The Mentalist is my new obsession, so first thing I did after having watched a couple of episodes was to jump on to find if anything had been written on it (and of course it had). And like all my new obsessions I couldn't help myself but ship, hence my love for the Jane-Lisbon couple. Of course I love Rigsby-Van Pelt, they're so cute. And Cho rocks. Period.
Okay, I'm done rambling uselessly. Hope you enjoy. Also it's not beta-ed and English is not my mother language so if you find any mistakes or weird formulation, do point it out so I can correct it.
I tried to build the story as an episode, so it's going to be case centered at first, but fear not, the more 'personal' stuff will be coming soon.
Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: The Mentalist and its characters are not mine (except for those you don't recognize). I'm just venting my frustrated imagination on them.
Cold. And leaking.
That will be her last memory.
Ever.
***
Beat your way through
Cho was going crazy. If he had to watch Rigsby and Van Pelt making cow eyes and shy smiles at each other one more time he was going to scream. They should not be enjoying themselves when paperwork was one of the least enjoyable tasks known to man.
It had been a slow week. No crime serious enough that local police couldn't handle and no crime "public" enough that special ops hadn't to handle. So catching up on paperwork had been the CBI Serious Crimes Office's priority for the last three days. Cho was beginning to believe that some little fucker sneaked in at night to restack their never-depleting pile of report. Meanwhile a certain mountain of a man colleague and their pretty red hair teammate were in the 'we're-melting-for-each-other-but -can't-possibly-let-people-know' phase (according to Cho and Jane's estimations those two were down to at least three dates). The downside to it, apart from suffering their honey-gooey romance all day long, was that Rigsby was trying to keep up with his girlfriend-imposed diet, but was still raiding the staff kitchen as he claimed that carrots and celery sticks failed to provide sufficient energy for work. Some people had started bringing in their own lunches to be guaranteed food throughout the day. Others had tried to complain to Lisbon but she'd send them away manu militari saying that she was neither their nanny nor the food keeper.
Cho felt guilty about getting fed up with the workload when his boss had just as much and she was regularly arguing with their new boss, the honorable mister Rowman, who was determined to make Lisbon's job a living hell. When work was slow higher-ups had more time to look deeper into recent reports and Lisbon had been regularly called to defend her team (mostly Jane) legitimate dodgy actions (Jane's again) during past cases. Whenever someone knocked on her door they were treated to The Lisbon Death Glare, the one saying This better not be about Jane again or so help me…
Cho could see she was on edge, desperate for a new case, and so he tried to help her as best as he could at the moment: by shutting up and do his job.
Lisbon wasn't the only one waiting for a case. Jane had littered his desk with the entire animal kingdom in origami. Cho hoped that he would continue entertain himself as long as possible.
Then the phone rang in Lisbon's office.
She froze.
Hallelujah. A case.
"Alright. We're on our way. Thank you sir."
Lisbon marched in the bullpen adjusting her holster, and said the magic words. "Pack it up, guys. We've got a case."
"Where to, boss?" Rigsby asked enthusiastically, ripping his jacket off the back his chair.
"Santa Rosa."
Jane promptly leaped to his feet, leaving his half-finished kangaroo behind.
***
Lisbon had briefed them in the car. Young girl beaten up, found in an abandoned workhouse up in field on the outskirts of town.
Climbing out of the car Jane watched the usual ballet of local cowboy-looking police officers. Stetson, aviator-style sunglasses, thumbs hooked through belt loops, ridiculously massive gun strapped on one hip and shiny badge on the other. Jane managed not to roll his eyes. Talk about compensating.
"Sheriff Gallagher? Agent Lisbon, CBI." Lisbon called out as the eldest of the policemen approached.
"Hi. Glad you could come so fast. We could really do with your help." The Sheriff explained while shaking Lisbon's hand. Brief yet firm handshake. Good. It meant that he was all business yet cooperative. She always dreaded the turf wars.
"We won't just help. We're taking over the investigation, but we will fill you in at all steps." Lisbon explained politely. She was always more inclined to be nice when dealing with honest professionalism.
"Good. Here's the body. Arthur Thompson over there is the one who found her." The Sheriff explained while walking Lisbon to the body. Jane was already crouched over it, while Cho was finishing taking notes from the coroner.
"Pamela Allen. Eleven years old. She lives in town with her mother Mandy Allen, and her little brother Nelson. Mister Thompson says he found her around 10:15, stacked behind this pile of wood planks. We received the call at 10:17 exactly."
Lisbon crouched next to Van Pelt who was already examining the body. Pamela. She was recognizable only because half her face wasn't swollen. Lisbon fought the urge to wipe off the dirt from the girl's face. Van Pelt shook her head in indignation.
