The Best Laid Plans of Agents and Anthropologists
By LizD
Chapter 4
A/N: Looks like our contingent has formed. Just a couple of hundred readers waiting to find out what happens next. Just for this little band of Bones-Brothers-&-Sisters - the first shipper reward ...
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"Where is Dr. Brennan?" Cam asked.
"Booth took her home so she could get some sleep," Angela said. "He had to practically handcuff her and carry her out."
"She is feeling responsible," Sweets said without paying much attention.
"Thanks for the insight," Hodgins quipped.
Sweets, Cam, Hodgins and Angela were all reading sections of the book for clues, inconsistencies anything that might help them know what her next move was going to be. Angela had scanned it and printed copies for each of them. She was also running a program on it cataloguing the events and places in the book.
"This is bad," Sweets said.
"It could certainly use a spell check," Angela commented.
"And a grammar check ... wasn't she supposed to be a lawyer?"
"U.S. Attorney."
"No, guys, you're missing my point. This is BAD. I mean really bad … like mega bad … like … you know … "
"Bad?" Cam offered.
"We are not critiquing the book, Sweets," Hodgins said flipping the page.
"Neither am I," Sweets defended. "This chick is cracker-poo."
"Is that official shrink-speak?"
"She is sick and twisted," Angela stated. "But we knew that."
"Yeah … well … I've been on the other end of that sick and twisted brain, and let me tell you it's worse than she knows." Angela reached out to take her husband's hand. Hodgins accepted it and slammed the book shut. "She has absolutely no idea what it is like. I say we bury her alive so she can do some real research for the sequel." He got up and left the room.
"This is hitting him pretty hard … all of us I guess." She got up and followed after him.
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Hodgins was pacing in the lounge. Angela stood back and let him pace. She knew him well enough to know that he needed to be moving.
"How did this happen, Ange?" he asked not expecting an answer. "I mean really, how did this happen?" It was still rhetorical. "And what are we supposed to do? We have nothing. She left nothing in the car or on victim. I mean I can tell you everywhere that car has been for the past three years. Cam can tell you how he died. I can tell you that he worked in a prison and lived in Maryland. I can tell you a ton of other things about him … but there was nothing that pointed to Taffet." Angela moved closer to him but still didn't try to touch him. "That book … as sick and twisted as it is … will not give us anything."
"Not so sure about that, babe. It was a clear taunt."
"Maybe … maybe not. Maybe it is just another blind alley. Just a way to get us to waste our time while she waits to pick us off one by one."
"Need to give it a little bit more time, honey. I am running an analysis on it right now … if there is some form of logic in there or something … we will find it."
"I am not good at stuff like that … give me a bug, give me some slime, give me a particulates to identity ... Hell give me a major government conspiracy, then I am your man."
"You are my man," she said with a beautiful smile. With that he took her into his arms and held on tightly. "We will find her, sweetie. She won't beat us."
"Yeah," he said but didn't mean it.
"Did you find out where the book was printed?"
"It wasn't at prison print shop." He said dismissing her idea. "But the publish date was after she went into prison."
"So where did she get it published? Someone must have printed it for her."
"So?"
"So that someone will have more information." She leaned in to hug him.
He pulled her close than turned her such that he could rest his hand on her abdomen. "You shouldn't be dealing with this. Not in your condition."
"It is not a condition ... I am pregnant. We are pregnant, Jack. I am fine. I won't let anything happen to this baby."
He kissed her. "This was supposed to be the happiest time of our lives."
"And it will be ... this is just a little bump in the road. Nothing, not even psycho Taffet is going to ruin this for us, OK?"
"I love you, Mrs. Hodgins."
"And it is a good thing that I love you or I wouldn't let you call me that." She smiled brightly and kissed him.
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"This is a memoir," Sweets announced. "I knew that woman had an ego but this is pretty telling. I knew she couldn't NOT let the world know how brilliant she was."
"Brilliant?"
"In a totally psychotic, sociopathic, cracker-poo kind of way."
