11x04 - The Carpals in the Coy-Wolves

[bunniefuu]

(birds singing)

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God.

What is it? You see a deer?

No.

I forgot to DVR Fashion Runway tonight.

Brad, just focus on your landmarks.

We'll be back home before your show.

Oh, thank God, 'cause Jasmine's two-tone sundress last week was so fierce.

I can't wait to see what she does next.

You know, other kids your age aren't into that kind of stuff.

What are they into?

Like, fishing, or video games.

I mean, I'd be okay if you were into books and stuff, instead.

Oh! I read the Diane Von Furstenberg biography.

I don't know who that is.

And you're growing up real fast, and if you want to be a man someday, you're gonna have to act like one.

(high-pitched scream)

(screaming)

(cocks r*fle)

You okay, Dad?

(low whimpering)

So you really like it?

The best thing you've ever written.

Really? Because... all of my books are quite excellent.

Yeah, but this one, this is a page-turner.

Plus, the cliffhanger at the end? (snaps fingers)

Bravo.

Cliffhanger?

What do you mean?

Well, you know, with Agent Andy all sh*t up.

I can't wait to find out how you're gonna bring him back.

Agent Andy was sh*t directly through the sternum with a .45.

Yeah, I know.

He's a tough guy.

Booth, he's dead.

You can't k*ll Agent Andy.

Okay?

Agent Andy cannot die.

You wrote him based on me.

He was based on you.

Exsanguination is the official cause of death, although some coroners will say it's cessation of brain functions.

I can't believe I'm hearing this.

(phone ringing)

You can't k*ll Agent Andy.

That is my character, who is based on me and you can't just k*ll him.

Oh, a body was found in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

But this whole Agent Andy thing isn't over yet.

No, Booth, death is very final.

What?

Come on, Booth. It's not you.

Okay, are you coming or not?

(sirens wailing)

(indistinct radio chatter)

(camera shutter clicking)

Bones, look, all I'm asking is if this is the final draft or not.

Booth, I'm not changing it! (groans)

Wow, you guys really hit the ground running this morning.

Booth: Yeah, well, you know what? There's a lot to hash out when your wife is plotting your own m*rder.

Ah! It's not you, it's a fictional character.

Yeah, okay.

Brennan: And it's not plotting if he's already dead.

Booth is upset that Agent Andy gets k*lled in my latest book.

No way!

See?

Thanks for the spoiler alert.

m*rder*d.

Well, there's heavy predation everywhere.

The victim was a big meal who was wrestled over.

Booth: Okay, great.

What are we saying here? Coyotes? Let's move it along.

The bite pattern indicates coyotes, but the size of the bites is much bigger.

This is the work of coyote-wolf hybrids.

Coywolves are as versatile as coyotes, but like wolves, they're apex predators.

They migrated down...

Coywolves, bad. Got it. Thank you.

Based on the heart-shaped pelvic inlet and the granular appearance on the pubic surfaces, the victim is a white male in his 30s.

Actually, a faceless white male in his 30s.

Maybe his wife and her editor sh*t him in the face.

Just saying.

Actually, the hunters who found the body sh*t the skull at close range with a 12-gauge.

Wow. So you're saying his face exploded all over the ground here.

Angie's got her work cut out for her.

There's no blowfly larvae, which means the victim d*ed within the last 24 hours.

Interesting.

Interesting? Really?

The blowflies? Because...

No, not the bugs.

Interesting that the victim's clothes, they're all shredded up, but for the most part, they're all here.

Except for the shoes.

I see tissue on the posterior plane of the right metatarsals.

And the soles of the feet look tender, not calloused.

So we're not dealing with a barefooted hiker.

This man was definitely dumped here.

Which means our faceless friend here was m*rder*d.

Just like Agent Andy.

Just saying.

Right?

I'm gonna go this way.

You can collect all your face.

♪ Bones 11x04 ♪
The Carpals in the Coy-Wolves
Original Air Date on October 22, 2015

♪ Main Title Theme ♪
The Crystal Method
♪ ♪

(camera shutter clicking)

Wow. Well, you guys weren't kidding about the faceless skull.

Dr. Hodgins is sifting through the topsoil to find the rest of the facial bones.

Good, 'cause I'm not gonna get an ID without them.

Lucky for me, there's enough brain tissue to run a tox screen.

Dr. Wells, please note the impact fractures to the manubrium and the right humerus.

Oh, I've already noted those.

The plotting indicates blunt force trauma with a heavy, rounded object, consistent with slamming into a tree.

And before you even ask, remodeling suggest that the injury took place two years ago.

Dr. Wells, is everything okay?

You seem....

Even douchier than usual.

Saroyan: I was going to say on edge.

I am not concerned with Dr. Wells' attitude.

Good.

Brennan: If it continues, he is easily replaceable.

