Vigilante Justice

From Chapter 11:

"Really? You're not going to be my bodyguard any more?"

"That's right. Hey, it's been quiet for weeks. I think we're in the clear."

Standing, he pointed down the boardwalk in the direction of their car. As they walked, Bones was quiet and her forehead was wrinkled in that way that Booth knew meant she was bothered by something. After long minutes of silence, he sighed loudly and stopped to face her.

"What?"

"You've been watching me around the clock for weeks, and now you're just going to stop, just like that. I don't understand. You know something, Booth, something that you're not telling me. "

Chapter 12

"No, Bones; I just have a good hunch, that's all. The FBI feels sure that Andrew Carson has left the country. There's been no activity on his personal accounts. He and his wife kept separate accounts and credit cards, which has made it easy to watch for activity. Turns out they've been secretly separated for almost six months. A large withdrawal was made electronically on one of his money market accounts about three weeks ago; since then, nothing. My hunch is that he's living on the cash somewhere out of the country. You trust my hunches, right?"

He opened the passenger door for her and then jogged around to his side. Slipping behind the wheel, he backed out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway.

"Yes," Brennan said once they were on the road, "I have learned to trust that when you have a hunch, as you call it, you are subconsciously putting all your senses and experiences together to come up with a conclusion that is usually correct. But in this case, I don't think this is just a hunch, Booth. You have always been extremely over-protective of me. I believe you would continue to watch over me unless you had information more concrete than just your gut feelings. And with Dad having been gone a few days last week without telling me where he was, I am suspicious."

"Well, what I just told you is concrete evidence." Booth sounded defensive. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Do you know where my Dad went last week? He has been avoiding me."

"Look, Bones, he didn't kill Carson, if that's what you're implying. He told me he was going down to the Cayman Islands to follow a lead. Carson used to have a cottage down there, and he wanted to see if he still owned the place. He was checking to see if Carson was hiding out down there. He's wanted by the police now, you know. The ironic thing is he went after you and your family to protect his new life; instead, he ended up dismantling it."

"Was he there?" Bones asked softly, steel behind her words.

"Carson? Max found the address but the house was empty. There was evidence of recent occupation, so Max thinks Carson is hiding out down there somewhere he can't be traced. The house was Spartan; it looked like he cleaned out what he needed from his cottage and left. What makes me sure he is no longer a threat is he would be caught as soon as he tried to re-enter the country, Bones. He's down there for good, in my opinion."

"Why didn't you tell me all this earlier? Why hide it from me?"

"Max didn't want you to worry about him when he went down there. It was stupid; I should have told you. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

She was silent, processing what Booth had just told her.

"Is the FBI going to pursue Carson further?"

"Of course. He's a wanted man. I won't be personally on the case, but I'm planning on staying in the loop on it. If anything changes I'll tell you; I promise."

"Thank you, Booth." Brennan fell silent. Booth shot a few worried glances her way as he drove, but she seemed to be through with the subject. But the way she stared out the window, he knew it was still very much on her mind.

Monday morning was back to the real world. Booth dragged into his office at the FBI building clutching a paper cup of black coffee and an umbrella. Shaking the rain off his coat, he threw the coat and umbrella into the empty chair and slumped behind his desk. He had barely sat down when his cell phone buzzed in his coat pocket and he jumped up, ran to the chair and fished it out.

"Booth," he answered breathlessly. "Damn it."

"What?" Bones' voice rang out.

"I spilled my coffee. It was pretty bad coffee anyway. What's up, Bones?"

"Do you know anything about the remains sent over here from the FBI this morning?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that."

"Male, mid-sixties, assumed drowning victim because he washed up on the rocks at the bottom of a bluff on Cayman Brac. Very little flesh. Probably died two to three weeks ago. About the same time frame when you and Dad stopped watching my every move. Could it be Carson?"

"I have no idea. Are you jumping to conclusions, Bones?" He sounded shocked.

"How many persons of interest to the FBI could have washed up on a beach in the Caymans?"

"Wow, Bones; you really don't get out much."

"Booth, I want to talk to you. In person. Now."

She sounded upset and angry. Booth knew he had no choice.

"On my way."

The atmosphere in the Jeffersonian was electric. Brennan had every squint available working on the remains that the FBI had recovered in the Cayman Islands. Angela and Jack were going over Carson's medical records, looking for anything that might be useful in identifying the skeleton currently laid out on the forensics platform. Booth felt a jolt of unease shoot down his spine when he saw how much energy Brennan was directing at identifying these remains. Walking over to the edge of the platform, he gazed at her until she noticed him. Waving his fingers, he gestured for her to take a break and talk to him.

