*** 25 ***

Angela finds them in Bones' office. Booth has been returning calls to all the various investigative assistants who seem to think he's holding the answers to all their unsolvable questions if they can just ask the right question.

"No," he says, as Angela sits down on the coffee table in front of him. "I don't think I traveled more than ten or twelve clicks from the time I woke up to the time I located Dr. Brennan."

"Is that all?" A barely-out-of-basic math geek asks, not bothering to hide his disdain.

"Yeah, that's all. I was drugged. There wasn't exactly a trail."

"So there was some trail- a deer trail, maybe?"

"No, there was no trail at all, mostly. I crossed deer trails, I was just being…

"Did you mark the spot at which you regained conciousness?"

"No. I did not mark the spot in a permanent way. Did you read the transcripts at all?"

Angela is holding the pad inward. He spins his finger, asking her to show it to him.

Score one for the geek, Booth thinks as the guy ignores his sarcasm. There's a rustle of paper.

"Did you see conifers in the immediate area? Y'know, pine trees, spruce?"

"Yes," he says.

Angela glances at Bones, who's also on the phone.

"Only pine?"

"No. Lots of Rhododendron," Booth says and waves to get Bone's attention. He hears 'fracture of the greater trochaner, though there's… on the… seam'

Bones shakes her head and spins her chair so they can't see her while she talks.

" …steads."

Oh, for god's sake. "What?" he has to ask, because he's only heard half the question he's being asked.

"You walked across an abandoned farmstead, right?"

The geek sounds confident. Booth doesn't know what the fuck he walked through. An awful goddamned amount of hardwood and a shitload of rhododendron. And a river.

"Ask the Guard."

Angela flips the pad around.

"The Guard? I'm not following… can you explain who… "

Well, shit. "No, I won't explain what that means... I've got to go."

"The National..." the geek's saying as Booth snaps his phone closed.

"I know that guy," he says to Angela.

"Really?"

Booth taps his forehead "Yeah, I do." He sees him in orange, but can't place the image. "Can you make his hair shorter?"

Angela makes a few strikes across the paper and then digs a gum eraser from her lab coat pocket and rubs at it. She flips it back around.

Booth nods.

"His eyes are more almond-shaped," Bones says. She's come around from behind her desk and stands with her feet apart, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her black slacks. "And his brow bone's been broken on the left side." She rubs her eyebrow. "He had a dent, probably a childhood accident. And the bridge of his nose is lifted on that side."

"Like a bump, "Angela says, and goes to work again.

"Yes, but it wasn't broken."

"Bones?" Booth says.

"It's Lab Rat," she says, finally looking at him. "He was coming out on the ATV, when we went into the woods at Douglas Point."

"Bingo! The scuzzy guy," Booth says, leaping to his feet. "I knew it!"

"You did not," Bones retorts.

"Ah," Booth starts, but Angela cuts him off.

"You so did not know," she says. "Is this better?"

Bones nods.

The minor changes have triggered Booth's memory. It is Lab Rat and Booth can feel the trees around him again. How still it was, how watched he felt as he and Bones traipsed into their kidnapping. "Where are they? Samuels and Kiera Dryden?" he says, his thumb sliding to his speed-dial.

"Reception B," Angela tells him.

"Will you load that into NCIC? And I need a copy. Is that the one with the brown leather?"

"Yes," she says. "Across the atrium, on the right."

When his feet hit the hallway, he's already requesting personnel records from all agencies responding that day at Douglas Point. He feels tight and focused, back on the rails of the case. They all fit together, he knows it in his gut. The kidnapping and murders and his gangbangers in the mini-van.

"Booth," Bones says, and turning, he says, "Hold on," to Headquarters.

She doesn't say anything else, just stands there a moment. He raises his eyebrows, waiting. Her lips flatten and then she shrugs and shakes her head. Booth would like to pretend he's confused, but he understands his partner all to well. He nods, silently agreeing to be careful. HQ asks if he he's still there, "Yes," he says and walks away from Bones. He doesn't look back.

*

Samuels is playing on his Blackberry while Kiera is digging in her purse. She comes up with a chapstick as Booth trots down a short flight of stairs and into the reception area. Huge plate glass windows and patio doors frame a stunning view of the Jeffersonian's east side garden with it's multi-level Koi pond. He'd never known the pond existed until Hodgins took Parker out into the garden one Sunday when they'd been forced into work on a deadline.

Parker still talks about being the one to find the purple fairy caps hiding along the rock retaining wall. Jack had needed a sample of them to prove his theory concerning the victim's use of an herbal digitalis and paid Parker in M & M's, which Parker then insisted on leaving for the fairies. Rebecca hasn't let Booth live that one down yet, though he had drawn the line at building a fairy house later, steering Parker into a game of catch instead.

"It's beautiful," Kiera says. "I'm going to bring the kids when they're a little older."

Samuels jumps to his feet, a guilty look sliding across his face. "Sir."

"Ms. Montenegro is making me a copy of her sketch, Samuels, could you collect it for me? Ask her to shoot it over to my e-mail, too, okay?"

