To make up for the very short prologue, here is the first chapter. The story is set approximately 14 years after the series finale (which I'm assuming is season 10). Also, please keep in mind that I haven't seen all of season 9 (only the beginning) so some information provided in the story might come in conflict with what was said and done during this season.

I vaguely remember the day when the news came out. An entire family had disappeared overnight. Their cars had been found parked in their driveways. Colleagues had called the police to inform them of the disappearance. Because of the nature of their jobs, the investigation had begun quickly. The mother had been a forensic anthropologist; the father had worked for the FBI as a Special Agent. The two of them had been partner and were well-known in Washington, DC. They had arrested many killers in the careers. They would have made many enemies. That quickly became the theory.

Nothing much was told afterwards. The news had been broadcast worldwide as an international search for them had been orchestrated. They remained nowhere to be found. As the weeks passed by, we heard less and less of them until one day, it stopped completely.

I remember they had three children: two boys and a girl. One of them was now sitting in front of me. I soon learned his name was Parker.

"I'll need a bit more than "I don't know" if you want me to find your family. What can you tell me about the night they disappeared?"

Parker shrugged.

"Not much, I'm afraid. I was away with my mother when it happened. We only learned of their disappearance a week later when it was broadcast throughout the world."

"How old were you then?"

"Seventeen."

"Did you see your father often back then?"

"A couple of times a year. My mom moved around a lot. I had no choice but to follow her."

He told me what he remembered. There wasn't any new information. What he knew, he had learned from the broadcast. It definitely wasn't much to go on. I knew the risk of such a case. The chances I find some clues the FBI had missed were slim. But, for once, I'd have a challenge. After all, no one, not even the Federal Bureau of Investigation, had found out what happened. It was as though the Booths had simply vanished off the face of the Earth. The mystery surrounding them was quickly sucking me in its web.

"You realize the chances of me finding out what happened are small?"

"Yes, I understand that."

I smiled before informing him of my fees. I was confused as to how a young man in his mid-twenties would find the money to pay such an amount but he simply agreed to the terms.

"Don't worry about the money. It won't be an issue."

I didn't press the matter. Someone else was probably helping him financially.

"Can you give me names of people who might know more about what happened? Friends? Family members?"

He gave me three names: Angela Montenegro, Jack Hodgins, and Max Keenan. Two of those names were friends of the couple; the other was the forensic anthropologist's father. He had no idea where to find these people but he assured me that they would be able to give me more information.

"They've recently moved: Jack and Angela. I'm afraid I don't know their new address. I've recently come back from a trip overseas. As for Max, well, he was always on the go, only dropping by every now and then to help out with Christine when she was a baby. I haven't seen him since…"

I assured him I would do my best to find out what happened. He thanked me and left my office.

For a few minutes, I wondered what I would do. The logical side of me told me that it was nearly impossible that I would get to the bottom of the story. If the FBI hadn't found them, who was I to be the one to manage it? Yet, something told me that maybe the Federal Bureau had missed something, some important clue that maybe I could find. It definitely would be interesting to focus on something new. The insurance company case was getting nowhere. They were trying to prove that a man, who had claimed money from them after an accident, had actually faked his own injury. Personally, I didn't believe it. The old man was over 70 years old and could very well have broken his hip. The few times I had seen him, he'd had a limp.

I looked down at the three names I had jotted down. Since I didn't know where to find them, Google seemed to be a good option.

I typed in the first name on my list which led me to a well-designed website about a popular artist. I explored her website for a couple of minutes but found nothing helpful. Her name was Angela Montenegro and she looked like she was of Asian descent. Gray had lined her black hair in some places and even from her pictures you could see the wrinkles around her eyes. She looked very pretty. I guessed her age to be in the late forties.

I searched the Internet for a while. Her name appeared in some local news articles and blogs. She was a good painter and was even selling them online. After many minutes of searching, I finally found an art gallery in the area that sold some of her work. It seemed like a good place to start.

The gallery was empty when I stepped inside. A woman with short purple hair welcomed me in. She introduced herself as Sally. I introduced myself as private investigator Jack White. She seemed unsure why I was visiting her art gallery on a Saturday afternoon. I assured her that she had done nothing.

"I'm looking for a woman called Angela Montenegro. She might hold information about a case I am working on. I know you sell some of her paintings."

"Yes, we do!" Sally replied, proudly. "She is amazing! Have you seen her work? Here, let me show you."

She led me to the wall left to the cash register. A medium-sized painting hung on it.

"Here is one of my favorites. She called it "Autumn Sadness". I love how the painting shows signs of sadness. Don't you think it does?"

I nodded, unsure what else to say. I immediately made a note of the name of the painting. It was ironic that this painting should be called that as the Booths had disappeared in November.

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge any personal information on my clients, unfortunately."

"I understand that. But is there anywhere I would be able to bump into her? Does she still work at the Jeffersonian Institute?"

"Oh no," Sally replied, shaking her head vehemently. "She quit her job years ago. She decided to focus more on her art and her family. A wise choice, if you ask me. If she hadn't, maybe we wouldn't have the joy of selling her paintings."

"You seem like you are a very big fan of her."

"Yes! She is brilliant!"

She paused, looking once more at the painting.

"Do you think she painted that after her friends disappeared?" she asked me.

"Maybe."

She let out a long sigh.

"Alright," she said, turning to me. "I guess I could make one exception this time. You are investigating the disappearance of her friends, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"I won't give you her actual address or phone number, but I can give you her email address. I know she wouldn't mind if I did that. I already do it for some clients who are interested in more of her work."

"Thank you very much."

She handed me a piece of paper. She had scribbled the email address on it. I thanked her once again and left the gallery. I walked straight back to the office.

The email I wrote was brief. I explained how I had got her email address and the reason why I was sending her this message. I left her my contact information and asked that she contact me as soon as possible.

As soon as possible turned out to be later that night. My cellphone rang as I was getting into bed. I answered after a few rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi. My name is Angela. I'm calling about the email I received today."

I re-introduced myself and told her I had questions to ask her. She was nice and offered to meet me in her studio the following afternoon. I agreed and hung up.

I tossed and turned for most of the night. Around 4 am, I gave up on sleep and crossed the hall to my home office. I booted up my laptop and waited patiently for it to be ready. Once again, I opened Google. This time, I focused my search on the family.

I started with Seeley Booth. There wasn't much on him: some articles written after he had arrested a killer or some charity work he had done in the past year for the church. Nothing out of the ordinary for an FBI agent.

Next, I focused my search on the children but found absolutely nothing. Finally, I typed in the name I was saving for last. For some reason, my gut feeling was telling me she held the key to the mystery.

I spent the next two hours reading dozen of websites and interviews she had made over the years. I learned she had written many successful novels, even though her last one hadn't sold as much as expected. I immediately ruled out the disappearance as a way of making the sales climb. Somehow, it didn't seem to fit.

I finished my search around 6 am. I didn't know what to think. From the personal information I had gathered, the two of them seemed like responsible adults and had very respectable careers. It seemed unlikely that they would have been involved in something illegal which could have caused their disappearance. Then what? I stared at Temperance Brennan's picture, her face smiling back at me.

"What happened to you?"