Lorelei sent Jane a note every day for the next seven days.

Every note included a photograph. Each worse than the one before, despite the additional security measures the prison had put in place. The notes themselves varied little in essentials. He's hurting me. Why won't you stop him, lover?

Jane clenched his jaw and remained darkly, terrifyingly silent after receiving each note. When Lisbon tentatively broached the subject, he stated crisply that he had no intention of being manipulated, but Lisbon could see how much it was eating away at him. No matter how much he protested that he didn't care about Lorelei, he did feel responsible for her, and being powerless to get her out of the situation was impacting him more than he wanted to admit.

Lisbon was all tangled up over the matter herself, her lingering frustration with Jane coexisting with jealousy of Lorelei as she struggled to be patient and forgiving towards him. Not to mention simultaneously dreading the trial and longing for it to be over with. Wanting to go home to her team and re-establish proper communication with her family. At the same time, not wanting to leave this little home she and Jane had carved out for themselves, no matter how difficult things had been between them lately. Plus, you know, the increasing certainty that at least two different criminal masterminds would be trying to kill her in a few short weeks.

She typed up her latest assignment with half her attention elsewhere, still puzzling over the challenge of keeping Lorelei safe. What the hell was wrong with the woman, anyway? What kind of person would so willingly participate in their own destruction? She still found it mind-boggling that Jane, who had remained faithful to his wife's memory for so many years, had been willing to sleep with Red John's minion after knowing her only a few days. Okay, so Lorelei was beautiful, but seriously. How could Jane, master of perception, not noticed that the woman was batshit crazy? And if he had noticed, how could he have still managed to…perform? Did he not find psychotic behavior an irreconcilable turnoff? Nobody could be that great at biofeedback, she thought, scowling at her computer.

"Teresa," Heather called from across the room. She and Nightingale stood by the coffee maker, arguing good-naturedly. Heather beckoned to her. "Come over here and settle something for us."

"Sure," Lisbon said distractedly. She picked up her coffee mug and walked over to the break area. "What's up?" she asked, filling her mug from the freshly brewed pot.

"Taliesin West," Heather said. "Caleb wants to go, but I'm not sure it will be worth the effort. What do you think? Does it live up to the hype?"

"Taliesin West?" Lisbon repeated blankly. She put a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee and stirred. "What is that? A band?"

Heather frowned at her. "You're kidding, right? How can you not know Taliesin West?"

"I dunno. I don't listen to a lot of pop music," Lisbon said with a shrug, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Pop music," Nightingale chortled. "You crack me up, Meyers." He clapped her on the shoulder and ambled back to his desk with his coffee, still chuckling.

Heather looked at her strangely. "Seriously, is this some kind of joke?"

Givens' booming voice interrupted them. "Meyers!" he barked from across the room. He stood in the doorway to his office, looking decidedly disgruntled. He jerked his head towards his office. "My office. Now."

Lisbon made a face at Heather. "Sorry. Duty calls."

Givens, after blustering for a good fifteen minutes, finally got to the point and sent her out on assignment. Another drudge assignment. Lisbon drank her coffee and seethed inwardly. She really ought to consult Jane about managing Givens. She was sure he would be able to think of some perfectly diabolical method of putting the little toad in his place.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally released her and dutifully headed out to hit the streets. The assignment was straightforward but tedious, and when she got back, her mood had not improved.

"Hey," she said to Heather grouchily as she set her stuff down at her desk.

Heather glanced up at her but said nothing, hunching her shoulders a little and turning away without saying a word.

Lisbon frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Heather's shoulders hunched further, but otherwise, she continued to ignore her.

Alarmed, Lisbon walked over to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Heather?" she said tentatively. "What's the matter?"

Heather shook her off and turned, her eyes flashing. "What's the matter? Oh, nothing. I just found out that someone that I thought was my friend has been lying to me since the moment we met, that's all. No big deal."

"What do you mean?" Lisbon said in consternation. "Who's been lying to you?"

Heather snorted. "Oh, that's rich. Very sweet and innocent. Well, you can drop the act now, okay? I know you're a fraud."

Lisbon took half a step back. "What—what do you mean?"

Heather scowled. "I mean, Teresa—if that's your real name—that you should have done your homework a little better."

"Heather," Lisbon said, her voice a low warning. "What are you talking about?"

Heather glared at her. "I did some research on you. And you know what I found out? Teresa Meyers doesn't exist. At least, she didn't before a few months ago. Someone went to great lengths to make it appear as though she did, but they missed a few key details. Like the fact that anybody who grew up in Scottsdale would know what Taliesin West is."

Oh, shit. Lisbon swallowed. "It's not a band, is it?" she asked with dread.

"It's a Frank Lloyd Wright," Heather said, her voice full of scorn. "His winter home. It's one of the major tourist attractions in Scottsdale."

Lisbon closed her eyes. "I see." Of all the idiotic mistakes.

