Chapter 12.

The sun just begins to rise over the horizon as Cho pulls up outside our interviewee's house, through the whole journey, we have remained silent in reflection of what happened last night. It still hasn't sunk in that we have lost one of our own...and to a Red John impersonator. There are many questions swimming around in my head, the most prominent thought is 'why? why was Charlie killed?' Hopefully, turning his desk and car inside out will give us some indication, as will the footage, but the last thing he said to me carries some significance, what if that 'funny feeling' he had had something to do with his death?

"Jane, we're here," Cho tells me, breaking the silence first.

Looking out of the window, I take in the change of scenery from the tall buildings in the city to the quaint houses lining the quiet streets. We step out of the car and head towards the largest house on the whole street. We pass three parked cars on the drive before arriving at the door, Kimball quickly glances at his watch, the minute hand just passes the hour mark making the time 6:01am, ad with a deep breath through his nose, he knocks three times on the white door. We wait patiently and in painstaking silence as we had been in the car on the way to this address. After a few thuds from inside, the door opens and a tall man appears. He looks at us blankly, his eyes slightly clouded over with tiredness and his sandpaper like skin that covers his jaw, peppered with wild stubble, hangs slack.

"Do you know what time it is?" he demands angrily.

"Mr Waters," Cho addresses him formally, "I'm Agent Cho with the CBI and this is my colleague, Patrick Jane." We both hold up our identification head height for him to examine. He wipes away the sleep from his eyes and pulls a pair of thin wire glasses from his dressing gown pocket and carefully reads the text on the ID, quickly glancing across from our faces then back to the cards - I assume to compare us to the photos.

"Okay," he says, before we put away our ID, "what can I do for you?"

"We're here to speak to your daughter," Cho tells him.

"Can I ask why?" Mr Waters replies, the hostility has now gone from his tone and has been replaced with respect.

"It's in relation to a recent case," is all I say, not wanting to say anymore.

"Of course," he backs away from the door and allows us to pass, "I'll just go and get her."

He leads us into the living room before disappearing up a flight of stairs. The room that we have been left in is very modern; a long 'L' shaped white leather sofa sits opposite a large 3D flat screen television, chrome is another main theme in the colour scheme with photo frames lining the walls, all containing professional photos of the family. Cho and I take a seat on two chairs which sit at one end of the sofa. As we descend onto the thin cushions, the white leather squeaks awkwardly in the silence between us.

"Sorry about the wait," Mr Waters apologises, ushering his daughter into the room, "honey, these agents are from the CBI, they want to speak to you ," after making sure that his daughter has sat down, he says "please excuse me, I have to get ready for work."

As soon as her father leaves, she turns to Cho.

"What do you want?" She snaps at him before turning to me, "oh, it's you," she addresses me with a flat tone of voice.

Wordlessly, Kimball pulls out an image of Olivia Matterson's body at the crime scene and places it in front of her.

"Eww," she makes some sort of pathetic and fake squeal, "that's gross!"

"The night Olivia died, your boyfriend Blake Horton came and spoke to you didn't he?" Cho calmly asks her.

"No," she retorts.

"Really?" I chime in, "I guess that he must have lied then because that is what he told us."

"He's lying," she answers patronisingly, "he's an idiot."

"So, what happened on that night?" Kimball prompts her.

"Nothing, I sat in my room completing my homework," she answers very coolly, as if she has told that lie too many times.

"Mind if we take a look at your car?" Cho suddenly changes the topic.

"No," she suddenly replies.

"Why?"

"It's not here," she blurts, "it had to go to the garage for repairs."

I turn to Cho and act the fool, "I swear that I saw three cars on the drive."

I turn back to her and see her cheeks gradually turning red.

"Where is it really, Carrie?" I ask her.

"The one on the end," she murmurs dejectedly as a tear dribbles down her cheek.

She stands and leads us through the hallway and to the front door where we are intercepted by her father.

"What's going on?" He asks, looking a little bewildered.

"Mr Waters please come with me," Cho tells him, gesturing to the front room; before he takes her father into the living room, he glances me and silently lets me know what he's doing. I nod back understandingly and continue to follow Carrie out the front door. She leads me to a small, bright pink Fiat 500 and unlocks it with the key.

"So, what happened?" I ask her.

"I don't have to say anything," she retorts, "why should I tell you anything?"

"It'd look better for you," I tell her, "'honesty is the best policy' as they say."

She begins to reply but then pauses hesitantly, before taking a deep breath and looking up from the paving slabs that line the drive.

