A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. The site was having issues but now that it seems to be working, here is the next chapter. If you have a minute, leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks :)

Chapter 9

The Mistake in the Murder Suspect

The walk home was done in silence, neither partner knowing what to say to where to start. Brennan was determined to never let him go though, her gut screaming at her that something was going to happen and for the first time, she was paying attention. This whole situation with Booth was making her feel things that she hadn't felt in years and even though she was scared of these emotions and feelings, she was more scared for her partner. She knew he was in a bad place right now and she knew it was sad but part of her was grateful that she was still the one he relied on in his times of stress and hardship.

"Bones, I think I know who is doing this," he said out of the blue, startling her somewhat as she increased her grip on his arm. She expected him to say something else but he was silent, still not looking at her, just staring down at the sidewalk below them.

"Booth, if you know, you need to tell someone, you need to tell the FBI," she told him, gently, stopping them and turning him to face her. When he still wouldn't look at her, she put her finger under his chin, imitating a move that he used on her much earlier in their partnership and friendship. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Because I know him, Bones. I know that as long as he thinks that no one is onto him, he will still think he is in control. Now, he is staying away from you and Parker and the squint squad because he knows if one of you were hurt it would automatically eliminate me as a suspect. Once the FBI figures out that I'm not the sniper, he will be out of control. And you don't want to see him when he is out of control. That really scares me more than anything else," Booth finished.

Brennan had only seen terror in his deep brown eyes one other time; when he saw her attached to that hook after he shot Kenton. In that split second, she realized that the Booth she had always known was back, doing his normal self-destructive patterns. It didn't matter to him that he was on suspension from the job he loved and that a sniper was targeting his life, as long as the people he cared about were relatively safe. But that wasn't fair to him. This was one of the reasons that she hated psychology, she didn't know what else she could do but silently implore him to do the right thing.

"Booth, I'm your partner, right? And partners are supposed to tell each other things. I need you to tell me so I can try and clear your name. I promise, I won't tell anyone until we have enough evidence to bring him in. But I need to know because I need to have some way to help you," she pleaded with him, not knowing if it would work or not. Her old partner would tell her, would confide in her but the man he has been lately left a huge hole of doubt in her mind.

She watched as he shuffled back and forth on the balls of his feet. The nervous gesture was something positive in her mind though because it meant that at least he was considering her proposal, something he wouldn't do as of late, usually just turning her down without a second thought.

"Broadsky. Jacob Ripkin Broadsky," Booth almost whispered, as if he thought this man would hear him and then the real chaos would start. "I served with him over in-"

BANG.

The sound of a gun shot ripped through the still May night and Brennan felt herself being taken to the ground by Booth, who had pushed her up against the door of the car parked near them on the curb. Breathing took a backseat to other functions for a moment as the wind was knocked out of her and she huddled closer to the man that seemed like better protection than the two-ton metal car next to her. He pinned her between his body and the side of the car and while a small part of her resented the fact his alpha male tendencies were taking over, she was mostly grateful for his protection. His hands were on either side of her head against the side of the car, effectively pinning her in place.

"Bones, are you okay?" he asked after a minute, when she finally got her breath back. The street now ripe with noise; the shot triggered several car alarms; sirens were distant in the background even though they were getting closer. They were the only two people out there though, the people in the residencies wisely deciding to stay in their homes although Brennan could see some of them peeking their heads out their windows, trying to catch a glimpse without actually going outside.

"I'm fine," she responded, not liking the raspy quality of her voice. That seemed to trigger Booth's protective nature even more and he slipped one of his hands behind her shoulders and drew her closer to him. She settled against him for the moment, not wanting to admit that she needed his presence right now but accepting it anyway.

"Bones, that shot came from close by, not even two blocks away. I have to go see what is going on. I want you to stay here," he added as he looked down at her, pleading with his eyes for her to listen to him. But of course, that wasn't going to happen.

"What do you think you are going to do, Booth? You are not with the FBI officially anymore, you don't have a gun, I'm not just going to sit here and let you go and try to play hero." Brennan got up with him but at his glare, stepped slightly behind him, letting him at least lead the way.

She followed him as he hugged the building and crept around the corner. It was impressive how quiet he actually was and Brennan found herself not breathing so she could maintain the quiet environment. And even with all the other stuff going on, she couldn't help but think how right he was when he told Mr. White that being a sniper had taught him to walk really, really quietly. So quiet in fact that when he stopped to peer around the corner, she almost ran right into him.

