Ok guys here we go with the next chapter. Thanks for being so patient with me. I know I can take forever.
Halfway through this chapter, motivation took a nosedive, and then I got a little distracted with another story. And then I had a bit of a blow to my confidence when my other story got a much smaller response than I was expecting (sad face). But then I decided to get over it, and now I am back on track (happy face).
Thanks so much to those who reviewed the last few chapters. I really appreciate it, and I'm so glad you like the story so far.
I don't own anything
Lisbon did sleep. She woke to impossibly bright sunlight lancing through the grimy window. She was still fully dressed, on top of the sheets and her laptop was still open beside her, precariously close to the edge of the bed. She sat up and retrieved the computer, flipping it shut.
Grace was still asleep in the other bed. She checked her watch – 6:34.
She remembered her outburst the night before. She remembered her conversation with Jane. She remembered that it was now day two. All of these thoughts were going to require a shower, and coffee, before revisiting. Grabbing some clean clothes from her overnight bag (her last pair, she made a mental note to go by her apartment today), she quietly left the room.
Rigsby and Jane were sitting at the window. She muttered a good morning, trying to bite back the feeling of claustrophobia at having her team in such close proximity at all times. She'd always enjoyed her privacy, having had a childhood that was anything but. They're here to protect you, Lisbon. Because they care about you, and because it's the job.
The implication that she needed protection was still hard to swallow. To accept.
Because accepting it meant facing the very real possibility of bleeding to death, slowly and painfully, at the hands of a psychopath in approximately five days.
That thought was too much too face right now.
Half an hour later they were all seated around the small table in Lisbon and Van Pelt's room. Lisbon had gathered them on the pretence that "Jane has something to tell you all." Now she sat back, coffee in hand (black this time, no sugar), and listened to Jane reluctantly give his poetry lecture again, this time to the whole of the team. Lisbon had insisted that all information from now on was to be shared with the group – no exceptions. She'd told him so, quite harshly, as soon as she'd finished showering and dressing. She didn't feel bad; Jane had basically concealed evidence. She was going easy on him, if anything.
Room service muffins were on the table, and though she wasn't hungry Lisbon picked at one anyway, conscious of the close watch her team had on her. They had the webpage she'd been reading from last night open again, and the others were passing the laptop around the table as Jane outlined his theories.
Rigsby scowled. "I always hated reading this stuff at school."
Lisbon had to agree. She'd never been much good in English lit class; all the fancy phrasing and symbolism annoyed her. People should just say what they mean.
Cho, unsurprisingly, seemed riveted by the passages on the screen in front of them. He traded remarks with Jane about syntax and form much to the oblivion of the rest of the team.
In an unusual turn of events, it was Van Pelt that eventually cut in, a little impatiently, to bring the conversation back on track."Ok, so it's pretty obvious that Red John identifies strongly with these poems. But what does that tell us about what he plans to do?"
Jane cocked his head in a vague shrug. The truth was, he didn't know. He'd spent months with this poem weighing on his mind, analysing it, trying to figure out how it could lead him to Red John. And he'd never seen this situation coming. There were just too many possibilities. The poems were not going to give them a clear answer, and more importantly, were not going to protect Lisbon. They were a good insight into the mind of the killer, but that was all.
The team separated a few minutes later, to grab everything they needed for the office that day, and to make sure the surveillance was all set up to operate while they were out. As Lisbon moved the coffee mugs and plates to the sink Grace sidled up to her. Lisbon tried not to tense up as she anticipated the question.
"Boss, are you ok?"
"I'm fine, Grace." She forced a smile, and then turned back to rinsing the dishes.
"Are you sure? Because you seem a little edgy." She seemed to realise her mistake when Lisbon exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. Grace continued hurriedly.
"I mean, it's completely understandable... No one expects you to be so..."
Lisbon looked up sharply. "Be so what?"
Grace hesitated, trying to find the right word. "Unaffected."
The word echoed in Lisbon's ears. Her team thought she was unaffected? Or at least acting that way. Was that true?
She didn't know. She didn't know how she was affected by this. The only thing she felt right now was irritation.
She lowered her voice. "No, you all seem to want me to fall apart."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" Grace said softly.
Lisbon blinked, incredulously. "How would that be helpful, in any way?"
She knew she was being unfair. Grace looked down at her hands, unsure now of what to say. "I don't know, boss. Maybe you'd feel a little less stressed if you..."
