Okay, I'm combining two things here: my love and knowledge of forensics and criminal profiling and my love for Bones. I'm not really sure how I can go wrong! This will be a multi-chaptered fic, and it's all written out. I'll be posting regularly once a week, so be on the lookout. It's gonna be about thirteen chapters, I hope you enjoy.
It takes place late first season, sometime after Man in the Morgue. I don't own them, but if you're reading this Hart, please please please can I have them for Christmas?
Special Agent Seeley Booth strolled through the doors of the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab whistling a merry tune. It had been a whole week since he'd been here; one gloriously boring week filled with routine questionings and paperwork. Now they had a hot case and he was ready to collect his favorite forensic anthropologist.
"Hey there, stud," called a sweet voice from the platform. Booth smiled charmingly up at the lab's resident artist where she stood with Zach and Hodgins. They were reduced to racing beetles again and Angela had become so bored she was watching.
"Hey there yourself," he called back, swiping his ID card as he ascended the steps. "Where's Bones?" he looked around but didn't see his partner anywhere.
"In her office," Angela answered. "We have a case?" Booth chuckled at her use of the word "we" and nodded. He didn't fail to notice the three sets of eyes that lit up at the prospect of a case and he laughed to himself as he followed the familiar path to Brennan's office.
"Knock knock, Bones," he called through her open door.
"Booth," she looked up from her computer screen. "Case?" She stood up from her chair and stretched before reaching for her coat. Reflexively, he helped her don it against her will.
"Yeah, kids found a body stuffed into a playground tube," he said gravely and he saw the nearly imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders. It was always harder on his squints when the victim was a child. He led her out the door and through the lab stopping only briefly to let Goodman know he was abducting Brennan for the afternoon.
Police officers and paramedics were swarming the playground when they arrived and Booth had barely stopped the car when Brennan bolted out the door and onto the scene.
"I need a perimeter here," she ordered, earning her glares from the local authority. "Don't touch that!" she barked at a young officer bending to peer into the tube. Booth walked up calmly behind her and flashed his badge, indicating to everyone that she was with him and they were to do as she said. The young corporal backed away quickly and Brennan pulled her kit from the SUV. Booth stood behind her as she looked over the remains.
"Male, between the ages of eight and twelve, approximately one point two meters tall. This body is well into decomp; I'd say the victim died eight to ten days ago, and was just put here. Probable cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head. I won't know more until we get it back to the lab." She commandeered the forensics team and began extracting the remains for transport. Booth questioned a few of the first responders and got the names of the kids who had discovered the body.
"Booth," his partner's voice floated across the playground and he jogged over.
"What do you have?" he asked, knowing she would need him for no other reason.
"That," she gestured to a small scrap of paper and a small plastic figure found under the body.
"Collect that," he motioned for the forensics team, "And send it to the FBI evidence lab for processing."
"You know what that is?"
"No," Booth answered, "Not yet. But if it was under the body the killer must have left it there. I'll have a few guys from the NCAVC look at it, see what they can tell us."
"You think this is serial?" Brennan asked. "We only have one body."
"We have a dead kid and a clue. Clues mean games, and games usually mean serial. I'm not taking any chances." Brennan nodded at her partner's firm tone, knowing he hated feeling helpless, especially with kids involved. She finished collecting what she needed and gave instructions for the transport of the body before joining him in his car.
"It'll take them a while to get the body to the Jeffersonian," she said quietly. "How about lunch?" He nodded solemnly and drove off toward Wong Foo's.
An hour later, Booth dropped Brennan off at the Jeffersonian and returned to FBI Headquarters, preparing himself to delve through the small amount of evidence until he was blue in the face. Evidence processing had finished with what they'd found on site and Booth found the report on his desk.
"A fortune cookie fortune and a small red monkey," he mumbled, his eyes taking in every detail. Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed an internal extension.
"CASMIRC, Special Agent Michaels speaking," the rich baritone rumbled through the receiver.
"Hey Nate, it's Seeley," he answered, earning him a hearty chuckle.
"Seeley! You old rascal, how are things top-side?"
"Not good, Nate. We got a case that I may need your kind of help on," he said. He and Nathan Michaels had started at the Bureau around the same time eight years ago; they had gone through orientation and training together. But Nate had been selected for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime – an elite group of criminal profilers and investigative officers begun by Special Agent John Douglas back in the seventies, when it was the Behavioral Sciences Unit – and so Booth had said goodbye to his friend. Eventually, Nate had earned a spot on the CASMIRC by putting together evidence that solved one of the longest running serial child murder cases in Chicago. The man was good, and Booth trusted his instincts and judgment.
