Chapter 10: TENsion
Author's Note: Thank you so much, Cumberland River Relic, who is a fantastic beta. he inspired me when I struggled with the name of this chapter and his support is invaluable in many ways. Go look up his newest multichapter called Baby Blue Skies, a sequel to Clear Blue Morning.
Also I want to send a special thank you to Make-Mine-A-Kiaora a.k.a. Chris for help with this chapter. There's a line of internal dialogue where Jane's observation about Kim's awkward statement. That was a direct result of Chris's beta-read observation that Kim Fischer's instruction about 'departing' was particularly poignant considering the mortal danger hanging over the heads of our heroes. I laughed and laughed when I read her critiquing notes at that point. I really appreciate her unique viewpoint in seeing that. Also, for some reason, I changed Haydon's name to Hayden, and she caught that too! Haha! Thanks, Chris!
Be sure to check out her new chapters to Dear Diary which she will be posting soon (I hope cuz it's such a good story!) You can find it and Baby Blue Skies both in my favorite authors list.
As usual, any mistake are mine. Also, I don't own the Mentalist, the character therein nor anything to do with the show. Just having fun. Lots and lots of FUN! Hope you enjoy too.
PS: sorry for the superlong A/N. :o)
Despite keeping up appearances that things were friendly, Jane kept a watchful eye on Smythe as the 4x4 crunched through the icy crust covering the snow. The Virginian was a wolf in coyote's clothing, with dark thoughts deep under his even outward appearance. Under no circumstances would Jane allow the man to ever be alone with Lisbon, gun or no gun, even if her hands turned out to be registered with the CIA as lethal weapons. Smythe could not be trusted.
"Thank you again," Jane said. "We appreciate the help."
Smythe didn't answer.
Damn the darkness. The dashboard lights were turned low, providing very little illumination in the cab of the truck. And without visual clues, it was difficult to gauge exactly where the psychopath stood mentally or emotionally. Jane had guessed at one point, Smythe had been planning how to get rid of Jane, probably by some violent means, but the sight of the beautiful (if also totally high) Carrie distracted him for a bit, turning his tendency toward violence into a tendency toward lust. Typical penis thinker. A loin scholar.
Jane resisted placing his hand in his pocket. The reassuring weight of Fischer's gun was nice, but it seemed unlikely that he could bring himself to actually use it. Sure, he knew how, although he hadn't practiced since the days before Red John's death. Could his aim gotten rusty in the thirty months since his exile?
Yes. He had to admit that it could. And his squeamishness about guns had returned ten-fold, even if his resolve to protect Teresa increased by that same amount.
It made sense that if Smythe were to kill Jane, it would be before Jane had a chance to call his 'brother'. Why encourage more strangers to come up the mountain and meet them? At the same time, Smythe turned out not to be the brightest neon tube in Las Vegas. Jane had given him too much credit before meeting him. And yet, it would be a bad idea for Jane to let his guard down. Haydon Smythe was a violent brute, after all.
They drove down the mountain to approximately where Jane had earlier identified their cell access point to Lisbon. He pulled out his phone.
"Ah! Two bars!"
Quickly he dialed Lisbon's phone, currently in her pocket with no cell towers nearby. It went to voicemail immediately. Jane held the phone slightly from his ear so Smythe would hear the beep and (for Jane's purposes) draw the right conclusion. Intentionally he confused his message sentences to indicate distress.
"Hey, Keith, man. The snowmobile died. I need help. I don't get reception where the machine is, so I need to get hold of somebody soon because I don't want to tromp all over the mountainside. It's getting cold out here. I'll call Kim to see if you're with her."
He flashed an embarrassed smile at Smythe and dialed Fischer. She answered immediately.
"Yes, Jane."
"Yeah, Kim? It's Patrick. Is Keith there with you?"
"We're getting a clear signal from Lisbon's bug."
"Good. Put him on." Jane paused a moment. "Keith? Yeah, it's Paddy. Listen, the machine broke. I have no power to the drive belt. You need to come get me."
"We're on our way. We'll come in as soon as we hear you've departed the cabin."
What unfortunate wording, Agent Fischer! At least she didn't say "dearly departed".
Not thrown off, Jane exclaimed, "What? What do you mean you knew the belt was going?"
"You and Lisbon should go somewhere safe," Kim commanded.
"Every hundred?" Jane asked, raising the pitch in his voice. "Why didn't you replace it before you sent me out in that piece of crap?"
"It's evident from Lisbon's convo that Carrie's in on it. We have it recorded."
"You damn moron! You're trying to kill me, you bastard! I'm gonna fix this damn thing and then I'm coming down there and I'm going to kick your ass."
He disconnected the call and panted heavily through his nose for a moment.
"My family is a bunch of idiots!" he said. "Idiots!"
"What was that about?" Smythe asked.
Jane made a show of being nearly apoplectic.
"My brother didn't tell me before. Apparently that machine busts a belt every hundred miles or so. He keeps a spare under the seat, along with the tool to replace it."
"No shit?" Smythe laughed heartily.
"No shit," he said bitterly. "Listen, can you just take me back to the machine? If you shine the truck's lights on it, I bet I can see enough to fix it. Then you and your bride can be rid of us."
Smythe licked his lips and froze, staring at Jane like a hunter on the trigger right on the verge of squeezing. He seemed to reach a decision, and much to Jane's relief, it wasn't homicidal. He placed the truck in gear and turned back up the mountain road.
