Title: A Change of Plan
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Mentalist. But my birthday is coming up...
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for the great feedback and for coming on this wild ride with me. More plot in this chapter, as well as Cho, whom I adore, so I hope I did him justice! I haven't been tracking season 5 spoilers, so I can only assume this will pretty shortly be AU. My goal is to finish it before the premiere and I become disheartened by how much better a job the real writers do. Now if only my brain will stop throwing me plot twists...
Chapter Three: Suspicion
Her barely conceived plan to spontaneously forgive her prodigal consultant was foiled almost as soon as she got to the office. The Sacramento County Jail called to tell her that Jane had attempted to see Lorelei, who was forbidden visitors for her own protection. She didn't have to pretend to be angry as she stormed out of the bullpen, leaving the team to exchange meaningful looks, and slammed her office door behind her as she dialed his cell.
"What the hell were you doing trying to see Lorelei?" she shouted into the phone, loud enough to be overheard.
"You said I should visit her on my own time," he pointed out reasonably. "You could have just told me I wouldn't be allowed to and saved me a trip. Not to mention an unpleasant conversation with a sneering guard."
"You stay the hell away from my case," she snarled.
"Or?"
"I'll arrest you."
"For what?"
"I'll think of something!" She hung up, took a few deep breaths, and then went back out to the bullpen. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt were making a show of being busy, and none of them looked up, not wanting to draw her attention when she was in a bad temper. "Where were we?" she asked.
Cho said, "The Mason Graham case. I found his next of kin, a cousin in Visalia."
"Great. You and Rigsby go talk to the cousin. Van Pelt, let's go interview the coworkers."
"Yes, boss," they chorused, grabbing for suit jackets and weapons.
As they made their way to the parking garage, Lisbon realized that none of them ever asked her about Jane or tried to intercede on his behalf, as they had done other times he had gotten into trouble. She worried that he had truly burned some bridges this time. But that was his problem, ultimately; right now she had a murder to solve.
The Graham case absorbed her attention over the next couple of days and kept her too busy to spend as much time with Lorelei. Cho picked up the slack; Lisbon hoped that his deadpan attitude would tempt Lorelei into saying something unwise in an effort to get a reaction out of him. That was, her primary source of amusement in jail, it seemed.
As she and Cho drove away from the squalid apartment of their suspect's girlfriend, Lisbon said, "We're getting nowhere with this. Tell me how it's going with Lorelei."
"Because you want more bad news?" Cho replied. "It's more of the same. She smirks a lot. She accuses you of keeping Jane away from her and says it won't work, that he'll be back. She wants to tell me way more than I ever wanted to know about Jane." He paused. "Although today she did say that it made her sad to think that she'd cost him his only friends."
Lisbon rolled her eyes briefly before returning her attention to the road. "Right."
"That's what I thought." Cho paused, then said, "You have to admit, we'd probably have the case closed by now if he was here."
"Yeah, along with a stack of complaints on my desk a foot high," Lisbon retorted. "I'm enjoying the break."
"No, you're not."
"Excuse me?" She turned to look at him for a second as they pulled up to a stoplight.
"You're not enjoying anything. You're worried. When are you going to tell us what's really going on?"
That was the problem with working with other detectives, Lisbon reflected. It was hard keeping secrets, especially since they expected that kind of thing when Jane was involved. Still, she gave it a try. "Nothing's going on."
"Right." Cho's expression didn't change, but his tone dripped sarcasm.
"It's under control."
"If you say so." He didn't even pretend to be convinced.
"I do say so. I can take care of myself, Cho," she persisted.
"Yes, you can. But when it comes to Jane, sometimes you don't."
She could hardly argue with that. She relented with a sigh. "When I need your help, I'll ask."
"Good." Cho thought for a few moments, then said, "So will it mess up whatever's going on when I take the case file to Jane behind your back?"
"I don't think so." She frowned at him. "Do you go behind my back often?"
"Not as far as you know," he replied calmly. "Anything you want me to pass along?"
