Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.
A/N: I am not a forensic scientist, or a scientist of any sort. I teach school, hence I know a little about a lot. If anyone reading this does know a bit about forensic techniques, then please excuse me - my details in here are kind of woofy and if you want to put me straight please do so. Otherwise I hope it doesn't destroy your liking (?) of the story.
And I remembered to put flashlight instead of torch! Wahey!
Chapter 9 – In a Cottage in a Wood
It seemed hotter than the day before, the sky already a deep, clear blue, no scarring of clouds anywhere upon it. The pace of the day seemed slow, and Brennan wondered how many people had called in sick, wanting to take advantage of the hot weather, or just feeling that the temperature was too high to work. She had already heard on the radio of one business where all the workers had been sent home as the air conditioning had broken. She hoped that that not happened in the lab, it had been bad enough last week, and now it was even hotter it would be unbearable.
Booth tapped the steering wheel impatiently as he drove, letting Brennan know his urgency to get back to the lab and run some tests on the fishing rod. The fact that the body had been dumped not too far from one of the most popular places for fishing in the area had not been lost on them. As soon as they were back at the lab she would have Zack run some tests on the line to extract any deposits from whatever stretch of water it had been in last, which they both thought would have been the Huyana River, and then she imagined that Booth would bring someone in to check for finger prints.
He pulled up abruptly at the Jeffersonian, swinging the door open wildly. His phone had rung just as they were leaving the school, asking if he needed any assistance there. He had agreed, instructing the agent nicknamed 'Mother Martha' to send a couple of people out to take more detailed statements from certain members of staff, and the two children who had been named as David's best friends. He had then gone on to have a rather heated discussion with Cullen regarding busting the door into the courtyard. Cullen had disagreed, stating that there was no evidence to suggest that the courtyard had been used recently, or was relevant to the investigation. Booth's mood had turned nasty there after, and Brennan had blanked him out, knowing that he was feeling even more frustrated, and as if he was now racing against time with his feet bound.
He carried the fishing rod into the building, attracting all sorts of looks from the people who worked there. He merely glared back.
"You know, you can bring a dead body in here, a mutilated finger or limb, but it takes a fishing rod to actually get people to sit up and take notice," he whinged. She ignored him, calling Zack over and explaining what it was she wanted him to do.
"Do we have a water sample to compare it to?" He asked, handling the rod as if it was the key to a safety deposit box loaded with gold.
Brennan thought for a minute. They hadn't actually taken a water sample either of the times they had been at the river, but both she and Booth had been in the water yesterday, and their trainers would not yet have dried. Zack would be able to extract some of the water from them and use it to compare what he found on the rod.
"Booth," she looked at the agent who was now poking a large beetle inside a plastic cage, a look of intense dislike written across his face. "Booth," she said a little louder. "Hodgins will be really peed if you hurt Engelbert," he looked up at her a little disbelievingly.
"He named the beetle?" He said with a look halfway between disgust and confusion on his face.
She nodded, not wanting to get into a conversation about Hodgins and his strange pets. "I need your trainers from yesterday. The ones you were wearing when we were in the river," she recalled what had actually happened in the river, the memory causing her skin to shiver.
"I left them in your office," he said, now distracted from the large bug.
"I need them," she said, unsmiling, not wanting him to know that their activities in the water still affected her.
"I'll go get them," he headed off. She watched him go, looking at how his trousers hung on him, and the way his muscles moved under his shirt.
Booth returned with the trainers, handing them to her. "I'm sorry, Bones, they smell pretty bad," he apologised. "I should have put them in the washer."
"I'm glad you didn't," she took the trainers over to Zack, who was watching with greatintentas evaporation steamed a plastic box.
"Here's the comparison," Brennan handed over one of the trainers. Zack examined it and scrunched up his nose.
"This is Agent Booth's?" He said, feeling inside the shoe and pressing down on the sole.
Brennan nodded. "Booth, have you been wading through any other beds of water in these shoes?" She called to him. Booth was stood a few stepped away, one arm casually resting on a table, regarding what they were doing with some amusement.
"They've only been worn at the gym," he replied. "What is it you're doing?"
"Seeing if the fishing rod has been used in the Huyana," Brennan replied.
Booth nodded, looking as if he was falling back into deep thought. "We need to go back to the river, Bones," he said, after a minute or two of silence. Brennan knew that he had been watching her continually, feeling his eyes burning on her. She had almost enjoyed the attention, moving her hips a little more than she would do normally. When she next glanced at him she noticed the smallest grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "Can Zack manage this on his own?"
