We will be ending this off soon! Only about 3 or 4 more chapters! Keep reading, let's catch us a murderer.
….
"You might be the most interesting widow I have ever met." Booth said as he slapped a file down in front of a broken woman. Her mascara had started to drip down her cheeks, her eyes were dark red and her hair was tangled and matted. She stared up at the agent and Sweets peered around his strong, broad shoulders. He gave a kind, boyish grin and a small wave. She couldn't bare to look at him, so she turned her gaze down. "Want to tell me why a lovely suburb housewife has a file this thick?" Booth said as he pressed a finger onto the file in front of him ,pulling his chair out.
"I have a past, Lance knew that. He had loved me either way." Darla spoke, but the voice was broken a weak.
"Had?" Sweets piped up, he sat nervously beside Booth.
"Yeah, he's dead." She stated simply, which sent suspicion bouncing around the psychologists brain.
"Oh.." Is all he could manage as he stared at the woman who wouldn't meet his eyes. Booth groaned, leaning backwards in the steel chair. "You said that like you've known for more than just two days, Mrs. Reed." He spoke like it was a question, but she turned her eyes up. When she finally took in the young doctor, she sighed, her lip quivering. He was tired, bags under his and the agents eyes. His curls were unbrushed and wavy over his tired eyes.
"You look so much like him, but so different.." She gasped as she brought her shaking hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed. "You're so much stronger, and more mature looking. You both have those boy like curls, and sweet smile with those..those overly pink lips.." Darla's voice broke as her body began to shake with tears.
"You've known…" Sweets kept his voice understanding, simple, pleasant, and Booth blinked at how fatherly the young man beside him sounded. The tearful woman nodded fiercely, pushing both palms over her mouth, tears pouring down her face.
"Y-yes…" She coughed between her tears. "I got a call, it was a man..he was so scary….He said he'd picked up my husband by accident, he wanted to pick up his 'baby son, that he missed so much' as he'd said it. He said he was going to use my husband as a message, he said he was gonna let him live!" She screamed the final words as tears fell over her. Sweets was paralysed, Booth was awe-struck, and Brennan could only stare from behind the glass.
"You think it's your fault." Sweets said, his voice had become that of a emotionless doctor. She nodded, her cries now loud in the room. "It's not. The man who picked up your husband was a monster, plain and simple. He didn't ask for money, he called to torture you. The thing is, he didn't kill your husband." The woman's cries caught in her throat as she stared at the young, composed doctor before her. He linked his fingers and set his hands in the table, looking directly at her. "The real killer is someone your husband knew, he didn't fight them off so he didn't fear them. Do you know someone who had any reason to kill Lance?" He said the man's name without a pause, without a thought.
"Maybe…. he had been selling pictures of young women." She said, trying to control her heavy breathing. "There was one man he'd sold to a lot, a big scary trucker. His name is Ronald Myers." As she finished Sweets wrote down the name, nodding and smiling at the woman.
"Thank you, Darla." He said gently, patting her hand as he stood up. "I'm sorry for your loss." She stared up at him, nodding slowly. Booth nearly jumped from his chair and followed Sweets out of the room.
"Wow, this'll be the first and last time I say this." He grabbed Sweets good shoulder, turning him towards him. "Thanks for jacking my interrogation, Sweets!" Lance managed a smile and nod, and Booth was about to open his mouth to ask him if he was okay when Brennan ran over.
"Booth, Dr. Sweets!" She called waving her hands, Booth nodded as she made her way over. "Ronald Myers was on Angela's list. Lets bring him in!" She smiled, looking at Booth who sighed and draped his arm over her shoulders.
"Okay Bones, you and me. We will take this one!" He said pointing to him and then her with a grin. "After we go get some sleep. I'll get a bolo out and you and me will get some sleep." Sweets pushed his good hand into his pocket and nodded as they walked past him, talking over interrogation techniques. Sweets slipped into his office and began pulling the files together with one hand. He set the jumbled pile onto his desk and fell backwards into his large chair, across from the couch where his patients sat. His head fell backwards as he looked at his roof. His body was heavy with the aching need to sleep, but his mind was unraveling.
