Scarlet Companion
"Food is there to eat, Van Pelt!"
Little flecks of bread flew from Rigsby's mouth as he took another bite out of his sandwich to prove his point. Grace looked at him in disgust, watching a dollop of mayonnaise fall onto his tie without him noticing. She was having a hard time keeping her face straight so she turned away and replied to him facing her computer.
"Yes, food is there to eat Wayne…"
Unlike him she never used surnames when having casual conversations unless, of course, it was with Jane.
"…but you do realise that the food isn't going anywhere? You don't have to eat all of it because it'll vanish or someone will come along and take it," and to prove her point, she snapped the lid of her lunchbox shut, still containing four carrot sticks and a yoghurt, and slid it into her bag with a smile. Lisbon and Cho exchanged a look. Communicating to each other without words wasn't hard when they were both thinking the same thing right now.
This was a conversation which happened almost everyday. Rigsby would bring in hoards of food, making as much noise as he could when he brought it so Van Pelt would notice him, and then they would bicker over how unhealthy it was, how expensive it was; how fast he ate it, the list was endless and the conversations would be as well if they didn't get called out for work. Cho and Lisbon, on the other hand, knew the real meaning behind the talk of sandwiches and health.
It wasn't hard to see Rigsby' face flush whenever he walked into the same room as Van Pelt or seeing his eyes gleam with happiness whenever she laughed at something he'd said. The same went for Van Pelt. Whenever she saw him struggling with a new lead on a case, the look of pain on her face was always obvious and the arguments she started with him always turned into sly flirting. Lisbon smiled to herself as she looked away from Cho, knowing that he too had noticed all the little things going on between them. Even though they weren't dating anymore, they were still very much in love.
Lisbon was pretending to look through the papers from their last case, one of their quickest to finish, but she was actually keeping an eye on the man lying on the leather sofa. Patrick Jane had been gazing into space throughout this whole conversation which was unusual because he almost always sat up and joined in the bickering between Van Pelt and Rigsby, chipping in with a different argument or opinion whenever he thought someone had the upper hand.
From where she was sitting she could just make out the top of his head and the tip of his shoes and, to anyone else sitting in her position, he looked as if he was sleeping. But she was not anyone else and she knew Jane was not sleeping because, when slept, he folded his arms and tilted his head to the side yet she could see that his hands were clasped across his chest and he was gazing up at the ceiling, his thumbs gently bouncing together. He was thinking.
"Jane, can you back me up here please?" Rigsby' voice pleaded over to the man lying on the sofa, meaning that today is was Van Pelt who had the upper hand.
"I'm surprised you haven't said anything yet seeing as you were the one who started the whole 'brown bread is better' thing…Jane?"
Cho and Van Pelt looked over at the sofa, their faces baring the same confused expression. Jane not getting involved in an argument was like a thirsty man seeing water and not taking a drink…strange.
"Jane…?" Van Pelt's voice was barely audible but Lisbon still heard it from where she was sitting in the corner.
"Jane, are you with us?" She shot a questioning glance over at Rigsby who shrugged and shook his head; he was just as confused as she was. Cho, as usual, showed no sign of knowing nor caring what was going on and continued to stare at the phone on his desk, waiting for it to ring and bring him something to do. No more than three seconds past after Lisbon had thought this when the red light flashed and the phone began to ring making them all, including herself, jump in their seats. All but Cho who she saw sneakily sigh with relief before picking it up.
"Kimball Cho…" He was silent for a moment before turning to his desk and scribbling something down on a piece of paper in front of him. The person on the phone seemed to be talking very fast because Cho's hand was flying across the paper like there was no tomorrow.
"Okay we'll be right there…I'll tell her", he put the phone carefully back in its place and sat very still for a moment, eyes glazed over, staring down at the little essay he had just written.
"Cho? Is everything okay?" Her voice brought Cho out of his trance and he stood up to put his jacket on, still not making eye contact.
