Hey, everyone. I am soooooooo sorry for the delay on this chapter. A lot went on that delayed me in completeing it. First, I scrtached my cornea last weekend--thankfully, not my good eye--and then, this weekend, I was on the border of having a bacterial infection. Anyway, I'm better now and I finally completed this chapter. I'll try getting chapter twelve out as soon as possible. Thank you all for being so patient, reviewing the past chapter, favoriting, and watching this story. Thank you so much for the support. Love ya all! Now, please enjoy and review. Thankies.

Chapter Eleven: Liar, Liar, Everywhere

The next day, Rachelle and Brennan watched Booth interrogate Nestor's roommate, who was with his parents and lawyer from behind a two-way mirror at the bureau. The women waited patiently as he spoke with the platinum blonde-haired boy. Both wanting to learn how Booth read those they interrogated, hoping to be able to do so themselves in the near future.

"You and Nestor were roommates for three months, correct?" Booth questioned Tucker, using his professional, interrogating voice..

"Yes, sir." the adolescent nodded.

"And you invited him up to Nova Scotia with you for the two week break, right?"

"We have a home there on Cape Benton. Plenty of room." Tucker's mother stated.

"Then, he decided to go to Venezuela for the remainder of the vacation." Tucker admitted softly.

Booth perched himself on the table in the middle of the room, sitting very close to the young man. "What did the other kids say about Nestor, Tucker?" he inquired.

"Well, he used to be deaf so he couldn't exactly…" the boy couldn't really put it into to words. He frowned. "A lot of the kids called him a retard because of it."

"Tucker, please don't say retard." his mother scolded.

"I never used it, Mom! The other kids did! I swear!" her son replied in defense. He peered back to Booth. "He went to church every Sunday, even when no one told him to. Kids thought that was weird."

"I see. Nestor had a girlfriend?" Booth asked.

"There was a girl he liked, but I can't give you her name." Tucker shrugged. "He never told me who."

Booth shook his head then, stared straight at the boy—a look he always used to make people squirm. "Y'know, Tucker, lying to an FBI agent is a federal offense." he warned in a low tone.

"Agent Booth," Tucker's lawyer warned from the other end of the table.

"An email was sent from Nova Scotia to his parents that he was having a great time." Booth's eyes, now almost black, narrowed. Tucker a little in his seat as the taller and older man loomed over him. "Strange thing is, he was already dead when it was sent. Care to explain that?"

"I'd advise Tucker to not answer that." the lawyer claimed dully.

"No, Dona." Tucker's father said. "If Tucker knows something, he should say it."

Nonetheless, his son said nothing. He just stared up at Booth intimidated. Tucker's mother frowned. "Tucker!" she scolded.

Biting his lip, he hung his head. "It was a dodge."

"There we go." Booth stood. He was satisfied that he was now getting somewhere, but kept his face calm and collected. The short-haired man sat down in his own chair across from the family. "You backed him up so he could be with the girl." Booth said.

"Yeah." Tucker nodded.

"Tucker!" his mother cried, aghast.

"What?! I'm sorry, but he begged me!" he exclaimed.

"What girl, Tucker?" Booth asked.

"I told you, I don't know. I thought he made her up." Tucker admitted. "I just wrote the email, that's it."

Booth remained silent and stared at the boy, hoping to get more yet, that seemed to be it. Sighing deeply, he dismissed the family. They left and Booth peered back at the glass, looking to Rachelle and Brennan. The women exchanged glances, thinking the same thing: Now what?

~*--*~

They were at a loss.

Nestor's roommate gave them very little and Angela's reenactment virtual machine kept giving them scenarios that just didn't seem to properly explain how Nestor's hyoid broke. Hodgins was still looking at the bugs found on the body and Zack was looking at the x-rays in case they missed even the slightest thing. No one knew if it was a murder or suicide. However, no one wanted to give up. Brennan even seemed to have more vigor to solve the case—maybe it had something to do with Nestor's mother's visit. Either way, Booth suggested they check out Nestor's dorm room. Maybe they'd find some clues there.

Thus, there they were, making their way through Hanover Prep towards the boys' dorms.

"What do you expect to find, Booth?" Brennan asked, walking to the stairs to go to the second level of dormitories.

"Anything. Anything, Bones." Booth answered.

His intern added, following the older people, "Even the tiniest of things could do us some good."

