A/N: Another quick update! I think watching the first season of Bones gave me the motivation and the ideas to continue this story because I wrote the last three chapters (including this one) yesterday night. They're all ready and waiting for you. I'm a bit sad to see this story end since I've had a lot of fun writing it (despite the multiple writer's block) and I'm currently going ideas for a new story. Anyway, enough rambling... on with the chapter!

Of all the things she could have told him, he hadn't expected her to tell him she had gotten a job proposal. He had thought, at first, that maybe she had realized that living so far from Washington wasn't really working out for them but a job proposal had never even crossed his mind.

He could barely believe what he had heard when Temperance had first told him. He had stared blankly ahead, too shock to say anything. She had grabbed a book on the end table and flipped it open, as though thinking it would have taken him more than a couple of seconds to digest what she had just announced.

"When?" Had been the only word to come out of his mouth.

"In three weeks."

He had nodded, numbly. Then, sighing, he had leaned back against the couch. Closing his eyes, he had tried calming his sudden growing headache. Beside him, Temperance had turned a page.

"And you said yes?"

Silence. Booth had opened his eyes and had turned his head slowly to his wife.

"I didn't give him an answer. I wanted to talk to you about it first."

He couldn't say he wasn't surprised and relieved that she had considered waiting until she had spoken with him before taking a decision. This wasn't the kind of decision to take quickly. There were so many things to be considered, including their marriage and their children. It wasn't like she had been offered a job in another city in Virginia. Florida wasn't even close to where they lived right now and just thought of being separated from his kids and wife by a couple of states was more than he could bare. He felt like being selfish, felt like telling her that they should just move back to Washington instead but this wasn't his decision. And knowing his wife like he did, he knew she had already made up her mind. She didn't need anybody's approval to make decisions and he had to feel happy that she had decided to at least talk to him about it first.

Booth let out a sigh. Cullen had offered him to become Deputy Director but, as much as he loved his job, he couldn't leave his family. He had chosen his job over Temperance already and had immediately regretted it. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again. But he wasn't even sure if a position in the Miami FBI bureau would be available and his advanced age prevented him from going back to the field full-time. He needed a desk job, something that would keep him out of harm's way while he raised his little family but also a job that could help pay the bills. He didn't feel like having his wife pay everything for them. After all, he was the man in the house and he needed to contribute.

They had decided to put the conversation on hold, at least until the case was over. There were no reasons, and Booth agreed, to panic just yet. Besides, there were five nine-year-old girls waiting for justice to be brought to them and that was currently more important than a job proposal down in Florida.

Jason Symmes' restaurant was situated down-town Winchester. Booth was surprised he had never made the connection between the cook and the doctor before. They had gone several times to Symmes' restaurant, had met him a couple of times but never had he thought the two men were related. But now that he thought about it, the brothers did look alike.

Despite the family resemblance, Booth knew the doctor was their man and not the brother. But maybe his wife had influenced the way he worked but something told him he should check the brother out as well, just in case. A voice, that reminded him vaguely of Temperance, was telling him not to overlook any facts just because it worked with his theory. Something similar had happened to David Pharatt and it had led him to prison.

"What's that?" Monica asked as Temperance took out a small plastic bag from her lab coat pocket.

Smiling, Temperance lifted it up for her student to see.

"It's cat hair. Booth got it stuck to his pants when the suspect's cat rubbed itself on him."

"It's weird how you call your husband by his last name. It's like if I would call Zach, Addy."

Temperance raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, Dr. Booth." Monica replied. "My comment wasn't relevant to the case."

To her surprise, Temperance simply smiled and shrugged.

"Yeah well, it is weird that I call my husband by his last name."

Monica smiled.

The restaurant was quiet when Booth pushed the door and stepped inside. A couple sat near a window, a waiter jotting down their order while two elderly women were enjoying their meal in the far corner of the restaurant. Two men also sat at the bar, probably there on a business lunch.

Booth made his way to the bar and sat down beside one of the men. A woman, probably in her mid-thirties, immediately came to take his order.

"Actually, I won't be eating. I was just wondering if maybe I could speak to Jason Symmes."

The woman's smile faded at the sight of Booth's badge.

"Why?"

"Well you know, it's kind of confidential."

Just then, a voice behind them startled them.

"What's going on?"

Booth looked up in the direction of the kitchen to see two eyes peering at him from between frying pans.

"Jason Symmes?"

"Yeah." The man replied.

"If you don't mind, I would like to ask you a few questions."

The chef nodded.

Taking off his hat, he stepped to the other side of the counter and looked from the waitress to the agent.

"Follow me."

A small office had been built on a second floor above the restaurant and this was where Jason Symmes brought Booth after agreeing to talk with him. The room, as well as the staircase leading to it, was stuffy and hot. Booth immediately began sweating but Jason didn't seem to notice.

"After the hotness of the kitchen, I find this place actually pretty cool." Jason said as they went up the stairs.

Booth simply nodded.

Once they had taken seats in the small office, Booth turned to the cook and explained to him the reason for his visit.

"I didn't kill anybody."

"It's funny how you start the interrogation with that sentence."

"Well you said you were here about the 53 Maple Street case. I'm not stupid, Agent Booth. If you're here, then you probably think I have something to do with it."

