Chapter 5 – Hotter
As the day had broke the sky was clear, the rain clouds had drained themselves leaving vacant spill of blue, the weather redressing itself in a glory of heat and humidity, causing some to celebrate and others to act out rain dances in their heads. Every sign of the torrential downpours had been evaporated and even early on the hints were there that the high temperatures had returned with a vengeance.
Brennan woke in her own bed, feeling the heat immediately and throwing the duvet off her. She glanced at her alarm clock, wondering if she had overslept having not yet heard the thundering call of her alarm clock. It was still early, almost too early, and she had clearly been awoken by the heat and the bright light streaming in through the window. She sat up, rubbing her face with her hands and wiping the sleep from her eyes. She felt tired and exhausted, even after having slept soundly, something she had thought she would not have been able to do after the events of yesterday. Her writing had gone some way to soothing her, enabling her to express herself through the protected means of fictional characters, projecting any feelings on to them and allowing them to deal with it for her. Naturally, she hoped this was done in a way that would hide the actual emotion behind it, trying to keep her distance from them, as with everything else.
She pulled open the curtains and looked at the day in front of her. Everywhere seemed still and unspoilt by either voices or bad news and she drank in its serenity. It was a Sunday, and the world always seemed to sleep late on a Sunday. Leaving the curtains open, she padded barefoot downstairs, heading for the kitchen and coffee to provide the jump start that she needed. Glancing in the mirror as she walked by she noticed how her hair hung, limp and flat against her face. Her skin was too pale after too many late nights working and early mornings, sometimes with no sleep in between, one day pretty much shading into the next one and her eyes lacked any shine they had once contained. She felt a sudden sense of relief that Booth was not there to witness her looking like she did and then sighed deeply at how inappropriately his name had fallen into her head.
She found a hair tie in a drawer and tied her hair up, pinching her cheeks to give them some colour. Never had she been concerned with her appearance, and now she was worrying over what Booth would think. She remembered her heart singing when he had told her that him and Tessa had finished and she recalled the way she had felt when their hands had touched, finger intertwining, and the expression on his face when he had looked up at her. He was such a solid man; she knew that she could rely on him for pretty much anything, including saving her life.
She closed her eyes momentarily, savouring the smell of the freshly brewed coffee and feeling just a little more alive. She saw the paper boy fly passed the house on his bike and ignored the sight, feeling no urge to know what was going on in the land of politics and gossip. She had certain sites on the internet that she would visit in order o find out what she needed to know, hence her complete lack of knowledge about pop culture.
Brennan sat down at the breakfast bar, coffee cradled in her hands. She had reached a particularly difficult point with her characters and couldn't see how she was going to get them out of a situation they had gotten themselves into. Forcing herself to think about plot instead of Agent Booth the sound of a phone ringing fell into the background, and it was only when she heard the answering machine click that she broke from her alternate reality.
"Bones," she heard a faint growl coming from the machine. "I know you'll be up, and I've already tried the lab so you're either at home or on your way in – unless your date took a flight back and you're busy. Call me."
She heard the click to say the call had ended and exhaled deeply as silence fell again. What did he mean, unless her date had flown back? Why was he bothering to think of such possibilities, although it had hardly been a possibility after his territorial spraying in the restaurant?
Dropping off the stool she wandered into the living room, over to the answer machine and played back Booth's message. He hadn't explained why he was calling, or even given a hint of the reason for ringing before seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. She hovered over the delete button, half wanting to play back the message again. If Angela was here now she'd have been analysing the tone of his voice, reading things into it that weren't there.
Brennan picked up the receiver and dialled his number, not even having to check it in her address and phone book. It barely rang before he picked up the call.
"Bones?" He asked, sounding half surprised.
"You called me, and asked to ring you back," she said, her voice a little croaky.
"Yeah, I know, I made the call. I'm near the lab as I thought you'd be there by now," he explained. She felt a well of annoyance deepening inside her at his assumption that all she did was work. She knew he was coming to that conclusion as she did spend a lot more time at her place of work than the average person, put his statement now and his surprise at her being on a date on Friday did not impress her; in fact they actually hurt her feelings slightly.
"No, I'm at home, wearing my pyjamas and drinking a cup of coffee. Booth, I don't know if you've noticed, but it's not even seven o'clock on a Sunday morning," she sighed.
"But this is you I'm talking to, and I have known you to be at work at this time on a Sunday after not being home for three days straight!" He argued back. She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see.
"You're rolling your eyes at me aren't you," he said, breaking the pause in conversation. "Can I come over?"
