"Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."

-Sir Walter Scott in his poem Marmion

FBI Deputy Director Seeley Booth sauntered into his office after returning from a leisurely lunch and casually looked through the stack of folders on his desk. Nothing pressing...just a few loose ends that needed tidying up. He was beginning to like the deputy director's job more than he thought he would. He missed being out in the field doing the intensive legwork required to solve major crimes, but it was nice to be able to sleep peacefully next to his beautiful wife without having to worry so much about being called out in the middle of the night to look at some horrible crime scene, and he was glad he was able to skip slogging through mud, heat, snow or rain just to look at a mangled set of human remains.

He grinned as he started up his computer and watched the screen saver roll across the monitor. The pictures of Bones with Parker, Christine and Hank faded in and out every minute or so. Sometimes he just sat for a few minutes and watched the pictures go by, thanking God one more time for the blessing that was his family. He knew he didn't deserve them, but by God's grace they were his, and he considered himself to be one very lucky man.

"Hey, Booth...whatcha' doin'?" Aubrey stood in the doorway of Booth's new office. "Taking in the scenery, I see." He nodded at the monitor. "Very nice. Hey, listen...I wanted to ask you some questions about that murder case involving the body that was found at the landfill day before yesterday."

"What? The new Special Agent in Charge needs help? I'm surprised at you, Aubrey." Booth grinned as he pointed to the chair across from him. "Seriously, what's up?"

"Well, you've been out to the landfill to look at crime scenes, right? It's huge...several acres, I guess, and there's all this garbage and other shit out there, and trying to figure out what's part of the crime scene and what's just trash is a major problem…"

"Did you talk to the squints? I mean, the squints other than Jessica?" Booth laughed as he saw Aubrey's faint blush. "Hey, I get it...she's really cute, and she probably thinks you're really special, too, right? That's not the point. You need to talk to the guys that are working with Hodgins. He may not be able to actually go out to the landfill physically, but the Jeffersonian techs can take their tablets and skype some pictures back to him, and he'd be able to direct them as far as what's good stuff and what's trash. Or maybe you could just set up a perimeter and collect everything within it." Booth snickered as he noticed how Aubrey cringed at that suggestion. "Yeah, the landfill is nasty, isn't?"

"Yeah...the smell is the worst part. I mean, it was really hot out there yesterday, and the smell was so bad I couldn't even eat lunch after being out there."

"Jesus…you couldn't eat?" Booth was in shock. "That's rough. I guess you're gonna be earning that big raise you got with your promotion, huh? New office, new job, more responsibility, and more dirty work. Just another day in Paradise, right?"

Booth and Aubrey laughed and talked a few minutes more until Aubrey rose to leave. "I gotta get back to the mines, Booth. Thanks for the help. I'll go talk to Hodgins and see what he recommends."

Booth's phone rang just as Aubrey was about to leave. "Booth...yeah...hang on a minute." He covered the phone with his hand as he spoke to Aubrey. "Hey, don't leave yet. I might need you."

Returning to the phone call, Booth jotted down notes as he spoke to the caller. "Okay. Yes, I understand. 22 Hickory Lane, in the Heights. Twenty minutes. Got it." He handed the slip of paper to Aubrey. "Metro wants us to take over this case. They say the victim may be well known, and they're not…"

"...equipped to handle that sort of publicity." Aubrey scowled as he read the slip of paper. "I guess I'll get McAnally and Lopez to go out to the crime scene. They're both pretty laid back...They're excellent investigators and I think they can probably deal with all the publicity in this case as well as anybody."

"Ask them to meet us over there as soon as they can. I gotta call Cam and get some squints out there, too."

"Meet 'us' there?" Aubrey narrowed his eyes as he watch Booth make his phone call and shut down his computer. "What the hell does that mean? Wait...you're not serious…" Aubrey slumped back into his chair. "Really?"

"Well, I hate to tell you this, Aubrey, but…" Booth gave Aubrey a sheepish look. "The guys upstairs actually requested that I oversee this investigation personally." Booth shrugged his shoulders as he saw Aubrey's amazement. "I know...deputy directors aren't supposed to be in the field conducting investigations. They're supposed to stay in the office and keep their hands clean, right? But this request came from on high, so it's not like I can turn it down."

"Great." Aubrey rolled his eyes and pretended to be upset as he stood with his hands stuck in his pockets. "Look, it's not my fault I haven't been the Special Agent in Charge for very long. It took me forever to kick your ass out of that office so I could get the promotion, Booth. Now they're gonna claim I don't have enough experience!"

"It took awhile because I had to make sure you were ready to take over my job. I couldn't turn it over to somebody incompetent, could I? The Major Crimes Unit has a reputation to uphold!" Booth chuckled as he grabbed his phone and his jacket. "We'd better get going if we're going to beat the traffic…"

"We? You want me to go with you?" Aubrey was now thoroughly confused. "I thought…"

Booth interrupted. "I'm out of practice. I'm gonna need someone to help keep me organized and I definitely need someone to translate squint speak. How about I just be the lead investigator in name only and you run the show? Will that work? Do you have time to go with me?"

