Okay, kiddies. Here's chapter ten. Since chapter nine was so short, I made this one nice and long. Not to mention, there's a good Zack and Rachelle moment in this--well, more interesting than good; you may hate me for it. ^-^;; Anyway, thank you again to all those who have been favoring and reviewing this story. It's my longest story. Yays! So, please enjoy and review. Thanks! ^-^
Chapter Ten: Suicide or Homicide?
Rachelle wasn't a genius, not even close, but when she met certain people, she knew instantly that she was more intelligent than they were. Right now, was one of those times when she was the smarter person. Then again, she probably only felt that way because the head of security and the headmaster of Hanover Prep were starting to get on her nerves. And from the looks of it, the two men were starting to aggravate Booth as well.
"How do you not know when a student of yours has gone missing?" Booth questioned, his deep voice echoing with irritation. He and his intern were following the headmaster and the head of security throughout the institute, asking questions, as they headed to the headmaster's office.
"What do you expect? A lot of people attend this academy. We can't just call everyone's parents and say "Hey. Are you missing a child?". We just can't do that." Headmaster Ronson pointed out as the four people descended a long staircase.
"It would cause a huge panic." the Head of Security added. Booth, Rachelle, Headmaster Ronson, and the Head of Security entered the headmaster large office.
"Oh? And discovering a boy's body hanging from a tree doesn't?" Rachelle stated with an arched brow.
The staff members of the school ignored her, which made her scowl. However, her scowl deepened when Booth looked back at her and shot her a look that clearly meant: "Let me do the talking and you be quiet". Pouting out her bottom lip angrily, Rachelle fell quiet and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I don't really understand what the big deal is," the Head of Security admitted carelessly, standing beside Headmaster Ronson's desk. "This is just a regular case of a depressed kid, who decided to hang himself over vacation. It happens. There's no need for investigation."
"What about the boy's family?" Rachelle piped up only to receive a warning look from Booth. She pressed her lips into a thin line.
Booth glanced back to the other gentlemen with a stern expression. He rested his fists on his waist. "What about the boy's family? Don't you think they have the right to know whether their son was killed or not?" he questioned.
"How can you even be sure it was a murder?" challenged Headmaster Ronson.
"Let's just say we have people who are exceptionally good at forming such conclusions." Booth said. Rachelle just nodded, not wanting to get glared at again.
"Look," the Head of Security began with a frustrated sigh. "We try very hard to keep our students safe, but it is very difficult to watch over every single student. There are students who have higher priority over others. It's a tragedy, but a suicide is a suicide. There's nothing we can do."
"What makes you so sure it's a suicide?" Booth mocked the headmaster. Before either of the men could answer, Booth's phone went off. Reaching into his pocket, the FBI Agent checked the caller ID, pressed the "Answer" button and pressed it to his ear.
He held up an index finger to the private school staff, "Hold that thought." To the person on the phone, "Agent Seeley Booth. Talk to me."
"We'll have the identity within the hour." came Dr. Brennan's formal, professional voice on the other end.
"Wow. That was quick." Booth whistled impressed causing the blonde beside him to arch a brow quizzically. He just mouthed "Bones" to her making her nod in understanding.
Brennan went, asking, "Do you know what a cochlear implant is?"
"Yeah. A hearing aid." Booth nodded.
"Actually, no. It's a bit more complicated than that. And--"
Her partner cut her off as his dark eyes wandered to the Headmaster and Head of Security, who were watching him suspiciously, "That's great."
"Wha-What? Well, uh, either way, it's not a suicide."
"Great, great. You can tell me all the boring details later."
"…Are you drunk?"
"Mmhm. Great." Booth just nodded.
Rachelle's brows furrowed, watching her mentor incredulously. Is Seeley high or something?, she wondered.
"Talk to you later." With that, Booth hung up and put his phone away. Everyone was staring at him with confused faces, especially Rachelle. He turned to the men. "I'm gonna need the complete enrollment list of every student attending. As well as a complete list of staff and faculty."
"That'll take forever." Headmaster Ronson protested.
"Just get it done and fax it to the bureau." Booth retorted, turning on his heel and leaving. "Kid, we're leaving. Move it."
"Yes, sir!" Rachelle jogged off after him, out of the office. Once the door was closed behind them in the hallway, she turned the tall man. "You really hate prep schools, huh?"
"And you don't?" he asked with a raised brow.
"I hate the people more, but I have a legit reason. I actually attended a prep school." she admitted as she followed him towards the exit of the school.
"Oh. That's right you did." Booth nodded. "Back in junior high, right?"
"Yep."
"And you got kicked out in your first week why again?"
"It was two semesters for your information and I got kicked out for a harmless prank."
Booth looked back at her over his broad shoulder. "Knowing you, it was only harmless in your mind." he pointed out.
