I own nothing! I am not worthy to walk in the shadow of Bruno Heller and writing company. I make no money from the stories I upload.

His first respectable job. It was impossible not to think of it that way.

All of Patrick Jane's life had been a confidence game in one form or another. He'd done it from boyhood, working the carnival circuit with his dad, all the way through his adulthood, setting himself up as an all-seeing psychic. Although he worked – sometimes hard – to pull off his cons, it wasn't what society liked to call 'gainful employment'. Now however he had been actually hired as a consultant for the Serious Crimes Unit of the California Bureau of Investigation. Not for having paranormal abilities but for having a brain.

He got the job because he'd solved a difficult case involving a judge and a cop. The irony was not lost on him. A grifter like him bringing down corrupt law enforcement! It was practically comical.

Or it would have been if it weren't for the fact that murder was involved. Instead of feeling amused, he felt… victorious. Even inspired. Maybe it didn't bring his wife's killer to justice, but it brought vindication to his own heart. This was something he could do!

He pulled into the parking lot of the men's clothing store and stared through his windshield, watching shoppers going in and out the door. It was strange to think of buying a suit again. It was weirder still that he was buying off the rack. His last suit was from the best tailor in L.A., a men's clothier to the likes of George Clooney and Pierce Brosnan. Back then he was rolling in dough, some of which always went to keeping up his appearance as a psychic showman. Armani suits with matching silk handkerchief and tie, Italian footwear, personal grooming honed to perfection… it was a luxurious life and he loved it.

Now he'd have to check to see if the pinstripes lined up at the seams and the lapels were sewn evenly.

Frankly he was broke. It wasn't a state of financial affairs he was comfortable with. Oh, there was money with his name on it, tied up in his Malibu home and a couple of IRAs and annuities. Plus several off-shore accounts of shell-within-shell companies that he couldn't touch yet without tipping off the feds.

Hell, there was even the college savings fund he and his wife had started for their precious daughter Charlotte, just in case something happened to her parents. He swallowed hard at the thought. Someday he'd have to close that account.

He leaned back in the car seat and sighed. It wasn't easy to be Patrick Jane at the moment. After spending months rebuilding his sanity while locked in a psychiatric ward, he was still having problems getting his feet back under him. The world was a confusing kaleidoscope of colors and noises that he couldn't process completely. Never in all his life had he felt like the mark instead of the operator.

Spinning his wedding band on the ring finger of his left hand, he glanced at the flashes it made in the early evening sun. He'd read some nonsense once about widows and widowers removing their rings after a year. As far as he was concerned, he was still married, and his ring was staying right where it was.

Again he turned it on his finger like it was a talisman. The need for prayer wasn't in Patrick Jane's weltanschauung, but occasionally he needed someone to talk to. The only person who'd ever truly listened to him without regard for personal gain was his wife. He wasn't about to let her death stop him from continuing to speak with her.

Angela, I'm doing this for you. If I'm going to avenge your murder by killing Red John, I need help. I think I found it in Agent Teresa Lisbon of the California Bureau of Investigations.

Then he shrugged. Yes, she's a cop, and you know I don't do well with cops. But Ang? I really think you'd like her if you met her. She has a good heart, I can tell. She showed me how to take who I am and make a real difference in the world. I'm hoping maybe she and I can even be friends.

The ring was turning warmer with his handling, making him think all the more about the warmth he once shared with his beautiful wife. It was starting to feel like she was there with him spinning the simple metal that encircled the path to his heart.

I love you, Angela.

Heaving a sigh, he climbed out of the car and entered the store. Time for a new life.

TBC... Jane saves Lisbon