Fic: The Senator in the Scarecrow (11/25)
Did someone say Happy Monday?
Title: The Senator in the Scarecrow [Chapter Eleven: Follow the Yellow Brick Road]
Author: ladychi
Beta Babes: katmorning, cathmarchr
Characters/Pairings: Booth/Brennan, Hodgins/Angela, Cam, Sweets, Wendell, Clark, Parker Booth, various OCs
Rating: M for language, graphic violence and graphic sex
Summary: It's August in western Kansas and a Senator's gone missing. When a body shows up in a field of milo, the President himself wants only the best investigating the murder. Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan are both plucked unceremoniously from their lives and thrust extreme-rural Kansas after a year apart. Takes place immediately after the year of separation in The Beginning in the End, the S5 finale. Multi-part mystery, updated every Monday.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten
Author's Note: Thanks to katmorning and cathmarchr for being so encouraging over the last couple of weeks while I battled a double-dose of joint pain in my hands and writer's block. I was miserable and whiny and they both deserve gold stars for putting up with me. This is a one-update week, but next week, if all goes to plan, should be a two-update week. I am also very hopeful that I will be able to respond to the reviews for the last two chapters sometime this week.
Chapter Eleven: Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Four awkward hours in the car later, Booth, Brennan and Donaldson were pulling into the mile-long drive at the Rettinger's farm. The men had been chatting somewhat awkwardly about the upcoming professional football season and Brennan had used that time to start working on the paperwork she could complete in the car.
As soon as they pulled in the circle drive around the house, both Booth and Brennan jumped from the SUV, as though to escape the tension that was growing between them. Donaldson emerged a little more slowly, gathering a notebook and some equipment they would need at the scene.
“Agent Booth?” Sheriff Brainard ran up to him, hand extended. “Welcome back. I'm sorry to say we've got another gruesome one.”
“That's what I hear,” Booth said, his hands on his hips. “Who found the body?”
“Hal Rettinger. He's Hank's older brother. Well, one of them.” Sheriff Brainard took off his hat and wiped his brow. It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening, but it was still muggy and hot and just now growing dark. “There are four Rettinger boys.”
“Everybody in the family have alibis?”
The sheriff flipped open his notebook and glanced through it. “Helen, Hank, and Herb were all helping Hosiah move to Manhattan earlier today. Hebrew and Hal were in Hoxie buying feed, dog food, that kind of thing.”
“Convenient.” Booth sighed.
“Can you direct me to the remains?” Brennan asked, appearing behind Booth dressed in her jumpsuit and gum boots.
“Dr. Brennan!” Sheriff Brainard extended his hand. Brennan took it, slightly confused. Booth nearly rolled his eyes. It would probably take the sheriff a few more crime scenes before he realized that Bones would probably never remember who he was. “Of course, he... or she, I guess, is just in the barn over there. Our coroner and the KBI techs have done as much as they could. They've already got some samples ready to send off to your lab.”
Brennan nodded. “That is acceptable. The remains, please?”
Sheriff Brainard shot Booth a look, but he shrugged his shoulders. “She's very focused.”
“She is right here and would like to know where to find the victim.” Brennan pushed past the sheriff and walked toward the barn, leaving the two men to jog slightly to catch up. The doors had been thrown wide open to the barn in an effort to air out the smell that permeated everything, but it couldn't completely dispel the odor. Booth fought the urge to gag by swallowing twice and following Brennan inside the space, which was lit unnaturally bright by the lights the KBI techs had brought in to illuminate every square inch of the barn. It was immediately obvious what the boy had seen - a grotesque sculpture of human remains.
“Sick fuck,” Booth said under his breath, reaching for his note pad.
“What was that, Booth?” Brennan asked, pausing her approach.
“I just said whoever did this is a sick fuck.”
Brennan tilted her head to the side and considered that for a moment. “Although we have nothing to indicate the state of the killer's mind, I can appreciate the colloquialism.”
“He's sick, Bones, okay? Healthy people don't kill other people and put them in metal suits and stuff them in barns.”
“Mmhmm,” Brennan said, approaching the remains, careful not to disturb any of the markers the KBI techs had laid out. She began a visual examination and was silent for several moments before she turned to Booth “Pelvic bone is covered by the metal casing, but I can tell you from the shape of the parietal bone that we're probably looking at a male. From the state of the teeth, I'd say middle-age, but I can't be certain on that until we can do a more a thorough examination outside of this casing.”
“How attached is he to that case, Bones?” Booth asked, stepping around the markers to stand next to her.
Brennan lifted a gloved hand and felt around inside the suit. “He appears to be welded inside of it, but I can see no evidence that the tissue is attached to the metal.”
“He wasn't welded expertly, either,” Booth said with disdain, careful not to touch the remains without gloves, but gesturing at one of the joints. “See that? That's a piss-poor welding job if I've ever seen one.”
