"I don't suppose I left my UV laser in here?" Hodgins peeked into Angela's office.
"Is that really the best you can come up with?" Angela smiled inviting him in for a hug.
"Am I that transparent?" He asked rubbing the bump of her tummy.
"We missed you too." She kissed him.
"Is that him?" Hodgins questioned as they broke taking in the picture on her desk.
"Yeah." She replied with a hint of regret. "He's gorgeous."
"Is that right?" He replied slightly displeased. "That's not what I would have expected from ex-military gone thief."
"What?" Angela questioned. "No. Really? I would have put money on him being an artist; musician, more specifically. Probably the guitar. I bet he has a beautiful voice, too…"
"Okay, that's enough of that." Hodgins said grabbing the picture from her. "I'd really rather my wife and mother of my child not be ogling the dead guy."
"Did Brennan confirm…?"
"No." He responded. "It's still sitting at suspected dead guy, where I assume he's going to stay until the facial reconstruction can be done."
"Once Brennan can bring me enough of the skull to do it justice…"
"At this point I'm not certain anyone wants the truth to come out."
"Why would you say that? I mean, I know this is a personal favor from Brennan, but she's an expert on compartmentalizing this sort of thing. It won't be easy telling her friend…"
"It's not Brennan I'm worried about." Hodgins interrupted her.
"What does that mean?" Dr. Lance Sweets asked standing in the doorway. "Who are you worried about?"
"Excuse me; private conversation going on here." Hodgins indicated.
"I'm sorry, but Booth asked me to get the picture from Angela, if you're not currently using it, to do a psychological profile."
"I already scanned it into my computer, here." Angela handed the photo over. "And I'm curious to know who we're worried about."
"He was an old comrade of Booth's a while back; the whole brother in arms sort of thing."
"Booth knew him personally?" Sweets inquired.
"Yeah, and you know how he is about soldiers being the good guys. It has to kill him that his old buddy went from being one of US' proudest to a thief on Interpol's radar."
"Interpol is in this?" Angela asked.
"Booth just rushed out an agent not that long ago; I have to admit that guy did leave a slimy taste in my mouth, and coming from the bug and slime guy, that's really saying something; however, their reason for poking around may be legit. The bullet was home made and shot through an Israeli sniper rifle which indicates a professional job. If I can identify the anions and cations from the explosive residue I should be able to come up with a location where the bomb was made."
"Well then get to that." Cam passed by the in the hall.
"Sweets, Booth is waiting for you in Brennan's office. Hodgins…"
"I know; I'm going." He gave Angela a peck on the cheek.
"How's Daisy doing?" Sweets asked Cam knowing that the young intern had a way of driving the entire staff to their threshold, but it was that enthusiasm that he loved about the girl.
"Ms. Wick is behaving very professionally." Cam assured him. "Dr. Brennan has her cataloguing prior injuries and physical indicators."
"Have her check out the left wrist." Angela spoke up.
"Why?" Cam asked.
"To see if he's spent a lot of time in this position." She demonstrated the position of a bent wrist over the neck of a guitar. "Call it a hunch."
Sweets shrugged.
"Okay." Cam responded; it couldn't hurt.
XXXXX
Nate stepped through the glass doors into the sterile space of the forensic lab at the Jeffersonian Institute. In the center of the open space was a secured platformed lab where a young woman was closely examining the bones of their victim so eloquently laid out in the shape of a skeleton. It amazed him that all the pieces were there and fitted together after the damage that was done to the body in the explosion.
"Excuse me." Nate spoke up.
The startled intern dropped the rib she was studying as her gaze darted towards him. "Oh… it's okay, it didn't break, well not anymore than it already… please, don't tell Dr. Brennan."
"How about we just consider that my fault? Could you tell me where I could find Dr. Brennan?"
"Dr. Brennan is in Limbo."
"In Limbo?" Nate questioned.
