Chapter 25: Unbound
Patrick Jane, Week One
Why the hell is everything so stupid? he wondered as he exited the CBI elevator. His whole life Jane wondered why things weren't better, smarter. Was mystified how everyone routinely missed the obvious. As a kid his insight chronically landed him in trouble. As an adult he'd made a handsome living pointing out the obvious to gullible fools with money. But the frustration remained. He could (had to!) accept people who didn't see as much as he did. But then he needed them to accept he was right. Damn near always, he angrily underscored. Here I am again, killing time till they figure it out. Now in the Citroen, he had to decide what next. The CBI attic was unavailable; the extended stay room, unappealing. Suspended, huh? Fine. Time to do a little Red John hunting my way. A few blocks later he was on I-5 driving to Malibu to put his plan in motion.
The CBI
Lisbon stood staring a moment after Jane disappeared into the elevator. Then she turned to her agents.
"Cho, Rigs. We've got the Tolliver case. Both murders."
Cho, cautiously, "What about the kid who was arrested?"
"I don't trust anything the locals did. Get the whole house is cordoned off and go through it with a fine tooth comb. Talk to neighbors, friends, business associates. We're interested in the daughter and parents. We'll keep getting heat from the brass and press till we understand what happened and why and can prove it. I'll do computer research here in case Minelli needs details for the press."
"Jane?"
She grimaced. "Suspended three weeks. He thinks the father killed the daughter–" At Rigsby's puzzled expression she explained, "–because she stopped having sex with him. We need evidence one way or the other."
The two men stood mulling that over for a moment.
"What're you waiting for? We need this case closed yesterday."
They hastily left.
Grace Van Pelt, Sacramento
The mid-20's red-haired woman disembarked from her flight. The Des Moines-Sacramento flight was way behind schedule because thunderstorms forced a wide detour. Grace Van Pelt was so preoccupied that a fellow passenger almost wrested her bag from her hand before she politely but firmly fended off his unwanted attention. She thought in annoyance, Do I look like I need help with my carry-on? Gee! She soon returned to her thoughts while waiting by the luggage carousel for her larger suitcase.
It was just Tuesday afternoon. Van Pelt had most of a week free before reporting to work at the California Bureau of Investigation. She lived in Sacramento during her two years at the CBI academy so at least she didn't have the hassles of finding and setting up an apartment simultaneously with starting a new job. She was grateful Senior Agent Lisbon let her start date slide a week so she could attend the memorial gathering for Charity. Van Pelt felt faintly guilty for asking a favor right out of the box, but it was unavoidable. Charity died ten years ago. Near and far-flung relatives had gathered for the memorial. The pain lessened in the intervening decade, but she suspected it would never completely vanish. Charity's death was why she became a cop, why she was determined to be a good one. By putting criminals away, fewer people would weather the kind of devastation she experienced from that death.
Van Pelt resolved to call Emily and get the low down on the CBI. That plus researching her new team would let her hit the ground running.
~.~.~.~.~
Jane
Jane stepped outside, eyes tired from the contrast of dozens of bright monitors mounted in the dimly lit racetrack restaurant. Though the beautiful, warm, sunny weather was near ideal, mid-week crowds were thin. He spent a few minutes watching the finish of a horse race, then shrugged and headed for the exit. If he hadn't found the men he was seeking at the Santa Anita track near LA, he figured driving down to Del Mar would just be a waste of time. He'd try a different approach that night.
In early evening he entered and took a seat at the up-scale LA bar. The barkeep glanced his way then did a double-take. After serving another customer he walked over to Jane.
"Patrick, it's been a while," greeted the barkeep with a genuine smile.
Jane returned the smile, "That it has, Donnie." Glancing over the stock, "Glenlivet Archive," he ordered.
"Man after my own taste," Donnie nodded agreeably. He poured the single malt scotch and set the glass in front of Jane. "What brings you here after–" Jane could tell the exact instant Donnie remembered the murders, "–such a long break?"