"Flushing the headmaster's toupee was completely harmless! No one was harmed during the act!" Rachelle said defensively. Then, smirked at the memory. "Except maybe the headmaster's pride."
The dark-haired man rolled his chocolate orbs. "I swear I can see horns sprouting from your head sometimes, kid." he sighed, making his way to his SUV.
The twenty-two-year-old huffed. "Reeeeal funny, Seeley." she said sarcastically. "Besides, if you had attended that school, you'd try anything to get expelled, too."
"And you wonder why I hate prep schools." Booth commented, settling in his car.
"Not every school is like that hellhole." Rachelle buckled her seatbelt in the passenger seat. Her hazel eyes peered back to Hanover Prep School outside her window. "Then again, from how things are going at the moment, this school isn't doing much to help private schools' reputation."
"My point exactly." her mentor smirked triumphantly. That was before revving the engine and pulled the vehicle away from the school.
~*--*~
"Okay, Bones! What do you mean it's not a suicide?" Booth's booming voice echoed throughout the Jeffersonian Medico-Lab as he and Rachelle entered the lab. They began up the stairs to step onto the platform only to set an alarm off. The both of them jumped. "Whoa, whoa! What's going on? What did we do?" Booth asked, holding his hands up while Rachelle snapped her head around.
"Can't have just anyone come in here and contaminant all the "boring details"." Brennan claimed from her hunched position over a body—most likely the one from the tree—on a metal autopsy table. She sounded a tad hostile towards the agent.
"I got it." Zack appeared, waving around his ID card. He swiped it causing the beeping to stop.
"The" boring details"--" Booth started only to scowl and growl at Zack, who was gently ushering Rachelle and Booth up onto the platform. "Don't push me, kid." he hissed at the other male.
Zack frowned, offended. Offering a small smile, Rachelle patted his shoulder and mouthed at "thank you". Zack just nodded—feeling just a little bit better.
Booth returned his attention back to Brennan as he, Rachelle, and Zack filed onto the platform. "The "boring details" was my way of hinting at you to stop talking." the ex-sniper told the auburn-haired anthropologist. "I want my own ID card." he added, standing beside her.
"Well, I want my own gun." Brennan argued.
"I do, too." Rachelle added. She'd much prefer a weapon than a silly card.
"Shut up, kid." Booth snapped then, looked back to the older woman. "And the last time you had a gun, you shot someone."
"He was a bad guy." Rachelle and Zack pointed out in unison.
"Shut up, both of you." said Booth to the youths, who made faces. "Okay, now, who's our victim?"
"Oh? You want all the "boring details"?" rejoined Brennan as she walked around the autopsy table to stand beside it.
"Get over it, will you?" Booth sighed deeply in frustration.
"Don't call me Bones." Brennan retorted, moving a camera over the neck of the body, which appeared on a screen near the table.
"We traced the cochlear implant to Dr. Maurice Ledbetter, who placed it in a boy named, Nester Olivos." announced Zack.
"Nester Olivos," Booth repeated to his student.
Nodding, Rachelle took out the enrollment list that the school had sent to the bureau and flipped through it. "Ah ha. Here we go." Rachelle said before reading off what was printed on the paper, "Here on a student VISA. Only son of the Venezuelan Ambassador."
"All right. Great." Booth rubbed his hands together. "What else?" That was directed to the squints.
"Want all the "boring details"?" mocked Brennan.
"Let it go, Bones."
"Don't call me Bones." Brennan looked to the screen showing the boy's broken neck. "The hyoid was broken." Everyone gathered around the screen.
"Well, yeah. Strangulation. Of course the hyoid is broken. That's self-explanatory." Booth said.
"Yes, but he was an adolescent. That only occurs in adults." Zack said.
"There's a difference?" asked Rachelle curiously.
"In younger people, the hyoid is more flexible, unbreakable." Brennan answered logically.
"So maybe the kid had Venezuelan brittle bone disease or something." shrugged Booth.
Rachelle blinked. Is there such a thing? The weird looks her teacher got from the squints answered her question—no, there was no such thing.
Booth glanced between Zack and Brennan's faces innocently. "What? I'm just trying to help." He cleared his throat. "So he was murdered?"
"I'm not saying that because I don't have all the facts. I don't know." Brennan admitted.
Both Booth and Brennan's phones went off. They checked the caller IDs and exchanged glances. Brennan turned to leave, sliding off her blue lab coat. Booth started after her. Furrowing her brows, completely lost as to what was happening, Rachelle called out to Booth, "Yo! Seeley! What's going on? Where are you going?"
"FBI Major Crimes Unit, meeting concerning the case," Booth answered, heading down the steps. Rachelle went to follow, but he stopped her, "And no, you can't come. Interns don't have authorization."
"But--!"