"Sure Agent Booth – I've written part of a dissertation on this. I have the samples now – I just need to compare them. I should have the results in a few minutes," Zack replied, looking at Booth with a touch of awe. Brennan wished that Booth would actually spend a little time with Zack; sometimes she thought that her protégée was in need of the types of guidance that she couldn't give, and knew that Hodgins would do more harm than good.
"Then, Bones, we need to get our sweet asses back down to that river," he announced.
"I'll get changed," she said, having no intentions of doing any wading in the dress pants and shirt that she was currently wearing.
Booth nodded. "I think I'll join you," she looked at him, a little shocked – did he mean join her in getting changed in the same room, or just that he was going to put in something more casual too?
"I'm getting this suit off," he smiled, his pupils dilating. "I could do that in your office, and you know, give you a hand with a few buttons?" He winked, clearly enjoying the embarrassment he was causing her.
For a moment she considered calling his bluff, and agreeing, but knowing Booth he would simply follow through, and although the idea wasn't as unappealing as it might have once been, they had a job to do, and that situation would definitely delay things.
She looked at Zack, who was completely oblivious now he was examining samples down his microscope, and hadn't particularly been paying attention to her or Booth. "Maybe another time, Booth," she responded, surprising him by not just walking off and ignoring him.
"I'll look forward to it," he uttered back, and she felt as if someone had just attached her to the mains.
She scuttled to her office, knowing that she had an old pair of casual trousers and a shirt there that she would sometimes use for anything that was guaranteed to be messy. She heard a tap at her door; pulling her top on quickly, expecting it to be Booth, she opened it to find Angela stood there, eyebrows raised.
"You… Booth? You got something to tell me, Bren?" Angela said, slamming the door behind her, having obviously heard the interchange between her and Booth.
"Ange… We're in a bit of a rush," Brennan flustered.
"So talk as you're getting your kit together," she said, walking over to Brennan's desk and beginning to pack the items that she knew Brennan generally took with her on an excavation, and would take with her today, in case they were needed.
"I don't know what you mean – me and Booth – there's nothing going on," Brennan defended.
"I heard you downstairs. Zack may be completely oblivious, but I am not, sweetie. And that wasn't just serious sexual tension, that was flirting. From you as well as him," she handed the packed bag out to Brennan who had just finished tying up her laces.
"Maybe we're going too far. I'm sure it's only a joke, but obviously it's getting unprofessional…" Brennan looked confused.
Angela sighed. "I think the problem is that you're not going far enough," she eyed Brennan with some knowing. "You need to get it out of your system… I know you have a problem with him having a girlfriend, but I swear I saw Tessa out with another man on Saturday, and they looked a little too cosy to be just friends…"
"Booth and Tessa split up," Brennan told her, only giving Angela half of her attention as she checked the kit, adding a couple of items to it.
"And you have left it till now to tell me? Sweetie, I need details like this! They give me something else to think about instead of missing children and dead bodies," she rebuked.
"I promise I'll tell you later," Brennan said, not really thinking about what she was letting herself in for. "I have to go. Booth will be mad I've kept him waiting."
Angela nodded, squeezing her lips together. "And this time, Bren, if he gives you that look where he's going to kiss you, let him."
Brennan gave her a glare.
----------------------
Booth watched as she came toward him, dressed casually, in clothes he would never have imagined her wearing. Her hair was now tied up without having been styled and a few locks fell down at the sides of her face. She still wore her trademark chunky jewellery, large drop earrings with a coin like metal thing at the bottom, and a matching pendant on a thin piece of black material. Her usually pale skin had caught the sun and she had a healthy hue to her skin. He realised that he was looking at her a little too much and tried to divert his eyes before Angela noticed, but he found that he didn't want to look away enough. He suddenly thought of Tessa, and realised that he had never looked at her the way he was now admiring Brennan. Tessa had been gorgeous and a nice enough person, but they had never had the instant chemistry that he and Bones had, neither had he had the same feelings for Tessa that he was now experiencing for his partner. Was he in love with her? He knew it was a possibility, but one that he didn't want to consider too much as even the idea of it had the possibility of consuming him.
"Ready?" He asked her as she stood next to him. She nodded. He held his hand out to take hold of the bag she was carrying.
