Chapter 10: Expecting
Lisbon-Jane Home, Sacramento, Saturday
Jane woke early and swam before brutal sun and heat rendered even that unpleasant. He showered, made coffee and was back in their bedroom with the precious elixir in a trice. He waved the mug past her face, which was half-buried in a pillow.
"Enough beauty sleep. We have a grill to buy."
She rolled over. Sleepily, "What?"
"Rise and shine."
"What time is it?" As planned, she reached for the coffee instead of whacking him for waking her.
"Seven. Stores are open and we can go before the crowds."
She pushed herself up to lean against the headboard, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sipped more coffee. His words finally sorted themselves into a coherent thought. "You woke me at seven on Saturday to shop for a grill?"
Brightly, "Exactly. C'mon."
She frowned and rose, clutching the mug to her chest. Glaring, she grabbed some clothes and retreated to their bathroom, mumbling, "Be glad I want a shower more than pounding sense into you." The door closed sharply.
He smirked and straightened the bed. She was up. A shower, a bear claw, more coffee, and they'd be on their way.
We're night and day, she grumped as the warm water washed away sleep's muzziness. I would marry a freak who bounds out of bed rarin' to go. Barring exhaustion, injury, or activities best done horizontal, Jane was fully alert the moment he woke. Not obvious during the CBI years of chronic insomnia and exhaustion, the trait was now was a point of friction. Mr. Enthusiasm wants to go grill shopping at the crack of dawn. What the hell's so great about a grill? Every last house in California has one. ... House. ... Home. ... Friends. ... Oh. By the time she dressed she was warming to the thought of the visit and showing off their home. This was reclaiming another bit of normal life. Jane's brief sojourn into normal disappeared with his family's murder. And her? She hadn't felt the security and love of home since she was 12.
One shower, a bear claw and more coffee later, and ... they sat at her computer checking consumer ratings of grills. Jane was glad she was participating, but impatient.
"I think we should choose from these brands, agree?"
"Fine."
"What features?"
"Really, Lisbon? Can't we just get going?"
"Not till we agree on the features."
He huffed, "Okay, how about this one?" He pointed to the top model of a preferred brand. The extra bells and whistles added a thousand to the price.
"You're gonna do the grilling so you should have the most say. But there's gotta be a reasonable chance you'll actually use the capabilities. –Do you have to have a smoker?"
"Pete makes the best barbeque you can imagine by smoking."
"Will you?"
He tipped his head back and forth. "A-h-h, probably not."
"What about the rotisserie and hot plates?"
He bounced on the balls of his feet. "I'll use the rotisserie. The hot plates could be useful for side dishes."
"Unlike our stove that's ten feet away?"
Two hours later they bought the mid-range grill of a very good brand. The huge box containing their new grill – 'some assembly required' – would be delivered before next weekend. Jane assured her he could follow instructions to assemble the grill – perhaps despite the instructions (thanks to global trade). He countered her snark by noting he'd grown up assembling carnival rides with nary a fatality.
Lisbon waited patiently when Jane dawdled at the home-improvement store. Ever the magpie, he was charmed by all the clever special-purpose stuff for a house. He made it up to her by suggesting her favorite burger place for lunch.
Small Town in Eastern Oregon, Friday Afternoon
Jason Wylie checked that the corridor was empty then ducked into the hotel room across from his. The door was unlocked.
Cho looked up from the computer screen. "Wylie." Ojara and Hassan nodded their welcome. Each wore outdoor clothes – jeans, hiking boots, sun-block shirt.
Wylie joined the three around a small table. "Any activity?" The drone transmitted pictures of a pick-up truck parked next to a modest house.
"No. Likely still sleeping it off." Cho looked him up and down. "Why aren't you hung over?"
"I stuck with beer. Decker and Lassiter switched to whiskey."
"Going to see them today?"
"I'm meeting Decker at the diner for lunch. He said he has a favor to ask." At Cho's unspoken query he added, "No idea what he wants."
"Good that he wants something. We don't have enough for a search warrant yet. Dangerous?"
Wylie shook his head. "They were pretty chummy last night. I think they bought my story." He frowned and faced Ojara. "Hey. What's with the 'little man' crap?"
Ojara grinned, "Served the purpose."
Hassan embellished, "I thought you might take a swing at him."
"How did you – ah, forget it." Annoyance gave way to a grin. "I hate that nickname. My uncle called me that till I grew a foot senior year."
Cho brought them back to the case. "I'll shadow you since Decker doesn't know me. Ojara, Hassan, track Wylie with a drone, out of sight. Wylie, you're on your own if you go inside. Maybe you should wear a wire."
"It'd be a dead giveaway if they found it. Let's use my cell phone as a mic."
"Audio pick-up isn't great."
Wylie smiled. "Mine is. It's, um, customized." Cho nodded his approval. Ojara and Hassan went for breakfast, killing time till Wylie's lunch.
