Author's Note: I had a major case of writer's block with this chapter, but the good news is I have downtime over the Thanksgiving holiday so I hope you won't have to wait long for the next one. Thanks for your patience!


Chapter 28

Teresa was late to work the next day, because she had to wait for stores to open so she could get Patrick a burner phone. He had a kind of manic restlessness she recognized as a sign of impending disaster, and she was going to do everything she could to stave it off. But she also needed the resources of the FBI.

Her departure was further delayed by an argument about how much research she could safely route through official FBI channels. Patrick wanted to write the entire agency off and work only with friends they trusted, but she felt that anyone in the FBI involved in the plot against them would be suspicious of a lack of activity. They'd finally compromised: he'd ask Cho about Nelson and Mitchell, and she'd take the card from Liam's bag to the office. They'd conduct parallel investigations and hope to pry a lead loose somewhere.

It worried her that Patrick seemed to think they were up against another widespread conspiracy. The people they trusted most weren't working in the same office or even living in the same city anymore; they were isolated here. They were reduced to crazy long-shot ideas like relying on Jason Cooper to ensure the safety of their children.

Surely there were better options. Despite Patrick's paranoia, the entire FBI could not be in on this plot. Even if her new job was part of it, that didn't mean Abbott was involved. She had a hard time believing he could be; surely it was someone behind the scenes. Once Abbott knew what they were up against, she hoped he would be on guard and able to identify any enemies in their midst.

She'd barely gotten off the elevator when Abbott stepped out of his office. "Lisbon. A word?"

Heads swiveled, no doubt wondering from his tone if she was in trouble. She had bigger worries, though, than whether her boss was ticked off about some bureaucratic oversight. "Of course," she said crisply, changing direction to join him.

Abbott closed the door behind her and took a seat behind his desk. "Welcome back. I admit I'm surprised to see you here when your team's in California."

"I know I owe you a full report—" she began.

"No need. Cho filed one on your behalf, informing me you were taking emergency family leave." Abbott folded his hands, one side of his mouth tugging up almost imperceptibly. "Though I'm sure his report is far from the whole truth, considering its brevity."

Teresa reached into her bag and withdrew the sandwich bag with the Red John calling card in it, tossing it onto Abbott's desk. "That was put into my son's carry on bag."

Abbott frowned at it. "So this isn't just about Visualize."

"Apparently not. Although it could be a misdirect."

"But you don't believe that."

She shook her head. "Revenge for our impact on Visualize doesn't explain why someone would form a group and concoct a complicated revenge scheme. We didn't destroy the cult, after all; it's still there. But a Red John follower might well be trying to imitate his mind games and pull our strings." The idea of someone messing with their lives the way the serial killer had gave her the shivers.

"Makes sense. We'll run this for prints, of course, but if this is someone imitating Red John, I doubt we'll find anything."

"I don't expect to," Teresa sighed.

"What do you want to do? I can arrange a safe house if you want."

"We're making our own arrangements. Red John's disciples we didn't catch might still be in law enforcement."

Abbott looked like he'd just bitten into something sour. "And not just in California."

"No. By now they could be anywhere. Reede Smith spent years in Colorado."

"So I should be looking at anyone here who spent time in California while Red John was active."

Teresa sighed. "I hate the idea of a witch hunt, but I don't know where else to start. Also, a lot of the disciples could only be prosecuted for minor crimes, or cut deals to avoid doing time. It would be helpful to find out where they are."

Abbott nodded. "I'll put some junior agents on it, unless Wylie and Van Pelt have already taken care of it."

It would be interesting to see if a search from here turned up anything different than her trusted team. "Thank you. I'd appreciate the help."

"And rush the prints on this." Abbott picked up the card in the bag and scowled at it. "Whatever this is, I want it to go away as soon as possible. Red John shook the public trust in law enforcement all over the West Coast. I don't want that here."

"Nobody wants this over with quicker than I do," she agreed, taking the bag back.

"You're the Red John expert; we'll follow your lead. If you think of anything else we should be doing, let me know."

Although she thought Abbott was trustworthy, she still couldn't help thinking that was what a conspirator trying to keep tabs on the investigation would say. "Of course." She got to her feet, wanting to get started.

"Are you planning to be in the office or work from home?" Abbott asked.

"A little of both, as the situation develops," she replied. "Since I'm here, I'd like to stay and run a few calls until we get the prints back. I'll go home for lunch and if everything seems okay, I plan to be back for the afternoon."

"Sounds good. Keep me posted."

Teresa headed for the door, but found it occupied by a nervous looking young man. "Uh, delivery for Agent Abbott."

She decided to stay and see what this was about—the FBI had a robust interoffice mail system for materials too sensitive for electronic transmission. For someone to FedEx something to Abbott, they had to be an outsider or someone who didn't trust the internal system.

