Disclaimer: We own absolutely nothing though Cassie is our own creation
A/N Nerwen Aldarion: My first Mentalist fic! This is so cool! I came up with this idea while watching the season 1 dvd's for the 40th time I just couldn't shake it, finally I broke down and told my sister and we wound up coming up with a whole case that deals with deception, intrigue and of course the illusive Red John. There will be clues along the way, see if you can spot them. And I promise that all you shippers will be pleased.
A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: Yep, my sister told me about her idea and the next thing I knew I was coming up with scenes, dialogue and action for this story. I'm excited since this is my first Mentalist fic as well. I hope you all enjoy it.
NOTE: This story takes place five years into the future. The title of this chapter comes from the song "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel. Always check out the chapter titles, they'll give you hints on what is to come.
Red John's Making
Chapter 1: Hello Darkness My Old Friend
FBI Agent Teresa Lisbon was actually in a good mood on that Monday morning. Usually Mondays meant extra strength coffee and tired eyes but the weekend this week had been light. It had been an off duty weekend for Lisbon and her partner. She hadn't been called onto a case last minute and since she'd closed the Martinez case the Thursday before, she hadn't needed the weekend to continue an investigation. Instead the time had been spent catching up on sleep and relaxing, something she rarely got to do.
Lisbon sat down at her desk and flipped through the infinite stack of paperwork that rested on it. She hadn't been able to make any kind of dent in it when a disposable cup of coffee was place on her desk. Her partner Agent Adam Ledford smiled down at her, "First coffee of the day, Lisbon." Adam was a nice guy, in his early forties with brown hair and dark brown eyes. He wasn't bad looking but was no George Clooney either. The lines around his mouth were beginning the show, the only sign that he was getting older in his years.
She smiled, "For you maybe, you know that coffee is what I live on, like food and oxygen."
"Don't we all?"
She laughed and saluted him with her coffee as he sat down at his own desk to dig through his own paperwork.
An hour later her phone at her desk rang, startling her a little making Adam smile. "Agent Lisbon," she answered professionally.
"Lisbon," Director of the FBI Hank Griffins gruff voice spoke, "I need to see you in my office immediately."
"Yes sir," she said and hung up the phone, she met Adam's questioning eyes and shrugged, "Something's up," she told him before getting up from behind her desk and making her way to the elevators that would lead to Griffins' office.
The director was an older middle-aged man with a receding hairline and bad cholesterol. His voice was like gravel but he could bark as loud as a pit-bull if he wanted to which is why many an agent did their best not to piss him off. "Sit down," he told her roughly, not bothering with the normal pleasantries that usually occurred under circumstances of business.
Lisbon took the seat across from his desk and kept her composure unreadable, "You wanted to see me sir."
He opened a thick file on his desk, "We've got a case in Nevada, a serial killer who apparently has crossed state lines." Lisbon raised her eyebrow, a sickening knot twisted in her stomach, "A woman was found in her home, stabbed to death with a mark drawn in her own blood on her bedroom wall."
"Red John," Lisbon whispered her heart plummeted to her feet and she felt like vomiting or throwing something up against the wall.
Griffins nodded, "The NDPS has kept it quiet, the public doesn't know that it's a Red John case. Since the crime has crossed over from California this makes it our problem. I know that this isn't the first Red John case to hit Nevada and my predecessor decided to let the CBI handle it, but the law says that the FBI takes cases that cross state lines and I mean to uphold it. We will work this case from now on with the CBI."
He closed the file and handed it over to her. "Because of your past history with the case, I believe you would be the best to handle it."
Lisbon hesitated, for years the Red John case had all but consumed her life. Almost every free moment at the CBI had been spent pouring over the case files, searching for that missing piece that would put the puzzle together. Every new killing had both excited her and frustrated her more, she'd hoped each time that this killing would be the one where Red John would make that fatal mistake. But every time she had been disappointed and instead she'd had to wait for that next victim that was almost certainly going to come.
