(After 'The Past in the Present')
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I don't own Bones.
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Relieved that she was no longer a suspect in Ethan Sawyer's murder investigation, Brennan received permission from the Holmes Institution to inspect Ethan's room and to retrieve his possessions. The man had no living relatives, having no siblings, no children or a wife so he'd left what worldly goods he still owned to her. Not sure what she was looking for, she brought Hodgins with her.
"Ethan was a genius, I'd say as smart as Zach." Brennan was kneeling on the floor near Ethan's bookcase and was flipping through his books. "He was trying to find out how Pelant was able to bypass his ankle monitor without the monitoring company being the wiser and with no access to a computer. Ethan didn't have pencils or pens because they could be used as weapons. I don't see any crayons or paint brushes, but I'm sure he wasn't just working inside his head. He always kept notes. He was a compulsive note taker."
"Did you consider him resourceful?" Hodgins was checking the drawers in the desk along the back wall and so far had just found books and pamphlets. He knew of several things that could be used as ink, but he didn't see any hand written notes in the drawers or on the desk.
She thought about it for a moment then nodded her head. "Yes, very resourceful."
Lifting the mattress from the bed, Hodgins didn't find anything on the bed springs or on the floor. After he checked the bottom of the mattress, he placed it back on the bed and sat down on the bed. Staring at the wall behind the bookcase, he thought he noticed something odd about the color of the paint, but wasn't sure what he was seeing. Moving over to the wall, he leaned closer and took in a deep breath through flared nostrils. "Oh, clever, very clever."
Removing a black light from his kit, he turned off the overhead lights, aimed his light at the wall behind the bookcase and laughed. "I'd say you're right. Ethan was very resourceful."
Curious, Brennan placed the book she had been looking at back in the bookshelf, stood and stared at the wall where the black light was aimed. "What did he use to write this on the wall?"
"I'd say his urine." Amused, Hodgins ran his light over the wall to see how much there was. "I'll record this and bring it back to Angela . . . Ethan may get justice for himself after all."
"Yes, Pelant may not be as clever as he thinks he is." Glancing around the room, she knew that Ethan didn't own much, but she was going to take everything home and sort through it there. She would respect his books and what she didn't keep she'd give to Goodwill or to the Salvation Army. She couldn't throw a book away, it just wasn't in her to do such a thing.
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Hayes Flynn checked his watch and wondered when Booth would be back. Agent Harris had told him he'd be back from lunch at one and it was 1:12. A hand clapped his right shoulder causing him to step forward and turn around. "Shit Seeley."
Chuckling, Booth walked around his desk and sat down. "Don't keep your back to the door if you don't want to be surprised."
Annoyed, Flynn shook his head. "Not all of us are paranoid you dick." Shaking his head, the agent sat on the chair by the door. "Look, I came by to let you know I'm moving on to Domestic Terrorism. I've been trying to get in for months and they finally have an opening."
"Alright." They had been friends for a while, but he had known that Flynn hated homicide investigations. They were messy and he didn't feel like he was making a difference.
"You know I was doing my job investigating Temperance." Flynn didn't want to leave until Booth understood that what he had done wasn't personal. "We can't overlook a suspect just because they're living with the head of Major Crimes. We have an image to uphold. If it had been the wife of the Director, I would have still investigated."
"I know, I would have done the same thing." Leaning back against his chair, Booth studied Flynn for a few moments. "Domestic Terrorism isn't cut and dried either you know . . . I had a case a few years ago that involved two brothers. One of the brothers, Farid Masruk killed his brother Hamid to stop him from notifying the authorities that Farid was going blow up a peace conference here in Washington D.C. Farid killed his brother, made his sister-in-law a widow . . . just so he could kill some diplomats who wanted peace in the Middle East . . . no crimes are committed in a vacuum."
He heard what Booth was saying, but Flynn felt like he'd be a better fit in Domestic Terrorism. "Yeah, I get it, but if I do a great job, I'll be protecting my country and have a better chance to advance in the FBI . . . I have some aspirations . . . maybe Deputy Director someday."
