Booth wanted to shoot something. Repeatedly. Himself even. Beat something into a pulp. People were moving around him, shouting out to each other and placing phone calls, talking to him, wanting to know what happened, but Booth was barely aware of them. It was like the world had stopped. His eyes weren't focusing, everything nearby was a blur. He gripped the phone in his hand, the slow beep, beep, beep of the engaged tone still ringing in his ears.

Gradually he got his bearings back, and started to shout orders, even though the cops around him were already working. The guys who'd taken down the number were now trying to call it, but Booth knew it was no use. Broadsky wasn't going to pick up, in fact it was unlikely he'd even keep the phone on him as it could be traced.

Booth dialled Angela's cell.

'Hello?'

'Angela. I need you to track this phone—hey, can I have the number—thanks….' Booth took the notepad from one of the cops and read it out to Angela.

'Okay, I'll get onto that. Whose is it?... Booth? Is it Broadsky?'

Booth suddenly felt sick. Two seconds ago he was ready to kill a man with his bare hands and now he wanted to throw up. 'Yeah, it was.'

'Oh my gosh… did—did he say anything about Brennan?'

Booth couldn't bring himself to repeat the cryptic comments Broadsky had made about his partner. Deciding to go with what he knew, the facts, he choked out, 'She's alive.'

Angela was quiet on the line for a moment, then said thickly, 'Yeah I, I'll go trace that phone. Call you back.'

''Kay.'

Next Booth called Genny. 'Shaw,' she picked up.

'It's Booth. I'm getting a trace on Broadsky's cell, I'd like backup, two teams to get out there and corner him off.'

'Okay, I'm on it. Call me back with the location.'

Booth jogged to his new SUV, went through the boot to double-check he had everything packed, although he knew he did, just for something to do, then started pacing the perimeter of the crime scene. The cops kept working, letting him do his thing. The techs were packing up Leisinger's remains to be taken to the Jeffersonian, where Cam would perform the autopsy. Not Bones. Cos there's flesh, Booth told himself firmly. That's why.

Fifteen minutes later, Booth's phone rang and he picked up immediately.

'It's Angela, I've got a location.'

Booth sprang into action, adrenaline pumping. Adrenaline secreting, he could imagine Bones say. He put his phone onto speaker and dropped it into the console, flicked on the GPS and pulled onto the road.

'So it's about 60 miles south. Booth, he's going to be long gone…'

Leisinger had been found 8 miles outside D.C. on a big property so Booth had to go on unsealed roads for a while.

'What's the nearest police station? Call Agent Shaw, give her the details you just gave me and tell her to contact the nearest cop shop.'

As the car sidled up to the shoulder of the highway, Angela hung up. Booth programmed the location into the GPS and turned on the siren.

'Keep on this road for the next 10 miles, then, take the third exit,' said the machine. Booth exhaled a long breath, remembering a conversation he'd had with Bones less than a week ago.

'And then it told me to 'kayak across the Pacific Ocean'! This 'get directions' function seems to be very rudimentary. I mean you would need a much larger vessel to make such a long journey, not to mention that it would take weeks, possibly months to—'

'It's a joke, Bones. Parker told me there's another one that says 'swim across the Atlantic'. They're meant to be funny.'

'Ohh! That is funny! That would be like, slithering across the ground like a snake instead of walking. Hah! You—you would be very good at that, you have excellent musculature in your—'

'It's okay, Bones. No one's going to actually slither like a snake or kayak the open sea.'

'I… I think it would be fun to kayak on the open sea. With a larger vessel nearby for safety reasons, of course. I mean, the ocean's so big, it would be scary, but… but also pretty wonderful… don't you think?' She had turned those guileless blue eyes on him and even though they were on the road, he'd held her gaze.

'Yeah, Bones, that would be fun,' he'd said. But he didn't think they were talking about kayaking anymore.

Booth sped down the highway, passing other cars in a blur, thankful he'd commandeered the siren and lights from his old SUV. He wasn't strictly sure he was meant to have them, but no way was he going to waste time in traffic when he was trying to get to Bones.