Weathering the Storm
Chapter 4: In Forest City
Their journey along the snow-packed highway in the middle of nowhere was slow and treacherous. When they finally passed a sign announcing the "Forest City Town Limits" Booth was as tired as if it was midnight instead of before noon. He pulled into the parking lot of a Shell Station with a tiny diner attached to it. Pulling up to the pump, he turned to Bones. She was staring longingly at the diner.
"Go on in while I fill up the tank. I want a humongous, extra-strong, burning-hot cup of coffee. Got it?"
"So do I."
The diner had one employee, a dark-haired lady with large green eyes, a no-nonsense expression, a crisp, blue apron and work-reddened hands. With strict efficiency she took their order, ran back into the kitchen, cooked it, brought them coffee and slapped the bill on their table all within fifteen minutes. Booth and Bones ate like refugees. She watched them from the counter, amazed.
"Where did you two come from? Nothing's moving in or out of town. There's a big wreck blocking the road north of here. The sheriff was in earlier telling me all about it."
"North of here? You mean the road to DC is blocked?"
"Looks that way. Are you two from DC then?" Her face was alight with curiosity. "You must have come in yesterday. Ain't nobody been through on the road since late last night when that big pile-up happened. Sheriff closed the highway in both directions."
"We were heading in from the coast and we got stuck in the storm last night. We had to spend the night in the car."
"You poor things. No wonder you're both eating like you're starving to death. How about some pancakes on the house?"
"Yes," Booth exclaimed at the same moment as Bones said, "No, thank you." The cook ignored her and turned to Booth.
"Pancakes it is, honey." She disappeared into the kitchen. Bones pushed back from the table and gave him a disbelieving look.
"Pancakes? How can you eat anything else?"
"There's always room for pancakes." Booth grinned like a little boy. Bones couldn't hold back a giggle. Booth sat back and sighed loudly. He didn't appear to have room for pancakes, but Bones was confident he would manage to pack them in. When they'd first sat down, they'd both been ravenous, after all. She sipped on her mug of coffee and closed her eyes, thinking through their situation.
"If the road is blocked, we're still stuck here, Booth," she said. "We need to ask that Sheriff how long it will be before the road opens. In the meantime, I wonder if there's a way I can connect to the internet and talk to Cam. They must be wondering what happened to us by now. I just checked my cell phone and I don't have reception here, either. How can a town this size not have cell coverage?"
"Here's your pancakes," the cook announced. She smiled at him, the first smile they'd seen from her since sitting down at the table. Booth grinned back, his brown eyes dancing. Bones resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Women of all ages had the hots for her handsome FBI partner. What she found most annoying was how much he enjoyed it.
"Ma'am—"
"Olivia," she corrected him.
"Olivia, then—I'm Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI. My partner here, Dr. Temperance Brennan, and I need access to the internet. And we were wondering where we can find good cell phone reception; we can't seem to call out from here. Can you help us out?"
She thought for a moment, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He made sure to smile attentively.
"Cell phone reception sort of comes and goes here in the diner. It's much better at the north end of town. As far as internet… we have wifi here." Her voice dropped to just above a whisper.
"I'm not really supposed to give out the code, but, you being FBI and all… here." She scribbled down a combination of numbers and letters on a table napkin. "Stay as long as you need to, and just holler if you need more coffee or anything."
"That's great. Thanks, Olivia—I owe you," he said in his official "I am irresistible" voice.
After Olivia returned to the kitchen, Bones glared at Booth.
"What?"
"You were flirting. She's old enough to be your mother."
"I was not flirting, and she is not that much older than me. Besides, she's a good-looking lady." Booth waited for her to take the bait.
"You're attracted to her?" Bones hissed.
Booth chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "You're jealous."
It took her a minute, but she flushed when she realized he was teasing her just so he could enjoy her reaction.
"You want me to be jealous," Bones pointed out. "Admit it."
"You are jealous. I'll get your laptop out of the car."
"I am not."
He had already jumped up and was gone, still laughing under his breath. He didn't know why he enjoyed flustering her, but he really did.
The link with the Jeffersonian took a few minutes to set up, but eventually they made contact and Cam's face was displayed on the screen. While Booth sipped his coffee he listened to Bones give her an update. They were both surprised to hear that the remains they'd sent back by special courier the morning before had not yet arrived. Cam was concerned, too.
"The Justice Department is breathing down my neck to get this case solved," Cam said. "I can't reach the courier responsible for transporting the remains, and this is the first I've heard from you two, as well. That storm must have been bad down there."
"It was, but it's over now. We just heard there's a multi-vehicle accident blocking the highway out of here, so it looks like we're stuck here for the time being. I am sending you the field notes from my examination of the remains right now." Bones hit the "send files" button.
