It was only just after dawn when the red front door swung open enthusiastically and Patrick Jane fairly sprung out. He spun on the balls of his feet to face the door again, suddenly careful to close it as quietly and gently as possible, the movement a surprising contrast in control. He smiled cheerfully to himself as he strode down the path in comfortable slacks, and glanced down to finish buttoning his shirts. He slept better these days than he had in years, but his insomnia was personality-based rather than rooted in trauma, and he still spent many late and early hours while Teresa slept pondering cases or reading to keep his vast knowledge bank current. But now the sun was up on a beautiful day, and this beautiful day just happened to be his beautiful person's birthday, the first one he'd get to really spend with her, and she was going to wake up to her favourite coffee from her favourite café brought to her bedside by her almost-completely-without-doubt-except-in-some-of-those-black-wee-hours favourite person. And he was going to enjoy her enjoyment, even if it was a work day.
When he got to the footpath he noted the old but well-maintained white sedan parked there, with the driver's seat lowered down. He glanced inside, spying a young just-woman with long dark wavy hair curled up asleep. Well, this was Texas, it hadn't been a cold night, and he'd slept through many a boring stakeout in a similar fashion.
He turned to walk briskly in the direction of the café, then slowed somewhat, replaying his mind's footage from last night. Yes, the car had been there when they'd arrived home that evening, though he hadn't looked close enough to know if the woman had been there then too. Hmm.
Forty minutes later, a take-away coffee in each hand, he wrapped on the sedan's driver-side window. The woman started awake instantly, twisting her head towards him. Her face flickered quickly through a series of expressions—shock, guilt, disappointment, panic—before settling into a stony stare.
He grinned at her, and mimed winding down the window as best he could without upsetting his precious cargo. She sat up, then paused, and Patrick watched her body twitch with a frustrated huff as she began to do as he'd asked.
Once the window was down, he carefully placed the two paper cups on the car's roof before bending at the waist and casually resting his arms on the window's lower frame. "So," he began pleasantly. "Who are you waiting for?"
"No-one," she muttered, pale eyes glaring up at him, eyebrows obscured by a brown, shaggy fringe.
"Look, if you're going to lie, you should try to say something mildly credible. 'No-one', 'no-one', who's going to believe that?" The car smelt musty inside, and there was a little sea of empty fast-food containers and chocolate wrappers on the floor, a large plastic bottle of water half-full on the passenger seat. Nursing textbooks on the backseat. "How was the drive?"
"Uh…" She glanced over her shoulder at Teresa's house for a moment. "What drive? I'm just, you know… waiting for my boyfriend to come home." She straightened her shoulders. "He… worked the night shift. I got locked out."
"Oh, you are waiting for someone?" Patrick feigned surprise. "How do you find being in a long distance relationship?" He cut her denial off with a wave of his hand. "Illinois plates, Chicago accent, come on."
She reached behind her to lever her seat upright again, and then sat back with her arms folded, huffing a little again.
The knot in his stomach tightened further. He'd gotten a familiar feeling when she'd first scowled at him, but he was starting to pinpoint who else she resembled with that strong jaw. "Anyway, here." He rescued the two coffees from their perch, and held one out to her. She hesitated, then grudgingly took one. He watched her hold the cup with both hands wrapped around it, embarrassed and angry at herself about it. And about a hundred other things too, he imagined. He sighed a little, and walked around the front of the sedan towards the house.
"Wait!" Patrick turned, and she was scrambling to open her car door, standing beside it, a little wobbly on her legs after being seated for so long. She nodded towards the car. "You live there." He didn't bother to respond, knowing she'd seen him arrive with Teresa yesterday. "Can I, uh, use the bathroom?" she asked with a slight plead in her voice.
She was equal parts eager and scared, and he felt sorry for her. But she wasn't his responsibility, someone else was, and that person would in no way appreciate him making this decision for her. "No," he said quietly. "The woman who lives here, she doesn't like surprises."
"She… she doesn't?" So crestfallen, so unsure.
He was incredibly tempted to get involved, to encourage, to dissuade, to do something to get control of the situation, but he was trying hard to squash that tendency in his personal life these days. So he just shrugged and went into the house, trying to get the forlorn image of the girl clutching coffee by her car out of his mind, trying to get enough cheer back to wish Teresa a happy birthday without her wondering why he wasn't actually happy.