A/N: I actually gave myself the creeps while writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy:-)

The SUV sped down the highway. For a Tuesday afternoon the traffic was light and Booth had no problem driving down to the state penitentiary. The lawyer's words echoed in his mind. It's urgent. The man had said over the phone. But what was urgent? And why had Booth heard that name before?

He turned to his wife who was staring absently out of the window. Reaching over to her, he gently squeezed her thigh. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about Raquel. There's something about what she said that bothers me. What did she mean when she told you you were like the rest of them? Who's them?"

"You know, I was asking myself the same question. Do you think she's seen some kind of therapist after her sister disappeared?"

Temperance shrugged.

"You really think that's what it is?"

"Well that's what it sounded like to me. Besides, she was what- eight?- when her sister died. She could have been traumatized and her parents might have thought seeing a therapist would help her deal."

"Maybe."

"You don't seem entirely convinced?"

"I don't know, Booth. There seems to be more to it. She really got angry when you asked her if she simply just imagined the whole "man in her room" thing. Maybe she is telling the truth. She sure looked like she was."

"Oh so now you can read people?"

"I took a course a couple years ago on body language. I'm pretty good at it, actually."

Booth chuckled.

"What?"

"I missed this." Booth replied as he pulled out of the highway.

"Missed what?"

"Working with you. I feel like we've gone back ten years in the past."

"Has it already been ten years?"

"Close."

The SUV stopped at a red light and Booth took that opportunity to turn to his wife and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I love you."

Temperance smiled.

"I love you too."

Booth slowly leaned and brushed his lips against hers. The light turned green and a car honked behind them. Booth growled softly as they pulled away.

"Some people are just not patient." Booth said.

The car honked once again.

"Okay, relax!"

Temperance sighed and looked out of the window. One thing hadn't changed since the beginning of their partnership: Booth hadn't grown more patient over the years.

The room was small and dark, the only source of light coming from a single window hanging high above their heads. It was mildly cold and Temperance found herself shivering.

"Want my coat?" Booth immediately asked.

Temperance shook her head.

"I'm fine."

Booth nodded.

"Who are we meeting?"

Booth shrugged.

"Jason Triggs and his client, apparently. Whoever he is."

There was a noise behind them and Booth winced at the screeching noise of the gates as they opened. The couple stood up and turned around. A man dressed in orange jail clothing approached, held by two security guards. A taller man, neatly dressed, followed behind. The couple exchanged confused glances.

Jason Triggs stepped out from behind the three other men and introduced himself. Motioning to the chairs, he sat down himself and waited as Booth and Temperance did the same. The prisoner took a seat on the other side of the table.

"Thank you for coming quickly, Agent Booth. I'd like you to meet my client, David Pharatt."

Booth nodded politely at the man sitting across from him. The man nodded back.

"Mr. Pharatt has something he would like to say to you."

Booth turned back to the prisoner.

"I'm listening Mr. Pharratt."

The man cleared his throat.

"When I saw the article in the newspaper, I just had to contact you."

"What article?"

"The one on 53 Maple Street. You found remains in the basement belonging to three little girls who once lived in that house."

Booth remained passive. Behind the prisoner, the two security guards stood straight as posts in front of the one-way mirror.

"I lived in that house back in 1990s. My daughter and I moved in a year after the Laura Joyce's disappearance. If only I had known the little girl was still in the house, I never would have moved in."

"Why did you ask to meet with me, Mr. Pharatt?"

The older man's features turned serious. Booth examined him. The man looked tired. Deep stress lines wrinkled his forehead and the corner of his eyes. His long hair had turned salt-and-pepper and his blue eyes seemed to have died. The man's unshaven beard masked half of his face. Booth found himself pitying the person sitting in front of him.

"I was incarcerated for the murder of my daughter, Melanie, in 1992. They said I pushed her down the stairs. They're wrong. I never hurt my daughter."

Booth stared intently at the man in front of him. Tears began to form in the prisoner's eyes and Booth instantly knew the man was telling the truth. Behind him, a security guard cleared his throat. Booth and Triggs both glared at him.

"Four girls, all aged nine years old, died in that house, Agent Booth. It's cursed. The house is cursed. Who lives there now?"

"A new family."

"Do they have a nine-year-old daughter?"

