A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 11
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters associated with BONES.
Author's notes: Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to those who have taken the time to review. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
To elliot02uk (Jean B.)—(sigh, just kidding!) I don't have a problem with someone pointing out typos…although I did warn you about the stupid mistakes brought on by sleep deprivation. Again, I did read and reread the chapter but I guess my tired brain simply didn't register those mistakes. My plan is to correct those typos and repost those chapters later—more for myself than anything. Now, you can stop pacing…at least until you're done with this chapter. Oh and extra special thanks for the positive thoughts!
To BonesDBchippie—again, you're impatience and insistence that I write another chapter are to blame for this quick update. Thanks!
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Booth quickly descended the platform area and made his way through the lab in a vain attempt to follow Brennan. He exited the building into the employee parking area to find her car gone from its assigned space. "Damn it," he muttered as he began the trek to the parking structure where his SUV was parked. "Stupid parking structure…I need an assigned space near the lab."
Thirty minutes later he maneuvered the SUV down Brennan's street and slowed down, searching for her car. After locating it parked at the curb near her building, Booth let out a long breath, glad that she had made it home. He had seen Brennan angry before but what he and the others witnessed in the lab was beyond anger. Booth parked the SUV and sat in the driver's seat, quietly contemplating his next move. His first instinct was to go running up to her apartment and bang on her door until she let him in, but he knew that would be a mistake.
He slipped his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. His finger hovered above the keypad. All he had to do was press '1' and he would be connected to her cell phone but he knew that she wouldn't answer. This wasn't the first time that Booth had felt helpless when it came to Brennan. He snapped his phone shut and slapped his other hand against the steering wheel.
Climbing out of the vehicle, Booth made his way to the sidewalk and paced for a few minutes. He looked up to her window and observed that a light was on in the living room. Running a hand through his hair, he began pacing again. Suddenly he stopped and took out his cell phone again. This time his finger pressed '2' and he heard the line ringing as he held the phone up to his ear. After the fourth ring, Brennan's answering machine picked up.
"Bones…Temperance, please pick up the phone," Booth pleaded. No answer. "Okay…um, I …. I…just call me…if you need me….Temperance." Still no answer. No acknowledgment of his pleas. He snapped the phone shut again, feeling more helpless and dejected than he'd ever felt before. Booth looked up at her apartment again just in time to see the light in the living room switch off.
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Brennan sat in her living room staring out the large windows, listening to Booth's voice on her answering machine. She wasn't angry or riddled with anxiety—she was numb. She wondered if this was what it felt like to lose one's mind. The ups and downs of the past few days had left her teetering on the brink of sanity and now she didn't feel a damn thing.
"…just call me…if you need me…Temperance." She desperately wanted to scream to him that she did need him. It was becoming painfully obvious that he was her only link to sanity and for reasons she couldn't discern, she was shutting him out and trying to push him away. She reached up and switched off the lamp next to her, allowing the darkness to cover her, inside and out. Brennan curled up on her couch and clutched a pillow to her chest, wondering if the nightmare would ever end.
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At 6 am Booth reached out and slapped his alarm clock off his nightstand to stop the annoying high pitch shrill. He groaned as he turned over to lie on his back, his sheets tangled around his lower body. He hadn't sleep worth a damn, worrying about Brennan and waiting for a phone call that he knew would never come.
He slowly rolled off of the bed and padded off to the bathroom for a shower. A half an hour later, showered and shaved, Booth walked out the door of his apartment and was on his way to the Hoover Building. He wanted to get an early start on a few things concerning the Thompson case before he made an appearance at the lab.
Three hours later, Booth had managed to complete most of his tasks and decided to visit the squints, namely Brennan. As he pulled into the parking structure, Booth remembered his hike from the employee parking area and he made a mental note to speak with Dr. Goodman about an assigned space for him.
Upon entering the lab area, Booth immediately noticed the silence. Usually he could count on the kid and Hodgins to be involved in some stupid argument or racing the creepy crawlers that Hodgins called his "pets". However, today there was nothing but the humming of computer terminals and the occasional patter of feet on the metallic platform areas.
Booth moved down the hallway toward Angela's office to see if an identification had been made yet. He found the pretty artist slumped over at her work terminal, her eyes firmly shut. He studied the face of 'Jacob Curry' on her monitor and watched as the facial recognition program sifted through mug shot after mug shot without hitting anything.
"Angela," he whispered.
"Five more minutes," she said, still half asleep. "Five more minutes and I'm golden."
Booth grinned at her as she slowly raised her head and tried to glare at him through hooded eyes. "Didn't sleep well either, huh?"
"I pulled a Brennan," she answered while yawning. "Stayed until 2 am and then came back in at the butt crack of dawn."
"Watching the sun rise can be a beautiful thing."
