Disclaimer: Bruno owns the characters, I've just borrowed them.
Author's note: Thanks to all those of you that have already read Part 1. And special thanks to those who have reviewed it. I know it's a long story - I've tried to break it up using CBICBICBI as I don't like having to wait for separate pages to load!
Thanks to: An incredible cast and crew, outstanding writers and, of course, the delectable Mr Baker.
RED HOT TEARS (part 2)
Recap from Part 1:
A young mother has been murdered on the anniversary of the Jane family murder. The victim's young daughter shares a name with Charlotte Jane. During the course of the investigation, Jane has assaulted Wainwright and abducted the young girl. He has met up with a young woman called Lauren Keyes – someone with whom he has a strange connection. They hide out in a motel. Meanwhile, the killer of the girl's mother has tracked them down, and is not about to leave any loose ends lying around.
Franklin Motel, Sacramento, CA
Lisbon felt sick to her stomach. There had been an extremely heavy lead weight in the pit of her abdomen ever since she'd got the call from SacPD. They were at a crime scene, they'd said, and they needed her to get there immediately. The tidal wave of nausea had hit full force when they'd given her the address; the Franklin Motel over on 16th Street.
The sight of the coroner's van sent an ice cold shiver through Lisbon as Cho pulled the SUV to a halt in the same spot they'd been only a few hours before. As the small brunette slid shakily out of the vehicle, a uniformed officer approached.
"Agent Lisbon?" He proffered a hand, but Lisbon didn't take it. Her eyes were focused on the gurney holding a black body bag that was being wheeled from Jane's room. She moved quickly towards it.
"Oh no." It came out a strangulated whisper. As she reached the gurney, she stopped the assistant by holding up a hand. The same hand then hovered shakily over the zipper at the head end of the bag.
Cho, who had gleaned a bit more information from the uniform that had greeted them, moved into position at her side, but before he could speak, she had pulled open the zipper.
The sight that greeted her was horrific. A pair of lifeless brown eyes in a badly beaten, bloodied and swollen face stared up at her. There was a deep gash across the previously pretty woman's neck. Lisbon could see the hint of chalky white that were the cervical vertebrae. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath of relief.
"He's alive," stated Cho, simply.
Lisbon glanced at him and quietly asked, "Where is he?"
With his eyes, Cho gestured towards the open doorway. Lisbon inhaled deeply. "Talk to the officer in charge, find out what they think happened, canvas for witnesses…you know the drill." Cho nodded and stepped away, letting out a weary breath.
Lisbon stepped over the threshold to Jane's motel room. The first thing that caught her attention was the blood soaked bed. She then looked over at the armchair at the side of the room. Jane sat unmoving, his hands cuffed. He was smothered in blood, eyes wide, staring blindly ahead.
Lisbon shook her head and briefly closed her eyes, then stepped over to him. She reached out a hand to let him know, by touch, that she was there, but the officer guarding him stopped her. "Sorry Ma'am, no touching. Forensics need to process him." Lisbon shot him a sulky look, but she knew he was right. The last thing Jane needed her to do was compromise any evidence that would help prove his innocence.
Instead, the brunette crouched down in front of him. She tried to make eye contact. "Jane?" she said tenderly. There was no response. She tried again. Still there was no acknowledgement.
She stood up and addressed the guarding officer. "How long has he been like this?"
The officer shrugged a shoulder, "Pretty much since we cuffed him."
Lisbon glanced around the room, trying to take in the details. "Were you the first on scene?" she asked.
"Uh, no ma'am. That would be Officer Tremont. He's outside." He gestured with a sideways nod of his head. Lisbon's gaze followed.
She swallowed and crouched down in front of Jane again. "Jane? I need to talk with the Officer. I'll be just outside if you need me, okay? It's gonna be alright. I'm just outside." She thought she saw a flicker behind the vacant, frozen expression in his eyes. Quietly, she repeated, "Okay," – more to herself than anyone else - as she pushed herself up again and stepped back out onto the walkway.
The brilliant sunshine hurt her tired eyes. She located Officer Tremont and called him over.
"You were the first on the scene?" she probed.
"Yes, Ma'am. I drew my weapon, entered the open doorway and found the suspect next to the victim," reported Tremont.
"When you say next to, do you mean laying next to or sitting next to?" Lisbon wanted to be precise.
The officer's eyes searched upwards to locate the memory. "Uh, he was laying next to the victim, ma'am. At first I thought he was dead too, but then when I identified myself as the police he started to stir."
A crease appeared on Lisbon's brow. "Started to stir? What…as in waking up?"
The officer nodded, "Yes, ma'am. He seemed a little dazed at first, then he seemed to start as if just realising what he'd done."
"When he saw you, or the body?" queried Lisbon, trying to get a clear picture of what had happened. In no way could she imagine Jane committing such a heinous act and then going to sleep at the side of the corpse.
"Uh, when he saw the victim and the blood all over his hands and chest, ma'am."
"Then what did he do?"
"I ordered him to put his hands up and move away from the body, as I had noticed a knife resting by the pillow at the side of the victim's head."
"And did he?"
"No , ma'am. He just stared at the victim, breathing quickly and heavily – I could hear it – sounded like he was sucking air in like a horse that's been running hard. Then he leaned over the side of the bed and vomited." The officer wrinkled his nose at the memory. "After that he seemed to deflate, letting out a really weird moan – like a wounded animal. Then he complied with my request. He dropped his legs over the edge of the mattress, sat up, held his hands up and just stared. I cuffed him and he's been like that ever since."
Lisbon took a deep breath. She was trying to put the pieces together. Her headache, which had never really gone away, returned with the vengeance of a hurricane. She rubbed a temple. "Okay, thanks."
As Tremont turned to go back to his colleagues, Lisbon reminded him that she might need to speak to him again, so he should make himself available. She closed her eyes, raised her chin and took another deep breath as she leaned back against the wing of the SUV.
Cho walked up to her, his notebook in his hand. "You okay, boss?" he asked. There was concern in his eyes as he noticed the strain on Lisbon's face.
She nodded briefly. "He couldn't have done this…could he?" The last couple of words were spoken with quiet desperation. She so fervently wanted to believe he wasn't capable of such an act, but the way he had been behaving lately was beginning to plant a tiny seed of doubt. She immediately pushed the thought away and corrected herself. "He couldn't have done this," she repeated firmly, shaking her head decisively. She reminded herself how happy he had seemed hours before, whilst with the same young woman who now lay in a body bag. "You find any witnesses?" she queried.
Cho clenched one side of his mouth. "Spoke with the maid who discovered the body. She said the door lock was broken when she arrived…" Lisbon gave a guilty look. He continued, "She pushed the door open and saw what she thought were two victims laying on the bed, blood everywhere."