Temperance shivered. Booth remained calm.

"Yes."

"Get her out of there."

Pharatt's blue eyes turned electrical and Booth thought he detected a hint of dementia in them.

"Mr. Pharatt, I can assure you that the little girl is fine."

A buzzer rang and all knew the interview was now over. The security guard stepped behind Pharatt and both grabbed him by one arm. Pharatt didn't struggle.

"Get the little girl out of the house, Agent Booth, before it's too late."

"Shut up!" The taller security guard warned him.

Booth stood up and watched the prisoner walk out of the room.

"Get her out!"

The door slammed shut. Booth looked at his wife then at the defence lawyer.

"You believe him?" Booth asked the lawyer after a few seconds of silence.

"It's my job to believe him, Agent Booth."

Booth nodded.

"Why are we here?" Temperance asked as the couple made their way through the tall grass.

The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds and light rain slowly started to fall.

"I don't know. I just had the feeling this is where we had to start."

"At a cemetery?"

Booth simply shrugged. Temperance didn't question him anymore.

They walked through the tombstones in silence. Somewhere up in a tree, a crow cried. First raindrop on the nose. Second. Third. Stones everywhere. Where would they start looking? They had no idea where her grave was. Fourth. The gate opened at the cemetery's entrance. Probably another family coming to grieve a deceased loved one. Fifth. Sixth. Colbec, James. Hanson, Daphne. Parker, Henrietta. Parker, Karl. Pharatt, Melanie.

In loving memory of

Pharatt, Melanie.

(1983 – 1992)

Forever we will love you.

Temperance grabbed her husband's arm, stopping him in his tracks. She pointed to the stone beside her. Booth crouched down and examined it. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. He wasn't sure he would actually find something valuable to an investigation. He just had a feeling this is where he needed to start.

Daughter of David Pharatt and Monica Jennings.

"Monica Jennings?" Booth asked, confused.

"Probably her mother, Booth."

"Yeah I kinda got that already Bones, thank you. It's just that I've heard that name before but where?"

Temperance shrugged. Booth remained silent.

"Are you okay?"

Booth slowly turned to face his wife.

"She was so young. Nine years old. Do you think Mackenzie is in danger?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

Booth nodded.

"It's just... I'm tempted to believe him."

"Melanie's father?"

"Yes."

"He seemed a bit crazy if you ask me."

"Yeah well prison will do that to you."

Booth looked back at the tombstone. An angel was engraved on the rock, reaching out to the sky, a crystal in its hands.

"It's not fair that an innocent man stays in jail for a crime he didn't commit." Booth said after a few minutes of silence.

Temperance turned to him, obviously confused.

"I'll reopen the case."

"Can you do that?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

"What about the case we're working on?"

"If David Pharatt is right, and that something really bad is going on at 53 Maple Street, Pharatt's case touches the one we are working on at the moment. If I can really prove that Pharrat is innocent, then he can walk away a free man and we can go back searching for the real murderer."

"Do you think it's the same person?"

"Could be."

"Laura Joyce died 32 years ago? You really think it can be the same person?"

Booth glanced one more time at the child's grave.

"That's what I intend to find out."

He never thought he would see them again. Yet, when Mrs Bennett opened the door, it was like Booth had been sucked into a time warp and had landed sixteen years earlier. She hadn't changed. Her hair was still ink black, her eyes were still chocolate brown and her smile was still enlightening. She hadn't lost weight, nor had she put some on.

"Agent Booth."

"Dorothy."

He called her by her first name, just like she had asked him to do years back. Her name brought back the acid taste in his mouth, the one he got every time he thought about Raine Bennett. Guilt. Guilt that he hadn't brought her any justice. Guilt that he had been forced to close the case. Guilt that he had missed her funeral. Guilt. Acid guilt on his tongue.

"Come on in." The woman said, stepping aside.

She smiled warmly at Temperance.

"Dorothy, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan, my wife, my temporary partner and the forensic anthropologist who examined your daughter's remains."

"Actually, Monica did. I just confirmed her findings."

Dorothy nodded.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

Temperance and Booth shook their heads.

"We're only staying for a few minutes. I just need to go over a couple of points with you then we'll leave."

"There's not much more that I can tell you, Agent Booth. I already told you everything I knew when Raine disappeared." Dorothy replied as she led the couple into the kitchen.