Donaldson startled them both with his presence when he spoke up. “Hey, Booth?”
Booth flinched but turned to face the junior agent. “Yeah. What's up?”
“Did you take a look at this marker?” Donaldson was crouched by the ground, gesturing at a pile of straw.
“Why? What do you see?” Booth left Brennan to her remains and went to join Donaldson.
“They marked it for this odd scraping on the floor, but if you look closely here...” Donaldson moved the straw with one gloved hand.
“Blood?” Booth raised his eyebrows.
“Yep. Could be the victim's, of course. Or an animal, or...”
“The killer.”
“Very unlikely.” Brennan said from the remains.
“Why, Dr. Brennan?”
“Because, just like our other victim, the killer moved the body here and displayed it.” Booth said, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. “If there was a struggle, it wouldn't have taken place here. Am I right, Bones?”
“Correct,” Brennan said. “Although I don't know how you could possibly know that...”
“Just a hunch, Bones. Still, let's get the techs over here to scrape the blood and analyze it. Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be a lead.”
“Booth, we're going to have ship these remains as-is to the Jeffersonian for analysis. Hodgins will want to supervise the removal of particulates himself, and while I don't believe the metal is attached to the body itself, it's very possible that in the process of decomposition some of the tissue may have adhered to the casing.”
“Okay. Donaldson, let the KBI techs know we're going to be shipping out the remains tonight,” Booth said over his shoulder. “And find out where they're keeping the coffee. It's going to be a late night.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Booth?” Brennan straightened. “You're going to want to see this.”
“What?” Booth followed the somewhat-treacherous path back to the remains.
Brennan wordlessly handed Booth a pair of gloves, which he slipped on. She pointed at the chest cavity. “I noticed a sort of hinge in the metal, so I pulled it open.”
“Jesus,” Booth breathed. “His chest has been...”
“Spread apart, yes.” Brennan reached inside the remains. “And within the cavity, I found this.” She handed Booth a slip of paper, which was rotting at the edges, but the ink was still legible.
“Follow the yellow brick road or Dorothy dies,” Booth read. “Well, that's nice and cryptic.”
“I'm sure Sweets will be able to do an in-depth analysis of it,” Brennan said. “We should have him look at that when he arrives tomorrow.”
“Absolutely.” Booth handed the note back to her so she could bag it. At the reminder of his son's arrival, he bounced a little on his feet.
“Do you need to go interview the family?” Brennan asked, looking over at him.
“Is that your subtle way of telling me I'm in your way?”
“No,” Brennan said, “but you are.”
“All right, all right.” He took the gloves off, discarded them in the appropriate container, and headed back towards the house, leaving Brennan and the KBI techs to handle the crime scene.
**
The house was just as nice as Booth recalled, just as scrupulously clean. He could smell the remnants of dinner and his stomach growled, reminding him that potato chips and a soda weren't really enough to be considered a meal. Hebrew, Hal and Helen were in the living room being questioned by a local cop.
Helen stood just as soon as she realized who he was. “Agent Booth!”
“Hey,” he said easily, nodding to the policeman. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
The cop rose and they stepped outside while he briefed Booth. “So far, all of the alibis check out. Receipts are all time-stamped, and they put the family out of town for most of the day.”
“But the body could easily have been planted this morning before they left,” Booth said. “We don't know for certain when the body was placed in the barn. We won't know that until our bug and slime guy takes a look.”
“Right.” The cop swallowed. “Anyway, uh. Do you want my notes?”
“Nah, just type all that up and have it in your report for me tonight.” Booth straightened his shoulders and went back inside the house. “Hebrew, Hal, I'd like to speak to Helen alone, please.”
Hebrew started and glanced at his wife. “Should we call a lawyer?”
“No, sweetie.” She shook her head. “I'll be fine. Go ahead.”
The two men departed and left Booth with Helen. He sat down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and throwing his arm over the back. “Long day, huh?”
She laughed and rubbed the back of her neck. “You could say that.”
“You've got two traumatized teenage boys now, Mrs. Rettinger.” Booth said, smiling patiently at her. “So I think you'll agree with me that it's important that you tell me the truth.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Helen wiped her hands on her jeans. “Like I told the other policeman, though, I was out of town all day...”
“No. I want to go back to the other murder victim. Senator Williams. You claimed that you had never met him.”
“I...” Helen swallowed. “It's complicated, Agent Booth.”
“I've got time, Mrs. Rettinger.” Booth smiled charmingly at her and clicked his pen open. “I've got all the time in the world.”
“I never lied to you. I haven't met Senator Williams. I only know what my mother told me.” Helen sighed and crossed her legs.
“What did your mother tell you?”
“You have to understand, by the end of her life my mother was very confused... very... she liked to make up stories. But for some reason, this one... Well.”
