Pilot
Teresa Lisbon, Patrick and Kennedy Jane walked toward the house of a girl whose body had just been found. This was a normal day for the Janes as Patrick Jane was a consultant for the CBI and Kennedy even though she was only 13 went with him to most of his cases as she was and always had been home schooled by her father, that and she and Patrick were very useful to the CBI as they were known has mentalists. They could tell things about you that even your closest friends wouldn't know. Kennedy had been taught this by her father when she was 7 and Patrick was even younger when he started, her mother had never approved, but her father ran a psychic business and the money was good so her mother couldn't really stop them.
The three of them walked up the driveway to the house of the girl, Mercy Tolliver, whose body had been found. The pavement was mobbed with mostly news reporters trying to get a comment. Kennedy didn't like reporters, families have been ripped apart and these people were shoving cameras in their faces. When Kennedy was 8 she and her father were coming home from a show, they returned to find something that no 8 year old should have to see. Neither she nor her father were the same again but seeing the reporters brought it all back as their home in Malibu was flocked with people within the hour, Lucy actually smashed up one of the cameras and her father didn't stop her. In fact he was sitting in the ambulance looking well in truly shell shocked, and rightly so. That night, she was admitted to a young person's insane asylum, when she was determined a danger to society, her father followed her soon after when he tried to commit suicide. Kennedy cried herself to sleep, but after that she never cried again.
Teresa, Patrick and Kennedy walked up to the captain of the police force to fill them in on what was happening.
"Captain," Lisbon greeted.
"Agent Lisbon," the Captain replied, "I don't think we'll be needing you guys, we like the neighbour kid who found the body."
"Did he confess?" Lisbon asked.
"Eh, he's a real squirrel. I'd say….." His voice drowned out as Kennedy and Patrick turned to look at the boy. He looked to be in his late teens. He had longish hair and was wearing red and black t-shirt. His face looked like he was about to cry. Kennedy, using her deduction skills came to the conclusion that the boy had had a fight with his mother and had snuck into the back garden of the Tolliver house to think and had stumbled across the body buried in the garden. He wasn't the type to murder someone and even if he had why would he call the police after the killer had made such a big effort to hide the body.
News reporters were as usual shoving cameras and microphones in his face asking if he killed Mercy.
"Didn't do it," Kennedy mumbled to her father.
Her father turned and grinned at her before answering, "My thoughts exactly."
Paramedics were removing the body behind her, she noticed that one of the paramedics had a skull tattoo on his left arm, but she didn't have time to look for long as the news interview had begun.
"Mercy's father would like to give a brief statement," a voice announced.
"I just want to take a moment and thank everyone in law enforcement and all the volunteers who helped us in the search for our beloved daughter." Mercy's father said.
Kennedy could sense that something wasn't right. His daughter's body had just been found and he was treating this as if he was the president.
"The way that this entire community has come together to support me and Juniper in this terrible time has been a great comfort to us," he continued.
"Something's wrong with the wife," Kennedy whispered to her father.
This was true as every time Morgan Tolliver touched his wife she looked like she was being strangled.
"Kitchen?" he asked.
"Kitchen," she replied.
"And now I would just like to ask that you give us some time and space and privacy to grieve for our daughter."
Morgan got quieter as Kennedy and Patrick disappeared into the Tolliver household without being seen. The house was huge, as Patrick and Kennedy walked down the hall into the kitchen; it took everything in Kennedy's very being to stop herself from going exploring.
When they entered the kitchen, they both had to stop and look around for a minute at the sparkling white kitchen. Mrs Tolliver clearly took pride in her home.
Her father looked out into the garden before walking over to stove to put a kettle on the boil. Kennedy went across the room and looked at the pictures on the fridge.
"Tea?" her father asked her.
"Who in their right mind would ever say no to tea," Kennedy replied.
Patrick grinned at his daughter and carried on making tea while Kennedy wandered over to one of the cupboards and pulled out some bread, cheese and ham, put them down next to her father and made herself a cheese sandwich and her father a ham and cheese sandwich. While they both ate they went back to the fridge and stared at the pictures again.
"What's up with her?" Kennedy asked with her mouth full pointing at Mercy in one of the pictures. "She looks like someone just ran over her puppy."
"Something about the father," Patrick replied in a wondering tone.
"Yeah, I saw that too. His daughter's body was just found and then there he was smiling for the cameras."
"Maybe he was just putting on a brave face," Patrick suggested but he didn't sound convinced.
"Come on dad, you and I both know that if a father lost their daughter he wouldn't act like that," Kennedy said before realising what she had said, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry dad, bad choice of words."
"No, it's ok Ken," Patrick said. Lucy liked it when he called her Ken.
Just then the kettle started to whistle.
"Tea's ready," Kennedy said and her father turned away without another word. As he poured the tea. Mrs Tolliver choice that moment to walk into the kitchen.
"Hello Mrs Tolliver," Patrick said switching back to his smart, quirky self. Now that was putting on a brave face.
"Who are you?" Juniper asked.
"My name's Patrick Jane and this is my daughter Kennedy, we're here to help you."
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Kennedy asked stepping forward.
"Yes I would, thank you." Juniper replied.
Kennedy smirked at her father, only they could make someone overlook the fact that two perfect strangers had just walked into their house and started drinking their tea and eating their food.
Patrick poured out three cups of tea before handing one to Kennedy, one to Juniper and keeping one himself.
"You must be tired, why don't you sit down?" Kennedy said beckoning toward a small table. Juniper and Patrick sat down while Kennedy remained standing.
"It's nice and quiet in here isn't it," Patrick said.
"Soothing and calm," Kennedy added.
Patrick rook Juniper's hand and looked her deep in the eye.
"We've been watching you and your husband," Patrick finally said, "and I want you to understand that we understand what you're feeling right now."
This sent shivers up Kennedy's spine as she knew exactly what her father was referring to.
"You have no idea, believe me," Juniper said sharply.
"How would she know?" Kennedy thought, "Does she think she's the only person in the world who's ever lost a child."
"I do, I know, I know and I want to help you," Patrick said.
"You can't help me! What do you know?"
Kennedy was about a second away from slapping Juniper as she knew how much pain her father was probably in, but she stopped herself and instead she said "We know all sorts of things, you really only pretend to like skiing right?"
"Yes but….." was all she could get out before Patrick jumped right in.
"You're pleased that you're best friend recently gained some weight, about ten pounds."
"You wish you'd been more adventurous when you were younger, you love India, but you've never been there," Kennedy chirped in.
"You have trouble sleeping and you're favourite colour…." Patrick said.
"Is blue," Patrick and Kennedy said in unison.
"I don't understand, you're psychic?" Juniper asked.
Kennedy couldn't help but chuckle to herself, she heard those words said almost every day.
"No," her father said shaking his head.
"Just paying attention," Kennedy said.
"We used to make a good living as psychics," her father said coming back to earth.
"Pretending to be psychics," Kennedy added.
"We're telling you this because we want you to understand, there's no point hiding things from us." Patrick said.
Kennedy smiled as she watched the woman's face and realised her father had hit the nail on the head.
"Hiding what?" Juniper asked.
"You know what we see when we look at your husband?" Kennedy asked the rhetorical question, "We see a warm, loving, generous man, a little vain maybe, selfish, controlling, but a decent man."
"Yes," was all Juniper said.
"So why do you suspect him of murdering your daughter?" Patrick said getting straight to the point as usual.
"I don't, the McCluskey boy did it."
"You know what, my little sister, Charlotte, was always daddy's little princess. I was more mommy's little tomboy, but no matter what our differences were, my mom always saw right through us both when we were lying, I trust a mother's instinct, the police say the McCluskey boy did it, but you think their wrong," Kennedy said startling Patrick as this the first in a long time that she had openly mentioned Charlotte or her mother.
