Chapter 4 – Interrogation
Booth
Present Day (2 hours since Bones was kidnapped)…
"It's been over an hour, Agent Booth. Why am I here?" Janine O'Connell huffed, as soon as I walked into the interrogation room at the F.B.I.
I dropped a closed file onto the metal table, as I pulled out the chair and took a seat. This room…this was my domain. This is where I made grown men cry. I made women weep because they were finally able to get the guilt off their chest after they killed the man they claimed to love, or the woman that may have cheated or wronged them because of the man they loved.
I stared up at Janine keeping my simmering anger under control. It has been two hours since Bones was taken. Right now, the best lead that we had…was sitting right in front of me. It was going to be a fine line to not push too hard where she would close up and immediately lawyer up, or at least give me enough to go on so I can save Bones.
"When was the last time you've seen Thomas Vega?"
Janine balked, her eyes blinking slowly. She was clearly surprised by that question. Generally surprised.
She cleared her throat. "The day before last," she answered. "Why? Is something wrong with Thomas?"
"I'll ask the questions here, Ms. O'Connell." She closed her mouth, but even then, I could still see the worry. My gut was already telling me that I didn't think she was responsible for Thomas's murder, which was only making me angrier. "Did you two have a fight the last time you were together?"
Her brows shot up. "What? No! Why are you asking me these questions, Agent Booth? And spare me the 'you're the agent, I'll ask the questions' routine. Is Thomas, ok?"
I unclasped my hands and opened the file. I pulled out a picture and slid it over to her. It was the crime scene picture of Thomas Vega sitting in the driver seat, his head slumped to his chest.
"Thomas Vega is dead," I answered matter-of-factly.
Janine looked down at the photo, her hand shaking as she picked up the photo, her other free hand flying to her mouth to catch the sob that escaped her throat.
"When?" she cried.
Her eyes remained on the picture. I've seen this many times before. Shock. You don't want to look at the picture, but you also don't want to look away. It was the reason there was always a long, slow, car line when there was an accident. Everyone wanted to take a look even though they knew it would make them sad and distressed.
"We found his body this morning. They report the time of death between midnight and two this morning," I answered.
Her lower lip started to quiver, as she took a long swallow. She dropped the photo back on the table, her eyes looking up into mine. They were filled with water, that she was trying her hardest not to let them fall.
"What…what happened to him?"
While I didn't believe at this point, she actually did it, I wasn't going to continue to let her drive this interrogation.
"Where were you this morning between midnight and two in the morning?"
Her eyebrows shot up again, her mouth falling open. She was back to angry, and that was better than having to talk to someone on the verge of tears. Angry would get me more answers.
She pointed at the photo with vehemence. "You think I did this?"
"You two were partners," I supplied. She went to open her mouth, but I continued before she could get a word out. "Maybe you got sick of being Mr. Vega's assistant when it came to your work on the books. Maybe you got tired of not getting half of whatever Mr. Vega earned for his books." I tapped his latest book they worked on together that was sitting next to me.
The water that was at the back of her eyes, slowly started to slip, forming a tear. She wiped at it harshly, her jaw set tight. "I didn't kill Thomas. I could never kill Thomas. I…" her voice trailed off at the last statement, her eyes dipping down again to the photo.
"You were in love with him," I guessed.
She licked her lips, her tears free flowing now. She wiped at them again, before she looked back up at my face. I could see the pain etched in her expression. This woman was hurting. Didn't mean a killer couldn't feel actual remorse or regret—Bones and I have seen that several times before—but this was different. Janine was just as much as a victim here as Thomas Vega was a victim—at least for murder.
"Thomas was a good man," she answered, her fingers tracing the photo paper as if she could touch him. One more time. "Please," she begged, "please tell me how he died."
I sighed. "He was electrocuted by a three-million-volt stun gun."
Her mouth fell open her eyes wide. "The…the Grave Digger?" Her lips tightened inwards; her nostrils flared outwards. "The bastard did this to him. Why?"
"Well, for starters, it was you and Mr. Vega that publicized this looney tones. Their methods, their mind frame, essentially their inability to fail at killing people and get caught." I supplied.
"No. That's not it at all."
I stood abruptly. "Oh, come on. Every time there was a case, you two were all over it. In the media, offering your assistance on the case, being an expert to the parents on what they should do—which was mostly to tell them to pay."
She huffed, sitting back in her chair, pointing to her own chest. "You think I have anything to do with that nut job?"
I paced back and forth, a method to advise the subject I was closing in and trying to make them uncomfortable. "You recommendation was to always pay."
