Chapter 5

May 29th, 2011

Nathan Kaminski's sister, who introduced herself as Ruth, was far more composed than Anna had been. She stoically rose upon Booth's entrance to the office, and reached out her hand to shake his.

"Very sorry for your loss," he said gently, stepping around his desk to settle into his chair. She straightened her skirt and sat her back into the guest's chair, nodding with a slight sniff.

"So, it is him, then?" she asked, blinking slowly. Her face was pale, but her eyes were dry. Normally, he might have pegged her as a suspect for that detail, but there was something in her demeanor that told him this was her way of coping, much like how Bones handled things. A silent sufferer.

"I'm afraid so," he confirmed for her, pushing his box of tissues across as a sign of courtesy more than anything else. He wasn't sure how long they'd be talking, though, and it was very likely she might need them at some point, from his experience. "I'll have to ask some questions... if you don't mind?"

She waved off his concern and met his gaze firmly with an agreeable nod, waiting for him to begin.

"Were you and your brother in contact?" he started.

"On and off," she answered after a brief hesitation. "You have to understand... he was very dedicated. And not just to his job... it was more like he just chose things to dedicate himself to. You know? One month he'd be obsessed with his work, and the next he would be following some pointless hobby and nearly getting himself fired. But... he was passionate. And I loved him for it."

"And what about in these past few months? Did you see him... often?"

She shook her head regretfully, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. "No," she sighed. "No, I didn't."

He nodded understandingly. "And what was it that Nathan did for work?"

"He was a reporter," she answered easily, straightening up. He could see a flash of pride shoot through her demeanor. "And a damn good one."

He slid a piece of paper and a pen across to her, and she leaned forward automatically to accept them, looking at him questioningly.

"Could you please write the address of his office there? I'll need to speak to his boss and coworkers."

She nodded and reached forward to write, with clear precision in small cursive lettering, the address for him. She slid the paper back across to him, and he nodded and glanced at it before sticking it beside his phone.

"Thank you. Now... I have to ask if you were aware of your brother's relationships."

Her eyes narrowed. "He was seeing a girl steadily, these past few months. What do you mean, relationships?" she questioned, stressing the plural.

"From the evidence we have in the investigation so far... it would appear your brother was involved with more than one woman."

"Impossible," she said at once, scoffing. "He liked women, probably a little too much, but he was very faithful. And he loved Liz; I would know, he didn't often talk so fondly of his girlfriends."

"Does Liz have a last name?" he asked, resisting the urge to childishly cross his fingers.

"Parish," she responded, frowning again. "Why? You don't think she's involved somehow, do you?"

"Did you ever meet her?" he questioned, ignoring what she had asked.

"...No. But I'm telling you, he loved her. He wouldn't have cheated on her."

"Have you ever heard of a woman named Anna Pollack?"

"No," she insisted firmly, leaning forward. "Is she involved? Did she kill him?"

"We can't share details of the investigation. I'm sorry, Ms. Kaminski."

"So... what, then? You think he was having an affair with this Anna woman? Whatever she's said, she's lying. He would never do that."

Booth just nodded. "We're following every lead; we'll find the truth."

"Good. Because the truth will show you that it's all lies. My brother... had many faults. But he was a good man." For the first time, he caught a glimpse of a sparkle in the corner of her eye. She blinked it away, though.

"I believe you," he assured her. And then he passed her his card. "If you remember anything that might help us, please call me."

She nodded and stood, heady for the door. She hadn't shed a single tear.

"Ms. Kaminski?" She turned back with a raised eyebrow. "Thank you for coming, and answering my questions."

Almost begrudgingly, she answered, "You're welcome," and then departed with her head still raised high.

He wondered what Bones would have made of her, but then shook his head. He had a new lead. And with Bones on his mind, he picked up his phone and placed a call straight to her office. With any luck, she'd be back there by now.

When he got no response there, he switched to the more obvious choice, which was her cell phone. This time, he got voicemail. Frowning, he switched tactics and tried Angela's office phone instead.