"First responder also said he thought Jane was dead, too," interjected Lisbon.
"Didn't get much more out of the maid, other than she found this…" He held up a plastic evidence bag containing a toy rabbit, "…outside on the walkway." He gestured to the floor nearby.
"That's almost exactly like the one Lottie had…" began Lisbon. She cradled the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "Oh my god, please don't let there be another body." She whistled and beckoned for Officer Tremont again.
When he arrived she showed him the bunny. "We have reason to believe that there may have been a little girl involved here. You need to get your men to do a thorough search of the area, dumpsters, rooms, alleyways…everywhere within the immediate area."
Tremont's mouth opened. "The little girl from the Amber alert? She was here? You think the suspect killed her, too?"
Lisbon glared at the uniformed man. She was about to give him a piece of her mind about how the justice system presumes innocence, not guilt, when Cho took a step between them. He could sense the tornado building inside her and he didn't particularly want to witness any more destruction. He'd seen enough in the last 24 hours to last a lifetime.
"Just get your men together and do as she says," he ordered, his tone was fiercer than he had planned but it seemed to do the trick, probably because Tremont was embarrassed about having failed to find a clue that suggested a young child had been present.
The officers departed and Cho turned back to Lisbon. "Thank you," she said, quietly.
"No problem," he replied. He looked down at his notebook again. "The guy in the motel office said they don't have CCTV but the bar across the parking lot does. I'll check it out, see if Van Pelt can find anything useful."
They both looked up at the sound of footsteps leaving the motel room. They were bringing Jane out. He stood blinking in the doorway, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the brightness. His once crisp linen shirt, now crinkled and stained with arterial spurt, flapped slightly in the breeze. His hands were cuffed and raised to his face as he tried to block out the sunlight. An officer guided him towards the black and white parked on the other side of a Ford Escape. Lisbon offered a weak smile in Jane's direction and, as he was placed into the back seat, her eyes landed on the Ford in front of her.
"Who does this car belong to?" she asked to no one in particular.
One of the officers responded, "Vehicle is registered to Lauren Keyes, the victim."
Lisbon nodded. Then she pressed a hand against the driver's window, peering inside. There didn't appear to be anything useful in there. Still, she would have the tech guys go over it, just in case.
CBICBICBICBICBI
Virgil Minelli tutted to himself as he patted down the pockets of his fishing vest in an effort to locate the source of vibration that had disturbed his relaxing routine. The sun had painted the sky with a range of yellow and orange hues and he had just made his third cast of the early morning. He fumbled to find his phone. At one time he would have been lost without it, but since retiring, he'd been able to get lost in his own company without the risk of any unwanted interruptions.
Ordinarily, he wouldn't have had it with him on a fishing trip – ringing phones tended to scare off the fish; they even seemed to sense the vibrations on the air waves – but a puzzling text late last night had given him cause to keep it on his person.
He eventually located it in the inside pocket of the vest and inhaled a weary sigh as he looked at the display; it was Jane, again – except this time he was calling, not texting.
"Hello Patrick," greeted Minelli, somewhat bemused and hoping for an explanation of the address that Jane had sent in his previous text. Virgil had checked it out – it turned out to be an ice cream diner not far from the South Sacramento Freeway. He had no idea what the cryptic clue had meant until the hesitant voice at the other end of the line spoke.
"Will you buy me some ice cream?" asked a small child's trembling voice. "Patrick says you'll buy me some ice cream."
Minelli glanced at the display again. It was definitely Jane's number. Part of him immediately wanted to stay well away from the mess that Jane was obviously now dragging him into, but he remembered his visit from Lisbon, and the larger part of him - the grandfatherly part - took control. He replaced the handset to his ear and responded in warm, soothing tones.
"Sure honey. Where are you? I'll come get you," he probed.
"I'm at the giant ice cream," replied the little girl. He detected a slight shiver in her voice.
"Is Patrick there?" he asked gently.
"Nuh-uh," came the reply.
"Okay. I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere, okay, sweetheart?" Minelli was concerned that the girl appeared to be on her own.
Although there was no verbal answer as such other than a muted 'uh-huh', Minelli could sense the young girl nodding. He was about to speak again to tell her to stay on the phone when the line went dead.
A bolt of panic stabbed through him momentarily as a myriad of thoughts invaded his mind as to why the connection had been broken so abruptly; someone could have grabbed her (but surely she would have screamed out?); she may have had an accident (not likely, if she had been stationary when calling). He settled for the more likely explanation that Jane had told her to switch the phone off as soon as she could after calling.
Leaving his fishing accoutrements behind on the pier, he ambled quickly to his pick- up truck and sped off back to his old stomping ground. On the way he considered calling Lisbon, but then decided against it. There was a reason Jane had texted him and not her; most likely for plausible deniability – he didn't want to get her into any more trouble. Minelli snorted a little at the idea that Jane didn't mind getting him into trouble, however. The man had a knack of creating a whirlwind of problems wherever he went, always leaving someone else to clear up the devastation – and that had usually been down to Virgil, as the unit's former boss. He sighed again and headed up the ramp to join the I-80 East.
CBICBICBICBICBI
Sacramento Police Department, CA
Processing Jane hadn't taken long. He'd been marched into an interview room where he had been photographed in his blood soaked clothes. Then one of the CSIs had placed a large sheet of paper onto the floor, told him to stand on it and remove his clothes. Jane had done as requested, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and placing it into the brown paper bag being held by the tech. The tech then photographed Jane's upper torso, and arm before taking a step back so that the consultant could continue undressing. He had unfastened and stepped out of his grey pants and repeated the process of putting them into a second bag. When the tech gestured that he needed every item of clothing, Jane rolled his eyes and hesitated uncomfortably.
After a few seconds and a firm verbal command, Jane looked up at the ceiling, wet his lips with his tongue and then pinched them together, took a deep breath and removed his white briefs. He was quickly handed a white paper coverall which had a hood and a zipper that ran all the way up the front; the kind the forensic techs used from time to time to avoid contaminating crime scenes.
Now clothed again, Jane sat on the hard, metal chair. The tech took some nail scrapings and clippings, photographed Jane's hands and then collected all of the evidence and left the room to begin processing it.
A few moments later, Jane took another deep breath and released it loudly. His mouth was tight and twisting slightly at one corner as if he was fighting to keep his slightly pouting lip from trembling. He swallowed hard, forcing the emotion back down inside, but he couldn't prevent his sorrowful eyes from misting up. His breathing rate had increased, so to prevent hyperventilation he cupped his hands over his mouth and nose for a few seconds until the feeling subsided. He closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow. Then he waited for someone to come and tell him what the hell was going on.