"Why?" Patrick asked.
"I don't know, I don't know, I…" said Juniper, almost in tears.
"Tell us," Kennedy said almost threateningly.
"The last year, they have been so strange with each other. And neither one would admit that anything was wrong. And I think that….." Juniper said pausing for a moment, fingering the missing poster of Mercy. "I think that she tried to tell me once, and I didn't – I…. God. Oh, God."
"Did you ask him if he killed her?" Kennedy asked.
"What would he said?"
"Most wives can tell when their husbands are lying," Patrick stated.
"Yes, yes," was all Juniper said before looking away.
"Juniper," Kennedy said, tapping Juniper on the arm, bringing her back.
"I—I don't want tea, The McCluskey boy did it."
This woman was obviously in pain, she knew her husband was a cold blooded murderer but she was still denying it, she must love him very much.
"Maybe," Patrick said.
"You both think he did it too?" she replied.
Finally she's accepted that he did it.
"Like I said before, I trust a mother's instinct." Kennedy said sitting down in the chair beside her father.
And in comes the backstabbing, murdering husband, who Kennedy would have shot by now if she had a gun. She and her father had been through a lot, and any man who kills his own daughter deserves to burn in hell.
"June? There you are," he said coming into the kitchen, "Hi. Who are you?" He asked Patrick and Kennedy.
"We're the police," Kennedy said shaking his hand, "Did you kill your daughter?" Kennedy had inherited her father's habit of getting straight to the point, something her mother could never do.
"How dare you?" Morgan asked outraged after looking from Kennedy, to Patrick, to his wife, then back Kennedy.
"She asked you a simple question, sir. Did you kill your daughter?" Patrick asked, trying his best to stay calm.
"No. I did not kill my daughter." As he said this Juniper let out a cry like a wounded animal. "Now, you two get the hell out of my house," he continued.
"You disgust me, you know that," Kennedy said taking a step forward, "There are a lot of people in the world who have lost children, and for you to murder your own is despicable, I hope you burn in hell, you miserable son of a bitch."
"June? June, what's the matter with you?" Morgan said looking at his wife as she got out of her chair, took one look at her husband before walking out of the room. "I'm going to have your badges," he continued.
"An innocent man would have punched us both by now," Patrick said, it being his turn to challenge the bad guy.
"I am going to make life miserable for you two, you come in here, you accost my wife. You cause trouble-" That was as all he got out of his empty threats as Juniper had walked back into the room, this time with a loaded pistol and was pointing it at her husband.
As soon as he saw the gun, he knew he was done for but he took one last desperate attempt at reasoning with his wife.
"June. June, honey please-"
And then the shots were fired. 5 shots square to the chest, and Morgan Tolliver went down. Kennedy could hear people thundering into the house and surrounding them with guns without having to turn round. I was only when one police officer pointed his gun directly at her father that their hands went into the air.
"Honestly, it's not as bad as it looks," Patrick said as Kennedy smiled at Lisbon. Trying to use their charm and good looks to get them out of this one.
Juniper had dropped her gun in all the commotion and was now walking out into the garden.
"Mrs Tolliver? Mrs Tolliver? Please wait." Lisbon said following her.
Kennedy turned to the police officer examining Morgan Tolliver.
"That bastard deserved to die," was all she said before she too walked out of the kitchen with her father close behind her.
2 weeks later
"Morning everybody," Kennedy shouted from the cab window. The Jane duo (as everyone else called them) jumped out of the cab and waved to the rest of the team as Patrick paid the cab driver.
"How was your flight?" Patrick asked as he got out of the car.
"Go away. You're both on suspension." Lisbon replied.
"He is, I'm not. I'm not old enough too legally be on suspension." Kennedy replied in her usual smart-ass tone.
"Maybe, but you have to have a parent or guardian with you to legally be on a crime scene, and your only living parent or guardian is on suspension."
That hurt. Kennedy didn't show it and Lisbon didn't mean it, but the way Lisbon had said it had brought back the feeling that it was all her fault for what had happened to her mother and sister. Luckily her father was right there to save the day. He thanked the cab driver and ran past a stunned Kennedy to catch up with Lisbon; Kennedy came out of her trance and started jogging to keep up.
"Mandated leave. Ends next week," he said.
"So come back next week." Lisbon said not even looking at Patrick.
"Hot enough for you?" Kennedy asked.
"Which one of you jackasses told them? It was you wasn't it Cho."
"Yes it was," Cho replied in his usual wooden tone.
"Of course he called us. It's Red John. Can't keep us out of this. Why would you want too? " Patrick asked.
"You got a man killed. There's consequences." Lisbon said, finally turning her head.
"A man that murdered his daughter because she wouldn't have sex with him anymore? Kennedy said in a "stating the obvious" tone.
"You didn't know that. You did not know that. If she hadn't left the diary-"
"But, she did, though. Be reasonable. This is our case." Kennedy said with what Lisbon called a crazed look in her eye. Both the Jane's got it whenever Red John was involved.
"Your case?" Lisbon said emphasising the "your."
"Red John's ours." Patrick said.
"Red John doesn't belong to anyone."
"He belongs to us."
"It's not my call. Rules are rules. Come back next week." Lisbon said walking inside, telling the guard not to let the Jane's in and leaving them both looking quite angry.
"We have Gregory Tannen, Caucasian, male, 43, single. We haven't opened him up yet, but-" the lady's voice droned on as Patrick and Kennedy had both entered the room having slipped past the guard at the door.
"Sorry we went over your head," Kennedy whispered to Lisbon.
"We'll redeem ourselves, we promise." Patrick added as they both showed their consultants badges to the autopsy woman, and motioned to Lisbon which was their own way of saying "I'm with her."
"You want redemption, be silent." Lisbon replied.
"Okay, we can learn to do that." Kennedy said, which only earned her a sharp "Shh," from Lisbon as the autopsy woman had now stopped talking and was currently staring at all three of them.
"Sorry," Lisbon mumbled.
The woman stared for another few seconds before continuing.
"Burn marks here indicate that the victim was subdued with a stun gun, standard civilian model, by the look of it. Death appears to be caused by several blows to back of the skull consistent with the bloody golf club found at the scene."
As she talked, Patrick and Kennedy had wondered round to the other table to look at the other victim, a young looking female, now an empty shell of the woman she once was.
"Female is Alison Randolph, 27, married, no children. They were found at her listed residence TOD looks to be early Saturday evening. On Alison we have the same stun gun marks, followed by binding with tight, black, plastic ligatures, frenzied cutting and stabbing assault of the torso, and abuse of the viscera."
"Textbook Red John," Cho said.
"Who found the bodies?" Lisbon asked.
"This one's husband, coming home from the airport Sunday morning with his brother. He's a pro golfer," Cho replied.
"Oh, yeah?" Wayne Rigsby, another CBI agent piped in.
"Price Randolph?" Cho asked. But to no avail, Rigsby had no idea who he was.
Now the Janes had wondered again, this time to look at the other body, Gregory Tannen, Kennedy's first thought of him. Gay.
"What's her deal with him? Do we know?" Lisbon asked.
"He's on file as one of her physicians," Cho replied.
"Making a house call?" Lisbon said thinking out loud.
"Lovers?" Rigsby asked.
"No. this one's gay," Kennedy said from across the room. Everyone in the room turned to look at Kennedy and her father.
"Dr. Wagner might know what their relationship was, He's here to make the formal ID," The autopsy woman replied.
