Chapter 29: Playing for Keeps
Minelli and Lisbon, The CBI
Lisbon's arrival Thursday morning coincided with yet another summons to Minelli's office. She hastily grabbed paper, pen and coffee. Lisbon told Van Pelt as she passed that Cho and Rigsby would be in later to finish up the Witherow bust. She paused at Minelli's door, consciously relaxed her shoulders, and entered when Minelli beckoned. At least this time Haffner and LaRoche weren't present.
"'Morning, Sir."
"Is it? Why is Jane working cases while suspended?" he demanded bluntly.
"I was the arresting officer for Gerald Witherow ten years ago. Jane noticed him watching my townhouse and called it in. Got him for attempted murder."
Minelli dropped the sarcasm. "No injuries, good collar?"
"Witnesses plus video. Witherow was wounded. He'll recover."
"Jane was there - why?"
"Driving around to kill time."
"Like I believe that," Minelli snorted. Pinning her with his gaze, "You didn't deliberately involve him?"
"No, Sir."
Minelli sipped his coffee. "Jane plays poker with Guerra tonight. Unless there are changes?"
"Not that I know of. He wouldn't tell me anything."
"We can't bail him out if something goes wrong."
"I realize that. –I assume Jane knows what he's doing. "
Minelli paused. "Haffner's bugging Guerra's game room. We can listen live."
Lisbon half rose from her seat in alarm, "Jane's dead if Guerra finds out!" She sank back slowly when Minelli didn't react.
Minelli regarded her thoughtfully, calmly. "You're too close to this. Think, Lisbon. You tell me why I approved Haffner's request."
She forcibly set aside her fear and looked at it as a cop. "If Guerra found out, he'd be stupid to do anything with us listening in. He's not stupid." Minelli nodded but kept silent. "Maybe Guerra will say something incriminating – maybe even because Jane's there." She dropped her gaze, then looked up. "And you hope Jane will clear himself of suspicion, satisfy LaRoche."
Minelli said neutrally, "That's the hope. I'm not sacrificing the CBI's integrity for anyone."
"Understood."
"Go do something useful," Minelli waved her off. Then he added, "You can listen in if you want. Haffner's office, 8 tonight."
"Yes, Sir."
Lisbon threw out another fervent prayer that Jane would be careful - a near oxymoron. When she got back to 5, Rigsby was busy taking witness statements. At Cho's suggestion, Van Pelt was typing up the forms attendant to an arrest. Cho himself was at the hospital interrogating Witherow. Lisbon tackled her paperwork. It needed to be done and distracted her from worries about Jane.
Jane, Motel
Jane stretched languorously, gradually wresting consciousness from sleep. A therapeutic dose of ibuprofen plus prescription sleeping pills ensured he felt good despite yesterday's close encounter with a speeding car. It was mid-morning – enough time for the dulling effects of the pills to wear off while he attended to necessary errands. Sadly but predictably, his leathers were still dreadfully wet. After breakfast, he would drop them off at the cobbler where slow air drying and repeated applications of conditioner would rescue the leather and leave it supple. Buying new shoes was unavoidably on the agenda.
A few hours later he had his shoes, a haircut, and a shave. His hair deliberately didn't look newly cut, it looked like this was his normal appearance. He'd indulged in a barbershop shave as well, even though he had long ago reacquired proper gear.
Back at the motel, he garnered a few more hours of sleep, then reviewed his plan over dinner. There were neither flaws nor, in his estimation, unacceptable risks. He had done all he could until he could read the man he wanted to manipulate.
The SCU
Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho finished work on the Witherow case. Cho was able to interview Witherow at the hospital despite the public defender's opposition only because Witherow wanted to get it over with. Cho knocked on the frame and poked his head in the open door to Lisbon's office. Rigsby waited in the corridor a few feet away.
"Boss, we finished interviews with the witnesses and Witherow." His lips twitched, "Wouldn't confess."
Lisbon dismissed it with a flick of her fingers. "That's okay, Cho. We've got enough on him without it. Write up your reports. If there's time, tie up the loose ends on the Smith and Gorecki cases." Cho nodded but stayed put, a hint of frown on his handsome face. "Something else?"
He exhaled then broached it. "Jane's gambling with Guerra tonight?" Rigsby was next to him now.
"That's right."
"His own play, not CBI's?" She nodded. "Back-up?"
