Booth shook his head. “Sorry. Not at the scene, either.”
“Shit,” she said.
“Anybody could have picked it up — a good five or six minutes between when you called me and the cops arrived.”
Shit shit shit.
Her purse, her money (what there was of it), her credit cards, dammit, all her ID, gone now.
“My cell phone?”
He nodded and got something out of his pocket.
Her phone.
“This you still have,” he said. “Was in your hand.”
“Security video?” Brennan asked.
“Yeah,” Booth said, “but not much on it — white SUV, picture’s crap, couldn’t even tell the make and model, let alone catch the license number.”
Brennan felt empty inside.
Booth said, “Tell me where you were from the time you left me.”
“…Promise you won’t be mad?”
“No,” he said.
She began—
“Siracusa?” he fumed.
She shrugged, and again it hurt. “I had to eat.”
His eyes and nostrils flared. “You—”
“I thought I would lend you a hand.”
“Did I ask you to?”
“No,” she said, defensive. “But you said Lisa Vitto hadn’t been interviewed by a policewoman, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“With your people skills?”
She almost said, Look who’s talking.
But she knew he was right.
Lamely she managed, “Sorry.”
“And did Lisa Vitto tell you anything she didn’t tell me?”
“Just that she loved Stewart Musetti.”
“She didn’t have to,” Booth said. “It was obvious she loves him.”
“I said ‘loved.’ It was more past tense. She’s convinced he’s dead.”
Booth said nothing.
Brennan thought about it a moment and said, “You know how you always say I don’t get out enough?”
“What, we’re changing the topic to the obvious now?”
She ignored that and said, “You continually make fun of me not understanding or knowing about any pop culture references….”
“Of course.”
“Well, Lisa mentioned that she thought ‘they’ — I assume she meant the Gianellis — put her guy Stewart on the ‘Dunes Express.’ ”
Booth shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No. I don’t know what the hell that means.”
She sighed, and the IV must have kicked in, because it didn’t hurt at all. “Well, at least it’s not just me this time.”
“One good thing,” Booth said. “This narrows the list of suspects who attacked you.”
“How?”
“Had to be the Gianellis. Their crew. I mean, Vincent saw you talking to Lisa.”
She frowned at him. “But you talked to Lisa, didn’t you? He didn’t come after you.”
“They tend not to frontally assault FBI or cops. You’re sort of a civilian.”
“But why would he come over and talk about being a big fan and… what’s the word? Shmoo with me?”
“Shmooze.”
“Why would he do that, and then send his boys after me?”
Booth shrugged. “Maybe he was stalling you while some underling rounded up the goon squad and piled them into a white SUV.”
“…Couldn’t it have been a simple mugging?”
“Doubtful.”
“Does Jorgensen have any known associates?”
“Are you kidding?” Booth said. “Elderly serial killers don’t usually have crews of strong-arms on call.”
“But he is an elderly serial killer who preys on much younger men, then buries them…. He could have had help.”
“Bones, he almost took out the three of us by himself!”
Brennan said, “Given… but who would consider me a threat? Gianelli, whose case I’m not working? Or Jorgensen, whose basement I’d been excavating for the last two days?”
He was shaking his head again. “Serial killers have been known to work in pairs — but in fours?”
A very tall, very young man in a lab coat and tan Dockers strolled in carrying a chart in front of him like a schoolbook. He wore wire-frame glasses and his hair was straight and dark.
Cheerfully professional, he asked, “And how are we feeling today, Dr. Brennan?”
With that baby face, he looked to be barely out of his teens, much less medical school.
“Lousy,” she said. “But good enough to resent everybody using the editorial ‘we’ about my pain.”
“Sorry,” he said, and managed a smile. “I’m Dr. Keller.”
Booth gave him a look, turned to Brennan, and whispered, “Doogie Howser to the rescue.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what that means.”
Keller apparently did, and shot daggers at Booth. “I’m perfectly qualified to attend to Dr. Brennan.”
“How old are you?” Booth asked. “Twelve?”
“Twenty-seven,” the young doctor said. “If it matters.”
“Don’t mind him,” Brennan said to the physician. “Intellect intimidates him.”
“Well, there’s nothing challenging to understand here.” Keller opened her chart and read aloud. “Concussion, two cracked ribs, lacerated ankle, assorted bumps, bruises, scrapes. Bottom line, Dr. Brennan, is you’re going to be fine. After a couple days of bed rest, you should be good to go.”
Booth’s cell phone chirped.
Dr. Keller frowned. “Visitors are required to turn off their cell phones. You—”
The FBI agent waved and disappeared into the hall, closing the door as he left.
The doctor gave her a quick exam and, by the time he was done, Booth was reentering the room.
“Got to go, Bones.”
“Not without me, you don’t!”
Booth smiled. “You are feeling better. Look, this case has gotten weirder.”
“Is that possible?”
“Seems to be. We’ve got Jorgensen in custody, but another skeleton’s just turned up. I’m headed out there.”
Brennan sat up, wide-eyed. “You mean, we’re headed out there….”
Dr. Keller said, “Dr. Brennan—”
“My clothes?” she asked Booth, ignoring the physician.
“In the closet,” the FBI agent said. “But look, I can handle this. You need to—”
“It’s another skeleton. That’s where I come in, right? Why you called me in the first place?”
“Well, yeah, sure, but—”
Dr. Keller said, “I really must insist…”
Brennan pointed to the IV in her arm. “Would you take this out, Doctor, or should I?”
The young doctor shook his head. “I can’t. You’ve sustained injuries….”
She yanked out the IV needle and blood squirted, and Booth made an ick face as she grabbed her sheet and used it as a compress.
The physician was aghast. “Dr. Brennan!”
Staring at the young man, she said, “You have three choices, as I see it. A., you can try to stop me and I’ll kick your ass.”
Eyebrows hiked, Booth looked at the doctor. “She can do it too, Doogie.”
“B., you can call security, but I’ll be gone before they get here. Or C., you can bandage this and help me depart with dignity.”
Still shaking his head, Keller said, “Dr. Brennan, I’m afraid…”
Booth laid a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Doc, you know who Sisyphus is?”
The doctor blinked. “Uh… Corinthian king so cruel that when he went to Hades, his punishment was to roll a rock up a hill and when he got it to the top, roll it back down again?”
Nodding, Booth said, “Surprisingly good lit chops for a medical school grad. So when I tell you that arguing with Bones here is a Sisyphean task, you do know what I mean?”