A/N: Thank you for all the reviews!
Chapter 5
Brennan knocked on Booth's door early in the morning, wanting to shower with hot water rather than the weak, tepid stream that was dripping from the ancient contraption that hung over her own bath. This time she went to him fully dressed, not thinking it a good idea to just wear a towel after the response the previous night, taking her bathing things with her. She knocked lightly on his door, knowing he was awake as she had heard him phone someone earlier that morning, letting them know what their plans were for the day before they returned to the lab.
He answered, fully dressed much to her disappointment, and let her in.
"Water's piping hot," he told her as she went straight to the bathroom. "Shall I make you a coffee?" He gestured toward the coffee making facilities in the corner of the room, next to the old black and white TV.
"That would be great, thanks!" She called out from the bathroom, tuning the shower on full. As she washed herself her thoughts travelled to the previous night and after they had eaten. The conversation had steered away from work and settled on themselves. Booth had told her more about his son than she'd known before and what his relationship had been like with his son's mother. She listened, seeing a side to the man that she'd only glimpsed of before. In many ways she knew he was her opposite; running on hunches and feelings, while she was scientific and analytical in her approach of, well, everything.
"Would you want more children?" She'd asked tentatively.
He'd nodded, not making eye contact. "I like kids," he'd replied. "Are you still determined not to have any?"
She'd looked at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of what she felt and what the answer to that question actually was. She liked children, although she knew she was uncomfortable around them. To have someone depend on her like she had depended on her parents was a big thing, and then if something happened to her – where would they be after? Then he'd smiled and she felt something melt inside of her. For crying out loud, Brennan! She'd thought. You've never even been on a date with him and now you're thinking what it would be like…
"I don't know, Booth," she'd answered eventually. His eyes had opened wider at her answer.
"I thought it was a resolute no," he'd said.
Brennan shrugged. "Whoever I'm with might have some say in it I suppose. I just worry that any children that I may have might end up in the same predicament as I did," she'd confessed.
Booth took the fingers from her left hand from across the table and wrapped them in his. She felt the usual jolt of electricity as they made contact, but this time did not pull away. "No one can see into the future, Tempe, but that doesn't mean that anything bad is going to happen to you, or to whoever the father would be. You can't let yourself think like that, and I surprised you do. You have no basis to."
She had looked down at his hand, tightly holding her own and understood the logicality of his words. Unsure of what to say, she maintained her silence.
"So, is Angela's new boyfriend going to be 'the one'?" After half a minute of silence he had changed the subject.
Brennan shrugged, aware that his hand hadn't left hers. "He's only just started at the Jeffersonian so I don't know that much about him. He seems okay though. He wasn't bothered by Ange's job, which is one thing."
"Have any men ever stopped being interested in you because of your career?" He had asked, his eyes meeting hers for a split second before glancing away.
"I don't know. Most of the men I've dated were acquaintances from work or while I was a student so they already knew what it was I did," she told him.
"Why aren't you with anyone now?" His tone had been soft and gentle. She hadn't queried why he was asking, she knew.
"I don't have time. All of my attention is given to work," she had explained.
"Maybe if you met the right person you would have the time," he had smiled and then Brenda had come with their food and the conversation had deferred back to the case, recapping what they knew and his hand had left hers, maybe a little reluctantly.
She turned off the shower, wrapping a rather threadbare towel around her and stepping out of the bath, quickly getting dry and dressed. She sprayed a little perfume onto her clothes, just enough so that it would be noticed and not overwhelming. When she was working in the lab perfume was a no go, interfering too much with people's sense of smell and there ability to detect certain things that could be used as clues or give information.
She checked she hadn't left anything important in the bathroom before leaving and then sat down on the bed next to Booth who had made coffee.
"It's only instant," he excused. "But it's in date." She smiled, taking the cup he offered, fingers grazing once again. She found herself smiling shyly.
"I should really give Angela a call at the lab. I'm surprised that I haven't heard from them," she said thoughtfully, realising that she had left her cell in her own room.
"They'll be fine. You left very precise instructions," he reassured. Brennan nodded. There was no way that Zack or Hodgins could have made a mistake with the instructions she had left.
They ate at a small greasy spoon café that they found just next to the motel. The girl who had served the in the motel the night before waited on them again, looking tired and a little rocky on her feet.
She inquired as to how their night had been and Brennan made a point of telling her that the shower had not been working properly.
"I'm really sorry," the girl had apologised sincerely. "There are a few showers that need renewing. I'll see if I can throw in free coffees for you as compensation." She had then scuttled away into the kitchens.
"Shouldn't she be in school?" Brennan looked to where the girl was heading.
"I'd guess so. She doesn't look old enough to have left," Booth responded. "You needn't have mentioned the shower, Bones, it's not like you were staying somewhere that charged five star prices."
"But it didn't work, Booth. And it was an inconvenience. If I hadn't have been able to use your shower then what would I have done?" She said, her face serious.
