Red Road: Chapter 10

Thanks to redneckdetectiv for the awesome review with all the great ideas!

Oh, and the Sacramento Herald doesn't exist… who knows, it might… But I just made up a name out of the top of my head.

Disclaimer: I own very little and redneckdetectiv can claim a lot of it.

"This won't end well." Lisbon fretted, her head falling to the table.

"Oh, will you relax. They'll be here any minute."

They were sitting in a booth, her leaning into him with his arms around her waist, his hands moving over abdomen.

"Stop that."

"What? We're in a booth behind a table. Nobody can see us and the team isn't even here yet."

"Yeah well, how do you think they'll react when they arrive to your hands down their boss' pants?"

"Supportively?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Hands to yourself for now, please."

"For now?" He wiggles his eyes suggestively.

"Shut up, here they come."

"BOSS!" Rigsby pretty much pulled her out of her seat and pulled her into a hug. "We haven't heard from you since…"

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I'm disappeared without a word. Hi guys…" She waved sheepishly at the team, offering them seats at the table.

"Not that I don't enjoy the visit, but what's this about?" Classic Cho, straight to the point.

Jane interrupted at this point. "I think we can all agree Whitman sucks."

There was a chorus of "yes"-es, Rigsby especially responding with passion. "She took away case closed pizza! That's… that's…"

"Yeah, Rigsby, we're all upset." Van Pelt patted his shoulder, mostly to get him to shut up.

"Well, I've come up with a little idea to get Lisbon back… What did we do today?"

"We closed the case." Van Pelt said.

"Yeah, this morning. But what did we do for the rest of the day?"

"Paperwork… straight through lunch…" Rigsby grumbled.

"Okay, now listen up…"

"Where were all of you?" Hightower was sitting in the bullpen, which was without a sign of life. "You're all two hours late!"

"Madeleine! How are you? Well, Agent Whitman was nice enough to let us come in later today, because we worked so well yesterday."

"Oh really? Then why did Agent Whitman come to me complaining none of you showed up?"

Jane shrugged. "Maybe she forgot? You know, in my personal opinion, she has seemed like a bit of a scatterbrain."

"Patrick, don't take this the wrong way, but I'd much rather trust her than you…"

"Well, Madeleine, you don't have to trust me. I've got the entire team to vouch for me. Guys, did Whitman give us two hours off the morning?"

There were a chorus of agreements and nods. "Right before we left. Told us so herself. But she did seem a little… distracted."

Hightower looked at the team suspiciously, but seemed to buy it.

"Well, then… I'll have to speak to her then… Anyway, you've got a case. This one's high-profile so Jane, please don't do anything stupid. I'll have Agent Whitman keep an extra eye on you."

She left, leaving the team alone. Jane looked like a toddler who was just told he'll be getting a new puppy.

"Fantastic! A high-profile case!"

"Why are you so happy?"

Jane shook his head. "Not telling!"

"The victim is Angela Jones. She's a magazine mogul in Los Angeles, but stays here in Sacramento with her husband. She was found stabbed to death outside a local club."

"Well that's horribly unexciting. Young magazine mogul partying the night away, gets mugged… bo-ring."

"She's 75." This made Jane's eyebrows rise.

"Well… drug problem then. That makes things interesting!"

Whitman slaps his arm. "You will not insult victims! Have some respect!"

"I'm not being disrespecting, I'm simply stating facts."

"It's not facts, it's a hunch!" This wasn't like the fun bantering he did with Lisbon, but in an accusing tone, as if she was insulting him more and more with every word.

"It's how I work! That's why I'm here!"

They arrived at the club, which was more of a dodgy pub by day, where they had to interview the man who found her body.

"Stay in the car!" Whitman ordered.

"What? Why should I stay here?"

"I don't want you to stir up trouble."

She left him alone in the SUV.

He waited for her to walk out of sight before he opened his door and walked out.

How did he manage to get himself into these situations? Okay, this one was on purpose. But still.

A large, burly man with no neck was pointing a gun at his head. In the middle of the pub. With Whitman gaping like a goldfish.

"Stay calm… We wouldn't want to do something we'll regret later…" She said we. Crazy.

"Yeah, Bulldog, you wouldn't want to shoot a cop… Well, I'm not a cop. But you wouldn't want to shoot a CBI consultant. You'll go to jail. And the blonde lady has a gun." He nodded while he spoke.

