Thanks to a friend in a travel agency, Booth didn't have to wait long for a flight from Washington to Los Angeles. On this beautiful Saturday morning, when he should have been bringing Riley to her soccer practice and Lukas to his swimming lessons, he instead left behind his wife and children for a two-day trip on the western coast.

Rowan's voice had haunted him for the past couple of days and he was glad that he would finally be able to meet the young man. There had been something in his voice, almost like an urgency to it, mixed with a fear of getting caught. Whatever it had been, it had troubled Booth deeply, making him anxious to finally meet the young man. The closer the plane got to the west coast, the more anxious he grew. Would this trip provide him with the name of the murderer? Had Rowan seen something he shouldn't have back then, that had made him move so far away?

He had contacted the man just as Rowan had asked but the 24-year-old man had been evasive. Not answering Booth's questions, he had simply told him to look out for a tall, black-haired man, with blue eyes and glasses. Then, before Booth had been able to say anything else, Rowan had hung up.

The wheels of the plane finally hit the tarmac and soon Booth found himself following a large crowd of people down the tunnel leading inside the crowded airport. His height gave him an advantage and he was soon able to spot the black-haired man described. As he walked towards him, the strange slowly turned to him. His face was serious and so was his tone.

"Agent Booth?"

"Yeah." Booth replied.

"Follow me."

They walked in silence through the airport, collecting Booth's luggage on the way, then out the building, and through a large parking lot. As he followed the stranger, Booth couldn't help but wonder who the man was and where he was bringing him. He was definetely too old to be Rowan. Was he perhaps his uncle? As they sat down in the car, Booth was determined to found out who the man was.

He began making small-talk but his attempt at a conversation fell flat. The stranger simply nodded occasionally to Booth's comments and replied in a word or two.

"How do you know Rowan?"

For the first time since they had climbed into the car, the stranger turned to him.

"Is this part of a formal interview?"

Booth frowned, finding the man's question a bit odd.

"If you want it to be."

"I'm his uncle. My name is Jordan."

"As I understood, you're Rowan's mother's brother?"

"Yes. Mariah is my older sister."

"Do you have any children yourself?"

"A boy I never see. He must be close to twenty years old today. I haven't seen or heard from him in ten years."

Booth nodded.

"Are you married?"

"Yep. It'll be fifteen years in August."

"And what's your wife's name?"

"Angela. She's the sweetest woman in the world. You'll see. Are you married, Agent Booth?"

"Yes. Five years last March."

"Children?"

"Four. I have a sixteen-year-old, nine-year-old twins and a two-year-old daughter."

Jordan nodded.

"You see your kids?"

"Every day of the week, except for my oldest whom I see every week-end."

Booth forced himself not to add that seeing Parker every week-end wasn't entirely the truth since his son only dropped by every couple of hours, as if to show that he was still alive.

"You're a lucky man, Agent Booth. Not a lot of men see their children as often as you do these days. The world has changed immensely in the last couple of years. I think you and your wife form a rare type of family."

"You're right and I consider myself very lucky."

Jordan turned left on a quieter street.

"We're almost there." The man said as he stopped at a stop sign.

Two little girls slowly crossed the street, one of them probably Riley's age.

"How old was Rowan when he came to live with you?"

Jordan frowned, as though searching through his memory to remember when his nephew had come live with them. There was a short silence before the man finally answered.

"Sixteen, maybe seventeen."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Seven years, maybe. Eight?"

"And did Rowan ever mentioned why he came to live with you?"

Jordan shook his head.

"He never gave you a reason? You never questioned his motive?"

Slowing down, Jordan turned into the driveway of a small, salmon-coloured house. Turning off the ignition, he turned to the agent sitting beside him.

"Rowan arrived on my doorstep unannounced. I was surprised to see him there. My sister didn't even know where he had gone, I called her to tell her Rowan was here with me. The only thing she told me was that the boy was acting weird. He had dropped out of school after learning he had failed most of his classes that year and it took me two years to get him back into school. He's finally doing better. We never talked about why he had come here and I hope that you are not going to disturb him in any way. Since your call, he's been acting really funny."

"Funny how?"

"He's nervous. He jumps every time you say his name. He's clumsier than I've ever seen him, he barely goes out. I don't dare calling my sister and asking her why he's acting that way. All I know is that there is something troubling him."

Booth nodded. A funny feeling formed at the pit of his stomach and, even as he followed Jordan inside the house, he wasn't able to shake it off.

"Rowan?" Jordan called out.

Footsteps coming from the back of the house reached their ears. Soon, a tall and buffed young man appeared down the hallway. With his dark blond hair and brown eyes, he formed an older version of his younger brother Marshall.

"Agent Booth?"

Definitely not like his brother. Booth thought as he heard Rowan's lower and graver voice.

"Rowan?"

The young man nodded.

Jordan glanced at both men before stepping away from them.

Rowan waited until his uncle had disappeared in the basement before speaking once again.

"Follow me."

And so Booth followed the tall young man down the corridor, passing the living room and what seemed like a small study. Rowan led him to the dining room where the young man closed the french doors behind them. After offering Booth something to drink, which he politely declined, Rowan sat down at the table.

