c h a p t e r  9 :   **sorry for the late update! don't forget to tap that little star ;)**

Blue lights and cars lined the street. Men in black unidentified uniforms littered the street and lawn of Natalie Huard's apartment building. Gaspard had passed each with equal hatred. Not one of these dogs could do their damn job.

Walking through her apartment he fought to keep his thoughts straight. Think positive. Think positive. Think positive. There was a man at the front door, another at the base of the staircase near the kitchen, and two more on the second level.

With Jennifer on his worm leather heels, Gaspard followed a uniformed man up carpeted steps.

Jennifer seemed unable to stand the silence and spoke as they reached the top, "Where are the two officer's?"

That was true. The second level was bare. Eyebrows furrowing he shoved past the escort and Gaspard pushed open two double doors to the assumed master bedroom. The lights were off as he rushed to the bed side making out a figure underneath the pile of bedspreads from the halls light. His hand found the edge and was met with wetness. "Natalie?" The covers were withdrawn, and the lights came on to reveal one of the officers laying in a puddle of drying blood. His eyes were wide and mouth gaped open.

Gaspard sucked in a breath staring at the blood now staining his hands before stepping away from the blood. There were too many bodies in too short of time. "She's gone," Gaspard tried to find his voice. "Where is she?"

No answer came.

"Where the hell is she?" He shouted at the officer in charge of the house to still stared at his lifeless man.

"I - I don't know."

"How did she get out of here?"

"We got an officer down. We got an officer down." Jennifer spoke into her radio as others from below thudded up the stairs. But he was long dead

It took precious seconds for Gaspard to look past his covered hands and to the carpet floor. There were red splatters. They sprayed across the right in a path paved to the closed doors of Natalie's closet. He stepped over the trail and grabbed at the knob. It slipped momentarily in his wet grasp before it finally pulled open. His fingers found a drawstring to a light and gave it a hard tug.

Everything was neatly piled and stacked like only a woman would care to take time to do, yet red stains were slopped near the back. He stumbled in and pushed aside dresses and shirts to get a better frantic look. His hands felt along the gray painted wall, smearing his prints. He knocked pressing his ear to its surface. There had to be a door.

Then there.

Gaspard's cut fingernails pried at edges before dismantling a small crawl space door. Behind him came voices saying, "We'll go around to the neighbors next door."

He nodded not caring as he pulled the door free holding his hand out behind him asking for a light. A small flashlight was placed in his grip. Neighbors, godforsaken neighbors. The light cut through the darkness and shone off white material of a male formal button down shirt. Thin walls. But that blood — it lead through the neighbors closet.

On hands and knees Gaspard crawled forward following the red-bread-crumb trail. Clothes laid on the bed and others were piled on the floor, but he noticed there was no female clothing ... all male. He flicked the flashlight up toward the wall to see images of indeed, two men. Mid-twenties, both brunette and pale in the features. They looked like everyday American's. Did Kate know them? Had she been using them?

Jennifer, gun draw held in front of her, went ahead following the light toward another room searching for any signs of life.

"Hey," Gaspard whispered dropping the light to the staircase that held blood stains. She nodded and started for them as he followed behind guiding them both with his small light. No one appeared to be home. It even appeared that these residents were hardly home. Everything was in perfect place that it looked fake. Food in a bowl on the kitchen island. Plants sat about in medium size vases. Who were these people?

A bang erupted and the officers entered blinded by Gaspard's hand. Jennifer said something to them but more blood called to his attention, it left the main part of the house departing to the garage. His feet were quick to follow.

Down more steps and to an awaiting door. He managed a breath, his answers could be behind this door. Jutting out his hand he opened the door stepping through without hesitation. The light flickered about the garage until it caught sight of a puddle of blood.

Drips echoed. He could see little droplets meeting the mouth that laid in cement. There was a body, hung. He was slow to raise the light and stopped short at the hand. He couldn't bring himself to see past the hand. It had to be her. Gaspard dropped the light away and turned from the sight that would be seen when the lights came on. He had to take a moment to prepare.

"Get the lights," he said. Blackness still stood. "Get the lights!"

An engine whined as the garage door screeched open letting light flood in from a pair of car headlights.

"Booth." Jennifer coaxed, "It's not her ... but that ..."

His eyes saw her face and her eyes were wide as they flickered back to the wall behind him. "What?" He took a step to turn his body to see what had drained the Agent of her hazel color. Written large were wet red uneven letters spelling out one word that greeted Gaspard like an old dear friend — EVERMORE.