Jane's lip curled as she banged a heavy, bronze knocker against a huge, oak door. The Carlisles were clearly dripping in money and weren't afraid of showing it, but she knew she had an obligation to try and suppress her personal feelings to keep them from biasing her. A dog started barking from somewhere in the house, which warmed Jane to the family just a tad.

A small, Asian girl swung the door wide open. "Hi!" she chirped.

"Uh, hello," Jane said. "Does Eden Carlisle live here?"

"Yeah, that's my big sister! She's awesome!"

"That's great," Booth said with a smile. "Would you mind telling her there's some people here who'd like to see her?"

"I'm not allowed to bring strangers in the house," the girl said. Something seemed to occur to her, like maybe she remembered she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, either. "Hold on, I'll get my mom." Leaving the door open, she went running down a long hallway into what Jane assumed was the kitchen. "Mom! There's some pretty people here to see Eden!"

Booth and Jane exchanged an awkward grin as they heard Mrs. Carlisle respond. "Pretty people, huh? Bit early for solicitors, isn't it?" She walked into view, wiping her hands off with a dish rag. Mrs. Carlisle looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, with chestnut brown hair that fell straight past her shoulders. Her smile faltered as she got closer to the door and noticed that these pretty people were extremely professional looking. "Can I help you?" she asked uncertainly.

"Alyssa Carlisle?"

"Yes, sir."

"FBI Agent Booth, and this is Detective Rizzoli," said Booth, as he and Jane both flashed their badges. "We need to speak with your daughter Eden."

Alyssa's green eyes widened. "What's happened?"

Jane nodded down at the morning paper that was lying on the doorstep. "Read today's headline and you'll get an idea. Is Eden home? We just need to ask her some questions."

Alyssa stepped back, allowing Jane and Booth inside and closing the door after them. She looked very shaken, and put hand to her heart. "Yes, um, she just got back from a morning run. Let me go get her—please, take a seat in the family room." With a gesture to a large room off to the left, she headed up the stairs.

It sounded like there were several children in the kitchen, and Jane was grateful that in this room, they were represented only in photographs. There was a huge family portrait super-imposed on a canvas that hung over an L-shaped green couch, and Jane and Booth gravitated towards it. Booth whistled: there were no less than nine children gathered around (the very white) Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle, three of whom appeared Chinese and the youngest was black. Booth was impressed that so many children had been adopted, but Jane was busy searching for which might be Eden. The two oldest kids were girls, one a redhead and one a dirty blonde, and both looked college-aged.

"Bet you a beer Eden's the ginger," Jane whispered.

"You're on."

A moment later, Jane cursed her bad luck as the dirty blonde walked into the room, her long hair pulled into a scraggly ponytail. Though her sweats-clad body was clearly exhausted, her very round, green eyes looked alert and worried. Eden closed the door behind her, shutting out the sound of her many siblings eating breakfast.

"Go ahead and take a seat, Ms. Carlisle," Jane said, always feeling awkward when she had to ask someone to sit down in her own home.

Eden obeyed, and waited for Booth and Jane to sit at the couch across from her before she finally spoke in a dry voice: "What is this about?"

"Eden, my name's Jane Rizzoli, and this is Agent Seeley Booth," Jane said, offering up her badge again. "I work for Boston homicide and I need to know about your relationship with Alicia Howard."

"A.J.?" Eden asked. "Why, what's happened?"

"I'm profoundly sorry to say it, but she was found dead two days ago," Jane said, hating how routine her words sounded. She hated them even more when she saw Eden's mouth drop open and her eyes sheen over with tears. Gulping, Jane continued: "Normally the Boston P.D. would handle this ourselves, but since we're dealing with a Senator's daughter, we've brought in the FBI, and that's what Agent Booth is doing here. At this moment in time, we're not one hundred percent positive that Alicia was murdered, but it's customary for us to look into all unintended deaths."

It looked like Eden was trying to say something, but even from a few feet away, Jane and Booth could see that she was trembling hard. She hunched over and clasped her hands in front of her, trying to get a hold of herself. "A.J… no… I can't believe it, I can't…"

"We understand you were her roommate, so we know this must be very difficult for you," Booth said, as tears began to slide down Eden's cheeks. "But if you can talk to us, you might be of great help."

