Chapter One:
Dr. Temperance Brennan was frustrated. She looked over the paperwork again and sighed. What the manifest said was in the box, wasn't what was in the box. She took three long strides and peered into the box one more time, as if their contents might miraculously change. No, it was still the remains of a monkey, not the remains of a World War One Soldier.
"Hello, Dr. Brennan." Zach Addy called from the stairs as he walked into the open concept laboratory. "Are those the remains we were waiting for?"
"They are remains, Zack", Brennan said. "They aren't the ones we wanted."
Zack cocked his head to one side and frowned.
"They're the remains of a monkey." Brennan said with a sigh.
"Are you sure?" Zack said and then immediately shook his head. "Of course you're sure."
Brennan's phone rang and she quickly brought it to her ear and thumbed the answer button in one swift move. "Brennan."
"Hey, Bones it's me."
"What do you want, Booth?" Brennan sighed, rubbing her head. "I'm having a bad day."
"As bad as the body I've got out here?" Booth said. "One right hand sticking up out of the ground." He added as if he was tempting her to a steak dinner. "Decay has already started."
Brennan sighed. She was going to get no where today anyways without the remains she was expecting. "Where?" she asked.
Rock Creek Park was in the North end of Washington, about 30 minutes from the White House and a lifetime from the rest of the city. It was a piece of history embedded into the hustle and bustle of the city's day to day workings. With places like the Old Stone House, a small stone cottage built in the 1760s; it brings a sense of the past to the present. From the Jeffersonian it was only a short drive along the Beltway to get to the park and from there, an even shorter drive to the field where Booth was waiting.
The lights and chatter from the radios gave away the sense of urgency, like something was waiting, but didn't know what it was waiting for. Brennan stepped out of her car and approached the tape, flashing her credentials to the officer standing guard.
The guard held up the tape for her and as she ducked under, she noticed Booth, with his hands on his hips staring at the dirt. She strolled up behind him and stood for a moment in silence staring at hand as well.
"Is it just me, Bones, or are those fingers really small?" Booth asked.
Brennan studied the fingers for a moment from Booth's side. "They're average for a twelve or thirteen year old." She announced, and then stepped forward to examine the hand in detail.
"The nails have been torn off, probably with a pair of flat nosed pliers. I can't tell if it was post mortem or not. The distal phalanges have been crushed, and the finger tips have been …" Brennan paused for a moment and tilted her head as she studied the fingertips. "Sanded? The prints have been sanded off." She moved her way along the arm, noting any damages to Booth, who stood by staring at a tree across the field, his face a mask of stoicism.
Brennan then started to uncover the body, working layer by layer to preserve the most evidence she slowly revealed the body of a young girl, whom Brennan guessed was aged twelve to fourteen. Booth sighed and stepped away.
"I'll have her sent to your lab." He said as he walked back under the tape.
The body arrived at 4 PM. Brennan and Zach were standing by waiting for the technicians to lift the body bag from the gurney to their examination table. Angela Montenegro, and Dr. Jack Hodgins were standing by, observing as Booth walked up the stairs and slid his identification through the reader.
"Got anything?" Booth asked.
"They haven't even opened the bag yet." Hodgins said dryly.
"Oh." Booth stood beside them and watched as Brennan and Zach opened the bag and started their work.
As they stripped the clothes off the body and handed them to Hodgins for further tests, Zach gasped. Booth stepped forward.
"What is it?" he asked as he approached the table.
"There's a large wound in the left torso." Zach said, forcing himself to regain control, but his face still seemed visibly shaken.
"What kind of wound?" Booth pressed.
Brennan took a sidelong glance at Booth, briefly wondering what was going on. "Do you know something we don't?" she asked him as she probed the wound with her fingers.
"What kind of wound?" Booth repeated each word individually with staccato force.
Brennan sighed and looked at the wound. "The wound is large and deep, easily cutting through the muscle tissue around the ribcage and puncturing the left lung in the process. It seems to have been made by an extremely large knife or a machete, and …" Brennan paused again. She leaned over and probed deeper into the large gash.
Booth sighed and leaned against the head of the examination table, hanging his head. "It's gone isn't it?"
"What's gone?" Angela asked.
Brennan looked up, fear and disgust mixed in her eyes. "Who would do that? And how do you know?"
"He's been active for about five months. We've managed to keep it out of the papers, but with you involved and it being a kid." Booth shook his head.
"What's gone?" Angela asked again. Hodgins stepped up behind her from his microscope to see what was happening, his conspiracy curiosity getting the best of his scientific curiosity.
Brenna looked over at Angela. "Whoever did this took a rib."