"Got it and I'm opening the file. Uh huh," she murmured. "This looks great, Dr. Brennan. We'll get started on analyzing your report right away. Let me see," she continued, still reading the report she had just received. "Brennan, is this correct? If it is, these remains can't be the congressional aide."
"Well of course it's correct," Bones said haughtily. "And I concur: we haven't found the congressional aide yet. This person was female, twenty-something and about five-two or five-three."
"This case isn't going to be easy, is it," Cam said with a sigh. "I'll let you know when the remains arrive, but I want you two to stay there for the time being in case I need you to go back down to the coast. My contact at Justice insists that their man disappeared at that same seaside resort, where the remains washed ashore, right after he reported several anonymous telephone threats. In the meantime we'll work over the internet. I'll get Angela to work on a facial reconstruction as soon as the remains arrive. Maybe the identity of this deceased woman will help us find our missing political aide. Can you call the resort, Booth? Ask some questions. Find out if a woman between the ages of 25 and 35 has been reported missing in the area."
Brennan terminated the link and looked at Booth. "I think we need to have a talk with the Sheriff."
"Why?" Booth asked.
"It's a long shot, but I have a gut feeling why those remains never made it back to the Jeffersonian."
Booth was astounded. "You, Bones? You have a gut feeling? Am I in a parallel universe or something?"
"It's not a big deal, Booth. Just something I learned from you over the years."
Booth grinned, pleased that she'd actually admitted to it.
"Come on, let's go visit the police station at the north end of town," he said, gulping down the last of his coffee and throwing on his coat.
The drive from the diner to the police station was worlds apart from their earlier morning trek. Full of hot coffee and good food, driving on roads that had finally been plowed, having made contact with the Jeffersonian, it was almost as if the last twenty-four hours hadn't happened.
Almost, but not quite. On the way through town, Booth caught Brennan looking at him when she thought he was focused on the driving, and when they got to the Sheriff's office she didn't get out of the SUV right away.
"Aren't you coming in?" Booth had opened the door and had one foot hanging out when he realized she hadn't jumped out before him as was her usual practice. When she didn't answer him right away, he moved back into his seat and shut the door.
"What's up, Bones?"
"Nothing, it's just that…" she trailed off and looked at him, her eyes reflecting uncertainty.
"What? Talk to me," he urged gently. "You're not mad about me flirting with that waitress, are you? No, you're not like that. So what's wrong? I can tell something's bothering—"
"Booth, I'm not mad, and nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about… you know, about last night and yesterday during the storm, and… well, I don't want to just pretend like nothing happened."
"Hey, I don't want to, either. Does that what it seem like I'm doing?"
"No, Booth, I'm not accusing you of anything. It's me. I know my tendency is to ignore anything to do with… feelings..."
She was right on that account, Booth thought. She was so good at ignoring her feelings that she couldn't even talk about them. But she was trying, and that was huge. He encouraged her efforts by reaching across the seat and catching her hand. It was cold. As soon as his palm wrapped around her fingers she clung to him with an iron grip.
"I'm worried this thing between us is going to affect our working relationship. We work really well together. I don't want to mess that up. On the other hand, I don't want to go back, either. I don't really know how to handle this." She fell silent. Her grip on his hand was almost painful. Booth glanced over at the door to the Sheriff's office, and then back at her.
"Let's have this conversation tonight, okay? I agree that we need to talk. But I don't want to have this conversation in five minutes in the parking lot of a police station and I don't think you want that, either. So… tonight, Bones?"
"Okay. Sure."
"Are you sure?"
She pulled her hand away. He could almost see the walls going up. "Let's go talk to the Sheriff," Bones said stiffly.
Booth sighed and nodded.
The police station was almost as understaffed as the diner. It appeared that the storm had kept many people home from their jobs. The front desk was empty, but a light was on in the first office on the left side of the hall and the door was ajar. Booth knocked briskly on the door frame.
"Can I help you?" A big man with blond hair who looked to be in his mid-thirties sat behind a desk with a name plank that read "Sheriff G. Drummond." He turned from his computer screen as they walked into his office.
"Hi, Sheriff. I'm Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI and this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. We're working on a time-sensitive murder investigation and we need to get back to Washington, D.C., as soon as possible. Any way you can help us with that?"
"Glenn Drummond—nice to meet you, Agent Booth; Dr. Brennan. Have a seat. It will be a few hours at least before the road north of town is re-opened. We had a 12 car pile-up late night during the height of the storm. A commercial van skidded out of control and well, you can imagine the rest what with the icy conditions we've experienced. There are some back roads around the mess, but I imagine they are in pretty bad shape at the moment. The good news is this whole system has blown out to sea and we should be plowed out by the end of the day."