"Stay, Rachelle. And don't cause trouble."
Booth and Brennan were gone. Rachelle puckered her brows. "Lame." she complained. Telling me to stay. What am I? A dog?
"Um, what's…lame?" Zack inquired of his blonde companion. "Lame" was not a word that should come out of his mouth too often.
She turned to him and sighed. "I've done far more than any intern at the bureau. I'm basically an agent. The fact that I can't have a gun I understand, but I don't even have permission to go to a stupid meeting? Ridiculous."
"Yes. That does seem a bit unfair." nodded Zack, agreeing. "Unfortunately, I get treated in the same fashion. Despite my intellect and being in the middle of two doctorates, I don't get to do too much either."
Rachelle grinned lightly and crossed her arms. "I don't know how you do it, Zack Addy, but just a few words from you makes me feel better."
The brunet blushed and rubbed his neck awkwardly. He avoided eye-contact. He didn't know why her words made him happier, mostly because he wasn't sure how he could make anyone feel better, but they did. "I could say the exact same of you, Rachelle." he muttered.
Rachelle's smile grew more, as her cheeks turned a very faint pink. "Thanks." She kissed his cheek, which she always did, which always made him flustered. She grabbed his arm. "Now, let's go see what Curly is up to. I don't want Seels to think I was just fooling around while I'm here." she pulled him towards Hodgins' office—a small smile of Zack's face.
~*--*~
Apparentally, Brennan had announced that what had happened to the boy was officially murder. Thus, Rachelle, Zack, and Hodgins were busying themselves upon the platform waiting for Booth and Brennan to return from the meeting with Agent Santana and the meeting Nester's parents. They were going to come back to pick up Rachelle and take her back to the bureau to speak with the school psychiatrist, the headmaster, and the head of security with them-–she had authorization to do that.
Rachelle was reading—Brennan's book to be exact. Zack was examining the x-rays of the body. And Hodgins was checking on particulates. Everyone was hard at work—well, Rachelle was reading, but she was listening at the same time in case her companions found anything.
"When Naomi told me to take a hint, what did she mean?" Zack suddenly said.
"Oooh." Hodgins flinched. The bug and dirt specialist looked back at Rachelle, who exchanged the same look of hesitance and sympathy.
Naturally, Zack caught those looks and frowned. "What did I do wrong?" he asked desperately.
"I wasn't what you did, it is more like what you didn't do." Hodgins pointed out.
"Where do you learn this stuff?" Zack asked.
"It's just something you learn by doing. Like driving a car, riding a bike, and pleasing a woman." stated Hodgins.
"I don't know how to drive or ride a bike."
Rachelle's eyeborws shot up in surprise. Zack doesn't know how to drive? Or ride a bike?, she pondered.
Hodgins' voice brought her back to their conversation. "Or please a woman, apparently."
The younger male shot up from his sheet and moved to his best friend. "I need specific instructions. Particular techniques. Or ways to do certain moves." he said, almost pleadingly.
"I'm not really the guy to talk to about this kind of thing." Hodgins told Zack, getting to his feet with some files.
"Why?" The graduate student's brows became knitted. "You've slept with like ten thousand women."
Hodgins rolled his eyes and faced the younger, but taller man. "Because, Z-man, you and I only work together on a strictly brain basis. You need someone who is better with--" He paused and motioned his hands near Zack's waist. "—That region." He turned on his heel and started to walk away, trying to get away from the conversation as much as possible.
"But--" Zack called after him.
"Blondie, please, talk to him!" Hodgins shouted, continuing to walk away.
Rachelle, who had been trying to tune out the awkward and personal conversation, jumped and exclaimed with flushed cheeks. "Wha-What?! Why?! This is a guy thing!" she exclaimed, her voice a bit high-pitched from embarrassment.
"You're close enough!"
"Jackass!"
Rachelle, still red in the face, huffed. Then, felt Zack's puppy dog brown eyes on her. She blushed harder and reluctantly looked to him. Rachelle loved talking to the young man and was willing to talk to him about anything yet, their sex lives were something she wanted to discuss—maybe—when they knew each other better.
"You really need someone to talk to about this, don't you?" she hesitantly asked.
"Yes. I did something wrong and I wish to correct it." Zack gave a curt nod.
Rachelle tucked her hair behind her ears. "Sex isn't a math equation, Zack." she told him. "There isn't one way to do it. It really depends on the person."
"I don't understand." He shook his head with furrowed brows. She sighed deeply, raking a hand through the locks of her hair that was not tied up.
"I…can't really explain it to you. It's not really something I can, at least not in one sitting. Besides, I'm not...really an expert on sex myself." she confessed. This conversation was just getting weirder and weirder. Not to mention, awkward.
"Why? You're pleasantly appealing young woman." Zack said, confusion filling his voice. He grabbed a stool and sat before her. "I'm sure you've had plenty of partners."
