Disclaimer: I haven't had one of these in a while, so in case you forgot...I don't own Bones. If I did, I wouldn't be spending every waking moment at work, suffering through the rudeness of strangers, praying for closing time and a raise so I can afford to go to college :-)
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to update, I've been ridiculously busy for the past few days. Thanks for all the reviews to the last chapter, I always love to get feedback. I'll try to review faster, I promise, but, for now, here's chapter fifteen...
Booth returned to the makeshift lab to find his squints still steadily working. Bones was once again reviewing the corpse on the table in front of her as Hodgins sat in the corner calling out facts about the dirt that were meaningless to Booth, but that seemed to be important to Bones, who was nodding and somehow relating the information to the former person who was now dead in front of her. Angela was hunched over a table as well, going through stacks of files and staring closely at pictures, looking for a match. Booth smiled. He had to admit, he had grown quite fond of the little group.
"She's not here," Angela said in frustration, tossing a file onto the desk. "I've looked through everything we have, and she isn't here." She ran an annoyed hand through her hair.
Bones rested her hands on the table for support as she shifted into a mildly relaxed looking stance, her eyes still glued to the bones. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "She has to be here. It doesn't make any sense."
Hodgins was still staring at miniscule pieces of dirt through a microscope when he spoke. "She might not even be connected to the other bones."
Booth dropped the stack of files onto the table. "She's connected."
Temperance looked up. "We don't know that."
"Oh, come on, Bones. You said yourself that some of the injuries were similar to the other bones, she was disposed of in a similar way…"
"She was beaten and partially buried. As far as murders go, that's not uncommon; it doesn't necessarily mean that she was killed by the same person as the other victims," Temperance replied.
Booth sighed. "Fine, I'll give you that, but what about the fact that we can't find a file on her?"
Temperance sighed. "What does that prove?"
"She didn't go missing on Chincoteague. It wasn't reported," Booth answered, looking triumphant.
"Just because it wasn't reported to authorities doesn't mean she didn't go missing from here. If she was killed by someone who was intimately connected to her, they might not have reported her disappearance; it would be far easier to tell people that she had simply taken off," Temperance answered.
"What are the odds of that happening?" Angela asked.
"Slim to none. Sorry, Dr. Brennan, as much as it pains me, I think Booth has something here," Hodgins commented from the corner.
"In fact, the fact that we don't have a file on her backs up my theory," Booth added.
Temperance looked at him. "How?"
Booth shrugged slightly. "It fits the profile. Lindsey Barron was from Pennsylvania. She never had a connection to Chincoteague, but she was found here. I have a feeling if we poke around a little bit, we may find that the same is true for this girl."
"You and your feelings," Temperance mumbled as she looked back at the bones.
"I've found that acting on my feelings can lead to positive results," Booth comment with a small smirk.
Temperance shot him a quick warning glance. She sighed. "Check the FBI records, see if we can get a hit on the face," she conceded.
Booth smiled. "Okay, any particular region of the country you want to begin in?"
Temperance bit her lip again, surveying the bones. "Anything that's a day's drive or less from Chincoteague," she answered.
Angela, who had been watching the exchange with a smile on her face, cut in at this point. "That's a great idea, but unfortunately we can't do that tonight."
Booth and Temperance both looked at her. "Why not?" Booth asked.
"It's Wednesday. In case you forgot, we have dinner plans tonight," Angela answered.
Tempe glanced at her watch and gave herself a mental head slap. Dinner with the Ribalds; she had completely forgotten; it was nearly 5:30. "What time are we supposed to meet them?"
Angela was already gathering her things. "6:30. C'mon, as much fun as this is, we have to go."
The other three nodded reluctantly, and prepared to leave for dinner.
They arrived at the Ribald's home at 6:25, which was located directly beside the coffeehouse. The Ribalds greeted the four warmly, and quickly invited them all inside. They reclined in the living room with glasses of wine a few minutes later, spending some time getting to know one another before dinner was ready.
The house was sparsely decorated and fairly modern. Abstract paintings hung about on the walls, works done by Kate, no doubt, and the furniture and other decorative touches mirrored items found in the shop. There was excellent use of color, reflecting Kate's artist's eye, and while the house seemed clean and orderly, it was strangely cold. Angela noted, as she looked around, that despite the fact that Kate and Charlie were grandparents, as was evidenced by the conversation and photographs sprinkled throughout the room, there was no homey feel to the house. She couldn't imagine children laughing here, or climbing on the couch, or baking cookies on Saturday afternoons while their parents were running errands. She noted that Charlie and Kate had a similar air about them; she couldn't imagine anyone calling them "Grandma" or "Granddad", they seemed too orderly, to together.