"How can anyone do that to a kid?" Lisbon didn't answer. You'd be surprised. Cho's voice cut through her thoughts, helping her get a grip. She stood up and looked straight at her agent, giving him her undivided attention.
"The coroner says the death dates back to last night, probably around 7 or 9pm. He'll confirm as soon as he gets the results. She was beaten to death. The killer either lured her here or carried her post mortem to hide the body."
"I'd go for carried post mortem." Jane interrupted, scanning the area. "Today is Saturday. Yesterday was Friday, hence she had school. Even if she took her time getting home or was lured here after school, she would have her school bag."
"Could have been ditched elsewhere." Cho offered.
"Possible but unlikely. Why would the killer go through the trouble of hiding the body somewhere and her school bag elsewhere? Sheriff, was a school bag or the like found in the area?"
"No."
"The area doesn't look like the ideal playground. She doesn't have dirt on her hands, knees, nor socks, which mean she wasn't playing here. If the death dates back to yesterday night, my guess is that the killer indeed carried her here after having killed her. Also, the killer either knew that this place was rarely frequented, therefore wasn't afraid of anyone finding her, or he knew someone would sooner rather than later find her, which tells us he's confident he'd be unsuspected." Jane turned towards his audience to finish his speech, hands stuffed in his jacket's pockets. "So I'd say we are looking for a fairly educated man who lives in town. A lot of people know him but he doesn't draw attention to himself. Not a high ranked job. And no one would suspect him of violent behavior."
"Does he always do that?"Gallagher asked Lisbon, not even trying to be discreet.
"Yes. It's his job. Patrick Jane is our consultant." Lisbon explained matter-of-factly.
"Hi." Jane smiled at the Sheriff and shook his hand. Gallagher didn't think he wanted to know the details. Rigsby came back towards them, stuffing a notepad and pencil in his pocket.
"Right, boss. I've got Arthur Thompson's statement."
"Good. Sheriff Gallagher, are there any reports of violent behavior in town? If so we are going to need those please. Rigsby, Cho, you'll dig from there. Van Pelt, I need you to go to Pamela's school, ask when she was last seen, and if anyone knew where she was going. Also, find out if this place is a known spot where kids hang out."
With a respectful nod and a prompt 'yes boss' the team was on its way. Cho turned briefly, lingered one last look at his boss. This would be a tough one, he feared.
"Jane? Let's go see the family." Lisbon announced. Jane simply nodded and followed her. He noted how her voice had been softer at that last sentence. He knew she hated to bring the bad news to the families. One of the many things he was grateful for as not being an agent, he never had to be the fated messenger. It wasn't his job, so he could avoid it as much as possible. Which he did. But Lisbon couldn't, especially not as Senior Agent.
Getting into the car, Jane smiled softly. It was the first time that Lisbon had introduced him as 'our' consultant.
***
"Oh no! My baby! My poor baby!"
Lisbon waited patiently for Pamela's mother to shed a few tears before being harassed with questions. That was the hardest part. As people they had to respect their grief. As agents of the law, they had a murderer to catch. How do you quantify the time between respect and your job? Lisbon squeezed her hands together before speaking.
"Mrs. Allen, I know this is hard but we need to ask you a few questions… The sooner we do the sooner we can let you grieve."
Mandy Allen sniffled loudly one last time, crushing a wet tissue to her mouth.
"I'm sorry. It' just… It's just so hard to believe."
Lisbon offered a soft 'I understand' and gently pressed a hand on the woman's shoulder. Jane watched her do so from where he was standing against the living room sideboard. Well one thing was sure, Mandy wasn't faking. Jane perused the living room. A few toys were scattered on the floor, laundry piled on top of the dining table along with empty plates from breakfast no doubt, TV magazines hapazardously stacked in a corner near the television, a basket ball rested under the coffee table, and the sofa and matching armchair on which Mrs. Allen and Lisbon were seated had seen better days, in a distant past. Tragedy or not, the woman couldn't handle herself, nor her family for that matter.
"Mrs. Allen when did you last see your daughter?" Lisbon began. The mother gathered herself a little and managed to answer the question.
"Um… Yesterday morning, before she went to school."
"And last night?"
"No. I work until late at a restaurant, Wendy's. I finish around eleven or so. When I get home the kids are already in bed."
Lisbon glanced up from her notes, intrigued. "Pamela was in bed when you came home last night?"
Mrs. Allen fidgeted on the sofa. "I… I don't know. I suppose. I-I didn't check. You see, when I get home I'm beat. It's a popular restaurant, especially on Fridays, it's really tiring. When I get home the kids are already in bed. It's always like that, so I don't always check. I mean, it's always like that."
