And here we are Chapter 7 Middle of Nowhere
Once again much thanks to those enjoying, tolerating and enduring the story up to this point!
Those who read & review are especially cherished.
*I apologize for any dropped names, it is a mystery to me, I edit, but upon publishing *poof* its like magic! Evil dark magic.
I claim no ownership of Bones or its characters.
"I'm going to let you go home, to that cute little boy of yours for three reasons. One, I understand how hard it is for a parent to be without their child. Secondly, letting you live, really helps me build trust with my boy, he's willing to do anything to save you and keep lil Micheal Vincent safe. Most importantly, you will keep the feds away for the next three days, I expect you to keep our run in today a secret, and if anyone asks where Lance has gotten to, you tell'em how he left to assist Agent Hawkins up from the Dallas office. Should you decide to be a hero, that sweet lil' boy of yours will pay the price. Do we understand each other?" , Hawkins shoved Angela into the dirty, defunct phone booth then placed her cell phone into her ziptie bound hands. He ripped off the swath of blue cloth that had blindfolded the artist. Wide-eyed full of fear and anger, Angela was shaking so hard the phone slipped. Hawkins picked up the device, put it back in her trembling hands and clasped his hands around hers. Leaning so close they were nearly touching noses, his hazel eyes boring into her own coffee brown eyes.
"Now you stay right here, in an hour you will have a signal and can call your husband to pick you up. Remember, you tell them anything about me or Lance before seventy-two hours are up and your son, well, he's not my type but I know know a couple of ex-prison buddies who would love to spend some quality time with him.", Hawkins threatened smiling maniacally. He slammed the rickety booth door shut, and was gone. Angela remained huddled on the dirty floor of the booth clutching the phone. She told herself to calm down, she needed to stop all this useless crying. Pull herself together and get the hell home. Straightening herself up, she took stock of her surroundings. The phone booth was dusty, its plexiglass walls yellowed, cracked and cloudy from dirt and neglect. The phone itself had long ago been removed, leaving only the mount and the empty phonebook chain hanging. Her wrists were bloody and raw from struggling against the sharpedged zipties over the last several hours. A film of blood and sweat covered the phone smearing the screen. She stared at the device willing the no service icon to disappear to no avail. The cubicles cramped confines made standing up difficult, especially without the aid of her hands, but eventually she managed to get upright on her knees then her barefeet. With much more effort she pushed the booth door open. Looking around Angela found herself standing in front of an abandoned gas station. Greying ,graffitied plywood covered the windows of the small white block store, a rusty padlock held the door closed. The Last Stop Gas & Sip. Angela could just make out the words emblazoned on the wall in peeling and chipping red letters. Beneath a failing aluminum shelter was the weedy remains of the concrete island. The gas pumps were gone. Angela knew from the woods that surrounded the building and stretched beyond her view in both directions and both sides of the simple two lane road she was alone in the middle of nowhere. Looking up she noticed the sky was growing dim, she checked the phone it was nearly five thirty pm. She had been gone for nearly seven hours surely Jack was wondering were she was by now. She checked the phone once more, still no service. How was he able to do that, just block her phone? God how she hated this guy! Aaargh! she screamed out her frustrations. The endless trees and lonely asphalt did not respond. Angela sat down on the edge of the concrete base that supported a rusty light pole. She pulled her knees in close, wrapping her long arms around, then rested her head against them allowing herself to sob quietly, as she waited for a signal.