Booth's tone was patient, but his facial expression was not. “Mrs. Rettinger.”
“She told me that Senator Williams was my biological father.”
Booth raised his eyebrows. “Now we're getting somewhere.”
**
On the ride back, Booth tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he told Bones what he'd learned. “She tells me that her mother and Senator Williams had a very brief romance when they were kids. He left soon after they discovered the pregnancy, and the man she considers to be her father, another farmer, by the way, came into her life when she was two. It didn't sound like her mother's marriage was happy, either.”
“Well, if she was anticipating marrying a politician,” Brennan said, shrugging her shoulders. “Some women might see that as a step down.”
“So Helen killed her biological father, drove him all the way back to the family farm, stuffed him in a scarecrow outfit and nailed him to a pole?” Donaldson asked incredulously.
“It doesn't play that way to me, either,” Booth said, shrugging his shoulders. “It just doesn't make sense. She's not the kind of woman who would want to destroy the family she's so carefully built.”
“I agree.”
Brennan wrinkled her brow as she watched the two men. “There's no evidence indicating that she was or was not the killer.”
“We're just talking about vibes here, Bones. Listen. You don't go from having the kind of childhood she had - mom married to a man she doesn't love for a paycheck and a steady meal... to having the kind of life she's got now - four kids and a white picket fence, and want to throw that away. You just don't.”
Brennan nodded. “That is logical.”
Booth grinned. “Thanks, Bones.”
“Listen, most deadbeat dads and cheating bastards don't change their tune,” Donaldson said, leaning forward. “We didn't get a lot of time in Salina, but I'm thinking we should look more at the senator's past.”
“It could be the Rettinger husband,” Brennan said.
“Still doesn't make a lot of sense,” Booth said. “If I were going to murder someone, I wouldn't hang them up for display on my own property.”
“True.”
“I think we're looking for someone that has it out for the Rettingers. It's very telling that both of the bodies have been found there.” Booth pulled smoothly into the parking lot of the bed and breakfast they were staying at. “Donaldson, we're renting you a car, sending you back to Salina. Finish up your original assignment: I want to know everything there is to know about Senator Williams. Bones and I are going to poke around the Rettingers' lives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'll call the boys from the Kansas City office, get you assigned a temporary field partner.” Booth opened the door of the SUV and jumped out.
Brennan stepped out, and accepted the field bag which Booth got for her. “Thank you.”
“You look like you're about to fall over,” Booth said quietly, cupping her bicep with a hand. “Are you okay?”
“I'm extremely tired, but it's nothing a few hours of sleep won't fix,” she said, just as quietly. His head bent to touch hers and she got that stupid fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach again. She recognized it as attraction, arousal... but something more. Something she'd only come to associate with Booth. She held her breath and hoped, like she hadn't hoped since her adolescence, that he would lean down and kiss her.
“Listen, we should... talk,” Booth said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “About everything, you know?”
“Yes, I know.” She drew in a steadying breath.
“Hey, you two, I'm going to bed,” Donaldson called over to them. They broke apart guiltily and Booth coughed.
“Right. Well,” he said, “we should go too. To bed, I mean. Separately, of course.”
Brennan bit back the smile that bloomed across her face. “Yes, of course.”
**
After they came inside, Booth set his bags down at the foot of the stairs, and gestured towards the kitchen. “Listen, Bones. I'm going to see if I can scare up a sandwich or something. You want to join me?”
She paused. “Yes, I think I would like that.”
They walked close together, closer than they normally did, hands barely brushing, faint smiles tugging at the edge of their lips. Booth pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and stopped dead in the doorway.
There, at the kitchen counter, legs swinging from a barstool that was still a little too tall for his feet to reach the ground, sat Parker Booth, taking long pulls from what appeared to be a milkshake. He chattered at Mrs. Hoake, who was bustling around the kitchen. Next to him sat Sweets, who appeared bemused by everything going on around him.
“Parker?” Booth said, hardly able to believe his eyes.
“Dad!” Parker whirled around and jumped off of the barstool, nearly tackling his dad with the force of his hug. “Hi!”
“Hey, buddy!” Booth dropped to a crouch and wrapped Parker in a hug, dipping his head so that no one could see the tears gathering in his eyes. “I wasn't expecting you today.”
“Lance found us an earlier flight. He said it would be okay if we came a day early. Is that okay?” Parker pulled back, a worried look in his eyes.
“Yeah, of course.” Booth grinned so wide it almost hurt, but he couldn't stop. “I'm so glad to see you.”
“Me too, Dad.” Parker pulled back. “Heya, Bones!”
“Hey Parker! Oh!” She wrapped the boy in a hug when he initiated it. “How have you been?”
“Good. Max showed us some of the bones that you sent back from Indonesia. It was really cool!”
“He did, huh?”
