Back on the platform, we were pulling out all the stops. It was one thing to by catching a murderer. It was a bit different to stop a man from being murdered, especially for something that he may not have done. The pressure was entirely different. All of the evidence from April Wright's murder was in a box (x-rays, particulates, reports, et cetera) and we were working through everything in the fastest and most systematic way possible.

Zach was just now finishing scanning in x-rays to the monitor so that they could be blown up and seen as a larger image. Hodgins was reading through the FBI crime lab's report on the particulates. Brennan was flipping through the coroner's and M.E.'s reports. Booth was hovering anxiously, not having the clearance to work on the sciences of the case, while I was scanning over the autopsy report and basic files (and being Booth's translator on the side). We were trying to go as fast as possible by assigning everyone to their strengths; and since the Medico-Legal lab lacks a pathologist, that's how I ended up with autopsy results and the like. It helps that I read medical shorthand. I love online textbooks.

"Zach, pull up the first x-ray," Brennan instructed, balancing her file on the palm of her hand. Zach did as he was told and the picture came up on the large monitor. "Stress fractures on both tibias," she nodded, like she was agreeing with something from her report.

"What does that mean?" Booth asked, uncrossing his arms.

"Pre-existing the assault, probably an old injury from dance or running," Zach added, not to anyone in particular.

"So it's a cheerleading injury," I relayed to Booth. "Not related to her murder."

"That makes, sense. She was a cheerleader," Booth said, trying to be helpful.

I waved April Wright's file up in the air. "Yeah, I know."

"The Chinese used to execute people by cutting small pieces of flesh off their bodies," Hodgins informed randomly as he read the label of a particulate evidence jar.

"The death of a thousand cuts," I smiled faintly to myself. "I always thought that the Chinese have good lotions because they'd need some way to get the blood out of their skin before it stained."

Booth, Brennan, and Zach ignored us in our weird moment. Brennan was taking the opportunity to look through the original x-rays. She could see them closer and there would be less likelihood of a nonexistent anomaly appearing. "Compound fractures of the trapezium, scaphoid, and the base of the radius."

Booth jumped a little and straightened his back. "What's that mean?"

I glared at the typed line telling me April Wright's blood type, not as angry at is as I was at the new information. "It means that while she was being beaten to death, she put her arms up against her attacker to defend herself." As an afterthought, I added, "That's consistent with the locations of defensive wounds on the autopsy report."

"In medieval Scotland, they'd tie a convict's arms and legs to two bent saplings. When they released the saplings, the trees sprang apart and the convicted felon was torn in half," Hodgins told everyone. Before Brennan could reprimand him from being off topic, he held up an evidence bag with a slip of paper in it. "Should I grab particulates from this?"

"That's clean," Booth told him, stopping him from wasting his time. "It's a phone number we found on the girl. It belonged to an old woman in a nursing home with no connection to anyone involved."

"There is extensive damage to the skull, smashed six to eight times with a narrow, cylindrical object," Brennan dictated.

"The tire iron was missing from her car," Booth informed.

I frowned. "The autopsy says she had sex shortly before time of death, but it was consensual. Since her car was found in the park with her body, I'd say it's safe to say she agreed to meet up with someone, and then either she was meeting with the murderer or the murderer attacked her after the second party left. She could have been a target for a stalker or she could have been a victim of opportunity. If it's possible to find which she was, and who she met with, then we could find whether or not the killer was organized or disorganized. Most of the things about this crime say disorganized, but there has to be something we're missing. Otherwise there wouldn't be enough to tie Epps to the murder."

"I don't like psychology," Brennan said, gently dismissing my guesses.

"I don't like most psychologists, but there are two types of killers," I tried to explain in a way she would understand. "Organized and disorganized. And if Howard Epps is, for example, organized and the total of findings points to disorganized, then we might have enough to stay the execution. It's reasonable doubt based on previous evaluations of serial killers."

Brennan dipped her head to me. "I accept your theory."

"Meeting and having sex in the park," Booth was chewing on the inside of his cheek. This case really has him torn up. "That's normal for teenagers, right?"

I sent him a look. "I know you're not asking if I've ever done that."

Booth's complexion paled very slightly. "No, of course not."

"Good."