"Here," he handed the piece of paper over to Lisbon and sat back down with his jacket on, resuming his troubled gaze into the distance. Van Pelt and Rigsby shot wide eyed glances at each other, both utterly perplexed by the sudden mood change in the room. First Jane not wanting to join in their argument and now Cho was acting odd after a mysterious phone call. What was going on? Lisbon glanced down at the note and her eyes focused on two words in Cho's messy handwriting which she always dreaded seeing.
…Red John.
He had claimed another victim, another one of his "wives", and they were going to have to go and see the result. She closed her eyes and sighed quietly, thinking about how difficult it was going to be dealing with Jane when he found out. Not only was he emotionally difficult to deal with whenever the case involved Red John, he was a lot more difficult to talk to when she needed help. He was always thinking about his family, how he could finally get his revenge on Red John, and he thought of nothing else but that. Lisbon couldn't say she understood how he felt but having brothers of her own, who she loved dearly, she knew that if Red John had drawn his face in any of their rooms, she would be out for revenge just like Jane was so she couldn't understand why he didn't open up to her more.
"Right let's go then," she shouldn't be thinking about the troubles she would have to face in the future, she was their boss and their leader so she had to stay in control. Not letting them see any signs of worry in her voice she spoke out to them all, making eye contact as she addressed them.
"Rigsby, Cho, I want you to drive to the house and talk to the family, see if she seemed different or met anyone new in the past year. Van Pelt stay here and I'll…I'll go to the scene."
Immediately they all sprang to life, Cho darted for the door, glad to have something to do, and Rigsby grabbed his jacket to follow him. Lisbon showed Van Pelt the note and she began typing names and locations, fingers flying over the keyboard, her gaze never leaving the screen.
Lisbon stood rooted to the spot beside Van Pelt, watching her type and wondering what to do now. Should she wake Jane and take him to the scene of the crime? Or should she leave him here, get answers to her questions, evaluate the scene then come back and wake him? She sighed again knowing the answer already. Turning around she saw he was looking at her as if he already knew what was going on and what she was about to ask.
"You coming?"
She didn't look at him as she crossed over to the table and picked up her keys but he didn't say anything, just picked up his coat and walked over to stand next to her, a small smile on his face.
"Did you really have to ask?"
The journey there was nothing but silence only it didn't bother Lisbon because she had enough on her mind to think about. She was gearing herself up for a very long day. Arguing with Jane, clearing up after the people he upset and running around trying to do everything else to solve the case as fast as she could. She was worrying so much about Jane she didn't even realise her car was turning into the victim's driveway…until she nearly collided with a statue of a cherub. Taking the keys out of the ignition she stared straight ahead, knowing Jane wasn't going to listen to anything she had to say when the two words came out.
"Jane, the victim…the victim is…"
She'd left Cho's piece of paper back at the office on her desk but she knew the officer introducing her to the scene would re-cap on everything so she changed tack quickly.
"…a white female, late thirties, she has daughter but the girl seems to have gone missing."
Deep breath Lisbon
Her brain felt as if it was slowly melting, each thought merging together, unable to pick one from another.
Just say it!
Cupping her hand around the door handle, she looked over at him, making sure she held his gaze as he watched and waited for her to finish.
"It's Red John."
He nodded slowly, "I thought it was. Why didn't you just tell me back at the office?"
They both got out of the car and Lisbon had to practically run to keep up with him. It had begun…
"Oh please, you know exactly why. You're already starting to do it right now!"
She was thinking out loud and Jane seemed to realise this because he stopped halfway across the lawn and turned to face her.
"I'm sorry I'm so predictable Lisbon but Red John cases are personal to me, you know that."
His grey eyes burned with pain and Lisbon had to look away over the tree tops to stop herself getting lost in them.
"I understand Jane, I do, it's just sometimes you really are…difficult to control when its cases like these."
She buried her hands deep into her pockets and looked at the towering house in front of them, anywhere but at the man whose eyes she felt could look deep into her soul. He turned away and looked at the grass beneath him, scuffing it slightly with his feet.
