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14. LITTLE PUPPET MADE OF PINE

There was one thing she said the day before he didn't quite understand. He didn't want to even attempt to read her or make deductions. Teresa Lisbon wasn't as translucent as he had believed her to be.

She was standing in the garden in the backyard with her arms folded tightly against her, looking out at the river again. It must be a favorite view.

"So— "

"Please don't ask me anymore questions. There's really not much of anything left to tell."

"It's just about something you said yesterday."

He decided to interpret her silence as permission to ask.

"What did you mean when you said you did it for me? I mean, there's the obvious—that you wanted to keep me out of prison or the morgue. But so far nothing about this has been the obvious."

She turned to look at him, squinting against the bright sunshine. He squinted back at her. He hadn't put his jacket on that morning, and seeing him standing there in the familiar vest with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows made her feel comfortable enough to try to answer him.

"You'll think it doesn't make sense. And you're probably right, but it seemed . . . it helped when I . . .

She was searching for the right way to say it. She knew how she had reasoned it out, but saying it aloud was something different. As she mentally ran through several versions of the explanation, they all sounded foolish to her, not to mention slightly crazy. The uncertainty from the previous evening welled up inside of her. He watched her, seeing she was trying to be cautious. He thought it was a little late for that.

"Just say it, Teresa."

The use of her first name was like a signal to charge ahead, though she knew it would sound like nonsense.

"Jane, you're my best friend. Maybe the best friend I've ever had, as strange as that sounds. And I think I'm yours, too, but not like the usual best friends. We understand one another as well as two people like us can. We respect each others intentions, and we keep each other's secrets and trust each other not to judge. I don't know what I would've done if he'd gotten to you or if you'd ended up in prison. I don't think I could bear either outcome. I knew it was important to you, probably the most important thing, for you to be the one to kill Red John. So I thought if I . . . if I did it, it would be the closest thing possible to you doing it. It would be like you were there . . . at least in part."

She didn't want a reply, didn't want to hear any argument against her thinking. She turned her back to him, and he understood that she didn't want to talk anymore. He knew there was something convoluted in her reasoning, but he got it. She said they were best friends. He didn't know how or when it had happened, but he had to admit it was true. She said they understood one another. More true for her than for him. And yes, he knew he could trust her not to judge. She had effectively removed the one thing that would have given her the right. And not judging her? He could live with that. He went back into the kitchen where Elizabeth was finishing up.

"She seems better today. She's stronger, and her mind is clearer."

"She's gotten through the worst part of it."

"You mean she's accepting that she killed him and is trying to get passed it."

"I mean she told you the truth, and you're still here and still speaking to her. I think that worried her the most."

He thought about that. Yeah, that sounded like Lisbon. He decided to push Elizabeth's seeming good will to fill in some of the blanks.

"I have to know—"

"I wondered when you'd get around to that. After Witsett killed Steiner, we followed her to her house and got in through a way Tess had arranged during the protection detail. We knew Avery would show soon enough and that we had to be inside the house before he got there. They argued a long time . . . and then made up."

A look of distaste momentarily clouded her face. He let it pass without comment.

"It wasn't until later that night we could finally get at them separately. Avery went to the safe room to see if anything was going on with his little sneak-fest. I dealt with Witsett while Tess got the gun out of its hiding place and went downstairs. I followed her—I didn't want her to be alone with him."

He nodded his understanding, and she continued.

"The safe room door was open. She stepped inside, raised the gun and cocked it. He stood up and turned around, and he was surprised for just an instant. Then he smiled at her. Not a smile really—more of a sadistic leer. He didn't think she could do it and told her as much."

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing. She didn't give him the chance. She didn't want conversation or his inevitable droning on about you. Shot him point blank in the throat. He got this look of shock and horror on his face. If it hadn't been so terrible, it woulda been comical. He fell forward and bled out on the floor. Then she just wiped the gun down and left it for the CSU to find."

He knew he should think it strange for her to be relating such grisly details over the breakfast dishes, but he simply digested what she said. He had wanted Red John to suffer. He had wanted his dying to be slow and painful. He was disappointed that it hadn't been. But as he thought about it—Red John's surprise and fear, his shock at Lisbon being the one to outwit him and her refusal to let him play the showman—it wasn't a bad second. The final card had been played, and it was one Red John didn't even know was in the deck. Lisbon had dealt it masterfully.

"How much does the AG know?"

"Only what he had to know to get me into the CBI."

"Cho and Hightower?"

"No more than the AG, though I think Cho has his suspicions."

"And Virgil?"

"Everything except how Avery died."

"So only you, Lisbon and I know the whole truth?"

"Yes." And with that she turned to look at him directly. "You know what will happen if it's found out. They're hard on cop killers but even harder on cops who kill."

"I understand."

"Do you now?"

He understood her misgivings. He was somewhat unstable—although there was usually a method to his madness—and very unpredictable. He had been desperate to kill Red John and had never made any secret of it. She knew that he was a bitter man very capable of being cold and unforgiving. But he would never hurt Teresa.

"Oh, I assure you I do understand, Elizabeth. Now, can I ask some more questions?"

She nodded, knowing she probably couldn't stop him and not really caring what more he knew.

"You don't have cancer?"