"From Sacramento," Abbott said, raising his eyebrows at Teresa.

She closed the door behind the young agent and went back to her chair. "From Cho?"

"No, one of the field agents." He frowned as he opened the envelope. "Ah. From Cho after all. He's requesting a secure conference line for updates." Abbott looked at her. "It seems he agrees there may be an issue within the Bureau."

Teresa felt relieved that her caution now seemed less like paranoia. "This isn't a fun stretch of Memory Lane for us."

"There's more." Abbott held out the piece of paper.

She took it eagerly and read the three sentences Cho had written for her attention: Security vid inconclusive. G checking on hunch. M wants to know what happened to AS, whereabouts unknown.

Teresa frowned. G was obviously Grace, and M was Moore, but who was AS? "I'd appreciate that secure line."

"I'll put the order in."

"Thank you." Teresa didn't hand back the note; she wanted Patrick to take a look. She nodded to Abbott and, satisfied they were finished, left.

mmm

Teresa decided to go home for lunch; the fact that she hadn't heard from Patrick after he talked to Cho meant he didn't trust her phone. If she wanted an honest report, she needed the secure line, currently snarled in an IT department backlog, or an in person check-in. Besides, a home-cooked lunch with her family sounded perfect.

She signed off her computer and headed for the elevator. When the doors opened, she was nearly knocked over by a young man in a hurry. "Agent Lisbon! Sorry. I was just coming to see you."

"About?" she asked, trying to curb her impatience.

"Fingerprints." He took a minute to catch his breath.

She frowned. Why this breathless report instead of an email? "You found a match?"

"Yeah. It took awhile because we had to widen the search parameters, and then we had to double check it. And then triple check it."

Teresa began to have a sinking feeling. "But you're sure of the results?"

"Yeah." He finally remembered to hand her the folder.

She drew in a steadying breath and looked, hardly surprised at the name but feeling her stomach churn regardless.

The tech whispered, "Red John," as if she could have forgotten that his real name had been Ray Haffner.

Teresa handed him back the folder. "Give this to Agent Abbott and tell him I've gone home for lunch," she instructed, getting on the elevator.

"Uh, okay," he said as the doors closed.

Grateful she had the elevator to herself, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as Patrick had taught her. Someone might be watching when she emerged, and she didn't want to give anything away.

At this time of day, traffic wasn't bad, which was good since she had trouble focusing on her driving. She found herself pulling into the underground parking garage without much memory of getting there.

When she opened the door to the condo, Patrick emerged from the hallway, limping a bit but free of his crutches. He looked relieved and pleased to see her. "The kids are in class. Given the time difference, I just took them sandwiches they can eat in their rooms."

"A sandwich would be great." She shrugged off her jacket and kissed him hello. "Want one?"

"I was just making myself one; it's no trouble to make another," he grinned. "As you see, my ankle is better. I can get around without my crutches, at least for short distances."

"Good. Now stop stalling and tell me what Cho said." Teresa headed for the kitchen.

"It took us some time to make contact, but we now have each other's burner phone numbers. I gave him yours, too."

"Great. He requested an encrypted conference line at work, but of course IT is backlogged."

"Nelson is who he says he is. Cho says he's a busy man, but he'll keep an eye on us."

"Okay." Teresa took stock of the ingredients on the counter and began making a sandwich. "What else?"

"He and the others are tracking down the Red John disciples we were directly involved in taking down. Judge Manchester died two years ago."

Teresa didn't respond, busy with her sandwich. She wouldn't pretend to grieve a man who betrayed his position as a judge by colluding with a serial killer and being an accomplice after the fact in her own kidnapping. He'd gotten a ridiculously light sentence, in her opinion. "Anybody else?"

Patrick paused, then moved closer to her. "Bertram's been out of prison for about six months, but he's spent most of that time in the hospital. He's got stomach cancer."

She couldn't be sorry about that, either. Bertram had actually been her kidnapper, luring her away from her team and knocking her out, then delivering her to Red John's custody in the Visualize mental health facility. As far as she was concerned, he should have died in prison. "Worth looking into though."

"Absolutely. But the thing we're most interested in is that no one can find Alexa Schultz."

Teresa scowled. "Her? What the hell would she want vengeance for? She cut a sweet deal, never did any time, and then wrote that disgusting book and became a minor celebrity."

"Did you get around to reading it, then?" Patrick's voice was deceptively casual, as if he'd forgotten they'd both agreed to leave their past in the past when the twins were born.

"Of course not. I had better things to do. Still have. I could tell it was disgusting from the stupid questions I kept getting asked." She finished her sandwich and turned to face him, realizing only too late that she'd crossed her arms defensively. Uncrossing them didn't relieve the look of concern on his face.

"Do you regret never telling our side of the story?"

