Authors Note: I'm sorry for the delay in posting this. It's the hubbies b-day today and we just got home. He's an old fart now, poor guy :) anyway, a little late, but hopefully worth it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The excerpt Brennan reads in this chapter is taken from "Grave Secrets" by Kathy Reichs and is used here without permission. The excerpt of the first chapter of that book can be found at

mostlyfiction . com / excerpts / gravesecrets . htm.

If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it, and the other Temperance Brennan novels. She isn't Bones, exactly, but she's one hell of a woman!

Cindy Wrecker was the fourth generational owner of Cindy's Diner in Rosecoal, New York, and the only actual Cindy. The unincorporated area boasted a population of less that seven hundred people but had the closest grocery store and restaurant, hers, to Beaverkill. And on this particular Friday morning, she hummed to herself as she worked to get the place up and running. It was a little after four, and still dark but this was the time she loved best. The dark and the quiet suited her.

The tuneless hum turned into something that she'd heard on the radio. It was something with a heavy beat, so she didn't notice the banging at the door for a few seconds.

"We don't open 'til five, Steven, and you know it!" she shouted, not looking up from filling the sugar shakers. The regulars, Steven Pike and Frank Toule were the only people who ever showed up at that time of the morning, but she opened for them just the same.

When the banging didn't stop, she sighed, and planting her most annoyed look on her face she looked toward the door. The looked faded to shock when she realized that the people at the door were not Steve and Frank. Knocking the glass shaker she'd been filling to the floor, she rushed to the door and unlocked it, ushering the people there inside.

They were naked, and grimy. The woman, perhaps once, had been beautiful, but now she was bedraggled and filthy. Her hair stuck to her face, and she was covered in mud and what Cindy thought was blood. The man was in worse shape, barely able to hold himself upright. Locking the door behind them, Cindy rushed them to a booth. She wasn't sure what to do, but her mothering instincts kicked in quickly and they were wrapped in her emergency winter blankets in seconds.

"Hey," she said, when they were finally covered, "I'm going to call someone to get you to a hospital. They're gonna wanna know your names. Do you think you can tell me? Can you tell me what happened?"

"Jar," the woman whispered as the man clutched a fist to his chest, right over his heart.

Cindy swallowed hard. It wasn't hard to figure out. She'd been watching this on the news just last night. Some guy crossing the county killing poor couples and ripping their hearts out. Cruel. And now he was in her backyard.

Nope.

Not gonna happen. Not while Cindy Wrecker lived and breathed.

She left them with a smile, and having watched enough CSI to know better than to try and clean them up, or offer them anything that might compromise the evidence she went to the back room to call the police.

They were there in seconds, certainly faster than the ambulance. Little Tommy and his partner Bill. Not that Tommy was that little anymore, at 6'6", and muscles enough to move mountains, but she'd changed his diapers, and he'd always be little Tommy, who'd taken her Lizbeth to the prom. He was amazing with the couple, and she approved whole heartedly when he let her make them something to eat. They both certainly looked like they needed it.

When the paramedics arrived and took them to the hospital, Little Tommy took her aside.

"Cinds, I know you ain't into this sorta thing. But I'm gonna ask you to come down and give a statement, if that's not a bother."

"I'd have to go, even if it was, Tommy. You're not working for your Daddy anymore, you're state police, and I'll come in and give my statement. But, where are they taking them? Doc K can't see to him, not with the Parley twins about to be born."

"They'll take them to Liberty, but the hospital there can't hold them either. I figure they'll transfer 'em to Binghamton by dinner. Will ya be openin' fer dinner, Cinds? I was gonna bring mom by for some country fried steak."

"I'll be open, Tommy. But only for dinner today, I think. Lizbeth and Carl'll be able to handle it. But...if they are the Jar of Hearts killer's newest-"

"I'm gonna get the call in once I get back to the office. There's a FBI agent handling it. Hopefully with these 'uns being alive, they'll catch the dude, huh?"

Tommy's partner was tapping a foot and looking at his watch by the door. Cindy laughed, and, promising them free carrot cake the next time they dropped in, let them go.

Hopefully this FBI agent would catch the guys soon. A serial killer was not going to be good for business.

Booth paced in front of the windows of the airport, watching the tarmac for the arrival of the shuttle. They ran every hour, on the hour, and yet this one seemed to be very late. Never mind that he had walked into the airport mere seconds after the last one left, and the next wasn't due for another twenty minutes. The call from New York had taken him by surprise, and the fact that Brennan still wasn't answering her phone had just heightened his unrest. He checked his watch for the eighth time in half as many minutes and moved to sit on the row of plastic seats.

He was flying into Rochester, and having to drive to Binghamton, which wasn't exactly on his top ten things to do when there was a serial killer out there. Getting there was going to be less than pleasant when he was driving alone. Brennan was going to kill him when she found out, but it wasn't exactly his fault he couldn't get in touch with her.