"But each of her scenarios is off from reality," Cam pointed out. "The locations are different. The victims are different. The only thing that is the same is the container that she buried her victims in."
"Did you read the chapter with the beer vat? Did you notice that her victim was a young woman, not two young men."
"What is your point, Sweets?"
"That this wasn't written in prison. This wasn't written over the past several months. She wrote this before each event. Like she was planning it."
"And what? You are upset because she didn't rewrite it to make it more realistic?"
"No, but the one with the two scientists in the car .. that was letter perfect, up to the point that they got away."
"I don't know what you are driving at, Sweets."
"I don't either, but I think it is important." Sweets went on, "There is also the point of view that is strange."
"Strange how?"
"The book is written in two blended points of view ... First Person and Third Person Omniscient. That is rare."
"I am sure her editor would have fixed that for her."
"You are missing my point. It tells us something about Taffet. It tells us that when she is planning and acting on these abductions she is in control and proud of her work, but once the people go in the ground she is no longer in control. Hence the reason for the one and only phone call for ransom. She is not taking responsibility for the outcome. She sets the stage and lets the rest of the players finish the story. As if she is not invested."
"Except for the money."
"Do you also notice that she does not kill her victims ... in the book no one dies. Each of the victims is freed. The ransom is paid and they are discovered and saved."
"I suppose you are right," Cam said. "I didn't notice. What I notice is that Booth's abduction is not in here, and the last one we have never heard about.
"The young woman who was locked in a jail cell of an abandon jail house?"
"Yeah ... that one." Cam flipped to that section of the book. "Page 327 ... she sure is long winded. Anyway, the poor girl will not die of suffocation or by being blown up. She will die of starvation. And there was no phone call demanding ransom."
"There is something else that is strange. Do you find the name Petunia Waxman important?"
"Are any of the names important?" Cam asked.
"Very telling. The scientists in the car in the quarry ... Joy Brandon and John Hopkins."
"So what are you thinking about this last character?"
"Petunia Waxman," Sweets repeated. A look of panic flooded his face. "DAISY!"
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Brennan dragged herself out of bed; she had to get back to work. She didn't remember coming home, yet there she was. Fully dressed with just a blanket thrown over her. The last thing she remembered was Booth ordering her home for sleep and escorting her out of the lab. It was odd being home - familiar and safe, but odd. Apparently the accountant had continued to pay for the housekeeper to come once a week as there was no dust anywhere. It was like she never left. She needed a hot shower, some caffeine and maybe something that wasn't take out - something fresh like fruit. She stumbled to the bathroom and waited for the water to heat up. She studied herself in the mirror. She hadn't paid much attention to her appearance on the island. Her hair was usually pulled back in a messy pony tail, she almost never wore make up, and her clothes were not so much fashionable as functional. Looking back at her at that moment was a fresh healthy complexion with maybe a bit too much sun. Her hair was definitely sun bleached but still a deep chestnut brown with some lovely sun glow highlights. She had lost some weight that was evident in her face. The thing that struck her the most was the trepidation in her eyes. It wasn't full on fear, but an uneasiness. What struck her is that look, that trepidation had never left her. It might have been masked, it might have been hidden, it might have been temporarily forgotten - but it had always been there. It had been there all her life even before her parents left, before she became an anthropologist, before she met Booth. Her whole life had been about facing her fears and moving beyond them - not facing them down and overcoming them, just moving past them. It wasn't Taffet who put it there. It wasn't anyone - no one other than Temperance Brennan herself. She smiled at herself. If she put it there, she could damn sure take it away.
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Booth heard the shower go on. He roused and stretched and brought himself to standing. He checked his watch. It said 6:18 - but that could have been AM or PM. He hadn't slept much either in the past several days (actually months) and while the couch in Bones' apartment wasn't his first choice, he didn't want to leave her. Sorenson was outside (or maybe it was O'Casey now). Either way she was protected, but he didn't want to leave her alone. He dragged her out of the lab and she fell asleep in the car. He helped her up to the apartment; she sleepily protested all the way. He watched for a moment after he laid her down and covered her with a blanket. He was still completely in love with her. He couldn't help it. He didn't even want to try. He wanted their partnership back. If that was all she had to offer, all she would take from him, then that would be enough. He noticed the bag that Sully had brought back sitting by her closet and wondered if he could still be her partner if she were with someone else. He wondered if she would still want to be his partner if she were with someone else. On his way to the living room he was giving some hope. The other bag that Sully had brought with him was on the bed in the guest room. Maybe Sully was right, maybe Booth shouldn't jump to conclusions.
