CHAPTER 25

Booth's cell rang and Hodgins turned the radio off. Listening intently, Booth pulled out his notepad and pen and wrote an address, then snapped the phone shut.

"Hang a U-turn here. They got a hit on prints found at the scene," he said quietly.

Hodgins was puzzled. "You should be happy about that—why aren't you happy?"

Booth stared down at the address he'd written. "Something just doesn't feel right. This guy is playing games with us and I don't like it. We're going to check this out, but I have a feeling it's another false lead. He's too smart to leave his prints behind." Frowning, he stared blindly at the passing scenery.

The apartment building was in a seedy part of town and Hodgins hoped Booth wouldn't make him wait in the car. He had to fight back a smile of relief when Booth handed him a vest and told him to stay back.

The hallway smelled of cat urine and boiled cabbage and Hodgins tried to remember to breathe through his mouth. Approaching apartment 12, Hodgins flattened himself against the wall as Booth held his gun ready and knocked firmly. A moment later the door was cracked open slowly and a yellowed eye appeared just above the chain.

"Yeah?" came the gravelly voice. The smell of boiled cabbage became stronger and Hodgins guessed they had found the perpetrator of that particular odor. Then he caught a whiff of the guy's B.O. and tears sprang to his eyes.

"FBI," Booth said, holding up his creds. The eye widened then narrowed warily. "Are you Robert Cain?" The man nodded hesitantly and Booth went on. "Where were you last night around nine?"

"Workin' the seven to three shift at Marty's Pub. I'm a bartender there." Booth's heart sank, even though he'd already suspected this wasn't the guy. He put his gun away and apologized for disturbing the man as the door slammed in his face. Booth's frustration rose another notch. He would make a call and check Cain's story out, but he already knew it was another dead end.

Hodgins had to trot to keep up with Booth as they headed back to the car. Booth's anger was almost a palpable presence, but Hodgins knew it wasn't directed at him. He finally got up the nerve to speak when they were back on the road. "What just happened?"

"The perp planted the prints at the scene," he said tersely, his temper barely restrained. He was seething with fury and his pulse was pounding in his ears. This guy was messing with the wrong agent, he thought savagely. When he caught him, he was going to make him sorry. And if he hurt Brennan, he was going to regret he was ever born.

Entering the Hoover building, Booth's cell rang again. He answered it as they waited for an elevator. This time Booth's response was more animated.

"What time? Why didn't you call sooner? Dammit, you wasted an hour trying to verify? Never mind, I'll take care of it," he snapped. He turned on his heel and headed for the lobby doors and once more Hodgins was forced to hurry to catch up.

"What is it now?" Hodgins asked cautiously. He wished Angela had taken the Booth watch, because he was beginning to think he'd be lucky to survive this whole wild goose chase unscathed. Booth was a nice guy, but not fun to be around when he was angry.

"They got a tip over an hour ago. A man reported suspicious activity at his neighbor's house. When he knocked on the door to check it out, he said the neighbor was acting cagey, and then his wife mentioned seeing the guy carry something into his house, something long, wrapped in a blanket late last night. That's when he called the cops and they routed the call to us."

Hodgins was confused. "Why would they do that?"

"Because the house is leased to an ex-con by the name of Charles Riggs, former cellmate of Richard Bascom." Hodgins started the car and tossed another puzzled look at Booth. "Bascom escaped last year and killed a woman," Booth continued. "I was the lead investigator. In the course of the investigation, we cornered him at a vacant warehouse. He had a knife to the throat of the woman he was holding hostage. I-I shot him to save her. Poor woman nearly bled to death before we could reach her. Bascom died at the scene."

"So you think this Riggs guy is doing all this to get back at you for killing his buddy?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Booth said grimly. "I just hope this lead's for real. I'm getting very tired of chasing my tail." Hodgins silently agreed. He couldn't wait to be dropped off at the lab so he could get back to his bugs and slime. Maybe he wasn't cut out for field work.