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.


Where would I be without my beta readers? Lost, for sure! Thank you to Cumberland River Relic whose appreciation for the lighter moments in writing keeps it all fun and worthwhile. You should check out Chapter 14 of I Remember You, where Jane goes Old School for his date with Lisbon and Chapter 12 of that same story to find Jane in Speedos. SPEEDOS! *fans self and suppresses panting*! I also want to thank MakeMineAKiaora (the marvelous Chris!) who pushes me to excel and to mind my p's and q's. If you want an example of her flawless work, check out "Showtime!" and be sure to leave a review. It's a fantastic bit of writing; twenty-six drabbles to make up an entire story! DRABBLES! 100 words to tell a chapter's worth of events! It's hard work but she did it so so well!

But anyway…enough of the beta commercials. I just want to say they're wonderful.


Chapter 52

Teresa dawdled through lunch, delaying getting back to work, knowing that the afternoon would be as bad as the morning had been.

She hadn't found the work physically taxing. It wasn't demanding to go through dressers and closets and pack up stuff. Patrick did the hardest work, hauling the trash into the yard and the packed boxes into the garage. Daniel slept for part of it and then Patrick brought him into the other room where he was boxing up on more donations

No, the hard part was the finality of it. Yesterday she had been on the high of love and romance. The endorphin rush had raged through her body from the joy of sex and affection and because of the fulfillment of her dream to marry the man she loved. Yes, last night's lovemaking was as stupendous and invigorating as their wedding night – she had no idea how he did it so often and so well – but the afterglow in the morning was dampened this time by the photo album she made the mistake of opening. It was a recent one, half wedding snapshots (no professional photography) and the rest baby shower and Daniel's debut images; all important events she'd missed in her niece's life because work came first.

The guilt crushed her heart, and she went to the living room to talk with Patrick. He always seemed to know what she was feeling and knew the right thing to say to make her feel better. But when she saw him rocking Daniel in a cradle using one hand and operating the mouse of the computer with the other while looking back and forth between a selection of baseball cards and the monitor screen, it reminded her of a task she'd intended to do as soon as possible.

"Where did you put my phone, Patrick?"

He looked up briefly and gestured toward the dining table before returning his attention to the computer. She picked up her phone with its new battery and smiled when it fired up quickly. Had he done something else besides replace the battery? There was no end to his competencies and talents. Opening the texting app, she fired off a note to Cho who responded nearly immediately.

"Who were you writing to?" he asked after she finished her conversation.

That's when the argument had started, leaving her feeling like crap.

Teresa dropped her gaze to the sandwich on her plate, lifting the corner of the bread, staring at the fresh lettuce and delicious gourmet Swiss cheese that Patrick had put on the Krakus Polish ham he'd bought when she expressed her childhood fondness for it. It had been very thoughtful of him to buy it.

But, dammit, he was wrong to countermand her offer to Cho. He'd known immediately that he was being a jerk, but her pointing it out was only inviting the contrary position he automatically took when challenged. Okay, so she should have been careful about how she worded her offer and made it clear to Cho that she'd meant after paying for shipping, but dammit, it was still her call about the cards.

Just as she picked up the sandwich, Patrick let out a sigh from across the table.

"Listen, Teresa, I said I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what came over me. I just…see the cards as valuable and couldn't… just… let it slide."

She put the sandwich back down and grimaced, waving her hand dismissively.

"Yeah, you explained. And I know I always give you hell about not discussing things with me first. I should have talked to you about it when we first realized what they were. I just couldn't think of anyone who might know anything about them. And who could we possibly trust more to deal with honesty?"

"Well, that's certainly true, but…"

"It's done."

"But…"

"Done."

"Honus Wagner."

"What?"

"Most valuable baseball card ever. It sold for $2.8 million back in 2007."

She gaped at him before looking at the boxes by the computer.

"Is there one in there?" she asked, somehow managing to speak despite the lump in her throat.

"Who knows? I only looked through about half of them so far. If there's anything of any real value in there, do you really want to give half to Cho? That's Tommy's gift to Daniel."

She frowned at him, immediately recognizing the intentional tug at her tendency toward guilt. Emotional blackmail.

