Part Twelve

Sacramento, CA, USA, Friday, 12.47pm PST

"Where are you going?" Van Pelt asked Jane, indignantly.

"Ah, don't worry Grace," Jane answered with a smile. "I'm just doing the coffee run. To rally the troops, so to speak. Lisbon and Craig are still in her office. With Cho, I believe."

"Oh… good."

"And I'm not entirely sure, but is that Mrs. Hayes approaching from the elevator?"

Van Pelt scowled as Jane disappeared off. If he was off for coffee, he had better bring her one too. Yesterday, she hadn't been able to budge from her computer all day. Even lunch had been huddled in front of her laptop, as she tried to untangle Harrison Hayes' financial situation. He'd made several large donations to charities of late. Something, which according to Jane, would be a red flag, as such. Clearly, a sign of guilt or the like. She sighed. So what? Who, exactly, had a clean conscience these days? Everybody harboured some secret or another. It was just a case that most people were capable of suppressing the guilt without having to make large donations to charity. If they didn't, well, charities wouldn't be so desperate for money, would they? And being hunched over her laptop while Rigsby went back to Merced seemed to be the theme for today, as well.

There was a cough from behind her, something which Van Pelt knew shouldn't have startled her. Jane had told her that someone was approaching. Tentatively, she turned around and immediately recognised Miranda Hayes from the photographs she'd seen that morning. Quickly, she greeted her with a warm smile before offering her a seat. This was the grieving widow; she must have been devastated by the loss of her husband. Van Pelt knew that if she were in the woman's shoes, she would be. But then again, she had also had a brief affair with Schaber, so maybe not.

"I need to speak to Agent Cho," Miranda stated, with a voice laced with authority. "I was informed that he is the agent in charge of my husband's murder?"

"I'll see if he's available, ma'am," she answered politely as she rose from her chair.

"I didn't say I'd like to speak to him, I said I need to," she snapped in response and took a seat on Jane's couch.

"He's in the middle of a meeting with our boss, I'm afraid," Van Pelt answered quickly, trying her best to remain composed. "I'll see what I can do."

Van Pelt knocked apprehensively on the closed door to Lisbon's office. She never liked interrupting meetings; usually, they were happening for a reason, though Jane would always beg to differ. When Lisbon called a swift 'come in', Van Pelt breathed a sigh of relief. That didn't mean she wouldn't be in the way, but at least her boss had sounded somewhat welcoming. As she nudged the door open, she silently cursed at uncooperative persons of interest. She'd been with the CBI for more than long enough to be trusted to carry out interviews. Miranda Hayes wasn't even a suspect; she had a cast iron alibi. However, the woman had refused to budge and that meant dragging Cho out of a meeting with Lisbon.

Thankfully, they had apparently finished. Van Pelt watched as Lisbon drifted off in the direction of Hightower's office, no doubt to discuss something pertaining to the Red John case. That left her to take Cho to Mrs. Hayes before she could have a break for lunch. At least the woman had been somewhat polite when she had acquiesced to her demands; that was better than nothing. However, that didn't stop her from making a swift getaway and catching up with O'Laughlin as soon as she had done so. Craig had been distancing himself from her over the past couple of days and she missed him.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Miranda Hayes said directly to Cho as they left Van Pelt behind. "Your young secretary was stubborn at first…"

"She isn't a secretary."

"She isn't?"

"No, she's a junior agent."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Cho immediately took note of the fact she didn't sound particularly sorry. Still, he opened the door to one of the interview rooms politely held the door open for her. As soon as she was seated, he observed the curious woman with interest. When he had met her in Reno, she had acted like the perfect grieving widow. And apparently, she had been staying with her mom for health reasons. Something important had to have happened for her to make the decision to travel all the way to Sacramento, alone.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I thought you must know that," Miranda started, before fishing out a tissue to dab at her eyes. "Oh it's so humiliating…"

"Go on…"

"Antony Cera and I, we were having an affair," she eventually said. "And I'm pregnant with his baby."

