Chapter 14
Thursday night around 7 p.m.
Brennan sat in her apartment with her laptop covering her thighs. Her agent had been getting pressure from the publisher, which in turn meant she was getting pressure from her agent. So she had gotten the story up to chapter eleven but things weren't progressing fast enough. The plot seemed sluggish and the characters were trying to take on a life of their own.
Bored, her thoughts began to drift back to Monday and Booth pressing the suspect. She still couldn't get that phrase he had used out of her head. What game would Mr. Webster be playing in prison? That didn't seem like a good place to play games. She'd asked Angela what he had been talking about and the artist had given a look.
"Does the phrase, 'Don't drop the soap' mean anything to you?" Her friend had wondered. Once again, however, she had no idea what she was talking about. Brennan's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She sighed and removed the portable computer from her lap and onto the coffee table.
Now standing at the door, she looked through the peephole. The forensic anthropologist was surprised to see Booth standing on the other side of it.
"Hi Booth." Brennan said as she opened the door.
"Hi. Are you ready?" He asked. She gave him a blank stare.
"We were going to go out for dinner remember?" The FBI Agent reminded her.
"Oh." Her memory flooded back to her. Booth had a disappointed look on his face.
"Give me twenty minutes." She told him and quickly left him and the door standing wide open. Something inside him said he had to wait for an invitation to enter but he shook the thought from his mind and closed the door behind him.
Booth could hear her shuffling around down the hall and he decided to sit on the sofa. Brennan's laptop was still on the coffee table and he was suddenly curious. Slowly, he touched his finger over the touchpad and the screen came to life. The FBI Agent recognized the Word document as some of the story she'd been working on in her office (he had snuck a peek earlier in the week). He started reading some of it when the phone rang. Immediately, he stood up and got as far away from the laptop as he could, so as not to have Brennan think he was peeking.
"Hello, you've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan. I'm not home right now, of course that's obvious. Leave me a message after the beep." Her answering machine played the recorded message and beeped.
"Hello Dr. Brennan. Don't think I forgot about you. Your incompetence will soon lead to a mistake." The machine shut off before Booth could comprehend what just happened.
"Who was it?" Temperance called from the other room. When Booth didn't answer she became nervous and walked down the hallway to the living room.
There she found the FBI Agent with her phone in his hand and listening to something. She was about to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing when he hung up.
"Damn!" Booth cursed.
"What's going on?" Brennan asked. He pressed the play button on her answering machine and they both listened to the message. When the voice came on, she immediately recognized it.
"How did he get my home number?" She asked.
"It's a good question. Just like, how did he get your cell phone number? I don't like this at all. I just star six-nined the number and it came back saying the phone was not able to receive calls, which means it was a pay-phone." Booth explained.
"Is there any way to trace it?" Brennan asked. He shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. I think maybe we should stay in for dinner and that maybe I should stay with you until we catch this guy."
"Seeley, I can't live my life in fear. I want to go out and have dinner with you. Besides I can take care of myself." She said.
"Temperance, when I said I'd never hurt you it also meant I'd never let you get hurt. If something ever happened to you I'd never forgive myself." He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. It felt good to be in his arms.
"Let's go out and enjoy ourselves." She said. Booth let go of her and she stood there in front of him. He tried to suppress his laughter but it was hard. She was only wearing one shoe and had half of her makeup missing.
"You might want to finish getting ready first." Brennan made a face and looked in the mirror on the wall. She almost laughed herself but quickly ran down the hall to finish her makeup and find her other shoe.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWW
He sat out in his black 1997 Ford F-150 just outside her apartment. The man stroked his face and beard. He had watched the doctor and her FBI partner leave the apartment, followed them to Wong Foo's, and then back to her apartment.
It had been a few hours and the FBI Agent hadn't left yet. That Agent Booth might be trouble. I'll let them have their fun tonight, he thought to himself. He rubbed his blue eyes and ran a hand through his dark brown, almost black, hair. He had cursed his stupidity of being seen by the demolition foreman but since then he'd changed his physical appearance. Dyed his hair, grown a beard and moustache, he walked with a limp, and spoke with a foreign accent. He could blend in and no one would notice him. They would never catch Bernard Mantelli. He was too smart for that.
To Be Continued…