A/N: This is the sixth episode in a collaborative effort between myself and other writers from our Bones fansite Bonesology. (Link available at my profile) To make sure we let as many readers as possible know that we're doing this, I'm posting the this chapter here under my profile. NO OTHER CHAPTERS WILL BE POSTED HERE! If you'd like to read the entire season, including the five episodes before this one, please head over to our group profile, Bonesology Writers Collective (id: 2803426) and subscribe! The link to our profile is on my profile as well.
Season 6.5 x 06: The Enemy in the Alliance ~ Written by Thnx4theGum
"I'm gonna grab a smoke and a drink, you want anything?" Lou Jersey called to his partner, Paul, whose eyes were focused on the screen in front of him.
"Coffee," the older man responded without looking up.
"Sure," Lou shrugged.
"And can you check on the number four on your way back?" came the reply that was more order than suggestion. "Feed's not coming in clear."
Lou mumbled incoherently before grabbing his ball cap and shoving it on his head as he hurried out the door. His long legs took him through the maze of temporary shelters, though not fast enough for his fingers, which were itching for the pack in his pocket. A dozen other guys just like him were inside their shelters, hunched over screens just like his and Paul's, looking for that one moment that would get Kent's attention and buy them some airtime.
The guys over in principal photography, Lou thought as he moved past a row of much nicer trailers, never had to worry about that. They covered all of the challenges; all of the camp footage; all of the round-table sessions; and all of the one-on-one interview inserts. In short, all of the stuff that a producer like Kent lived for.
A cool gust of wind brought a curse to Lou's lips as the flame from his lighter was blown out. He cupped his hand and lit the flame, inhaling deeply as the cigarette caught it this time, then blew out all the frustration of working a second-rate job, for a second-rate reality show, on a second-rate network. Besides, he told himself as he finished the first smoke and moved onto a second while he went to go check the number four camera, second unit was where the real money shots were.
They handled the hidden cameras that caught all the "secret" trysts, alliances, and whatever other crap went on when the contestants thought no one else was looking. Those were the money shots.
"You at the number four yet?" Paul's gravelly voice crackled from the radio at Lou's belt.
"Almost," Lou rolled his eyes.
He looked around, scanning the brush for the hidden camera, then groaned.
"Looks like the storm knocked it down," he reported back. "There are leaves and branches all over the place here."
"Figures," Paul grunted back.
Lou looked around carefully before stepping over the thick rope that separated the production crew from the players. Supposedly everyone was at some kind of reward challenge right now but the last thing he wanted was to get chewed out for interference. Nothing but the sound of the wind moving through the trees met his ears, though, as he began clearing the debris from the camera.
"Got it," Paul's voice sounded as the biggest branch was tossed away. "Looks like there's sand on the lens, though."
"There's sand everywhere," Lou grumbled to himself, using the inside of his cotton t-shirt to gently clean the lens. Aside from the small patch of trees here and one on the other side of the island, it was mostly just sand and miles of dune grass and wildflowers.
He was just about to set the camera back in its hiding spot when a flash caught the corner of his eye. Carefully, he put the camera in its camouflaged nook and went to investigate, ignoring his squawking partner's protests.
"Ow!" he yelped, looking down to find a crab trying to attach itself to his big toe. The crab flew to the sand with one good shake, skittering away and Lou followed it with his eyes to make sure it was safely away before he continued.
"What's going on out there?" Paul demanded.
Lou moved a foot closer to the escaping crab and gagged.
Hundreds of crabs milled back and forth, crawling over a mound of mangled bits of flesh and eerily white bones. Expletives tumbled from the cameraman's mouth as the crab he'd been following plunged a pincer into an open eye socket and pulled something out.
Back in the temporary shelter, Paul was forced to watch as his partner turned toward the camera and emptied the contents of his stomach over and over again.
B&B
"Behold, Assawoman Bay," Booth gestured broadly as he stepped out of the SUV.
"If this is Assawoman, I'd hate to see Assaman," Hodgins quipped from behind him.
Moving around the vehicle, Brennan shook her head, "I've never heard of Assaman Bay, though there is an Assateague Island further south of here."
Hodgins snickered but stopped whatever he'd been about to say at a well-timed glare from Booth just as someone approached them.
"Agent Booth?" a slickly-dressed man asked, not bothering to wait for Booth's reply. "Kent Thompson, executive producer of The Electorate. I presume you all won't be here too long?"
"We'll be here as long as we need to be," Brennan spoke up, bristling at the man's tone.
"And you are?" the producer asked, voice dripping with scorn.
"She's Dr. Brennan," Booth snapped, "my partner and more importantly, the woman who decides when - or if- the crime scene gets released back to you. So how about showing a little respect, huh?"
The man muttered what may have been an apology before handing the trio off to his personal aide, Mike Grable and excusing himself.
"This way," Grable motioned them.
"How long have you been shooting?" Booth asked as they slogged through the sand, wishing he was in anything but dress shoes.
"Production's been here three weeks," answered Grable, "but we're only fourteen days into the game."
He led them into the wooded area, explaining that it was supposed to be a twenty-day shoot and that most of the services they'd contracted out for were just for the month.
"Explains why your boss is so eager to get the cameras rolling again," Booth grimaced.
Grable nodded nervously, as if unsure how much he should be sharing with the agent, then pointed to where a group of FBI techs were already busy gathering evidence, "Body's over there. One of our camera guys found it when he went to check on some storm damage."
"I'm going to need to talk to him," Booth said, moving to the side as Hodgins and Brennan surged forward toward the body. He watched Grable avert his eyes from the scene and felt a little sorry for him, "Look, um, any ideas who that might be up there? Anyone who's missing?"
"Co-Cody," the kid stuttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head before returning his eyes to Booth, "Cody Lawson. But Kent says most likely he just wandered off to clear his head for a while. Anyway he hasn't been missing long enough to look like that."
