A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 16
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine even after 15 chapters.
Author's notes: Once again thank you for reading this story and special thanks to those readers who have taken the time to review. Your comments were extremely nice…and Howdylynn, I too cannot wait until August 30th! Oh the joy!
I apologize for the delay in updating. My last day at work was hellacious and physically, as well as mentally, exhausting. Plus I was left in charge so I not only had to do my work but check everyone else's! Ugh!
To BonesDBchippie—I'm glad to see that the pain killers haven't dulled your impatience. (LOL)
To WOATCAPIITON—Thank goodness you put down the wooden spoon and stopped eating all that chocolate. (grin)
And to elliot02uk—Let's just go with the theory that the mistakes in the last chapter were purely for your benefit. (big grin) And "affect" is a psychological term that I picked up during my college psychology courses. Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary defines "affect" (noun) as the following "the conscious subjective aspect of an emotion considered apart from bodily changes; also: a set of observable manifestations of a subjectively experienced emotion patients…showed perfectly normal reactions and affects Basically when I wrote that Natalie displayed a "flat affect", I meant that she did not respond "normally" to the situation at hand (i.e. her parents' disappearance and now the news of their deaths). Hope that explains it.
Anyway, on with the story…hope you all enjoy this chapter and if you do, press the little button and let me know!
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Angela entered the Medico-Legal Lab an hour earlier than usual for her. Barely keeping her eyes open, she yawned and slowly walked to Brennan's office where she found the forensic anthropologist already hard at work
"My god Bren what time did you get here?" She flopped her body on the couch and fell over on her left side, her head resting on the armrest, dark tendrils of hair cascading over the side.
Brennan smiled at her friend as she answered. "I got here at six. I was awake so I thought I would be proactive…"
"Wait, we left here at 2:30 this morning and you were back at six?" Angela sat up and studied her friend. "Why couldn't you sleep? Did you have another panic attack? Are you okay?"
"Jeez you're as bad as Booth," Brennan mumbled as she rolled her eyes. "I slept for a couple of hours, okay?"
The glare that Angela sent her way told her that it was not okay. However, Brennan did not feel compelled to let Angela, in all of her matchmaking glory, know that she'd had trouble falling to sleep because she missed Booth's presence. She had lain in her bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the way his arms felt around her. Sleep finally came after she gathered the pillow Booth had rested his head on the previous night in her arms. She was comforted by the lingering scent of his cologne as her eyes closed.
"Earth to Brennan," Angela's voice brought her thoughts back to the present.
"What?"
"Care to share what you were thinking about?" She smirked as a blush painted Brennan's cheeks.
"Nothing."
"Wow, when I think about nothing I don't usually smile that much."
"I wasn't smiling!"
"Oh, believe me sweetie, you were smiling." Angela yawned again and laid her head back on the armrest. "It's a nice change of pace for you, Bren. I say smile all you want. I know if I had that hunky G-man wrapped around my little finger, I'd be smiling too."
Brennan rolled her eyes as she picked up a few folders from her desk and stood. As she walked by Angela, she smacked the artist's shoulder with the folders. "Come on sleepy head, we've got work to do."
She groaned as she pushed herself into a sitting position again. "Booth's right, you are bossy," she said as Brennan stepped out the door.
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As Booth pulled his SUV into a parking space, he sighed. After putting the vehicle in park, he placed both of his hands on the steering wheel and clutched it tightly. He knew that Brennan would be upset when she discovered what he was about to do but Booth also knew that the answers she needed could only come from one source.
He exited the vehicle and quickly walked through the main gate, showing his badge. His pace quickened when he got to the corridor leading to the room where he would confront McVicar. Approaching the guard's station outside the metal barred door, Booth unholstered his weapon.
"Agent Booth, we've set up everything just as you asked after we got approval from Deputy Director Cullen and the warden," the older guard informed him as he took Booth's gun. "Just remember, if he makes any threatening moves, just yell and we'll be there in no time."
"I appreciate that but I'm not the one you've got to worry about." Booth stepped toward the door and waited as it slowly creaked and clanked open.
Entering the room, Booth removed his cell phone from his jacket and switched it off. He didn't want Brennan calling and interrupting his conversation with her mother's killer. Pacing around the room, he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. It didn't matter to Booth how long it took, he was determined that McVicar would answer the question of who 'Jacob Curry' really was and his relationship with Brennan's parents.