"No." She motioned them in. "Jane wouldn't tell me his plan. Personal initiative, so he's on his own. Minelli's letting Haffner bug the room–" Rigsby's eyes widened in surprise and Cho was openly frowning now, "–yeah, I don't like it either. The thinking is even if Guerra finds the bug he won't go after Jane knowing we're listening in."
Cho shifted uncomfortably, a blatant sign of agitation for him. "It's stupid not to have back‑up, a rescue plan."
Expression grim, "This isn't a CBI initiative. Jane's crowding the OCU and IAU. Minelli's irritated Jane's doing it at all. No way can I make this into an official operation. –Worse, Jane'd be in greater danger if Guerra thinks it is the CBI."
"Will you have access to Haffner's feed?"
"I'm gonna listen in, hope Jane plays it safe. And I need to hear if Jane says something that gives the IAU ammunition to go after him."
Cho and Rigsby exchanged glances. Rigsby nodded. "Rigsby and I want to be in the area. If something goes wrong, we'll be close."
Lisbon leaned back and a ghost of a smile graced her face. "I can't keep you from having dinner nearby, maybe hanging around the area. It's vital Guerra's men don't 'make' you as cops. You know I can't pay you for–"
Rigsby interrupted, "Don't care, Boss."
"Alright. I'll call you around 8. We'll use cell phones so you don't attract attention." Cho and Rigsby rose to leave. "Guys, - thanks." Lisbon drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Mixing one infuriating consultant with easily offended, violent criminals courted disaster. She felt slightly better knowing her men would be around.
Jane, Motel
Jane stood in his motel bathroom, brushing back his hair. He critically examined his appearance, not out of vanity but as the showman he was. His goal required him to project an image, make an impression. All elements had to fit.
The crisp white dress shirt was nearly new from before. He didn't wear it now because the French cuffs required links - a luxury he no longer bothered with - and the style was semi-formal. He was relieved to find the platinum-and-sapphire cufflinks in the bottom of his toiletry kit after three years since he last used them. They were Angie's tenth anniversary gift, something he absolutely refused to think about. The suit, too, verged on semi-formal. The hand tailored clothing fit perfectly now that two years of exercise and eating regularly had returned him to the physical condition of his psychic days. The blue fabric was so dark it verged on black, offset perfectly with a robin's egg blue vest. The sable-dyed suede lace ups he'd bought were almost as comfortable as his favorite shoes.
Jane loaded five bundles of one-hundred hundred-dollar bills in the inner pockets of his suit jacket. Then he made sure he had the cashier's check for the remaining two-hundred thousand for the buy-in, to convert to chips at the club. He paused, checking to make sure he had everything. He was set.
The taxi pulled up promptly at 7:30. If the game went as he hoped and expected, he would be up too many hours to drive himself back safely.
Card Club, Sacramento, 8 P.M.
Jane strolled through one of the half-dozen ten-foot, arched doorways providing access to the Capitol Card Club of Sacramento. A smile flickered momentarily at the name, at thought of a mild pun. Of greater interest was its appearance, one resembling a high-end resort with its liberal use of glass, stone, and wood. The wood was polished and carved; the stone, marble with semi-precious inlays; and the glass, art-glass. The chandeliers glittering overhead were thoroughly modern. The red and gold characteristic of gambling were inescapable, but they were used for striking accents - tasteful instead of cheesy and overpowering. A fountain splashed merrily in the center. Its noise masked conversations throughout by providing a background susurrus without resorting to canned music. Potted trees and ornamentals provided visual breaks, as did strategically located abstract sculptures and framed glass dividers.
Sacramento's movers and shakers apparently preferred a stylish veneer for their vice, as befitted the influential in the most populous and economically productive state in the nation. The club's overall effect was spacious luxury - a sharp contrast with the usual maximum number of desperate gamblers crammed into barely adequate space. Jane turned slowly to survey the entire floor, pausing at the sight of the entrance. He smiled when he realized the purpose of its design. He exchanged cash and check for chips at a cashier's window. A club employee discretely approached him at 8 p.m. sharp and escorted him to the private gaming room of Clemente Guerra.
The door softly closed behind Jane, the murmur from the fountain and patrons instantly hushed. Jane stopped just inside and surveyed the six men already seated at the table. A younger man stood off to one side. The man seated opposite the door nodded a greeting. He was in his early-40's, trim, understated, clean-shaven, and good-looking with dark hair and piercing black eyes.
