Here we are...another chapter. The words I used in this installment are ice, identity, imagine, impulsive, instructor and invent.


Arthur Coakley studied his hands, ignoring his lawyer and the two FBI agents who had just entered the room. A large, muscular man, he wore an impassive expression, much the same as the one worn by his elderly aunt. His unshaven face bore evidence of years spent outdoors, with deep lines and creases crossing his skin like a relief map.

Booth and Volker sat down across from the man, silently watching him for a few minutes before spreading out the contents of a file folder. "Do you know why we brought you in today, Mr. Coakley?," Volker asked quietly.

"You assholes think I murdered somebody...that's what the son of a bitch said...that bastard who cuffed me." Arthur scowled as he spat on the floor. "I don't care what anyone says, it wasn't me. I don't use my bow like that! This is a big fucking screw up...a case of mistaken identity or something like that..."

"Yeah, that's what they all say." Booth shook his head as he sat back in the chair. "But here's the problem, Artie. The pot that fell over and hit Julius on the head, killing him? We have forensic evidence that shows it was knocked out of place by an aluminum practice arrow...just like the ones you use."

"That's a big pile of shit, and you know it!," Coakley raged. "Those goddamn arrows are available anywhere…any joker can buy them at any sporting goods store without any sort of ID."

Volker pulled out a photograph of a rooftop. "That may be true, but what about the access to the top of your aunt's brownstone? Can just anyone climb those stairs? See, our expert says that the arrow's trajectory had to be almost straight down from your roof...like this…" He indicated the line with a marker. "So if not you, then who was it? I don't think your aunt could pull your big compound bow…it'd have to be someone a lot stronger than a frail old woman. However, we can go pick her up and hold her for a couple of days. I'm sure she'll be alright in a jail cell with those hardened criminals...I bet she'd be willing to talk after being in stir with all those guys."

Realizing that Coakley wasn't budging, Booth shrugged as he pulled out a bank statement. "We know you left town and went to Walkersville right after Keeling was killed, Artie. We've got your credit card receipts right here…"

Stunned, Coakley shook his head in surprise. "But I didn't use it there…"

Before Arthur could respond further, his lawyer spoke up. "My client doesn't have to answer any more questions, Agent Booth. Your so-called evidence is circumstantial at best…"

Booth glowered at the man. "We've definitely got enough to hold your client, given the nature of the crime. However…" He paused, leafing through the pages of the file. "...I tend to think what happened was more of an accident instead of an intentional murder." Pursing his lips slightly, the agent pressed his fingertips together, studying Arthur's craggy face. "I've read your file, Coakley. You don't strike me as the impulsive type. After all, you were a drill instructor in the Army...a well respected non-com with a sharpshooter's badge, not a clown who'd go off half-cocked at the drop of a hat. Being a Ranger myself, I get where you're coming from, okay? You're used to being in charge...used to maintaining a cool head, right? Used to people taking orders from you...used to making a difference."

Coakley's stoic expression changed slightly as his gaze shifted towards Booth. "Yeah...I was real good at my job in the Army, too, training those fucking rookie GIs…goddamn meatheads couldn't find their ass with both hands when they started and I made good soldiers out of 'em. They could shoot...they worked as a team..."

"Yeah…" Booth nodded. "And then what? Your unit got called up? You had to go to Afghanistan and leave your little girl behind…"

Exhaling sadly, Arthur's shoulders slumped. "Her mom dumped me...she said I'd have to pony up a huge chunk of change for child support if I wanted to see my kid again…all on a staff sergeant's salary...and then we had to go overseas for a deployment. It sucked big time...and even with combat pay, I got behind on my payments."

Volker glanced at Booth, getting tacit approval before asking the next question. "What happened in Afghanistan, Arthur?"

