Part II
"One look at the thing, and I called the FBI."
"Human?" Booth asked. He and Brennan were following Park Ranger Durken along a long walking path. The snow crunched beneath their feet.
"I don't know. My motto is if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I'm no doctor, so I called in the FBI."
"What exactly did you find?" Brennan asked. She and Booth were walking shoulder to shoulder. Every three or four steps, their shoulders would bump and Brennan would take a side step to keep from doing it again.
"Beats the Sam Hell outta me," Durken said. "Bone. Could be white tail deer, could be black bear. Could be human."
"I think what Dr. Brennan means, is did you find an arm or what? What're we working with here?" Booth asked.
"Oh. Chunks o'bone. I don't know. I didn't exactly draw myself a picture."
Brennan looked confused. "Why would you draw a picture? Technology has improved to the point where digital cameras can be found on everything from pens to cell phones to--"
"Bones. I think he was just being sarcastic," Booth said.
"Oh."
"And you didn't take any photographs?" Booth asked.
"Like I said. Ain't broke. I'm no fixer."
Brennan and Booth exchanged half-amused glances as they turned off the path and through the snow.
"It's over there," the officer pointed toward a disturbed patch beneath a sycamore.
Brennan walked up to it and squatted. She took out a blue glove and mixed around the ash for several seconds.
"What is it, Bones?"
"That's what it is," the officer said. "Bones."
Brennan looked up and in a released breath, she said, "Bones is a nickname." Then to Booth, "It's buried." She moved aside the frozen soil, releasing a few chunks of bone that the dog had dug up.
"The guy who found these said his dog dug 'em up."
"And where's he?" Booth asked.
"Ranger's station. Said he threw a stick. Next thing he knew he was holding a thigh bone."
"Is this it?" Brennan asked, pointing to the loose bone.
"That's it," Durken nodded.
"That's not a thigh bone," Brennan said.
"Bear?"
"Humerus," Brennan corrected.
Booth leaned into the officer, "Arm bone," he clarified.
The officer nodded.
"Rather, a portion of a humerus. This body was dismembered and burned."
Booth scrunched his nose. "That's nasty."
"And buried in a tin coffee can. The lid looks decayed."
"How long...?" Booth asked.
"It's difficult, considering the condition of the bones, to say accurately right now, but from the condition of the plastic lid... months." She lifted the plastic lid which had shattered being no longer flexible.
Booth squatted as well, the coffee can being between them. He peeped inside. The can was indeed rusted and old. A few larger chunks of bone were visible, the rest was filled with a mixture of soil and ashes.
"There are ashes in the coffee can. That, plus the burn marks on the bones, leads me to believe that this body--"
"Was mutilated," Booth finished, suddenly feeling awful about talking about Christmas parties and about admiring his partner's body just minutes before. Those things were for the living. They were actions full of life. And here was a body. Stuffed into a coffee can, where nobody should ever be found. And this person... was not going to be spending Christmas with his or her family this Christmas.
Thank you for reading!