A/N Hello and welcome back!

Again, not a super long chapter, but my temperamental Muse seems more inclined to write shorter chapters as we continue this tale. I hope you don't mind!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything… If I did, I think I've said it before, we'd see a WHOLE LOT MORE action on the TV screen every week… *wink*

"Walt, Lorelei, I'm sorry if this has come as a shock to you," Booth began, slowly and deliberately folding his hands atop the notebook that Brennan had produced from her ever-present messenger bag. "But we really appreciate that you're both willing to speak with us." He moved his dark eyes between their hosts, the sympathy he felt clearly visible. "What can you tell us about Julia? How long have you known her?"

Lorelei swallowed thickly, glancing at Walt to see if he wanted to answer or not. When she saw the mournful, stoic look on his face, however, she turned back to Booth and Brennan to speak. "Julia came to our open mic night, probably about..." she rolled her lips between her teeth in thought. "Maybe three and a half years ago," she moved her eyes back to Walt for confirmation. He nodded and she turned back to Brennan. "She was a very shy girl, asked me to schedule her set way at the end of the night, hoping that many of the patrons would have gone home by then." She sipped some water before continuing. "She quickly became a regular here, accepting earlier time slots for open mic, working up to opening for main acts and eventually, just about ten-months ago, she had her first solo set. I can check the calendar for exact dates if it will help, I keep record of everyone who plays here."

"That would be very helpful," Booth said as he took notes. "Thank you." He swiveled his line of vision to Walt as Lorelei rose from the table to collect her datebooks. "Your wife mentioned that you were particularly fond of Julia?" He didn't elaborate on the statement that Lorelei had made, leaving it open for Walt to explain.

"Yeah," the saddened chef nodded. "She always reminded me a lot of my niece. I guess because she plays flutes and my brother's daughter plays the flute as well - but a metal flute - you know, like the ones in school bands?" He shrugged a little when Booth nodded in understanding. "And I guess because they were close in age… And they both seem so innocent and just… I dunno, just interested in playing for the pure love of the music."

"How old was Julia, Walt?"

"She'll be … well," he caught himself speaking of Julia in the present-tense. "She would have turned twenty-four in February. I remembered her birthday because she was born on 2/10 and my niece, Sarah, was born on 10/2. I guess that was another reason I associated the two of them…"

"The age is consistent with our initial evaluation, Booth," Brennan interjected quietly, watching as Booth made sketchy notes.

"Walt," Booth continued. "What was different about what Julia played than what your niece plays? You differentiated Sarah's flute as a band flute?"

"Julia plays…" he swallowed again, "played a range of wooden flutes... American Indian Love Flutes. It's a different type of instrument, much more limited in versatility, but that little girl, er, I guess young lady, could make those flutes sing. They're a difficult instrument to truly master, but I bet she could've played with some of the best."

"Native American Love Flutes are traditionally played in a more intimate setting, Walt." Brennan spoke in her instructor-tone. "Typical melodies would have only been shared between two people, between two lovers… They were not meant to be heard by others."

"That's true, in the traditional-sense, like you said," Lorelei joined the conversation as she returned to the table with her datebooks. "But in recent decades, there has been an upsurge of focus on the instrument in some folk and acoustic circles. Many people have begun to share with the public, the wide range of music possible with this type of flute. Every genre of form from traditional hymns to modern music to original Native-inspired tunes has been recorded using those hand-made beauties." She smiled wistfully. "Most of what Julia played were original pieces, but she would occasionally venture into recognizable tunes. She said that was her experiment to see about gaining more popularity by mixing well-known songs with her own."

"Did she have family nearby? Do you know who she hung out with? Who her friends were?" Booth asked the couple, hoping they would be able to provide them with some insight.

"No," Walt offered. "I mean, no family around. Both her parents are deceased and she was an only child. She was seeing a young man from the reservation. But I never met him, she said he was always working on the nights she was here playing."