“Yeah. Then we got to do an excavation like you guys were doing! It was really hot, though.”
“It was hot in Indonesia, too.”
“Hey Sweets,” Booth said, nodding his head. “Thanks for hauling Parker all the way out here.”
“Oh, it was no trouble.” Sweets got to his feet and extended his hand. “It's good to see you safe and sound, Agent Booth. Nice to see you, Dr. Brennan.”
Brennan raised her hand in greeting. “Booth and I were going to try and find something to eat. We've been at a crime scene and haven't had a chance to have dinner.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Hoake said, a wide smile on her face. “Why don't you two sit down and chat with your guests? I can whip up something delicious for everyone.”
“Mrs. Hoake, you don't have to go out of your way for us like this...”
“Nonsense. This is more excitement than I've had in years. In a good way.”
The little kitchen was soon noisy and crowded as Bones and Booth sat down and chatted long into the night with Sweets and Parker.
**
Booth could hardly sleep. He remembered feeling this way when Parker had been born - just overwhelmed by the joy of having his son around. So when the knock came at his door, he hopped out of bed and strode over to open it.
“Parks! What are you doing up?”
He shrugged his head to the side and all Booth could see was his grandfather echoed there. “I couldn't sleep.”
“Want to hang out in here for a while?”
The smile that spread across his son's face clued him in that Parker had really been wanting to spend more time with him, and Booth couldn't help the answering grin.
“What were you doing?”
“I couldn't sleep, buddy, so I was doing paperwork.” Booth gestured at the bed.
“That's a lot of paperwork,” Parker said. “I forgot how much paperwork you have to do.”
“It's nothing that can't wait,” Booth said. “Not while you're here.”
Parker flung himself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “When you come back, are you going to be back forever?”
“Yeah, buddy. I'm not going back to the Army.” Booth lay down next to Parker, lacing his fingers across his chest.
“A year is a really long time,” Parker said. “You didn't get to coach my baseball team.”
“Yeah, but I hear you did just fine without me.” Booth said, nudging Parker's shoulder with a fist.
“It wasn't the same without you. No one else takes me for humongous milkshakes after. Mom tried, a couple of times, but that's our thing.”
“Yeah, that's our thing.” Booth reached over and ran his fingers through his son's curly mop of hair. “Well, now that I'm back, we'll have to go get humongous milkshakes again, okay?”
“Okay.” Parker leaned into his father's touch. “I'm sorry I made you go, Dad.”
“What? No. Buddy, no.” Booth shook his head. “Parker, I'm an adult. I made the decision to go all by myself.”
“I told you that you should go, though.”
Booth sighed. “Yeah, buddy, you did. But you told me I should go for all the reasons I was telling myself that I should go.”
“Did you save a lot of lives?”
Booth felt ice-cold water run through his veins and he swallowed hard against the lump that rose in his throat. When he'd left, Parker had been almost nine, not quite ready to talk about the harsh realities of war. Was ten better? He'd certainly saved lives, but -
Walking down a dusty path in full gear.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Less like pops than mini explosions, tearing apart flesh.
Screaming.
Run! Cover! Insurgents, dammit...
“Dad?”
Booth blinked and shook his head. “Yeah, Parker. I saved some lives.”
Parker nodded his head. “I'm glad, Dad.”
“Me too, buddy.”
There was a quiet knock at the door, and Bones stuck her head in. “Oh, Parker. I didn't know you were going to be staying in here.”
“It's okay, Bones. I was just hangin' with my dad.”
A soft smile crept across her face, and Booth was reminded, once more, of where he was. What he was doing. The muggy heat of Kansas was nothing like the dry heat of the desert where he'd been. The soft whir above him was from a ceiling fan. The bed beneath him was free of mice, which had been everywhere in Afghanistan.
“I had a question, but I don't want to interrupt.”
“If you can't sleep, you can join us,” Parker said, patting the bed next to him. “You're not interrupting nothing, Bones.”
“Anything, Parker,” Booth corrected, closing his eyes.
“I'm glad you're back too, Bones. I had to do my science project all by myself. Well, Max helped, but...”
Parker was off again. Brennan looked over his head at Booth, who grinned at her, hoping his flashback earlier didn't show in his eyes. She reached out her hand and took his, squeezing it gently. Parker scrunched in close to his Dad, and Brennan lay on the other side of him, the three of them staring up at the ceiling.
It should have been hot. It should have been downright smothering, actually, but somehow, it just felt right. Despite the voices shouting in his head not to get used to this, not to think for one second that he deserved any of this, Booth could do nothing but lay back and revel in the feeling of family. A real family - a family he'd built for himself, from the ground up.
Maybe someday, he allowed himself to think, it would be him and Bones in the same bed every night. Maybe someday Parker would be down the hall more than once or twice a month. Maybe someday, when he'd atoned for all of his sins, he could be this happy every day.