"Booth," she greeted him grimly. She bounded down the steps, swept past him and stalked toward her office with him jogging in her wake. A few glances of sympathy from some of the lab rats he knew only served to heighten his apprehension.

Shutting the door behind them, she turned on him with venom.

"It's Carson," she said, pointing back toward the remains. "We haven't established cause of death yet, but it sure doesn't appear to have been natural causes." She looked like she wanted to say something else but she pursed her lips and fought to hold back tears. Booth looked through the glass windows at the lab all around them and then deliberately closed the blinds. Turning back to Brennan, he took her by the elbows and forced her to look at him face to face.

"You have a positive ID?"

"Would I tell you it's Carson if we didn't?" Her tone was venomous.

"Bones? Talk to me."

"No. No! You talk to me! You and Max know what happened to Carson, don't you? What haven't you told me? No more lies!"

Furious, she wrenched her arms from his grasp and stalked behind her desk, putting a barrier between them. Folding her arms defiantly, she turned to stare at him. Booth, shocked at the intensity of her reaction, took a step toward her, hands turned out in a placating gesture.

"I haven't lied to you, Bones. I just haven't told you everything I know. I know that was wrong, but you've been through a lot over the past few weeks. Max and I didn't want to cause you any more worry, but now I'm thinking we should have told you all this to begin with. I'm sorry."

"Told me what? Did my father kill Carson? He did, didn't he? How else would he have dealt with this situation? It's what he does. He's a killer." She was shaking with anger.

"How can I ever trust him again?" She asked in a whisper, not looking at Booth. He felt the unspoken question like a knife in his chest: could she trust him either? The trust that had built up between them so painstakingly over the years seemed to be evaporating before his eyes. It was the one thing he valued above everything else and he was losing it. He shook his head in despair.

"What you're not saying is that you think I helped him. I'm a killer too, Bones."

His statement galvanized her. With alarming speed she stalked back over to face him.

"No, No! You've changed. You're not the same person you were back then. You're not a killer," she cried. "You stop killers. That's what you are. You're a protector."

Curling her hands into fists she raised them to his chest as if she intended to hit him, but at the last second checked herself. He gently grasped her clenched hands and held them captive.

"Do you really believe that?" His question was quiet and deadly serious.

"Yes, I do." She looked up into his eyes. He was undone by the fragile trust he saw there. She hadn't given up on him after all. Relief flooded through him, leaving him weak. Squeezing his eyes shut, his head sank onto her shoulder. Her hands relaxed and stole around his big frame.

"Promise you'll wait to say anything until I've told you the whole story," he pleaded.

Bones nodded, wrapping her arms around him even tighter, still unable to control her trembling body. He sighed and straightened up so she could see his face.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," he suggested. Bones smiled weakly. They both knew that even though the blinds were closed, their voices had probably carried quite well. Now the whole lab was undoubtedly waiting to see what was going on between them. She walked over to her chair to get her sweater.

"Why don't we take a walk?" She suggested.

The reflecting pool behind the Jeffersonian had a pea gravel path running along its bank, overhung with one hundred year old cherry trees whose foliage formed a vibrant, cooling shield over their heads as they strolled. The strong rays of the morning sun warmed them in between trees, bolstering Booth's spirits in preparation for what he had to tell Bones. Now that it was all said and done, he regretted not having included her in the loop from the beginning. The fact that he'd upset her by hiding this from her worried him more than the untold parts of the story he was about to recount. He could only hope that once she knew everything, she could find it in her heart to trust him again.

The steady crunch of their footsteps on gravel was the only sound for several minutes while they both collected themselves, consciously distancing themselves from the painful emotions stirred up by the scene inside Brennan's office. By the time they reached the far end of the pool, it felt like the Jeffersonian was a million miles away. The sound of gulls above them and the wind in the cherry branches was balm to their souls. Booth sat on the wooden bench at the corner of the reflecting pool and patted the empty space next to him.

"I'm not sure I want to know any of this," Brennan confessed as she sat down beside him.

"It's not what you think, Bones, but there are some parts that will be hard for you to hear. But I promise; this is the whole truth. I could never lie to you. Do you believe me?"

"Of course, Booth."

"Good." He seemed so genuinely relieved that Bones felt a little sorry for him. Putting a sympathetic hand on his thigh, she scooted a little closer.

"So tell me."

To be continued…