In fact, I've already enlisted the help of an additional intern.

Dr. Brennan, you didn't clear this with me first.

Brennan: Trust me.

Dr. Beth Mayer's brilliance as a forensic anthropologist is unrivaled.

With the exception of myself, of course.

This new intern, she isn't hot, is she?

You say "hot" like you would prefer "hideous."

Brennan: Dr. Mayer has exceptional bone structure and perfect facial symmetry.

Wells: Great.

Now I'll have to deal with another gorgeous, intelligent woman.

Booth: Look, if we're going to get an ID on this guy, it looks like our best lead is gonna be the injury he suffered.

Yeah, I'm waiting on hospital records for patients that got into tree-related accidents around two years ago.

Oh, by the way, I wanted to offer my condolences.

Condolences?

Agent Andy.

You're an idiot.

Look, I'm with you. I mean, Dr. Brennan's books are great, but you can't k*ll someone off and then have one character solving crimes all by herself.

Time out. Technical.

She's not going to do that.

What do you mean?

She's gonna replace the character with a new, younger, sexier partner.

Well, in that case, I'm really, really sorry.

Why? It's-it's not your problem.

I don't know.

I mean, a new, young, sexy partner? Huh?

I'm probably the one who inspired her to create the character.

"Agent James" got a nice ring to it.

Agent James...

(phone rings)

Oh! Look at that.

Hospital records just came through.

What do we got?

54 people smacked into trees around that time, 15 of them were white males in their 30s.

Get that to Cam, will you?

You got it.

Another job well done by Agent James.

Wells: Dr. Hodgins, I was wondering if I might assist you in separating the facial bones.

Sure, yeah.

I've already given Angela most of what she needs.

Now I'm just sifting for any stragglers.

Flotation tanks are more commonly used by archeologists and geologists.

(Wells sniffs)

You filled it with a solution of hydrogen peroxide and water?

That's right.

So the debris will settle according to weight.

There'll be a layer of soil, a layer of pebbles...

And a layer of bone.

Then all we have to do is pick out the bigger rocks, sticks and leaves.

Very well.

So is everything okay?

Heard you were feeling a little stressed.

Everything is fine.

All systems functioning perfectly.

Functioning?

In terms of my performance.

My performance here at work, not any other type of performance.

I'm not talking about my performance anywhere else.

Oliver, this is a safe place, okay?

It's just us guys in here.

I-It's nothing. I am simply dealing with something that 21 million other men in the U.S. are-are dealing with.

It's... it's a common problem, really.

What's a common problem?

Erectile dysfunction.

Ah. I see.

Yeah, no, I mean, you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.

So you have experience with this, as well?

God, no.

But if I did, you know, it would be completely normal.

It's confounding, 'cause normally, when I'm faced with a problem, all I have to do is focus on the variables.

But I am not taking medication, I'm not ill, I'm not overweight, I'm not fatigued, and I don't consume alcohol regularly.

But the more I try to solve this particular problem, the worse it gets.

What problem?

Nothing.

Look at that.

The layers have settled nicely.

Good.

I was afraid Dr. Wells might be causing trouble again.

Dr. Saroyan, I'd like to apologize for earlier.

I haven't been feeling myself as of late, and perhaps I took my frustration out on the team.

Apology accepted.

And no hard feelings.

No. None whatsoever.

(muffled laugh)

(coughs)

How's it coming with the reconstruction?

Oh, not great.

Half the face is done, but the trouble is, some of these bone shards that Hodgins recovered are so small that they're practically dust.

You should try to enlarge the fragments digitally.

It'll make it easier to piece them back together.

Dr. Mayer, you're here early.

What can I say?

I drive fast.

Oh, my God.

Your idea is brilliant.

By enlarging each fragment, the computer can better find the contours of each piece.

Wow.

Oh, I'm Angela, by the way.

Oh.

It's a pleasure to meet you.

No, the pleasure is mine.

Especially now that I get to see the Angelatron in person.

Montenegro: You know about the Angelatron?

Brennan: Dr. Mayer developed the platform its graphic simulator is based on.

Montenegro: Well, actually, having created the Angelatron, I know that platform was developed by a Dr. Brinkley.

My name at the time.

It was one of my prior marriages.

Oh. Oh, my God.

Um... how many times were you married?

Six.

Brinkley didn't last long.

Fantastic lover, though.

Wow, well, this is... this is an incredible honor.

Oh.

Oh, look!

We have a match.

Justin Ross.

He's a real estate agent with Franklin Realtors.

Well, Brennan was right.

You're amazing.

No, I'm just experienced.

So, uh, what do you need me to do next?

Aubrey: So, all the employees at Justin Ross's real estate firm used ID badges to clock in and out of work.

How late was he working last night?

9:00 p.m.

