Lisbon glanced at the clock and resumed pacing in the hotel room. Any minute now, Montrose would come collect them to take them to the courthouse. After all this time, she was finally going to testify against Scalzi.
"Relax. You're gonna be fine," Jane said to her from his position on stretched out on the couch, but he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her. His attempt to soothe her fell short of the mark, given his own persistent tension the past two weeks.
Lisbon shot him an incredulous look, then resumed pacing. Hypocrite, she grumbled to herself silently.
Soren, in an armchair by the door, turned a page in his newspaper and said nothing.
The past two weeks had not been enjoyable. After being abruptly pulled from their Salt Lake covers and then being stuck in close quarters in a hotel outside L.A. for two weeks, both of their nerves were frayed. Jane, now in a constant state of paranoia thanks to Red John's express delivery, refused to let Lisbon spend more than two minutes outside his company. Though Lisbon loved Jane very much, she found being locked in a small room with him for twenty-four hours a day with no time for herself constituted a little too much togetherness for her taste. The horde of agents from the U.S. Marshals Service who refused to let her poke her head out of doors without going on high alert didn't help her general feeling of suffocation. Their constant presence made it very difficult to forget even for a moment that her life was under threat on multiple fronts. In short, it hadn't been the most relaxing couple of weeks.
Jane, despite being perfectly aware that he was driving her crazy, hadn't relented in the slightest when it came to giving her space. Instead, he insisted on accompanying her to trial prep meetings and offering critiques of her testimony in between poring over architectural diagrams of every building within a five block radius of the courthouse and interrogating the marshals about the security measures they'd put in place for the day of the trial. When not engaged in these activities or hovering around her obsessively, he sat in a corner and brooded, presumably formulating a series of ever more unlikely plans to bring Red John to justice at last.
Lisbon, for her part, found that the closer they got to the trial date, the less interest she felt in the subject of her own personal safety. Instead, she was plagued by thoughts of what Jane would do if by some miracle they got through the trial unscathed. He'd made a grand gesture, refusing to go back to California after the murder of Trisha Lindsay. And following her into hiding in the first place, Lisbon reminded herself. But if they got through the trial, she couldn't see how they could keep this little fantasy life they'd started in Salt Lake going. They'd be back on Red John's home turf. And Red John had raised the stakes by threatening her directly. Jane would never be able to truly commit to her unless and until Red John was out of the picture for good. After effectively having Jane all to herself—the pretend Jane, she reminded herself sternly, the one that drove a Prius—for these past couple of months, Lisbon didn't know how she could bear to go back to a Jane that retreated to the attic to obsess about his nemesis and cut her out of all his most important plans.
Jane cocked his head on the sofa pillow and studied her. "You okay?" he said, his brow furrowed.
"Fine," she said shortly, and continued pacing.
He got up and stretched, then crossed the room to disrupt her pacing. "What's going on?"
Lisbon made a frustrated noise as he blocked her path, but she stopped pacing. She glared at him. "Nothing."
"You've been pretty quiet, the past couple of weeks," he observed.
Lisbon avoided his gaze. "I just want this stupid trial to be over with."
He searched her face. "Interesting puzzle you present. Lies and truth all mixed together."
Lisbon let out a huff of frustration and looked around at the furniture in the hotel room. "You know, not a single chair in here is bolted to the floor," she said pointedly.
Soren, behind them, let out a snort, then hastily adjusted his paper so his face was thoroughly hidden behind it.
Jane ignored the imminent danger of injury by chair and stepped closer. "Teresa—"
The door to the hotel room opened, and Montrose came in. "It's time," she announced, her shoulders tense.
A jolt of nerves shot through Lisbon's stomach. But she'd meant what she'd said. She just wanted this to be over with. She squared her shoulders. "Let's go."
Montrose handed them both Kevlar vests. Jane grimaced, but put his on without arguing. Lisbon put hers on, the ritual of tightening the straps oddly soothing.
Flanked by a team of six marshals, including Montrose and Soren, Jane and Lisbon headed down the stairwell to the ground floor of the lobby.
