10. THE LETTER

Jane thought, later on, that it had been quite impulsive to take his gun to Lisbon and tell her he no longer intended to use it, but the truth was that he hoped that, in his mind, the will to keep the promise he had made to her would help him focus on his new plan. He knew he had to fight his urges; it was better if she had the gun. It was better if he sold the house. It was better if he pretended to move on, or even truly moved on, even though his guilt would always try to hold him back. If, for winning over Red John, he had to control his guilt, that was what he would do.

He arrived early and the bullpen was still empty, except for Lisbon, who was in her office. He wanted to go talk to her, but he didn't. He wanted to sit on his couch, but he wouldn't want Lisbon to think he was acting like he had been accepted back, so he sat on Van Pelt's chair and noticed a post-it note on her computer screen, saying "Mayflower, 11-18 7."

"I'm sorry, that seat is taken," he heard Van Pelt's voice behind him. As he turned around, he saw her standing, holding a mug. She must have been in the kitchen when he arrived.

"Good morning," he said, standing up. "I was reading that post-it."

She put the mug on her desk and sat down. "I still think that means something. I can feel it."

Jane took another good look at the note. "Maybe seven isn't a year at all," he said. "Maybe it's something else. Could be the time."

She leaned forward to read it again. "Mayflower, November eighteenth, seven o'clock." She looked at him. "Could be."

Jane nodded. Van Pelt smiled, but soon changed the subject. "What did you say to Lisbon last night? She seems troubled."

He shrugged. Grace, always curious. "Nothing much. I only agreed to her conditions for letting me join you in this interrogation."

She smiled. At that moment, Rigsby arrived, yawning. "Good morning," he said.

Cho appeared not much later, and Jane would have found it very weird if he had been the last one to arrive, but he had actually been the first; he had been preparing the van for the trip.

When Lisbon finally came out of her office, it was to say they were ready to go. When she looked at Jane, he threw her such a smile that it was almost impossible not to smile back. She hated it when he did that. He was also wearing the suit she thought he looked best in, and she didn't even know why she was having that kind of thought, so she just turned around to leave and expected the team to follow her. A second later, he was walking next to her.

"Hey, Lisbon," he said. "How are you doing?"

He had a different air about him; she couldn't put her finger on it. "I'm good," she answered dryly, avoiding his eyes.

"I've decided to sell my house."

Lisbon stopped walking. "Sell what?"

"My house, in Malibu." He was amused at her reaction.

"When?" she started walking again, trying to contain the shock. "When did you decide that?"

"Two days ago," he said, somewhat proud of his trivial tone.

They got into the elevator, along with the rest of the team. "Did you hear that, guys?" Jane said. "My house is for sale. If any of you have any interest…"

Lisbon was frowning. She thought that could be the symptom of a psychotic break. The other three didn't say anything; they were probably afraid of the same thing. As they came out of the elevator, Jane walked beside Lisbon again.

"The thing is I've decided to move on in general."

Lisbon stopped walking again and looked at him, really worried now. She put a hand on his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

"No, Lisbon, I'm serious," he said, an indeed very serious expression on his face.

"So am I," she replied, still frowning.

"It's actually a part of a plan," he whispered. "I'll tell you all about it in the car. I'll sit in the back, sit with me." He gave her a tempting smile, and she told herself that she only accepted the invitation because she was really curious about said plan.

As he explained it to her, she was surprised to find that it actually made sense.

"None of this is easy for me," he confessed, with a haunted expression. "I actually feel better doing this, but in my mind there's a voice saying I shouldn't, and it makes me feel all that much worse."

Lisbon couldn't contain an involuntary impulse to put a hand on his shoulder as she spoke. "You know, these are the things you should have done a long time ago. And you should feel better. And I will be here to remind you of that."

He smiled on top of an expression like that of a homeless dog begging to be taken care of. "You will?" he asked.

She withdrew her hand from his shoulder. "But if I find out that there is a tiny little lie in the middle of all this or anything like it, I swear to God, Jane, I will kill you."

He smiled. "Thank God I can consider myself off the hook on that death threat."

"Let's hope so," she answered, crossing her arms and looking ahead.

Jane just looked at her, smiling, for a long time.

The repair shop was open when they arrived. Cho parked the van and they all got off. Joseph Morgan came out and greeted them quietly.

"Hello, Mr. Morgan," Jane said, taking the lead. "So, about that diary?"

