Grace set to work right away. Lisbon saw her evict Rigsby from his chair so she could sit down at his desk, tapping away at his keyboard and muttering things like "secure server" and "proxy web service." Rigsby watched her, looking slightly disgruntled at having his desk taken over, but also sneaking covert glances at her that were anything but displeased when he thought no one was looking. He had been doing this a lot since he and Sarah had broken up two months before. Privately, Jane thought he ought to go for it, but Rigsby's near crippling timidity in this area seemed to have multiplied tenfold since Van Pelt had broken up with him over two years ago.
Lisbon ignored Rigsby's less than subtle staring at her junior agent, keeping an eye on Cho instead. Cho had pulled the file on Anthony Gupta and was making notes for himself. Lisbon watched him for a moment, feeling a pang in her chest, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Cho wasn't even fully healed—he wouldn't be cleared for full active duty for at least another week—and here she was asking him to do something that was probably even more dangerous than the operation that had gotten him shot. She'd thought she'd weighed the risks, these past few days at Bosco's cabin, but was she really prepared to face the consequences, if something—something else—happened to one of them? How would she live with herself, if she lost one of them because they'd followed the path she'd set forth for them?
No. She couldn't let thoughts like these rule her, or she'd never have the courage to go forward. She'd come up with a plan, and it was a good one. She'd considered every angle and she'd made her decision. She was committed to carrying out the plan, because the only alternative was to do nothing and just wait for Red John to strike again, and that was unacceptable. She'd done everything she could think of to mitigate the risks. She'd just have to trust to God for the rest.
"He'll be fine," Jane said, appearing at her elbow and handing her a cup of that god-awful tea he insisted was good for her blood pressure. He took a sip of his own tea. "They all will be."
"I know," she said with a certainty she didn't feel.
He grinned at her, clearly not buying into her false bravado. "You're as bad as a mother hen with her chicks."
She swatted him on the arm and took a drink of her tea. She grimaced. She didn't know Jane could drink that stuff. She put the tea down. "Come on, let's go. We need to get on the road and if we leave now, we'll have time to stop at Marie's so I can get a cup of coffee to wash the taste of this terrible tea out of my mouth."
Jane sighed. "One day, Lisbon, I will teach you to properly appreciate tea, and then you will never touch that vile beverage ever again."
"Maybe," Lisbon said amiably, "but that day is not today. Now hurry up, we've got a lot of ground to cover."
XXX
"So," Jane said to Lisbon as they waited in line at Marie's for Lisbon's coffee. "Where are we going?"
"San Angelo," she informed him.
"Where Sherriff Hardy lived and Emma Plaskett was murdered," Jane remembered. "I see you are wasting no time getting me started on my assignment."
"That's right," Lisbon affirmed.
"There's only one problem I can see."
"What's that?"
"I'm not actually psychic."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I killed Hardy when he tried to shoot you, remember? I can't actually commune with the dead. I'm not going to be able to summon his spirit to tell me who Red John is."
"Were you not listening to a thing I said this morning?" Lisbon said, exasperated. "Of course I don't expect you to commune with Hardy's departed soul. I want you to talk to the people who knew him when he was still alive."
Jane opened his mouth to reply, but they reached the front of the line and he was interrupted by a tall, skinny teenager asking for their order. Well, Lisbon's order, anyway. Jane recognized the cashier as an ardent admirer of hers. He'd never taken much of a shine to Jane, for some reason.
"Hi, Teresa," the gangly youth said, beaming at Lisbon. He ignored Jane. "What can I get for you today?"
"Hi, Jason," she said, smiling back at him.
Jason continued to smile at her goofily as she rattled off her order. Jane took the opportunity to step closer to her, placing his hand at the small of her back possessively as he watched the young man ogle her.
Lisbon, oblivious to the nature of the youth's attentions, was attempting to make small talk. "How's AP Chem going?" she asked him.
"All right," Jason said, swelling with importance under this expression of interest from his goddess. "Mr. Taylor's tough, but I've got a good study group and I'm doing pretty well."
"That's great. Keep up the good work," Lisbon said. "Listen, are you still interested in doing that internship this summer with the forensics unit that I told you about?"
"Definitely," Jason said enthusiastically. Jane had the feeling that most of his enthusiasm derived from the hope of seeing a lot more of the CBI's prettiest senior agent than any interest he had in forensics for their own sake.
"Well, let me know when you're ready to apply," she told him, reaching for her wallet to pay. "I'd be happy to write you a letter of recommendation."
"Wow, really?" the boy said, starry-eyed at this unforeseen opportunity for additional contact. "Thanks!"
Jane felt the need to insert himself into the conversation at this point. He reached out and placed a staying hand on Lisbon's own as she started to pull a few bills out of her wallet. "I'll get it, Lisbon."
She turned to him, surprised. "You don't have to do that. I've got it."
"I insist," he said gallantly, resisting the urge to cast a surreptitious look at Jason to see how he reacted to this evidence of his chivalry.
Lisbon, not one to look a gift coffee in the mouth, shrugged. "Okay. I'm going to grab us a table, then."
"Be right there," he told her, holding her gaze a fraction of a moment too long.
She looked at him oddly, then shook her head and went to find a table.
He watched her go, and then turned back to find Jason scowling at him.
"Hello, Mr. Jane," Jason said, all trace of enthusiasm gone. "May I take your order?" This he said in the tone in which one might say, "May I drop your dead body off a cliff and watch it be devoured by carrion eaters?"
Jane gave him a cool smile. "Certainly. I'll take a blueberry muffin, two bottles of water, and a bear claw."