Jane slipped his hand into hers. "You have all your guns, right?" he asked anxiously.
Lisbon gave him a terse nod. Montrose had cleared it with courthouse security after Jane had made enough of a nuisance of himself that it seemed less work to deal with the paperwork than to continually assure Jane that the marshals had Lisbon's safety well in hand and that she wouldn't need her own gun.
Jane released a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her hand. "Good," he muttered, breathing in deeply again. "That's good."
Despite her near perpetual state of annoyance with him over the past two weeks, Lisbon's heart went out to him. She squeezed his hand back. Jane straightened his spine.
The marshals crowded around the two of them in a tight circle. Montrose walked immediately in front of Lisbon, Soren, directly behind. Jackson and Peters covered Lisbon and Jane to the left and right, with Mendoza leading the group and Graham bringing up the rear.
Montrose and Soren had driven Lisbon and Jane up from the place they'd been staying for the past two weeks early that morning. The other marshals had stayed in the hotel where they'd spent the morning, staking out the hotel and assessing the area immediately surrounding it for threats. The hotel was immediately across the street from the courthouse. The plan was to spend as little time as possible in the open space between the hotel and the courthouse entrance as the marshals escorted Jane and Lisbon to the trial.
Once they reached the ground floor, the group was silent except the sound of footfalls and the shifting of clothing and weaponry. They walked the long, narrow tunnel to the service exit in muted tension.
Lisbon tensed as they prepared to step outside, but before Montrose could lay a hand on the door, the radio clipped to the marshal's shoulder crackled to life. Montrose listened, then swore. "There's a bunch of press waiting on the courthouse steps," she grumbled. "Alpha team reports they need extra help controlling the crowd before we bring you out."
Great, Lisbon thought without enthusiasm.
"Mendoza, Graham, and Peters, you're with me," Montrose barked. "Jackson and Soren drop back and cover the stairs to make sure no one comes down until we come back." She looked at Jane and Lisbon. "Wait here."
Jane and Lisbon nodded, both tense with anticipation. God, Lisbon just wanted this whole thing to be over with.
Montrose went out the door, followed by Mendoza, Graham, and Peters. Jackson and Soren faded back into the stairwell, leaving Jane and Lisbon standing before the door.
Jane fidgeted again. "You definitely have all your guns?" he asked Lisbon, shooting an anxious glance back towards Jackson and Soren.
"Yeah," Lisbon said tightly, her mind elsewhere.
"And they're all loaded?" Jane double-checked. "You can get to them easily?"
"Leave it, Jane," she snapped. "You think I don't know how to manage my gear in a dangerous situation?"
"Sorry," Jane said, backing down. "Of course not. Poster girl for the NRA, you could be giving everyone else lessons. You're the Terminator, everyone else is just back up."
Lisbon cut off his babbling. "Do you want this to be real?" she asked abruptly, turning to face him. "Really real?"
Jane stared at her. "Are you kidding me? Do you really want to have this conversation now?"
"You're the one who wanted to talk before," Lisbon said, stony faced.
Jane shook his head. "I thought we'd settled this."
"Yeah, but it's different now. We're going back. You're going to be in Red John's grasp again."
"As long as I can keep you out of his grasp, that doesn't matter," he said dismissively.
"Of course it matters," she snapped. She voiced her real fear. "You're going to pull away."
"I told you," he said tightly. "You're my priority now."
Lisbon shook her head. "Maybe now, while we're away from Sacramento. But when we go back, we won't be able to just—ignore him."
"I have no intention of ignoring him," Jane said, annoyed. "You're talking about the man who asked me to bring him my wife's head in a box."
"We weren't married when he did that," Lisbon pointed out.
Jane looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "What the hell difference does that make?"
"I'm just saying," Lisbon muttered.
"Not two weeks ago, he sent an explicit threat to your life via express delivery," Jane said, not the least bit mollified. "What did you think I was going to do? Just sit back and let him come after you without lifting a finger to stop him? Have you met me?"
"I'm not talking about my safety," Lisbon said stubbornly. "I want to know what you're planning to do when we get back."