He had contacted Cullen after leaving Brennan at the lab last night and requested that his boss make special arrangements for him to meet with McVicar again. Booth had made the decision to speak with the hit man while holding Brennan in his arms the night she broke down. She needed answers and he intended to see that she got them. Regardless of what the ultimate truth was, Booth reasoned that he would be present to help Brennan through it…through all of it.
The door across the room from Booth slowly clanked open and several guards escorted McVicar inside. As the guards ensured he was properly chained to his side of the table, McVicar glanced around the room.
"Where's Joy?" A smile appeared on his lips as he mentioned Booth's partner.
"Dr. Brennan isn't with me today. It's just you and me, McVicar and we're gonna have a nice little chat." He took a seat across from the prisoner and placed his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.
"No Joy, no discussion. Guards! You can take me back to my cell now!"
Booth grinned at the hit man as he lifted the sketch of 'Jacob Curry' from the pocket of his jacket, which he had placed on the chair next to him. "No, you see, you get to leave when I say and not a moment before. You answer my questions, you leave and I don't see you again until your trial for Christine Brennan's murder."
"As I said no Joy, no discussion. You can't make me talk to you." McVicar nodded his head toward the cameras mounted in the corners of the room. "You try to harm a prisoner, they'll have it all on tape…and then you won't have a badge or a gun to protect my little Joy. And I'm willing to bet big money you won't do anything that's going to hurt her."
Booth leaned back casually in his chair and crossed his arms. "You're right about one thing I will never do anything to hurt Temperance." His eyes darted toward the cameras as the red light switched off, indicating that the cameras were not longer operating.
McVicar's eyes also darted toward the cameras and he chuckled. "I should've seen that coming, huh?"
"Now we can play nice and you tell me what I need to know," Booth said as he slid the sketch over to McVicar, "or I can get real nasty real quick."
"She must be one amazing piece of ass," he smirked at the agent.
Booth sighed, pulling the sketch away from McVicar. "I was hoping you would choose the nice route. I really hate getting my suit dirty."
He reached across the table and grabbed McVicar's head, slamming the hit man's face into the table. Blood gushed out of McVicar's nose as he brought his head up and stared at Booth.
"AHHHH…you can't do that…you're FBI," he yelled.
"Funny, I just did." He held up the sketch again. "What's his real name and what was his connection to Brennan's parents?"
"Guards! Guards!" McVicar held his nose as he yelled.
Booth stood and walked around the table. He placed his right hand on the back of McVicar's neck roughly and squeezed, while holding the sketch in his other hand. "They're not coming. Now, who is this guy?"
"I'm not telling you anything. You think because you came in here and broke my nose, demanding answers that I'm going to give them to you? You're crazy!"
He leaned in close to McVicar's ear. "If you think all I'm going to do is break your nose, then you're sadly mistaken," he whispered. "I was a sniper with the Rangers. I killed quite a few people…hurting you doesn't really bother me that much."
Booth held the sketch in front of the prisoner again. "Who is he?"
McVicar studied the sketch for a moment before glancing at the agent. "You love her, don't you? You want her to be safe? If I tell you about that man, who he really is and what he did with Max and Ruth…I won't be safe and neither will she. I'm telling you to pack your stuff up and go home. Get her to stop looking into this."
"You son of a bitch," Booth said as he squeezed McVicar's neck even tighter. "Don't you dare pretend that you care about Temperance or her safety. You killed her mother! You're the reason the Keenans became the Brennans and you're the reason she lost her family when she was fifteen! Now tell me who the hell this guy is!"
Blood continued to trickle from McVicar's nose, covering his lips and chin. He grinned at Booth, his blood stained teeth creating an eerie image. "Have it your way, Agent Booth. Just remember when you're holding Joy in your arms as she takes her last breath…I warned you."
"His name…now."
"Patrick Kava. He was pretty high up in the syndicate—an old timer. Real smart man…until he got greedy. We called him 'Gramps' because he was so much older than the rest of the crew."
Booth released his grip on McVicar, walked around the table and picked up his jacket. As he put his jacket on and straightened his tie, Booth stared at the man. "If this information proves inaccurate, I'll be back…and I'll be breaking more than your nose."
As he turned to exit the room, he heard McVicar chuckling. "Her blood is on your hands, Agent Booth! Her blood is on your hands!"
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As he typed the name Patrick Kava into the FBI search engine, Booth noticed Cullen's presence in his doorway. "Something I can help you with sir?" Pressing enter, he leaned back in his chair and watched as the deputy director closed the office door.
"How are things coming along on the Thompson case?"