Several hours later ...
"... shouldn't be hiring foreigners to take American jobs. I have friends who had to train their replacements before they got canned."
Decker asked sympathetically, "Why'd they do it?"
Angrily, "They'd get fired if they refused. No job, no severance pay. Screwed coming and going."
"Y'know, I like you Whitman. I run a little political group that'd be right up your alley."
"What d'ya do?"
"We demonstrate against the kind of shit you described. Write letters to representatives, that sort of thing. –Was that the story with your 'colleagues'?"
"The black guy's American. He's just got a mouth on him and wants help every time I turn around." Sarcastically, "Hussein is a ref-u-gee. They screw up their country then come here. But they don't support American values, they want us to live by their religious law. Stinks." The server dropped off two checks for the meal. Wylie reached for his.
"I got it, John." Decker figured out the tip and put a few bills on the table. He leaned back, sipping his iced tea. "You know computers, right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Would you try and get my membership program working?"
"There's no computer support in town?"
Casually, "There is. But my members prefer to keep it private. People who think different might make it hard on them. Can you take a look?"
He shrugged. "Sure. I've got the weekend to kill. We continue surveying on Monday."
"What about your coworkers?"
Scornfully, "You think I spend my free time with them? I don't know if they're even around. Show me your computer."
Decker grinned and gulped the rest of his tea. "I'll drive."
It was a slow afternoon. The drone tracked Wylie to an old house and storage shed at the edge of town, but within range of WiFi reception. No one lived there; it was just the meeting place for Decker's 'political group.' A hundred yards away in the forest Cho listened via Wylie's cell phone with binoculars trained on the house. They didn't reappear for three hours.
Decker dropped Wylie off in front of the hotel. He leaned toward the open passenger door.
"Thanks for working on my computer."
Wylie nodded. "I can finish up tomorrow in an hour or two. I need to make sure those updates loaded okay. And that there are no interactions with other programs. If you keep up with revisions from now on it should stay fixed."
"See you tomorrow at ten in front of the diner. I need to go home to the wife and kids or she'll nag all weekend."
"See ya." Wylie waved and turned to the hotel.
A few hours later the four agents reconvened in Cho's room with Chinese take-out to avoid attracting attention. Ojara and Hassan were staying in case Decker needed more convincing that Wylie shared his views. Even more importantly, they'd be back-up if the op got violent. They split the food and dug in before talking.
Hassan shook his head in wonder. "You hit the jackpot when the target invites you to pick through his computer."
Wylie snorted. "No one loaded updates for two years. No wonder it was hanging up."
Cho spoke, "What's on the computer? Will it get us that warrant?"
"There's no document titled, 'Terrorist Attack Plan,' but it seems to be the computer his group uses for everything. I recognized some names of people who've been arrested for hate crimes." He chewed and swallowed another bite. "Between their membership rolls and a spreadsheet of their invoices I'm hoping there'll be leads."
Cho looked thoughtful, "If there aren't, can we monitor their WiFi computer activity?"
"Yep. Can't believe they'd do illegal stuff over unsecured internet access."
Ojara jibed, "Why not? High government officials do and they're better educated and better paid." With impeccable timing he continued before Cho could redirect him back to the case. "Think you can remember enough information to work with?"
Wylie grinned. "My trusty flash drive remembers everything."
Cho again, "What if you're searched?"
Wylie fished out a tiny flat rectangular object. Courtesy of the field's relentless innovation, it was a fifth as large as Bertram's thumb drive found by the SCU just three years ago. It was encased in plastic except for the metal plug. "This will hold everything I download. I'll swallow it if I have to."
"Don't get caught."
He didn't.
Gratitude for the computer fix notwithstanding, Decker and a sidekick searched him before he left the house that afternoon. The drive fit neatly between his cheek and jaw. Luckily, they weren't paranoid or thorough enough to search his mouth. He didn't have to swallow it.
Jane and Lisbon, Sacramento, Monday and On
The weekend passed quietly without chocolate-covered ants.
Lisbon parked in front of the their office building. Jane was startled to realize it was only a week since his impromptu interrogation test. That reminded him of the missed appointment at the fertility clinic. He'd have to reschedule it for a time when he could vanish for a couple hours without Lisbon thinking anything of it.
Abduction, marketing, and two cases had superseded reading their business mail. They sorted through the accumulation. Lisbon generated an invoice for the CBI's Fuller case, then both happily settled down to read through several new cold case files. Mid-morning, receptionist Heather forwarded a business call to Lisbon's cell phone.
"Lisbon. ... Hey, Jorge, it's been a while. ... Yes, my own agency with Patrick Jane. ... Really. We're available if you have something for us?" Jane looked up from the couch in her office. "I hadn't heard you left SacPD for LA. ... Congratulations on landing Deputy Chief. ... " She interrupted, "–Before you get into it, let me put this on speaker so Jane can listen in. Hang on." She switched on her cell speaker and set it on her desk. Jane moved from couch to a chair at her desk. "Go ahead."
