Chapter 7
Sam Tunney's Residence, Saturday at 6:30 pm
The sirens in the distance gave Booth no comfort as he knew that they would not be there in time to save the woman he loved. If that shotgun was loaded with buckshot it would cut Brennan's soft flesh like a hot knife through butter, and her vital organs would follow suit.
"Don't do anything stupid Sam. This will not help you," Sheriff Longfeather tried to talk the deranged man down.
"I said GET OFF MY PROPERTY!!!" Tunney bellowed. It was then that the group got a shock.
"Dad what's going on?" A boy who could not have been much older than Parker came up behind his father. He looked pale and his brown hair was all tousled. Brennan noted that his eyes seemed sunken in and for someone his height, he certainly wasn't heavy enough to hold it properly.
"Go back to bed Bobby. You need your sleep," Tunney told the boy. This distraction was enough to have Booth grab his Glock 22 out of his shoulder holster and point it at the shotgun wielding man.
"Drop your weapon!" The FBI agent shouted. Tunney turned to face the three standing on his porch and caught a face full of nine millimeter handgun. Within seconds three more police cars arrived at the scene along with an ambulance.
"Drop it. Don't make me shoot you in front of your son," Booth kept his tone low. For a moment it looked as though Tunney wasn't going to listen but the sound of the police officers in his driveway cocking their weapons made him think twice. Slowly he put the loaded shotgun down and put his hands in the air. Sheriff Longfeather went up to the man and slowly pulled his hands down.
"We'll put the cuffs on in the car but you are under arrest for brandishing a loaded firearm in public and attempted assault," the local lawman whispered to him and read him his rights.
"Where are you taking my dad?" Bobby wanted to know.
"Down to the precinct, we have to ask him some questions," Booth tried to sugar coat the truth. Brennan gave him a look but supposed it was best not to upset the sick child. She watched Booth enter the home and crouch down to the boy's eye level.
"I think your dad wouldn't want you out of bed so we're going to get you a nice bed with a doctor to take a look at you. Where is your mom so we can call her?" He tried to comfort Bobby as he wrapped an arm, carefully around the child's shoulders.
"My mom died two years ago," the little boy said, looking down at the floor.
"I'm sorry. Is there someone else we could call?" The FBI agent wondered as he saw his partner waving the EMT's over.
"My dad's friend Mr. Croft but I don't know his number," Bobby told him as Booth scooped him up.
"Ok well we'll manage, now you go with these nice men and they'll give you a ride in the ambulance with the sirens and everything," the G-man gave the boy one of his charm smiles and Bobby smiled back. Brennan caught herself smiling as well the exchange between the FBI agent and EMT's took place. She still marveled at how her partner could make someone feel better and yet when he was interrogating then rip them to pieces. Once the sick little boy was inside the ambulance, Booth turned to her and said,
"This Mr. Croft may be Tunney's partner. I'll have the deputies look him up, why don't we head for the garage?"
"Sounds good. Let's hope he didn't dispose of the duct tape rolls," she agreed. The two headed over to the garage and opened the door. Since Tunney had been arrested and was a person of interest for different charges they could legally search his property. Finding a light switch on the wall, the partners flicked on the lights. Luckily the duct tape rolls remained where they spotted them earlier and quickly Brennan popped on her latex gloves. Booth moved over to the truck that was parked on one side of the building.
"Hey Bones, look at this," he called to the forensic anthropologist. She looked over and spotted what he was pointing at with his foot.
"Dun Rover AT(P)'s from your body language," Brennan said.
"The very same, however his truck has its towing kit," Booth informed her.
"Ok so where's his boat?" His partner wondered.
"Good question," he answered.
"These rolls need to be bagged and sent to the Jeffersonian. We also need a soil sample scraped from the tires to see if we can match it to the dirt from the tread mark casings we took at Lake McDonald Lodge," she told him.
"Right," the G-man gave a nod and that's when Sheriff Longfeather entered the garage.
"My men have him in custody and are taking him down to the station. Should I call the forensic team in here?" He asked.
"Yes, we have a few things for them to collect and a phone call for your deputies," Booth then went on to explain.
"Should we have this Mr. Croft go to Bobby? If he is Sam's partner then he might try to brainwash the poor boy," the Native American lawman wondered.
"It is my professional opinion that Bobby Tunney needs to be seen by a doctor and tended to under a careful medical eye. There is obviously something wrong with him and he was not receiving proper care," Brennan put in her opinion.
"Have this Mr. Croft meet Bobby down at the hospital and explain to him that Sam Tunney could be facing endangering the welfare of a child charges," her partner said.
"Very good, I'll have my men get on it," Longfeather nodded.
Kalispell Police Headquarters, Saturday at 8:30 pm
"Sam things aren't looking very good for you. You tried to shoot my partner and I don't appreciate men who try stunts like that," Booth stood above Tunney, who was handcuffed to the table.
"Where is my son?" The man asked.
"He's in the hospital getting the care he needs. You'll be facing more charges depending on what the doctors find," the FBI agent told him and then bent down closer so that only Sam could hear him.