Busy with her pregnancy and then the twins, they'd let others handle the media. She shrugged, not wanting to reopen a difficult decision. "Ancient history now."

"Nonsense. I could line up an agent in the blink of an eye if we decided to write our memoirs," Patrick claimed.

"Who has time to write a book?" she asked.

As usual, Patrick chose to ignore the fact that her question was clearly rhetorical. "I do. Or I will, once we've wrapped up this case and gotten Victoria settled at school."

The thought of him diving back into that world and revisiting the man he'd been frightened her, but if he really wanted to, she wouldn't insist. "Do you want to?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I don't know. But whoever's after us knows a lot, don't you think? Things that weren't public. Like the fact that Allie tried to befriend you in the facility, and that she met a bad end and had a brother who could be easily recruited to mess with us."

"They also had access to either evidence or some of Haffner's possessions. The card from Liam's bag had his prints."

Patrick didn't look surprised. "Or someone else's prints were put on the card and also substituted for Haffner's in the database."

"Possible," she admitted. "Either way, it's clear we're meant to be freaked out. And not just us. By now the fingerprint tech has told the whole building."

Patrick huffed an unamused laugh. "Who can blame him? It's got to be the most exciting thing that's happened in his lab in a long time."

"What's the plan behind this, though?" Teresa frowned. "Is it just focused on us, or is it someone wanting to revive Red John's cult within a cult?" Her memories of the disciple wannabes coming after her to prove they could do what Red John couldn't were still vivid.

"I'm not sure yet." Patrick stepped over to the counter to finish making his sandwich, and they moved to the table after grabbing glasses of water.

Teresa pulled Cho's note out of her pocket. "I think you've explained most of this now—AS is Alexa Schultz. But what's Grace's hunch?"

"Cho didn't say. She might not have told him if she wasn't sure." Patrick took a bite of his sandwich, frowning as he chewed.

Teresa did the same, realizing how hungry she was. She decided to focus on eating and leave Patrick to his thoughts.

Liam's door opened briefly, and Belle trotted out, coming over to Teresa for a greeting before nosing around her empty food dish. Teresa had no doubt she'd gotten some of Liam's lunch, though. Her son was an easy mark for their dog, and Belle knew it.

Teresa and Patrick were nearly finished eating when Liam emerged, carrying his coat. "Hey, Mom."

"Good afternoon. On a break?"

"I have Phys Ed this period," he shrugged. "Figured I'd take Belle for a walk."

"Not by yourself," Patrick replied.

"I'll go with you," Teresa said at the same time.

"Whatever," Liam said, picking up the leash. Belle immediately joined him, wagging her tail eagerly.

Teresa quickly ate the last bite of her sandwich and stood, slipping her jacket on. "We'll make it quick," she said, looking down at Patrick, who wasn't quite hiding his anxiety.

"We'll be waiting," he replied as she leaned down to kiss him. "Victoria should be due for a break soon."

"Good." Teresa wondered if her daughter was spending her between-class time chatting with Brett. Asking was probably not a good idea, though.

Following Liam and Belle out the door, she asked, "So how's your day going?"

"Okay, I guess." Liam summoned the elevator. "It's not the same as being there."

"No, it's not," she agreed.

"We can go back for graduation, right?"

"We'll do our best," she promised. "I'd like to wrap this up before prom."

"Hope the bad guys cooperate," he said wryly.

She swallowed her instinctive response that they almost never did as the elevator opened. They quickly crossed the lobby and emerged into the chilly air of early spring, which was almost pleasant in the sunshine. "It's nice having seasons," she remarked.

"I guess." Liam, born and raised in California, was not sentimental about weather.

Teresa hid a smile. "We'll have to buy really warm coats for next winter. And maybe a sweater for Belle."

They both chuckled a bit, picturing Patrick's reaction. He had a strong aversion to dogs being dressed as people, which had made a certain stage of Victoria's childhood difficult for him. Teresa thought Belle hadn't minded the pink tulle tutu half as much as he had.

The dog park was all but deserted on a weekday, and Liam let Belle off the leash and picked up a stick so they could play fetch. Teresa moved to the nearest shady spot so she could read her phone and began checking her messages.

As she'd hoped, there was one from Cho, saying they'd found a lead in California and he needed to keep the team there at least a few more days. Since he'd used regular FBI email, she interpreted that to mean he was sending help her way soon. That was a relief, since if Patrick was right, they had only a limited time before their enemy made the next move.

Belle let out a sharp bark, and Teresa looked up to see Liam teasing her by holding the stick just out of reach, laughing. He was unguarded in that moment, looking more like a boy than a teenager, and she had to smile. She'd always thought her children would grow up to be special, given their father's unique approach and natural talents, but she had to admit they had both exceeded her expectations. Right now, though, Liam reminded her of her brothers at play, lost in the moment and forgetting his worries. She was glad.