"Gees, some people just don't trust us," Kennedy mumbled to her father which made him chuckle. As they walked out of the room Rigsby tapped Kennedy on the back.
"I bet you 10 bucks he's not gay," he said.
"You're on," she replied giving him a high five. Out of everyone on the team besides her own father, Kennedy got on with Rigsby the best.
Dr. Wagner was sitting outside with his head in his hands when Lisbon started talking to him.
"Dr. Wagner. Hi. I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon, California Bureau of Investigation. What's your connection with the victims?" she asked as Dr. Wagner stood up and shook her hand.
"Well, I work with Gregory. Dr Tannen and the Randolph family are long-time clients of our practice." Wagner replied.
"Are house calls the norm at your practise?" Lisbon asked.
"No, Gregory and Alison were close friends," Wagner replied.
"Lovers?" Rigsby asked.
"No. He was gay No, they were just friends."
"Told ya, now pay up," Kennedy whispered to Rigsby.
"I don't care what anyone else says, you two are psychic," he said handing over a crisp 10 dollar bill.
"No such thing as psychics," she whispered back, cramming the bill into her jeans pocket.
"What in God's name happened to them?" Wagner asked.
"Looks like Red John," Rigsby replied.
"Who's Red John?" Wagner asked.
"We don't know who did this. We'll be in touch probably. Thank you," Lisbon replied. As they walked away Patrick and Kennedy couldn't take their eyes off Wagner until they had to, to stop them from bumping into anything.
Brett Partridge, was showing the team how Red John had killed Alison and Gregory and Kennedy and Patrick could tell he was having a lot of fun doing it.
"Red John enters here," Brett said mimicking what Red John would have done, "Excuse me, sorry, he comes around here, he waits for her expecting her to come in alone. Only thing, her friend Tannen chose the wrong night to come over for a Richard Gere and ice-cream orgy. So Red John zaps them both with his trusty stun gun, and-Excuse me. Grabs a five iron from the bag here, and bang, crushes Tannen's skull," he said grabbing a golf club and bringing it down right where Tannen's head had been days earlier. "Then he takes his sweet time dealing with Alison how he likes," Brett jabbered on, "She's a nice big girl, so unless he's pretty strong, I'm guessing he grabbed her by the arms and dragged her down the hall….." was all Kennedy heard as she and her dad made their way into the victims bedroom, the room where the horrible deed had been done. The blood was stained into the duvet and would probably never come out. Patrick wandered over to the chest of drawers opposite the bed with Kennedy close behind him; they both looked at a picture of Alison and Price, laughing with Tag, Price's brother looking as if he wanted to kill everything in his path. Kennedy then looked over at the card stuck to the mirror with the quote on it, "today is the first day of the rest of your life." Kennedy recognised the quote, her dad had told her that that was the first thing her mom had said to her after she was born, and she said the same thing when Charlotte was born.
"I miss ya, mom," she whispered only loud enough for Patrick to hear as she stroked the card. Then they looked up, and they both saw it, the symbol of death, the symbol that plagued Kennedy's nightmares and would sometimes cause her to wake up screaming, if she even got to sleep at all which she and her father rarely did, the red smiley face drawn in Alison Randolph's blood, the symbol that would forever remain Patrick and Kennedy of that faithful day. That they would both run to hell and back to change.
5 years earlier
"He says he's sorry for all the pain he's caused you and your mother, deeply sorry," Patrick Jane said in a trance like state to a crying woman in the middle of a TV studio audience, with his 8 year old daughter beside him also in a trance.
"He asks you to forgive him, can you do that Jenny?" Kennedy asked in her trilly 8 year old voice. Kennedy was wearing a sliver dress, the same colour as her dad's suit but was wearing sneakers underneath as she had said "Mom, I put a dress on, don't push it," even at 8 she was still a little madam. While Charlotte got all her father's looks, blond corkscrew curls, pale green eyes and a slightly square jawline, Kennedy was the spitting image of her mother, they both had chestnut brown wavy hair, gentle hazel eyes, a heart shaped face and a Scottish lit to their voices. While Kennedy was her mother in looks, she was her father in personality, well except for her mother's temper. It was the same with Charlotte; she was her father in looks but her mother in spirit. Angela Ruskin Jane was the best mother that Kennedy and Charlotte could ask for, Kennedy had her tomboy style and Charlotte had her sweet nature.
Jenny was clearly upset, but this was what the Jane's fed off of, People's belief. Without it they were just another circus act, on the streets, with a hat to catch the dimes in.
Jenny franticly nodded, saying that she forgave her father.
"He needs to hear it," Patrick insisted.
"I forgive you daddy, I forgive you," Jenny squeaked.
"Oh yes, He's smiling now, there are tears of joy," Kennedy stated as if he was standing right in front of her but neither of them where talking to anybody.
"He says 'God bless you and keep you.' He's gone," Patrick announced and as the audience began to clap, Kennedy and Patrick both grabbed each other's hands as if to stop each other from fainting. Without a doubt they were both very good actors.
"Amazing, amazing, amazing," said the female TV presenter.
"She's amazed," added the male TV presenter as all four of them sat down, "Patrick, Kennedy,"
"One second," said Patrick as they both took a drink of their tea in front of them.
"Give them some time,"
"Absolutely, come on back to us,"
"I think we're back," Kennedy said after she put her mug down.
"They're back, Kennedy I'm even more impressed at you, and you're only 8 years old?"
"That's right Davis, I'll be 9 in April," Kennedy replied.
"So were you trained in the psychic trade?" Davis asked.
"Being able to communicate with the dead isn't something that can be enforced, you have to be born with it, my dad's been training me the past two years to do it as well as he does," Kennedy stated.
"And Patrick, you have another daughter, am I right, how old is she?" The other presenter, Katie, said.
"That's right, little Charlotte, she's 6 and a half," Patrick replied.
"Is she going to be joining you in the field any time soon," Davis asked.
"I was trained from 6, but I couldn't do it properly until I was at least 7, so there's always hope," Kennedy said.
"Always hope, so is she watching at home now?" Katie asked.
"Oh no, it's way past her bedtime, but my wife, is watching, I know that for a fact," Patrick replied.
"What's her name?" Davis asked.
"Angela Jane," Kennedy chimed in.
"Hello to you, Angela, I'm telling you now, you gave birth to prodigy, right here." Davis said as the audience burst into laughter.
"So, Patrick, I understand that you're both also sort of paranormal detectives, is that right?" Davis asked.
"We try to help the police when we can,"
"And you're helping them hunt this scary serial killer, what's his name?" Davis asked Katie.
"Red John."
"And there she blows classic Red John smiley face." Partridge said as the rest of the team made their way into the bedroom, "Drawn in the victim's blood, clockwise, with three fingers of his right hand, wearing a rubber kitchen glove, I 'm stocked to finally see one in the flesh."
"This isn't Red John!" Kennedy announced turning round to face everyone else, her dad only milliseconds after her.
"Right," Partridge said sarcastically.
"Red John thinks of himself as a showman, an artist, he has a strong sense of theatre." Patrick exclaimed.
"In all the previous killings he made sure that the first thing that anyone sees, is the face on the wall," Kennedy added, "You see the face first, and you know. You know what's happened and you feel dread. Then and only then, do you see the body of the victim."
"Always in that order. Here it's the opposite, the first thing you see is the body, and you have to look around to see the face on the wall, doesn't play nearly as well, does it?" Patrick explained.
"Depends on your taste I suppose," Lisbon said.
"Are you kidding me?" Kennedy thought, "She's desperate for this not to be Red John just so she has less work to do."
"No, come on. The killer could've painted on the correct wall here, but he didn't," Patrick said shooting her down.