"I can manage, Booth," she said.
He decided not to back down on this one. "Bones, I have stronger arms than you. That bag looks heavy. Let me take it to the car," he insisted, not letting his voice get angry.
"I have carried far more than this much longer distances…" she began the spiel.
"I know. You have nothing to prove. Just let me be the man for once and do something for you!" He battled. She practically threw the bag at him. He smiled. Victory at last.
The heat hit them like a truck as they left the Jeffersonian, both him and Bones immediately putting on their sunglasses and heading slowly to the car. The pavements were dusty and dehydrated, the sun blaring and bright. He half looked forward to their excursion by the river, at least it would be slightly cooler there, shaded by the trees, although he had the sneaking feeling that there would be a few more discoveries made that afternoon.
Bones' phone rand as they got to his car.
"Brennan," she answered. "Zack? The same. Good. I think someone will be over to test for finger prints. He did? That's interesting. Tell Hodgins to call me when he works out the timeline." She hung up and looked at him. "Hodgins had a look at the fishing rod and found some old eggs from corixids that would place the time that the rod was last used. I though it might give us an idea of who the rod could have belonged to, maybe."
Booth nodded. "It would be a long shot – maybe they left it and then bought a new one. We could see if anyone in the school has bought arod recently. It might not even belong to the murderer, though," he felt a little pessimistic. He wondered how David was managing, cooped up indoors, probably somewhere that was now uncomfortably hot, maybe thirsty and hungry. If his captor did not give him water then he may not have too long left in this heat. Booth put his foot down and drove, exchanging theories with Bones about the rod and its connection to the river. Zack had determined that the rod had last been used in the same water where Booth's trainers had been, so there did seem to be a connection that needed to be followed up. It was the only clear lead so far, although it was still tainted by maybes, ifs and buts.
He parked half a mile from the river in a car park that was generally used by the fisherman as it there was a path from it that led straight to the mile and a half of riverbank that was notorious as a good fishing spot. Sweat streamed down his brow and he wondered how long it would be before the weather broke and there would be storms again. The humidity was painfully high, and he debated if he could manage a quick dip in the water to cool down.
They walked through the trees that at least provided some shade, the branches and leaves completely still in the airless day. It was almost silent apart from their feet crunching over dead leaves and bark; all the animals and birds seemed to have had the sense to stay still, not exerting themselves. As they approached the river he saw the figures of two or three fishermen, patiently waiting for a bite in the heat of the sun. One looked to have fallen asleep; something that Booth could imagine himself doing. A vision of him lay on a picnic blanket; Bones beside him, sunbathing in a peaceful field crept into his mind. He gave her a swift look, wondering if their relationship would every have another layer beside the one labelled 'professional'.
"No one would guess what we were here to do," he said quietly as they followed the river along, now out of earshot of the fishermen. "If they saw us they would just think we were going for a romantic stroll in the afternoon," he grinned at her, wondering if she'd take the bait.
"Really, Booth," she replied, her attention elsewhere. He looked at what was holding her stare and saw an old, boarded up hut, set a little way back from the river bank and almost hidden by undergrowth and trees. He immediately deviated off the path and began to fight his way through the thick, dense bushes that were impinging their way, taking care not to let any of the branches spring back from his hand and hit Bones who was right behind him.
It was a struggle to get to the hut from the river, enough of a hardship to make Booth wonder if anyone had actually been near the hut in the last ten years. Ivy had clung to the wood of the small building, covering the glass pane that had been used for a window. Nettles lined the path up to the entrance, butterflies floating round them, giving an eerie contrast of the wonders of nature and the cold, haunting feeling of a derelict building. He stood, looking at the surrounding and waited for Brennan to catch him up; she had fallen a few steps behind and then stopped. He heard her footsteps and turned round. She was holding a scrap of material, wearing one of the latex gloves that she had stuffed in her pocket before.
"This looks like it's from a child's t-shirt," she said. "The colours on it," she clarified. He looked at the small piece of cloth and felt inclined to agree with her.
"You need something from you kit?" He asked, still holding her bag. She nodded. He took out one of the small evidence bags and she carefully put it in and sealed it, writing where it was found on the label and what the bag specifically contained.
She stood up after crouching down to write and looked at the hut. "It doesn't look like there's been anyone here recently," she said, frowning.