Jane set his jaw. "I'm going to stop him."
"Yeah," Lisbon said bitterly. "That's what I thought."
Jane frowned. "What…what is happening right now? What are you talking about?"
"You're going to stop him," she repeated. "Where am I in that picture? Tagging along behind you as your faithful sidekick?"
Jane backtracked. "That's not what I meant."
"It's exactly what you meant. That's the problem." She took a deep breath. "Look, it's been nice, playing house, these past couple of months. But there's no point pretending that we'll be able to keep up this happy couples routine once we go back to our real lives."
He looked at her sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know you, Patrick. Once we're back at the CBI, you're going to get sucked straight back into this messed up game of wits between you and Red John."
His voice was desperate now. "He threatened your life, Teresa. I need to stop him."
She sighed, defeated. "Yeah, I know. And I'll be there to help you. But I don't think I can be with you while I'm doing it." She clenched her fists against the pain of saying it aloud. The rose ring and the origami ring cut into her skin from the pressure, compounding the agony.
"Because you think I'm going to pull away," he said flatly. "So you thought you'd get the drop on me and pull away first, is that it?"
"I'm just saying—do what you need to do. I won't stop you. But I'm not going to sit at home at night waiting for you to come home from the latest con you've decided to run without me."
"I'm not going to leave you out," he protested. "I promised I would keep you involved."
"Yeah. And then you decided to fake your own disappearance without telling me. I know where this road leads, Patrick. Can you really blame me for not wanting to travel down it, knowing what's waiting for me at the end?"
Jane winced. "I know I've hurt you. I've—made mistakes. A lot of them. But I'm committed to doing better, Teresa." He stepped closer to her. "I'm committed to you."
She wanted to believe him more than anything in the world. She looked up into his eyes, uncertainty warring with bone-deep longing.
He met her gaze, his heart in his eyes, clear and unhidden. "I can't give you up," he said quietly. "I'm in too deep. I know I've messed up, but—I've been trying."
She swallowed. "I know you have."
Desperation colored his voice. "What more can I do, Teresa? I've done everything I can think of, and it's still not enough, apparently." He stepped closer and cupped his hands under her elbows, searching her face. "How many tests do I have to pass before you will be sure of me?"
With a sick, hot feeling of shame, Lisbon realized she had been testing him. All this time. And he'd passed every single one. Jane had already taken the leap of faith, when he'd left Red John behind for her sake in the first place.
She needed to return the favor.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him, letting her own desperation come through. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his mouth. "No more tests. When we make mistakes, we'll muddle through them together."
Jane wrapped his arms around her and lifted her clear off the ground, holding her as tightly as he could with the two layers of Kevlar between them. Despite the Kevlar, she could feel him shaking in relief. He tightened his hold on her. "You've got yourself a deal."
She kissed him again, laughing a little this time. "Come on. Let's go deal with Scalzi. We'll worry about Red John when the trial is over."
Jane set her down but couldn't resist leaning over and kissing her hair the minute her feet were back on the ground. "One killer at a time," he commented, beaming. "Very sensible approach, my dear."
She smacked him in his Kevlar-covered stomach, but couldn't hide her smile.
The door to the service entrance opened, flooding the doorway with blinding light. "We're all set," Montrose called to Jackson and Soren. She gestured for the team to resume their positions clustered around Jane and Lisbon, taking her own place immediately before Lisbon. She checked her watch. "Go," she ordered. Mendoza pushed open the door and the group sprang into action, walking swiftly.
It wasn't a great distance. Less than fifty yards from the service exit to the courthouse steps, then another thirty yards from the foot of the steps to the main entrance to the courthouse.
Mendoza pushed the door open and they were through, walking as swiftly as possible away from the hotel and towards the courthouse entrance. The marshals closed in on Lisbon and Jane even tighter, weapons drawn and their heads on swivels.
The street in front of the courthouse had been blocked off to cars due to the high profile nature of the trial, but the street was still crowded with pedestrians. Jane gripped Lisbon's hand as they wove through the crowd, his eyes scanning every face he could see for a potential threat.
