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4. THE KEY

Jane put the gun back in its case, and hid it in a hole that already existed on the wall, covering it with a piece of a matching brick. His shirt was still damp on the spot where Lisbon's face had been earlier. He put a hand there, as he thought about how he had lost control for a moment and told her about feelings he hadn't even admitted to himself yet. That had been really stupid.

Whatever he felt for Lisbon, and he wouldn't allow himself any further thought about that, he didn't want to drag her into his revenge. He wanted her as far away as possible from it. Which was difficult, since she, alongside her team, were the investigators in charge of the case. He guessed that was the moment he had thought about, when he had to be alone. He took the wooden box out of its hiding place again, because he decided he would drive back near Andrea Weiland's address, see if he found anything. On his own.

Jane had expected to find quiet when he passed near the bullpen, trying his best not to be noticed, but he saw some agitation as Van Pelt was showing something to the rest of the team. He looked at Lisbon, remembering her small figure in his arms, sobbing, so vulnerable, like she never let anybody see her. She was pulling her cell phone from her pocket and dialing, and his phone started to vibrate in his own pocket. He hid in the kitchen.

"Hello," he said.

Lisbon's voice showed no emotion as she said, "I think you should get down here."

"I'll be right there." He waited a while in the kitchen, just so he wouldn't arrive so quickly, and on his way to the bullpen he left his overnight bag in a corner where he judged no one would notice it.

"What's up?" he asked, anxiously, as he finally reached his colleagues. Lisbon directed a quick, sad look into his eyes, before both looked away, and during that second of staring it felt like they had had another long argument about how they would never agree.

"One of her past jobs turned out to be real and guess what?" Van Pelt was excited about her discovery. "It was at a motorcycle repair shop. Maybe that's where she met her alleged boyfriend."

Jane's plan of going alone was ruined, but he made sure to drive alone, in his car, while the team drove in the black SUV. After Van Pelt's explanation, it wasn't like anybody said "let's go"; they simply took their things and walked silently towards the elevator and then towards the cars. There was no question about whether to go or wait until the morning, since it was already past 10 PM, or about anything at all.

Rigsby looked puzzled when Jane got into his car alone, and asked Van Pelt, "what's with him?" She shrugged, saying "what's with him and Lisbon." Cho approached them and said, "they must have fought, like always, but this time it must have been ugly."

Lisbon was approaching and, seeing the team's chitchat, she waved her hand impatiently. "Are you ready to go or not?" She glanced quickly at Jane's car, headlights already on, backing up and maneuvering its way out. She didn't like it that he was going by himself, but she couldn't babysit him all the time. She got into the driver's seat and slammed the door with anger, trying to convince herself she didn't give a damn about him, his gun, his car or his revenge. Screw him.

She didn't say a word throughout the drive, but she thought millions of them. She remembered her whole exchange with Jane earlier, and felt ridiculous for having said what she had, for having cried in his arms, while his only intention was getting his stupid gun back. Maybe he had even said those things about how he cared about her only to get her to trust him. She hated how he treated her like she was dumb, like she was one of his old clients, who believed in his acts.

Absent-mindedly, Lisbon had been hitting the steering wheel as she thought, making the other three agents exchange silent, worried looks. Van Pelt wrote in her notepad and showed the others, afraid to make any sudden sounds: It's going to be a long night.

Despite the team's hurry, the repair shop was closed. Lisbon got off the car anyway, walked towards the place and rang the bell. The rest of the team followed and stood behind her as she waited for an answer. She noticed with her peripheral vision as Jane got out of his car and approached them. She rang the bell again, three times. Since there was no answer, she turned around.

"Let's go find a motel to spend the night," she announced, "and then we'll come back first thing in the morning."

Jane nodded, turning around and going back to his car. He had been oppressing a comment that had been on the tip of his tongue since Van Pelt had shared the new information, because he had, after all, decided that he had now secretly departed from the team. Therefore, he murmured the comment to himself, as he sat in his car, starting the engine, "why would she include a real job in an otherwise totally fake CV?"