"Because he didn't know better, because he isn't Red John!" Kennedy shouted. The rest of the team were right. Red John had made the Janes go crazy.
"That's interesting," Partridge added even more sarcastically than before.
"Can you be any more of a condescending ass?" Kennedy asked.
"Excuse me?" He replied shocked.
"You know what your problem is my friend? You enjoy your work a little too much, you're a ghoul," Patrick added.
Then Kennedy finished it off with, "If you don't gen horny reading Fangoria, I'm Johnny Depp and he's Britney Spears."
"I resent that," Partridge said, clearly under pressure as he had been rumbled.
"This is you trying to redeem yourselves, is it?" Lisbon asked.
"Sorry, he irks us, he's irksome," Patrick replied.
They walked out of the bedroom and as Kennedy passed Lisbon she said, "You don't need us here," before they both left the house.
Kennedy and Patrick both hid around the corner off the offices the team were working in while they were away from Sacramento, they both knew Lisbon was going to ask them to come back, she had too, they couldn't survive without them, they had been standing there for about half an hour and they both started to get cramps when they heard Lisbon tell Cho and Rigsby to go talk to the husband when Patrick's phone started to ring, sure enough it was Lisbon, he answered the call and put it on speaker so Kennedy could hear.
"Hey, so you might be right about this case. Might be, thanks for the insight," Lisbon said through the phone.
"Bingo," Patrick and Kennedy mouthed at each other.
"So you're saying, you admit you can't survive 10 minutes without us?" Kennedy asked.
"No. Did I say that? I'm acknowledging the fact that you might be right, that's all, I mean, if you wanted to come back, I couldn't stop you," Lisbon answered.
"Are you asking us to come back?" Patrick asked.
"Yeah, fine I'm asking you to come back," Lisbon admitted.
"Why?" Patrick asked.
"Because, because you're useful to the team," Lisbon said, trying to turn on the charm.
"Say please," Kennedy said.
"No. No, I won't say "please." Go screw yourselves," Lisbon replied. Kennedy could hear her hanging up and throwing the phone down. She then heard her mumble "Jack-asses," to herself. Now was the time to pounce. They both waltz into the room like they had only just arrived. They could both sense Lisbon rolling her eyes. Then a young redheaded woman walked past them.
"Good morning," Patrick greeted.
"Can I help you?" she asked. Kennedy smiled another person whose life the Jane duo could unintentionally ruin.
"You must be Van Pelt. Pleasure. Patrick Jane," He said shaking her hand.
"Kennedy Jane," Kennedy said doing the same as her father.
"Oh, hi. Good to meet you. Agent Cho said you'd left town." Van Pelt said.
"No, nowhere to go," Patrick replied.
"Ok, do you want that desk over there or this one? I mean, that one gets more light," she said pointing to the desks.
"That one, more light, by all means," Kennedy answered.
Van Pelt smiled at them both before walking away. Patrick and Kennedy both had the same idea at the same time and they both turned to speak to Lisbon.
"Very pleasant addition to the Serious Crimes family," Kennedy commented as they both walked past.
"Hi. When did you get here?" said Lisbon so naturally, neither Patrick nor Kennedy could tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
"We're a full service private practice," Dr Wagner said as Patrick and Kennedy wandered around his office while Lisbon talked to Dr Wagner, "We deliver primary care, cosmetic surgery, psychotherapy, sports medicine, you name it."
"What's the African connection?" Patrick asker as Kennedy and himself admired the wide variety of African decorations.
"It's what this place is all about. Half our profits go to build and staff basic health clinics in poor African communities," Wagner replied as he searched up Alison Randolph on his computer, "All right, here we are." He and Lisbon sad down on large African themed chairs while Patrick and Kennedy remained standing.
"It's a thin file, Alison was a healthy young woman," Wagner stated.
"Psychiatric history?" Lisbon asked.
"She didn't have one," Wagner replied.
"STDs? Abortions? Unexplained injuries?"
"No, aside from some routine check-ups with me, it's all Dr Tannen, aesthetic work," Wagner replied. Patrick and Kennedy were now staring at a shelf of criminal history books and books on serial killers, which for some reason put Lucy off.
"Did Tannen keep a diary?" Kennedy asked, "Our last case was solved because the victim kept a diary."
"Diary? I don't think so," Wagner replied.
"Getting back to Alison Randolph," Lisbon cut in, "How was her marriage, do you think? Happy? Unhappy?"
"About 6 months ago, Dr Tannen asked my advice, Alison asked him to get her a supply of birth-control pills, off the books, which is strictly against AMA code, I said 'Sure, do it,' better us that some Tijuana drugstore," Wagner explained.
"Why the secrecy?" Lisbon asked.
"Price Randolph had a vasectomy, April of '02," Wagner replied.
"Alison was sleeping with someone," Kennedy whispered to her dad.
"My thoughts exactly," Patrick whispered back.
"If there's anything else I can do," Wagner said when they were out in the corridor heading for the door.
"I appreciate that," Lisbon replied. As they were walking toward the door, Patrick doubled back to talk to the doctor one last time.
"Actually, there is. My daughter and I, we're out of sleeping pills, can you fix us up? Anything strong will do," he said.
"Sure. Come in for a consultation. We'll squeeze you in this afternoon," Wagner replied.
"Oh, no, we were kind of hoping to get something now. Trying to avoid the chitchat," Kennedy said moving to stand beside her father.
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't feel comfortable prescribing without some sort of chitchat," Wagner replied.
"We understand, no problem, we'll call you, maybe," Patrick said as they both turned around and made for the door.
"I like the husband for it," Cho was saying at the table, it was Kennedy's turn to pick the place and she had chosen Chinese, "He hires some hooker to create an alibi, flies home, fillets the spouse, flies back again. It's a classic, elaborate and clever, but ultimately stupid plan."
"How can a plan be clever and stupid at the same time?" Kennedy asked, but before Cho could answer Patrick jumped in with his theory.
"You looked at his PGA tournament record?" he asked.
"It's not bad. Six mil career earnings," Cho replied.
"For coming in 2nd and 3rd, you put him on the 18th tee with a big one on the line like night follows day, he'll shank it," Kennedy said.
"He's a choker. He doesn't have the nerve to kill his wife, didn't do it," Patrick added as he took a drink out his soda.
"Are you suggesting we drop a prime suspect just because he's never won a major?" Lisbon asked.
"Oh, no, no, no. We're just making idle conversation," Kennedy said as Patrick started to roll a straw across the table seemingly with him mind and Kennedy started to do the same thing except hers was balanced on a bottle cap.
"How'd you do that?" Van Pelt asked.
"Telekinesis," Kennedy replied.
"They blew on it," Cho exclaimed.
"That is another way of doing it," Patrick smirked.
"Miss Jane, Mr Jane, I have a question regarding your previous career paths," Van Pelt said.
"Fire away," Kennedy replied, but Patrick could feel her body tensing up.
"When you met with other psychics, real psychics could they tell you were just pretending?" she asked.
"There's no such thing as real psychics," Patrick said simply.
"I beg to differ. My cousin Yolanda's a psychic," Grace replied.
"Your cousin is deluded or dishonest, or both," Kennedy stated.
"Hey, steady-" Rigsby started.
"No. He's entitled to his opinion, he's wrong, though, she has power," Van Pelt said.
"Thank you," Kennedy said to the waitress who had just put the bill down at their table.
"She can communicate with the other side, I've seen her do it myself," Van Pelt continued.
"She let you speak with someone that's gone?" Kennedy asked.
"Yes," Van Pelt said simply.
"Someone you love and still miss very much?" Patrick added.
"Yes," Van Pelt repeated.
