A/N: This is the twelfth episode in a collaborative effort between us and other writers from our Bones fansite Bonesology. To make sure we let as many readers as possible know that we're doing this, We're posting the chapter we wrote here under our profile. NO OTHER CHAPTERS WILL BE POSTED HERE! If you'd like to read the entire season, including the eleven episodes before this one, please head over to our group profile, Bonesology Writers Collective (id: 2803426) and subscribe!
6.5 x 12: The 10 in the 4 ~ Written by Thnx4theGum and GCatsPJs (Thnx4theCatsPJs)
"Dad, Cyndi crossed the line!"
"Did not," the accused party jumped to her own defense, resisting the urge to reach across this so called 'line' and pinch her brother's arm.
"Yuh huh," the boy pointed to a notebook that lay between them. "That's the line, and you crossed over it."
"You two are so lame," their older sister looked up from her book long enough to roll her eyes.
"Your face is lame," the boy shot back.
"Mom, Billy's callin' names again," Cyndi reported dutifully.
"Morgan started it," Billy huffed.
Accusations were flung back and forth with more than one call for mediation from the adults in the front seat.
"Don't make me pull this car over," their father threatened idly when the noise reached a fever pitch.
"Please do," the teenager put in, this time without looking up from her book.
"Does that mean we can stop somewhere?" Cyndi wanted to know. "'Cause I'm bored."
"I gotta pee," Billy put in his two cents.
"See the East Coast in a station wagon over winter break; you said," the children's mother gave her husband a withering glare. "It'll be fun; you said."
Desperate for anything that would free him from this prison on wheels, he pulled the car into the nearest truck stop and started looking for a space, just as yet another fight erupted in the back seat between Billy and Cyndi.
"I've had it!" he yelled into the chaos, turning to face them for the first time. "This stops now, I am putting my foot down!"
Unfortunately his foot went down on the accelerator, hurtling them forward and transforming the yells in the backseat to screams. He pulled his foot away immediately, scrambling for the brake but he didn't get to it before the car hit something solid and bounced to a halt.
"Did we hit somebody?" asked Billy eagerly.
"Stay in the car," his father ordered him as he slammed the car into park and opened the door to assess the damage.
There was no way that was happening, and before anyone could stop him, the young boy opened his door and slipped out. Beneath his sneakers was a river of oil gushing from a gaping hole in the old barrel that had halted the station wagon.
"Gross," Billy grinned, thinking this was way cooler than being trapped in a car with his sisters.
He took a small step forward, bending to get a closer look when something bumped against his sneaker. His eyes widened at the object as he wrapped his fingers around it and looked up to see his father to be more concerned with the damage to the car.
"Hey, Dad!" the boy called, waving his find in the air. "Maybe you killed someone after all."
Oil dripped from the skull in the boy's hand and from inside the car the three girls let out an ear piercing, fright filled scream.
B&B
"Chop, chop, Bones," the familiar staccato rap of knuckles sounded on her door just before Booth burst in with a smile on his face.
"We have a case?" she looked up hopefully from the sea of paperwork she was drowning in.
"Yep," he returned brightly.
"I'll get my kit," she hopped up from her seat, grateful for the interruption.
"Actually," Booth dragged the word out, halting her in her tracks, "you won't need it."
"Is there flesh?" she wrinkled her nose at the thought.
Booth shook his head, "No, no. It's all bones, just like you like."
"Your tone suggests that you are purposefully withholding details that I will not like," she accused, crossing her arms over her chest as she awaited his explanation. Her eyebrow raised slowly, and she watched his brow crinkle in concern.
The thought crossed Booth's mind that maybe teaching her how to read people wasn't such a great thing after all, but instead of voicing that out loud, he chose his next words very carefully, "You don't need your kit because we don't have a crime scene to go to."
"Every crime has a crime scene," she countered, arms still crossed, eyes still boring into him.
He shifted on his feet, rubbing a hand through the short hairs on the back of his neck, "Well, yeah, I mean, there was a crime scene but there isn't now." She didn't move a muscle but kept staring at him until he continued, "Okay, long story short, this was a local jurisdiction case in Virginia and when they realized they were in too deep, they punted it to the State guys. I got a call from my buddy Scott with the state troopers who knows this kind of thing is our bread and butter."
"And he 'punted' the puck to us?" Brennan guessed.
"Ball," Booth corrected, "well, case to be more specific, and yeah, so it's all on its way here."
"All?" she was unable to conceal her curiosity.
Only then did Booth relax and reveal the file he'd kept hidden behind his back, his grin returning, "Yeah, you're gonna love this one. A family on vacation rams this oil drum at a truck stop down in Virginia only there's a whole lot more than just oil in it."
"A body?" she had crossed the room and was now standing beside him, peering at the photograph of a skull inside the file.
"Not just one. Scott told me there were hundreds of bones in there, including four of these," he tapped the picture. "And that's just in the first barrel."
"First?" now she was definitely intrigued.
Booth cell phone chirped at his side and he glanced at the text, "They're here."
Not wasting any time Brennan plucked the file from his hands and headed out. If she was planning on rounding up her squinterns she needn't have bothered as they began appearing from all corners of the lab to see what the commotion was all about so that by the time Booth made it to the glass doors he had to push his way through a small mob.
The doors slid open silently, admitting the FBI tech crew Booth had sent out to retrieve the evidence that morning while Brennan began handing out assignments to the squints. A clear container filled with oil-slicked bones was wheeled in first, followed by not one, but three rusty oil drums that had clearly seen better days.
Hodgins appeared beside Brennan, helping her delegate tasks while Angela began taking inventory. A cacophony of noise echoed off the smooth surfaces as Clark, Wendell, Vincent, Arastoo, Fischer, and a few other squints Booth didn't recognize began setting up extra tables on the platform and snapping pictures as the evidence was unloaded.
"Sarge!" a familiar voice turned Booth's attention away from the platform and he grinned.
"Lefty!"
The two men clasped hands and clapped each other on the shoulder.
"Thanks for the assist," the other man said as they watched the squints continue to swarm to and fro.
"No problem," Booth told his old friend. "How's Virginia treating you?"
"Can't complain," the state trooper shrugged. "This is way out of my league, though."
"Not ours," Brennan interjected, appearing at Booth's side and offering her hand to the newcomer.
"Scotty Holt meet my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan," Booth introduced them.
"A pleasure," Holt nodded.
"Have the other drums been tampered with?" Brennan wasted no time in asking.
To Booth's relief the man shook his head, "The barrels were so rusty we didn't want to chance breaking another one open so everything was x-rayed when it got to us." He offered a film folder to Brennan and went on, "There were seven at the scene altogether but only four had hitchhikers."
"I'll need those," she said absently as she continued examining the film. "And the barrel that was struck as well. And anything else that was collected at the crime scene. Witness statements can be given to Booth."
Something one of the squints was doing caught her eye and she excused herself quickly and strode away.
"Wow," Holt shook his head, following her with his eyes as she gained the platform and began lecturing her students.
"Yeah," Booth couldn't help the goofy half grin.
"Oh, ho!" Holt's attention was back on his friend, a knowing look in his eye, "Wait, you and her, huh?"
Booth nodded smugly.
