A/N: I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying the story. Keep reading and reviewing!

Disclaimer: The opinions discussed in this chapter do not necessarily represent those of the writer.

Another day. Another cold April day in the capital. The sun barely flew in through the shut drapes of the Deputy Director's window. The office was plunged in semi-darkness. The man sat at his desk, his eyes still set on the phone he had just hung up.

There's a woman here to see you, Sir. The secretary had said. Can I send her in?

He had agreed, with a weird feeling at the pit of his stomach. Without knowing quite why or where that feeling had come from, he was pretty sure this woman wasn't bringing good news. The woman had refused to state her name, saying that she would only speak to the Big Boss (her exact words). Cullen snorted. The Big Boss.

A knock at the door made him look up. A woman stood outside his office.

"Deputy Director Cullen?"

Cullen nodded.

"I'm Clara. May I have a word with you?"

And before Cullen even had a chance to reply, the woman stepped inside his office and made herself comfortable on a chair opposite of him.

"I don't know, Bones, but I have to go. Cullen wants to see me in his office." Booth said as he stepped inside the elevator shaft.

"Did he say why?" Temperance asked as she sat down at her desk.

"No. Only there was someone in his office he wanted me to meet."

Third floor. The doors opened.

"Strange."

One click on Inbox. No new messages.

"I'll call you later today. Maybe we could get some lunch." Booth said, making his way between the hundreds of desks.

"Maybe. I have a lot of work to do."

Turning off the computer screen and standing up.

"You have to eat."

The Deputy Director looked up.

"Listen, Bones, now I really have to go. Talk to you later."

The phone was flipped shut before Temperance even had the chance to step out of her office.

"Cullen, Sir, you wanted to see me?"

Cullen nodded.

Booth's gaze fell on the woman already seated in the office. Booth frowned slightly.

"Special Agent Booth, this is Clara. Clara, this is Special Agent Booth, the agent currently working on the 53 Maple Street case."

The woman stood up. Booth examined her.

Her face looked rather young and Booth wasn't sure if her gray hair was truly giving away her age or if it was maybe just stress or bad genetics that had given this young woman salt-and-pepper hair before her time. Their eyes locked and her blue eyes stared deep down into his eyes. Booth found himself feeling uncomfortable.

"It was as though she was trying to read me, Bones". He would later tell his wife. "It really freaked me out."

"Pleasure to meet you, Agent Booth."

Booth nodded politely.

Cullen motioned to both adults to sit down. Once seated comfortably, the man went on.

"Clara claims to be able to help with the case you and Dr. Br-Booth are working on."

Booth quirked an eyebrow. Cullen tried his best not to chuckle.

"Really?" Booth asked as he turned to the woman.

"David Pharatt is innocent."

"What?"

"Little Melanie wasn't pushed down the stairs, she was tripped. The psychiatric report states that David Pharatt had a fear of the underground and had it for as long as he could remember. He never went down to the basement, he always sent his daughter."

Booth nodded, skeptically. David Pharatt was afraid of basements? Melanie Pharatt had been tripped down the stairs? How could that woman know that? Who was this woman? And how had she gotten her hands on a psychiatric report that he never knew existed?

"Can I ask who you are?"

"I'm Clara. I'm a psychic."

Booth thought he heard his boss snort beside him. He ignored him.

"A psychic?"

The woman nodded.

"I know it's a bit difficult to believe, Agent Booth. Many people react the same way you do. Yes I know what you're thinking. I can assure you, Agent Booth, that I did see something and what I saw is the truth. If you let me, I could help you with the rest of the case."

Booth remained quiet. Working a psychic? Were they that desperate for clues that they would use unfounded information from a woman he had never seen or heard of before? He turned to his boss to find the older man avoiding his gaze.

He thought of his wife. He already knew how she would react to this… addition to their team. She would snort, similar to what Cullen had done and tell him that they couldn't believe a psychic, that they needed scientific evidence and not supernatural lies. She would add that the case was already bizarre enough that they didn't need to add a woman who claimed to be able to see in the past.