"But--" she began only to stop when she spotted an olive-skinned man descending the carpeted stairs. Booth and Rachelle spotted the man as well. The three exchanged looks, knowing exactly where that man had been: in Nestor's room.

"Hold it right there!" Booth shouted. Of course, the man didn't do that. Instead, with wide eyes, he whipped around and frantically bolted back up the stairs. "Stay here!" Booth told the young women.

"Yeah, right!" they both said, pushing past him and dashing after the man.

Brennan being the faster of the females made it to the room first. Rachelle arrived at the dorm soon after, only to have the door slammed in her face. That was followed by grunting noises, what sounded like fighting, and there was a "THUD". Gasping, Rachelle yanked open the door and rushed inside just as the fallen man got up. Rachelle ran past Brennan, so he wouldn't try attacking the older woman—not again, at least. The man swung at Rachelle. She easily dodged to the side, giving her an opening to her attacker's face. She more than willing took that opportunity. The blonde grabbed his outstretched arm, pulled him forward, so her elbow of her free hand would smash into his nose. Then, she swung her other hand to punch him hard across the face. He stumbled back and fell to the floor unconscious.

Exhaling deeply, Rachelle smirked, proud of her work. Then, she remembered Brennan. The short girl faced the forensic anthropologist, who appeared fairly impressed. "You okay, Dr. Brennan?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. You?"

"Same."

That was when Booth appeared and entered the room.

"You two okay?" he questioned.

"Yes." they both nodded. Rachelle added, jamming her dark blue nail-painted thumb in the attacker's direction. "But he's not."

Booth looked past his intern and arched his brows. "Good job." he patted her shoulder, making her beam, before kneeling down at the other male's side. Booth reached into the attacker's suit jacket inner pocket. The agent pulled out a wallet and tossed it to Brennan. "Check his ID."

Brennan opened the wallet, Rachelle looked over her shoulder. "He's an agent of the Venezuelan Embassy." Brennan announced.

She handed Booth the wallet back once he was standing. His brows furrowed. "If he's security then, why did he run?" Booth questioned aloud.

No one had an answer for that.

~*--*~

As it seemed, Mr. Camarda was innocent and had been looking through Nestor's room for a valid reason. Or so Mrs. Olivos had said when Mr. Camarda, Rachelle, Booth, and Brennan had appeared in her office at the embassy once Mr. Camarda became conscious. Despite her explanation, it still seemed odd to the group.

Brennan decided to point that out for them, "I still don't understand why Mr. Camarda was searching your son's room."

"I asked him to go to Nestor's room to prove a point. That suicide wasn't the only possibility." Mrs. Olivos explained.

"I get it," Booth spoke up. "You wanted to prove that anyone could get onto the campus and into his room."

"Yes," she nodded. "The prep school keeps informing me that it was a suicide and nothing else was possible."

"And we proved them right," Mr. Camarda stated. He briefly looked to Brennan and Rachelle in the corner of his good eye. "I did not go undetected."

"The school lied to you, Mrs. Olivos." Brennan said, ignoring the look she had received from Mr. Camarda.

"Dr. Brennan already announced that your son's death was a homicide." added Booth.

"…I was misinformed." Mrs. Olivos said softly, sadly. Things were silent for a long moment. Then, she sighed and rose. "Excuse me, I have business to attend to." she stated. Everyone watched her go sympathetically as she exited her large, well-furnished office.

Brennan turned to Mr. Camarda. "Do you think someone from your country killed Nestor?" she queried.

"No. Such people would want to make a statement, not set up a suicide." he shook his head. "Something about all of this…" He spoke in Spanish after that, saying "it stinks".

"Hm. Interesting." she nodded.

"Right. Thanks. Let's go, Bones, Rachelle." Booth tried ushering the woman out of the room. Brennan followed, but Rachelle lagged behind just for a moment.

"Uh, sorry 'bout your face, man." she quickly said to Mr. Camarda, apologetically before jogging after the other two.

~*--*~

Back at the Medico-Legal Lab: Hodgins never thought he'd be worried about a certain blonde FBI intern, especially when it came to her friendship—if that was what they had—with Zack. Nonetheless, there he was, checking the drug he had discovered in Nestor's system while watching the young graduate focus unnecessarily hard on Nestor's x-rays. Now, it wasn't unusual to see Zack focus on something in a case so intently, but he had been staring at those x-rays for two hours, just staring with a weird expression—almost like he was trying to distract himself or that something was distracting him. It was starting to freak Hodgins out a little, which made it harder for him to work.