**
Chapter Twelve: Auntie Em
Title: The Senator in the Scarecrow [Chapter Eleven: Follow the Yellow Brick Road]
Author: ladychi
Beta Babes: katmorning, cathmarchr
Characters/Pairings: Booth/Brennan, Hodgins/Angela, Cam, Sweets, Wendell, Clark, Parker Booth, various OCs
Rating: M for language, graphic violence and graphic sex
Summary: It's August in western Kansas and a Senator's gone missing. When a body shows up in a field of milo, the President himself wants only the best investigating the murder. Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan are both plucked unceremoniously from their lives and thrust extreme-rural Kansas after a year apart. Takes place immediately after the year of separation in The Beginning in the End, the S5 finale. Multi-part mystery, updated every Monday.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten
Author's Note: Thanks to katmorning and cathmarchr for being so encouraging over the last couple of weeks while I battled a double-dose of joint pain in my hands and writer's block. I was miserable and whiny and they both deserve gold stars for putting up with me. This is a one-update week, but next week, if all goes to plan, should be a two-update week. I am also very hopeful that I will be able to respond to the reviews for the last two chapters sometime this week.
Chapter Eleven: Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Four awkward hours in the car later, Booth, Brennan and Donaldson were pulling into the mile-long drive at the Rettinger's farm. The men had been chatting somewhat awkwardly about the upcoming professional football season and Brennan had used that time to start working on the paperwork she could complete in the car.
As soon as they pulled in the circle drive around the house, both Booth and Brennan jumped from the SUV, as though to escape the tension that was growing between them. Donaldson emerged a little more slowly, gathering a notebook and some equipment they would need at the scene.
“Agent Booth?” Sheriff Brainard ran up to him, hand extended. “Welcome back. I'm sorry to say we've got another gruesome one.”
“That's what I hear,” Booth said, his hands on his hips. “Who found the body?”
“Hal Rettinger. He's Hank's older brother. Well, one of them.” Sheriff Brainard took off his hat and wiped his brow. It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening, but it was still muggy and hot and just now growing dark. “There are four Rettinger boys.”
“Everybody in the family have alibis?”
The sheriff flipped open his notebook and glanced through it. “Helen, Hank, and Herb were all helping Hosiah move to Manhattan earlier today. Hebrew and Hal were in Hoxie buying feed, dog food, that kind of thing.”
“Convenient.” Booth sighed.
“Can you direct me to the remains?” Brennan asked, appearing behind Booth dressed in her jumpsuit and gum boots.
“Dr. Brennan!” Sheriff Brainard extended his hand. Brennan took it, slightly confused. Booth nearly rolled his eyes. It would probably take the sheriff a few more crime scenes before he realized that Bones would probably never remember who he was. “Of course, he... or she, I guess, is just in the barn over there. Our coroner and the KBI techs have done as much as they could. They've already got some samples ready to send off to your lab.”
Brennan nodded. “That is acceptable. The remains, please?”
Sheriff Brainard shot Booth a look, but he shrugged his shoulders. “She's very focused.”
“She is right here and would like to know where to find the victim.” Brennan pushed past the sheriff and walked toward the barn, leaving the two men to jog slightly to catch up. The doors had been thrown wide open to the barn in an effort to air out the smell that permeated everything, but it couldn't completely dispel the odor. Booth fought the urge to gag by swallowing twice and following Brennan inside the space, which was lit unnaturally bright by the lights the KBI techs had brought in to illuminate every square inch of the barn. It was immediately obvious what the boy had seen - a grotesque sculpture of human remains.
“Sick fuck,” Booth said under his breath, reaching for his note pad.
“What was that, Booth?” Brennan asked, pausing her approach.
“I just said whoever did this is a sick fuck.”
Brennan tilted her head to the side and considered that for a moment. “Although we have nothing to indicate the state of the killer's mind, I can appreciate the colloquialism.”
“He's sick, Bones, okay? Healthy people don't kill other people and put them in metal suits and stuff them in barns.”
“Mmhmm,” Brennan said, approaching the remains, careful not to disturb any of the markers the KBI techs had laid out. She began a visual examination and was silent for several moments before she turned to Booth “Pelvic bone is covered by the metal casing, but I can tell you from the shape of the parietal bone that we're probably looking at a male. From the state of the teeth, I'd say middle-age, but I can't be certain on that until we can do a more a thorough examination outside of this casing.”
“How attached is he to that case, Bones?” Booth asked, stepping around the markers to stand next to her.
Brennan lifted a gloved hand and felt around inside the suit. “He appears to be welded inside of it, but I can see no evidence that the tissue is attached to the metal.”
“He wasn't welded expertly, either,” Booth said with disdain, careful not to touch the remains without gloves, but gesturing at one of the joints. “See that? That's a piss-poor welding job if I've ever seen one.”
