Praying Hands

Author's Note: This story will be centered on a fictitious polygamist group in a fictitious town in the Tennessee Mountains. The characters and their ideals expressed in this story are based on stereotypes and generalities found in the main stream media. It is not my intention or desire to offend anyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from the characters of Bones, they belong to Fox and its affiliates.

Wednesday 6:25am

Booth and Brennan stood in the baggage claim area of the Knoxville Airport, having just landed on a flight from Dulles Airport in Washington DC. The pair looked, like most of the passengers, dog tired and decidedly rumpled. After having been woken at one a.m. to be sent on a case, the pair had been booked seats in the economy section of the plane, and Booth's tall form was not meant to be squished in such a small space for any length of time. His constant efforts to get comfortable had rubbed against Brennan the entire flight making her rumpled as well.

Once they had their bags in hand the pair went to the coffee shop to get a drink and call their contact agent. While Brennan ordered their drinks Booth made the call to an Agent Rankin.

After the phone had beeped twice, "Rankin here," a thick southern accent apparent in those two short words.

"Agent Rankin this is Special Agent Seeley Booth. I am here at the Knoxville Airport with the forensic anthropologist you requested."

"Excellent, I'm fixin' to leave right now. I'll meet ya'll at gate eight."

As Booth was hanging up Brennan arrived with their steaming cups of coffee, "Ah liquid heaven, thanks Bones," Booth said, smiling appreciatively at the warmth of the cup.

"Was that Agent Ranking you were speaking with?"

"Yep"

"Did he tell you any more about the case?" Brennan hated being left in suspense, and the only information that she had been given was that she was needed in Tennessee and that the agent there would have the case file.

"No, he just said that he was 'fixin'' to leave and he'd meet us at gate eight."

Some twenty minutes later a generic black SUV pulled up to the curb just outside of gate eight. In the window was a hand written sign reading, "S.A. Booth," with a boyish looking individual driving. As they walked up to the car Brennan asked, "What does the SA stand for?"

"You don't know?" Booth seemed genuinely surprised that Brennan was unaware of some fact, "It means Special Agent."

When they got closer the young man exited the vehicle and rushed to greet them, he extended his hand to Booth, "Hi, you must be Special Agent Booth."

"Yes," and then turning to indicate Brennan, "and this is Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute."

The young man grinned and his face flushed slightly as he took her hand, "I'm Agent Rankin. It's a pleasure ma'am."

Brennan smiled back, "It's nice to meet you too Agent Rankin."

Seeming slightly flustered the agent reached for her bag, "Here let me get for you ma'am and put that in the back."

Brennan laughed slightly, "Although I am perfectly capable of carrying my own, I am ok with you carrying it for me."

The young agent's face turned a little confused by her answer, but guessing that it was ok to grab her bag he did so and lead the way the short distance to the car. While walking, Booth leaned in closer to Brennan to tease her saying, "If I had tried that you would have decked me. What's going on, do you like this guy?"

"I don't know what 'decked' means but I am aware that the culture in the traditional south is male dominated, therefore the need for these displays of alpha male tendencies is pronounced. I am simply allowing him his cultural norm."

Booth grinned at her, "If you say so Bones."

In short order the bags were stowed in the trunk and the trio were on their way, with Booth sitting in the front passenger's seat and Brennan in the back. Rankin weaved them through traffic and managed to get on the interstate with little trouble from traffic. He was a genial man and pointed out various landmarks to them as they drive along. Once on the interstate talk turned to the case they were there to investigate.

"Agent Rankin, what was the context of the find?"

"Well, three hunters found two sets of skeletal remains at approximately nine o'clock last evening. It took an hour to get to where they had cell service to call the local sheriff. The sheriff thinks it might be a serial killer so he punted it to the FBI."

Brennan looked at Rankin in the rear view mirror, "Have the remains been removed?"

"Yes ma'am they are awaiting you at the Dublin City Police Department."

"I would like to see the remains first and then proceed with our investigation," Brennan said looking between Booth and Rankin.

"Whatever you say, Dr. Brennan."