"This is Dr. Temperance Brennan," she answered, and he smiled to himself, half relieved that she had answered, and half amused at how serious she sounded.

"Hey, Bones."

"Oh!" she said, her surprise palpable. "Booth. I thought I'd be calling you, not the other way around. Has there... been some sort of development?"

"Actually, yes. I've got a name for our missing girlfriend. I'm running her through the system now to get an address," he added, tapping a few keys on his computer and watching as the results began to load.

"Excellent. There's been some progress here as well."

"I'll be by in a few, and you can fill me in, okay?"

"Yes, that sounds good."

He printed the results of his search when he was finished, and skimmed through them before leaving the office and making his way back down to his SUV. He tried not to think about how diplomatic their conversation had been. How... precise and business-like it had sounded. He gave a heavy sigh as he climbed into the driver's seat, and then tried to clear his mind as he started the engine.

Driving usually calmed him, and as such he had taken to roaming the streets all the way to the edges of the city late at night recently. Ever since Hannah had left, actually. In those days, he had spent a lot of time considering his past, and how everything seemed to repeat.

Rebecca had turned down his proposal. Brennan had rejected his offer for a relationship. Hannah had walked away from the ring he'd bought her.

It was the sort of evidence Brennan would have called conclusive. An anthropological pattern of sorts... because he was the common denominator in all of those situations. He was the one offering more to the women in his life, and he was the one that ended up alone at the end of the day. Clearly, he was doing something wrong.

Which was why he was terrified about what was happening now, with Brennan.

She had already turned him away once, and now, a year later, she was pregnant by him after an encounter that neither of them could even talk about. What was he supposed to do with that? He couldn't do what he had done with Rebecca, obviously. But... something had to change, eventually. Maybe not now, maybe not even during the pregnancy. But eventually, something had to change. Because if nothing changed... then he was sure he would eventually lose her.

Judging when that conversation needed to happen was the part that he was the most worried about, though. With her, things were complicated. They used to be easier, although they'd never been completely simple.

He thought back to the doctor's appointment they had gone to together. It had been fairly straight-forward, but it had brought up some concerns he hadn't even thought of before. He remembered Angela's fears far too well, and the thought that something similar might occur with Brennan was terrifying. Brennan and the doctor had discussed all the possibilities with ease, and he'd felt left-out despite trying to keep up and look like he was following.

And some of it, he had understood. Especially when the questions had turned his way.

There had been some discussion about blood types, and mismatching positives and negatives with possible complications, but he had been able to supply that he was negative, and apparently so was Brennan, because the doctor told them they should have nothing to worry about before she had moved onwards with the discussion.

He had learned a few things he hadn't before, such as that Brennan had already had chicken pox, when she was five years old. She had also gotten vaccines for a whole list of diseases, thanks to her frequent trips to foreign countries, and that took away some other concerns that might have come up. At least, that was the gist of it from the way the questions were being asked. And the doctor had nodded and smiled as she made the necessary marks on her clipboard.

When the discussion had started to wrap up, he had specifically asked about the condition that Hodgins and Angela had feared, and Brennan had supplied the name of it for the doctor, who had assured them she would have tests run on the samples she had already collected for them. Apparently that was the sort of thing they would have checked for to begin with, but it still notched Booth's blood pressure up a bit. He remembered some of this from Rebecca's pregnancy, but she hadn't taken him to her early appointments with her, because those had been shortly after the fiasco with her turning down his proposal, and things had been rough for a while before they had agreed to work through the pregnancy together even without the old component their relationship had held.

Still, the appointment had been fast and Brennan had seem unaffected by all the questions. He wondered now, though, if that was really the case. Something else she could easily be blocking from him.

Regardless, though, the drive to the lab did little for him. It was a short trip to begin with, and the minutes he spent in the small amount of traffic that he encountered didn't do him any good. It wasn't relaxing when he had so much on his mind; when he knew that so much ahead of him could potentially go awry.