9:00 p.m.? Okay, hello, after hours.

Yeah, only one other employee was working that late-- a, uh, Chris Winfelder.

Custodian?

No, he's a temp.

I picked him up while he was putting up sign posts.

Winfelder's been at the firm for six months, which is pretty long for him.

He usually jumps from job to job.

I'll have to go find out why he's bouncing around so much.

He must be, you know, hiding from someone or something.

You got it.

Oh, they still can't get that coffee, right, huh?

Mr. Winfelder?

Special Agent James Aubrey.

What's going on?

I-I need to get back to work.

Well, this shouldn't take long.

Just need to ask you a few questions about Justin Ross.

So, the two of you were both at work last night after the office closed.

Yeah, I was working on a new listing.

Which means that you were the last person to see Ross alive.

Well, wh-what do you mean "alive"?

Ross's body was found this morning in the woods.

He was m*rder*d.

Wow.

Really?

I'm sorry.

I've never been told someone's dead before.

Can I, like, do that again?

Uh, no.

So, where'd you go after work?

I went home.

I left after Ross.

That means I can't be a suspect, right?

Well, you could've easily just swiped his card, then waited, then left yourself out.

Th-this is crazy!

I wouldn't hurt a fly.

Literally, if there's a fly at work, I shoo it towards a window and set it free.

Shooing flies-- got it.

So, you're a saint?

I didn't say that.

But... (stammers) I didn't k*ll Ross.

Well, then what can you tell me?

Ross have any enemies at work?

Maybe a fellow real estate agent?

He had some enemies outside of work.

Outside of work where?

In his fantasy league.

"Fantasy"-- you mean he was a gamer?

No, I'm talking fantasy football.

He was obsessed.

k*lled over fantasy football.

Sounds like a stretch.

No, you don't understand.

I-I overheard threats.

What kind of threats?

I don't know what about, but they were full-on, screaming-at-the-top- of-your-lungs-type threats.

I'm telling you it was his only life outside of work.

If you want to find out who Ross's enemies were, dig through his fantasy football account.

Oh, wait a second.

You play fantasy football?

I'm the reigning two-time champ.

It's a 12-team PPR league.

12-team PPR league.

That's exactly what I was in.

Well, before I, you know, before I...

Booth quit because he thought it was a gateway to gambling, so...

(iPad chimes)

Oh, it looks like Angela got us access to Ross's league.

That's gonna be tons of information we're gonna have to go through.

Lots of transaction logs, e-mails; not to mention, all the trash talking on the message boards.

Oh, I love a good trash talking.

Of course you do. (laughs)

I-I'm not sure I quite understand what fantasy football is.

Oh, you'd love it.

It's a statistical game, where the members, uh, form a league, and then they-they compete against each other by drafting real football players.

Right, and your players, they earn you points when they gain yards or they catch passes or they score touchdowns.

Yeah.

But these teams don't technically exist.

Oh, they take it very seriously, Bones.

Uh-huh.

Oh, just like you and Agent Andy-- he doesn't exist, but you're taking his death quite seriously.

You're k*lling Agent Andy?!

But he's your husband.

No, he's just a character.

You know what I think? You wrote that book after I quit the FBI. You k*lled Andy when I quit my job.

No, that's absurd.

Also, I'd appreciate it if we didn't bicker in front of Dr. Mayer.

Oh, I don't mind.

But we do have work to do.

Um, check the top post.

Well, it says "Hunting prey."

It's a video.

Man: How's it feel to lose the season?

Very funny, guys.

Let's get it over with.

Get what over with?

Well, sometimes, you know, whoever wins the fantasy football league, you know, gets to pick a bad tattoo for the loser or...

Oh!

Ow! Stop sh**ting!

Or in this case, the winner hunts down the loser with a paintball g*n.

Brennan: These look like the same woods where the victim was found.

Looks like the video went viral.

And this guy became the laughingstock of his league.

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Man: I'm gonna k*ll you, Justin!

Ow! Ow!

(bird cawing)

Ashlie Smith.

Special Agent Aubrey, FBI.

Your husband Craig home?

Yeah, what's this about?

I need to ask him a few questions about a friend of his in his fantasy football league-- a Justin Ross.

Maybe you know him?

No, sorry, but you can follow me.

Craig's in his man cave, as usual.

So, I take it he spends a lot of time hibernating in his cave?

If he's not at work, he's here.

Craig?

I'm in the middle of something.

Aubrey: Hey, Craig?

FBI. Need to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Justin Ross.

One sec.

Sorry, the league just got the news.

It sucks.

It's, like, totally chaotic for us.

"Chaotic"?

The commish says either someone has to take over his team or we have to divvy up his players to the rest of us.

A man was m*rder*d and you guys are worried about who gets his fantasy players?

Yeah, it's sad, but life goes on.