Lisbon and Jane were on a flight to LA at seven the next morning. The taxi dropped them off at the LAPD headquarters. Lisbon walked toward the entrance then turned back when she realized Jane had stopped.
"Jane?" She lightly touched his arm. He unconsciously sought and gripped her hand, belying his neutral expression. Her forehead creased as she puzzled it out. The Malibu sheriff would have gotten help from LAPD for a double homicide. Eventually SacPD would be called in when the PD realized it was a Red John murder. It was the last Red John case SacPD handled before referring it to the CBI. Quietly, "We can pass on the job if you want."
That night 14 years ago he was dazed and incapable of noticing his surroundings. Subconscious memories triggered deep disquiet nonetheless. He took several deep breaths and squared his shoulders. "It's all right. The past just needs to stay there. Let's go."
Lisbon mentally reserved the right to reconsider. Jane had made an astonishing recovery, but the fault lines would always be there.
The information clerk directed them to Elliott's office.
"Teresa, long time." Elliott rose and extended his hand.
"Jorge."
He turned to Jane and paused a moment, looking him over. "So. Law enforcement and now a PI." He warmly shook Jane's hand with the other on Jane's arm.
"Deputy Chief Elliott," greeted Jane stiffly. Lisbon couldn't decide if Elliott's familiarity or Jane's acquiescence was more surprising. Then she remembered: Jane had hounded Elliott weekly about the Red John case ... until he was institutionalized.
Elliott shook his head slightly. "I, um, I'm happy that you made it." He coughed in embarrassment. Quietly, "That you got the bastard." Jane stood silent, fidgeting with one hand.
Lisbon stated pro forma, "There was no official finding." Technically McAllister's murder remained open, unsolved. No one cared.
"Yeah." Elliott cleared his throat and motioned them toward the door. Gruffly, "Let's talk about today." He led the way to a conference room occupied by several tough-looking detectives.
Some years ago a dangerous, relentless campaign by the LAPD had rooted out the brutal MS-13 gang. The vicious nationwide network of Salvadoran gang members had recently begun to re-infiltrate LA. Elliott's gang unit needed information fast and keenly wanted to know if any LA gangs had become allies. The gang unit leader finished his briefing.
"How would we fit in?" Lisbon asked.
"The Deputy Chief says you can figure out a lot from reactions, even if they don't say anything," he answered eyes flicking to Jane. "We have hundreds of gang members and not alotta time to sweat them for answers. Maybe you're a shortcut?"
"Are they all from the US – or Central and South America?" asked Jane.
"Pretty much."
Jane nodded, "Then I can help. How would this work?"
"We'll round up groups of three to five. We need to know if they've been contacted by MS-13, if they're working together. Who they contact will give us a leg up on stopping them."
"Nice, crisp questions. If that's all you need, we could handle it line-up style. Pose the questions to a group. Pull out anyone who reacts for further questioning."
The unit leader looked pleased. "That'd be faster."
Lisbon asked, "Would there be any field work? Will Jane participate in follow-up questioning?"
"Nothing in the field. If he can get a better read in person, we'd want that."
"What's your time frame?"
"We're already behind the curve. I expect we'll need three days including today."
Lisbon asked Elliott. "May we have a moment?"
He nodded. "Stop by my office when you're done." Everyone filed out except Lisbon and Jane.
"Do we want the job? It's gonna be all you, Jane."
"Yes."
"What if some don't speak English?"
He half smiled, "I spent two years immersed in Spanish. I'm not fluent speaking Spanish, but comprehension isn't a problem."
"I–" Lisbon broke off as her cell chimed. "Lisbon. ... Good morning, Director." 'Hightower,' she mouthed. "I'm glad Mrs. Fuller returned. Is there something more on the case? ... Oh. Yes, I'd be interested. How long is it? ... By Friday?" She glanced at Jane. "Can you hold for a second?" Lisbon put her cell on mute. "Hightower wants me to review a draft protocols manual for the CIB. They need it Friday."
"I've got this. Take the job if you want."
She un-muted her cell. "I'll pick it up tomorrow. –We can be flexible on price since it's not a case."
"Let's wrap this up with Elliott." He rose.
"Jane," her hand stopped him, "stay out of trouble. No goading gang members without LAPD in the room."
"Promise." He gave her a surprise peck on the cheek. "No worrying, my dear."
FBI, Sacramento, Tuesday, Early Evening
"–Good night." "–Tomorrow." The CT task force agents straggled out after demolishing two pizzas (neither had pineapple), ending the first 'successful op pizza' celebration. The operation's success would help the FBI thwart violent acts by Decker's network, but the threat could persist indefinitely. Cho decided timely recognition was important when definitive closure could be a long time coming.