Morgan took a small, worn-out-looking book with a black leather cover from his pocket. "There you go."

Jane was going to take it in his hands, but Lisbon didn't let him. "Gloves," she said, rather harshly, showing her hands and taking it. As she started to turn the pages, the others approached her so they could see it too. It started out as what looked like a normal diary. Until, at a certain point, it changed completely. The writing looked deeper, even though it still looked like it belonged to the same person; the entries were longer; there were things written in capital letters and the whole thing gave an impression of obsessive behavior. Lisbon shut it and put it inside an evidence bag.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Morgan," she said. "We're going to have to take this with us."

"Happy to help," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"There's something else," she said. "We'd like to search your property for any other belongings of Jenna's that might be of interest."

"You got it," he said, and started to move back into the shop.

"Hey, Joseph," Jane called. Morgan turned around. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?"

Morgan shook his head, and Jane thought he looked anxious to finish the conversation. "No, sir." He turned around and disappeared behind the motorcycles.

Cho and Rigsby searched the property, but didn't find anything else that might be related to the case. They all went back to Sacramento as soon as that was finished. Jane asked Lisbon's permission to read the diary on the way, and she offered him a pair of latex gloves.

"We'll read together," she said, with a half-smile that pleased him very much.

The first entries described the daily life of an ordinary person. Jenna would sometimes mention her brother, what he was doing or something, but mostly she talked about work – at the time, she was a waitress and seemed fine with it. For the descriptions, she didn't have a boyfriend and lived with her brother. During the day she cleaned the place, went to the grocery store, cooked, washed dishes and clothes. During the night, she worked.

Then, suddenly, the descriptions of days simply disappeared. The new entries were not dated and talked about what really seemed like a god or something religious; she commented about how she had met someone she only referred to as he, and how he had changed her life and shown her a whole new perspective. Things like "a higher purpose" and "just a part in something so much bigger" would appear profusely. The entries went on like that until there was something quite different; the last entry, which didn't have a date either, was a text with a particularly interesting title: "Letter to P. J."

Lisbon and Jane exchanged a look, and went back to reading it.

"LETTER TO P. J.

You are probably one of the people who know best how fragile life is. So it is about time you should think about how fragile your life is, too, and that of those you still care about. Maybe the time has finally come to stop playing games.

Sometimes you must look harder, starting from the beginning, to reach the end. And when should the end be? When there is nothing left to lose. Or, at least, you think there is not.

We will all be waiting for you, including the one you wish to see the most."

Lisbon and Jane exchanged a confused look.

"Doesn't seem to make much sense," she commented.

"It could be an enigma. It must be an enigma," he said, intent on the book. Maybe the time had finally come to stop playing games. What could that mean? Did that mean that Red John no longer wanted to play games with him? And what was that doing in Jenna's diary?

"We'll analyze it later," Lisbon said, because they were entering the CBI parking lot. She took the diary and put it back in its evidence bag. "Let's just let forensics work on it first."

Jane wasn't sure whether to stay in the bullpen or not, since Lisbon hadn't said anything since they had arrived about him being on or off the team. He went to the kitchen and prepared a cup of tea for himself, just so he'd have something to do. The words in the letter made a mess amongst his thoughts. The first part sounded like a death threat, meant for him and those he still cared about. As for the second part and the last sentence, he couldn't make sense of them yet. If that was encoded, he had to crack it. He had to know what the message was.

Lisbon was locked in her office, conscious that she had to decide about Jane right now. On the one hand, it was not only unfair, but even stupid, to keep him off Red John, because he was so much a part of it that he couldn't be entirely separated from it. Now they had a letter, directed to him. They needed his insights while interpreting it. On the other hand, she still didn't know whether she could trust him. She wanted to, and his behavior was suggesting that she could, but she was scared that he might be pretending. She was scared that his addiction to revenge could be so severe as to make him put a show like that just to make her trust him again. She could never be sure what his real motivations were.

Van Pelt came into her office at that moment, looking annoyed. "Jane is walking around with a cup of tea. He won't sit and won't let anybody work. I think he's waiting for an answer."

Lisbon sighed, irritated. "What if I tell you that I'm waiting for an answer, too? I still don't know what to do."

Van Pelt seemed to think for a while, and then she spoke. "Well, if he's here we can watch what he's doing."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "I don't know which is worse; having him here knowing everything about the case our out there doing lord knows what."