Jane sipped and rolled the smooth liquor around in his mouth before answering. "Here on personal business. Bored. Thought I'd see if I can connect with a good game."
"The regulars play Thursday night."
"Eddie Bartolo? The old crowd?"
Donnie nodded toward a booth in the back corner, "Ask him yourself."
"Thanks." Jane picked up his drink and ambled that way. The booth's lone occupant became visible when he walked closer. Jane stood quietly in front of Bartolo, gently swirling the liquid in his glass.
"Hey, Paddy. Long time no see." Bartolo gestured for him to sit.
"Eddie," greeted Jane, taking the opposite bench. "Like to join your next game. Stave off boredom."
Bartolo looked him up and down, smile intact but eyes colder, "I hear you're with the cops, now."
Jane sipped his scotch. "Consultant. My only interest in the cops is if I'm working a case."
Bluntly, "Are you?"
"Nope. On my own time."
Bartolo relaxed, "Yeah, you can join our game tomorrow. Bring plenty of money to lose."
Jane grinned, "Guess your memory isn't too good, Eddie."
"What brings you back to LA? You're out of show biz now, right?
"Still have my Malibu place. Nice to take a break once in a while. Hey – gotta go, but I'll see you Thursday. Same old place?"
"Yeah." Bartolo tracked Jane's exit with a calculating eye, certain he was after more than poker. Nonetheless, Jane was good company, great fun at the poker table, and always flush with money. He was welcome despite the cop connection.
The CBI
The SCU had been working the Tolliver case for three days. The media were slightly less hysterical, but interest had hardly died down. The lack of information was fueling speculation about - choose one - lurid events behind closed doors in the Tolliver household, or, a CBI cover‑up for a politically powerful family. Lisbon felt like she spent as much time in Minelli's office as her own.
"What do we got? " Lisbon asked her two agents as they met over lunch around the conference table.
"A whole lotta zip," replied Rigsby, frustrated.
"Details."
Cho responded. "Whatever happened, no one outside the immediate family seems to know. Neighbors, extended family, teachers, business associates. The Tollivers never mentioned anything to anyone."
Rigsby added, "If the wife is right, I'm surprised the daughter didn't tell someone. But maybe that's 'cause her best friend moved to Australia. Mercy was upset and depressed, but didn't say why."
Lisbon filled them in on her research. "No financial problems, no known affairs, no history of violence or sexual offenses."
Rigsby mused, "Nothing to explain Tolliver offing Tolliver. We didn't find anything indicating the McCluskey kid killed the daughter."
Lisbon frowned. "Not a shred of evidence except that he found the body. The PD really did a half-assed job. So we're still on square one. Nothing solid on either murder." She exhaled and stilled. After a moment, "Cho, Juniper Tolliver seemed pretty open with you. Go ask her point blank if she can think of anything that would help prove her claim about her husband."
"She's lawyered up"
She shrugged. "May answer anyway. It could help her legal situation."
"Will do."
"Rigs, I need you to read through every e-mail and letter we can get hold of from Andrew, Juniper, Mercy or McCluskey over the past year. Work with the computer forensic techs and try to recover deleted files." He nodded and walked off to get the pc's from Evidence.
Cho was still seated, eyes unfocused as he thought.
"Got something, Cho?"
"Boss, when I'm done with Tolliver I'd like to go through that house again."
"Hunch?"
"Jane thought he solved it. If I think like Jane would, maybe I can come up with a new approach to prove it."
"Worth a try." Lisbon's lips quirked up, "Take care - Jane's brain is a strange and dangerous place." Cho snorted, rose and left.
Van Pelt
It was Wednesday. Partly to be prepared and partly to distract herself from the memorial, Van Pelt diligently researched the organization and team she would join on Monday.