At the snowmobile, Jane got the belt put on as quickly as the FBI tech had shown him how to do it. When he attempted to start the machine; it was a little slow to crank, and for a moment it seemed they really were stranded. After two more tries, however, it overcame the cold temperatures and fired up. Jane followed the truck up to the cabin.
Leaving the snow machine running to hasten their getaway, Jane followed Smythe up the stairs and into the cabin. Near the log rack Lisbon had stacked some of the wood on the floor to about a foot high and had taken a cushion from the club chair to rest on top of it. It formed a kind of 'wood-pile ottoman', making it comfortable to sit close to the fire while reading. The sound of the snow machine had evidently caused her to look up from the 20-year-old Reader's Digest now resting on her leg.
Carrie Laduree sat on the sofa limply with a strange, sick smile on her face. A peculiar distance filled in her eyes, like she was lost in her own world, doing something wicked to kittens and puppies. It was not a look Jane liked to see. This was beyond drug-induced psychosis. The young woman was certifiably mad.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit…
"Hey, Karen," he said in bright, cheerful tones reserved for psych ward patients. "Looks like you guys are rid of us. My brother told me where to find the replacement part under the seat, so I made the repair and we'll be on our way."
The girl made no sign she'd heard him, instead continuing to stare, her gaze latched onto watching her boyfriend.
"Uh…nice to have met you both. Good luck in your new marriage, and thank you for your…"
Carrie's face twisted into rage as she glared up at Smythe's face…
…just as Smythe reached out his hand toward Lisbon to help her stand up from her low seat.
"Don't you TOUCH her!" Laduree screamed.
Smythe looked at Laduree in confusion just as Lisbon was preparing to rise. Carrie's hand slid under the pillows next to her, clawing in search of something.
"Gun!" Lisbon cried hoarsely.
Carrie brought out the old revolver and barely pointed it before it went off. Haydon grunted once while Lisbon launched herself across the short distance to the couch. She seized the weapon in the mad woman's hand, grappling for control.
Jane didn't know what to do; his limbs froze in panic. The young woman screeched like a berserker, surprising Lisbon with a sudden jerk of her arms, knocking Lisbon to the floor. Lisbon held on, dragging the young woman down with her. She struggled to get the firearm free from Carrie's drug-fortified iron grip while also trying to move away from Carrie's scratching and gouging left hand. The gun fired once more, making Jane jump out of his skin…and out of his stupor.
Gun! I have a gun! Jane dug into his pocket and pulled out Fischer's Beretta. He froze again. He couldn't shoot it. What if he wounded Lisbon instead?
Making certain the safety was on, Jane grabbed it by the barrel and swung with all his might. Carrie grunted and dropped unconscious onto Lisbon.
"Oh my god…" Lisbon groaned, pushing Carrie's limp bulk off and taking the revolver from the loose hand.
"Kimball, Steven, we need an ambulance!" Jane shouted at her coat pocket. He reached out to help Teresa to her feet but instead received the weapon.
"I'm all right, I'm all right," she said, digging into the inner pocket of her down coat and pulling out handcuffs. "I'll secure the suspect. Go check on Smythe."
How he loved Lisbon when she unconsciously slipped into I'm-Taking-Charge-Because-I'm-The-Cop mode!
He crossed to Haydon Smythe who was collapsed against the base of the wood stack. A large bloody hole occupied his chest, scoring through the heart. Pointless though it was, Jane searched for a pulse at the wrist and the neck.
"Cancel the ambulance," he muttered.
Jane glanced around and then crossed to the coat hooks by the door. He pulled down a knit scarf before returning to Lisbon.
"I'm going to bind her feet in case she comes to," he said as they turned the unconscious girl onto her back. "She's insane. Maybe she was on the verge all along or maybe there was more than speed in her system, but she's mentally unstable. She's so amped up, who knows what she's capable of?"
Lisbon nodded and held the girl's legs as he wrapped the scarf in a complex pattern and tied it securely. When it was done, they leaned her against the sofa and pinned her with the coffee table.
Finally they both exhaled, collapsing in relief.
"Teresa," Jane said, "I'm so very sorry. I didn't realize she was doing speed to this extent, and I never ever suspected she had a gun."
She stared at him a moment, her eyes flooding with tears. Then she rushed him, engulfing him in a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry, Patrick." Her voice was choked and raw. "I almost didn't get to tell you that I love you too. Please don't ever leave me again. Please."
"I will never leave you, my love," he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly to his chest. "I would die if we were ever separated again. I truly do love you."
He ran his hand over her hair, marveling that the touch of silk and the smell of soft jasmine of her shampoo could fill him with such peace after their moments of terror. Repeating her name over and over again, he buried his face in the crook between her jaw and shoulder, inhaling her scent as he caught his breath.
It had been so close! God! So very close to losing her because of an act of insanity. How could this have happened? What had he done wrong that he risked the person who meant the most to him in his entire world?
She pulled away before he was ready to let go, but he let her go anyway. As they straightened, she gave him a reassuring smile and ran her hand over his cheek, making him aware that his face was wet with tears. Then she cocked her head as if listening.
"Sounds like the team is arriving," she said softly.
He listened too, catching the sounds of a helicopter and snowmobiles approaching from the valley. "The cavalry used to arrive on horseback. Now they come on rotating wings and high powered machinery."
"Thank God for the cavalry."
"Well… I don't know how God enters into this," he said evasively. "I like to think that-"
"Oh, hush!" she said still smiling.
He smiled in return and pecked her lips. "I'm hushing."
To be continued…