"I...don't know," she answers calmly, "I...I was just so angry and...I hated her so much..." she pauses to clear her throat, "I found her on the edge of the wood and went full on at her, telling her to stay away from Blake, y'know, I was really over the top but I had every right to be! I just lost it and I shoved her, she banged it again against a tree and she collapsed. I panicked and thought of all the trace evidence that would be left on the body - I love cop shows - so I grabbed this bleach that I had in my car..."

I look at her quizzically.

"I know it looks like I planned it but I bought it for a project at school. I put it on her and the washed it away, and then I didn't want to leave her there, so I took her back into the woods and laid her peacefully. I swear I didn't mean to kill her but...I was scared," her whole demeanour has changed, the snarky tone has now gone from her voice and by the look in her eyes, I know that she is being honest with me.

"You are going to have to come with us back to the CBI," I tell her and she nods.

"I didn't want to kill her, please believe me…" her words fade into sobs, "Blake told me that she had hit her head, if I'd had just thought for one second, this might never have happened."

Kimball emerges at the door with Carrie's father in tow; the man looks in complete shock and is barely able to look at his daughter.

"How could you do that Carrie?" he asks her, looking out towards the street.

"Dad, please, I never meant for this to happen!" the girl cries back at him, begging for forgiveness, "Daddy please."

Her cry is heart breaking, but it is in our duty to take her back to CBI HQ with us; silently, Cho moves behind her and puts handcuffs around her wrist before taking her to the car. As we move away, I glance back at her father, who is still stood in the doorway holding back tears as his daughter is lead away; I could never imagine what the poor man is going through…

Cho, Carrie and I arrive back at HQ at around 7am, as I expected, the return trip was much the same as the first: completely silent - and to be honest, I'm glad; the last time that I slept was over 24 hours ago… the cushions on the sofa are extremely inviting, but even if I did manage to get some shuteye, all I would be able to think about is the body of our fallen colleague. The bullpen is even more full of life since this morning as more officer have been called in to work on the new case. Whilst Cho takes Carrie to one of the interrogation rooms to write her confession, I wander over to Molly and the murder board where fresh evidence has been written in bright red ink.

"How's it going?" I ask her.

"Good," she answers, her tone is a little off, "we're still waiting on forensics for the make and model of the car but the analysis will be here soon, and the ME is just confirming time of death. How did it go with the person of interest in the Matterson case?"

"She did it, she confessed," I tell her, "I'm just hoping that today will be a good day and we find both killers," I add, yawing.

"Jane," Molly briefly smiles, "go and get some sleep, I'll wake you if anything promising arises."

"I don't think that I could," I dismiss the idea, "anyway, how's it going with the CCTV?"

"It's slow progress, but I'm getting through it," she sighs, "it's hard though, not knowing exactly where the crime scene is."

"I'm sure you'll find it," I tell her, "do you want a cup of anything?"

"No, I'm good thanks," she replies before I head off to the break room.

As I make my way towards the door, I sneak a peek into Lisbon's office, all the blinds bar the ones on the door are drawn closed; she is sat at her desk opposite Baker, they are talking about something but the tiredness has weakened my lip reading skills. Determined not to be noticed by either one of them, I bid a hasty retreat into the break room which smells of strong coffee and waffles; the sink is overflowing with empty breakfast bowls and spoons. The kettle has been recently boiled and so all I have to do is retrieve a teabag from the cupboard along with my usual cup and saucer; the teabag is easily found…but my cup is nowhere to be found which is very bizarre and in its place…is Charlie's cup. It's going to take a while before it sinks in that Fitz is gone.

"Hey, I didn't know that you had got back," Lisbon startles me.

"Hi…yeah," I answer her disjointedly.

"You alright?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's just…" I move aside to show her the misplaced cup.

"Oh," is all she replies.

"Molly's updated me briefly, but what were you and Baker talking about?" I change the subject.

She looks around cautiously before saying "not here, not in public."

"What do you mean?" I inquire.

"Follow me," she replies and leads me into her office, drawing the blind on the door giving us complete privacy.

"He's worried that this reoccurrence of the famous serial killer will complicate further relations with the public," she tells me.

"Is it all that man cares about?" I comment, "but it's not him, he is dead."

"Well a copycat isn't going to exactly make them feel safe is it?"

"Why were these two victims killed? Have we found any link between Doe and…the other victim?"

"Not that we've found so far," Teresa answers.

"It's just seems a little random," I theorise, "think about it, two people who have nothing in common are killed by the same person who thinks that they are Red John. They are both killed in different ways and found at separate locations; the only similarity is at both crime scenes and that is the symbol."

"The first was staged, the second – hit by a car – that was an opportunity…but why? What was Charlie onto?"