Another chapter because I love you all so very much… stupid Emily, not 1,200 reviews on yours, but hits! You idiot. *glares* Anyway, enjoy and I love you muchly (have I already said that? Too bad, I mean it) :)
'Booth you are dead meat. I swear to God as soon as we find her you're going to be fired!'
'I'm sorry!'
'Sorry isn't good enough for Brennan.'
'I know! But if I don't have my job and we never find her… what choice do I have? I need my job Cam. I need her, I can't live without either of them.'
'Booth, just… get to work.' Booth nodded at Cam and hurried away, loosening his tie with his fingers as he did so.
'Angela?'
'Booth? Why did you call me in now? I was with… never mind.' She added hurriedly as she caught sight of the thunderous look on her third favourite co-workers face. 'How may I help you?'
'I need an artist's impression using this information here.'
'That's not really enough…'
'DO IT.'
'Okay! Okay!' Angela grabbed her pad and a pencil and began sketching a range of faces, from black through to Caucasian. Booth paced impatiently from the door to her desk, tugging on the cuffs of his starched white shirt and winding and unwinding the tie between his fingers.
'Here, if I had more information I could help more. I'm sorry.' Booth nodded tensely, tearing off the top sheet of paper and perusing it quickly, his brows knitting together.
'Damn! There's too many!'
'I said, it's not very specific. I'm sorry.'
'No, it's fine Angela, you did your best I guess.'
'Too right I did! Now can I go?'
'Sure… Thanks for your help.' Angela nodded tiredly and ran a hand through her hair, yawning widely as she left.
'No problem, she's my best friend Booth, so I should hate you… but I just feel… nothing, find her. Please, I need her.' Booth nodded sadly and retied his tie, running a hand through his hair until it was standing in irregular spikes. Booth pushed back off the wall and took another look at Angela's handiwork, groaning again as he saw the multitude of faces from multiple ethnic backgrounds. He suddenly had a flash of inspiration, an idea that seemed to make sense as he thought more of it, dwelling on that little spark.
'Cam!' He yelled, already formulating a plan in his head.'
'Booth? Can I help you?'
'You most certainly can. You know Brennan's brother was murdered? Are there any suspects? Any at all?'
'There are two.'
'Can you get me the photos?'
'Sure, we got them sent over by the police covering the case.' Cam cleverly used a few keystrokes and within seconds the photos were up on the screen, two faces filling up the small monitor of the computer. Booth held up the page filled with faces and a smile lit up his face.
'Oh my word… Cam, we've got him.'
'What?'
'We found him! The one that has Brennan, look!' Cam peered at the screen.
'I don't know… it's not a good quality photo and they never detained him. They never found him and they're still trying to.'
'Isn't it worth a shot?'
oOo
Brennan gritted her teeth against the rope and felt herself pushed against the work surface, her hands crashing painfully on the side. She felt her eyes tear up, not from the hopelessness of it all, but from the sharp pain that came with the collision with the rock hard counter. Breathing heavily as tears pricked her eyes, she felt the rope pulled tight, gagging her completely so that the coarse fibres rubbed and cut into her skin. The man began advancing on her again, another coil of rope wrapped around his forearms and wrists. She scrabbled around behind her on the counter, reaching for something, anything that would be a useful weapon. Her hand landed painfully on something hard and wooden… a spoon? Why did she have to be so tidy? It would really help right now if she had something to smash her kidnapper over the head with. Well, she had to work with what she was given. She managed to curl her fingers around the handle, before realizing, what was the point? Even if she managed to knock him out, how would she get away? More than that, where would she go? And if she didn't, he'd just become enraged more than he was and hurt her more – not that you could get more hurt than being murdered. She didn't have her car, but had some keys. There were no friends nearby, she was too much of a scientist to become friendly with anyone in the apartment building and no one she knew lived nearby. Providing she did manage to knock him out, how long would her remain out cold? Long enough for her to get away? She highly doubted it. All this rational thought took less than a second, although, unfortunately for her, this was a crucial second. The man had leapt over the remaining floor-space and landed in front of her, tying her wrists with the rough coil of rope. She struggled against him, biting down on the rope in her mouth and struggling violently against the tightening ropes around her wrists. Almost immediately after she had felt the ropes tighten until she could barely move, there was another rope being tied down by her feet, binding her ankles together. She saw the man step back and survey his work as the ropes cut ever tighter into the smooth skin of her wrists and ankles. Gingerly, she tried to move along the floor beside the counter, her bound feet making this a nearly impossible task. Unfortunately (seeing as this was becoming a recurring theme for the evening) he noticed and coolly walked up to her, a scrap of dark coloured cotton clutched in one hand.
'Mmhhh!'
'I'm sorry I don't understand. Could you say that again?' He taunted her, waving the cotton in front of her eyes. She glared at him, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her distressed. 'Oh well, seeing as you aren't going to indulge me today, I guess it's time to take you away to… well if I tell you, that would be telling.' He smirked at her.
Did you enjoy – sorry for the wait and short chapter blah-di-blah, my cat got hit by a car and I'm worried, I'm spending all my free time at the vets because we got him home on Wednesday but he's been readmitted today and catheterised under anaesthetic. So, apologies. Don't pressure me for another chapter, I'm under too much stress at the moment, I'm sorry, it's not your fault and I don't know why I'm even saying this. But anyway, reviewsies?