Saw a video of Ross hunting you down with a paintball g*n.

You got a pretty bad temper on you.

That stuff in the video wasn't serious.

It's the camaraderie of the league.

You said, quote, "I swear I'm gonna k*ll you, Justin."

I was getting sh*t with paintballs!

Please, settle down.

Is there anything important that you might want to tell us?

Now would be a good time.

Okay.

You might want to talk to Lou Divers.

Lou Divers?

Why would I want to talk to an NFL starting running back?

Divers stepped out of bounds on a routine running play that cost Ross a fantasy football game.

So, big deal. Doesn't that kind of stuff happen all the time?

Well, Ross went online and trash talked Divers until they got into an intense Twitter w*r, which ended with Divers paying Ross a visit right before he got k*lled.

How do you know that Divers paid Ross a visit, unless you were there?

The whole league knows about it.

Just check Divers' Twitter account.

This is the last of the bones.

The coywolves munched some down all right.

We're missing multiple medial and distal phalanges, the scaphoid, the trapezoid, the trapezium, the hamate and the capitate.

Oh, don't forget the shattered scapula.

There appears to be a small nick to the triquetral.

Tangential trajectory indicates it is a fracture, however, we won't be certain what caused it unless we have the missing bones.

Hodgins: You know, the only way to get them would be to go into the woods and track down the coywolves.

Well, normally I'm not one to endorse one of your ill-conceived expeditions.

However, I need those bones.

You should take Dr. Wells with you.

Wells: Oh, no, no, no.

I'd prefer to stay in the lab.

I'm not really the, uh, outdoorsy type.

Oh, nonsense.

I can cover for both of you.

Besides, being in nature will be good for Mr. Happy.

Excuse me?

Hodgins: Wow.

Do you miss anything?

Not that I'm confirming anything.

It's okay.

I'm around a lot of older men with the same issue.

After a while, you can practically smell it on a man.

Uh, I suppose a little exercise could prove therapeutic.

Mayer: Forget exercise!

What you need is to get out of your head and go wild.

With your permission, Dr. B?

Brennan: Go.

And if it's any consolation, Dr. Wells, I don't smell anything different about you.

Well, that's because Dr. Mayer's a lot more perceptive than you are.

Okay, let's go.

Dr. Brennan kills off Agent Andy when you're not working, so you, uh, take a trip to the range?

More like I have to take the tactical retesting requirement.

Oh, so the Bureau wants to know if you still got it?

Yeah, it's just protocol.

Right, so I checked out Lou Divers' Twitter feed.

Turns out Divers made multiple threats, including one that said he was gonna pay Justin Ross a visit.

Wait a second, he deleted those tweets.

Exactly, the threats mysteriously disappeared a few hours after Ross was k*lled.

Right.

Oh, looks like you got a few cobwebs to dust off.

You missed the k*ller by a few inches there, Booth.

Oh, come on, get with it, Aubrey.

You see, that's the innocent bystander.

The k*ller's 30 feet away, Aubrey.

Let's get with the program, huh?

Booth: So, social media's a crazy thing.

Isn't it, Lou?

What do you mean?

Well, one minute you're being praised by millions of fans, and the next, you're in a Twitter w*r with a fantasy football player.

I-I don't know what you're talking about.

Online evidence doesn't disappear just because you delete it.

Divers: Getting in a Twitter fight's illegal now?

No, but m*rder is.

You mean this guy's dead?

Yeah, he was k*lled the day that you showed up to pay him a visit.

You want to tell us why some no-name fantasy fan's worth tracking down?

This guy took it too far.

You know, I can handle the trash talk, but when you thr*aten my wife and kids, it's taking it to a whole other level.

So, you k*lled him and then you covered your tracks by deleting the tweets.

No.

I deleted those tweets because we figured this out in person.

You made up?

Yeah.

I mean, football's a brutal sport, man, but I'm not a violent dude.

I just needed to let him know that those threats don't play well with me.

And he took that well?

Yeah, he was remorseful actually.

To be honest with you, he was in a great mood.

Hmm.

Any idea why?

He was bragging about some jackpot that he'd just won.

Something about having the highest scoring fantasy player at every position.

Really?

Yeah, it's, uh, nearly impossible, so I imagine that payout was pretty big.

So, somebody owes our victim a lot of money.

The injury that caused the acromion to shatter was perimortem.

Any idea what caused it?

Not until we get the missing bones.

Would you like Dr. Mayer to help you?

I'm currently making excellent progress without her.

So... you know, besides, at her age, she could use the rest.

Actually she's in limbo right now working.

Limbo?

What, um, what interest could she have with the remains of unsolved cases?

Does she think that she can solve cases that I couldn't?

No, relax, she just thought the remains were sorted inefficiently.

No, the remains are categorized just fine.