"You can be a real jerk, Patrick," she muttered. "You know that?"

"Getting married to Saint Teresa in no way implied I would become Saint Patrick."

And there was that damned twinkle in his eye, the charming one that half the time stopped women from slapping him and men from punching him.

She couldn't resist it either, despite wanting to slap and punch him.

"Yes, I will never think I married Saint Patrick. So…Trick… what should I do about it now?"

"Well, Reeza, you never said that you hadn't gone through them first. If we go through them first and make certain there's nothing of extraordinary value, Cho would be happy with getting a couple grand out of the deal."

"I don't know anything about baseball cards! How are we going to know what is valuable?"

He rolled his eyes and stood, taking his lunch plate with him to the computer. "There's this wondrous invention called the 'Internets'. I'm not a fast typist but as someone who can count cards as well as I can, I'm sure I can compare at least a hundred cards an hour. I need only search out the more expensive cards on the internet, scrolling through them to make certain you don't have any of the ones worth more than, say $50 apiece. The gentleman you called Nessy kept them in good order by player, year and brand. It should be easy enough to sort them out."

It didn't surprise her that Mr. O'Shaughnessy stored them perfectly. When she was a kid, she would marvel during visits at how neat and clean her neighbors kept their house. Looking in retrospect, she knew she grew up in a messy house because they were a large family, and her nearly feral brothers were no help in keeping things tidy.

"But St. Michael's is coming this afternoon to pick up the boxes in the garage. We still have stuff to go through and add before they get here."

"So? When they arrive, I'll watch Daniel and work on the cards while you direct them." He settled into the seat and woke up the computer. "But they're not supposed to be here until two. We can start working on –"

From the baby monitor, Daniel began to gurgle and then cry.

"Okay, slight alteration of plans. I'll start with the cards and you change our little bundle of diaper cream."


Around two o'clock, Teresa went outside to wait for the St Michael's people to arrive so she could direct them to the garage where the donations were stacked. The weather was clear and dry, and the sun flooded the south-facing porch, warming Teresa's face. The bright, crisp light banished the darkness that had depressed her soul when she looked through the photo album.

As she sat on the stoop, she studied the bare trees and the leaf-littered street. The gutter was full of fallen leaves. She felt a strange twinge as she assessed it, like it was evidence of death all around her, even though she knew the world was alive. Daniel, her new relationship with Patrick, the Special Agent in Charge position that she now felt determined to get at the CBI…these were all proof of life, vibrant evidence of a brighter future. The thought filled with an urge to clean up the signs of decay, just like she used to with the flower garden when she was growing up. It needed to be fixed. She needed to put something right.

Rising to her feet, she went to the door and rang Mrs. MacGyver's bell. The old lady answered in a few moments, surprised to see Teresa.

"Hello, Mrs. MacGyver. I'm just out here waiting for the donation truck from St. Michael's and thought I should make myself useful. Do you have a rake I can use to clean up the leaves?"

The senior must have just awoken from a nap, because it took a moment for her to process the request. Then she looked surprised and waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Little Davey from next door will come by and rake on Saturday. I pay him a couple of dollars and a cup of hot chocolate. It keeps him out of trouble, his parents told me."

"Ah…" Knowing Mrs. MacGyver, "Little Davey" was probably 20 years old and just doing a favor for the old lady.

"Would you like some company as you wait?"

The hope in Mrs. M's expression was irresistible, and although Teresa wanted to be alone, she relented.

"Sure, ma'am, would you mind joining me?"

Mrs. M's face still glowed with happiness when she returned wearing a heavy down coat. It was probably a little more insulation than the fifty degree weather called for, but no doubt the frail lady got cold easily. Teresa waited until the old woman had settled on the porch seat before sitting next to her.

"So…"

"How is married life?" MacGyver asked suddenly.

"Er…" They hadn't told the landlady about their marriage. Had she watched the news too? Word was traveling fast.

"Did you get a copy of the papers that your pictures appeared in?"

Oh, God, no… "What pictures?"

Mrs. M rose with more spryness than a 75-year-old should possess and hurried into her apartment. She returned with two sections of the Tribune and sat down again. After shoving one in Teresa's hand, she opened the other one.