"Sure, I guess so, if nobody else cares." Aubrey pulled out his phone. "Just let me send a text...Jess was expecting me to come for dinner tonight, so I wanna let her know I might be late."

"When are you gonna marry that girl, Aubrey? Jeez...long courtships suck. Trust me on that one..." Booth pressed the down elevator button as he chuckled at his friend. "What's the problem? Which one of you has cold feet?"

"What are you, my grandmother, Booth?" Aubrey grinned as they stepped into the elevator. "Jessica wants to make sure she's set in her career before we make any sort of permanent commitment. She'll have her doctorate in a few months, if she passes her orals, and she's hoping to get a job in the DC area, but if not…"

"If not, you're gonna transfer to where her job is, and leave me high and dry with no well-trained special agent in charge, right?"

Aubrey shrugged a shoulder as he watched the floor numbers change over the elevator door. "I have no idea what's gonna happen. We'll just have to wait and see…but we don't have to worry about that today. Let's go see what's happening at 22 Hickory Lane, okay?"

Booth smirked as the elevator doors opened. "Whatever you say, Special Agent in Charge Aubrey...whatever you say…."

oooooooooo

Booth turned the SUV onto a tree lined residential street that meandered through an expanse of expensive, well maintained homes. The neighborhood looked like something out of a fairy tale. Large Victorian style houses painted in cheerful colors flaunted their gingerbread trim, complete with curlicues and window boxes brimming with bright flowers. The well manicured lawns boasted fountains and perfectly shaped trees and hedges. Who would ever expect that this genteel part of town would experience a crime of this magnitude?

It was obvious which house was 22 Hickory Lane. Two police cars, an FBI style SUV and an ambulance were parked in the broad driveway. The Jeffersonian truck was parked in the street in front of the house. Several people stood on the sidewalk across the street, shocked that something so horrible could happen in their pleasant little corner of the world. Booth parked the SUV, and strolled up the front walk toward the rambling yellow house. Aubrey wore a grim expression as he walked next to Booth. "This is not what I was expecting. It's such a nice neighborhood…I mean, it's a beautiful house with a porch swing and nice potted geraniums..."

"Yeah, I know, but murders can happen anywhere.", Booth said sadly. They gave a small wave to a uniformed officer walking past them to the squad car. "People think they're safe if they live in a swanky gated community or a nice part of town like this, but a lot of murders are committed by people who know each other instead of some random stranger."

Walking up the steps to the expansive porch, Aubrey spoke to Agent Mateo Lopez. "Glad you could get here so quickly. You remember Deputy Director Booth, right? He's going to be coordinating our investigation." The two men shook hands as Aubrey peered over Lopez's shoulder, trying to look into the house through the open front door. "Where's McAnally?"

Lopez raised his eyebrows as he shook his head. "Don't tell her I told you...She's not doing too well right now, Boss. The crime scene is really grisly, and with her being pregnant...she's heaving her guts up behind the house." Lopez sighed as he wiped his eyes with his knuckle. "It was all I could do to hold it together myself…."

Booth and Aubrey stood silently for a minute so that Lopez could regain his control. Finally, he nodded and inhaled slowly. "Here's what we know. The house is owned by Senator William Camden, but it appears that he doesn't live here, at least not full time. Most of the clothing and shoes in the closet are for a woman, as well as most of the toiletries in the bathroom off the master bedroom. Metro thought at first that the victim was killed because someone thought she was an intruder, but it doesn't appear that there was a forced entry so now they're leaning more toward a home invasion gone wrong." Lopez pointed out the door frame around the lock. "No damage here...she probably knew her killer...maybe even let him in. They don't think it was a robbery, because she's still wearing some expensive jewelry. The locals are passing the case on to us because the house belongs to a US Senator." Hearing a faint sound behind him, Lopez turned and smiled gently at his partner. "Feeling better, Cindy? You still look a little pale."

Cindy McAnally tried to smile weakly as she gingerly walked over to the group of agents. "I'll be okay in about seven months. Hey, Boss...sorry about that, but it's awful in there…I've been feeling queasy anyway, and that was just too much..."

"I understand. Don't worry about it." Aubrey looked toward the house again. "By the way, McAnally, you've met Deputy Director Booth, right?" After they shook hands, Booth gestured toward the house.

"Have the FBI techs started recovering evidence from the scene yet, Agent Lopez? I'd expect there to be a lot more people filing in and out. Hey…" Booth waved at a police officer directing traffic in front of the house. "You can let the ambulance go back to the station. The Jeffersonian will arrange for transport of the remains."

Lopez nodded over his shoulder toward the house. "The techs are working on establishing who owns the house, searching the rooms other than the one where the body was found, looking for trace and fingerprints...stuff like that. The house has security monitoring with an off site company, so we'll talk to them about any information they might have about the alarm going off. I think they've turned the recovery of any evidence in conjunction with the body over to the Jeffersonian. The body is in bad shape, and determining the identity of the victim may be difficult."