Oh, there were so many things she wanted to know. She knew where he was staying, because he'd made a point of telling her. But she didn't know if he was eating or sleeping, if he'd cleaned himself up or was still pretending to wallow in the gutter. If she were really doing all this out of jealous anger or whatever she was supposed to be feeling, wouldn't she still care enough to ask? "Tell him there's no way in hell I'm going to back up his bullshit story with the Vegas PD. And that the only thing I'm interested in hearing from him is an apology."
"See, that's it right there," Cho said. "One or two days of not talking to him, okay. But almost two weeks? And not helping him out of trouble? That's not you. You don't do grudges."
"Crap," she sighed. "Have the others noticed?"
"Van Pelt's still mad herself, so she doesn't question that you are. Rigsby's just waiting for things to blow over as usual."
But Rigsby and Van Pelt weren't the intended audience. How Red John interpreted her behavior, through whatever mole he had watching her, was the question. She really wanted this to be over before she blew it somehow. "You can take him the case file," she said. "He can wrap it all up in a neat little package for us, and then I'll think about talking to him."
"That's better," Cho said. Lisbon couldn't tell from his tone whether he approved, but she spied the hint of an upturn at the corner of his mouth. She was grateful for his calm acceptance of the situation. Cho never took the things Jane did personally—he seemed to take the attitude that Jane was Jane and that was never going to change, so it was useless to get upset about it.
"Make him eat something when you take him the file," Lisbon said.
This time, there was no mistaking the smirk.
Later that afternoon, Lisbon looked up at a knock on her door and was surprised to see Susan Darcy standing there. She could remember when she had liked the FBI agent, but now she was just one more person Jane needed protecting from. "Agent Darcy," she greeted her coolly. At least nobody was likely to get arrested in this encounter, she assured herself.
"Agent Lisbon," Darcy replied, just as coolly. "I don't know if you've heard, but Director Bertram has asked the FBI to take over the investigation into Agent Wainwright's death. If you have a moment, I have some questions for you."
Lisbon was surprised. "Come in," she said. "I'll tell you what I can, but I wasn't even in the state at the time."
"And who can vouch for that? I understand your cell phone was switched off after you left the CBI that night, pretending to be dead." Darcy settled in the visitor's chair and took out a small notebook.
Oh, this was not good. "Yes, it was. I was with Jane the whole time—we drove straight through and then slept a couple hours once we got to the industrial park outside Vegas. Rigsby got there about an hour after we did, and Cho and Van Pelt arrived about noon, after we got Lorelei's call. We were in position by two-thirty."
"And those are the only people aware of your location? Did you stop for gas?"
"Yes, three times. I don't remember where, but Jane will. He paid cash, of course."
"Mm hm." Darcy looked unhappy. "You were being careful not to leave a trail."
"Yes, since we were undercover for all intents and purposes."
"And no one here was aware of your plan?"
"No. We were trying to trap Red John, who has a history of contacts within the CBI. And the FBI," Lisbon added pointedly. "Agent Darcy, why are you investigating us? What possible motive could I, or my team, have for killing Agent Wainwright?"
"It's come to my attention that Patrick Jane is claiming to have been undercover during his time in Las Vegas. He supposedly has papers signed by Wainwright. But what if Wainwright never signed those papers? He would then be standing in the way of Jane's return to the CBI."
Lisbon gaped at Darcy for a moment. "That's insane," she said. "Think about what you're saying. Wainwright was found in the limousine with Lorelei. By accusing us of his murder, you're saying we're in league with Red John, a serial killer we've been trying to catch for years!"
"Yes, so you say. If you've been trying so hard, why haven't you? Because he's always one step ahead. What if the reason is because Jane is in league with him?"
"It's not."
"You sound very sure."
"I've never been more sure of anything. I know Patrick Jane."
"How well can anyone ever know an experienced con man? You can't be sure."
A few years ago, that line might have caused Lisbon a moment's pang, but she shrugged it off immediately. There was way too much history, way too many moments of painful honesty in her history with Jane for her to doubt now. "I am sure. Look. You're free to interview the rest of my team; they'll tell you the same thing about where we were when. It's a good nine-hour drive to Las Vegas, and Wainwright was here the morning after the shooting, so there's no way we had time to double back and kill him, even if we had a more believable motive than that Jane couldn't think of a better way to manage the paperwork!"
Darcy stood. "I'll do that. I'd also like to talk to Jane. Do you know where he's staying?"