Thus, he decided to do something about it.

"What happened between you and Blondie?" Hodgins bluntly asked the other male across from him.

"…Blondie?" Zack slowly responded, not taking his brown eyes off the x-rays.

"Rachelle, Booth's intern." elaborated Hodgins with a roll of his eyes.

It may have been brief, but Hodgins saw the young man stiffen, just a little. "What about her?" asked Zack.

"What happened between you two earlier?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hodgins."

"Don't give me that. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I'm afraid I don't."

Hodgins pinched his nose, trying to control his temper. He swore talking to Zack was like talking a wall—Zack was a genius, but he was so clueless. "Earlier. When Booth left Rach here with us. After I left, you two were alone. What happened? Because the kid left looking really upset and you've been acting weird, more so than usual, since she left." Hodgins explained.

Zack was silent for a moment then, "…Nothing. Nothing happened. We just talked."

"I got that much," Hodgins deadpanned. "I mean, what did you two talk about?"

"Rachelle has a boyfriend." finally Zack announced with a dull yet, soft voice. He still wasn't looking at his co-worker.

"Blondie has a what?" Hodgins hadn't quite heard as Zack's voice had been so quiet.

"Rachelle has a boyfriend." Zack repeated, speaking louder.

Hodgins blinked in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Angela's voice chimed in as she stepped onto the platform, "Rach has a boyfriend?"

"Yes." Zack curtly nodded, turning to the olive-toned woman, who now stood beside Hodgins. "They've been dating for four years apparently." Saying such words, seemed to tug at a certain cord within him again that made him uncomfortable. Instantly, not liking the emotion, he pushed it away and remained emotionless.

"Oh." both Hodgins and Angela said in unison before exchanging glances. They were surprised that Rachelle was in a relationship since they never saw her with anyone but Booth and themselves or talked about anyone, but they were more surprised by Zack's reaction to such information—or maybe lack of response.

Furrowing her brows, Angela looked at the graduate student closely. "Does that bother you, Zack?"

"Bother me? In what fashion?' Zack inquired with an arched brow.

Angela frowned. Thus, Hodgins translated, "She means are you jealous that Blondie has a guy?"

"Jealousy is an irrational emotion." stated Zack.

"Maybe," Angela said while adding in her mind, To you. "But that doesn't answer our question, Zack. We want to know how you, despite logic, feel about Rachelle having a boyfriend."

"Relationships are good for society anthropologically speaking, especially sexual relationships. Though, it's more rational to have more than one partner."

"You're still avoiding the question, Z-man." Hodgins pointed out.

Angela spoke more gently, "Zack, do you like Rachelle?"

"Of course, she is a kind and intelligent person. She makes a very good companion." Zack gave a nod.

Angela sighed while Hodgins scowled. "Now, I think you're doing this on purpose." he retorted annoyed.

Zack tilted his head to the side quizzically. "I don't know what you mean."

"Ange, do something please before I strangle the man." Hodgins rubbed his temple.

Sighing, Angela nodded and grabbed Zack's wrist. "Let's go to my office. We have to talk." she said sweetly with a small smile.

"But I have to--" Zack began to protest, glancing back at the x-rays.

"A few minutes won't hurt. Besides, this is important, too." the artist reassured and pulled him to her office.

~*--*~

At Hanover Prep: "So what are we doing in here again?" Brennan queried curiously the two FBI employees as they stood in the middle of Nestor and Tucker's dorm within Hanover Prep. It looked like a typical guy's room. Well, a typical room where two boys slept. There were messy selves, action figures, books, magazines, a stereo, two beds, poster, and so on.

"According to teachers and peers, Mr. Olivos was a loner. He attended all his classes and got good grades, but he spent most of his time--" Booth motioned to the entire vicinity of the room with both his hands. "—in here."

"I don't--" began Brennan, but Rachelle cut her off. "He wants you to use anthropology to figure out whether Nestor was suicidal or not." the blonde explained with a smile.

Brennan lightly chuckled. "Um, all right." she shrugged.

The three began scoping the room. Booth looked through the garbage and the women looked through the selves. Brennan looked at a bunch of CDs that were out on a dresser on Nestor's side of the room.