Eden screwed her eyes shut together, then nodded. "Of course," she said in a hoarse voice. "Of course, I'll do everything I can."

"How did you meet Alicia?" Jane asked.

"The summer before our senior year in high school," Eden said. "We both got internships at the Children's Museum in Easton—"

"Sorry, which year was that, then?" Booth cut in.

"Uh—the summer of… 2009," Eden stammered. "We hit it off right away, we just had an instant connection over lots of things—we both loved kids, obviously, and uh, stuff like random movies and books, and then of course we were both really, you know, devout…"

"Right," Jane said. "Your family is Mormon, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

As an automatic response, Jane bristled at the term. "No need to call me ma'am, Eden. 'Detective' will do." Without giving her time to respond, Jane pulled a small Ziploc bag from her blazer pocket and showed it to Eden. Inside was the miniature copy of the Book of Mormon they'd pulled out of Alicia's jacket. "We found this on Alicia. It's from you."

Eden let out a small sob. "Yes," she whimpered. "I gave that to her at the end of the internship."

"You said that was a summer internship," Jane pointed out. "Your message on the inside of this book had something to do with Christmas."

With a shaky little laugh, Eden explained, "Yeah. We kept in touch after the summer, and I sent her that book with a card. When we saw each other in December—she was here visiting her aunt and uncle—she asked me to write something on the actual inside of the book, to make it more personal."

"Did you convert Alicia?" Booth asked.

"In a way, I guess. She applied to BYU with me."

"BU?" Jane asked.

"No; BYU, Brigham Young University," Eden clarified. "In Utah. We lived together our freshman year, and she decided to be baptized into our church."

"How did her family feel about that?" Booth inquired.

Eden shook her head. "Well sir, they weren't pleased. Senator Howard was very upset, but they came around eventually. A.J. explained things a little bit more to them, and told them our beliefs, and they're mostly glad she still believes in Christ. They've always been very kind to me."

"So, school in Utah," Jane said, deciding not to mention that these kind people had been the ones to implicate Eden's possible hand in Alicia's death. "Are you just home for the Thanksgiving break?"

With a deep sigh, Eden cast her gaze to the floor. "No ma'am, I've been working at home since September. I couldn't afford this term."

"Couldn't afford it?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrows, thinking anyone who owned this house could probably actually pay for four years of college for nine children.

"I know," Eden said with a small smile. "My parents had to pay their own way through school, so I see no reason why I shouldn't have to do the same thing. They offered to help me cover this semester, so long as I paid them back later, but there were other things going on."

"Something to do with your ex-fiancé?" Jane pushed her.

If Eden was surprised that Jane knew about this, she hid it well. "That's part of it," she said. "It was an unpleasant surprise, I admit, and… it took a very hard toll."

"If you don't mind my asking, did… did your break-up have anything to do with Alicia?" Jane pressed.

This was clearly the question Eden was most hesitant to answer. After a long awkward pause, she said, "Alicia …convinced me to break it off."

"Why?"

"Uh…she found out some things about him. Things he'd kept from me."

"Was he doing anything illegal?"

"No, ma'am. Detective, sorry. No, nothing illegal. Just nothing becoming of someone raised to know he was a son of God."

Booth and Jane glanced at each other, but decided not to push any further. "Could you give us his name and address, please, if he lives in the area?" Booth asked.

"Oh, sir, I know he was upset but he would never have killed anyone."

"We need to cover our bases," Booth explained, taking out a pen and poising it over a pad of paper.

She nodded meekly. "Yes sir, I understand. Brock Anderson." She relayed his address, continuing to wipe futilely at her tears.

"All right," Jane said. "I hate to have to ask you this, Eden, but we need to know where you were three nights ago."

It was apparent she had been expecting this question, but was still unprepared for how it would make her feel. Eden pressed a fist against her forehead, trying to remember. "I was out. Alone. I know," she said, sparing both of them a glance. "It doesn't look good, but I was taking a walk, a very long one."

"No alibis at all?" Jane asked. Her voice was not accusatory, but kindly, in a way. She already liked this kid a lot more than she'd anticipated.

Eden shrugged. "No, m—detective." She clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply. "I'm not afraid of admitting that. I know my innocence, and have faith that you will ultimately find the proof of it."