Booth nodded, letting him believe that, "I'm gonna go check on the squints. You can stay here if you need to."
Grable opted to stay behind, suddenly very interested in something on his BlackBerry, so Booth left him to it and moved toward the body. Fortunately the wind was blowing out, keeping the odor at bay, but it didn't keep Booth's stomach from giving a small lurch as the body came into view and he wondered for the millionth time why his partner never seemed affected.
"Whatcha got for me, Bones?" he pulled out his hula pen and small notepad. "Are we looking at a murder here?"
"Oh yeah," Hodgins chimed in before Brennan could answer, holding out a duck that had meandered onto the crime scene, "it was murder most fowl!"
Brennan of course wouldn't positively ID the victim until more evidence was in but Booth counted it a minor victory that by the time they left with the remains she was willing to admit that the body matched the physical descriptors given by Grable. The poor young assistant was so shaken up by this news, along with a glimpse of the body he'd gotten when Booth called him over, it was everything he could do to keep it together long enough to call his boss.
Kent, on the other hand, showed an utter lack of emotion at the prospect except to complain that Brennan refused to release the crime scene back to Kent's production unit until the next morning.
"Wait," Booth halted Kent's rant with a raised hand, "you mean you're still filming even though one of your contestants is dead?"
"Presumed dead," Brennan corrected.
"I am," Kent pulled himself up to his full six feet, three inches, ignoring Brennan and all but sneering at Booth. "'The show must go on.'"
"Not on mycrime scene," Booth informed him in no uncertain terms.
"No skin off mine, man," Kent shrugged. "There's a whole island here in case you haven't noticed and not all of it is on yourcrime scene."
With one last huff of disapproval, the producer stalked away, yelling out orders to his crew to get things set up for the day's work and making sure Booth could hear him telling them where they could and could not film now.
"That man is highly unpleasant," Brennan wrinkled her nose in distaste as the production crew streamed away from the scene and back to work. "Are you going to get Federal on his ass?"
Booth wasn't sure if his chuckle was at her wording or the way her eyes glittered with power but he shook his head, "Technically he's right. As long as he hasn't broken any laws and he stays away from the crime scene I can't do anything other than order them to all stay close and be available for questioning."
"It doesn't appear Mr. Thompson will be allowing anyone to leave," observed Brennan. "Which should in theory make the questioning process simpler to execute."
"Assuming they trust us more than Grable," Booth said as they supervised the remains being loaded into the forensics van. "Guarantee that kid doesn't tie his shoes without getting Thompson's permission first."
"He does seem to exhibit beta male characteristics," her head bobbed in agreement, hair barely contained within her ponytail as once again the wind picked up speed. "So what's our next move?"
Booth gave her a surprised look, "Aren't you going back to the lab with the remains?"
Whatever she had been about to say was curtailed when a very breathless Sweets came running up behind them, panting and tripping over his loafers slightly as he blurted out, "Hey guys! I made it!"
"Swift entrance, Hooch," teased Booth. "You run all the way here?"
"Very funny," Sweets scolded between gulps of air. "My meeting ran late. Meanwhile, I'm here now so fill me in on what I need to know and what the game plan is."
"You called Sweets?" Brennan folded her arms across her chest and addressed Booth directly.
Booth threw his hands up and shook his head and both partners turned as one to face the psychologist.
"Oh, come on," he looked at them as if they should have expected him to show up. "Murder? In the middle of a reality show? You are definitely going to need me."
"I don't see that we will," Brennan sniffed even as Booth nodded his head to agree with Sweets.
"Seriously?" Sweets' eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head, then he gave a sigh, "Look, Dr. Brennan, I know that you have your theories about my brand of science, but I'm telling you that here, in this setting, psychology is king. I guarantee you they have at least a handful of media psychologists on staff here that I can get information from, not to mention I know all of the psychological games that are played during these things by the contestants."
"I'm not familiar enough with the hiring practices of an endeavor such as this," Brennan began, "however, I believe you are mistaking what you would call 'psychological games' with certain anthropological truisms." She turned to Booth, "To answer your earlier question, I had not planned on returning to the lab right away because I feel my skills as an anthropologist would be best applied here. In controlled environments, people anthropologicallyrespond to one another in certain, predictable patterns."
"That's because the human mindis programmed that way," Sweets insisted. "You know, our fields of discipline aren't as antithetical as you'd like to believe."
"Okay," Booth stretched the word out far beyond its normal two syllables and physically moved between the two before his partner decided to clock Sweets. "Clearly both of you did better than me on the SATs. Now, before we all forget that somewhere in the middle of these people there's a murderer, let's split up. Bones and I will question the contestants; Sweets can go shrink the shrinks. Any questions?"
Sweets looked appropriately chagrined and Brennan dropped her arms to her side, though her lips were still set in a firm line. Booth's eyes moved back and forth between the two doctors and when he was satisfied that he'd gotten as much out of both of them as he was going to get he gave a curt nod.
"I think the producer's assistant mentioned that there was a hotel on the next island over where all the castoffs, or castaways, or whatever they're called here are being housed," he said to both Sweets and Brennan. "That's probably our best bet for now with filming still going on, though I am going to make sure we get to talk to whoever's left in the game over here too, show or no show."
With a game plan firmly in place, they touched base with Hodgins and sent him, along with the remains, the crabs, and the FBI tech team back to the Jeffersonian with specific instructions from Brennan as to what she expected Wendell to do in her absence. She then excused herself to call her student and make sure he understood the given tasks. Once she was satisfied that all was taken care of on the forensics end, she and Booth and Sweets commandeered one of the production company's small motor boats and set off for the adjoining island.
B&B
"I've got crabs, Baby!" Hodgins announced gleefully to his wife as he rolled the skid filled with the live crabs he'd rounded up at the scene through the sliding doors.