"Well, he liked music." the auburn-haired genius announced, picking up a couple of CDs. "Mostly tracks with a lot of drums and guitars because--"

"Because when he was still deaf he could feel the vibrations in his chest, correct?" Rachelle interjected, a car magazine in her pallid hands, which had multiple rings on them.

Brennan glanced to the younger female with mildly impressed pale green eyes. "Yes. How did you know that?" she asked.

"Rach's sister-in-law is deaf." Booth answered before Rachelle could. Brennan looked to him then, to Rachelle. Rachelle nodded confirming what her mentor had said.

"Oh. Well, yes. Then, he evolved after he got the implant to softer music." Brennan continued, looking through the CDs again. "Seemed he enjoyed classical mostly."

"And enjoyment is the exact opposite of suicide." smiled Booth, holding a metal trash can.

Brenna's brows furrowed. "I don't understand what you're trying to do, Booth. You are so confident that Nestor didn't commit suicide yet, you're trying everything to find evidence that he didn't. It doesn't make sense." she stated.

"It's better to have evidence than nothing." Booth claimed. Then, he lifted up a broken CD. "Like this broken CD for instance." Both women looked at him oddly. The ex-sniper elaborated, "He broke a CD and threw it away. Now, why would he do that? I mean, its flute music, but where's the case?"

Sighing, deciding to humor him, Brennan peered around and spotted a bookcase between door and the bathroom entrance. She pointed to it and the three of them gathered around it. "These CDs are not organized." pointed out the forensic anthropologist.

"That's 'cuz you're a girl. Girls organize things chronologically or numerically. Guys are simpler." Booth said.

Brennan looked at him with arched brows. Rachelle leaned over to her and whispered, "That is just Seeley's way of saying guys are lazy-ass slobs." Brennan tried not to laugh and just grinned.

Booth shot his student a look. "I heard that, kid." he said, which she smiled innocently to. Just rolling his dark orbs, he went on with what he was previously saying, "Anyway, guys organize things in a simpler way. Good stuff to the top left," He pointed to the top left of the self and then traced his finger to the bottom right. "And crap on the bottom right. Ah ha! Here we go!"

Booth pulled out the case that belonged to the broken CD and flipped it open. His brows furrowed. "I don't get it." he muttered, causing Brennan and Rachelle to look over his shoulders. "If he hated the CD, why would he burn it?"

Brennan took it from him. "It's not a CD, it's a DVD." she admitted. Booth and Rachelle looked to one another.

~*--*~

Upon discovering that the disc was a DVD, Booth, Brennan, and Rachelle headed back to the Jeffersonian to ask Angela to let them use her TV in her office. Angela allowed such and everyone including her, Zack, and Hodgins gathered in her office to what had been recorded.

As it turned out the tape was just porn. However, that was just at first glance.

"Wait, wait," Brennan called out suddenly. Angela immediately paused the video of the adolescent couple making out. Brennan's bright eyes narrowed and she leaned forward to point at the dark-haired male on the screen. "That's our murder victim."

"Wow. This is some kinky stuff." commented Zack suddenly, causing the majority of the people in the room to peer to him oddly.

Brennan was the only one who seemed to not have heard what her graduate student had said. She turned to Angela. "Ange, I'm going to need stills of this, please. And if you could, time and date this was filmed, that would be great, too." she requested before standing. Angela got up to start working on her task.

Hodgins followed after the artist for an antacid for his heartburn from lunch earlier, but not before turning to Zack and saying, "That is not kinky and wild sex. That is very basic, beginner stuff." Zack obviously frowned at that statement.

Brennan turned to Booth, ignoring the other man's statement, "We have to talk to the Headmaster about this."

"Don't need to tell me twice." Booth got up from the couch and started to follow his partner. He didn't even look at her when he called to Rachelle, "Kid, we're moving out."

"Yes, sir. Coming." His intern began to follow, but stopped at the door remembering something. The blonde turned around to look at the remaining person in the office. She bit her lip then, cleared her throat to apprehensively call out, "Zack?"

Blankly, he tore his brown eyes from the TV screen to her. Automatically, Rachelle's index finger twisted into a lock of her hair. "…Later, can we um… talk, please?" she admitted, her voice sheepish—a tone she rarely used.

Silence filled the room for a moment unnerving Rachelle—had she said something that terrible?

Then, "Yes. I would like it if we did." Zack broke the quiet with the simple response.

Rachelle very lightly smiled. "Right." She curtly nodded. With, she turned on her heel and continued after Booth and Brennan.

