Eileen Turner is the first of many. I'm going to start killing again, often. Until you catch me, or I catch you.
That was the message Red John had sent through Lorelei, and he was true to his word. It was but a week later that they were standing in the main bedroom of a luxurious house in Malibu, staring at the lifeless body of a beautiful woman lying under a smiling face painted in her own blood.
After what had happened with Leelee Barlow, Jane couldn't help wondering what the connection might be this time around. He took a moment to study the features of the deceased; she looked younger than her age and had a magnificent head of red hair, but apart from that he had no major revelation as to what her identity might be.
"Her name's Meredith Castle," Lisbon murmured as if to fill in the gap. "She was an actress, some sort of B-list celebrity. Her family lives in New York; her ex-husband had sole custody of their daughter, until she came of age about a year ago."
Jane frowned. "Castle. I've heard that name before."
"The ex-husband is Richard Castle, the writer. He's pretty famous, I gather."
"Hm," he said noncommittally. His mind was furiously trying to find a reason why there should be a link between him and that woman; perhaps there was none, Red John could have picked his latest victim at random after all. However, there was still the location to keep into account; this place wasn't too far from his former family residence, and that might be enough for the serial killer.
Still he struggled to fight back the sense of foreboding that had settled in his chest; it had taken them some time to work out the truth about Eileen Turner, there was every chance that something of the kind could happen once more. A vague memory stirred in his brain, but it was too blurred for him to recognize it, so he simply let out a sigh and made for the door.
"We have to catch him, Lisbon. It will never be soon enough."
"I know, Jane. Believe me, I know."
He'd come to the point that he could barely bear the thought of another family being devastated courtesy of the serial killer; in a way it was like he was forced to relieve the death of his own family over and over again, and he had a shrinking suspicion that was exactly what Red John wanted.
Not a word was uttered during the long drive back to Sacramento. As soon as they set foot in the CBI headquarters, Jane commandeered the case file and spent the rest of the day studying every detail about it. He was all too aware of the worried glances that Lisbon kept sending his way, but he just couldn't help it; Red John had to be stopped, and they had better do it before he decided to raise the stakes and hit closer to home.
It was only upon re-reading the victim's file that he eventually had a major revelation; he stared aghast at the name printed on that paper, feeling as if all the air was being sucked from his lungs. Abruptly he got to his feet and fled upstairs to the relative privacy of his attic. He needed time to think things over, though he had a distinct feeling that he wasn't going to get much of it.
xxx
"I know you're in there. Open the damn door, or I'm going to break it down."
Of course Lisbon was going to check on him, especially given the last turn of events. In the end he thought it better to do as asked, so that she wouldn't end up hurting herself in her attempt to break in.
"What happened? Did Rigsby steal one of your sandwiches?"
She all but rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Don't even try to play dumb with me. There has to be a reason why you suddenly vacated the bullpen, and I demand that you tell me. Right now."
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked in a soft voice, and immediately caught a flash of worry across her features. She'd always had a gift for understanding him better than any other human being ever could, it was of little consequence attempting to hide how upset he actually was.
"Fire away. We're in this together, you know it well enough."
Instinctively he started fiddling with his wedding band; it took him a moment before he was finally able to look her in the eyes. "The victim's maiden name was Lee Harper. I've known a Lee Harper before; he was the man my mother ran away with, when I was three."
"So you think…"
"That Meredith might be my half-sister, yes."
Silence fell between them, until Lisbon eventually rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jane."
He shook his head, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I didn't even know I had a sister; while I've always suspected that my mother had probably started a new family somewhere, I just couldn't bring myself to look for her. Now she's gone, and my sister is dead because of me."
"You can't be sure. It could still be a coincidence."
He bowed his head in defeat. "I've never believed in coincidences; and I'm pretty sure Red John doesn't either."
His friend stood there as if trying to find the right words, but in the end she simply gave up. "We'll find him, I promise."
"I know. Thank you, Lisbon."
When her footsteps finally faded in the distance he laid back on his makeshift coat and stared into the gathering darkness. First a happy memory, and now a relative he had never known of; Red John was acting fast, and he had a very precise idea as to who was the target he was working towards.
It was no secret that Teresa Lisbon was precious to him, and the only one who kept him alive these days; the serial killer had been able to put two and two together a long time ago, and was now reserving her as the last blow that would destroy his enemy once and for all.
In the meanwhile, he would have to face another grieving family very soon; and he surely was far from ready to tell them that he'd been the reason for the untimely death of their beloved one.