"Something that might have been helpful to know before the wedding," she said drily, neatly sidestepping the kiss he tried to plant on her cheek as he left the skid at the bottom of the steps and joined the rest of the team on the forensic platform.
A now-familiar frustration filled the entomologist, but he persisted, "Mmm, where's your sense of adventure?" When that failed to raise even a hint of a smile he turned to the other two on the platform and waved a hand at the crates, "Callinectes sapidus."
"Blue crabs!" Wendell grinned, proud of himself for recognizing the species name.
"Evidence?" Cam raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Hodgins nodded, "They made whoever this poor guy is look like that," he pointed to the remains on the table, "in a matter of hours. That's why there are so many crates, actually. Give these guys too long in the same space without enough food and they'll start snacking on each other. Don't worry, though, I've got a perfect habitat for them back in the Ookie Room."
With that, he flashed a grin, rubbed his hands together in eager expectation, gave Angela half a hug, and left, hauling the crabs along with him.
"So what can you tell me, Mr. Bray?" Cam segued into teacher mode, satisfied that Hodgins didn't need any further supervision.
"Caucasian male," the grad student said, eyeing the remains critically. "25-30 years old."
"Cause of death?"
"Hard to tell with all the sand and grit everywhere," Wendell frowned. His eyes raked up and down the body several times, then peered into the skull, "Looks like there might be some trauma back there but I won't be able tell for sure until the bones have been cleaned. And his left shoulder is dislocated, probably post-mortem."
Cam gave him an encouraging smile, "Dr. Brennan said the same thing in her report. My guess is he was dragged into the shallow grave but between last night's storm and the crabs he surfaced a whole lot faster than our murderer wanted. Angela, have those dental x-rays we asked for come in yet?"
"Huh?" Angela seemed shaken from a reverie but recovered quickly, scrambling for the computer. "Oh, let's see... Yeah, they just came in, let me bring them up."
She sorted out the images until she found the wider, all-inclusive, ones she was looking for, "Here we go. All I need is x-rays from our mystery man here and I can tell you if we've got a match."
With a satisfied nod, Cam smiled her thanks at the artist and got to work collecting tissue samples, while Wendell peeled off his gloves and went in search of the portable x-ray machine.
"Angela has confirmed the dental x-rays," Brennan spoke softly to Booth behind her paper coffee cup.
Booth lifted his own cup and muttered out of the side of his mouth, "A match?"
Brennan nodded her head as the woman on the couch across from them asked fearfully, "A match? A match to who?"
"Whom," corrected Brennan instantly.
"And for right now that's classified information," Booth told both of them sternly, then he turned on the charm for the contestant. "Now, Ms. Pike, I think you were telling us about the game?"
"You can call me, Ruby, Agent Booth," the woman simpered at the attention, causing Brennan to roll her eyes. "So like I said, there are, like, twenty of us all together; ten Blues and ten Reds. It's supposed to be like what state you're from I guess," she leaned in conspiratorially toward Booth, "but everybody lies."
"About being a Democrat or a Republican?" Brennan sounded confused and the woman glared daggers at her for interrupting.
"That too, sure," the woman brushed off the question. "Anyway, everybody knew right from the start that the Blues were doomed, you know? Like they couldn't win a challenge or get it together for anything. Only thing the Blue team ever had going for them was Cody."
"Cody Lawson?" Booth asked.
Ruby's head bounced up and down in time with the gum she was smacking, "Yup. Nobody was surprised that he's the only Blue who made it to the merge. I mean, why veto the best guy out there, right?"
"Don't you mean vote?" Brennan asked at the same time Booth wondered out loud, "What's a merge?"
Brennan tugged at Booth's sleeve and held the coffee cup back up to her lips, "The merge is the point in the game where the two teams are 'merged' into one. This heralds the beginning of the end stage of the game where the focus is on an individual's merit rather than the team's."
"Veto is what we call our voting" Ruby offered. "Right now there are six of 'em left out there. Well, I think there still are. Nobody came back last night so I guess they're all still out there."
"What typically happens during the voting ritual?" Brennan wanted to know.
"Well we all head over the Senate Chamber," Ruby tossed her hair. "There's talking, fighting, yada, yada, yada. Then one by one we put the name of whoever we want to veto out into the chamber pot."
At this, Ruby gave a wan smile and Booth couldn't help the snort that escaped him.
"An interesting play on words," was Brennan's comment. "And after the votes are tallied and announced?"
"Usually whoever's vetoed off does their last interview, then sees the docs and comes back here to eat and get a long, hot shower." Ruby told them. "Except nobody came back last night; maybe 'cause of the merge."
"Thanks," Booth rose to his feet and offered his hand. "You've been a big help."
"If you need anything," Ruby emphasized the last word and batted her eyes suggestively, "just call. I'm not going anywhere."
Booth didn't reply one way or the other but there was a teasing glint in his partner's eyes as Ruby walked away, "I believe that woman would like to sleep with you."
"I'm not interested," he lifted a single shoulder in a shrug.
"Not complicated enough?" she grinned in her overtly sly manner.
"Nope."
"She's still staring at you," Brennan jutted her chin toward Ruby, who was definitely eyeing Booth up from the other side of the lobby.
"Jealous, Bones?" he teased back.
Her mouth opened to retort, then snapped shut as she spotted Sweets exiting an elevator and coming across the lobby toward them. She gestured toward him.
"Got anything juicy, Sweets?" Booth asked once he was close enough.
"The teams were separated into the Blue states and the Red states," Sweets began.
"We discovered that as well," Brennan smirked.
"Bones."
Sweets went on, "The Reds consisted of six men and four women, while the Blues started off with four men and six women."
"Who do you think we've been talking to all day?" Booth waved his hand at the lobby full of castoffs. "Did the shrinks give you anything new?"
"I was only able to speak with one," Sweets admitted. "The debriefing doctor. She's in charge of doing the exit interviews. Anyway, apparently three of the women on the Red team - LiAnne, Sandi, and Toshonda - formed a tight alliance at the very beginning of the game and it's still going strong. According to everyone who's been voted off of that team, it's those three who are calling the shots."
