Chapter 1.4: Patrick Jane

As I returned to the mansion with a car filled with groceries, I found all the doors locked. Using the spare key I had taken with me, I opened the front door, left the brown paper bags in the kitchen and headed out to the back, knowing where I would find Lisbon.

I stopped at the burned out guest house and then moved past it. Swiftly I walked to the staircase leading down to the beach and saw her familiar stature walking, some distance from me. I removed my shoes, dropped them at the staircase and walked with large footsteps towards her. Some of my former neighbors looked at me and waved. There weren't that many that I still knew. Most of my oldest friends – during the time I still had a social life or something resembling it – had moved away.

The rich and famous had enough money and opportunity to buy and sell property like others would buy loafs of bread so the transfer of families moving in and out of these houses lay very high. I also knew that my house had been called a haunted house. Not because the ghosts of Angela and Charlotte lingering about, but because of its history. This house was infected by Red John and I had to take some actions to remove that image forever.

I had bought paint.

"Lisbon!" I called out when she was close enough to hear. She turned, her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. She pulled her hair back and waved, turning towards me and walking back to the house.

"Hey," she said, "I thought you would be at least another hour."

"Nope, like I said: the shops are very close. How are you?"

"Fine," she smiled, walking back with me.

Together we crossed the short distance back towards the house. With the evening sun approaching, this area was at its best. Lisbon walked by the sea line and allowed the water to wash over her feet, visibly enjoying every step.

"This place is amazing," she said. "I never realized this before, Jane, what you have given up when you moved to Sacramento."

"It used to be amazing," I agreed. "Charlotte loved playing by the water with her friends. Angela used to watch her from the deck, always concerned that she would drown." Then he became serious. "Angela was always very worried over Charlotte, not allowing her much freedom."

"How come?"

"When we bought this property, there used to be another house that we tore down completely to build our this place. Apparently there was a woman who drowned here and her husband couldn't cope with that and decided to sell immediately, even selling his property at a loss."

"What happened to her?"

"Nobody knows. Rumor went he was cheating on her and she killed herself but others think she just went into the sea too far, couldn't make it back and drowned. There isn't anything romantic in that, so the suicide stories started to fester, allowing people to believe her spirit was still roaming here. Of course the fact that I, as a paranormal expert moved in here, only fed those rumors. They believed I could see her, which of course, I couldn't. Then, after the murders, people started to say once more that the house was haunted and that it was no coincidence that two women died here in such gruesome ways."

I held my eyes to the ground, unable to look at Lisbon at this point. "Of course the truth was far less romantic. They died because I fucked up. Nothing more, nothing less."

Lisbon didn't say anything, knowing that my newly found freedom and strange sort of happiness would never change the fact that I had been an arrogant bastard, a fool, challenging the most notorious serial killer California had ever had.

I turned to her at last. "Do you believe in curses, Lisbon?"

"No," she said. "Not in curses, not in ghosts and not in paranormal activity of any kind. I only believe in what I see."

"And what do you see now when you looked at me?"

"A changed man, a new life."

I smiled. "A man who is up to his old tricks, right?"

"Well, you need to work on your communication skills a bit more and stop bugging Abbott."

"I can't help it, he broke my favorite teacup."

Lisbon laughed. "That was an accident. And he only did what he was ordered to do. Bertram's betrayal was not his fault."

"I like bugging Abbott. And Fisher. Especially Fischer, to be honest. She's so easy to pester."

"I like her, she means well."

"I know," I admitted. "She's not that bad. I guess I'll grow on them somehow. Perhaps one day they'll figure out that I am who I am and stop trying to change me into someone I'm not."

"Not a chance," Lisbon smiled.

As we entered the house, I saw Lisbon's eyes widen at the content of the brown bags. There were enough supplies to last us a week. "How long do you plan to keep us here?" she asked bewildered.

I shrugged. "Better be safe than sorry. Sorry I can't offer you a hot meal though, we can't cook."

"That's alright. As long as it's not frozen food, I have sensitive teeth."

I grinned. "Lisbon, I find out more about you every day."