"You'd have complained. But it was fine. And hey, you got to see me without a shirt!" He said brightly.
"Even more of a reason to complain," she muttered. Booth laughed, pretty sure that she didn't mean it.
The girl returned with coffees for them and freshly done toast.
"Do you know of a Davey Hennings who lives round here?" Booth asked her, giving her his best smile.
She smiled back, Brennan noticing her hand automatically going to play with her hair in a flirtatious gesture. She wondered if that was how she reacted when Booth gave her that same smile.
"I think everyone knows Davey," she replied with a slight drawl. "He likes to look at girls as they walk passed his house on the way home from school so we used to go through the trees instead. Then he started to follow us there. His brother was just the same."
"He had a brother?" Booth said, at his most interested.
"Yeah, Dean. He died a few years ago. He was even weirder. Used to grow vegetables and get dad to buy them but he'd charge too much so he and dad had a bust up," she explained.
"I didn't think Davey had a brother," Booth spoke before Brennan could get a word in.
"Oh, yeah. He and Dean even looked alike. Sometimes when they both had beards you couldn't tell them apart. My dad jokes about it being Davey that died and Dean just said it was him to try to cover for something wicked he did in the past," she smiled. "Can I get you any thing else? Your full breakfasts will be here in a minute."
Booth shook his head and then turned to face Brennan, eyebrows raised with surprised. "I may have a list of jobs to see to when I get back to the office," he said. "I think someone had better dig up some of Davey Henning's family tree."
"Or possibly even dig up Dean," Brennan muttered. "Why do you never let me ask the questions?"
"Because you'd end up annoying the person you were asking."
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They went immediately back to Davey Hennings' house and Booth noticed his eyes light up when he saw Bones.
"Couldn't resist, could you. See, an older man, that's what girls want. A bit of experience to show them how it's done," Hennings eyed Bones in a way that Booth would have described as indecent.
"We've heard all about you watching the girls walk home after school. And apparently your brother used to join you too," Booth stated, studying the reaction on Hennings' face.
"What brother? I told you yesterday I had no brother live here! That was my cousin. Some people thought it were my brother, we did look a bit alike, but he were my cousin!" The man began to become agitated and Booth wondered just how far he could be pushed.
"Tell me about Moreton Street," Booth encouraged, wondering if the emotional outburst would loosen any of the man's memories.
"I went there a couple of times. Each time Uncle Will were there with Dean. I didn't like going there. Uncle Will liked ladies; he always had a load there. Now I know he used to pay them to be there, but when I was little I didn't know that. He used to tell me about each of them and make me introduce myself to them properly," Davey looked a little disgusted by the memory.
"Did your uncle never marry?" Booth asked, seating himself down in a chair that had obviously seen better days.
Davey shook his head. "He always had some woman about, paid probably. Not that I see anything wrong with that," he added, looking at Brennan. Booth wished he could thump him for looking at her like that.
"Did you ever notice anything suspicious when you were there?" Booth felt he was losing patience. The man was unlikely to tell him anything in a short amount of time. It was probably worth having him taken in and interviewed formally.
"There were a lot of comings and goings. Once when I were there, there must have been six or seven people living there. One man who lived there all the time was Roger Charlesworth. He were a bit younger than my uncle, and they were very matey, like," he answered. Booth thought the name rang a bell. He heard Brennan's phone ring and she left the house to answer it.
"Any idea where this Roger Charlesworth went to when the house was condemned?" Booth asked, wondering what Brennan's call was about.
Davey shrugged. "Didn't hear from him again, so he could be anywhere," he answered, picking up a remote control that was filled with yellow bits between the numbers. He began to search for sport on the crackling television.
"Did he have anything to do with Dean afterwards?" Booth pressed, feeling that he had gotten as much out of the man as he was going to.
"I wouldn't know. Dean would disappear sometimes for a couple of weeks. He'd never say anything about where he was going or who with or when he'd be back. Not that I worried, mind. It suited me just fine when he turned up dead," Booth began to wonder about the vents that lay behind Dean's death and whether they were entirely natural.
"Are you thinking of going anywhere in the next few days, Mr Hennings?" He asked, standing up.
"I might be thinking of all the places I could go to with your lovely assistant, but I certainly won't be leaving my chair," he said with a semi toothless grin that made Booth feel revolted.
"I would imagine that someone will be over let to give you a ride down to he nearest station where we can do a formal interview," Booth said, as pleasantly as he could.
Davey remained silent. Booth turned to leave the room, anxious to escape its claustrophobic atmosphere. "Thank you for your time, Mr Hennings," he added, opening the front door and taking a deep breath of clean air.