"Molly Banks told us there are six people left in the game and that Cody was the only remaining member of the Blue team. If this three-person alliance is still intact, who are the other two contestants?" Brennan wondered out loud.
"Scot Taylor and Glen Dower," Sweets supplied the names without missing a beat. "Dr. Meda told me these two are the exception to the girls' rules, though it sounds like they were just used for their physical strength to get the team to the merge."
"Okay," Booth filtered all of the new information with what he and Bones had already gotten, "so we haven't met anybody yet who didn't like Cody."
"He was the underdog," Sweets agreed. "A great guy on a losing team who defied the odds and made it to the second stage of the game."
"Wouldn't he just get voted off?" Booth asked, throwing the thought out there. "If this alliance is so tight?"
"Not necessarily," Brennan shook her head. "With his physical prowess he could've had the opportunity to maintain individual immunity and force the alliance to vote on its own members. His natural charisma and trusting nature may have allowed him to gain entrance into the alliance at some point, though that's purely speculation."
"Wow, you really follow this stuff don't you?" Booth gave an impressed grin to Brennan, who nodded back enthusiastically.
"I find the study of a variety of personalities thrust into a controlled environment where they must decide how best to 'survive' to be fascinating," her voice was filled with genuine awe, then sobered. "Though none of this speculation is helping us find Cody's killer."
"It was Cody?" the trio whirled around to find Ruby eavesdropping on them, a stunned look now freezing her face. "You guys," she called out loudly to the rest of the room, "Cody's dead!"
Shock rippled through the room as variations of, "No, not Cody!" and "OMG" were repeated like a mantra. Someone screamed and pandemonium erupted.
After an afternoon and evening of chaos at the island hotel, Brennan was more than satisfied to return to the tranquility of the lab the following morning. Wendell had laid out Cody Lawson's bones on a table in the back room for her to examine, giving her his own observations before she dismissed him. Just before he left the room she stopped him, stating that he'd done an excellent job and should be proud of his efforts. He thanked her quietly and with a soft smile before closing the door behind him.
For the remainder of the morning, Brennan pored over every inch of the body, cataloguing every abnormality she came across. The skull had been fragmented into several larger pieces; some from whatever had caused his death and others from where the crabs had pried it open to get at his brain matter. The work wasn't nearly as tedious as other reconstructions she'd done in the past but it was enough to make her back protest loudly when she finally stood upright again.
"Looks painful," commented Angela from the doorway.
Brennan shook her head, "If I'm correct his death was instantaneous."
Angela's shoulders shook with silent laughter for a moment and she smiled at her friend, "I was talking about you, Sweetie. The way you were arching your back there was just wrong. It looked painful."
"It's sore," she shrugged, "but no more or less so than usual. I finished the tissue markers for you."
"Full reconstruction?" Angela guessed, exchanging the skull Brennan held out for the fresh mug of coffee Angela had grabbed for her friend before seeking her out.
"Yes," confirmed the anthropologist. "Even though we know who he is, I'd like to see if the computer can help us verify which fractures led to his death."
"Can do," the artist assured her. "Hey, I was thinking, there had to have been more than just that one camera filming around that area. If Booth gets me the rest of the footage from that day, I can see if they got anything on film."
"I'll ask him, but we may have to wait and get a warrant," Brennan began peeling off her gloves and tidying up her workspace. "The show's producer hasn't been exceptionally congenial toward Booth and I."
While Brennan and Angela made their way back to Angela's office, Hodgins watched them from the Ookie Room, noting that they were chatting about something; most likely something case related. Or him.
He'd spent the morning collecting blood samples from the crabs' claws but now that the tedious work was over with, he had plenty of time to mull over the state of his marriage. It was as clear as a paramecium on a slide full of euglena that his usually vivacious, free-spirited wife was struggling with something. Something that had only come up afterthey'd returned from Paris. Mentally he began compiling a list of the similarities and differences that could be the root of the issue.
"Dr. Hodgins," Cam's voice broke his reverie and from the sounds of it this wasn't the first time she'd called his name.
"Sorry," he flashed a grin. "Do you need something?"
"An update on the physical evidence that I can pass along to Booth," she informed him.
"Blood samples are in," he told her. "Based on the normal rate these guys strip a body at, I'd say our guy was buried in that shallow grave around midnight."
"Nice and quiet that time of night," Cam frowned. "Fits the timetable I got from what fleshy parts of him were left though."
Hodgins nodded, "I found scraps of plastic all over that crime scene, including some of the crabs so it's a good bet that's what he was wrapped in."
"Anything big enough to look for prints?" Cam looked hopeful.
"Working on it," Hodgins assured her. "There's a lot to sift through."
"I'll send Wendell back," Cam said decisively. She stopped, peering in at the crabs in their new habitat, "Shouldn't they be in a larger tank?"
Hodgins shook his head, "They'll be fine as long as there's plenty of water and food."
"A bigger house isn't always better, huh?" She smiled at him.
Hodgins' eyes went wide and he snapped his fingers, "Exactly! Thanks, Cam!"
With that he turned around and began furiously rooting through his overcrowded desk for something, leaving the pathologist to shake her head and pray that whatever he was thinking of doing wouldn't come with too much paperwork for her.
B&B
Confident that the squints were hard at work in the lab, Booth tasked Agent Turner and Sweets with going through all of the audition tapes the contestants had sent in to get on the show. He wasn't all that hopeful it would get them anywhere but it was something at least. Brennan called with an update and afterward he spent the morning on the phone trying to get Angela all of the footage The Electoratehad shot so far.
"We got something," Turner's head popped in his door, followed by Sweets.
"Shoot," he waved them in.
"You said that one of the contestants told you that this isn't the first reality show some of these people have been on," she said.