Lisbon could see a mass of reporters on the steps in front of the courthouse, another dozen people scattered about the steps, carrying briefcases and clustered in small groups, probably lawyers and other courthouse staff. They weren't far from the steps now.
Her foot had just hit the bottom step when she felt Jane slow to a stop, his hand in hers holding her back. She looked back at him in alarm. "Jane, what are you doing?"
The rest of the marshals prodded at Jane, but he didn't budge. Much to their collective displeasure, they were forced to a stop. Realizing the group had come to an unexpected halt, Montrose turned. "What's happening?" she demanded. "We have to keep moving—do you have any idea how exposed we are out here?"
But Jane wasn't listening. He was frozen, his eyes fixed in horror on a figure at the top of the steps. Lisbon turned to see what he was looking at.
Lorelei stood at the top of the steps, wearing a silk blouse and designer trousers, slouching elegantly as though she were modeling for a fashion shoot for a law magazine.
"Sheep dip," Lisbon muttered, her eyes fixed on Lorelei in dismay.
Time slowed down.
Lorelei smirked, then lifted her palm to her lips and blew them both a kiss, her hair fluttering in the breeze.
Then the shots rang out.
Pandemonium broke out. Passersby screamed. The crowd of people on the courthouse steps and in the street below broke ranks and ran for cover.
Lisbon turned instinctively towards the sound of the shots coming from behind them. She saw a glint of reflected light coming from the building next to the hotel they'd just left—the scope of a sniper rifle.
Jane seized her and pushed her the other direction. "Are you insane, woman? Run away from the gunfire."
"I'm a cop—" she said indignantly.
"It's you they're trying to kill, you lunatic," Jane said, still pushing at the small of her back to prod her up the stairs.
Montrose was shouting instructions to the team. "Soren, Jackson, stay with Teresa and Patrick. Don't let them out of your sight. Graham, Peters, drop back and support alpha team, try to get a line on the shooter. Mendoza!" she barked to the agent in front of her. "Go up ahead and clear the entrance."
The team dispersed amid more gunfire. A member of her detail went down with a soft grunt.
"Jackson!" Lisbon cried, automatically turning back to him.
Jane glanced back at him and tightened his grip on her, propelling her forward. "He'll be fine, he took it in the vest."
"We can't just leave him there," Lisbon protested, still resisting.
Jane roared in frustration. "Montrose!" he bellowed. "Soren! Help me."
Soren got there first. He seized Lisbon by the elbow and started hauling her up the steps, helped along by Jane, who kept one hand at her back to hustle her along. Montrose dropped behind them to provide cover from the rear.
Lisbon belatedly realized that if she was the target—which she almost certainly was, given the circumstances—her reluctance to leave Jackson was only putting him and everyone else in more danger. She quickened her pace and together, the four of them raced up the steps, taking cover behind a massive column at the top of the steps.
Lorelei came out of nowhere. She shot Soren in the chest before Lisbon had time to blink, then hit Montrose with a taser before the other agent could bring her weapon to bear. Soren went down with a grunt, followed by Montrose with a soft cry of pain. Lisbon looked at Lorelei, wide-eyed, and saw Mendoza sprawled prone behind her, unconscious and bleeding from the head. Lisbon swallowed and brought her gaze back to the barrel of the gun Lorelei had trained on her head.
Lorelei smiled and looked at Jane without letting the gun waver from Lisbon's head. "Hello, lover." She turned her head and smiled at Lisbon. "Teresa, so nice to see you again."
"Lorelei," Jane said without enthusiasm. "I suppose you're here to kidnap us."
"Not 'us,' Patrick," Lorelei said serenely. "I'm here to escort Teresa away from this place. It's not safe for her here." She raised the taser, aiming it at Jane's chest. "You'll stay here."