"The hair they found was never matched to anyone?" Zach asked, looking away from the monitor for a minute.

Booth shook his head. "No. The prosecution got it excluded from evidence both in trial and on appeal."

Brennan tilted her head, like she could barely believe this. "That's the basis of your lawyer's last-ditch attempt to stop the execution?"

"Yeah, and whatever else you guys find."

Brennan narrowed her eyes at the x-ray in her hands. "There are particles lodged between the left triquetral and the capitate."

Zach shrugged slightly. "The M.E. concluded that they were bone fragments dislodged by the tire iron."

Brennan shook her head quickly in disagreement. "No, these radiographic shadows are too opaque for bone."

Booth sighed loudly, reminding us that he was there. "What's that mean?"

"There's something in her skull where her head was bashed," I translated. "But it's not bone fragments."

"The prosecution's theory of the crime does not include foreign matter in the bone," Zach stated mildly.

Brennan lifted her chin slightly and set the abnormal x-ray off to the side to come back to it. "Let's see if those shadows are really bone fragments or something else."

"Like what?" Booth asked.

Brennan sighed in irritation. "Let's pretend we're objective scientists and not indulge in conjecture." I snickered. Burn! "Zach, get together a basic crime scene analysis kit and get a driver to take you over to Greenbelt Park. Holly, please go with him. I want you to take pictures of the area where the body was found – ground covering, paved areas…"

Booth crossed his arms. "Why does he need a driver?"

"Well, I don't have a license and he probably has some other reason," I said, feeling like maybe Booth should have been able to figure this out on his own.

"I can't drive," Zach said bluntly.

Booth raised his eyebrows and scoffed. "You're a genius who can't drive?"

Zach took a step away from Booth and his voice rose defensively. "If you knew what I know about structural design, you wouldn't drive, either."

Booth's cell phone beeped and buzzed while Brennan took several steps closer to me. "Stay here for a moment while Zach puts together the equipment. You should take this file-" she handed me a folder of the pictures taken by the FBI – "-And get photos of the surrounding areas so that we can contextualize the materials we found."

"Makes sense," I agreed. "And since I won't be here, you should take this." I passed her the autopsy file.

Booth lifted his cell phone to his ear. "Booth… Yes, I'll be right there." He pushed the 'end call' button and looked up at Brennan. "That was April Wright's father."

"A murder victim's dad called you?" Brennan asked, planting her feet in the ground and not-so-subtly demanding further explanation.

"His wife's a wreck," Booth added. "They heard that Amy's angling for a last-minute reprieve."

Hodgins gave Booth a skeptical look. "And why did he call you?"

"Because Booth was the agent that arrested Howard Epps in the first place," Brennan answered for Booth.

Booth clapped his hand to his forehead. "You know, I'm pretty sure that evidence is not in the file."

"Actually, it is," I told him, holding up April Wright's basic file. The crime committed against her was murder and the arresting officer was Special Agent Seeley Booth. "But Dr. Brennan hasn't seen it yet."

Brennan shrugged, like she didn't see why the information bothered Booth so much. "Earlier, you said 'it's a phone number that we found on the girl.'"

"Wait," Hodgins chuckled. "You're trying to save someone you arrested for murder?"

Booth tried to glare, but it didn't work out very well for him. He was too anxious at the moment to be able to do so effectively, so he closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with his fingertips. "Alright, you know, I think he did it. I think this scumbag bashed April Wright to death with a tire iron."

Brennan's eyes softened and she looked down at him from the platform in sympathy. "We've found some anomalies in the prosecution's case. Do you want us to stop now, before these anomalies become meaningful?"

Booth slowly shook his head. His morals wouldn't allow it, now that there was reasonable doubt in his head. "No. Stay on it. I've… got to get going."

"You guys are pathetic," Angela's voice rang around the lab as she complained during her entry. A man around her age, maybe a year or two earlier, trailed behind her, looking around in interest. "It's Friday night."

"There's nothing pathetic about pro bono work on a death penalty case," Hodgins disagreed with her, frowning and kind of insulted.

Angela took a deep breath before motioning to the man behind her and smiling. "Everybody, this is Troy."

Troy waved shyly. "Hey, how you doing?"

"Tired, but I'll live," I answered with a pleasant smile. Angela, you are so lucky I like you. "Thanks for asking."