CBICBICBICBICBICBI
CBI HQ, Sacramento, CA
The day from Hell wasn't getting any better. Lisbon pushed open the door to her office and couldn't hide the expression of annoyed disbelief that flickered across her face as FBI Agent Susan Darcy stood to greet her.
"Oh, what now?" The words erupted from Lisbon's mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Exhaustion had slowed her reactions.
"Nice to see you too, Agent Lisbon," responded Darcy, a tight wry smile on her lips. In her hand she held a cream coloured file which she placed on her lap as she retook her seat on the light-coloured sofa. With a hand she gestured towards a seat directly in front of her. Lisbon plonked herself down on it and looked at the agent expectantly.
Darcy stared directly at her. "I wanted to give you a courtesy heads up before I go and question Patrick," she said simply.
A frown crossed Lisbon's brow. "Why are the FBI involved in this? It's SacPD's case."
Darcy gave her a look that suggested she should already know the answer to that question. But when Lisbon's brow arched in impatient non-verbal repetition of the query, the FBI agent flipped open the file and retrieved a photograph. She held it up. It depicted a bathroom mirror onto which had been smeared a bloody smiley face. Lisbon's lower lip dropped slightly.
"This was found in the en suite of Patrick Jane's motel room," reported Darcy.
Lisbon was incredulous. Her gaze drifted slightly sideways as she tried to fit this new piece of the puzzle into the picture she had been trying to build of the events of the early hours. "So what are you saying? That Red John is behind this?" She knew he couldn't be, the scene was all wrong for it to have been Jane's nemesis' doing.
This time it was Darcy who displayed a look of incredulity – at Lisbon's denial of the obvious. "Your loyalty is admirable Agent Lisbon…but it is misplaced."
Lisbon cocked her head faintly - Darcy's unspoken insinuation was now becoming clear. "You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting," she uttered.
Darcy raised her eyebrows. "And what is that?" she asked.
Lisbon looked challengingly at the agent. "That Jane killed Lauren Keyes in some weird kind of anniversary related episode – smearing Red John's signature as a symbol of sick remembrance or something!"
Darcy's left eyebrow arched. "That's an interesting theory."
Lisbon's mouth was fully open now. She could not believe this woman. "No it's not!" she almost yelled. "It's not a theory at all! Jane didn't do this!"
The FBI agent watched her CBI counterpart closely. "Then how do you make sense of this?" she asked, and pointed to the photograph again.
Lisbon shook her head. "I don't! It doesn't make sense!"
Darcy sat up straighter in response to the tone in Lisbon's voice. "Oh come on, Lisbon. You know yourself that Patrick's been going off the rails of late. Maybe the murder of a young mother whose daughter shares his own murdered daughter's name, on the anniversary of her death has finally pushed him over the edge."
Lisbon's head shook furiously. "NO! I don't believe it!"
Darcy could feel she was getting somewhere. "Don't? Or won't? I know you've grown close to Jane over the years, and that you've turned a blind eye to some of his antics that have pushed the boundaries. I know you think you know him – "
"I do know him!" blurted out the highly annoyed brunette.
"Do you? Can you ever really know what goes on in the mind of someone as damaged as Patrick Jane?" pushed Darcy.
Lisbon stood up, adamantly stating, "I know he wouldn't kill an innocent woman and further traumatise a little girl."
Darcy rose up, file in hand. "Here's what I know. Jane was found at the murder scene next to the body. He was covered in the victim's blood – preliminary spatter analysis points towards him leaning over her when her throat was cut. His fingerprints are all over the murder weapon which was recovered at the scene. And there are scratches on his forearm that correspond with skin cells found under the victim's nails." She paused for a second to let the information sink in. "Tell me Lisbon, what conclusion would you come to, given the circumstances?"
Lisbon swallowed and dropped her eyes. The volume of her voice had diminished considerably, "I know…it doesn't look good." She found it hard to return her gaze to the FBI agent's searching look.
"Doesn't look good?" repeated Darcy. "It's a slam dunk. In the past 24 hours, Jane has assaulted a senior agent, abducted a young girl – who we have yet to find - and murdered a young woman who bears more than a passing resemblance to his own dead wife. The escalation is obvious. The strain is getting to him. He can't handle the fact that I'm on to his actions as one of Red John's accomplices."
Lisbon had to hold herself back. She slid her small tightly clenched fist behind her side and set her jaw. "That's bull and you know it!" she yelled.
Darcy cocked a head. She'd noticed the brunette's inept attempt to hide her anger. She straightened up. "Do I? Well, we'll see," she stated firmly. "In the meantime, I've requested that you and your team stay away from this case. You can keep the Marshall case but only until we locate the missing girl. Then it comes under FBI jurisdiction."
Lisbon's head snapped up. "What? No way. The Marshall case is ours. Period."
Darcy was unmoved. "Wainwright's already agreed to it – as has Director Bertram. If you don't comply, I'll see to it personally that you are tried as a further accomplice." She gave a cold, half-smile and took a step towards the door. Lisbon remained where she was, stunned.
With one hand pushing the door, and checking the watch on her other wrist, Darcy said, "Well, I've got to go. I'll give your regards to Patrick."
Lisbon shot the FBI agent an incredulously contemptible look as she left. Even as the door was swishing closed, she let out a loud growl. She marched over to her desk and her eyes wandered furiously over the items on the desktop. They alighted on the small leather pillow paper weights resting in her in tray. She picked one up and launched it across the office. It hit the window at the other end with a satisfying thwunk before sliding to rest on top of a small filing cabinet. Lisbon let out an extremely heavy sigh and flopped into her chair, tilting her head back and staring up at the ceiling.
At the sound of Lisbon's raised voice, the departure of Agent Darcy and the loud thwunk against the glazed wall between the boss' office and the bullpen, the rest of the team had worriedly glanced across at each other. For several seconds they just kept swapping their gazes, with none of them moving. Then Risgby became aware that both Cho and Van Pelt were directing their gaze towards him.
"Oh hey, how come I have to be the one who goes in there?" he moaned, pulling a face.
"I got the coffee," stated Cho, matter-of-factly.
"I went last time," said Grace, referring to the previous morning when she'd had to inform Lisbon that the girl had gone missing.
Wayne huffed slightly, conceding that it probably was his turn, but he made a show of letting them know he wasn't happy about it. He took a swig of his coffee, straightened his tie and picked up a folder. "Wish me luck," he muttered as he turned towards the doorway adjacent to Lisbon's office. He hesitated and then tentatively pushed her door open, half prepared to use the folder in his hand as a shield, should another of the pillows be launched in his direction.