"I'm sorry," and with one last piercing stare he turned and began walking up the pearl white staircase, leaving Lisbon with no choice but to breathe in deeply and follow him.
The inside of the house was all too familiar. A police officer led her into a grand foyer with a high ceiling and two staircases leading up the sides of the wall, meeting in the middle. A golden chandelier filled the room with light and Lisbon saw two doors on either side of the room leading off further into the house and another door at the very top of the stairs which continued through to the second floor. Most cases she worked on occurred in houses like these, a lot more than she realised. The police officer who had taken her through to the foyer turned to address her and Lisbon noticed he was shaking badly; his face a ghostly white. Yet another thing she had seen before.
"First case by any chance?"
She hoped her voice sounded more sympathetic than humorous, the poor man looked like he was about to throw up and who could blame him. For his first case, Red John wasn't exactly someone who shed as little blood as possible.
"Yeah, firs' one," he swayed on the spot and Lisbon gently lowered him into a nearby chair.
"Head between your legs, take deep breaths. Maybe go out and get some fresh air as well? Before you do that can you tell me what we got here?"
"Sorry, of course ma'am, it's just all that blood made me feel…"
The officer's voice sounded less shaky from between his legs and, despite everything, she couldn't stop a tiny smile creeping onto her face.
"Her name is Marianne Odell, late thirties; she's in the main bedroom at the top of the stairs. Teenage daughter, Josephine, is missing but there is no sign of a struggle so she could have escaped, right?"
He turned his head up to face her, almost pleading to be given some good news. Lisbon knew better, Red John didn't show mercy to any of his victims or their family. Jane's wife and daughter were proof of that.
"You leave that to us, now go and get some fresh air"
"Yes ma'am," she helped him to his feet and watched as he staggered slowly over to the front door only to collapse at the top of the steps, resuming the head-between-the-legs position.
As she was climbing the stairs, she looked at the pictures hanging on the walls, each individual frame slightly higher than the other almost mirroring the shape of the stairs as they rose. The photos were like a timeline, each single frame showing a little baby growing up into the present day teenager. The first showed a pretty woman holding the baby high above her head, the baby's face filled with sheer joy at being lifted into the air. The woman must be Marianne Odell.
The next was of the baby, now a toddler, pushing a pram with a toy doll in and holding an orange sippy cup in one hand. The next frame a five year old blowing out candles on a cake, a ten year old with her arms wrapped around two friends, a twelve year old in a beautiful blue dress. The very last photo, as Lisbon reached the top of the stairs, was the biggest of them all and she took a step back in wonder.
The teenage girl was now as beautiful as her mother, piercing silvery eyes and a smile which could melt any frown, this girl was truly loved. Her hair fell around her face in a cascade of gold against her perfectly tanned skin but this was not what made Lisbon gape in awe. The resemblance between the girl and her mother was obvious, the slightly pointed nose made them both seem like their smile was wider and the shape of their faces was a perfect oval. The eyes, the hair and the cheeky grin were not inherited from her mother yet they were still so familiar. She took yet another step back. It was like trying to remember somebody you saw in the street every now and again; she couldn't quite put the features to the face and yet…
She gasped. This was a huge coincidence, how could she not have spotted it before when she first saw it!
"Agent Lisbon?"
She jumped at the man addressing her and nearly tumbled down the stairs.
"I'm sorry to interrupt but would you like to come through and examine the scene, it's just we really would like to take the body down, the sooner we do the slower the decomposition." The man adjusted his gloves and motioned for her to follow him.
"Of course, what can you tell me about her so far?"
The hallway was narrow so she had to walk slightly behind the man, eventually striding to keep up with him as they flew past door after door.
"It's just like the other Red John cases, throat and wrists slashed, smiley face drawn in the victims blood on the wall and her toes are painted in her own blood too. Obvious signs of a struggle as you will see in just a second," he opened a door to the left and they walked inside, "also this was written on the glass door."
