Chapter Six
Pagan Rituals and Restless Nights
Brennan stared at Signor Moretti for a few moments, absorbing his words and trying her best to keep her composure in front of Booth.
"What do you mean, 'Pagans'?" she asked. She could sense Booth's eyes on her, no doubt picking up on her tone with his seemingly endless insights.
Moretti gestured to an empty chair at the table and raised his brow, asking permission. Booth nodded, adjusting to allow for the addition the their party. Moretti swept his robes aside and settled, leaning forward and clasping his hands on the table.
"About five months ago, the Vatican was having troubles with a group of locals," he began. "A group of young men and women who still follow the ways of Paganism. At first, it was harmless meetings in the hills outside the city at night, bonfires, silly chanting. That sort of thing. But as they continued to research the practices, they became bolder. Come dite?… avventato. Reckless. They started to harass people – tourists, mostly. The polizia gave them a formal warning, and for a few weeks we heard nothing. Then, they broke into a chapel in Rome and defaced the altar, the Bibles, anything with sacred meaning. They also left a fine note for the Vatican, calling the Church discriminatory and vowing revenge. I doubt I need to explain the reaction this caused in the Vatican."
"And you think this is their revenge," Booth said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Killing Olivia Daniels on Church ground in a Pagan ritual."
Moretti nodded. Booth glanced at Brennan, catching her eye and exchanging an unsure look. He knew she would be quick to disagree with the hypothesis. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure he bought it himself.
"Signor Moretti," Brennan said slowly. "While the scene was… unique… there's not much to definitively classify it as Pagan."
"With all due respect, dottore," Moretti said with a small smile. "We've been dealing with people like this for years. People who think it's amusing to act out against Christianity in the most holy city in the world. We know the signs of blasphemy when we see them."
"And with all due respect to you," Brennan replied, feeling her skin start to flush with anger, "I am an anthropologist who has seen more in the way of religious ceremony than you ever have. I haven't been limited to a self proclaimed religious monarchy."
"Bones," Booth let out a quiet warning, which she promptly ignored.
"The nature of the scene we found could be classified under a variety of religions, even early Christian ceremonies," she continued, her voice rising slightly, drawing a few curious glances for nearby tables. "And I don't want to jump to any conclusions and automatically point the finger at Christianity's classic scapegoat."
Moretti leaned back and placed his hands in his lap, eyeing Brennan carefully. Booth's eyes bounced between the two, unsure of who he should be more worried about throwing the first punch.
"The last thing we are attempting is scapegoating," Moretti said evenly.
"Good," Brennan replied, her head tilting to one side. "Because I must be honest, no one is ever above suspicion in our investigations."
Booth swiftly nudged her underneath the table, his face taut with discomfort. She may as well have placed a bull's eye target on the Vatican. Brennan glanced at him but said nothing. Moretti rose form his seat.
"You have until tomorrow evening to examine the body," he informed them. "Then we must relinquish the remains to the family."
"What?" Brennan exclaimed.
"The family wants to have the funeral as soon as possible… give the poor girl some dignity."
"That's not nearly enough time to be thorough with an examination," Brennan said vehemently.
Moretti said nothing, instead reaching into his pocket and extracting a business card which he handed to Booth.
"When you want to contact me about the members of the Pagan group, call this number."
Booth took the card and looked uncertainly at the Signor as he placed a pair of sunglasses on his face and strode away from the café. He was beginning to understand Brennan's reluctance to working with the Vatican authorities. Pocketing the card, he looked over at her.
"C'mon, Bones," he said. "Finish up you tiramisu and let's get back to the hotel."
"I've lost my appetite," she said darkly, pushing the remnants of the pastry away from her.
"Well then, let's just head back. It's been a long day."
"I can't go back to the hotel," she replied quickly as they stood up. "I have to go back to the forensics lab to continue my examination. I need every moment I can get with the body."
"Bones, you haven't slept in almost twenty four hours," Booth tried to sway her, placing his hand lightly on the small of her back as they walked down the street.
"I'm fine, Booth, really. You go ahead, I'll see you in the morning."
Before he had a chance to argue, she had taken off down the street, dodging people on the sidewalk as she made a beeline for the lab. He had to smile a bit at her tenacity and the look of passion that crept into her eyes when she set her mind to solving the puzzle. He briefly wondered what it would be like to have that look directed towards him, her skin flushing as it had in her anger towards Moretti, but for an entirely different reason. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he decided that the best way to spend the evening was to go over the list of people who had last seen Olivia alive and begin preparing for his line of questioning.
A loud rapping jolted Booth out a sound sleep. It took a few moments for him to orient his mind before he glanced at the clock next to his bed and groaned. The rapping on the door continued, louder this time. Swiping a hand over his face, he slid from his bed and padded over to the door to his hotel room, knowing exactly who would be on the other side. He barely had the door open before she started talking.
"Olivia Daniels was strangled," Brennan started, entering before he even offered, reading from the files in her hand. "There was evidence on the tissue remaining on her throat that she asphyxiated as a result of a thin chain being pulled tightly from behind. There was a very distinct pattern… almost like beading."
"Anything more on the fetal bones?" Booth asked blearily as he settled on the edge of his bed, trying to make his mind catch up with her already racing one. He could barely keep up when he was awake and caffeinated, let alone in the middle of the night.
"I ran DNA tests," she told him. "Definitely a match to Olivia. She is the mother. I was unable to make a positive match on the paternity of the child. Most likely, the killer was unaware that she was pregnant. There was no other evidence of trauma to the body, indicating that the asphyxiation was the sole cause of death. Except…"
Booth waited as Brennan furrowed her brown, analyzing her own findings.
"The bones in her hands showed signs of being nicked with a sharp instrument," she continued. "Not fatal by any means. Not deep enough to cause that kind of trauma, and not near the right veins to cause a bleed out. It's congruent with cases of cutting that I've seen. The person causes enough damage to get the release of endorphins, but not enough to cause real damage."
"You think she did it to herself?" Booth asked, feeling his gut tighten at the thought.
"The wounds are old," she offered as an answer. "I still need more time with the remains to be able to compare the wounds to possible weapons, to collect more tissue samples in case I missed anything, run tests on particulates - "
"Bones," Booth interrupted her, standing up and closing the file she held, forcing her to look up at him. "It's three a.m. You've done the best you can for the time you've had. Go back to your room, get some rest, and you can start over tomorrow."
For the first time since she entered the room, Brennan realized that Booth was clad only in a pair of black basketball shorts. She forced her eyes to stay focused on his. It wasn't as though she had never seen him in less. It just usually wasn't in his dimly lit hotel room in the middle of the night. In Rome. Thousands of miles from the carefully structured atmosphere of Washington. She swallowed.
"I thought we were interviewing tomorrow," she stated.
"It won't take all day," he said, placing a hand on her back and ushering her to the door. "You'll have plenty of time with your bones. Now get."
Brennan gave him a reproachful look for his bossy behavior, but left the room without an argument. Between the mysteries that kept cropping up in this investigation and the image of Booth sans decent clothing, it would be very hard for her to acquire the rest she needed.