There wasn't really anything he could do to change the professional situation that this case put them in, and turn it into something more personal. Brennan wasn't going to let that happen, and he wasn't sure if he dared even show her it was what he wanted. So, if this was his only option for interacting with her, he was going to take whatever he could get.

Not to mention that a good case was usually the best distraction he could hope for.

"Good, you're here," Cam said when he came through the doors. She motioned for him to hurry up and join them on the platform, where the whole team seemed to be gathered around. He jogged up the stairs and took up a position in their makeshift circle around the table which contained the skeleton of their victim. Cam had cleaned him up, and now he was mostly bones. He had yet to take a bath in the boiler to remove all remnants of flesh, though.

"What do you have for me?" he asked, planting a smile on his face that didn't feel real enough as he scanned each of their faces just for the excuse to check on Brennan in particular. She looked calm and business-like, with her hair pulled up tight in a ponytail and her lab jacket buttoned all the way up. He carefully kept his gaze from straying down to her abdomen as he wondered to himself about how this image was going to change in a few months.

"Wendell?" Brennan said, motioning to her intern, who glanced over at her in surprise before hurriedly stepping forward. Booth recognized this; she wasn't avoiding him by not explaining herself. She was pushing Wendell forward because he was nearly at his doctorate and needed to begin stepping up. She had behaved similarly with Zach.

"Death was caused by the third stab wound, found here," he said, moving the camera arm so that the image on the closest flat-screen was that of the damage to the ribs. "There were two other stab wounds, non-fatal, caused just prior to the final blow."

"Any indication of a weapon that might have been used?"

"Most likely a knife, although I have yet to narrow down a specific type."

Booth nodded thoughtfully, going over possibilities in his head. Stabbing, as opposed to shooting, had a different set of motivations behind it. Crime of passion, perhaps, if the knife belonged to Kaminski; or careful planning to minimize noise and give an easier escape.

"What about the note?" he asked, turning his attention to Brennan. She met his gaze easily, as if this were any normal case and there was nothing else going on between them.

"The program was unable to come up with any results. I'm going to have Wendell take over in my absence, so we can go question the girlfriend."

He nodded, hiding his surprise at her bold assumption. The most recent Brennan he knew had been content to avoid him. After her apologies, though, and her attempts to include him, maybe he should have been more expectant of this, of her desire to join in on every facet of the investigation. She wanted inclusion, and she was going to get it.

He smiled, this time truly, and gave her a nod. The look in his eyes would tell her he was glad of her decision, and she seemed to read it well because she smiled back.

Cam cleared her throat, and they both turned quickly away from one another, Brennan's gaze dropping to the lab table in front of her, and Booth's turning to face the coroner.

"I analyzed the stomach contents. Plenty of alcohol, and what appears to be some sort of snack mix. At the very least, pretzels were involved, and I suspect nachos as well, from the evidence of cheese."

"Alright, so he wasn't a healthy guy. No shock there. Was the alcohol in his system enough to disable him?"

"He was drunk, for certain," Cam intoned. "And yes, that might explain the lack of self-defense during the attack. That, and the fact he wasn't wearing any clothing."

"All consistent with his killer being a woman."

Cam nodded in agreement with his assessment, and the rest of the group seemed to follow their logic as well.

"Hodgins?" Booth asked, turning his attention to the entomologist.

"The cats were mildly drunk," he said with a smirk.

"That's it?"

"Hey, man, I can't have something new just because you want me to."

Booth sent him a withering look. "Shouldn't you be home?"

"Shit," the squint hissed under his breath, checking his watch and then shedding his lab coat. "See you guys tomorrow!" he called over his shoulder as he disembarked the platform and made for the exit.

Cam shook her head, chuckling her amusement, and then motioned for the team to get back to work, heading down the other set of stairs and making a line for her own office.

Wendell headed to Angela's office to take over decoding the origins of the note, and all of a sudden Booth and Brennan were alone together on their section of the platform.

"I got the address for the missing girlfriend. Liz Parish, her name turned out to be."

"So the sister knew her?" Brennan queried, unbuttoning her lab coat and tilting her head questioningly, her eyes capturing his in typical fashion.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of," he said, swallowing.