"You wanted her power to be real, so it was," Kennedy stated.
"No," Van Pelt said.
"Jesus, this woman is really desperate for this to be real," Kennedy thought.
"You're so sure you're right. Science don't know everything,"Rigsby jumped in defending Van Pelt, instant lover boy if ever Kennedy saw one.
"500 years ago, radio would have seemed like magic." Van Pelt stated.
"Exactly," Rigsby agreed.
"500 years in the future, it could be totally normal to communicate with the other side," Van Pelt continued.
"The other side?" Patrick questioned looking from Van Pelt to Rigsby then to his food before continuing. "Your father's a football coach, yeah?"
"How'd you know that?" Van Pelt asked.
"We really are secret psychics working for the government, no it's obvious from your whole demeanour," Kennedy answered.
"Our point is, didn't Dad always say life is like football?" Patrick added, "When that final whistle blows, the game is over. Done, there is no more. There is no other side."
"This is it. Lobster and bread rolls and nautical kitsch, and then…nothingness," Kennedy said finishing her father's sentence for him.
"You're both poor, sad people. The Kingdom of God is a real place," Van Pelt said.
"Okay, later tonight, when Rigsby asks you to come back to his hotel room…" Patrick said as Rigsby started chocking on his food.
"Say yes," Kennedy finished.
"Excuse me?" Van Pelt asked looking slightly angry, another sign that she liked Rigsby back.
"I know, you were planning on refusing him very curtly, first week on the job, you wanna set a tone, no monkey business. But why not? Rigsby's an excellent lover, I'm sure," Patrick continued.
"Tough, but fair. Right? Right?" Kennedy asked as she looked at Rigsby and Van Pelt who were both raging.
"The Kingdom of God is a real place, Mr and Miss Jane, and you both have immoral souls," Van Pelt stated.
"Oh, I do so hope your wrong," Patrick said trying to strike a joke but Kennedy was staring down at her plate, the laughter, gone from her eyes.
"We used to believe in all that stuff," she said slightly raising her head, "We went to church every Sunday, without fail, but we were both blinded by our own arrogance," she said, now looking at Van Pelt, "and you need to know, that when you mess around with that stuff like we did, when you play with fire, people get burned, we both learned that the hard way."
Kennedy got up from her chair, grabbed her bag and jacket and marched out with tears in her eyes, the first time she had cried since she was 8. Patrick grabbed his jacket and followed her out leaving the rest of the team shocked, and Van Pelt feeling really guilty, but she didn't know why.
"She explodes into action."
Patrick and Kennedy had the animal channel on and were watching some boring documentary about the Cat family.
"I'm sorry, I flew off the handle at Van Pelt," Kennedy said apologetically.
"It's ok, Ken, you inherited your mother's temper, I'll give you that. If she were here she would be proud." Patrick laughed. "You were right though, with all that 'play with fire and people get burned' stuff."
"It's what we did and mom's gone because of it," Kennedy replied stiffly. "I miss her, and Charlotte," Kennedy replied.
"I do too, you, Charlotte and your mother were the best things that ever happened to me, and I can't lose you, not like I lost them," Patrick said.
"You'll never lose me," Kennedy promised.
Before Patrick could answer, they both heard a scuffle of feet outside their door, and then they heard something being slipped under the door.
"I'll see what it is," Kennedy offered.
She slid off the bed and waddled over to the door and picked up the piece of paper which had just been slipped through. She opened the letter, but before she could read a single word all she could see was the red smiley face that was there instead of a signature.
"Dad!" Kennedy shouted.
Patrick was off the bed like a shot as he grabbed the note out of Kennedy's hands. As soon as he saw the smiley face, Kennedy could tell what he was thinking and at the same second they were both out the door and looking around. They could both see a man all in black just turning the corner at the end of the corridor. They both bolted after him, Kennedy slightly faster that Patrick, both trying their best to keep up with the hooded figure in front of them. They turned the corner and charged down the hall and toward the emergency staircase. When she made it to the door, Kennedy practically kicked the door down.
"I'm not going to let him get away again," Kennedy thought to herself, but she could tell that her father was thinking the same thing.
They both peered over the banister to see how far down the hooded figure was, and sure enough they could see a black glove grabbing at the bannister about 3 flights down. They charged further down going about two at a time on the stairs. As they came to a turn in one Patrick tripped over the last step, sending him smashing into Kennedy and them both smashing against the wall in front of them. They gathered themselves quickly before pushing open the fire door, the only place the hooded figure could have gone, and ran out. They ran for a few meters before stopping and looking around for the nodded figure. Nothing, but the dark night stood before them.
"Greetings, old friend, it's been a while," Van Pelt read, "I hope you are keeping well. I am thriving and happy. I have 12 wives now and will soon begin courting Number 13. Why can't you catch me? You must feel so powerless and stupid and sad. Oh, well. All the best, Red John."
The entire CBI team was gathered in the Janes' room after finding out about the letter and the chase. Van Pelt still looked very guilty from the dinner table. Patrick could tell the rest of the team had told her about Angela, Charlotte and Red John, and she was waiting for the right moment to apologize to Kennedy.
"That sounds like the real deal to me," Cho said.
"Sounds like Red John. It's not. Red John wouldn't risk capture just to taunt us," Kennedy said not even looking up from the floor.
"So the real killer's trying to throw us off track?" Rigsby asked.
"Cho, find out where Price Randolph a half an hour ago, Rigsby, check the hotel security cameras. Get those over to Forensics," Lisbon said pointing to the envelope.
Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby left the room leaving Kennedy, Patrick and Van Pelt alone. As Van Pelt went to leave she turned to Kennedy who had risen her head when Lisbon started talking.
"I'm so sorry about what happened at the restaurant. I had no idea, Lisbon told me about what happened to your mother and sister, and it's awful. If I had known at the time, I wouldn't have said anything about psychics," she said apologetically.
"Did Rigsby ask you to his room yet?" Kennedy said with a watery laugh, making Van Pelt giggle.
"No and he never will, now put that idea out of your head missy, hey, you ok?" she asked turning to Patrick.
"Absolutely," Patrick replied.
"Get some sleep,"
Van Pelt turned and walked out of the room leaving Patrick and Kennedy to face their demons alone, they thought for a few seconds, before standing and leaving the room after they were sure that Van Pelt and the others were out of earshot.
The Janes sat in an open 24 hours diner. Patrick sat back in his seat, sipping a soda staring at the table while Kennedy frantically scribbled in a Diary. She wrote a few sentences more before turning to a page and underlining one word multiple times so if you were to flick through the Diary you would stop at that page.
"Confess"
The phone rang multiple times, the Janes just ignored it. It was Patrick who was writing in the Diary this time, with Kennedy hunched forward in her chair, looking at what he was writing. They had both come into the office and were both wearing the same clothes as yesterday, along with the unbrushed hair, the bags under the eyes and the bad breath, you didn't need to be a mentalist to tell neither of them had slept a wink that night. The team entered the office, all groomed and ready. At first they thought the Janes were sleeping but when Rigsby answered the phone that the turned round.
"Good Morning," Patrick said.
"Neither of you slept, did you?" Lisbon said and Kennedy replied with a slurp of her soda. Lisbon opened her phone and started to dial, ten points to whoever guesses who she was calling.
"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment with Dr Wagner, please. It's urgent," she said into the phone, "Jane, Patrick and Kennedy Jane, Yeah I'll hold."
"Forensics maybe got a break, Blood on the cloth in the envelope is Alison Randolph's," Rigsby said, "But they found a hair in there doesn't belong to her or Tannen. Guess who it does belong to."
"Ooh, ooh, ooh, I know, I know, I know," Kennedy said waving her hand in the air.