Heather crossed her arms over her chest. "Well? Are you some kind of con artist, or what? A criminal? Give me one reason I shouldn't call the police right now and tell them how you've weaseled your way in here under false pretenses. God knows why you'd pretend to be a reporter, of all things, but maybe there's some profit in it that I'm not seeing." Her eyes narrowed. "Were you getting a payout somewhere along the line from Blackhawk? And they betrayed you, so you came here to get revenge on them?"

Jesus. Heather had an even wilder imagination than Jane. Lisbon checked herself. No, that wasn't right. No one had a wilder imagination than Jane. She glanced around uneasily. "Okay, listen. I understand why you're upset."

"Very understanding of you, I'm sure," Heather said snidely.

Lisbon made a split second decision. "Look, I'll explain everything, okay? But not here."

"Where?" Heather said suspiciously. "Why should I go anywhere with you?"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Lisbon said, exasperated. "I just don't want anyone else to find out why I'm really here, okay? It will make sense once I've explained it to you properly."

"Where do you want to go?" Heather demanded, still suspicious.

Lisbon hesitated. "The public library." That would be fastest, she thought.

Heather blinked. "The library?" Apparently, this suggestion didn't line up with her expectations of the threatening presence of a lying fraud.

"Yes," Lisbon said firmly. "It's only a few blocks away. We can walk there, so you don't have to worry about getting in a car with me, if you're concerned about your safety. I will walk in front of you the whole time so you can keep an eye on me, okay?"

Heather hesitated. "Okay," she said reluctantly.

"Great," Lisbon said, relieved. "Let's go."

Xxx

When they got to the library, Lisbon headed for one of the public computer terminals. Heather trailed in her wake, still suspicious. Lisbon gestured to the chair in front of the terminal. "Have a seat."

Heather shot her a sidelong glance, bemused and wary. She sat down.

"Google the name 'Teresa Lisbon,'" Lisbon said grimly.

Heather glanced at her again but did as she was told.

She blinked when she saw the first page of search results. She straightened and clicked on the first link as though she half expected some sort of fanged creature to leap out at her from the screen. An article from the Sacramento Bee loaded in the browser, a feature on a case Lisbon had worked on before leaving the CBI. The article featured a photograph of her with her team working the crime scene. In the foreground, she stood taking notes while she spoke to the local sheriff. Cho stood next to her. Behind them, Rigsby and Van Pelt were talking two witnesses. In the background, Jane was just visible, his hands in his pockets as he looked off into the distance, no doubt midway through hatching some convoluted plan to catch the killer.

Heather leaned forward and scanned the caption. "Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon of the California Bureau of Investigation," she read. She looked up at Lisbon questioningly. "You're a cop?"

Lisbon glanced around uneasily. "Keep your voice down, okay?"

"Okay," Heather said, her voice hushed. "But if you work for the California Bureau of Investigation, why are you in Utah?"

Lisbon grimaced. "It's a long story."

Heather looked at her avidly. "Are you undercover or something?"

"Or something," Lisbon said. "Have you seen what you need to?"

Heather nodded.

Lisbon released a breath. "Can we go for a walk?"

"Sure." Heather stood.

They left the library and went to a park two blocks away. Lisbon steered Heather to a bench beneath a pair of leafy trees that didn't have any other benches near it.

"So what's the deal?" Heather asked once they were seated, unable to contain herself. "If you're such a big shot cop, why did you come to Salt Lake?"

Lisbon hesitated. "I'm kind of—on sabbatical."

"Sabbatical?" Heather echoed. "What does that mean? That doesn't explain why you're in a completely different state living under a different name. If you're not undercover, and you're not in Witness Protection or something—"

Lisbon looked at her sharply.

Heather's eyes widened. "Holy shit. You're in Witness Protection?"

"Yeah," Lisbon said, defeated.

Heather looked impressed. "That is so cool."

Lisbon made a face. "Believe me, it hasn't exactly been a picnic."

"So why are you in Witness Protection?" Heather asked keenly. "I didn't even know they sent cops into Witness Protection."

"Me, neither," Lisbon muttered. "It's kind of a sore point, actually."

"So can you tell me why they put you in the program?" Heather asked expectantly.

Lisbon sighed. In for a penny…

She told Heather about the undercover op with Sanchez and the whole Fish Rock debacle. "So the feds were so worried about Scalzi coming after me before the trial, they insisted on putting me into WITSEC," she finished.

Heather frowned. "So where does Patrick come into this whole story? Is he testifying against Scalzi, too?"

Lisbon snorted. "No. He just insisted in coming along because he was paranoid about Red John infiltrating WITSEC and coming after me."

"The serial killer?" Heather said, eyes wide. "Why would he come after you?"

"Because of Patrick," Lisbon explained. And then somehow she found herself explaining all about Red John and how Jane had come to join the CBI in the first place.

"So you guys weren't married before you went into Witness Protection?" Heather asked, fascinated.

