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25. An Open Gait

"I thought I told you to take Joey out for his sprint half an hour ago!"

"I'm sorry boss, but Kelly told me to take out Tweedie-"

"You report to me. Not Kelly."

"Sir-"

"Just get outta my sight. I better see you on the track in twenty, or you can kiss your month's pay goodbye."

Booth and Brennan observed the argument from afar, and as the jockey walked away, they made their advance.

"What has this man got to do with the victim?" Brennan flipped open the folder she held as they approached.

"Well, after I talked to Cam about her, I did a Bing search of major trainers that use this track for their training instead of privately owned ones."

"Why horse trainers?"

"Horse racing trainers know everything about anything at their tracks. If Phoebe Caullts was hanging around this particular track, then this guy's sure to know about it."

"He sounds English," she mused, staring at the sheet of paper with a furrowed brow. "But it says here that he's an American citizen…?"

"Strangely enough, Bones, people can apply for citizenships-"

"And he's the horse trainer here?" Brennan verified as she studied the profile, comparing it to the man before them.

"Unfortunately."

Brennan furrowed a brow. "Why is it unfortunate? He could be the murderer, so, logically, it would be very fortunate for us."

Booth regarded her with interest. "I thought you didn't like to make assumptions during cases?"

"I don't – I'm not," she corrected defensively, eyes on the suspect. "It wasn't an assumption."

"You're being defensive." A smile crept on the corners of Booth's mouth.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are-"

Brennan elbowed him.

"Ow! Why?" He rubbed his ribcage.

"The suspect is moving away."

The short man was storming towards the white racing fence line, where a slight, chestnut Thoroughbred was working at a steady pace.

With her free hand, Brennan reached out and tugged her boyfriend's ear playfully. "Work first, teasing later; we've got a job to do."

Booth rolled his eyes at her, before picking up his pace. "Excuse me," he called out to their suspect, and withdrew his badge.

Much to the partners' surprise and chagrin, the polite interruption was ignored.

The agent was again, disdained when he called out a second time.

The two exchanged glances of question.

"Hey!" Brennan shouted out, loudly enough for the entire racecourse to hear.

Booth didn't reprimand her for yelling. Fore mostly; it caught the man's attention, and secondly - the man was just rude; after the way he could mouth off at his employees, there was no way he was deaf as well as uncouth.

"Mr Baxter?" Brennan addressed, as they came up beside him.

"Who's askin'?" the trainer spat, eyes narrowed warily.

Booth flashed his badge. "Special Agent Seeley Booth, this here is my partner Dr Temperance Brennan. We just have a few questions for you."

"I ain't done nothing. Those two Caultts' sister go on bender again, it ain't my fault."

"We said nothing about any 'Caultt' sisters," Booth replied with a frown.

"Sisters?" Brennan picked thoughtfully, apparently not hearing Booth.

Baxter shrugged, and cast his eyes over to the track, where the chestnut was working up a pace. "Half sisters."

"So you know Phoebe Caullts from around this area?"

"Of course I have; she works for me…or used to, anyways. Bitch hasn't shown up for work in nearly two weeks."

Booth stared at him without expression; he was clearly unimpressed.

"It might not be her fault," Brennan put in suddenly, where her partner faltered for words. "Maybe she physically couldn't."

Baxter eyed the two sceptically. "Somethin' happen to her?"

"Phoebe Caullts was murdered, Mr Baxter, and evidence suggests that a relative of hers - perhaps a sibling – was killed also," Booth informed the man.

"Her remains were found on these premises," Brennan supplied.

Baxter started. "Where abouts?"

"In that large pit" –Brennan pointed in its direction- "over there."

"The old manure pit," Baxter elaborated for them. "It was dug out for the new water dam." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I guess you wanna know whether I killed her, and buried her body there, right?" Upon the interested expressions he received, the man shrugged. "So I watch crime shows, okay? Get over it."

"Well, did you, then?" Brennan asked.

"Did I what?"

"Did you kill her and bury her body?" she answered, point-blank.

"Bones," Booth chided underneath his breath. The word unprofessional sat on the tip of his tongue, on the verge of rolling off.

Baxter scoffed and shook his head. "I know it's hard to believe, but I don't know anything. I haven't been here."

Brennan recalled Booth's information from earlier. "Isn't it your business to know everything, though?" she wondered aloud, eyes questioning. "Surely, if there had been a murder, and the body had been recovered at your track…wouldn't you know about it?"