The scene in the middle of the street was gruesome. A man lay there with only half of his head still intact, the other half scattered in an indistinguishable mass of bits and pieces around the body, making the man completely unrecognizable. In fact, to any other person, the gender of this person would be impossible to determine but Brennan could see the narrow angle of the pelvis indicating male gender even from here.

The sirens were just down the street now and Brennan began to feel relief seeping through her bones that finally her and Booth would get some help. Booth seemed to think this as well as he snapped out of the trance he was in and started to come back to himself. He gently laid his hand upon her shoulder as if not wanting to startle her.

"Bones, why don't you go over near the body so you can direct the cops and FBI techs and I'll go talk to the officers, okay?" he asked and then flashed her a smaller version of his charm smile as if to seal the deal. Knowing she couldn't resist that smile in any form, she nodded her assent and walked toward the middle of the street, still sticking close to the protection of the building behind her. She glanced over at Booth as the walked toward the now parked police cars at either end of the street, blocking off both entrances to the narrow street. Brennan noticed that joining those cars were several black SUVs, indicating that the FBI had gotten wind of the murder and had correctly interpreted it to be another shot by the sniper.

Brennan was grateful to slip back into the world she was used to, the world of evidence gathering and making sure everything was done in a way that would stand up in a court of law. The FBI techs, used to seeing her at such scenes automatically deferred to her judgment, securing her feeling of peace even more. Immersing herself in her work was always her solution for being stressed and this time was no different. She didn't even realize it had been an hour and when she looked up, expecting to see Booth right there with his index cards, she saw that he was nowhere to be found. But there was someone there that she did recognize.

"Agent Perotta," she yelled out, getting the blonde women's attention. "Where is Booth?"

The first thing she saw in the agent's eyes was sympathy and Brennan knew that couldn't be a good sign.

"Dr. Brennan, Booth was taken to the Hoover about 30 minutes ago," Perotta told her, not bothering to elaborate and when she tried to walk away, Brennan reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her back.

"What do you mean 'taken in'?" she asked, fearing she already knew what that meant.

"You know as well as I do that Booth is considered the prime suspect in these murders. The fact that he was at the crime scene of the latest sniper victim and that his ankle monitoring confirms that he was here at the time of the murder does not do him any favors as far as the FBI is concerned. They took in into custody and are continuing to question him right now."

Brennan stared at her, shocked for a moment and almost blurted out that she was with Booth that night, that she was his alibi for the shooting. But she remembered what Booth told her about this Broadsky being out of control, so for now, she bit her tongue. If this man was really watching every move like Booth thought he was, she didn't want him thinking anything was going on. But that being said, she couldn't stay here one more moment knowing that Booth was fighting to clear his name and she was not doing the same.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the Jeffersonian, Agent Perotta. Thank you for the information. Will you see to it that all the evidence gets back there in the proper way?" Brennan asked, not bothering to stick around for the response, directing one of the agents there to drive her back to the lab. On the way there, she called the rest of the team, the squint squad as they had been affectionately named, and told them to get in there as fast as possible.

She, of course, was the first one to make it there, but was surprised to find that someone was working late (or early, depending on how you looked at it).

"Mr. Nigel-Murray, what are you doing here?" she asked after seeing him at one of the workstations surrounding the forensic platform. He jumped when she spoke but quickly recovered.

"Dr. Brennan, I was just finishing up some work on my dissertation. But I'll just be on my way-"

"No," she interrupted him, startling him again. "We could use your help tonight if you wouldn't mind staying a little longer, there is a victim coming in here in just a moment and we could use all the help we can get in identifying him."

She watched as the young man's eyes lit up at the prospect of being asked to stay and help by his mentor.

"Of course, Dr. Brennan, it would be my pleasure."

"Good. Then please make yourself useful and prepare the platform for the body's arrival," she said, slipping back into her familiar routine with her interns.

Ten minutes later, the rest of the team arrived and thirty minutes after that, they were deep in the investigation of this latest victim's identity, although the lack of a face made it kind of difficult. Angela had tried running the prints through the NCIC database but that took time and Booth was still being interrogated by his colleagues.