Bristol, UK, Friday, 10.32pm GMT

Matty was the last to be questioned. Whilst sitting in the police station, waiting, he had actively avoided going in there. He had let all of the others filter in and out before him. He wasn't sure why, it was inevitably going to happen sooner or later. Maybe it was just the fact he felt uncomfortable about the concept of being questioned by police officers again, especially as this time, it was by American ones with clout. During the day, at college, they had all agreed to meet at the Fishpond Tavern afterwards, so he headed straight there as soon as he was done. The moment they had found out that the FBI (and by default, the CBI too) wanted to interview them all, they had all wanted to discuss it afterwards. To work out what the hell was going on and how the fuck Americans thought they'd be able to solve a murder without even setting foot on British soil. But of course, the interviews had to occur first, so they had something concrete to mull over.

Patrick Jane had annoyed Matty, in particular. There was something about the bastard's smarmy grin and seemingly all-knowing eyes that set him on edge. He hadn't even had to say a word for Mr. Jane to work out that he and Liv had been fucking. And when he had sworn at them in response, the lady cop had snapped about how inappropriate his language was. Bastards, the lot of them. Mr. Jane was probably fucking his female boss, whatever her name was, anyway, the fucking hypocrite. Matty had seen him staring at her for a little too long and vice versa, he wasn't an idiot. They were the kind of looks he'd shared with Franky and Liv, after all.

But that wasn't the point. He was angry about just how patronising Jane was. It wasn't as if he knew what it was like to lose somebody they were that close to so young. Nor his two colleagues, either. They only knew what it was like to be on the other side. Telling people that loved ones, friends, family, colleagues had died. How could they even comprehend what he was going through?

The others weren't talking as he walked inside. Nick had already bought him a beer and he briefly smiled gratefully at his younger brother. Their relationship was still fractured and Matty didn't know if it would ever be repaired, but at least they were sort of rubbing together nicely now. Or at least, they had learned to live with one another civilly. And in some kind of sick way, Liv's death had brought them a little closer together. They both had an affection for her, had both had sex with her even. It was a mutual understanding, something that people on the outside just didn't get. People like those fucking American cops.

"Well?"

"Fucking Yanks," Nick answered quickly, before burying his head in his drinks. "Who do they think they are?"

"Yeah, especially that bastard, Patrick Jane," Matty concurred, pleased his brother at least seemed to share his viewpoint.

"They're just trying to…" Grace started.

"Gracie…" Mini started nervously; the others were angry and the last thing they needed were more public spats.

"What? I thought they were all perfectly nice."

"Well, you would," Nick retorted before slamming his empty glass down. "Anyone for another?"

Nobody answered him and silently, he slinked off to the bar, still grumbling. Mini kept her eyes on him at all times. She understood why everyone was so frazzled; it had been bizarre, being interviewed via webcam. Matty especially, given his relationship with Liv. Still, as Gracie had been trying to say, the Americans were just trying to offer their expertise. They weren't trying to take over; Teresa Lisbon had said as much when they started to interview her. All they wanted was to make sure the right man was captured. Whether that was Red John or somebody else, it remained to be seen.

Besides, that was what Mini wanted too. She had never forgiven Liv for sleeping with her boyfriend, not really. That was something she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life. It was too late to say 'it's okay,' when somebody has died. Mini hadn't dealt with Liv's betrayal, but Liv would never find out when she actually did. And her sort-of friend had died thinking that Mini was still furious with her and would never come to terms with it. That they had been living under a masquerade at Rich and Grace's not-wedding. They had all seemed so happy, back then. For just one day, they'd all been able to set aside their differences in order to make sure that Rich and Grace had a fantastic day. It was barely months ago now. And now, everything was so different in the worst way possible.

That was a point. She hadn't seen Rich all day. Had he even been questioned by the police today?

Mini quickly buried her head in her wine glass. Quite frankly, she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know. If he had ran away because he was involved with Liv's murder, then it would be horrifying. He was one of them, one of the gang. And poor Gracie, she would have her heart broken. Mini knew just how deeply she felt about Rich; it would positively destroy her if he had done so. That was something she understood all too well. When Nick and Liv had started their sordid little affair, it wasn't just Nick that broke her heart, but Liv too.

