It's been awhile. I've had this idea for an episode, so why not try and write it. Here we go…
After six months and seven dead teenage girls, Booth and Breenan had him. The sick son-of-a-bitch that rape, tortured and killed teenage drifters was inside this apartment. The neighborhood was quiet and the man behind the murders wasn't anything special. His fear or mediocrity, according to Sweets, drove him to act out. He craved attention and this is how he got off. But it's over now.
"Bones, do not come in until I say it's clear, okay?" Booth was nervous. The time spent on this case had started to chip away at his usually steady resolve. He'd seen death and experienced torture, but this, monster, was particularly cruel.
"Okay Booth." Breenan pulled out her brand new 9mm. "I'm ready."
Booth looked at the gun. "I don't have time to talk about that now. But remind me when we're finished." He squared his shoulders in front of the door and gave a silent count before ramming the door.
1-2-3! Booth spun searching the room for life. Nothing. He checked the remaining rooms and found more of the same: bright white walls, beige furniture, and the scent of bleach. Booth waved Breenan into the apartment.
"We lost him. He must have known we were coming. The apartment's been cleared out." He rubbed his forehead. "I can't believe it. We HAD him!" The wall cracked under Booth's fist. Breenan's eyes widened.
"Wait, do that again." Bones examined the small hallway Booth was standing in. She analyzed the layout of the living room and disappeared around the corner.
"Bones I'm not in the mood. Let's just call in forensics and go get some pie… Bones… BONES!"
"I think I found something." She came back into living room. "There's an architectural anomaly in this apartment. This hallway protrudes from the support beams, but there's no room or space on the other side. And this plaster looks new."
"How can you tell? This entire apartment looks like the inside of an asylum." Breenan nudged Booth out of the way. With the butt of gun, she struck the drywall.
"Wait, don't do that! Someone could get shot." Booth grabbed the only object left in the apartment, an umbrella, and took over. Slowly, the outline of a door appeared. It looked fairly new and smaller than average. Breenan used her hands to pull away the larger pieces. Once uncovered, Booth moved Breenan aside and reached for the doorknob. The room was small and dark. A familiar stench filled the room. Booth took out his flashlight.
"You've got to be kidding me." Booth went inside. In the far corner was a table and chair. On the table was a small white envelope labeled "Special Agent Seely Booth." Tied to the chair was a mutilated corpse, matching the MO of Albert Salt, their serial killer.