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Booth had made some coffee and was already on his second cup by time Brennan came into the kitchen. If she was surprised to see him there she didn't show it. In fact it felt normal for him to be there. Silently he offered her a cup which she took gratefully.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"The shower was good ... how did I get here?"
"I took you home ... Sorenson is outside so if you want me to leave ..."
"Why would I want you to leave?" she asked. She noticed that he had slept on the couch. "Booth, there is a second bedroom."
"The couch was fine; I have slept in worse places ... recently in fact," he smiled. "You already have a house guest."
She looked confused. "Sully? Is he here?" Booth shook his head. Elephant in the room alert! "I'm hungry," she said by way of changing the subject. "Don't suppose we could go down to the diner and grab a quick dinner before we get back to it - or is it breakfast time?"
He smiled thinking that it would be so nice just to pretend that the last eight months never happened; that this Taffet thing was just another case. "Probably not a good idea ... too many windows."
"Do you think she just wants to kill us?" Brennan asked.
"Not quickly, that's for sure, but I am sure she has something in mind. Something befitting what she thinks we did to her."
"We put her in jail."
"Yes we did ... and we will do it again," he assured her.
"I wonder if she will live long enough to see the inside of a jail cell again." Brennan's voice cracked. "I have never hated someone as much as I hate this woman. I don't like it."
Instinctively Booth pulled her into an embrace which she welcomed. It was meant to be comforting but almost immediately it became something else. It was about eight months of separation. About releasing the fear that one or the other of them would not make it back from their sojourn. It was about reestablishing a physical connection after so many days and nights of holding on to only a memory and a wish. She turned her face toward his, searched his eyes and brought her lips to his - tentatively at first, unsure of her actions. Booth response took away all her uncertainty. He had imagined such a kiss, such a connection, but to have it realized and initiated by her had been too much to really hope for. Breathlessly they folded back into an embrace. She was holding him so tightly he dared not move or pull away. He returned it.
"I am so glad you are alright," she sighed. "I worried about you."
"I was pretty worried about you too."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He pulled back to look at her and had to tilt her face up to see her eyes. "Sorry?" Booth tensed.
"Sorry you had to waste time looking for me – worried about me." She had other things to be sorry about, the kiss not being one of them.
Booth released the breath he was holding. "Why did you go there, Bones? Why did you go ... and not tell ... anyone?" He left the part out about Sully but it was more than implied.
"I didn't mean to ... I mean I didn't purposely NOT tell anyone. Well I didn't tell anyone, but it wasn't a decision ... I was not hiding Booth."
"Ok ... but -."
"It made sense at the time ... it still makes sense now," she said stepping out of his arms. She looked back at him suddenly aware that he was thinking something completely different. "I would have been back. I would have been here when the year ended. I just needed to get out of my head for a while ... out of my life." She pushed a hand through her damp hair. "You were gone. Angela was gone. I didn't have a job. I didn't have a purpose. I was given a time out ... a twelve month reprieve from my life. So I did something I would never normally do - I walked away. I needed to find another way to live."
"What happened in Maluku?" he asked thinking that she should start at the beginning.
"I am not supposed to talk about it," she said moving away to the dining room table.
"I'm your partner, Bones ... you can tell me anything. I won't break your confidence."
"Are we?" she asked. "Are we still partners?"
"Yes, absolutely."
There was too much evidence that pointed to the fact that they weren't partners at the moment but she chose not to bring that up. "The find in Maluku was a hoax," she stated. "I knew it immediately. I suspect the organizers of the expedition knew that too. It was probably why they didn't originally contact me about heading up the expedition."
