Someone was killing DEA agents. Three, to be exact, and the local police had run out of ideas and suspects in the murders. Teresa sat at her desk reading the police report with a frown. The fact that three agents had been killed with no leads was bringing out her impatience. She liked results, and she liked them immediately. She could not help thinking that her old team at the CBI would have been pursuing suspects by now. But this FBI…big on hierarchy, procedure, bureaucracy and paperwork, without much action in catching criminals. She sighed and wished there were a nearby window so she could see the bright fall day outside. By the time she left the building, it would be dark.
She would arrive home with no one to greet her at the door, not even a dog. She would take off her coat and hang it on a hook by the door, and then she'd change into her pajamas and bathrobe. She would have a light dinner-sometimes it was only cereal and milk, because she didn't like cooking. Sometimes she would take a bath. She often had a cup of herbal tea as she read her book before bed. She enjoyed the classic novels of Charlotte and Emily Bronte, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens. It would be past midnight before she turned off the light, alone in her queen-sized bed that a different woman might have found lonely. Teresa didn't mind living alone. During her years as Special Agent at the CBI, she was grateful to be alone after a long day of managing Patrick. Sometimes she felt as though she were married to the man-she cleaned up his messes, she made excuses for him, she took reprimands because of him. At least she wasn't expected to cook for him.
Teresa smiled at the thought of domesticity with Patrick. When she was in a certain mood, the prospect seemed delightful. But most of the time, being a woman of sense and practicality, she knew that she would not last long in a marriage to him unless he changed his very nature. She was not going to change her nature for any man. She'd spent twenty years trying to get men to take her seriously in an environment with few women in positions of authority. Many of the men at work thought privately that she was unfeminine-these were the sort of men who noticed the way a woman dressed but could not detect the hidden, observant, soft-spoken essence of who she was: her femininity. These were men who would leer amongst themselves at the glimpse of a woman's cleavage.
This is why Teresa never wore revealing clothing. Nor did she wear much makeup or jewelry-only the gold cross that belonged to her mother. The average man would look at her and see a pretty woman. The unusually observant man would see a sweetness to her curved mouth, a fine intelligence in her eyes, a resolute tilt to her jaw. He would see that she was a rare beauty, "pretty" being a totally inadequate word to describe her.
This woman possessed the power of true femininity. She demanded, and received, respect.
The result was that no man dared to approach her. Except Patrick Jane. But against him she built up a layer of reserve and reticence which even he could not penetrate. She feared for her own heart and dared not trust it to him. So she loved him in secret, in silence, from afar, and told herself that she was wise.
The next day there was a meeting of all the agents in her division, headed by Agents Abbott and Fischer. Abbott was a stern and exacting man who believed himself to be smarter than Patrick, but who had in fact been fooled by him several times. Agent Fischer was a tall, lean, angular woman with a skull face all cheekbones and wide forehead. Her catlike eyes and large sensual mouth were her only beautiful attributes, but she was skilled in the seduction so often necessary in undercover work. She, like Teresa, had worked many years to be taken seriously as a woman in a position of authority. But unlike Teresa, her way was to be cold and slightly insulting, a dominatrix whose whip was more often displayed than felt. Agent Fischer had been sent to Patrick's island refuge to seduce him into joining the FBI, and almost succeeded. Agent Abbott had to complete the mission.
Patrick Jane sat in a leather chair with a smirk on his handsome face. Everyone else was sitting at attention, and he lolled, slumped in the chair with deliberate disobedience. Teresa knew he was working undercover in the DEA case but she had not been briefed on the details. She was too proud and too angry with him to ask him. She sat as far away from him as possible, but he stole glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She set her chin in determination and sat motionless and cold as a stone throughout the meeting. She was assigned to work with the local police, thankful that she was not responsible for Patrick.
When the meeting broke up, several men meandered into the room who were not FBI, casting furtive glances at the FBI's bounty: top of the line computers, electronic case boards, high end office furniture. From the way they skulked and regarded their surroundings with a mixture of envy and resentment, Teresa knew they were police even though they were not in uniform. Two of the men were middle aged, prematurely balding and bespectacled. A third was about thirty and extremely overweight from years at a desk job. The fourth caught her eye. With the absence of the envy/resentment felt by his colleagues, he was obviously at ease in the FBI office. He moved with a springing step as he came toward her.
"Agent Lisbon? Mark Johnson, Austin PD." He extended his hand to her. She strode forward and offered her hand to him.
"Nice to meet you! I guess we'll be working together. Any leads?" She covertly studied his face and body, a skill she'd developed and perfected until she was an expert. Full head of dark brown hair. Maybe forty. Tall and slim. Not exactly handsome, but pleasant-faced with an open, kind expression in his dark eyes.
"A few that we've been working on. Would you like some coffee before we begin reviewing what we've got so far?"
"I would love some coffee," Teresa replied. Mark disappeared into the office kitchen and came out shortly with a cup straight from the coffee urn. "How do you take it?"
"Black. Thank you."
She took the cup from him and felt its heat. Her fingers brushed his.
"Agent Lisbon, this is Officer Frank Harrison, and this is Officer Timothy O'Hara. Over there talking to Agent Fischer is Officer Danny Ortiz." Teresa nodded, smiling. "We're headed for the conference room down the hall after we all get our coffee and donuts. Oh, I forgot to ask you if you want one."
"Only if they have chocolate glazed ones."
"I'll go back and see…"
"Oh no, I was just kidding, no need. I'm good with just coffee." She smiled, her cheeks reddening a little.
Mark Johnson was not an ordinary man. He looked at her and saw the dignity of her rare beauty, and took note of the curve of her lips and the sea green of her eyes. He saw in them a quick intelligence, bemusement, honesty, and something else he couldn't quite identify. Was it vigilance? Guarded caution? It could even be fear. He suspected that something was troubling her. He'd heard that she was brilliant at detective work, that she had been instrumental in exposing the Blake Association when she was Special Agent at the now-defunct CBI. He had also heard that she had been romantically involved with her consultant and partner Patrick Jane.
An hour later, the conference room was empty except for Mark. He had said goodbye to Teresa, looking at her with interest and admiration which she could not see because her back was turned to him as she left the room. He sat down at the large table and checked his voicemail. Just as he was about to leave a few minutes later, Patrick Jane sauntered into the room.
"I guess I've missed the action," he said to Mark, regarding him intensely for a few seconds.
"Yes, I was just leaving." Mark had seen photos of Patrick and recognized him instantly. He got up from the table, walked over to the other man and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Officer Mark Johnson. You're Patrick Jane, right? I'm working on the DEA case. I just met a friend of yours today. Teresa Lisbon."
Patrick's face was devoid of expression. Then he smiled broadly.
"Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand. "Yes, she's something more than a friend."
"Oh, yeah, sure." Mark thought he should get away as quickly as possible.
"But we've had a disagreement, so you're free to ask her out, since you obviously want to."
Mark winced. Had he done anything to give it away? Actually, he hadn't even formulated the idea until Patrick put it into words.
"Listen, I wish I could talk longer, but I really have to leave. I'll see you on the case," he said.
"She likes men who wear turtlenecks," said Jane, still smiling as Mark Johnson left the room.