Sweets cut in eagerly, "That got us thinking we should cross-reference the names we've got with other shows. And guess what?"
"What?"
"This wasn't Cody's first show either," Turner's voice brimmed with excitement. "He and one other contestant were on another show last year."
"And they were romantically involved," Sweets added.
Booth's computer chimed and he held up a hand to them as the Jeffersonian connection went live. It was Hodgins and Wendell, and behind them was a sealed glass case where fragments of what looked like a plastic tarp had been hung. Just as the bug man was about to open his mouth, however, another chime rang and the screen divided into two, revealing Brennan and Angela in the artist's office.
"One at a time," Booth told them, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.
"We found something suspicious on the tapes," Brennan said quickly.
"And wefound a fingerprint," Hodgins crowed.
"We found out who was romantically involved with Cody in a previous reality show," Sweets couldn't help but throw his two cents in.
"Which part of 'one at a time' do you geniuses not get?" Booth threw up his hands.
"Problem?" Cam stepped into the frame next to Angela and Brennan.
"Nope." Booth looked at them all in turn and tried very hard not to sigh out loud, "Okay, Sweets and Turner were here first, so give me your name."
"Ruby Pike," the couple said as one.
"That's the woman we saw on the tapes," exclaimed Brennan.
"And the fingerprint we found on the plastic," Hodgins let out a laugh of surprise.
"Well," Booth sat up straight in his chair and smiled, "let's get Ms. Pike in here and see what she has to say for herself.
After forty-five minutes of waiting in the FBI's interrogation room there was no sign of the flirtatious woman Booth and Brennan had interviewed at the hotel.
"Oh, thank goodness!" Ruby leapt up when the partners strolled casually into the room. "Maybe y'all can tell whoever's in charge that I didn't do anything."
"Nothing?" Booth raised a skeptical eyebrow as the pair sat down on the other side of the cold table, exchanging a knowing look with Brennan when Ruby's face fell. He spoke quietly, "We found your fingerprints."
"I had to," the woman insisted.
"Hadto?" Booth repeated her words back to her.
"Well yeah," she said, and then backtracked, "I mean anyone in my place would've."
"Would they?" It was Brennan's turn to ask the question.
"Probably," the other woman replied in a small voice. "This game does crazy things to you."
"I doubt an insanity plea would hold up in court in your case," Brennan informed her.
"Court?" Ruby's eyes grew wide with fear and she snapped at her gum, jaw chomping it furiously. "Are you for real?"
"Murder is as real as it gets," Booth said gravely.
"Murder?" Ruby straightened, her eyes widening with incredulity. "You think Ikilled Cody?"
Booth wasn't buying the act as he opened the file folder and slid a photo across with two fingers, "Want to explain this?"
"Me and Cody," she nodded.
"On the night that you had been voted off," Brennan pointed to the timestamp at the bottom of the picture. "After you had supposedly left."
"Yeah, I snuck back on to get something I left at camp. He found me," insisted Ruby.
"He dumped you on Housemates," Booth stated, pulling a picture from the other reality show from the file. "A loud, noisy breakup where you told him never to come near you again or you would kill him?"
"I was being dramatic," Ruby leaned forward, pleading with them to understand. "I mean, yeah, we didn't get along after I thought he was cheating on me but most of what I said was for the cameras. That's how you get airtime, you know? So all the fans know who you are."
"Getting caught when you had been voted off would have resulted in numerous fines and legal penalties for her," Brennan informed Booth as if Ruby weren't in the room. "Hodgins informs me that the plastic sheeting that fingerprint was on is from a tarp used to form the team's shelters. She could easily have killed him off-camera, then wrapped him in the tarp, and hidden the body before she left."
"Everyone's fingerprints are on those!" Ruby was quick to leap to her own defense. "We all pitched in to build the shelters. I helped put the roof on mine. Besides, I-" She halted, looking down as she spoke quietly, "I loved Cody."
The partners allowed quiet to descend as the woman broke down, shoulders shuddering with the grief.
"He never cheated on me," she sniffed, lifting her red-rimmed eyes to meet Booth's. "That's what he told me the night I came back. He never cheated and I had shoved him away in front of the whole world."
She looked down at the picture of her pushing him, a finger lightly tracing his face in a soft caress, "Guess we won't get that second chance after all."
There was a somber silence broken only as Booth carefully returned the pictures to the file and said gently, "We're sorry for your loss."
B&B
The next morning found the partners on their way back to Assawoman Bay, having doled out assignments to Sweets, Turner, and the Squints.
"It doesn't add up, Bones," Booth shook his head, only partially focused on the road.
"What doesn't?" she tilted her head, curious.
"The evidence."
"The evidence thus far has shown us that Cody Lawson died after sustaining a blow to his head in a fall," she told him. "He was then wrapped in a tarp from one of the shelters, dragged to a remote part of the beach out of sight of the cameras, and buried in a shallow grave. Between Hodgins and Cam we know that he died around midnight, and according to Ruby's testimony it had to be after she left him at 11 o'clock. Weather reports confirm a storm hit the island at 12:30 and continued through the night and it was that storm which exposed the body to the elements and attracted the crabs to the body."
"Yeah, okay, thatevidence adds up," admitted Booth, "but it's not enough. We still don't know who killed him and Ruby was the only person Sweets and Turner could find with motive."
"The physical evidence almost always leads us to the killer," Brennan said in an attempt to be supportive. "Eventually we willfind them."
Booth was struck with how certain her faith was in their ability to eventually track down the killer and he offered her a heartfelt smile, "I know, Bones. We're a great team. I've never doubted that."
"Yet you still need more than the physical evidence can provide?" She was curious.
"Yeah," He tried to form his feelings into words. "Knowing the 'why' behind the crime helps me narrow down the 'who' part of the equation. I use motive in the way that you use science; to put things to the test and see what results they bring. And right now according to every shred of evidence we've gone over there is absolutely no reason why anyone would want Cody dead."