"You always did like 'em strong, Sarge," came the reply. Then he cleared his throat and passed a file over to Booth, "Is she as good at this kind of thing as they say she is?"
Without a moment's hesitation Booth nodded, "Better."
It was agreed upon by the partners, that a relaxing evening in at one of their apartments, nestled among the voluminous amounts of paperwork and files for the case, would be the best idea for the evening. They flipped through files and tossed about theories, mixed among anecdotes and a bit of laughter in between bites of Chinese food. They had come to see that their personal and professional relationship had already been so entwined, that everything just seemed to fall into place naturally.
There was a brief moment of comfortable silence between the two of them, and the food had long since been devoured. "I'll start cleaning up," Brennan said, standing up to gather the discarded food boxes that remained open on the coffee table.
"I'll help," Booth said, standing as well, he plucked one of the containers from her hand, and gathered their empty beer bottles. Her glare only encouraged him to pull the other container from her fingertips just as the doorbell rang. They exchanged a confused glance, and Booth lifted an eyebrow. "Expecting company?"
Brennan's brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head, stepping toward the door as the doorbell sounded once again. "No," she shook her head. Booth continued to clean up as she opened the door to the apartment, and when he saw who was entering the apartment, he continued into the kitchen. "Dad, what are you doing here?" She asked, her voice laced with surprise.
"Can't a father drop in on his daughter unannounced?" Max asked, a playfully sarcastic tone in his voice. "Hey, Booth," He called through the apartment. "Is he living here or something?" Max asked with a laugh.
"No," Brennan replied, rather strongly.
"Hey, Max," Booth replied, turning off the water in the sink as he discarded the two bottles in the bin beneath the sink.
Brennan patiently awaited the answer to her question of her father's arrival, and followed him through the apartment toward the couch. She was a bit anxious, watching her father step over to the folders on the table, he lifted one up, just as Brennan plucked it from his fingertips. "What did you need, Dad?" She asked, handing the folder over to Booth as he walked around the couch and sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table.
Max sat heavily on the couch, and looked up at his daughter with a knowing smile. "I just wanted to come over and congratulate you," he said sincerely.
Brennan and Booth exchanged a nervous glance. "Congratulate me?" Her voice held steady. "Congratulate me for what?"
"I mean, it is about time you were recognized for all of the hard work that you put in over the years. You practically run the place anyway, regardless of what Cam thought." He said flippantly.
"Run what place?" Brennan asked, any nervousness suddenly dispelled and replaced with confusion.
"Max, what are you talking about?" Booth asked, leaning forward slightly.
"The lab," Max answered Brennan's question and avoided Booth's, though the matching expressions of confusion on their faces told him that hadn't cleared things up. "I heard that Tempe is running the show now," Max explained, noting the slight relaxation in his daughter's posture at his words.
"What do you mean?" Booth replied, hoping to understand exactly what Max was driving at, he stood up and walked toward Brennan. "Did you want a drink?" He asked, glancing between the two of them.
"No, I'm fine." Brennan said, still not taking her eyes off her father. "Dad, what do you mean 'I am running the show'?"
"I heard that Cam was out, and Tempe was in," Max said, again looking between the two of them.
"Temporarily," Booth said shortly. "Most women like to take off for a few weeks when they have a baby." He paused. "Beer, Max?"
"Sure, sure," Max was flustered, looking between the partners in confusion. "A baby?"
"Yes," Brennan said, looking to Booth, and back at her father. "That is typically what follows conception, and forty weeks of pregnancy." She straightened and sighed. "Cam left me in charge while she's on maternity leave."
"Oh." Max nodded. "So you're not replacing Dr. Saroyan?"
"No," She shook her head.
"So you can't get me a job?"
"You had a job at the lab, Max," Booth said pointedly. "And you left. Again."
Brennan fixed the two of them with matching glares, but for a moment neither noticed as they exchanged their own glares.
Max stood up abruptly and walked toward the door, turning as he approached the exit. "Alright, I can see that I am not wanted around here. You two are obviously working on some important case, and I am just messing up your rhythm." An exaggerated sigh whisked through his lips.
"Dad, you don't have to go. It's okay." Brennan said, if but a bit too desperately, slightly concerned that Booth had upset the tenuous balance between all of them. "You haven't had your beer."
"I should really go." He said, offering a sad smile, he affixed a glare on Booth for a moment, allowing it to soften slightly. "Sorry about the misunderstanding. I'll check in soon, okay? Just be careful."
"I am always careful," Brennan replied, the concern still evident in her voice.
"I know you are, sweetheart." He said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you soon."
B&B
"So you and Booth served together in the Rangers?" Brennan asked Holt the next morning as they sat eating breakfast at the diner.
"Yup," the other man nodded, "I was the Goose to his Maverick."
"Top Gun," Booth put in at Brennan's confused look.
"I know that," she sniffed, "but didn't Goose die?"
"Um, yeah," a surprised Booth answered.
"But, you're not dead," she scrutinized Holt and looked back and forth between the two men for an explanation.
Neither one knew what to say to that so Booth quickly changed the subject to the case, "We've got ten bodies we're looking at, right Bones?
"We have ten skulls," she corrected. "Misters Vaziri, Bray, Fisher, and Nigel-Murray, plus Dr. Edison are still cataloguing the remains to determine how many sets there are. It could take some time."
"Right," Booth nodded, "so in the meantime we can question some of the witnesses again and go check out the crime scene."
Brennan's smile was cut short by Holt's frown, "It's not that easy." The partners waited for an explanation and Holt leaned in over his coffee, lowering his voice, "Look, we've known that something shady has been going on down there for a while but there's never been any solid proof. People around there got hit pretty bad when the economy went south and some of them are just doing whatever they can to survive. Jed Taylor - the sheriff who handed this over to me - is a local and the only reason we've got any witness statements at all is because of him. They all clammed right up when I went poking around and you can sure as hell bet they won't talk to a Feeb; no offense."
Booth waved the comment off, "So the locals won't trust us, huh?"
Holt shook his head, "There's no way, man."
Far from disappointed, however, a wide grin was spreading on Brennan's face.
"You know," she began in her obtusely subtle manner, "Booth and I are quite adroit at undercover work."
"Adroit?" Booth raised an eyebrow at the same time Holt asked, "Really?"
"Yes," Brennan's head bobbed up and down with barely contained enthusiasm. "We've been quite successful in solving cases that way. I'm a very good actress."
"Hey, you could be my girlfriend," Booth teased, warming to the idea.
"Yes!" she squealed, her grin lighting up her entire face. "Then it would be logical for us to spend time together."
"Is she okay?" Holt wasn't sure what to make of the forensic anthropologist who to this point had been more calm and rational than anything, but seemed to be bursting at the seams right now.
"She's fine," Booth assured his friend. "She just reallylikes undercover work."
"I really do," Brennan concurred.
"What about the lab, though?" Booth's sudden thought made him frown. "I mean, you're the boss while Cam's gone, so who's going to manage things there?"
"Hodgins is quite capable," she shrugged, not giving it more than a moment's thought.
"Hodgins has triggered more emergency containment alerts than everyone else in that lab combined," Booth reminded her.