Booth is pleased to see Samuels hesitate, glancing over at his assignment, who suddenly looks wary.

"Go, Samuels, I need a couple of minutes. We'll be right here."

"Sir, yes, sir," Samuels says and leaves.

Booth sighs and sits at the opposite end of the couch from Kiera Dryden. "Who is he, Kiera?"

She laces her long fingers together in her lap. Her nails are short and unpolished, but clean and smooth. Booth settles back and stretches his legs out. The open alcove is quiet, though there's foot traffic through the atrium. He can hear the echo of heels across the marble and voices that blend into a hush like the murmur of water.

Kiera simply waits through the lull of his expectation, as unfathomable and implacable as the colored Koi lazing their way through the cool currents of the pond just beyond the glass wall she's staring a hole through.

"He's a lab tech," Booth says. "State, maybe, maybe Federal. He knew who we were. Maybe he set us up or maybe he was just a sentry, doesn't really matter. He's Lumbee."

"He's not Lumbee."

"What's his name, Kiera?"

"I don't know."

"You've seen him in Pembroke."

"Yes."

"He's MS-13."

She goes as still as the Koi when Parker's shadow dropped over them. Booth can see her pulse beat in her throat. "No," she says firmly. She looks down and pulls a small notepad from her purse. "I have to go now. Do you have a pen, Agent Booth?"

Booth reaches for the pen inside his suit jacket pocket, saying, "I can't let you do that, Kiera."

She only holds her hand out for the pen. He slaps it into her palm.

"Here's the number where you can reach me," she says as she writes.

"I'll have Agent Samuels escort you back to Hoover." Booth glances down. "And then we'll..."

Kiera stands, brushes off her skirt, bends towards him as if in farewell and then strides away, backbone straight, her shoulders thrown back and head raised.

Booth watches her leave. The note says: "Eppy" Sandoval – Fed- tat behind ear- cuz TJ Martel m Sarah Walker, Pembroke

Agent Samuels leans around the half wall above a big planter. Booth tips his chin towards Kiera as he holds his hand up to his ear, miming a call. Samuels nods and slinks off in the same direction as the interestingly paranoid Kiera Dryden.

Booth stretches, eases up, and strolls back towards the lab, talking to the office on his cell, and then Cullen. He loiters outside Bones' office, still organizing through dispatch. When he's done, he crosses over her threshhold. Bones doesn't even look up, she only spins her chair to put her back to him. Booth decides that's totally annoying. He drops onto her couch and smoothes his tie, waiting for Samuels to call.

"Yes, that's correct," Bones says into the silence. "Yes."

She sounds tired.

"You can?" she says, surprised. "Excellent!"

Booth sits up. What the hell is she doing?

"Thank you," she practically crows. "Thank you, yes, you, too." She rotates back around, grinning, and sets the phone onto its cradle.

Sinking back into the plush pillows at his back, Booth raises his brows at her. His phone rings. He holds up one finger and her mouth closes.

"Booth."

"Samuels, sir. Ms. Dryden exited through the museum, sir. She waited until a large group was leaving the theater, joined them, and proceeded into the main hall. I thought she entered the ladies room, but I...."

"So you lost her. Already."

"Yes, sir," Samuels whispers. "She... I'm actually pretty good at survelliance, sir, really."

Booth gives him a gusty sigh, for show, but then lets him off the hook. "She's been well-trained, Samuels."

"Should I..."

"No, we're done here. Write it up, and leave it on my desk."

"Yes, sir."

Booth slides his thumb down over the phone and then rubs his eyes.

"Kiera Dryden?"

"Yeah. She's part of this."

Bones leans back. Her gaze touches his skin, travels along his core to his face, until he's looking directly into her open eyes. He smiles, and she smiles back.

"What are you thinking?" she says.

"That I've never known anyone who keeps their eyes open the way you do. You look at life and you look at death and you never flinch."

She frowns at him, and then slowly closes her eyes.

His blood surges, sudden desire springing up and closing his throat. "Bones."

Her eyes open, and she's laughing at him already, deep inside. "Kiera Dryden."

"She I.D.'ed Labrat. Eppy Sandoval. He's MS-13. His cousin married a Lumbee."

Angela leaps into the room, startling them both. "Ephraim Julio Martinez Sandoval."

Booth waves his hand at her as Bones says, "We know."

"But did you know he works for the FBI?"

Booth's stomach burns straight up into his throat. He swallows. "Yeah."

Angela puts her hands on her hips, the Sandoval file jutting out like a broken wing. "Well, where was I?"

"Doing your job, Angela," Bones states.

Booth stands. "And doing it well. Thank you. Kiera spilled."

She nods. "I'm getting coffee, want anything?"

"No," he says, watching Bones from the corner of his eye. "I think we're going to be busy in a sec."

Bones cocks her head.

"Oh," Angela says in a lower tone, turning to look at Bones. "And what does that mean?"

Bones shrugs.

Booth's phone trills.

"Booth."

"Headed towards Reston."

"Thanks, Sully."

He snaps the phone closed. "Kiera's going to Reston. Want to go?"