Angela smiled sweetly at Troy. "Could you please just wait here one second?"

"Yeah," Troy nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Angela smiled at him again, a genuine smile, before scanning her ID and climbing up the platform stairs and making a beeline straight for Brennan. "Why did you call me in? Look at this guy. He's cuter than a monkey with a puppy."

"Uh-huh." Why do I have a suspicion that Brennan only agreed to placate the artist? "I really, really need you to do texture analysis on seven-year-old x-rays," Brennan said, giving Angela her best 'please' expression.

Angela pouted. "But I am on a date. With Troy." She nudged Brennan when she didn't elicit the desired reaction. "He's a man. Wave." Brennan rolled her eyes but gave Troy a reluctant, short wave. "What's the big, steaming, gigantic rush?"

"Well," I shrugged casually. "A man is scheduled to die in twenty-six hours, and we thought that he might like to know the results before then. Of course, I could be entirely wrong, but it was just a thought."

Angela paused for a moment before she had to give in. "Good one," she conceded, sounding surprised we'd actually had a good reason. She turned back to Troy, apologetic. "Troy, sweetie, I've got a few things to do around here. Do you mind just hanging out for a little while?"

Troy looked around the domed lab and up at the balcony outside the second-floor offices overlooking the platform. "Um, sure, no problem. Let me just call the restaurant, and tell them we'll be late. What do you think, half an hour?"

Angela winced. "You'd better make in an hour, minimum."

"Okay," Troy agreed, sounding disappointed but not mad.

Zach came back into view, lugging a crime scene bag. I raised an eyebrow as he passed the platform before jumping down both steps and bounding over to him, taking the bag from him and carrying it myself. It was kind of heavy, I'll give him that, but watching him try to carry it had been funny and laughing doesn't seem very appropriate for the circumstances.

I let Zach carry the camera while I carried the bag back to the car. "I think we've got as many pictures as we need," I said, even more exhausted now than I'd been previously due to all of the walking and stumbling in the darkness. "Which car's ours?" There were several in the parking lot.

"This one," Zach said, leading to a four-door black vehicle. "That's our parking number and the sign with our gate on it is right up there." He pointed for example.

I looked down as I waited for him to open the trunk and stared blankly at the yellow numbers painted on the sidewalk before my weary mind made a connection. "Hold on," I said, backing up and setting the bag down. "Zach, come take a picture of this," I said, pointing down at the sidewalk.

Five minutes later, we were in the car, both of us triumphant and satisfied with our work. Zach held out his phone, on speaker, as it dialed the lab. "Hodgins," the entomologist answered.

"Most recondite codes have a complex numerical cipher," Zach promptly began to explain.

Through the phone, Hodgins sounded exasperated and mildly annoyed. "That's a fun factoid, Zach. Thank you."

"1-2-4-0-2-5-1-0-2-2-1," Zach quickly recited. "That's the number they found on the victim."

The scientist's voice was slightly mean. "Yeah, you're the one with the photographic memory. I'm the one that's good with the ladies."

"But here's the thing," I added, grinning at the phone. "It's not a phone number." Zach snapped the phone closed, ending the call.

"What did you find?" Hodgins asked Brennan. His voice just barely met my ears as I carried Zach's equipment bag up to the platform. Repaying the favor of me carrying his things, Zach swiped his card and let me on the platform this time.

"A shard of bone," Brennan answered, sounding confused and surprised, and a little bit bemused at the coroner's apparent incompetence. "How'd they miss that?"

"They're not as good as we are," Hodgins replied, with more than a little smugness. He slid Brennan's Petri dish under his microscope. "At forty times magnification… Well, that's not bone," he disagreed as he looked through the lenses. "It's organic. Mineral, possible quartz."

I cleared my throat and Zach started talking. "We were out taking the pictures you needed and there was a sign and numbers on the ground and we thought 'why assume a quasi-randomly generated-'" Whoa! Can this guy talk fast or what? I could follow, yeah, but he wasn't even stopping for breath!

Hodgins laid his hands firmly on Zach's shoulders and gave him a stern look. "Zach, when you talk that fast, human being can't hear you," he said slowly.