"My unit got jumped...we were overrun by some Taliban. I was pinned down...stuck in a corner with enemy combatants coming at me. I shot one bad guy right between the eyes, and was aiming at another when my buddy Rio suddenly stepped in front of him, and he took the bullet instead. Rio survived, but now he's paralyzed from the waist down. The Army ruled it an accident...fortunes of war and all that shit, so there was no disciplinary action...but then a week or two later, I found out I couldn't shoot my weapons any more…I couldn't even look at a pistol without having a panic attack."

"And then you realized you have a form of PTSD." Booth sighed softly. "And then you were discharged, but you have no real skills…"

"No real skills, but I still have a good eye." Coakley drew imaginary circles on the table. "One of the counselors I met with at the VA was into archery, and he introduced me to the sport...said it would help me to have some physical activity." Glancing up at Booth, he shrugged. "Turns out I'm pretty good at it. I've won some money…"

Coakley's lawyer shifted nervously in his chair. "That's enough, Arthur. You don't have to say anything more…"

"Shut the fuck up, Leonard. I'm pretty sure these guys already know what happened. No use to try to hide it." Arthur turned to Booth. "You know, right?"

"I know you needed money. Even with your tournament prizes you were still in a deep hole financially." Booth pulled out a sheet of paper filled with numbers. "See, I've been there with my kid, man. I imagine you'd do whatever it took to pay off your child support so you could see your little girl, right? Even if it meant doing something sketchy..."

"Like I said, it was an accident. It was a harebrained scheme, though, and I was a fucking idiot to get involved in the first place. The guy who hired me knew about my archery shit because he knows my aunt somehow. He just wanted me to knock that big pot over so Keeling would leave the house for a few minutes to clean it up. That's all I had to do. And instead of getting paid entirely in cash, which would look suspicious, I got some money when first I took the job, and then the guy was supposed to pay off my credit card debt by direct deposit when the job was complete. That way I could start over, you know? So he gave me seven thousand in cash with the rest payable after the deed was done." Drumming his fingers nervously, Arthur cleared his throat. "I had the angle all worked out, so I was up on the roof, getting ready to take the shot…and I hesitated, since Keeling was out on the patio." He choked back a sob. "So I realigned my aim, but my aunt's fucking German shepherd jumped up on me and knocked me off balance right as I took the shot. The pot hit that poor guy on the head and he dropped like a rock. It was awful…"

"Who was it, Arthur? Who hired you?," Volker asked, pressing for more information. "What is his name?"

"I don't know his real name. All of our transactions were via burner cell phones and drops. He said it was safer that way. He calls himself the Duke. That's all I know."

Leonard, the attorney, turned pleading eyes towards the agents sitting across from him. "It seems that what happened to Mr. Keeling was indeed an accident, and my client had no real criminal intent to harm the man. He's a veteran suffering from a traumatic stress disorder...surely you can't charge him with a felony…"

Booth sighed quietly as he and Volker gathered up the papers on the table. "I don't have any real say in that, but when I give this information to the DA, I'll tell her that your client cooperated, and that there are extenuating circumstances. That's the best I can do. Until then, I'm going to have him remanded into custody." Alerting the guards standing outside, Booth pointed at Arthur. "Take him downstairs…"

As the agents watched Arthur leave, Volker sighed sadly. "You know, I kinda feel sorry for the guy. I mean, he was involved in a crooked scheme, but it's obvious he didn't mean to kill Keeling…"

Scratching the back of his neck, Booth grimaced at the younger man. "He didn't mean to kill the guy, but that's what happened, right? I mean, intentional or not, Keeling is dead, and Coakley is responsible. He'll end up doing some time and he'll probably lose everything in the process. But I agree...it's sad."

The agents left the room and walked down the hall in silence. Finally after a few minutes, Booth spoke again. "We need to figure out if this 'Duke' guy is really Henderson Gladpoole, okay? Here's what I want you to do...make sure we get all the surveillence video from Walkersville. I've got a gut feeling that whoever hired Coakley wanted to use his credit card to incriminate him…and that's why he offered to pay off the balance."