Booth felt torn. There had been cases in the past that were solved with the help of a psychic. Those women with supernatural powers had found skeletal remains and human corpses hidden in bushes and rivers from decades.

They had no other clues other than what the families of the deceased victims remembered. The children had simply vanished from the face of the Earth only to be found years later. David Pharatt claimed he was innocent, that he never killed his own daughter. Melanie Pharatt also lived at 53 Maple Street and now rested in the Winchester cemetery. The woman sitting beside him claimed to have seen the murder of little Melanie.

She wasn't pushed. She was tripped.

Booth sighed as he turned to the woman.

"You really think you can help?"

A smile tugged at Clara's lips.

"Absolutely."

Temperance sat quietly in her office. Piles of unopened folders piled on her desk, papers scattered across the service leaving only a small hole for the doctor's cup of coffee and a keyboard. Temperance sighed. She knew she needed to go through it but she just couldn't bring herself to open the folders. As usual, she had inherited the case. Large fire in an apartment building downtown, ten people dead, twenty others missing. They had wanted her to go downtown to help with the search. She had sent Zach and Monica instead. They had asked for her help in identifying the calcined remains found in the debris. She had agreed because Zach and Monica had already left for the scene of the fire.

Her cell phone rang. She ignored it. She had no time to spend on the phone. Besides, it was probably her husband calling to ask her to go out for lunch. She didn't have time for lunch. She needed to type in those reports.

The ring even stopped and Temperance let out a sigh of relief.

Victim #1

Gender: Male

Age: 20 – 25 years old

Culture: Caucasian

Height: 6" – 6"3'

Victim #2

Gender: Fem…

A knock at her door. Temperance stooped in mid-word and looked up. Booth stood in the doorway, smiling broadly at her. Temperance frowned. There was something about her husband's smile that made her think he had done something wrong. She knew him, she knew his habits.

"Booth, what are you doing here?"

Booth stepped aside to let a short woman into view. Temperance frowned.

"Dr. Booth, I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you." Clara said enthusiastically, stepping inside the office.

Temperance raised her eyebrows. Booth cleared his throat.

"Temperance, this is Clara. Clara, this is… well… you already know who she is."

"Of course I do." Clara replied, smiling brightly. "I've heard so much about her."

"Heard or seen?" Booth mumbled under his breath.

"What was that, dear?"

Booth shook his head.

"Nothing."

The woman nodded before turning back to Temperance.

"Agent Booth tells me that you're working on the 53 Maple Street case."

"Yes but I am not aloud to divulge any information at this point." Temperance replied, seriously.

"No need, dear." Clara said as she began examining Temperance's office. "I have my own way of finding out things."

"She's a psychic." Booth said.

Temperance's head snapped in his direction.

"What did you say?"

"Mrs. Clara…"

"Miss Clara." Clara corrected as she stopped in front of a painting hanging on the anthropologist's wall. "Who painted this?"

"Angela." Temperance replied, dismissively. "Psychic?"

Booth nodded.

"She says that David Pharatt is innocent, that his daughter was tripped in the stairs and not pushed like the report states. There's apparently this psychiatric report on Pharatt's somewhere that claims that the man was afraid of underground rooms and never went down in his own basement."

Temperance raised her eyebrows.

"That's what she says." Booth whispered to his wife.

Temperance rolled her eyes.

Clara turned around to face the couple.

"I would like to see the pictures of the other victims, if you don't mind."

"Actually-" Temperance started.

"Gladly." Booth replied, cutting her off.

Temperance glared at him. Booth simply motioned to go along. She sighed.

"Please, take a seat." Temperance said, trying her best to sound polite.

Clara thanked her before sitting down on the couch. Booth took place in an armchair while his wife rummaged through the files on her desk. Seconds later, she was joining them.

