Authors Note: This was written for the Jello Forever Big Bang. Thanks to autumnftw for the beta. Total word count is just over 11,000 words in 10 chapters and an epilogue. Check out jello forever for more awesome fics and art done specifically for this fic.
Chapter 1
He walked along the beach. The team had been called in by the local police, who had shown up at the scene of a grisly murder to find that horrible smiley face on the wall. He knew that Lisbon had been the one to call them. It had come through the channels of course, but he knew she was the one who made the decision to call them in.
He hadn't seen her in over four years, although she still sent Christmas and birthday cards; she sent them to everyone.
She had left the CBI suddenly, saying she wanted to get away from the horror and pain that came with every case. She went into private security, consulting for big firms in Southern California. She said that she had always loved the beach and would be glad to be near it. A few years later, he'd heard from Van Pelt that she'd grown tired of the boring life of a security consultant and had gone to work for the police department in Seagull, a small coastal town North of Las Angles.
Rigsby left the CBI about a year after Lisbon. He'd finally manned up enough to tell Van Pelt how he felt about her, and now they were married with two children—two-and-a-half-year-old twins; one boy and one girl—and Rigsby was the stay-at-home dad. He ran a private investigation firm out of their house, but only picked up one or two clients at a time. He said it was a hobby, something to keep him busy and sane in between Dora the Explorer and Handy Manny.
Cho was still there, he could have made the position of Senior Agent by now if he wanted to, but he didn't want the pressure and the politics that come with being the boss. He was content to just sit back and enjoy solving all of the cases, with Jane's help of course.
And here he was, just walking along the beach, still trying to find Red John. That's why they were in Seagull in the first place. They had arrived very early this morning, having taken the red eye flight from Sacramento to LA and driving the 50's miles to the small town. Rigsby was driving the whole way with the kids; he and Van Pelt were supposed to be starting their vacation in three days anyway, so he decided to just get a head start as the team was already going to be there.
When the team got to the crime scene that morning—a large house in what had a tone time been an up and coming subdivision just outside Seagull—he was surprised that Lisbon wasn't there waiting for them; he knew that she knew they were coming. Instead, some up-and-coming junior detective was waiting to show them in while the crime scene investigators were still collecting evidence. He had noticed a bloody footprint in the front entry way.
"Normally we handle all of our own cases, or get help from one of the bigger cities," the junior detective said. "My name's Johnson by the way. The boss said we needed to call you the second that she saw the wall here."
They walked upstairs to the bedroom, and there on the wall to greet them was a smiley face painted in dripping blood. Different than the numerous other faces they'd seen over the years—almost as if the artist had been interrupted—the smile was only half formed, the circle less than perfect. Jane felt himself being pulled in, drawn by the almost hypnotic power that these faces held for him. He let the memories wash over him, to remind him why it was that he was here, why he had kept this quest for vengeance for so long.
"Jane!" Van Pelt's voice startled him, and he looked around at the rest of the room.
"There were two bodies," said Johnson, "You can see where they were; one here on the bed, laid out—the boss called it 'Red John style'—and the second was here on the floor."
The team looked where Johnson was pointing and noticed the outline of where the body had been on the floor in a pool of blood.
"The second victim—" started Van Pelt.
"The husband," interjected Johnson.
"The husband," Van Pelt continued with a smile at the eager detective, "Was he cut up also?"
"No, just a single stab wound to the abdomen. He bled to death."
"He surprised him," Jane spoke up for the first time. "Red John wasn't expecting him to come home."
"The neighbor did say that the husband was supposed to be out of town for the week, but he must have come back early," reported Johnson.
"Who called it in?" asked Van Pelt.
"The same neighbor who told us the husband was supposed to be out of town. She told us that the front door and the door to the husband's car were both left open, like he meant to come back out to the car and get something. Apparently it was like that for a few hours, and the neighbor got suspicious, so she came over to check on them and saw the footprint by the front door. That's when she called 911 at about 10:00 last night."
As they talked, Jane paced around the room, looking to see if there was anything obviously out of place, anything that didn't look like a typical Red John case, because this was anything but typical. Besides the two victims, there were signs of an obvious struggle.
"The husband must have caught him in the act of painting the smiley face, and they got into a struggle." Jane was staring at the small pieces of jewelry and loose change scattered across the floor by the dresser and the bloody outline of the husband's body. "Tell me, Johnson, did the husband have any defensive wounds on his body?"
"Uh... I-I don't know," the junior detective stammered, "We could find out. The coroner's report isn't due for another few days—they're really backed up at the morgue, we have to send it into the county coroner, they handle a lot of cases."
"We'll speak to our boss and see if we can get them to speed up the autopsy any." Van Pelt broke into the conversation to put the young man at ease. "What do you think Jane? Do you think Red John might have been injured when he struggled with the husband?"
"Maybe. Now, Johnson," Jane continued as if Van Pelt had never spoken, "where is your boss today?"
"Uh... it's her day off, sir." Johnson looked around, obviously nervous by the way Jane was questioning him. He was still new at being the man in charge. In fact, he'd never had to be the one in charge before today.
"She took the day off after a serial killer attacked when she was the person in charge?"
"Uh, yes... this is always her day off. She doesn't even come into the field that often, but the regular guy was sick, so she came in last night when she heard what the beat cops were saying over the radio. She's the one that said we should call you."
"And where might I find her if I needed to speak with her?" Jane stepped right into Johnson's personal space, ignoring his attempts to back away.
"She, uh, she'll be in tomorrow, but I think she was planning on spending today at home."
"And where might that home be?" He was right up in his face now, having backed the young man up against the wall.
"Uh," Johnson stuttered, his voice cracking, "can you take a step back? I'm, uh, not really comfortable right now."
Jane looked surprised at how close they were and gave Johnson a friendly smile. "Of course," he said taking a step backward.
"Do you want to come with me to talk to the neighbors, see if any of them saw or heard anything, Jane?" asked Van Pelt.
"Ah, no. Tell me, when is Rigsby going to be getting here?"
"Not until this evening. It's about an eight hour drive, and he has the kids with him, so probably around 9:00 tonight."
"Where is he going to stay?"
"Just with some friends—same place we always stay. It's a house right on the beach."
"Beach... that sounds like a good idea. Where would you recommend?"
"The beach just about a mile from the hotel is the one that we usually visit when we're here, there a few privet homes on the beach there, but it's still public. It's not usually crowded because of the homes."
Jane smiled in a way that usually meant he was up to something, and said, "Thank you very much." He left with Van Pelt standing there trying to figure out what had just happened.