88. Truth that you can't run from

At six p.m. Dr Burke is advised that Mr Beckett has arrived. He stands to greet him.  Mr Beckett, he immediately notes, bears little physical resemblance to his daughter.  Dr Burke concludes that Detective Beckett is, as she had implied, of very similar physical type to her mother.  Mr Beckett is only of moderate height, and more wiry than muscular.  Interestingly, he bears no physical resemblance whatsoever to Mr Castle.  A minor complication: that Detective Beckett might unknowingly have been seeking out a man who physically resembles her father, but with the strength she thinks that her father lacks, is negated, much to Dr Burke’s relief.  Further complexity is emphatically not required in this situation.

Dr Burke notes Mr Beckett’s slight air of unconscious hostility, and a more evident air of discomfort and wariness.

“Good evening, Mr Beckett. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“You’re welcome.” Mr Beckett does not sound welcoming at all.

“Mr Beckett, please explain why you agreed to see me.”

“Because if I don’t, Rick Castle will ensure that I never see or talk to my daughter again,” Mr Beckett spits out.

Oh, dear, Dr Burke thinks, in the strongest imprecation he allows himself within his treatment room. Here is the next complication.

“And you wish to resume contact with Detective Beckett?”

“Are you insane? Of course I do.  I thought you were supposed to be a good shrink, not some quack charlatan.”  Dr Burke begins to discern some considerable similarity of temperament between Mr Beckett and Detective Beckett.

“However, that does not require seeing me. How exactly do you think Mr Castle will know if you simply walk out of here now?  I certainly would not disclose that to him.  Moreover, how do you think he will stop you contacting your daughter?  He can hardly confiscate your cell phone, or hers.”

“She won’t answer. She won’t see me.  The only way I’ve found out that she’s okay at all is Rick Castle.”

“It is very hard,” Dr Burke says gently, from his standpoint as a man slightly older than Mr Beckett, “to watch one’s children decide that another means more to them than their parent does, and to see them form other emotional bonds. Even as they grow up under normal circumstances, that is a difficult separation.”

Mr Beckett winces. “I thought she loved me,” he whispers.  “But right now it seems like she never did, ever since…”

Dr Burke is already certain that Mr Beckett requires a totally different technique from the blunt, harsh truths which have been effective with Detective Beckett.  This man is close to broken, and needs empathy and gentleness.  It is as well that he, Dr Burke, is older than Mr Beckett.  This would be far more difficult were he younger, and did he not have a grown family himself.  Mr Beckett will respond well to Dr Burke’s experience and age.  Too, Detective Beckett can rely on Mr Castle’s gentle but unstinting strength. Mr Beckett has no such option, although he will, of course, have his sponsor.

“Mr Beckett, Mr Castle believes that your daughter needs you. He has struck me as an intelligent man, and therefore he must have some reason for that belief.  I, too, believe that it is necessary for you and Detective Beckett to repair your relationship.  It is unlikely that it will be as it was before your wife passed.  That, however, is perfectly normal and expected.  It is inevitable that as your daughter grew to adulthood, your relationship would change.  I have certainly discovered that as my children have matured, our relationships have constantly changed, sometimes with some violence and difficulty.  I too am a parent, and therefore I believe that we have some common ground.”

Dr Burke smiles, ruefully and parentally, remembering – and allowing Mr Beckett to see him remembering – occasions on which such change had occurred. He decides that the most effective way to help Mr Beckett, who clearly needs such help, is to treat him as a man of experience and depth, and as a parent who has shared some of the same challenges as has Dr Burke.

“Mr Beckett, given that you are here of your own volition, and may depart at any time you wish, would you prefer to be addressed, and to address me, with first names? As I said, we have some common ground.  You are not a patient, but here as a parent and as someone whose insights will help your daughter heal.  I do not wish you to feel that you are being treated,” Dr Burke is, here, skirting the edges of truth, “but that you are assisting in treatment.”  He pauses, until Mr Beckett inclines his head.  “My name is Carter.”

“Call me Jim.”