"Here they are." She said, dropping the large green folder on the coffee table.

Clara nodded politely.

"Would you mind placing them face down for me, dear? It's easier that way."

Temperance forced herself not to sigh. Opening the folder, she laid all three pictures face down on the table. Forcing yet another smile to the woman sitting on her couch, Temperance took a seat in the last empty armchair and watched, unimpressed, as Clara ran her fingers delicately over the turned photographs.

Clara remained silent. With her eyes closed, she slowly ran her fingers over the pictures. She stopped on the third one.

"Laura Joyce." Clara began, her voice low and eerie. "She was the first victim. She disappeared in an earthquake."

"Oh she's good." Temperance muttered under her breath.

Booth glared at her before sinking back in the comfy chair and watching in mild amusement the scene before his eyes.

"She wasn't alone. There was someone else in the room. A man. I can't see his face. He's wearing some sort of hood. He's slowly approaching the child. She's terrified. I can see it in her eyes. She recognizes him. She tries to get out of her bed but the man grabs her and spins her around. He flunks his hand on her mouth to prevent her from screaming. The other hand reaches for her throat. He's going to strangle her."

Clara gasped loudly. In a flash, her eyes snapped open.

"I'm sorry." The woman said. "There is just so much evil in this man. It took me by surprise."

Temperance raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"It's okay, Clara." Booth replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Let me try again. I promise this time I won't back out."

Booth nodded as he fought the urge to ask the strange woman from what she was planning on not backing out of. He watched as Clara slowly closed her eyes again.

"Write the number 1 on the back of Laura Joyce's picture." Clara instructed.

Booth, snatching a pencil from his pocket, did what he was asked. Temperance watched in disbelief.

Clara's hand stopped on the first picture.

"Number 2." She told Booth. "Raine Bennett."

Booth scribbled the number at the top of the picture.

"I see her. She's opening the patio door and telling her mother she's going to play outside. She's running down the steps and towards the woods behind her house. I don't see anyone with her. She's all alone. She slows down at the entrance of the bush. Slowly she walks inside. She stops. She hears something. There's something to her left. Movement. She continues walking. She's way past the point where her mother can keep an eye on her from the kitchen window. There's a stream not far. She's going to go play in the mud. Another noise. She stops again and turns to her left. There's something moving about in the trees. She looks down. A shadow is growing. She watches in fear as the shadow lifts something in the air. Then… darkness."

Temperance rolled her eyes. Would this ever end? She had work to do and no time to waste on idiocies like this one.

"I see her in her tub. She's playing happily with figurines. I can hear her laughing. She's so concentrated on her toys that she doesn't even notice the doorknob turning. Someone opens the door. I still can't see who it is. Hope sees the person and stops playing. She screams. The stranger locks the door and slowly makes his way to the child. I see a hand. It's grabbing Hope by the hair and forcing her into the water. She's struggling, kicking left and right. For some reason, water doesn't fall on the floor. The hand is still holding her down in the water, long after she's stopped struggling. After a minute, the stranger stands up and wipes his hand on something."

Clara opened her eyes.

"The story stops there."

Booth nodded.

"How can we be sure you're telling the truth?"

Clara raised her head and stared into Temperance's eyes.

"You don't believe me?"

Temperance swallowed before looking away. There was just something about that woman's eyes…

"It just doesn't make any sense. How can you say how these little girls died? There is no scientific proof to your method. I read bones; I can tell you exactly what happened to them before their lives were taken away from them. I can tell you their life's history. I can tell you what they did for a living. You…"

"I read people too, Dr. Booth. I simply do it in a different way. I see with my third eye how they died, just how you see them written in their bones. I can sense that nothing I will say will make you change your mind about me. I just have one tiny favor to ask you."

Clara paused.

"Would you flip over Laura's picture, please? The one your husband wrote the number 1 on."

Temperance glanced over at her husband. Booth blinked, telling her to do as she was asked. Temperance turned her gaze back to the pictures.

