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Patrick fought against the agony that threatened to drive him back into unconsciousness. His entire right side was on fire and when he moved to touch it, his right hand exploded with pain.
"…And send another unit? We have a white male, about 45…gunshot wound to the abdomen, broken hand, minor cuts from safety glass."
"Teresa…take care of Teresa…" Patrick mumbled.
"She's gone already," someone said
Patrick's eyes shot open and he stared at the two cops kneeling around him. "No! No!" He tried to sit up but movement was excruciating. He gasped and winced.
A middle-aged cop smacked a young cop's arm with the back of his hand before addressing Patrick. "He means that they're taking care of her already. She's on her way to the hospital. Hear that helicopter? It's going to airlift her to Reno."
Faintly the distinctive sound of a chopper came to him from the balcony. He looked over. The safety glass in the door had a large hole in it, like a body had broken through it.
Two bodies. Mine and whoever hauled my ass back from certain death.
Then he realized… "Red John! Where is he?"
"Who?"
"The man who was trying to kill me! The man who stabbed my wife! Where is he?"
The two cops looked at each other and then off to the side. Patrick tried to raise his head but using any muscle hurt badly. Another cop – a sergeant – stepped up.
"The fire department is trying to get the body out of a tree. You say he's Red John? The serial killer Red John?" The man's face turned livid before he struggled to suppress his emotions. "Red John killed my daughter seventeen years ago. Are you sure…?"
Patrick nodded, closing his eyes and collapsing again. "Watch that body. He has followers…might steal it…"
Someone touched his side and he jumped again. When he looked, one of the cops was removing a blood-soaked towel, replacing it with a fresh one.
The sergeant barked orders into his radio, calling for a guard over the crime scene in the hotel courtyard. Then he lowered onto one knee beside Patrick.
"You're Patrick Jane, aren't you? You tried to kill him before. I remember seeing on the news…Are you sure this time that…?"
That was an interesting question. When Patrick shot Timothy Carter, he had been positive at the time that it was Red John. Was he so sure this time?
Yes. There was something truly evil in the eye of the man who had stood in front of him.
And this man had tried to kill Teresa.
"Sergeant, I'm 100% positive it's Red John, and even if it's not, I would be justified in defending myself and my wife–"
"No, I mean…I was the one who shot him. I've got to be sure –"
Patrick studied the man's face. The mix of guilt and relief was as plain as a billboard. He glanced at the name tag.
Yes, Hohmann, Brenda Marie. 19 years old, Victim Seven, college student, found in abandoned building near the University of Nevada at Reno.
"It was him, Sergeant Hohmann. Your daughter has been avenged. My family has been avenged. Red John is dead."
"Thank God," the man mumbled. "Listen, my dispatch has contacted CBI. Is there someone in particular…?"
"Kimball Cho," Patrick said, pointing vaguely with his left hand. "My wife's phone…"
"Okay, I understand, Sergeant Hohmann. I'll be there in a couple of hours."
Cho hung up his phone and stared a moment. Not the kind of call he expected to get on a Sunday morning. Jane and his wife were on their way to a hospital in Reno? His wife? Cho had been certain that Jane was with Lisbon. Had he called it wrong?
No, he knew Jane and Lisbon were a couple, even if it was nothing more than two lonely people screwing around, trying to keep loneliness at bay. Besides, Jane would have made a big deal about that not-so-veiled threat if Cho had been wrong.
They must have gotten married. That's why Red John chose to attack. Although, maybe it really wasn't Red John. Still, Sergeant Hohmann seemed positive that it was. Gale Bertram? Really?
He sighed and looked at his family in the other room, enjoying their Sunday morning gathering with friends. His wife Ae-cha looked up and after studying his face a moment, lost her smile. She bowed slightly to their guests and came to join him.
"Kimball, you're upset," she said in Korean.
And that was why he married her. She could read the unreadable.
"Bad news," he said, also in Korean. "Lisbon and Jane were attacked in Truckee."
"Oh, no! Attacked how? What happened?" She ran her hands down the silk sleeves of his jeogori and captured his hands in both of hers. He squeezed them tightly.
"I don't know what to believe yet. There seems to be some confusion of the facts. They're calling Lisbon 'Jane's wife'. Or Jane has a wife and they were there along with Lisbon? And Gale Bertram is dead? It's a confused mess."
The delicate expression on the lovely Asian woman's face turn determined. "You must go, of course. I'll take care of this."
Cho stared at his wife a moment and stepped forward to kiss her tenderly. He ran his hand over her baby bump before nodding.
"I'm sorry, I don't know how long this will take."
"You will call to let me know. You always do, Kimball. Now go."
While Ae-cha explained to their guests, Cho added a few items to his ready bag. He said good-bye to the party attendees and his wife before climbing into his Mustang for the drive to Reno. After clearing the town of Rocklin, he pulled out his phone and voice commanded a speed dial number.
It took a while to get an answer. It went to voice mail twice in a row before he got an answer on his third call.
A breathless voice answered. "Rigsby."
How damned embarrassing.
"Sorry to interrupt an intimate moment," he said, "but you and Van Pelt need to get dressed and meet me in Reno."
"Cho?...er…what?"
"I know you and Grace are out of town for a romantic weekend, but I just got a call from a Sergeant Hohmann of Truckee P.D. Supposedly Red John is dead – "
"What?"
"Yeah, thrown out a window by Jane after Red John sliced Jane's wife up—"
"WHAT?"
"— and yet somehow Lisbon is getting flown to Reno for emergency surgery after being stabbed. And don't say 'what' again, 'cause I know you heard me, man."
There was a choking sound as Wayne fought back his response.
"I'm driving there now. I'll call you when I have accurate information."
"Uh…it's about a three hour drive for us. I'll see about having Grace fly straight to Reno from here."
In the background, Cho heard Grace's urgent questioning.
"Whatever. Let me know what you two decide. GPS is telling me I'm still an hour and forty-five out, but that's based on normal driving speeds."
"Okay, Kimball, we'll call you. You do the same for us if you hear anything else."
"Will do."
Cho touched the disconnect button and called the Assistant District Attorney's office trying to get some information. As he was on hold and being transferred, he glanced down at his legs and cursed.
He was still dressed in his baji and jeogori. When he placed his hand on his head, he found it bare. At least he'd remembered to remove the gat.
To be continued...