Passing in front of the living room, Temperance caught the sight of Raine's picture hanging from the wall. She stopped and examined it. That Raine Bennett looked nothing like the one on the missing person's report. That Raine Bennett was happy, smiling and possibly laughing at the weird faces the professional photographer was making while he was snapping pictures of her.

"This picture was taken only months before Raine disappeared." Dorothy explained.

"She was a very beautiful child." Temperance replied, honestly.

"Thank you."

"Is your husband or children around, Dorothy?"

Dorothy turned back to the agent.

"Ben is working late again tonight. He's been working too much but they are short of staff at the hospital lately. Kim is resting, she isn't feeling well. And Patrick... well... let's just say I don't know where he is."

Sadness momentarily erased the woman's smile off her face, only for it to come back seconds later.

"If you want, I can wake Kim up."

"That won't be necessary."

They sat down at the kitchen table. Dorothy looked expectantly at the couple.

"What would you like to know?"

"Is there anything new you can think of? A piece of information you never told me in the past?"

Dorothy considered the question for a few seconds before shaking her head.

"Nothing. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to remember anything else."

"How did she die?"

"A fractured skull suggested that she was struck behind the head by a blunt object." Temperance replied, slowly.

Watching for any sign of emotion on the woman's face and seeing none, Temperance went on.

"There was also a history of fractured wrists and ankles."

Dorothy nodded.

"Raine was a gymnast and a very good at that. She did competitions, she won medals. She was really good. She broke her wrist when she fell off the asymmetric bars back when she was seven. That same year, she sprained her ankle doing a routine in a competition."

"She started gymnastics young?"

Dorothy nodded.

"She was three years old when she started. She simply loved it. She was the only one of our children who played sports. Patrick simply stayed in his room to read and Kim preferred playing dolls with her friends than going outside. Raine was our active one. Always outside, always climbing trees, running around. She was so full of life."

A small pause.

"Where was she found?"

Temperance and Booth exchanged awkward glances.

"What?" Dorothy asked, suspicious.

Booth cleared his throat.

"We found Raine's remains in the basement of the house you lived in when she disappeared."

Dorothy gasped.

"Among the remains of two other girls the same age."

Dorothy's eyes widened.

"Did you know that two other girls living in that same house had mysteriously disappeared just like your daughter?"

Dorothy swallowed.

"There were... rumors... going around. I heard of this girl who disappeared during an earthquake."

"Laura Joyce."

"Yes. Laura Joyce. I had heard about her. Then little Melanie Pharatt but I think her father killed her."

Booth said nothing.

"After my daughter, there was this other little girl. I forgot her name. She drowned in her tub and nobody was found her body."

"How do you know about all of this?" Temperance asked, curious as to how this woman seemed to know as much information about the other two little girls when she, herself, had only learned of that hours ago.

"By my kids, mostly. Patrick was nine when we first moved in and he came home from school frightened. He told me that a boy in his class had told him about the murder and the disappearances. I didn't know what else to tell him, I didn't know if it was true so I did a bit of investigation."

"What did you find during your investigations?" Booth asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

Never had Dorothy told him about her investigating the other deaths. Maybe he hadn't let her a chance to do so in the past either.

"You seem surprised. Whatever you're thinking, I didn't do it on purpose not to tell you, Agent Booth. Besides, you were investigating my daughter's disappearance. Not the other ones."

Booth said nothing.

"I didn't find much, only what I just told you. I just needed confirmation that the rumors were not true. They were true, it turned out. That's all I can tell you."

Booth nodded.

Footsteps on the second floor told them Kim had woken up.

"How old is your daughter today?"

"22."

"And she still lives with you?"

Dorothy nodded.

"She's had a rough last year. Her boyfriend of six years broke up with her, she lost her job and the baby she was carrying. She had been living on her own since she was 18 but when she showed up on our doorstep ten months ago, we couldn't refuse her refuge."

"I understand."

Footsteps down the stairs. Booth and Temperance stood up.

"Thank you for your time. It was nice to see you again, Dorothy."

The woman nodded.

"It was nice to see you two, Agent Booth. You're always welcomed here for dinner, you know that. Do you have children?"

"Yes I do. Four of them."