"What if Tucker really is coming for me?" He whispered to the empty room ,waiting for his late adoptive mothers gently voice to reach over the barrier of death. He sat there, listening to the clock tick away as he waited for ehr to tell him. He stood and walked circles around his desk before noticing a not stuck under the mouse of his computer. Bending over he pulled it out quickly. In vicious cursive spread over the envelope were the words 'My brilliant son, Lance Shannon.' A scream caught in the man's throat, he should have left it and called the team, but they were all asleep. Booth had called and told them to 'stop before they drop' as he had said. With a shaking head he slowly pulled the letter open, waiting for it to be a bomb or something. A bone breaking fear consumed him as he slid the folded paper from inside the envelope out. He stared at it, his entire mind thrumming. Black was framing his vision, flashing reds and blues threatening to take him into the silence of passing out.
Dear Lance Shannon,
No, your name is not Lance Sweets. You are my son, not those old bags'! I really do love you, I just get angry sometimes. I think after this is all over I'm gonna come get you and take you far away, and we will be a happy family. When this happens, my son, I will have to punish you sometimes, but that's only because you deserve it. You know deep down you deserve it, I know you do. It's really all your fault, and that's why I'm going to have to find you and give you a good punishment. You did put me in jail, you know you deserve it Lance, it's the truth. I'm only teaching you how to act, really, you need to learn. You know this is true, so why don't you just come back to me? You love me, I love you we should be a family. Even if you don't come to me because those scientists brain washed you, I will come get you. When I get you, you will see that I'm the only person you need. We will be father and son, the best of friends. Everything those adoptive 'parents' of yours said about me was a lie, you deserved what I did. I love you! Really, Lance, and I'm going to come and get you and we will be a true family. I can't wait, just don't fight me or I'll have to hit you again.
I love you,
Your father,
Tucker F. Shannon.
Sweets was hyperventilating, he re read the note fifteen times. Had he deserved it? No, no he couldn't have. But yet, everytime he'd been beaten it was because he'd done something. Lance began shaking his head uncontrollably, his hands shaking as the note slowly floated to the ground, landing on his shoe. Every memory of his childhood invaded his mind, the wall he'd spent his life building entire body was shaking, he was sweating and he couldn't tell if he was crying or not. He fell backwards, not even making an effort to catch himself as he hit the floor. His phone rang, it was Booth calling, but he couldn't move to pick it up. He was leaning against the wall, his body burning. His scars felt new on his back, and he couldn't keep his breathing even. His head felt light and his body was going limp. Booths voicemail played aloud in the silent room.
"Hey, Sweets! Answer your phone, kid! Well anyways, we got a hit on Myers credit card. It just so happens that the man had bought two coffees at the dinner near the body. He's looking good for this, the teams going to sleep and Bones and I are hittin' the sack to. Get some sleep kid, we will be looking for Myers tomorrow. See ya in the office." The the dial line went flat, and the only sound was Sweets desperate breathing. He would be in the office tomorrow, because there was no way he would be able to move. Every injury in his body oozed pain, and his lungs were burning. Slowly the minutes ticked away and his panicked body fell into an uncomfortable, nightmare invested, painful sleep.
It was 7 am. Lance Sweets was still on his floor, he'd pulled his suit jacket off just before the terror of what some would call sleep fell over him. He finally had control over his aching muscle, the position in which he fell asleep did not help him at all. He'd been leaning against the wall with his good shoulder, his head pushed against it as a way to try and block out his thoughts. One leg was pulled up while the other sprawled across the floor, and his muscles felt like they'd been torn. He pushed himself up and stretched out his legs, then the horrifying note brushed his ankle. He clasped his good hand over his mouth in an effort to not scream. Pulling the note into his hand he refolded it and stuck it into the envelope. Giving a groan he pulled himself onto aching legs and pulled his bottom desk drawer open. When he'd buried himself in his work, he'd occasionally fall asleep in the office so he had a spare suit, and spare casual clothes tucked inside. He was reaching for the suit when his body halted, he couldn't put it on. He didn't want to try, so instead he pulled jeans, a black shirt with the band 'Slayer' across the chest, it looked like it'd been carved into it, he also snatched a jean jacket from within the drawer and pulled his black converse from inside another drawer. He changed his clothes quickly, and painfully put the sling back on his arm.