Baxter shifted on his feet. "I have a family, believe it or not, and we were on a holiday together." He folded his arms. "Two weeks I was away. Two. And I didn't want a thing to do with this hole. Any chance I can, I get away from this place, and let the co-trainer take over; I more than willingly hand over the reins-"

"Weren't you just getting furious at a jockey because they were listening to someone else's orders and not yours?" Brennan fired quickly. "You hardly sound like the sort of person that enjoys someone else running your show."

"Eavesdropping, eh?" His arms dropped by his side, and he started to walk away. "Bloody cops. You're all the same. Screw you and your manipulation tactics."

Booth and Brennan jogged after him.

"Can you tell us anything about Phoebe at all?" Booth asked shortly, patience tiring. "What she did specifically, who she hung around with…any boyfriends…? That sorta thing."

"She exercises the racers in the mornings. That is, when she shows up; otherwise we just give the job to a hopeful school student who wants some extra cash."

"And what do you know about her background?" The anthropologist asked, before Booth could get his own questions in.

"Totally smitten with a boy this boy, then he went to Afghanistan and she was pregnant with his kid. He was killed out on a mission or something… she was still in school at the time, but after she dropped out she went and lived with her half sister…Lizzie. Lizzie Caullts. Those two have been inseparable ever since. At least…until now, I guess." For a moment, Brennan almost thought it looked like he cared.

And then his eyes hardened with something she couldn't fathom.

"Look, I gotta do my job, and I know you gotta do yours, but at least go and look at paperwork or bother someone else, 'cause I sure as hell can't afford to be set back anymore than I already am."

Booth pursed his lips.

Brennan circled her slender fingers around his forearm. "Thank you, Mr Baxter, for your time," she told the trainer with sincerity - whether it was feigned or not, Booth could not tell. "We'll be in touch."

Baxter nodded once - grim, and tight.

She returned the gesture, and steered her partner away.

"What are we going to do now?" Booth asked her a little exasperatedly. "I still had questions I needed to ask him."

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm sure you knew just as well as me that he wasn't going to say anything more."

"He seemed pretty loose-lipped on the details."

She pulled him to a halt. "Do you really think so? I mean, think about it; he was only telling us the information that we could have found out from any of your sources at the FBI. For someone who watches crime shows, you'd think he'd know what we are capable of."

"Well, then, accepting your 'crime show' theory, wouldn't that also suggest that perhaps he knows a little bit about law enforcement liking cooperation?" Booth folded his arms across his chest. "I think he was giving away a fair bit Bones, and I reckon it would only make sense for him to do so, because he wanted to appear cooperative. It would mean we wouldn't assume him to be the killer." He then fell silent, observing her hesitation as she processed the probability.

"I can see where you're coming from," she said eventually.

"Great-"

"But I don't think he did it."

"I'm not contradicting you Bones, by why don't think he did it?" He took a step closer. "It wouldn't be a gut feeling, would it?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think we should talk to Kelly."

"The other trainer?"

"Yeah. What do you say?"

"I say tomorrow…or the day after that, because I really wanted to check out Caultt's condo before we headed back."

"But we're already here, Booth-"

"Do you really want to endure more tight-lips and arguments right now? It's been a long day."

"Not for me it has." Brennan shrugged, and then her eyes brightened with an idea. "We could always split up," she suggested. "You go there, I stay here, and you could pick me up when you're done-"

"Woah, woah. We do not split. Ever."

She gave him a reprimanding look. "We've done it plenty more times than I think you've noticed."

"We do not split," he repeated, firm as a boulder.

"I say we split, just this once." Her eyes widened. "Just this once." She stared him down.

He groaned. "I don't like this."

She smiled secretly. "I suspect you're not supposed to." She turned on the charm, revealing a set of white teeth. "Pick me up in an hour or so."

"Half an hour."

"An hour."

"Forty-five minutes."

"Fine." He went to walk away, but hesitated, seemingly worried. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Brennan smiled sympathetically. "Trust me." She kissed his cheek. "I've gotten better; I'll be fine."

Convinced enough, Booth made for the car, glancing back several times doubtfully, while his partner strode back towards the stables with a determined step. Though he felt strange about leaving her on her own to do the 'people stuff', he knew that he had made the right decision.

He just hoped that she would nail it.

Detective Brennan! Don't know about you,

but I always love it when she does a bit of the thinking!

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