He needn't have worried. Lisbon was leaning back in her chair, head tilted back with her eyes closed. At first, he thought she might even have drifted off – they had been working now for about 30 hours straight – but the sound of her weary voice ended that idea.
"What is it Rigsby?"
A puzzled frown formed on Wayne's face; she hadn't even opened her eyes – how did she know it was him? He took a step forward.
"Uh, everything okay, boss?" He almost kicked himself as he said it. Of course, everything was not okay. He grimaced, waiting for the hard pillow to make contact, but it never came.
Instead, Lisbon sighed and pouted. She rubbed the crease at the top of her nose, yawned and cricked her neck from side to side. Then she sat up straight in her seat and pulled herself closer to the desk. She was back.
Rigsby held up a file. "Sean Michaelson –"
Lisbon held up her hand and opened her mouth to tell him that they would have to put a pin in that particular line of enquiry and focus on finding the girl. Rigsby noticed that the boss was about to say something, so he paused. With the words poised on her lips, she looked at him, then looked to the side as if contemplating something. Then she looked back at the tall agent in front of her. "You get anything out of him yet?" she asked.
Rigsby's mouth shrugged. "Nope, claims he hasn't seen Marshall since the day before yesterday. Think the coffee is starting to kick in now, so I'll go back in and should hopefully get something out of him pretty soon."
Lisbon took a deep breath and let it out. Wayne watched with caution as her hand reached towards her in-tray. 'Here it comes,' he thought, bracing himself.
"Okay," said the brunette, running a finger along the edges of the pillow marked OUT. "Take Cho in with you," she ordered. Rigsby nodded and exited the office quickly.
Cho was the best interrogator they had. His cool exterior and calm voice had squeezed many a confession out of some of the most hardened of criminals. In some ways his technique reminded Lisbon of Jane – the assured way in which he told the suspects what had happened and then waited for them to break, or correct him on some of the more improvised details. Her thoughts drifted towards the consultant – she hoped he was holding up. He'd looked so lost and spaced out the last time she'd seen him. Her eyes wandered upwards as the memory triggered a thought. She pushed her chair back and stomped out of her office.
CBICBICBICBI
Sacramento Police Department, CA
Jane looked up as the door to the interview room opened. In walked a tall, grey-haired man wearing an off the peg brown suit; not top of the range, but not the cheapest either. Within a momentary glance, Jane had him all figured out – he had obviously been doing this job for years as there was a world-weary look about him. However, the way in which he carried the file, and placed it carefully onto the table in front of him, pointed towards a man who took his job seriously and demanded high professional standards of those who worked alongside him. Jane watched Detective Harrison take a seat and was surprised to see Agent Susan Darcy follow him into the room. She took the seat next to the detective, directly opposite Jane. Obviously, she was going to be taking the lead.
Darcy noted the recognition on the consultant's face. "Hello, Patrick," she greeted. There was the hint of a wry smile playing on her mouth. Jane looked at her closely. Then he blinked as if trying to refocus.
"Agent Darcy," he responded. His voice was quiet and lacking any kind of emotion. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
Darcy forced a smile. She glanced at Jane's hand, which rested on the table. "How'd you get the bruises on your hand, Patrick?"
Jane lifted his hand and looked at the purple, swollen knuckles for several moments. A crease appeared between his uncertain eyes. "I'm not sure," he answered.
The FBI agent looked at him closely. She tried again. "Were you in a fight? Did you hit somebody?"
Jane's eyes searched upwards and he shifted slightly in his seat. The movement sent a spur of pain through his side. His hand reflexively moved across his ribcage. An all too brief flash of a memory flitted in, and then out, of his head. "Maybe, uh…I'm not sure," he replied.
Darcy exhaled. She pulled out a photocopy of Lauren's driver's license. "Do you recognise this woman?"
Jane looked down at the photo. A flicker of a smile pulled slightly at one side of his mouth. He nodded.
The agent continued, "Her name was Lauren Keyes…How long have you known her?"
The consultant's gaze became distant. "For a thousand lifetimes," came his cryptic response.
Darcy swapped glances with the detective at her side. "When did you first meet her?" she probed.
Jane's gaze refocused. He cleared his throat. "Uh…yesterday…" He paused trying to recollect, "…I think."
Darcy's eyes narrowed. What the hell kind of game was Jane playing here? He wasn't being his usual eloquent self. She couldn't decide whether his confusion was genuine or if he was just running a con on her. She decided she needed to push a little harder. From out of the folder in front of her, she pulled another photograph of Lauren. She pushed it across the table to Jane. As his eyes landed on it, Jane recoiled and pushed it away from him. He gulped a breath and tried to force some saliva down his throat. His tongue peeped out before disappearing back into his pinched lips. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath, like someone trying to prevent the gag reflex from kicking in.
Darcy watched all of his actions closely. Then she flipped the image of the bathroom mirror down in front of him. She leaned forward. "Why'd you do it, Patrick? Hmm? Did she remind you too much of your wife?"
Jane's nostrils flared as he fought to slow his breathing. His eyes paced back and forth, then he stared at Darcy, like a child who was wondering why someone was deliberately causing him pain. His eyes drifted to the male detective and then glazed over and rolled upwards as he slumped onto the table and slipped unconscious from his chair to the floor.
CBICBICBICBI
CBI HQ, Sacramento, CA
Michaelson was being obstructive but it wasn't anything Cho hadn't handled before. He'd begun in his usual way - sitting himself opposite the dishevelled, stinking mess of a man - with his hands clasped loosely on top of the buff case file. The conversation had been mainly one-sided, with Cho's calm, concise reading of the former convict's rap sheet.
"One more strike and it's all over," stated Cho, monotonously. He looked up at Rigsby, who had positioned himself behind Michaelson. "Obstruction of justice sound about right to you?" he asked his partner.
Rigsby bent a little so that his mouth was closer to Michaelson's ear. "Oh yeah," he replied, with as much menace as he could muster for someone who had been deprived of sleep.
Michaelson protested, "Hey wait a minute! I'm not obstructing no justice here. I told you…I don't know where he is. If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here, I'd be getting my money." Cho and Rigsby exchanged glances.
Suddenly the door to the interview room opened and Grace popped her head in. "Guys, I need you to come and look at something." The agents glanced at each other again. Cho flipped his file closed, told Michaelson they would be back, and then the two agents followed after their colleague.
Grace was seated at her desk when they reached the bull pen. She was tapping on her keyboard. "So, I was going through the CCTV footage that the bar across from the motel sent over…" she began. The image on the screen showed the inside of the bar. Clearly seated at one of the stools by the bar in the foreground, was Sean Michaelson leering across the room at someone. "I couldn't get a clear angle on whoever he's looking at but then I noticed the reflection in the mirror behind the bar…" The picture on the screen zoomed in to reveal a pretty looking woman.
