Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)
Author's Note: THANK YOU to everyone that is sticking in there through the delays to read this story. You're all awesome! And, while I'm not thrilled with this chapter, I would love to hear what you think. If you want. Hugs!
Note: Thoughts are in italics.
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PIERCING THE STILLNESS
Chapter 21
Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian
Friday, September 8th – 10:57pm
"There has to be something we're missing, Zack."
Zack Addy didn't bother to turn around. Facing his friend wasn't necessary as he answered, "Obviously. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here." He looked up at the screen and frowned. Those results didn't help either. He sat, hands still on the keyboard, trying to think of how else to twist the data because, so far, they'd had no luck finding any useful information. Behind him, Dr. Jack Hodgins started through his personal list of favorite things to look for. Again.
"Cell phone records."
Zack sighed. "The FBI's trying to obtain them. I'm told we'll have them shortly."
"That's what you said an hour ago."
"And the answer hasn't changed."
"Can't you just, you know, hack in?"
"Only if you don't want to be able to use it as evidence in court."
Jack snapped the rubber band on his wrist. "And there's nothing in the criminal checks?" Zack opened his mouth, but Jack answered his own question. "Never mind. He wouldn't have his job if there were any other issues there." He pulled the band back to snap it again, but it broke. "Ow! Man that hurts!" He rubbed his wrist and threw the band into the trash. "I hate it when that happens."
Zack turned to look at him, puzzled. "Why did that hurt any more than the deliberate act of snapping it?"
Looking at the young scientist like he was slow, Jack grimaced. "Because, I wasn't expecting it that time." He held his hand up to get a better look at his wrist, wincing when he saw the welt that had appeared.
"Oh." But, Zack's frown remained in place. He didn't get it. "Then how does it help under ordinary circumstances?"
Blue eyes rolled up, looking for patience. Then, with a deep breath, Jack said, "Never mind. My rubber band issues aren't important." Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and went back to the list. "So, nothing in the criminal history. Nothing in the school records." His eyes flew open, and he snapped his fingers. "Past girlfriends. They always have the skinny on their old flames. Are they interviewing them?"
"I think it's safe to assume that the FBI is interviewing all known associates of the suspect." Jack paused. "Skinny?"
Hodgins' chin dropped to his chest, and he took another deep breath. "Skinny. Dirt." Enlightenment did not appear on Zack's face, and Jack shook his head sadly. "Information, Zack. Man, didn't you have to study vocabulary in school?"
Zack gave a silent "Ah!" and turned back to his computer, choosing to ignore the insinuation that his education had somehow been faulty.
"Hey! Did you try tracing the suspect's familial landholdings?"
Zack glared over his shoulder. "Yes. I tried that first. Four plots of land and a few homes."
Hodgins perked up.
But, Zack continued, "All to the East."
Hodgins' shoulders drooped. Stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets he rocked back on his heels. "Damn." Rocking forward he bounced lightly on his toes, "And we already know that the only property Whitman owns is the house he inherited from his parents." He rocked back. "You're sure that he doesn't own any other property?"
Zack shook his head no.
"Nothing? Something commercial? Not even a tiny cabin in the middle of the grasslands somewhere?"
"No. Not every family is like yours and has real estate holdings that span the nation." Zack spun his chair around to face the scientist. "The man owns his house and his car. That's it."
With a muffled growl of disgust, Hodgins ran his bright blue eyes over the information displayed on the screen in front of him. There has to be a pattern.
"So if not him, who? Maybe we're looking at the wrong records. I mean he has to be driving toward some set location, right? This guy is methodical. He wouldn't just take off without any sort of back-up plan."
"If he doesn't have it planned, we're never going to find him from here." With that dispiriting statement, Zack turned back and started tapping in a new set of criteria for their search. "I'll try searching all of the documents for repeated words. Maybe we can come up with a common point of interest. I just hope that it doesn't take too long. This process, unfortunately, is cumbersome due to the need to filter out the basics, such as 'the' and 'and'. Of course, given the number of applications included in the data set, there will be a multitude of additional words that have been repeated over and over. But, maybe I can tweak the program…" He continued to type feverishly as his voice trailed off, leaving Hodgins to stand behind him, watching in silence.
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Holographics Office – Medico-Legal Lab
Friday, September 8th – 10:57pm
Angela Montenegro ran the simulation again, narrowing her dark eyes as the brutal scene played out before her. The initial attack from behind. The victim's surprise hit that almost helped her to get out of reach. The moment of truth – the poor girl had apparently gotten trapped in a proverbial corner and had bravely turned to face her assailant. That first deep cut on her right hand that Angela had been able to reconstruct just the day before. God, it feels like a lifetime ago. Then, the rest of the scene continued on. Stab after stab. Slash after slash. It was just too much for the poor girl to take. She didn't stand a chance. But, there was still something wrong with that final sequence. Angela couldn't figure it out, but the flow just wasn't…flowing. She hit the play button again, focusing her attention on the upper right quadrant of the display. Again, the simulation ran smoothly enough. It looked correct, but it just didn't feel right. Pulling open the autopsy results and photographs, she pulled out a sketchpad and started to piece together the wounds – drawing them by hand.
Almost an hour later she realized where she'd miscalculated on the simulation. Holding back her own fear of what she thought she was about to see, she re-keyed a few of the data points and hit play. The beginning was now so familiar that she knew she'd be dreaming of it for months to come. But, this time the ending was different. Oh my God. He didn't kill her on purpose. Cutting the scene short, Angela hit the stop button and stared at the hologram in horror. He'd miscalculated. It wasn't supposed to end so soon. He'd been toying with her. And, now he has a little boy.
"I have to show Brennan." She threw her sketches onto the sofa and ran out of the room.
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Somewhere – Driving west on I-70
Friday, September 8th – 8:57pm
Junior didn't know where they were; but he did know that it seemed difficult to breathe. The scary guy had opened a window a few miles back, so the noise of the wind rushing in was loud enough to cover his soft gasps. Not knowing why he couldn't get enough air, Junior risked moving ever so slightly into a more comfortable position, hoping that was the problem. Then, glancing at the rearview mirror through lowered lashes, he watched as the driver stretched his neck first left and then right all the while tapping his bony fingers against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the music. The boy was just about to look away when his kidnapper's crazed eyes connected with his own in the reflection. Junior held still, wanting more than anything not to draw attention to himself. That was when the man started to laugh.