Van Pelt had dug up a surprising amount of information from news articles, public records, and the CBI employee newsletter. She reflected on what she'd discovered. Teresa Lisbon. Guess she's in her early 30's. Full scholarship to Loyola University in Chicago. National Merit Scholar. BA in criminal justice with high honors, 1994. Phi Beta Kappa. Graduated with honors from the CBI academy. Cop for two years, then detective six years at SFPD under Samuel Bosco. Statewide recognition for solving the McTeer case. Moved to the CBI right after that in 2006. Head of the Serious Crimes Unit six months later.
A warm thrum of anticipation washed through her. Teresa Lisbon was everything she wanted in a boss, everything she hoped for as a role model. Van Pelt had a long-standing love‑hate relationship with her looks. Those looks routinely got men to do anything she wanted, but also routinely interfered with being taken seriously as a law enforcement professional. Lisbon's team could be her ticket to the professional success and respect she craved. She shook herself out of the daydream to continue going over what she'd learned.
Kimball Cho is on the team and seems to be a couple of years younger than Lisbon. San Francisco native. Joined the Army at 18. Two tours in Iraq, second as a Ranger. Cop for two years, detective for three also at SFPD. Hm. – Lisbon recruited Cho, I guess. No breaks in employment, so night school for college and the academy? –Is that even possible at the academy? Anyhow, joined the CBI shortly after Lisbon. Mentioned a bunch of times in articles about high profile cases the SCU solved. Special forces guys are always interesting, she thought, pleased.
Wayne Rigsby's probably in his late 20's. BS in criminal justice with a chemistry minor in 1998 from CSU. San Diego PD for a few years, first as cop then detective. Came to the CBI just after Cho. Nice write-up and commendation for an arson case. Maybe he can teach me about arson. Someone else I can learn from.
Then there's Steven Hannigan. Peering at a poor quality newspaper photo on-line she guessed, Maybe - fifty? Mentioned as an SCU team member in a few articles a while back. Then nothing. Before that he was with SacPD. Must have left before I came. Don't recall anyone mentioning him. Don't even know if he's still on Lisbon's team. Gotta ask Emily what she's heard.
Her eyes widened when she got to the last person she'd found associated with the SCU. Patrick Jane. A few years older than Lisbon? Who can tell with a guy that gorgeous? She unconsciously shook her head. A celebrity psychic till his family was murdered by the Red John serial killer. Wonder if he's a real psychic. How horrible about his family. I remember SacPD transferring the Red John case to the CBI and it seems Lisbon got it. Jane had just launched his TV show but dropped out after the murders. And now he's a CBI consultant working with the team that has Red John?! She leaned back in her desk chair and rubbed her eyes. Tired of staring at her computer she rose and stretched. Definitely gotta ask Emily about Jane. They were going out for dinner on Thursday. She could ask then.
~.~.~.~.~
Jane
Jane stretched languidly and idled in bed in the hotel room he'd rented after Thursday's poker game. A faint smirk stretched his face as he thought about the perfectly executed con.
Patrick Jane, celebrity psychic, had played with the group on and off for years. To remain welcome, to make it fun for himself, he'd reined in his ability to wipe the floor with them by imposing additional constraints on himself. One time he'd limit his winnings to an exact dollar amount. Another time, he'd engineer the games so the top three winners won the same amount. If he took a dislike to the occasional new face, he'd ensure that person lost everything. The confusion sown by not playing to maximize his winnings was frosting on the cake.
This time he had played to win, no holds barred. Eventually the others left or fell asleep and he had his chance. It was a sweet moment.
"This isn't a fluke, is it?" Bartolo asked, shrewdly studying the familiar face.
"What do you think, Eddie?" Jane leaned back, easy smile on his face.
"We've been playin' for years. You couldda cleaned us out any night you wanted, right?"
"Yeah, something like that," he admitted. "But this is your lucky night."
Looking at the thousands he'd lost plus thousands more in the pot, Bartolo looked at him suspiciously. "Meaning?"
"You get the pot in return for a favor."