"Yeah, but she requested to not be disturbed; she's putting together the skull, which is a very delicate procedure especially in this case where the blast sent the cranium into hundreds of pieces. I only wished that she trusted me enough to help; I love that sort of thing. Even as a kid I was doing the thousand piece jigsaw puzzle and now they have the 'impossible' kind…" she demonstrated the quotes. "I don't mean to toot my own horn…"
Nate stood pinching the bridge of his nose trying to tune the girl out.
"Ms. Wick." Cam scolded the girl. "I'm sorry about that. I'm Dr. Camille Saroyan, head of the Forensic Division here. Can I help you with something?"
"Nathan Ford." He reached his hand out to shake hers.
"You're Mr… oh my God, I am so sorry… so very…" Daisy apologized.
"Ms. Wick, please, you can make it up by just doing your job."
"I appreciate that." Nate whispered to the pathologist. "I guess that means Temperance has already told you…"
"Yes; she has, and if you just follow me I can take you to…"
"I don't want to interrupt if she's busy." Nate insisted trying to keep his gaze from the bones spread on the table above him. "I don't suppose you could tell me if there's been any progress in the identification?"
"I, um…" She started.
"There's no need to sugarcoat it."
"Okay; a DNA test revealed that the blood found at the scene belonged most likely to the owner of the residence, and that the damage of an impact wound located in the left scapula matches that of the size and make of the bullet that was brought in as evidence."
Nate closed his eyes talking himself into remembering how to breathe.
"Would you like me to get Dr. Brennan?" Cam asked him knowing that she was a friend.
"No; your Ms. Wick, here, was telling me that she was piecing together the skull for um… ah…"
"Facial reconstruction, yeah; Ms. Montenegro does a phenomenal job at putting a face to the deceased. It's been proven conclusive in hundreds of cases."
Nate nodded, not needing the validity of it. He trusted Brennan with that. No second opinion was needed. Once she signed off on the identification it was done. "Special Agent Booth asked me to bring a list of suspects."
"He's down that hall." She pointed. "Third on the right."
XXXXX
"Have you found anything?" Sophie asked Hardison who stared at his computer screen.
"Yeah, I found out our boy found the one place in town with no security cameras within a hundred and fifty yard radius of his house. I mean, damn, I knew that man was paranoid, but really? I didn't think Boston had the boondocks, but if someone was going to find a remote area…" Hardison continued annoyed.
"He liked his privacy." Sophie responded.
"Likes." Hardison corrected her. "'Scuse me if I'm not quite ready for the 'ed yet."
"None of us are." She stated quietly.
"Where did…. where did Parker go?"
Sophie shrugged. "Roof top? Out for a walk? I don't know. She couldn't get too far…. I don't suppose you still have a tracking devise on her?"
"You lost her?" Hardison questioned.
"It's Parker; turn around one second and she's… gone."
"She's gone? She… she… in Interpol territory?"
"Well, you have to give her credit. She is very good at not getting caught." Sophie defended the thief. "She probably just went to the Jeffersonian."
"Just?" He reacted. "Must I reiterate that Sterling most definitely has surveillance on that place?"
"Then hack into it, scrabble the signal, and let's find her. That's what you do, right?"
"That's what I… you still don't get what I do, do you?" The hacker shook his head. "I can hack into a video feed but I can't do anything about a parked agent with binoculars. I suppose I could hack into the GPS in her smart phone… give me a second…"
He pressed a few keys as Sophie looked over his shoulder for a blinking light. "There it is."
"That's here." Hardison replied and dialed the number which Sophie followed the ring into the adjoining room where the phone sat on the desktop.
"I'll call us a cab." Sophie dictated.
"I can't. I… I can't be there. Just watching those CSI shows on television makes me squeamish."
"Hardison, you play those games all the time where you're blowing things up and there's carnage everywhere…"
"That's different! It's not… it's a virtual reality, the blood it's not…"
"Real." She answered for him. He shook his head holding back tears. It wasn't real, and the graphics on the screen wasn't the remnants of his best friend. "Are you going to be okay if I leave you here alone?"
Hardison nodded. "I'll keep working on this; there has to be something."
"Can you call Nate and have him keep an eye out for her?"
"Sure, no problem."