Impressed by Eden's calm certainty, Booth asked, "Can you think of anyone who might've wanted to harm Alicia?"

Brushing away more tears, Eden shook her head again. "She was so beloved by everyone," she whispered. "At school and here, at home—sometimes she stayed in our guest room over breaks, because a lot of her family lives here and a lot of her friends. She'd come to church with us, and everyone there loved her, too." Eden began to cry anew. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I can't think right now, I just…"

"It's okay," Booth said, as Eden took a shuddering breath to try and collect herself. "We understand."

With a loud sniff, Eden reached towards a table behind her and picked up a picture frame. The photo was of her and Alicia in a college dorm room, flanked by Eden's parents. "She was like a member of our family."

Jane smiled at the sentiment, then stood up, prompting Booth to do the same. She held her card out to Eden: "You give us a call if you can think of anything else, all right?"

Eden took the card and nodded. "I will. And I'll pray for you both."

"Uh…sure, if you think that'll help," Jane said.

"I do, ma'am—um, detective." Curious, Jane furrowed her brow and bit the inside of her cheek. She had to bite back a rather rude comment—what makes you think God will step in to help now if he didn't step in to stop Alicia from getting killed? To her surprise, Eden looked up at her then, and as if she'd been able to read Jane's mind, said, "I believe very much in a merciful God, detective, but I also believe very strongly in the devil. He holds just as much sway over human beings as does the Lord, and as much good as there is in the world, there are always people who are going to let the devil influence their decisions, whether they give it a name or not."

"Right," Jane said slowly. "Well… thank you for your time, Eden. We'll be in touch with you." They bid farewell to Mrs. Carlisle, who had been standing anxiously outside the door of the family room, then made their exit. As they drove back to headquarters, Jane said, "Wow. Okay. Thoughts?"

Booth shook his head. "Call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure she's innocent."

"I know what you mean. But …I dunno, wasn't she a little… odd?"

"What? Odd? What do you mean?"

"Okay, maybe odd's the wrong word, because I liked her in a way. But the kid's only twenty and she's like, a saint. Easily the daughter of millionaires, and she's paying her own way through school? And she kept calling us sir and ma'am. And after a while, it stopped sounding weird. That felt weird to me. But in terms of the actual case…" Jane sighed. "I know we don't have much to go on yet, but yeah, I don't get a murderous vibe from her."

"Those are the ones you've got to watch out for sometimes, though," Booth admitted. "Didn't seem like she had a motive, but I guess we'll see what we can uncover. I'd feel a lot better if she had an alibi."

"What's the deal with her old fiancé, do you think?" Jane asked. "Like, what did she mean when she said he hadn't done anything illegal, he just hadn't, what, acted like a true son of God, or whatever?"

"Probably that he'd committed some kind of really serious sin and hadn't told her about it. So something not illegal, but bad enough to cause Eden to want to break off the engagement."

"Well, Maura did say that Mormons consider sexual activity outside of marriage to be like, a huge deal, right? Maybe he did something …with Alicia?"

Booth shrugged. "Or with someone else, and Alicia found out about it, and told her best friend? Maybe this boy wanted to marry into a rich family, and was pissed when Alicia tattled on him and Eden called it off." He sighed heavily. "We've got a lot more investigating to do, Rizzoli."

A few minutes later, they were back at H.Q. Jane asked Frost to do a background check on both Eden and Brock Anderson, then headed down to the morgue with Booth to see how their doctors were doing. Brennan and Maura were huddled in front of a computer, looking serious.

"Break in the case?" Jane asked, cuing both women to look up at her.

"Dr. Isles was just introducing me to Gilt!" Brennan said.

"You're not familiar with the concept of guilt?" Booth asked. "Hm. You know, actually, that doesn't surprise me."

"It's an online group that provides instant access to designer labels at really great prices," Maura explained, looking giddy. "Dr. Brennan had mentioned she hadn't had time lately to go shopping for new evening attire, and so I've been helping her set up an account on—"

Jane broke in, waving her hand impatiently. "Maura, you're supposed to be working right now."

"I know, we were," Maura said. "We just got distracted. Dr. Brennan, do you remember how we wound up here?"

"I'm afraid I don't. I suppose one might say we're Gilt-y of slacking off!"

