Part IX

The SUV stopped in front of a modest bungalow in a DC suburb. The yard was spotless, with the exception of three red and black adult size bicycles in the front yard. They looked at one another for a moment. It had been a long, silent drive.

"It... looks nice," Booth remarked.

Brennan rolled her eyes and got out of the SUV.

Booth, scrunching his brow, speed-walked around to the other side. He stood in front of her, hands on his hips. "What was that about, Bones?"

"What was what about?" Brennan replied calmly, naively.

"You know what I was talking about. That eye-roll when I said this place looks nice."

Brennan crossed her arms. She wasn't always so snippy, but something about Booth nowadays made her want to chew his head off and spit it out. "It just figures that you would think it looks nice."

"What's that supposed to mean, Bones?" He took another step closer. Not being one to be walked all over, she took a step into him, closing the negative air space.

"Somebody like you. Some place like this. It's so domestic. It figures that you'd like a place like this."

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. "And what does it matter if I like places like this? Who doesn't want to settle down and live in a little white house with Fisher Price toys in the front yard? --Oh yeah. YOU." Booth turned and walked up the walk, leaving Brennan behind.

By the time Brennan recovered and ran to meet Booth, the door was open. "Can I help you?" The woman behind it was in her early thirties. She was a tall woman, close to five foot eleven, with blond hair and bright blue eyes.

Booth showed his badge. "I'd like to ask a few questions about Graham Herman."

A worried expression painted her face, "Yes, of course. Come right in. "

She ushered them into a large sitting room. It was clean with the exception of an X-Box and two black cords that snaked across the floor to controllers on the opposite couch.

"I'm sorry. My--step-son was playing here. Just let me..." She put the controllers away with nervous hands that shook.

She sat down on the edge of a La-Z-Boy recliner.

Brennan watched as she tucked the shaking hands between her thighs.

"My name is Special Agent Seeley Booth. This is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan. And who are you?"

"Rhonda Herman. Graham's my husband. Did something happen to him? Did the ship go down?" She looked between the two, then her eyes began to water. "Oh, G-d. He's gone, isn't he?"

Brennan looked to Booth, then back at Rhonda. "We found remains--"

The sobbing grew louder as Rhonda hid her face in her hands.

"We're not certain yet if they are your husband's, but if we could have a photograph or... DNA if possible. Hair from a brush?" Brennan said.

"Do you have children?" Booth asked.

Rhonda sobbed and wiped her nose, composing herself. "Yes. Lane is Graham's son. My step-son."

"That's perfect..." Brennan's eagerness was short-lived when she caught a look from Booth's eye. "As far as a DNA comparison goes."

"I apologize for coming here as we did." Booth said.

Rhonda crossed the room and took a photo album from the shelf, then handed it to Brennan.

Brennan opened the photo album. Pictures of Rhonda with Graham, happy, smiling. Pictures of Rhonda and Lane, smiling, hugging. Graham and Lane, Lane and Rhonda. Rhonda and Graham. "Can I borrow this?" Brennan asked.

Rhonda paused, then said, "Yes. Anything that will help you."

"When was the last time you saw Graham?" Booth asked.

Rhonda seemed to search her memory, then stood and walked over to a calendar. She thumbed through it then turned. "Seven months ago. Seven and a half. Give or take."

Brennan and Booth exchanged suspicious looks. "And you never reported him missing?" Brennan asked.

"Graham's work takes him away from home nine months out of the year. It's not unusual to not hear from him very much, if at all. He's a third assistant engineer--a merchant seaman."

Booth kept his face serious, although the intensity of his stare softened for a moment.

"How was your relationship? Was it especially volatile?" Brennan asked. "Because I can see how working with a man who is quick to argue with you over everything can be overwhelming," she added. The tone in her voice earned a short-lived glare from Booth.

"It--It wasn't perfect, I admit."

"It wasn't?" Booth asked.

"No. Far from it, in fact."

"Would you mind elaborating?" Brennan asked.

"I'll be honest. Completely honest. The last night I saw--" She stopped to keep her voice even and tears at bay. "When Graham comes home... I don't know what to make of it, honestly. I miss him like crazy when he's gone and when he's home he drinks and he hits me, but I still love him-- Does that make me sick?"

"What happened that last night you saw him?" Booth asked.

"That night, Graham got drunk. Not a big surprise, honestly. He got drunk and he... he hit me."

"Did you punch him in the jaw?" Brennan asked, tipping her head to one side.

"Yes, but I didn't kill him! I told him to get out. He got out. After that, I figured he'd spent the night at the motel until he shipped out, which was two days after that... Do I need a lawyer?"

Booth tried to hide the accusatory look from his countenance.

There's always more to come! :D