She had almost been relieved to leave that case behind her in California…but she couldn't deny that she also felt like she'd left some work undone. She couldn't fully enjoy her life until that one case was finally put to rest.
With leaden fingers Lisbon took the file from him and opened it, her mind accustomed to the grizzly sight the photos revealed. The slashed throat and chest with the symbol placed strategically on the wall confirmed to her at least as a cursory glance that the serial killer who'd eluded her for so long was back and as much as she hated to be sucked in again…she really needed to catch him more. "I'll take it," she said somberly.
"I wasn't asking if you would," he informed her, making it clear that 'no' wouldn't have been an answer he would have accepted. "You've got a flight booked for ten o'clock this evening, you have until then to get your affairs together. Now go tell your partner that you two are going to Nevada."
With that Griffins opened another file on his desk and Teresa took that as her cue to leave. She quietly stood up from her chair and quit the room. She stood outside of his office for a long moment just to let it all sink in. Lisbon knew what investigating Red John again meant, it meant falling back into that hole she'd tried desperately to crawl out of, it meant revisiting the horrific scenes that never failed to haunt her through nightmares, and it meant seeing her old team again. The latter would have been a pleasurable outcome if only for one thing…she wasn't sure if she was ready to work with him again.
Finally she made her way down the hallway to the elevator, thankful that for once she didn't have to share if with someone else. It was hard enough to keep her calm and collected veneer on it would have been worse to stand awkwardly with a stranger watching the numbers light up.
Somehow she found her way back to her desk where Ledford was waiting with expectant eyes, "So do we have a case?"
Dimly Teresa nodded, "Yeah…yeah we do."
He noticed her odd demeanor, "What is it?" he asked obviously concerned.
"We have to go to Nevada," She explained, "a woman was killed there…it looks like it's Red John."
Ledford couldn't hide his surprise, his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot clear up to his slightly receding hairline. "Red John…the real Red John?"
Teresa actually smiled a little bit. Ledford had worked as a psychoanalyst for the police for a while, helping grieving families, police officers dealing with stress and sometimes he would be called in to help profile suspect, the latter being his real interest. After a while he'd decided to give catching the killers a try himself and found his way to the FBI but he still enjoyed profiling quite a bit. Now he was like a kid in a candy store, eager to get his hands on case files so he could study the serial killer that had haunted the nation for over a decade.
She handed him the case file, "You can look over this, but don't get carried away, you need to go home and pack before our ten o'clock flight. You'll have plenty of time to study the cases on the way to Nevada."
Lisbon began to set her things in order at her desk so she could leave as soon as possible for home. She was startled when Ledford put a hand on her shoulder compelling her to turn around, "You going to be okay? I know the Red John case was yours when you were at the CBI…I kind of got the feeling that you were running from something when you came here, wouldn't surprise me in the least if this was it. If that's the case…can you handle it?"
She sighed, "Red John haunted me all the time I was at the CBI, I kind of got used to his ghost. Now he's back and it's just a shock for me now…but I also really want to catch this guy, more than any other case."
He nodded, "So it wasn't Red John that you were running from then."
"What makes you think I was running from anything?"
Ledford smiled, a smile that meant Don't lie to me when I know I'm right. It was a smile Lisbon had learned very well but on a completely different case. She just rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, "I've got to get ready and you do to. Meet you at the airport at eight."
Her partner watched her as she retreated to the elevator and shook his head. This would be an interesting case…in more ways then one.
It was always a joy for Lisbon to return home from work. Traffic was always terrible in the D.C. area so finally pulling into her driveway was a pleasure. It was just a red-brick townhouse in a semi-suburban area outside the city, but to her it was a palace. The only downside was that she was only going home to pack and then hit the airport.
She used her keys to unlock her front door and stepped into the entryway. Marisol popped out of the kitchen and smiled at her. "Hello, Miss Terésa. You are home early."