"I think out there doing lord knows what sounds way worse," Van Pelt said, as if automatically.

Lisbon grinned, with sad sarcasm. "He told me he would never hide anything from me again. But of course I shouldn't believe that, right?" She detected a hint of true doubt in her own tone. She really wanted Van Pelt to convince her otherwise.

"Boss," Van Pelt started. "Believe me. When you were gone, I was furious at him. I hated him for what he had done. But he was so genuinely worried, actually, desperate, that I can't help believing him now. I think he's really learned his lesson."

They stared at each other for a moment, as Lisbon tried to believe Van Pelt. Then Lisbon spoke. "Tell him to come here."

Jane was startled when Van Pelt told him Lisbon wanted to see him in her office. She was going to tell him what her decision was. He felt sweat sprouting from his forehead as he walked. He opened the door quietly, and found her sitting behind her desk. She looked up at him. "Come in."

He obeyed, and closed the door behind him. Lisbon stood up, and leaned forward, both hands outstretched on the desk.

"You can stay," she said, simply, and then added, after a pause, "for now. But I'm watching you. Anything wrong happens, you're out, no warning. Is that clear?"

Jane didn't like the impersonal tone, different from earlier, when she promised to help him fight his guilt; she was back to offended boss mode. But at least she was allowing him back in the team, so he smiled. "Very clear."

Lisbon nodded, looking away. Then, she looked at him again. "I want to know your every thought."

He smiled crookedly. "Every one?"

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "And I don't want you going anywhere alone without my knowledge and approval."

"Understood," he nodded.

"That'll be all." She sat down again, not looking at him anymore. As he didn't start moving, she looked up. "Go, we've all got work to do."

He wanted to thank her, but he took the hint and left. As he arrived in the bullpen, his colleagues smiled as though quietly welcoming him back.

The only prints found on the diary belonged to either Jenna or Joseph Morgan. Forensics had also compared the writing on the entries to Jenna's signature on her driver's license to determine if she had written them. There was an eighty-percent chance that Jenna had written the entries, except for the letter, which had similarities but also differences to the rest of the writing, making a sixty-percent chance of having been written by somebody else. That was what the preliminary report said; Van Pelt was telling her colleagues about it.

"They're still going to analyze it further," she said, "but we already have the pages scanned into digital files, so we can try to figure out the entries, especially the letter."

They all exchanged looks. The phone rang, and Rigsby picked it up.

"Well, let's do it, then," Lisbon said, "but maybe we could talk to Morgan again, see if he could tell us about anyone else who could have written on that diary. Then, maybe this other person can tell us a little about what the hell that damn letter means."

"Maybe some other time," Rigsby said, hanging up. "I've just got a call from the Riverside county sheriff, they have Steve Carter in custody."

Lisbon stood up, and her whole body started trembling. She remembered the scumbag filming it as he tortured her. She looked at Jane. He looked back at her, his hands turned into fists.

"Van Pelt, get us some plane tickets," she ordered. "I won't wait any longer than I have to before I can have a chat with that son of a bitch."

During the flight, Jane worked on the letter. He knew he had to avoid being obsessed with it, as a part of his bigger plan of controlling his guilt; obsession and guilt would have him off his game, and he couldn't afford that. Still, he knew that figuring out the letter was useful, so he cautiously decided to give it a try. After an hour working on ideas, he decided to share them with Lisbon. She wanted his every thought, didn't she? He asked Cho, who was sitting next to her, to switch seats with him.

"What is it, Jane?" she asked, impatient that he was bringing her back to reality when she had been concentrating on how to act around Steve Carter and what to ask him.

"I've been working on the letter," he said, showing her a copy of it. "I've got some ideas. You said you wanted me to tell you what's on my mind, always."

"Oh," she said, lacking a better answer. "Let's hear it."

"Well, the first paragraph is clearly a threat, to me and the people I still care about." He waved his finger in her direction. "Meaning you and the team."

"Hm," was Lisbon's answer, as she was a little surprised at that confession of sorts.

"The last sentence in the first paragraph says that maybe the time has finally come to stop playing games. I think this means Red John no longer wants to play this game with me."

Lisbon pondered for a while. Jane continued. "My doubt is if this was written before or after you were taken. We already know almost for sure that Jenna didn't write this, so it could have been written by Red John after Jenna was killed. Maybe she had the diary with her when he abducted her."