"Mr. Jane?"
Jane smiled, "Patrick Jane. Clemente Guerra?"
"Yes. And my associates..." He introduced the men around the table by just their first names. "Eddie mentioned your amazing luck last week." Guerra rose and extended his hand, then got himself a drink from the well-stocked bar along one wall. "Please, help yourself," he gestured at the bar.
"It was a good night." Jane walked over, filled a glass with ice, opened a single-serve bottle of Coke and poured the soda.
"You're new and your lucky reputation precedes you. I'd appreciate it if you would remove your jacket and vest," Guerra requested casually.
Jane's smile widened. "I'm comfortable, thank you. - Of course, if it's a house custom, when in Rome..." He waited.
After a moment, Guerra nodded minutely to the others. They all shed their suit jackets and hung them on the backs of their chairs. Most maintained neutral expressions; two were openly annoyed. They took the opportunity to refresh their drinks or use the restroom. The young, sharply dressed man talked privately with an older man who had a family resemblance, then left.
Jane followed with his own jacket and vest. He took the single open seat and stacked his chips on the table.
Guerra seated himself again. "So, tell me, Mr. Jane–"
"–Patrick."
"–why are you here?"
"For a good game of poker."
"That's what you'll be doing. You went through some trouble to get invited. Why?"
"To win. Is there ever another reason?"
Guerra leaned back and silently examined him for a moment. "You're amusing, Mr. Jane, but I don't fancy guessing games. Let me see if I can fast forward this 'getting to know you.' –You used to be a psychic, a quite successful one according to my wife. Three years ago your family was murdered and you now work for the CBI as a consultant." Jane's expression didn't change. "You wiped out Eddie and his friends last week at poker. Eddie, who really is quite sharp, doesn't think it was luck at all. ... And you were amazingly successful in Reno last weekend, though you went out of your way to avoid attention. Winning money isn't a challenge for you. So why are you here, Mr. CBI Consultant?"
Jane sipped his soda and replied. "I do hope for a good game of poker. And I do hope to win something of value. There are things other than money." He shrugged desultorily. "If I do well, there might be a point discussing those things. - And I am here purely as a private citizen."
Guerra rubbed his lip with his finger. "Tell me what you do for the CBI. Pardon me, but you hardly seem like law enforcement."
"Thank you. I observe."
"Observe what?" he asked sharply, frustration and impatience growing. By now the other players were again seated and getting bored with their boss's pointless conversation.
"I'll be happy to demonstrate – if you ensure that your associates will not be too put out."
Brusquely, losing patience. "They'll be fine."
Jane straightened, pleasant smile still on his face. "Gregory, the man immediately to your right is, yes!, your right hand man. Brilliant and subtle. A strategist almost your equal. But his caution ensures he'll never be a challenge, which translates to loyalty beyond question. A valuable man."
Amused and more interested now, Guerra asked, "You're implying I'm reckless?"
"Not at all. I'd describe you as bold, but disinclined to take risks when there is no reward. For instance, the body scanners at the entrance ensure you never need to worry about disgruntled competitors or cops wearing wires."
Guerra's smile widened. "Entertaining. Go on."
Jane's intense gaze fastened on the next person. "Tommaso very effectively runs one of your major businesses. He is indispensable, but will never go further. He lacks a larger vision. Happily, so long as he is rewarded – and appreciated – he is content." Guerra nodded. "Next to him is Frank, capable and keenly ambitious. He has talent. Probably less than he imagines. Certainly less than you. He has rejected overtures from your ... opponents. You know this and he knows you know. He willingly and ably serves you so long as you remain a strong and effective leader. Absent that, all bets are off."
The man's thunderous expression was quelled with Guerra's muttered, "Relax, Frank."
"Anthony is a close family friend and long-time business associate. He was also your father's friend. His experience and history with your family make him a trusted advisor on almost any topic. A wise elder."
"Last is Alberto, who is competent and hard working, but hardly a star. He is well suited to his current role. So far, so good. What you may not know is his son's boundless avarice. His son has no loyalty to you and is a constant concern to his father. His son could eventually present a problem." The father stared at Jane with open hatred and no small amount of worry. Guerra's eyes revealed surprise and, for Jane, respect.
Jane smiled brilliantly. "That is what I do for the CBI. I trust the evening won't be all work and no play."