Bartolo looked around, satisfying himself that the other man in the room was indeed passed out from the booze. Only then he asked, "What do you want?"
"Rumor has it the Sacramento capo loves poker. I want an invitation to his card club."
He frowned, expression a mix of astonishment, fear and avarice. "Got a fucking death wish? Word's out you work with cops."
Patiently, congenially, "Which is why I need someone to vouch for me."
He scoffed, "Don't know where your head's at, Paddy. I know enough not to cross him."
Jane shook his head, his smile oozing charm. "You wouldn't be. I just want to play cards, talk to the man. Bringing him a good player works to your advantage."
Bartolo fell silent, thinking it over. He hunched his shoulders a bit as he ventured, "I'd have to tell him you work with cops even if you aren't one."
"That's fine."
"And I want the money if I ask. No guarantees."
Jane examined him, eyes glittering coldly. "Make the pitch - in person - for the pot. Double the money if I'm actually invited."
"How do I know you'll pay up?"
Wryly, "Not healthy to cross you folks. I'll have Donnie hold a cashier's check payable to you. I sign it when I get the invitation."
Bartolo reached for the money on the table only to have his wrist grabbed by Jane. "Not so fast." Jane took his cell phone out, put it on the table and pushed 'record.' "Say it, Eddie."
Grudgingly, "I'll go to the Sacramento boss and ask him to invite you. Poker for one night. If he gives you an invitation, you pay me an extra hundred-twenty-five grand."
Jane smiled widely. "Deal." Bartolo looked a little worried at Jane's cell. Jane snorted, "Relax. Just a straightforward, legitimate deal."
"Yeah," he breathed. Bartolo stuffed the money in his pockets. "I'll let you know."
First step: Accomplished.
The CBI
It was Thursday and Cho stood in the grand foyer of the Tolliver home. Juniper claims Andrew was raping Mercy for a year. Jane believed her. Daughter didn't tell anyone. But stuff that bad has to come out, especially over such a long period. How would Jane think about this?
Cho slowly walked through the house, trying to pay attention like Jane would. Nothing triggered any ideas. Until he got to Mercy's room. They had searched it thoroughly. Twice. Jane would be convinced she told someone. Who? No one's left. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. Herself! Maybe she couldn't tell anyone else, but she'd get something that ugly outside herself another way. Diary. Now where? Cho started going through her desk again, looking under the drawers, behind books on the shelf and then abruptly stopped. Jane would scorn doing the same thing a third time. I don't need to repeat the search. I need to look at it a different way.
He stood stock still and took a deep breath. He told himself, Think like an abused teenaged girl, ignoring his ironic reaction to that notion. Ashamed. Confused. Hate and love fighting for dominance about her father. Love for her mother, but – but afraid to tell her, afraid to tear apart her family, her natural place of security. If she wrote it down, she wouldn't want any chance of her mom stumbling on it. Or her father. She wouldn't want anyone walking in on her as she wrote.
Cho frowned and walked into Mercy's bathroom, impressed anew at the affluence that afforded a private bathroom for every bedroom. They had searched the bathroom, but without any expectation that a teenager might be hiding a diary inside. We already searched, so it's not in plain sight. She'd put it somewhere no one would think to look, especially her father. Cho blinked and hesitantly walked to the linen closet. Aside from lotions, make-up and shampoo, there were several boxes of facial tissue and sanitary products. They were new – unopened. In his experience women didn't conveniently use up a box of product with each cycle. Where's the opened box? He checked the cabinet and drawers nearest the toilet. Two open boxes of tampons, one nearly full. Cho donned latex gloves and carefully removed the tampons. A short pen and a small, white notebook were at the bottom of the box that was almost full. He leafed through a few pages to confirm what he had, then bagged the diary and pen. He let out a deep breath. This was the evidence needed to prove – or disprove – Juniper's suspicion (and Jane's theory). Got it!