"Some motel south of town, I think. His cell number is the same—do you still have it, or do you need me to give it to you?"
"I have it. Thanks for your time, Agent Lisbon. I'll be in touch."
Lisbon stared after Darcy in astonishment. The theory was so outlandish, based on so little and having to stretch so much to fit any evidence, that it was hard to believe the FBI agent had come up with it as the logical conclusion. Unless there was something Lisbon didn't know, some piece of evidence planted as a misdirection. She was suddenly alarmed, and her impulse was to pick up the phone and call Jane. But of course that would just feed Darcy's suspicions. She had to let this play out—to a point. Jane would be in touch as soon as he figured out what was going on, she trusted.
Her cell phone rang, and she looked down to see that it was Jane. He had an uncanny knack for calling just when she was thinking about him, she reflected. But she couldn't warn him about Darcy without feeding into the agent's idiotic conspiracy theory, so she let it go to voicemail.
Darcy interviewed Rigsby and Van Pelt separately. Cho wasn't back yet, and Lisbon promised to have him get in touch when he returned from researching their current case, so Darcy left. "Let's all stay calm," Lisbon said quietly, as they gathered near Van Pelt's desk. She didn't want to take this conversation into her office and make it seem suspicious. "There can't be any evidence to support her suspicions, because we're innocent."
"We can't prove that. We only have each other's testimony," Rigsby said, worried. "The prosecution's bound to say we'd lie for each other."
"We don't have to prove we're innocent. She has to prove we're guilty," Lisbon reminded him. "And you both stopped for gas. Even though you paid cash and were disguising your appearances, there'll most likely be security footage from the gas stations to support your accounts." She was the one in trouble, she realized. She had that huge swath of time when only Jane knew where she was, and she was certain Darcy wouldn't take Jane's word for anything. Not that Lisbon could blame her—Jane would lie through his teeth for a lot less than keeping them both out of jail. "Look, they might just be trying to rattle us. If there were any evidence, we'd be suspended, and we're not."
"Not yet," Van Pelt murmured.
"Stay positive. We have work to do. Van Pelt, did you find anything on Graham's girlfriend?"
"Clean," she replied. "Not even a parking ticket."
"Great. How about the boss?"
Rigsby said, "I'm still trying to track down the janitor he says saw him leaving the lab."
"Good. Stay on that. Let's just do our jobs and keep our noses clean, all right?"
"Yes, boss," they chorused.
Cho was precisely on time, as usual, but Jane was already sitting at the table just inside the door of the little tearoom where they'd agreed to meet, halfway through a cup of tea with a huge smile on his face. "Cho! Have a seat. What can I get you?"
"Do they have coffee?"
Jane grimaced. "If you insist." The server, a young girl who seemed to be enjoying her job today, came promptly at his signal, and a minute later Cho had a steaming, fragrant cup of coffee in front of him. "To what do I owe the honor of this meeting?" Jane continued.
Cho handed him the copy he'd made of the casefile. "Chemical research scientist murdered in his secure lab. Nothing taken that we can find. No personal life to speak of, outside of a girlfriend he mostly seems to have neglected. Cryptic note left at the scene."
"Ah." Jane seemed intrigued as he flipped through the file.
Cho passed the time looking at the menu. Then he signaled the server and ordered two sandwiches.
"Hungry?" Jane asked, amused.
"They're for you. Lisbon said to make sure you ate."
"Ah, so she does care." Jane smirked, then turned serious again. "Have you thought this might be a code based on the periodic table?"
"Yeah, we tried that. Nothing made sense." Cho sipped at his coffee. "We also looked at the competition for the last grant he won. But they've all found alternate funding by now, and none of them seemed to know what the note meant."
Jane peered intently at the photos of the lab. "Any photos of his home?"
"No. Why?"
"I need to see his house."
"I'll see what I can do. Don't break in."
"Don't worry. I'm in enough trouble at the moment."
"Yes, you are."
"So." Jane closed the file and took a sip of his tea. "How are things at CBI these days?"
"Pretty much the same, except with more baby photos." Cho took another sip of coffee. "How are you?"
"Oh, fine, fine. I'm enjoying all the free time to read, and my sock drawer is all re-arranged."