He had to acknowledge the just-finished op now since the team would start a new initiative tomorrow. Muhammed and Hassan would attend mosques posing as a married couple to judge whether hot polemic was likely to lead to violence. Wylie would trawl social media and other sites with particularly virulent rhetoric. Vega would investigate people who might pose a threat. Ojara would check out black Muslim groups and Muslim prison congregations as leads arose. Everyone would look for connections beyond the local.
Vega returned from the women's room to get her things. She brushed past Wylie's desk then paused. He was staring at a dark computer screen. Coke and a half-eaten slice of pizza were off to the side. They were the youngest members of the team and were closer than they were with the others.
He looked up when she dropped into the chair next to his desk. "Congratulations on the good work." She let her admiration show.
He bit his lip and nodded. "Thanks."
Why doesn't he look happier? "You were worried about field work. It turned out great and we got way more than expected."
"It was just a con. Nothing physical."
"Even better. Smarter. Double points when you get what we need without force." After a moment she decided to ask, "So what's the matter?"
His eyebrows rose, "Nothing really."
Her sharp gaze raked his face. "You can't mope after a good op and say 'nothing.' Spill."
Wylie rubbed his forehead. He sipped his Coke and grimaced but continued drinking the flat, tepid liquid. "I know what Decker is, what those guys are. But..."
She tilted her head. Gaze shrewd and keen, "But some of their gripes sound legit, is that it?"
"Yeah."
"I've thought about this," she snorted, "Of course I have. You see real problems in US immigration and race relations. That's no lie. There are problems."
"What's your point?"
"The difference is you recognize real problems that should be solved. People like Decker want an excuse to hate. –Jason, what would happen if all their complaints were addressed?"
Wylie frowned. "It wouldn't change anything?"
Her dark eyes glittered like obsidian, "They'd find other excuses to hate. There is something awful in humanity. Some people need to step on others to make themselves feel better. Powerful. Successful." Wylie leaned back, paying attention. She added softly, "Forget making sense of them. Our job is to keep them from acting on that hate."
Wylie blinked and straightened. "Thanks, Vega." He rose. "I know some fun gaming sites. Wanna play?"
She grinned. "Sure."
Rigsby-Van Pelt Residence, Sacramento, Wednesday
Van Pelt heard her husband enter and drop his things in the foyer. He ambled into the kitchen and gave her a one-armed hug.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself." She turned back to the stove. "Dinner's ready in ten minutes."
"Where's the baby?"
"Right here," Min answered as she came in and put Taylor into her high chair.
Nodding to Min Rigsby ruffled Taylor's hair. "How's my little girl?" He tickled her until she was breathless from giggling, then stopped and gave her a kiss. He filched a cherry tomato from the salad bowl. It had taken scouring the internet and a lot of trial and error but Van Pelt finally had a collection of healthful recipes that he liked, even salads.
"I'm going now, Grace," Min said as she got her backpack.
"Okay. Oh, I almost forgot. Could you watch Taylor Saturday evening from around five to midnight?"
"I didn't know you had away cases."
"We don't. Patrick and Teresa – you met them at Ben's birthday party – invited us to a pool party. The pool isn't kid-safe. We'll pay for babysitting since it's not for work."
Min shrugged. "I don't have plans. I'll–" she bent over and handed Taylor a toy that fell to the floor, "do it for take out." Fondly, "She's a sweetheart. She'll mostly be sleeping anyhow."
"Thanks. We'll know for sure by Friday."
"I'm flexible. Bye," Min breezily waved and left.
His wife lightly swatted his hand as Rigsby reached for another tomato. "Leave some for dinner."
Rigsby thoughtfully stared at the closed door. "She's come a long way."
"Min?"
"Yeah."
"She doesn't seem that different to me," she said, distracted by getting Taylor's food ready.
"It was months before she'd say 'hi' to me. Now look at her. I'm really surprised how good she is with kids too."
"Uh-huh. That's because Taylor is such an easy baby."
"All kids." Rigsby set the table as Van Pelt brought over Taylor's food. He munched on a piece of crusty French bread while placing the serving dishes on the table. "I'm famished."
She eyed him. "No! –How come?"
"We were on a stakeout and missed lunch."
"Did you get him?"
"Her. She copped to it after 30 minutes of questioning. –How's your fraud case?"
"All wrapped up. They couldn't believe we decrypted their files. Sometimes smart people are so stupid." They sat down to dinner. She split her attention between helping Taylor and eating her own dinner.
"If they really were smart they wouldn't be criminals." Rigsby ate steadily for several minutes till his hunger was blunted. "Jane called you too?"
"He called from the case he's working in LA. I assume you want to go?"
"Sure. It'll be nice seeing them. He said Cho's coming. And you can't beat a pool in weather like this," he added looking out the window at the air shimmering from the heat.
She speculated, "The pool must've been put in before all the child-proofing laws were passed."
