Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Bones or anything related to it. This is a new thing for me, rattling off a plot quickly and in relatively short drabbles as a way to keep energy (though, yes, I do have a plot). I'm withholding judgment for the time being! Let me know what you think!

The Death Metal in the Doctor

Booth hated days like this. Days where the A/C was strained and the interview room became just hot enough to coax individual drops of sweat to tickle down between his shoulder blades. It was ridiculous that in a Federal building there couldn't be some sort of better control on this sort of thing. How hard was it to get reliable A/C going through the floor, anyway?

Still, if Booth found the interview room uncomfortable, their suspect had to find it even more so.

Special Agent Seely Booth had brought Mark Penn to be questioned as the chief suspect in an ongoing murder investigation. Only a few days earlier, the bodies of two individuals had been found buried beneath a fallen tree house on Penn's land. While the squints, or specialists, at the Jeffersonian had dated the remains, this preliminary interview was all they had to go on so far.

"So, let's go over this again," Booth let the file folder drop from his hand back onto the desk.

"Oh, god…" Mark muttered and covered his face briefly. He certainly didn't look the part of a cold-blooded killer, though Booth put little stock in such things. Killers came in all shapes and sizes. Mark was in his early thirties, brown hair thinning a little and beard hiding a weak chin. It was the way his hands were shaking, the pleading look to his eyes and submissive slump to his shoulders that meant more to Booth when it came to guessing at a man's ability to take another person's life.

"Because that's two bodies we pulled out of your yard, Mark," he smoothly pressed. "And you know, we still think there might be a third."

"I told you, I don't know how they got there!" Mark was earnest, quick.

"Really?" Booth smiled, "Now, you can understand how I might find that hard to believe. It's your yard and you've lived there your whole life. Stayed there through college, even. All the way right up until your mother died, isn't that right?"

"Yes, but… It's back behind the creek! You've been there, right? We've never kept it up there, it's like open land. The neighbor kids hang out there all the time," Mark nodded firmly, rapidly. Booth had indeed been to the location. He'd even overseen the first steps in the removal of the bodies, watching Bones harass the agents on site for disturbing things they shouldn't have.

"Alright. So, what can you tell me about the kids who hung out around there, then. Around twelve years ago?"

"Nothing," Mark said without thinking, and then immediately recanted at the skepticism on Booth's face. "I mean… I don't….Hey, that's about the time that little satanic freak from across the creek was hanging around. He trespassed out there all the time. My father had to chase him off once or twice!"

"Satanic freak?" Booth settled back, cocking his head to the side as he encouraged. His eyes slid to the two-way mirror and the Forensic Anthropologist that he knew was watching from behind it.

"Yeah. He… you know… wore black all the time. Ripped clothing. Didn't have any friends or anything. My dad figured he'd stolen some money from the house once." Mark warmed to his subject, "Yeah. He could totally have killed people. I think…I think he even threatened to do something to some kids that were bullying him."

"Ri-ight," Booth leaned forward to scribble something on his notepad. "This scary kid have a name or something?"

Mark gestures, "I don't remember! It was years ago. I wasn't even living at the house full time then. I just heard things. But he was living with his parents on 34 Waterford. It's right up against that creek, like our house."

"Alright, Mr. Penn. We'll look into that." Booth stood up. He'd heard enough. A disturbed teenage kid was a good a place to start as any, since his interview with Penn pretty much ruled the man out as the direct doer of the deed. Still, he'd check out this lead, then maybe bring Penn back in for questioning in a few days. Once his memory had a chance to mull a bit more.

"It's a different family in the house now," Penn said abruptly, more eager than ever to be helpful now that it looked like he was being believed. "The Sweets died about four years back. Someone else bought it."

"That's not a pr…" Booth was brought up short. He stared at Penn, "Wait, what did you say?"