Her eyes narrowed. "My recommendation was to do what would get their loved ones back. It was always to get their loved ones back."
"And if you could get eight million in the process?"
She stood. "How dare you!"
"Sit down, Ms. O'Connell," I demanded.
She shook her head, but her shoulders sagged. Tears started to spill from her face, as she wiped at her cheeks.
"All Thomas and I ever wanted to do was help people. Help them get their loved ones back, and make sure they never had to suffer the feeling of what it was like to lose…" she stopped letting out a large exhale.
I dropped my hands to my side and stopped until I was standing directly in front of her. I took the handkerchief from my pocket to hand to her. She reached out and took it from me.
"You lost someone in this manner," I said, more of a statement rather than a question.
Her lip quivered again, as she looked up towards the ceiling. It almost looked as if she did this a lot. Always asking for forgiveness. She looked over at me, before she slowly slid back into the chair.
"My sister," she disclosed, her voice full of sadness. "I was sixteen and she was thirteen. My parents made her my responsibility from when we woke up and went to school, until we got home. She was always my responsibility."
I nodded in understanding. I could relate to Janine. It was like that between Jared and I. Especially after my parents had left. I was all that Jared had when my pops was working or not at home.
"I can imagine as a sixteen-year-old high schooler that can dampen your style."
She laughed a humorless laugh. "Worse," she confirmed, wiping at her eyes, before her hands started playing with the handkerchief, I gave her. "I was so in love with one of the boys in my class, but no one ever wanted to hang out, because having a thirteen-year-old tagging along everywhere you went…really killed the mood."
"What happened?"
Her lower lip quivered again, her voice trembling. She bit her lower lip as she started to respond. "Jake—the boy I liked—said he wanted to go out, but only if I could lose my tail. It wasn't Cassie's fault…but when she came up and started telling me she was tired and wanted to go home…I snapped."
She paused, her eyes closing as she shook her head. She was feeling the shame of what happened on this day.
"I screamed at her in front of all my friends. I told her I was tired of her bringing me down. I told her to grow up and that if she wanted to go home, she should stop bothering me and just go home. That she had to stop ruining my life and get her own."
"It wasn't your fault."
She looked up at me and shook her head up and down as more tears came down her face. "She walked home that day alone. Where a man who was seen in a white van—a sex predator who hadn't registered—followed her until he kidnapped her." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "Raped her." She wiped at another tear. "For two days, we didn't know where she was…or what had happened to her, until her body was found in an abandon field not far from our school."
I did something I rarely did in interrogation. I reached out and placed my hand on top of hers. "It wasn't your fault," I repeated.
She looked at me, but I could still see deep down, she didn't believe that. I don't think she would ever believe that it wasn't her fault. The guilt of the last thing she said to her sister and the manner in how she was murdered, would stick with her always.
Janine looked back at my file; the photo of Thomas stacked neatly back inside. "Thomas used to say the same thing," she said wistfully. "He told me that I had skills as a reporter. Ways to get the facts, ways to help people understand the how, why, and the feelings of both the perpetrator and the victim. He said I could help people, so they didn't have to let what happened to Cassie happen to them." She brought the cloth to her nose to wipe at it before looking back up at me. "The money I made off these books…it went to a nonprofit that I opened in my sister's name. For families dealing with loss of a loved one being murdered. Also, as a way to give them what they needed because of the loss. I would never kill someone, and neither would Thomas, Agent Booth."
I nodded. "I believe you. I need to ask you one more question." She nodded. "It appears that evidence from the Grave Digger file has gone missing. Would Thomas have taken evidence to help write his book? For authenticity?"
She instantly shook her head. "No. Thomas was no thief. He would help work cases to get more information so we could get into the mind of the Grave Digger. Try and find something, anything, that could help us find out the identity and get them to stop. We only wanted them to stop." Her jaw tightened again. "That's why he was killed wasn't he?"
"I believe so," I confirmed. "Which means that you could be next. I'll have agents drive you home and keep watch until this case is completed."
"There's more, isn't there?" she asked.
"In any of your research…did you or Mr. Vega have a guess on anything personal about the Grave Digger? Where they lived, location, anything?"
She shook her head sadly. "No. It's why we worked so hard. The Grave Digger…was unlike anything I or Thomas had ever seen. They are uncatchable. It was as if someone knew exactly how to commit the perfect murder and what would be looked at to try and obtain their identity. That was the only reason Thomas, and I would suggest they pay. We knew it was very little hope." she paused. "Until last year. When you guys got the case and doctor's Hodgins and Brennan survived."