"It'll be more relaxing if–" Rigsby reached over and wiped up a blob of chocolate pudding before it migrated from tray to hands to clothes to kitchen. "–we don't have to mind our little urchin."
Lisbon, Sacramento, Friday
Lisbon pulled the mail from their PO box and hurried to the SUV. She had to make a bank deposit and then drive to the airport. Traffic permitting, she'd be there when Jane came outside after his flight.
That morning Hightower had handed her a check for the Fuller case when she dropped off the edited draft protocols. Reviewing a document sounded simple, but it turned out Hightower wanted an in-depth review and suggested revisions. The manual desperately needed a strong dose of realism from someone who had been an agent and team leader. Lisbon knew Hightower could have provided that, but probably had more pressing concerns. Thanks to the Blake corruption, all of California law-enforcement was painfully short on seasoned detectives, agents, and team leaders.
She pulled up to the ATM and fed it her card and then the check. The money's nice for us but what a waste of taxpayer dollars. We got more satisfaction from rescuing Agapito for $300 than finding an unhappy wife for ten grand. She sighed. Yeah. When the politicians ask my advice I'll be sure to tell 'em.
After Hightower, Lisbon spent the rest of the day assembling the grill. She was delighted to find Campbell had equipped the garage with a workbench and basic tools before they moved in. In LA, Elliott's three days had turned into four, with each day ten or twelve hours of intense concentration for Jane. When he called on Thursday night Jane said he'd assemble the grill on Saturday morning. Lisbon decided to do it since he already was doing the shopping and cooking. Jane said all three of their friends could come, making it the first time since she and Jane returned to Sacramento.
She drove slowly to the sign for his airline, hoping he'd show up before she had to circle around. There! She pulled over. He's limping? I'll be pissed if he broke his promise. She took a breath. Ask first. Just ask first. Jane was sincerely trying to rein in his worst – most dangerous – impulses. She was determined to meet him halfway.
Jane tossed his carry-on onto the back seat, then got into the passenger seat with a sigh. Before she could pull away he leaned over for a 'Hey, miss me? I missed you,' kiss. He leaned back, eyes closed.
"You look wiped. Everything go all right?
"It did. Paying close attention all day is tiring."
"Anything surface?"
"Seven guys from three gangs have been contacted by MS-13. Two gangs are from LA, one, San Diego." He frowned. "MS-13 may be playing the local gangs off against each other. To what end, I'm not sure." He yawned hugely.
"The gang unit now has a place to start. Wait – San Diego?"
"Elliott lent me to the San Diego PD on the theory it's so close they'd make overtures there too. Good thing he did." Jane winced as he shifted his left leg.
Neutrally, "How'd you get hurt?"
"What?" He waved it off. "It's just a bruise. Two guys from enemy gangs scuffled in the hall. I got kicked."
Lisbon didn't respond as she merged onto the interstate. Should have been safe but I swear he's a magnet for trouble. I should know better! She was relieved it appeared minor.
"Did you finish the work for Madeline?"
"I dropped it off this morning. She got her money's worth."
"I expect nothing less from Teresa Lisbon."
"Whole sections sounded like a college professor wrote them – all theory, no real world experience."
Jane instantly thought of Wainwright – Geez, dead four years now. He didn't mention it.
She added, "Overall it's a good manual. Hightower's implemented big improvements compared to the CBI. I'm glad for Van Pelt and Rigs." A wistful tone laced her words. She abruptly changed topic. "Van Pelt, Rigs, and Cho are coming?"
"Yes. Cho's between ops. I told him he could bring someone but I doubt he will."
"That's Cho. We wouldn't know he's dating till we get a wedding invitation."
"Grace and Rigs can make it because other teams are on call for the weekend. Grace decided not to bring Taylor when I explained there's no fence around the pool."
Quietly, "Thank you. ... I'm looking forward to seeing everyone."
Home at last. Jane took his carry-on into the bedroom to unpack and re-pack. Lisbon dropped the mail off in her office to deal with later. They ate dinner while watching TV. When Jane fell asleep in the middle of the nature special Lisbon called it a day. They turned in, happy to be together after several nights apart.
Lisbon-Jane Home, Sacramento, Saturday Evening
Lisbon watched, amused, as Jane finished prepping the half dozen dishes he had made from scratch.
"You know they would be fine with burgers and beer. –I hope you're enjoying all this work, Jane."
Only half paying attention, "I am. Cooking's a pleasure when it's creative."
"Have you met 'I'll-eat-a-ketchup-packet-if-there's-nothing-else' Rigsby? Cho's not fussy and neither am I. And it's fifty-fifty whether the food will square with Grace's latest health kick."
Jane slid the tray of chicken satay skewers into the refrigerator and put the mixing bowls into the dishwasher. He sat next to her at the counter. "I'm sure they'll like it, every bit of it." He leaned toward her and asked in honeyed voice, "Want to bet they don't?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Doesn't mean I'm wrong." She finished her soda and stood. "We said 6 p.m. We should get ready."