Dr. Jack Hodgens had been very busy. The dump site of the "goth kid" had been covered in insect activity, fibers and other samplable materials. It would take days to sift through everything. He hoped Angie would forgive him for abandoning her, at the Hoover, to hitch a ride with Sweets to the diner. He had been so immersed in his bugs and dirt, he hadn't even called to see how her day had been. When he didn't see her back at the lab he assumed she had gone to unwind, wandering one of the art museums, a habit she had began since the Forrester case. He thought about how this latest body discovery might affect her as well. Another kid, thirteen maybe fourteen, found in the private shower of a maintenance room in a high school in northern Virginia slated for demolition next month, it was some tresspassing teenagers that had discovered the body. The delapidated old school was in a terrible state of decay. Vandals had busted windows which allowed vermin of all sorts the run of the place. The janitors office had been in the basement of the building, busted pipes allowed the basements cinderblock walls to shift, allowing a slurry of gravel and mud to cover tile of the shower stall. The body had been placed there after the damage. The site had to have some sort of significance to the killer or victim, it wasn't easy to get to. Hodgens decided to let Booth and Sweets figure that sort of thing out, he had enough work ahead of him. With each sample he hoped something would standout. Maybe the ghastly black and white face paint was special. He would get going on the chemical analysis first thing. Then there were the ashes. Ashes had been found on the remains of Brian Forrester, nothing too unique, from a cigarello, brand Black&Mild. That wouldn't id anyone, it was the most common type smoked, but, it could link the murders. He knew the murders shouldnt be linked. Child killers, pedophiles tended to stick to an age group. The age gap here was wide. But there were other factors. The dumpsites, the staged scenes and most of all the victims physical attributes. Despite the black dye job he saw the brown eye brows and knew the boy had brown hair with natural curls that had grown to his shoulders in wavy locks. Brown too were his eyes. Brian Forrester if he had lived nine more years and taken up the goth look. Dr Sayroyan and Dr. Brennen had not said much about the pretty obvious connection. They probably just wanted to finish their examinations before drawing any conclusions. Come to think of it both of his collegues had been rather reserved since the Forrester case began. Everyone acted different when the victim was a child. For the next three hours, he tested and identified and catalogued findings, when Hodgens finally picked up his phone to see what his wife was up to it was nearly five twenty pm. Oh man, he had lost track of time. They would need to get Micheal Vincent from daycare soon. He pulled his beautiful wifes image on his cell, then tapped the call icon. Instead of his ladys soothing voice he heard a computer generated voicemail prompt. That's different. He tried texting, but received no reply. Okay now he was getting worried. He rushed to Cams autopsy room.
"Hey Cam. Have you seen or heard from my wife? I've been busy with the new case.. I tried calling and texting but haven't gotten a response. Do you know where she went? Last time I saw her was at the Hoover. She was going to get a lift with Dr. Sweets." , looked up from the body on her table.
"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen or heard from Angela all day, but then I have been pretty busy as well. You know since this whole Brian Forrester case she's been a little distant from her work. She's probably just off painting at that waterfall she likes, you know how iffy service is in that park."Cam said reassuringly.
"Yeah, that's most likely it. Thanks ." Jack Hodgens went back to his bug room. He was about to resume his work when his phone began singing loudly.
"Angela... wait calm down, slow down... where are you? What do you mean your not sure.. okay please calm down.. are you hurt? Oh thank God!" Jacks calm quickly devolved as the panic in his wifes voice flowed thru the phone into him.
Angela had stared at the screen so long she began to wonder if it would really ever have a signal or if it would turn out to be some cruel trick. She was exhausted and scared. Scared for Sweets. Scared for her son. And scared for herself. The fear was exhausting. She had almost dozed off when the phone vibrated with life, the screen lit up with missed calls, text alerts and other nonsense alerts. Jack had been looking for her. She tapped call. Relief poured over her when her husband yelled her name so excitedly it hurt. The words came spilling out awash in panic and fear.
"Oh Jack...Jack you've got to come get me. I'm not sure where I'm am! BFE is my best guess! Look I'm at someplace ... called, uh, Last Stop Gas & Sip, I was ...um... oh damn what do I say? ...dumped here by some teenage hoodlums..they mugged me then kidknapped me.. no I'm fine, I' m not hurt Jack! JUST COME GET ME NOW!.. I'll explain everything ...just hurry!" Angela yelled at Jack. She just wanted to get back to her son. She needed to feel him safe in her arms. Then she would see to it that Sweets would get home safe too.
