I'm sorry it's been so long but I've been really busy recently and wheen I have been free I've struggled to find inspiration! Perhaps the new season will help... Thanks again so much for the reviews, I really appreciate them! They encourage me to get chapters out more quickly, so just imagine what it would be like if you didn't review... a scary thought. Enjoy!


"Why did you run from us Nicolas?" Issy asked the skinny, shallow faced man in front of her.

"I've been arrested before for stuff. I don't wanna go to jail." He replied, arms folded defensively across his chest and chin held high with over confidence.

"So you're telling us that you ran because you're still dealing." Rigsby, who'd joined Isabella in the interview, said. Nicolas shrugged. "And it has nothing to do with the death of of Angelica Walters?"

This derailed him. His eyebrows knit in grief and he had to support his head with his hands. "What do you mean her death? She's not dead. You're lying!" He turned on them, standing up aggressively.

Rigsby stood, too, and firmly told him to calm down. Nicolas did so, wisely, Issy though, considering he stood a few inches shorter and at least 50 pounds of muscle behind the CBI agent.

"You met with Angelica last night. What did you talk about?" Rigsby prompted, keen to get back on with the interview.

"No." Was Nicolas' simple reply.

"No you didn't meet with Angelica? Because we have several witnesses placing you with her at about 9pm-"

"No! I mean yes, I did go and see her. She rang me to meet with her but I didn't stay with her long. We argued so I left."

"What did you argue about?" Issy asked, feeling as though they might hit a breakthrough.

"She's been bugging me to move out of the house I'm in for weeks. Says that my mom's no good for me, that she's the reason that I got into drugs in the first place. Ange told me that her dad said he'd set her up with a house, and that if I needed to I could stay with her for a while, just until I found my own place. I should start 'investing in my future', she said. She was doing it from a good place but she's my mom, you know? I can't just leave her."

"That's understandable. I mean, who was she to tell you what to do with your life?" Rigsby started, looking to Issy for back up.

"Sure, I'd get mad too. You're a grown man, making your own money, and good money, too, I'd expect. You can do what you want with it."

Nicolas looked between the two, confused. "No, it's not like that. I would never hurt her. I... I loved her. She was the only thing good in my life."

He placed his head in his hands again, unsuccessfully trying to hide his tears.

"Thanks for your time, we'll get back to you shortly." Rigsby told Nicolas as he and Issy stood to leave the room.

They were quickly joined outside by Patrick.

"Well?" Risgby said.

"Hard to tell. I think he's a little stoned so that messes up readings. He was there at the time and people do crazy things when they're high so it's possible." Patrick seemed unconvinced, though. He looked at Issy. "How about we go and see Angelica's father. See if he knows anything about Nicolas."


After another rather terrifying journey with Patrick, he and Issy made their way up the gravel path of the Walters farm house. Issy smiled as she saw a black and white dog bounding towards them. It stopped about 10 meters away and eyed them warily. Issy crouched down and whistled. The dog took a few steps forward slowly and trotted towards Issy happily, tongue lolling and tail whipping from side to side. Issy was stroking the dog when a woman of about her age walked angrily towards them from behind.

"You again?" She directed at Patrick. "What do you want this time?"

"We're here to ask your husband what he knows about Nicolas Pearson." Patrick explained.

"Right, well I don't know anything about him, so am I free to go? Or are you going to accuse me of murder again?" She didn't wait for an answer as she staggered unsteadily in her heels up the uneven road towards the house.

"You always make such a good first impression?" Issy asked Patrick sarcastically.

"Not as good as you." He said nodding towards the dog, who had now rolled onto its back playfully at Isabella's feet. "You're like the dog whisperer or something."

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

They made their way up to the building, dog at their heels, and, after Mr Walters met them at the door, entered the house. They took a seat on the same mismatching furniture that Patrick had sat in earlier.

"Hi, Mr Walters, I'm agent Sanders and I believe you've already met Patrick? We're here just to ask you about a man named Nicolas Pearson. Have you heard of him?"

Joey Walters sighed. "Yeah, he's a real trouble maker. Been on drugs since before he got out of diapers. Angie told me she'd stopped seeing him months ago."

"She met with him last night around the time of her death. Seems like she wasn't being entirely truthful with you." Patrick said.