"Boss-man know about this?"
"Not yet. There's only one body, so it's not serial yet, but it's a kid. I'm putting in the official request for your department's help as we speak." There was a pause on the other end before Booth heard his friend sigh.
"I'll come up and take a look," he said finally.
"Thank you."
When Booth arrived back at the Jeffersonian, his squints were already hard at work. Zach and Brennan were hunched over the table, examining the now-clean bones. Hodgins had several Petri dishes of things to identify and Angela was probably holed up in her lab trying to identify the boy. He swiped his card and ascended quietly, settling for looking over their shoulders from a distance.
"It's not like you to be quiet," Brennan observed, and he couldn't help the smile.
"Didn't want to interrupt," he said casually. "We have an ID yet?"
"Angela's working on it," she answered, not looking up. "I was right," she continued, "COD was trauma to the head, two blows, though they weren't successive. The victim had gravel blocking his larynx, and some minor particulates in his lungs, which Hodgins identified as common playground sand. It looks as if he hit the victim once and began filling his mouth with gravel, only to realize the victim was still alive. The second blow was the killing one. Zach, look at this," she pointed with one of her instruments.
"His right ulna was fractured several years ago. The injury is congruent with a fall backwards; he probably put his arms out to stop his momentum. There's a step at the lateral end of the clavicle, also suggesting the injury happened several years ago."
"It looks like he had surgery to correct the misalignment. Can we use that for an ID?" Booth realized she was using this as a training opportunity and fought back a smirk.
"If we can get a hold of matching x-rays, then yes. We should have possible matches from Angela as soon as she's done."
"Which I am," Angela piped in. She held out her sketchbook and they all stared at the face of a nine-year old boy, his face split in a playful grin. "Children should be happy," she added. "I got six hits from Missing and Exploited Children, between current cases and age extrapolation."
"We found evidence of an old injury that was surgically repaired. I'll get you the information and you can narrow it down." Angela nodded and returned to her station as Brennan fed the information into the computer. Angela returned moments later with a forlorn look on her face.
"Christopher Sikes," she said, "Age nine. His parents reported him missing from school two weeks ago." She looked at the pile of bones and felt her throat close.
"Do we have time of death?" Brennan called over to Hodgins.
"Judging from the generations of the larvae and pupae I'd say death occurred no sooner than eight days ago. There are several different species I'm working out; I may be able to give you a better idea of where the victim died."
"What's that?" Brennan asked, pointing to the folder in Booth's hand. He held it up and gave the team a grim smile.
"I asked for help from an old friend. He works on cases like this. He'll take a look at the evidence and narrow down a list of possible suspect types for us to work with."
"Like a profiler?" Angela asked.
"Yeah, he works with CASMIRC, though from time to time he freelances with BAU." At their blank looks he grinned in triumph. "Finally, I get to see that look on your faces!" At their continued glares, he cleared his throat and explained.
"CASMIRC – Child Abduction and Serial Murder Investigative Resource Center. They deal with law enforcement across the country on cases involving children, or serial cases, though they're just as FBI as I am. Nate's one of the best profilers we have, and he specializes in Crimes against Children. He also works with Behavioral Analysis Units from time to time." Brennan nodded at her team to get back to work as she led Booth into her office. He grabbed her coat from the rack and held it out to her.
"Where are we going?" she asked, though she pulled the jacket on just the same.
"We're taking all the evidence collected here over to Nate. He needs everything in order to come up with an accurate profile."
"He'll really be able to come up with a suspect?" Brennan asked skeptically as she collected her notes.
"I know you don't like psychology Bones but even criminals have it. And serial cases often follow strict behavioral patterns that make it easy for experts like Nate to identify the type of person we're looking for." He led her out of the lab and to his SUV, ignoring her glare as he held the passenger door open for her.
"We – I should say you – are not allowed to go to his office, so he agreed to meet us at my place." He shut the door before she could protest and studiously ignored the frustrated glare she threw at him as he walked around the car. They rode in silence until Brennan took a deep breath.
"I could have stayed at the lab while you met with him," she said finally. But he merely threw her a pleasant smile.
"'Full participation' I believe were your exact words all those months ago, Bones. Besides, you'll like Nate." Crossing her arms indignantly, she stared out the window ready to ignore him completely, but her posture only made him chuckle. "Relax, Bones. It's good to get out of the lab every once in a while. Look, I promise I'll take you back just as soon as we're done. Then you can stay the night for all I care...as long as you eat something," he pointed his finger at her. Appeased, Brennan relaxed and rolled her eyes at his antic, settling into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the ride.
Well? Please review and let me know what you think. Things will pick up in the next few chapters.