Since the fridge didn't work either, we stored everything in the cupboards. I had chosen dried meats and fish and supplies that wouldn't wither away. There was no electricity so we couldn't watch television or listen to the radio, but she didn't seem to mind. The fact that we couldn't charge our phones in the house was troublesome but I told her we would go into town tomorrow and find a diner to recharge. I did miss my tea though.

Lisbon found plates and glasses that she rinsed and dried before use, using the towels and soap I had bought. Then we sat down and ate quietly.

Later, I showed her the library where I had a huge stack of collectibles. Once, when I still had the interest, I had been an avid collector of first and second editions. I bought them because I thought they looked pretty cool in my library, not to read them. I only started reading at the psychiatric hospital because there was nothing else to do there. My love for books grew very late on me and now I found I enjoyed the read, not the collection.

We both took a couple of books with us and found a comfortable seat on the couches. I lit a number of candles, making the room almost as bright as it would have been had we had electricity. She didn't complain about the lack of power at all. The next two hours, all you could hear the rustling of turned pages. I often glanced at Lisbon and realized she had never before seemed so relax. I liked watching her. Then she looked up, spotted me looking at her, closed her book and said, with a smile, "What?"

"Your face changes every time you read a passage," I told her. "I can tell exactly what you are reading by the way you look into that book."

"Oh, I'm that translucent, am I?"

"Yep. No pun intended, but you are an open book."

"Funny, Jane." She stretched, closed her book and got up to fill a glass of orange juice. "So, tell me what we are going to do tomorrow."

"Well," I said. "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to paint the bedroom."

She held her breath, knowing immediately what I meant. "Good," she said. "I'll help."

"If you want, you can rest on the deck. You don't have to help, Lisbon."

"I want to."

"Tomorrow afternoon the real estate agents are coming to take a look. So I'd probably have to clean up some of the dust and make sure that everything's cleaner than it is now. And around 3 a building constructor is coming in to take a look at the guest house to tear it down."

"You're a busy man," Lisbon said approvingly.

"And then I thought we could grab a bit to eat for dinner in town, at the same time recharging the phones. What are you up for?"

She shrugged. "Anything. You know I'm easy."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Not like that, Jane," she poked me. Then she yawned. "By the way, have you thought about where we are going to sleep?"

"You'll take the guest bedroom. I've got some new sheets with me."

"And you?"

"I'm going to sleep in Charlotte's bed."

She recalled the beautiful princess bed … and its size. I could tell on her face. "Jane, your legs are too long. I'll sleep in her bed, you take the other bedroom."

I hesitated, then I nodded. "That might be a good idea."

As we walked upstairs with the clean sheets, Jane stepped into Charlotte's room. The pink princess coloring on her bed had faded but it was very obvious that she had slept here and had been happy here. Without hesitating I pulled off the old sheets and replaced them with the news ones. I saw Lisbon looking around, taking in the room's decoration. Angela had been so happy to be able to buy our daughter whatever she wanted. I could still see them dressing up this room.

When I was done, I said, "Lisbon, just so you know –" I stopped, an unexpected lump in my throat preventing me from further speech.

She placed her hand on my arm and shook me out of my grief, noticing the tears in my eyes that I frantically rubbed away. "What is it, Jane?"

"She didn't die in this bed, Teresa," I continued when I could softly. "Just so you know. He picked her up and brought her into our bedroom, wanting Angela to see her die. There was no blood spill in this room."

"I know," she replied gently. Then she reached out for me and grabbed me tight, hugging me so close to her I could feel her heartbeat. At that moment I felt once more how she had become my lifeline. Oh, how I had missed her on the island. That had been my one regret: Leaving her.

I clung onto her like that for a few seconds while she gently stroked my back. We were back in that sunset, embracing each other, and this time she was the one doing the comforting.

Finally I let go and smiled wearily. "Thanks."

She just nodded, picked up the other new bed sheets and walked into the guest bedroom, ripping off the old sheets and replacing them with the new ones. Then we said our goodnights and she closed the door behind her, holding the burning candle I gave her.

I sunk down on the guest bed and realized I wasn't over the past yet. Not by a long shot. And with a shock I realized that I might never be.