She felt a flustered feeling rise within her. She knew she looked a mess. "How long will you be?"
"Fifteen minutes," he answered. He was obviously already driving toward her house.
"I'll put the door on the latch so you can let yourself in," she said, wondering just how quick she could get ready.
"No, I'd rather wait on the doorstep for half an hour than you do that. You don't know what opportunist is passing by. Promise me you won't do that," he demanded. She wanted to react to the tone in his voice and refuse, telling him she could take care of herself, but instead she was silent.
"Bones? I know that any intruder would ending up with broken limbs from you, but please, keep the door locked, if just to humour me," he voice had softened.
"Okay," she agreed. "But can I at least tell you where the spare key is. I need a shower and might still be in the bathroom when you get here," she explained.
"Please don't tell me you keep a spare key under the plant pot outside your front door?" A sarcastic note tinged his words.
"No," how stupid did he think she was? "It's in the shed at the back of the house, under the ant powder," she told him.
"That's not that much better," he berated her.
"I have no one to hold a spare for me, so I need to keep a key somewhere in case I ever have my bag stolen," she knew that her statement gave away her solitary life.
"Why not give one me?" He asked. She caught sight of her hair again in the mirror. Shower, quick.
"Because I would not want to disturb you at some ridiculous time in the morning," she retorted, pulling out the hair tie.
"It's okay to rely on someone, Bones," she heard an almost laugh in his voice.
"Then I rely on you to let yourself in and make fresh coffee while I'm in the shower," she hung up, racing back upstairs, not wanting to be upstairs for too long once he had arrived.
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Booth's head was filled with images of Bones hidden behind a steamy shower screen. His imagination persistently kept trying to take him beyond the screen, but resolve held him back, knowing he would have trouble trying to look her in the eye after having thought like that, although he had managed in the past.
He found the key where she said it would be, the bolt on the shed door creaking when he opened it. The shed was sparse, filled with a bag of soil and old plastic plant pots and various bug killers. Very little was there to define it as belonging to Brennan.
He unlocked her front door and wandered in, pulling off his shoes and leaving them at the door, not wanting to soil her carpets. He could hear the shower stop and the image of Bones with a towel draped round her crept into his mind. He managed to distract himself before the towel fell off.
She had already made coffee that morning, he could tell as the beans were still out. He hunted around the kitchen for mugs and set to making the drink, noticing the starkness of her kitchen with its clean whiteness and spotless surfaces. For some reason he had fantasized about Bones' house being filled with unusual oddments and knick knacks, but he had been wrong. He eyed the fridge before removing the milk, remembering another time he had been here.
He sat down by the breakfast bar, his stare lingering on the kitchen table where she had been writing, her notes and laptop still spread out. He felt tempted to go and take a peak, but knew by doing so he would be abusing her trust. She didn't like anyone to read her work before it was published. He was curious though, about the male lead in her books and who she had based him on. He knew she swore blind that he was purely a figment of her imagination, but he thought that inspiration must have stemmed from somewhere.
"Morning," he heard from behind him. He twisted round and saw Bones dressed in a white robe, her hair still wet from her shower, towel in her hands from having dried it. She looked radiant, her skin and eyes glowing, and her hair falling damply down. He felt a more than fleeting jolt of lust, and didn't quite know what to say.
"You found your way in okay?" She asked, drying off the ends of her hair and sitting beside him at the breakfast bar. He pushed the mug of coffee he had made for her her way.
"You shouldn't keep a key in a place like that," he scolded. "If someone went in there to see if there were valuables…" he began.
"They would be very disappointed," she finished for him. "I know, Booth. But I need a spare key to be kept some where."
"Leave it with me," he suggested. Looking at her he read her thoughts. "I would never let myself in uninvited – you know that, Bones," he strongly assured, a little perturbed that she would think he'd take advantage.
She shook her head. "I know. Maybe you'd best keep it," she said, surprising him. She must have read the expression on his face. "I do trust you, Booth," she added, then glanced at the fridge.
He laughed, his hand cupping his coffee. She smiled back at him and he realised how close they were sitting, feeling a palpable energy between them. This felt comfortable, he realised. Even just out of the shower, with no make up on, none of her chunky jewellery, she was still beautiful like Tessa had never been.
He knew he was staring, and Bones was looking at him with a wondering expression on her face. But she hadn't moved away from him, which he took as a good sign.
"How come you're up so early?" She asked.
"It's not that early," he replied, his voice serious but quiet. "I have a case to solve."
"We have a case to solve," she corrected, smiling.