Taller than his brother even though Booth knew Jason was probably younger, the chef seemed to have had better luck with his hair. Booth gave him approximately 50 years old but not a streak of gray hair coloured his head. Booth could see how Rowan could have mistaken the doctor for his brother, especially eight years ago when both of them would have had the same colour of hair. But looking at Jason Symmes, he knew he couldn't have done what his brother was accusing him of doing.

"If you're not stupid, maybe you would know that I'm not here to arrest you. I only stopped by to ask a few questions. If you cooperate, this shouldn't take long and you'll be able to go back to your kitchen without having to go down to the Bureau."

Jason nodded, slowly. A tiny bead of sweat ran down the side of his head but Booth blamed it more in the temperature of the room than nervousness.

"What do you want to know?"

"What can you tell me about your brother?"

"My brother?" Jason asked, surprised.

"Yes, your brother. I know Dr. Symmes as a professional but how is he personally?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir." Jason Symmes replied, glancing briefly out the window on his right.

"You know pretty well what I mean. Your brother is currently in a lot of trouble. Nothing you say will cause him more of it so I think you better just cooperate with me."

Jason sighed.

"What would you like to know about him?"

"Were you two ever close?"

"As kids, yeah. We are only three years apart. But then we drifted apart when he hit adolescence. We never really reconnected like we used to it after that."

"Like I said before, I've only met him on a professional basis a couple of years ago and I must admit, as a pediatrician, he's the best. But I've heard other things that make him look less good."

"What kind of things?"

"Something about a mental illness?"

Jason sighed once again and, leaning back against his chair, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Booth.

"Rick is... special."

"Special in what way?"

"He has this condition. Schizophrenia or something. He gets into these weird modes where he seems to lose all track on reality."

"Is he medicated for this?"

"I don't know."

"Have you ever seen him in one of those modes?"

"Once, a couple of years ago. It was the freakiest thing I had ever seen."

"How long have you known about his condition?"

"Not long. I mean, I always thought my brother was kind of weird. Back when we were young, he spent most of his time locked in his room. Sometimes, when I walked by his door, I would hear him talking to someone but I never heard anyone answer him. Then he left for university. He'd only come back every summer to work at the community center as a volunteer."

"Who paid for his studies if he didn't work outside of school?"

"My grandparents died just before he finished high school. They gave him most of their money so he could afford university. Up until his doctorate, he used that money to pay his tuition."

"And did he have other funny behaviors, other than talking to himself?"

"Not that I recall."

"And how did he even become a doctor? I doubt he could be certified as one if people knew he was mentally unstable."

"I don't think no one knew, other maybe than his doctor."

"His doctor? But you just said that you didn't know if he was taking medication or not."

Jason stood up and walked over to the window, pretty much like his own brother had done when their conversation had gotten more personal. This was definitely a family trait.

"I read books on schizophrenia when I first found out about my brother's condition. Schizophrenics have to the medicated or else it becomes almost impossible for them to function. Also, it reduces the risks of schizophrenic attacks."

"It probably also said that patients are tempted to stop taking their medication when things are going well."

Jason nodded.

"I lied to you, Agent Booth."

Booth turned around and quirked an eyebrow.

"You lied to a federal agent?"

"Yes." Jason replied, as he turned around.

His expression had morphed from worried to serious.

"It wasn't once. It was twice."

"Twice?"

"Twice I've seen my brother during one of his attacks."

"Can you describe these attacks for me?"

Jason agreed.

"Last time he came to see me, he was panicking. He said that voices were telling him to kill a certain person and he was afraid he was going to do it. He was shaking, Agent Booth, you should have seen him. He looked simply terrified. I told him not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. I thought he was going insane. His eyes were round as saucers, his pupils were dilated to their fullest. He paced back and forth in my living room, enraged. He kept muttering that he wasn't going to do it again, that he better shut up."

"He?"

"I'm as confused as you are, Agent Booth. I had no clue what was going on. I tried talking to him, to reason with him, but he wasn't listening to me anymore. His eyes stared at me but I knew he couldn't see me. Then, he started yelling things I didn't understand and, when I went to grab his arm, he pushed me off. He headed towards the door. I didn't want to let him leave my apartment in that state and I tried to stop him. I tried grabbing his arm once more and he took a swing at me. He must have knocked me unconscious because when I woke up, I was laying on the living room floor and he was nowhere to be found."

Booth nodded. Things were finally beginning to make some sense.

"And when was that last attack?"

There was no real need to ask, Booth already knew the answer.

"About five weeks ago, on the day the last girl on Maple Street was murdered."

"Do you have any reasons, Mr. Symmes, to believe that your brother could have killed that little girl?"

"In the state he was in, I have no doubt."

A melody reached their ears. Booth grabbed his cellphone and flipped it open.

"Booth."

"It's a match." A voice told him on the other side of the line.

"You're serious?"

"The hair found on Mackenzie's body and the one on your pants are identical."

In an instant, Booth was up on his feet.

"What now?"

Glancing briefly at Jason Symmes, who was staring at him worriedly, Booth replied:

"I'm going to arrest Richard Symmes."

"But you don't have proof that it's him. You only have proof that his cat was there."

"Maybe I don't have proof yet." Booth replied. "But I sure as hell know how to make someone talk."

Hanging up, Booth turned to the chef.

"Anything else you want to tell me?"

Jason Symmes nodded.

"Yes. Please don't tell him I said he was capable of murder."