By the time Jacks red mini cooper sped into view the sun was gone. Only the weak glow of the old exterior light lit the area. Jack jumped from the car and ran to embrace Angela. He kissed her, ran his hands down her form checking for any injuries. He gasped at the sight of her bloodied wrists, whipping out his Swiss army pocketknife he cut her loose, then inspected the cuts left behind. Finally satisfied Angela was ok, he wrapped her shaking body in a strong safe hug. Showering her troubled soul with "Its okays" and "I love yous", the frightened women in his arms, eventually, began to calm down. Angela wiped her eyes as she pulled back from the sheltering embrace, " I love you too. Lets just get home." Jack opened the door and helped his love into the car. As she flopped into the seat and pulled the flowing skirt of her dress he noticed, with renewed concern, blotchy stains spotting the pale yellow material. He jumped behind the wheel and raced down the dark, winding, country road.
After a few moments of relative silence, save for the occasional sniffs from his better half, Jack Hodgens inquistive side was dying for the details , mainly, so his protective side could hunt down the punks and beat the hell out of them. He couldn't stay his tongue any longer. " Angela...Honey... you need to tell me what happened. When we get back...after we have a doctor check you out...we will need to report this to..."
"No! No Jack! I told you I wasn't hurt.. just shaken up..I want to go home, no doctor, no police. Just take me home to my son." Her voice had that stubborn finality about it, Jack knew too well, so for now at least, he would do as she asked. " Please Jack, just trust me okay? I just need to get home." Hodgens glanced at his wife, her face obscured by a veil of large dark curls, she was staring at her lap, her fingers tracing the outline of a dusky rose. Then a shocking thought occurred to him, there were no red roses on her pale yellow dress with the off white roses, not a one. What the hell had happened? The next half hour passed by in apprehensive silence. When they finally arrived at their street the silence was shattered by strains of "The Coconut Song" filling the cars interior. Angela stared in horror at the onboard screen.
"Hey, its Sweets, good.. I've got a bone to pick with him." He put the call on speaker.
"Umm ..Uh hello? Hodgens?", Sweets voice filled the car. It was tremelus and weak.
"Yeah hey Sweets!...What the hell!...leaving Angela to walk to the diner alone...she was mugged and kidknapped by some thugs, left in the middle of nowhere!...
"What?... Oh,uh I'm so sorry..Angela? Are you okay?...I ..I didn't know I..uh.." the young mans voice was faltering fast with so much guilt Hodgens almost regretted being so harsh. "Angela are you alright? *cough* cough*."asked the disembodied voice again.
Hodgens watched his wife carefully, he could barely see her in the cars dim interior but saw the shift in her posture and the glint of tears streaming down her cheeks. He also noticed the change in tone.
"Lance! Hey Sweetie, yes, yes! I'm completely fine. Don't worry about me..okay? I'll be just fine. What about you? Are you ..okay?" Hodgens felt like he was listening to her talk to Micheal Vincent. Several seconds passed in silence. "Sweets! Sweetie are you still there?"Angela was suddenly very panicked.
"Angela ..I'm still here...I'm fine. I ..I'm still with Agent Hawkins...we will be out of cell service soon. Just needed to hear you say you remember that ...deal...we had? You won't forget it...right? Its very important to me."
"What deal? Ange? " a confused Hodgens interrupted,"Look Sweets now is not the time for this.. Angela was attacked..." Angelas sudden tight grip on his shoulder and wide-eyed silent reprimand stopped his beginning rant cold.
"Lance ... I remember." The break in her voice only served to increase Jacks worry. He began to vocalize it to Angela when Sweets tired voice broke in.
"Hey guys I...I need to go...I am so sorry...for everything." Silence.
Angela and Hodgens stared at the screen. Angelas tenuous calm erroded into uncontrollable sobbing. A confused Jack Hodgens pulled into the driveway. Home at last.
"Angie Honey, we're here. Without a second look back at her husband Angela vacated the car and rushed into their home. She found her son playing with his toy blocks on the living room floor. Jack watched as she scooped the child up into her arms. His promise fulfilled, Jack left his wife and child together in the room to see the sitter out. When he returned, Angela and Michael had moved to the large rocker recliner and she was quietly reading to him. Jack made his way to his study, he had a few calls to make.