"That's Lauren Keyes…the victim," pointed out Rigsby.
"Yeah, and that puts Michaelson within range of our victim within hours of the murder," added Cho. He took a step to head back to the interview room when Grace called out.
"Wait…it gets better." She clicked on a key and the image changed to the exterior of the bar. The camera overlooked the parking lot that led to the motel. It was grainy and poorer quality than the internal camera but they could still make out the outline of Lauren Keyes as she left the bar, hotly followed by a stumbling Michaelson.
The range on the camera wasn't great and Van Pelt was unable to zoom in far with any degree of success but they were able to see that Michaelson had challenged Keyes in the parking lot. Rigsby watched open-mouthed as he recognised the figure of his enigmatic colleague step hesitantly, from the walkway of the motel, to the struggling pair on the tarmac.
After a few seconds, Van Pelt looked up at her open-mouthed workmates. "I know… Michaelson was the guy who beat up Jane," she said.
"And then got beaten up by a woman," added Cho. "Gives him motive. He comes back, gets revenge for what she did." He slapped the file against his hand and marched back towards the interview room.
Rigsby squeezed Grace's shoulder and smiled quickly, "Great job, Grace." Van Pelt smiled back and then gestured with her eyes that he should go. Rigsby made a grunt and rushed off to join Cho again. Grace turned back to the screen to continue watching the rest of the footage in order to see if she could find further proof that Michaelson had returned.
CBICBICBICBI
Lisbon's foot tapped repetitively against the cold, tiled floor. She'd only been waiting a couple of minutes, but it had felt like an hour. There was gentle swish as the coroner stepped out of the autopsy suite and into the corridor.
"So, Teresa…what is it that can't wait for me to finish up on that poor soul in there?" she asked.
Lisbon shot her a grateful apologetic look. "Sorry, Sheri…I know you're busy. Just needed to ask you something about Lauren Keyes."
Sheri eyed the small agent warily. "I thought that was the FBI's case now."
The brunette blanched slightly. "Bad news sure does travel fast," she muttered to herself. She looked up to see a stern, but meltable expression on the busy doctor's face. "It is." She paused. "Sheri, I need to ask a favour." Lisbon forced a hopeful smile.
Sheri took a deep breath and glanced back at the autopsy doors. "Okay. Hit me with it," she responded. She'd always been fond of the lead agent; they'd always gotten on so well. Plus she admired the woman's patience at having to deal with that crazy consultant of hers.
Lisbon smiled briefly. "Did you find any traces of drugs in Lauren Keyes' blood work?" she asked.
Sheri shook her head. "Her blood alcohol was up but we're still waiting on tox results. The feds have put a rush on them but even so…" She noticed the disappointed look on the brunette's face. "Were you looking for anything in particular?"
Lisbon shrugged, "Not sure…" Her foot began tapping again as she contemplated her next move. "How quick could you do an analysis on a blood sample?"
Sheri was a little surprised, "What…you mean here?" Lisbon nodded. Sheri began to shake her head. "We don't have the equipment for that. The nearest lab is at Mercy General."
Lisbon was about to curse when her cell phone went off. "Talk to me Rigs," she said into the handset. Her tone then became faintly frantic. "What? Where?... Okay, I'm on my way." She ended the call and was about to step away when a smirk appeared on her mouth. "Sheri, can I take you to lunch? I need to ask a really big favour…"
The coroner was confused at the swift change of emotions in Lisbon's tone. She checked her watch and let out a sigh. "Sure what the hell…" She gestured towards autopsy doors. "He's not going anywhere." She began to remove her hairnet. "Where are we going?"
Lisbon grinned. "Mercy General cafeteria? They do a raspberry jello to die for."
CBICBICBICBI
CBI HQ, Sacramento, CA
Michaelson had suddenly become communicative when he'd thought he was being charged with murder. He'd given Cho and Rigsby a few places where he thought they might be able to track Marshall down and he had vehemently denied anything to do with Lauren's death. In fact, Cho noted, he'd seemed genuinely upset at her demise.
They couldn't charge him with her murder. They didn't have enough evidence yet. But they could charge him with assault. He couldn't argue with the footage of him knocking seven bells out of Jane. As Rigsby began formally charging him and reading him his rights, Michaelson had closed his eyes, shook his head and begun mentally preparing himself for his inevitable return to prison.
Several minutes later, Cho had headed out to check up on the addresses he'd been given as potential leads on Marshall. Van Pelt was still trawling through the CCTV footage as Rigsby arrived back at his desk in time to pick up his ringing phone.
"Rigsby." His eyes darted across to Van Pelt as he listened to the voice on the other end. "When? Okay, where are they taking him?...Thanks." He hung up the phone and dialled Lisbon's number, repeating the information to Grace as he waited for the boss to pick up. "That was a buddy of mine at SacPD. Says that Jane just got taken away in an ambulance." Before he could respond further to the worried question in Grace's eyes, Lisbon answered her phone.
CBICBICBICBI
The Cold Cup Diner, Franklin Blvd, Sacramento, CA
Minelli pulled off the South Sacramento Freeway and into the parking lot on Franklin Blvd. It had taken him considerably less than the usual hour and a bit to reach the seedier side of town from his bolt-hole retreat in Glen Cove. Amazingly, despite breaking the speed limit for most of the journey, none of the usually present traffic cops had been around with their annoying scanners spying on unsuspecting motorists.
He stopped as close to the giant ice cream cone as he could, scanning the area for any signs of the little girl. For a moment he feared she had wandered off, or worse, been taken by somebody, but then he spotted what looked like an abandoned pink back-pack resting against the rear of the base of the large cone. He exited his pick-up and glanced around warily at the surroundings. Not the best place for a young girl to be out alone.
He meandered over to the giant cone. As he approached, he became aware of a small foot slightly protruding from between the cone and the fencing next to it. Taking gentle steps forward, he peered around the ice cream. He took in a long breath of relief. Two wide blue eyes looked up at him fearfully. He smiled. "I'm Virgil, Patrick's friend," he said warmly. His eyes twinkled in the morning sun. The small girl swallowed, she checked the small piece of paper scrunched up in her hand and then a flicker of a smile appeared. She looked at him for several seconds and then started to cry.
Virgil's heart went out to the sweet little thing in front of him. He crouched down and she sidled into his arms. His embrace was at once comforting and safe. Lottie buried her head into his chest and sobbed. He just held her there for a few minutes, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay and that she was safe now. She looked up into his tender eyes, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and with soft innocence asked, "Will you buy me an ice cream now?"