"You think he killed her? Because I swear to God, if he had anything to do with it, I'll kill him."

"It's possible. Were questioning him currently." Patrick told Joey, his eyes drawn to Denise who had entered the room.

"What's this?" She asked her husband.

"That bastard Pearson kid killed Angelica." He rose to his feet furiously.

"Calm down, honey. You'll end up back in hospital again." Denise told Joey calmly, helping him back down into the chair. She looked at Patrick scornfully. "That's where I went this morning. To pick up medicine."

Patrick nodded doing his best to look a little ashamed of himself. "Well, thank you for your time, we'll let you know when we have any other information."

They left and headed for the car.

"What do you think of the wife?" Patrick asked.

Issy thought for a moment before replying. "She made me a little uncomfortable. She's rather... vulture like, isn't she? It might seem a little uncharitable, but he owns a lot of expensive land and there is a hell of an age gap. I mean, why else marry someone so different to you if not for the money? It puts her in a good position for the murder, but I don't really believe that she did it."

"Me neither." He looked at his watch, noting the late time and added."We'd better head back."

They began the journey back and Issy realized just how exhausted she was. Her eyelids drooped and she was incapable of stopping herself from yawning. Every now and then Patrick would accelerate slightly and Issy, frightened for her life, would jolt to alertness.

"Would you stop that?" Issy asked, grumpy with drowsiness.

"Nah, it's fun." He said with a grin."You're not exactly talking much so I've got to entertain myself."

Issy sighed, forcing herself to stay awake. She looked out of the window at the currently setting sun, admiring the swirl of vibrant colors. She stifled another yawn, saying, "so what do you wanna talk about?"

"How you're doing, perhaps?" He asked, glancing at her to check her reaction.

"Fine. A little tired." Issy said, continuing to look out of the window.

"But how are you feeling... in general?" He broached carefully. "This is your first day back at work since the murders."

She cleared her throat before answering. "It's tough. But it's fine, I can handle it."

"I'm sure, but it helps to know you have someone there to listen to you. The guys at CBI are great, and they've had hardships, but they don't know what this is like. What I'm saying is, if you need to talk, about anything, then I'm all ears." He finished on a lighter note, attempting to put a stop to quite a depressing conversation.

"Thanks."

They were quiet for a while, the only sounds being that of the day slowly winding down and the comfortable silence between the two in the blue Citroen. Issy pondered what Patrick had said to her. Her thoughts had been no ones but her own for the last 12 weeks and she'd thought about her family almost solely for that time, not that she'd told anyone this. She hadn't grown close enough to the people she had met volunteering and although her friends back in Truckee had been more than helpful, they had their own lives to lead and she couldn't help but feel like she was bothering them. But Patrick was different; she didn't feel like she was burdening him with what she had to say, as he knew first hand what she was going through. It was for this reason that she restarted the conversation, eyes never leaving the window.

"I nearly cried today when I saw a girl wearing a hat similar to one that Liz owned. I thought I'd gotten past that stage, of breaking down whenever I smell Richard's cologne on a shirt I haven't washed or hear a child shouting that sounds like one of my own. You know, some mornings I wake up and forget that it's happened. I think that Rich has gone for a jog and that the kids are still tucked up in bed, until I realize that I'm sleeping in some cheap apartment that it breaks my heart to return to every day because it means that it was all real, and that it wasn't just a bad dream." Isabella's voice started to break and she brought her hand to her face swiftly to wipe away falling tears.

"You're coping with all of this extremely well, you know." Patrick said, he thought sincerely until he heard Isabella's scoff. "No, honestly. You're doing a lot better than I did. It's a testament to your strong character."

After a few moments, Issy looked at Patrick, asking, "and how are you feeling, about the whole Red John thing?"

"It's always one step forward and two steps back with him. He has people everywhere. But we will find him. He has to make a mistake at some point."

Issy nodded, agreeing. "Yes, we will."

"You'll help?" Patrick asked.

"Of course. You helped me to catch Simon." Issy said, confused as to why he would need to ask. "And even if you hadn't I would. Can't say I condone your chosen method of revenge, but that's up to you. So what do I need to know about the case?"

