The New King

A Ringing

My studies were going well. Hodgins had cleaned the bones for me quite well, and I was pleased with the pre-report he had set up for me to examine. Seems Mr. Chambers had been stabbed multiple times in the back, as there were ligature marks on the vertebrae leading to the ribs. The killer must have known what part of the back led to certain organs, for Dr. Saroyan had given me reports of ruptured kidneys and torn open intestines, not to mention the lungs nearly decimated.

It was sad to know a young man such as Jackson was dead because of who he was. It’s a confusing concept hear about the only murder suspect to be pulled into the home of Dr. Montenegro and Dr. Hodgins.  Hopefully it wasn’t for long. Evidence was building against Mr. Pruitt.

Booth simply finds it illogical to not call someone by their specified at birth gender until they are of age to legally change it. I had said it was cruel of him to think so, so he is probably trying to better himself in hopes of Christine seeing that he can be more acceptable, as she should be. I have seen many things that would require my malleable acceptance, as well as he, however, this just seems to be more difficult for him and I cannot grasp how. At least I know more about everything than Booth does.

“Dr. Brennan,” I heard at the door of my examination room. I looked over to see a young man with blond hair and blue eyes and a smile on his face.

“Dr. Bray,” I said. “How nice to see you!” I walked around to the other side and lifted the left humerus. “Have you taken the blood samples to Dr. Hodgins like I have asked you to?”

He walked in and nodded, setting a pastry dish onto the little wheeling table. “Yes,” he said with a sigh in his voice. I looked up and he looked at me.

“Is something wrong, Dr. Bray?” I asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, when someone is upset, there’s a noticeable distress in their voice, including the lack of replies and disdained breaths after speaking. You sound upset, Dr. Bray. Please tell me what’s wrong so we may continue with work. It’s shown through studies that talking about your feelings -as useless as it sounds- can relieve the stress and will help you cope.”

He stared at me, computing what I had said in his mind. People seemed to do that a lot. Possibly it was my excelling vocabulary and their lack of such. he looked to the body and then up at me once more.

“It’s nothing, Dr. Brennan. Nothing you should worry about-”

“Is it your health? I cannot have my interns in poor health while working.”

“I’m fine, Dr. Brennan,” he said with shut eyes, deep in thought. “It’s just…” he paused for a sigh. “It’s hard to think about someone dying because they were different than everyone else. I’m different because of my previous cancer, and it shouldn’t mean that I have to die over it.”

“Dr. Bray, we don’t know if this was a hate-crime or not. I suggest taking some deep breaths and focusing on your work and not your safety.”

“Thanks,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t thanking me at all for my advice. I turned back to my work and he looked to he notes I had taken already. After a few moments, he took in a breath and I looked over at him.

“There seems to be a heavy stabbing ratio towards the right of the back,” he said, pointing out the larger amount of stab wounds against the ribs and vertebrae. “This means the killer is right-handed.”

“Good work, Dr. Bray,” I complimented, taking in a closer look.

“And there seems to be a slight teeth-mark of a blade on the left thoracic vertebrae,” he added. I lifted the vertebrae up and looked at the mark under the microscope, nodding.

“Have Angela take an imprint of the teeth-marks and see if it will lower the amount of murder weapons possible.” He nodded, took the bone from my hands gently, and walked out of the room. As soon as he left, my husband, Booth, walked in and smiled at me with a file in his hand.

“We found another murder suspect, giving Pruitt some leeway.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said. “Who?”

“One of the kids at school who matches the height and name of the one Decker had described: Lith Crowley. Eighteen, goes to the same school as the girls, and-”

“Boys.” He looked at me and tilted his head. “You said girls when they are boys. Booth, please correct yourself before you so ‘wreck yourself,’ as they say these days.”

“Don’t do the cool thing, Bones. Okay boys. Goes to the same school and knows Jackland through their Geometry class.”

“An eighteen year old in geometry? That’s simply not logical.”

“Well, it is. Lith’s a trouble maker. A long history of rendezvous with the law. Shoplifting, fighting, betting, and even a few domestic abuse charges. And, the best one yet, charges of possession of weaponry and alcohol.”

I nodded and he left. I looked to Jackson’s body, a frown on my face.