Minelli's heart swelled. He let out a small laugh and a broad grin appeared on his face. "Of course I will, sweetheart. Come on." They rose together and Virgil grabbed the girl's back-pack. Then they wandered into the diner hand in hand.
CBICBICBICBI
Mercy General Hospital, Sacramento, CA
Susan Darcy could hardly believe what the doctor had just told her. "Nothing wrong with him? The man keeled over in front of me. How can there be nothing wrong with him?"
Doctor Schafer shrugged slightly. "His ECG results came back normal, apart from a slight spike that would fit with what looks to have been a severe panic attack. We're running some bloods on him now, but other than the rather nasty bruising around his rib cage, hand and face, he appears to be in good health."
Darcy's mouth remained open. She was mulling over the idea that Jane was playing her when she spotted Lisbon stomping towards her. With a nod of her head she dismissed Schafer, who returned to his duties. She took a step forward and held out a hand as a barrier. "I thought I told you to stay away," she declared.
Lisbon reached and pressed up against the outstretched hand. "What the hell did you do to him?" she demanded.
Darcy's brow creased angrily at the insinuation. "I didn't do anything to him. He had a panic attack, hyperventilated and passed out!"
That didn't make sense to Lisbon. She wasn't buying it. "Panic attack? What?" she repeated.
"Apparently." Darcy confirmed. "We were talking to him, he started breathing quickly and then he slumped."
A horizontal line appeared between Lisbon's eyes. She looked suspiciously at the FBI agent. "I want to see him!" she pressed.
Darcy shrugged her mouth and shook her head. "I can't allow that." Her stance was firm. Lisbon huffed out a breath. She knew there was no way she would convince the woman to stand aside. All she needed to do was to create enough of a distraction so that Sheri - who was hovering on the corridor behind the FBI agent, near the door to a side room and gesturing that she'd found Jane – could go in and take a blood sample from the consultant.
After a few moments of gesticulated arguing back and forth with the bloody-minded agent, Lisbon spotted Sheri slipping back out of Jane's room and down the stair well opposite.
"Fine!" yelled the diminutive brunette, "You win!" and she stomped off back to the elevator, leaving Darcy open-mouthed and wondering what had just happened. She'd felt sure she was going to have to call for security to remove the indomitable CBI agent. She stood for a moment, stunned and then turned back towards Jane's room.
Jane wasn't quite himself. He lay at an inclined angle on the hospital bed wondering why he was even there. He tried to raise a hand to massage his throbbing temple but discovered that it was handcuffed to the bed rail. He glanced down at his front to see a wire electrode pad peeking out above the hospital gown he was wearing. His eyes followed the wires to the monitor at the side of the bed. He looked again at the cuffs as he held up his wrist as high as it would go. Then he let out a deep breath, pressed his head into the pillow and let his arm drop onto the bed.
He looked up as a familiar figure entered the room. He was about to speak but the attractive black woman raised a finger to her lips and pointed to the door. Jane's gaze followed. He thought he could hear Lisbon yelling at someone and tried to focus on what was being said. A sharp pinprick in his arm caused him to whip his head back, and an 'ow' shape formed on his lips. He looked accusingly at Sheri, who was holding a vial of his blood. She smiled and, in order to prevent him from speaking out loud, whispered in his ear, "It's for your own good." She gestured for him to sit forward a little bit as she had noticed a small red mark near the muscle at the nape of his neck. She noted with interest that there was a small puncture wound. Slowly, she pushed Jane back against the pillow and held a finger to his lips. Then she tiptoed back out through the doorway. Jane watched with silent intrigue, now more confused than ever. He let out another sigh and closed his eyes, hoping that maybe a little sleep would clear his cloudy head.
CBICBICBICBICBI
CBI HQ, Sacramento, CA
After several non-starts, Cho had finally hit jackpot in the last bar on his list of Marshall's hangouts. There had been a brief scuffle which had resulted in Thomas Marshall being pinned face down against one of the tables after turning over a couple of chairs that had been in his way. Cho had snapped on the cuffs and pulled his quarry's arms so that he stood up straight. He'd then marched him out of the bar and placed him into the Suburban to take him back to CBI.
Marshall now sat in the interview room, sullen and depleted of all anger. His eyes were moist. "How did it happen?" he asked, in reply to the news that his sister was dead.
Cho looked at him directly and clasped his hands in front of him on the desk. "You tell me."
A horrified look flashed across the younger man's features. He slammed a hand down. "I didn't have anything to do with it! Jeez…she was my sister! Only person who gave a damn about me. Why the hell would I kill her?"
"Quite a nasty temper you have there," pushed Cho. "You take it out on Victoria? Maybe slam that palm into her face a few times?"
Marshall shot him an incredulous look. "No! I would never do anything to hurt her." He paused, then asked, "Is that how she died? Someone beat her?" There was a genuine look of distaste on his face. Then a thought struck him. "Hey, you should be looking at that sonofabitch she had been seeing lately," he suggested.
Cho raised his eyebrows to signal that he was listening. Marshall continued, "Yeah…dammit, what was his name?" He clicked his fingers rapidly, trying to focus his memory. "Sorry looking dusch, looked like he never saw daylight. Used to hear them arguing when I came to take Lottie out…Son of a bitch even threatened Vicki with taking her kid away from her…on account of me having a record. Can you believe that? Told her he had the power to do that. That's why I hadn't been around for a few days. Vicki had poured her heart out one night. Damn near begged me to stop going around just for the time being, 'til she could work things out… Dammit! What the hell was his name?"
Whilst Marshall wrangled with his memory, Cho was getting very interested indeed. He waited and watched as a light bulb went on in Marshall's eyes. The guy almost leapt out of his seat. "Stevenson! That's it! Gerard Stevenson!"
"The Social Services guy?" queried Lisbon when Cho reported back to her in the bullpen. She had returned from the hospital, having left Sheri pulling some favours at the lab there. The coroner had expressly promised that she would call as soon as she got the results back from Jane's blood sample.
Cho nodded, "Yeah, he apparently threatened Victoria with removing Lottie and making her a ward of the state if she didn't comply with his deviant requests, and cut ties with the brother."
Lisbon shook her head in disgust. "Nice guy," she said, sarcastically. She was just about to tell him to bring him in when Rigsby shouted across to her. He had just replaced the handset of his phone. "That was forensics…they just finished with Lauren's car. Nothing much to note inside, just a couple of napkins from an ice cream diner, but get this…" He paused dramatically. "…They pulled Gerard Stevenson's bloody fingerprint from the underside of driver's door handle and also on the rear window."