"Go ahead. I'll be there after I finish my tea." She shook her head and walked away. It was 90 degrees at the end of the day but Jane still drank hot tea. When she teased him, he simply pointed out it wasn't 90 degrees inside their air-conditioned house.
Jane watched appreciatively as Lisbon put on her boyshorts-and-tankini swim-wear. It featured rather more cloth than he thought necessary, but his wife was conservative to the bone. Still, she'd look beautiful in a burlap sack and he got to enjoy the view as she dressed. Lisbon pulled regular shorts on over the swim-wear and fastened her hair in a ponytail. She jarred him alert with the flick of a towel.
"Show's over. Hurry and get ready."
"Eh. Like that will take so long." He lazily rose. He shed his clothes and pulled on swimming trunks and an old dress shirt. He neatly rolled up the sleeves and only half buttoned it in consideration of the heat. "Three minutes flat." She didn't say anything about the bruise the size of a softball on his thigh. He caught her glance and half-shrugged, dismissing it.
Lisbon put on quiet jazz for background music. Jane took spatulas and tongs out to the grill, then squatted pool-side and checked the water. It was cool, rather than icy. The sun was still hot enough to burn were it not for the retractable shade over the patio and pool. It'd do. The doorbell chimed.
"Jane, Lisbon."
"Cho, welcome." Lisbon gave him a quick hug.
"Hey, Cho." At Cho's steely glance Jane contented himself with a handshake and fond pat on the arm.
Their friend handed Lisbon a gift-wrapped box, about 18" by 9". "What's this? We didn't expect–"
"Housewarming. Something every home needs."
"Oh. Well, thank you." She smiled and gave it to Jane. Jane grinned knowingly but said nothing, figuring Cho would like to surprise at least one of them. He stepped away to put it on the dining room table.
The doorbell chimed again.
"–Boss." "–Teresa."
"Wayne, Grace. Glad you could come." Lisbon accepted a hug from Van Pelt and a handshake from Rigsby. She stepped back as Jane walked up.
"–Jane." Rigsby offered to shake but Jane pulled him into a bear hug, holding it a second too long just to mess with him. Rigsby flushed, half amused and half annoyed, knowing exactly what he was up to. Jane grinned in shared amusement.
"–Patrick." Van Pelt's eyes widened at the sight of him. Jane grinned and returned her enthusiastic hug. She stepped back and stared.
"Problem, Grace?"
"It, it's just you're not wearing your three-piece suit."
"Not ideal for swimming." He smirked, "I wasn't born in them, you know."
She swallowed and tore her gaze away. "Uh, yeah."
Lisbon smiled in pleasure at the company of her friends-almost-family. Her husband, who used to avoid physical contact, was welcoming and even initiating hugs. It's all different with our makeshift family. It had been three years since he'd seen Rigsby and Van Pelt other than one visit when the FBI rounded up Blake members in Sacramento, and their brief meeting with Hightower. Far too long.
Rigsby stepped back outside and got two packages. "For you." He handed the small one to Jane.
Jane nodded, "Thanks."
Van Pelt took the flat, 36" x 8" package and gave it to Lisbon. "For your new home."
"Thank you, guys. I um–"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, it's no big deal and you're welcome," Van Pelt said brightly.
"Two bit tour first. Then drinks and snacks. Dinner after swimming," Jane announced. Glancing to be sure Lisbon agreed, "We'll open your gifts with dessert."
The tour was short as it was a moderately-sized four-bedroom home. The renovated interior featured lots of wood and tile, comfortably large rooms, sleekly modern bathrooms, and a kitchen that evoked envy. Cho was intrigued by Jane's escritoire and got Jane to reveal the clever hidden drawers. Van Pelt teared up at the framed crayon drawing but turned away before Jane noticed. Rigsby appreciated the workbench and tools in the pristine, air-conditioned garage. All were impressed at having ten acres that close to the center of Sacramento. The group finished toward the rear of the house near the kitchen and sliding doors to the pool. All chose beer, except Van Pelt who went with fruit juice. With the now more comfortable temperature in the 80's, they settled into the chaise chairs around the pool, nibbling on cubed fresh fruit, dip, and chips.
Rigsby and Van Pelt talked about their work. Their teams were invariably in the top five at the CIB for cases closed and conviction rates.
"What about Danielson?" Lisbon suddenly asked.
Rigsby, "You worked the Fuller case with him, right?" She nodded. "He's okay."
Van Pelt added with a slight edge, "He will be with more experience. He's green as grass now."
"I was surprised," Lisbon admitted. "He was fresh from the academy before the CBI folded."
Van Pelt sighed. "There are a lot like him. Blake wiped out a bunch of agents who would now be experienced enough to handle their own teams." Her lips twitched in a non-smile, "I mean, except that they were criminals."