"I disagree," he grinned, knowing he was right. "Look at the nettles on the path – a few have been trampled down. And there's a sweet paper there that doesn't look weather worn or rained on. Its colours haven't faded."
She took another evidence bag out of her kit and collected the sweet wrapper. Booth began to scan round the hut, keeping his ears open for any sign of life, or any footsteps other than Bones' approaching. "Bones!" He called. She came running quickly around the side of the hut to where he was, almost falling into him. She braced herself against him, stopping with a jolt and he found his arms casually going round her, almost to hold her up. He didn't register that he was touching her, and that she had made no attempt to move away from him, his attention was to busy being occupied by the trampled down path that led from the back of the hut, through a field of tall weeds that had grown rapidly with the impact of all the rain and hot sun.
"This is recent," she said, looking at he same thing. Moving away from him she approached the trampled down weeds and began to study the soil. "There's an extra foot print here," she called. Booth came over.
"I'll give Cullen a ring and have him deploy some crime scene investigators. They'll be able to take impressions of the prints, and we can use it to compare against any suspects we might eventually get," he said.
"We've nothing to tie this place to David or Thomas yet," she said in frustration.
"We have," he argued back. "My instinct."
"That won't stand up in court, Booth," she responded. He began to move around to the other side of the hut, tearing his shirt on a thorny shrub that was stuck in his path. "Watch that," he said to Bones behind him.
The nettle stings he incurred when making his way to the door of the hut reminded him of his childhood. He heard a noise from behind and saw Bones bending down, pulling up leaves. He gave her a puzzled look.
"Dock leaves," she said as if was the answer to the why of the universe. She sighed as if he was stupid. "They contain an alkali that will neutralise the acid of the nettle sting."
"I know what dock leaves do, Bones, I just wondered why you were getting them?" He said, amused.
"You've got nettle rash coming up on your arms from where you've been stung," she said. "If I rub these on then it won't irritate you so much."
He grinned at her, ignoring the temptation to ask if they could cure the irritation that she caused. She was looking at him with concern in her eyes and he wondered exactly how much she would hit him if he reached over to her and pulled him to her for a kiss. He liked the idea that she was looking out for him. "I'm a big boy, Bones, I can look after myself," he said with a sarcastic laugh, wanting to hide what he was really thinking.
She stood up, still holding the dock leaves. "I'm aware of that, Booth," she said with a biting tone to her voice. "I'm just trying to help you out, like you were with my bag that you're still carrying." He nodded at her, taking her point, liking that she had made it, and what it implicated. His eyes locked with hers and he wished that they were anywhere but here, with all the time in the world available to play out these feelings that they were both obviously having.
He pulled himself away and looked at the door. Old, wooden, and looking extremely vulnerable, it had been fitted with a new lock. He tapped it with his fingers, the sound more solid than he expected. "This has been reinforced," he said glancing at Bones who still held the dock leaves. He took a couple of steps back and leapt at it, kicking it with some force. The outer wood cracked, but his foot hit another wall of wood, this time not weathered and quite solid. He kicked it again and a third time, feeling it weaken. Splinters injected themselves into his leg and he grimaced with the pain.
"You okay?" Bones asked. Booth nodded, backing up further and running up at the door. This time it flung open, revealing a small dingy hideout, flies buzzing at the ivy covered windows, trying to get out. The small room smelt of waste, and he noticed a bucket in a corner than someone had defecated in. There was a little table and a camping stove, with a small canister of gas, like the fishermen would use. On the table was a tackle box. He lifted up part of the lid and saw a few maggots swarming about, some had already metamorphed into puparia, and one had actually transformed into a fly, escaping out of the box. "Present for Hodgins," Booth uttered.
"He'll be thrilled," Brennan said, hearing him.
"You're not being sarcastic are you?" He responded. She shook her head. He rolled his eyes.
"He'll be able to give you a good idea of when that box was left there." She was fixated with something under the table, using a flashlight from her kit to light the scene. Even with the light creeping in from the door the hut was still like something from a horror movie, dark, dusty and too quiet.
"Booth!" She drew his name out as she called him. He bobbed down and looked under the table. A t-shirt lay there, a hole in one arm. He could just about make out the batman emblem on the lapel, the same as what David Matthieson's parents had described as what he'd been wearing the night he'd been missing. "And here," she pointed to one of the table legs where a scrape of material was tied, roughly cut at its ends. "He was tied up to the leg of the table," she summarized, her eyes checking out the world at child's height.