Lisbon nodded at the Hispanic woman and her careful English. "Yes, I have to pack. I've got a ten o'clock flight to Nevada."
"Ah, I comprendo," she said, her brown, middle aged face smiling again, "Dinner is almost ready."
"Oh, thanks, Marisol." Lisbon was always grateful for her home-cooked meals, especially before she had to jettison off to the other side of the country. "Where's—?"
"Mommy!"
Lisbon turned around to see a three foot two inch blur coming towards her. She opened up her arms and the torpedo in pink and green leapt into her embrace. "You're home! You're home!" was chanted into her ear at a deafening level, but Lisbon didn't care.
After a long squeeze, Lisbon set her daughter back down on the floor. Cassandra was an adorable creature, seemingly half-angel with long dark, brown curls and big blue-green eyes. She had the exuberance of a wild colt but sweetness of milk chocolate. She was the brightest spot in Lisbon's life and it broke her heart every time she had to leave.
"So, Alberta Einstein," Lisbon said, "What did you do today?"
"We painted pictures of farm animals and on Friday Mrs. Hutchinson is taking us to a petting zoo," Cassie said, "We're working on a new routine in ballet. It's to Part of Your World, you know the song Ariel sings."
"Your favorite! Oh that's wonderful, honey."
"Cassandra," Marisol said the girl's name with a heavy accent, "Let your mamá go upstairs to pack. She is going on another work vacation."
Cassie's little shoulders slumped at that news which only added to Lisbon's own grief. "How long will you be gone this time?"
Lisbon knelt down so she was at the same height as her daughter. "I don't know, baby," she said and pushed on of her curls behind her ear, "This is a really bad man I'm trying to find, someone who did a lot of naughty things in California. Mommy really wants to catch him this time."
"Can I come too?" Cassie asked, her blue eyes brightening at the thought, "I can help, mommy. I can hear the people talk and draw him for you, like they do on TV."
Lisbon chuckled at the thought. "Cassie, I wish you could come and I'm sure your would be a big help, but the is a very bad man and I want you to be safe. I would feel so much better if your stayed here with Marisol."
Cassie bobbed her wealth of brown hair. "Okay, but I'm going to miss you, mommy."
Lisbon grinned at her daughter. "I'm going to miss you too."
She leaned over and kissed Cassie's forehead and then pulled her in for another hug. Lisbon breathed in the scent of her child's hair: Loreal Kids shampoo and that special aroma of paint, crayons and mischief. Who knew that a accident from five years ago would lead to something so wonderful? It truly broke her heart to let her go.
"Now, go wash your hands and we'll have some dinner," Lisbon told Cassie.
"Sí, it is your favorite tonight, Cassandra," Marisol said, "Pasta and garlic bread."
The idea of spaghetti with hot garlic bread temporarily made up for the fact that her mother was soon to depart. Cassie let out a squeal of delight and ran up to the bathroom to wash her hands. For dinner, Red John and the FBI would cease to exist and they would only focus on the innocent topics of horseback riding, ballet and finger-painting.
"Can I get you anything?" The overly cheerful voice of the flight attendant with the name take that read Amy jerked Lisbon and Ledford out of their separate world that was filled with case files and pictures not for those squeamish eyes. Amy looked tired but was keeping her smile bright for the sake of the only two passengers that were awake. Teresa felt bad for her, but she also knew that she wasn't going to get any rest either.
"Just some coffee would be great," she told her with a grateful look. She kept her voice low so as not to wake any of the other passengers on the plane, thankfully the cabin wasn't very full.
Amy hurried off to fulfill that task while the two FBI agents once again hunkered over their case files. "What makes you certain this is the real Red John?" Ledford asked, "He's had several copy cats before."
