Thanks for the reviews (guests too). It's really nice to know other people are reading this and enjoying it. I don't get out much, so it means a lot to me.
I have broken-out some actual prose (Gene Wolfe, highly recommended) in order to repair my horrible grammar when it comes to conversations. I will shift the style along as I learn.
Apologies in advance for a slower pace from now. This chapter took me over six hours to write and the week is looming. I will keep going.
Running.
Teresa went directly to the lair, following the twisty path that Jane had illustrated. He let her in, a little nervously. His hand brushed her hip as she entered; immediately raising her suspicions. She checked herself and found her cell missing.
She turned, "Jane.."
He handed her another, "Can't be too careful anymore Lisbon." He dropped her old phone and crushed it with his foot.
"Damnit Jane, all my numbers were on there!"
"I cloned your cell days ago, Lisbon. Have a little faith," he spoke still grinding the phone apart.
She wondered at his phrasing, but put the new cell away quietly.
"I wasn't followed," she said. "Where is Lorelei?"
Jane pointed to the secure room he and Walter had built.
She looked around the warehouse, the facts gradually sinking-in. What she had just done was relative-bad. Minelli, in the old days, would probably have scolded her; sent her away for a week. She smiled, remembering her old Boss. That memory scudded into the present: Bertram would take it bad-bad and imprison her. She thought about her team, even now wondering where she was.
"I could do with some coffee," she said. He was oddly quiet.
"Certainly," he said in a distant tone.
Ring-side, Jane was spinning. His palace whorled, the dust floor buzzed beneath his static feet. Angela whipped around, faster and faster.
"D.a..a..rli..ng," her syllables strobed through the twisting chaos, "calm down, breathe."
Sarah's mutilated body; Angela's.
Benjamin's little corpse; Charlotte's.
The smile the smile the smile the smile the smilethesmile—
The ghost was shouting, "P..a..aaa..trick!"
He caught himself; slowed despair, tightened resolve. The whirlwind hesitated, shrinking until Angela was still.
"Are you back, in control?" She asked.
"Yes," he said grimly. "But this must change."
He snapped his arm out, pointing at the file-box. Then, a throwing motion in a quick turn. The box flipped-open and the pages rifled upwards and flew out. All around the perimeter of the ring, they stuck to unseen walls, until the box was empty.
"Angela, these—" he motioned to the papers, photographs and detritus, "are yours."
"I understand," she said, taking a fresh step in a new loop. She began to read and move. Around and around the ring.
"—Coffee, alright Lisbon, my pleasure," back in the world.
She looked at him suspiciously. Where had he gone for those few seconds?
As he fiddled with the water and cups, on a little trolley, she tried to put her life in order.
What do you do when from one night to the next your entire world changes? She felt like she sat on a rusty trunk full of spiders; her weight could not keep the lid down. Feelings and stray hopes had been pushed into that trunk; she spent much of her life diverting emotion, rationalizing it, suppressing it. In her beloved and natural cop-mode, the trunk was easy to use and it worked. Now—
She pictured Cho talking to Grace in urgent tones, relating the day. Was he glancing at his phone, expecting her call? And Wayne, gentle, goofy Wayne. Was he still under sedation?
What about my brothers? It was a bright shock. They would worry.
Get a hold, girl. You knew this was coming. Cold and hard, that's what Jane had said. I can do cold.
"Here you go," Jane was handing her a hot, steaming mug. "Thanks," she took it.
He watched her over the steam. It was a cold night. Cold seemed to be a theme now. He hoped Teresa had taken his advice. They would both function better for it.
"How are you coping?" he asked.
She shrugged, her dark pupils moved upwards leaving white. He enjoyed the way her eyes spoke.
"You know— the standard, run-of-the-mill disaster," she mocked amusement. "What's new?"
"Cheers," he said in reply, raising his tea. Lisbon toasted back. They sat in silence, finishing their drinks.
..xx..
"Why has she not called?" Cho was pacing.
Grace bit her lip as she sat outside Wayne's room. Within, the man slept a forced peace, imposed and all too temporary.
"Where do you suppose she'd find Jane?" Grace asked.
Cho punched the wall. A short movement with little heat, "Damn!"
..xx..
"Feathers!" Exclaimed Lisbon, "I've been an idiot."
"Do tell?" Jane said.
"That video, the car. There'll be a plate."
"You are not entirely a missing person yet," Jane supplied.
She grabbed her phone, saying, "Find that frame, see if you can—" but Jane was already at the keys.
"Cho," She spoke into her cell.
"Boss, we were getting worried. Did you find Jane?"
"There's no time now. Uh — how's Rigsby?" She motioned Jane to hurry up. He rolled his eyes.
"He's out, don't worry."
"Here it is," Jane handed her a paper.
"Is that Jane?" Cho was asking.
"No time. I need you to run a plate," she read it off.
"Can do," said Cho.
"Asap Cho. Call me on, uh— the number I just used. My old cell is broken."
"Right Boss. Grace wants to talk to you," the line went quiet for a spell.
"Boss. What's happening? Where are you?"
Lisbon sighed, "Grace, don't worry. I've found him and — it's complicated. We'll see you in the morning."
"Okay. Uh, I'm sorry about the other day. What I said," Grace continued, obviously aside.
Teresa recalled, "Don't sweat it. I'm not angry, you meant well."
She changed her tone, giving orders, "Watch Rigsby. Don't leave him alone. You and Cho take shifts."
"We will," Grace said.
"And I think you can trust LaRoche, but no one else. Grace, be sure to tell Cho. Do not trust the FBI, especially not Darcy."
"Why?"
"No time to explain," she sighed, holding a palm to her forehead. "Don't let Darcy see your distrust. Speak with LaRoche as soon as you can. That's all," she hung up.
