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"Cora Hogg was related to Richard Collier . . . she was his mother's aunt." Checking his notes, Detective Simmons flipped a page in his notebook. "Richard Collier's father, James Collier is listed as having died in a fishing accident 12 years ago. His boat was found, but not his body. Richard was 22 at the time of his father's death and his mother was out of the picture by that time. She was committed to an institution when Richard was 10 years old which by the way was about the time that Cora was killed. I guess when James died, Richard couldn't pay the mortgage and just moved out. There's some correspondence with the bank that showed that he tried to get the bank to take the house back, but they weren't eager to do that. Richard forced them to take possession when he walked away."

Shifting in his seat, Booth glanced at Brennan who was standing next to his chair and then back at the detective. "Have you tracked down Richard Collier yet?"

Closing his notebook, Simmons shook his head. "No, believe me we tried, but so far no luck. That's why I'm here. I've heard great things about your IT guy and I thought I'd get him to see if he can trace Richard."

Puzzled, Brennan shook her head. "We don't have a male IT guy."

Amused, Booth placed his hand on Brennan's arm. "He means, Angela."

Enlightened, Brennan frowned. "Angela is much more than an IT guy, she has been awarded several patents for . . . ."

Interrupting her, Booth moved his hand down her arm to her wrist. "That's okay, Bones." Turning towards the detective, Booth smiled. "I'll ask Angela Montenegro to look in to it for you. She's a genius when it comes to computers and tracking people down. I think she'll probably be more successful than your people were."

Grateful for the help, Simmons stood up and placed his notebook in his jacket pocket. "Thanks. I didn't realize that Angela was your IT guy . . . Sorry. Anyway, right now I need the help because I'm at a dead end. Richard was just a child when Cora died, so I'd say he isn't the murderer. I guess that leaves his parents. I really need to talk to Richard though. I need to find out what happened in that house and what happened to Cora and why."

Releasing his wife's wrist, Booth leaned back on his seat as she moved from the side of the desk and over to where the detective was standing. "Did you have any luck tracing the bullet to an owner?"

Pleased that he did have an answer to that one, Simmons nodded his head. "Sort of . . . maybe . . . I researched gun license records and found out that Cora Hogg bought a .22 about two months before she died. If I had the gun we could try to match the ballistics, but so far, I haven't found the gun. I'm going to send my people back out to the house and try again. Of course, the gun may have been thrown away in the trash or dumped in a river years ago, so we may never find it. Still, I don't believe in coincidences. Cora was probably shot with her own gun." Pulling out a flash drive from his pants pocket, the detective handed it to Brennan. "I have everything I've found out so far on this. I hope Ms. Montenegro can help us."

Taking the stick, Brennan placed it in her pocket. "I'll give it to her in a few minutes. If anyone can find Richard Collier, it's Angela."

Assured, Simmons smiled. "Thanks. I really appreciate your help." Glancing at his watch, the detective frowned. "I have to go. I have an interview to do in thirty five minutes." Waving he turned and left the room.

After Simmons left the room, Booth leaned forward on his desk. "Sounds like an interesting case."

Turning to study Booth, Brennan frowned. "Yes, it is . . . I need to go, I have some of my students down in Bones storage trying to identify one of the sets of remains we have stored there. So far, they have been unsuccessful. The quality of my students lately has been very disappointing. I fear that only two thirds of them will pass my course."

"Wow." Not really surprised, Booth knew she was a tough instructor. "What would happen if they flunk your class?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan replied, "They could retake my class, take a class with someone else or drop their major and go into another field of study. This class is composed of third year students, so there is time for them to change majors." Folding her arms across her breasts, Brennan informed him, "All of my students are quite intelligent and more than capable of passing the course. I plan to offer extra classes with the students who are falling behind. I feel that perhaps they just need more instruction than the rest of the class, so, if they are willing to take the extra classes I think they will pass, but of course that's up to them. I'm sure some of them will refuse. Three of my students don't seem to have the drive necessary to progress in their chosen field. They are driving by."