Brennan pondered his words as they pulled up to the hotel housing the sequestered contestants. Mike Grable was pacing on the porch, speaking with an agitated voice into the Bluetooth device attached to his ear, but upon catching sight of the partners approaching, he curtly said goodbye and hung up.
"Business as usual?" Booth jutted his chin toward the phone.
"Yeah, sure, it's great," Grable hurriedly assured him. "Um, didn't you already talk to everyone here?"
"Not everyone," Brennan spoke up from Booth's side. "Is your employer still insistent that the game continue?" The man nodded his head and Brennan continued, "Then there are now two contestants present whom we have not interviewed."
"Don't worry, Kid," Booth pulled out an envelope and stuck it in Grable's hand, "while we talk to whoever's new in there, you can give your boss this."
"What is it?" Grable asked, even as he fumbled with the letter inside.
"Cease and desist order," Booth's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Dr. Brennan and her team figured out that Cody wasn't killed where he was buried. That makes the whole island a crime scene until we can narrow down where he died."
With a small, slightly mocking wave, Booth turned and followed Brennan into the hotel. It didn't take them long to track down the latest castoffs, Staci Gettle and Glen Burrows.
"So you're a junior lawyer in DC?" Booth asked the brunette seated before them.
"Right," Staci nodded, "but I'm good at my job."
"No one said you weren't," Booth pointed out.
"Look," the woman met his eyes directly, "most people see my name and they expect some vapid blond. A few people have gone as far as accusing me of sleeping my way up the ladder, but that's not me. I've earned everything I've gotten without help from anyone else. I'll make full partner by the time I'm thirty."
"So why bother with the show?" Booth asked.
"College debt," Came the simple answer. "I went on a swimming scholarship but it didn't pay nearly enough and neither does my job right now. Winning here would give me fifty grand. Enough to pay off my debt and be done with it. Not that it matters now."
"You were vetoed off last night?" queried Brennan.
Staci gave a curt nod.
"Is there anything you can tell us about why Cody Lawson died or who may have killed him?" Brennan asked, eliciting a wince from Booth at her bluntness.
"Cody was a great guy," the younger woman shook her head. "I mean, I didn't know him all that great since he was a Blue, but no. I can't help you. Sorry."
Booth thanked her for her time and suggested Brennan poke around a little bit on the hotel grounds while he talked to Glen Burrows.
"Cody was a great guy," were the first words out of the man's mouth when Booth introduced himself.
"Yeah, I've heard that," deadpanned Booth.
"Look, if you need any help with the investigation I'd be happy to help," Burrows offered eagerly. "I'm in law enforcement too, you know."
He was a mall cop, Booth remembered from Sweets' list and it took everything in him to return the guy's smile and nod. It was even harder when Brennan caught his eye and gave him a smirk. If Burrows voice was any louder, Booth was pretty sure the whole island would hear him. The conversation, however, was drawing an audience Booth didn't particularly want so he suggested they take it outside.
The next forty-five minutes were grueling for Booth, who had to endure the other man's "in-depth" appraisal of the contestants from Burrow's "law enforcement" point of view. Basically, Booth decided, the guy just liked to talk, because what he had to offer didn't add up to more than a handful of things Booth hadn't known before; none of which were at all helpful.
"Sorry, Burrows," Booth said, finally breaking away from the guy as Brennan motioned to him from across the hotel's front lawn, waving her cell phone before holding it up to her ear. "Duty calls."
"What's up, Bones?" he asked as walked toward her briskly.
"Nothing," Her smile and voice were bursting with pride at the ruse. "I sensed that perhaps you had gleaned everything you could from Mr. Burrows."
"And then some," Booth matched her grin. "You're the best, Bones!"
"I'm a wonderful actress," She nodded sincerely.
Booth wasn't quite ready to go that far, but was spared having to comment when the anthropologist's phone began to ring. She answered it, and then had to move to get better cell reception. The call was brief and upon her return she informed him that Angela had determined the exact angle and height from which Cody had fallen. Unfortunately the topographical maps the artist had found were so far out of date they weren't reliable, which meant that it was up to Booth and Brennan to scour the island on foot for the location.
On their way out, they encountered a very livid Kent Thompson who held nothing back in expressing his displeasure toward Booth for causing yet another production delay. The three bedraggled contestants who still remained in the game had also been brought back to the hotel; though if anything, they looked grateful for the chance to have a warm meal and a comfortable bed if only for one night.
Four hours later, a very hungry Booth was regretting not delegating the search to someone else. Apart from his stomach growling, his legs felt like lead and he thought for sure they were never going to find the location Angela had sent them in search of. They were running out of daylight when they finally found a sand dune ringed by larger rocks on one side that Brennan said matched the angles they were looking for. The crimson-tipped rock Booth spotted confirmed their suspicions and Brennan spent the next half hour snapping as many pictures as she could in the waning daylight, while Booth looked for any other clues. Nothing significant was found, but they did dislodge the rock with blood on it and to Booth's relief it wasn't as big as he feared.
By the time they reached the other island, and Booth's SUV, he'd changed his mind about the rock. It was bulky, weighed at least half a ton, and he was sure half the skin on his hands would be missing when he finally set it down. Brennan offered to help along the way but Booth maintained he was fine. The only thing he let her do was open the SUV's back hatch so that he could rid his arms of the rock once and for all.
"Well that was a successful venture," Brennan declared as the hatch door slammed shut.
"We got more of your kind of evidence," Booth nodded, "not mine."
Brennan nodded, and then added thoughtfully, "Perhaps it would be wiser if we stayed the night since we will need to return in the morning anyway."
Booth did the mental calculations and agreed. At least staying he had a chance of getting a good night's sleep. And it saved them two long car trips. "Need anything from the front?" he asked.