"Bring them. I'd love to meet them."

"I'll think about it."

A young woman, resembling vaguely the older version already present, walked in the kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks and eyed the visitors suspiciously. Her eyes stopped on Booth and narrowed as if searching her memory to remember where she had seen him.

"You remember Agent Booth, Kim?"

The young woman tilted her head to the side.

She almost looks like a dog. Temperance thought to herself.

Kim finally nodded.

"Yes. I remember."

"They found Raine."

Kim's head snapped in her mother's direction.

"She's dead."

The words hung heavily in the air. Temperance turned to her husband.

Let's get out of here. Her eyes told him.

Booth nodded to her silent request.

"We have to get going. Our children aren't going to put themselves to bed."

"Who is watching them?"

"A friend of ours." Booth replied. "Don't bother. I know the way out."

Dorothy nodded and watched as the couple disappeared down the hallway. Temperance only glanced briefly at the picture in the living room as they passed. At the door, Booth stopped and turned around, half expecting Kim to be walking behind them. Seeing nobody, he opened the door and stepped out.

"Agent Booth?" A voice said as Booth opened the door to his vehicle.

"Yes, Kim?"

"There was a man." The young woman replied, crossing her arms in front of her to warm herself up. "Every night at five o'clock. He walked past our gate, always wearing the same thing. He looked almost unreal. He'd disappear around the corner."

Booth nodded.

"Okay, Kim."

"I never told the others."

"Thank you for telling me."

The woman smiled before turning around and disappearing back into the house. Booth sat down in the SUV and closed the door. Temperance turned to face him.

"Seems like the day for confessions." Booth said as he turned on the ignition.

"It's a weird family." Temperance said as they pulled out of the driveway.

"The Bennett's have a history of mental illnesses in the family. Ben is a bipolar doctor, Dorothy has been suffering from depression since her daughter disappeared and Kim seemed to have inherited her parents' illnesses. I think Raine was the only normal child in that family."

"And Patrick?"

"I've seen him recently. He lives on the streets somewhere in Washington."

Temperance nodded.

"You seem to know a lot about them."

"Are you jealous, Temperance Booth?" Booth asked, teasingly.

"No. I'm just... surprised, that's all."

Booth sighed.

"I stayed in touch after I closed the file on Raine's case. I couldn't bring myself to shut them out of my life. I made my first mistake with them."

"Which is?"

"Never get emotionally attached to the victims' families."

"That's good advice, Agent Booth."

Booth forced a smile.

"Where to now?" Temperance asked.

"Home sweet home. You are overdue for a talk with our daughter."

Temperance sighed as she turned back towards the window. She had dreaded the day where she would have been forced to tell her daughter about the kind of work her mother was doing but Temperance knew the time had now come. She could no longer hide herself from her daughter. Not now that Riley had been plunged into her world involuntarily.

The child turned in her bed. A bump startled her back to consciousness. Something hard. Her foot had hit something hard.

She felt it. The corner of her bed. She felt the pressure, she heard the springs in the mattress squeak. Her heart began thumping loudly inside her chest. The room grew colder. The tip of her nose began to freeze. Riley brought herself to open her eyes.

"Who's there?" She asked, hoping her voice didn't betray the fear she was feeling.

A whimper answered her. Frowning, Riley slowly sat up in her bed. Her eyes grew wide. There, on the corner of her bed, sat a little girl. Dressed in a light pink overalls and a white shirt. Her long brown hair cascaded down past her shoulders to land gently in the middle of her back. The little girl slowly turned around and Riley felt her blood freeze in her veins as the children made eye contact.

The little girl said nothing but just then, Riley felt something collide with her arm. A piece of paper stuck to her forearm. Confused, Riley looked at the moment questioningly. The girl pointed to the paper. Riley picked it up and turned it over. The number 8 was written on it.

"Eight? What does it mean?"

The little girl let out another whimper. She stretched her arm in front of her. Riley watched in fear and anxiety as writing slowly appeared on the girl's arm.

Help us.

"H-h-h-elp you?"

The writing engraved in the little girl's arm disappeared. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, the girl ghost slowly misted away.

With her heart still thumping madly inside her chest and the paper clutched in her hand, Riley gently laid herself back in her bed and, with her covers over her head, went back to sleep.