"Yeah, if you're going home and going to bed…getting up to watch it is a real pain in the ass." Angela yawned again as she took in Booth's tired expression. "Hmm, you didn't talk to her last night, huh?"
Booth shook his head. "I wanted to…wanted to go upstairs and break down the door to her apartment but I didn't think she would appreciate that gesture." He sighed as he glanced at the program still sifting through faces. "So, no match of any kind?"
"None," she confirmed. "If this guy was part of Bren's parents' criminal past then he was really good at his job. It would appear that he managed to maintain a clean record…or at least stay below the FBI's radar."
"Well, it this doesn't work, we still have the DNA." Booth patted her shoulder before turning to leave the office. He sauntered through the lab toward Brennan's office. He approached quietly and knocked on the door before entering.
Brennan looked up from the file she was reading and held his steady gaze. "Hi," she said softly. She looked as tired as he felt.
"Hi yourself," he replied, offering her a small smile as he took a seat across from her. "Ahem, so…"
"Hodgins' report on the fibers and clothing from the grave sites came in," she said, deftly avoiding any possible conversation about the incident and her outburst.
Booth rubbed his hand across his forehead, hoping that the impending headache he felt was due to a lack of sleep rather than high blood pressure. As much as he wanted to, Booth was not going to force her to talk. He certainly did not want a repeat performance of her anger from last night. "And what did he find? Without using all that squinty language you guys get off on."
"In a word—concrete. It would appear that when the victims were killed their bodies fell on an area of concrete which was transferred to their clothing and ultimately to their graves."
Victims. She couldn't even say their names. It was her job to give the unidentifiable their identities back and now she wouldn't even use their names. Booth studied her in silence as she continued talking.
"I've got Zach working on the partial bullet markings on the sternum and ribs of both victims to see if we have enough to produce a reverse engineering image of the bullets…"
"That thingy you mentioned on the Cugini case, right? That would be great."
"If we have enough of the markings, yes, you're right, it would be great." Brennan dropped her gaze to file again and continued reading.
"Well, I should have a warrant to seize all of Ronald Thompson's handguns from the residence, as well as Fife's service weapon, soon. When we go back to Willow Lake to interview Natalie in the next few days, we can serve the warrant and collect the guns." He watched as she tucked a long wayward strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.
"Good idea. There is always the possibility that the killer or killers used one of the guns from the arsenal in the study."
"Collection," he corrected her with a small smile. "By the way, the people in Documents called and told me that the letter and the map were both written by the same person…probably a male and definitely right handed. AFIS did manage to hit on a print on the letter—it was Sheriff Fife's."
Brennan looked up from the file and stared at Booth. "Were there any other prints?"
Booth nodded. "Yeah, there were several other prints but none of them have been identified yet. And Fife told the Bureau from the start that he had handled the envelope, the letter and the map without gloves so finding his prints doesn't mean anything."
"But you still consider him a viable suspect, right?" Brennan leaned back in her chair and studied her partner thoughtfully. "You do realize that you always think it's the husband or boyfriend…"
"And I'm usually right," he replied smoothly. "Look, I can sympathize with his plight of unrequited love. It's difficult to swallow your feelings for someone and allow them to go off with another person…or allow them to pretend that they don't necessarily feel what you feel…"
Brennan's breath caught for a moment as she locked her eyes with Booth's. "What if that person did feel what you feel, but was…scared?" she questioned softly, a small quiver in her voice.
Booth leaned forward, resting his arms on her desk, his gaze never wavering. "There's no reason to be scared," he responded just as softly.
They sat, eyes locked together, in silence for several minutes, both acknowledging that they had managed to tiptoe across the boundaries of "just friends and partners" without saying a word. Booth had not intended to add any more to Brennan's plate with every thing else that was happening in her life but he couldn't deny the small feeling of elation at hearing her confession, in a typical Brennan roundabout manner, that she felt something for him.
"Okay, it's official—'Jacob Curry' never had the pleasure of being photographed for a federal crime of any type," Angela said in a tired voice as she sauntered into Brennan's office and sat down on the couch. She watched as Brennan turned toward her monitor and Booth sat back in his chair, almost reluctantly. "I'm sorry…did I interrupt something?"
"No," Brennan said as she began typing. "So the facial recognition program was a dead end?"
Angela looked at Booth and then at Brennan. She knew that she had interrupted something and she was fairly certain that the moment between her best friend and Booth had nothing to do with a case. "Yep, dead end sweetie. But Hodgins also stayed late and came in early to get a jump start on the rapid DNA profile so maybe…"
Booth watched Brennan pretend to be busy at her desk. "Hey Bones, I've got an interview at the Hoover Building in 30 minutes with one of the gun dealers that Ronald Thompson dealt with on a regular basis. Wanna come?"