Lisbon was thoroughly sick of people telling her what was and wasn't safe for her. Like she was going to take safety tips from a serial killer's mistress. Taking advantage of Lorelei's temporary inattention as she aimed the taser at Jane, Lisbon swiftly closed the distance between them. Lorelei reacted as she saw Lisbon moving towards her, bringing her gun up, but Lisbon was too fast for her. She knocked the gun aside and smashed her elbow into Lorelei's mouth. Lorelei cried out and bent double in pain as the gun skittered away on the marble floor. Recovering, she brought the taser up, but Lisbon seized her wrist and twisted her arm, neatly relieving her of this weapon, too. When Lorelei hissed and went for Lisbon's throat with her bare hands, Lisbon thrust the taser into her side and squeezed the trigger.
"Thanks for the invite," Lisbon panted. "But I think I'll pass."
Lorelei slumped to the ground, breathing heavily, murder in her eyes.
Lisbon spared her one more glance, savoring the enormous satisfaction of having taken down Lorelei with her own damn taser for a split second before looking around and spying a guard wearing a courthouse uniform tentatively poking his head out of the main courthouse door.
"You," she barked, waving him over. "Come over here and cuff this woman. She escaped from federal prison two weeks ago." She tucked the taser into her inside jacket pocket—she was running out of places to stash weapons. "And get EMTs out here to look at these agents," she added, moving to check on Mendoza, who appeared to be the worst hurt. She checked his pulse and was relieved to find it strong and steady beneath her fingertips.
The guard's eyes widened and he called for two of his fellows to come help.
Montrose struggled into a sitting position, still groggy. Seeing Soren on the ground, she cried out in distress and crawled over to his side, her face ashen. "He's okay," she called to Jane and Lisbon, her voice shaky with relief. "He took it in the vest, just like Jackson."
"Thank God," Lisbon said, crossing herself. Jane, next to her, said nothing, but some of the color returned to his face and she heard him breathe out very carefully.
She looked over at him. "You okay?" she said, concerned.
"Yeah," he said, watching the guard haul Lorelei away in handcuffs. He shook his head. "I'm good."
The radio clipped to Montrose's vest crackled. "Shooters are down," the voice on the other end reported. Lisbon recognized Graham's voice. "Two guys, both with sniper rifles. Alpha team got here a couple minutes ago."
Montrose closed her eyes briefly in relief before hitting the talk button to respond. "Great work."
"Alpha team identified them as Scalzi's people," Graham reported. "But there's something weird."
Montrose frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The shooters. It wasn't our guys that got them," Graham said, bemused. "They were already dead when we got here. And there's this mark—it looks like it was drawn in their own blood. A smiley face."
Lisbon and Jane's eyes met. As one, they turned and started to run down the steps.
"What the hell?" Montrose yelled after them, still on her knees next to Soren. "Where are you going?"
Neither of them answered. They took the steps two at a time, intent on the small sliver of a chance that Red John hadn't cleared the building yet. If they could just get there fast enough—
A second set of shots rang out. But this set of shots came from a different building—the building next door to the one where the original shots had come from.
Jane and Lisbon paused a fraction of a second. They shared a glance, then changed direction and headed towards the second building.
"Second floor," Lisbon panted, gesturing to the bank of windows above. She could see spider vein cracks in one of the windows consistent with the impact from a low caliber weapon. "East side. Third window from the left."
They ran into the building. Another hotel. They blazed past the bemused security guard and hotel guests. Raced up the stairwell. When they reached the second floor, they slowed to a halt, checking the hallway from behind the door to the stairwell.
"What do you think?" Lisbon said in a low voice, eyes scanning the hall. The corridor was empty, but three doors from the end, a door stood ajar.
Jane swallowed. "It's him. It has to be."
Lisbon checked the clip on her gun, then drew a second weapon and checked that one as well. "Why do you think the door is open?"
"Something must be wrong," he said slowly, peering out at the hallway. "He wouldn't have left the door open like that on purpose."
"Unless it's a trap," she said, her heart sinking.
"Mm," he acknowledged, frowning.
Lisbon wiped a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist. "So what do you want to do?"
He hesitated, then looked at her. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes." She met his gaze. "I'm sure of you."
He swallowed. "I think…I think you should go first. You're a better shot."
