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14 hours left

"Look, I told you people everything I knew about this last year. I failed the Kent family and I left the Bureau. I can't help you any further, why don't you call Agent Kurland or the kidnapping and ransom guy Thomas Vega? They would know a hell of a lot more about this than me." Former FBI agent Pete Sanders stood up from his seat in the loft of the Jeffersonian and looked over the railing at the bustling forensics lab below.

He looked like hell, and Sweets knew from the little information he'd been given about the him that, aside from leaving the Bureau after the two Kent boys died at the Gravedigger's hands, he'd also become a drunk. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days, his clothes were wrinkled and sour smelling and his nose was cut. Sweets had seen people come off of days long drinking binges before. It was seldom pretty.

Sweets stood too, feeling desperate to get any insight at all from the man who'd dealt with the Gravedigger last. "I understand that this is difficult to revisit again Mr. Sanders but the case was handed over to Agent Booth last year. Agent Kurland is on another assignment in California and Thomas Vega is on a book tour overseas. You're the only hope I have right now to get even the smallest bit of insight about this guy, seeing as how the current agent assigned to the case has been buried alive."

Sanders turned around to look at Sweets. "I'm sorry about Agent Booth, he seemed like a nice guy, which is exactly why I couldn't hack this line of work anymore. Typically, a general contractor's day doesn't involve letting someone die or being killed yourself. Good luck with your investigation, I just can't help you."

Sweets watched with dismay as the damaged man turned to leave. Cam approached the top of the steps just as Sanders began to descend them. The two exchanged glances as they passed each other, then Cam pointed a questioning look at Sweets.

Sitting back down, he gestured in the direction the former agent had retreated in. "He's too traumatized to help us, I couldn't get anything meaningful for my psych profile."

Cam took the empty seat next to the doctor and placed some papers in front of him. "Well, I got the location of the kidnapping. Took place in the FBI basement garage." She placed a black and white surveillance photo in front of Sweets. "Here's a picture of Booth's car minutes before the surveillance camera went offline."

Sweets looked up at her with surprise. "Just that camera?"

Cam nodded her head. "By the time security got down to check it out half an hour later, they found the camera wire cut and evidence of foul play, indicating that the kidnapping took place sometime within that time frame."

"It took them half an hour to go and investigate? Boy, I sure feel secure working in a federal building now."

Cam nodded again. "Booth and Brennan had plenty of time to leave for the night, get down to this area of the parking garage and be caught by surprise before anyone was the wiser. I'm on my way to take the particulate and blood evidence from the crime scene down to Hodgins and the security tapes from the rest of the garage are on their way to Angela as we speak."

Sweets looked at her with concern. "Blood? They found blood?"

Cam pushed herself to her feet, gathering up the new evidence she had accumulated. "Most likely Booth's, fits the M.O."

Sweets swallowed hard, the worry in his face making him look ten years past his tender age of twenty-three. As Cam walked toward the stairs, he called her name, getting up from his seat to meet her before she left.

"We should be looking for a male, between thirty and fifty years of age. He's someone who works for a living, probably in a skilled job that requires experience as opposed to a degree of some kind. He doesn't have many friends, he spends his time plotting out his next kidnapping and getting everything into place well before the event actually happens. He feels that he's owed the money he gets from the victim's families. His sense of entitlement probably stems from feeling disconnected at some point from society, especially members of society that he has been made to feel inferior to."

"Like rich people?" Cam asked.

Sweets nodded. "Like rich people, or anyone else that he sees as having an inflated sense of superiority. I'm sorry I can't get more detailed. If I had more time…."

Cam patted him on the arm and gave him a reassuring smile. "You've done a good job. Every little bit can help."

12 hours left

Angela stared at the monitor in her office as Hodgins walked in to check on her. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for. There are twenty-four hours worth of videos here for each camera and they sent me ten cameras worth of footage. We have no make or model of the car and no idea when he even arrived in the building."

She looked up at him with worry and frustration etched into her features. "What have you got?"

Hodgins sat down next to her and watched as grainy cars inched across the screen at random intervals. "A whole lot of things that don't belong together. I found traces of the same aluminum powder residue in the samples from the crime scene as the traces we found last year in the beer vat."