"I'm telling you, Booth she won't tell me anything..no she says she is fine. I'm hoping she will let Cam check her out. Hey, did you hear anything from Sweets. He called just as we got home, said he was with another agent. Hawkins? Yeah, that's what he said, but man you should've heard those two, it was like ..I don't know... they are hiding some big secret. Alright. I'll see if I can get her to talk to me. Thanks." Jack hung up the phone. Time to focus on his wife.
Booth hung up with Hodgens. Angela needed to make a statement but he knew how stubborn she could be. The time she went to jail rather than testify against Bones dad proved the depth of her resolve. Maybe Bones could speak to her, get her to come around. Then he thought about the day they had. Another boy dead, another kid that looked like his wayward profiler. Who the hell was Hawkins? He decided first thing in the morning he would find out. No one takes off with one of his team without his say so. He had left Sweets out of the most recent case because of his connection to the Forrester case. His interviews at the prison had not revealed any obvious leads to their killer. Just more insight into what a piece of work Andrews was. The idea that Sweets had to live with a monster like that, kids put through that sort of thing usually turn out crazy or criminals...the thought led Booth to cringe. The thought that on the surface of it, Sweets should be a viable suspect. He knows the injuries, was literally under the radar during the time of death and is able to get into the mindset of a killer. But Booth hadn't really allowed that thought to make it to the surface. He knew Sweets wasn't a killer. He definately knew he could never inflict the sorts of injuries these boys suffered...he suffered. So no matter what seemed logical. Sweets was not a killer. Booth knew it but hoped this Agent Hawkins checked out ,otherwise it would look like Sweets had run off. What was he thinking, leaving now?
"Who was that on the phone?", Bones strolled into their bedroom, dressed for bed. " I thought I heard Angela mentioned ,is everything alright? She climbed in beside Booth, resting her head on his shoulder. After Booth related Angelas recent misadventures, Bones was very distressed to think about how close she had come to losing her best friend, she knew she would not be able to sleep until she heard Angela tell her she was ok herself, as illogical as that may be. Her first impulse was to call Angela, its what she would do for her, but she knew it was late, her friend, exhuasted, would likely already be asleep. Brennens brain won the tug of war, she snuggled up against a snoozing Booth to face a restless sleep, she would check on Ange first thing in the morning.
Jack gingerly pryed his son from Angelas sleeping embrace. The copy of "The Kissing Hand" had slipped from her grasp onto the floor several minutes ago. The dozing child barely stirred as his father placed him into bed and gave his forehead a tender goodnight kiss. Jack returned to his wife still asleep in the chair. He knew he needed to wake her. He knew she should go the police. She should let a doctor check her out. Jack knew all that, but, Jack knew his wife too. Until she was ready..she would do niether. He took a moment to look, really look, at Angela in bright light provided by the chairside lamp. His heartached when he saw the darkening brusies on her neck and jaw, the red, raw scratches around her wrists and the ruddy brown splotches of blood staining the yellow dress. Too much blood he thought, to have come from her wrists. She insisted she wasn't hurt, that she was fine. Jack hoped that was true, that the blood was one of her abducters. She was a fiesty woman, maybe she got a good shot in. God he hoped that was the case. The alternatives were too horrible to contemplate. Just as he was about to wake her, Angela began mumbling as she shook her head."No...no..leave him alone! Stop!.. No you can't have him... no oh god no ...Michael! not my baby..Michael!", the quiet mumbling had given away to full on screams. Angela awoke terrified when she realised her son was gone. "Michael!" Hodgens took Angela into his arms trying to calm her down.
"Its okay, Angela its okay! Michael Vincents safely tucked in his bed asleep. Alright? I promise he is safe." Jacks calm, soothing voice brought some comfort to his wife. Angela swiped a few tears from her cheek and took a couple of deep breaths.
"In his bed? Safe?... of course he is.", Angela was shaking off the last remnants of the nightmare she had just left. "I'll just go check on him..." as she attempted to rise from the recliner Jack placed his hands on her shoulders forcing her to remain seated.
"Jack what are you doing?", Angela tilted her head and gave her husband an aggravated scowl.