“Shall we begin again, Jim?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for being so tetchy.  But… I thought everything was fine, and then she met Rick Castle and suddenly everything started falling apart.  I thought he’d be good for her, and all that happened was that half the time she was with him and the other half either she fought with him or she wasn’t happy at his place and then she just told me that if she wasn’t enough family for me she was done.  And she hasn’t spoken to me since.  I just keep calling, and she doesn’t pick up.  If it wasn’t for Rick I wouldn’t know anything.”

“That must be exceedingly irritating, as well as reassuring.”

“How do you – oh. One of yours did it, didn’t they?”

“Yes. My eldest daughter – I have two daughters, and a son – took offence at my – as she put it – practising on her.  She refused to speak to me for some time.  Her then-boyfriend, however, did.  I did not appreciate the gatekeeping.”

Mr Beckett relaxes somewhat. “Yes, nor do I.  I know he has Katie’s interests at heart – in fact, I thought he’d be good for her almost as soon as I met him: he’s got guts and he doesn’t let Katie push him around – but it doesn’t make it easier.  Especially since he never actually tells me anything.  I’m sure he knows what’s really wrong, but he’s as close-mouthed as an oyster.  Just keeps saying to let him take care of Katie and trust that it’ll all be okay in the end.”

Dr Burke thinks idly that Mr Beckett will, rather soon, be escorting his daughter up the aisle, and remembers with a tiny pang how he had felt, doing the same.

“Jim, I appreciate that this is very uncomfortable for you, but would you please tell me about the immediate aftermath of your wife’s death, and include how you interacted with your daughter at the time? If it is too painful, please stop, and we will talk of other things.”

“Shoes and ships and sealing wax?”

“Or cabbages and kings,” Dr Burke caps, and the two older men exchange a smile that contains tentative tendrils of mutual appreciation.

“Nicely done, Carter. We used to play that game at home.”

“We did too.” Dr Burke steeples his fingers, and waits for Mr Beckett to continue.

“I ought to go back a little further. Johanna – my wife – and I, well, we met at college.  Not quite childhood sweethearts, but near enough.  Never really looked at anyone else, not after I met her.  Still, it wasn’t all wine and roses, we argued some, pretty harshly at times, but she was it for me.  Me for her, too, which was a bit more surprising.  We were both aiming for the top: she wanted to be the best defence attorney in Manhattan, I was into commercial law.  Both ambitious, both hard-working.  We wanted a family, but that… well.  That was a bit harder.  Didn’t come easily.  Johanna had wanted several, and I sure didn’t object, but we only ever had Katie, and that took a long time.  So when Katie came along, everything was pretty much perfect.  As much as it ever is with a child, anyway.”  Dr Burke smiles in sympathy.  Children are hard work, no matter how much they are loved and wanted.

“Katie was bright, and mule-headed stubborn. Wanted to be the best at everything.  Stuyvesant, scholarships, Stanford, that sort of thing.  She was just like her mother had been.  Even looked a lot like her, as she got through her teens.” 

Dr Burke files that away. Detective Beckett had been like her mother in both looks and personality.  That explains some more of Mr Beckett’s behaviour. 

“And then Johanna was murdered. Stabbed in an alley.  Katie was home for Christmas from Stanford.  It was dreadful.  I couldn’t believe she was gone.  I had a drink, and it softened the blow.  Got the funeral arranged.  After that, I just couldn’t cope with anything.  Katie… well, Katie just took over.  Just like her mother would have done.  And I couldn’t deal with the resemblance, so I drank more until I didn’t see it any more.  Katie didn’t talk about her, and that helped.  Then she went back to Stanford, but by that time I was already too far in to stop.  Didn’t want to stop.  Katie didn’t seem to need me… didn’t ask me for anything, didn’t talk about anything.  She called a lot, though.  She had the same voice, the same turns of speech.  On the phone, it could have been her mother.  So I drank some more, to blot the memories out.”

Mr Beckett stops. “I know now that I let Katie down then.  She needed her mother and she needed to grieve too.  But I didn’t see it at the time.  All I saw was the bottle, and oblivion.  It wiped out the memories, and it wiped out how alike they were.”

Mr Beckett’s emotions are raw, still. He is, however, not shying away from the first key point: that he failed his daughter.