Donaldson startled them both with his presence when he spoke up. “Hey, Booth?”
Booth flinched but turned to face the junior agent. “Yeah. What's up?”
“Did you take a look at this marker?” Donaldson was crouched by the ground, gesturing at a pile of straw.
“Why? What do you see?” Booth left Brennan to her remains and went to join Donaldson.
“They marked it for this odd scraping on the floor, but if you look closely here...” Donaldson moved the straw with one gloved hand.
“Blood?” Booth raised his eyebrows.
“Yep. Could be the victim's, of course. Or an animal, or...”
“The killer.”
“Very unlikely.” Brennan said from the remains.
“Why, Dr. Brennan?”
“Because, just like our other victim, the killer moved the body here and displayed it.” Booth said, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. “If there was a struggle, it wouldn't have taken place here. Am I right, Bones?”
“Correct,” Brennan said. “Although I don't know how you could possibly know that...”
“Just a hunch, Bones. Still, let's get the techs over here to scrape the blood and analyze it. Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be a lead.”
“Booth, we're going to have ship these remains as-is to the Jeffersonian for analysis. Hodgins will want to supervise the removal of particulates himself, and while I don't believe the metal is attached to the body itself, it's very possible that in the process of decomposition some of the tissue may have adhered to the casing.”
“Okay. Donaldson, let the KBI techs know we're going to be shipping out the remains tonight,” Booth said over his shoulder. “And find out where they're keeping the coffee. It's going to be a late night.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Booth?” Brennan straightened. “You're going to want to see this.”
“What?” Booth followed the somewhat-treacherous path back to the remains.
Brennan wordlessly handed Booth a pair of gloves, which he slipped on. She pointed at the chest cavity. “I noticed a sort of hinge in the metal, so I pulled it open.”
“Jesus,” Booth breathed. “His chest has been...”
“Spread apart, yes.” Brennan reached inside the remains. “And within the cavity, I found this.” She handed Booth a slip of paper, which was rotting at the edges, but the ink was still legible.
“Follow the yellow brick road or Dorothy dies,” Booth read. “Well, that's nice and cryptic.”
“I'm sure Sweets will be able to do an in-depth analysis of it,” Brennan said. “We should have him look at that when he arrives tomorrow.”
“Absolutely.” Booth handed the note back to her so she could bag it. At the reminder of his son's arrival, he bounced a little on his feet.
“Do you need to go interview the family?” Brennan asked, looking over at him.
“Is that your subtle way of telling me I'm in your way?”
“No,” Brennan said, “but you are.”
“All right, all right.” He took the gloves off, discarded them in the appropriate container, and headed back towards the house, leaving Brennan and the KBI techs to handle the crime scene.
**
The house was just as nice as Booth recalled, just as scrupulously clean. He could smell the remnants of dinner and his stomach growled, reminding him that potato chips and a soda weren't really enough to be considered a meal. Hebrew, Hal and Helen were in the living room being questioned by a local cop.
Helen stood just as soon as she realized who he was. “Agent Booth!”
“Hey,” he said easily, nodding to the policeman. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
The cop rose and they stepped outside while he briefed Booth. “So far, all of the alibis check out. Receipts are all time-stamped, and they put the family out of town for most of the day.”
“But the body could easily have been planted this morning before they left,” Booth said. “We don't know for certain when the body was placed in the barn. We won't know that until our bug and slime guy takes a look.”
“Right.” The cop swallowed. “Anyway, uh. Do you want my notes?”
“Nah, just type all that up and have it in your report for me tonight.” Booth straightened his shoulders and went back inside the house. “Hebrew, Hal, I'd like to speak to Helen alone, please.”
Hebrew started and glanced at his wife. “Should we call a lawyer?”
“No, sweetie.” She shook her head. “I'll be fine. Go ahead.”
The two men departed and left Booth with Helen. He sat down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and throwing his arm over the back. “Long day, huh?”
She laughed and rubbed the back of her neck. “You could say that.”
“You've got two traumatized teenage boys now, Mrs. Rettinger.” Booth said, smiling patiently at her. “So I think you'll agree with me that it's important that you tell me the truth.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Helen wiped her hands on her jeans. “Like I told the other policeman, though, I was out of town all day...”
“No. I want to go back to the other murder victim. Senator Williams. You claimed that you had never met him.”
“I...” Helen swallowed. “It's complicated, Agent Booth.”
“I've got time, Mrs. Rettinger.” Booth smiled charmingly at her and clicked his pen open. “I've got all the time in the world.”
“I never lied to you. I haven't met Senator Williams. I only know what my mother told me.” Helen sighed and crossed her legs.
“What did your mother tell you?”
“You have to understand, by the end of her life my mother was very confused... very... she liked to make up stories. But for some reason, this one... Well.”
Booth's tone was patient, but his facial expression was not. “Mrs. Rettinger.”