Well, she is photographing the bones of each victim right now and uploading them to the Angelatron, so we have a digital database of limbo.

I suppose that could prove quite useful.

You aren't jealous or feeling competitive of Dr. Mayer, are you?

(laughs): No.

No, I mean, I, what...

I have no reason to be competitive with her, so... no.

(chuckles)

Okay.

Just wanted to make sure.

There appears to be a nick on the anterior aspect of the scapula similar to the nature of the wound found on the wrist.

We should swab for particulates.

Well, unfortunately, we'll have to wait for Dr. Hodgins to return from the woods.

I'll let Dr. Mayer know.

She can run the analysis easily.

Of course she can.

So this is where the coywolves ate our victim?

Yeah, and these tracks run northwest.

Coywolves prefer areas with cover, like brush or shrubs.

Then that's where we'll go.

Shall we?

Hey, so, out of the lab and in nature.

Is anything, you know, awakening in you?

No, and I'm growing skeptical that simply being out of the lab is going to fix my...

Boner problem?

Yes. Thank you.

Unfortunately, the only thing I feel right now is tired and hungry.

I haven't eaten anything since this morning.

Wait a minute.

What is it?

Well, the gut transit time for canids is less than a day, at most.

It's much more rapid than humans.

So, technically, we're not looking for coywolves.

No, we're looking for coywolf defecation.

Coywolves usually defecate in more conspicuous areas to mark their territory.

Like the edge of the woods, near a trail, or by a body of water?

Yeah.

Okay, let's go towards the river.

Hold on.

We're not gonna need these tranquilizer g*ns.

You just sh*t me.

That was an accident.

Ah! (inhales sharply)

You just sh*t me!

Okay, chill out.

It's a low dose of Zoletil.

You'll probably be fine.

Probably?!

Definitely.

You'll definitely be fine.

Ah... Oliver!

Come on.

Ah... what?

Wells: Just keep moving.

Brennan: According to the league's Web site,

Ross was owed $15,000 by the commissioner, Jamie Whetzel.

And now that Ross is dead, he gets to keep all the money.

(sighs)

Money is always a strong motive.

Oh, so is that why you k*lled Agent Andy?

To increase book sales?

Absolutely not.

But now that we're dealing with the subject of money and fantasy football...

I was curious.

Are your endorphin levels rising?

If you're asking me if I'm getting the gambling itch, the-the answer's yes.

Oh.

That was not the response I was expecting.

Well, I'm never gonna hide things anymore, Bones.

You know, covering builds it up inside.

When I get an urge, I acknowledge it.

I think about the pros and the cons that gambling added to my life, and then I can let it go.

Hmm.

What does a fantasy football commissioner do, anyway?

Well, their job is to put the league together-- you know, run the draft, handle the money and basically, you know, control the game.

Sounds like a lot of responsibility for one person.

Which is why you have to be unbiased to be a good commissioner.

They have all the power.

Welcome to Sandwich Hut.

I'm Jamie, what can I get you?

Booth: Answers.

FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth.

This here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan.

From the Jeffersonian.

Yes.

FBI?

And a forensic anthropologist.

This must be about Justin.

Uh, let's talk over here.

You are the all-powerful commissioner of the league?

I am the commissioner.

I don't know about "all-powerful."

Manager: Whetzel!

Less socializing, please.

Hey, I'm talking to the FBI, here!

Watch your tone, Whetzel.

(whistles)

Sorry about that.

So, what was your relationship with Justin Ross like?

He was a good man and a valued member of our league.

It's just devastating what happened.

I find it coincidental that he won a fantasy jackpot right before he was k*lled.

What are you implying?

What she's saying is that $15,000 goes a long way for somebody who works at the Sandwich Hut.

I am an honorable commissioner and I take that very seriously.

In fact, I already made plans to put his full 15 grand towards his funeral costs.

I can show you the invoice.

Where were you Wednesday night?

Here.

I worked the night shift; closed the shop.

Are all of the members of your league as fanatical as Ross was?

Look, fantasy players have pulled over to make trades while driving their pregnant wives to the hospital.

That's for sure.

One dude was at w*r in Afghanistan and wouldn't retreat from his post that was being bombed because he was in the middle of a draft.

I heard of that guy, yeah, right.

I mean, commitment to a league is what makes it great.

It may also be what led to m*rder.

You're right.

Loving the league is no excuse.

What happened is horrible.

Manager: Whetzel!

Let's go!

Should I tell my manager you guys need me longer?

Please?

Nah, tell you what.

I'm just gonna need those invoices from the funeral costs.

That's me.

Okay.

You can get in touch with us if anything comes up there.

Absolutely.

Right?

Manager: Whetzel, how many times: do I need to tell you?

Guacamole is a dollar more!

I'm sorry, you're right, you're right.

I'm sorry.

