A/N: Sorry this took so long. I've been watching the news too much lately, a friend of mine works at Virginia Tech. He's safe, I'm relieved. And now, as promised, we are back to solving the case. I'm gonna dedicate this chapter to my cousin J who is in the Middle East trying to keep safe. Without further ado, here's Temperance making the bastards out there unsafe with a little help from Booth…
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. Just in case anyone wanted to fight me for them.
Chapter 15 The Case Continues (Monday)
On Monday morning the Booth family again took separate paths. The boys to school. Booth to the office. Temperance to the lab. Booth was quick to contact the Richmond doctor who'd done the breast implant surgery on the second victim. He called Temperance with the news.
"It's the teacher. Doctor's record and serial ID confirms it."
"Right. So, we're heading back to Lynchburg?"
"Yeah, as soon as I set up some interviews and pick you guys up. Can you spare Zack? I'd like him to do to recovery at the victim's house. It'll save us a few hours."
"Sure, he worked on the body over the weekend so we're pretty much done here."
"Pick you up in an hour?"
"Sure. We'll be ready. Love you."
"Love you too, Tempe." He hung up the phone, anticipating the long drive south with a grimace. At least I can keep an eye on Bones.
Two hours later the black SUV sped toward Lynchburg. Temperance was engrossed in the case file, reviewing Zack's findings.
"Did Cam get the results from the pathology tests yet?"
"No, Dr. Brennan. She sent them upstairs on Saturday but the machines were being recalibrated this weekend. The backlog wasn't extensive so we should have results soon."
"Cause of death for the second victim was strangulation. What about the markings we found on the occipital bone?" Temperance held out the magnified photo of the bone to the young scientist.
"Indicates the victim was struck with a blunt object which grazed her skull, possibly hard enough to render her unconscious. Cam found no evidence of defensive wounds. The victim was probably unconscious when she was strangled. The hyoid bone showed the usual stress fractures and the flesh--what was left of it--showed extensive damage."
"Was there any evidence animals disturbed the body?" Booth asked quickly.
"No. It's possible the body decomp advanced due to postmortem mutilation. Cuts on ribs six through eleven indicate a small knife was used. Hodgins should have the time of death soon."
"I'll want to see the bones in question when we get back, but good work Zack."
"Thank you, Dr. Brennan."
"Zack?" Booth questioned, knowing his partner's questions had been momentarily satisfied.
"Yes?"
"How was your date?"
"It went… well. After dinner we worked in the lab and Katie observed the bone cleaning process and reconstruction."
"Zack! I thought we talked about this. Don't spend all your time talking about work."
"We didn't. But she really wanted to know more about the process. She's working on the weapon used on the victim's skull now and thinks she can estimate the killer's height and weight based on the damage to the C-3 vertebrae."
"That's great Zack," interjected Temperance. Booth rolled his eyes playfully, fully intending on reminding Zack later to take the girl on a real date, away from skeletons.
Zack began the recovery process at the victim's home, working with local agents again. It's simply amazing, he thought with a groan, how one backwards cop can destroy a scene when left unsupervised. Zack set to work collecting samples from carpets and furniture to compare to the fibers at the lab. The living room appeared to be the site where the victim had been killed. The recliner, to be precise. Zack photographed the scene, including the bloody footprints that led to the kitchen. The killer's shoes or the police? Zack frowned, Booth will not like this.
Meanwhile, across town, Temperance stood next to her husband as he knocked on the door of a large Victorian home in the downtown district. The door opened, revealing an unkempt man in his mid-forties.
"Mr. Beavers?" Booth asked the man standing in the doorway, who nodded. "I'm Agent Booth with the FBI, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan Booth from the Jeffersonian Institute. May we come in?" Again the man nodded slowly, opening the door to permit them entry into the tastefully decorated but untidy home.
"We're sorry to have to tell you but we've identified the body found last week dumped at the cemetery as your sister, Mary." The man stared at the pair with blank eyes, his face conveying no emotion.
