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Chapter Three

Connor clicked the send button. Thankfully, Sherlock's email password was the same as his computer login password. He couldn't trust the DC police but he'd be damned if he didn't get this information out to somebody. He googled cities' police departments and found emails for any tips civilians had. He sent this email to Baltimore, Richmond, Philadelphia, New York City, Boston, Los Angelos, Pittsburgh, and San Francisco. He even found a website that helped trafficking victims and copied and pasted the email address to the To blank. Then he found New York Times' email address and took it's email address. One of these emails was going to do something. He logged out of the computer and put it back in the messenger bag. Time to hand it over.

The news had Sherlock's murder on it and it turns out the FBI was doing initial investigations. He was sure that Officer Jones was a part of the regular police so the FBI should be safe. Just in case, he tucked a BB gun into the waistband of his shorts. He needed some kind of protection. Taking a deep breath, he left the apartment.

He took the bus to Pennsylvania Avenue. Connor entered the Hoover building and felt like he was going to faint. He tried to make himself look tough but he was failing miserably. A security guard told him to put the bag in the x-ray machine and he asked if it damaged computers. The guard said no but he couldn't risk it.

"Can you please take this to the agent in charge of the murder case on 221 Baker Street?" he asked, holding the bag up for the guard to take.

"What do you know about it?" the guard squinted at him.

"Please just take it," he shook the bag and felt his skin getting hotter and hotter, "I put the password on a sticky note inside the computer. It explains everything. Don't trust DC police." The officer tried to grab him but got the messenger bag instead. A couple people tried to catch him but Connor ran like a chicken with its head cut off and barely escaped. He must have ran down several city blocks before dashing into a library.

It was nearly empty. Connor rested there for a few minutes before leaving. He felt like he was going to faint. That was a bad idea. Why didn't he just mail it to the feds? Now they knew what he looked like. He shook his head. He needed to leave town, and fast.

XXX

"Yeah?" Booth answered his cell.

"We have a situation down at the Hoover," Sweets said.

"What kind of situation?" Booth asked suspiciously.

"A kid came in here and handed a guard a bag with Steve Barton's laptop in it," Sweets said, "He was short, had reddish brown hair, somewhere between eight to ten years old. It matches that description of a kid that night bus driver saw on the night of the murder."

"I got an ID on the prints upstairs and on the basement window," Angela said triumphantly, "Name's Connor O'Malley, lives with his father." Booth cut her off, "Let me guess, has reddish brown hair and somewhere between eight to ten years old?"

"Yep. He's nine by the way. How'd you know?" Angela asked.

"Let me send his picture and file to DC police," Booth said, "Thanks Sweets."

"Wait Booth!" Sweets started to say but Booth hung up. He ignored Sweets calls and called the DC police. This kid was a witness to a brutal murder and needed to be brought in fast. After he made the call, he silenced his phone and further ignored Sweets' calls.

XXX

"We got a possible ID for the witness on the Barton case," Lieutenant Brown said.

"I'll get him. What's the address?" Officer Adam Jones said. Lieutenant Brown gave him the picture, name, and address of the boy and Adam went off to his car. He made a call to Tobias. They have found their witness.

XXX

"Have you ever seen this boy before?" Sweets asked Hailey and Matt. They were in his office at the Hoover. Their child advocate was listening in from an empty chair while the two siblings shared the couch.

"Yeah," Hailey said.

"I think he was one of Dad's moles," Matt said.

"Do you know how your father met him?" asked Sweets.

"Our old neighbors were foster parents. He was kind of crazy," Matt said.

"And really weird, and he was really good at eavesdropping and sneaking around so Dad would give him a little money and food if he gave him good information," Hailey said, "Did he have something to do with it?"

"We believe he was a witness to your father's murder," Sweets said carefully.

"So he knows who did it?" asked Matt.

"We're trying to find him. Is this your father's laptop?" Sweets asked. Both children nodded. Sweets continued, "This boy, Connor O'Malley, came in this afternoon with this bag."

"That's Dad's bag," Matt interrupted.

"Have you ever heard of a policeman named Officer Jones?" Sweets asked. The two shook their heads.

"Why?" Hailey asked.

"Could you do me a favor?" Sweets asked.

"What?" Hailey narrowed her eyes.

"I need your father's number," Sweets said.

XXX

Connor jumped when he felt something vibrate in his pocket. Shit he thought. He forgot to put Sherlock's phone in the messenger bag. He answered it.

"Hello?" asked a man.

"Hi," Connor said meekly.

"Is this Connor O'Malley?" asked the man. Connor said nothing. The man continued, "I do not work for Officer Jones. My name is Dr. Lance Sweets from the FBI. Where are you?"

"How do I know this isn't some sort of trick?" Connor asked.

"I need you to get somewhere safe Connor. Officer Jones is going to try and find you. You can't go home Connor," Dr. Sweets said.

"I'll survive," Connor said. He had gotten rid of the computer and he could just mail the phone to the Hoover building. The cops would soon bust the bad guys and he would be safe. He hung up the phone. They could be tracing his call. He saw his friends and walked over to them. They fooled around and had a rap battle. Connor was in the middle of his line when a man cleared his throat.

"Hello Jake, or should I say Connor?" asked Officer Jones. Connor's mouth was completely dry and he couldn't speak. Officer Jones continued, "I'll say this: you have given me quite the chase but now it's time to end this."

"No," he said.

"What'd ya do?" asked his friend Wes.

"Something very bad," Officer Jones looked menacing, "Where's the laptop?"

"Don't have it," Connor said, "You won't get away with it. I'll tell."

"I'm quaking with fear," Officer Jones said sarcastically and tried to grab him. Connor reached into his waistband and pulled out the BB gun. He fired. "Motherfucker!" screamed Officer Jones as he pressed his hands to his eye. Connor started running. Officer Jones yelled at him to stop and chased after him. Connor turned into an alley and scrambled over the fence. He ran straight into a familiar bar.

"Help me! Help me!" he yelled as he knocked over a bar stool.

"Gotcha, you little brat!" snarled Officer Jones.

"What's going on here?" asked the bartender. Connor recognized him. His name was Ted and his dad came here a lot. Connor had long ago gotten used to picking up his dad after all-nighters.

"He put me in his police car and said I shoplifted from a store but I didn't. Then he tried touching me. He's a pervert," Connor lied. He was desperate and hoped it would work. It did. These men didn't like cops, and they didn't like perverts either.

"He's lying," Officer Jones said.

"Am not. He said that I'm a dirty little boy and he was going to lock me up in his basement," Connor lied. That did it. The men surrounded the officer and a brawl broke out. Connor ran out the doors and kept running. Officer Jones would be busy for a while and when he found him, he was not going to be happy. He needed to get into different clothes and get on a train. Hopefully his grandmother in Alabama wouldn't mind a visit from her grandson.