"There is nothing in this case that would require him to create a bomb or any other incendiary device," she shook her head, not registering that Holt's eyes were now as wide as saucers. "Besides, my interns will be there to assist him, so it's not as if he'll be lacking for help."
"You just want to get out of the lab," he accused her. "And I have a very strong feeling that you just might miss me."
"Miss you?" she tilted her head to one side, her voice on the edge of a scoff. "We have a very vigorous sex life. I think that more than satisfies our need for togetherness." She shrugged, though the playfulness glinted in her eyes.
Booth choked down his coffee and shot back, "But we haven't worked together, and I mean actually, worked together in days, Bones. Not out in the field. Just admit it," he leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a soft purr. "You. Miss. Me."
She pulled back, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest and refusing to give him the pleasure of admitting he was right.
"Wow," Holt breathed, reminding the couple that they weren't exactly alone. Holt cleared his throat, "Um, I can probably talk to Jed and see if he can find work for you down there. You still fix cars, Sarge?"
"Booth is an excellent mechanic," Brennan assured him.
"Thanks, Bones," Booth smiled.
She shrugged, "It's the truth."
"Of course it is," he winked at her.
She was trying to discern the meaning behind his wink when Holt put in, "We'll have to come up with some fake IDs too."
"The FBI has those for us," Brennan's attention was back on the case.
"As the Moosejaws," said Booth, his voice holding a slight tinge of sarcasm.
"I thought you said you liked Wanda?" Brennan asked saucily.
Booth wasn't sure he wanted to know what she was about to say but to his relief her phone went off from its place on the table. She pushed the screen about twenty times before informing them that it was a message from Angela with a question about the case. As the three of them had finished eating, Brennan suggested that Booth and Holt go back to the Hoover and work on the undercover details while she prepared the lab for her imminent departure.
B&B
Brennan arrived at the lab, and was not surprised to see that everyone was working at a quick and highly productive rate. She allowed a small smile to curl at the corner of her mouth as she marched through the lab, sliding her card through the security scanner. She was pleased to see that the attention of the squinterns had been piqued, and made a remark to gather everyone involved in the case to the platform for her attention.
Brennan, looking to the eager faces around her, felt a swell of pride at the power she was holding, a power she had always had, but was never acknowledged openly. "My first order of business, Agent Booth is in need of my assistance, and it is going to take me out of the lab for a day or two. I will still need you all to focus on the case at hand, and we will be in contact throughout the case." She sighed resignedly, and her chest swelled with pride for her work.
It was partly due to the fact that she was 'officially' in charge that sent a jolt of electricity through her, and gave her that extra push she needed in order to trust her people to maintain control of the lab in her absence. She also knew that giving Hodgins an opportunity to be in charge would go a long way in pulling his focus from the Creeps McGee case that he had found himself so fully involved in. Though when he walked up to her and announced that there was no insect activity found on the bodies, she knew that he was still wholly wrapped up in it.
"Thank you for the update, Doctor Hodgins," She said softly, smiling warmly at him. "So, since I have agreed to assist Agent Booth in the field, I will need to assign someone to take care of the lab in my absence." She paused, noting the raised eyebrows of her colleagues. "Doctor Hodgins will be..."
"Yes!" Hodgins exclaimed in a barely contained whisper, pumping his fist just lightly, he said, straightening at Brennan's glare. "Sorry, go on, Doctor B."
"As I was saying, Doctor Hodgins will be your point of contact for any issues, or concerns. He will keep me informed of the goings on in the lab, and keep me apprised of the progress on the lab end of the case. Are there any questions?"
There was a chorus of head shakes, and a slight whisper that spread through the crowd as they began to disperse. "Thank you for your time." She said with a smile, turning toward her office, though even in her obvious preoccupied state, she couldn't help but smile a little brighter, when she heard Hodgins announce quietly to Wendell, that he was finally, officially, king of the lab.
"Bonnie!" Sheriff Jed Taylor called as he and his companions sat down at the counter amid the bustling lunch crowd.
A short, plump woman at the other end of the counter with a bright yellow apron that proclaimed "The Truck Stops Here" turned, giving Jed a grin as she called back, "Be right with you, Sugar!"
Snapping her gum, she topped off three coffees down at her end, took orders from a pair of sweaty, overweight men who looked like they hadn't seen a shower in days, and after calling back the order to the cook, she sauntered over to the Sheriff and his two friends.
"Hey, darlin', what can I do you for?" She asked, snapping her gum, she chomped open mouthed as she gave the three of them a wink.
"Bonnie," Jed said with a bit of a twang in his voice. "Wanda here is my mother's sister's cousin's girl. They just moved to the area, and I was wonderin' if you by chance were in need of any help around here."
Bonnie gave Brennan a once over, her eyes narrowing as they often did when she stared at a hamburger patty on the grill to see if the center was still frozen. "You ever done any waitressin' hun?" Bonnie asked.
Brennan and Booth exchanged a brief glance, it was subtle but there. "Yes ma'm, I have." She said, her voice containing a thick northeastern accent that she often used for her portrayal of Wanda. She pressed her palm against her wily permed hair and chomped on a piece of gum.
"Alright, sweetheart, you can start tomorrow morning, bright and early." Bonnie said, offering a snide smile. Her eyes flickered to Booth, and her smile widened. "And who is this handsome fellow?" She asked, flickering her eyelashes quickly. Brennan noted that one of her eyes seemed to blink slightly faster than the other, obviously a nerve defect, possibly from smoking too much. She wanted to make a comment about it, but instead looped her arm around Booth's.
"This is Buck," Brennan replied, holding out her hand to the waitress to showcase the engagement ring with a chip of a diamond in it. "He's my fiancé. That's French, you know?" She grinned, noting the other woman's glare, she could feel Booth's grip tighten slightly on her arm, before she settled back in her seat. "He's a mechanic." Brennan said, snapping her gum again.
"Chuck still looking for help?" Jed asked, chucking a thumb toward the service shop next door.
Bonnie shrugged at first, then reluctantly nodded, "With Jerry in lockup, Chuck's in a pinch for sure. But you knew that."
"I told that boy the next time he puffed the magic dragon I'd haul him in," Jed gave an apologetic shrug. "You know Mindy would have my ass if I didn't."
The waitress rolled her eyes at the mention of Jed and Jerry's uptight sister and her rebellious teenage son, but her posture relaxed and she started making friendly small talk with the newcomers; asking them where they'd come from and how long they were planning on staying. Booth and Brennan answered the questions with ease and after a few minutes Bonnie gave them a bright smile, telling "Wanda" she could report to work first thing the next morning, before turning her attention to some new customers.
"You passed," Jed told Booth under his breath with a sigh of relief.
"Is that a good thing?" Booth wondered out loud, playing with the brim of his cap that was keeping his phony mullet in place.
"Oh yeah," the other man assured him. He pointed to a man with greasy hair and even greasier hands who Bonnie was chatting away with now, "That's Chuck Norris. He owns this joint and half the town."
"When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris." Booth chuckled with a knowing smile. Brennan threw him a confused expression, her brow furrowed.
"I... don't know what that means. Do you know that man?" she asked, turning the expression to the man across the diner, and then back to her partner.
"You're telling me that you know who the Duke is, but you don't know who Chuck Norris is?" Booth whispered back, sending a glare to Brennan when she nudged him with her elbow to pay attention to Jed again, instead of continuing their argument.
