One Reason

Summary: Another version of what happened to Castle in Hollander's Woods when he was 11 and how that influenced him to become a mystery writer.

Author's Notes: We're back to a high T now. And yes, don't be cruel to animals. Thanks for much for all the reviews, follows, and favs. They really mean a lot. Rated high T for swearing.

Sorry for the long delay. My brother had surgery in early April and had severe complications, so we went to see him and stayed a lot longer than anticipated and I didn't take my laptop with me because it was supposed to be a short trip. Unfortunately, he has gotten worse and we're taking him off of life support tomorrow so I wanted to get this posted before we left again.

And on a happier note, yeah! Another season of Castle! Happy dance! (And the fact that Castle isn't produced by Shonda Rhimes). And hopefully everyone will be back. Now, we just have to wait and see.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Marlowe, ABC, and Disney do. The OCs came out of my imagination.

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Chapter 5 – The Smoking Gun

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- Still in the past-

"Hey, Mom, you home?" Rodgers called out as he opened the door to their small apartment. He listened intently for a few moments to see if Martha was indeed home and maybe just in the middle of doing something that he really didn't want to think about, but no, fortunately, he was alone.

He breathed a sigh of relief, put the take-out container of Miguel's special fried rice in the refrigerator, and then paused.

Now for step 1 of his plan, he thought as he walked over to the cabinet and took out a bottle of Martha's favorite wine. With a quick twist, he uncorked the bottle and carefully poured it into the decanter, letting the wine breathe.

Now for step 2 – he picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Hello?" a woman answered a moment later.

"Mrs. Collins, this is Ricky. Is Steve home?" Rodgers asked, while twirling the long phone cord around his finger.

"Oh, hi, Ricky. Let me check." There was a pause and then a loud "Stevy! You have a phone call!" Even though her voice was muffled, Rodgers could hear her quite clearly and held the phone out slightly from his ear, wincing slightly.

A few moments later, Steve answered. "Hey, Rodgers. Man, that's really shitty, what they did to you. It's not fair that Harrington's father could just fork over the money for the crane and then make a sizable donation to the school to get his rat-ass son out of hot water. And the other boys – they weren't any better."

Rodgers nodded silently in agreement. His mother didn't have the money or the political clout of the rest of the magnificent 7. It had been a miracle that they had included him in their circle.

"And that was really shitty of Audrina to dump you like that, right before prom," continued Steve. "You know she went with Harrington."

Or maybe not, Rodgers thought – he may have been the patsy all along. But that didn't seem important now. "Steve, are you and your mom still going to Boston this weekend to look at colleges?"

"Yeah," said Steve.

"Is it okay if I go with you?" Rodgers asked.

"Sure, but let me ask." Steve put his hand over the phone and yelled at his mother as Rodgers pulled the phone away from his ear again.

Steve was back a few moments later. "She said it was fine and that we'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon before we head up to Boston."

"Great. Hey, listen – I'm thinking about going up early tomorrow to check out some of the museums first – you know, since I'm already graduated and everything. Why don't I just meet you at the hotel tomorrow night?" Rodgers wheedled.

"Okay," said Steve. "We're staying at the Marriott near the campus." He paused for a moment. "Oh, and my mom wants to make sure that this is okay with your mom."

"Sure, it's cool with her. I'll meet you at the hotel about 7 tomorrow night," Rodgers said.

"See you then," replied Steve.

Rodgers hung up the phone and pulled out the phone book, looking up the bus line and Amtrak phone numbers. If he left early enough, he would have time to go to the police department to talk with a detective before meeting Steve and his mother tomorrow night.

He wrote down the schedule on a scrap piece of paper and put it in his wallet as he heard the front door open and Martha walk in.

"Richard, darling, I'm home," Martha called out, dropping her purse on a side table. "How was your day?"

"I'm in the kitchen," Rodgers replied, walking over to the counter and pouring Martha a glass of wine from the decanter. He held out the glass to her as she walked into the room. "And how was your day, mother dear?"

Martha paused and pursed her lips as she took the glass. "So what have you done now?"

"Mother, is that any way to greet your loving son?" Rodgers asked with an innocent expression. "I'm truly wounded."

"When you have a glass of wine waiting for me, kiddo," Martha replied. "Yes."

"Since you asked," Rodgers replied, "Steve and his mother are going to Boston for the weekend to look at colleges. I thought I'd go with them and see if I like any of them, you know, since I have to make a decision in the next couple of weeks."

Martha frowned as she studied him for a few moments.

Rodgers continued. "We'll be back Sunday night."