Guerra nodded. The dealer broke the seal of a brand new deck and started shuffling.
Haffner's Office, The CBI
Minelli, Lisbon, and LaRoche shared the conference table in Haffner's office. They knew from live audio that conversation had ended and the game had begun. Haffner swore under his breath.
Minelli looked at him. "Problem, Haffner?"
"Didn't know about the body scanners. It took weeks to understand Guerra's inner circle. That - that slippery con man waltzes in and has them pegged in ten minutes."
Mildly, "So?"
"We hoped Bertucci's son would become a CI."
"Not if Jane's right about his greed and ambition. Jane may have done you a favor."
Lisbon said quietly, "Sorry, Ray." She glanced at LaRoche, who was uncharacteristically silent. He's – impressed? Surprising. She excused herself for a restroom break. In the women's room she talked to Cho and Rigsby who were listening in through her cell.
"Status?"
Rigsby replied, "Still at the restaurant. Sounds like Jane's doing okay."
"So far. The night's young."
Cho asked, "Do we know what Jane wants? Why is he there?"
"I have my suspicions, but we'll have to wait and see. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid."
She could hear Rigsby in the background, "Jane's a lot of things. Stupid isn't one of them."
"Let's just make sure our wunderkind stays alive."
Card Club, Sacramento, Midnight
The group broke for snacks and restroom use. After three-and-a-half hours, Anthony and Alberto had dropped out. Either luck wasn't with them or they were simply out-classed. Guerra's right hand man Gregory was down to $50,000. Jane himself was down to $150,000 after a run of hands that even reading tells, counting cards, and flawless bluffing couldn't overcome.
Waiting for the three other men to return Guerra commented, "You play well, Mr. Jane, though luck isn't with you tonight."
Completely relaxed, "Players make their own luck. I look forward to proving it." Guerra snorted softly. The jury was out.
Several hands later Gregory was nearly broke. Despite a good hand, he would have to fold.
Jane said, "A moment, please," interrupting play. The others frowned in surprise but Guerra allowed it. "You have something of value other than money, Gregory. A $100,000 is yours for an honest answer to one question."
The man glanced at Guerra, who nodded slightly. Wary, "May I know the question first?"
Jane nodded. "Does the serial killer Red John move in the same circles as you, your associates or others in the same ... businesses?"
At Guerra's second nod, Gregory answered. "No. He isn't in any of the same businesses." Jane silently slid over a stack of chips.
Guerra rested his cards face down. "I begin to understand why you are here, Patrick." Deadly serious, "Red John is a rabid wolf who enjoys killing just to kill. Businessmen like me engage in sometimes brutal competition to provide products customers willingly buy. We can't earn a profit from dead people. Red John isn't one of us."
"Thank you," Jane said sincerely. Jane won the hand. His pile of chips grew steadily thereafter.
Haffner's Office, The CBI
Minelli had long since left. Haffner, LaRoche and Lisbon rotated listening in and taking catnaps sitting on Haffner's couch. Awake again, Lisbon toyed with the possibility that Jane's Red John question was all he wanted. She doubted it. She excused herself to the women's room
"Cho, Rigs? How you doing?"
"We're parked a half block down from the entrance. Pretty quiet, though a lot of big names in Sacramento have been in and out."
"Looks like they play till the last man standing. Long night."
"Wouldn't be the first," Rigsby responded.
Cho asked, "Think his Red John question was what he came for?"
"Part of it. Not sure that's all."
"Good information."
"Not gonna get us Red John–"
"–but it narrows where to look."
"The three of us are rotating monitoring the audio feed. If I'm not awake and you hear hell break loose, act on your own recognizance if you think Jane's in trouble."
"Will do."
Card Club, Sacramento, 4 A.M.
Frank grabbed his jacket from the seatback and left.
"Doesn't like losing," Jane commented mildly, a whiff of contempt bleeding through.
"Who does?" Guerra responded. He was in no hurry to begin the next hand. "Now that we're alone, what do you want, Patrick?"
"Something only you can provide. – As well as a good game."
"Which is?"
Jane looked pointedly at the dealer. Guerra nodded to her. "Take a break, Sandie."
Jane then answered after the door closed, "I'd rather know what you want."
"Something no one can provide. - You're not fond of direct questions."
Jane ignored that and continued with his train of thought. "Sometimes there's comfort in being seen, especially for you. Your name captures the contradiction of your life."