"The Norrises have been in this town for ages," Jed said, with a chuckle of his own. "Al, the oldest brother, runs the post office; Bill's manager of the bank, and baby brother Chuck owns this place, the dry cleaners, two used car lots, and the public pool. Get in good with him and you'll have an easy time of it."
Just then Chuck rose from his seat and lumbered toward them. He was maybe a few inches shorter than Booth, but his biceps rippled underneath his flannel shirt and the agent would bet money that nobody around here crossed him more than once.
A grin broke through his neatly trimmed beard and he extended a beefy hand to Brennan, "Miss Wanda, I'm Chuck Norris, it's a pleasure to meet you. Bonnie tells me your boy's a mechanic?"
"I am," Booth spoke for himself.
The man's gaze narrowed on Booth, "My car is squealing like a stuck pig. What do you think is the matter?" He said, his eyes on Booth with a steely glare.
"It could be the fan belt's loose or worn, and it'll probably need to be replaced..." He said, a grin sliding over his face. "Or ya drove through a barn on your way into work today."
With a single nod of approval, and a hint of a smile, the man extended a hand to Booth, "Welcome aboard, son."
B&B
About the time Bonnie Belle laid eyes on the newcomers in town, Dr. Jack Hodgins entered the Jeffersonian with just a little more swagger than normal.
"Okay," he announced his presence as he swiped his card at the steps and joined the cluster of Brennan's interns waiting for him there, "catch me up to speed."
"Well," Vincent was the first to speak up, "thus far with the x-rays we've identified ten heads, twenty femurs-"
"There are ten complete skeletons," Clark broke in with barely veiled annoyance.
"Well," the Englishman replied in a small voice, "yes, that's what I was saying."
Hodgins was just as happy not to have to sit through a full listing of the bones, but he had a soft spot for Nigel-Murray and he offered a small, grateful smile as he moved the conversation along, "Have we been able to separate them out into individuals sets of remains yet?"
Five heads wagged "no" and Hodgins took a deep breath, asking himself what Brennan would do in this situation. "Right, well," he cleared his throat, "There are ten of them and five of you so if you each piece together two we should be good."
"But, they're all jumbled from being in the barrels," Wendell pointed to the four stations of clean bones that had been stacked by type but not sorted according to owner.
"Ah, the bitter irony," Fisher said to no one in particular; and no one had any idea what he was talking about, so they all ignored him, making the melancholy intern wonder whether his presence in the lab had been missed at all.
Three and a half barrels of oil, however, were waiting for Hodgins to sift through and analyze so he didn't think he was asking too much of them and he knew he wasn't asking any more than Brennan would.
"Just think of this as a midterm," he looked each one in the eye. "Pass, and I let Dr. Brennan know how amazing you are. Fail and..." He let the threat dangle, knowing how desperately each one of them wanted Dr. B's favor and feared her wrath. "Alright then, I'm going to go check out some oil."
He whistled The Beverly Hillbillies'theme song, convinced he'd done a pretty darn good job of sorting things out.
"So, what exactly are we supposed to do?" Vincent asked as Hodgins retreated into his office.
"Start assembling the remains," Arastoo answered.
"Yes, but-" the younger man protested.
"We each take a barrel," Clark shrugged as if that should be obvious. "Barrel two's got four bodies, so two of you can handle that."
"Two of us?" Wendell looked offended. "What gives you the right to choose?"
"You get one of these blue coats," Clark looked down at his lab coat while waving a dismissive hand at the gray coats in front of him, "then maybe you'll get to call the shots one day."
Arastoo moved between Wendell and Clark, while Vincent shrank back at the violence, and Fisher wondered what some of his psychologists would think of this group's dynamic. There were a few tense seconds, but by then Wendell saw it really was the best way to break up the work, and the team of two people could probably get things done faster.
"Fisher and I'll take number two," Wendell said, then looked over at Clark. "That okay with you DoctorEdison."
Like rain off a duck, Clark shrugged off the comment and turned to claim a table for himself. One by one the others followed suit until nothing could be heard in the lab but the quiet clangs of bone against steel.
"Two cluck and grunts, two dots and a dash, two mugs of dirty water, and a glass of moo juice." Brennan said, sliding the order sheet to the cook. The cook gave her an odd look for a moment, and then looked down at the order sheet. He chuckled to himself and turned to work on the order.
She turned back around and nearly jumped when she saw Booth sitting across from her at the counter. She allowed a sly smile slip over her face. "Hey honey." She said, chomping on the gum in her mouth, she gave him a flirtatious wink.
"Two cluck and grunts?"
"It's diner lexicon." She shrugged, stepping closer to the counter, she leaned forward a bit and came nose to nose with him. "I learned about it while researching my role as a soup jockey." She replied with a smirk.
Booth let out an uncontainable laugh, closing his eyes for a second, he couldn't help but smile at her excitement. "Soup jockey, huh?" He shook his head, bemused. That was one thing he could always rely on Brennan for, she always took her undercover assignments head on. He leaned forward. Their noses were only inches apart, and he could feel the electricity sparking from his partner in her excitement but he forced himself to concentrate on the job, "Have you learned anything?"
"Besides that half of the people here are most likely suffering from heart disease, diabetes, or tooth decay caused by a lack of oral hygiene?"
"Big fat no, huh?" He asked, watching her eyes dance for a moment, though it was naturally broken by her gum snapping in her mouth.
"Have you gotten anything?" she asked, before going over to get him a glass of water so that it looked like she was doing something.
"The guys in the shop don't really speak but for the occasional grunt." Booth shrugged, taking a long swig of water. "It's only been a few hours, though," he said with a hopeful smile.
"Yes, but someone has to know something," she replied, looking around the diner. "I have to go take care of that table over there." She said, nodding toward the man with the bad haircut waving her over. "We'll just keep on talking to the locals. I'm sure we'll find something." She replied.
Closing the gap, she dropped a kiss on his lips. It was quick, but it surprised him. "Got to keep up appearances, sugar." She winked, snapped her gum, and walked quickly around the corner to attend to the customers.
Around two, everything finally slowed down enough for Brennan to go on her "lunch" break. Outdoor seating wasn't high on the truck stop's priority list but even the cracked stone bench on the side of the building felt better than nothing. She slipped off her shoes and rubbed her sore feet.
"Heels and diner work don't mix," Bonnie announced her presence, pointing down to the non-descript tennis shoes she had on her own feet.
Brennan nodded, not sure how she was supposed to respond.
"You know, you're doing better than I thought you would," the other woman gave her a weary smile. "For a newbie."
Brennan gave an embarrassed smile of her own, "Jed didn't-"
"Awe, look, Honey," interrupted Bonnie, "everyone in these parts knows Jed's got a heart of gold; 'specially when it comes to family."
"My last job wasn't nearly as physically demanding," admitted Brennan in an attempt to forge a bond with her co-worker.
"Eh, you're a quick study," Bonnie waved her off, digging into her pocket. "Wanna smoke?"
Brennan's first thought was to decline, but then it occurred to her that a smoke break might just serve as the perfect cover during those times she needed to communicate with the lab during the workday, so she nodded. Careful not to inhale the smoke into her lungs she mostly just held the cigarette while she and Bonnie continued to exchange small talk.