"Let's see. Yep, here it is. What a nice picture!"

Teresa took the section and gasped. It showed her and Patrick and the young woman who shot a few photos on Patrick's phone, a completely different picture than the Noon News had shown the day before. What the hell? Where were all these photos coming from? And why?

Worst of all, there was no mistaking who the couple was, the faces clear as day. In the picture Patrick never looked happier. Come to think of it, neither had she.

"Shit…" she murmured, and then covered her mouth for swearing in front of the old woman. Mrs. MacGyver didn't react.

Bertram must be having a conniption fit. The Chicago Tribune, for God's sake! That newspaper was distributed around the entire world!

"This really surprised me," Mrs. MacGyver said. "I knew you two had gotten closer since you arrived, but marriage? Surely you hadn't planned on that."

"Oh, no! Absolutely not! It just…kinda happened."

Mrs. MacGyver got a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"No!"

"Well…with a scoundrel like Patrick, I wouldn't be surprised if you were. He seems to be the type to have seen the space between the sheets quite often, led there by his manparts."

Well, that just proves Mrs. MacGyver's inability to judge men, Teresa thought. Patrick Jane wasn't a womanizer by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, he seemed to be thinking an awful lot with his penis lately, his "manparts", especially whenever she got into the vicinity of a mattress or a sofa cushion that he was near. But he hadn't been a player during his marriage to Angela Ruskin. Maybe before, but during? No way.

The old woman chuckled, disrupting Teresa's speculation. "Not that I'd have anything to say about it if you were pregnant. Things are different in this day and age. Frankly I was surprised when Annabeth and Jared got married. She got pregnant, you know."

Teresa did know. Or rather she had done the math and figured it out for herself when Annie had made the announcement that they were pregnant. The fact that Annie hadn't fallen apart as a blubbering mess and called Aunt Reesie in the middle of the night filled Teresa with pride about the young woman's strength. She knew that Annie and Jared had been serious about each other already but that Annie's career path was important to her and the pregnancy hadn't been planned. The only thing that surprised Aunt Reesie was the suddenness of the announcement and the lack of details from both Annie and Tommy about the decision making process surrounding it. At least Teresa was reassured when later Tommy had sincerely expressed appreciation for his son-in-law. Tommy's bad record resulting from 'having to marry' would not be his daughter's record. Jared had been welcomed by his wife's family unlike Tommy who was not welcomed into Annie's mother's family.

But a busybody like Mrs. M might know more than what either Tommy or Annie ever let on.

"Do you feel Annie and Jared weren't in love?"

"Oh, they were very much in love, but it seems like nowadays it's just so easy to walk away. Jared was a wonderful young man. I think he was sorta hoping it would happen, as much as he loved Annabeth, perhaps thinking it would force a change in their relationship. He had asked a couple times but she felt she was too young and had her career in front of her."

Teresa looked askance at her. "She told you this?"

"Well…not in so many words. She did tell me in confidence that he'd asked once but she turned him down. She mentioned it because I asked what they'd been fighting about. I could hear them through the ceiling. The floor is very thin, you know, and they were a very passionate couple."

Pursing her lips, Teresa looked away. There was no doubt Lily MacGyver heard the fight as well as …other… things but probably because she was listening up the back staircase. The woman was a busybody, after all. Good thing Teresa managed to suppress some of her more noisy expressions of passion for the sake of the baby, or the old woman would really get an earful!

Or maybe she had? Was that what prompted her randy comments about Patrick?

"Was Jared living here before they got married?"

"Oh, no, of course not, although I know he was visiting when your brother was out of town for what Tommy called bounty runs. He was not happy when I told him that Jared was staying over. I could hear Tommy and Annabeth yelling for the better part of an hour." The old gossip started to giggle. "I think the biggest point of contention was that Annabeth had used Tommy's 'protection' which apparently was very old. Looks like he'd been right."

Oh God…no! Teresa swallowed hard. No, no, no, no, no…!