"That's right," his wife continued. "She started dating him about a year ago. I met him once when we bumped into each other shopping, but that was only briefly. She would sometimes come in at lunch time and chat with us. When it came to closing time, she would often stick around and help me clean up. I think she was lonely for family companionship… Sometimes I got the impression that she saw us as parental figures, or in the least extended family, y'know? "

Booth nodded, thinking about their own Baby Duck and the way he had imprinted Brennan and himself as family years ago. "Can you tell us anything about the boyfriend? You mentioned that he was from the Reservation?"

"Yes, he lives just over the state line, in North Carolina." Walt folded his hands as he rested his forearms on the tabletop. "Julia's family had been shunned from the Nation because her grandparents...or great-grandparents...were an interracial couple. The man was black and the woman was Cherokee. It was seriously frowned upon by purists, and negative attention was drawn to many of the families in recent decades, as Julia once explained. So, her folks moved from the Land when she was young, seven or eight, I think. They moved to a little place just outside of town, off the the east of Knoxville." He moved his attention between Booth and Brennan, but kept his eyes mostly on Booth as he continued. "Her father wasn't educated, he worked various jobs as she grew up. Worked in the tobacco fields, and on a produce farm for a while, and finally landed a job at the coal mine. Made him and his family a decent wage, but the job killed him. Died of Black Lung. But even if that hadn't've killed him, he'd been diagnosed with lung cancer prior to that, so, either way, the guy wasn't long for this world once he started working there…" He took a slow drink of water before speaking again. "Her mother took odd jobs in the tourism industry - housekeeping, restaurant work, retail jobs. They worked hard and squirreled away every spare cent they ever made so Julia could go to college. They wanted a better life for her than they had for themselves…"

Booth acknowledged this notion. "I think that's what every parent wants for their kids… A better life, a better chance."

Lorelei nodded. "She was seventeen when her father died. Her mom continued to press Julia to strive for college and pushed her in the right direction. She was granted scholarship money to attend University, her excellent grades and her Native American heritage helped, and by the time she graduated high school, between the fund her folks set up and the money she was granted, she enrolled as a full-time student at the college. Just after her nineteenth birthday, her mom was tragically killed in an auto accident when the public bus she was on collided with an eighteen-wheeler that didn't stop for a red light…"

"Jesus," Booth mumbled as he sat back in his chair. "That girl couldn't catch a break…"

"Nope… Anyway," Walt continued. "When she met this guy, she was pretty excited. It sounded like he treated her well, he didn't seem bothered by her family heritage." Tears filled his otherwise-stern eyes. "I really wish," he choked back his emotions and turned angry. "She deserved happiness. That poor little girl deserved more, dammit… More than whatever it is she got… More than whatever reason brought you two here…" He hung his head, seemingly exhausted. "And Lori says that if you and Dr. Brennan are here, it's bad."

"Well," Booth responded. "It's an ongoing investigation, so we can't say too much, but yeah, it's pretty bad." Glancing at his notes, the agent continued. "Do you know where Julia lived? Her address?"

Lorelei spoke up, "Yes, I've been to her apartment. I helped her make curtains." She looked at Brennan, as if she felt she needed to explain further. "In many ways, Julia was unlike other girls her age. For the most part, she wasn't into materialistic possessions that cost a lot of money. I mean, sure, she had a cell phone and computer and all the electronic gizmos that go along with her generation, but she likes - liked - handmade things, crafty things…"

Brennan nodded. "Assuming that her upbringing was humble, her parents, her mom especially, would have in all likelihood, stressed the importance of not obsessing over materialistic belongings. It would have been ingrained upon her..."

Lorelei made some notes on an index card for Booth and slid it across the table. "This is Julia's address, as well as the dates she performed here, and the name of the young man she was dating. I only had his first name written down, Nathan."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Nathan doesn't much sound like an Indian name…."