And then... he could have sworn he saw her smile. A slight tilt of her lips, like she knew what she was doing as she undid the last of the buttons. But then it was gone, and she draped the coat over her chair, not even bothering with the trip to her office as she pulled out her ponytail and turned her gaze back towards him on the way towards the steps. Are you coming? she was asking.

He hurried to catch up, taking the stairs evenly with her.

"From what the sister told me, Liz probably knows nothing about the affair with Anna. Or any of the other women we don't know about yet," Booth filled her in as they exited the lab and headed for the elevator. "She swears up and down that her brother was an honest guy who would never cheat on his girlfriend."

"The evidence suggests otherwise," Brennan responded with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly. She wasn't happy with my suggestion about his multiple relationships, but she gave my Liz's name and the name and address of the newspaper he reported for, so we can check into that first thing tomorrow."

She nodded in acceptance, glancing at her watch and confirming what she probably already knew. It was getting late, and this would have to be their last interview of the evening.

Brennan reached her side of the SUV before he reached his, and climbed in with him following suit close behind. He had half-expected it to be another silent trip, but she surprised him by continuing the conversation and telling him about the troubles she had encountered with the reconstruction software.

"Does Angela know you left her equipment in the hands of Wendell?" Booth questioned teasingly as they hit a red light, glancing over to grin at her.

"No, actually," she answered, ducking her head slightly, with a somewhat guilty expression on her face. "He understands, though, that if he damages anything than he's pretty much doomed. By Angela and by me."

He chuckled. "Terrify him, why don't you?"

"I don't know what he did to it last time," Brennan said by way of explanation. "But Angela wasn't happy about it. I suspect a large part of that involved the fact that she was in labor... but still, he'll know better this time around. I just... made sure he was aware."

"Huh. 'Aware.' So, that's what they call 'threatening' nowadays?"

She shot him in indignant look and gave his shoulder a shove by way of response, which only made him laugh more.

The apartment building they pulled up in front of us was nice—it had a doorman posted out front in a crisp uniform, and an awning leading out over the stairs. The front was brick, and the windows had flower arrangements.

Booth gave it an appraising look as they climbed out of the SUV and crossed the street.

As the stepped up onto the sidewalk, the streetlights flickered on, giving an indication of the hour.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," Booth informed the doorman when they got close enough. He unhooked his badge from his belt and held it out, giving it the usual flip to show his ID after the man had leaned forward to squint at the badge itself. "We're looking for Liz Parish."

The younger man's eyebrows shot up. "Liz? Really?"

"We'll need her apartment number," Brennan broke in, crossing her arms.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask more questions, but then he shut it again and swallowed before he told them they could find her in 3A.

Booth nodded his thanks and led the way inside, which was just as fancy as he'd been expecting. The lobby was also brickwork, and flowers adorned the corners in crisp arrangements. The elevator doors were a goldenrod color and shone as Booth reached forward to hit the button for the third floor.

"Not bad," he muttered, and Brennan nodded in agreement, her eyes straying around as they waited.

A soft ding announced the arrival of the elevator car, and the doors slowly slid open and permitted them access. The ride up was the silent one Booth had been expecting the ride over to be. It seemed they had run out of non-dangerous topics to discuss with one another, and it wasn't a comfortable quiet between them. She shifted and kept adjusting her necklace or spinning her dolphin ring on her finger, and he rocked back and forth on his heels and stared up at the pattern on the ceiling.

Finally the car settled into place and announced their arrival as the doors shifted open again. Brennan was the first one out, and she didn't meet his eyes as she turned to again lead the way up the hallway. He followed behind at a slower pace, understanding that she wanted to avoid him. She probably thought he was going to address the awkwardness between them, and he couldn't blame her for wanting to stave off that conversation. He didn't want to have it anymore than she did, although an actual sit-down discussion would still be nice at some point.

"Here it is," she said obviously, when she reached the last apartment in the hallway. Booth caught up, and took out his badge before rapping a few times on the door.