She shook her head, but he still went around to retrieve his extra side-arm from the glove compartment. He was just standing up when his eye caught a piece of paper fluttering in the cool night breeze, but firmly trapped under the right windshield wiper.
"Bones, you got any gloves on you?" he called to her, shoving the sidearm in his jacket pocket and closing the front door to get a better look.
Sure enough, she had a spare pair in her back pocket and she carefully lifted the wiper blade and retrieved the paper.
"It's a note," she said, opening it. "Someone wants to meet us at the Giddyup Cafe tomorrow morning."
"Not signed," noted Booth, and then added. "That cafe's on the other side of the island."
"It appears someone here has your kind of evidence after all," she smiled up at him, holding an evidence bag out to him and dropping the note inside before storing it safely in her kit.
Booth was sound asleep when the scream tore through the hotel, waking him instantly. He was on his feet, sidearm at the ready when the scream came again. And again. And again. By the time the fifth scream sounded he'd found its source along with the growing crowd it had attracted.
"Stand back," he ordered the frightened young woman who was a pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf, and then bellowed for his partner.
"I'm right here," Brennan materialized at his side, wrapping a supportive arm around the girl, who barely managed to tell them her name was Carrie. In soothing tones, Brennan assured Carrie that Booth had the situation in hand and that she was safe.
Cautiously, Booth eased the door that Carrie had backed out of open. His eyes blinked, adjusting to the light pouring into the dark hallway and he entered the room slowly, sweeping his weapon from side to side.
"Clear," he announced more out of habit than anything.
Dimly, he could hear Brennan's voice, along with Burrows, the mall cop, keeping the swelling tide of onlookers at bay while Booth moved toward the wide-open bathroom door and took in the gruesome scene in front of him. Staci Gettle's lifeless eyes stared dully back at him from the bathtub. She'd been propped up to look like she was taking a bath, arms resting on either side of the claw-foot tub, but the stab wounds in her chest and the blood pooling beneath her told a different story.
"Booth?" he heard Brennan call to him from the hall. The handle rattled, then turned, then opened just far enough for Brennan to squeeze in. "Oh," she said, moving beside him.
"Yeah," Booth grimaced. "I'll call Cam."
The pathologist was none too happy to have her sleep disturbed at two thirty in the morning and told Booth to let the FBI techs process the scene and send the body back to the lab. Brennan, Cam told Booth sleepily, was the better observer anyway and could take all of the pictures Cam needed. As soon as the techs arrived Booth left them under Brennan's careful eye and went to start collecting witness statements.
The still-shaken Carrie explained that she'd come back from a late-night poker game down in the lobby with some of the other contestants. She had assumed that her roommate, Staci, was sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, Carrie had closed herself in the bathroom before turning on the light only to find, to her horror that Staci was in the bathroom after all. Dead.
By the time dawn broke, Booth and Brennan had talked with everyone in the hotel but were still no closer to pinning down a suspect. Booth didn't want to know how many pots of coffee he was going to need to make it through the day, but the both pressed on, stopping only when they needed to leave to meet their mysterious contact. Neither one was surprised when nobody showed up and it was only after they'd gone back and began searching through Staci's personal belongings that they realized her handwriting matched the note they'd gotten exactly.
They set up temporary headquarters in the hotel's small conference room and were currently enjoying a respite from the hubbub outside now that Turner had arrived to assist. Sweets had tagged along too and was locked in a room with the show's three shrinks to try and narrow down their suspect pool.
"Please tell me you have something," Booth begged Cam when the pathologist appeared on Brennan's laptop screen just after lunch.
"Your girl was killed with a pointed object," Cam said, "but it's not a knife. Hodgins found splinters of wood in the wounds. We also found that she's recovering from a strained shoulder, but that could have come from one of the physical challenges during the game."
Someone began banging loudly on the conference room door and Brennan excused herself from the conversation to answer it.
"Where is he?" a voice boomed.
"Agent Booth is otherwise occupied right now, Mr. Thompson," Brennan said coolly, not appreciating the man's brusque manners.
"I was just told that none of us are allowed to leave the grounds," Thompson griped, straining for a glimpse of Booth.
Brennan moved to block Thompson's view and nodded, "Given the circumstances it stands to reason that the killer is in our midst."
"I have a show to run lady so I don't give a flying fu-"
He broke off abruptly, now finding himself face to face with an imposing FBI agent, who put his hands on his hips none-too-subtly revealing his weapon and drew himself up to his full height.
"We've had this discussion before, Thompson," Booth said sternly.
"About my show?" he asked cheekily.
"About my partner and how you do and do not speak to her," at this Booth's hand dropped casually to his holster. "Got it?"
The man gulped, but still had his pride to salvage, "What about my show?"
"Your show is over," Booth said with finality, "and you'd do well to start thinking about what you're going to say to the families of your two dead contestants rather than worrying about your bottom line. Staci Gettle's parents will be here in an hour. I expect you to be here with me when we break the news about their daughter."
At that, the blood drained from the producer's face and he swallowed hard as the reality of the past several days hit home. Stammering something no one could understand he backed away and fled.
"Are you really going to make him come?" Brennan asked, stepping up beside Booth.
"I might," Booth shrugged. "I just wanted him to see that this isn't a game anymore."
Behind them, the computer signaled another incoming call.
"Booth!" Hodgins' eyes were wild with excitement. "Ange got a print off the victim's clothes that you sent back."
"Got a match?" he asked, wishing that squints were better at getting to the point.
"She's one of the contestants," Hodgins went on, "and you'll never guess why her prints were in the system."
"Hodgins," Booth barked. "A name."
"Right well she was sent to mandatory anger management for slapping her secretary," the words tumbled out of Hodgins, ignoring the look that told him Booth was going to slap him through the computer soon if he didn't get to the point. "Apparently her shrink-"
"It's LiAnn Warner," Brennan said suddenly, looking at Booth. "She was present both on the island at the time of Cody Lawson's death and the hotel early this morning, and she possesses alpha female characteristics to suggest she was the leader of the alliance Sweets told us about. Plus she owns a wooden object with a point that could have made entry wounds like this," she pointed to the the picture Cam had relayed from the lab.