~*--*~

It seemed the squints were quick at getting everything done. That being, it wasn't surprising that just before Rachelle, Booth, and Brennan arrived back at Hanover, Angela had emailed Brennan the pictures she had been asked to get. On the other hand, the headmaster and the head of security's reactions to the photographs were surprising.

"This kind of thing is normal. Kids have sex and tape themselves. Sometimes, they even share them for the heck of it." the headmaster commented, flipping between the pictures.

Rachelle deadpanned. And you're okay with that?

"Though, it is surprising to see Nestor in these shots." the Head of Security added, flipping through the pictures his co-worker wasn't.

"But it's not surprising to see the girl?" questioned Booth with a raised brow. Headmaster and the Head of Security looked to him with annoyed looks. The agent just returned evenly before asking, "Who is she? Can you give us a name?"

"And if you could, we'd like all the sex tapes you've confiscated from your students." Rachelle added.

"Absolutely not." the Headmaster instantly responded.

"Y'know, I could just call my superior and request to bring you in for lack of cooperation. We have enough evidence here for me to do so." Booth warned with a snide smirk.

"He'll do it." said Rachelle.

Brennan nodded. "She's right. He doesn't like you."

"Excuse me, but the headmaster isn't declining to your request of the tapes." the Head of Security claimed, trying to give a calm and gentle smile—it certainly didn't give that feeling though.

"I think him saying "Absolutely not" defines as declining." argued Brennan with a skeptical expression.

"No, I mean he isn't directly saying it because we do not have the tapes in our possession. Every tape we have ever confiscated is handed over to the State Department." he said.

"Fine then. Call up the Sheriff and tell her to bring us the tapes." Booth stated.

"Of course." the Headmaster nodded stiffly.

"Oh, and we're going to still need that girl's name."

"…Of course. Camden Destry, that is her name."

Booth smirked. "Thank you."

"…You're welcome." the other male said in a strained voice.

~*--*~

Upon waiting for Sheriff Roach to bring the tapes they asked for, they called up the Destry family and told them to come to the federal bureau. The family of three arrived and everyone got into their positions—the family and Booth were in the interrogation room and Rachelle and Brennan were behind the two way glass watching closely.

"This is about Nestor Olivos, right? I mean, he's gotten pretty important since his death." innocently questioned the pretty, curly haired girl, who was Camden. She was sitting next to her mother. Her father was across from them.

"Yes," Booth nodded. His face far more serious than usual—Rachelle had a feeling this case was really starting to annoy him, but was trying to cover it. "Were you romantically involved with Mr. Olivos?" he asked.

"What? No." Camden looked up at him skeptically.

"Camden is too young to be in a relationship." her light blonde mother stated.

Rachelle—maybe she imagined it—saw Booth's eye twitch. He snatched up the TV remote to the tiny TV in the room, pulled up a chair and situated himself in it. The ex-sniper pressed the play button and exasperatedly said, "Tell me to stop when you're ready to start telling the truth."

The video of Nestor and Camden began playing and immediately horrified expressions crossed the Destry family's face, especially Camden's. The father attempted to get Booth to stop in desperation, "Agent Booth, I must protest!"

"I'm tired of being lied to, so excuse me for being indelicate." spat Booth icily. Then, he slid his chair around to face Camden. "All right. Now, I want the truth."

'I-I cannot belive he-he t-taped us. I-I loved him." Camden burst into tears and buried her face into her mother's shoulder.

Sighing deeply, Booth rolled his eyes rubbing his temple—that had not been what he wanted to hear. From behind the glass, Rachelle and Brennan exchanged glances. The girl's confession hadn't helped much and because she had become so upset Booth let her and her family go home.

Fortunately, obtaining the sex tapes from Sheriff Roach had given the group something that did help.

"Well, you were right. This school is certainly serving the pudding." Brennan said, skipping to another video of another adolescent couple. Rachelle tried not to choke on her lemonade from laughing while Booth made a face.

"It's stirring the pudding." the FBI employees corrected while another tape played.

"Wait," Brennan called out, leaning forward in seat when her keen eyes spotted something on video. Her eyes narrowed. "Isn't that Mrs. Destry, Camden's mother?" she inquired, peering to her partners.

"Yeah, that is. What a heifer, but wait, who's the guy? That isn't Nestor, right?" Rachelle pondered aloud.

"That's Tucker, the roommate." Booth said.