Jumping, Rachelle's entire pale face turned bright red. She wasn't sure if she was embarrassed because Zack had said she was good-looking or because of the fact he thought she had had a lot of partners—she preferred the first. She bit her lip. "Uh…that's n-not true. I've…only been with one man." she reluctantly admitted, hanging her head and scrunching up her shoulders a little.
"One man?" Zack arched a brow. That had been something he hadn't expected.
"…Y-Yeah." Rachelle stiffly nodded. "My boyfriend of four years. He's the only man I have ever been with."
"Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?" That had been something else that he hadn't expected.
That time, though, it stirred something inside the young genius that did not feel entirely too pleasant. Was it hurt? Was it disappointment? Was it jealousy? No. That wasn't possible, especially jealousy. Such emotions were irrational, illogical. There was no reason for him to feel that way. He had suspected that she had had various sexual partners, so it was only natural for Rachelle to have a boyfriend. But for four years? He being the only man she's been with?
Rachelle grew worried. Zack hadn't spoken for nearly three minutes. He was just staring at her. She couldn't read his face as it was blank, like it normally was, but there was something in his big eyes that made her concerned. "Zacko? Zack?" she called, reaching out to touch his arm.
Except, at his name, he snapped out of his thoughts and shot up from his seat. "I'm sorry. I-I have to continue working." he announced automatically. "Dr. Brennan will be mad if I slack off."
"Uh…r-right." Rachelle apprehensively nodded, looking up at him worriedly. Is he alright?, she wondered. Had it been something she said?
Before she could ask, her cell phone off. She jumped startled then, calmed, fishing out her phone. It was Booth. "That's Seeley. He and Dr. Brennan are here to pick me up." she announced to her friend.
"Right." Zack nodded.
"I…should go. See you later." Rachelle rose to her booted feet.
He just robotically nodded again. "Right." The twenty-four-year-old returned to sitting at the table he was originally at to look at the x-rays.
Frowning, Rachelle sighed and turned away. She headed towards the exit. As she made her way out, she passed Hodgins. Noticing her confused and distressed face, Hodgins grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "You okay, Blondie?" he asked in genuine concern. He briefly looked back at Zack then, to girl before him. "Did Zack say something?"
"N-No." Rachelle shook her head. "I-I think it was something I said." With that, she walked away.
Hodgins watched her go, completely lost. He peered back to his best friend on the platform. What had happened between those two?
~*--*~
With the head of security, the headmaster, and the psychiatrist of Hanover Prep School in Booth's office, Rachelle tried to the best of her ability to push her thoughts and concerns of her conversation with Zack to the back of her mind. She had to pay attention, she had to listen.
"As the school psychiatrist, I am bound by patient confidentiality to not share specifics of Nester Olivos condition unless you have a warrant or a signed permission slip from the parents." the psychiatrist, who happened to be a very thin, dark-haired and skinned woman. "However, I can say that Mr. Olivos was at a high risk of suicide."
"But there were no indications of anti-depressants in his system." pointed out Brennan from Rachelle's right—Booth was on her right, at his desk.
"I can only give recommendations to the parents." Dr. Petty—the psychiatrist—stated.
"So he was depressed enough to hang himself?" Booth asked.
"He was alienated by culture, by language, by his disability, by his own social awkwardness.. Thus, I'd say yes. That is a very good possibility." she nodded. Booth, Brennan, and Rachelle exchanged glances.
"There you go. Like we said, a depressed student hangs himself over the holiday. End of story." the head of security said.
"Thank you, Dr. Petty." Headmaster Ronson said to the woman dismissively. Nodding, she left the office.
"How does the only son of an Ambassador go missing for two weeks and no one notices?" Booth inquired, motioning with his hand.
"He was vacationing with his roommate." the Head of Security responded. He went into his brown coat pocketed and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The man handed it to Booth. "We received a waiver from his parents to give him permission to go." Booth took it and looked it over.
"I've been to Venezuela. It's a very unstable country. There's a high possibility of rebellion against anyone with political standing." Brennan explained.
"Maybe, but you don't seriously think a Venezuelan hit squad came all the way to America to kill a kid, do you?" he argued skeptically.
"Like the doctor said," Headmaster Ronson started annoyed, standing. "It is a normal case of a depressed boy killing himself. It's just a suicide, not a Tom Clancy novel."
"Yeah. Well, we'll start interrogating Nestor's roommate tomorrow morning." Booth admitted boldly as the two men started out. That caused Headmaster Ronson and the Head of Security to cease in their steps.
The men looked to one another then, back at the two FBI employees and the forensic anthropologist, who were all smirking. The Headmaster shook his head while the other man said, almost challengingly, "It's your investigation."
Booth just grinned widely.