(grunts)

Hey, how's it going?

Oh, there's my baby.

It's slow.

Like honey.

Mmm. Honey is so good.

Are you okay?

Uh, yeah. Oliver sh*t me with a tranquilizer g*n.

Oh, my God!

No, no, no, I'm fine. I'm fine.

It was an accident, we're still friends, his wiener's feeling better, so it's, uh, it's awesome.

Angie, did you find anything?

Yeah, actually.

So I was digging through Ross's computer and it looks like Ross was helping his temp, Chris Winfelder, get his house out of foreclosure.

Oh, my God, that's so nice of him!

Yeah, not exactly.

They had a last-minute buyer lined up, but it looks like Ross screwed up the deal by missing an important meeting.

That's so mean of him!

Now, on top of that, Dr. Mayer found traces of an aluminum alloy.

Angie, Winfelder's signs.

(Wells howling)

They're made of aluminum alloy.

Yeah, yeah.

Exactly.

What is going on out there?

Does Oliver have his shirt off?

(Wells howls)

(laughing): Yeah.

He thinks he's a wolf.

(laughing)

(Wells howling, yipping)

Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Hey, Angela, I'm finally out of my head.

I can actually feel Mother Earth breathing new life into me.

Okay.

Ooh, wait a second.

Wells: What is it?

Uh, something on Ross's computer.

He has a Fit-Step account.

Wells: It's a digital pedometer that tracks how many steps you take every day.

What's the big deal?

I think I took about seven steps today.

Wait, what's with the Fit-Step?

It's just weird that he accumulated steps after he was m*rder*d.

Wells: The latest Fit-Steps have a GPS.

If the k*ller took it, then we can track them down.

Yeah, but it was accumulating steps for about six hours and then stopped.

Oh, my God.

Maybe a coywolf ate the Fit-Step.

And then he pooped it out.

Like a poop machine... that poops.

(Hodgins laughs)

So if I can track the Fit-Step...

Then we can find the missing bones.

Yeah. I'll send the GPS coordinates to you.

Hey. Can you please get back in one piece?

Oh, Angie, we have a song for you!

No, you have nothing to worry about.

We're gonna sing you a song.

I've heard the song.

It's not great.

You do the "do-do-do" part.

♪ Do-do-bee-do-bee-do. ♪

Wells: We're gonna go look for wolf... wolf poop.

Hodges: But I need to just...

(smacking lips)

You lied to me, Mr. Winfelder.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Ross screwed you by sending your house into foreclosure.

I didn't lie.

I just left that out because it would've looked bad.

You mean because it would've given you motive?

That's not what I meant.

Must have made you pretty angry to lose that house.

Been in your family three generations.

Of course it did, but...

You couldn't stand the fact that Ross missed the last-minute meeting with a potential buyer because he was too distracted by fantasy football.

You're right that I couldn't stand him, but fantasy football isn't why he screwed me over.

What do you mean by that?

He missed our meeting because he was busy with a lady.

Okay, so Ross had a girlfriend?

Maybe a girlfriend.

It felt a little shadier than that, the way they would sneak around and close the blinds in his office during lunch and everything.

So Ross was having an affair.

You ever meet this woman?

A couple of times.

Her name was Ashlie.

Ashlie Smith?

No clue what her last name is.

Is that her?

Yeah, I'll never forget her.

She's the reason I lost my house.

Hey.

Hey. There you are.

Are you okay?

Yeah.

Thankfully, the tranquilizer is finally out of my system.

And you were successful tracking the Fit-Step?

Yeah, very.

Both the Fit-Step and the bones were buried in a pile of defecation, just like I thought.

So, where are the bones?

(platform entry chimes)

Hello, ladies.

Cam.

It's still "Dr. Saroyan."

Yes. Yes, it is.

Montenegro: Wow, you, uh... you seem to be feeling better.

Yeah.

Turns out Dr. Mayer was right.

All I needed was a little fresh air to get the blood flowing to the proper areas...

I think we should focus on the bones.

Yeah. Good idea. Come on.

The sooner we find these bones and clean them for Dr. B., the sooner we can solve this case.

(exhales) Oof.

Let's do this!

Uh, it seems like you guys have a handle on this situation, so...

Agreed.

Montenegro: Good luck with that.

Aubrey: Cheating on your husband with our m*rder victim doesn't look too good.

Make a habit of lying, Mrs. Smith?

Anyone in my position would've done the same.

And what position is that?

My husband hasn't looked at me in years.

He comes home from work, goes straight into his man cave, and plays fantasy football until he falls asleep.

Is that why you cheated on him with someone from his league?

To get back at him?

No.

Where were you on Wednesday night?

I was home.

Husband verify that?

No, he wasn't there.

Where was he that night?

I don't know.

Did he know about the affair?

Yeah.

