So you might think they're having sex waaay too much. I personally think they're being restrained :P They'd totally be at it like bunnies, right? Sorry if the story is starting to feel a bit rushed - I'm trying to keep the pace the same, but I really have to get it finished, cos I'm off camping in the next couple of days and then soon after that I'm off volunteering in Thailand and will be gone a month... and then when I get back I'm straight back into Uni (yaaay). So yeah - excuse the hurry, if you think it feels hurried!
Chapter 19: The Solution in the Story
They were woken the next morning by Booth's buzzing phone. Martin had just received the results, and as expected, the DNA wasn't a match – but there were many similar indicators.
Booth hung up, kissing Brennan on the cheek and grinning.
'We did it,' he said, feeling happy that they'd found the guy. He'd have to wait until he could question the man to be able to work out exactly why he did it, but he was sure they'd be able to relatively easily. Generally once people were locked in an interrogation room with piles of evidence stacking against them, they tended to fold.
'Martin is going to go and arrest the man, but he said too get to the police station by 7.30. It's just gone 6 now, so we should have time for a shower, and a bit of breakfast...'
Brennan smiled, jumping out of bed and heading towards the shower, leaving Booth sitting on the bed. However, once she reached the door to the bathroom, she turned to look at him, smiling coyly.
Logically, if we shower together, it'll take less time.
'Hey, Booth?' She asked, biting her lip. 'I had this fantasy the other day, about you in the shower...' she trailed off, watching as Booth grinned, getting out of the bed and following her into the bathroom.
'And you wanted me to make it come true?' He said, grinning as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
.-.-.-.-.
They left the house quietly – no one else was up yet. They travelled quickly to the HQ, due to a lack of traffic. Booth didn't think he's seen the roads this quiet.
'Since this is probably the last day we'll probably need to work on this case, Booth... when did you want to go home?' Brennan asked, as she turned into the car park.
Booth shrugged. He wasn't really sure – though they'd only been here a few days, it was Christmastime – and he loved being home at Christmas. Yes, the summer sun was nice but... there was nothing like sitting down next to a nice warm, toasty fire, sharing an eggnog with the person you love...
But he felt an almost equal desire to stay. Here, he had Brennan all to himself, and no one to intrude or analyse on what they had going. He could almost hear the advice Angela and Cam would give, and he just knew that Sweet's would practically wet himself with excitement: both as a friend and a psychologist . Sure, they'd all be happy for them both, but maybe all the attention would freak Brennan out? He wanted things to stay like this, like they were here. Calm, safe, and so damn amazing.
'I dunno, Bones. I guess I should get back to Washington for Parker... and I guess you've got commitments at the Jeffersonian?'
She shifted her bag onto her other shoulder before looking at him, as though she was trying to work out what he wanted.
'I took as much time off as the FBI gave you, so no, I currently have no commitments at the Jeffersonian,' she said.
'Do you want to go back?' He asked, now mirroring her look.
She thought for a moment, trying to work out what she wanted. Usually she would have been pretty clear on these sorts of things – it really was a straightforward question. She knew why she was confused; she didn't want Booth to have to go back before he wanted, this was a holiday of sorts for him, after all. She knew this was apparently a normal part of relationships – thinking about the other, before yourself. She'd never really had that before, though – she'd always done and said what she wanted in a relationship. Now, she felt that her happiness was wrapped up in his, so for her to know what she wanted, she had too know what he wanted...
This is ridiculous.
'Let's ring up Cam or Angela. See if they have any knew cases, and if they need us back, we'll go back. Otherwise, we could stay for a couple more days, so you're back with plenty of time for Christmas, but then we could also enjoy a couple of days here in Australia. Do you have any objections?' She asked, looking at him closely.
He grinned at her, amused at her formality. 'You're adorable, Bones.'
'I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted, Booth,' she said, but he could tell by her smile that she didn't mind.
He took her hand, and they entered the building.
.-.-.-.-.
They stood outside the interrogation room with Martin, reading over some of the notes he'd prepared and discussing what they were going to ask Eric Wentworth. There wasn't much too it – they already had enough to convict the man. But a confession would really seal the deal.
The three entered the room, and Eric defiantly refused to look at anyone, his jaw set. He had his lawyer with him, a young looking man who appeared relatively nervous. Martin and Brennan sat down, Booth opting to stand behind Brennan, watching the man.
Martin passed over the pile of evidence that was against Eric, spreading it out in front of him. Eric didn't look at it, continuing to glare at the three people standing in front of him. The lawyer, however, looked over the information, and looked even more nervous.
'Your blood was found on the catch of your son's dorm room door,' he said, pointing at the scientific data that outlined this fact.
'Means nothing,' Eric spat, glaring at Martin. 'Skin got caught when I was helping Paul move in.'
Martin nodded, before pointing to another piece of paper. 'Credit card records show that you bought a new mattress – the brand and make as the mattress which was used to replace your sons. The mattress was bought two days before Justine and Brad were reported missing.'
Eric remained silent, it looked as though he were chewing on his son.
'Do you have any excuse for that?' Booth asked, looking at the man. Eric turned his eyes towards Booth, his steely glare now fixed on him, but he made no gesture or sound.
'You don't have to say anything,' the young lawyer said, and Martin continued.