Besides, it was ludicrous even thinking about Rich being a murderer. Just because he looked the part, what with his metal obsession and principles, it didn't mean he actually would do it. There was such a thing as subverting stereotypes, after all. Anyway, he was one of them and mates just didn't kill one another. Did they?

Unspecified Location, CA, USA, Friday, 11.17pm PST

"Thank you for organising the interview with the girl's friends," O'Laughlin stated lightly.

Lisbon had been asking desperately about just how he had managed to organise the interviews. It was a coup, even for the FBI, especially given the short notice they had been supplied with. Naturally, he had lead her to believe that the FBI director, in conjunction with Gale Bertram, had manage to pull a few strings for them. That he had just been incredibly lucky, thanks to their extensive contacts list that stretched across the whole world. It didn't entirely satisfy the senior agent, but it pacified her at least.

But of course, it had been Red John who had pulled the strings, made sure that things went his way. It wasn't difficult and he'd managed to cover up his trail quite spectacularly. Besides, he knew that the CBI wouldn't get anywhere without his influence and it amused him somewhat. They would be horrified to realise that Red John, of all people, had actually aided them in solving a crime.

Yet again, it had been O'Laughlin who had called Red John to offer information. The serial killer didn't mind; he was in no rush for information. He could quite patiently wait to be drip-fed whatever his precious mole had to say. Patience, after all, was a virtue. Something that Mr. Jane could most certainly learn about. The same applied to the somewhat striking Teresa Lisbon. Just because Jane was the centre of Red John's plans, it didn't mean he didn't take note of his work colleagues. After all, Van Pelt had already proven herself useful in his schemes. Sooner or later, one of the others might too. And it was a well-documented fact that Agent Lisbon was awfully close to Jane.

"I believe it benefited us as much as it did Agent Lisbon and Mr. Jane, Craig," Red John replied politely.

"Yes," he agreed. "Do you think it'll be enough for them to allow the case to remain in CBI hands?"

"No, they need solid evidence of who the real killer is in the United Kingdom, I suspect."

"And how do we go about getting that?"

"I'll deal with it."

O'Laughlin spat at the floor and Red John flinched slightly. That was such a disgusting habit, but it was something his protégé did every so often, especially when he was particularly stressed. Red John let the matter slide; nobody would ever think that they would meet in this specific location. It didn't need quite as much of his attention to detail as it would if he were to kill O'Laughlin, for example.

But that wouldn't happen for a while, at least. Craig O'Laughlin was yet to outlive his usefulness. Besides, Red John had a shrinking suspicion that when it came down to it, one of the agents at the CBI would shoot him to death. That would be poetic justice and it would mean he wouldn't have to get his own hands dirty. If only he could see the look on their faces when they realised that young Craig had been pulling the wool over their eyes for so long. But still, they weren't ready for that moment yet. There was a lot they needed to prepare before they would be. For a start, they needed to get his case back into Patrick Jane's hands.

"He reckoned Aloysius 'Alo' Creevey was hiding something, or at least more than any of the others," O'Laughlin offered, realising he wasn't going to get anymore from Red John. He didn't even need to mention Jane by name for them to know who he was referring to. "And Richard Hardbeck didn't turn up. I'd say that suggests he is running."

Red John accepted a piece of paper from O'Laughlin's hands. Briefly, he scanned over it. It detailed the notes from the questioning of young Aloysius, as well as detailed background analysis of both the young men O'Laughlin had named as potential suspects.

"So, Patrick Jane suspects Aloysius Creevey and Richard Hardbeck? Interesting," Red John stated.

"You think that's enough information to go on? That Patrick Jane can identify the copycat from just a half hour interview?"

"Has he ever steered us wrong?"

"No, but-"

"I shall have to follow up these enquiries."

"How?"

"I'll be out of the country for a period of time, Craig," Red John informed him, ignoring his question. "I trust you to keep my - our - plan ticking over in the meantime."

"Yes, of course…"

Red John didn't even bother to say goodbye. He knew exactly what he needed to do. The first was to fly to the UK, Bristol preferably. If he could locate Aloysius Creevey, then he might just have half a chance of finding the other boy as well.

They would learn from their mistakes. It was just a shame for them that his methods of teaching had rather permanent side-effects.

TBC…