Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
by FraidyCat
Disclaimer: All Numb3rs characters and characterizations respectfully borrowed from CBS, Cheryl Heuton, Nick Falacci et al. No animals were harmed in the writing of this fanfic.
....................................................................................................................................
Chapter 3: A Long Night
Don turned the key in the lock and pushed the front door of his apartment open, stepping aside to allow Charlie to enter first. His father moved close in behind him. "Put Charlie in the guest room," Alan murmured. "I'll be fine on the couch."
Don frowned and waited for Alan to follow Charlie into the apartment. "Don't be ridiculous, Dad. One of you will take the guest room, and one of you will take the master."
"Donny," Alan started but his eldest crowded into the vestibule far enough to close the door behind them and interrupted.
"I mean it, Dad; I'll be up-and-down all night doing concussion-checks on Charlie, anyway. The fold-out bed is actually pretty comfortable."
Alan opened his mouth to point out that Don was proving his point, and he would be fine on the couch, when Charlie's soft rasp startled both Alan and Don into temporary submission. "I smell like smoke," the youngest Eppes stated, tilting his chin slightly toward the ceiling and narrowing his eyes, trying to label another odor. "A touch of sulfur," he finally decided.
Don nodded -- he had smelled sulfur too, at the scene -- as well as gunpowder. He wasn't going to say anything to his father or brother about it without more to go on, but he was fairly certain at this point that they were looking at a pipe bomb. He tossed his keys onto the small table in the vestibule and moved past his father to gently grip Charlie's elbow, and begin steering him toward the bathroom. "You should take a shower," he encouraged. "Dad and I will flip a coin for the couch, okay Buddy?"
They paused in the doorway of the bathroom and Charlie looked at his feet with heartbreaking embarrassment. "I need some clothes," he mumbled.
Don moved his hand until he could squeeze Charlie's shoulder. "Go ahead," he prompted. "I'll get a t-shirt and some sweats or something, and leave them on the counter for you. You know where I keep the toothbrushes," he reminded his brother. "I'm sure there are some unopened dentist samples in there."
Charlie sighed and his shoulders slumped a little, but he still hesitated. "I should make some calls," he said, still looking at his feet.
Alan was now standing behind them in the hallway. "I'll call Larry for you son, and Millie. Or, it can wait until after you've showered."
Charlie finally raised his eyes to Don's. The agent found that he had to exercise some willpower to keep himself from reacting to the naked pain he saw there. "Amita has her parents' numbers programmed into her cell."
The men stood silently for a few moments. Finally Alan remarked softly. "It's at the house -- she was talking on it when we got home, and I saw her put it on the kitchen counter."
Oh, God, thought Don, as another wave of reality washed over him. Amita! He shook himself a little and cleared his throat. "Shower first," he instructed firmly, wondering from where he was summoning the strength to take charge. "I'll call Colby and ask him to bring the cell here."
Charlie just nodded and stumbled further into the bathroom. "Right," he answered sadly. "I guess there's no rush."
Don felt tears pressing at the backs of his eyes and started for his bedroom almost blindly. "I'll get those clothes," he said gruffly.
Alan blinked back tears of his own and turned in the other direction. "I'll make some coffee," he offered. "It's going to be a long night."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
He waited until the coroner and his assistant had bagged the body, placed it on a gurney, and were wheeling it toward the transport vehicle. Several of the gawking neighbors found the sight disturbing, and chose that moment to wander off down the sidewalk. Couples held hands and moved closer together, whispering in reverent hushes, and it was easy to blend into the crowd, avoiding possible detection.
He ruminated as he walked nearly a mile to the back parking lot of a supermarket, where he had left his car. It was an unadulterated fact that his assault had not gone as planned. Oh, the pipe bombs worked gloriously enough – both the one directly to the right of the door, which had been set off when the woman walked into the fishing line tripwire – and the second one, further back in the garage and boasting a digital timer. The timer did not start running until activated by high temperature, and he had been less sure that bomb would be successful. While it was horrendously easy to find pipe bomb recipes searching the Internet at the public library, a basic knowledge of both physics and mechanics was necessary to jimmy-rig the timing device. It was the main reason he had doused the garage with various accelerants; the fire must burn hot to ensure the deployment of the second pipe bomb.
In the end, he was pleased with both the explosions, so much so that he was willing to chalk it all up to a dress rehearsal, when the woman turned out to be the one to enter the garage. She was not the intended victim – but it meant less than nothing to him that she be sacrificed.
He was thrilled at the reaction of the two men. Slowly, it dawned on him that this scenario was actually better. If he truly wanted Eppes to suffer, why not take something from him – as Eppes had taken from him? The agony of the men was so perfect. So sweet. He could see it in the expression on Eppes' face – the death of the woman was pure torture.
Perhaps his plan had been too simple. Identify and find the man responsible for his own pain, and kill him. Perhaps all along, the plan should have included making Eppes suffer first.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Don turned from the automatic coffee maker and crossed the few steps to the kitchen's eating bar, setting a fresh cup of coffee down in front of Colby, who was sitting on the other side. Don glanced up at David, standing behind his partner. "Sure you don't want anything?"
David shook his head silently and looked nervously around the apartment. "Is your dad here?" he asked.
Don nodded and took a sip of his own coffee. "Yeah. He got Charlie settled in the guest room, but he doesn't want to be too far away from him. He's down in my room, using the phone. Calling Millie and Larry, I think." David's gaze flickered quickly to the back of Colby's head. Don redirected his own attention to Granger in time to see him rip a page from his field notebook and slide it across the bar. Confused, Don looked at the two phone numbers scribbled on the paper. "What's this?"