“And then she turned up at home. She was there when I woke up.  Said she’d got in the previous evening – I didn’t – I don’t – remember that at all, even now.  She said I’d been drunk, and she was right.  I don’t know what happened.  I was so sorry.  I promised I’d never do it again, and I meant it.  But of course I did.  She’d cleared out all the booze, but I just bought more.  She came home more often – God knows how she funded it – and then she transferred to NYU, and even then I couldn’t or wouldn’t stop, even when she gave up Stanford.  It was always her dream.  She quit her dream to try to save me and I wouldn’t be saved.”

“Jim, do you remember anything at all about how you reacted to your daughter while you were still drinking?

“I was drunk so much… when I was sober, she was the only thing I had left. I asked her not to go, not to leave me.  She was my only good thing.  And then she left.  Stopped getting me out the tank, stopped taking my calls, cut me off completely.”

“But you remember nothing of how she, and you, behaved when you were not sober?”

“No. When I went through AA, and the twelve steps – I spent nine months in rehab first – I told her everything I remembered, and asked if there was more I should know, and she cried, and said no, that it was enough.  Ever since then, she’s been there.”

Dr Burke passes Mr Beckett the Kleenex. “Your daughter had unstintingly supported you since you became sober, had she not?”

“Yes. She couldn’t have done more.  If I called, she’d always answer; if I needed to go to a conference – that’s always hard – she’s on the end of a phone.  We had dinner every week, she comes on Christmas Day – she takes the early shift and we have our meal in the evening.  She says it’s so the guys with young children can have the early part off, be with their families.  I get that.  We brought her up to do the right thing.  Sometimes I wish we’d have the morning too: the whole day together, but Christmas is most important to kids.”

“I see. And does she ever refer to the time before you became sober?”

“No.”

“Mm.” Dr Burke pauses.  So far, so good, and informative.  As Mr Castle had surmised, Mr Beckett knows of no reason why his daughter should have given up on him.  However, Detective Beckett had comprehensively avoided the issue of talking to her father about his behaviour when drunk, of which Mr Beckett has no memory.  Dr Burke does not condemn him.  He understands what it is to love one’s spouse that much.  “What made you begin to worry that all was not well?”

Mr Beckett takes some time to collect his thoughts. “Well, it was pretty recent.  First off it was fine.  Really good, in fact.  Katie bought me a game for Christmas, called Sorry, and she had been mentioning Rick for a few weeks, and it sounded like they were getting well-acquainted.”  He smiles fondly.  “So I teased her a little, like you do” – Dr Burke nods, and smiles reminiscently, equally fondly – “and it all sounded rather hopeful.  But then I had to go to a conference, so Katie invited me round for dinner before I went and when I showed up I could hear them rowing from before the elevator doors opened.  It was pretty clear they were furious with each other, but Katie was shut down mad, and Rick was yelling.  I didn’t know what to do, so I just filibustered.  He’s a big guy, Rick, and he’s a bit scary when he’s mad – though Katie’s just as scary, so I guess they cancelled out.  Anyway, I said whatever came into my head, that Katie’d talked about him, that we’d played the game a lot, and suddenly he went sheet white and then Katie said he was leaving but I just kept talking, don’t know why, said he was her friend and told him she’d saved me.  He went even paler, and then Katie used a voice that God Himself wouldn’t say no to and Rick went.  Her mother used to have a voice a bit like that, but never quite as harsh.  Suppose she needs to be harsh, as a cop.”

“She is a remarkable woman,” Dr Burke says, without actually specifying what he regards as remarkable. Disconcerting Mr Beckett will be unhelpful.  He will have quite enough to process.

“I tried to find out what was going on, but Katie wasn’t talking about it. Anyway, a few days later, I got a call from Rick.”

“That must have been surprising.”

“I’ll say. So he showed up, as nervous as any teen meeting his girlfriend’s dad, and then he told me he wasn’t going to use me in a book, which I didn’t exactly expect to hear.  He’s using Katie as his inspiration, though he does seem to understand the difference between her and his character.  Well” – Mr Beckett smiles rather mischievously – “I pushed him a bit, to see what he was made of, and he got mad and bit back, so I thought he was likely able to stand up to Katie, and I told him my story.  I believed him.  He’s not the sort of guy to stab you in the back.”

