I do not own any characters associated with the TV show Numb3rs. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
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Back to present time where we last left off with Don & Charlie discussing Isabel in the solarium…
The Eppes men were having a relatively quiet dinner until Don's cell phone rang.
"Eppes."
Don furrowed his brow as he listened to the caller. He pushed his chair back and got up as he spoke.
"We'll be right there."
Don snapped his phone shut and gave Charlie a meaningful look.
"We've got to go."
"Another bomb?" Charlie's stomach sank. It was late in the day; he thought they'd have at least until tomorrow before they'd have to deal with this again.
"Yeah, which means more data for you, so let's get going."
Alan looked worried. "You're taking him to the scene with you?"
"No, I'm dropping him off at the office on my way to the scene. Since he still can't drive," Don looked squarely at his brother, "this is how we have to do things."
Charlie let the comment go without any reaction. He was used to it by now. He ran upstairs to grab his things.
When he came back down, his father was standing at the foot of the stairs, a concerned look on his face. "Your brother's waiting outside in the truck. But before you go, I've got something to say."
"Dad, whatever it is, can't it wait?" Charlie knew Don was under enough stress already and didn't want to add to it by making them late.
"Look, I know this is very important and you're helping your brother Charlie, but I've never seen a case affect you this way. You need to learn when to take a break."
"Don't worry about it; I'm fine."
Alan gave his son a look that clearly indicated he didn't believe him. "You dragged yourself in here looking about as bad as I've seen you, Charlie! You hid upstairs until Don got here and you sulked all through dinner. I know you; you are not okay."
Outside, Don honked the horn.
"Look, dad, I've just had a long day. I've got a lot on my mind and it's not just this case. Don't worry about me. I have to go; I don't want to make Don late."
Alan stepped aside so Charlie could walk out. He watched his son leave; if anything, he was more worried about him than before.
Charlie slid into the passenger's seat, thankful that Don was on the phone and wouldn't have the chance to lecture him for taking so long.
"Right, no, I'll meet you there. I'm just dropping Charlie off first…What? Why? Fine. We'll talk about this when I get there. Bye."
"What's wrong?"
"Other than another bomb going off? Nothing—except maybe for you. Isabel's already at the site. Terry and David are there with her now."
Charlie stared out the window and sighed as they pulled out of their driveway. "I don't know how to do this, Don."
"Look, Charlie, I wish I could do the big brother thing and help you out here but I can't. I'm not any better at this stuff than you are. In good conscience I just couldn't give you any advice."
"I understand."
Don reached over and grabbed Charlie's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. "You'll figure it out, buddy. You always do."
"Right." Charlie clearly didn't share his confidence.
"Look, let's just focus on the case right now. We both know how to do that." Somewhere in the back of his mind, Don realized that he shouldn't be encouraging Charlie to turn into the workaholic that he was. Yet at the same time, he knew he needed him to focus for the time being.
Charlie made a small sound of agreement as he stared out the window. "You know, this doesn't really fit the pattern, one of them going off this late."
"I know. It could mean a break for us. Maybe they made a mistake."
"Well, a mistake wouldn't necessarily work to our advantage—at least not for my work. It might just throw the data set off. I suppose I can at least put the location in and see what that gets us."
Don pulled the SUV up in front of the building to let Charlie out. "You work on that and call me if you come up with anything. Do you want to call Amita in to help you?"
"No, I've got it."
"Alright, later buddy."
"Bye, Don." Charlie grabbed his bag from the back seat and walked into the building as Don drove away. His mind was already buzzing with the new calculations, but at the same time it was thinking about Isabel. She'd always been able to do that—sneak into his thoughts when they were supposed to be on other things. He'd never been able to get used to it, and it certainly wasn't going to help him right now. He knew he had a long night ahead of him.
Don walked into the front lobby of the office building. Terry, David and Isabel were all standing near what had obviously been the origin of the blast.
"Sorry I'm late; what have we got so far?"
Terry looked quickly at David and Isabel before replying. "Well, we've got what looks to be our sixth bomb by this guy. Location fits, and at first glance so does the explosion, but we won't know until we run the full analysis. The bomb team already came and took what they needed. They said they'll call as soon as they have the results. The thing that doesn't fit is this." She made a gesture at the area around her. "All of the other bombs went off during the late morning or early afternoon hours when there were people present at the locations. No one is here in this building at this time of day. It doesn't fit."
"What do you think that means?"
"It's hard to say. If this was intentional, this suggests they're going backwards. Normally you'd expect to see this type of explosion first, and then it escalates into more populated sites, with the potential for more victims. It doesn't make sense, which leads me to believe that maybe this was just a mistake."
"That's what I was thinking. Hopefully the location data will still be enough to help Charlie with his equation."
Don looked over at Isabel, who was staring intently at him. "You've got another idea?" He knew his tone was a little more rude than normal, but he was tired and her presence right then was annoying him.
She regarded him carefully before speaking, as though she knew what he was thinking. "I was thinking that perhaps this isn't your bomber at all. I looked over the files and I think you're correct in your assumption that this person, or persons, is quite skilled. They don't seem apt to make 'mistakes.' Having a bomb go off at anything other than the predetermined time, or by their intended trigger, suggests sloppiness or inexperience. That leads me to believe that this is someone else's work. Someone else who thinks we'll assume this is the same bomber. This is the first scene I've looked at firsthand, but I can tell you from the photos of the other scenes that this doesn't fit."
Isabel had moved while she talked, walking the far perimeter of the lobby, outside of the blast radius. Don found himself getting more annoyed. Not because her reasoning hadn't made sense, but because the last thing he needed in his life, and especially his work, was another know-it-all to make him feel more inept at his own job. He was still annoyed that he'd had to consult her in the first place, and to top it all off, she was clearly going to be a distraction to Charlie.
After waiting a few more moments for her to elaborate, Don lost his patience. "And…?"
She didn't appear to realize he was addressing her and continued her slow walk around the room.
"Cruz! Were you going to expand on that line of thought?"
Isabel held her hand up to signal she needed a moment, but made no other comment. She disappeared from sight, dropping down behind the counter in the reception area.
Don shot Terry an exasperated look. She shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say. She could understand his frustration, but they needed all the help they could get.
Isabel's voice came from behind the counter. "David, you said we're the only ones left in this building, right?"
"Yeah." David turned around and looked warily at Terry and Don.
"Good. I don't like the looks of this."
"What's going on?" David started to walk toward the counter.
David's answer came in a string of expletives in a language he didn't understand. Isabel vaulted herself over the counter at the same time she screamed at them, "Get out!"
They didn't need to be told again. The four of them sprinted out the front doors. Terry was in the front and had just reached the sidewalk; she didn't even have time to react to the sound of the explosion as she was thrown to the pavement, the shattered glass showering down around her.