Colby leaned back so far on the bar stool he almost fell off the other side. He looked at Don apologetically. "Rumson wouldn't let me bring Amita's phone -- especially after he heard that she was on it right before she...." He reddened, and looked down at his coffee. "Anyway. He let me go through the address book and write down her parents' numbers -- the first one is her father's cell -- but he doesn't want them informed until we have a firm ID from the coroner's office. There are local dental records, so it shouldn't take long; maybe as early as tomorrow."
Don stared at him, non-plussed. "What the hell are you talking about?" he finally asked. "What does Rumson have to do with any of this?"
David took over the explanation. "The case has been assigned to his team," he informed his incredulous boss. "He arrived at the scene just a few minutes after you left."
Colby practically talked over the top of his friend, trying to stave off Don's objections. "A.D. Wright himself is calling the shots on this one, Don. There's no way he's going to let you anywhere near an investigation this close to your family." He paused, snorting softly. "Hell, David practically begged to get us assigned temporarily to Rumson, but Wright vetoed that, as well. We have to meet with Rumson's team tomorrow morning and give them everything we got at the scene -- LAPD will be there too. Right now, it's a joint investigation."
To Don's utter surprise, David suddenly smiled. "The A.D. did agree to put Nikki on the case," he said. "Since she's only worked a couple of cases with Charlie, I was able to talk him into that. At least we can keep fairly informed." His smile faded. "He also said to remind you that you have three weeks of PTO saved up, and you can request additional leave if you need it. Charlie's going to need you around, for awhile."
Colby sighed, and turned serious eyes on Don. "Your dad, too -- Amita was like a daughter to him."
As if on cue, Don's bedroom door opened and the eldest Eppes smiled a sad greeting at David and Colby before turning in the opposite direction, intending to check on Charlie.
Don all-but growled in frustration. Sam Rumson was not a bad agent; in point of fact, he was a very good one, with more experience than Don himself. And it was true what A.D. Wright had said -- his family needed him right now. Don was not so much reluctant to be there for them as he was simply stymied -- he also wanted to do everything he could to find and punish Amita's killer. He frowned as he took in the slump of his father's retreating shoulders and lowered his voice a tad. "At least tell me Rumson is assigning Charlie protection. It's pretty obvious he was the target."
Colby tilted his head. "Maybe not," he mused.
Despite his earlier consideration of his father, Don raised his voice. "Come on, Granger! It's his house -- used to be his garage. The man has consulted on dozens of cases just for us. Let's not even get into what he's done for other alphabet agencies!"
Colby held up a hand, palm flat, as if appealing for peace. "All of that is true -- but Amita has consulted for us, as well, both with Charlie and solo, during the months he was without clearance. She's lived at the house for almost six months! I'm just saying I can see why Rumson wants the phone for potential evidence."
David agreed. "You know you'd make the same decision if this were any other case, Don," he chided gently. Something lightly brushed his elbow, and David half-turned to find that Alan Eppes had silently joined the conversation, completely undetected. Some FBI agents the three of them were turning out to be. "Hey, Mr. Eppes," he said softly.
"Alan," the patriarch corrected automatically as both Colby and Don turned their attention to him. He held Don's gaze. "Is Charlie in danger?"
Colby shrugged and swiveled his head back around to regard Don. "We don't know enough yet to rule that out," he admitted. He raised an eyebrow. "Another good reason for you to take some time, Eppes." Don silently crossed his arms over his chest and Colby waited a moment before he continued. "David and I will strongly suggest a protection detail to Rumson in the morning -- but if he isn't ready to go that route yet, Don, I've got some vacation time coming."
"Me, too," interjected David. "We both want to help."
Don smiled his thanks grimly, and Alan blinked a few times in rapid succession. "You're good boys," he whispered. "Good friends. Thank-you."
Don cleared a suddenly clogged throat and tried to change the subject. "Did you get in touch with Millie, Dad? Larry?"
Alan rubbed a hand over a tired face. "Yes...Millie is still on campus...." His expression changed, and he glanced at David. "You know, Charlie was surprised to see Amita tonight when we got home from the store. Not only does she have a class Thursday evenings, her car is in the shop right now. He was planning on going back to Cal Sci to pick her up."
"That could be interesting," David began, but Alan shook his head. "I don't know. Millie told me there was a power outage on campus tonight. Several teachers dismissed early. One of them probably gave Amita a ride home."
"You guys should still tell Rumson," advised Don, and both junior agents nodded.
Alan sighed. "Larry was unpacking boxes at his new apartment." He lowered his eyes to gaze at the floor. "Charlie and Amita helped him paint just last weekend...."
"Is he coming over?" Don asked gently.
Alan's head shot back up. "What?"
"To see Charlie," Don prompted further.
Alan exhaled again, somewhat shakily. "Oh. Oh. Yes, yes, he's on the way. I told him that would be all right."
Don smiled tenderly at his father, worried that the older man was on the verge of belated shock himself. "Of course it is," he assured the older man. "You should probably sit down, Dad. Go on out to the living room, and I'll bring you some coffee."
Alan smiled weakly, and allowed David to guide him by the elbow. "Whiskey," he suggested instead. "And make it a double."
…………………………………………………………….............................
End, Chapter 3