Martha shook her head slightly. "Oh, kiddo, I'm just not sure."

"Mrs. Collins will be chaperoning us and you know how straight-laced she is," Rodgers blurted out. "And I promise I won't get into any trouble…" he said hopefully.

Martha sighed as she gently put a hand on his cheek and felt the slight stubble. Her little boy was growing up and he was going off to college soon – fortunately, what he had done hadn't changed that. She had to start trusting him again at some point.

"You'll need money for food," she finally relented.

Rodgers gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Already got that covered."

He walked over to the refrigerator. "Are you hungry? I stopped by China East and Miguel fixed some of his special fried rice."

"Sounds great," said Martha. She smiled wistfully as she watched him take out the container and quickly fix 2 plates. Their time of living together was coming to an end all too quickly.

Rodgers had barely been able to sleep that night, the feeling of dread and anticipation keeping him tossing and turning. When he did sleep, a bear that looked like Auntie M stood over him with a red rope in her hands.

When the alarm rang at 3 AM, he quickly turned it off, dressed quietly, and picked up the small bag he had packed the night before.

He listened at his bedroom door a few moments to make sure Martha was in her room and then quietly opened it. He put the note he had written on the kitchen counter and then quickly walked out of the apartment and headed towards the bus station to catch the early bus to Boston.

The trip was uneventful, but that didn't quell the butterflies in his stomach and soon he found himself sitting by the desk of Detective Barnsworth who was handling the case.

"So, you are Richard Alexander Rodgers from New York City and you have information about the Boston bleeding heart serial killer," said the pudgy older man, pulling his chair out with a screech and sitting down with a thud.

Rodgers swallowed and nodded solemnly. "Yes." He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair, frowning. "I think the killer is my Auntie M – uh, Maisie Chao – but she really isn't my aunt, she's just a close family friend – uh, was a close family friend," he stammered. "I actually haven't seen her in several years – since she told me she wanted to eat my heart."

"Uh, huh," nodded Barnsworth. He narrowed his piercing black eyes as he regarded the youth sitting across from him. "And you didn't think that was odd and tell anyone about it?"

Rodgers shrugged. "At the time, I was 11 and I really wasn't sure what she meant."

"Uh, huh," nodded Barnsworth again. "But you figured it out." He sat back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. "So why don't you tell me how you came to this conclusion – that your – Auntie M – is our serial killer?"

Rodgers nodded and related the tale of the bear cubs, describing in detail the altar that he had seen that night so long ago and then what Auntie M had said to him afterwards. He showed the detective the articles he had found about the murders yesterday.

"When I saw the picture, I knew it was the same altar – the one Tony set up when he killed the cubs, so I stopped by the restaurant to ask Auntie M if she could tell me anything about the ritual – maybe the killer was doing the same thing," Rodgers finished, "but Lee said she was in Boston. She was here when the last murder was committed. And she's been coming here for several years."

"And that's why you think it's your 'aunt'?" asked Barnsworth.

Rodgers nodded and took a breath. "Yeah, I do."

Barnsworth was silent, glancing at him several times as he studied the notes he had taken. He finally pushed the pad of paper away.

"Interesting story," the detective said, nodding as he sat back in his chair. He smiled slightly. "So what brings you to Boston, Mr. Rodgers?"

"I'm here with a friend, looking at colleges," Rodgers replied. "I took the bus this morning from New York and I'm meeting him this evening."

"I see," said Barnsworth, nodding again. "You do know there is a $10,000 reward for information that leads to the arrest of the Boston bloody heart serial killer?"

Rodgers nodded in return. "Yes, that was in one of the articles."

"Uh, huh," said Barnsworth, drumming his pen against the top of the desk as he pursed his lips together. "And these colleges you're looking at – are you pledging for any of the fraternities?"

Rodgers frowned and then shook his head. "No, I hadn't really thought about that. Why?"

"Because this is a pretty fanciful tale – a little hard to believe," said Barnsworth, leaning forward in his chair, peering at the young man. "Son, are you sure that someone didn't put you up to this? You do know that lying to a police officer is a criminal offense."

"But I didn't lie," said Rodgers. "Everything I told you is the truth."

Barnsworth sat back in his chair, frowning again, before he continued. "The problem is that you don't have any proof. It's all circumstantial and I can't make a case with that."

"Actually, I do have proof," Rodgers said quietly, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small plastic bag containing a piece of red rope. "This is the rope that Tony used to strangle the cubs. If it's really Auntie M, she would have used a rope similar to this to strangle the victims – it's part of the ritual."