Maura and Brennan laughed uproariously together at the pun, while Jane raised her eyebrows at Booth. "Really? I can't believe your doctor is as terrible at making jokes as mine is."

"Actually, detective, it was quite a clever play on words," Brennan said, suddenly serious again. "Anyway, we have some news for you. We were planning to have the disembodied finger shipped back to my lab at the Jeffersonian for Dr. Hodgins to examine. There was still quite a bit of sediment left on the intermediate phalange that we hope might give us a reference point for where the finger might have come from, as well as an arthropod neither Dr. Isles nor I could definitively identify. As Dr. Hodgins is, I believe, the top forensic entomologist in the country, he would be the ideal person to help us investigate further."

"Right, so…you were planning to do that?" Booth asked. "Is it not still a plan?"

"In a way, yes," Brennan said. "When we contacted Dr. Hodgins, he was already en route to Boston with Angela."

"What?" Booth and Jane asked simultaneously. They turned swiftly to each other and said in unison, "Jinx. Jinx! Jinx, jinx, jinx—"

Brennan furrowed her brow as Booth and Jane continued to giggle and shout "jinx!" at each other. "Dr. Isles, do…you comprehend this situation?"

"Anthropology is supposed to be your field of study, Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, but I've noticed that you seem much more acquainted with certain social mores and rituals than I am."

Waving a hand, Booth said, "Guys, look, don't worry about it. Just—what are Hodgins and Angela doing, just up and leaving for Boston?"

"Angela's father is playing here with his band," Brennan answered. "Apparently she hasn't been to one of his concerts in quite a while, and since it coincides with a case near us, she decided to come down to support both her father and us. I thought it was a bit of an overly sentimental gesture, but Angela tends to be overly sentimental, so, it's not all that surprising."

Booth shot a smirk at Jane. "I don't think it's me and Bones she wants to see…"

"Knock it off, Booth," Jane said, though smiling lightly. "Is Dr. Hodgins coming along for moral support as well?"

"That's what he claimed, although judging by his past behavior, I feel comfortable hypothesizing that he may be hoping it will increase the possibility of a sexual encounter with Angela," Brennan stated.

Frost walked in just then, and sparing a raised eyebrow for Brennan, walked straight for Booth and Jane. "Eden Carlisle and Brock Anderson are both clean. If you still wanted to talk to Brock, though, he won't be back in Boston until tomorrow."

"Why, where is he?" Jane asked.

Barely containing a snigger, Frost said, "Seems he's a roadie for ZZ Top, and they're in Greenwich right now. They're playing a show here tomorrow night."

"ZZ Top?" Brennan asked. "That's Angela's father's band!"

"Wait, are you serious?" Jane cried. "Angela's dad is in ZZ Top?"

"Yes, are you familiar with them?"

Jane let out a laugh of disbelief. "Familiar with them? My uncle used to be their biggest fan, I swear—my brothers and I grew up listening to their records! Frankie used to say that as soon as he could grow facial hair, he wanted a beard like Billy Gibbons'."

"I'm not sure that would be a particularly flattering look for him," Maura remarked.

"Billy is actually Angela's father," Brennan said.

"What! Oh, my God!" Jane laughed and slapped Booth's shoulder. "We are so going to that concert! Wow. Wow! What are the freaking odds that this kid would be working for a famous old band whose lead singer is the father of your co-worker, and that the timing of their show would work out so well?"

Booth just chuckled, but both Maura and Brennan seriously considered the question for a moment before the latter ultimately said, "To my extensive knowledge, there is no pre-existing empirical evidence to provide specific statistics to answer your question, Detective Rizzoli. But I feel confident in asserting that the odds would be quite slim."

"Right," Jane said with a grin. "Thanks for the back-up on that one, Dr. Brennan. Now do you two have anything else that's pertinent to the case to tell us about?"

"Well, we've been able to ascertain that there was no struggle involved," Maura said. "So either Alicia had no chance to fight off her attacker, or her death was a suicide."

This sobered Jane right up. "I don't think it was a suicide. Alicia wouldn't do that, I really don't think she would."

"Regardless of your personal opinion, Jane, it's still an avenue we need to consider," Maura pointed out.

"The hell it is—you and Dr. Brennan, you're coming with me and Booth to check out the apartment Alicia fell from. Right now."

"Excellent! Let's go!" Brennan said, following Maura's lead out of the room.

