Title: The Story in the Answers
Author: Serena
Summary: "Booth," she whispered hoarsely, "Help." Brennan has been kidnapped by a serial killer, and it's up to Booth to save her.
Rated: M for mentions of rape, beating, swearing, and violence. Read with discretion. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. Nuff' said.
Author's Note: Just so you know, this is quite possibly the most violent story I have ever written or thought up. After I write I think, Perhaps I should be contained to a mental hospital?


She forced her heavy eyelids open and was met with darkness. It wasn't precisely blackness, but it sure as hell wasn't light either. She let her eyes adjust to the dark light. She was lying on her side, in a loose fetal position, on a hard surface. Concrete? She tried to move her hands, which were behind her. Immobile. She heard the soft chink of metal, so she assumed she was bound with handcuffs. She lifted her head, a seemingly impossible task, like shoving over Mount Everest, but she accomplished it. She was met with blasts of pain in her head and ringing in her ears. She gasped, and clenched her teeth in pain and let her head fall back to the concrete.

Moving her head was out of the equation, so she tried to move her legs. Also bound. But this was different. Some sort of twine or rope bit into her skin, which screamed in pain. She could visualize this injury. She'd most likely been bound for a few hours, at least. What happened? Who brought her here? Why did they take her?

She began to shiver violently, not only with fear, but also with cold. Her blouse was ripped from an obvious struggle and soaking wet. Her jeans were drenched as well, and her shoes and socks had obviously been lost. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she tried to keep her teeth from chattering. She vehemently hoped the liquid covering her clothing was not blood. Think, Temerance, she thought, trying to give herself a mental pep-talk, What is the last thing you remember? But the only memories she could pull to the surface were murky and blended together.

Easier memories. Easier memories, she thought again and again. She thought back to the case. Which case? She tried to focus her foggy brain, but nothing was coming through. The only thing she could think was, They must've given me one hell of a drug, at which point her eyelids simply became to heavy to hold open, and she drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.


-A Few Days Earlier-

"Victim is female. Late twenties, early thirties. She's about 5"9 to 5"11, judging by her femurs." Brennan cited nonchalantly. She was crouched over a set of remains, which had been unearthed in a vacant lot for a construction project.

"Any ideas for cause of death?" Booth asked, who was standing nearby, staring hard at the decomposed remains. The flesh was almost entirely gone, with white flashes of bones peeking out from beneath the brown-red flesh.

Glancing around at the body, Brennan shook her head. "No. There's too much flesh. We need to pack her up and send her back to the Jeffersonian." she said, trying to imitate Booth.

She stood, but then stoped. The sunlight glinted off a small red object. She took a few snapshots at different angles of the little red thing with the camera that hung around her neck. Crouching back down, she lifted a small, delicate bug barette from the remains. It was a small ladybug. There were four distinct dots on the back, which was partially shrouded with dirt. "Booth," she called, and waved him over. "What do you make of this?" Brennan asked him as he approached.

"It's a barette," Booth said, like it was plain as day, which it pretty much was. "So what? She could've been wearing it when she was killed."

Brennan didn't buy it. She had on that look, that she was incredibly confused about something, and she couldn't wait to figure it out. "But I found it near her legs. That's not typically where one would wear a barette..."

Booth shrugged. "I suppose, but isn't it possible that it got moved when the killer dumped the body? Or when it was dug up?"

Brennan sighed audibly. "Well, we'll figure it out. Let's get back to the lab."


Later, the remains were laid out on the examination table. Dr. Brennan, Daisy Wick, Dr. Brenna's overly-perky grad student, and Hodgins were bent studiously over the remains. Cam stood nearby, waiting patiently so she could conduct her own tests of the flesh. Angela had already been given a few samples of the victims clothing earlier to reconstruct.

Hodgins gathered his samples from the body and moved back to his station. He began to analyze the ladybug barette. He removed all traces of dirt, and put them on slides. They all came from the ground where the body was found: a mixture of loam and clay, with a few traces of selenium. No trace of any crime scene dirt, unless she'd been killed in the vacant lot.

He then proceded to test the barette for any traces of residue from the victim's hair, like hairspray, shampoo residue, hair gel, anything like that.

When Hodgins got the results, his eyes widened in disbelief. He retested his results three times. And once more for good measure. He licked his lips, and began breathing hard. "Dr. Brennan, Cam!" he yelled hoarsely.

They came running down from the platform. "Hodgins, what is it?" Brenna asked, worry coloring her voice.

"There is nothing on that barette. No cleaning agents, no bleach, no antiseptic, no shampoo, no hair products... Nothing."

Cam looked confused. "How does that qualify as yellable?"

Hodgins did not answer her question when Angela came into sight, he paced away from his computers, "Angela," he said, in his panicky, nervous voice, "What did you get on the clothing?"

