Chapter 37

Aquila non capit muscas - An eagle does not catch flies

When Booth woke the next morning it was to a pounding headache and an incessant ringing in his ears. He groaned briefly before rolling over and snatching the phone from its cradle on the bedside cabinet. His voice was groggy and thick with sleep when he answered, still wrapped in his bed sheets, protesting the light of day.

'Hello?'

'Booth, is that you?'

Booth sat up frowning.

'Angela?'

'Oh thank god it is you.'

The artists voice had a panicky, unnerving tone to it.

'Angela what is it, its half six in the morning?'

'Booth you have to come to Brennan's quick.'

That had his attention.

'What? Why?'

'I think something's happened'

Angela's voice now came across as small and mimicked a frightened childs.

'Like what?'

Booth was already out of bed, hurriedly dressing in yesterdays clothes, the phone clutched between his ear and shoulder.

'There isn't time to explain, please just get her as quick as you can.'

She didn't give him time to reply as the line went dead and Booth was left to fumple around his bedroom as her rushed to get ready and his brain tried to piece together the jumbled information of the last few hours.

'Oh thank God!'

Booth was on high alert at the relief in Angela's voice as he approached her on the corridor outside Brennan's apartment. At first nothing seemed out of place except for the distressed woman whom he was walking towards. It was only as he neared the door that he heard it, a low cry like a wail emerging from inside the apartment. Booth knew instantly what it was. Toby.

'Booth, I didn't know what to do. The neighbours called me half an hour ago, apparently Toby's been crying non stop all night and when they knocked on the door to ask Brennan to quieten him there was no answer. Brennan put me as her emergency contact when she signed her lease so the building manager had my number. I've tried calling her and everything but she isn't answering and I left my keys at the lab last night so I don't have a spare and the lab doesn't open for hours and she could just be lying in the unconscious or worse and there's nothing I can do and poor Toby's crying and…and…'

'Calm down, it'll be ok.'

Booth wasn't sure if the words were for Angela's benefit or his own as he spoke them and dug his hands into his pocket extracting his spare key as the panic that had been rising in his chest since Angela had phones threatened to bubble over.

Booth unlocked the door and entered the apartment, Angela rushing past him and down the hallway in the direction of Toby's cries. Booth glanced around at the living area of the otherwise empty apartment. Everything seemed as it should be but Booth knew something was definitely not right. Angela re-emerged clutching a whimpering red-faced Toby in her arms and wearing an almost grief stricken expression on her face.

'She's not here Booth, she's not here.'

Booth didn't say anything, he was struggling to think straight, struggling to think at all. He stepped around Angela, striding in the direction of Brennan's bedroom. He was smothered by the undeniable scent of her that resided most strongly in her room and fought hard to block out the memories of the night he had spent with her there less than forty eight hours earlier. Angela moved into the room behind him, Toby still sobbing.

'Something's happened Booth, she wouldn't just leave him. He must have been alone for hours. She wouldn't leave Toby like that, she just wouldn't.'

Booth nodded slowly but still didn't speak as he stepped around the bed.

'What happened Booth, I mean when did you last talk to her.'

'Last night…Cam, she…'

'Cam?'

It was only then Booth realised just how much had happened in the last twenty four hours.

'Yesterday…in the morning…Temperance went to the hospital, Cam had gotten worse, they thought she might die, Bones was upset so I went to support her, then I sent her home for some rest.'

He paused for breath and Angela jumped in.

'Booth, forget that now, we need to find her.'

'I'm working on it ok! I cant call in her disappearance until we can prove she didn't just leave.'

'Of course she didn't just leave!'

'I know that, you know that but when I call this in and the investigating officer finds out that she was investigating the murder of one of her oldest friends, working on a serial killer case, taking care of a baby she had reason to hate and going through…shall we say certain difficulties in the personal relationship she happened to be having against protocol with her FBI partner I'll tell you know that the first thing they will think is that she left.'

Angela stopped talking and clutched Toby closer to her to hush the baby boy. Booth walked around the other side of the bed and continued his account of the previous evening more for himself than Angela.