Volker was obviously surprised. "Wait...you mean, the Duke used the credit card number to call attention to the fact that Arthur was in Walkersville? That's just cold…"

"That's actually pretty smart, if you think about it. It puts Coakley in the area, and gives the guy who ordered the damage time to get things cleared up." Booth stopped, tapping his foot as he thought over the case. "I want that surveillence tape ASAP, understand? Like first thing in the morning...like even if you have to drive over to the town yourself at dawn to get it."

"Yeah, okay." Volker made a note on his phone before checking the time. "Geez, it's late. I need to take off...gotta go pick up Gina's gift. Tell you what...I'll call over to the police department in Walkersville and tell them what I want, and have it waiting for me when I get it bright and early tomorrow morning. Will that work?"

"I guess so, Romeo." Booth couldn't help but grin. "So what'd you get her?"

"Earrings...pearl earrings. Real nice ones." Volker nodded happily. "She's gonna love them."

"Good deal. Okay, so call me as soon as you get that video, okay? We'll need time to go over it…" Booth waved as the younger man walked away. "See you tomorrow…"

"Yeah...bye."

Oooooooooo

It was late in the evening, and the children were asleep. As much as Brennan loved her children, she also enjoyed reconnecting with her husband at the end of the day. Anthropologically speaking, it helped strengthen the family bond. Personally speaking, it was both relaxing and very fulfilling.

She dropped a couple ice cubes into her husband's scotch and handed the glass to him as she joined him on the sofa. "You seem unusually pensive this evening, Booth. Is something wrong? Are you having trouble with the Keeling case?"

He shrugged as he swirled the whisky around before taking a sip. "I don't know, really. I mean, I'm pretty sure Arthur Coakley did knock that flower pot off its ledge with an arrow, but the rest of his story is just wild, and he doesn't strike me as the kind of fella who'd invent such a crazy tale."

"So you think someone took advantage of him?," Brennan asked. "That's terrible!"

"Yeah, the guy needed money to pay his child support, and he doesn't have a lot of education or marketable skills, so he was easy to dupe. I can relate to what he went through, you know...you get mustered out and think you can get a job right away, but everybody wants something you don't have...and his PTSD doesn't help him find work, either."

Nestling next to Booth, Brennan smiled up at him. "You identify with him, don't you? You want to help him…"

"Yeah...I guess I do identify with the guy. After all, who knows how I would've turned out if Pops didn't have his heart set on me going to college? I mean, it seems like Coakley didn't have any family except his aunt...no one to push him to do better…so he did as little as possible with his life."

"I see." Brennan nodded as she sipped her wine. "Are you going to talk to Caroline about him? Maybe she can get him a more lenient sentence."

"I'll probably talk to her, but I don't know if it'll do any good. He admits to being responsible for Keeling's death." He kissed the top of Brennan's head. "Sorry...I know you don't like us to talk about work at home. I should've done better about leaving that stuff at the office."

"I'm not upset with you, Booth. I know you care deeply about your work." She lay her head on his shoulder. "That's one of the things I love about you."

"Yeah?" He grinned as she smiled up at him.

"Yeah. You're a very good man, Booth."

"Thanks, Bones." He took a sip of his scotch and set his glass on the end table. "You know, I'm a man of many talents…"

"Really? What kind of talents?"

"I can't tell you...I have to show you." He waggled an eyebrow at her. "Trust me...you'll like it."

She nodded as she set her goblet aside. "Are you using me to forget a bad day at work?"

"What? No, of course not! I love you, Bones! I'd never use you like that…"

Giggling softly, she kissed him. "I'm teasing you." She tilted her head to one side. "Besides, I know all about your many talents...unless you've been holding out on me…or perhaps you've learned something new..."

Laughing, he rose from the sofa and pulled her up as well. "I'll never tell…"

"Well, then…" She wiggled her hips at him as she walked toward their bedroom. "You'd better come show me what you've got…"

Nodding in agreement, he smiled. "An excellent idea, Bones...an excellent idea…"


Thanks for reading. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it. Laura.