Lisbon concentrated on her notes in order to hide her shock. The woman had fallen asleep yesterday when her daughter was outside, cold dead, miles away.
"Where's your son?" Jane interrupted.
The mother snapped her head towards him, a little taken aback, as if just remembering he was there. "Um, next door, with Mrs. Wilkinson. She's our neighbor. I-I didn't want him to be here for all this."
Jane simply nodded but kept staring at her, which visibly unnerved her.
"I understand you're divorced." Lisbon pursued. "Do you still maintain contact with your ex-husband? Does he visit sometimes?"
"No. No, last time I heard he moved to Minnesota. We don't keep tabs. The children don't see him. He left us. Five years ago." Mrs. Allen explained with bitterness.
"Any boyfriend? Or lover perhaps?" Jane interrupted again.
"Excuse-me?"
Jane sighted. He wondered why people always bothered to act so indignantly around that question, or if some people genuinely didn't understand what he was saying.
"Are you seeing anyone in particular?" Lisbon intervened, tried to ruffle down the feathers.
"No. I'm single."
"Do you mind if I take a look at Pamela's room?" Jane asked nicely. She clearly minded, but unapologetic charm got him anywhere (usually).
While Jane was upstairs, and Lisbon had to try and quell the slight apprehension whenever Jane was left unsupervised at someone else's place, she resumed her questioning.
"How was Pamela doing in school? Did she have any problems? Bullying?"
"No. She never mentioned anything. She was a bit slow, but she was ok. School wasn't really her thing but she was ok."
***
After a couple more questions, Lisbon and Jane left the Allen house, and went to ask the neighbor if she had seen Pamela yesterday. Of course, she hadn't. While Lisbon talked, Jane caught a glimpse of a little boy observing them while trying to hide behind a wall, before he dashed back from wherever he came from. Jane supposed he was Nelson, Pamela's little brother. He wanted to go talk to him but Lisbon was already closing the discussion with Mrs. Wilkinson and started back to the car, so Jane followed her.
Jane was getting comfy in the SUV. He suddenly jumped when Lisbon slammed the door shut. Sure the door was heavy (especially for her), but she had used a lot more force than necessary. He stared warily at her while she fastened her seatbelt.
"You ok?"
Lisbon whipped her head to him.
"Yes. I'm fine."She answered, surprised. "Why?"
"You're mistreating your beloved car. What did that door do to you?" Jane feigned hurt for the door.
Lisbon briefly shook her head, trying to make sense of what the quirky consultant was talking about. "Nothing. I- Nothing. The door's just heavy."
"Not more than usual."
Lisbon closed her eyes. Why did he have to analyze everything? She was really not in the mood right now.
"Look. I feel like this is going to be a rather difficult case, so I'd appreciate if you kept the damages to a minimum this time. No outrageous behavior, no insane plan." She laid down the rules in her no-nonsense tone. She hated when she had to talk to him like he was some troublesome kid.
Jane listened to her with wide, innocent eyes. The look would actually be perfect if he was sporting that irritating smile. Lisbon tried hard to keep her hands squeezing the steering wheel and not his throat. She sighted.
"I want to close this case without having to worry about you being God knows where held at gunpoint by some nutter."
Jane's expression softened with understanding, simply offering her a soft 'ok'. Lisbon drove off. That's when realization hit him. He gritted his teeth. For someone as perceptive is he was, sometimes he surprised himself out how oblivious he could act. A kid had just been beaten to death, of course Lisbon would be on edge. He didn't know the details, but he knew that she had grown up with an abusive father. He knew Lisbon was a professional, that was her pride. She left emotions at the door when dealing with a case, and she would do no different with this one. But he was sure that deep down it was shaking her more than she would show, or admit for that matter. However, emotional involvement or not, she will not let it interfere with the case, and she will arrest whatever bastard had killed Pamela. She was amazing like that. He wished he had her strength. The strength that he tried to portray through cheerfulness and charm. Jane gripped the door handle.
"Don't worry Lisbon, I'll crack the case. I always do." He spoke softly. Lisbon glanced at him, thanking him with a nod and a shy smile.
After barely a few minutes, Jane's usual cheerful voice broke the silence. "So you do worry that I end up at gunpoint." He announced proudly, ridiculously large grin in place.
Lisbon couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"So what did you find in Pamela's room?" she steered back the conversation on safer grounds.
Jane's grin grew even wider. One, he knew that she was redirecting the conversation (the woman didn't bother with subtlety when it came to him), and two he was about to enjoy exposing all his brilliant discoveries to her undivided attention. He loved those moments, and right now it was just the two of them in the car, without anybody else she would have to listen to.
"Well…" Jane began, dragging the word for effect.
Reviews? Please? I'm really looking at improving my writing!