Barnsworth frowned as he took the bag and stared at the contents.

"None of the articles mentioned what was used," Rodgers theorized. "That may have had been left out on purpose so you'd know if someone had a real lead or not."

"Stay here," snapped Barnsworth as he stood and took the bag over to another detective's desk.

They spoke in hushed tones, glancing several times at Rodgers, before Barnsworth came back over and pushed the pad of paper at him. "Kid, write down your story and don't leave out any of the details."

Rodgers nodded and then looked at Barnsworth as he picked up the pen. "It's her, isn't it?" he asked softly, tears in his eyes.

Barnsworth sprung for dinner and sat reading the pages, his feet propped up on the desk, as Rodgers furiously wrote down everything he could remember. It took several hours, but the tale was finally complete.

Now all it needed was an ending, Rodgers thought as he laid the pen on the desk, but whatever the ending was, it wouldn't be a happy one.

"Hmmm," Barnsworth commented around a mouthful of hamburger. "Kid, you got a real talent. Hell, if police reports were written this well, they wouldn't be so boring." He pursed his lips again as he looked at Rodgers. "You ever think about becoming a police officer?"

Rodgers shook his head. "No, I think writing is more my style." He massaged his hand to stop the cramping. "So what happens now?"

"If I were you, I'd stay away Auntie M, but you pretty much know that already," said Barnsworth, handing Rodgers a business card. "We'll be in touch. It may take a couple of months, so let me know if you change addresses."

Rodgers nodded. "I will, sir, and thank you for believing me."

He glanced at his watch. He had just enough time to get to the hotel and meet Steve and his mother there.

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- Present Day-

"Richard Alexander Edgar Rogers Castle, you are grounded for lying to me and going after a serial killer by yourself!" exclaimed Martha, glaring at her son.

"Technically I didn't lie and I went to the police," said Castle, with a slightly sheepish expression. "They went after the serial killer."

"Potāto, potäto," miffed Martha with a wave of her hand.

"So it was really Auntie M?" asked Alexis, wide-eyed. "They caught her, didn't they?"

Castle nodded slowly, sadly. "Yes, and fortunately before she murdered anyone else. It took a couple of months ago because forensics wasn't as good as they are today. They matched the rope I gave them to the rope used on the victims and then they found a spool of it in Auntie M's luggage when she went back to Boston two months later."

Beckett nodded as she remembered the symposium. "When they took her in, she confessed to the three murders and then added several more to the list."

"Dad, what happened to her?" asked Alexis. "Massachusetts abolished the death penalty in 1984."

"Seems like they should have kept it," commented Espo under his breath.

"They found her guilty but also insane in that one small area, and committed her to a state institution for the rest of her life," said Castle, twirling the wine in his glass.

Lanie nodded. "I recall that she committed suicide about 10 years later."

Castle nodded sadly. "Yeah, she did." He paused for a moment. "I visited her about a month before it happened."

They all sat around nodding their heads in thought until Ryan looked at Castle suddenly.

"That means you got the reward – wasn't it $10,000?" he asked.

Castle nodded with a slight smile.

"And you being a college freshman, I'm sure you didn't spend that on higher education," added Lanie.

"So what did you blow it on?" asked Espo. "Frat party with several kegs of illegal beer?" he guessed.

"No, floor seats to the Knicks to see Patrick Ewing," said Ryan.

"Renting a Ferrari for a weekend," countered Espo.

"A trip to the Bahamas," Ryan replied.

"None of the above, gentlemen, but the money was put to very good use," Castle said as he smiled at his mother.

Martha smiled back at him, her eyes a little misty, and nodded. "I was in a play that fall and a Mr. Pierre DuBois saw the opening performance and was so moved that he underwrote my character for the duration of the play."

"Pierre DuBois from Storm Rising?" asked Beckett.

"I've always liked that name," Castle nodded, taking a sip of his wine. He started to say something else when Beckett's and Lanie's phones rang simultaneously.

They quickly answered as the rest of the room paused, listening in.

"Got a body," said Beckett as she ended the call and stood up.

"We'll clean up here," Alexis volunteered.

"And we'll be back later," said Kate as she kissed Martha on the cheek and gave Alexis a quick squeeze.

"Don't wait up," Castle said.

"Be safe," Martha replied. She put a hand on Castle's cheek and smiled slightly. "And thank you, Richard, but you're still grounded."

"I love you too, Mom," Castle said as he quickly kissed her on the cheek before walking out the door, hand-in-hand with Beckett.

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-The End-