Thanks for all the reviews! Just 2 more and I'll hit double figures…(hint hint). Anyway, thanks to my mate Chaz for letting me use his name (I'm bad at names. And titles. And plots, really, this makes no sense. Hopefully it'll turn out OK.) So here goes.

CHAPTER 4:

Booth smacked the file down onto the table in front of her, causing the bone fragments Brennan had been examining to skip a few millimetres across the glass surface.

'Take a look at this!'

'Booth!' Brennan slapped him away, carefully re-adjusting the shards underneath her microscope. 'Can't it wait a few minutes?'

'No, it can't. Look at this.'

Brennan peeled off her latex gloves and switched off the microscope, pulling the file towards her across the surface. Flipping it open, she read a few lines and glanced up at Booth's expectant gaze.

'What is this?'

He didn't give her a direct answer, instead grabbed the file off her and flicked through the pages, stopping at a page near the end and handing over the folder with a flourish.

'Dr. Charles Clapham…' Brennan read, looking at the photograph attached to the right hand corner of the page. A young man stared solidly out at her, aged 27 from his birthday stamped next to the picture, unkempt brown hair tangling into dark, serious eyes. Something in the man's gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and she was relieved when Booth's voice broke the silence.

'He was the chief of surgery over at the hospital in DC, but there was an...incident a few years back.'

'What kind of incident?'

'A patient died in surgery; there was a huge court case. Nurses claiming Clapham was 'under the influence', family threatening to sue, the whole shabbang.'

'Was he?'

Booth shrugged. 'He won his case, but lost his job. And, apparently, his mind. He started hallucinating, yelling at neighbours...and bodies started appearing.'

Brennan gaped at him. 'Did he kill them?'

Booth shrugged, barely concealed anger blazing in his dark eyes. 'Most of the evidence the evidence pointed to him, but there was no solid proof, so he got away with it. He would kidnap kids, cut off body parts, hide them badly...'

'Like our murderer.' She completed. Booth nodded, grinning triumphantly. 'So let's go talk to him.'

'Great minds, Bones.'

'I don't know what that means…'

'...never mind.'

BBBBBBBBBB

'Charles Clapham?' Booth called, giving a sharp rap on the door of apartment 147. 'FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions...' There were some noises from inside the apartment, and Bones grabbed his arm.

'He's escaping!'

'We're on the 3rd floor, Bones…'

After a few seconds the door opened, and they saw the suspect, in the flesh, for the first time.

He looked very like he did in the photograph, apart from a few years older, and his hair was cut short, shorter than Booth's. Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, with a few days stubble on his chin, he regarded them suspiciously, almost warily.

'Can I help you?' The words weren't unfriendly, but not friendly either. His eyes flicked back and forth between them, like a bird of prey deciding its next victim, and Brennan felt that icy sensation creep along her back and make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She shivered, almost opened her mouth to answer, and realised with a start that Booth was already speaking. She missed the words exchanged, but Clapham stood back to let them enter his home, and she followed closely after Booth, casting her gaze around the small apartment.

It was sparse, the main room containing a fridge, a few cupboards and counters, a couple of armchairs arranged around a small TV. A bookcase stood in the corner opposite the door. A glance in the bedroom produced an unmade, single bed and a chest of drawers.

'What is this about?' Clapham demanded suspiciously, before Booth could, no doubt, crack some wise comment or other. Brennan opened the drawers in the chest one by one; they were almost empty except for a few changes of clothes.

'If you don't mind, we'd like to take you back to ask some questions.' Her partner replied, in a voice that meant he was going to, whether Clapham objected or not.