Brennan was still on her cell, stood next to the car. He took in her figure, and automatically felt distracted from the reason they were supposed to be there. Then he remembered Davey Hennings' comments about her and the looks he had given her, and was overwhelmed with a possessive feeling he was only just getting used to. He knew he was going to have to make a move on her soon. If she actually began seeing another man he wasn't quite sure how well he'd handle it internally. Externally he knew he'd be fine. He'd always been good at hiding his emotions, but this time he didn't think he wanted to.
"Everything okay?" He asked her when she'd finished her call.
She nodded, that look on her face when she was thinking something through. He itched to move the piece of hair that had fallen over her eyes and wondered how she'd respond if he did.
"I had a call from Zack," she said, her eyes focusing on him. "I won't explain it in detail, but from the evidence they've gathered from the bones it's a certainty that the bodies decomposed in somewhere like a potting shed or allotment. There were chemicals, spores and pollen on them that can't place them anywhere else."
"Would there be any chance of knowing how quickly they decomposed?" Booth asked her, his mind working away at filling in pieces of a jigsaw.
Booth shook her head. "None."
"Could they have possibly been put in a greenhouse?"
She shrugged. "It would be a possibility. The temperature would have speeded up the decomposition. Why?"
"I happened to notice that there was a greenhouse in Mr Hennings' back garden that was concealed by a lot of undergrowth. That may be a good place to start searching for evidence," Booth said, wincing at the thought of having to take Brennan in there again.
"What's the problem?" She said, noticing his reaction.
"I don't like the way he looks at you," he confessed. "It divides my loyalties."
"What does that mean?" She looked at him confused.
"I need you there to help suss this out. But I don't want you there as I don't think you should have to tolerate men like him," he explained, knowing that she would probably get all annoyed with him for wanting to protect her.
"I can handle myself, Booth," she glared. Yep, he was right. "I've dealt with men like him before. You seem to think I'm some weak, pathetic female sometimes, well you should know by now that I'm not!"
"I don't think that. I know that you're more than capable of looking after yourself, but sometimes I want to look after you!" He spat back, wondering if he'd said too much.
She fell silent, not looking at him.
"Do you think that Hennings had something to do with it?" She asked, changing the subject.
"Probably. If not in an active role, then certainly as an observer. We need to find out who these women were. That will give us an idea for motive," he was happy to discontinue any conversation about his motivations for protection.
"What theories do you have?" He was surprised at her question. Generally she just stuck to facts.
"That maybe Uncle Will and his nephew were in the business of a little murder. A trade that Will taught his nephew in," he said, pulling his face in a nonchalant manner.
"It would explain the similarity in murders with them being so many years apart. What I'm surprised about is that there is a gap between the timing of them. We have five that were from between ninety and seventy five years ago, then a gap of forty years. If Uncle Will was fifteen when he began to kill these women, he would still be too old to have had anything to do with the rest," Brennan responded thoughtfully.
"If there is any credence behind what Hennings said then his friend Roger Charlesworth may have also had something to do with it all. We need to find if he is still alive," Booth unlocked the car and jumped in. Bones mirrored his actions.
He began the drive back to the lab, making a call to one of his colleagues to have Davey Hennings interviewed at the station. His head tricked over the information they had, playing out all the possibilities.
"Have we had news about any more bodies being found at Moreton Street?" Bones interrupted his thoughts.
Booth shook his head. "That doesn't mean there won't be though," he answered. "It's becoming a house of horror. How did anyone not notice that these girls had gone missing?"
"Maybe they weren't the types of girls to be missed – hitchhikers, tourists, prostitutes. And they weren't murdered at the same time. From what I've seen so far there's at least two years between each body," Brennan looked at him with those eyes that made him melt. When this case was over, and hopefully they'd have at least a little time before the next one rolled in, he'd make a move. Definitely.
"That's one idea. I need a search warrant for that house and greenhouse, and the garden," he said, half to himself.
"What evidence do you have to justify a search warrant? There was no physical evidence from what we've seen, or from what we've found from the remains to say that ant crime was committed at Hennings'," she said, giving him that look again. He fought the urge to pull over and kiss her.
"We know that the bodies were left to decompose in somewhere such as the greenhouse in Hennings' garden. I'm going to find out for how long that house has been in Will's family. If it had been occupied by them for as long as the house on Moreton Street I think I'll have enough suspicion to get a warrant," he explained. It was tentative he knew, but he had a judge who owed him a favour which would also help and one hell of a hunch about this whole thing.
Brennan's cell began to ring. She answered it hurriedly. He heard her side of the conversation which consisted of short sentences such as "How many?" "How old?" and "Where abouts?" That gave him enough of a clue to suss out what had happened.
"They've recovered three more bodies," she announced as she hung up. "They used some geo-physics technique to work out where more lay. One was under the floorboards in the front room, one partial skeleton was halfway up the chimney and the third was under the cupboards in the kitchen. From what Zack has seen, all three were murdered in the time frame between the others, but very spaced out."
Booth nodded. "Dean was obviously not as confident once his uncle wasn't around." It was going to be another long day.
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