Brennan was furious. Half of her brain was with him in the Hoover building while all of it needed to be here, on this case, on this victim. But so far, they had nothing to tie anything about these three deaths to Broadsky and they all pointed to Booth. She was terrified to find out this person's identity, knowing that it was probably someone that Booth had been angry at recently if the pattern held true and knowing that it would probably make Booth look more guilty.

After three hours of work, she could see everyone needed a break and told them to take five. Glancing at her watch, she was not surprised to find that it was close to five in the morning and she could feel every single one of those hours she had been awake crashing down on her. And when she finally felt like she was able to sit for the first time in hours, she heard Angela call her from the forensic platform.

"What's going on, Angela?" she asked as she buttoned up her blue lab coat and walked up the steps. Her mood elevated though when she saw the tired smiles on her friend's faces.

"Angela's got it, Dr. B. We finally got the guy," Hodgins announced, beaming with pride at his wife's accomplishments. She saw Cam smirk at him but indicated that it was the truth.

"The prints came back an hour ago as a Dr. Curtis Lewis, a 53 year old psychiatrist. According to his records, Dr. Lewis used to work for the Pentagon, helping counsel veterans and looking into complaints made about soldiers but he retired two months ago, going into his own private practice."

"How does this help us?" Brennan asked, growing inpatient because she was so tired but she shut her mouth at her best friend's glare.

"Sweetie, if you are testing my patience, then you are doing a great job. Anyway, I was able to remotely access Lewis' computer to see his appointments and anything else he was looking into and that's when I hit the jackpot. First, I found a file he had on Booth, which made me think that the poor man was doomed further, but then I found something else. He has a whole file about a Jacob Ripkin Broadsky," Angela finished right as Brennan's heart stopped. Angela brought up a picture of the man who was currently making all of their lives completely miserable. He looked cold and calculating, his eyes black and his complexion suggesting a Middle Eastern background. Angela continued speaking but Brennan couldn't take her eyes off the screen.

"Broadsky was a sniper in the Rangers with Booth until he was dishonorably discharged eight months ago after someone reported him to the board but before that, Lewis thinks that Broadsky has the most kills amongst all snipers."

They were all silent for a moment, mesmerized by the man staring back at him from the computer screen.

"Did you know that the word 'sniper' was actually developed in the nineteenth century during the British occupation of India?" Nigel-Murray said, breaking the silence in the room.

"No, I didn't but thank you for the information, Mr. Nigel-Murray," Cam responded and Brennan almost rolled her eyes at the look of satisfaction on the intern's face. "I am going to call Caroline at the Hoover and let her know what we found so hopefully we can get Booth out of a small room with one little light bulb," she continued as she took her gloves off and went into her office.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan said, looking around at her friends for some clarification.

"It means getting him out of trouble, Dr. B," Hodgins commented. "I'm going to go analyze some more particulates I've got running in the mass spec. Ange, you want to come lie down on the couch for a while?" he asked and even Brennan could see the exhaustion in the pregnant woman's face. Angela nodded and Hodgins tenderly placed his hand on her back, the other one helping her up from the chair. Brennan smiled slightly at the sight of her two friends before the moment was broken by Cam.

"Dr. Brennan, I'm going to head over to the Hoover Building, would you like to come with me?"

"I would, Cam. Give me a minute to put my lab coat away and I'll be right there," she responded.

"Dr. Brennan," she heard Nigel-Murray hesitantly call out to her. "Would it be all right for me to go home and grab a couple of hours of sleep? I've been here since yesterday afternoon and I am completely bush-whacked," he asked.

"Sure, go home. Would you like a ride, I'm sure that Dr. Saroyan wouldn't mind dropping you off," Dr. Brennan asked him. While he was touched by the offer, there was no way he could take it. He was looking forward to the fresh air and needed to stop by the market on his way home to pick up tea.

"That's okay, Dr. Brennan. I'll be back in later this morning," he told her and went down the steps to the workstation he was at when all this started and gathered his things. He glanced up as he saw Dr. Brennan and Dr. Saroyan make their way to the elevator that would take them to the parking garage and peered in Angela's office on the way out, smiling slightly at the sight of her pregnant belly being the only thing visible over the arm rest of the couch.

Walking outside onto the front steps of the Jeffersonian, the weather was already muggy and his only thoughts were of getting his tea and taking a shower when a bullet ripped through his head, fired from over 200 yards away, ending his life.