Returning from lunch, Grace Van Pelt followed the boys into the nearly empty bullpen and nodded to Ron from SCU and Topher Maddox from Narcotics who sat at Ron's desk. They were talking football because hey, it was Thanksgiving after all. She understood they'd waved her over because they loved the fact that she knew the game as well - if not better - than they did. She begged off, however, telling them she wanted to clear off her desk before the holiday.

Really, she had research to do, mainly finding out whatever happened to the baby. She pulled up the Cook County death records. After entering the name "Lisbon" and date of death of Wednesday, November 20, she sat back and awaited results.

No results for requested search.

"What?" she asked aloud.

"What 'what'?" Rigsby asked.

Cho looked up from where he'd settled at his desk, scowling once again at the red flashing light on his phone. She guessed it was probably more messages from Bertram. "Van Pelt…"

"I'm not looking for that," she said, knowing he was talking about looking up the marriage certificate.

"Good," he said. "Let's all just clear off our desks and go home. We'll be back here soon enough on Saturday."

Grace nodded and returned to the paperwork she'd been closing up before she got the Google alert about Boss and Jane. Somehow she managed to concentrate on it while at the same time keeping an eye on the 'boys', waiting for them to leave. Ron and Topher were obvious when they departed, since they both wished her, Rigs and Cho a happy Thanksgiving holiday as they headed for the elevators.

Then she waited some more. As agreed upon with Wayne, she and he would never leave together, careful not to raise suspicion by ever leaving at the same time unless other people were also departing. Earlier today, they'd arranged to meet for dinner at the Gator Swamp Zydeco Bar across town where they were certain they wouldn't run into anyone they knew. It had good food, anyway, and the portions were big enough even for Wayne.

And speaking of Wayne, he stood up and looked around before donning his jacket. He gave her a wink.

"Well, I think it's that time. Don't you, Cho?"

Cho twirled his pen around his finger and then looked up from the docket on his desk. "Yeah, I suppose so. Van Pelt?"

"Just finishing up. I'll be along in a minute. You guys go ahead."

Closing the file and rising to his feet, Cho also put on his suit coat. "I know you're as badass as Lisbon, but are you sure you don't want us to walk you to your car? The garage is pretty deserted at the moment."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, Kimball. I'll be fine."

He nodded and brought his wallet, badge and gun out of the drawer, attaching and tucking them into appropriate places.

"Okay, then. Good night, Grace."

"Good night."

She worked on the last of her case forms until she heard the elevator ding and their voices get cut off by the closed doors.

She tucked her work forms away and reopened her governmental search engine, expanding the parameters to include all fatal automotive accidents in Region 1 of the Illinois State Patrol on Wednesday, November 20th. The solution was simple; they hadn't died in Cook County, but in another one nearby. There! Four deaths in Lake County that day, all reported by the same trooper. On the relatively short list was Thomas Seamus Lisbon, aged 36, of Chicago. The other names of people from Chicago were Howard Kennedy, 71, who struck a car head on, and two young people, Annabeth Teresa Vogelstein and Jared Dantrell Vogelstein, aged 19 and 21 respectively. The reports cross-referenced each other with no report missing.

No baby. She expanded the search parameters for the entire state of Illinois for the death of a child. In July Red John was the reason Lisbon hadn't gone to Chicago for the birth of the baby, and the rotten bastard had been dead four months, so Grace added an age range of three to six months. Still no reported fatalities.

This was vexing. Was the baby still alive? Maybe she needed a full name, so she entered the last name 'Vogelstein' and approximate age and searched all Illinois state records. The screen went blank a moment and then displayed three links: a birth record for Daniel Thomas Vogelstein on the same day in July that Red John was finally taken down, a Vogelstein boy entering the DCFS system the Friday and then on Monday…

"Oh. My. God."

She covered her mouth with her hand, re-reading the guardianship record. Why hadn't Jane said something? Why hadn't Lisbon? Holy crap! What the hell was going on?

Then she realized she was breathing hard. She had to pull herself together.

There had to be a logical reason that neither Boss nor Jane had told anyone, and if that was what they wanted, she wouldn't - couldn't-share it with anyone. Not even Wayne.

Oh my God…I'm going to be an aunt!

She couldn't wait!


To be continued