"Look, Grace, I know you're just trying to help. But please, I can't... I just don't see how having a heart to heart is going to bring us any closer to solving this case. It's not going to change anything. I just need to work, ok? We need to finish going through the security tapes, we need to go over the Todd Johnston files, and Kristina Frye's, and I need to find my brother..."
She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut. That was it, that was all they had to go on... it was nothing! She felt the beginnings of a migraine set in, and silently pleaded that Grace would take the hint and leave her be for now. She did.
"Of course. Just, if you need anything... you know I'm here right."
"Yeah", tersely. " Thanks Grace"
Van Pelt left the kitchenette awkwardly and Lisbon returned her gaze to the cup she was holding, taking a moment before turning the tap on to continue washing up. She had to tighten her grip on the mug to stop her hands from shaking slightly.
By midday there were still no developments, and Hightower was anxious. It was getting harder and harder to keep under wraps. She'd so far managed to brush any enquiring comments off from both LaRouche and Bertram, under the guise that the entire Serious Crimes Unit was working overtime and undercover on an important case, and could not afford any distractions right now. That had meant that the team had enjoyed a rare amount of privacy within headquarters, including the use of a conference room.
This morning, however, LaRouche had casually asked Lisbon about the break-in at her apartment. That was something she couldn't avoid people finding out about; cops talk between units. She had made sure that the analysis on the letter and envelope was conducted by a personal friend, and no mention of Red John was included in the report.
While Teresa had reacted quite smoothly to LaRouche's question, bless her, she was an awful liar. And LaRouche was almost as good as Jane at picking up agitation. Agitation that had been radiating from Lisbon all day. Now he was standing in her own office, with his usual smug air about him, wondering aloud why she had been the first person on the scene at a simple break-in.
"Lisbon called me, I stopped by." She kept her voice low and even.
"Why wouldn't she just phone the local PD herself? She's a big girl."
"I'm her boss. We'd just finished up a late meeting, she was tired and I was probably the first number in her recent calls."
LaRouche made a small, high pitched humming noise, cocking his head like the Cheshire cat. "It's interesting, for a break-in. I hear nothing was taken. In fact, there was no evidence to suggest anyone was even in the apartment."
Hightower groaned inwardly. The photograph hadn't been turned over to the local cops either. She now realised just how odd the whole thing appeared to an outsider. State agent reports a break-in, calls in her boss directly, and yet local PD collects no evidence to support the claim. She'd been counting on the fact that no one would look too closely at the matter. Clearly she'd underestimated LaRouche's innate suspicion of everyone and everything.
She divulged a little more, hoping it would be enough.
"Lisbon received a personal threat, a letter. The contents of which are pertinent to an ongoing case, a highly sensitive one at that. I'm sure you understand that details ought to be kept confidential at this stage, though we anticipate a major break in the next few days." She was careful to maintain eye contact, and keep her voice friendly but firm.
A long pause, then La Rouche nodded slightly.
"Of course. Best of luck. I have a lot of work to do myself so..." he turned towards the door.
"How is your investigation going, JJ? If you don't mind my asking."
He turned back around slowly. Fixed his beady eyes on hers. "Time will tell, Madeleine. Time will tell."
As he exited her office Hightower sighed. That man is impossible.
LaRouche became the least of her problems however, when less than an hour later her phone rang.
"I've had to bring Director Bertram in on this." She announced stiffly to the team. They were all gathered in the adopted conference room.
Jane looked scandalised."You what?"
"Not my choice, Patrick. He knew we were hiding a Red John lead. He's on his way down here now."
"How did he know?" Jane still was the only one to speak up, voicing what they were all thinking.
"I suspect LaRouche told him. He was questioning me about it earlier."
"So LaRouche too then..." Jane stood up abruptly from his chair and began pacing the room.
"Jane calm down, is it really so big a deal?" Lisbon said soothingly, although she too felt dread at the thought of Bertram coming on board and heading up the investigation. She was far more comfortable doing things their own way, her own way. There was no chance that the director would continue letting her call the shots. He might take the case off of them, even order her into protective custody... surely Hightower wouldn't let him do that. She briefly wondered how much trouble Hightower was in for keeping this quiet.
"The more people that become involved, the more risky it is for everyone. He'll take over Lisbon, we do not want that."
"Well it's done now, Jane, and besides, we have nothing! We have no leads." It was true, they'd gone back weeks in the video footage and found no trace of anyone breaking into Lisbon's office to get her key, if that was even how the intruder had gotten in. In addition, Van Pelt and herself had been trying to track down Thomas Lisbon all morning, for no good reason other than that she wanted to make sure he was safe. It had also been fruitless so far. She sighed, adding weakly "Have you considered that Bertram and LaRouche might actually have some helpful insight? They're not special agents for no reason."