"It's yours, Tag." Cho exclaimed on the video. "Amazing, huh? Science."
"Price and Tag? That's what their parents named them?" Van Pelt asked.
"That's not the worst I've heard, I went on a camping trip with mom, dad and my sister when I was 7 and the children in the tent next to us were called Odin, Thor, Freya, Loki and baby Graham,"
"I feel sorry for baby Graham," Rigsby said.
"I feel sorry for Odin," Patrick cut in.
"Yeah, Freya, Thor and Loki are bad-ass names, but Odin?" Kennedy said.
"Hush," Lisbon silenced them and they turned back to the screen.
"This is insane. I didn't….. I didn't kill Alison." Tag said on the computer.
"How do you explain your hair in the envelope?" Cho asked.
"Either it was a mistake or I'm being framed," Tag replied.
"Who would want to frame you? We don't want to if that's what you're thinking," Cho said.
Patrick and Kennedy leaned over to Van Pelt and whispered in her ear. "He and Alison were lovers," they said in unison.
"Who would want to frame you Tag?" Cho asked again.
"My brother," Tag replied after a pause.
"Why would he wanna do that?" Cho asked.
"Alison and I were lovers,"
"I think you are psychic, you're both just afraid to admit it," Van Pelt said turning to look at the Janes before remembering what a touchy subject psychics were for the Janes and clamped her mouth shut, but the comment made Kennedy laugh, which made Van Pelt relax.
"So…." Dr Wagner said as he sat down in a chair and the Janes sat on the African style sofa, "Why is it you can't sleep?"
Kennedy could see her father was struggling with the question, as was she. So she decided to change to subject, because neither of them really wanted to tell him the reason why they couldn't sleep.
"Because we can't get the good pills without talking to a doctor," she said.
Wagner chuckled at her smart-ass tone before continuing, "And you don't like talking to doctors."
"They always want to be the smartest people in the room, don't they?" Patrick replied.
"When, if fact, that's us, obviously," Kennedy added.
"You protect your core self very fiercely," Wagner said.
"Well done, Sherlock," Kennedy replied savagely.
"What do you think is the reason for that?" Wagner asked, ignoring Kennedy's comment.
"You know, this is exactly how we imagined it would be, you gonna ask me about my mother?" Kennedy asked.
"Do you want be to ask you about your mother?" Wagner replied with a laugh.
"We just want to sleep," Patrick cut in before he could actually ask about Kennedy's mother.
"So, what is it that keeps you awake?" Wagner said. Looking triumphant that he had found a question neither of them could wiggle their way out of.
The reason. The reason for not sleeping. The reason for not wanting to share backstories, it wasn't just because the Janes were ashamed of them. They were just too painful to remember.
"What's his name? Red John?" Davis asked Katie.
"That's right, Red John," 8 year old Kennedy replied.
"He's killed at least 8 women that we know of," Patrick added.
"The police asked us to get a psychic fix on him, to try to get a sense of who this man is," Kennedy continued.
"How do you do that exactly? Get a psychic fix on someone," Davis asked completely buying their whole story.
"Well Davis, true demonic evil burns like fire. It burns with a terrible, cold, dark flame," Patrick answered.
"Daddy, I'm tired!"
"I know baby, we're almost home. You did good today."
"Rope in the marks?"
"Rope in the marks."
"We force ourselves to look into that flame, and we see an image of the evil doer," Kennedy continued.
"Finally, we're home, hey look, mommy still has her bedroom lamp on!"
"She's probably reading her book while she waits for us."
"In this case, Red John," Patrick added.
"Bills, more bills,"
"Charlie left her tricycle in front of the stairs again."
"When will that girl learn to clean up after herself?"
"He's an ugly, tormented little man," Kennedy said as if Red John was right before her.
"Look daddy. Mommy left us a note on the door."
"A lonely soul," Patrick added.
"Yes she has, baby. Let's see what it says."
"Sad, very sad," Kennedy finished.
Dear Mr and Miss Jane,
I don't like to be slandered in the media.
Especially by dirty, money grabbing frauds.
If you were real psychics, instead of dishonest little worms.
You wouldn't need to open the door to see what I've done to your lovely family.
First, there was a creek, a smile, a scream of a scared child crying for her mother, and then Patrick and Kennedy Jane's world came crashing.
"Mr Jane, Mr Jane? What is it that keeps you awake? " Dr Wagner asked again, waiting for an answer.
The Janes looked out the window once before sitting forward on the couch, Kennedy leaned even further forward and Patrick put his head in his hands armed with a completely fictional story, a kinder way of telling the Doctor to mind his own beeswax.
"You know, when I was a boy, we had a farm. There was a lot of work. I was kind of a lazy kid," Patrick said as Kennedy smirked to herself, knowing that the only thing about the story so-far that was true was that her father had been a really lazy kid.
"Yes?" Wagner asked, beckoning him to continue.
"I'd always be trying to get my little brother Jimmy, to do my chores for me." The only Aunts or Uncles that Kennedy had was her mother's brother, Danny Ruskin, and she hadn't talked to him since she and her father called him to tell him what Red John had done. Her father had been an only child.
"One day, I promised him a dollar if he'd cut the firewood. Well…. He opened up an artery in his leg on the saw, and he bled to death, died, doing my chores for me," Patrick said with tears in his eyes, he was such a good actor Kennedy was starting to believe it herself.
"You know, that's almost exactly the same thing that happened to Johnny Cash," Dr Wagner said.
"Crap, we've been rumbled," Kennedy thought.
"Is it really?" Patrick asked surprised, "Wow, that's spooky!"
"Early, this morning, the bodies of psychic wonder Patrick Jane's wife and youngest daughter, Angela and Charlotte Jane, were discovered, seemed to have been found by Jane and his oldest daughter Kennedy late last night, the pair was found clutching the corpses for dear life. Patrick was even said to be whispering apologies to Charlotte, while Lucy seemed to be lying next to her mother, begging her to wake up. The Janes were found this morning by the mail man, when Patrick didn't open the door he decided something was off, and then he went inside only to make the gruesome discovery. The murder is said to have been committed by notorious serial killer, Red John, but as he seems to have broken pattern this time by killing a child. So that leaves us with one final question. The Janes may have the power to communicate with the other world, but do they have the nerve to send someone there? With people as mentally unstable as the Janes, anything's possible. Now back to-" The news reporter didn't get any further in her report as Kennedy has snatched the camera from the cameraman's hands, threw it on the floor and stomped on it.
"Listen here, you bitch!" Kennedy spat at the reporter, tears streaming down her face, "That's my mother and six year old sister, do you really think I would do something like this to her?" Kennedy was then grabbed violently from behind by two policemen.
"Kennedy Daniella Jane, you are under arrest for the murder of Angela Christine Ruskin Jane and Charlotte Anne Jane, I'm sure we could build an assault charge on top of that as well. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say can and will be used as evidence in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney if you cannot afford one then one will be provided for you," the policeman droned on. Kennedy turned her head to the side as she heard a trolley like noise coming from the house, then she started to sob. Her mother and sister's bodies were being removed from the house. One of the body bags was tiny and Kennedy knew that that was little Charlotte. Charlotte hated tight spaces, she wouldn't like that.
"Mommy!" she sobbed and sunk to her knees as she was handcuffed behind her back. She sat there what felt like hours even though it was only a few seconds, before she felt strong arms hugging her round the shoulders. She looked up and saw two watery green eyes staring back at her, her father. He pulled her close and she sobbed into his chest.
