smart enough to catch him.
I'm speaking, of course, about Special Agent Shaw.
Good night, Castle.
Good night.
First thing in the morning, I'll check your homework, OK?
It's time for you to get some sleep.
OK.
Aw, I love you, too, sweetie.
Goodnight.
Hello, Jordan.
Martha.
Kate.
I'm here on orders from the FBI.
Darling, I'm hardly the one to judge.
I'm sorry, I wouldn't impose, but my place is…
Ashes. No, I know.
Well, that explains the pat-down by the hunky guy with the ear bud.
I assumed it was Richard making a dramatic statement
about the conditions for my dropping by unannounced.
I just woke up and literally smelled the coffee and the bacon.
- Dropping by to return your key? - Very funny.
Very funny. No, I am looking for my aqua gloves because these clash.
- Well, she cooks. - Mm-hmm.
Actually, my mom was an amazing cook.
She used to make Sunday brunch, and I would get the choice
between pancakes, omelets, waffles…
Wow, that's funny, every Sunday my mom would have me
make her an ice pack and a Bloody Mary.
Hmm. Don't listen to him. That only happened twice, tops.
- Gram! - There's my girl. Oh, I missed you!
- I missed you, too. - Choppa, choppa, choppa.
You'd think it was months, it's been a day.
Excuse me.
Beckett.
OK. I'll be right there.
Castle, that was Agent Avery.
Jordan never made it home last night.
She left the precinct just after 9:00.
Her husband said she never came home.
- What about the car? - Stationary at this location
since the transmitter was activated 20 minutes ago.
Our vehicle security tech said this was his way in.
So, he was already in the car waiting for her when she got in.
- Her purse is still in here. - There's no bullet hole.
Medium velocity spatter.
So he leans in from behind, she elbows him in the nose,
he recoils,
and a blood trail flies from that direction.
She took her shot.
And left us some bread crumbs.
- Here's another one. - And another one here.
His nose is still bleeding, but he has Jordan at gunpoint.
And he brings her to here, where there's a car waiting.
There's tire treads.
Let's run down reports of all stolen vehicles from the past 24 hours.
Beckett.
There's nothing like the bond between girlfriends,
is there, Nikki? You must really miss her.
- Where is she? - Safe, for now.
- If you hurt her, I will… - That all depends on you, doesn't it?
This is your story, Nikki, not hers. She's just an extra.
The showdown only works if it's between you and me.
Come to the Battery Park Ferry terminal at midnight tonight, Nikki.
And come alone or she dies.
- How can I be sure she's still alive? - I'll send you an e-mail.
- Say hi to your friends, Agent Shaw. - Go to hell, Dunn.
I don't care if it's your story, Detective, I'm bringing her back alive.
It's not my story, it's his.
And if Agent Shaw was here, she'd say the same thing.
- Whatever he's got planned, it's a trap. - If I don't show up, she dies.
But if you do, you both die.
We need to get to him before the exchange.
We traced the e-mail's IP address to an internet cafe in Midtown.
Not that it helps us find her.
There's no reflective surfaces and the windows are all blacked out.
Not all of them. Look.
What's out that window?
Agent Avery,
if you don't mind me rejoining this investigation,
I suggest we take this party next door.
Zoom in.
- What are those, buildings? - Bridge towers.
Call up all the bridges in the city and see if our partial view fits.
Ah, the Whitestone.
It means we're looking south and east.
But we still need another coordinate to find him on the axis.
Play the audio again, but this time without the voices.
And get rid of all the traffic as well.
That's a subway. And not just any subway.
- Those are elevated tracks. - I'll pull up the subway map,
see where it intersects with the approximate line of sight.
That's the IRT Pelham Line. What's the stop that intersects?
Zerega Avenue station.
Got it. 1756, 48th Avenue, the Bronx.
Have a hostage-rescue team meet us there.
Standing by.
This is the place. Building's supposed to be abandoned.
Thermal confirms a hot spot on the fourth floor,
that's where he's holding her.
The team's going to enter on his blind side of the building.
- This is wrong. - Be advised, ready to go.
- What's wrong? - I feel like Princess Leia
when the Millennium Falcon escaped the Death Star. It's too easy.
What do you mean, too easy?
I mean, the sneak peek out the window,
waiting to record the message just as the train was going by.
He led us here. You remember how perfect
- everything was with Conrad. - Yeah, I got the trap memo, too.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit on my ass and do nothing.
That's my partner up there.
She'll be dead the moment you breach that door.
That's why we're not going to breach.
The hostage exchange goes down at midnight.
That means he has to move her before then.
We move in quietly, take position…
And then as soon as Dunn comes out…
I'll put him down, like the rabid dog he is.
Making entry on the south side.
I don't know how he's doing it, but he's not up there.
And what are you basing that on?
