The moment Abbott released her from custody, Teresa was in her car, on her way to Napa.
1027 Buena Vista Place. Tom McAllister's aka Red John's residence.
She didn't know what drew her to the house. She didn't know what she'd do when she got there.
It was on the left. A sprawling old house in a traditional style. Shutters and painted wood and porches on two acres of grass.
No law enforcement here. Yet.
She found an open window and climbed in.
The house was spotless. Furnished for comfort and optimum cheeriness. All blues and yellows like Monet's china..
She searched the rooms slowly, professionally. Clearing each one before she put her weapon down.
There was a small home office. She opened the file drawer and pulled out a few folders. All innocuous. Receipts for cleaning the gutters. Instruction manuals for the kitchen appliances. A warranty for the boiler.
She located a wall safe. Tried 1-2-3-4 as a combination. It opened. Inside, the deed to the house. A pair of gold cufflinks. $500 in cash.
She looked in the closets. The dressers. Under the beds. Didn't seem like she would find anything unless she had a wrecking crew and a forensic squad. If this house had secrets, it wasn't giving them up to Teresa Lisbon.
She sank to the floor. She started to weep. Her throat closed and her chest ached. Tears dripped down her cheeks; the salt burned tracks in her face. Everything was over. Jane was gone. What reason did she have to get out of bed in the morning?
Where was he? Was he safe? Was he scared? Did he have food? Did he have money? She had to remind herself that Jane was a very capable man. If anyone could evade the law, he could. And he'd gone without any kind of human comfort for so long, he'd adapt to the isolation. She didn't know if she would.
She wiped her eyes. Ambled into the kitchen. Aimlessly, she opened the fridge. Bottled water and a plate of cooked chicken breast cut into strips sealed in saran wrap. A bottle of liquid medicine prescribed for R. McAllister. R?
Someone at the FBI would think this was important evidence. Fuck'em. She put it in her pocket. Just to be an asshole.
She heard a sound. Someone was moving in the hall. She inched out. Nothing.
The sound again. It was behind the door under the staircase. The cellar door. She was losing her edge. How could she have not checked that out?
She drew her weapon, took a deep breath and yanked the door open. She was tackled. Her weapon flew through the air. Knocked flat on her back, she tried to catch her breath. She couldn't budge.
She was pinned by the biggest, blondest standard poodle she'd ever seen. His coat was clipped in close curls all over. He looked scared. He shyly licked her face.
Red John had a dog.
What kind of person would leave a dog locked up in a cellar all day? Why you'd have to be a real sociopath to-but this dog was clean and groomed and wore a smart red leather collar. Red John, the man who loved nothing, loved this dog. He wouldn't leave him uncared for.
She wiggled out from under him and stood. He insinuated his head under her hand begging her to pet him. She bent down to look at the tag hanging from his red leather collar. Rudy McAllister – 707 728 3373. Was this the R on the medicine bottle? She looked at the bottle again. Give three drops three times a day with food.
Red John thought he'd be home in time to give Rudy his food and medicine. That's how confident he was. He'd just step out for a couple of hours, kill Patrick Jane, and be back for dinner.
She opened the fridge. She put three drops of the medicine on the plate of chicken and set it down on the floor. Rudy devoured it. She wondered when he'd last eaten. She walked over to his water bowl. Dry. She filled it. He emptied it in seconds. She filled it again.
She opened the kitchen door and let him out in the yard. He lifted his leg on the first tree he came to for a long time.
It felt good to take care of such a beautiful creature. He pranced in the grass. He ran to her, lightly jumped up and pulled the cord that tied her ponytail with his teeth. He raced away with the cord. She followed. He was impossible to catch. He knew just what he was doing, playing this game with her. She sat down in the grass. He brought the cord back and sat quietly next to her. It was getting dark.
He reminded her of Jane. Sweet, needy, funny, clever, playful. She ran her fingers through his beautiful blond curls. He looked at her with endless soulful eyes.
Maybe this was what brought her to this house. They walked side by side to her car and drove away.