"You do have a reputation for finding truth over anything else," he said proudly. "And not caring whose toes you step on to do it."
"They didn't want my truth. They let me out of the contract provided I not speak about it to anyone – they even paid me out. I gave the money to a charity in Indonesia for children. They had two other anthropologists there ready to lie; they didn't need me. So if I said anything. If I reported my findings, even cursory findings, it would have been a debate between me and them. They were highly respected in our field as well - though they have lost my respect. I agreed and left. I was there for less than two weeks."
"Ten days," he corrected.
She was only mildly surprised that he knew that. "I came home and there was nothing for me here. And then I thought about Dr. Wyatt and his saying that I was not able to lead a purposeless life. At that moment I had no purpose. I made a decision. I chose to leave; to take a vacation. To clear my head." She looked back at him. "I would have been back." He just nodded pretending like he understood her reason. "I know what I want now," she said earnestly searching his eyes. "But ... but I am too late."
The way she was looking at him gave him hope, but Bones was so literal. He needed to be sure. "Too late?"
"Yes -." She was about to explain but the door opened unexpectedly.
Booth was out of his chair in an instant gun drawn with a bead on the heart of the intruder.
"HEY!" Sully said with his hands in the air. "Friendly."
Maggie Walker walked in behind him. "Stand down Sergeant Major," she ordered. "We have a situation. We are unable to locate Daisy Wick."
Brennan turned to exit toward the bedroom. "Bones?" Booth called after her.
"I need to get dressed." The tone of her voice was hard and cold.
Booth turned back to Maggie and Sully. "So? Where was she last?"
"She returned home from Maluku before Thanksgiving and had taken a job at the Natural History Museum in New York. She didn't come to work yesterday."
"And why wasn't she under surveillance?" Booth barked.
"There was no reason to think that Taffet would have targeted her," Walked stated. "There was no information on her in Taffet's file."
"There was in the book," Sully offered.
"The book?"
"The last chapter described a young curator at a museum being abducted and taken to an abandon jail. As far as I know there was never such a case of Taffet's. And if we read the book as if it is chronological, it was the last one."
"Why was there was no ransom demand?" Walker asked.
"This isn't about the money anymore ... this is about getting to me and Bones." Booth ran a hand through his hair.
"Booth, if you start getting personally invested in this case ... if you lose your objectivity ... I am taking you off it? Understand? I won't hesitate."
"Of course I am personally invested," he shouted at her. "These are my people ... my friends ... you bet your ass I am personally invested."
"Objectivity, Booth," she shot back at him.
"Don't even try to bench me on this Margaret," he warned.
"Then stay focused."
Brennan had returned and witnessed the fight. She had seen Booth angry before but that was a very interesting interaction particularly because it was Walker's personal connection to Booth that got her to ask for the case. She stepped up to Sully and handed him a cell phone.
"What is this?" Sully asked.
"I found it in the bag you packed, assumed it was yours."
"Nope ... not mine." He thought for a moment. "It was in the bag?"
"Yes."
"I didn't pack a cell phone."
Booth came over and took the phone from Sully. "This is not your phone?" he asked Brennan. She shook her head. He looked at Sully who also shook his head. "And you didn't pack it from the island?" Again Sully shook his head. "How long ago did you bring the bags here?"
"Must have been yesterday between ... 3:00 and 5:00. When did you get here?"
"19:30," he said still thinking in military time.
The phone was off. He turned it on and let it boot up. He looked at Maggie. "Long shot," she said.
"Would be just like her," Booth said back.
"You think Taffet put that phone in my bag?" Brennan asked.
"I am sure she did," Booth said. "My real issue is when ... when was she close enough?"
"Let's start with the security tapes from yesterday," Maggie walked away to make the call.
Booth looked down at the phone in his hand. There was one text message.
UR Daisy has been plucked.
How long can a daisy live without water?
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A/N: A little tension and a little Shipper Sugar. What they really need is to not be interrupted - ya think? Comments are encouraged.