The drive to Dublin City took another hour, and by this time the sun was up almost fully and had burned most of the fog off the roads and mountains. Dublin City was a tiny town, much like the town of Aurora in Washington they had visited. The court house took up the center block of the town; its tall edifice casting a shadow on the buildings below, it was the tallest building in town at three stories tall. The police station and emergency response group were housed in a squat brick building, surrounded on the back side with a barbed wire fence.

Agent Rankin led the way into the police station, the front lobby held the small booking station and waiting room. Along the back wall was the dispatch desk with a short blonde woman behind it, she appeared to be in her late forties, a few gray strands barely visible in the light.

Ranking walked over to the desk and leaned against it to talk to the woman, "Why deputy Cord, is it possible that you look more ravishing now than you did just five hours ago?"

The woman laughed, "You must need glasses. What can I do you for?"

"I have an Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan from DC here to look at them bodies."

Deputy Cord's expression changed slightly, "Ah, well you know where we got 'em at," then turning to the two standing behind Rankin, "I hope ya'll catch whoever did this. We ain't had a murder here in years."

Booth smiled kindly at the woman, "We'll certainly do our best."

With that Rankin led the pair to the morgue. It was housed, like most morgues, in the basement of the building. The room was accessible from the inside via a flight of stairs. Much to Brennan's surprise the room was well lit and well stocked, when she expressed this, Rankin replied, "The local funeral home uses this place to do the embalmin'"

There was a small refrigerated room off to the side that Rankin went into and wheel out a gurney. On it was a long body bag, obviously holding one of the victims. Brennan reached into her bag and pulled out her gloves and her digital recorder. After gloving she slowly pulled the zipper open to reveal the body inside. She turned on her recorder and started making observations.

"Female, epiphyseal fusion puts age in mid to late teens. Lack of tissue indicates that the victim died at least three years ago. Tibia and Fibula are slightly bowed, most likely from malnutrition. Scarring on the pelvis indicates that she has given birth at least once, maybe twice. Remodeling on the ribs is evident as well as on the right ulna and various metacarpals. Left side of the body seems to have sustained peri-mortem damage. Fresh breaks appear on the phalanges, ulna and radius. Her shoulder appears dislocated. Cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma to the occipital bone of the skull. This girl was beaten to death."

The last was said to Booth. He stood up and walked to the body speaking to Bones, "You said that the pelvis indicates that she has given birth at least once. How can you tell?"

"Pregnancy and birth cause the pelvis to shift, the strain leaves marks on the bone. Her pelvis shows extensive damage, which means that she either had a very large baby or she has had more than one."

"And you're sure about the age?"

"Epiphyseal fusion doesn't lie."

Booth and Rankin walked out into the hall way to talk while Brennan conducted an analysis of the second victim.

Booth spoke first, "What's this case saying to you Rankin?"

"I've been thinkin'. A serial killer just doesn't feel right here, especially as far up the mountain as we found them. There's a group that lives up there. They call themselves 'The Fundamentalist Church of God Almighty.' We've investigated them a couple times for child molestation and cruelty, but could never get anything to stick. The spot they were found in is awful close to the edge of their property."

"Have they reported anyone missing?"

"No, but they wouldn't anyway. They don't trust 'outsiders.' And tend to deal with disputes amongst themselves."

"Do you think you could get us up there to them?"

"Sure, but if these two belong to them, we most likely won't ever solve the case."

Booth had to smile at that, "That may have been true before, but now you've got Bones. She can solve anything."

"You're that confident in her?"

"I've seen what she can do."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Brennan. Her eyes were a little glazed over with what looked like tears.

"The second victim was female approximately same age; she's been dead less than a year. There were fetal bones with her remains…"

Booth was the first to speak after that announcement, "Rankin, here thinks he might know who they belong to. It's a fundamentalist group up the mountain. You feel up to riding up there to investigate?"

Brennan gave him a look that clearly said 'that's a dumb question," But answered, "Of course, are you? Up to riding I mean?"

"You bet, Rankin here said he would drive us up."

Rankin nodded, "No problem, but I feel like I need to warn you about what these people are like."