Lisbon presented the new information to Minelli late Thursday afternoon. Forensics had already confirmed that the prints and handwriting in the diary were those of Mercy Tolliver. The diary revealed a year long nightmare of repeated rape and increasingly harsh threats by her father to ensure her silence. The SCU still had to link Andrew Tolliver to the murder. Though his death could make that more difficult, the odds of getting the evidence needed for definitive proof were immeasurably better. They now had a very solid suspect who had motive, access, and means for Mercy's murder. The case was all but solved.
Minelli was ebullient at finally having something positive to tell the press - and his bosses. Minelli's mellow mood even extended to the suspended consultant. Jane was right after all. The wife shooting her husband looked a lot different in the context of a mother avenging her daughter's abuse and murder by her father. The CBI had prevented an innocent kid from being charged with murder and dragged through a trial.
After Thursday's good news, Lisbon was surprised at suddenly being summoned to Minelli's office first thing Friday morning. She frowned. In addition to Minelli, J.J. LaRoche and Ray Haffner were there.
"Lisbon, sit," Minelli motioned brusquely. "Haffner, you start."
"OCU has a CI monitoring the mob in California. The FBI is prime on the mob itself, but we're after connections to drug cartels operating in California up from Mexico." Looking at Lisbon, "Why are you interfering with our operation?"
Lisbon frowned, "I don't understand. The SCU isn't doing anything remotely connected to the mob or drug cartels."
Haffner pulled out a transcript of a confidential informant's statement and of some telephone conversations. "Our CI told us Patrick Jane played poker yesterday in LA with known mob associates, notably Edward Bartolo. Calls by Bartolo to Sacramento capo, Clemente Guerra, mention Jane. He apparently wants to meet Guerra. The OCU's investigation is threatened by a CBI employee contacting the mob. What's the deal, Lisbon?" he asked with real anger.
Angry in return, "Nothing, Haffner." She swallowed, "If your information is correct, Jane is acting as a private citizen."
LaRoche interjected, "CBI employees are expressly forbidden to associate with known criminals. Isn't Mr. Jane's choice of poker companions ... questionable?"
Minelli weighed in, "Lisbon?"
Lisbon schooled her face into a neutral mask. "Jane is acting as a private citizen. If you have questions, perhaps you should ask him. –Has he broken any laws?"
LaRoche looked at her disapprovingly, "That unlicensed bar levies a cover charge making it illegal."
Minelli interjected, "The bar is illegal, not the players. I know California prosecutes even little league clubs that run afoul, but that doesn't reflect on Jane-"
"-Only his choice of companions," interjected LaRoche.
Ignoring the interruption, Minelli continued, "–Lisbon, find out what Jane's doing and have him butt out of the OCU's turf."
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm shelving this unless and until there's something actionable, LaRoche. Jane's no angel, but he has done nothing criminal. The rules for agents don't apply to consultants."
LaRoche looked at him impassively for a moment. "Perhaps they should, Director." He rose and left.
Minelli turned to Haffner. "We don't know what Jane is up to. I understand he's complicating the OCU's work, but he hasn't screwed up your operation so far, right?"
Reluctantly, "Not so far. Jane should be told to stay away from organized crime."
"Unless he breaks the law, the CBI cannot dictate to a private citizen."
Heatedly, "The CBI can dictate to its consultants. He's a loose cannon! Maybe he shouldn't be a consultant."
Minelli stiffened. "I'll consider your opinion in any decisions I make. Let me know if any further information comes in about Jane and the mob." Haffner nodded stiffly. "You can go."
The door swung shut and the latch softly clicked home. Minelli turned to Lisbon. "What the hell is Jane up to, Lisbon?"
"I honestly don't know."
Gruffly, "And why don't you know?"
Lisbon clenched her teeth, desperately hanging on to her temper. "Because he's on a three week suspension. It's hard to control him when I see him every hour of the day. I have a lot less to go on when he's away from the CBI for three weeks."