Brennan interrupted her partner, "Booth, the correct term is Native American, not Indian. Indians come from India. Native Americans-"

Booth raised an open palm in her direction. "Okay, okay… I got it, Bones," he gave her a frustrated eyeroll. "I was just saying that the name doesn't sound very... cultural."

"Many of the kids take on non-Native American sounding names as they spread their wings and start to leave the reservation; they try to blend in with the outside world." Lorelei explained to Booth, correctly assuming that Brennan would already know this, given her profession. "Most times, as they mature, they go back to using their given names." She then turned to the Anthropologist and was met with affirmative nods and understanding eyes. "We have a very multi-cultural demographic here in town; the University draws a lot of people. I pick up information here and there..."

"I imagine a venue like yours is very inviting to people from many walks of life." Brennan eyed the couple carefully. "It is a very welcoming environment and appears to be culturally tolerant all-around, if you know what I mean."

"We try to promote that kind of openness," Walt confirmed. "I know this might not be the appropriate time to say so, but y'all should come tonight. It's open-mic, and while some performances can be...questionable," he tried to put it gently, referring to the less talented people who try their hands at performing, "there are nights that you'd swear there was magic happenin' up there on stage." Walt moved his eyes between the partners. "I just thought I'd mention it."

"Thank you," Brennan replied politely, smiling.

Booth was a little more enthusiastic, but cautious. "Yeah, thanks, we'll have to see how the rest of our day unfolds, but, hey," he looked at Brennan and waggled his eyebrows, "we gotta eat, huh? And I think the whole team enjoyed their meals here."

"I concur," she grinned. "You just want more pie…" She teased him and the heaviness that had settled around the tiny table during their conversation lifted ever so slightly. She turned her attention back to Walt. "All he could talk about last night on the way back to the hotel was dessert… He ate his slice of peanut butter pie and half of my key lime torte." Her slight pout combined with her playful teasing was all Walt needed to burst out in thankful laughter.

"A dessert-man, huh?" He winked at Booth's blushing face. "What's your favorite pie? Mine's cherry."

"Cherry is good," Booth agreed as he wrapped up his notes. "But apple pie is my favorite, I think. Followed closely by my Grams' strawberry-rhubarb… No one can bake a pie like she could, but I've tasted some pretty damn good attempts." He grinned knowingly at the chef across the table.

"Everyone's Gramma's pies are always the best, though, y'know?" Walt agreed while pushing away from the table, recognizing that their interview was coming to an end. "You'll let us know if we can be of any more help?"

"Definitely. We appreciate your time and assistance this afternoon," Booth stood and extended his hand first to Lorelei and then to Walt. "You have no idea how helpful you've been today. I'm really sorry that you've lost someone that you both cared about so deeply, but we are very grateful that you were able to help us put a name to Angela's art rendering, and to point us in the right direction."

Brennan nodded awkwardly at Walt and Lorelei, feeling an odd sort of kinship with the pair, but uncertain of exactly how to address it. Typically at the close of an interview, Booth wraps up the conversation and simply escorts her from the room or invites the person to leave. But their interactions with the amicable couple mixed with the intimacy of their setting made Brennan feel somehow closer to them than was typical. Her hand shot out towards Walt so quickly that he actually flinched, but he took it, smirking at her stiffness as he nodded silently, recognizing that perhaps she wasn't much of a people-person. When she turned to Lorelei, who was now standing next to her, the scientist started to extend her hand, and Lorelei attempted to meet in the middle. Instead, Brennan leaned partially sideways and partially forward and embraced the woman clumsily, but with unquestionable warmth.

"I'm sorry that you lost someone for whom you so obviously cared. She sounds like she was a lovely young woman and she was lucky to've met you and your husband." Her voice was thick with emotion as she pulled back and met the surprised gaze of the restaurateur. "It's not easy for someone so young to lose her family, and I'm sure that she truly appreciated your companionship."