"Sure, nothing wrong with ambition." Glad his friend was getting what he wanted, Booth smiled. "Hey, good luck over there."
"Thanks," Flynn stood up. "I don't know if Christopher Pelant really can do the things you say he can, but if he is the killer, then I hope you can prove it . . . I mean that."
Slowly nodding his head, Booth knew that Flynn still didn't believe that Pelant was a serial killer. "Pelant killed Ethan Sawyer, Ezra Krane and Inger Johannson. I'm going to prove it. It may take some time, but I will prove it."
"I heard the judge is letting him out of house arrest." Flynn saw a flash of anger on Booth's face and he knew that Booth hadn't hear that bit of news yet. "I found out a half hour ago when I was talking to Deputy Director Fairburn. He's not happy about it either." Moving over to the door, Flynn paused before leaving. "If he's this evil genius you claim he is, then you'd better watch your back. Maybe install a security system at your house . . . but if he's a computer genius like you say he is then he probably can hack into that, so . . . I don't know." Flynn left. He was glad he didn't have to deal with Pelant. The hacktivist was creepy and Flynn knew it wasn't going to be easy to prove he had done anything including murdering three people while the man had been under house arrest, if he'd actually done it.
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Max sat in his car outside the home of Christopher Pelant and studied the house and surrounding houses. He had driven over for the express purpose of killing the murderer and was trying to decide how to do it. While he sat there making plans a car pulled up behind him and parked. The driver left his car and moved cautiously towards the driver's side of Max's car. When he was next to the back door, he stopped and knocked on the front driver's side window.
Startled, Max quickly turned his head and rolled his eyes. Unlocking his door, he opened the door and stood outside his car to face his cousin's husband. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I've been having you followed for the last few days . . . not by an agent, I'm not that stupid." Deputy Director Fairburn folded his hands across his waist. "I told you to stay away from Christopher Pelant."
Not embarrassed about what he was doing, Max looked around and noticed a car parked on the street down near the corner. "You don't trust me?"
"Since you're here, I'd say I have a reason not to, don't you?" Fairburn stared at the older man and wondered what it was going to take to make Max Keenan behave. "Pelant has been released from home arrest. He's on probation, but he can come and go as he pleases. I want you to leave him alone. My people are investigating him and you have no business sticking your nose in FBI business."
Annoyed, Max glared at his old friend. "He set up Tempe for murder. He might do it again. Pelant needs to be killed."
"Not by you." Fairburn shook his head. "Look, you've already been tried for murder once and you got off because Tempe took a huge gamble with the jury. If you go to trial for a second murder you won't walk away from that. Your past will convict you the next time . . . Tempe is safe, we're investigating Pelant and we will get him for the three murders he's committed. If you don't stay away from him, I'm going to have you arrested for impeding an investigation. How do you think Tempe will react to that? She'll be pissed and you know it. Hell, she may keep your granddaughter from you . . . behave Max. Stay out of FBI business. I'm not going to warn you again."
Since there weren't a lot of options for him at the moment, Max opened the car door and settled on the driver's seat. "I'll keep out of it for now, but if he goes after my daughter or that lunk head she's married to . . . I'll kill him and I don't give a shit about the consequences . . . clear?"
"Clear." Fairburn stepped away from the car as Max slammed his door shut, started the car and drove away. "Max, I swear to God . . ." Shaking his head in disgust, he walked back to his car and waved at Tim O'Brian as he drove past, continuing on his assignment which was to follow Max around. Tim was a retired FBI Agent, bored with the world and looking for a little adventure. In the past, Carl had helped him with his career when he'd made a mistake on a case that had almost cost a few lives. Carl had arranged for Tim to retire so he wouldn't lose his retirement and Tim believed in paying back old debts. If that meant following around an old con man then so be it. It was better than sitting at home watching television anyway.
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