I don't know how I know, I just…
You just what?
Castle, you and I have known each other long enough for me to know
that sometimes your silly theories are right,
so if you have a reason to believe that he's not up there,
then you need to tell me why, now.
Just because
it's not how I would write it.
What happens in your version?
He lets us think we've found him to lure us here.
Lets the FBI converge on the building, only he's not in there.
- Where is he? - Nearby, watching.
Watching it all unfold, he's got something planned.
If it were me,
I'd wait until they all got inside, got settled into position,
and then I'd blow the building.
Where is he watching from?
I don't know.
He wants to show he's smarter than us,
so he'll be somewhere close by and out of the way.
Castle, if it were you, where would you be watching from?
I wouldn't be watching from this building where they are,
I'd be watching from here.
Come on.
Here.
Want me to hold it while you tie your shoe?
No, I want you to take it. Just in case.
All right, let's go.
I'm almost sad to see it come to an end, Agent Shaw.
You know, I'd expected more from you. I'd heard such great things…
Castle, he's there. I'm gonna draw him away.
You free Agent Shaw and get some help.
Castle, you're my only backup. OK, go.
I thought it was me you were after.
Nikki
you came.
Put your hands up, Dunn, or I will take you down.
I've got a better idea, Nikki.
Why don't you put your gun down,
or I'll detonate the 19 pounds of cyclonite that I have in the building
across the street, turning Agent Avery and his entry team into mist.
If you shoot me, Nikki, it might cause my body to tense up
and push the button.
Do you really want to take that chance?
They're not in the building anymore.
I only sent them in there to throw you off.
You're lying.
Why would they be in there if I knew that you were in here?
Face it, Dunn, I beat you. Nikki Heat won.
No.
- No! - No!
- Where's my people? - Across the street,
- sitting on 19 pounds of cyclonite. - She was bluffing?
- She was profiling. - Go help her.
He could flank her. Go, go! I've got this.
Dunn, give it up.
Nobody has to die.
That's how all my stories end, with someone else dead.
No!
I believe this is your collar.
- This isn't over, Heat. - It's not Heat.
It's Beckett.
You have the right to remain silent, so shut the hell up.
Thank you.
Ditto.
Hell of a shot, Castle.
I was aiming for his head.
Hey, we're thinking maybe you could talk to Montgomery about
finding some room in the budget for those smart boards.
Sure. While they're at it, maybe they can buy us Batmobiles.
- That'd be cool. - Yeah.
- Our murder boards are just fine. - For a caveman.
Mm-hmm.
- Agent Shaw. - I was just writing you a note.
Dunn is being transported to The Tombs,
where he'll enjoy his stay in the Intensive Management Unit
with the state's most dangerous criminals.
Well, he's getting his 15 minutes. It's what he wanted this whole time.
Yeah, but it'll be on our terms.
I want you to know that I learned a lot from you on this one.
You did most of the heavy lifting.
Honestly, the thing that impressed me most
is that you came in with Castle.
You know, some people would call that foolish.
You made a tough decision on your feet,
used the resources at hand, I'd say that's heroic,
and somewhat poetic.
In the end, Dunn did actually face Nikki Heat.
She is, after all, part you, part Castle.
He cares about you, Kate.
You may not see it, you may not be ready to, but he does.
Yeah, well, the situation with Castle is complicated.
- Ah. - Ladies.
Detective Beckett, it's been a pleasure.
We'll see you around.
Castle, thank you for your help.
You are a valuable asset to Detective Beckett's team.
Well, it would be great if you would call her
and remind her of that from time to time.
Wow. What's this?
Open it.
My father's watch. Thank you.
You're welcome.
I found it in the wreckage, had it fixed.
- I've got good news. - Yeah?
I talked to Avery about buying one of those incredible Fed-mobiles.
Without the weapons, of course, but I could stock it with my own gadgets.
I could get "Writer" airbrushed across the back window.
Ryan and Esposito have a better car than you do.
I'm just… I'm embarrassed to have criminals in the back of that thing.
I don't know about your seat,
but mine's got a spring that hits me in the…
Richard, darling, you're just in time. I made dinner.
Mother, what are you doing here?
Well, we're eating. You know, something families do, couple of times a day.
- Hi, Dad. - Hi.
So, uh, what about Chet?
Darling, I never said I was going to be chained to the man's side.
Besides, Martha Rodgers is a woman of mystery.
And in order to maintain that, I'm going to have to divide my time accordingly.
- Like having dual citizenship. - Exactly.
Besides, it's better for my relationship with Chet.
So, if I have to eat a few meals a week and do all of my laundry here,
I'll just have to make that work.
- I think that sounds like a fine plan. - Yeah!
Well, I hope you'll be comfortable sleeping in the home theater chairs
I'm having delivered to your room. They do recline.