It was just like when you remain inside the cinema when the movie is ended. The lights turn on, people start walking away, the titles keep running across the screen.
Well, now even the titles had come to an end. Red John had been condemned. It was really over. What then?
He simply kept on drinking his tea, ignoring Lisbon's troubled gaze – his complete lack of reaction was the thing that worried her most.
"I think I'll have another cup of tea".
Jane knew perfectly well that she wouldn't believe him, but it didn't matter. A few minutes later he was driving his car, heading out of town.
He threw a quick glance at the rear view mirror just once and – as he found what he expected – a little smile touched his lips.
He didn't stop until he reached the sea. He parked his car, took a few steps across the empty beach, then he lay on the sand.
His eyes closed, he listened to the sound of the sea till he lost all sense of time. The murmur of waves crashing on the shore was strangely hypnotic. His thoughts were being rolled and dragged away, like pebbles and shells on the seashore.
For a single moment he enjoyed the pure sensation of being alive. He felt the warmth of the sun and the soft touch of the wind. He heard the slow, continuous murmur of the sea.
Then, suddenly, he went back to reality. He stood up, brushing the sand off his jacket.
"Come on, Lisbon, I know you're over there".
Reluctantly Lisbon abandoned the shade of the ice-cream kiosk and went forward, an uncertain smile on her face. Without a word they started walking along the shore, looking at the sea as it turned red in the sunset.
It was Jane who unexpectedly broke the silence.
"I remember when I went here for the first time. It was Charlotte's birthday…"
Now these memories seemed so far away, as if they belonged to someone else. He was taken aback by Lisbon's sharp intake of breath.
He saw her turning away, as she fought back the tears. It was the last thing he would have expected, and he felt deeply troubled. Somehow it wasn't right for her to grieve over his family. His sorrow was his own, no one else should share this burden.
He laid his hand on Lisbon's shoulder and gently forced her to turn around. He clearly perceived her confusion: she had always avoided showing her feelings, and now she had suddenly lost control just when she most wanted to remain calm and sensible.
He took her hands and squeezed them, trying to reassure her.
"Lisbon… I'm okay. Really".
She nodded, stifling a sob, as he handed her his handkerchief.
They both knew that it was not entirely true. Not yet. But perhaps it would have been, someday.