"Sure." She swiveled her chair and stood, grabbing her jacket and her bag. "Angela, call me if Zach or Hodgins come up with anything new on either case."
"Will do sweetie," Angela said while stifling yet another yawn as she watched the couple leave the office. "I don't see what enjoyment she gets out of these hours," she muttered as she curled up on Brennan's couch for a quick nap.
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Marcus Gentle sat nervously at the table in the interrogation room, strumming his fingers on the table and tapping his right foot. "You know I haven't done anything wrong. All of my permits and licenses to sell my product are in order. I know my rights…"
"Especially your second amendment rights, huh?" Brennan stared at the man, causing him to fidget even more.
"You're one of those left wing bleeding heart types, aren't you?" His disdain for such 'types' was obvious.
"Actually she's a member of the NRA," Booth replied as he continued looking over Gentle's sales records for the past few years.
Gentle threw an appreciative look at Brennan. "Really? You in the market for a gun?"
Brennan's expression brightened considerably. "As a matter of fact I am."
"She's not allowed to have a gun," Booth stated. "She's been charged with a felony before."
"Her? No offense or anything lady but...come on."
"Don't let her appearance fool you, Mr. Gentle. She could drop kick your ass across this room." Booth turned to the last page of the records as Gentle stared at Brennan nervously.
"You could?" he asked in a quivering voice.
Brennan shrugged. "I'm not sure if you would go across the room but definitely into the wall behind you."
"Okay, Mr. Gentle…and I just gotta point out, funny name for a gun dealer….did Ronald Thompson ever tell you why he bought so many guns?" Booth closed the file containing the sales records and leaned back in his chair.
"Do I…do I need a lawyer?"
"You're not under arrest, Mr. Gentle. We just have a few questions for you. You are free to leave at any time during this interview." Booth stood up and walked around the table to stand behind Gentle. "However, it would be a real shame if you didn't talk to us and possibly assist in catching a killer….the Bureau may have to take a real close look at all those permits and licenses you say you've got in order."
Gentle sighed. "Damn government…fine. Ronald simply said that he was a collector. He enjoyed guns—plain and simple. I know he had a huge display cabinet in his study. I used to joke with him that he took better care of his guns than he did his family."
"Did he ever mention any organizations he was involved with?"
"Besides the NRA, no. Ronald Thompson was not some whack job living on a compound with the intent of taking down the government, okay!" Gentle slumped in his chair. "He was a nice guy that everybody liked. He never had a problem with anyone."
"Someone had a problem with him and his wife…they're dead," Brennan said as she leaned back and crossed her arms.
"Look, I don't know anything about that. Now I've given you copies of all my record sales and highlighted Ronald's name and his purchases." Gentle pushed his chair away from the table and stood, turning to look at Booth who was leaning against the wall. "You got everything you asked of me. We're done." He started to the door and turned toward Brennan. "Hey, if you wanna call me about a gun, I'll give you a really good deal."
Booth opened the door and pushed Gentle through. "No deal. Buh-bye now."
Brennan opened the folder lying on the table and flipped through a few pages.
"What are you looking for Bones?"
"Just checking out his prices," she answered nonchalantly. Booth walked over to the desk and closed the folder, rolling his eyes.
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After grabbing a quick lunch at Wong Foos, Booth and Brennan returned to the lab and ascended the stairs to the platform area. Hodgins and Zach were both concentrating intensely on different projects.
"Zach, how's it looking for the reverse engineering imaging?" Brennan stood behind her protégé and stared at the monitor where he was working.
"I think we may have enough from Katherine Thompson's sternum to try the imaging, Dr. Brennan. All of the other markings were useless."
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good work Zach." Booth noticed the young man's face light up at his mentor's compliment.
"Hodgins, anything on the DNA profile yet?"
Hodgins spun around in his chair and faced her and Booth. "I have a friend in the lab and got him to do a major rush job—top priority—on this and we fed the profile through the database about an hour ago. The bad news is…we got nothing. Nada." He paused as he saw Brennan's crestfallen expression. "I'm really sorry."
Booth placed his hands on his hips and paced around. "Nothing? I annoyed senior agents in the Chicago field office, had a body exhumed, got your team to do their thing and we still got nothing? This guy didn't just fall from the sky people. We know his name was not 'Jacob Curry' but you're telling me that we don't a have freakin' way to find out who he really was?"
Brennan stood with her arms crossed, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, listening to Booth's tirade. "Yes we do."
Booth stopped pacing and stared at her. "What? What's left Bones? You tried DNA and the Bureau's facial recognition program. I don't see what else we can do."
Brennan walked toward him, grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her as she made her way down the platform stairs. "You'll see."
While he didn't mind Brennan holding his arm, Booth found that he disliked the cryptic tone of her voice.