“No,” Dr Burke agrees.

“And… well, I liked him. And it was clear that whether he knew it or not he was head over heels for Katie.  What she felt… well, that I wasn’t sure about.  Still not sure, though if I believe Rick then likely she’s just as gone on him.”

“I believe that to be the case,” Dr Burke says, dryly.

“Good,” Mr Beckett says. “I think.”  He pulls his thoughts back on track.  “So then Katie wanted some background for a case and I thought I’d like a look at both of them together so I suckered them into coming for dinner.  I didn’t notice anything that wasn’t like usual, that evening.  Then they called me up and suggested I talk to some woman whose husband was an alcoholic.  Berger, Barrow, something like that.”

“Berowitz.”

“That’s it. Fluffy blonde, couldn’t have argued her way out of a wet paper bag.  My sponsor thought it was a pretty good plan.  Rick’s idea, though.”  This does not surprise Dr Burke.  He finds it unlikely in the extreme that Detective Beckett would ever have asked her father to undertake an action which she felt would be too much for him.  She would have been wrong, as is evident.  She would also, unconsciously, be protecting herself from the situation, whilst pretending that she was only protecting her father.  Dr Burke will need to hear Mr Beckett’s view of that meeting.  Detective Beckett’s had been spare in the extreme, and had then only been mentioned in the context of her father’s highly unfortunate comment about Mr Castle’s family; and Mr Castle’s expansion had, naturally, not been able to enlighten Dr Burke as to Detective Beckett’s emotions.

“So I thought I’d have another little look at Rick with Katie, and told them to come round for breakfast. Katie wasn’t happy with me.  Dad’s privilege, though.  Anyway, they came, and then I showed Rick all the family photos, and Katie was just completely zoned out.  I thought she’d at least complain, but she just wasn’t there at all.  I was a bit worried about that.  So – er – I finagled Rick into having us over for dinner, and that’s when it all started to go really wrong.  Katie wasn’t happy.  Wasn’t happy about me questioning why she was running round after the Berowitzes, and sure wasn’t happy about going to dinner.  So when I actually thought about it, it finally struck me that Katie was always cheery when I saw her or spoke to her, which didn’t seem right.  Then I realised that Rick had said that Katie wouldn’t talk to him because he was going to upset me.  And then I started to wonder what Katie thought she was doing, because it wasn’t what I thought she was doing.  I thought we were being a family, but I began to think that she might think she was protecting me.  So I started to worry.”

“How did the dinner go?” Mr Beckett had arranged a dinner with Mr Castle’s family?  It is astonishing, given Detective Beckett’s commentary and issues, that she had gone at all, still more so that she had completed the evening without an emotional breakdown.  Mr Castle had mentioned this, he recalls, in the context of Detective Beckett not upsetting her father.

“It was great. Rick’s family were really good fun.  It was the first time I’d been around a family since… since Johanna died.”

Dr Burke raises an eyebrow. “I thought you had said that your daughter came round frequently.”

“Yes, of course. But that’s my family.  I hadn’t been around any other family for – well, years.”

Ah, a classic miscommunication, which would readily have been resolved were it not for the history of which Mr Beckett is not aware.

“But Katie was out of sorts. She was playing tired, just like she did when she didn’t want to stay at her grandmother’s.”  Mr Beckett grins.  “Neither did I want to stay at her grandmother’s.  That woman could glare down a grizzly, and she never thought I was good enough for her daughter.  Guess that’s where Katie got her toughness from.”

“What did you think was wrong?”

“I hadn’t the faintest idea. Rick’s family were really nice to us.  Couldn’t have been more welcoming.  Clearly loved Katie, and extended it to me.”

“Have you had any further thoughts?”

“No. I thought we should have them back to dinner, and Katie wouldn’t have any of it.  She just completely lost her temper like she hasn’t done since she was a teen, and told me that she didn’t want them in her apartment and if I invited them she wouldn’t come.  Then she said she wasn’t enough and she was done and she walked out and I haven’t heard from her or seen her since.  All I’ve got is from Rick.  So why’d she do it, Carter?  What am I missing?”