Jane looked at her, anguished. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he felt so apprehensive, so convinced that this was a very bad idea. His brain was spinning in circles trying to process the options available to him, but for some reason panic was slowly taking precedent over everything else right now. He hesitated, before slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I just don't trust anyone outside this circle."
It was Cho who spoke up first."Then don't. You don't have to trust him, you just have to work with him."
Van Pelt smirked a little, adding "Yeah Jane, it's never stopped you before."
Jane knew they were right. There was no going back now. Bertram was already making his way down the hall. Hightower turned to Lisbon, asking what there was to report. Lisbon could only shrug her shouders dejectedly. The door swung open, and the director stepped in.
"Well, well, well..." He started, looking at each person in turn. "I trust you all know why I'm here."
"Sir, let me apologize -" Lisbon was interrupted by Bertram waving his hand.
"No Lisbon, don't apologize. I understand completely. After all you must be feeling a tremendous amount of stress right now. I can't even imagine." He moved to stand behind her chair, placing a cold hand on her shoulder. His voice dripped with overplayed sympathy. "I'm certainly not going to hold you accountable for your poor judgement at this time."
Van Pelt watched silently as her boss' boss'... boss ... crooned over Lisbon, who cringed at the touch of his hand. Sure, Lisbon was a little stressed out right now, but Grace didn't like where Bertram was going with this. His insincerity made her feel nauseous. The man really is a worm...
Bertram continued. "No, you my dear, you shouldn't even be working right now. You're far too vulnerable."
Lisbon bristled at the implication. "I'm fine, sir. If you'll just let us outline the developments..."
She was interrupted again by Bertram's soft laughter. "Lisbon, Lisbon... you cannot take lead on your own case. I won't allow it. It's a direct violation of policy, besides, and I am astounded that you have been allowed to proceed in an active role thus far." His attention turned to Hightower then, who stood silently near the door, expression unreadable. There was no mistaking the menacing edge his voice had taken on. After a moment he turned back to the group and barked "Cho, consider yourself promoted. You're the new lead on this case. What do we have so far?"
Cho looked to Lisbon, who nodded softly at him. He then icily outlined the progress so far. It didn't take long. Bertram took this all in, then asked the question they were all dreading. "So what's next, agent Cho? How do you plan to proceed?"
"Rosalind Harker." It was Jane who'd spoken.
All eyes turned to him, surprised. He shrugged casually, and said again. "Rosalind Harker. I mean, it's obvious isn't it?"
Hightower looked at him curiously. "What is obvious, Jane?"
"Well, she's the one person that we know is close to Red John, and she conveniently can't identify him. I'd say it's highly likely that he's made a visit to her recently, and it's worth questioning her."
Bertram wasn't convinced. "She'd been instructed to notify CBI immediately if and when Red John makes contact. She hasn't done so."
Patrick sighed dramatically, as though he were speaking to a dim witted child. "She's in love with the man, and she doesn't believe for a moment that Roy Tagliaferro is Red John. The mind sees what it wants to see, as it were. She's probably made contact plenty of times and never told us. Why would she?"
"I see. Well have you checked her out yet?" Bertram looked a little annoyed. Patrick had no doubt that he had planned to reassign the case as soon as it was clear they had made no progress. Well, there would be progress all right. He was still working out the finer details, but he could already feel that it was going to work. He made a show of looking at Cho in exasperation.
"We were just discussing paying Rosalind a visit before the cavalry rode in." He gestured grandly to Bertram, and then flashed his most charming smile at the man, knowing it irritated him. "Cho wanted to check the phone records first, but really, this is Red John we're talking about. He wouldn't be so careless as to call her landline, and I doubt Rosalind has a cell. No, he'd just turn up like a gentleman caller."
Cho played along flawlessly. "That's right sir. Jane and I were planning on heading out, while Rigsby and Van Pelt continue going through the security footage and track down Lisbon's brother."
"If you leave now you'll beat traffic." Rigsby supplied helpfully.
"Alright... sounds good." Bertram consented warily. "Call me as soon as you have any information." With that he turned back to Lisbon. "I'd suggest you go home, agent Lisbon, but that's obviously not the best idea. Why don't you all run me through this slapped up safe house you've got going on, see if we can't tidy up this mess a little."
Van Pelt fought the urge to roll her eyes, Rigsby looked thoroughly insulted and Lisbon simply smiled diplomatically as Cho and Jane left the room. It was going to be a long afternoon.