The mention of Bones made my gut sink further. She was out there, God knows what was happening to her, and I still had no new clues that could lead me to where she was being held. My anger was starting to rise again. I couldn't fail Bones. I won't allow it.
"In your opinion, what you have studied with the Grave Digger, would victims of his or her surviving without getting paid, cause them to want to lash out? Go after Thomas?"
Janine nodded. "I believe so, Agent Booth."
20 minutes later…
"Give me something," I said, storming into the Jeffersonian lab, where Cam, Angela, Hodgins, and Zack were all huddled around together.
"How did the interview with Vega's assistant go?" Cam asked.
I shot her a look, which immediately had her backing up with understanding. "She didn't kill Vega," I answered grumbly. "Tell me you all have something."
Hodgins indicated he currently had nothing beneficial that would help. Just like all of the other previous cases, the Grave Digger was good at cleaning up after themselves. Vega's murder was not part of the plan, but more of he got in the way type of killing. Janine O'Connell confirmed that for me this morning in the interview.
"What about the paper that we found in Bones apartment?" I asked.
Hodgins shook his head. "Nothing. Run of the mill copy paper that you could buy at any supply store. I even checked with Angela and the words weren't done on a personal printer that can trace back to a specific person. In fact, we traced back to a mom-and-pop office supply store that is no longer in business. There will be no record or security tapes of possibly getting our murderer on camera."
I turned to Cam who confirmed the same thing that we already knew. Vega was killed by the stun gun to the chest, until it caused a heart attack.
I looked to each of their faces. "So, you're saying we have nothing?"
Zack cleared his throat. "We all want to find Dr. Brennan just as much as you do, Agent Booth."
"The hell you do," I turned back, my hand wiping at my mouth. "Find me something. Find it now!" I demanded.
"Seeley!"
I didn't stop as I heard Cam's heels clicking behind me. I felt her hand on my upper arm pulling me to a stop.
"Cam, I have work to do."
She looked at my face, and just like any other time, she could read my emotions, read my thoughts when no one else could. "We will find her, Seeley. Just don't give up hope."
Before I can respond, my phone beeps. Then Cams. Then behind us, Hodgins, Zack, and Angela's phones also all beeped. We all look at each other, as I stare down at my phone and open it. We all suspect what it will be. We hadn't gotten the phone call yet. The call that let us know that Bones is buried, and the counter has started, and we had twenty-four hours before she would be dead if we couldn't figure out where she was.
Expect…this wasn't a phone call. This was something else. Cam looked up at me. "Is this…"
I moved past her back towards the lab. "Put it on screen," I ordered.
Hodgins dropped his phone; turned and typed a few keys into the computer before it appeared on screen.
"Oh my god," said Angela, her hand coming to her mouth. "Is that Brennan?"
Hodgins's face transformed into pure anger. "What the hell is this?"
"This…this is live," Zack stated matter-of-factly.
I stood there; silently, watching what was a live feed video of what looked like a metal box, where a wooden casket was set up. The casket was closed.
"It's moving," Cam pointed out, her finger touching the screen where the casket laid.
"Is Brennan in there?" Angela asked.
"She would only have two hours tops," Hodgins pointed out. "That…that isn't the same M.O. It's been twenty-four hours. Always twenty-four hours…"
"Everyone shut up!" They all turned to me, before their faces turned back to the screen, silence looming all around us. "Come on, Bones…come on Bones," I muttered under my breath.
It was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours when the top of the casket lid lifted with force. Bones sat up, before falling out of the casket, her hands on her knees as she took in large gulps of breaths.
"Thank god, she is a live," Angela breathed.
"What is this?" Hodgins asked again in disbelief.
"It's a game," I say.
Everyone turned; Dr. Sweets walking into the lab area. He looked to each of the faces, stopping on mine last. My eyes were still focused on the screen. On Bones. Watching as she gasped for air. As she looked around and figured out that she got out of what appeared like one no-win situation, but only to encounter another. She walked around the room, instantly going to the door and trying the handle, but it was locked.
Her face was flushed, and there was bruising around her left cheek and lip. She had been hit. Enough to bleed and then turn a dark purple with a twinge of blue. My hands balled into fists at my side, for what they had done to her, and to the fact that I wasn't there to stop it. To protect her from this.
"A game?" repeated Angela.
Sweets nodded, standing next to me. "Sorry, I'm late. I was reviewing the case files and profiling."
"Why are they changing their M.O. Why the live feed?" asked Cam.