His revelation was added to further by Van Pelt who suddenly held up a hand and shouted them over. She pointed to the screen and they watched as she pointed out a darkly clad figure approaching Jane's motel room. Despite being cloaked in a hooded top, Lisbon could make out the tall, willowy figure of the man she'd met briefly at the crime scene the previous morning; the same man she'd argued with over the phone about handing over the girl. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.
"He got out of this sedan, parked here," announced Grace, placing a finger on the lower right of the screen
"Can you get a license plate?" asked Lisbon.
Grace contorted her mouth. "I don't know…it's a bit grainy, but…" She tapped a key and the picture zoomed in close on the vehicle's registration. The number was barely legible. Grace tapped another key and the image cleared slightly.
"Run a trace on the plate. I want to know who that vehicle is registered to," ordered Lisbon, with renewed vigour. Van Pelt brought up another dialogue box and tapped several keys.
She looked up at her dark-haired boss. "It's registered to Social Services' car pool."
"Well, I'll be damned," uttered Lisbon. She held up a hand. "Okay, Rigsby follow up on the napkins. Go to the diner and see if anyone remembers seeing Jane and the girl. Cho, you and I are going to find out why Stevenson forgot to mention that he knew both the victim and the missing girl, and to see what cock and bull explanation he gives us for being at the motel that night. Grace, go over the forensics report from the Marshall scene again. See if there is anything that can put this guy in the apartment." She threw the car keys at Cho and they hurried out of the bull pen.
"Yessss," hissed Grace, triumphantly. "We got him!"
Rigsby threw her a smile as he grabbed his coat and set off for the diner.
CBICBICBICBI
The Cold Cup Diner, Franklin Blvd, Sacramento, CA
Rigsby pushed open the door and flashed his badge at the twenty year old man behind the counter. "You took your sweet time getting here," said the server. Rigsby's brow formed a quizzical expression. The server continued, "I called little more than an hour ago. Figured a missing girl would have been more of a priority."
"Wait. Back up a little. You called an hour ago?" asked the tall agent.
The young man rolled his eyes. "Jeez…yeah."
"About a missing girl?"
The server's eyes grew sarcastically wide. "The girl from the Amber alert, yeah. She was here." He pointed towards a now empty booth. "Sitting right there with some guy looked old enough to be her grandfather or something. That's why I called." He shook his head, unable to contain his disbelief at the ineptitude of the police. No wonder the crime rate had gone up.
Rigsby pulled out his phone. "Did you see where they went?" he asked as he hit speed dial.
The guy shook his head. "Nope. But I heard an old style pick-up engine coughing in the lot a few minutes after they left."
"Did you get a look at the license plate?" questioned Rigsby.
The young man shrugged and shook his head. "Didn't get a chance. My boss called me out to the back, so I couldn't follow them. Figured if I made the call, you guys would be here quick enough to pick up their trail." He rolled his eyes petulantly. "Guess I was wrong."
Rigsby took a step away, waiting for Lisbon to pick up the phone. "Okay, thanks." As he moved away he ignored the guy's question about a reward.
"Yeah, boss? Got a new lead on the missing girl…A server at the diner called in a sighting about an hour ago. Said he saw Lottie with an older guy – old enough to be her grandfather. They left in a pick-up but he didn't get the plates." He paused to listen. "Yeah, I'll pull the traffic cams. We should be able to get a clear picture from one of them." He pocketed his phone and headed back to his car.
CBICBICBICBI
Lisbon had just hung up from Rigsby when her phone started ringing again. It was Sheri. She listened more than she spoke, uttering an 'uh-huh' now and again. Then she said, "You're kidding? That's great, Sheri. I really owe you one."
Cho looked at her briefly, then directed his gaze back to the road. "Good news?" he asked.
"Sheri found traces of Flunitrazepam in Jane's blood," reported Lisbon.
Cho looked over at her again. "Jane was roofied?"
Lisbon nodded. "Yep. Sheri says she also noticed a small puncture wound on Jane's neck. She thinks the Rohypnol was somehow injected."
Cho was puzzled. "But I thought it only came in pill form?" he queried.
"And you'd be right," answered Lisbon. "Sheri thinks whoever administered it had crushed it and dissolved it in liquid, which they then injected; probably while Jane was asleep. She says that, that way, the drug would have taken effect faster than normal. And couple it with the increased levels of alcohol in Jane's system…" She didn't need to finish. She was now building up a clearer picture of what had happened; more certain than ever that they had enough to clear her friend's name.
Cho nodded in agreement as he pulled up into the parking lot at Social Services. "Grace checked just after we left," he said. "Stevenson should be in his office."
They exited the vehicle and entered the building.
Several minutes later, they returned and Lisbon shoved a cuffed Stevenson into the back seat of the Suburban.
CBICBICBICBI
CBI HQ, Sacramento, CA
Grace's computer beeped. She looked at the screen and frowned. "That's weird," she muttered. Rigsby looked up from his desk. She tapped a key and then added, "Jane's phone just came back online." She looked over at Wayne, who stood up and moved towards her. "The GPS tracker software is still running. Guess I forgot to stop it when Jane was arrested." She looked at the screen again. "Weird thing is…according to the tracker, the phone is close by."
"Maybe someone over at SacPD switched it on?" suggested Rigsby.
Grace shook her head. "Nope, they couldn't have. Jane didn't have it on him and it wasn't recovered or listed as one of his effects." She stared at the screen trying to figure out what was going on. Rigsby moved to stand behind her. They both looked up at the sound of harried footsteps and saw Lisbon round the corridor from the elevator. She beckoned towards them and they caught up with her outside the interview room where Cho had just dumped Stevenson. The Korean agent had then stepped back out to talk with his colleagues.
"Okay," began Lisbon, "Here's how we play this. We need to make sure this is a slam dunk if we are to get Jane completely clear." Before setting out her game plan, she asked Rigsby if he'd had any luck tracking down the pick-up from the Lottie sighting.
"Nothing," he answered glumly. "Apparently the cameras at that junction are currently out of action," he explained.
"Dammit!" cursed Lisbon. "We need to find that girl. Any ideas who the older guy might be?" she asked. Rigsby shook his head, pulling a face.
A quiet, but familiar voice behind them took them all by surprise. "Uh, that might well be me." They turned to see their former boss, Virgil Minelli, standing with Lottie in his arms. The small girl was softly sleeping. Lisbon's mouth dropped open and then turned into an astonished smile. The team glanced at each other as the small brunette ushered Minelli to her office, where he gently placed Lottie onto the couch and covered her with a throw.
They stepped outside. The word 'how?' formed unspoken on Lisbon's lips. Minelli quietly explained about Jane's text and the phone call from Lottie. Then he dug into his pocket and retrieved a scrunched up piece of paper. He handed it to Lisbon. She recognised Jane's writing immediately. He'd written two names; one was the former unit boss', next to which there was a childish sketch of an ice cream, and the other was Gerard Stevenson.