Footsteps inside told them she was home, and then there was a pause and Booth could see a shadow under the door indicating she was standing on the opposite side. A moment later a woman's voice with a slight Spanish accent called out, "Who's there?"

He held up his badge to the peephole. "FBI, ma'am."

"What do you want?" came the rapid response.

"We're here about your boyfriend, Nathan Kaminski. We have a few questions."

There was another pause, and then they heard a deadbolt slide across, and she opened the door. Her eyebrows were raised as she peered out at them. She had high cheek bones and dark eyes, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her complexion told him she was most likely from Latin America, or perhaps South America. Brazil or Chile, perhaps.

"What about Nate?" she questioned, her eyes narrowed.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," he answered carefully, returning her gaze coaxingly. "Would you mind... letting us in? I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, and this..." he stepped to the side so the woman could turn to look at Brennan more directly, "Is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institute."

"What does that mean?" she demanded coarsely.

"I'm a forensic anthropologist who works in tandem with the FBI," Brennan supplied for her. Her words went straight over the other woman's head, because Liz opened her mouth, shaking her head slightly and turning back to Booth with her brow furrowed.

"What happened? Is Nate in trouble?" she asked, returning to the basics.

Booth hesitated. He'd prefer if he could have her sit down in her living room while he told her the details, but clearly that wasn't going to happen.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Nathan... was found in his apartment this morning. I'm afraid he was murdered."

"Murdered?" she whispered raggedly. "Oh my God..." Slowly, she leaned against the door and pushed it further open. As a tear slid down her cheek, she stumbled aside and motioned for them to come in.

"Thank you," Booth murmured gently. "Maybe we could... sit down and talk?"

"Of course," she stammered. "I can... I'll get some tea..."

Booth glanced at Brennan, who understood his silent suggestion far more easily than he'd been expecting. "I can take care of that," she said, stepping forward.

"Oh. Oh... thank you."

Brennan nodded, shooting Booth an anxious look before she slipped into the kitchen. He watched her begin to quietly shuffle through the cabinets in search of tea bags, and then turned his full attention back to the distraught girlfriend, who had settled onto the couch. He took the chair across from her, and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and speaking gently.

"How long did you know Mr. Kaminski?"

"Four months," she answered quickly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She was regaining her composure rapidly, and seemed to be dealing with the news as calmly as she could. Still, she gave a few sniffles as he asked his next question.

"And... you were dating, those four months?"

"Yes, yes... he interviewed me for an article about my business—I run a chocolate shop downtown. It's doing very well, and some big names have started placing orders. His newspaper asked him to write a piece on it, and he was just... so charming. He's really... he's really dead? And someone killed him?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Did you know of anyone who might have... threatened him? Anything he was working on that might put him in danger? Anything in his personal life... old acquaintances that just came back into his life, things like that?"

"No, nothing like that," she said, shaking her head rapidly. In the other room, a kettle began to whistle. Booth heard Brennan bustling about, and the clinking of cups. "But..." she said suddenly, frowning before shaking her head.

"What is it?"

"He mentioned someone at work that he wasn't getting along with. They got in a fight, but I can't remember his name. His boss, though... his boss should know. He had to break them up."

"Alright, thank you. We'll look into it. Anything else you can think of?"

"No," she sighed regretfully, dabbing at her eyes a little more, although she was no longer crying.

"That's fine. If you think of anything... here's my card."

She nodded and accepted it, tucking it into a note-holder on the coffee table between them. Brennan stepped back in at that moment, and carefully handed a steaming mug to the other woman, who smiled gratefully and blew into it before giving a tentative sip. He noted that she hadn't gotten a cup for herself, and Liz saw it as well.

"What about you?" she questioned, almost looking like she was ready to get to her feet.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Brennan assured.

"I feel silly, that you just made me tea," Liz said with a soft tittering laugh. It was a calm sound, and Booth noted it with appreciation. This was a complicated woman, but not one that let things knock her down. She and Brennan seemed to acknowledge a sort of kindled spirit between them, because they shared a look before the other woman nodded and turned to her tea once more. "It's quite good," she commented. "What did you do to it?"

