Booth drove the SUV to Andrew Meyer’s house. Brennan was sitting in the passenger seat while JJ and Morgan were sitting in the backseat.

 Booth drove the SUV to Andrew Meyer’s house. Brennan was sitting in the passenger seat while JJ and Morgan were sitting in the backseat.

“What do we know about the first victim?” JJ asked.

“Howard Collin Hunter,” Morgan read off the victim’s information that Garcia had managed to get together and sent to him. “He had several prostitution charges, as well as a minor drug possession. 23 years old, reported missing on March 23rd by his boyfriend Trevor Havier."

“Hodgins said the first body showed signs of drug use,” Brennan said.

“Cause of death?” Booth asked.

“He was stabbed 42 times and bleed to death when the left brachiocephalic vein was severed,” Brennan replied. She had had Zack note all the stab wounds and send her the information.

“That takes a lot effort to stab somebody 42 times,” JJ said. “So our UNSUB is physically fit.”

“And eight bodies over the space of seven to ten years means he’s organized and sticks to a schedule,” Morgan said. Booth pulled up outside a small house and killed the engine.

“Let’s go see if this Andrew guy knows anything,” Booth said.

~

Back at the Jeffersonian Emily Prentiss and Angela were printing up the lists of victims that Garcia was sending them. So far, they had put names to five of the eight bodies. The fax machine beeped as another picture began to print.

“Whose are lucky number six?” Angela asked. She had just finished taping up the picture and name of victim number five, Richard Underwood.

“Gregory Brown,” Emily read off the back. “Reported missing March 22 by his boss. Single, 24 years old and fits the Victimology so far.”

“There all brown haired, mostly blue eyed, twenty something guys,” Angela said.

“Okay, so far we have a prostitute, four single men, and a married man,” Prentiss said. She taped up the picture of Gregory Brown to the board Angela had in her office. The fax machine beeped as another picture began to print.

“Looks like we have victims number 7 and 8,” Angela said as she pulled the pictures out of the machine. “Drake Bauer and Eric Jackson. First victim was reported missing by his girlfriend on the 25th and the second victim was reported missing on the 28th by his ex.”

“Are these the victims?” Hotch asked. He had entered Angela’s office.

“Yeah,” Prentiss said. “So far the Victimology appears to be in the appearance of the victims.”

“Any connection between the victims?” He asked.

“Garcia is looking for one now.”           

“Good, Reid is out there helping Dr. Brennan’s assistant look for evidence.”

“Zack?” Angela asked

“Yeah,” Hotch replied. “And the other guy, Hodgin’s.”

“He’s the bug guy,” Angela said. “Don’t worry about his big brother nonsense; he thinks everything the government does is a conspiracy.”

“Right,” Hotch said. His phone started ringing. “Excuse me.” He left to answer it.

“So,” Angela said. Prentiss was staring at the board of pictures. “What’s it like working with Morgan?”

“Hmm?” Prentiss looked up. “Oh, it’s fine.”

“Come on, you don’t ever get distracted by him?” Prentiss laughed.

“Probably as much you get distracted by Agent Booth,” she replied. Now Angela laughed. “You were friends with Dr. Brennan before you started working with her, right?”

“Well yeah, how did you-?”

“Profiler,” Prentiss said with a smile.

~

Booth knocked on the front door. “Mr. Andrew Meyers.”

“What the fuck do you want?” A man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties opened the door. His brown hair was graying at the roots and thick-lensed glasses framed his brown eyes.“Andrew Meyer?” Brennan asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. His eyes narrowing at the sight of the agents. “Who wants to know?”

“FBI,” JJ said. The agents pulled out their badges. “Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?” Andrew grunted and pulled the door open the rest of the way.

“You’re not FBI,” Andrew said to Brennan once they were sitting down on the faded upholstery in the living room. A fine layer of dust appeared to cover most of the flat surfaces. Pictures of a younger Andrew and a woman hung on the walls, these were the only objects free of dust.

“I’m a forensic anthropologist,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“She studies dead people,” Booth interjected.

“Mr. Meyer-,” Morgan started.

“Andrew,” he interrupted. “My father was Mr. Meyer.”

“Right,” Morgan said. “Andrew, do you know anyone by the name of Howard Hunter?”

“Yeah,” Andrew replied. “He has a restraining order against me.”

“Had,” Brennan said. “His body was discovered this morning.”

“Howard’s dead?” Andrew’s eyes widened. “The police had questioned me when he had gone missing, but I assumed he had just skipped town.”

“Why did he have a restraining order against him?” JJ asked.

“I beat him up, once for trying to lift my wallet and the second time for owing me money,” Andrew said.

“Why’d he owe you money?” Booth asked.

“I gave him a loan, he promised to pay be back, but tried to renege on our deal.”

“After he tried to take your wallet?”

“What can I say? I got a soft spot for the underdog.”

“Mr. Meyer,” Brennan said. “Where is your wife?”

“She died,” he replied. His eyes softening behind the thick lenses. “Ten years ago yesterday.”

“Sorry for your lose,” Booth said. He gave Brennan the “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” look.

“The 25th?” She asked, giving Booth her, “Leave me alone I know what I’m doing,” glare.

“Well thank-you Andrew,” Booth stood up, shaking the man’s hand. “If we have any more questions we’ll contact you.”

“Have a good day agents,” Andrew said. He shook Brennan’s hand. “Doctor Brennan.”

The door shut behind them. Each agent was going over the interview in his or her head, trying to find a red flag.

“What the hell was that about the wife?” Booth asked. They were driving back towards the Jeffersonian.

“The pictures of his wife were the only thing that were cared for in that house,” she said.

“That’s cause the man is grieving Bones,” Booth replied. “Normal people actually feel things, like sadness or happiness.”

“I do feel emotions,” she replied. Folding her arms across her chest with a slight huff.

“You just suck at expressing them like the rest of us.” They kept going back and forth.

“Do you think the others are having more luck then us?” Morgan asked JJ in a low undertone."

“I hope so,” she replied. 

~

Look who ia finally updating this story!!! I have returned from the grave. :) Ignore any weird formating on this one, it's acting funky and I don't know how to fix right now. It's midnight and I'm sleepy, plus I have classes tomorrow. (Yuck, Spanish.)

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