He'd called her agent, and heard her in the background shouting about the layout of the table or something. She was okay, but there was no reason for him to talk to her, her agent told him very insistently. He told Jason to tell her that they'd had some information regarding the case they'd been working on but he was fairly sure that information wouldn't make it to her.

He looked out the window to the plane finally taxiing in. Finally.

It had been a hectic few hours since he'd watched Cam leave. He'd finally gotten permission to fly, not to West Virginia, but to New York. He hadn't bothered calling Brennan. She'd be getting ready for the reading, and he'd call her when he landed. They wouldn't be able to make it to the hospital until the next day anyway.

The plane was taking way too long to unload.

He grabbed his bag and moved toward the ramp door. The first few passengers were starting to disembark, and he hoped that meant he'd be sitting on the plane, and hopefully in the air, within in the next ten minutes. It took every ounce of self control not to pace. Other people were watching him, and whispers were starting to spread, so he sat down.

Just as he sat, he stood back up again. Two very familiar people, familiar people he'd never expect to be walking together, let alone together here, were headed for the gate.

Angela was dragging Sweets by the hand, just a speed below sprinting. She spotted him by the door and adjusted her course slightly to meet him.

"Whew, didn't think we'd catch the same flight. Jack's going to stay behind to look after the munchkin, and run any fibers we find on these people. Are they really alive?" Angela was smiling brightly, taking a step away from Sweets to fall into the chair Booth had just vacated.

"What are you doing here?" Booth asked, not sure if he actually was glad about the sudden company.

"While normally most of the work the Jeffersonian and I do can be handled via web cam, Hacker felt that the nature of this case required a few more personnel on site. Given that Dr. Brennan won't be there," Sweets said with a goofy smile.

"You went to Hacker?" Booth had forgotten his impatience to get on the plane. A flight with Angela and Sweets was going to be a little more than slightly annoying. Well, a flight with Sweets. Angela would probably keep to herself – if she was alone. These two together, even on the short flight to New York, was going to be Relationship Counseling 101, without the other half of his relationship to bear part of the onslaught. "And who said Brennan wouldn't be coming? I'm going to call her as soon as we land."

"Really, Studly? You gonna be sharing a room?" Angela grinned, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"How do you feel that your taking Brennan away from this part of her writing career will affect her view of your personal relationship?"

Booth muttered something in response, then made a bee-line for the ramp that had just been opened for boarding.

It was going to be a long flight.

"Alright, now, I think today we should go with the reading, then let them get the books signed, and we can round the night out with questions. I know it's a bit strange, but this way we can get the signing out of the way. And we'll have fewer people show up just to get the books signed." Jason had been talking incessantly since he'd met her for breakfast that morning. Since about eleven she hadn't heard a word he said, as she continued to look for her phone.

She'd been positive she'd had it the night before. They'd had an informal Q&A with anyone who had happened into the store, and she remembered putting her phone on vibrate for the event. She was fairly certain she'd picked it up when they'd returned to the hotel, but it had been gone when she woke up in the morning. While Jason continued on, she hunted through the bookshelves hoping that she'd set it down.

He'd been nice enough to call Booth for her at breakfast, and to check up to see if anything with the case had shown up. She'd hoped that he'd call her, on the off chance she'd hear the ringing among the books. It was nearing five now, and not a peep from him. Jason had gotten a call about an hour or so ago, and had left her in blissful silence. She gave up on the bookshelves and sat down at the table set up for her. Her latest book was blown up on a poster beside her, and hardback copies of it were to her right.

The crowd lapsed into silence as she sat down. She went through the standard greetings her publisher had made her learn, lest she completely alienate her readers.

And then she began to read.

She usually liked to pick something from the middle of the book, something that focused heavily on the science, on what made the book real to her. The crowd generally wanted something from the middle of the book as well, something with Agent Andy and Kathy having hot steamy sex. Only, they didn't do that in this book. Andy wasn't even in this novel. Kathy had run off to the other side of the world and left him behind, perhaps broken hearted. Or perhaps it was Kathy that was broken hearted. She hadn't been entirely sure herself when she wrote it, after scrapping the book she'd started the year before. Andy wasn't mentioned at all in the book, even in passing.

Her agent hadn't liked that, and now that things were so different in her life, she didn't either. She revised her original back-story, the unwritten one, for why Andy wasn't there. Kathy would go home to him in the next book. Maybe they'd have a baby. She smiled to herself, and started at the first page.

She was maybe four paragraphs in when she heard the buzzing.

"...wide river of green, lush forest interspersed with small fields and garden plots, like islands. Here and there rows of man-made terraces burst through the giant checkerboard, cascading downward like playful waterfalls. Mist clung to the highest peaks, blurring their contours into Monet softness," she read, as the buzzing continued.