When Steve Carter abducted her, Lisbon corrected in her mind, feeling a chill go through her spine as she remembered her own abduction. But then, something didn't add up about Jane's theory.

"But how did it get to Joseph Morgan?" she asked.

"Well, Red John probably planted it there," Jane said, with some kind of excitement about him. "Didn't Joseph say he had never noticed the diary? That he had found it all of a sudden? Maybe it was a response to the fact that the house is for sale."

Lisbon thought for a while. It did make sense. "What about the rest of the letter?"

"I don't know," he said, a bit disappointed. "Something encoded. But I think it has to do with where and when, because, at the end, it says they will all be waiting for me, including the one I wish to see the most. Red John, I presume. So the second paragraph would be where and when."

He looked down at the letter again, and then back at her; she was looking away, seemed to be distracted. "You're anxious, aren't you?"

She looked at him. "Yes," was all she said. Then she looked at the copy of the letter in his hands, and then at him again. "How are you doing?"

Only by the look in his eyes, Lisbon noticed that the letter was all he could think about, and that he knew it didn't look good. So she simply took the copy from his hands and kept it. He gave her a half smile and went back to his original seat.

The sheriff told the team that one of the officers had noticed a blue sedan driving too fast and started following it. Not only the car didn't seem like it was going to stop but the officer could also see that the man inside it had a gun and was preparing to use it. The officer then had called for backup and shot the tires in the sedan, which caused the man to shoot back but also to eventually stop the car. When backup arrived, after the officer and the man had spent about ten minutes shooting at each other, they were able to arrest him. They figured he must have been on the run, probably on his way to Mexico, and later on recognized him by the mugshot released by the CBI.

After all that talk, Lisbon told the team she was going to interrogate him first, alone; they could watch from the gallery. At that moment, she thought she felt a little like Jane would probably feel when he would say things like "Red John is mine," because it felt like Steve Carter was hers. She tried to control the shaking of her hand as she put it on the handle. When she thought it was satisfactorily under control, she went in.

He was sitting behind a table, and looked up at her. She looked back, feeling her teeth clench involuntarily.

"We meet again, at last," she said, with a smile.

Carter just nodded. "We didn't quite finish last time, though. I was mad that you ran. We still had so much to do, so much fun to have."

Jane clenched his teeth on the other side of the glass, too.

"Shut up!" Lisbon said, a little louder than she had planned to. She took a deep breath and tried to control her voice. "You're in a real bad situation here, you know that? You've kidnapped and assaulted a state officer. That'll guarantee you many, many years behind bars."

She sat down, putting her folder on the table, facing him. He looked at her like he had done nothing wrong. "But we can tie you to the disappearance of at least one of Red John's victims, so we could charge you with accessory to murder, too. So why don't you start telling us everything you know about Red John?"

Carter smiled. "All I know is that he is a good man."

"Oh, is he?"

"Yes, he is. Certainly a better man than that one you work with. He can't even tell you the truth, can he?"

Jane felt that one like a sharp knife through his chest.

"What about his victims?" Lisbon asked, anger making her voice tremble. "Maybe you can tell me how a good man like Red John was capable of brutally killing a dozen of innocent women."

Both Lisbon and Jane added "and a child" in a mental note.

"He saved them."

Lisbon had to contain an angrier reaction; instead, she just took the picture of Jenna Morgan's body from her folder and put it on the table, in front of him. "He saved her? Please explain to me how and from what."

Carter sighed, like that picture didn't bother him at all. "She lived a miserable life. She had no purpose. Red John gave her a purpose."

"And then he killed her?"

"She begged for it," he whispered, with a twisted smile.

Lisbon slammed her hand on the table and stood up. "I don't believe you."

He didn't even blink. She took another deep breath, taking a series of pictures from her folder and displaying them on the table for him.

"Do you recognize these?"

He looked at the pictures, which showed several fragments of Jenna's diary's entries, and shook his head. "I've never seen this, no."

Lisbon stood there for a while, unsure of what to say. It didn't seem like he was going to say anything useful, and she was close to losing her temper, so she just gathered the pictures, put them back into the folder and left.

"I'll see you later," he said behind her, grinning.

After leaving the interrogation room, Lisbon didn't feel like seeing or talking to anybody. Her eyes were teary, her whole body felt weak and she felt the urgent need to get out of there as fast as she could.