Amused, "Really?"
"You were raised by loving parents, doted on even. Smart, talented, you easily learned the family business but didn't want any part of it. You went to the best schools where you excelled. Went away to a top private university – in the Midwest or East - under an alias for safety. You majored in - political science? Did graduate work in business and law–"
"-So now you tell me about me?" he huffed, half amused, half annoyed.
"Bear with me. Your life changed in your mid-20's. Your father died of natural causes. Heart attack, I would guess. Your mother faded away, following him to the grave soon after. And you faced the fight of your life. Against all odds, you not only survived the challengers for your father's position, you triumphed. Ever since, you occupy the highest position in a business you abhor."
"And if you're right, so what?" Guerra's grin had lost its amusement.
"Your talents and education could have positioned you for success in any field - business, law, the military, politics."
Guerra stiffened at the last. Eyes cold he said without warmth, "You imagine I'd want to be councilman? Or maybe dog catcher?"
Slowly, "I imagine you'd want to be President. You might have had a shot at it except for your name and family." Jane thought a moment longer. "In fact, you advise Presidents through back channels, don't you?"
Guerra leaned back, rapt and deadly serious. "Knowledge can be a dangerous thing."
"Or it can solve your problem."
"You'll now tell me what my problems are," he said incredulously, more than slightly insulted.
"There's just one. –You want to save your children. You want them free of the family connections that limit their options and threaten their lives."
Guerra frowned. "And you can offer that? What – some witness protection program?"
Carefully, "No. Government witness protection is quid pro quo. You don't fancy life behind bars or on the run. Your children can disappear legally. Privately. Quietly. I can show you how."
Harshly, "Why should I believe a fake psychic and CBI consultant?"
"My background is carny. Carnies have devoted centuries to being invisible, remaining free of ties and strictures. As a psychic I rubbed shoulders with people from all walks of life. I can help you. Judging by your age, your children are at the cusp of this decision. Either they disappear now. Or they're trapped in your life forever."
Skeptical, "I'm not without resources. Why do I need you?"
"Your 'resources' are linked to the people your children need protection from. I'm from a different world. You are too visible, too connected to do this on your own."
"And in return you want – what?"
"Help me put a bounty on Red John."
Haffner's Office, The CBI
Haffner, LaRoche and Lisbon were all awake. At Jane's proposition to Guerra Haffner's mouth dropped open in astonishment. LaRoche blinked, equally surprised. Lisbon closed her eyes. She prayed for fear Jane would take an irrevocable step, one beyond recovery.
Card Club, Sacramento, 4:30 A.M.
Guerra rose and got a chilled bottle of water. Jane followed and chose another Coke.
"We should finish our game."
Guerra summoned the dealer and they played for another hour. Their fortunes seesawed between them. The final pot was for a million-and-a-half with Jane all-in.
Guerra laid out four 10's. Jane huffed and threw in his cards, face down. Guerra caught his eye, asking, wanting to know. Jane shrugged an okay. Guerra flipped them over. Full house. Not quite good enough.
Jane relaxed against the chair back. He tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in question. "Your decision?"
"What kind of bounty?"
Jane breathed deeply. He couldn't shake the memory of concerned green eyes and a woman's voice cautioning him. He exhaled and answered. "I'm offering a bounty of one million dollars for Red John's identity, or information leading directly to his identity." He swallowed rising bile and choked out the rest. "I pay nothing if he's killed or harmed."
"What do you need from me?"
"I need you to spread the word. And vouch for the deal. Red John associates won't trust cops, won't take my word I'm good for the money."
Guerra's eyebrows furrowed, "How do I know you're good for it?"
"My Malibu house – the land alone - is worth several times that. And, yes, I have liquid assets as well." He smiled, "Besides. You aren't good folks to cross. Your word means my offer will be taken seriously." When Guerra hesitated, Jane leaned forward, eyes molten with anger. He hissed intensely, "You understand this. You have your own children to protect. This costs you nothing, gets you everything!"
At last, "It's a deal." They shook. "I'll be in touch for the help you mentioned."
"A pleasure."
Jane donned his vest; both donned their suit jackets.
Almost as an afterthought, "Didn't your wife want a psychic reading?"
Guerra grinned wryly, "As if I'd let you anywhere near my wife. You know enough about me."
Jane shrugged genially. "I offered."