They sat down for dinner a short while later, where Tempe, Booth, Hodgins, and Angela talked and listened to Kate and Charlie, exchanging life stories, and learning about one another.
It came out in the conversation that Kate and Charlie had no children together. They both were parents from previous marriages, but they were divorced, Charlie twice and Kate once, and they had married one another when they were in their late forties. Both had had their children young, so they were basically grown by the time the marriage came about. Charlie had two sons, Kate had two daughters. Angela asked how the two had met, and the three squints and one FBI agent then learned that Charlie had once been married to Kate's best friend. Although the Ribalds didn't go into detail, the four filled in the gaps.
Hodgins watched the couple with interest. They were both rather aloof, however they both seemed to be truly invested in the dinner conversation and sincerely interested in speaking to their dinner guests. They didn't seem fake, just…different. It was something Hodgins was having a hard time defining. The conversation eventually came to the coffeehouse, and the dinner guests commented on how they had grown addicted to the richly brewed drug. Booth asked about the employees, and soon learned that the two girls who always seemed to be working were related to one another. They were first cousins, however, since they went to college practically on opposite sides of the country, working together in the summers was practically the only time they saw one another. They had been raise nearby, and each was attached to a boyfriend; the blond who took orders was dating a boy who was studying to be a doctor, and the brunette was a surfer girl who was dating a boy who was studying to be an environmental scientist. Hodgins smiled, as did Temperance, and somehow they felt affirmed: scientists were sexy.
The Riblads spoke to Temperance with great interest, asking where she got the inspiration for her books, and Temperance answered honestly in her usual self-depreciatingly humble way. She didn't see the talent in her books; to her, it was just a side income.
By the time 10:30 rolled around, the six were done with dinner, but were still sitting at the table, talking. They had all spoken so much that it was as if they had known each other all their lives. The Ribalds, it turned out, had lived in many different locations around the country. They currently owned houses in Portland, Chincoteague, and a loft in Mexico, however they had previously lived in places such as Seattle, New York, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Annapolis, and Chicago. It was an impressive track record; it was obvious that the Ribalds were very comfortable financially.
By 12:30, the conversation lagged. Temperance found her mind being dragged back toward the case, and, as if on cue, the Ribalds inquired as to how it was going. The four responded that it was going very well, though they were careful to be vague on the details.
Soon, Booth noticed Hodgins eyes beginning to droop, and so the four thanked their hosts and prepared to leave.
"I hope you'll come see us again, Tempe," Kate had said, her hand grasping Temperance's upper arm. Her eye stared directly into Temperance's as she spoke. "It was wonderful meeting you tonight."
Temperance looked back at the woman as Charlie walked up and draped his arm around his wife's shoulders. It was a casual gesture, but something about it seemed strange to Temperance. "Yes," Charlie added, also looking intently at Temperance. "We'd love to see you again."
Temperance smiled in response. "Thank you," she answered, carefully extracting her arm. "You have a lovely home. It was a pleasure."
The Ribalds smiled back at her. The other three gave similar goodbyes, and they left soon after, headed back to what had become their temporary home.
Hodgins and Angela had headed straight to their hotel room when they got back, and Temperance and Booth did the same, saying quick goodbyes to one another as they parted. After arriving back in the room, Temperance found her thoughts returning to the case, and to the strange goodbye the Ribalds had given her. She wasn't usually good at reading people, but she knew that something about the exchange had felt odd.
Booth had other things on his mind when they walked into the hotel room. Temperance dropped into a chair at the table in the corner, and was soon looking though a few of the files that still lay scattered on the table. Booth walked up behind her and carefully placed his hands on her shoulders.
"I don't understand, Booth," she said, her face pensive.
He knelt down behind her, his head level with her shoulder. He gently pushed her hair aside and leaned close to her ear when he spoke. "Don't understand what?"
His breath danced on her ear and neck and made her tingle. Her eyes dropped closed practically of their own accord. "The case," she murmured, trying to bring her thoughts back.
"We can work on the case tomorrow," Booth said quietly, placing a kiss below her ear and on her cheek.
"Why these victims? What's the connection?" Temperance mused, willing her eyes open.
Booth stood and spun her chair around so she was facing him before kneeling down again, in front of her. "Bones, we can work on that later."
He leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back, but broke the contact when she felt her control slipping. Booth sighed. "You're not going to forget about this tonight, are you?"
She sighed. "It doesn't make sense."
He nodded, standing, and dropped into the chair opposite her at the table. "Okay, then we'll work on this."
She stared at him. "Really?"
He smiled. "Really. I want to be with you; if that means working on the case all night, than that's what we'll do."
His eyes made her melt inside, and she suddenly felt scared. Booth wasn't supposed to be able to make her feel this way. This was wrong. She grabbed a legal pad and pen that sat nearby and turned to a clean page, as Booth did the same. "Okay, what do we know?"