He pointed to the sliding door, which opened onto a little balcony overlooking the garden, and in dripping red letters were the words "REVEALS IN TROY"
"Any idea what it means Agent Lisbon because it sure has us officers scratching our heads."
He walked over to the table, picked up his camera and began photographing the area around the body which was sprawled in the middle floor.
Marianne Odell did not look so beautiful when she was covered in blood. Her hair fell wildly around her head, covering her face entirely, but the neck was visible, revealing the horizontal line where she had been sliced open. Blood had spurted everywhere, not just onto her white nightdress but the walls, the desk and even the ceiling. Both her arms lay either side of her hips, the slashes on her wrists in plain view still dripping blood onto the already crimson carpet. Lisbon tore her eyes away from the lifeless body and quickly took in the rest of the room. Smashed glass littered the floor from the tiny drinks cabinet in the corner, the duvet from the four poster bed was on the floor and a chair which had smashed the dressing table mirror was lying on its side beside the shards.
Red John's smiley face grinned at her from the antique wall mirror hanging directly opposite; laughing at her because she couldn't catch him…She strode out of the room and walked quickly down the hallway. Wrenching open the nearest door; she slammed it shut and closed her eyes breathing in deeply. Everything about the previous room brought back memories from the past, none of which were ones she wanted to remember in a hurry. Turning slowly around to lean against the door she breathed out and opened her eyes, not knowing which room she had randomly run into.
Tears burned in her eyes and, for the second time that day, she let out a quiet gasp.
It was as if she had walked into a memory and she was her teenage self all over again, the room being almost an exact replica to her own back when she was a teenager, small and plain yet cosy and welcoming at the same time. A slightly untidy bed was crammed into the corner under the open window and a dream catcher dangled from the ceiling overhead, slowly spinning round and round in the light breeze. There was a large wooden desk with papers and pens all over the place, some had fallen onto the chair, and the bin beside it was overflowing with screwed up paper balls, probably from all the late night mistakes and ideas for essay assignments. A large purple rug was in the middle of the room, the colour of it clashing terribly with the walls and the carpet, but from where she stood she could tell that it was worn down from all the times it had been used. All the times it had been danced all over, paced up and down on, curled up in a ball and cried on. The rug had gone through all the emotions its owner had.
A tear slid down her face as she realised that apart from the wardrobe bursting with expensive clothes and the different taste in books that were crammed onto the shelves, this room was almost a mirror image of her own. A safe haven the girl could come to if anything was troubling her, needing to let it all out, to scream, shout and cry. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly, moving over towards the desk to look at the pictures circling the mirror. You didn't need to be psychic to work out that Josephine was a popular girl. In only three photos, out of the many she had, she was with the same group of two girls. All the others were of her dancing at a party, never holding any alcohol or smoking, or in her cheerleader outfit joking around with a bunch of the football players. In every single photo she was beaming and Lisbon found herself smiling sadly back. She really wanted to find this girl; the similarities between them were scary and if Jane were here right now…
Jane.
Where was that man? Panic flooded through her and she straightened up quickly, swearing under her breath. She hadn't seen him since he'd apologized to her out on the lawn and, looking back, she could never remember a time when he had not looked over a body with her and pointed something out, especially on a Red John victim. So where was he now? A horrible feeling was beginning to creep up the back of her neck and she shivered. Something was wrong.
Opening the door to the hallway she quickly poked her head out, looking both ways before closing the door quietly behind her. Thoughts were trickling in like she was having them poured into her head; they hammered at her brain making her head spin and she stopped to lean against the wall. This house was so big it wouldn't be hard for someone to hide in a room and Jane was well known for snooping where he wasn't supposed to. What if Red John had him cornered in a room somewhere tied to a chair, holding a knife to his throat, or worse…?
Lisbon was already speed dialling the others downstairs when she noticed the door to the room next to her was open…and someone was inside. She could see their reflection in the bedside mirror, body hunched over, head in hands almost as if they were weeping but from where she was standing she couldn't see the person's face through the crack in the door.
Until they looked up…and she knew immediately who is was.