"We seized a bunch of guns from the Thompson residence, as well as a few of the sheriff's guns, and then we spoke with the daughter. Ballistics is running tests on all of the guns and Bones should have her reverse engineering thing-a-ma-bob done soon so we can compare markings and striations."
Cullen rubbed a hand over his face. "A simple 'very well' would have sufficed, Booth. At least you didn't use a bunch of squint words…" He sighed as he took a seat across from the young agent. "And how did your visit with McVicar go?"
Booth straightened in his seat and averted his gaze from his boss. "Um, fine. He gave me a name that I'm running through the system right now. I'll have to get in touch with the Chicago field office again…see if any of the original agents can tell me anything more."
"Good," Cullen said as he stood and turned to walk out of the office. "I'm glad it was a successful interview. Oh and Booth, the warden called to inform me that McVicar broke his nose…seems he's a little clumsy, ran into a door or something."
Squirming slightly in his seat, Booth looked at his computer monitor. "Really? That's too bad…poor hit man with a broken nose. Maybe I'll send him a card."
Cullen smiled as he opened the door and walked out of the office.
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"I can't believe your theory actually worked." Zach smiled at his mentor before returning his gaze to Angela's monitor and the image of a bullet hole. "I mean I can believe it because you're brilliant and…"
"Dude, you can stop kissing up already," Hodgins said from his post at Angela's desk. He picked up one of her sketch pads and flipped through it. "Hey Ange, these are really good."
"Thanks, now put them back. They're ideas for some work I might display at an art show next weekend."
"Art show? Why didn't you mention that to me earlier?" Brennan queried.
"You weren't exactly speaking to me at the time…"
"Oh…sorry…again."
Angela wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder and squeezed. "Stop apologizing already. It's over and done with, remember?"
"Just brilliant," Zach mumbled.
Brennan smiled at her assistant. "It will only be brilliant if this image matches the ballistics results of any of the weapons that the FBI seized."
"Well, let's start with Fife's guns first shall we?" Booth breezed into Angela's office and smiled at his partner and her squints. "Is this the new hangout in the lab? Cause I looked everywhere first and this is the second day in a row I've found you in here." He winked at her as he handed her the file with the ballistics results.
"Yeah Angela's office is the place you wanna be," Hodgins said as he flipped another page in the sketch pad.
"Oh wow, Ange, that's really good," Booth commented as he stepped over to her desk to get a better look at the drawings.
Angela stalked over to Hodgins and snatched the sketch pad out his hands, ushering him out of her chair and away from her desk. "Thank you…now step away from the desk. Your Bones is over there," she said pointing to Brennan's position at her work station.
Brennan sat side by side with Zach, comparing the image that Angela had created with each ballistic result. "He only had four handguns in his possession?"
"Yeah Bones, the rest of his collection consisted of a 12 gauge shotgun and one rifle," he said as he stood behind her. "So what's the verdict?"
"At first glance, Agent Booth, none of the markings or striations match," Zach answered.
Brennan noticed the disappointed expression on Booth's face as she looked up at him. "He said at first glance Booth. Zach will do a further in depth analysis to ensure the findings are accurate."
Gazing down at her, Booth smiled. "Usually your 'first glance' at anything is dead on Bones. This doesn't necessarily mean that Fife didn't do it…but I'm not so inclined to keep him at the top of my list anymore."
"Who is else is on the list Booth?" she asked, frowning slightly.
"Well there's….there's Natalie," he said softly, hoping that she wouldn't react as she had a few days ago in the lab. "She said that she didn't hear anything the night her parents disappeared but odds are they were killed in the basement…"
"They were," she replied.
"What?"
"Hodgins matched the samples I took in the basement to those found on the bodies. In the sample I took from the area that had been obviously been cleaned, he found a high concentration of bleach." She turned her attention back to the monitor.
"So the bleach wasn't diluted with water at all?" He looked over at Hodgins
"Nope, not at all man. Looks like Natalie just made it to the top of the list, huh?"
"Crap," Booth muttered as he studied Brennan's back. He saw her tense slightly at Hodgins' observation of Natalie making the "list".
The ringing of Booth's cell phone pierced the silence that had fallen over the room. Slipping the phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the caller id and frowned. "Booth," he answered. "What? What the hell…? That's really not an FBI matter… Okay, calm down, Mrs. Thompson we'll be there as soon as possible."
Brennan pivoted her chair around to face Booth. "What's wrong?"
"Sheriff Fife just showed up and placed Natalie under arrest," he answered as he ran a hand through his thick hair. "Grab your stuff and let's go Bones."