She looked over at her agent, who was fighting with his pocket.

"I am used to the aftermath of death. I am familiar with the smell of it, the sight of it, the idea of it. I have learned to steel myself emotionally in order to practice my profession.

"But the old woman was breaking through my determined detachment," she continued from memory, eyes on Jason. Her eyes fixed on him as he pulled her phone out of his pocket.

Without a thought to the crowd, she set the book down and lunged at the older man. Seeing her eyes he handed it to her without a word, and went to still the crowd as she took the call.

"You have no idea what I've been through today, Booth," she said as way of greeting, "I may be coming home tomorrow after this."

"Letting your phone run dead tick you off that much, Bones? But don't run home just yet. Think you can catch a commuter to Rochester?"

"What's in Rochester?" she asked, letting the phone comment slide. She'd deal with Jason and his lies later.

"Nothing but an airport. But our elusive killer isn't so elusive anymore. A couple was found in some nonexistent town east of here, they're at the hospital in Binghamton. They say they were snatched by the Jar of Hearts killer. Sometimes I hate the media."

"I'll drive. I'll meet you in Binghamton in about four hours." As an after thought she added, "Thank you."

Jason was not happy to see her go, not after the work he put in to keeping her out of contact with her 'other' work.

She fired him as she walked out the door, and told his assistant to call her publisher and find her a new agent.

Booth sat outside the Binghamton Police Station, watching the parking lot for any sign of Brennan's rental. She'd called when she left the City, and updated him on her estimated arrival time. That she could calculate that in her head amazed him every time.

Angela and Sweets were off somewhere, and he was glad he didn't know. The flight had been miserable, and its only saving grace was that he'd gotten through to Brennan when they'd touched down. He'd told them in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to be followed around. They seemed to have gotten the hint, because as soon as they got into town – the drive had been almost worse than the plane ride, but at least he'd had something to do in the car – they had left to do whatever it was that squints did when not solving murders.

A blue sedan pulled into a space near the front entrance, and he leaned forward. It could be her. The setting sun wasn't bright enough and the streetlights were at the wrong angle to get a good look until the driver got out of the car and came closer, but he was fairly certain it was her.

It wasn't.

He had the police notes from Rosecoal and the state police, and he'd gone over them. Twice. Sweets had told him to slow down on the drive here, that Brennan had about an hour of extra drive time. It had only made him drive faster.

He looked over the notes for a third time.

They were Mr. and Mrs. David Jones, of New Manchester West Virginia. They had given a short statement to the police just before being transferred to the hospital here, but nothing more than that they thought it was the same guy they were talking about on the news. When he'd been called in, locals hadn't really put much effort into talking to them. That seemed strange to Booth, national news like this and the local PD was usually pushing for jurisdiction and notoriety. Your name on the news meant more money in the department's pocket.

He wasn't going to complain about it though, not in the slightest. If the local blues wanted to pass the glory onto him, so be it. He was already sunk either way if they didn't catch this guy; he'd like to get the credit if they did.

Another sedan pulled in, possibly a very dark blue, and parked under the shade of a striving elm that had already done a number to the road. The car was parked just far enough away that even though it was parked almost directly under a light, he couldn't quite make out who it was. He knew it was her though, if only by the way she walked. He got up, and just barely kept himself from running over to her.

He felt a bit of a fool, being so excited to see her again after so short a time. It had been less than a week.

Sweet and Angela had tried to convince him that it was the sex he was missing. He'd barely been out of his relationship with Hannah, they'd said, when he started seeing Brennan. He'd become used to regular sex. But that wasn't it, not really. He could go forever not touching her, if he could only see her. He didn't want to go without touching her. Ever again. But he could. If he had to.

He met her at the curb, and dusted off some nonexistent fuzz from her shoulder instead of kissing her.

"Hey," she said, with a shy smile that he'd never seen on her before. She looked almost embarrassed, though he knew she never got embarrassed.

"Hey," he replied, wondering how they could end up so awkward. It hadn't even been a week.

"It's a bit late to go see the victims tonight."

"Yeah. They're expecting us in the morning. Angela and Sweets got us rooms just down the street. I thought we could meet up with them and go over what we have during dinner."

"That's great. I'm quite hungry. What are they doing here?" They moved toward his car, leaving hers there. They'd return it in the morning; right now they didn't want to separate again.

"Making my life miserable. Oh, and saving tax payer dollars by not setting up a satellite feed or something. They can explain it."

In the car, he finally kissed her. She batted him away with a laugh, and asked how Angela was taking being away from Michael.

Sometimes he wondered what had happened to the woman he'd known seven years ago. It was times like these he was glad of the changes.

And thankful they'd found each other again.