"Damn." Minelli silently fumed, wishing he still smoked. Serious, "Do you think Jane has any involvement with organized crime – the mob?"
"No. But Jane's been just this side of legal most of his life. He's bound to have rubbed shoulders with all types. I know for sure he doesn't care about money, doesn't use drugs, isn't an inveterate gambler. Why would he be interested in the mob?"
"That is the question, isn't it?"
"How much trouble is Jane in? Are – are you considering booting him from the CBI?"
Minelli frowned, not because he planned to but because he didn't – and therefore would continue to deal with Jane fallout. "Not at this moment. The CBI cannot have any involvement with organized crime, and that includes Jane. Just because LaRoche doesn't like it–"
"–doesn't like Jane," she sniffed.
"–doesn't mean he has any say."
"And Haffner?"
"Haffner's got his shorts in a wad because of the interference. Jane hasn't messed up anything for the OCU. Yet. Can't blame Haffner for protecting his investigation."
"So?"
"Get in contact with Jane and rein him in. Keep me apprised. –Dammit. Just resolved Jane's Tolliver mess and now there's another one."
Softly, "He was right about Tolliver. The local PD would have railroaded an innocent kid."
Minelli leaned back, eyes closed. "I know, Lisbon. That's why we keep him. But rein him in before it hits the fan."
Van Pelt
Grace Van Pelt woke on Friday slightly hung over and hugely confused. Dinner with Emily had been informative. Very informative. Van Pelt got up and showered, all the while thinking about her conversation.
The sole two women in their class, Grace Van Pelt and Emily Sorenson had become close friends during their two years at the academy. Sorenson started working for the CBI's Organized Crime Unit at the start of the week and already had insights and gossip to share. The OCU would be her stepping stone to the FBI with its robust national responsibilities for fighting organized crime, so her job was the ideal fit. Van Pelt perfectly understood her ambition, her desire to be judged on what she contributed without assumptions about what women could/would/should do. But at this moment, Van Pelt most appreciated Sorenson's ability to pass along information that could help when Van Pelt started next week.
Over dinner Van Pelt learned that Sorenson liked the CBI, loved Haffner, was okay with the rest of the team – Niskin, Masterson, and Tork. Though Sorenson would be the rookie for the foreseeable future, she was learning a lot just by being there. Sorenson was delighted when Haffner told her Teresa Lisbon had worked for him for several months, and even more delighted when he spoke well of her. Lisbon was widely considered a pet, a protege, since Minelli had recruited her. Nonetheless, Lisbon's sheer competence put to rest any grumbling and resentment. It was hard to snipe when Lisbon's team had the best close rate of the bureau. State wide.
After what seemed like endless details about Haffner and his team, Sorenson passed along the scuttlebutt about Van Pelt's team. Cho was supposedly in a gang before joining the Army – not that anyone would ever say so to his face. Nevertheless, everyone referred to him with respect and maybe even a little fear. Rigsby was rumored to be connected with a Steven Rigsby, a lifelong criminal who floated in and out of California's justice system. No one ever mentioned that to his face either, mainly because he was seen as a solid agent and all around nice guy. Hannigan was cashiered from the bureau over a year ago. His partner died after a firefight when Hannigan was drunk on the job. She'd saved the juiciest gossip for last.
"Let me tell you about this CBI consultant, Patrick Jane. He works for the CBI after some sort of horrible tragedy. Used to pretend he was a psychic and apparently helps with cases. What's strange is that he's with law enforcement at all. Tork says he lies, cheats, picks pockets, and hypnotizes suspects. The DA's office is always p.o.'d at the crap he pulls. Minelli hired him and rumor has it Jane must have something over him or he'd be fired a dozen times over. Haffner's furious because he's interfering with an OCU investigation by - get this! - playing poker with known members of the mob."
Van Pelt swallowed and interrupted, "Emily, Jane works on Lisbon's team." At her shocked silence, "Didn't you know?"