Like a good boy, Jane followed the team to the nearest motel, where they all got rooms. He went to his room, stayed there for a while, just until he judged everyone had already gone to bed. While he waited, the words came to him, like a wicked mantra.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

And there he went, hiding in the forests of the night. He didn't know exactly where he was heading, but he knew he had to be somewhere else, other than that motel room. As it turned out, there was a diner near the repair shop, and he decided to go there. He entered the not so well-lit place, went up to the counter and ordered a beer. Then, he chose a table and sat there with his drink.

Jane observed that there were not many people there at that hour. On the other side of the diner sat a couple, who seemed to be in their first or second month dating. Not too far from them, a man wearing a hat sat with his back curved, eating something Jane couldn't identify while reading a newspaper. On the third occupied table, sat a bald man in his mid-thirties, with deep dark circles under his eyes, wearing a black t-shirt and a leather jacket on top of it. He drank a beer distractedly, but when he looked up and saw Jane looking at him, some weird emotion played in his eyes for a very brief moment, before he put on an irritated look that said "what are you looking at?"

Taking the first sip of his drink, Jane looked away, finding the guy's attitude very weird. Quietly, he observed him for the next forty-five minutes, but the bald man never directed another look in his direction, and seemed as distracted as he had seemed when Jane had first noticed him. Maybe he had just wondered what the hell a guy in a three-piece suit was doing in a place like that so late at night. He finished his beer and was ready to stand up and leave, convinced that the diner had been a waste of time, when he noticed the bald guy was also about to leave. He decided to wait, so he could see where the guy was going, just in case.

He looked out the window, but the man seemed to disappear in the dark night. He waited, maybe he was going to appear on the road, driving a car. Maybe he lived nearby and was going home on foot. But then he heard a very loud and weird engine sound. The other occupants of the diner looked out the windows as well, to see where that odd noise was coming from, and they all saw it as an ordinary-looking motorcycle passed in front of the diner, driven by the bald guy.

Jane's eyes widened and he stood up as fast as he could. Stumbling, he went up to the door, opened it and looked at the road, but the motorcycle was far gone, its loud sound still echoing in his ears. He went back in, his mind racing at the possibility of having found Andrea Weiland's noisy motorcycle owner boyfriend, and asked the man behind the counter.

"Who's that man? The one who just left, on the motorcycle? Does he come here often?"

The tired-looking man stared at him like he was crazy. "I had never seen him around before."

The next morning, when he saw Lisbon, Jane had to make a real effort not to tell her about the previous night's event. She was still giving him the cold shoulder, talking mostly to the team and ignoring him, even though her demeanor gave away her acute awareness of his presence. He told himself he was protecting her.

There wasn't even mention of breakfast as they went directly to their cars and drove right to the motorcycle repair shop. Lisbon just wanted to get that over with. She didn't know if she believed some real lead was coming out of that visit, or even if she wanted something concrete on the case right now. All she knew was that she'd rather find out soon. Jane had invited Cho to drive with him, certainly more talkative and smiley than the night before. Screw him. Van Pelt sat next to her in the SUV. Rigsby sat on the backseat, eating something, his chewing extremely hearable in the silence.

"So, did you sleep well, Cho?" Jane asked, smiling.

"Fine," was Cho's monosyllabic answer, and they didn't say much more than that during the fifteen-minute drive. All Jane could think of was the bald guy in the noisy motorcycle, and he wondered if, by any means, he would be at the repair shop. Something told him he wouldn't.

This time, they encountered the repair shop's doors wide open. Upon seeing the cars, a man in his thirties, with short, red hair, stopped what he was doing and waited at the entrance. Jane noticed deep concern in his expression. Lisbon was approaching him, showing her badge.

"Mr. Joseph Morgan?" she asked, in her authoritative tone, and that reminded Jane of her struggling to speak through tears, an image he quickly pushed away from his mind. "I'm agent Lisbon, we're with the CBI, we'd like to ask you a few questions."