"You've forgiven me then, for interrupting your date?" He said with a grin, maintaining eye contact.
The smile stayed on her lips and she tilted her head to one side. "I suppose so. There's no way I wouldn't have helped you with this," she replied, in the same soft tone as he had used.
"That's not what you were saying when I interrupted your cosy chat," he answered, not sure what he was digging for, maybe for her to say that she hadn't been that into her date any way.
She shook her head, he eyes meeting his still. She hadn't looked away yet, almost as if she was competing with him. He felt something enlarge in his chest, and a yearning to kiss her. He felt his lips burn with the impulse and rubbed them with his fingers, trying to erase the sensation. "He wasn't serious, Booth. It would have been a very casual, one night affair, that might have become longer if we'd met up again to discuss the paper. That was never a certainty, though."
He felt a little relief for knowing that she hadn't been in love with him, although jealousy still kicked at his insides that she'd been wanting to spend the night with him. A multitude of confusing thoughts rained down on him at the naming of the feeling, and a little realisation dawned, denial blackening into night. "I never would have thought of you as being the type for a one night stand," he responded, his eyes dropping to the exposed skin where the bath robe folded.
"Just because you think I'm a squint doesn't mean I don't have the same human urges as you," she retorted, standing up and putting her empty mug into the dishwasher.
"Sure, Bones. I just hope that some of your colleagues are really robots and therefore the picture I have in my mind is completely the work of waking nightmares," he replied. The picture in his mind was of a different type of dream altogether.
"If by that you mean Zack and Hodgins then I can assure you that I would rather think of them that way too," she answered. He laughed lightly, appreciating her humour. "What are we doing today?" She asked. "You wanted to see me for a reason."
His eyes were still stuck on her, glued to her almost every moment. He had had a reason for wanting to see her, but at that moment couldn't clearly remember what it was; just that he knew as soon as he woke up from a fitful night's sleep that she was what he needed to start the day off right. "I have the details for Thomas' principal and class teacher. Also the parents of his best friend, so I thought we might go pay them a visit," he explained when he had structured his thoughts.
Bones nodded. He imagined she had expected this. He had toyed with the idea of leaving the interviews until Monday, when he would be able to visit the school, and get some sense of Thomas' life. It was also the last place he was seen before he went missing, and Booth knew in his gut that the school played a part in his fate. However, he also felt a strange urgency about the case, and the chance to speak to the principal and the teacher out of their environments was an interesting prospect. Away from their working environment they might be more inclined to let pieces of information slip, and any information at this could give them the lead they were desperate for.
Bones began to head toward the exit. "I'll go get dressed," she said in response. He smiled. That meant taking off the robe. His imagination could play with that notion while he waited.
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It was nine thirty by the time they arrived at the house of Thomas' principal and although there were signs of life beginning to spring up around the streets of suburbia, Booth knew that it was a little early to be knocking on people's doors. However, he had a job to do, so Mrs Alexandra Dunn was going to be disturbed from her peaceful Sunday morning.
Her curtains were pulled back, so at least he wouldn't be waking her, and therefore she might be in a better mood than she would have been. There was also the possibility that she was about to go to church, which could go either one of two ways.
Bones knocked on the door, loudly banging the rather traditional knocker hard enough to wake anyone in the neighbourhood who was still sleeping. She returned his glare, and he let a grin slip. He liked those little looks she gave him; he liked the fact that he could torment her more than anyone else.
"It's a big house; she might be in the garden," she explained.
He nodded. "She might," he responded. "She might also have been playing Black Sabbath extremely loudly, but she would certainly have heard that." He waited for the usual catchphrase of 'I don't know what that means', but none came. He looked at her puzzled.
"I do know that Black Sabbath are a rock band fronted by a man from Birmingham, England called Ozzy Osbourne," she retorted.
His eyes widened in surprise, but before he had a chance to ask how, or expire with shock, the door had opened and before them stood a woman who looked least like a principal of a school than anyone else he's ever met.
She had blonde hair that grew to just past her shoulders, and a clear, tanned complexion. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, accentuated by carefully applied make up. He felt Bones stiffen besides him, and wondered if she had noticed the woman's appearance.
"We're from the FBI," he began his usual spiel of identifying himself and introducing Bones. Mrs Dunn led them through the house to the garden, not asking what they were here for. They sat down on a recently done patio, looking out over a lawn that hadn't suffered in the recent heat.
She didn't offer them refreshments, merely holding a silence while they adjusted to their surrounds.