I reached out to Brennan's clipboard. "May I?" I asked. She nodded, surprised, and handed me that and her pen. I flipped the sheet she was using over to a blank, fresh white page and wrote out the supposed phone number found on April Wright, and then underneath it, I rewrote it, but spaced the numbers differently in accordance to how Zach and I had found them throughout the park. It had taken us nearly another half hour to find everything in the dark, but once we did, we totally felt like geniuses. Well, I did, anyway.

"The number they found on the girl," Zach started to explain again. "1-2-4-0-2-5-1-0-2-2-1. Everyone assumed it was a phone number. But what if, instead of spacing the numbers like a phone number, you space them differently?"

I flipped the clipboard up and held it so that my hurried numbering was visible to the scientists. "We were in the park taking pictures, and I happened to notice the parking space was numbered. We were in spot 221. So, we backtracked without the car, back towards the entrance of the park. First we left picnic area ten. And then we left through gate twenty-five." Going into the park, it would make 2-5-1-0-2-2-1, which was all but the first four of the letters in the sequence.

"Seems like more than a coincidence," Brennan nodded, following along.

"1-2-4-0, what do those represent?" Hodgins asked.

"The time," Zach answered for him this time, nearly breathless with excitement. "Twelve forty. It's when she was going to meet whoever she was meeting."

"It fits with the timeline," Hodgins said, considering it seriously. He looked to Brennan, almost looking proud. "He's weird, but he's smart." He snuck a look at me. "What's your excuse, Xena?"

I glared slightly. "What, I can't be smart, too? I totally haven't been working with a renowned forensics team sporadically for the past month or anything."

Brennan interrupted, getting back on topic before Hodgins and I got in an argument or before he made me lose my temper. I doubted he meant it, but I'm not always good at getting cues. I'm a little defensive sometimes. "April Wright was setting up a date."

"Probably with whoever she had sex with," I agreed proudly.

"Good job, Holly, Zach," Brennan praised. A smile flickered over my face. I hate seeming like I care about other peoples' approval, but if I'm honest, I do feel good about myself when Brennan gives praise to me.

"I've got something!" Hodgins exclaimed, the second time he glanced down his microscope lenses. "It's not quite so idiot savant," he added, throwing looks at Zach and I. "But it's aggregate gravel."

"What if the rest of the shadows on the x-rays were also gravel?" Brennan theorized.

"There was no gravel where her body was found," Zach said, frowning at the inconsistency. "It's all grass."

"Then it was a body dump," I sighed. "Chances are she did die in the park, but not where her body was found."

"We have to exhume our victim's body," Brennan decided, making a face that reflected her feelings of confusion and sadness.

Angela insisted that I grab a nap on the couch; less than thirty hours to go and we were at a stopping point until we got an exhumation warrant, anyway. When I woke up, it was about six in the morning. Brennan called Booth and through her, Booth told me the address of the Wright family; April's mother and father. I took a cab to the right block and then found the numerical address on the side of the house, and then loitered around until Booth showed up in his SUV nearing seven thirty. I smiled grimly in greeting; I wasn't excited about talking to the family. There was no way that they would be happy about it.

I was right. They didn't tell us to sit down or offer us cookies and milk, by any means. I undid the ponytail in my hair, letting my newly-blonde tangles fall down in favor of using the band to snap around my wrist to control my temper. I had to hand it to Hodgins; it was a good idea. It worked as a distraction, so that I could pay attention but expand my patience. All I've heard since I came in fifteen minutes ago are rude quips about my age and ineligibility to work a murder case, and their griping and moaning about the appeal to the FBI regarding the stay in execution.

"It's very stressful waiting for this to all be over, and now we hear Epps' lawyers are trying for a reprieve!" April's father, a kind of short guy with a receding hairline and a button-up flannel shirt, restated his argument for the twelfth time since we came in.

"I heard." Booth dipped his head in respect, being submissive to their frustration.

"He got himself a young lawyer from the Innocence Project," the family's lawyer, David Ross, stated, his opinion on the Innocence Project apparently very low. "They don't consider the families of the victims."