"Say, are you and your man coming to the derby tonight?" Bonnie asked, grounding her third cigarette into the ground with her heel as Brennan disposed of her first in the same manner.
"Derby?"
"The demolition derby over at the arena tonight," Bonnie's head bobbed up and down excitedly.
"We might be busy," Brennan hedged as they moved back toward the building.
"You should try and come," encouraged the waitress. "Whole town's gonna be there."
"Per- ah- maybe we will after all," amended Brennan smoothly.
"Great!" Bonnie seemed genuinely pleased. "Well," she held the door open for both of them, "back to the grind."
B&B
Hodgins poked his head out of the Ookie Room doorway and made sure the area was intern-free before stepping out the rest of the way.
They'd spent the morning interrupting him with one trivial question after another until he'd finally banned all of them from stepping foot in his office and told them that he would come to them when he wanted something. Angela had stood beside him the entire time, but as soon as the interns were out of earshot she'd reproved him, pointing out that Cam, and even Brennan, had managed to run things without banishing people. Reluctantly, he'd agreed, but he'd also been more than happy to let her be the one who went out and smoothed their ruffled feathers. He did, after all, have work of his own to do. Now, though, it was getting closer to six at night and time for him to face the music.
"What've we got, people?" Hodgins asked, adopting his most Cam-like tone as he joined them on the platform.
None of them said anything.
"Clark has been setting the tissue-depth markers for me," Angela boasted like a proud parent, "and it turns out Vincent, here, is great at doing puzzles so he's been handling all of the smaller bones, while Wendell and Arastoo handle the larger ones. Mr. Fisher's been taking bone samples for you to work up the osteology reports and tooth samples for odontology. Hopefully one of those will help us figure out where these poor girls are from."
"They're all girls?" Hodgins blanched.
"All female," Arastoo corrected. "All over the age of twenty, with the oldest between thirty-five and forty."
"Any obvious patterns?"
They could all tell what Hodgins was getting at and the tension in the room got a little higher.
"Not that we've noticed so far," Wendell was the first to speak up and shake his head. "Beyond the fact that they're all female."
Hodgins followed the younger man's gaze and for the first time took a look around at the tables jammed on the platform and surrounding area. Space was at a premium, but where before there had only been piles of bones, there were now ten neatly laid out skeletons.
"Right," Hodgins tried to think of something to say, "so, um, thanks and we'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning." A pointed look from his wife made him rush to add, "Good job, all of you."
"Hodgins said the victims are all female," Brennan informed Booth, wrinkling her nose in slight distaste as he opened the door to the apartment that had been provided for them.
In keeping with the couple's assumed socio-economic status, they had a very used car and their apartment was situated on the outskirts of town, in a building whose exterior had definitely seen better days. Inside, it wasn't much better. Paint was peeling off the walls in places and the carpet was faded and worn, not to mention the slight smell of cat urine that permeated the air.
"So it's probably just one guy," Booth plopped down on the couch, only to jerk forward in pain as a spring poked him in the back. "Anything else?" He asked, rubbing his back as he glared at the couch.
"He'd like us to collect various soil samples to compare with what he gleaned from the barrels," she informed him. "Apparently the soil on the sides differs from the soil on the bottoms. His hypothesis is the murderer rolled them along the ground near the original crime scene before dropping them off at the truck stop."
She went on to fill him in on what Angela and the interns had accomplished, all the while looking around and theorizing that the total square footage wasn't that much larger than just her living room back home. Booth took it all in, asking questions here and there when he required clarification, and when they'd covered everything he excused himself to clean as much of the grease as he could off of himself before they headed off for the derby.
Picking up her bags, Brennan carried them back to the lone bedroom, wincing as the door hinges screeched liked nails along a chalkboard. Carefully and precisely she loaded her belongings into one of the mismatched dressers.
The bed was already made, but to Brennan's relief, the bed itself was in good condition. She'd spoken privately with Scott Holt before leaving, emphasizing the importance of providing them with a mattress that would be comfortable for Booth's back. She made a mental note to thank him.
"Toilet handle is sticking," Booth announced as he entered the room with a towel around his waist and water droplets dotting his sculpted chest and midsection. "Shower pressure's crap too."
"How formal do you think this event is?" Brennan asked as she hung the remainder of her dresses up in the small closet.
"It's a demolition derby, not a cocktail party," Booth laughed, "I don't think you'll need to pull out the couture."
In the end she settled on jeans and a nicer blouse, though only after a long shower to wash the scent of fried food out of her hair. She also changed into more comfortable shoes. The ride out to the Augusta County indoor arena was interesting as their GPS kept losing the satellite signal, though once they got close enough they merely followed the line of traffic in.
The arena was larger than Brennan had expected, with vendors of all varieties lined up along the circular corridor that led to the stands and they milled around for a bit, collecting a soil sample from the hard, cold ground outside for Hodgins and then seeking out dinner for themselves. Their arms were laden with food by the time they meandered over to the stands to look for seats.
"Wanda!" Brennan looked up to her left to find Bonnie standing about mid-way up the bleachers, waving frantically for them to join her.
A swarthy man with two beady eyes shining from under his ball cap glared daggers at Brennan when she indicated they needed to move by him to get to their seats.
"Oh, don't mind Harve, he hates everyone," Bonnie told them once they'd worked their way through the long row and sat down. "It's no wonder too, with him keeping to the woods and all most of the year."
Brennan wanted to inquire further, but Bonnie had already switched topics and was introducing the man beside Booth as her husband, Tom.
Tom was a pleasant enough man who worked as a janitor at the school and was an ardent baseball fan.
"Who's your team?" he questioned Booth, as Bonnie pulled Brennan aside to tutor her on the finer points of a demolition derby.
"Philly," Booth replied with unabashed pride.
"Probably best," the other man nodded sagely. "Damn Orioles couldn't win a Little League game these days."
"'Nat's aren't much better," agreed Booth.
Tom snorted, "All them Washington people told us we would lovetheir team if we gave 'em a chance but they haven't done anything. Least the O's have some history and once Angelos croaks they can pull themselves out of this rut."
A voice boomed over the loudspeaker, announcing the lineup of drivers all revving their engines at the starting line. Cheers erupted each time, some louder and longer than others. Brennan returned to sit next to Booth and for the next two hours they sat back and relaxed, soaking in the atmosphere and all in all enjoying the event. Now and then Bonnie would shout over and give them some inside info on who the drivers were and where they came from. It seemed she'd been correct in her statement that the whole town would be there and unbeknownst to her she was giving Booth and Brennan exactly the data they'd been craving all day.
B&B
"Okay, so I'm ruling out the ABC brothers," Booth spoke quietly to his partner the next afternoon as he sipped a coke and munched a burger while she rolled silverware for the dinner rush.
"ABC brothers?" Brennan yawned, not at all thrilled that her shift had started at six that morning, she glared at him as he chewed with his mouth open.
"Al, Bill, and Chuck," Booth said in between bites of his burger. "This morning when I got to the shop, nobody was around, so I went to Chuck's office. Chuck was talking with Al and Bill, really digging into them. He nearly burst a blood vessel when Bill asked what they were going to do about the mess from the spill." Booth said, taking another bite, not pausing as he continued to speak. "Apparently it's been a PR nightmare and the EPA is poking around trying to figure out why they were there in the first place."
