I don't own Bones, I know I have 206 in my body, but the Bones from Fox isn't mine.
Frustration
Although the task force realized what the murderer used to plan his murders, they still didn't have any leads. Booth contacted Hacker to ask how much information the public deserved. He was surprised at Hacker's response.
"No Booth."
"What?"
"No, you don't have permission to contact the press with supposed names of the next victims."
"Why? We could save someone's life."
"Booth, you don't have any concrete proof that this is what he plans to do. You can't tell the press that someone with the last name of Mustard will be the next victim. The public is already panicked about this case; we are not going to add to that panic, without some type of substantiated proof. A name on a game's instruction booklet is not enough proof. If you want to call a press conference get me something more, until then, keep a lid on this."
"Sir, it's more than just Colonel Mustard, its Mrs. White, Miss Peacock, and Professor Plum too. That means he is going to kill at least three more times, taking into account that one was killed last night."
"Four different names is worse than, one. No Booth, you cannot contact the press. You need to find more evidence, before we take this to the press, and that's my final word."
He hung up the phone.
Booth heard a dial tone, and lost the thin hold he had on his temper. It had been building since Hacker first muttered that two-letter word, and now that he was off the phone, he threw it across the room.
"Son of a bitch."
The Agents from the task force stared at him in shock. They had heard about his occasional fits of temper, but none had ever seen it. Agent Shaw approached him.
"Sir, what happened?"
"That son of a bitch won't let us contact the press. Doesn't he understand that we could maybe prevent the next murder? Doesn't he care about the people of this state?"
Booth was pacing back and forth in the room.
"Why sir? Did he give you a reason?"
"Oh, sure he gave me a reason. He said we can't terrify the public over an idea from a children's game. He wants concrete proof. What proof do we need? The seven victims laid out on a table with name tags attached?"
He continued pacing.
"I need some time to think. I believe we have done all we could do for tonight. You can all go home for now. I'll call later if I need you."
He walked out of the room. The other agents watched him walk away, as they mumbled amongst themselves, and then one by one they left.
.
.
The phone call came early Monday morning, and they both knew what it was. As they got out of bed, and answered their phones, they gave each other a regretful look, dreading the voice on the other end.
.
The whole team except Angela went to Moorefield, W V, to retrieve the body. It was located in the dining room. Booth had seen some horrendous things in his life, but even some of the casualties of war couldn't prepare him for this. Sweets threw up the minute he saw the victim, and Booth felt his stomach turn for the first time in a long time.
Bones crouched down near the victim, and began the examination.
"Female, between 40 and 50 years old, severe damage to the frontal bone, the parietal bone, and the forehead boss, also severe damage to the clavicle, scapula, and acromion."
She stopped and looked at Booth.
"Booth I don't know if we will be able to reconstruct this skull, it is severely damaged."
Sweets walked back into the room, looking embarrassed.
"Sorry guys, I couldn't help it."
"No Sweets, even I had trouble with this one." Booth said. He turned to Bones.
"Any idea what happened, Bones?"
"Booth, you know that I won't guess. I'll have to wait until I get the body back to the lab."
Sweets interrupted, "It looks like the killer hit her in a fit of rage. He was angry or upset about something, and he took it out on her."
"You can't know that Dr. Sweets."
"Dr. Brennan, I have told you many times, this is what I do. I am very good at profiling, and in my opinion, the killer hit her in anger."
"I will hold all my conclusions until I get back to the lab. I don't guess at what I think happened. I need proof."
"Well, I can guarantee that your proof will show you that he hit her with so much anger and rage that he severely damaged her head, and upper torso."
"I'm done here. Wendell, be sure to photograph the whole scene, and Booth make sure your guys get all the pieces."
She turned around and left the house.
"Wow, she's in a bad mood." Sweets said.
"She's upset about these murders. We knew we would find one today. Did anyone see the note yet?"
Cam handed him a piece of paper.
"Oh, I'm so excited
I'm more than halfway to my goal
You must be delighted
To know I'm in control"
"Son of a bitch." Booth walked out the door and looked for Bones.
.
.
Booth vented his anger during the drive back to the lab.
"I can't believe Hacker won't let me go to the press with this. What the hell is wrong with him?"
"Booth, we don't have any concrete proof. He can't just post names and say watch out you may be killed. The evidence is not conclusive, its only conjecture at this point."
"I bet that woman's name is either Mrs. White, or Miss Peacock, how's that for concrete?"
Bones didn't answer him. She turned and looked out the window. He noticed her silence.
"I'm sorry Bones, I'm just upset about this. I've never had a case I couldn't solve. This has gone on too long. I feel like he's laughing at me."
"I don't think that true."
"That's right you left before the reading of the last note."
He pulled it out of his pocket. It was spotted with blood.
Bones took it and read it through the evidence bag.
"Oh, I'm so excited
I'm more than halfway to my goal
You must be delighted
To know I'm in control"
Her face paled.
"More than halfway means we will have seven victims."
"What? How can you know that?"
"Think about it. This one said more than halfway, so that means he must have an odd number of victims planned, because otherwise it would have said I'm halfway to my goal. Since this is victim four, the number has to be an odd number less than eight, but more than six. That leaves seven."
Booth shook his head to clear it.
"I will never understand how your brain works."
"Booth this was just the application of logic to a rational situation."
"Ok, sure Bones. Keep telling yourself that."
.
.
Reviews make me very happy, and increase the chance of another chapter.