Guerra gathered the million-plus worth of chips from the table. As Jane was about to leave, he stopped him. "Patrick, you didn't throw the hand, did you?"
Jane smiled. "Last time I checked four of a kind beats a full house. It was a good game."
Guerra gazed speculatively as the blonde man left the club.
Two men dressed in dark suits followed as Jane walked to the corner to hail a taxi. Cho and Rigsby drove slowly up the street till Jane was safely in a taxi, driving away. The men disappeared into a nearby building before their faces could be seen. One of Guerra's men might be less accepting than he promised. Or it could've been nothing.
Rigsby and Cho
"...Yeah, Boss. Just pulled away in a taxi. Unless something happens between here and his motel, he's good. ... May take you up on that. ... 'Night, Boss." Rigsby closed his cell as Cho drove.
They rode in silence down deserted streets.
"Do you think Jane threw the hand? Walked away from a million – hell, over a million?"
"Jane got what he wanted. Money's irrelevant."
"But the hand?"
"Maybe. Let Guerra save face."
"How did he know about Guerra's background and family and stuff?"
"Way he knows anything. Ask him."
"Think the bounty will work?"
Cho shrugged, then realized it was invisible in the dark. "Worth a shot. Probably even legal."
Rigsby subsided. They separately mulled the evening's events and their one-of-a-kind consultant.
Lisbon, Townhouse
"Rigsby, Jane get out safely? ... I'll call and make sure. - Unless I call about a case I don't want to see either of you till the afternoon. ... Thanks, guys. Good night."
Lisbon disconnected then pressed speed dial for Jane. "Jane, at your motel yet? ... Tell me when you're inside. ... Making sure the mob doesn't knock off my irritating consultant. Too much trouble to break in another one. ... You got what you wanted? ... Thank you for being cautious. ... Minelli let him. I didn't even know till yesterday. ... It is late. Try to sleep, okay? ... Good night, Jane."
Lisbon locked and bolted the door, kicked off her shoes and trudged upstairs. She used the toilet, brushed her teeth, and slipped into her jersey. She'd shower before work, which was all of three hours away. Good thing I can function without much sleep. Don't dare come in late 'cause God knows what Haffner and LaRoche will want to do with this.
It took a while to unwind enough for sleep to claim her. Though profoundly grateful Jane hadn't put a hit out on Red John, she wondered how much was due to Jane's desire to exact vengeance in person. No matter. This crisis was averted. She'd deal with the next when it arose. Meanwhile, she'd keep working on Jane, try to convince him to let the law handle Red John, try to convince him he had a life beyond revenge. If they ever caught the bastard. Wonder if it'll work?
Sleep claimed her for three hours.
Jane, Motel
"Hello, Lisbon. Just pulling up now. ... Aww, checking up on me. I'm touched. ... Huh! There isn't 'another one.' I'm unique." Jane closed and bolted the door while still on the phone. " ... Think so. Have to wait and see if it works. ... Haffner bugged the room? And you didn't tell me? ... If you don't mind, I'm beat. ... Try I will. Good night, Lisbon."
Jane stood stock still in the center of the room and consciously relaxed every muscle. Then he shed his shoes - new and not his favorites, but not too bad, - made tea, and took his time undressing. There was no point in even lying down till he'd come off the tension and buzz from the game. The game. Got what I wanted if Guerra follows through. Will it work? He shook his head, tired of endless speculation about Red John. If he believed Gregory tonight, Red John wasn't connected to organized crime, maybe not to crime at all. Dammit, someone has to know who he is – or at least suspect. Can't hurt to have more eyes looking for him. Wonder if he'll find out. –How will he react?
He was annoyed that Haffner bugged the room. Would've been a problem, maybe dangerous if it was found. Stupid, anyhow. Guerra's too smart to say anything incriminating, even among his own. Haffner's a joke.
Jane followed his nighttime routine and finally lay down hoping for sleep but not expecting it. He smiled, My fierce little guardian angel. Her warning was on point after all. I didn't put out a hit on the evil bastard. –Could I? Could I forgo killing him like he killed Angie? And Charlie? He unconsciously shook his head. I want him to die at my hand as painfully and slowly as possible. But I'll celebrate no matter how it happens. Lisbon thinks she'll convince me to let the law handle him, thinks I can be saved. I don't want to disappoint her, but... He drifted off, tired but satisfied with the night's work. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd think about how to find and kill the bastard.