"Must you really speak with your mouth full of food?" She asked, sliding his coke toward him.
He took a swig of the beverage and made a refreshed sound, setting the cup down on the counter. "It's all part of the cover." He said, taking her returning glare in stride.
"Did they see you?" she muttered out of the side of her mouth.
Booth shook his head and took another bite.
Brennan felt her phone vibrate inside of her apron and called out to Bonnie, "I'm grabbing a smoke! Be right back!"
The other waitress nodded, her smile morphing to a smirk as Buck shoved the rest of the food in his mouth and hurried after Wanda. "Kids," she sighed with a knowing smile.
B&B
While he was still sure the interns were out to drive him nuts, one perk that Hodgins did discover, was that Booth had unofficially left him in charge of Sweets and Turner too, and after filling Booth and Brennan in on the latest findings he was heading out on a field trip to the Hoover. As he passed through security and walked the halls to Sweets' office, the mere thought of all the government secrets and cover-ups these old walls contained was enough to make him giddy.
"You two decent?" he joked, as he entered to find the couple waiting for him.
"Very funny," Sweets replied dryly. "Why are we here?"
Hodgins considered drawing the teasing out but caught a look from Turner that made him think twice, so he sat down too, "So you know we ID'd the first body as Barbra Martin, right?"
The pair nodded.
"Barbra's from Lofton so Booth's getting the Sheriff to pick up one of her old boyfriends, who Dr. B claims is a real piece of work," Hodgins handed over the file from the background information on both the victim and the suspect that Angela had been able to pull.
"Harve Kreller," Sweets read the name aloud.
"He's the town recluse according to the one waitress Dr. B is working with," Hodgins explained. "Ex-Navy. Spends most of his time in the woods and the Sheriff says nobody knows exactly what he does."
"We can read, you know?" Turner grinned wryly. "Is Booth coming back for this?"
Hodgins shook his head, "They don't know enough to break cover yet, so the ball's in your court. Ange can set up the live feed so they can observe, but that's it. And we have to wait until they get off at six."
"The sheriff will probably get here around that time anyway," Turner said thoughtfully. "Anything else we should know?"
Hodgins shook his head, "This is pretty much a long shot, but it's all we have so far. We've got plenty of data but not a lot of answers, though as the facial reconstructions get finished we should start to get more hits."
Sweets and Turner thanked Hodgins for the information and spent the rest of the afternoon studying the case file and learning as much about Kreller as they could.
B&B
At six-fifteen, Sheriff Taylor escorted Harve into an FBI conference room where they were greeted by the young psychologist and an equally young FBI agent; neither one of them taking note of the heavy paperweight at one end of the table that housed Angela's web cam.
"Thank you for your time, gentlemen," Sweets began. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Kreller?"
For a moment no one thought Harve was going to say anything until he finally nodded, answering in a gravelly voice, "Jed said y'all found Barbie in them oil drums at the Stop."
Sweets nodded, "I'm afraid that's true. Are you a frequent patron at 'The Truck Stops Here' Diner?"
"I eat there when I'm in town," the big man said with a shrug.
"Did Barbie eat there too?" Turner asked.
"She worked there since we was in high school," Kreller offered with just the faintest hint of nostalgia. "Said she was gonna run the place some day."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Sweets said sympathetically. "Do you know any reason why her body would've been stored in an oil drum there? Any reason for someone to want her dead in the first place?"
"I didn't kill her," the man's voice boomed, making Sweets jump a bit.
"Nobody's sayin' you did, Harve," Jed Taylor soothed him. "These folks wanna find out who did this to her, same as the rest of us do. They need to ask questions to do that."
"Sweets." Booth's voice rang in the psychologist's ear. "Make him mad at you."
"What?" Sweets whispered, turning toward the web cam.
"Make him mad at you. See what his reaction is, he doesn't have a record, but we don't know how he'll react if he's really enraged." Booth paused. "Turner is right there, she'll protect you." The humored undertone was obvious. Sweets tossed a steely glare at the camera before turning back to the suspect.
Sweets and Turner exchanged a look, and Sweets straightened in his chair. "Mr. Kreller, what happened between you and Barbie that caused you to break up?"
Harve sat up in his chair a little, eyeing Sweets with an angry glare. "We just were going in different directions. She had dreams, and I was content." He said, sounding almost wistful in his response.
"You loved her?" Sweets asked.
"Yes."
"And she just... up and left one day?" Sweets shrugged.
"That's right." Harve replied.
"Did she tell you she was leaving?Was there an argument?"
"Yeah. We argued some." He replied. "But it was her life, her choice to go!" Harve exclaimed.
"Sweets? I said make him angry, not make him cry." Booth muttered over the earpiece.
"You couldn't bear to see her go, could you?" Turner said, turning up the volume a bit, she leaned forward. "You saw her with her bag all packed and ready to go, and you weren't ready to let her go, isn't that right, Mr. Kreller?"
"I didn't kill her." He said, feeling a sense of anger building up.
"No, you didn't mean to kill her... but when you had her up against that wall, your hands over her throat, squeezing the life out of her body, You didn't even stop to think for a second! Did you?" Turner exclaimed.
"I didn't touch her!" Harve shouted. "I didn't touch her!" He screamed. "I don't know what happened! I don't know nothin' that'll help no one," Harve pulled his cap further down on his brow. "But she didn't deserve to die." He paused, his gaze burning into Turner's eyes. "Not like that."
From the bud in her ear, Turner heard Booth sigh heavily and tell her to turn Kreller loose. "Thank you for you time," was what she said out loud, waiting for a moment to calm her own nerves.
Once the sheriff and Harve had left and closed the door behind them Sweets switched the feed over to the main monitor on the wall.
"That didn't get us much," Booth frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Turner, I want you to dig up every scrap of info you can on Barbra Martin, including any articles that came out around the time she disappeared. Sweets, call Jed first thing in the morning and see if you can get him to remember anything else about Barbra's friends or enemies. I'm not ruling Kreller out yet, but I want all our bases covered. Hopefully the squints can start putting IDs on the rest soon."
B&B
A text came in from Hodgins the next morning as Brennan was clearing tables and she snuck a peek at it in the bathroom as soon as she could get free. Barbra Martin disappeared five years ago; when Harve Kreller was deployed overseas.
When Booth stopped by for lunch as had become his practice, she filled him in and watched him process the news.
"We'll figure this out," he promised her, smiling as she munched one of his fries.
Unfortunately, it didn't look like they were going to figure it out any time soon. It seemed like they'd hit a snag they just couldn't get free of. One day bled into the next and while they did identify all of the victims by the end of the third day and confirmed that they had all been strangled to death, that information didn't bring them any closer to finding their killer. Turner and Sweets had spent hours interviewing family members only to uncover that all ten women were all from different states, with different jobs, and had been passing through Virginia for different reasons. The only thing they had in common was where they'd been found and how they'd died.
