Pink Ice at Dawn

Jane stood at the attic window and looked at the rising sun. He had managed to get a few hours of sleep earlier so he counted it to the good. Soon there would be sounds from below indicating that various agents had arrived in the building and he could wander downstairs and start another repetitive day; pretend to sleep on the couch, drink tea, solve another everyday murder, go over everything about Red John in his memory and the most important try not to think about Angie and Charlotte.

He hated this time of year. He had experienced so few Christmases with Angie and Charlotte. Angie and he had only been together for a total of six Christmases and they had only been a family with Charlotte for five. He was fortunate that none of the important days, like their anniversary, their birthdays or the date of their murders took place on Christmas.

No one at the CBI knew that he had been raised nominally Catholic, not even Lisbon. After Angie and Charlotte died he declared himself a non-believer. His belief had been crushed under a load of grief and guilt and especially at this time of year.

He missed his little princess so badly. Her favorite color had been pink. He entire bedroom suite had been a vision of shades of pink, rose pink tulle, ice pink chiffon, blossom pink velvet and blush pink satin. Everywhere you turned a sea of pink. Even her favorite doll had long curly hair in cotton candy pink. He remembered it had cost him a small fortune to have a doll custom made to look like her with hair in her favorite color, but it had been worth it that last Christmas. Charlotte never let her, Princesse Chantilly as she came to be named, out of her arms except for the bath.

That same year she had gotten from Santa a vintage tea set decorated with tiny pink rose buds, it had taken Santa the better part of a year to find it but it had been worth it as well. Before the turn of the new year Jane found him self perched on a tiny pink chair, in front of a rose shaped, pink table drinking herbal raspberry flavored tea, eating heart shaped pink cookies conversing with his princess, Princesse Chantilly , a stuffed bunny, and a unicorn. Granted he had known about these parties from descriptions from Angie, but he had never been invited to one before. It was an adventure into a fantasy world he had never participated in before; it was to say a real eye opener.

After twenty minutes of trying to do cold reads on the inanimate guests, to no avail, he gave up, quietly sat back, sipped his tea and let Charlotte lead the conversation.

In the middle of this sweet memory Jane realized that the light filtering through the window was now a deeper shade of pink. Everything was turning red and reminded him of the last time he had seen his precious baby. Even Princesse Chantilly had turned red and he hated when the sky turned colors that reminded him of that fateful day.

His eyes filled with tears as he stood there and let the light fall over his face. Before the light could turn from rose to gold tears fell from his eyes, the light turning them the color of cold rose pink ice as they made their way down his face leaving trails of glistening pink on his cheeks.