Movement in the trees across the park drew her eye, and she frowned as she focused on it. The flash of dull color through the budding branches reminded her of a deer, but it was definitely a person. Unease made her pocket her phone and double check that her gun was secure in its holster.

Her eyes narrowed as she realized the person was a woman in a tan coat with short grey hair. It couldn't be the same woman as the one in the store, could it?

Taking a deep breath, she got a grip on her alarm. The woman might live in the area, which would explain her presence in both places.

Or, Patrick's voice whispered in her mind, this could be surveillance. Or a trap.

The woman turned and headed away from the park, toward one of the office buildings nearby.

Teresa looked back at Liam and Belle, who were taking a break from playing to bask in the sunshine. Belle's head lifted from Liam's leg as a young woman with a beagle entered the park, but then lay down again to enjoy a good ear rub.

Keeping an eye on them, Teresa hurried to the far side of the park. She had to make sure her unease was just paranoia and not an actual threat. The woman was probably out for a lunchtime stroll and heading back to work. Teresa resolved that once she saw her enter the office building, she'd be satisfied.

But the woman walked past the entrance. Teresa followed at a casual pace, glancing back over her shoulder to check on Liam. He and Belle were playing again, and a few other people had come to the park. He was safe enough with witnesses around, she assured herself.

The woman in the tan coat paused at the alley between the office building and the neighboring apartment tower. Then she looked over her shoulder, right at Teresa.

Teresa stopped in her tracks, heart pounding. She knew that face. She'd seen it in her nightmare just last night.

"Emily Mitchell!" she shouted. "Stop right there!"

Mitchell ran into the alley, and Teresa sprinted after her. "Stop! FBI!"

The alley was a dead end, and Teresa slowed, drawing her weapon, as Mitchell turned to face her. "Stay where you are. Hands up."

Mitchell looked frightened as she raised her hands. "I've done nothing wrong. You have no grounds for harassing me."

"Except that you're in the country illegally. According to Homeland Security, you're in Sudan," Teresa replied.

"I just came in last night. I can't help it if your computers are slow," Mitchell said. "And before you interrogate me, I'm here to give testimony for a hearing at the State Department. You can check with them if you don't believe me."

"I will," Teresa said.

"Look," Mitchell said, "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I had no choice; nobody said no to Red John. You know that. And I've spent the last 16 years trying to atone for the things I did because of him. I've helped hundreds of people, lived in appalling conditions exiled from my home, unable even to visit my son's grave. Isn't that enough?"

Teresa dimly recalled that Mitchell had fallen prey to Red John's twisted philosophy after her child's death. "That's not for me to decide. All I'm concerned with is my family's safety. Someone's been stalking us—are you telling me you don't know anything about that?"

"I told you, 24 hours ago I was on the other side of the world."

Teresa wished she could read people as well as Patrick. She had no idea whether Mitchell was lying. "Are you in touch with any of the other disciples?"

"I've been working overseas for the last 16 years," Mitchell said incredulously. "Could you put your gun down, Agent Lisbon? I'm unarmed and no threat to you."

"Mom?"

Teresa instinctively looked over her shoulder to find Liam standing at the entrance to the alley, Belle sniffing around in front of him. "Liam, take Belle and go home. Now. Don't stop for anything."

"Not without you," Liam said firmly.

Teresa turned back to Mitchell, who was staring at Liam with a kind of wistfulness. "Your son? Mine never lived to be so tall. You should cherish him."

"I do," Teresa snapped. Slowly, she lowered her weapon. Mitchell was right: she had no grounds to arrest her, at least not yet. "Liam, I need you to go get your father."

Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket, but before he could make a call, a man in a black helmet and tinted visor stepped into the alley behind him and put a gun to his head. Teresa's gun snapped up instinctively, but then she froze, the sight of her son in imminent danger overriding any rational thought.

"Drop the gun, Agent," Mitchell said from behind her. "It's the only way your son lives."

Without conscious thought, her hand opened, and she heard her gun hit the pavement. Her eyes stayed locked on Liam's, wide with fear. Stay calm, she willed him. Think like a Jane.

Belle sniffed the newcomer and growled. Teresa held her breath. Belle was a pet, not a guard dog, but maybe she would provide a distraction.

"Mom," Liam said in alarm.

"It's going to be okay, sweetie," she told him. God, please protect him, whatever happens to me, she prayed.

She had only a moment's warning before Mitchell grabbed her from behind and slapped a cloth across her mouth and nose, forcing her to breathe a sickeningly sweet odor that made her head swim.

She tried to fight, but her body wouldn't cooperate. The last things she heard as the darkness closed in were Liam calling out to her and Belle's barking ending with a sharp yip and high whine.