"Well I'll know for sure once I see the crime scene and get a feel for it," Teresa admitted, "but looking at the crime scene photos, I'd say he's back." She pointed to the wide shot of the bedroom of Red John's latest victim Kristy Amberson, "The red smiley face is at the right spot, on the wall that you see as soon as you open the door." Lisbon took out another photograph, this one of Kristy's body, a horrifying picture that made her choke up a little at the travesty that had occurred. "The uh…the cuts are also in the same manner, the same style of cuts that haven't been made public." Her voice was heavy but she put her feelings aside. It might be a problem that Lisbon still cared about the victims but she believed that the day she stopped caring was also the day she lost her mind completely.
He studied the photos, "It's difficult to say, Red John doesn't seem to have a special type of victim."
"No," Teresa agreed, "He's no Ted Bundy with a specific age, hair color and style. He's more like Dennis Rader, he searches for a new victim until he gets a feel for one, then he strikes."
"Not always," Adam pointed out, "He's gone off his normal type before."
"Those were all for specific purposes, usually to protect his identity," Lisbon explained, "He killed Carter Peaks when he interrupted the killing of Peak's wife, then killed Towland Morning to further protect his identity." She pulled out another file, "He also killed Jared Renfrew and a prostitute in Tijuana after Renfrew went on the lam."
"Renfrew was going to testify to Red John's identity right?"
"Yep but he chose to try and outrun Red John, he gambled and lost," Lisbon replied.
"There is also the killing of CBI agent Sam Bosco and his team," Ledford flipped through the files spread out on the tray table in front of him, "and the murder of Angela and Charlotte Jane."
The names sent a jolt of pain through Teresa's heart; she wasn't sure which death hurt her more though: the death of her mentor at the hands of the brainwashed follower or the beautiful child that had barely started to live. Her eyes were drawn the photograph of Charlotte, not the crime scene but rather the picture on her file of a smiling child with long curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the same features that Lisbon knew so well…on someone else.
Ledford looked up to see where he gaze fell, "This was your first Red John case wasn't it?"
She nodded but didn't take her eyes off of the child, "I was hardly more than a rookie then…I didn't know it would be my life." Silently she thought, "In more ways than one."
Twelve Years Ago
The black Sedan eased over to the curb on the residential street and parked there behind a police car with flashing blue and red lights. Lisbon opened the door of the passenger side and stepped onto the grass. Her team leader, Agent Garner, slammed the door of the driver's side. Her teammate Agent Bowen stepped out from the street on the other side.
"What's the situation?" Garner asked the cop that walked over to them.
"Two vics," the cop said, "Mother and daughter. It looks to be Red John." The cop gestured to a man sitting on a stone bench under one of the carefully pruned trees. "That's the owner, it was his family that was killed. His name is Patrick Jane."
Bowen blinked in surprise. "The psychic? My mother's crazy about him."
"Yeah, that's him," the cop said, "Since this is that psycho killer again, we don't mind if CBI takes over."
Lisbon didn't really care about the cop or the fact he had just handed them this case on a silver platter. She couldn't stop looking at Patrick Jane, sitting alone under the tree. She was too far away to see his face, but she guessed from the slump of his shoulders he was in immense pain.
"Lisbon?" Garner called her name. She looked over and saw that her team was several yards ahead of her. "Are you coming?"
"Yes, sorry boss," she said.
The Jane residence would have been a perfectly lovely home with fine antique furniture, top of the line appliances and spacious rooms. There were toys put away in baskets, though one lonely tricycle was left out in the open, and many pictures of the family on the walls or stacked up on tables.
CSU's were taking pictures and combing the place for any evidence Red John may have left behind. He never did.
"I'm going to talk with the CSU's, you two go upstairs and verify if it really is Red John," Garner instructed them.
"Got it, boss," Bowen said.
They took the stairs and followed the corridor to the bedroom. Crime scene tape was set in an X on the door. A CSU was inside, snapping pictures of the two victims. Bowen went on inside, but Lisbon's attention was stolen by something taped to the door.