"Sheriff, the commercial van wasn't a Capitol Couriers Van by any chance?" Brennan asked.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Well, yes, ma'am. It was."
Booth whistled. "Sheriff, we need to get to that van right away. I'm almost positive it is the same van carrying evidence that is crucial to our investigation."
"The highway patrol removed the crates from the back. I seem to remember one or two of them broke open and spilled out some pretty interesting contents."
"Oh no," Brennan exclaimed, paling. "The remains may have been compromised."
"I'll take you there myself," Sheriff Drummond offered, jumping up and grabbing his coat and hat.
The site of the wreck was a twenty minute drive to the north. The state of the highway hadn't improved much, although a single lane had been plowed to the wreck. When they arrived, emergency vehicles were crawling all over the scene. Booth jumped out when he saw the Capitol Courier van on its side in the ditch, Brennan hot on his heels. The Sheriff ran after them and pointed.
"Over there—that's where we left the crates."
A group of police officers were pawing through the broken crates. Brennan trotted over to them and began calling out stern instructions. Booth turned to the sheriff with a proud smile.
"She'll take care of things," he predicted.
Booth's cell phone rang in his pocket. It had been so long since he'd received a call that it startled him.
"Booth."
"Booth, it's Cam. We're still waiting for the remains to arrive by courier, but we have made contact with the resort and found out that the missing aide didn't check into the resort alone. He had a woman with him. She was registered as his wife, under the name "Mrs. Graham". Angela did some more checking and found out that Richard Graham is not married."
"So, in other words, we still have no idea who the mystery woman is."
"That is correct."
"Well, Cam, I know where the remains are. There was a huge accident on the highway and our Courier Van was right in the middle of it. The crates containing the evidence were apparently thrown from the back of the truck and several broke open. We're at the site of the crash. Bones is assessing the extent of the damage right now."
"I'm glad I'm not there, then," Cam joked. "I bet she's blowing her top."
"You could say that," Booth agreed. "Hey, I'll give you a call as soon as I have more news. Bye."
Booth terminated the call in a hurry. He could see from here that Bones was not happy with what she was finding among the broken crates. Breaking into a jog, he went to see what he could do to calm her down.
"Okay, Angela, here's another view of the anterior portion of the cranium," Bones announced loudly over the video connection in their hotel room. She'd been sending measurements and pictures back to the Jeffersonian for hours now. Booth was glad to see her in a much more relaxed state now that she had collected and analyzed most of the victim's remains. Because of exposure to waves and surf, most of the flesh was already gone. What remained had been frozen and thus preserved while in transit, lucky for Dr. Saroyan, who was on the other end of the video conference with Angela, giving directions to Brennan as to what information she needed.
"Angela, do you have enough to try a reconstruction?" Brennan asked. She put down her tape measure and probe and moved the skull to the side of the nightstand. It was almost midnight, and she was visibly drooping. Her hands were encased in latex gloves, so she tried to wipe a trickle of sweat from her face with her forearm. Booth stepped up next to her with a dry washcloth and carefully wiped her forehead, taking care not to press on the bruised area.
"Awww," Cam and Angela cooed from the screen.
"Dammit," Booth muttered. He'd forgotten they weren't exactly in private. Now he'd never hear the end of it from the two romantics of the office.
It felt weird to Booth how, over the past year or so, Cam had swung from being interested in him for herself to being a whole-hearted supporter of his unrequited love for Brennan. His very male ego wasn't sure how to handle that. And he wasn't quite ready to reveal the changes that were taking place between Bones and him. It still felt tentative, insubstantial; he had an irrational fear that if he tried to put it into words the whole thing might disappear like mist in the sun.
"Booth, that was so sweet," Angela sighed. Cam was smiling mischievously. Booth scowled. Brennan ignored all of them and continued to examine the remains, oblivious.
"There's a possible puncture mark on the sternum that could be cause of death. Ask Wendell to take a look at the images I am sending now and have him send me his findings first thing in the morning. I think we've done all we can for tonight."
"Okay, Dr. Brennan. We'll talk in the morning. Good job, as usual."
"Good night, Cam. Good night, Angela."
"Stay warm, you two," Angela sang out suggestively.
"We will," Bones said with a bright grin before quickly terminating the link, but not before she heard cries of surprise at her unexpected retort. Booth, leaning against the wall next to the bed, crossed his arms and stared at Bones.
"We will?" he repeated hopefully.
"Well, after last night I've decided you're pretty talented at keeping me warm."
"So," he quickly removed his outer shirt and collapsed on one side of the bed, "what are you waiting for?"
Her smile faded as she climbed onto the bed next to his sprawled form and sat with her back against the headboard.
"First... you said we could talk."
To be continued…