Teresa Lisbon sipped from the hot coffee in her hands as she waited for the elevator at CBI Headquarters. It was Friday morning, and she felt good. Energized, happy even. There were no cases to work on, and Jane had said he probably wouldn't be in today. She could get work done for once.
The elevator dinged when it reached her floor and she stepped out purposefully. She did have to wonder if there was a reason to his absence. He often skipped days when they had no cases, but he rarely bothered to tell her ahead of time or even make up an excuse. A part of her worried that something was going on with him. He'd seemed distant the day before. Something else had been occupying his thoughts, and he'd been unwilling to let her see what it was.
She decided not to think about it when she turned the corner into her unit's bullpen. Her eyes caught something red on the wall, and her hands lost their grip on her coffee cup. She heard it hit the floor and shatter. Later, looking back, she would realize her world had shattered with it.
The red face on the wall leered at her. Next to it was a message: He thought he had me. He was wrong.
She was frozen in place. She wanted to run, to hide, but she couldn't move, couldn't think.
His leg was stretched over the back of the couch, his arm hanging off the edge. His head lolled to one side, his vacant eyes staring at a spot on the ceiling. His throat was cut, the trail of blood down his neck already dry.
He was dead. Oh God, Patrick Jane was dead.
A strangled sound escaped her throat.
Someone came, asked what was wrong. Followed her stare and screamed. She still didn't move. Still couldn't.
Responders came, started working the scene. Her team wasn't far behind. Grace cried, Rigsby held her. Cho threw up in a trashcan.
When her body let her move again, she sank to the floor in a heap. Someone threw a blanket over her shaking shoulders. She broke down into heaving sobs.
It was then that she understood his blood lust over Red John. The cold body of the man she had only just started to love was sprawled over a bloody couch in front of her, and she swore with everything she had the man who put him there would pay.
She was going to kill Red John if it cost her everything.