It was note, carefully typed up, that said:
"Dear mister Jane,
I do not like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money-grubbing fraud.
If you were a real psychic, instead of a dishonest little worm, you wouldn't need to open the door to see what I've done to your lovely wife and child."
"Moron didn't know who he was dealing with."
Lisbon turned around and saw the CSU was looking at her, correctly deducing that she was left confused by the note.
He pointed to the note. "The dude talked about Red John on national TV, and not in flattering terms." He then gestured to the two plastic sheet covered bodies, "Red John got his revenge."
"He murdered that poor man's wife and daughter because his pride was wounded?" Lisbon said in disbelief, "God, what a monster."
"Well if the Oracle of Delphi hadn't run his mouth off on TV then his family wouldn't have had their throats cut."
His brazen words shocked her for a moment. Did he really think that this was Mr. Jane's fault? So what if he had said something he shouldn't have, that didn't exactly justify the loss of his wife and child.
"Get out," Lisbon said.
The CSU looked at her with confusion. "What?"
"This is a CBI case now and you've done quite enough," she told him, her voice just barely civil, "Go."
The CSU gave her a glare before her pocketed his camera, picked up his kit and quit the room. She heard him mumble, "Bitch," as he left.
"That was harsh," Bowen said to her.
"He has no respect for this family."
"Maybe, but he does have a point," he said, "If the guy hadn't said anything then they would still be alive."
Lisbon shook her head. "If a husband is killed by his wife because he cheated, is it justified?"
Bowen wisely kept his mouth shut and went back to surveying the room. On the wall above the bodies was the Red John signature: a swirl-like circle done in a clockwise swoop with two eyes and an upturned grin. The blood had not congealed so the effect made it appear that the eyes were crying red tears.
Lisbon turned away from The Face and went back to the victims. She took out a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and peeled away the sheet so she could see who Red John had so cruelly taken away from the world.
The mother had light brown hair that was now spread out all over her shoulders. Her throat was slashed and her chest was viciously carved. Next to her lay her little daughter, perhaps four or five years of age. She had curly, sandy hair that was now stained red with her own blood. Her cuts matched her mother.
Lisbon had seen gruesome murders before: stabbings, massive gunshot wounds, even a decapitation. But to see a small child carved into like a jack-o'-lantern was by far the worst thing she could have imagined.
"CSU told me the mother is Angela and the daughter is Charlotte," Bowen said softly.
Lisbon swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. She needed to keep her composure, it was her greatest asset on this job.
"Look at her toes," Lisbon said and pointed to Angela's feet. The nails were sloppily painted red.
Bowen peered down for a closer look and then gazed back at Lisbon. He gave her a small nod to confirm what she thought: Red John had painted her toes with her own blood.
Lisbon draped the plastic back over the mother and daughter, their temporary coffin. "There is no doubt that this is Red John for me," she said, "I'm going outside."
"Lisbon, you going to be okay?" Bowen asked her.
She nodded at him, but she wasn't sure if that was true. "I want to see what else they found."
Lisbon fled the room, certain that she would see that little girl and her mother in her dreams later. She went outside and took in deep breaths of cool air. This was her first case with Red John since she had been transferred to Sacramento. She'd heard about the serial killer, who hadn't? But Red John had always been some elusive, twisted man before. Now she knew she was dealing with a true beast.
Press was staked out behind the yellow crime scene tape, asking questions and receiving nothing in return. There other people as well, probably neighbors and passerby just wanting to know what was going. Lisbon looked towards the tree and saw that Mr. Jane was still sitting on the stone bench.
She had a clear idea of what he was thinking about based on the note she saw and that jerk of a CSU. His shoulders were slumped because he was carrying the guilt of his family's murder.
Lisbon didn't realize what she was doing until she was halfway to the tree. She stopped and considered turning around, but chose not to be a coward. She stopped two feet away from the man. He didn't even notice she was there.