"No," Lisbon said. "We'd never even been on a date."

Heather whistled. "Damn. This is better than cable."

Lisbon shoved her gently, but couldn't help smiling a little despite herself. "Hush."

"I won't give you away, Teresa," Heather said earnestly. "I swear."

Lisbon was touched. "Thanks, Heather." She impulsively hugged the younger woman. "You've been a good friend to me. I hope—" Her voice caught. "I hope we can stay in touch, after the trial. I've really come to treasure our friendship."

"Are you kidding?" Heather said, hugging her back. "I'm totally going to hit you up next time I want to go on a beach vacation."

"Sacramento is over two hours from the ocean," Lisbon said, amused. "But I'd love to have you visit. Though I don't know why you'd want to, after hearing that whole saga."

"We'll leave the killers behind in Sacramento," Heather said decisively, tucking her arm through Lisbon's as they started back towards the office. "Two hours isn't that far. You and me, we're going to the beach."

Xxx

Though in many respects, having told Heather the truth was a relief, towards the end of the day, Lisbon started to have misgivings. She'd violated every WITSEC protocol in the book. Her instincts told her Heather could be trusted, but her instincts had been wrong before.

For once, she beat Jane back to the house after work. He found her straightening the living room.

"Oh, dear," he said in alarm, catching sight of her needlessly fluffing up the pillows on the couch the moment he walked in. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, good," she said, relieved. "You're back. I need your advice."

"Wow, something must be really wrong," he said, his eyes widening. He perched on one arm of the couch and looked at her expectantly. "What happened?"

She bit her lip. "I—kind of told Heather who I really I am."

He raised his eyebrows. "How did that come about?"

"She asked me something about Taliesin West and she got suspicious when I didn't know what it was," Lisbon admitted.

"I suppose you didn't have a lot of occasion to study twentieth century American architecture at the police academy," Jane commented. "The feds should have included a list of Scottsdale sights in their brainwashing packets."

Lisbon looked at him, exasperated. "I suppose you know the name of every house Frank Lloyd Wright ever created."

"Well—not all of them," Jane allowed. "He designed over four hundred buildings in his lifetime. I could name most of the major ones, though."

Lisbon sighed. "I guess I should have had you quizzing me about Scottsdale tourist attractions each night. Anyway, Heather figured out Teresa Meyers has only existed a few months and she accused me of—well, being some kind of con woman, I guess."

"So why didn't you just tell her you were one?" Jane wanted to know.

Lisbon blinked. "I—" she stopped. "Oh. I suppose I should have." She cursed her stupidity.

"You really are the worst liar I've ever met," Jane remarked. "You crumbled at the first challenge to your cover."

"She threatened to call the police," she protested, feeling the need to defend her decision.

"That's when you need to persuade the mark that you're a victim of the system, so they feel sorry for you and feel bad about turning you in," Jane said sagely. He patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure even if you had confessed to being a con woman, you would have come up with such an unconvincing cover story that she would have become suspicious of your credibility as a criminal and we would have ended up at the same endpoint. Your way was more efficient, really."

Lisbon scowled. "Shut up."

"So what did you tell her?"

Lisbon winced. "Everything, pretty much."

"What did she say when you told her?"

"She said she wouldn't tell anyone."

"Do you believe her?"

"I did, in the moment," Lisbon said. "She's not the type to give something away in a careless moment. But I don't know—I started to doubt myself as the day went on. Do you think I should tell Montrose and Soren?"

Jane grimaced. "I suppose they'd insist on shipping us off to some other city until the trial if they knew about this."

"Definitely," Lisbon agreed.

"And you don't want to move and try to establish a new cover at this point," Jane concluded. "You don't want the stability of this fake life ripped out from under you now that you've finally gotten settled into the daily life of Teresa Meyers of Salt Lake."

Lisbon bit her lip. "Right."

"Nor do I, really," Jane admitted.

"Even if Heather doesn't say anything, what if somebody else figures it out?" Lisbon fretted. "Nightingale was there when I messed up the thing about Taliesin West. He could figure it out just as easily. God knows how many stupid mistakes like that I've made without realizing it. Anybody could figure it out."

Jane shook his head. "No. Most people are too wrapped up in their own issues to do anything besides idly wonder at inconsistencies they've observed. Since most people are inconsistent in some way or another even without a cover identity to worry about, something small like that won't stand out to most people. Heather only followed up on the inconsistency because she's invested in you. If you weren't important to her on a personal level, she wouldn't have bothered."

Lisbon let out a breath. "So you think it's all right?"

Jane was silent for a moment. "Let me meet her," he said finally. "I should be able to get a read on her. Then we can decide whether we need to tell Montrose and Soren."

"Good idea," Lisbon said gratefully. She pulled out her phone and dialed Heather's number.

"Heather? It's Teresa. Listen…how would you feel about finally going on that double date?"