"No. Just a wig, some candy in a prescription bottle, the right make-up and slightly over-sized clothes."

"This house isn't exactly CBI issue. What's the deal?"

"I bought it for Tess. I wanted her to have a real home, someplace nice, and the look on her face when she saw the backyard and the river . . . I knew this was it."

"So, you'll be leaving." It wasn't a question.

"It doesn't do for me to have a permanent address."

"How long will you stay?"

"Only as long as she absolutely needs me. It'll not be much longer, I think." She looked at him pointedly. He looked back at her questioningly. She motioned for him to sit at the table, and she sat down facing him.

"Look, Patrick, you've made certain promises to her, haven't you? As friends do? The kind someone like you would make to someone like her?"

He swallowed hard and nodded, not knowing exactly where she was going with this.

"I've promised her that she can trust me, that I'll be there for her, and that I'll always save her."

She didn't let him see how surprised she was that he had offered so much.

"Well, in spite of the fact that it would have been very difficult to do all that from a prison cell and even more so from the grave, I think you had the intention of keeping those promises as best you could. Isn't that so?"

He nodded again.

"Well, here's your chance."

He looked down, considering what she was saying. He hadn't really thought about anything beyond killing Red John. Exactly what was she asking him to do? He thought the safest thing would be to just give her whatever she wanted.

"Ok."

"Good. Now, let's get down to business. In all of this, Tess has been my primary concern, and I would never consider her to owe me anything for keeping her safe. The way I figure it, in doing so, I've inadvertently done something for you."

"And this is where you collect the favor?"

She smiled genuinely at that.

"So Tess told you about that. Yeah, that's exactly what this is. I usually call in favors as I need them, but I think I'll ask for yours up front."

"And that is?"

"Stay with the unit, with Tess and the others, for one more year. Then think seriously about what you want to do."

"May I ask why?" He was surprised when she took his hands in both of hers. It forced him to look directly into her eyes as she spoke in a serious but kind voice.

"You were somewhat of a despicable person, Patrick. Your father taught you that you were above the morals and expectations of society, and that you were entitled to whatever you could take. He was a greedy man, and you didn't like cheating people for him. But when you grew into a man, you were just as greedy for different things: fame, adoration, a lifestyle that you had only ever dreamed of. You were greedy and cold-hearted and scornful, and you wrapped all of that in a shell of charm and deceit, not caring whom you cheated or how it affected them."

He had to admit that was a pretty accurate description. He usually felt a cold resentment when someone pinpointed his past so precisely, but she spoke with such warmth that he knew she wasn't trying to use it against him.

"Then your family was taken in such a brutal way. I think it cracked that shell a bit and everything inside just sort of leaked out. You floundered for a while thinking your life was over and you'd lost your sanity and all that was left for you was vengeance. You were kind of like a man who survives a bad stroke. The shell is still intact for the most part, but he has to relearn everything from the inside out—how to walk and talk and read again. Only he doesn't relearn it in quite the same way as he knew it before. You were blessed to fall in with exactly the people you needed—Tess, Cho, Rigsby and Grace. You've still got the shell, the charmer that wants to lie and cheat to get what you're after. Not that that's all bad, mind you. It does help with your particular method of catching criminals. But I think over the years you've worked with them, they've taught you a different way to see the world around you. You want different things now. Granted I think you have a long way to go, but you've learned friendship and compassion and loyalty and a rickety sort of honor. I think even if you could go back, you'd not want to go back to what you were."

That was accurate, too. He waited for her to go on.

"You need to stay with them for a while. To finish your rehabilitation, as it were. Maybe with Red John out of the picture, you'll get on a bit faster."

"And that's it? That's the favor?" He didn't think it sounded too burdensome.

She smiled at him again, her hazel eyes twinkling just like Lisbon's jades did when she was about to zing him.

"I think it's your only hope of becoming a real boy."

He grinned at her, and she released his hands and stood up. She nodded toward the back door, and he took it as his cue to rejoin Lisbon. She was still standing as he had left her. He moved to stand even with her, hands in pockets, maintaining some distance between them and mirroring the way she looked out at the river.

"You know, as lovely as it is here, we can't hide out much longer. Besides, Cho knows where we are."

"I know," she answered, still looking out at the distance, her arms folded tight against her small frame again. "I just need the rest of this day. I'll go back tomorrow."

She frowned as she looked down and dug at the ground with the toe of her shoe.

"So, what are you going to do now?" she asked quietly.

"I thought I just said."

She thought about what he'd said. We can't hide out . . . Cho knows where we are.

She looked away from him, but not before he saw the small smile tug at her lips. He moved to stand just behind her, as close as he could get without touching her.

"So you're going to stay? At least for a while?"

"A year is the agreement." She turned her head and looked up and over her shoulder at him.

"She's collecting a favor from you?"

"She's not the sort of woman you say no to."

"I know just what you mean."

"Must run in the family." She looked away and tried not to smile again.

"Besides, I think she let me off pretty easy."

"How so?"

"Where else would I go? I told you once that I'd learned a lot from you, but recently I've realized I'm still pretty clueless. Elizabeth says I need to stay with the unit to learn how to be a real boy."

She leaned her head back and laughed outright.