Van Pelt approached him as well. "I'm agent Van Pelt, we spoke on the phone last night." She shook the man's hand.

"These are agents Cho and Rigsby," Lisbon said, "and that is Patrick Jane, consultant with our team."

"So you told me on the phone, Mr. Morgan, that this woman worked for you here in your shop." Van Pelt showed him Andrea Weiland's picture.

Joseph Morgan looked at the picture for a long moment and said, nodding nervously and not making eye contact, "yes, she did."

"No, she didn't," Jane said, taking a few steps forward, one lifted finger, reading the man's reaction; Morgan was caught completely off guard, not knowing what to say or do. "You know her, for sure, but she never worked here."

Jane smiled at Morgan's stuttering, and then continued. "Actually," he took the picture, "excuse me, Van Pelt, I notice a resemblance between you two… Especially your cheekbones… Your eyes also look a lot alike… And of course, your hair color: she had her hair dyed blonde, but she's obviously a redhead, like you. Even the freckles are the same."

Morgan nodded, that concern still all over his face. "Ok, she's my sister."

Jane had that insufferable smug smile on his face; Lisbon rolled her eyes.

"Oh, really, Mr. Morgan?" she asked. "What's her real name?"

The man hesitated, but spoke, sighing. "Jenna. Jenna Morgan."

"And why was she using an alias?" Cho asked.

"I don't know," Morgan said, "she really wanted that job in the cable TV place, so she invented some stuff in her resumé. I guess she didn't want to get in trouble with her real name in case someone found out."

"And do you know why she wanted that job so much?" Van Pelt asked.

"She didn't tell me. All she said was she needed that job very much."

"And where is she now, Mr. Morgan?" Lisbon asked.

Morgan shook his head, sadness and worry in his eyes. "She's gone."

"Gone where?" Cho asked.

"I don't know," he said, sincerity and sorrow clear in his eyes. "I even filed a missing person's report."

There was a moment of silence as the team exchanged looks, except for Lisbon; she looked intently at Morgan's face, her lips parted and squinting, as though she was trying to understand something.

"Mr. Morgan," she finally spoke, "please tell me something. Why would your sister include your shop as a previous job in her resumé while everything else in it is either bogus or shows no connection to her whatsoever?"

Jane looked at her. So she had thought the same thing he had.

Morgan hesitated, at first. Then, he spoke. "Probably as some kind of failsafe in case something…" his voice broke as he went on, "bad… happened to her. She told me that if something happened to her and the police asked me if I knew her, I should say yes."

"And why would she be worried that something bad might happen to her?" Van Pelt asked.

"Well, she was involved with some kind of religious organization… Something she wouldn't talk much about, but to which she was really devoted." Jane and Lisbon exchanged an involuntary look. "I was ok with it until one night when she told me she was worried."

"Worried about what?" Cho asked.

"She said she was worried, and wouldn't say anything else. I told her I couldn't help her unless I knew what she was worried about."

"And what was it?" Jane asked, anxiously, taking two steps forward.

"She was worried that she might be killed."

"Killed by who?" Lisbon asked.

"By the people she was involved with. She wouldn't tell me who they were, though. She said if I knew, they'd come after me, too."

"Did she say why?" Cho asked.

"No, she wouldn't say anything else. And then, the next day, she went to work and never came back." Morgan's eyes started to water. "I told her not to go, but she said she should, so she wouldn't raise suspicion."

The team exchanged looks, except for Jane; Lisbon saw the pain in his eyes as he identified with the man's loss.

"Sir, you have to tell us everything you know about these people," Lisbon asked, and she felt her fingertips shaking with anxiety, "anything at all."

Morgan shook his head. "I don't know anything, I never saw anything."

"You said you thought it was some kind of religious group," Van Pelt said. "What made you believe that? Did you ever see her with any kind of material, something written, some symbol, some prayer, anything?"