'We searched your kitchen and found a set of knives, with one missing.' He gestured to a knife in an evidence bag, before placing it in front of Eric, who pointedly didn't look at it. 'This is the same sort of knife that you have missing from your set. It matches the stab wounds that the two victims sustained.'
'That knife has been missing for years,' Eric said quietly, looking down.
Martin ignored him, now pulling out photos from beneath the pile of papers.
'You have a scar on the palm of your right hand which resembles the shape of a human jaw,' Martin concluded, sitting back to look at Eric.
'Jerry gave that to me,' Eric said, though Booth could see by now that his excuses were weak. Maybe if only one of these pieces of evidence were against him. But four?
'Who's Jerry?' Brennan whispered at Booth, looking up at him, slightly confused.
'His dog,' He replied quickly, before turning his attention back to Eric.
'Look, Eric. There's no point in telling us that you didn't do it. We know you did it. We can convict you without a confession, without motive even. The case is in the bag. But it will look good if you confess, combined with your history of mental illness and the story about your wife. Tell us what happened,' Booth said, staring at the man.
Eric looked away, frowning; however, his lawyer looked thoughtful.
'I have to agree with then, Mr Wentworth. Things are not looking good for you. The best option for you right now is to confess,' he said quietly, though everyone in the room heard.
Eric turned to stare at his lawyer, as though he'd been betrayed, before sniffing, and turning his gaze back upon the three in front of him.
'I'm not saying a word.'
.-.-.-.-.
The three left the interrogation room after trying to work further information out of Eric, but the man refused to speak. The lawyer had eventually told them all too leave – that he'd try and speak some sense into the man.
They now all sat inside the canteen, drinking the disgusting cups of coffee that had offended Booth so much yesterday.
'I'm trying work it out, why he would have done it. His Doctor had said he was making good progress, getting his anger under control-'
'Why would he have had a kitchen knife with him at his son's dorm room?' Brennan interrupted, placing her cup down with a frown.
Booth was slightly annoyed by the interruption, but she had a good point. Martin just shrugged, gulping down the coffee – which, apparently, he had no aversion too; but Booth instead picked up Eric's credit card report, looking over the information.
He'd noticed something there before that had seemed out of place – all Eric had been using his credit card for prior to the mattress and this one other buy were normal household things like the groceries. But here, he'd bought a couple of pieces of artwork of eBay...
'Hey, Bones, you've got all this artwork at your apartment. Do you ever buy them online? Or get them sent to you in the post?'
Her forehead creased, wondering where his line of thought had led him.
'I have bought the occasional piece of art online...' she said, looking at him curiously.
'Okay, do they come wrapped up? Like in cardboard boxes, or something?' He asked, placing the paper down.
'Yes, they do tend to-'
'How do you open them?'
'Usually I just grab a kitchen knife...' she caught on.
So had Martin.
'The father bought his son some artwork for some reason or another, and he went into the kid's dorm room to set it up for him so it'd surprise him when he came back. So he took the kitchen knife with him, to open up the paintings when he got there...'
'And when he saw the two youths in his son's bed, he snapped?' Bones asked, looking slightly confused.
'As good a reason as any other, I suppose,' Booth said, somewhat darkly.
'Shall we go and tell the murderer we've worked him out?' Brennan asked, smiling at the two men.
They nodded, and the three of them stood up, leaving three lonely Styrofoam cups behind them.
.-.-.-.-.
'You wanted to surprise your son with some beautiful paintings,' Booth said, indicating to the purchases on the credit card report. 'But when you got to his room, you found that there were some other kids in your son's bed, freeloading of your hard-earned money, and it pissed you off. So you killed them.'
Eric looked shocked.
'How did you-'
'Know? Well, I'm good, Mr Wentworth. And so is my team here. We're very good.'
'It didn't happen like that,' he said, quietly. He didn't look so angry now – more dejected, and drained.
'How did it happen then?' Martin asked quietly, empathetically. Booth had to hand it to him. This guy was nice.
'You're right about the paintings. I wanted to thank my son for all his... support. His strength over these past few years. He was always going on about this artist, this woman from Melbourne. He talked more about her art than he did anything else...' he said, looking down again.
'I just wanted to thank him for being a good boy.'
The room was silent for a moment, and Booth wondered if that was his confession. He'd killed the Justine and Brad out of some misguided attempt to thank his son?
But then he spoke again.
'I kept seeing my wife after she died, you know? She'd talk to me, she'd help me. But then... I saw her there. I saw her in his room. With another man,' he spat out, his anger flaring up again.
'I lost it, like you said. But not for the reason that you said! I thought she wasn't real. I thought it was my mind, playing tricks on me again, making me into the man my son feared, hated. I just...'
'You wanted to destroy the image,' Booth said.
He mentally compared the image of Justine Cooper and the picture of Therese Wentworth that had been in Paul's file. He supposed there were similarities – he also supposed that those similarities would be enough for a man who was already suffering from a mental disease.
Eric nodded, his head down turned. 'Then there was so much blood. And then I knew it was real.'
So there you have it! Just so you know, I don't meant to further the taboo there is on mental illness or anything like that, and if the conclusion of the case (not the story, JUST yet – one or two more chapters to go), offended you, I'm very sorry!
Hope you liked the solution of the case, anyway :)