"I suppose you're here about Thomas Dyer," she said eventually. Bones and Booth both nodded. "How can I help?"
"We need to know a little about him, what he was like in school, and what happened the day he went missing," Booth told her, taking his shades from out of his jacket pocket. He also removed his jacket, hanging it over the back of the garden chair. It was a hot day already, the sky crystal clear and completely absent from clouds. The sun was burning hot, and the air was fast losing any freshness it had from after the rain.
"I am not one of those principal who claims to know every child on a personal level," she explained, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "As far as I knew Thomas was a good child, fairly intelligent, but not remarkable in the scheme of things. He never had any trouble, otherwise I would know far more about him. His parents seemed keen and interested, turning up for parents' days and taking part in P.T.A. events, but aside from that I can barely picture him. That sounds harsh, I know," she nodded. "But my job is to run a school and not to befriend every child; that would be impossible."
He saw Brennan nod in response and wondered if she found any similarities with this other woman, obvious very much a professional. "There were no children that you did have a bond with?" She inquired. The woman shook her head. "I find that impossible to believe. Did you start as a teacher?"
"I did. But it was my goal to become a head. I didn't particularly like teaching, but it was a rung up the ladder," she explained, calmly, totally unperturbed by Bones' line of questioning. Booth sat back and decided to let his partner do the talking. He had a feeling that she was the best person to deal with this job.
"So how did you feel when you found this boy had gone missing?" Bones asked, a querying look on her face.
"Obviously it was upsetting for the school as a whole and it caused some panic with out parents and children alike. Personally – yes, it was upsetting, but I still had a job to do," she answered, the epitome of calm.
"The responsibility comes back to you. He was in your care when he went missing," Bones argued. Booth felt that she was hitting the right line with this woman. Clearly she was more concerned with the running of her establishment than the well being of the children that went there. He resolved to be very careful when agreeing to Rebecca's choice of school.
"It did. However, we encourage parents to contact us if they are going to be late in collecting there children. He was watched leaving the premises by his class teacher, as she was certain that she saw him getting into a car that she recognised. From what Elizabeth Merrell has said, Thomas looked perfectly happy and unconcerned, she had no reason to be worried for his safety," the head answered coolly.
"There was no detail given on the police reports of the car. That wasn't even reported," Booth interrupted. "Neither you nor Miss Merrell said that you had seen Thomas get into a car, or provided a description of it. That was crucial evidence and could have been used to trace him. Other people may have also noticed the vehicle and you neglected to tell us!" He felt himself fume.
"Miss Merrell was understandably distressed for some time after. It was only recently that she recalled these details," Mrs. Dunn replied.
"You mean Thomas' parents got curious about how no one picked up on the fact that he went missing on the way out of school when he should have been supervised, but probably wasn't," Brennan snapped. Booth smothered a laugh.
"Talk like that could cause issues for my school, Dr. Brennan, and what cause do you have to be involved in this case anyway?" The head stood up, obviously having decided that it was now time for them to leave.
"She's my partner and she also carried out the examination of the bones we found that we believe belong to Thomas Dyer, Mrs. Dunn," Booth added, also standing. "His case has gone from missing to murder. We will need to visit your school in the morning and speak with your staff and maybe some of Thomas' friends, obviously with their parents consent. Obviously Thomas' teacher will be a high priority to talk to, in the light of this new evidence."
"Miss Merrell is no longer a member of staff at Greenhold," she announced, nostrils flaring.
"We will be going to see her later on today," Booth announced, an unspoken war going on between them.
"You may have trouble with that," Mrs. Dunn informed him. "She's moved out of town also. And no, I don't have a forwarding address."
Booth nodded at her, his friendliest expression on his face. "Be assured we will manage to track her down, Mrs. Dunn." She ushered them out of her house, saying nothing more.
"We'll see you tomorrow," he said, smiling, before turning round and grimacing enough that it was painful.
He unlocked the car and Bones jumped in. He followed, laying his jacket down on the back seat and rolling up his shirt sleeves. The car felt like a furnace and the steering wheel was almost too hot to touch. He started the ignition and put the air conditioning on full, noticing how Bones' hair blew a little.
"She's covering up what actually happened," Bones said once they had started moving.
"I think you hit the nail on the head with your idea of what actually went on," he said.
"Nail on the head – explained something exactly?" She clarified.
"Precisely," he nodded.
"Where to now?" She asked. "The teacher's place is out of the question."
He shook his head. "Not at all. That's the first place we'll go, because if she is no longer there, then hopefully there will be someone who can tell us where she moved to and why."
