CHAPTER ONE
Dr. Temperence Brennan was sitting quietly in her living room, a nice fire was laid in the fireplace making the apartment feel cozy and warm, even giving off a cheery glow, which is something she likely wouldn't have recognized, as such, a few years earlier. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, half a glass of pinot noir within reach on the end table, reading. The subject of her study could be called anything but cheery. It was a medical journal, an article on the rate of organic decay found in soil with high concentrations of ferric minerals and the resulting effect on bone density. She wasn't entirely sure that she agreed with the author's conclusions.
She picked up the wineglass and took a small sip. As she set it back on the coaster, her cell phone began to ring. She picked it up from the end table, next to the glass and answered.
"Temperence Brennan."
"Bones." The voice was one she'd come to know quite well. "I'm on my way over. A body was discovered in Anacostia Park."
"You could at least say hello first, Booth."
"Aren't you the one who told me that, logically speaking, greetings between people extremely familiar with one another are a waste of time?"
"Yes, but you informed me that maintaining politeness is a form of respect."
"Sorry." She could hear the frustration in his voice. "Hey Bones, it's Booth. How are you tonight?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Great, I'll be there in five." With that, her partner hung up on her.
She got up and moved to the closet. She was already fully dressed, not having changed after coming home from the Jeffersonian. She chose some boots, which didn't go well at all with the outfit she had on, but that never been one of the primary concerns of Temperence Brennan's life. She grabbed a heavy coat and double-checked that there were gloves in the pocket. Washington DC in January was quite cold. It had been fairly warm lately, days in the low forties, but the temperature outside at nine-thirty pm would be perhaps half that. She moved to the door, scooping up a field kit that she kept packed and ready nearby the door, for just such an occasion.
She was halfway down the staircase, she preferred the stairs as opposed to riding the elevator for three floors as it helped to keep her in good shape, when Booth appeared at the bottom of the stairs and began to climb them three at a time.
"I'm right here, Booth," she said, stopping him in his tracks.
"Oh, hey Bones." He fell into step beside her when she reached his position on the staircase.
The two of them headed back outside and climbed into the large black SUV he'd left idling at the curb.
"What do we know?" she asked as he slipped the truck into drive and turned on the flashing blue light, pulling out from the curb and accelerating into traffic.
"They pulled a body, pretty badly decomposed, from the river in Anacostia Park this afternoon. A couple of kids found her." He seemed a bit anxious.
"Her? The body is female?"
"Maybe. I figured you would confirm that for me when we get there,"
"What haven't you told me yet?" she asked, as he turned into Anacostia Park.
"Metro PD found a military ID in what was left of one of the victim's pockets."
"So we know who she is," Bones said.
"Maybe." He turned off the road and across a grassy area toward the river. Several DC Metro cruisers were already parked there, along what appeared to be a large blue and white ambulance. As they pulled up, Booth said, "Damn it."
"What's wrong?"
He gestured toward the ambulance looking vehicle. "This investigation just got a hell of a lot more complicated." Brennan read the lettering on the side of the truck. N.C.I.S. Major Case Response Team. "Tracy Phillips was an FBI agent, on indefinite leave. She'd been called up to active duty as a naval Lieutenant. She was a reservist."
"Why would that upset you?" Brennan asked, her confusion clear on her face, as they got out of the car.
Booth simply pointed to the tall, good-looking man with the silvery hair who was striding toward them in a black windbreaker that read NCIS. As he approached, she noticed just how blue his eyes were.
"Gibbs, NCIS," the man said, brandishing his identification. "Don't touch anything without clearing it with my ME first."