The rubber band was no longer enough and I snapped. "Listen, I get that your daughter was murdered, and I get that your clients are how you get your money, but maybe you should all just shut up and think about what you're saying before it comes out of your mouths!" I shouted. I took a breath and explained myself. "I'm sorry April was killed, but Howard Epps was not necessarily the murderer, and right now you don't care so much about her killer as you do the scapegoat for your grief. If Epps is the murderer, then he will be executed. If not, then an innocent man doesn't die. Now I don't care how your emotions fit into this, but this is how it works!"

Mrs. Wright sniffed, looking at me haughtily. "And now the bureau is hiring a little brat to work the case. No one will be prosecuted if they don't get their act together."

I rolled my eyes. "Listen lady, I bet you don't know the first thing about the FBI, so why don't you get off of my back and start worrying about your own?"

"You remember our lawyer, David Ross," Mr. Wright said, stepping to the side and motioning to the lawyer. "Agent Booth is the investigator who caught Epps."

Mrs. Wright sniffed again, holding a tissue up in her hand. "Is this ever going to be over?"

"I understand how difficult this is, Mrs. Wright," Booth said patiently. Ugh! Stop babying her! She's a big girl!

"Epps killed my daughter! You believe that, don't you, Agent Booth?"

"Yes, ma'am. I haven't changed my mind."

"He deserves to die for what he did!" Cried Mrs. Wright.

"The jury thought so, the judge thought so. All of these appeals-" Mr. Wright shook his head angrily at his carpet.

"Yet whether or not he is executed is not your decision," I reminded them with a glare, at the same time as Booth said, "It's part of the process, that's all."

"Each effort to stop his execution is more and more desperate," Ross assured the couple. "This one's not going to work, either. It's the third time they've launched an appeal, and it's going to be the third time they fail."

"You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?" I deadpanned.

Mrs. Wright held a small pink picture frame in her trembling hands. "It's the last picture we have of April."

"She wanted to be a lawyer." April's father wrapped his arm around his wife and his eyes glistened as he looked down at his daughter's photo. "David was her role model. He gave her a job at his firm on the weekends."

"She was a good worker." Ross smiled slightly in reminiscence. I looked over at him, surprised. Yes, he might have been a family friend and worked for him, but a law firm has more than one assistant in seven years. He was clearly fond of her, although that can be chalked up to having known her for a while beforehand, and for having been friends with her family.

"She was a beautiful girl," Booth said softly.

Mrs. Wright sobbed, her shoulders heaving. "If you'll excuse us a moment," her husband said, ushering her back to the kitchen to console her in privacy.

I turned to Booth, not too worried about the lawyer. He'd have access to the information if he was working the Wright case, anyway. "Since we didn't really have time to catch up outside, I'll fill you in. Dr. Brennan was going to meet with Amy-"

"I don't like the sound of that," Booth interrupted, looking almost scared. Hah! The attractive scientist and the attractive lawyer bonding over trading insulting comments about someone they both know. Must be his worst nightmare. Well, figuratively. Not literally, because he was a sniper, but still…

"I bet you don't," I scoffed. "Dr. Brennan is going to try to convince the judge to issue an exhumation order."

"What? Why?" Booth asked, keeping his naturally-projecting voice down lower so that the Wrights wouldn't hear. The lawyer stood off to the side. It looked like he was giving us the benefit of a semi-private discussion by looking at a newspaper on the coffee table, but he was trying to read it upside down. Idiot. He was obviously eavesdropping.

"There's evidence suggesting April may not have been killed where her body was found. They need to see April's remains to find more evidence pointing to the scene being a set instead of a kill ground. Oh, and get this – Zach and I decoded the phone number-"

"What." Booth didn't even ask a question, instead just giving me this really weird look. "Who decodes phone numbers?"

"No one. That would be pointless," I said, waving it off. "It's not actually a phone number. It's a time and place in the park. April met someone in the park where she was murdered on that night."

"So she met someone in the park…" Booth murmured, more to himself as he stored the information for further use. "What does that prove?"

"If we can find DNA on April that doesn't belong to Epps, then we have enough reason to convince the judge for a stay in the execution while a complete investigation is launched." I blinked; I hadn't even realized that I'd stopped separating myself from them anymore. I was saying 'we'.

"Is this about April?" Mr. Wright asked. I turned; they were back from the kitchen, Mrs. Wright with her face covered by her hands. "What's happened now?" The man moved his hand to his wife's back.

