WARNING!

I rated this story M. However, I would recommend it a rating MA, which means that only people 18 or older should read it. When you read on, it is your decision. But the following chapters may include some strong material as drug abuse, violence, strong language, sex with minor or incest. I write this right here so that you cannot say that I haven't warned you.

Chapter 1

'Do we really have to go there?' Jane asked like a little child. Lisbon sighed.

'Yes, we have to. I don't know why Wainwright wants us there but it is a duty.'

'But why a high school?'

'They're organizing this evening especially for companies and the police is invited, too.'

'I don't care if a fifteen year old knows Shakespeare or not!'

'We will be present there, listen to the senior year's poems and music and then we can go, okay? But please behave, only this time' Lisbon begged the counselor. Jane nodded stubborn but walked after her. Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby followed, at least Van Pelt seemed interested into the representations or whatever the senior year had planned to pay their school's-out-forever-party.

At half past six they were stepping out of the car and walking toward the school where still light burned. It was a cold Monday evening although it was already mid-May. There were other people coming to the entrance, business men, women from talk shows and nearly the head of each company around was invited to the poem and classical music evening of Sacramento High School.

Soon the term would end and the senior years were going off to university. Sometimes Jane regretted not having studied but he was rather occupied with being bored than remembering his own high school days. They entered and the senior years brought them to their seats, third row, a row where Jane couldn't sleep that easily.

It started at seven o'clock with 'Requiem for a dream' played on a piano and continued with boring pieces of old poetry that have to be learnt in History or English class.

Jane looked at his watch, it seemed to take eternity. It was half past nine when after a break a young girl entered the stage and walked to the piano. After the first tones Jane heard, he was sitting straight up, awaken, suddenly, and listening carefully to this music. 'What's up?' Lisbon whispered surprised.

'Bach' he whispered back.

'I know.'

'Prelude and Fugue in Major C. Do you recognize it?'

'Hell no! Why should I?'

'It was played when we encountered the Red John murder at the doctor, when one of Bosco's team died. And Rosalind played it when Roy already was gone.'

'This is a coincidence' Lisbon gave back eyes rolling and tried to enjoy the rest of the piece. It was wonderfully played and the young girl seemed to have practiced a lot. She estimated her being around seventeen, she had long, dark brown hair with blonde strands, she was very thin and muscular.

Lisbon felt somehow being carried out of this world when the music stopped and the girl walked on the mid of the stage for presenting the poem she had chosen to learn by heart.

'The Tyger by William Blake. Tyger, Tyger, burning bright' she started and Lisbon saw in the edge of her sight how Jane's mouth dropped down and how he hardly breathed anymore. He seemed to have frozen, mouth and eyes widely open.

'In the forest of the night. What immortal hand or eye' the girl continued.

'Could frame thy fearful symmetry' Jane whispered and the brown-haired girl repeated loudly.

'Jane!' Lisbon hissed in a low voice over to her counselor.

He leant over to her.

'In what distant deeps or skies/ burnt the fire of thine eyes?'

'She played Bach, Red John's favorite music. Then she cites The Tyger by William Blake. Why the hell—?'

'She's looking at you!'

Of course Jane noticed. He had never put away his look on her.

'On what wings dare he aspire/ What the hand could sieze the fire?' Her voice got more intensive and strong but it was just natural that nobody noticed. Nobody noticed how deadly those words were, she just revealed to know something. Jane knew immediately that it was no coincidence that Lisbon's team or CBI had been invited to this.

It was no coincidence that she had first played Bach and now quoted what only close disciples of Red John usually quoted. Quoted, just to show that they were working for him.

'On what shoulder, what the art?/ Could twist the sinews of thy heart?'

What did this young girl in senior high school year have to do with Red John, a sexual serial killer, a murderer who has ended the life of many, among them Jane's beloved family.

'And when thy heart began to beat/ What dread hand and what dread feet?'

Worried Lisbon looked over at Jane who just stared at the seventeen year old senior high school year pupil who just revealed knowing or having some kind of relation with one of the most wanted murderers of CBI and FBI.

'What the hammer, what the chain?/ In what furnace was thy brain?'

'Jane, everything okay?' Lisbon carefully asked. She already knew the answer. Nothing was okay, not for Jane. He has just found the next clue in the game.

'What the anvil, what dread grasp/ Dare its deadly terror's clasp?'

'No' he whispered and for the first time, he looked at her face. She was shocked by how deep this went into his soul. His eyes were wet and a single tear was running down his cheek.

'Oh' she formed with her mouth and with her finger, she wiped away the tear from his face. He tried to smile but she could see how anxious but strong he was or pretended to be.

'And when stars threw down their spears/ And watered heaven with thy tears' the woman continued.

All the presents were touched how somebody learnt such an old but known poem by heart, voluntarily. Only because the people didn't know how this poem has altered a man's life just because a psychopath used to describe his relation toward him with this poem.

'Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the lamb make thee?' The tension created has reached its climax and the last stanza of the poem was entered with a repetition of the very first one, except that one word was changed.

'Tyger, Tyger, burning bright/ In the forest of the night./ What immortal hand or eye/ Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? The Tyger, by William Blake.'

Applause followed and only a few seconds later, the brown-haired woman has left the stage and a young boy, about eighteen, entered and presented a new musical theme, the new cover of the Moonlight Sonata, originally from Beethoven, now with the notes of E.S. Posthumus.

'Oh my god' Jane murmured and Lisbon sighed. This was something heavy to handle and she was unsure if he could cope with it on his own.

'We're going to ask her' Lisbon whispered over to him.

'That's what she wants. She knows something and she wants to tell us.'

'No. When she tells, she'll be as dead as all the others.'

'No, the last girl we caught hasn't died yet.'

'But she doesn't talk either. Perhaps this girl will reveal more' Jane hoped and thought about this for the rest of the evening. He just didn't understand why Red John started to involve children. First the little girl on the cemetery, now this young woman. He must be quite charming when he persuades people to do what he wants, Jane thought.

Quite similar to me. Jane shook his head trying to forget his last thought and gave the final applause when all the fifteen senior years appeared back on the stage.

They all stood up and Jane was happy when they went home. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to be responsible if something bad happened to this little, smart girl. But he didn't know that it was already too late.

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