PROLOGUE

The lights reflecting around the room danced and swayed to unheard music as Jane pressed the button on the mobile above his 8-month-old daughter's crib. From a speaker somewhere on one of the pink elephants that circled above her, an old timey version of Mary Had A Little Lamb played softly. He watched as her little chest, clothed in a onesie with pastel hearts, rose up and down in little heaves, her hands splayed out beside her head on either side, firmly asleep. He reached out, touched her. Felt the breaths inhale and exhale with the palm of his hand. Oh, how he loved the smell of fresh baby powder and lilac soap. Innocence is what he'd call it.

Home, he thought. I'm home.

That thought filled him with such warmth; he had a beautiful wife, a wonderful stepson, and now a new baby that filled his home with laughter, love, and empathy. The things he had been through in his past life hadn't really prepared him for his new present life. He had to battle for it, but there was never any worth to something easily gained.

"Are you coming to bed, Jane?" He heard from behind him, soft but inquisitive. "You've been in here for a while."

The smile crept across his face as naturally as if he'd always done so; it was easy and sincere, now. He took his hand from his baby daughter's chest and turned to Lisbon, her wet hair glistening from the rare chance to shower. He crossed the room in just two strides, reaching his arms out to wrap around his wife's waist. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and then to her lips.

"Yes," he affirmed. "I was just putting Adeline's mobile on." He turned his wife around and walked out of the room, glancing at the crib before turning off the light. "She's out like a light."

Adeline, or, Addie for short, was born on a hot summer day in July. Lisbon, who had worked clear up until her eighth month, had called Jane to tell him her water broke. Jane, having been on a case at the time, had raced in just in time to help deliver the 6-pound bundle of joy. This was especially joyous because only a few months prior, his adoption of Aiden, Lisbon's son from a previous relationship, had been finalized.

"Is he finally asleep?" Jane asked as they tiptoed past Aiden's room, whose bedroom door was adorned with his name in baby blue lettering. The nearly three-year-old had a busy day at the park with them and his baby sister.

Teresa nodded as they turned into their room, Jane closing the door behind them gently. "It's amazing how much The Little Engine That Could can do in the sleep department." She chuckled and removed her robe. "That book is a real snore fest."

Jane stopped his wife before she could slide into their bed, his right hand catching her wrist, his left catching the small of her back. He always liked to surprise her; she was never really sure when he would be in the mood, but she always knew it was often enough. He pressed her firmly against him, the hem of her nightgown riding up her thighs on either side, exposing the milky-white skin harsh against her dark blue gown. She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers move from the small of her back, over the smooth round of her butt and come to press against her left thigh.

"I'm a lucky, lucky man," he whispered, using the hand around her wrist to guide her hand to his neck, where she pressed against his warm skin and played with a small lock of blond hair at the nape of his neck. "You smell good." He inhaled the scent of her shampoo.

He kissed her tenderly as his fingertips dug into her thigh, lifting her nightie up even higher, exposing the sheer panties underneath. They felt soft under his hands, and, as his hands lifted the material slowly off her body, her skin felt even softer and so, so warm.

"I'm most certainly ready for bed now," he told her, pushing her back softly until her knees hit the end of the mattress and they fell onto it.

Whatever she was going to reply with flew out of her mouth once his lips tasted hers as they pushed themselves desperately upward toward the middle of the bed. Whatever he was going to reply with flew out of his mind when her eager hands pushed and pulled at the hem of his boxers.

"Me, too," she said breathlessly between kisses. "I'm not tired, though."

"Either, me," he replied back as hands, lips, and limbs tangled together with desperate need.

Miles away, in an upscale home in Virginia, Riley Dallon stirred. It was just after two in the morning when the phone rang on the bedside table. Groggy, he wiped his eyes and glanced at the flashing clock and groaned. Who would be calling him this early? He huffed out a long sigh before reaching over to fumble for the phone, pressing DECLINE on the screen and turning silent mode on. Whatever it was could wait. He'd had a long day and he wasn't in the mood. It wasn't his work phone, so he didn't feel bad for turning himself the opposite direction and closing his eyes once again.

"Who was it?" the sleepy voice of his current girlfriend asked from beside him.

"I don't know," he told her, hugging his pillow. "Does it matter? It's two in the fucking morning, Izzie."

He felt her shift and settle with her back facing away from him. He brought his body closer and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her bare shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "There is just a lot on my mind."

"I can tell," she whispered back.

He had told Izzie about Teresa, about Aiden, too. He had even told her about Jane and how he was made to give up custody of his son. He talked about it at length to people, anyone who'd listen. It weighed heavily on him how much he was missing out from his son's life. And, when he wasn't thinking about his son, he was thinking about a difficult case he was working on with the FBI. The kind of case that got Agents killed. His life, to say it so bluntly, was a shithole. It all started with Patrick Jane and rolled up to what it is now.

He had just closed his eyes in a bid to fall back asleep when his work phone rang. It wasn't unusual, but it was never welcomed. He turned and retrieved his work phone that sat next to his personal phone. There was no ability to turn down this call.

"Yeah?"

He waited until the person on the other end finished speaking before sitting up abruptly, swinging his slim legs over the edge of the bed. He brushed hair from his eyes and exhaled sharply.

"When?" He waited for the reply. Then, "I'll be there as soon as possible."

He hung up and stood, stumbling in the dark for his clothes strewn about the floor. Izzie sat up, her face half-hidden in the shadows. He could feel her eyes watching him intently as he put on his pants and was hunting for his shirt.

"What is it? Another case?" She yawned softly.

"No," he told her in a low voice, "my son is missing."