Angela looked a little baffled by the assault. "I, uh, yeah. Here," she said, handing her sketch pad. "It's not much. She wore a green t-shirt with the words 'eco-friendly' written on it and a little recycling symbol and Lee jeans. You can buy these like, anywhere, you know..."

Hodgins began muttering stuff to himself, his eyes wide with fear. It sounded like he was saying "That was her favorite shirt."

"Hodgins? What's wrong?" Brennan asked, suspicion rising in her voice. She recognized the tone as the one that Hodgins had used in the Terry Bancroft case. Hodgins had known the victim personally.

"Hodgins?" Cam asked again, arms crossing over her chest.

Hodgins walked to his other computer, ignoring his friend's questions. He then typed "Little Lady Killer" into Google.

Clicking on the first link, and a page was pulled up. Dr. Brennan, Angela and Cam began to read.

THE LITTLE LADY KILLER

Police have been on the trail of the famous serial killer since 2000. No one has gotten a glipse of this mysterious figure, and some experts even debate his existance. But all the evidence points to one person: The Little Lady Killer. Cops have scoured his crime scenes for any shred of his identity, anything to break the case, but every time it is the same answer: nothing. "This guy is a perfect criminal. I never believed in a perfect crime before, but ever since I've started tracking this guy, I have started believing." says senior FBI investigator, Cheryl Stone, who has been on this criminals case from the beginning.

HIS TACTICS

The Little Lady Killer has a brutal way of torturing, beating, raping, and killing his victims. He always targets women who are about 5"9-5"10, are brunette, are 30-35 years of age, and have either green or blue eyes, or a cross between those. His torture methods are awful, and been banned from public knowledge. All we are able to say, is that he kills then usually by stabbing through the eye into the brain. It is a quick death, but horribly painful.

He kidnaps them from a variety of places, but wherever he kidnaps them from, he leaves a red ladybug barette, each with one more dot representing each victim. Police have tried to track down the company which sells these, but it went belly up back in the 50's and there are no other records of its sales.

He never leaves any sort of trace on the body, which seems impossible, since he repeatedly rapes the girls. No one knows how he does it.

VICTIMS

The Little Lady Killer's first victim was 30 year old Jean Ann Umbry, an Arlington, Virginia native, who went missing December 26, 1999 from the school where she worked. The barette was found on her desk in her classroom. Her body was discovered in January in a vacant lot in downtown Arlington. Jean Ann was a beloved mother, wife, daughter, sister, and schoolteacher. She will be dearly missed.

The second victim was 35 year old Natalie Porter, who lived in Maryland. She went missing from her home May 21, 2001. The ladybug barette was found on her desk in her home office. Her body was discovered in Annapolis, in a vacant lot. Natalie was a well-loved daughter, sister, fiance, and aunt.

Third, Selena Higgard, 32, disappeared from a park in Washington D.C. on January 19, 2002. She was with her two daughters, Mikaela, 17, and Susana, 7. The barette was discovered on a bench that Mrs. Higgard was last seen sitting on. Her body was discovered in another vacant lot in D.C.

The Little Lady Killer's latest victim is Chelby Hodgins, a 33 year old who lived in Washington, D.C. with her German Sheperd, Tank. Chelby's disappearance gave the police the evidence to spark intrest in this case gone cold. The Little Lady Killer must have followed Chelby home, not knowing she had man's best friend on her side. When Tank heard his owner's screams, it is assumed he viciously attacked her kidnapper, because blood was later discovered in Chelby's home and in the dog's mouth, none of it her own. Sadly, Tank died in the attack a hero; the Little Lady Killer had fatally shot him. Chelby's body has not yet been discovered.

This break in the case provided much needed evidence that the Little Lady Killer Case had been lacking. Sadly, without any DNA of the sort to compare it to, and no on DNA in any database, the Little Lady Killer remains at large.

It is assumed that after the attack on Chelby, the Little Lady Killer went into hiding, stopping his spree of killings in fear of capture.

Everyone sat in shock for a moment. Cam was the first one to gather the courage to talk. "Chelby... Hodgins." she said quietly, although her tone sounded a lot more like a question.

"Chel was my little sister." Hodgins murmered quietly, his voiced getting choked up. Heleaned on his desk for support with both hands, hunching over. "That shirt... I got it for her at Good Will... It was... Her favorite shirt..." Tears began to stream down his face, desperation clouding his voice as it turned into unintellegable sobs. Angela began to wrap him in a hug, outright shock and compassion filling her features while Cam and Brennan stood like deer in headlights. But Hodgins straightened, hot tears still on his face. "I think we just found my little sister."


A/N: Cliffhanger! Please review. It's much appreciated. (And if you are wondering, yes, I must be a little mentally unstable for starting another story :P)