"Mr. Jane," she said almost in a whisper.
He looked up then. Patrick Jane had a handsome face with sandy blonde hair sort of combed into a professional look. It was too dark to see the correct color of his eyes but she guessed they were some shade of blue. Every line and shadow on his face betrayed the agony his soul was feeling.
"I'm—I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI," she said, "We're in charge of your family's…" she couldn't say 'case' or 'murder', not when he was looking at her in the eye. "Anyways, we'll need to get your statement…" she paused and then added, "…tomorrow, if you're up for it."
That was all that really had to be said, at least according to her job, but it didn't seem like enough. Lisbon was known for her calm, for her professional attitude towards the job. Well tonight she was going to break her rule, just a little.
"Mr. Jane, I just want you to know…this isn't your fault."
She felt a bit foolish saying that. It was clear the man didn't believe her, he likely never would. But to her it was an undeniable truth.
"Lisbon!" she heard Garner call for her.
She turned around and gave her boss a nod. "I'm sorry for what happened," she said to the poor man, "and I promise I'll do whatever I can to bring Red John to justice."
That was as good a goodbye as any, so she turned around to see what Garner wanted. She could feel Patrick Jane's eyes burning in her back. She wondered briefly if he would even remember her name. Probably not. He probably hadn't heard a word she said.
The clinking of coffee mugs on plastic table-trays shook Lisbon away from her memories and she looked up to see the tired eyes but still smiling face of Amy. "Thank you," Lisbon told her genuinely, the coffee was going to be necessary for her and her partner.
"My pleasure," Amy replied before leaving the two agents to themselves.
Ledford watched Lisbon slowly sip her coffee for a moment before saying, "You okay?"
She looked up at him surprised, "Yeah," but she knew he'd seen her zone out of for a moment by the doubtful look on his face. She sighed, "Just a lot of memories, most of them are not so cheerful."
He smiled sympathetically, "It's not easy facing the demons again is it?"
"No one ever said this job was easy," Lisbon agreed.
Ledford nodded and then to her relief flipped through the files again, she was grateful to talk about any other subject but how much Red John still preoccupied her thoughts, "Now I find the file on Patrick Jane particularly interesting."
Any subject but that one.
"Really?" she asked stupidly, immediately regretting the word as soon as she said it.
Ledford looked amused, "Of course, his wife and child and murdered, he drops out of the public eye until he joins the task force that is investigating Red John while helping to put other criminals behind bars. That's only something you see on television."
She chuckled, "Yep, I guess you've got me there."
He looked up from the files and turned his head to meet her gaze, "What did you think of him?"
How on earth was she supposed to answer that question? A million answers came to mind. Crazy, arrogant, rogue, single minded, had problems with authority. That he could be sweet, charming and clearly cared about her team. So many different facets of Jane's character, even the ones he refused to let her see. Finally she simply sighed, "Jane is complicated."
Ledford raised an eyebrow, "That's your answer?"
She shrugged, "It's the best I've got…if you meet him you'll understand. Words cannot describe Patrick Jane. There is just too much to him that I wouldn't even know where to begin."
Her partner looked down at the photograph of the man they were talking about "He sounds interesting."
Lisbon stared off, instead seeing the memories of the consultant she knew so well and then not all, "Trust me, you have no idea. There is only one Patrick Jane."
It was the heat that told Lisbon that she was back on the west coast. Even in the summer Washington DC could be pretty cool compared to the summers in California. Now here in Nevada the heat was everywhere, pressing down on her like an oven, making her wish that spaghetti strapped tops and shorts were acceptable professional wear.
With the sun baking down on them it was relief to enter the air-conditioned crime lab at Sparks, Nevada. Lisbon and Ledford flashed their ids at the busy receptionist who quickly paged for the lead detective to meet them. A few minutes later a man who appeared to be in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile appeared, "I'm Detective Tom Brandly, I'm the one working the Amberson case."
