Some things are impossible to escape.
Guilt was one of them, as Patrick Jane knew only too well. A whole decade had gone by since the murder of his precious family, and yet he wasn't anywhere ready to move on than he'd been the night he'd come home to find a note taped to his bedroom door and a red smiling face painted on the wall.
All of his hopes and dreams had shattered that day, and he still had to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. The only thing that kept him going was his drive for revenge, otherwise he would have never been able to snap out of the nervous breakdown that had threatened to destroy his sanity back then.
What he led now was a half-life, his vital functions simply a means to an end. Red John was what he thought about day and night, all his skills focused on finding the man who'd slaughtered his happiness.
Anything else mattered little; there would be a time for him to grieve his beloved ones properly, a time to deal with the feelings that were claiming more and more room inside his withered soul.
Not yet though.