"Okay." Lisbon took the third gun from her ankle holster and handed it to Jane, then picked up the Smith & Wesson and the Sig Sauer again. She nodded to Jane, and he pushed open the door. Lisbon led the way down the hallway, Jane following immediately behind.
Lisbon approached the open door cautiously, the sound of Jane breathing just behind her reassuring despite the ragged cadence betraying his anxiety. She positioned herself next to the door, poised for action. She signaled Jane to open it.
Jane pushed the door open, and Lisbon burst into the room, guns raised. "Hands where I can see them!" she bellowed.
"We've got the place surrounded!" Jane added for good measure from his position just off her right shoulder, his own gun raised. In his Kevlar vest, he could actually pass as a law enforcement officer to someone who didn't know him, which disconcerted Lisbon greatly even under these fraught circumstances.
Then they both stopped dead, taking in the scene that greeted them with mouths agape.
Van Pelt was nearest the door, kneeling on the floor and taking photos of the scene. Rigsby stood behind her, holding a compress to his head to staunch the bleeding from a gash in his temple. Cho stood over a body sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, talking into a radio.
"Wha-?" Lisbon said in astonishment, dropping the guns to her side. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Boss!" Van Pelt exclaimed, straightening and throwing her arms around Lisbon in a rib-cracking hug, heedless of the guns. "It's so good to see you."
"You, too," Lisbon said, tucking the guns away hastily so she could return the hug properly.
Jane was staring at the body on the floor, a tall, dark-haired man in his mid-forties. "Who is that?" he asked, his face pale.
"He doesn't have any ID on him," Cho said. He waited a beat. "But we think he's Red John."
Lisbon stared at the body, too. "Why do you—how do you know?"
"After he killed Scalzi's guy, Rubin—"
"The one who tried to burn your apartment down," Rigsby added helpfully.
Cho shot him a look. "Yeah. After he killed Rubin, we figured he had a plan to prevent Scalzi from getting at you."
"You think Red John came here to save me?" Lisbon said, horrified. "Why would Red John want to save me?"
Jane, still unnaturally pale, answered. "He wanted me…beholden to him."
"We think he wanted to keep you for himself, in any case," Van Pelt confirmed. "And when he and Lorelei sent those notes a couple of weeks ago, it seemed pretty clear he was planning to be at the trial."
Cho nodded. "We already knew Scalzi was going to try to kill you. Since he didn't know where you were, the time right before the trial was his only chance. So we figured if we got a line on the guys Scalzi assigned for the job and kept an eye on them, Red John would come right to us."
"Brilliant," Jane said faintly, still staring at the body.
"But how did you find Scalzi's guys in the first place?" Lisbon asked, amazed.
"We've been investigating Scalzi's network ever since Rubin died," Cho continued. "Pretty sure we know more about his network than the feds do at this point. So we figured out who'd copped the assignment to kill you and put the two of them under surveillance."
"What about the FBI? The marshals? Were they part of this plan?" Lisbon wanted to know.
"No," Van Pelt said. She exchanged glances with the other two. "We didn't know who we could trust. We agreed it would be just the three of us."
Jane looked half amused, half appalled. "So your plan was to just let Scalzi's people shoot at us in hopes that Red John would show up?"
"We figured the marshals would keep you guys safe from Scalzi," Rigsby said, his ears red.
"Besides, Red John was the greater threat," Van Pelt added defensively. "Once the trial was over, the marshals were going to be out of the picture. We thought this was our best chance of getting Red John."
Jane shook his head. "I just can't believe it actually worked."
Lisbon cast a glance at the body, still unable to believe that their nemesis was actually dead on the floor. "Are you sure it's him?"
"As sure as we can be until we can ID him and do a full investigation," Cho said. "We saw him talking to Lorelei in the building where Scalzi's men were stationed. She was definitely taking orders from him. And she obviously, uh—"
"Showed signs of slavish devotion towards him," Van Pelt finished.
"And he drew his sign over the shooters," Rigsby added. "We saw him do it before he left."
"I take it he didn't go down without a fight," Jane said, gesturing to Rigsby's bleeding temple.
"No," Cho agreed. "He ran for it when he saw we were closing in on him."