"Bulldog, drop you weapon!" Whitman seemed to catch up to the situation and raised her gun.

With the violent look on her face, Bulldog slowly lowered his gun. As she handcuffed his hands behind his back he growled at Jane.

Walking out with Bulldog in tow, Whitman gave Jane a death-glare that could compete with Lisbon's.

Only Lisbon's is beautiful and not… death-y.

"The husband, Peter, is in interview right now. He's a 25-year-old underwear model. Well, that's a stereotype turned upside down!" Van Pelt chuckled.

"Van Pelt, who's doing the interviewing?"

"Cho and Rigsby. Why?"

"No reason."

Jane walked over to the interview room. There he called out Cho and Rigsby and called them out.

"Give me 10 minutes alone with him."

"No way. Boss said to make sure you don't do any of your tricks."

"Yeah, I don't get why she said something like that… How else would we get anything done around this place?"

Rigsby sighed. "What are you gonna do?"

"Nothing dramatic! Just ten minutes… Five?"

Nodding, Rigsby and Cho let him through. "Only five minutes!" They called out after him.

Peter Jones was a hot blonde thing, the type that would absolutely sleep with a 75-year-old woman for a place on her will. Jane recognized his face – he wasn't a stranger to the spotlight, probably had a few big billboards up or something.

"Mister Jones!"

"Dude, call me Pete."

He did not just call me dude. Oh boy.

"Fine, Pete. You like the ocean, Pete? I love the ocean. Real relaxing, the waves… Sloshing back and forth, back and forth…." His voice took that calming hypnotic tone, and in no time at all, Pete Jones was under hypnosis.

"So Pete… tell me about your wife."

"My wife?"

"Yeah, your wife. Angela. The one who just died? You cheated on her, yes?"

He chuckled, cockily. Of course… "Cheat on her? Nah, man, we had an open relationship. I got to keep playing the field and she had most of the staff on the side…"

"The pool boy?"

"And the valet. And the butler. And the laundry boy. And the gardener."

Jane raised his eyebrows.

"Did you kill her? Maybe get worried someone on the staff was gonna work his way on the will?"

"I didn't kill her. But I'd bet money on the gardener."

"Duly noted. Thanks Pete." Jane discreetly tapped his fingers on the table, making Pete snap out of his trance.

"You can go now."

"Jane, why on earth did you let Peter Jones go? He was the lead suspect for the murder!"

"He didn't do it."

"How do you know that?"

"He told me so."

"Oh. He told you so? Well, that makes everything okay. Did you braid each other's hair as well? YOU DON'T LET SUSPECTS GO WITHOUT RUNNING IT BY ME! Period!"

"Fine! But he cheated on her. And she cheated on him with everything with a pulse and external genitalia. And they both knew about it and accepted it."

"Well there you go, motive! You shouldn't have let him go!"

"Get over it, he's not our guy!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!"

"JANE! HOW DID THIS COME OUT TO THE PRESS?" Whitman yelled, her voice raising a few octaves.

"What?"

"I quote: According to a CBI insider, Mister Peter Jones claimed that not only did he cheat on his deceased wife numerous times, but she knew about it and had relationships with others as well. He was quoting saying that he would 'put money on the gardener' for the murder of his late wife. This is the exact same information you told us yesterday! How did this come out to the press?"

"Oh dear. I told her not to say anything."

"YOU TOLD I WHO WHAT?"

"I met up with an old friend yesterday. She's a reporter for the Sacramento Herald. She asked about the case. Damn, I should've known."

Hightower came running into the bullpen. "Patrick, this is most certainly not okay! You've been creating all kinds of trouble lately!"

Glancing around the room, he asked Hightower to her office to talk privately.

"Bring Lisbon back."

"What? Is this what this is about? You throwing a tantrum to get her back here?"

"Call it what you want. But I'm not going to stop making trouble until Whitman is gone and the team is back together again. And if you don't want to listen… I'll quit."

Hightower chuckled humorlessly. "Why do you want Teresa back so badly. Is there something I should know about?"

"Madeleine, I would not go there if I were you. Lisbon and I have been through a lot more than your average co-workers. The team misses her. And I'm not going to keep solving cases for you without her."

At this, Hightower kept silent.

"Think about it."

I LOVE REVIEWS. And I HATE Whitman. Please don't think the drama is ending, there is a lot more to come!

Zanny