“She told me that Senator Williams was my biological father.”
Booth raised his eyebrows. “Now we're getting somewhere.”
**
On the ride back, Booth tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he told Bones what he'd learned. “She tells me that her mother and Senator Williams had a very brief romance when they were kids. He left soon after they discovered the pregnancy, and the man she considers to be her father, another farmer, by the way, came into her life when she was two. It didn't sound like her mother's marriage was happy, either.”
“Well, if she was anticipating marrying a politician,” Brennan said, shrugging her shoulders. “Some women might see that as a step down.”
“So Helen killed her biological father, drove him all the way back to the family farm, stuffed him in a scarecrow outfit and nailed him to a pole?” Donaldson asked incredulously.
“It doesn't play that way to me, either,” Booth said, shrugging his shoulders. “It just doesn't make sense. She's not the kind of woman who would want to destroy the family she's so carefully built.”
“I agree.”
Brennan wrinkled her brow as she watched the two men. “There's no evidence indicating that she was or was not the killer.”
“We're just talking about vibes here, Bones. Listen. You don't go from having the kind of childhood she had - mom married to a man she doesn't love for a paycheck and a steady meal... to having the kind of life she's got now - four kids and a white picket fence, and want to throw that away. You just don't.”
Brennan nodded. “That is logical.”
Booth grinned. “Thanks, Bones.”
“Listen, most deadbeat dads and cheating bastards don't change their tune,” Donaldson said, leaning forward. “We didn't get a lot of time in Salina, but I'm thinking we should look more at the senator's past.”
“It could be the Rettinger husband,” Brennan said.
“Still doesn't make a lot of sense,” Booth said. “If I were going to murder someone, I wouldn't hang them up for display on my own property.”
“True.”
“I think we're looking for someone that has it out for the Rettingers. It's very telling that both of the bodies have been found there.” Booth pulled smoothly into the parking lot of the bed and breakfast they were staying at. “Donaldson, we're renting you a car, sending you back to Salina. Finish up your original assignment: I want to know everything there is to know about Senator Williams. Bones and I are going to poke around the Rettingers' lives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'll call the boys from the Kansas City office, get you assigned a temporary field partner.” Booth opened the door of the SUV and jumped out.
Brennan stepped out, and accepted the field bag which Booth got for her. “Thank you.”
“You look like you're about to fall over,” Booth said quietly, cupping her bicep with a hand. “Are you okay?”
“I'm extremely tired, but it's nothing a few hours of sleep won't fix,” she said, just as quietly. His head bent to touch hers and she got that stupid fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach again. She recognized it as attraction, arousal... but something more. Something she'd only come to associate with Booth. She held her breath and hoped, like she hadn't hoped since her adolescence, that he would lean down and kiss her.
“Listen, we should... talk,” Booth said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “About everything, you know?”
“Yes, I know.” She drew in a steadying breath.
“Hey, you two, I'm going to bed,” Donaldson called over to them. They broke apart guiltily and Booth coughed.
“Right. Well,” he said, “we should go too. To bed, I mean. Separately, of course.”
Brennan bit back the smile that bloomed across her face. “Yes, of course.”
**
After they came inside, Booth set his bags down at the foot of the stairs, and gestured towards the kitchen. “Listen, Bones. I'm going to see if I can scare up a sandwich or something. You want to join me?”
She paused. “Yes, I think I would like that.”
They walked close together, closer than they normally did, hands barely brushing, faint smiles tugging at the edge of their lips. Booth pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and stopped dead in the doorway.
There, at the kitchen counter, legs swinging from a barstool that was still a little too tall for his feet to reach the ground, sat Parker Booth, taking long pulls from what appeared to be a milkshake. He chattered at Mrs. Hoake, who was bustling around the kitchen. Next to him sat Sweets, who appeared bemused by everything going on around him.
“Parker?” Booth said, hardly able to believe his eyes.
“Dad!” Parker whirled around and jumped off of the barstool, nearly tackling his dad with the force of his hug. “Hi!”
“Hey, buddy!” Booth dropped to a crouch and wrapped Parker in a hug, dipping his head so that no one could see the tears gathering in his eyes. “I wasn't expecting you today.”
“Lance found us an earlier flight. He said it would be okay if we came a day early. Is that okay?” Parker pulled back, a worried look in his eyes.
“Yeah, of course.” Booth grinned so wide it almost hurt, but he couldn't stop. “I'm so glad to see you.”
“Me too, Dad.” Parker pulled back. “Heya, Bones!”
“Hey Parker! Oh!” She wrapped the boy in a hug when he initiated it. “How have you been?”
“Good. Max showed us some of the bones that you sent back from Indonesia. It was really cool!”
“He did, huh?”
“Yeah. Then we got to do an excavation like you guys were doing! It was really hot, though.”