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The forty minutes it took to get to the address they had for Elizabeth Merrell was some of the hottest minutes Brennan had ever spent inside a car. The temperature was soaring, and even with the air conditioning on it was uncomfortably hot. She half wished for the rain to return, and cool everything down, knowing that the day was only going to become increasingly humid.
The conversation in the car varied between moans about the weather and the case. Booth was clearly concerned about the likelihood of another child being taken, or another body turning up. The whole manner of the crime was worrisome; clearly someone with intelligence had carried it out. She silently agreed with him that this was someone who had done this for pleasure. Any convenience killer would not have wanted the body to have been found. This was someone, who like Booth said, wanted to be chased.
Elizabeth Merrell's house was in a run down area almost as far removed from her former boss' as possible. The windows were filthy and the front garden unkempt and strewn with litter. A bark from a dog sounded from inside as they walked up the uneven path to the door.
A woman answered Booth's knock – the doorbell wasn't working – and looked warily at them.
"John's gone, he doesn't live here anymore," she said defensively.
"Actually," Booth began, showing her his I.D. "We're looking for Elizabeth Merrell."
"Lizzie?" She said, her face relaxing and a soft smile breaking out. "She's moved."
"We will need the address?" Brennan stepped in.
The woman eyed her with suspicion. "I'm not sure I should do."
"We need to speak with her in connection with a murder of a young boy who was in her class. She may know some useful information," Booth said, keeping his tone calm.
"Lizzie said I wasn't to talk to the police about where she'd gone," the woman looked a little worried.
"Mrs…" Booth began, looking for name to be given to him.
"Merrell," she filled in. "I'm Lizzie's aunt."
"Mrs Merrell, she's not in any trouble, we're just looking for her help," he pacified. The woman seemed to be softening under Booth's gaze, and Brennan realised that Booth was giving her one of his most charming looks. Brennan resisted the temptation to send him a glare.
"She's moved to Westbridge," Mrs Merrell informed them.
Brennan eyed the house that she was standing in front of and thought of Westbridge which was rather upmarket and an expensive place to live.
"Why has she moved to Westbridge?" She asked pointedly, looking at Elizabeth's aunt.
The woman sighed in annoyance. "She got given some money so she moved there. It's better than a dump like this! What's it to you any how?"
"Where did she get the money from to move to Westbridge?" Brennan pursued the topic.
The woman shrugged. "It came from somewhere. Maybe it was redundancy from when she left that school, I don't know. You don't ask no questions round here when good things happen like that," her face transformed into a sulky expression and she looked to be closing the door. "If you're done, I need to go feed the dog." The dog was still barking, standing on the back of chair and looking out of the window.
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Merrell," Booth gave her his best smile once more. "I don't suppose you would make our life easier and give her Elizabeth's address?"
"Seventy-five Woodlands," she responded sharply, before closing the door with a slam.
"I'm surprised she gave us that information," she said to Booth.
He grinned. "It's amazing what a bit of jealousy can do. She's still stuck here and her niece is living the high life in Westbridge. Resentment is always useful," his arrogant tone grazed the words.
"Where do you think she got the money from?" Brennan asked him, not condescending to become flustered and try to deflate his ego. It was too hot and she was sure there would be other times.
"The principal. Ultimately, it was Alexandra Dunn's responsibility to see that children who weren't collected were safe until their guardian came for them. She could possibly be sued and lose her job. I would think that she's coerced Elizabeth into lying, and created a scenario whereby her school cannot be at fault, and paid Elizabeth off for her trouble," Booth theorised.
They got back in car, the heat grappling with them as they sat down.
"Shall we stop for drinks on the way?" Booth asked, giving her a look that would remain imprinted on her memory for the foreseeable future.
"If we don't we may become dehydrated," she said, ignoring the fact that her stomach was doing flips. With his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned he looked delicious. The way he drove, so in control, seemed appealing today, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have his hands on her.
He laughed a little wryly. She eyed him, wondering what had caused the amusement. He turned his head briefly, his eyes containing a fire that almost burnt her. "You always make me dehydrated, Bones," he murmured, a chortle in his tone.
"I don't know what that means."
See that little button there? The one that says 'review'? Well, press that and you can let me know what you think of the chapter, or the story so far. So, any lurkers reading this on the sly when they should be working, please review!
I'm havingloads of hits, but only a small percentage of reviews. I would really appreciate it if some of you could let me know how the story is going.
Thank to all those who have - you make me smile... I hope your dreams came true. (Mine involved Hodgins and Booth!)