In all the years Lisbon had known him, she had never seen Patrick Jane cry. He was always making sure everyone was happy or comforting those when they did weep, at the ready with some not so funny joke or a friendly smile…but not once had he ever cried in front of anyone. She knew it had something to do with the doctors at the clinic he was sent to, telling him to leave all his sadness and regrets behind him and move forward in life. Somehow she couldn't imagine Jane following this advice. Yes, he may have left some of his sadness behind but regrets? Never.
Lisbon leaned her head on the doorframe, watching silent tears fall down his face and debated whether he would want comforting or be embarrassed at being caught crying. Choosing their friendship over his embarrassment, she silently pushed open the door and closed it behind her. He glanced at her in the mirror to see who it was but didn't bother to hide his red eyes or running nose, he just went back to looking at the floor. Seeing more tears fall down his face, Lisbon wanted to bundle him up in her arms there and then and hug him tightly but she knew she couldn't do that. It was against her rules and she knew Jane was still in love with his wife.
She sat down on the bed next to him and they both remained silent for what seemed like hours. Tears continued to fall down Jane's face, tearing her to shreds inside but she sat silently next to him, hands folded in her lap. Suddenly he stood up and Lisbon jumped at the abrupt movement.
"Thank you for sitting with me Teresa, I'm sorry you had to see me like this," he pulled a tissue out of a box on the table and wiped his nose.
"Jane don't be sorry. Is there anything you want to ta-"
"Yes Lisbon, I feel terrible that you had to see me like this. It's just…it's just I-"
The door opened and the new officer walked into the room, relief flooding into his face.
"Agent Lisbon, some people are waiting for you downstairs. They say they need you to come back to the office with them." He looked nervously at Jane.
"You too Mr Jane, sir" and he hurried away down the corridor.
Jane rushed out of the room without another word and Lisbon followed, keeping a respected distance between them. She had known he would feel embarrassed and she felt stupid for even going in and sitting with him. Why hadn't she just left him alone and carried on walking down the corridor? This feeling put her in a bad mood and by the time she reached the bottom of the staircase, she had her famous scowl on and her strides were long.
"Alright, what have you got?"
Rigsby and Cho exchanged glances, making her even more agitated. She didn't need them giving her the information in bits, not when she was in a mood like this. She wanted it short and fast, to the point.
"Come on, what is it?"
Rigsby cleared his throat. "Umm Boss, can we talk about it back at the office?"
"Yeah, I'll take Jane" Cho cut in and was already guiding a deep in thought Jane to the car before she could protest.
"Alright Rigsby, what the hell is going on? No, don't try and tell me to get in the car. Tell me it right now, what do you know?"
She was breathing heavily, feeling anger and the humiliation from just moments ago bubbling to the surface.
"Well, Gra-…I mean Van Pelt just called. She checked the victim's phone records from last night."
Lisbon sighed. She didn't need this right now.
"Rigsby please. You could have told me this when I finished up here, why do you need to tell me back at the office?"
Rigsby was getting nervous because of the mood she was in so he had to swallow hard and shuffle through his notes before he spoke again.
"The thing is boss, what Van Pelt found involves one of us."
"What?"
That didn't make any sense; one of us could mean anything, one of us who was here now, one of us officers, anything!
"Be a bit more specific Rigsby."
"I'm trying too Boss!"
The look she gave him was enough to make his face flush bright red and his next few words came out in a jumble of stutters.
"I-I-I- sorry Boss, I- It's just…well, over the past two days, Marianne had around three 30 minute conversations with someone from our department."
Her blood ran cold. Marianne had called someone from their department? What if she had said something to them which had gotten her killed…or maybe she had known something about Red John's identity and had managed to contact someone?
"Who Rigsby, who was it?"
"Well that's the thing Boss. I don't know how she knew him…but..
"She called Jane."
Author's Note: Thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far :) This is for you people!
How did Jane know her? What were the bad memories Lisbon had?
Good, bad?I love hearing what you have to say so...click the bubble and bang it in the box :D
~victwi