"Coming right up," Jason said grudgingly. "Will there be anything else for you today?"
"Just Lisbon's coffee," Jane said.
Jason smirked. "I'll bring Teresa's latte right out."
Jane paid, feeling rather disgruntled at the notion that Lisbon permitted this little punk to call her by the familiar "Teresa" when she and Jane were still on a last name basis after knowing each other almost ten years.
He went over to the table by the window that Lisbon had chosen and deposited the water and pastries on the table. She gave him a small smile of thanks when he pushed the bear claw towards her.
Jason came over then, bearing Lisbon's latte. "Here you go, Teresa," he said, placing it before her like it was a box of precious jewels. "I put extra nutmeg in it for you, just the way you like it."
She smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Jason."
"You're welcome," he said, shooting a superior look at Jane before returning his eyes to Lisbon and continuing to gaze at her adoringly.
"Shouldn't you be getting back to your other customers, Jason?" Jane asked sharply.
Jason cast a look at the rapidly expanding line at the register and swore under his breath, then hurried back to his place behind the counter.
Jane turned back to Lisbon. "Must you do that?" he asked crossly.
"Do what?" she said, startled.
"Flirt with the underage help," he said tartly.
She looked at him like he was crazy. "I wasn't flirting with him. All I did was ask him how chemistry class was going. I was just being nice."
"Well, a little nice from someone who looks like you goes a long way," Jane told her.
"You're being ridiculous. I'm old enough to be his mother, for God's sake."
"If you'd had him when you were nineteen, maybe."
"Plenty of people have kids when they're nineteen," Lisbon pointed out. "Technically, I am old enough to be his mom."
"Trust me, the way he looks at you is not the way a healthy young man looks at his mother," Jane said darkly.
"He's seventeen!"
"So? Seventeen year olds are not immune to the charms of an attractive woman. In fact, I would argue they are among the most susceptible."
"I'm sure he thinks of me the same way he would think of one of his friend's moms," Lisbon said firmly.
"As a MILF, maybe," Jane muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, if he does think of you like a mom, he probably thinks of you as a MILF."
Lisbon looked appalled. "How do you even know that word?" she demanded.
"What?" he said defensively. "There were all kinds of magazines in that hospital waiting room. I may have perused a few."
"Well, I have never given birth, so there's no way I could be… that."
"That's not the point. If you were a mom, you'd be a MILF."
She shuddered. "Do me a favor, Jane, and never say that word again."
"Why not? It's apparently a well-known term in the popular vernacular. Why shouldn't I say it?"
"It just sounds wrong, coming from you."
"Fine, but you see my point about our young Lothario, here."
"He brought me a coffee," Lisbon pointed out. "Which is his job. It's not like he's writing me sonnets on his break time."
Jane thought about this. Jason was immature and romantic, and was probably enrolled in some kind of advanced English literature course. Of course, writing sonnets was no easy task, but if Jason could get a handle on the iambic pentameter, he might well make the effort. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."
Lisbon rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, please."
"I'm serious. He clearly has a crush on you."
"He does not," she said dismissively.
"You are astonishingly oblivious to your effect on the male population," he told her. "I assure you, you are decidedly sonnet-worthy, my dear. Any straight male with a pulse would find you a suitable muse, if he were inclined to the arts."
Lisbon blushed to the roots of her hair, clearly flustered, but she recovered herself and managed to turn her embarrassment into a glare. "Can we focus on the case, please?"
She was really the only woman he knew who could glare at a man after receiving such a compliment, he reflected. But then, Lisbon never received compliments comfortably, and charm only made her suspicious. Especially if it was coming from him. "Very well," he said smoothly. "Where were we? Ah, yes, you were telling me I should talk to people who knew Hardy when he was alive."
"Yes."
"I thought we were supposed to divide and conquer," Jane remarked.
"We are," Lisbon said, tearing off a piece of the bear claw and popping it into her mouth.
"Then why am I the only one who's being babysat on their assignment?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not babysitting you. I am giving you a ride to San Angelo and dropping you off while I follow my own lead."
He frowned. "Which is what?"
"Honestly," she huffed. "You really weren't listening to a thing I said this morning."
"I was too," Jane said defensively. "You said I was to look into Hardy and you were going to look into his father, Orville Tanner. But Orville Tanner never lived in San Angelo, remember? Hardy only lived there the last ten years of his life, while his father was in prison."
"I'm aware of that," Lisbon said with exaggerated patience. "But Tanner once owned property in that county, and I can't believe that's a coincidence. Besides, I also said I was going to talk to Rosalind Harker, and she only lives fifteen miles north of San Angelo."
"Ah," Jane said. And then, "Perhaps we could visit her together. We could interview the townsfolk of San Angelo together and then head north afterwards. I'd like to see her again."
Lisbon shook her head. "No. I want to interview her alone."
Now that was intriguing. "You don't want me to see Rosalind again?"
"I didn't say that. You could come by and say hello. I just don't want you to be at the interview."
"Why not?"
"You're a distraction," she answered bluntly.
"To you or to her?" he asked with a roguish grin.
Lisbon didn't take the bait. "You always want to be in the limelight. You can't stand not being the center of attention. As a result, you are inevitably a distraction to any individual who is available to be distracted in any given situation."
"Fine," he huffed. "I'll interview the townsfolk alone. Since you've apparently planned every nuance of this investigation in advance, I suppose you have an idea of who I should start with?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"And who would that be?"
She finished off her bear claw. "Well, I'm not one to micromanage," she said primly, ignoring his snort of disbelief, "but if I were you, I'd start with Maya Plaskett."