We had a typical fight over him watching too much football, and he yelled at me to back off, and that's when I told him I was sleeping with Justin.

And how did he react?

I-I didn't see.

I slammed the door and left, and the next thing I knew, R...

Ross was dead.

Mrs. Smith, did your husband k*ll Justin Ross?

I don't know.

I mean, I can't imagine he would, but... but I don't even know who he is anymore.

(crying): Oh, my God...

We have the scaphoid, the trapezoid, the trapezium, the hamate, the capitate, the phalanges, and the rest of the shattered acromion, all clean of coywolf defecation.

The bones are finally ready to be re-articulated.

And I finally have my mojo back.

Which should please Dr. Mayer.

Where is she currently?

Uh, she is updating the Angelatron's interface.

But we're perfectly fine without her.

Your lobbying to spend one-on-one time with me is quite flattering, Dr. Brennan.

But, come on, we have work to do.

Now that we've found the rest of the acromion, we can determine what caused the nick on the scapula.

Brennan: There are two circular pits, indicating the victim was stabbed twice with a cylindrical w*apon with a diameter of four to five millimeters.

A nail, perhaps?

The angle at which the w*apon shattered the acromion would've severed the subclavian artery.

Which would've caused our victim to bleed out within minutes.

We have cause of death.

My mojo's not done.

The size of the circular pits is nearly identical.

Indicating the stabs were made with exactly the same force.

Four millimeter diameter, two stabs with identical force.

It's quite feasible that our k*ller used a nail g*n.

Booth is going to visit a suspect right now who works as a contractor.

I-I'll let him know immediately.

Aubrey: All these killings over loved ones-- maybe this is why I'm still single.

Look, are we talking about our suspect or are we talking about Agent Andy here?

You're still hung up on that? (scoffs)

On what, being k*lled? Yeah.

Look, maybe Dr. Brennan was just going through something in her writing.

Okay.

That doesn't make it okay to off me.

Look at the alternative.

I mean, we are headed to the house of a neglected wife who cheated on her m*rder-suspect husband.

Dr. Brennan got it out through her writing and you guys are strong as ever.

(clears his throat) Still mad, though.

(knocking)

Craig Smith, FBI!

Front door's open, coming in!

(TV plays indistinctly nearby)

Craig? Anybody home?

You think he split?

His truck's there.

Craig: Come on!

Okay, man cave.

Craig: Yeah, we'll see about that, tough guy!

Try it again, I'll rip your face off!

That's a load of crap!

Just make the trade!

Craig Smith, we need you to come with us for questioning.

Hold on, I'm in the middle of a big trade.

Booth: No, no, pal, okay, put the phone down.

Hang it up, step away from the computer, let's go.

I only need a few seconds!

Okay, listen, let's go.

Come on, man.

What are you doing?

I'm in the middle of a trade!

Come on.

(grunts)

You have no idea what you just did!

You might've just cost me the whole season!

Hey, wait, whoa, whoa, slow down. Wait a second.

You tried trading an RB1 for Wallace?

What, are kidding me?

No wonder you came in last last season.

That's a horrible trade.

Get off me!

Let me go or so help me God!

Whoa, hey, look at that.

There's the temper that we saw in the paintball video in the woods.

And look at that, it's his trusty nail g*n.

Oh.

If you don't let me go, I'll...

Take my advice.

Whatever you're about to say, don't.

He'll let you up once you calm down.

You ruined my trade!

Well, you got a lot more problems than a fantasy football league, pal.

Yeah, like how it drove your wife into Ross's arms.

Somebody with a temper like yours must've flipped out when you found out that she was cheating on you.

How would you react?

Are you gonna let go now?!

Come on. (grunts)

In a minute, okay?

So how did you react, huh?

Did you go pay your little fantasy football kid a visit?

Yeah, but not to k*ll him.

So, you just drove out to see him to politely ask for an explanation?

No, I told him I would forgive him if he gave me Aaron Rodgers, his fantasy quarterback.

Booth: Whoa, wait a second.

You wanted him to give you a quarterback for sleeping with your wife?!

He's a premium quarterback!

And I deserved him!

You deserve that and more, Craig.

Take it easy, we couldn't do the trade anyway.

It was considered collusion.

Right and your little peace offering didn't go through.

So?

So that means you still have a motive.

Let's go, pal, come on.

Let's go, come on.

Saroyan: Booth has Craig Smith in custody.

Unfortunately, we still don't have hard evidence.

Well, I may have found something in the carpal bones.

There appear to be puncture wounds on the trapezium and hamate similar to those found on the scapula.

Looks like they were both caused by the same cylindrical m*rder w*apon.

But these stabs were inflicted with much less force.

Saroyan: Yeah, and the distance between punctures is approximately three centimeters.

Which means the m*rder w*apon made two stabs at a time.