Cam, Hodgins, and Brennan were to busy up on the platform to notice him entering. He felt his body shake with each step as he neared Angela's office, he heard her tired, sweet voice in conversation with Booths deep, commanding voice. They were looking for Myers. Suddenly, some unknown voice commanded that Sweets keep his secret. The voice he'd listened to every time anyone asked about his past, so instead of doing what he'd planned and giving them the note, he did something completely stupid. He shoved the envelope in his back pocket and continued to walk towards Angela's office, gaining control of his breathing. "Hey, Agent Booth. Did you find Myers?" His voice came with overwhelming cheerfulness, Booth noticed the act the psychologist was putting on immediately.
"No. Why do you sound like you just rode in on a unicorn from Rainbow land?" Booth turned his broad figure towards the young man, crossing his arms. He was taken back but what the man was wearing for just a moment, but remained looking like a scary bouncer.
"Uhm, I...I'm just happy.." Sweets said, still overly cheerful. This time Angela turned, putting her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow.
"Look, sweetie, you're not fooling anyone. Especially not when you dress like.." She pointed a finger up and down the young man. "Like some angry rebellious 16 year old."
"I'm not dressed like.." Sweets paused, looking down at his outfit, pulling the sling hanging on his neck he cleared his throat. "Okay, maybe I am dressed a little strangely but that doesn't mean…" He was caught off by Angela's computer, which had began beeping.
"We got Myers!" She announced, but Booth was already scribbling down an address on his note pad.
"Lets go get 'em Bones!" He called as he rushed out of the room, leaving Angela to stare at Sweets until he felt uncomfortable and scurried out of her office.
"Ronald Myers?" Booth boomed through a bar, his voice making the man before him to drop his beer. He rested his large palm on the drunk mans shoulder. "You're under arrest for the murder of Lance Reed."
A man who neared Booths height sat uncomfortably on a steel chair. A plaid button up was stretched over his over sized muscles and his jaw clenched as he looked around dumbly, in a tipsy state. His jeans had tears biggers then Brennans head at the knees and his thighs looked like they were made of steel wire. He tapped a beefy hand on the table as he chewed on a toothpick and glared at the wall. "Isn't he just the poster boy for scary semi truck drivers…" Sweets trailed off as he stared at the man. Booth had refused to let him join Bones and he, on account he looked like a highschooler.
"I don't know what that means.." Brennan looked to Sweets who had his good hand in his back pocket where the letter sat, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
"It means he's scary,Bones." Booth spoke up while flipping the pages in the file. "Come on, let's go see if he'd our guy."
"Hello Mr. Myers." smiled Brennan, a perfectly innocent tone had taken in her voice. Booth shook his head as he pulled her chair out.
"Ooh, a pretty lady. You don't look like much of a cop, though gorgeous." His voice was grizzly, and gravely from smoking.
"I'm an anthropologist." She explained, which just got her a dumbfounded look of confusion. "I study the human skeleton." The man nodded, turning his eyes up to glare at Booth.
"Mr. Myers.." He said as he slapped the file down loudly, angered by the man hitting on Brennan. "You know Lance Reed?" He paused, and the man gave him the same confused look. "The man who sold you pictures of women."
"Well shoot, yeah 'course I know him!" The man said, leaning back in his chair. "One of those, mhm, lovely women suing him or somethin'?" .
"Nah, man, he's dead." Booth grinned, and suddenly the man sitting in front of him just lost all his marbles. He began howling and crying like a baby.
"Booth, I don't think he killed our victim." Brennan said as she stared at the tearful man before her, his giant body shaking with loud tears.
…..
And, there you have it. All Scary mental images of truck drivers forever broken.