"No, nothing" he said, shaking his head impatiently. "I just assumed it had to do with religion because of the way she talked about it, when she did, and the things she said. That she couldn't tell me what she was doing, that it was secret, but that it was going to help a lot of people; that what she was doing was going to serve a higher purpose."

"Higher purpose my ass," Rigsby murmured. Lisbon eyed him disapprovingly.

She sighed. Whenever it looked like they were on to something, it turned out a dead end. She was growing sick of walking through that maze.

"One more thing, Mr. Morgan," she said. "Did Jenna have a boyfriend?"

Morgan looked at her inquisitively. "Not that I knew."

"Maybe a friend," she insisted, "someone who might have picked her up at work in a noisy motorcycle?"

Jane saw the bald man with deep circles under his eyes as if he was in front of him.

"No," Morgan said, with a puzzled expression. "She didn't have any friends. Nobody ever picked her up, she took the bus."

Lisbon bit her lip. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Morgan," she said, turning around. Jane looked at her curiously, wondering what was on her mind.

The team thanked Morgan and followed Lisbon, but Jane stayed. When the others were far enough, he approached Morgan.

"Hey, do you know someone bald, in his mid-thirties, who has dark circles under his eyes and drives a very noisy motorcycle?"

Morgan looked even more puzzled. "I don't think so. I mean, I know a lot of guys who have bikes, obviously… Bald, dark circles? I don't know, I don't think so."

Jane smiled. "Thank you, have a good day."

He walked fast so he would reach Lisbon. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

She looked at him. "About what?"

"You're thinking about something, you want to go somewhere, talk to someone."

She stopped walking when she reached the SUV. "Yeah. I'm thinking maybe the motorcycle guy took her. Maybe it was on the same night when Morgan last saw her."

Jane nodded. "It's possible."

"So I'm thinking, why did nobody at the company tell us she disappeared?"

He nodded again. "I see. Let's go there, then. Come with me." He waved his hand in the direction of his car.

Lisbon hesitated. She didn't like his driving or his car. Still, she wanted the team back in the CBI headquarters and those were the only available cars at the moment.

"Fine," she said, and then turned to face Van Pelt. "I want the three of you back in Sacramento. Now we have her name, start digging immediately. Jane and I will go talk to her colleagues again, see exactly how it was that she lost or quit her job."

Jane and Lisbon walked towards his car and the other agents exchanged looks.

"So they're ok?" Rigsby asked, getting on the driver's seat.

"I guess…" Van Pelt answered.

Jane and Lisbon's drive was a quiet one; neither of them would mention the elephant in the room. Jane wouldn't bring it up because he didn't want to talk about the gun. Lisbon wouldn't bring it up because she didn't want to talk about her breakdown. In addition, neither of them wanted to talk about Red John and revenges at that moment.

"I wish we had a lead on the motorcycle guy," said Lisbon, breaking the silence when they got off the car and sending a wave of guilt through Jane's mind. He didn't answer.

George Arvin received them again. "What can I do for you, agents?"

"Mr. Arvin," Lisbon began, straight to the point, "you only told us that Andrea Weiland no longer worked here, but you never mentioned what happened; if she resigned or was fired."

"She resigned," Arvin said. Lisbon sighed, frustrated that she would have to reformulate her theory. But then, after a pause, Arvin continued. "Actually, she just stopped showing up. We tried to contact her, but we didn't find her. Then, a week later or so her letter of resignation arrived in the mail. There was also a note saying she was sorry but she had had an emergency and couldn't come back."

Lisbon nodded. "Thank you, sir."

When they were sitting again in Jane's car, Lisbon told him, "I think she worked for Red John, but something happened and she didn't want to anymore."

"And then, she became a victim," Jane added.

Lisbon bit her lip again, anxiously. "Motorcycle guy is the key," she said. "I know it. He knows where she is and what happened to her."

Jane looked at her with a very serious expression, then nodded, looking away. Then, with a half-smile, he put a hand on his stomach, saying, "I'm really hungry. How about we go for some fruit?"