"There's no blood," Booth said, shining a torch around. "He's still alive."
Bones stood up suddenly, looking at a cupboard that was covered with dust, a few old bottles sat there. "We aren't certain of the cause of death, Booth. There may have been no blood shed." He watched as she looked at the bottles, deep concentration on her face.
"Booth," she whispered. "I need to get these things out of here."
"What are they," as he stood up the brightening of the sunlight through the door highlighted a dark patch in the wooden floor.
"I think I've got an idea for cause of death," she said, putting one of the bottles back down. "If they are what I think they are then they are lethal and can't be inhaled."
"Those things?" He asked in surprise, looking at the containers.
She nodded. "What's that on the floor near you?" She asked, leaving the bottle on the cupboard.
"It's a stain and it looks fairly recent," he said, crouching down near it, putting his nose close. "Smells like vomit." She copied his actions and nodded. "We need the crime scene people in here. They need to swab that," she pointed to the stain, "and take those bottles back to the lab."
Booth reached for his phone. "No reception," he said, pocketing it. "Let's secure this place and head a little further down the river. I know there's a phone mast if we travel east, so I should be able to make a call when we get close. We know David had definitely been held there."
"We also know that that the killer may have held Thomas for some time before killing him. Don't give up hope, Booth, we will find David well," Brennan moved over to him, pulling up the short sleeve of his t-shirt and taking the dock leaves out of the pocket where she had put them and gently rubbing his skin with them. The itching he had been suffering in silence began to cease and those thirty seconds of having Brennan close and touching him contrasted greatly with the dim and dingy hut they were in.
They walked out of the small building, the bright afternoon sun blinding them, the trees and tall weeds shakily slightly in the rippling breeze that Booth thought hinted at a storm brewing. He felt a familiar sense of urgency as he thought of David held up in some place like the hut with thunder and lightning warring in the sky, and his resolved to find the boy doubled.
"You're limping," he heard Bones say as they started walking once he had done what he could to patch up the entrance to the hut. He hoped they wouldn't be gone long, and as the place wasn't clearly visible from the river banks he doubted that any stranger would wander in to it, and the perp on seeing it disturbed would probably run a mile.
"I've got splinters in my leg from kicking down the door," he confessed.
"I should look at them," she said worriedly. "I have a first aid kit in my bag," she nodded to the bag that he was carrying again.
He shook his head. "In a bit, Bones. We have to get the forensics people in here quick. What is that stuff you found, and how can it relate to the cause of death?" he wanted to take her mind off his leg, knowing that she would carry on with it otherwise until she could get her tweezers and antiseptic and make it hurt more than it was doing now.
"I'm not sure until I can check it out at the lab, but I think it's a form of poison," she told him. "It looks like salt but with the containers its in, and the fact that I can't see a logical reason to have that much salt in a fishing hut – which is what I assume that used to be – I think Thomas Dyer was poisoned."
"Wouldn't there have been a trace of the poison in the bones, or what little skin and hair there was left on the body?" Booth asked.
Bones shook her head. "Some poisons don't leave a trace. There's a few I can think of that looks like salt and don't leave any form of themselves behind, but I need to get the jars back to the lab before I can give you a name."
"Wouldn't they be hard to come by?" Booth asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.
Bones shook her head. "A lot of lethal poisons have been used in every day things, until they were banned. Those every day things may still be available in someone's garage, or a cleaning stock somehwhere."
Booth nodded, "Like a school," he answered,checking his phone to see if he had reception yet. No luck. He heard the peaceful sound of the river trickling as they walked by it, the sunlight colouring the sky blue and a few clouds now collecting on the horizon. He watched Bones as she walked slightly in front of him on the narrow path, her hair escaping the tie she had secured it in earlier. They had been walking maybe twenty minutes when she stopped suddenly and he almost walked into the back of her.
"Bones?" he queried.
"Over there," she pointed, leading his eyes to what had caught her attention.
A bird flew up, a dark silhouette in the sky, calling out across the still silence. Soon that silence would be broken by much more than a bird.
Have I said how much I love reviews? Plenty of you have read the previous chapter, but not too many of you told me what you thought? I like to know - it helps me get better at writingand it motivates me - keeps me away from staring at pictures of Danny Messer... Sigh
Thank you to all those who do review, you people rock, and I hope you all have special dreams about you're very favourite person. I hear the Sandman's doing deals on Booth tonight...
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