--
Booth stood on the doorstep of a trailer park trailer. Zack moved forward to ring the doorbell again, but was stopped by Booth's arm.
"You, stay back," Booth ordered, "I get to decide when we ring and when we wait. Right now, we wait." Booth paused and seconds later rang the doorbell. A man answered the door, and it was all Booth could do not to be sick. He was a large man, who smelled like he hadn't showered for days.
"What do you want?" he practically growled. Booth pulled out his badge and introduced himself.
"Are you Victor Connors?" he asked. The giant shook his head.
"Vick's my cousin, he lives here though. Hey Vick!" The man didn't even turn his head before yelling, "The cops are here for ya!" Booth heard a commotion and sighed as he ran around the back.
"He had to say it was the cops," he groaned, tackling the man to the ground. Connors threw some punches, landing a hard left hook to Booth's jaw before booth subdued and cuffed him.
"Here's the thing, Vick," Booth said, "You let me in, we talk, I can't arrest you. You run, you hit me, we chat downtown. Now let's move it."
--
"Why'd you run, Victor?" Booth asked. The wiry man just laid his head down on the table.
"Cause I didn't do nothing!" he said.
"Sure," Booth said, "The innocent are always the ones that try to run." He leaned down to get eye to eye with Victor.
"I want to know why you did it," he said, dropping his voice to a low growl.
"Cause I didn't want to be arrested," Victor admitted.
"Not why you ran, why you stabbed your son with a hypodermic needle. Why you then hit his head so hard that you cracked his skull, and then, as if that wasn't enough, you put him in a chokehold so forceful that you snapped his hyoid bone. You broke his neck, Vick! He was six years old and you wouldn't let him go. You couldn't stand the thought of anyone else raising that precious little boy so you killed him. Then you buried his body and acted like he just disappeared. And then you thought that he had, because for eighteen years, no one found him. But now we did, and we found you too, and that little boy is going to have some justice."
"It wasn't me!" Victor exclaimed, "I did hold him still, but I was trying to help him after he hit his head. It was his cousin that stabbed him with that needle. It was Timothy that killed him. When Evan said that he wanted a new family, that he didn't want to see us anymore, Timothy freaked out and shoved Evan. He hit his head and he seemed out of it. I ran over to him, and I tried to keep his head still, but Timothy came too, with one of those insulin syringes that he used to control his diabetes and he stabbed Evan. I couldn't do anything, but I couldn't let Timothy go to jail. He was his mother's whole world and that woman was my world back then. She and my wife were identical twins and when Isabelle died I fell in love with Irene. So I buried Evan underneath a willow tree and told the police I didn't know where he was. Timothy got therapy and he grew up to be a fine young man, an FBI agent like yourself. He doesn't even have to worry about his blood sugar anymore now that he's got one of them new experimental pumps. He's always been a good boy."
Booth sat down, shocked at what the man had just told him.
"I'm going to need to know where to find Timothy," he said softly. Victor nodded
understandingly, but there were tears in his eyes.
"Like I said, he's an FBI agent now. His name is Tim Sullivan.
--
I'm so sorry to all of you who like Sully! I like him too and I have no idea where this came from, but it just did and I feel like I have to go this way. I also apologize for how long this took me to get out. My brain was at a Bones standstill until tonight.