Meanwhile Booth and Brennan continued working their jobs as Buck and Wanda, collecting soil samples for Hodgins wherever they went, and joining Tom and Bonnie for various social events around town. The only positive thing Booth could say about the whole thing was that at least it was a good ten degrees warmer than the winter weather DC was being treated with. Brennan's initial zeal for undercover work was fading, and the longer they were gone, the longer she itched to be back at the lab poring over the remains for clues. X-rays and photographs were a poor substitute for being able to examine them in person.
"This is Wanda, the waitress, at the diner, waitressing," Brennan answered her phone on the tenth day of their undercover assignment, throwing a look around to make sure no one was eavesdropping as she slipped out the back door for some privacy.
"Hey, Dr. B," a very weary Hodgins on the other end answered with a little laugh at her antics. "I've got those soil sample results back from all the dirt around town that you've been sending and I think I found a match."
The prospect of a genuine break in the case caused her heart to quicken as she urged her colleague, "Go ahead."
"Right," she heard the ruffle of papers as Hodgins sifted through the data. "Well, the soil and particulates on the bottom of the barrels matched the samples you sent me from the truck stop-"
Brennan heard Bonnie open the back door and yell for her so she quickly pulled out one of her cigarettes, lit it, and waved it at Bonnie, who accepted the ruse and urged her to, "Hurry it up!"
"Is there something relevant you wished to share with me, Hodgins?" she passed along the urgency, knowing that the lunch rush would be picking up soon.
"Yes," an exasperated Hodgins bit out. "I mean, yeah, like I was saying, the soil from sample bag 3a is an exact match to the soil on the sides of the barrels. So wherever you got it from, that's where your killer is."
"Thank you, Hodgins, I'm sure that will be helpful," she said, trying to go through her mental list of where the samples were taken and how they were labeled. The cigarette in her hand was nearly burnt out, "I need to go, Hodgins."
And without further ado, she shoved the phone into her apron pocket and turned back to the diner. Sure enough the rush was in full swing and Bonnie was doing everything she could to keep up. With a hurried apology, Brennan dug her tablet from her apron pocket and began taking orders.
Though she was working diligently at the undercover task at hand, Brennan's analytical mind was working at full throttle. She was more than capable of doing more than one job at a time, and once inspiration hit, there was barely a moment of hesitation before she grabbed at the apron strings and gave them a strong yank. Soil sample 3a had come from the dirt clod off Harve Kreller's shoe.
She slammed the apron down on the counter, and Bonnie locked eyes with her. "Where do you think you're going, hon?"
"I need to find Buck." She said, scrambling for an excuse as she walked backwards toward the door. "He has... my... extra pack of cigarettes!" She exclaimed, floundering for words, before she ran from the diner. She nearly ran into Chuck Norris on her way out, and grabbed his arm. "Is Buck at the shop?"
"Buck is working at the end of the line on Charlie Renault's trailer. Way down..."
"May I borrow your vehicle?"
Chuck paused for a moment. "Well, sure, but I don't..."
"Thank you!" She exclaimed, grabbing the keys from Chuck, she ran for his pickup. She heard Chuck shout something after her, but she was far too involved in her pursuit to take a glance back. She quickly climbed into the driver's side, and started the old pick up truck. She reached for the gear shift, and nearly jumped when she saw that she wasn't alone in the truck. Sitting beside her was a lazy old basset hound, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes. Brennan scowled at her passenger and sighed, shaking her head as she slammed the truck in reverse, then back into drive, as she sped toward the truck on the far end of the line.
Gravel sprayed from the tires, and when she saw Booth, she slammed on her brakes, coming to a skidding stop.
"Wanda? What the hell are you..."
"Buck! Get in the truck!" She shouted, indicating the back of the truck. He ran up to the door and grabbed at the handle. "No, get in the back! There's no room up here!" She said, indicating the dog.
"You've got to be kidding me!" He exclaimed.
"We have to get to Kreller's! We have a break in the case!"
Booth nodded, and jumped into the back of the truck, just as Brennan slammed her foot on the gas, Booth nearly lost his footing, but managed to hang on with all of his strength, gripping onto whatever he could to keep himself from flying out of the back of the truck.
B&B
By some small miracle, Booth managed not to fall out as they raced down the back roads and finally along the twisted gravel path back through the woods. Booth was on the phone with Jed, getting directions on how to get to Harve's place and then Booth would relay them to Brennan
through the cab's back window. The dog slept peacefully.
They came to the bottom of the driveway Jed had described and Brennan pulled just past it and eased the truck off the road between a few trees to shield it from view.
"Jed's on his way just in case we need backup," Booth said, hopping down from the truck bed onto unsteady legs and rubbing his cold arms to revive his circulation. "Where did you learn to drive like that, Danica Patrick?" He asked.
Ignoring his question, she started walking. They left the dog in the truck, and moved along as quietly as they could, the crunching gravel beneath them the only sound in the still air. The log cabin-style house was situated in the middle of a small clearing and was surprisingly well-kept. Along the front was a neatly landscaped flower bed and a few tasteful lawn ornaments dotted the yard. To the left of the house was an open shed, revealing a wealth of tools and a car that had been completely gutted.
The front door of the house swung open and Harve Kreller lumbered out menacingly, "Whatchu doin' here?"
"We have some questions for you," Brennan said boldly, ignoring Booth's protests as she moved a few steps in front of him toward Harve.
The burly man squinted at her, "Ain't you the new girl at the diner? The one who's s'pposed to be Jed's kin or somethin'?"
She recalled the two meals she'd served him when he'd come into town for supplies and she shook her head, again to Booth's frustration, "No. Well, yes, I've been working at the diner but I believe you've deduced I'm not related to Jed."
Harve lifted a shoulder and dropped it, "Don't explain why you're here."
"I believe you know that as well," Brennan said pointedly.
"I think you oughta leave now, little lady," Harve stood up to his full height and adopted a defensive posture. "Before something happens to you or your boy, there."
"Hey," Booth instantly moved between the big man and Brennan, tossing his wig to the side and pulling out his badge. He stopped before pulling his gun, he didn't want to scare Harve, "I'm with the FBI, buddy. You wanna mess with my partner, you go through me!"
"I answered your people's questions the other day," Harve replied belligerently, moving forward on Booth, he had no choice but to take a step back.
"But you lied," Brennan exclaimed, trying to walk around Booth's frame to confront the man again.
"Bones!" Booth threw his arms up in exasperation, praying to God that the man didn't have a gun hiding somewhere.
"He did, Booth."
"I know," Booth told his partner before turning to Harve. "We know you strangled those girls, stuffed them in those oil drums one by one and dropped your collection off at the truck stop by swapping out the barrels Chuck stored there."
Harve straightened, but refused to give up his guard, his mouth closed and he breathed heavily through his nose. "I didn't kill nobody." He stated strongly. "I didn't kill nobody!" He screamed, taking a step forward, Booth pulled out his sidearm.
"Don't move." He stated resolutely, taking a step back to give himself a little more space between he and Harve.
"The dog is barking." Brennan said suddenly, her eyes moving from the standoff as she took a step back toward the door.
"What? Bones, what are you talking about?"
"The dog. Chuck's dog... he's barking."