An ashen McAnally exhaled heavily and groaned softly, looking as if she was going to vomit again. "Mateo…" She shook her head and walked away.

"Right. I'll take care of it, Cindy. If you'll come with me, gentlemen, I'll show you what we've got inside…"

They entered the massive set of double doors at the front of the house and walked through a marble foyer into what was probably the formal living room. The elegant navy blue and cream furnishings stood in stark contrast to the tools and equipment being moved in and out as the crime scene was being examined. They could hear the keening wail of a woman in another room as they walked toward the formal dining room. Booth and Aubrey made their way over to a group of scientists wearing the Jeffersonian logo.

"Hey, Cam. What can you tell me?" Booth pulled his notecards out of his jacket pocket and got his pen ready, when something caught his eye. That hair color is so familiar and that ring...it looks like...no, it couldn't be...he shook his gut feelings off and listened intently as Cam elaborated on the team's findings.

Cam stood up and glanced over her shoulder at the body behind her. "Female. Mid thirties, maybe early forties, Caucasian. She was discovered by her housekeeper about two hours ago." Cam pinched her lips together, evidently trying to find a delicate way to describe the injuries, but finding none, she continued quietly. "It appears that she took a massive blast to the face from some sort of high powered shotgun. There's not much left of it…"

She turned slightly toward the body as Booth and Aubrey stepped forward. The victim lay on her back, her hands across her body in a defensive posture, but the ends of the fingers had been cut off from her hands. Her lower jaw was still present, but there was a bloody gaping hole where her upper lip, nose, and eyes should've been. What was left of her forehead formed the upper margin of the hole. Even though some of the victim's long blonde hair was intact on top of her head, it was obvious that the back of her skull had been obliterated by the weapon's blast. The walls, furniture, and carpeting in the dining room were covered with the remnants of the explosion in the victim's skull. Blood and blood vessels, shards of bone, cartilage, and brain matter seemed to cover every exposed surface around her body.

"Jesus Christ." Aubrey turned away from the horrible sight as he tried to maintain his composure. He was a Special Agent in Charge, and he couldn't let crime scenes like this get the best of him, but this was one of the most awful things he'd ever witnessed. He inhaled sharply and waited until the wave of nausea rolled past before he asked his next question. "How long ago?"

Cam nodded toward the kitchen where the housekeeper was being interviewed. "Mrs. Jordan says she was here yesterday morning and things were fine. She tried to call this morning because she'd forgotten something here at the house, but there was no answer. Since she was in the area this afternoon she stopped by to get it. The alarm was turned off and the front door was ajar. Unfortunately, this is what she found when she entered the dining room. Given the way the blood has begun to dry, I'd say...late last night or early this morning." She glanced over at the Deputy Director, who seemed to be uneasy. "Booth...are you okay?"

He shook his head, trying to fight off the horror he felt, but he knew it was no use. There was no way to avoid it. He thought he recognized the general shape of her face and the hair color, but that ring...that ring was what sold it. He was trembling violently as he grabbed the back of the chair next to him, trying to keep from passing out. "Cam, I need you to check the victim's right hip, about halfway down, on the cheek. Is there a blue butterfly tattoo, about the size of a half dollar?"

Aubrey glanced at Booth and saw how distraught he was by the crime scene. That's not like him at all. He's seen some pretty awful stuff working with Dr. B, but he's really pale and very shaky. Something's up. Then it occurred to him…He knows her. He knows the victim from somewhere...

"Yes, here it is…." Cam looked up at Booth, shocked to see him so pale and unsteady, swaying slightly and perspiring profusely.

"Is there a blue script capital H below the butterfly?" Please, God, no…

"Yes…Booth, do you know who this is?" Cam sat back on her haunches watching her friend as he gripped the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white, trying to keep from falling over.

Booth felt his knees buckle, and he sat clumsily in the chair, clearly stunned at what he believed to be true. Finally he whispered, "Oh, my God. I think...this….this is...Hannah...Hannah Burley."

oooooooooo

The spectators across the street from 22 Hickory Lane milled about on the sidewalk, trying to find out what had happened to their neighbor. Most of them were very upset as they tried to get information about what had happened, being unwilling or unable to comprehend what was taking place in the pleasant house across the street. They watched as police cars and vans from news stations came and went, and realized, to their dismay, that something appalling had happened in the sunny yellow house with the beautiful geraniums on the front porch. They stood gaping or with their hands covering their mouths, trying to recover their sense of complacency as they wiped their tears away.

All except one. That one spectator stood off away from everyone else, watching in great interest and smiling with satisfaction. Step one of the plan was complete, and had been quite successful. The trap was set, and now the fun was about to begin….

oooooooooo

If you have time to review, that would be great...would you like to read more?