"But we got him in the end," Van Pelt said, radiating satisfaction. She looked down at the body, her lip curling in a savage grin. "Good riddance."
"So," Cho said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking between Lisbon and Jane. "How are you?"
"Good," Lisbon said faintly, still staring at the body.
Jane slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. "Never better."
Xxx
Half an hour later, Jane and Lisbon stood in the hall, waiting for Montrose to finish going over the scene with Wilkins and Chen of the FBI in addition to Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt.
Lisbon stared at the bland watercolor opposite her in a state of numb shock. She couldn't believe it was over. Just like that. Red John was gone.
There seemed to be little doubt that the man Cho and Rigsby had shot was, in fact, Red John. After joining Jane and Lisbon at the scene, Montrose had ordered the courthouse bailiff to bring Lorelei over to the hotel room where the body still lay on the floor. Lorelei had taken one look at the body and gone into a fit of hysterics. Then had fought wildly against her restraints in a vain effort to get to Jane with the apparent aim of inflicting as much physical damage upon him as she could manage before the bailiff had managed to subdue her. Her face pressed against the carpet and the bailiff's knee in her back, Lorelei had subsided into sobs, her eyes on her lover's body.
Once Lorelei had calmed down somewhat, she gave them a name.
She didn't try to bargain for herself in exchange for information. Rather, she gave it proudly, defiantly, stating that now that Red John was dead, his legacy would survive under his true name. That the world would finally know and venerate the man behind the name.
Jane had walked out at that point. Lisbon had hesitated, then followed him into the hall. She hadn't tried to make him talk, just leaned against the wall next to him, offering silent support. His breath had come ragged and harsh for several minutes, but his eyes were dry. A few minutes after his breathing had returned to normal, he'd reached out blindly and grasped Lisbon's hand like a lifeline.
Lisbon tore her gaze away from the pastel print and glanced back into the room where Red John's body lay, only to see Montrose walking towards them, weary, but with her shoulders squared.
Montrose looked back and forth between them. "Are you guys okay?" she asked soberly.
Lisbon nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Fine," Jane said, his voice clipped.
"Listen, I know it's been a hell of a morning," Montrose said. "But my phone has been going off constantly for the past twenty minutes. The lawyers are getting antsy."
Lisbon blinked. She'd almost forgotten about Scalzi and the trial, given everything that had been happening. "It's not—the trial's still happening?"
Montrose shrugged. "Apparently so. I guess the lawyers have done some fast talking to keep it moving forward. But if it's too much for you after the morning you've had, just say the word and I'll let them know we'll have to reschedule your testimony."
In truth, Lisbon wanted nothing more than to give her testimony. She wanted to put this whole protracted ordeal behind her as quickly as possible, and the sooner she gave her testimony, the sooner it would be over. But leaving Jane on his own at the moment seemed like a spectacularly bad idea on all possible levels. "Um," she said, glancing at Jane.
His gaze was fixed on a spot over Montrose's shoulder. Lisbon realized with a sinking feeling that he was staring at the body again.
Her hand hurt. Lisbon looked down and saw that Jane was clutching it very tightly, his eyes still fixed on the body. But after a moment, he forced his gaze away and looked at her. He took a deep breath. "Come along, my dear," he said, squeezing her hand again, this time more gently. He gave her a weak smile. Lisbon was relieved to note it reached his eyes. He tugged her away from the door. "I think you have somewhere to be."
Ten minutes later, Lisbon walked into the courtroom with Jane at her side, his hand at the small of her back. Montrose came in behind them, scanning the room. She glared when she saw Scalzi seated at the defendant's table, no doubt thinking of the gunfire that had taken down Jackson and left them vulnerable to Lorelei's attack.
The judge peered over the top of his spectacles at Lisbon, frowning. "Agent Lisbon. You're late."
"My apologies, your honor," Lisbon said humbly. "I was unavoidably detained." She shot Scalzi a look and raised her eyebrows. "Shall we get this show on the road?"
She was gratified to see Scalzi scowl and slump in displeasure, defeat written across his every feature.