Booth stood up, grabbed his cane and walked over to where his wife was standing. "Uh, skating by . . . You know Bones. You're a really good person. I really admire that quality in you. I really do." Kissing her, he smiled. "I have a meeting with Dr. Foor in fifteen minutes. Do you want to go to lunch with me or do you have other plans?"

Returning his kiss, Brennan then glanced her at watch. "I'll go to lunch with you."

Pleased to hear that, Booth walked around her towards the doorway. "See you then."

Observing him as he walked away, Brennan studied Booth's posture and the way he moved as walked down the hallway with his cane.

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Booth scooped up some mashed potatoes from his loaded plate. "So have you thought about our party? I was thinking we could have one next month. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just a casual get together."

Placing her fork down, Brennan picked up her cup of coffee. "I think I'd like to make sure we have everything in order before we have the party. I still need to hire someone to come in and build the shelves we want downstairs and I think you're right, we need to replace the stove and the refrigerator. They are both over ten years old and the fact that the oven doesn't heat evenly is a problem. The ice maker on the refrigerator doesn't work and I noticed that the crisper isn't maintaining the correct temperature."

After he swallowed his potatoes, Booth responded. "Good, I also want to have someone come in and insulate the work shop attached to the garage."

Her eyes straying to Booth's cane propped up behind him, Brennan commented, "Booth, I noticed that you're still relying heavily on your cane. You're right knee doesn't seem to have the range of motion it should have."

He knew she was going to mention it sooner or later and sooner had come. Placing his fork down, Booth turned his eyes towards the traffic outside the window. "I know."

Reaching across the table, Brennan voice her concerns. "Booth, you should be progressing better than you are."

Not eager to have this conversation, Booth turned his attention back towards Brennan. "I know. I'm doing therapy, but I don't know . . . I don't think it's enough." Shrugging his shoulders, Booth responded, "What do you want me to do?"

"I would recommend the pool we own now, but it is a little chilly to be using that right now." Releasing his hand, Brennan continued, "I believe we should ask your physician if it would be alright for you to use a stationary bike. It would help improve your leg and hip mobility. I also would like to start giving you massages every evening. It might help alleviate some of the pain you're in."

Surprised, Booth protested. "I'm not in pain." Seeing the disbelief on her face, he mumbled, "How do you know I'm in pain? I haven't said anything."

Placing her cup down, Brennan frowned at her husband. "I know you Booth. I know when you're trying to hide something from me. I realized that you were in pain the day you fell on your crutches. You had a very large, painful bruise on your hip and upper thigh and you did everything you could to make me believe it didn't hurt. That's when I realized that you've been doing that for quite a while."

Thoughtfully, Booth rubbed his hand across his mouth and decided that she was making a big dill about nothing. "I'm fine. I'm not in pain. Just drop it will you . . . please?" Leaning forward, Booth lowered his voice. "Look, I'll talk to my doctor about the bike and swimming and massages and see what he says . . . okay?"

Comforted that he was going to at least talk to his doctor about the bike and pool, Brennan nodded her head. "You don't have to be in pain, Booth."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth commented, "You do if pain medicine makes you a little crazy. You know I can't handle the strong stuff, not and do my job. The pain I'm in isn't really that big a deal. It's mostly in the afternoon and only if I've been on my feet too long. I've tried to rest my knee in the afternoon and Lester does a lot of my leg work around the Jeffersonian for me. I'm not ignoring the problem, I promise you. I'm not hiding anything from you, okay? I'm dealing with this mess my way. I'm getting stronger . . . not as fast as I thought I would, but I am better. At least I'm not using the crutches anymore. That's an improvement and you know it."

"Would you consider taking the pain medicine at night, when you're at home?" Trying to help him, Brennan wanted to help him as much as possible. "You need some relief, Booth."

Staring at the table top, Boot sighed. "Maybe . . . we'll see." Seeing the look of sadness on his wife's face, Booth sighed again. "Alright, I'll take a dose tonight and see what happens."

Satisfied, Brennan remained silent and continued to eat her lunch.

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