"How?" The single word was Temperance's clue.
"We believe she was strangled. Did your sister have any enemies?" Booth barely controlled his beaming pride as he witnessed the exchange, knowing firsthand how much better she'd become dealing with the victim's families.
"No. She worked at the school and came here to help out with mother. No enemies that I knew of."
"Your mother?" Booth's voice trailed, hoping an interview with the mother would yield more insight.
"Yeah, mother's got Alzheimer's. Mary would come and help out on the weekends, whenever she could. She has a room upstairs." He jerked his head toward the stairs without fanfare. "Don't come down much anymore." (A/N: the guy's bad grammar, not mine.)
"I'm sorry to hear that." Booth knew the interview wouldn't yield anything productive. Soon they took their leave, promising to contact him when the body was released for burial.
Temperance was quiet as they drove to the college. Frustrated with the lack of leads, Booth began to formulate possible scenarios.
"Maybe it's a serial killer. Chooses victims at random. Financial records showed the first victim was in the area the day before she died."
"Aside from the victim's postmortem burial nothing matches. The first victim was struck with a blunt object and tortured before she died. Buried 400 miles north of the second victim who was strangled and mutilated after death. It doesn't match."
"We could be looking at a copycat," Booth knew it was a stretch but he wanted something, some lead to follow. Temperance understood his dissatisfaction immediately, having felt them many times herself. She reached for his hand and spoke in her most soothing tone,
"Hodgins will have the time of death and particulate analysis soon, he'll find something." Booth smiled at her gratefully as the pulled into the campus.
As they walking toward the large administration building Booth heard someone call out,
"Hey! Hey! You can't park there, it's restricted!" The Booths turned to find a short boy, who looked to be around fifteen years old, running toward them shouting his accusations and waving a pad of paper. His bright yellow jacket proclaimed him as one of the school's official parking lot attendants.
"It's fine, kid. We're here on official—"
"No, it's not okay!" The boy screeched, causing Temperance to grin at her husband who sputtered his response angrily.
"Kid! We are here on official FBI business." Booth flashed his badge and pulled back his jacket to reveal his gun. The attendant's eyes widened considerably. "Now you," he motioned with a nod, "get back to your 'patrol', and make sure no one messes with my car." Booth glared at the boy's back before reaching for Temperance's hand and leading her inside.
"That was mean, Booth," she protested softly. He gave her a small grin.
"Just wanted to protect my favorite anthropologist from the big, bad parking lot attendant." Temperance stifled a giggle as they came to the dean's office, recalling their mission.
"So, Dean O'Dell, even though Miss Beavers missed two classes last week no one reported anything usual?" The Dean glared at Temperance.
"The week before last was Spring Break. Many of our professors are involved in charitable events, trips overseas, and the like. When Mary did not return we assumed her flight was delayed a bit."
"And when she didn't show up for Thursday classes?" Booth pressed, unyielding.
"The students did not report it to the other faculty. They simply took the time to catch up on their studies."
"So they ditched class when the teacher didn't come and still no one noticed she had not come in for office hours, staff meetings?" Now the glare was directed at Booth.
"No, Agent Booth. No one noticed. Mary kept… odd hours. Most times she talked with her students in the cafeteria, on the lawn, in the coffee shop. And I cancelled the staff meeting this week."
"Very well, thank you for your time, Dean. We need to speak to Miss Beaver's teaching assistants, students, and fellow professors. We'll be in touch if we have more questions."
Three hours and twelve interviews later, they left the campus to pick up Zack and drove in the dark, reviewing the facts of the case as they approached Washington. Temperance had samples from the victim's undisturbed office, doubting they would yield anything useful.
A/N: To anyone who has ever had one of these annoying parking lot people try to chase you down and give you a meaningless ticket, you have my sympathy.
Katherine's note: I'm betaing this at 4:18 in the morning. Y'all better feel seriously loved.