"People like you make me sick,"
"I did what I thought was best for Bobby. We don't have medical insurance and I can't afford to pay doctor bills," Tunney defended himself as Booth moved across the room.
"What were you going to do? Wait until he died?" Brennan watched from behind the glass as her partner's tone grew.
"The last time we went to the doctors they let my wife die, I wasn't about to let them kill Bobby," Sam told him. Booth just gave him an incredulous look.
"Susan had Lupus. Her immune system was damaged and then one day she found a lump on her chest and the doctors said she had breast cancer. She died three months later. Bobby has Lupus too," Sam started to break down. The FBI agent shook his head and changed the subject.
"Care to explain the twelve different half used rolls of duct tape in your garage?"
"What about them?" Tunney asked as he wiped the tears from his face.
"Well it seems as though that's a lot of duct tape for someone to have and it seems the Kalispell police found a body that was covered in duct tape floating in Lake McDonald. Your tire treads also match those at the scene. So that begs the question, where is your boat?" Booth inquired.
"I want a lawyer," Sam said.
"All right well we'll have him meet you down at booking because as for now you're still under arrest," the FBI agent motioned for the deputies to take the man away and then walked out of the room to meet Bones.
"Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease and it has no cure. It's usually found in women but can be passed on genetically. It could explain why Bobby has it," Brennan told him.
"English please?" Booth asked.
"Lupus affects multiple organ systems and lowers the body's defense system. Often victims complain of muscle pain and bone pain which indicate possible more serious problems underneath. Susan Tunney contracting breast cancer while having a weak immune system would have been a death sentence. She could not have survived the radiation treatments and the best thing would have to try to make her comfortable. With recent medical advances, fatalities are increasingly rare, so Bobby could lead a relatively normal life," she spelled it out for him.
"But Tunney was afraid to let Bobby outside because they couldn't afford the medical insurance. That doesn't explain why he would join this mysterious Mr. Croft and kill Sara Dietrich. Getting arrested would mean leaving Bobby alone," her partner tried to sort things out.
"But Bill said that Dietrich was pushing that casino campaign," Brennan was a little confused.
"So maybe this Croft promised money or care for Bobby if Tunney helped him get rid of our victim. Sam saw an opportunity to help his son and possible keep his house and he jumped at it," Booth hypothesized. His partner stifled a yawn and nodded.
"Come on Bones, let's get some sleep and we can sort things out tomorrow," the G-man said. He put a hand on the small of her back and led her from the interrogation room.
Brennan's Hotel Room, Saturday at 10:30 pm
The forensic anthropologist stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth. It had been a long day and normally ten-thirty would be early for her to hit the sack but she was just very tired. A knock on her door caused Brennan to swish and spit before calling out,
"Coming." Wiping her mouth and setting her toothbrush down she headed over to the door of her room. However when she opened it she saw no one there. Shaking her head, Brennan moved back to the bathroom to brush her hair out.
"Bones open up," her partner's voice came through the wall.
"Where are you Booth?" She asked confused as to what her partner meant since she'd just tried the door.
"The door that adjoins our rooms," he told her. Seeing what he meant, Brennan opened the side entrance to her room.
"Well at least I don't have to sneak around out in the hallway," Booth gave her a smile. She gave a half-hearted smile back and wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her into his.
"I wanted to ask you earlier but I didn't get the chance. Are you ok?" He asked concern evident in his voice from the incident that had occurred earlier. Brennan pulled away and started to answer him.
"You'd think I'd be used to having someone threaten my life by now and yet I was still scared. I mean I've been kidnapped and told I was going to be eaten alive by dogs, accused of murder, buried in a car underground, had body parts mailed to me, booby-trapped corpses, been shot, and had a gun stuck in my face more times than I can count, and somehow I was still afraid. Afraid that I wouldn't feel your arms around me or hear you say how much you love me. Afraid that I would never see my father, Russ, Angela, Jack, Zack, or Cam ever again. I was afraid I'd end up like so many of the victims that I've processed in my career. I just…" at this point Booth, put a finger over her mouth to silence her.
"Temperance you have every right to be scared. Trust me no matter how many times your life is threatened you don't get used it," he told her.
"I see death day in and day out. I've become used to the smell, feel, and taste of it, so much so that I don't find it upsetting, so why on this different level, am I so illogical?" The forensic anthropologist wondered. Booth let out a sigh and pulled her over to the bed where he sat down and had her sit on his lap.
"You're not being illogical. Do you know how many times, despite all my training, I felt I could die when I was a Ranger? Every mission, I was scared. I didn't let it show but part of me wanted to scream and run away. However the other part of me reminded me I had a job to do and I needed to do it. It is the same for you. Never once have you backed down from a suspect, never once have you balked in the face of danger. My God you saved Hodgins' life by cutting into his leg and then blew the two of you out of that car and you shot Sam when I was lying on the floor bleeding. You have courage in spades so don't go thinking that being scared every once in a while is a bad thing," the FBI agent said. Brennan had a thoughtful look on her face as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Then Booth lay back on the bed and she snuggled herself next to him. The only thing that mattered tonight was that they could hold each other.
To Be Continued…