"God, that was hard," she exhaled, sitting rigid in the chair.
Jane turned away from her, biting down on his feelings. He tapped a nervous pattern onto the desk.
"What now Jane?" she asked, shifting her chair.
He smiled, still nervous, which was unlike him, "Sleep, if we can."
She raised her brows.
"Bunk beds," he said, "yonder."
Suddenly she felt the exhaustion. The hours of adrenaline concatenated, distilled.
"Very good idea," she said, getting-up on wobbly legs. "Shotgun."
Jane chuckled, also standing, "So, I get the top bunk then?"
"No, shotgun means I called it," she informed him.
"But I always take the top bunk," he mock-whined. "It's a prison thing."
She gave him a look; he raised hands in defeat.
..xx..
Cho had been fast, his call woke her in the early hours.
"You get any sleep?" She aked him.
"No."
"Well, do. You have to relieve Grace," she paused. "Thanks for the plate."
"Goodnight Boss."
After that she could not get back to sleep. She thought of the bunk below and felt alone. It would be nice to have arms arou— Cold. Be cold, Teresa.
The car had been a rental. She would have to run it down tomorrow, but how? Their plan called for them to disappear, she could not walk about with a badge. Cho or Grace would follow the lead, that much she could rely on.
Gritting her teeth to stop an expletive, she swung upright and left the bunk bed, trying not to jog it too much. The warehouse was silent, a cold grave. She tiptoed across to the secure-room to check on Lorelei. There was a small window in the heavy door. The crazy bitch — and she enjoyed a small rush of anger — was asleep on a simple mattress on the floor.
The insane sleep like babies, she thought. Bully for them.
Jane found her asleep on the chair. He simply stood and looked at her.
"She is beautiful," said Angela. "Inside and out."
"That she is," he agreed.
He had a blanket from the bed which he draped around her shoulders. Teresa mewled slightly and snuggled into the cloth.
"A cold heart cannot break," he said.
"Can a broken heart be cold, Jane?" the ghost parried.
"Hearts don't enter into this," he said curtly.
"Oh that is where you are wrong, my darling. This is all about love. Lost and found."
He sat on the other chair and dropped into the ring. He began to walk around and study the pages.
"Here," he found the time-line and placed the new data. The car's rental agency. He had overheard Lisbon; sleeping was not a strength he could list.
The morning light cut into the space from the high windows around the roof-line. As Teresa fluttered awake, Jane handed her a hot coffee.
"You do read my mind," she croaked, taking it and sipping. She noticed the blanket, thought about smiling and then felt the morning cold around her. It reminded her to push down on the trunk.
She turned to the screens, "Anything new?"
"All is quiet on the western front," he replied. "You ready? Today you go missing and the CBI gets footage."
"This must be new to you," she said, "sharing your plans."
He grinned. Incredible how that expression could burst onto his face like a sun rising.
"I always share my plans with you Lisbon."
"Sheep-dip you do," she countered.
"Well, alright. Maybe not all in one-go, but I get there."
She smiled despite her cold resolve. Another sip of coffee created a pause.
"If this keeps up," she indicated the warehouse, "I'm gonna need a toothbrush and some stuff."
..xx..
"Where is Agent Lisbon?" LaRoche was asking Grace, his wobbly eyes regarding her with force.
Those eyes disturbed her. She could not tell exactly where they looked as they shuddered and jiggled like boiling water.
"She said she'd be in this morning."
"Jailbird and kidnapper in tow I presume?" He was being sarcastic.
"I, uh, don't know Sir," she looked around for some backup.
LaRoche decided to go easy on her, "Van Pelt; you and Agent Cho protecting Agent Rigsby? How's he doing?"
The change of focus relaxed her, "He was still asleep when Cho relieved me, Sir. Lisbon told us to take shifts. And—"
"Yes?"
"She said something strange about Agent Darcy."
LaRoche looked around slightly, "Don't say that aloud. Let's talk in private."
..xx..
The parcel of video footage showing Red John attacking Sarah caused a stir in the CBI. Hours had passed and LaRoche was explaining the situation to Bertram.
"She hasn't called. I want to put an APB out."
"Do so. I hate to think she's doing something stupid, acting alone with that.."
"I find his escape too convenient, Sir."
"So," Bertram sat back in his leather chair, "you think she and Jane engineered it?"
LaRoche hesitated, "The evidence is not in, but, if we don't hear from her that would be my thought."
"Damn," said Bertram. "The media is going to eat this up."
He leaned forward, placed his hands on his desk, "Find that car and do not speak to any reporters."
LaRoche left, shaking his bald head. Darcy passed him in the hall, heading for Bertram's.
"Agent," she greeted him with quizzical eyes, interrogating.
He nodded a greeting.
"What's news?" She asked, stopping him.
"Bertram will fill-you in," he said. He did not betray the queasy feelings she stirred. There was no real evidence against her. Time would have to tell.
..xx..
Two days passed and Lisbon was officially a missing person. There was a general hunt ongoing for both her and Jane. Rigsby had finally woken from his enforced slumber and was in the bullpen with the others.
"They know something," he was saying bitterly.
Grace took note of his changed appearance. His pain was drawn in new lines from the corners of his eyes, a smile that never quite made it out of the cradle, pupils that looked determined, never wavering.
She spoke, to say something, anything, "Teresa would not abandon us without a good reason."
Wayne glanced over to her, "I will find them and beat it out of Jane."
Cho coughed, to attract their attention, "She may be in trouble. Jane dared Red John to kill her, on live tv."
Wayne laughed, a cold, hollow sound, "They staged that. They're up to something."
Grace folder her arms. "Where does that leave us?"
Cho grunted. They didn't know.