Patrick was surprised by how much Isabella knew about the Red John case already and so really only needed to fill her in on some of the more secret information kept out of the public eye. They spent the rest of the journey getting Issy up to speed. Details of some of the crime scenes sickened her, and only made Issy more determined to bring the man to justice. But as she realized just how deeply some of his alliances ran, she couldn't hide her worry. No wonder he hadn't been caught; the man was smart. But they would be smarter, eventually.

He dropped Issy off at her the CBI building to collect her car before heading back to wherever it was that Patrick would be sleeping that day. She actually feared for her life driving home as her concentration was not at it's peak. Her slight fear of the road had been instilled in her from working for the police for so many years. She'd had plenty of experience with crash sites and didn't intend to be a victim herself which led to her over cautiousness.

Following the quick journey to her apartment, she entered the building, throwing her keys onto a table and readying the microwave for another incredibly unhealthy meal, not caring about calorie intake in the slightest. She was exhausted both physically and mentally and even in the best frame of mind cooking was never exactly on her list of fun things to do. She'd left that to Rich, who had learnt at a young age courtesy of his mother. She ate slowly, watching some reality show that took little effort to follow and headed to bed early. She hoped that given how tired she was she would be able to sleep through the night regardless of her early retirement to bed.

Unfortunately, Issy's imagination had other ideas, filling her dreams with twisted images of Red John victims and the lifeless bodies of her own family. She screamed herself awake on numerous occasion during the night and got out of the bed the following morning feeling no more refreshed than she had when she'd gone to sleep. Sighing, she dragged herself, exhausted, to her feet and showered slowly, not realizing the time and forcing her to rush to work to arrive on time.

"Didn't sleep again?" Patrick asked after glancing over her.

Boy, he really knew how to make a girl self conscious. She didn't think she had looked that bad when she left this morning, but Patrick had a way of making people doubt themselves.

Issy shook her head to the rhetorical question.

"Get yourself some sleeping tablets. They work wonders." He said, stretching cat-like and content, as though demonstrating the appeal of the pills.

"The over the counter stuff isn't strong enough and I'm not talking to a doctor or a shrink." Issy said. "It'll stop soon enough."

Patrick made a noise that demonstrated that neither were convinced of the truth of this.

Lisbon arrived soon after, designating everyone jobs and heading to her office. Issy was with Cho for the day, while Jane, Rigsby and Van Pelt were to go to the school at which Angelica had worked. The two at the office had been asked to look into her life to see of there was anything suspicious that might give an indication for the motive of her death. The Pearson boy was still Issy's favorite for the murder, but he had seemed genuinely upset when he'd heard the news. This is what had led Lisbon to want to expand the pool of suspects. Issy checked through her call records for the past few weeks. She uncovered what she expected, largely; mostly calls to Joey Walters and Nicholas. There were a few unsaved numbers that Issy noted to ring later.

"Think it was drug related?" Cho asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them for the last hour or so.

"Possibly." Issy responded. "But is Pearson really big enough in the business to have someone killed over him? His record seems pretty small time to me."

"Little fish can become big fish really quickly in the drug world. There are a couple of big dealers in that area, so he could've been picked up by one of them to sell in his neighborhood."

At this point, Lisbon walked over to talk to them. "We've just got results back from the lab. Traces of cocaine have been found in Angelica's pockets."

Issy frowned. She didn't know the girl but she didn't seem the type to be so hypocritical about her views. She also doubted that she would have kept cocaine on her when meeting with the kids; she seemed to be working very hard to get the children to stay out of stuff like that.

"Interview Nicholas Pearson again. I'll get someone to bring him in. Find out why she had the drugs on her." Lisbon ordered, receiving a 'yes boss' from Cho.


"So what did you think of Miss Walters?" Van Pelt asked an aging teacher sporting an elbow patched jacket and worn grey trousers.

"Well, she was a nice enough girl. I see no reason for this to have happened to her." The man said with a sigh and shake of his head.

"Hmm." Patrick mused. "Not true. What was your first thought when you heard the news? That she got what was coming to her, spending so much time with those hopeless kids, right? Am I right?" He goaded as the teacher spluttered in front of him.

"Not exactly, no. But what she was doing was dangerous. Those kids come from bad places. Some of them don't want to be saved. And here she came, all good Samaritan wanting to wave a magic wand over them, I've seen it a thousand times. The graduates come in, bursting with arrogance and desperate to make a change and living up to very little in the end."