"Because it's a combination of boredom, anger, and punishment. It's all a game to the Grave Digger. They are upping their game, and challenging Brennan as an ultimate test," he answered.
"The Grave Digger took Hodgins last year, and he escaped as well. Why didn't they take him too?" Zack asked.
"Thanks, man." Hodgins said sarcastically to Zack.
"Because Dr. Brennan is the best. No offense, Dr. Hodgins," Sweets answered looking in his direction. "In all of our cases that go to trial, it is always historically Dr. Brennan's testimony that gets the conviction. You all play an important role, but when push comes to shove, if it wasn't for Dr. Brennan, they wouldn't be caught."
"Are you saying, the Grave Digger is challenging Brennan to see if they could be caught?" asked Angela.
Sweets nodded. "It's part of the test."
My words came out cold and sharp. "Test for what exactly?"
Sweets sighed. "If anyone is able to match their intelligence or their investigative skills. The Grave Digger is targeting Dr. Brennan as a fascination, which as a result is a bonus to punish Agent Booth."
"Punish how?" Cam spoke up.
"He's her partner," Sweets answered. "He's the best in the business of catching killers. He's extraordinary when it comes to taking Dr. Brennan's information and putting that together to catch the killer. It's what makes their partnership so unique. You take one out of the equation…"
"The other would fall," Hodgins finishes for him.
I tear my eyes away from the screen giving both Hodgins and Sweets a death glare. "What does this mean, Sweets? The live feed? Where are they keeping Bones?"
He walked over to the screen. "It's a series of tests. The Grave Digger is seeing how much Dr. Brennan can do on her own without all of you to help her."
"So, there is a chance that she could pass all the tests, and make it out alive," Angela said hopeful.
Sweets shoved his hands in his pants, his head dipping, before he answered. "My profile on this, says no. Each test will get more difficult as we go on, but the result will be the same at the end." He looked at each of us. "The Grave Digger will want to kill Dr. Brennan."
"Oh god," Angela said, turning towards Hodgins so her face was buried in his shoulder.
"This isn't just a test for Dr. Brennan, but a test for Agent Booth. How quickly he can try and figure out clues to get to Dr. Brennan. They won't be easy, if even there at all. All of us, myself included in the Grave Digger's scenario will be set up to fail."
I give Sweets a double take. "Are you serious?"
"Agent Booth—"
"No. No!" I look around at the folks standing in the lab. Folks that I consider my friends and I know that Dr. Brennan does too. "There is no such thing as a no-win situation. It didn't happen last year, and it's not going to happen now. All of us—all of us- are brilliant in our own right. Dr. Brennan will do what she needs to to survive, and now I need you to do your job to get us there so we can get her out alive."
"We don't have any leads," Zack pointed out.
"Then we will find one. Get me one. Do your job and I will do mine."
"Everybody shut up!"
We all turned; Angela having left Hodgins to go to the screen where Brennan was still trapped in the room. There had been no sound on the feed, but we could still see what was happening.
"What? What do you see?" I asked.
"There's no sound, but yet there is," she answered.
"I'm not following. Speak English."
She sighed. "We can all hear that there is no sound. But that doesn't mean there isn't sound."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Still not following, Angela."
She pushed Hodgins out of the way, to go by his computer. "This is an actual live feed, not a recording. Before you can ask how I can tell—trust me- I can tell. When there is no live sound there is still sound that emanates from the camera as it plays. If I can isolate that, maybe I piece together what Brennan is doing by tapping that metal instrument against the pole."
"Do it," I encourage.
She starts typing furiously at the computer, the screens popping up and down as she starts moving different wave lengths up and down.
"Okay, this is going to be the best that I can do," she stated, as she clicked the screen and it started to play.
"I don't hear anything," pointed out Hodgins.
"I just hear static," agreed Zack.
Angela raised her hand. "Sush!"
She leaned forward into the computer. I could see something light up in her eyes.
"What is it, Angela?" I asked.
"The noise. I've heard that noise pattern before."
"What like a place?"
She shook her head. "No…it…the phone. The phone," she squealed excitedly.
She got up, racing back to her lab. Everyone followed after her. "Clue us in here, Angela," I pleaded.
She grabbed her tablet and went over to her much larger screen. "You started recording the altercation that happened between Brennan and the kidnapper in her apartment as soon as it happened."
"Right."
"There was a noise I couldn't pinpoint in the recording. Even when I started removing frequencies and other things…it was still there," she explained. "It's a hum."
My forehead crinkled in confusion. "A hum?"
Angela smiled. "Not just any hum. Brennan's hum. She left us a clue."
A/N: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter.