Booth clicked his pen. "We have one male victim, Vince, and four female victims, Lindsey, Tamara, and two unknowns."
"And one female with osteoporosis," Tempe added.
Booth nodded. "Excluding the osteoporosis bones, all victims were between the ages of 16 and 20. All were beaten."
Temperance bit the end of her pen after jotting down Booth's statements. "Two victims from Chincoteague, one from Pennsylvania, and two unknowns."
"You said all had indications of strangulation," Booth added.
"All had breakings in the pelvic region that were consistent with pressure as opposed to sudden contact or a quick blow."
"And you said the male bones had a fracture in the back of the head consistent with a blow from a person who was shorter than him," Booth said as he wrote. "How tall did you say he was?"
"Around 6'2" or 6'3"," Tempe answered.
Booth nodded. "So, even an average sized male would possibly be shorter than him."
"Or he could have been in an elevated position when the blow was delivered. If he was on some kind of platform, for example, the killer could have killed him while standing on the ground; there is no guarantee that the killer is naturally shorter, just that the blow came from below."
Booth was quiet for a beat. "Did you find evidence of sexual assault?"
"With the skeletal remains it's nearly impossible to say. However, with the girl from the golf course, though partially decomposed, had enough flesh to show that she had bruising in the vaginal region, which could easily suggest a sexual attack."
Booth spread the files on their identified victims out on the table. They began looking for common features.
"They all worked in a restaurant at some point," Temperance said.
Booth shook his head. "Lindsey didn't; she was a cashier in a department store."
"Physical features?"
"All different," Booth said.
"Religion? Race?"
"No, and no. You said the last unknown from the refuge was of African decent, and Vince was Jewish on his mother's side."
And so they worked through the night, looking for common threads, but only coming up with disconnected strings.
At 7:00 the next morning, Tempe and Booth were both asleep with their heads on the hotel room table, using their arms as pillows. Angela, who had somehow acquired Tempe's key, let herself into the room quietly. She was eager to catch Booth and Brennan in bed together so she could declare their relationship official. She groaned out loud when she saw them, still dressed from the night before, at the desk. She spun on her heel, leaving the room, and slammed the door behind her, which woke the sleeping pair up.
They didn't register what the sound was, and instead looked at each other with groggy eyes.
"Morning," Booth mumbled, his eyes only half opened.
Tempe's eyes were almost entirely closed. "Uh-huh."
They prepared for the day in a zombie like state, but eventually managed to wake up. They met Angela and Hodgins at eight, and the four headed back to NASA for another day of work.
"What if the killer lives here seasonally?" Hodgins commented around 10:30.
Angela responded. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Hodgins continued, "the soil indicates that the remains were buried near or in the summer. The killer might live somewhere else the rest of the year. That could explain the Pennsylvania bones. Maybe that's where he lives in the winter or something."
"He might not even live here seasonally," Temperance commented. "All we know is that he or she has come here multiple times. That does mean that he lives here."
The group stood quietly for a moment. "Okay, I'll say it," Angela said suddenly, breaking the silence. "What if Kate and Charlie Ribald are the killers?"
The group stared at her. Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, we were all thinking it. They've lived all over the place, including Pennsylvania, I might add. They've lived on Chincoteague for years, their residence here predates the timetable for the first body, and they still have houses all over the place that they live in at various times of the year. They're a logical choice."
Hodgins nodded eagerly. "The coffeehouse is just a cover. They're actually serial killers!"
"Easy on the conspiracies, Ace," Booth said, his eyes glued to the computer screen. "Just because they move around doesn't mean that they are murderers."
Temperance smiled. "Don't have a gut feeling about them?"
Booth still didn't look up from the screen. "No, I have a gut feeling about them. I think they might have done it; but a wise person once told me not to pass judgment until I had all the evidence." He smiled impishly at Bones, who flushed slightly and rolled her eyes. He dropped his eyes back to the screen. "And, speaking of all the information…"
The squints stared at him. "What?" Angela asked.
"Ladies and gentleman, meet our fourth victim. Sandra Hall, the girl behind the golf course."
The squints stared at the screen at the face of a young girl, 16 years of age, with dark brown hair and warm brown eyes. She was beautiful; her face showed youthful innocence and trust. Angela's eyes strayed to the table where her remains now lay. The innocence had been betrayed.
"Where was she from?" Hodgins asked.
Booth clicked a few quick keys. "Not to far from D.C. in Maryland. Near Annapolis and Baltimore."
"Annapolis…" Angela said.
Hodgins smiled smugly. "Hey, call me a conspiracy theorist, but didn't the Ribalds live there for a while?"
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