Lisbon immediately felt relaxed around this detective, he had that quality that made you feel like he had a kind word for everyone, "I'm FBI Agent Teresa Lisbon and this is my partner Agent Adam Ledford, we've come here to offer our services on this investigation." Teresa had learned quickly that the best way to keep the local enforcement happy was to stay away from words such as "take over" and make it sound like they were there to help instead.
Brandly shook her hand, "I'm glad you came because to be perfectly honest…this case is way over our heads."
She smiled at him, "Well our resources can certainly be of some help to you then."
He nodded, "I know that the folks in California have been following this guy for a while, I wasn't sure if I should call them in too or not. This is the same guy isn't it?"
Lisbon put on a serene mask that was meant to display confidence and put him at ease, "We will contact the CBI eventually but first I think it would be best if we look at this case by itself and gather whatever evidence we can from it before we try to see where it fits with the other Red John murders."
Brandly looked worried now, "So it is Red John?"
Lisbon sighed but nodded slowly, "We have every reason to believe it is."
She watched the sadness wash over Brandly, and the fear that followed it. He let out a long drawn out breath before finally speaking again, "Well I'm really glad that you are here then."
"Thank you Detective Brandly," she smiled gratefully, "If you will show us what you have on the case then we can get started."
He gestured with his head, "This way," and he led them through the double doors into the hallway.
Ledford walked beside Lisbon and leaned close to whisper, "Nicely done."
She shrugged, "Just doing my job."
Brandly guided them to a simple conference room where there were files, pictures and evidence bags laid out on the large table. A casual observer wouldn't have known where to begin but since Lisbon had lived and breathed law enforcement for so many years she was used to the organized chaos of case layouts.
The two FBI agents and the detective took seats at the table where they settled down, glancing at the files and shuffling things to make room. Finally Lisbon smiled encouragingly at Brandly and said, "Whenever you are ready."
The detective took out a small notebook from his jacket pocket and cleared his throat, "We got the call two nights ago at six p.m. Kristy Amberson was an ER nurse at the hospital and she hadn't show up for work that day. One of colleagues decided to check up on her and she discovered the scene." He heaved a sigh before continuing, "we secured the house but the suspect was long gone."
Lisbon picked up some photographs of the scene to get a sense of what he was describing. "The victim was found in her bedroom," Brandly continued, "her throat was cut and other cuts were on her chest. The M.E. estimated her time of death around two a.m. that morning based on the liver temp. Besides the cut marks on the body the suspect left a smiling face on the wall over the bed, drawn with the victim's wet blood."
She found the photograph of the smiley face again, the face weeping red tears that never failed to chill her to the bone. She shoved the photograph aside and turned her eyes to the detective, "Did you find any other evidence?"
His disappointed expression said it all, "We fingerprinted the house but the only prints we found belonged to the victim. No foreign DNA was found on the victim either."
"Any signs of a break in?" Ledford asked.
"There were scratch marks on the front door, we believe he picked the lock," Brandly explained, "the victim lived alone and was home most nights by herself, no one heard or saw anything unusual."
Lisbon shook her head, "Of course not, Red John knows how to stay invisible."
The detective nodded but then reached over for an evidence bag, "There is one thing," he handed the bag to Lisbon carefully. "On the table by the bed we found a drawing that looks like it was drawn by a child, but the victim didn't have any kids and from speaking with her friends and colleagues, she didn't really know many either."
Lisbon looked over the drawing, a little girl with yellow hair in a grassy field with flowers and a butterfly. There was the childlike innocence of it with its messy lines and unfinished sky. It reminded Lisbon of the many drawings Cassie had done that adorned the fridge at her home. "There was nothing else like that in the house," Brandly finished.
Ledford shrugged, "Odd, but there are dozens of ways to explain that."