"It's a lovely house." Booth commented, as he examined the small room.

"We moved here about five years ago. The other house was much too small for the three of us and I didn't even have my own room."

"Have you been living with your uncle for a long time?" Booth asked, knowing perfectly well the answer.

"It'll be eight years in July."

"And how old were you when you came to live here?"

"Sixteen." Rowan replied in a strangled voice.

"What made you move across the country?"

Rowan brought his gaze down to his hands. Booth waited, silently.

"I saw... things I wasn't supposed to see." Rowan finally answered after a few seconds of silence.

"What kind of things?"

Rowan gulped. His eyes were still fixed on his hands.

"Your mother said that before you took off, you had changed drastically. She mentioned your low grades, your constant state of fear. What were you afraid of?"

Rowan looked after a couple seconds of silence.

"He knew that I knew, that I had really seen him. I was afraid he would come after me."

"Who?"

"Little Hope's killer."

"You know who he is?"

Rowan didn't answer.

"Rowan?"

The man nodded slowly.

"Can you give me a name?"

Silence. Booth, who had leaned forward at Rowan's reply, leaned back against his chair and waited. He was in no rush to get anywhere and, thus, had all his time.

"Okay. How about you tell me what you've seen?"

Rowan glanced over at the door, as though hoping to see someone in the kitchen that would give him a reason to leave the agent in the dinning room for a few more minutes. Seeing no one, he turned back to the agent.

"I saw him with her."

"With who?"

"Hope Lawson. I saw him bringing her body down that trapdoor. She was naked. He didn't even bother to wrap her in a towel." Rowan replied, his face contorted in disgust.

"The report stated that there were no witnesses."

"I never told the police what I saw." Rowan replied, lowering his eyes like a child who had been caught doing something wrong.

Booth nodded slowly.

"Why not?"

"I was scared." Rowan muttered.

"There was another victim after Hope. Last month, a little girl named Mackenzie Robertson died in that house."

"How?"

"She was pushed off the roof after being drugged. If you would have told the police back then what you are telling me now, you could have saved a life."

He knew that it was somewhat heartless of him to say something like that but he had no choice. Rowan had the name of a suspect that would cause a major breakthrough in the case, a case that had been going on for over thirty years. Five little girls had died. It was finally time to give those girls the justice they deserved and Booth was determined to make Rowan talk.

"You don't know, Agent Booth. He's crazy."

Rowan was now looking up at him, his eyes opened wide in fear.

"How is he crazy?"

Booth remained calm. It was obvious that Rowan was quite agitated.

"He's mental. He goes nuts at times and..."

The man stopped in mid-sentence.

"You seem to know him very well."

"Everyone knows him, Agent Booth. Everyone."

Booth's heart skipped a beat. Everyone knew him?

"He lives in Winchester?"

Rowan nodded.

"What's his name?"

The man shook his head vehemently.

"I can't."

Booth sighed.

"Okay Rowan, listen up. Something happened to you back in Virginia that has troubled you. I need to know what happened. It's the only way you can free yourself from the world of fear you currently live in."

Booth paused.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Rowan looked up at him, his brown eyes full of fear. After a few seconds of silence, the young man took a deep breath.

"I was coming home from a friend's house. He lived about three doors down from the Lawsons' home. It was maybe eight o'clock. I saw a man hiding behind a tree in the Lawsons' yard. I watched him make his way slowly to the house. I was suspicious so I began following him. I reached the back of the yard in time to see him disappear through a back door. I grabbed my cellphone to call the police but my battery was dead. I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to go knock on the Lawsons' door to tell them I'd seen someone walk in their house but I was too scared. So I waited.

I don't know how long I stayed there, just waiting. The sun set and by the time he came out, it was dark. It wasn't dark enough for me not to see anything. I had heard of the other murders and I knew immediately what had happened when I saw him.

I was hiding behind some trees on the edge of the woods on the yard. I saw her first. He was carrying her like a baby. Her head was resting on his shoulder, it looked like she was just asleep. She was naked and I knew he had probably taken her from her bath because her hair was still wet.

I looked up to find him looking at me. I immediately hid behind a large tree but I knew it was too late. I expected him to come near me but he didn't. Instead, he went down that trapdoor. And before he had the chance to come back up, I took off running."

Rowan stopped, breathless. Booth could see the young man's body trembling.

"Did anything else happen?"

"He began following me. He somehow got hold of my cellphone and he would call me from payphones to threaten me if I talked. I would see him everywhere I went."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"Agent Booth. A man who is crazy enough to drown a nine-year-old girl in her tub is crazy enough to go after a sixteen-year-old boy who has somewhat witnessed the murder."

"How did he know who you were?"

"As I said, Agent Booth, everybody knows him. You probably know him too."

Another weird feeling spread through his body.

"I need a name, Rowan."

"Give me a paper and a pen."

Booth took out a small notepad from his pocket and handed the young man a pen. He watched in mild anxiety as Rowan scribbled a name onto the paper. Then, as Rowan slowly turned the paper towards him, Booth's heart momentarily stopped beating.

Everyone knows him.

Indeed, everyone knew him. Even Booth.