"When are you coming back?"
"Well, there's a slight snag. I need someone to vouch for me, and Lisbon refuses to do it."
"What do you need?"
"An upstanding CBI agent to tell the Las Vegas police chief that I am just crazy enough to embark on a long-term undercover operation without any backup or check-ins, and that once committed to a cover identity, I inhabit it completely."
Cho looked at him for a moment, as if gauging his truthfulness. "I can do that."
"Really? I'm touched, Cho. Aren't you worried about getting into trouble?"
"No. I'm not going to lie for you, but it doesn't sound like I have to. If you really were pulling such a crazy stunt, I wouldn't have known about it. And if the chief doesn't know you, he'll probably buy that you told Wainwright but not Lisbon."
Jane assumed an expression of virtue. "I didn't want to get her into trouble."
Cho nearly choked on his coffee as the server set the two sandwiches on the table. "When do you need me to go to Vegas?"
"I'll set something up and let you know. And thanks."
"Just solve this case. We need the win. And stop being such a pain in the ass-Lisbon has enough problems."
Jane grinned. "A man can't change his nature."
"Maybe not, but he can change his behavior. Here." Cho tossed a twenty on the table. "I gotta run. See you."
Jane got to his feet at the same time and pulled a red delicious apple out of his jacket pocket. "Put this on Lisbon's desk when she's not looking, would you?"
Cho looked at the apple as if it might be a grenade in disguise. "Why?"
"It will make her smile."
Cho sighed and took the apple. "Do you want me to slip her a note when the teacher's not looking, too?"
"Not necessary. Thanks for the new reading material. It was good to see you."
"Enjoy the sandwiches," Cho tossed over his shoulder as he left.
Lisbon returned to the bullpen after an unpleasant meeting with Bertram, surprised to find Cho still gone. "Isn't Cho back yet?" she asked Van Pelt, concerned.
"He was, but when we told him Agent Darcy wanted to see him, he said he'd better get it over with. He didn't think he'd be very long," Van Pelt said.
"Thanks." Lisbon turned and went to her office, sitting down and bringing up her email. A flash of red caught her eye, and she stared for a moment at the apple sitting in the middle of her desk. She smiled, then picked it up and turned it over as if it might contain a hidden message. But of course, the apple itself was the message: a simple "thinking of you." And only one person ever brought her fruit.
She hadn't realized how accustomed she was to the little gifts until they had stopped coming, and this resumption felt almost like a promise. Her hand hovered over her cell phone, and after a moment she typed out a text: You're going to need more than an apple to get out of this.
The reply took a few minutes to arrive: So Susan says. We should talk.
Not sure that's a good idea.
Don't worry.
She stared at the phone incredulously. Don't worry? What a waste of bandwidth that was. She jumped as the phone in her hand rang. "Why would I be worried?" she asked sarcastically.
"I turned my phone on once we got to Vegas, remember?"
"That helps you, but not me."
"Look, Wainwright was at the CBI office until just three hours before Susan arrested you in Vegas. There was no time for anyone to drive him or his body from Sacramento to Las Vegas. It had to be a flight. And you were nowhere near an airport," he pointed out. "However."
"However?"
"You'll accuse me of being paranoid, but what if this isn't merely a case of wrongheaded logic on the FBI's part? It could be an attempt to frame us."
She remembered what he'd said when he explained his take on Red John's plan: that there would be something else coming as part of the attempt to prevent Jane returning to his old life. Sending her to prison for murder would certainly achieve that goal. "That would take some pretty substantial fake evidence."
"Which isn't an insurmountable obstacle for someone with Red John's resources."
"Comforting. What do you suggest I do about it? Any evidence we dig up will be suspect. We have to let the FBI do its job."
He was silent for a moment. "Yes. But if this is what I think it is, you may get a message. Don't do anything hasty."
"Right, because I'm the one with impulse control issues." She let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, I'm going to do my job and stay out of trouble. I suggest you do the same. And that means not looking like we might be involved in any kind of conspiracy."
"Message received," he said, though he didn't sound happy about it. "Go home and sleep the sleep of the innocent, Lisbon."
"You too," she said, and then hung up.