'Cam got better, she's going to be ok. I was on my way here when I got a call from Drew. Rebecca's missing, he thinks she was kidnapped. Me and Bones went over there to check it out then came back here. She told me…she told me to go home, get some rest. I haven't heard from her since.'

'When was that?'

'About one.'

'Booth, that's five hours ago.'

He ignored her and knelt down to peer under the bed.

'Booth what are you doing?'

Angela was beginning to sound desperate for him to take action.

'I told you, I'm looking for evidence.'

'Of what?'

'I don't know, a struggle, a kidnap…something...'

'And how do you know it's in here?'

'Because the door was open, Temperance doesn't leave the bedroom door open, she says…she says she likes to keep it separate, her safe haven.'

He stood up again and forced himself to concentrate.

Come on Booth, its here, you know it is you just have to focus, come on…

'That's it.'

'What?'

'The bed, Angela look at the bed.'

She did, seeing nothing out of order.

'What about it?'

'The sheets Angela, they're folded back. If she was leaving then why fold the sheets back ready for bed?'

He raced from the room leaving her to hurry in his wake, shouting over his shoulder as he went.

'Come on, we have to get to the lab. I'll call this in on the way. We'll find her, we'll find her.'

As Booth strode to the SUV he remembered speaking the same words to Drew the previous night and suddenly realised that they really weren't as calming when you were saying them to yourself.

Stanley Clark took his job as a postal worker very seriously and this morning was no exception. He had woken bright and early at 6:00am to a house full of screaming kids and a wife who was screaming at him just as loud asking when he was going to get a proper job so they could leave the two bed roomed apartment they occupied together with their three children. After promising he would think about it Stan, as he was known to his few friends, grabbed a quick piece of toast and was on his way.

His morning once more brought about the mundane normality and formal structure of his work, posting news both good and bad through the doors of people he would possibly never meet and would most likely know nothing more about than their zip code. Yes Stan's work would be described by many as boring but as he neared the end of his round Stan perked up as he reached one of his favourite doors. Even with his passion for the postal service even he could admit that the work was often dull however he could honestly say that having the honour of delivering Temperance Brennan's post brought about a certain sense of frivolity.

He could safely say that Dr Brennan had the most interesting post of anyone on his route. He never read the post of course, he was far too professional for that, but even from the envelopes he could tell so much about the post within. Miss Brennan's post was always in pristine condition, the name and address written neatly as though the sender had practiced that flick on the final 'N' for hours before copying it out. The stationary too was always of a far greater quality than the final demands and junk mail Stan usually delivered. It was always heavy and thick, often with swirls embossed on the envelope of decorative edging on the flap to denote its finer quality. Then of course there were the stamps, they were Stan's favourite bit. A stamp could tell a thousand stories he'd say and he was right. He always enjoyed flicking a professional eye over Miss Brennan's post to see where the stamp was from. Letters of importance flying first class around the world regularly arrived with Stan to their final destination and each of their stamps were casually perused by the underpaid overworked postal enthusiast.

Yes, it was certainly safe to say that delivering Temperance Brennan's post was Stanley's highlight in an otherwise mundane day but today…today was different. The wife and kids on his mind, his own letters of final demands and the nagging reminder of other unpaid bills coupled with an upcoming visit from his unaccommodating mother-in-law meant that, for that morning at least, Stan didn't even glance at the envelopes he shoved through the door of apartment 2b and onto the bare mat. Most likely it was irrelevant anyway. Had Stan looked at the letters that morning her probably would never have realised the significance of one small lilac envelope tucked among the others. He probably wouldn't have noticed the way the ink was curled affectionately on the paper to form the recipients name or the way it had been set, along with the address, perfectly central on the envelope. He perhaps wouldn't have noticed the way the edges of the envelope were curled slightly as though to reflect the way its sender had gripped it and twisted it lightly in their hands for almost and hour after sealing it whilst they debated whether or not to send it. Its perfectly plausible that Stan wouldn't have notice the out of state post mark or the absence of the title 'doctor' from the recipients name. After all Stan was a postal worker, he wasn't perfect and the chances are that even if he had noticed all those things he never in a million years would have realised that had that letter arrived just a few weeks earlier it could have quite possibly saved a life…

oooh the drama lol, what do you think, reviews make me smile :)