Brennan shrugged, color rising slightly into her cheeks. "I added some honey, and a few spices I found in your kitchen."

"Hmm," the other woman murmured, taking another long sip.

"Do you know what he was working on; any current projects he might have mentioned?" Booth asked, drawing the focus back to the investigation.

"I don't know what it was, but he was... very absorbed in something, recently. He spent a lot of time writing, and a lot of time going over his notes. But he told me he didn't want me involved." Her eyes widened. "I assumed he was going after a big lead. If he didn't want me to know... do you think that's why he was killed? Someone didn't want him to finish it?"

"That's a very good possibility. Where did he keep his research?"

"He had a notebook... but most of it was on his laptop."

Booth and Brennan shared a look.

"What?" Liz asked at once.

"There wasn't a laptop in his apartment," Booth explained, and her eyes widened.

"That's it, then, isn't it? God, I told him... I told him to be careful..."

"Does the name Anna Pollack sound familiar to you?" he tried, switching tactics. He could leave this whole line out of it, and never tell her. But something made him think she would want to know the full story. That she wouldn't appreciate being kept in the dark. And there was a good chance she was going to find out eventually. It was better if she didn't think he had lied to her, in case she did think of something else later on that could help the investigation.

"No," she answered, frowning. "Who's she?"

Booth swallowed. "She was at the crime scene, Ms. Parish. She was claiming to be Nathan's girlfriend."

Liz laughed then, a dark, hollow sound, and she gazed imploringly up at the ceiling as she clutched the crumpled tissue in her hands, twisting the edges.

"Of course," she muttered.

"You... suspected he was seeing other women?"

"I always suspect my boyfriend's are seeing other women," she corrected. "You might call me... paranoid, but I've seen my fair share of bad relationships. Mine and my mother's."

Booth nodded regretfully, but it was Brennan who said, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged it off. "Hey... it was fun while it lasted, right? I just... I wish I'd found out, you know? Before he got himself killed," she added with another humorless laugh. "I hate to say it, because I sound like... one of those women... but I think there was a lot of good in him. Even if he was cheating on me. Maybe a dose of reality... would have done him some good. Now... I won't get that chance."

They didn't stay long after that, even though Liz tried to insist that they sit and drink some of the tea. Booth felt bad, leaving her after dumping so much on her at once, but she seemed composed and she promised to call if she thought of anything else that might help them.

As they were getting out of the elevator, Brennan's cell went off, and she answered with her brisk, "Brennan."

She listened for a while, asking a question every now and again, and nodding to herself while Booth stood patiently off to the side. Finally, she hung up and turned to Booth.

"Hodgins," she said by way of explanation. "He went back to the lab; something about Angela being in a bad mood... but he said the owner of the cats just came by, and demanded to have them back."

Booth grinned, "Oh, I'd have loved to see that."

"Why?" she asked, although she was smiling, too, caught up in his amusement.

"Because she's probably slightly crazy, Bones. And Hodgins probably didn't want to let his evidence go loose."

"He said he had to let her take them," Brennan answered, raising an eyebrow. "He'd already gotten all the evidence he needed, and she was very insistent. She's got a brother whose a lawyer, too, and she wouldn't be quiet about him."

"Of course not. But what else did he want?"

"What makes you think there was something else?"

Booth chuckled. "Because I heard half the conversation."

The corner of her lip twitched upwards. "Right. Well, he says she was talkative; she slept with our victim as well. And she said there was another woman she knew about, named Tania."

"It never ends with this guy."

"And," Brennan continued, stressing the word and raising an eyebrow. "This Tania is married."

"Ah," he agreed, copying her expression and beginning to lead the way back towards the door. "Looks like we've just gained another motive, doesn't it, Bones?"

A/N: I was slightly disheartened by the lack of response on the last chapter, and barely got this one finished in time. It's nice to know if people are reading or not, and it really does motivate me to write, so give me a shout. Just a click away...