"So what? Dogs bark. Let's get this guy cuffed, and... Bones, where are you going?" He said, noticing her eyes never left the sound of the dog's barking, she stepped off the porch step. "Bones, don't wander off." He said, still holding his gun on Harve. He pulled his cuffs from his pocket and slammed them on Harve's wrist, swinging his arm behind him, he grabbed the other as Brennan moved to the side of the yard out of his line of sight. "Bones!"
He pushed Harve toward the porch steps. They stepped out onto the front lawn. Booth watched as Brennan walked toward the Basset hound, who was standing by a small outhouse shed a few yards from the main cabin baying loudly. "Bones, he probably just saw a raccoon or something."
"Maybe he knows something, Booth. Basset hounds have incredible senses of smell."
"Yeah, well, he's standing by an outhouse, I can only imagine the smells coming from it." Booth replied.
"Just let me-," whatever she was about to say was cut off as the door to the outhouse swung open in front of her, causing her to jump, but not giving her enough time to react. Before Booth could scream her name, a thick hand closed around her throat.
Booth threw Harve to the ground face first. "Stay!" He growled, running for his partner.
He didn't stop to think before he crossed the yard and threw his body onto the man strangling her. His hands released from her throat, and Booth planted his right fist in the man's jaw, as Brennan struggled to stand up. Knocked out cold, the man's body sprawled across the ground, as Booth turned his attention to his partner.
"You okay?" He asked in between heavy puffs of air.
"Yeah." She nodded, rubbing her neck. "You?"
His eyes flashed between the man on the ground beneath him, and Harve Kreller. "Much better."
Booth produced a second pair of cuffs and dragged Brennan's assailant back to the porch with Harve just as Jed's cruiser came roaring up the driveway, siren wailing. It cut off as Jed killed the engine and stepped out.
"I see you two found Harve's place alright," he commented dryly, taking in the scene.
"You know this guy?" Booth pointed to the unconscious man at his feet.
The sheriff narrowed his eyes and studied him for a long minute before looking back up at Booth, "Never seen him before in my life."
"Start talking," Booth addressed Harve.
For a moment it looked like Harve was going to close up on them again, but Brennan spoke up, "Is he related to you?" Harve swallowed hard, and she looked between the two men, her brow furrowed. "He looks to be a little younger than you. Is he your brother?" Harve nodded and Brennan turned to Jed and Booth, "Their facial structure is similar." She shrugged.
"I didn't know you had a brother, Harve." Jed said, looking to Booth, he shrugged.
"Nobody knows that I have a brother." Harve muttered softly.
"Okay, now that we have the whole reunion thing down. Start talking, Kreller. I am getting very impatient." Booth growled. "Why did your brother attack my partner?"
Harve sucked in a deep breath, looking up to the sky for a moment as if it would give him some kind of divine answer to his pleading glance. "Clive did it." He whispered.
"Clive did what?" Booth asked.
"Clive is the one that killed those women. He's a sick man, sir. He's a sick, sick man... He killed Barbie because he thought she was the one who sent me away. He didn't get it was the Navy."
"And the other women?"
"I don't know." He shook his head. "I... I caught him one day, trying to bury one of the bodies in the back yard. I was afraid that if I turned him in, he'd be institutionalized - that's why our folks never told anyone about him. So I just locked him up in one of the rooms in the cabin. But... every so often, a new body would surface. I couldn't figure out how he was getting out! I didn't know how to stop him!" Harve exclaimed. "I was the one that hid them in the drums. I was the one that dumped them... put them where I knew Barbie would be close to her dreams."
Harve looked at his brother as Clive's eyes fluttered open, staring up at his older brother with a dull, disconnected gaze. "I'm sorry, Clive," Harve apologized, a tear rolling down his cheek, then whispered, "I can't protect you no more."
B&B
It took another day to clear everything up and reveal everything to the townspeople. Bonnie took the news the best of the bunch, promising Brennan that if she ever got tired of the murder business she could move south and take up waitressing. Brennan promised to keep in touch.
That next weekend found them sitting beside one another at their own diner, speaking animatedly about the case with Max; whose interest in their work was almost as keen as his interest in their interactions with each other. Max found that while his daughter and her partner were romantically involved, there didn't seem to be much difference in their dynamic. A touch to the hand, perhaps that was a bit more intimate, or a knowing glance that held just a bit of deeper meaning, but nothing that would risk the important professional balance that his daughter and her partner maintained. He watched Booth send Brennan an amused look when she described some of the people she'd served at the diner, as the waitress stepped over to the table.
"I'll have cow feed, dry with a side of frog sticks, and a glass of city juice." Brennan said without a moment's hesitation, her eyes flickering to the two men at the table and enjoying the look of confusion on her father's face. The waitress nodded and wrote in the notepad in her hand. Noting that Booth wasn't about to jump in to make his order, she smiled at the waitress. "He'll have a C.B., hold the grass," she paused. "And a cup of dirty water, make it moo. Dad, do you want anything?" She asked, looking to her father. He stared at her for a moment and then back to the waitress.
"Um... no, no... I'm good," Max replied. "I was just going to get going, get out of town for a day or two." He shrugged, his eyes flickering to the waitress as she nodded and turned to put in the order for the partners.
"A day or two?" Booth asked, his tone incredulous.
"Maybe a week or two." Max shrugged.
Booth nodded knowingly, glancing to his partner. She seemed unaffected by Max's announcement.
"I'll give you a call in a couple of weeks, okay?" He said, standing up.
Brennan started to stand and Max took her hand. "You don't have to walk me out, sweetheart. Enjoy your lunch. I love you."
"I love you too, Dad." Brennan said, pausing for a moment before she sat down again. Max then held his hand out to Booth.
"Max." Booth nodded. "Stay out of trouble."
"As much as I can." Max promised, passing along a silent plea for Booth to make sure he took good care of his daughter. The silent agreement passed between them without another word, and Max turned for the door.
Brennan followed her father's figure with her eyes, until the waitress appeared with their orders, placing the plates in front of them as she smiled. They each nodded their thanks, and the waitress disappeared again behind the counter.
"Booth, do you think my father came to see me the other night because he thought that I would give him a job at the lab?"
"You think that Max thought that because Cam was gone, that you would be willing to give him a job at the lab, regardless of his past as a deserter?" Booth asked, noting the cringe at his final word. "I think that anything is possible with Max, Bones. Though it could always just be as simple as him wanting to work closer to you again."
Her eyebrow lifted slightly. "You often confuse me with your defense of my father's actions, Booth."
"Sometimes it's just easier to give people that we love the benefit of the doubt."
"Even if they're doomed to hurt us again?"
He closed his hand over hers, feeling his fingertips curl around her hand, he squeezed it lightly. "Relationships are about sacrifice, even if you have to sacrifice yourself just a little bit to show that person that you'll always be there."
"I find that to be very difficult," She said, giving him a sideways look, their eyes locked for a moment. "But I think that I understand."
A slow smile crept up onto Booth's lips, and his eyes twinkled. "That's one thing I can always count on from you, Bones."
"What is that?"
"You're always up for the challenge." He grinned, as the partners shared a laugh.
Join us again next week when the body of a missing girl is discovered in a trunk on a dark, lonely road, causing Booth to be assaulted by long-buried feelings about his parents while Brennan does her best to be supportive in The Bump in the Road by Squinttoyou and NatesMama.