"We're going to find him, Kenny," he whispered in her ear, his voice shaking from crying, "We're going to find him and we're going to kill him." Kennedy didn't say anything but frantically nodded her head. He kissed her forehead and his daughter was prised from his arms and pushed into a cop car.
"Mr Jane, you'll have to come down town for questioning," one of the police officers exclaimed.
"You have to let my daughter go, she didn't do anything wrong!"
"She attacked somebody unprovoked, that's a crime in Malibu and in all of California," the police officer said trying to keep his cool.
"Unprovoked! That evil woman was telling everyone that she murdered her mother! Please she had nothing to do with this. She's 8 years old for crying out loud," Patrick pleaded.
"Even if she didn't do this we have reason to believe that Miss Jane is mentally unstable, she'll be going to the Malibu young persons crimes unit for the mentally ill until further notice."
"Mentally ill! An insane asylum!" Patrick burst from the cop's grip and started to chase the car that contained his daughter, he chased it for as far as he could before stopping and crying out like a wounded animal. In the space of 24 hours his gorgeous wife and beautiful daughters were either dead or as good as.
Dr Wagner wrote out the prescription for sleeping pills for Patrick and Kennedy but before he handed it to Patrick he hesitated.
"Everything you told me is total fiction, isn't it?" It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Patrick said simply with a smile but Kennedy could see he was in the most pain he'd felt in a while.
"Why?" The doctor asked, "I can tell you're both in real pain. Why not tell the truth?" Patrick didn't answer so Kennedy did it for him.
"The truth is ours."
Dr Wagner looked down and decided not to pursue the matter. "I hear you," he said instead.
"Thank you," Patrick said taking the prescription from the doctor's hand as the three of them headed for the door.
In the hall Kennedy decided it was time to put their stunt into play, she had worn her running shoes as instructed and had taken one of Lisbon's many guns in case the situation presented itself. Her father had never touched a gun in his life but Kennedy was like her mother who could name every firearm under the sun. She had asked her father for a gun for the last 3 birthdays but her father insisted she was too young.
"Oh, yes," she said clapping her hands together as if she had just remembered something right at that moment, "Remember when we were talking about Tannen the other day? We asked you if he kept a diary and you said he did. There's no diary among his effects."
"No," Dr Wagner cut in.
"I'm sorry, no?" Patrick asked.
"No. You have it wrong. I didn't think he kept a diary," Wagner insisted.
"Strange," Kennedy wondered.
"Then it must have been someone else who told us," Patrick concluded.
"Either that, or we're going mad," Kennedy said raising her eyebrows as they walked all little bit more toward the exit before her father spoke again.
"But I definitely, 100 percent, remember hearing that Tannen kept a diary."
"Well, it is strange. But why does it matter if he kept a diary?" Wagner asked.
"You're right it doesn't matter," Kennedy brushed it aside.
"Only, I was thinking, why do magicians have beautiful girl assistants?" Patrick asked Wagner.
"In other words why does my dad drag me around everywhere?" Kennedy added with a smirk.
"Why?" Wagner asked oblivious.
"They're reliable distractors of attention," Kennedy answered him.
"People will look at a beautiful girl for a long amount of time before they look where they should be looking if they wanna see how the trick really works," Patrick continued.
Wagner smirked a little confused as to what Tannen's diary had to do with magician's assistants.
"Anyhow, we'll send over a couple of Forensics guys tomorrow to search his office and locate that diary," Kennedy said as she and her father stepped toward the exit and Wagner opened the door with his key card.
"Didn't they already search his office?" Wagner asked.
"Oh, they never do it thoroughly the first time," Patrick answered.
"Yeah, and now they'll know exactly what to look for," added Kennedy, "once more for luck, yeah?"
"Gotta be there somewhere," said Patrick.
"Thanks for everything, doc," Kennedy said in a child-like fashion and wrapped her arms around Dr Wagner's waist, he slapped her back as he returned the hug. As Kennedy's arms came back round she dipped into Wagner's pocket and removed his key card.
"Good night," Dr Wagner bid them farewell.
"Good night," Patrick replied as they stepped out into the cold night air, Kennedy turned round and waved at Dr Wagner as the door closed behind them.
When they were confident that the doctor was out of earshot Patrick turned to his daughter.
"Did you get it?" he asked.
"Yep," she replied flashing the key card.
He gave her a down low high five, "come on, he's gone back to the office."
Dr Wagner was frantically searching through folder after folder when the Janes walked into Dr Tannen's office.
"Lost something?" Kennedy asked leaning against the doorframe and propping her leg up.
"How did you get in?" Dr Wagner answered her question with a question trying to find an excuse as to what he was doing.
"The door was open," Patrick said simply.
"I think I left my phone in your office," Kennedy stated innocently.
"The door wasn't open," Dr Wagner insisted. Kennedy couldn't help but stare at her dad's right jacket pocket as that was where the stolen key card currently resided.
"Must've been. Here we are," she said turning her head to look at the doctor. She and her father looked around the room with surprised looks on their face's even though they knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it.
"What are you doing?" Patrick asked.
"I confess, the temptation the play detective was a little too strong, I was looking for that diary, I got a little carried away," he replied. That was weak, even for him.
"No kidding," Kennedy laughed.
"But no diary?" Patrick asked.
"No diary," Dr Wagner confirmed.
"Maybe we should have a gander. We're good at finding things," Kennedy offered.
"Be my guest," Wagner replied. Kennedy took the right side of the room while Patrick took the left. She ran her fingers through the many book shelves while Patrick checked the side tables. Kennedy looked at her feet before dropping to the ground and shoving her arm under the bookshelf. The small, red, rectangle book came lose and fell into her hands and she stood up.
"Dad, I found it," she presented the diary to her father proudly.
"Nice one, Kenny," he said taking the diary from her had opening it to a random page.
"Eureka," Kennedy whispered as Dr Wagner tried to look at what Patrick was reading, but her father slammed the book shut before he could.
"Dr Wagner, thanks for your help," Patrick extended his arm for Dr Wagner to shake.
Dr Wagner hesitated before shaking his hand and Patrick and Kennedy grinned and practically skipped out of the room.
"Miss Jane," Dr Wagner called after them, bringing them to a halt and turning back to face the doctor, "your phone."
"Right," Kennedy said in a silly me tone as they both headed into Dr Wagner's office and Kennedy found her phone which had fallen down the side of the chair.
"Yep got it, silly of me," she said without turning round with both her and her father with their backs to the doctor.
"Well, goodbye again," Patrick continued cheerfully.
"Wait," Dr Wagner said agitated. Patrick and Kennedy turned round to face him, only to find him with a loaded gun in his hand pointing right at them. Patrick and Kennedy stopped in their tracks and looked down the mouth of the gun.
"Give me the diary," he demanded.
Patrick reluctantly handed it over and Dr Wagner opened it at a page and flicked through it. Stopping at a page with a word in bold underlined very thickly.
"Confess"
It was then Dr Wagner realised he had been played like a violin.
"That's very amusing," He laughed.
"We try," Kennedy smiled at him.
Dr Wagner threw the diary onto the desk, scratched his chin and turned back to the Janes.
"I knew, I knew it might be a trick, but I...," he paused, "I had to be sure."
"Yes, that's how the trick works," Kennedy shot back sarcastically.
"What led you to me?" Dr Wagner asked, "Not that I'm saying I did it. I'm just asking."
"If you didn't do it what's the gun for?!" Kennedy shouted at him.
Kennedy had been seething with rage as soon as she came in, but she didn't decide to show it until now, this bastard had mocked her about her little sister's death. She wasn't doing down without a fight.
"What led you to me?" he repeated the question more sternly.