"Maybe not," Lisbon said as she turned the drawing over, her heartbeat racing as soon as she saw the name scribbled on the back of the drawing in red crayon.
In a child's scrawl with uneven letters was the name Charlotte Jane.
The squad room of CBI headquarters smelled like melted cheese, tomatoes, peppers and pineapple; a disgusting combination for some, but heavenly for Agent Kimball Cho's team. It meant that they had closed another case, that another murderer would soon be locked behind steel bars.
"Anyone for another slice?" Agent Wayne Rigsby asked the group that was gathered around his desk.
Cho wordlessly took a piece of pizza from the box and sampled it in front of him. "No thank you?"
"I'm the boss," Cho replied, "I don't need to say thank you."
It was all in good humor so Rigsby just chuckled and then held to box up to Agent Grace Van Pelt. "Do you want anything, honey?"
"Thanks," she said, giving him a flirty smile as she took her second piece.
"Jane?" Rigsby called towards the brown sofa.
Patrick Jane was finishing off the last bit of crust from his slice. He shook his head at Rigsby to decline a second slice.
"Jane, how did you know that Peterson had hidden the gun behind the fridge?" Van Pelt asked between bites.
Jane grinned at her. "I read his mind of course."
"Oh come on," Rigsby said over a mouthful, "Did you see scuff marks on the floor or something?"
"Guess again," Jane said.
"Was the refrigerator askew?" Van Pelt asked.
He laughed a little. "You're even less creative than your husband."
"So what was it then?" Rigsby asked.
Jane stood up from the sofa to deposit his paper plate into the trash can on the other side of the room. "Peterson has an anxious nature and he seeks comfort in food. Logically, if he had done something wrong the first place he would think to hide the evidence would be near the fridge."
"So it was just a guessing game," Cho stated.
"Isn't all of life?"
"Your tricks are all guess work then," Rigsby said.
Jane eyed him with that glint of mischief, one they had all seen numerous times. "Do you think so, Rigsby."
"Makes sense."
"Alright, we'll try this then." Jane went to his desk and pulled out a deck of cards from the drawer. He took the cards out of the box and fanned them out. "Pick a card."
Van Pelt and Cho were watching carefully as Rigsby picked one of the cards. "Keep it, Jane instructed and then proceeded to shuffle the deck. Jane set the deck on the desk. He then put his hands on his temples and closed his blue-green eyes. "Now, keep looking at that card. Picture it in your mind. Try and send it to me with only your thoughts."
Van Pelt let out a little giggle while Cho just tilted his head in observation. Jane nodded his head once and then opened his eyes. "Five of diamonds," he said, pointing his finger at Rigsby's card.
"Lucky guess," Rigsby said, handing the card back to Jane.
"Mind reading," Jane replied. He kept grinning to himself and reshuffled the deck of cards.
CBI Agent in Charge Henry Dalton chose at that moment to enter the squad room. He immediately spotted the cards in Jane's hand. "Hope your team isn't too bored, Cho."
"No sir," Cho assured him.
"Good, because I just had an interesting phone call from the FBI," Dalton said, "It looks like Red John has struck again, this time in Sparks, Nevada."
Jane visibly tensed at the mention of Red John. He snapped his gaze back to Dalton; ready to assimilate any other information he cared to give them.
"Why didn't they call us sooner?" Cho asked.
"The FBI wanted this one, but apparently Red John left something at the crime scene directed at you, Jane."
"Well I am his favorite pawn to play with," Jane replied. The words were icy cold, no trace of humor to be found in them.
"Pack up and head out immediately," Dalton ordered. He turned around to leave, but he only took a step before he went back to facing them again. "Oh, and you'll be working with an old friend. Agent Lisbon was the one who made the call."
TBC
A/N: So many questions! Why did Lisbon leave? She has a daughter? Why is Red John back and what is he after? And of course...who is Red John? All we can say is that all will be answered in due time. Until then sit back and enjoy the rid.
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