So we're looking for a two-pronged w*apon.

(phone dings)

Hodgins just sent results from the defecation.

It looks like the coywolves recently feasted on...

Sus domesticus.

They ate pigs?

Perhaps they got into a farm?

No, these pigs were cured with salt.

I know the m*rder w*apon.

You do?

I see it now as well.

Two prongs, cured meat.

Dr. Mayer, you should be the one to call Booth.

(phone beeps)

Good work.

Aubrey: We found a lot of angry messages to you from Ross that were sent before he was m*rder*d.

That doesn't mean I k*lled him.

Commissioners of every league deal with angry messages all the time.

You know, you had every right to veto that Aaron Rodgers trade.

I mean, that would've been collusion.

Any commissioner would've vetoed that trade.

But that must've been the last straw for Ross, who wasn't happy with you as commissioner.

That's why Ross went to confront you at the sandwich shop.

Booth: And when you didn't approve the Aaron Rodgers trade, he was gonna oust you as commissioner.

You can't prove anything.

That's when a fight escalated.

You grabbed your little meat holder there and stabbed him two times.

How did you...?

Booth: Then you dumped the body in the woods and you covered it with ham, so it would attract the wild animals.

We got your m*rder w*apon, and evidence that ties the ham back to you.

Game over, Whetzel.

Yeah, I k*lled him.

I'm a sandwich artist.

The league is all I had.

Ross wanted to take that from me.

♪ Time ain't nothing ♪
♪ If it ain't fast ♪
♪ Taking everything ♪
♪ That you ever had ♪
♪ Giving nothing in return... ♪

I never thought I'd say this, but I thoroughly enjoy hiking.

It's good to be back at full strength.

Yeah, me, too, after being tranqued.

Dr. Hodgins, while I appreciate you helping me get my mojo back, I fully maintain that you overreacted to the tranquilizer.

And I maintain that you sh*t me.

It's a harmless dart.

Are you really gonna stand by that?

Yes, it's a non-lethal dose meant to relax 40-pound mammals.

Okay, Oliver, this is your last chance to take back that I overreacted.

It was nothing.

Okay.

What are you doing?

Oh, nothing.

I brought this in case we ran into some overly aggressive coywolves, but now I'm gonna sh**t you, and then we'll be even.

That is a ridiculous concept.

Oh, don't worry, it's a, uh-- what did you call it?-- a, um, harmless dart?

Dr. Hodgins, put down the g*n.

I think we both know that you're not going to sh**t...

Aah!

Ow!

You sh*t me!

Don't worry.

It's a non-lethal dose.

(laughs)

This better not reverse my mojo.

Aah!

(camera shutter clicking)

I must admit this is an extremely efficient way to catalogue the remains.

Thank you.

I...

I need to apologize.

Instead of gaining insight from your years of experience, I...

I acted in a jealous manner.

Is it too late to seek advice from you?

Oh, never.

What's on your mind?

Booth thinks that I was going through something subconsciously that caused me to k*ll off Agent Andy.

That perhaps I was angry with him.

And were you?

No.

When I wrote the book, we were both taking time off from work.

It was a period of complete peace and quiet.

(laughs): Oh!

No wonder you lashed out.

What do you mean?

Come on.

Gals like us can't stand peace and quiet.

We need to be challenged.

That's why I loved seeing you and Booth together.

But all you witnessed was us bickering.

Yeah, exactly.

Because you pushed each other.

That's the heat you fell in love with.

And that's the heat that will keep you together.

Anything else would be...

(chuckles) Boring.

And when things get boring, that's when you start k*lling characters.

Oh, come on, Dr. Brennan.

What you and Booth have is special.

Embrace the heat.

It has been an honor to work with you, Dr. Mayer.

Thank you.

But don't make it sound like this is it.

I'm not going anywhere. (laughs)

Brennan: Dr. Mayer has been working for two more years than Cam, Hodgins, Angela and myself combined.

Wow, she is some lady.

(chuckles) She actually gave me some insight into Agent Andy, too.

Oh, you know, that-that reminds me.

You were right.

Of course I was.

About what?

About not bring back Agent Andy.

That was a good call.

New beginnings for us, right?

Well, actually, I believe there may be a way to bring him back now.

Why would you want to do that?

Booth, you were the one fighting to keep him alive.

Yeah, you know, but then I thought about it.

Well, think about it some more.

There are plenty of creative ways for Andy to survive!

Someone sh*t to the sternum?!

Okay, come on, do you know how fatal that is, Bones?

Booth, you're questioning my knowledge of an injury to the sternum?

Oh, really, you're questioning my, uh, g*n sh*ts.

Aah!

Stop! No! Don't! Don't!

(laughing): Stop it, Booth.

Now, stop it.

Yeah, how about that?!

Booth!

(chattering playfully, laughing)