Both tugged on Jane's elbow, indicating for her to stay back. "One thing before we go, Rizzoli."

"What's up?"

He glanced at Maura and Brennan, who were chuckling together by the elevator. "Did you happen to notice the look on Maura's face when Bones was talking about Angela?"

"No. Why would I?"

"She looked …displeased."

Jane could see where this was going. "It's professional jealousy, Booth. She's still ticked that Angela's facial reconstruction got us an I.D. before her science. She's not like, you know…" Unable to come up with a suitable way to end that sentence, Jane just waved her hand indiscriminately and headed down the hallway.

"Okay," Booth said. "Whatever you say, Jane."

Back at the crime scene, Jane found herself very distracted, much more so than she'd like to admit. The thought that Maura might be jealous of Angela was extremely appealing, but Jane didn't want to linger on anything she considered to be pure fantasy. Maura had never shown any interest, so why would she now? The notion was ridiculous; it had to be professional jealousy. Still… Jane bit her lip as she watched Maura and Brennan crouch down together near the door, and she wondered …was there a chance Booth might be on to something? Maura had invited her to bed last night, and had gotten so tense at the mention of Angela making a pass at Jane…

"—I mean right, Jane?"

Booth's voice startled her out of her reverie. "Sorry, what?"

He nodded down at Maura, who said, "There's a slight discoloration on the carpet here, and the faintest smell of bleach. I would hypothesize that someone is trying to hide blood, but we should get some techs up here to confirm."

"Right, good idea," Jane muttered.

"Sheesh," Booth said, looking around the dingy, cluttered apartment. It didn't seem to have been lived in for a while, even if the inhabitant was just an extremely dirty person. The bed was unmade and filthy, and the floor was littered with seemingly random objects, from books to picture frames to candles. Raising an eyebrow at a melted, odd-colored lump of wax, Booth said, "What the hell was a Senator's daughter doing in a place like this?"

"Our job to find out," Jane sighed, clapping him on the back.

Under thirty minutes later, they were able to confirm that someone had indeed tried to cover up a startling amount of blood on and by the door. The four of them spent the next couple of hours combing over the apartment for more blood, possible murder weapons, and information of any kind that might tell them about Edmund North, the man to whom the apartment was leased—allegedly: Frost and Korsak had tried looking up any kind of information on the man, but there was none to be found.

"I'm thinking Edmund North might not exist," Jane snorted.

"Wait, Edmund North?" Maura asked.

"Yes…"

"If I'm not mistaken, that's a pseudonym that was undertaken by Dalton Trumbo in the 1960s," she went on. "He was blacklisted by the HUAC, and had to submit his screenplays under false names, until Kirk Douglas was kind enough to—"

Jane held up a hand. "Please, Dr. Isles, let's have a Hollywood history lesson another time. I'm callin' it, guys, let's get back to H.Q. I'll talk to the landlady and ask her to get in contact with us the second this North guy comes in."

Once that was finished, Brennan and Maura spent a long amount of time arguing lightly about which of them owned the better Toyota model. "Seriously, guys," Jane groaned. "Are you like, getting paid by Toyota to talk up their cars? Because I'm not getting one." This did nothing but send the doctors into a long explanation of how Toyota was superior to every other car company in the world, and the discourse did not end until Jane had shoved them back into the morgue and closed the door.

"Well, I think that was quite uncalled for," Brennan said.

"Oh, don't let her get to you," Maura said with a smile. "That's just Jane."

They spent the next while trying to analyze whether Alicia had been killed in the apartment or by the fall from its window. Brennan remarked that this job would be much easier if Angela was around to help, and shortly thereafter actually received a text from said artist announcing her and Hodgins' arrival in the area. She alerted Booth to this news, who suggested he and Jane meet up with them at the Dirty Robber.

And that they did. Sitting at the bar, Jane had to smile when she saw Angela walk in. Wow. She's even prettier than I remembered. She shook her and Hodgins' hands and chatted as they waited for their brainy doctor friends to arrive. After a few minutes, Jane excused herself to use the restroom and in her absence, Angela spotted Brennan outside walking with an unbelievably gorgeous woman.

"Booth," Angela said slowly.

"Yup," he said with a smile. "That is your competition!"

Angela sighed as the women walked into the bar. "Crap."