"Apparently some new evidence has surfaced," Booth said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"What kind of evidence?" Mrs. Wright asked curiously, rubbing at a tear on her cheek. Ugh, I hate the home visits. There's so much crying and I'm not comfortable with those kinds of emotions.

"Evidence that may further support the execution or go against it," I said evenly with a small shrug.

Ross looked up from the upside-down newspaper and stepped forward, clasping his hands in front of him and dipping his head courteously to the Wrights. "Why don't you give me a few minutes with Agent Booth and Miss Kirkland? Let me evaluate these new developments."

Mr. Wright nodded slightly in consent. "Let's get some coffee," he told his wife, gently shoving her back to the kitchen.

"Um, I'd recommend herbal tea," I said with a mild tone. "The natural components have relaxing effects, and if you have chamomile or honey, then that will help your sinuses," I told Mrs. Wright. It's true; although I'm not planning on having children, if I had a daughter that was murdered, I'd rather cry over a cup of tea than coffee. Besides, I hate the headaches that come after crying, and the herbs in most tea bags soothe that. April's mother nodded to me to show that she had heard, and Booth gave me an amused look as they walked away. "What?" I said, raising my shoulders. "I was trying to help."

Ross sat down on the couch, relaxing against the leather cushions behind him and he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, inviting us to do the same. I shrugged and slowly sat on the edge of the sofa across from him. I wasn't sure if it was a trick or something to get us to be nice. "So, this new evidence." Ross jerked his thumb behind him, at the kitchen. "Is this something they can bear to hear?"

"Well, it concerns the person April had sexual relations with the night she was murdered," Booth answered carefully.

"The judge ruled that irrelevant," Ross pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

"Stupid judge," I commented.

"It's always hung there as a question." Booth said slowly, choosing his words very carefully. "It's always the basis of the appeal. If we could just ID the guy, this whole issue would just disappear."

"It was sex in a car," Ross said dismissively. "It was probably another teenager. Some kid that was too scared to come forward."

I narrowed my eyes at him and the sideways glance Booth sent me told me he'd noticed the same thing. "Nobody said anything about sex taking place in her car," I said, the accusation in my tone painfully clear even though my voice remained civil.

"It was a parking lot," Ross said, puffing a breath like he thought that now I was just grasping at straws. "I assume the sex act took place inside a car." I was about to make a list for him of all the other places in the park that April could have had sex, but stopped myself when I remembered the scenery and realized it would be a very, very long list if I encompassed just that particular gate. That, and I noticed the way he crossed his arms, like he was shielding himself. I kept my expression neutral and yet made sure I would remember it. I could so use this to blackmail him for information later. He knew something he wasn't telling; I wouldn't actually be surprised now if he was the guy that April had sex with.

"So, when April worked for your law firm on the weekends, what did she do, filing?" Booth guessed, tapping his fingers on his leg in a four-beat rhythm.

"That's right," Ross said.

"And who was with her in the office?" I asked with my best innocent expression. I mean, someplace where they do confidential or difficult work, like a law firm, no way a simple filing aid gets left unsupervised. Then again, I could barely talk; Brennan had left me in her office with Booth after the Charles Sanders case. She had no way of knowing that Booth would ask about my history of being abused, but she also had no way of knowing that I wouldn't look through her computer or anything. Of course, I wouldn't; I respect her and her privacy, but she barely knows me. Hell, no one at the Jeffersonian even knows my favorite color.

Ross swallowed visibly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, a seventeen year old girl, I'm sure you wouldn't just leave her in there all by herself." Booth talked casually, like he was asking what the lawyer thought the weather would be like tomorrow. "What, you can't remember? I'm sure the security logs will be able to tell us something. Refresh my memory, Mr. Ross – where were you the night that April was killed? Say, around twelve thirty?"

Ross looked between Booth and I, now looking as though he realized that he was way out of his depth. "Now's the time that I ask for my lawyer and say nothing," he stated calmly, although his tapping foot was anything but.

Driving away from the Wright house not long after, I clicked my seat belt in place. "Wow. That interrogation was seriously Criminal Minds worthy. And I don't mean like the lame little ones that the locals try to head up, I mean the ones that come from Reid, Hotch, Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan."