Disclaimer – As cool as it would be to be a member of Team Heller, it's evident I'm not. Therefore I don't own any part of the Mentalist TV series and am not making any money off these stories.

Cumberland River Relic = Best. Beta-reader. Ever. That is all.

Chapter 38

Patrick never appreciated before what a penny-pincher Teresa was.

At 8:05 when they arrived at the Thompson Center where Department of Children and Family Services had their offices, Patrick turned into the public garage directly across the street.

"Don't park here!"

He stopped hard, hearing a screech of brakes behind him and then a series of honks. This was Chicago, after all.

"Why not?" he asked, checking his mirrors and waving.

"It's gonna be expensive."

He snorted and took his foot off the brake, continuing into the driveway. "Joliet Riverboat Casino is paying,"

As he took the check-in ticket, he looked at the slight worry lining her face. He'd never noticed this financial watchfulness before Baby Daniel came into her life. Now all he could do was pity her for the strain this was putting on her.

Her heart must have flooded with the memories. It had been hard work caring for her brothers, keeping them fed and clothed while just a college student living in a basement. No doubt she held two jobs and attended school full time. Although she'd been forced to grow up fast after her mother died, she had been way too young for the responsibility. It was traumatic enough to affect her more than twenty years, if her expression was any guide to him.

Seven levels up, they found an empty space. As Patrick put the SUV in park, Teresa triple-checked the paperwork and documents she'd put in the cheap attaché she took from Annie's belongings.

"I'll grab the bags in back. Do you want me to carry anything else?" he asked.

She mumbled to herself as she flipped through the case. "Wills…death certificate…social security cards…"

"Teresa?"

She looked at him blankly.

"It will be fine," he said. "Let's go."

After closing the flap and snapping the latch, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Should we bring the baby seat with us?" she asked.

"No. We can carry him to the car if need be." He released the back hatch and retrieved the diaper bag, putting the straps over his shoulder. Then he grabbed the other bag with extra clothing and a blanket before closing the vehicle. Taking Teresa by the hand, he led the way towards the elevator. "We should be there in plenty of time."

"God, I hope so. And I hope this is over quick. I can't wait to see that Danny's okay."

He pressed the call button and kissed her lightly on the corner of her mouth so as to not smudge her lipstick.

"You know what this is like, my dearest. Don't be surprised if our 8:30 time slot is moved to 9:15."

The tension left her face temporarily as she smiled and looked from his face, down to his tie and suit, and then to his shoes.

"God, you look so handsome," she said, her voice soft and wistful. She set the attaché down and reached for the cheap polyester tie, straightening the knot and smoothing the fabric against his chest. "I wish you'd wear a tie more often."

He switched the baby clothing bag into the other hand and even though she'd just done it, he tucked in the medium-blue neckwear into his waistcoat. He was fortunate to find it among Jared's clothes, since it was the only option with his blue-check shirt and navy suit. Neither Jared nor Tommy had much to choose from regarding professional attire.

"Flattery will only get you into bed," he warned as the elevator dinged and the doors parted to a partially filled car. Based on the expression of a few of the passengers, his jest was overheard. He dropped the diaper bag off his shoulder into his hand and followed Teresa. "And no, ties will not become my regular attire."

"Mmm mm! Too bad," said someone behind him.

He looked around, trying to figure out which of the three women said it. To his amazement, they all smiled at him with challenge in their eyes. The two men in the car looked away. Patrick glanced at Teresa who was grinning in triumph.

"Female conspiracy," he said, adjusting his shoulders inside his jacket and facing forward again.

"Or solidarity," Teresa said smugly.

They passed through security without delay. After checking with the information desk, they were informed that their hearing had been delayed until 9:00. Patrick couldn't help the "I told you so" look he gave Teresa. In return, she rolled her eyes at him.

They stopped at the Starbucks for tea and coffee but the bistro tables in the nearby food court were all taken. Patrick led her back to the lobby level of the atrium where he'd see empty couches when they'd entered the building.

After they settled in, he waited for her to speak but she didn't. The lack of conversation wasn't unwelcome since the building was noisy with people arriving for work or appointments. And really, there was nothing to discuss. No doubt if he told her one more time that everything would be fine, she'd smack him until a security guard pulled her off him. The thought made him smile.

"What's so funny?" she asked, leaning toward him.

He sipped his tea and then set the cup down on the small table, pausing to clear the smirk from his face.

"Not funny; just pleasant." After a moment he said, "You know you look quite lovely this morning." The compliment sank in and the flush ran up her face. He leaned toward her in return. "I can't wait to get back to the apartment to make your hair all messy again."

How gorgeous she looked as her blush deepened! And interesting that as bold as she was in bed, she could still pull off bashful. His heart swelled with affection.

He sat back again and crossed his legs, looking around the atrium, letting her off the hook. To distract himself from the memories of making love to that beautiful woman, he analyzed people entering the building heading towards the elevators. Monday mornings brought together a wonderful mix.

The tardy attorney trying to finish his tie knot dropped his briefcase and swore loudly as he stopped to retrieve it, his already red face seeming to deepen its tint like a cartoon character about to blow steam out of its ears. Had the case popped open, Patrick would have approached and helped pick up the content just to be nosey about what the junior counselor was currently working on.

Then there was self-absorbed Hispanic business man dictating his opinion to the middle aged but very attractive Hispanic assistant. Obviously romantically involved, although neither was married and neither wished to be.

Through the handicapped-accessible door, a frail white-haired woman was being helped by her assistant. Her advancing multiple sclerosis confined her to the wheelchair and made guessing her age difficult. From the quality of the chair, Patrick guessed she was moderately wealthy, probably a widow of a rich businessman. On her lap was a tote bag with Hebrew characters printed on the side indicating Judaism. The assistant was a young, gay man who loved the woman like she was his kindly aunt. No blood relation but she was generous like he was her own son if the quality of his clothing was any indicator.

A poor, single mother hurried into the revolving door, catching Patrick's eye. She froze, her eyes widening as she took in the shiny glass interior of the massive government building. Despite now being indoors, she wrapped her thin coat more tightly around herself. Nothing about her surroundings welcomed the working poor, especially an under-educated woman of the streets. Patrick took pity on her immediately. He slipped his wallet from his breast pocket, removed a fifty, and folded the bill into a small square.

"Teresa, I'll be right back," he said, replacing his wallet and rising to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Just over there. No mischief. I promised."

When she pouted a little, he bent over and kissed her lightly.

"Promise," he said sincerely before turning away.

Terrified though the young woman was, she didn't back away when Patrick walked up and spoke to her. At first she only stared at him with wide eyes, so he took her wrist and led her to the information desk. The sight of the young dark-skinned woman behind the counter must have seemed familiar enough that the young mother was reassured. In broken English she attempted to explain her situation. After several tries, it became clear that she was an immigrant from Gabon. Patrick spoke the few phrases of French that he knew and it was enough to determine they needed a French interpreter. After the clerk called a coworker, she thanked Patrick, assuring him they had the situation under control. He returned to Teresa.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Oh…she had her children taken away by well-meaning social workers and she'd come to get them back. But being originally from a small poor African nation, she got a little overwhelmed by…" He gestured to the large, echoing open space that reached to the top floor of the building.

"Uh huh. And what did you slip into her pocket?"

He turned to stare at her, pleased at her skills of observation. "Just a little money to buy lunch and a cup of coffee. Or about a month's worth of rice and vegetables to feed her family."

His jaw dropped as her eyes immediately watered. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said, looking away. "I finished my coffee. Do you want to go up to the hearing room?"

"Uh…sure."

As he picked up the two bags, he watched her closely. She'd pulled back her tears but she wouldn't meet his gaze. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea that she saw him slip the fifty into the poor immigrant's pocket. He'd have to be more careful about her seeing him giving away Joliet Casino's money like that. The financial considerations of being responsible for Daniel were still bothering her, no doubt.

She requested stopping at the restroom, and then they continued to the ninth floor where they found a room filled with onlookers and a staff running around like an upset anthill. Teresa approached the clerk to check in and was tersely informed that 'the entire docket had been cleared for the morning and the 9am cases were pushed back to 3pm. Check in with the clerk in Room 914.'

Patrick and Teresa left the room and started down the hall when someone called 'Teresa! Patrick!' They turned to find Felicia Sohn hurrying toward them.

"I only have a moment," she said breathlessly. "We had a serious event yesterday – one of the big private fostering facilities had to be closed and it's flooded our department with cases to be reassigned…Anyway…Daniel's case has been rescheduled for 3:15. It looks like no one from the Vogelstein family has contacted us about his disposition so I'll be here to assist with the formality of transferring his custody over to you."

To Patrick's surprise, Teresa swayed toward Mrs. Sohn as if about to embrace the social worker. Instead she grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly, grinning.

"A case worker in California will be assigned to you, but again, it's simply a formality and should last only a couple of months, maybe half a year."

"Entirely worth it," Patrick said.

"Absolutely," Teresa chimed.

"Good. Well, I'll see you around three."

As Teresa and Patrick turned toward the elevator, the old woman in the wheelchair and her attendant were hurrying after Ms. Sohn.

"Excuse me, miss. Excuse me." The woman's wobbly voice cut through the hum of urgent activity. "I'm looking for my great-nephew's hearing. His name is Daniel? Daniel? He's a baby."

Teresa and Jane whipped around, staring with jaws dropped. Felicia Sohn's expression froze as if stopping herself from looking at them.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Sohn!

He grabbed Teresa's arm and pulled her toward the old woman and to the side.

"Pretend to hug me," he whispered to her, wrapping his arms around her. "We need to hear this."

"Wha-?"

He gave her a squeeze, causing a small squeak. "Listen," he urged.

"Who…who is your great-nephew, ma'am? Do you have a last name?"

"Vogelstein! How many babies named Danny do you have?"

Teresa began to tremble in his arms.

"A few, ma'am, but only one named Vogelstein. May I ask who you are? I'm not allowed to divulge information to the general public.."

"I'm his damned aunt. How else could he be my great-nephew?"

Mrs. Sohn's face took on a tint of red and she stooped over the old woman. Again Patrick thanked her for resisting the urge to look at them.

"We understood he had no family except an aunt from California."

"Oh! Get out of my way," the woman said. "You evidently don't know a damned thing." She gestured for the attendant to push her toward the room Teresa and Patrick had been headed before Ms. Sohn had stopped them.

Felicia Sohn stared in mortification at Patrick and then at Teresa who turned to look. Then she shook her head and walked away.

To be continued...