Chapter 36: Broken Pieces
It was uncharacteristic of her husband to be late without offering an excuse; even more so for his silence to extend through the length of a car ride. Pretending to read the file on the victim's family, she tried to surreptitiously interpret what he might be feeling. She concluded from his white-knuckle grip on the wheel, the set of his shoulders, and his singular fixation on the road in front of them that he was repressing some very strong emotions. From the tick in his jaw and darkened color of his eyes it appeared that the contained emotion was rage; though beyond that her insights floundered.
Could he possibly be mad at her for putting the family notification off an extra hour? She couldn't fathom how that could conjure such deep emotions, especially when he hadn't seemed bothered at all when she'd last spoken with him.
Had some new development come to light on his side of the investigation? Again, she thought not because he almost always vented his frustrations to her rather than shutting her out.
"What's wrong, Booth?" she finally asked when she had exhausted a list of plausible irritants without being able to determine which it was.
He ignored her, hands shifting their grip on the wheel as he wove through mid-day traffic.
"Seeley?" she tried the more personal approach, laying a hand on his tightened bicep.
This time his silence was accompanied by the full brunt of his angry glare that yelled, "BACK OFF" just as loudly as if he'd have opened his mouth. She withdrew her hand quickly and truned back to the file in her lap.
Joelle Wynn had been the middle child in her family with a brother and sister on either side of her respectively. Her mother, Cara, worked two jobs to make up for the fact that Joelle's father- Cara's ex-husband- was in and out of jail and not at all responsible when it came to making his child support payments.
It struck Temperance as oddly ironic that though only five miles separated Lily Hairston's childhood home from Joelle's, the socio-economic divide between them could not have been greater. Where Lily had grown up in a modest brownstone in a middle-class neighborhood, Joelle's mother could barely afford their fifth-story apartment in one of the city's worst housing projects.
Seeley parked along the litter-strewn street, breaking his stony silence long enough to tell her to stick close to him once they got out. Sensing that this was not the time to remind him how many forms of martial arts she was trained in, she merely nodded and followed in his wake as they made their way to the apartment.
The scent of stale smoke mingled with refuse and unwashed bodies assailed them as soon as they stepped through the front doors of the apartment building. Cautiously they picked their way up five flights of stairs and around piles of garbage. Seeley's firm hand attached itself to her lower back as they skirted the occasional sleeping person who reeked of cigarettes and cheap alcohol, releasing her only when they reached the Wynns' door.
"I ain't seen Danny in three weeks," a harried woman whose zygomatic arches mirrored those of Joelle Wynn answered Seeley's firm knock.
"We're not here for him, ma'm," he shook his head, "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."
"You found Joelle," the woman stated, ushering them inside and closing the door behind them. "She's gone isn't she?"
"I'm sorry, yes," Booth answered empathetically, far from the rage he'd exhibited on the drive over.
"Didn't figure you brought a fancy doctor to tell me she's okay," a sad smile played at the woman's lips.
She motioned for them to sit on the threadbare couch as she pulled a dining room chair in to sit across from them.
"An Amber Alert was issued on February twenty-third," Booth said gently. "Was that the last time you saw Joelle?"
Cara Wynn brushed away a tear, nodding, "I was hoping it was just Danny, you know? He could be pretty stupid sometimes and I thought maybe he got sick of not havin' custody an' took her." She looked to the partners for support, "They say that happens a lot."
"Did you see her that afternoon?" Brennan asked.
"No, just in the morning," the response came immediately, "before she went to school. I work the evening shift so my kids go to my sister's house in the afternoon, but Laura said Joelle never got there. Bobby's in high school and Kyra's in fifth grade so they all walk there separate. When she didn't show for dinner Laura called me and I called the cops."
Brennan nodded, her eyes drifting to the pictures of Joelle and her siblings scattered throughout the living room. The frames were flimsy, but it was evident that care and attention had been given to the placement of each one and the effect made the anthropologist feel even more deeply for the loss of such a young life.
"Either of you got kids?" Mrs. Wynn wanted to know.
They both nodded and the grieving mother turned her eyes to lock onto Brennan's.
"Always thought I'd know if somethin'd happened to one of my kids," her voice thickened with emotion, "but I swear, that day felt jest like every other on before it. I'da done somethin', anything, if I'd known any different!"
Temperance's head bobbed of its own volition; the scientist in her scoffing at the notion of pre-cognition, while the maternal side knew instinctively what the woman meant.
"If you can think of anything else that could help us," Seeley handed Cara Wynn one of his cards, "just give us a call."
Cara nodded.
"When-" her breath hitched in her throat as she fingered the card, "When can I see my baby?"
Images of the battered teenager flashed through Brennan's memory, causing her to suppress a shudder at the horrors Cam had already uncovered and making her extremely grateful that the woman hadn't pressed them for more details.
"As soon as possible," she heard the promise in Seeley's voice and knew he would see to it personally that he kept his word. "We need her long enough to make sure that whoever did this, doesn't do the same to anyone else."
"I'd like that," came the raspy response.
They exchanged goodbyes and left. The ride back to the lab was as silent as the ride there had been, but somber rather than tense.
"I'll check out the sister," he told her, pulling up to the curb to drop her off, "see if she can give us anything."
"What about the father?" she wondered aloud.
"Eventually," he shrugged. "Guy's basically a deadbeat, though, so I doubt he'll contribute much. I might try the kids if everything else comes up dry."
"I will continue processing the skeletal remains for Agent Perotta," she informed him. "If I can determine the weapon that was used it may grant us insights into Joelle's murder as well. Should I meet you at the Hoover when you are ready to conduct the interviews?"
He shook his head, "I'm going solo on this one. You stick to the bones."
It was the closest thing he'd given her to a direct order in years and it took her aback so much she wasn't certain how to respond.
"See you at home, then," his fingers waved, dismissing her from the SUV.
Stunned, hurt, and confused by his actions, she gathered up her belongings, gave him a long, hard look laden with censure should he care enough to read her expression, and left.