Chapter 1

It was a bright summer morning in Sacramento when FBI liaison Agent Frank Kingston arrived at the scene of a murder. A young girl, thought to be a prostitute, was found in an abandoned house. She had been strangled, and her half-dressed body lay sprawled on the living room floor. Agent Kingston knew that the CBI was already at the scene, and that their Serious Crimes Unit was investigating the murder.

Agent Kingston stepped through the door and walked over to where two men from the SCU were examining the body. The Asian man looked up at him. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked, completely deadpan.

"Yes," replied agent Kingston. "I'm looking for Senior Agent Lisbon. I understand his team is investigating this case."

The tall dark-haired man turned to a petite woman standing in the corner. "Boss," he called. "The FBI is here."

Agent Kingston's face was a picture of shock as the tiny brunette walked up to him. "Agent Teresa Lisbon." She gestured towards the two men beside her. "Agents Rigsby and Cho."

Just then, a blonde man in a three piece suit wandered through from the other room. He appeared totally at ease in the room, and sauntered over to where the small group of agents stood. "Ah," he said. "The FBI has arrived."

Agent Kingston turned to the blonde man. "Who are you?" he asked, almost rudely.

The man held out his hand. "Patrick Jane. I work for the CBI."

Lisbon cut in. "he's just a consultant. Now, what interest does the FBI have in the strangling of a prostitute? This looks like a domestic gone wrong."

Jane shook his head. "She was part of a drug ring. The FBI was using her as a contact to get information. The leaders obviously found out, and killed her."

Kingston frowned, puzzled. "How could you possibly know that information?"

Jane ignored the question and turned around to face the room. "This house is the perfect spot to deal drugs." He bent down and took a closer look at the body. "She was wearing a wire, but it was ripped off during the struggle."

Lisbon turned to Kingston. "We think she was killed upstairs and dumped here."

Kingston frowned in amazement. 'How does a woman become the leader of a crime unit?' he thought.

Jane tilted his head and turned to Kingston. "Agent Lisbon became the leader of this unit through hard work and dedication to her job. If you don't feel comfortable working under a woman, maybe the FBI should send out a replacement."

Kingston turned red with embarrassment as Rigsby and Cho turned to face him. "I-I never said anything like that," he spluttered, trying to salvage his pride.

A pretty red-haired agent appeared from outside. "Crime techs found a shoe print in the mud outside the window. We're hoping that we can use it to trace the killer."

Lisbon nodded. "Thank you, Van Pelt."

Jane wandered back through to the kitchen area and examined the cabinets closely. A white smudge on the counter top drew his attention, and he could see the faint outlines of beakers and test tubes imprinted into the surface. "Lisbon," he called. "I've found something."

Lisbon, with a silent Kingston in tow, strode through to where Jane was standing. "What is it, Jane?" she asked, her voice sounding uninterested.

Jane carefully traced the rings on the counter. "Meth lab." He said.

Kingston's interest piqued, he stepped closer to inspect the rings. "How did you see these, Mr Jane?" he asked with interest.

Jane shrugged. "They're obvious when you know what to look for."

Lisbon turned to Kingston. "We're about done here. Meet us back at the CBI building in about an hour, and we can continue to discuss this case."

Jane sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. Lisbon wasn't in the mood for being annoyed; Jane figured that, with the anniversary of her mother's death only days away, he would hold back for the time being. Lisbon sighed as she started the SUV and pulled out into the street. Jane opened one eye to examine Lisbon, noting her white knuckles as she gripped the steering-wheel. "Anything wrong?" he asked innocently.

"I can't believe that agent," grumbled Lisbon. "He has the nerve to show up at my crime scene, but refuses to work under me. Because I'm a woman."

Jane chuckled quietly. "He's just not used to the idea of working under women. He's 'old school', so to speak, and can't handle strong women."

Lisbon turned her head fractionally and glared at Jane. "And you got that in the two minutes you spent with him?"

Jane rolled his deep blue eyes. "You forget that I used to do that for a living. Being a fake psychic means that you need to read people in milliseconds, or they could call you out on your lies."

Lisbon nodded slowly, lost in thought. Jane observed her again. "If there's anything you want to talk about," he asked. "You know I'm willing to listen."

Lisbon shook her head. "I can handle it, Jane. You don't need to worry."

"You know I will anyway," he replied softly, closing his eyes and getting comfortable again.

Lisbon frowned, her green eyes narrowing as she struggled to focus on the road ahead. Her mind kept wandering; back to the night that her family received the news of her mother's death. She remembered the horror she felt, and how her youngest brother began to cry. She thought of the funeral, and how she knew that she, as the eldest, would have to step up and take charge. At the tender age of twelve, Teresa Lisbon assumed the role of mother and raised her three brothers. Her father, devastated at the loss of her mother, turned to alcohol for comfort. Teresa watched as her father spiralled out of control, until he committed suicide when she was seventeen.

A bump in the road jarred Lisbon from her thoughts, and she forced herself to focus on the road in front of her. Jane's eyes flew open. Something was seriously wrong, because Lisbon always drove carefully. It was very unlike her to hit bumps in the road, especially at speed. He worried that, even after twenty-seven years, Lisbon was still hurting at the loss of her mother. And he hated seeing his Lisbon in pain.