"Look Angela, I know you don't want to talk about it, but Darlin you have to let me in. Michael is safe. You know that. Now please... just tell me everything...I need to know you are truly okay.", Jacks azure eyes pleaded with her.
Angelas scowl softened into pitiful despair. In defeat she sat back into the comfy chair. Jack knelt down in front of her taking her hands into his.
"Alright ...I'll tell you now.", Angela began her story. " First, don't blame Sweets for anything...he didn't leave me I decided to walk to the diner myself. It was such a beautiful day. I was walking down the street...when.. uh ...when suddenly a shirt or something was covering my face...I heard a car..three voices...young...like teenagers...they bound my hands...it was terrible Jack I thought they were going to rape or kill me but they didn't ...nothing... they threatend me...but I think they were just messing around... getting their jollies by scaring the shit out someone...oh and my purse they took that. That was that. Next thing I know I was dumped off at the Last Stop Gas & Sip. I promise you I am completely fine save a few brusies..okay?" Her coffee colored eyes bore through him. He could tell she meant it when she said she was fine ...physically... but she was holding back.
"What about this?" Jack held up a stained bit of her dress." Whose blood is this?"
"Oh...that..that is from one of the guys...I was thrashing about and headbutted one of them...must've broken a nose or busted a lip. You know how feisty I can be. There you have it Babe, the whole story. I was so afraid I would never see you or Michael again.", Angela leaned forward wrapping her husband into a crushing embrace accompanied by a long deep kiss. Pulling back she released the hug and took his face into her hands. Again they kissed as each mummered "I love you". Jack stole one more soft kiss then moved to stand. He pulled Angela up from the chair.
"I am satisfied your alright. You go enjoy a hot shower or bath...get comfortable. If you want, Michael can sleep with us tonight, you will have us both with you safe and sound. Does that sound good?"
"That sounds wonderful, thank you. You are such a wonderful man.", She kissed his cheek as she passed by heading to the masterbath.
Angela examined herself in the large mirror. The marks left by Hawkins deathgrip on her throat were turning an ever darker shade of blue-grey. The cuts on her wrists had began scabbing over and were tender to the slightest touch. In the brightly lit room the bloodstained dress arrested her attention. Her friends blood. Seeing the streaks and blotches she understood why Jack was so concerned. It was too much blood. Her mind dragged her back to that room the cries of pain, the sound of the a makeshift whip connecting with flesh, feeling blood warm and sticky soak into the thin material and how it smeared on her hands. She looked at her hands. Shocked by the dried rusty red blood still visible in the crevices of her nails and lines of her hands. She rushed to the marble basin, and began washing them, lathering then rinsing ,then repeating. Tears flowing down her face. Hands clean, she discarded the dress onto the floor then stepped into the shower. She had hoped the intense spray of steaming hot water would allow her a moments respite from the image of a bloody and broken Sweets begging for him to stop. But alone in the confines of the shower the memory overwhelmed her. Her whole body shook as falling tears mixed with falling water. The feeling of despair intensefied, she leaned her weakening body against the cool wet tile, sliding down until she was sitting hugging her knees crying as the showers spray pelted her skin. She never even noticed Jack slipping inside the room to retreive the dress. No, Angela was not there she was far away in that dingey basement room, helpless and scared but not alone...like he was now. She was home safe with her family, no worse for wear, because Lance had begged their captor to spare her. The young man had submitted himself to torture willingly to keep her safe. He had bargained for there lives. Her life and the life of her son. The madman had kept his promise, he let her go, but threatened her son if she told the truth too soon. Seventy-two hours! How much more pain would he inflict in that time? What if he killed him? What if he loses control again? She thought about just calling Booth..tell him everything... locate the house..let Booth and the might of the FBI come to the rescue. But Hawkins threats against Michael and Sweets lives paralyzed any move to action...yet. Thinking about how she could best help Sweets, Angela forced herself to regain her composure, finish cleaning up, get dressed for bed. She would need to get some rest, she had an Queen Anne victorian to locate in the morning. She climbed into the kingsized bed between her husband and son. She cuddled her babe, as Jack stirred then wrapped his arm around her. Safely ensconced in loves embrace the womans exhausted body crashed into sleep.