"When we first met, you said you didn't know who Red John was," Patrick answered as he was a lot more calm that Kennedy, "but you have books on criminal psychiatry that have chapters on him," he pointed to the books.
"You're the Randolph family doctor so you could easily get a strand of Tag's hair and, being a doctor, you can hack up another human without difficulty," Kennedy added a little calmer.
"It's obvious it was you," Patrick finished.
"That's it?" Dr Wagner laughed, "You have nothing, that's just guesswork."
Oh, we know that," Patrick replied, "We just wanted to be sure we had the right answer."
"We were surprised, I gotta be honest. You don't seem to be a wicked man," Kennedy admitted, "But you are."
Dr Wagner laughed again which made Kennedy so angry she wanted to punch him, but if she had a dollar for every time she wanted to punch someone and didn't, she would be a millionaire.
"You're angry about the letter," he joked, "Yeah, it was a bit mean-spirited. For the record I am sorry about your mom Kennedy and your sister."
"You don't know anything about me or my family; don't pretend to be sorry, if you were sorry you wouldn't have made a jest of their death!" Kennedy exploded.
"I am sorry, I can only imagine your pain, but I'm not a wicked man," the doctor insisted, "my conscience is clear."
"Really?" Kennedy asked the sarcasm dripping from her mouth, "having a clear conscience after you kill someone doesn't make it right, it makes you a psychopath!"
"Right now in Africa, there's 3000 beautiful children alive today who should be dead, but they aren't because of me."
"Right now six feet in the ground, there's a beautiful, little six year old who had her whole life ahead of her, who should be alive, but she isn't because of me!" Kennedy screamed, she had felt like this for the last five years and only now had it all come rushing out at once. She always blamed herself for her sister's death; no matter how many times Patrick told her it was his fault.
"Tannen was gonna ruin me and ruin me and destroy all that work, over nothing. Money," Dr Wagner tried to explain, "Theft, he called it. Embezzlement. Self-righteous idiot. It's simple math. If I go to jail, thousands of kids will die. He was going to do to all those children what Red John did to your sister."
The tears were streaming down Kennedy's face the last time she had cried that much was when she and her father found her mother and sister's bodies.
"So I made a rational, moral decision to kill Tannen for the greater good," Dr Wagner explained.
"And Alison," Patrick asked, almost crying himself, "what did she do wrong?"
"As we said, she was the magician's assistant, just a distraction," Wagner answered, "if only Tannen died, the police would've been all over this place, wouldn't they? Truly, is killing two any worse that killing one? When so many lives are at stake? I don't think so."
"You poor sad man, you're under arrest, let's go," Patrick said moving toward Wagner.
"I'm pointing a gun at you," Wagner stated.
"No shit, Captain Obvious," Kennedy said in her smart-ass tone.
"Do you really think we would set you up so nicely to let you to pull a loaded gun on us?" Patrick asked, "We took the bullets out earlier. Patrick tapped his trouser pocket which made a metal sound eerily similar to bullets. This was when Wagner made his first mistake; he looked down at the gun to see if it was really empty.
Suddenly Kennedy pulled Lisbon's gun from her jacket pocket and fired at the wall. This was where Wagner made his second mistake he turned to look at the wall where Kennedy had just fired.
Patrick grabbed a handful of African twigs from the bowl sitting on the table, hurled them in the doctor's face and sprinted for the door. Kennedy did a cartwheel toward Wagner, kicking him in the face in the process, punching him then doing a backwards walkover landing lightly on her feet and sprinting through the open door after her father as a hail of bullets came down over her head.
She caught up with her father sprinting down the stairs having dropped the gun back at the office with Wagner hot on their heels. They tore round the corner almost running right into Rigsby.
"You're late, draw your weapon!" Kennedy shouted pointing behind them.
"What?" Rigsby asked confused. His questions were soon answered as Dr Wagner ran round the corner waving the gun like a madman.
"Drop the gun!" Rigsby shouted drawing his own weapon, "Hands on your head, get down on your knees."
Wagner dropped the gun and lowered himself to the ground putting his hands to the back of his head as Rigsby put his own gun away and slapped on the handcuffs.
"That's what I'm talking about," Kennedy laughed as she and her father both struggled to catch their breaths.
Everyone was packing up for the move back the Sacramento when the Janes walked in with a box of doughnuts.
"Closed case doughnuts are here," Kennedy announced. Nobody responded as they were all mad at the Janes for not telling them that they knew who the killer was days ago.
"We just wanted to get sleeping pills, I swear to god," Kennedy insisted.
"We didn't even want to go," continued Patrick, "You know we didn't want to go."
"Right," Van Pelt replied with such sarcasm Kennedy was almost proud. Cho and Rigsby walked over to the box and picked out a doughnut each.
"Yeah, you didn't set Wagner up," Rigsby joked, "didn't figure out it was him days ago."
"Didn't let us tear apart the victim's family just to satisfy your childish need for drama," Cho continued.
"Hey, that family was screwed anyway, don't blame yourselves, guys," Kennedy laughed. All of them turned to look at Kennedy to make sure she was joking. Cho threw a paper ball at her which Patrick caught smoothly with one hand. They then turned to Lisbon, sitting at her desk, who was clearly the angriest of them all.
"Don't even start," she said before either of them could say a word, "I'm still angry."
"I can tell," Kennedy smiled, "we are sorry."
"No, you're not," Lisbon stated. Kennedy glanced down at her watch before swiftly jerking her head up and zipping her hoodie up.
"I gotta go if I wann pick up the birthday cake today," Kennedy said apologetically.
"It's okay, got quickly before the bakery closes," Patrick insisted. As Kennedy made for the exit Van Pelt stopped her.
"You have a birthday soon?" she asked. She thought the Janes didn't have any other family and as far as she knew Patrick's birthday wasn't until July and Kennedy's was in April.
"Yep, next week," Kennedy answered.
"Whose?" she asked.
"Charlotte's," Kennedy replied without missing a beat before running out. Van Pelt turned to look at Patrick.
"We celebrate it every year," he said practically reading her mind as to what she was thinking.
"How old?" she asked after a long pause deciding if she was being insensitive by asking.
"11," Patrick answered with a smile, the same kind of smile he would have given if his daughter was alive to celebrate her birthday. Van Pelt smiled and left the room with a bundle of papers in her arms and Patrick turns back to Lisbon. He put a small paper frog he made out of the ball Cho threw at him onto Lisbon's desk and started to make for the door.
"A frog, well this makes everything okay," she said almost comically. Suddenly the frog jumped up giving her a small fright. She gasped before smiling to herself thinking that Patrick had left the room. But he hadn't.
Kennedy kicked open the door of the Jane family Malibu residence with the cake box in her arms, Patrick locked his car and followed her inside. She put the cake box on the table by the phone along with all the unopened letters from the last 5 years. Kennedy and Patrick came to the conclusion that most of them were "I'm so sorry for your loss cards" which neither of them really wanted to see. Kennedy opened the box to have another look at the cake; it read "Happy 11th Birthday, Charlotte." They had bought a card for her, but it wasn't a "happy birthday" card, it was a "wish you were here" card which is kind of an inside joke for them.
Kennedy closed the box and they made their way up the stairs to the room across the landing. They walked past the pictures of the family in happier times. Patrick and Angela's wedding, Kennedy's birth, Charlotte's birth, every birthday and Christmas since then.
They came to the door and before they walked in Kennedy touched the tape which was still on the door which held the poisonous letter Red John had left for them. Patrick slowly opened the door, almost reluctantly, to reveal the red smiley face painted in Angela and Charlotte's blood.
They wandered over to the two mattresses which resided under the smiley face and lay down, fully clothed, falling into a deep and nightmare ridden sleep.