Feeling an overwhelming sense of sorrow wash over her, Lorelei was finally hit with the reality that Julia would no longer perform on their little stage, she would no longer stop by for lunch and there would be no further questions about how to make curtains or bedspreads or cook casseroles. Tears leaked from the suddenly-tired eyes as she looked at Brennan. "I hope you find out what happened to her. I hope we helped."

"I promise that we will do our best, Lorelei." Brennan squared her shoulders, staving off emotions that were threatening to swell her chest. Painful memories of losing her own family at the tender age of fifteen bore both chilling similarities and stark differences to Julia's situation. She turned to Booth and found him watching her carefully, a look of adoration and love filling his dark brown eyes. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, letting her partner know she was ready to leave.

"Alright, then," Booth spoke up, "thanks again. We'll, ah, hopefully be seeing you later." He placed his hand on the small of Brennan's back, his spot, and ushered her towards the door, mentally planning the rest of their afternoon.

As they walked in the direction of the field office, the partners discussed the importance of paying a visit to Julia's apartment rather than conducting random interviews with people from the University.

"Do you think Noggins' could conduct the interviews?" Brennan asked as they entered the building.

"I'm not sure…" Booth tossed around the idea of asking the Junior Agent to take charge of the afternoon's schedule. If he provided an outline of the questions he wanted answered, the direction he wanted the investigation led, Booth thought the kid could handle it. "Let me talk to Kingsley, get his OK on it." In the back of his mind, Booth knew he had to see the Director anyway, to deal with the complaint that Stires filed. "Why don't you go ahead down to the lab, Babe," he bumped her shoulder as they stood in front of the elevator. "I'll come get ya when we can either head to Julia's place or start the next round of meetings."

She nodded. "That will give me a chance to complete the review of Mr. Abernathy's cursory examination and finalize the initial paperwork." Brennan stepped into the elevator carriage and turned back to face her partner as he remained in the hallway, waiting for the next ride, going up. She smiled, their eyes locked in an intense gaze that was only broken by the narrowing gap between the shiny stainless doors.

"See you in a while, Bones," Booth said just loud enough for her to hear before the doors separated them. When he knew it was safe to do so, he drew in a deep, unsteady breath in preparation for meeting with Knoxville's director. He punched the 'up' button and nodded at an agent who joined him in waiting, and in silence, both men rode the carriage to their respective floors. Straightening his tie, Booth took one last cleansing breath and opened the outer door to Kingsley's office, addressing the portly woman behind the desk.

"I'm Agent Booth. I'd like to see Director Kingsley if he's available."

A bellowing voice echoed from an opened door to Booth's right. "Booth? Get in here!"

The secretary smiled uncomfortably. "I guess he's free, Agent Booth," her red cheeks seemed to grow ruddier and she cocked an eyebrow at her boss's order. "Seems anxious to see you…" With growing sympathy, she nodded towards the door. "Do you need some coffee? Water?"

"No, thanks," he eyed her nameplate, "Dee. I'll just," he tipped his head sideways, "you know…"

He turned briskly and paced to the door, closing the distance in a few long strides. "Sir," he said, as he closed the door behind him. "I believe you wanted to see me…"

A/N Postscript

Poor Julia, she had a helluva rough life. So unfair.

But I believe Brennan when she says they will do their best to bring her justice, don't you?

And Good Luck to our favorite FBI Special Agent as he meets with Kingsley… Something tells me the director is less than pleased with the visiting investigator...

There is a lot of truth to the story of the Native American flutes. There was a time that a tune played on one of those would only be heard by the player (traditionally male) and his intended bride. But there has, indeed, been an upsurge of interest in recent decades and the instrument has gained a lot of attention. Personally, I own about 20… it's an illness, I think… an addiction. (Fellow musicians will understand…. right? Don't leave me hanging out here on my own….)

Looking forward to hearing from you.

peace & love,

~jazzy