Chapter Two: Secrets in the River

The next morning, Brennan sipped her black coffee, scrolling through her tablet as Booth pulled the SUV up outside the St. Louis Police Department.

"Detective Howard said the river patrol recovered Dale's wallet downstream," Booth said. "Found something interesting they want us to see."

Brennan glanced up. "If it was recovered from the water, the organic materials may have deteriorated."

"Yeah, but sometimes wallets tell stories, Bones." Booth grinned. "Let's go hear this one."

Inside the station, Detective Howard—a wiry man in his early fifties—nodded at them. "Wallet's drying out, but it wasn't the cash or ID that caught our eye." He laid a small evidence bag on the table. "There was a business card stuffed in the back. Waterlogged, but legible."

Booth leaned in. "'Riverview Marina — Ask for Carl.' Ever heard of him?"

Howard shook his head. "But your widow, Tammy… she might know."

Later that afternoon — Tammy's House

Tammy stared at the card Booth placed on her kitchen table. "Carl? No… wait, yes. Dale mentioned him once. Some guy down at the marina. Said he used to run boats for the company, hauling materials up the river."

Booth's brow furrowed. "Any reason Dale would meet him right before he died?"

"I don't know," Tammy said quietly. "But Dale had been on edge. Kept saying 'if anything happens to me, it's not an accident.' I thought he was just stressed from work."

Brennan's gaze sharpened. "What else did he say?"

Tammy hesitated. "He—he mentioned a file. Said it was insurance. But I've torn this house apart… I never found it."

Riverview Marina — Sunset

The marina smelled of diesel and river silt. Booth's instincts prickled the moment he spotted the burly man cleaning fish on the dock.

"You Carl?"

The man froze. "Depends who's asking."

"FBI." Booth flashed his badge. "Want to tell me why your card was in a dead man's wallet?"

Carl's jaw clenched. "I don't know anything about that."

Brennan glanced at the fish Carl was gutting. "Interesting. The injuries on Dale Wells suggest he was struck with a blunt object. A fillet knife wouldn't cause such trauma—but a boat hook or metal gaff might."

Carl's hand twitched. "I didn't kill him."

Booth stepped closer. "But you know who did."

Carl swallowed hard. "Look… Dale came to me because he knew the company was using the river to move illegal shipments—chemicals, waste. He had proof. He was scared."

"Where's the proof now?" Booth demanded.

"I don't know. He said he hid it somewhere 'no one would ever think to look.' That's all I got."

Brennan's eyes narrowed. "He meant somewhere symbolic. Perhaps… the Arch?"

Booth groaned. "Great. We're treasure hunting in a national monument now."

Carl shrugged. "He didn't tell me more. Next thing I hear? He's dead."

That Night — Tammy's Porch

Booth sat on the porch swing, staring out at the quiet neighborhood. "Someone killed Dale to keep him quiet. If he hid that file, we need to find it fast."

Tammy nodded. "I just want to finish what Dale started. Make sure whoever did this pays."

Brennan sat beside her, thoughtful. "Tell me, did Dale spend time anywhere unusual the week before his death? Anywhere he wouldn't normally go?"

Tammy blinked. "He… he went to the old train station downtown. Said he was meeting a source."

Booth's eyes lit up. "I think we just found our next stop."

To be continued…