Jane asked, "What's Hightower doing about it?"
Rigsby answered, "The best she can. She freaked out when the FBI's Blake round-up got one guy already at the CIB and another she was about to hire. We're short-handed." Jane raised his eyebrows when Rigsby described Hightower as freaking out. That's new.
Van Pelt added, "Worse, we don't know what's coming. Gordon is retiring. There are rumors Fuller might not even run after that mess with his wife. Hightower's distracted."
Lisbon settled back, "Glad we're out of it."
Cho, "How's your PI agency?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "Good enough. We're getting cases, making money. The PD's are sending us their cold cases–"
Jane interjected, "–which is a steady supply of entertaining puzzles."
Cho, "You never liked cold cases at the CBI."
"I never admitted liking them lest I encourage inconvenient expectations. Besides, working fresh cases with the team was far more entertaining."
Lisbon finished, "It's good."
"Do you like it?"
She hesitated then said, "Mostly. I don't really like the marketing. It's a work in progress, I guess. –Oh, have you heard if ICE–"
Cho finished, "–caught and deported Contreras and Serrano? Not yet. I'll keep checking."
Slightly embarrassed at asking repeatedly, "I appreciate it, Cho."
Rigsby asked, "What about you, Cho? How's the new task force?"
"Successful first op." He avoided identifying details since Rigsby and Van Pelt were not FBI. "Wylie went undercover to get information to justify a subpoena on our target group. They invited him to fix their computer problems. We're following up leads for a whole network that might be planning attacks."
Van Pelt ruminated, "I always thought Wylie was a talented guy. Though I'm surprised he did so well on – what – his first undercover op?"
Cho looked at Jane. "Jane coached him. I wonder how Ojara knew 'little man' would get to Wylie. Made it look real."
Jane spread his hands. "Who me?"
Rigsby interjected, "Hang on. 'Little man'? Wylie's almost my height."
Cho pressed, "How did you know?"
Jane sported a mischievous grin. "Emotional triggers set in childhood are permanent. Wylie was short and slight until late high school." Jane shrugged. "He'd want to be taller, probably was teased with short jokes." He glanced at Lisbon with a wicked glint in his eyes. She glowered at him, daring him to bring her into it. He wisely stopped talking.
Cho persisted. "How could you know he was ever short?"
Jane sipped his beer, decided to answer. "The way he moves. He reacts to the word 'short.' He unconsciously underestimates his physical presence. A lot of things."
Rigsby shook his head. "Whatever. It's all magic, man."
Jane drank the last of his beer and rose. "Time to cool off." He shed his shirt and deck shoes, walked over, and smoothly dove in, not surfacing till half the length of the pool. Rigsby and Cho followed him into the pool. Lisbon and Van Pelt stayed seated.
"You had a ridiculously good-looking team, Boss."
"Easy on the eyes. All of them."
Van Pelt's gaze lingered on Jane, still impressed with the novelty of casual clothes and, now, being nearly naked in swimming trunks. "I always wondered what was underneath those three pieces. He's–" She stopped herself and blushed.
Lisbon's eyebrows rose. "Really, Grace?"
She frowned. Defensively, "We worked together for a decade and he never wore anything else."
Now amused, "Should Rigs be worried?"
"Of course not! I'm just saying Jane is an attractive guy."
Lisbon relented. "As are Rigsby and Cho. C'mon. Let's join them."
They spent an hour swimming, splashing and playing. Finally Jane stood in the shallow end and wiped the water from his face.
"Ready to eat? It'll take about half an hour." Everyone nodded. He gracefully pulled himself up and out, grabbed a towel and his clothes and disappeared inside.
The water was a pleasantly cool contrast with the still-warm evening air. The four lounged against the side of the pool at the deep end.
"Why'd you get a house with a pool?" Rigsby asked.
"Jane wanted one. Swimming's his favorite exercise."
"Never knew he did anything except sleep on that couch."
Cho demurred, "He'd exercise in the CBI gym. When he couldn't sleep." Each silently translated, 'When he was desperate to sleep.'
Lisbon said, "That's in the past. He's doing okay, we're okay."
Cho frowned and faced her. "Maybe not."
"What?"
Bluntly, "Jane was roughed up during the FBI's Blake operation last year. A few weeks back he was beat up on your case. Today he's got one helluva bruise. Jane should work on self-defense with Rigs and me." Rigsby looked uncomfortable but not surprised; Van Pelt, dismayed.
"That wasn't a good idea last year. It isn't now."
Frustrated, Cho looked away then back. "Boss, it's dangerous. You've got no back-up. You're handicapped by having to protect Jane."
Tightly, "Jane and I are managing."
Rigsby licked his lips, stood taller and plunged in. "You called us for information to solve a case–"
Cho added, "–And the FBI."
"–and help from PD's is a crap shoot."
Lisbon took and released a long breath. "Not your business, Rigs."
