"So, what's your plan?" Kate Beckett asked. She had a much better impression of Jack, the FBI agent, than of the writer standing behind her. Seeing him gazing intently at Central Park in the distance, she could guess what he was thinking.
"If Detective Beckett isn't in a rush to return to the precinct, why not take a night walk through Central Park with me?"
Jack took a compact Shenhuo X400 Ultra laser-integrated gun light from his belt. It was an attachment for his handgun, but it could also be clipped to his belt when not in use.
"Do you really think you can track footprints at night?" Mike Taylor raised an eyebrow, surprised, before Beckett could respond.
"Let's give it a shot. Until the lab results on the victim's clothing come back, we don't have much else to do, and time is of the essence. The real first crime scene could be compromised at any moment."
Jack kept one thought to himself. While Central Park was quite large, it was a rectangular area that ran north to south. Robin Peacock's home was on the west side of the park, while Richard Castle's book signing was on the east side. The two locations weren't far from each other, each at roughly opposite ends of the park's midpoint. However, if Mr. Peacock's account was correct, and his daughter had left home to attend the signing, she would have had to take a cab around half of Central Park to get there.
Jack had often complained about New York's—especially Manhattan's—traffic. Despite the USA being known as a car-reliant country, recent years had seen a steady decline in driver's license ownership. Nationally, about 70% of people still had one, but in New York City, that number had plummeted to just 25%. Aside from the state's notoriously tough licensing tests, high parking fees and terrible traffic were major deterrents.
At that hour, dressed in formal evening wear, it was unlikely that Robin Peacock would have chosen to brave the dirty, smelly subway. She probably opted to take a cab, only to get stuck in traffic halfway there.
So, she likely decided to cut through Central Park on foot. The park was only about 800 meters wide, despite being four kilometers long. Even in high heels, it wouldn't have taken her too long to cross that distance.
Jack hadn't had any formal training in tracking, but with his system-enhanced senses on full alert, it was hard for him to miss any clues.
Taylor seemed convinced by his logic. He returned to his car and took out two flashlights, handing one to Beckett. The two followed Jack into the park.
Soon, they found a few drops of blood on a rock beneath a large tree by the edge of the woods. Nearby, there was a peculiar set of footprints: a high heel on the left foot, but bare on the right.
This detail matched Robin Peacock's appearance at the book signing, where she had shown up barefoot on her right side.
Their spirits lifted, the three followed the trail further. The footprints weren't continuous due to areas of gravel paths and grass, but Jack managed to pick up subtle hints here and there.
He noticed branches broken by accident, tiny punctures from high heels, and drops of blood on fallen leaves.
After half an hour, Jack halted beneath a massive elm tree and stopped his companions from advancing any further. "This should be the first crime scene."
Taylor and Beckett shone their flashlights under the tree, where the soft earth was scattered with messy footprints. A single high heel, a woman's handbag, and a leather wallet lay abandoned on the ground.
"Nice work." The two immediately pulled out their phones and called for backup.
"Wow, how'd you pull that off? Some kind of superpower?" Castle, who had been tailing them all along, popped out from behind, astonished.
The trio had known about their clumsy stalker for a while but didn't bother to confront him. But now Jack felt compelled to speak up, seeing as Castle was craning his neck to get a better look and seemed ready to creep around for a different angle.
"Mr. Castle, if you take one more step forward, I'll have no choice but to ask Detective Beckett to formally arrest you for tampering with a crime scene and obstructing justice."
Castle froze, recoiling. He found himself caught mid-step, teetering awkwardly as he tried to avoid falling forward.
Beckett quickly stepped forward and grabbed him, glaring at him with a look of sheer irritation. Castle, fully aware he was in the wrong, offered her a sheepish but polite smile.
"I'm warning you, if you don't want to spend the night handcuffed to a tree, you'd better behave."
They really were a classic odd couple, sparking off one another from the very first encounter.
Jack could already guess what was going through Castle's mind. He was still a flirtatious playboy, a serial dater who likely felt both attraction and newfound inspiration upon meeting a unique and beautiful detective like Beckett.
But for the sake of this case, Jack felt the need to intervene.
"Mr. Castle, considering the victim's ordeal, I don't think putting this case into one of your novels is a good idea. And anyway, your expertise is in suspense and mystery, not forensic crime scenes."
Although Jack's own novel was soon to be published, and he could use Castle's word-of-mouth endorsement, he was still clear on his professional boundaries.
"Uh, I'm just a bit curious. I promise I won't interfere," Castle said, raising three fingers in a vow.
Beckett rolled her eyes, not interested in engaging with him further. Soon, NYPD officers arrived and cordoned off the area, followed by the CSI team in their work van.
Researchers erected floodlights, bathing the scene in daylight-like brightness. Mike Taylor donned rubber gloves, picked up a camera, and got to work.
Jack also put on gloves and stepped within the taped-off area to assist, while Beckett stood watch, occasionally giving Castle a warning glare whenever he seemed too curious.
With each new evidence marker laid down—scattered footprints, the handbag and wallet, keys, a steak wrapped in tin foil, a high heel, and bloodstains by the tree stump—the dark sequence of events that had taken place there began to emerge.
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