Angela stopped the tape and turned in her chair to face her fiancé. "Okay, so we know it's definitely the same guy in the same car as last year, but why would there be traces of aluminum on the ground? Didn't we decide that those traces came from a customized aluminum case in the guy's trunk?"

Hodgins nodded. "Something from his trunk must have hit the ground during the kidnapping. There are also traces of a blue, metallic based paint in the ground samples and in the blood samples as well as organic and inorganic particulate matter of various origins. I'm trying to separate them all out now."

Angela cocked her eyebrow. "Blue paint? Like, paint from a car?"

Hodgins shook his head. "It's not the same type of paint used for automobiles, I'm trying to isolate different commercial uses for it, but I'm coming up empty. When the system finishes configuring the organic matter, I hope it'll be enough to give us something to go on. As it stands now, a couple of common-place metal samples and a paint sample might not do us much good."

Angela looked back up at the monitor and pushed play, watching the silent footage begin anew. "Was there anything in the particulate evidence that could point us in the direction of even the type of car we're looking for?"

Hodgins got up from his seat, the ticking time clock in his head growing louder with every second that his friends stayed buried. "It was an underground parking garage, there were several types of tire particulates, too many to narrow anything down. From the evidence we accumulated last year, the car hit me low so you can exclude any trucks or SUVs."

Angela nodded her head, disappointment making her feel like crawling into bed and going to sleep. She was tired and afraid and pretty sure that she wasn't doing anything to help whatsoever.

At a loss for something to say, Hodgins laid a reassuring hand on her back and kissed the top of her head before he turned and left the room to check on the particulate identification program he was running.

7 hours left

"How is it coming Hodgins? Anything?" Hodgins continued to stare into his microscope as Cam entered the room.

"I was able to isolate all of the particulate matter from the crime scene, including this microbe, though I have no clue what any of them has to do with each other."

She walked up behind him and he moved his head away from the lenses so she could look inside. A small colony of hair-like creatures sat on display under her watchful eye. "What is it?"

Hodgins regained his place at the scope as Cam moved away. "Sphaerotilus natans IF4. It's a microbe most commonly found in wastewater treatment facilities and sewage."

Cam narrowed her eyes. "Not sure what either of those locations could have to do with a kidnapper who likes to put his victims in the ground. What did the rest of the particulates tell us?"

Without taking his eyes from the lenses he picked up a piece of paper that had been sitting next to him, handing it out to Cam.

She took it from him, her eyebrows lowering even further as she perused the list. "Apple rind, coffee grounds, paper pulp, tobacco, carpet fiber, diapers…" She looked up from the list in disbelief. "There are 127 items on this list."

He looked away from the microscope, fatigue and frustration all over his face. "127 items and not one of them have anything to do with the other." He held out a second piece of paper for Cam to look at, this one containing a picture of a commercial looking tool.

Cam could see no end to her confusion in sight. "And the plot thickens."

Hodgins stood up to look over her shoulder. "It's a Taylor T Heavy Duty Riveter, used to put rivets in on various metals during heavy duty construction projects. The blue, metallic paint particles I found in the ground swabs and in the blood are proprietary to this company and this tool specifically. "

Cam put the sheet of paper back down. "So, you think this is most likely the weapon used to incapacitate Booth?"

Hodgins cocked an eyebrow. "Have you positively ID'd the blood at the scene as his?"

Cam nodded. "DNA would take days, but the blood type is his and not Brennan's."

They both went quiet for a moment as worry gripped them anew. It was one thing to theorize that someone they knew had been gravely injured. It was another thing entirely to know it for a fact.

Hodgins was the first to break the silence, wanting to reassure them both the only way he knew how, with the facts. "The presence of the blue paint in the blood would indicate that Booth was hit with the handle of the tool and not the end that punches rivets. It isn't a very large tool, indicating that the Gravedigger only meant to knock Booth out long enough to kidnap he and Doctor Brennan. That and the very small amount of blood found would indicate that his wound isn't serious."

Cam gave him a small smile, patting him on his arm. "Thanks Hodgins."

He smiled back at her, glad to help both of them feel even the smallest amount of hope, when a scream of triumph and the sound of running feet had both of them jerking their heads toward the doorway to his office. Angela burst into view, her glowing expression telling them that she knew something huge.

"I know who has them! I know who the Gravedigger is!"