“It was hot in Indonesia, too.”
“Hey Sweets,” Booth said, nodding his head. “Thanks for hauling Parker all the way out here.”
“Oh, it was no trouble.” Sweets got to his feet and extended his hand. “It's good to see you safe and sound, Agent Booth. Nice to see you, Dr. Brennan.”
Brennan raised her hand in greeting. “Booth and I were going to try and find something to eat. We've been at a crime scene and haven't had a chance to have dinner.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Hoake said, a wide smile on her face. “Why don't you two sit down and chat with your guests? I can whip up something delicious for everyone.”
“Mrs. Hoake, you don't have to go out of your way for us like this...”
“Nonsense. This is more excitement than I've had in years. In a good way.”
The little kitchen was soon noisy and crowded as Bones and Booth sat down and chatted long into the night with Sweets and Parker.
**
Booth could hardly sleep. He remembered feeling this way when Parker had been born - just overwhelmed by the joy of having his son around. So when the knock came at his door, he hopped out of bed and strode over to open it.
“Parks! What are you doing up?”
He shrugged his head to the side and all Booth could see was his grandfather echoed there. “I couldn't sleep.”
“Want to hang out in here for a while?”
The smile that spread across his son's face clued him in that Parker had really been wanting to spend more time with him, and Booth couldn't help the answering grin.
“What were you doing?”
“I couldn't sleep, buddy, so I was doing paperwork.” Booth gestured at the bed.
“That's a lot of paperwork,” Parker said. “I forgot how much paperwork you have to do.”
“It's nothing that can't wait,” Booth said. “Not while you're here.”
Parker flung himself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “When you come back, are you going to be back forever?”
“Yeah, buddy. I'm not going back to the Army.” Booth lay down next to Parker, lacing his fingers across his chest.
“A year is a really long time,” Parker said. “You didn't get to coach my baseball team.”
“Yeah, but I hear you did just fine without me.” Booth said, nudging Parker's shoulder with a fist.
“It wasn't the same without you. No one else takes me for humongous milkshakes after. Mom tried, a couple of times, but that's our thing.”
“Yeah, that's our thing.” Booth reached over and ran his fingers through his son's curly mop of hair. “Well, now that I'm back, we'll have to go get humongous milkshakes again, okay?”
“Okay.” Parker leaned into his father's touch. “I'm sorry I made you go, Dad.”
“What? No. Buddy, no.” Booth shook his head. “Parker, I'm an adult. I made the decision to go all by myself.”
“I told you that you should go, though.”
Booth sighed. “Yeah, buddy, you did. But you told me I should go for all the reasons I was telling myself that I should go.”
“Did you save a lot of lives?”
Booth felt ice-cold water run through his veins and he swallowed hard against the lump that rose in his throat. When he'd left, Parker had been almost nine, not quite ready to talk about the harsh realities of war. Was ten better? He'd certainly saved lives, but -
Walking down a dusty path in full gear.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Less like pops than mini explosions, tearing apart flesh.
Screaming.
Run! Cover! Insurgents, dammit...
“Dad?”
Booth blinked and shook his head. “Yeah, Parker. I saved some lives.”
Parker nodded his head. “I'm glad, Dad.”
“Me too, buddy.”
There was a quiet knock at the door, and Bones stuck her head in. “Oh, Parker. I didn't know you were going to be staying in here.”
“It's okay, Bones. I was just hangin' with my dad.”
A soft smile crept across her face, and Booth was reminded, once more, of where he was. What he was doing. The muggy heat of Kansas was nothing like the dry heat of the desert where he'd been. The soft whir above him was from a ceiling fan. The bed beneath him was free of mice, which had been everywhere in Afghanistan.
“I had a question, but I don't want to interrupt.”
“If you can't sleep, you can join us,” Parker said, patting the bed next to him. “You're not interrupting nothing, Bones.”
“Anything, Parker,” Booth corrected, closing his eyes.
“I'm glad you're back too, Bones. I had to do my science project all by myself. Well, Max helped, but...”
Parker was off again. Brennan looked over his head at Booth, who grinned at her, hoping his flashback earlier didn't show in his eyes. She reached out her hand and took his, squeezing it gently. Parker scrunched in close to his Dad, and Brennan lay on the other side of him, the three of them staring up at the ceiling.
It should have been hot. It should have been downright smothering, actually, but somehow, it just felt right. Despite the voices shouting in his head not to get used to this, not to think for one second that he deserved any of this, Booth could do nothing but lay back and revel in the feeling of family. A real family - a family he'd built for himself, from the ground up.
Maybe someday, he allowed himself to think, it would be him and Bones in the same bed every night. Maybe someday Parker would be down the hall more than once or twice a month. Maybe someday, when he'd atoned for all of his sins, he could be this happy every day.
**
Chapter Twelve: Auntie Em