Rigsby doggedly tried another tack. "Boss, our two-person agency worked because we did cyber security. White collar crime and electronics and computer systems stuff. As best I can see, you're doing law enforcement with no tools. You don't have back-up, arrest authority, or information access. Most of your cases will be one-off's with a PD. They don't know how you two work." He leaned toward her. Slowly, intensely, "They won't have your back." He looked around to include Cho and Van Pelt for support. "Sooner or later one of you gets hurt."
Van Pelt echoed quietly, "We're worried."
Lisbon blinked, taken aback. This Rigsby was a surprise. At the CBI he'd bent over backward to avoid her ire. She regrouped and looked to each in turn. "I have some of those concerns myself. I don't know what Jane and I will do, but I promise to think about what you said. I, uh, I appreciate your concern."
The group awkwardly broke up. Van Pelt and Lisbon got out and dried off. Cho and Rigsby swam laps.
Jane came out with trays of food ready for grilling. He looked around, instantly sensing the different atmosphere. He caught his tongue between his lips for a moment, then decided to let it go d ask Lisbon what happened later.
Pleasantly full after dinner, they relocated inside to avoid mosquitoes now that it was twilight. Dessert was a homemade meringue pie paired with a dessert wine. Lisbon cleared the table while Jane went out to close down the grill. Van Pelt disappeared into the powder room. Cho and Rigsby drifted into the living room.
Rigsby exclaimed softly, "Hey, look at this. Photos of Jane's family – first family."
"Uh-huh." Cho perused Jane's music collection and then gave a low whistle as he checked out the audio system. "He has good taste."
Rigsby motioned him over. "He was young and carefree. Happy."
Cho's eyebrow twitched, "We all were younger 15 years ago. Of course he was happier before his family was murdered, what's your point?"
Rigsby shrugged. "No point. Just interesting. Glad he's doing better."
Lisbon paused in the kitchen doorway, waiting for a break in their conversation to ask if they wanted more wine. Neither noticed she was there.
"When's Grace due?"
Rigsby blinked. "How did you know?"
Cho frowned in distaste, "She was eating pineapple chunks with peanut butter. She has to be pregnant."
Rigsby grinned, "You just hate pineapple. –January. Twins!"
"Three kids under three. You'll be busy."
Lisbon silently returned to the kitchen. Jane came in a minute later to find her gripping the counter edge so tightly her hands were white.
"What's wrong?"
She swallowed and whispered, "Nothing. Grace is pregnant with twins."
Jane sighed with infinite sadness and hugged her. "Hey, it'll be all right. We'll solve this ... somehow."
She gradually relaxed and exhaled a long shuddering breath. Grimly, "Let's get this over with."
They joined their friends in the living room where the gifts awaited them. Jane carried it off with aplomb. Lulled by beer, wine and good food, the three agents didn't notice anything amiss.
"Cho, my man, you said every home needs this. Shall I guess?" At Cho's stare, "Ah, maybe not. Teresa, perhaps you should open this."
Lisbon took the box and tore off the gift wrap. "Cho, it, it's beautiful." She tilted the chess set up so all could see." The board was inlaid marble on a felted backboard; the pieces, polished milky quartz and black soapstone.
"The FBI lost your other set when the CBI was disbanded. Thought you should have one."
"–Thank you." "–Thanks."
Jane lifted the long narrow package and the 8" cube. "Which is next?"
Rigsby pointed, "That one." Jane unwrapped a sampler box of fine English teas. "It's a subscription and each month they send a new assortment. I hope you like it."
Jane opened the tin and inhaled deeply. "Rigs, thank you. A perfect choice." He set it aside and picked up the long, narrow package. "Who opens this one?"
Van Pelt said, "I think you should open it together."
Jane set the package across his and Lisbon's knees. They tore the wrapping paper off to reveal a plaque, simple and handsome. Jane read, "It takes a long time to grow old friends."
Lisbon swallowed hard.
Jane smiled brilliantly and said, "Yes it does. It has. Here we are after all these years. Thank you."
"Thank you," Lisbon said in a choked voice.
Their friends gathered their things. To Rigsby's obvious delight, Jane had divided the left over food between Cho and them. The group tentatively agreed to get together every several weeks, time and cases permitting. After another round of hugs, Jane and Lisbon bid them farewell.
Jane closed the door softly. He turned and took his wife in his arms. She buried her face against his chest. "Dammit, I don't want to be this person." She sniffed and struggled to even out her hiccuping breaths. His shirt was wet under her face.
Softly, "What do you mean?"
"We couldn't ask for better friends. I should be happy for Grace and Wayne, not sad and angry. Why them and not us? It's a stupid question, it's just – Dammit, I know life's not fair, I just want a baby." She shook her head and pulled away. A minute later he heard the shower.
Jane closed up the house and went upstairs to wait for her to finish. She finally joined him in bed in the dark. They embraced, each providing solace for the other.