"We spoke to some of your colleagues and most of them seemed to notice a improvement in the students that were being helped by Angelica." Van Pelt told the man, a little defensively.

"Well that may be the case in art or gym, but in real subjects like math I saw, if any thing, a decline in attentiveness." He told them, a sneer in his voice. "Now, if that's all agents, I have an AP class to teach, full of students who want to learn."

He turned to leave, entering his classroom without seeing Patrick's mocking face. Grace smirked and shook her head lightly.

"So what next?" She asked.

"We meet up with Rigsby and talk to some drug dealers." Patrick replied simply.

Agent Rigsby had been questioning other teachers that may have noticed something suspicious about Angelica's behavior leading up to her death but returned the same information as the others; that she had been her cheerful self when she'd left work on Friday and that they were as surprised as everyone else to hear the news.

"If you were a dealer around here, where would you set up?" Patrick asked the two agents as they left the school building.

"I don't know, the park maybe?" Rigsby guessed.

Patrick grinned. "Bingo. Right where our body was found, in fact."

They set off for the park, stopping on the way for Patrick, and then Rigsby after gentle persuasion from the former, to pick up an ice cream cone. The three walked rather aimlessly around the park, Jane enjoying himself perhaps a little more than he should given he was investigating a murder, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and suit jacket folded over his arm. They rounded a corner to find half a dozen large men, the majority of being over 6 feet tall and incredibly bulky, huddled together and discussing something of importance.

"I'm just gonna wait over here." Patrick whispered, back away from the agents and motioning to a nearby tree. At that moment, his phone rang, indicating an incoming call from Isabella. He answered quickly. "Ah, couldn't find anything out so you're checking up on me?"

"On the contrary. Pearson sang like a bird as soon as we mentioned bringing his mom in for questioning so I'm ringing to let you know about Angelica's involvement with a Carl Johnson. He seems to be the ringleader of a lot of the drug trade in the area. Apparently Angelica had met with him a couple of times to discuss Nicholas leaving the drug scene but it turned pretty ugly. Johnson was having none of it and threatened her numerous times, both in person and through Nicholas." Issy told him, quite pleased with her discoveries.

"Good work, Sanders! I mean, I already knew a lot of it, but still, kudos. Anything else for me?' Patrick asked, finishing off his ice cream.

"Uh yeah, one last thing." She started a little deflated. "There's a number that kept cropping up in Angelica's call history, I can't seem to track it so I was wondering if you could find out who it belongs?" She told him the number, which he quickly saved it into his phone, and they disconnected.

Patrick dialed the number, watching the group in front of him. If his hunch was correct, and it usually was, he expected the smallest of the group to reach for his phone at any second. Unsurprisingly to Patrick, this is exactly what happened.

"What?" His voice was gruff and deep, and clearly annoyed that he was being bothered.

"Hello. Is this Carl Johnson?" Patrick asked, still watching the man intently.

"Who wants to know?" The man was getting more agitated by the second, much to Patrick's delight.

"Patrick. Patrick Jane." He spoke into the phone, waving slightly to get Carl's attention.

"Is this joker with you?" Patrick heard him ask the agents before he ended the call.

He walked over to join them. "Hi Carl, hi everyone." He motioned to everyone before focusing back on the smallest member of the group. "Just need to ask you something quickly, did you kill Angelica Walters?"

Carl looked around at his associates who shifted uncomfortably around him. "No, I did not. And who said I'm this Johnson you're talking about?"

"You did. I mean, come on, you're obviously the brains of the operation, these are just the muscle. Besides, I know I'm not the tallest man in the world, but you have a serious small man complex. What are you, 5" 5? You're obviously overcompensating."

Johnson's jaw set and he looked up to the man in front of him. "Listen, pal. I didn't kill that girl. If I wanted to, you'd still be looking for her. Sure, I threatened her a couple of times, but the bitch didn't know how to keep her nose out of stuff that didn't concern her. Now, if that'll be all officers." He turned away from them to the brutes surrounding him.

Deciding that this was perhaps a battle best fought when numbers were in their favor, the three left the park and headed back to the office, hoping to piece together the information that they had discovered.