Booth looked from Hodgins to Brennan and back to the squint, who looked like the wind had just been knocked out of him.
"She's right," the bug man said weakly. "The print belongs to LiAnn Warner."
LiAnn was in her room when they found her and she put up a strong front until Brennan moved around her and with gloved hands took the small wooden replica of a bald eagle, its sharp beak held proudly in the air.
"It's a totem that would repeal the veto should her name come up," Brennan explained to her partner as they watched Turner cuff LiAnn. "When I spoke to her this morning she seemed confident she couldn't lose the game. Ruby Pike had mentioned this statue in passing during our interview. I asked Glen to explain the concept to me further today while you were interviewing people and he described this object."
"Glen?" Booth arched an eyebrow at her familiar reference to the mall cop.
"He also mentioned she had a temper," Brennan shrugged.
"Well all of that tells me howyou did it," Booth now turned to LiAnn, circling her like a vulture. "What I want to know is why? What did Staci do to you?"
LiAnn remained stone-faced.
"She was the informant," Brennan deduced. "The one who knew who Cody Lawson's killer was. LiAnn must have found out about the note."
"Huh," Booth nodded. "So you killed Cody too, huh? Wonder what kind of sentence a double murder charge brings these days?"
"I didn't kill him," LiAnn spat.
"Then maybe Staci did?" Booth guessed. "And you helped her cover it up so you didn't want her ratting you out?"
"Cody got himself killed," the woman said, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest.
Booth and Brennan said nothing, waiting to see what LiAnn would reveal next. It didn't take long before the entire story was recounted. Cody had indeed been attempting to make himself part of the group and the person he'd focused on to lure to his side was Staci. Staci liked Cody, at least enough for LiAnn to feel threatened about their alliance. Cody had seen the two women arguing on the dune and had stepped between them to mediate the situation.
LiAnn wasn't sure who had tried to push him out of the way first, but she swore it was an accident. They never meant for him to fall and hit his head on the rocks. Left with a dead man, they'd grabbed a tarp from the recently dismantled Red camp, wrapped him in it, and carried him where they thought no one would find him before burying him. When LiAnn arrived at the hotel only to discover Staci had grown a conscience, they'd fought again; this time with no Cody to get in the way.
B&B
The whole team, including Sweets and Turner, gathered at Founding Fathers for celebratory drinks afterward. Gibes about psychology and anthropology were exchanged until Booth declared the topic off-limits for the rest of the night. A good time was had by all until Cam downed the last of her club soda and told Paul it was time for them to go. Sweets and Turner left soon afterward, followed by Booth; who offered to share a cab with Brennan. She accepted, joking that she supposed that would be acceptable since there had been no tequila involved, but that she was getting dropped at the lab because she needed her car for the morning. They bickered about the arrangement the entire way to the door as the night swallowed them. That left Hodgins and Angela alone at the bar. Six empty barstools between them.
"I'm tired too," Angela yawned, getting up from her seat and heading for the door.
"Wait!" Hodgins called after her. To his surprise she stopped and he quickly asked, "Wanna take a walk?"
She did and while they walked mostly in silence it was at least a silence without tension as each drank in the city's night life.
"Booth and Brennan seem to be adjusting to being back in DC pretty well," he commented casually. She nodded, but said nothing so he went on. "And Turner's way better for Sweets than Daisy ever was." Again, Angela nodded silently, so Hodgins kept going, "Cam seems happy with Paul too, you know? They and Michelle and the baby are going to make a great family."
"Cam's going to be a good mom," Angela volunteered, though he couldn't read her face in the shadows of the streetlights.
"But us," Hodgins said, immediately sensing Angela pull back. He forged ahead, "Well, I was thinking that maybe we need a change."
"Like a separation?" she asked him resignedly.
"What?" he spluttered, "No! No! I mean a good change. For both of us. Here, close your eyes."
They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and she gave him a funny look but did as he asked.
"Angie," she felt his hands capture hers and one of his curly locks brush against her face, "I love you and I know that you know that. I'm mad, over-the-moon crazy about you. But you haven't been happy since we've been back, and that makes me unhappy, and so we're both miserable and I want to change that."
He uncurled her fingers and placed something metallic and cool into her palm, then closed her fingers around it and kissed her knuckles, pulling away. She opened first one eye, then the other, then opened her palm, a glint of metal catching the light.
Across from her, Hodgins held his breath. There was a huge chance he'd just made a colossal mistake, but at the same time, he told himself, it had to be done. Something had to give.
"A key?" she asked, curious.
"You felt at home in Paris," he said quietly so as not to break the spell, "and me? I'm at home in the mansion my family's owned for generations. Maybe now that we're back," he tilted her chin up to meet her eyes, "it's time to make our own home. One that both of us can feel at home in."
His gaze swept up to the top floor of the building they'd stopped in front of and she gasped, looking at him and then back up at the building, "Did you buy the whole thing?"
"Just the top floor," he shrugged. "It's a huge studio apartment actually. Some rich artist guy had renovated it and was moving out so I pounced on it."
"For me?" Angela wanted to know.
"For us," Hodgins said softly.
A long moment passed and he feared he'd made the wrong move after all, but then a smile quirked at the corners of her lips until it spread across her entire face. The first real smile he'd seen since they'd come back.
"I love it," she said, reaching out to hug him tightly. "And I love you, Jack."
"Love you too, Ange," he murmured into her hair. "Welcome home."
When a likeable guy who never gave anyone a reason to hate him is brutally murdered, it's a case of shocking and seemingly random violence that tests the team to its limits. Join us next week for the return of Creeps McGee in The Drop in the Bucket by squinttoyou.