There were three. The third one on her left had the number 1 written on it. She felt ridiculous, following the orders of a woman who claimed to be a psychic. Psychics didn't exist. They were frauds. They pretended to be able to see in the past and the future and stole moneys from the people who came to see them for help.

If she was so sure of herself, why did she feel nervous? How did she knew that Laura Joyce would be staring back at her the second she flipped the photograph over?

Get a grip, Brennan. Temperance told herself.

Releasing a breath she hadn't known she had been holding, Temperance flipped the picture over.

Her breath caught in her chest as she stared into the brown eyes of Laura Joyce. Clara smiled.

"Raine Bennett's now."

Temperance sighed and shakily flipped the last one on her right. Raine Bennett's pretty face smiled back at her.

"No need to tell you that little Hope Lawson is hiding behind the middle one." Clara said as she flipped Hope Lawson's picture over.

"There are things you just can't explain, Dr. Booth."

Then, turning to Booth, she added:

"If you want absolute proof about Melanie Pharatt, you're more than welcome to excavate her and ask your wife to check out her remains. You will see that I wasn't lying. She was tripped, not pushed."

"I will take that in consideration." Booth replied, his throat dry.

"Also, you'll be able to find the psychiatric report at the Memorial Hospital where David Pharatt was evaluated. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go home. Visions are tire me out."

"No problem, Clara." Booth replied, standing up. "Bones, you coming?"

Temperance looked up.

"No. I have a lot of work to do here. I'll see you later tonight."

Booth nodded.

"See you tonight."

Clara followed Booth out of the Temperance's office. Waiting until they had disappeared out of sight, Temperance got up and closed the door. Snatching her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed the hospital number.

"Don't mind my wife. She can be a bit over-rational at times." Booth said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"I didn't mind. That's how you love her."

Booth frowned.

"I meant to ask you. How did you know we were married? I never told you we were."

Clara chuckled.

"It's my job to see things." Clara simply replied.

Booth nodded. As weird as this woman was, there was just something about her that made Booth want to believe in her special "abilities".

"I swear Ryan, it was like a freak show."

Ryan chuckled on his side of the line.

"I mean, I know you said I should open my mind for this case but this is just going overboard."

Ryan said nothing.

"Why are you so quiet?"

"I'm quiet because I don't have anything to say to you. I don't even know why you called me."

"I called you for advice?.

"Advice?" Ryan asked, the disbelief apparent in his voice. "Come on, Tempe. You already knew, way before you called me, what you needed to do."

Temperance sighed.

"You know me too well."

Ryan smiled tenderly.

"If you don't believe anything this Clara woman told you, just prove her wrong. You still have the bodies, right?"

"They can't be released before the end of the investigation."

"Examine them again. Maybe you'll see something Clara hasn't seen."

Temperance nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. This Jell-O crap they give me is complete shit."

Temperance chuckled.

"The "crap" already implied that."

"Implied what?"

"Never mind. Talk to you later."

"Have fun, Tempe. Show that freak who's the boss."

Temperance chuckled as she hung up. Ryan had revived her confidence. But as the clock ticked closer to seven p.m., Temperance found her confidence flailing. The three bodies had been sent back to their storage unit and all Temperance had found were evidence corroborating Clara's visions.

Grabbing her coat and purse, Temperance left her office feeling helpless.

She wasn't sure if she was dreaming. The cold wind blowing on her bare legs sure seemed real but the roughness of the ground under feet as a strong pair of invisible hands set her back down felt weird. She tried to open her eyes but found that she couldn't.

Her breath turned ragged. The cold air filled her lungs painfully. The hands were back on her body, steadying her. She tried to move but she couldn't. Paralyzed. She was paralyzed.

She was standing on the edge of something. She could feel it. Behind her, something had pressed against her. In front of her, the void. In an instant, she felt herself falling.

A soft thunk echoed through the night as Mackenzie's body hit the pavement.