An incredulous look appeared on Lisbon's face. She shook her head in amazement. Jane had known all the time. But how? She was about to head back to the rest of the team when Minelli caught her by the arm and stopped her. He nodded towards her office. "She told me everything that happened, described it in detail." He handed her his phone. "I hit record when she started." Lisbon's eyes widened and teared up. She was speechless and so flung her arms around the older man's neck instead. She hugged him tightly.
Minelli chuckled. He hugged her back and then shrugged out of the embrace. "Whoah, Teresa! You're gonna have people talking about us," he joked.
Lisbon looked up at him and smiled warmly with grateful eyes. "Thank you, Virgil." Words could not express how much she missed having this man around the unit.
He watched with pride as his best former agent strode confidently towards the interview room. She spoke briefly with the rest of the team, who all glanced gratefully in his direction, and then entered the interview room to end Stevenson's freedom. From his position on the corridor, Minelli took a long look around the place, taking in the hustle of other agents within the bull pen and the sound of ringing phones. He sighed wistfully and then entered Lisbon's office to be there when the little girl woke up.
CBICBCBICBI
Lisbon was just putting the final touches to her report. Stevenson had finally broken down and confessed to killing both Victoria Marshall and Lauren Keyes, and for trying to frame Jane for the second murder. The brunette had listened with disbelief as the lowlife had described how he had subdued Jane with an injection of Rohypnol and how he had then beaten Lauren to stop her from fighting back. He had then, somehow, managed to place a knife in Jane's hand and dragged him up to a position above Lauren in order to slash her throat and ensure that the blood gushed all over the unconscious consultant. He'd explained how he'd read up about Red John and smeared the smiley on the bathroom mirror to try and make it look like Jane had finally broken.
She shook her head again as she remembered how he'd told her how angry not finding the girl had made him – angry enough to get careless and leave behind some bloody prints. Lisbon silently thanked God for forensic evidence. She tapped a few more keys on the computer, then emailed the report to Wainwright, then printed a hard copy for the files. She looked at her watch and closed her eyes. God, how she needed to sleep. She eyed up her couch and the warm throw, wanting desperately to feel the soft cushions beneath her weary body. The printer stopped whirring and she collected the loose leaves. She fastened them into a buff folder and meandered off to the bull pen. It was late - she'd despatched the team to catch up on some well-deserved rest - and the normally harsh lighting had been dimmed. She placed the folder into a filing cabinet and looked over at Jane's couch.
He was laying full length, covered by the grey and brown wool throw that usually rested on the back of the seating. Stealthily, she tip-toed over to check on him.
He had said very little since being released. When she'd tried to broach the subject of condolences, he'd just held up a hand, diverted his gaze and whispered, "Don't Lisbon. Don't say it." She'd sensed that he was managing to hold it together, despite having little or no memory of much of what had happened. She was well aware, however, of the one clear memory he did have – that of waking up covered in the blood of a woman who had meant a lot to him, despite the short time he had known her. The thought of the distress that must have caused him made her shudder. She sighed compassionately as she listened to his rhythmic breathing. She glanced towards her office, then at her wristwatch. Then, as quietly as she could, she lowered herself down into Van Pelt's empty chair and wearily kept watch over him as he slept.
CBICBICBICBI
Willow Wood Cemetery, Sacramento, CA
Several days later, Lisbon found herself keeping watch again. This time she was standing on a grass verge at the side of a roadway that wound through the cemetery. Jane was a few feet ahead of her, beneath a large oak tree and watching, from afar, a service being held for Lauren Keyes. He stood motionless as the casket was lowered into the ground, and Lisbon noted a small judder in his back at the sound of a mother's mournful cries. She couldn't see his face, but she sensed that his lip was trembling and that he was fighting back some powerful emotions. Her heart reached out to him, but she had to avert her gaze. It was too painful to watch.
At the sound of people disbanding, she looked back again to see him looking upwards, deep into the boughs of the tree above him. He took a deep breath and then turned and walked slowly towards her.
At first she wasn't sure whether to make eye contact with him – she wasn't sure she could hide her own tears welling up behind her eyes. He glanced at her and forced out a grateful, tight-lipped smile.
"You gonna be okay?" she asked quietly. He stood by her side, hands in his pockets, staring ahead of them.
He contemplated the question and then exhaled a short, light breath. He looked at her deeply. His eyes dropped to the ground and he nodded. "Yeah," he said with a side shrug of his head.
Lisbon nodded. "So tell me. How did you know it was Stevenson?" she baited, trying to bring him out of his melancholy.
Jane let out a breath and looked sideways at her. "It was obvious really," he began. "Lottie almost strangled me when he turned up at the scene. Add that to the fact that it was when she heard his raised voice on your speakerphone that she had her little 'bathroom incident'…It was then just a matter of getting what you police officers like to call 'hard evidence'. He emphasised the inverted commas with a physical gesture and shrugged, choosing not to add the fact that events had overtaken his plan to gain such evidence.
Lisbon nodded. She glanced over at the Suburban parked a little way up the roadway. "You need a ride back to the office?"
Jane let out a sigh. "Uh no…actually." He raised and dropped his shoulders. "Think I'm gonna take a few days off…maybe go on a vacation."
Lisbon looked at him in surprise, then tried to hide it. She smiled, "I think that's a good idea. You need time to recharge and rest up." She gave him a long tender look.
He returned it. "You're very sweet, Lisbon."
The brunette shrugged playfully, "I try," she quipped. After a few more seconds, she asked if he had anywhere in mind.
"Gonna spend some time with a friend," he answered mysteriously.
"Oh?" she puzzled, not sure who, other than the rest of the team, fitted that remit. She looked up at the sound of a rugged car engine. A pale blue pick-up truck pulled up at the kerbside and Virgil Minelli waved across at them. Lisbon cast a quizzical look at Jane and then at the truck.
Jane shrugged with shoulders and eyebrows, and gestured a degree of uncertainty with his upturned palms. There was the hint of a mischievous grin in the look as he bounded lightly over to get into the passenger seat.
"There's room for you, too, if you want," called Virgil, beaming with one arm resting out of the open window.
Lisbon glanced at the bed of the pick-up truck, packed with various camping items and fishing equipment. She raised her eyebrows and waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, that's okay," she breezed. "You boys have fun." She smirked and waved back as they pulled away and drove off. She watched for a moment, hopeful in the knowledge that Jane was in safe hands and that everything was going to be okay.
THE END
N/A - I know it's been a long one. But please just take a second to review. I'll be very grateful and the feedback really helps to make me a better writer.