Patrick Jane sat in the mid-afternoon sunshine on his spread-out jacket under a tree on the landscaped Stamford campus, absently playing with a quarter. It was tricky to find a place outside where the cameras couldn't see him, he'd settled for a spot where he judged that only his feet would appear in the frame. Last night he'd eventually slept for nearly five hours – excellent by his standards and mercifully dreamless – and had returned, reasonably refreshed, to the library when it opened that morning. He'd made sure he was thorough with the journal articles but they still weren't giving him the details he craved. He'd tracked down every article referenced in the textbooks, then all the articles referenced by other journals except one. Someone had somehow gained access to an FBI profile of Red John, they'd referred to it when making a particular point about Red John's exhibitionist tendencies, even thanked the FBI and a Supervisory Agent Marsham by name in the appendix. Patrick had mentally put a pin in that, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind as he conscientiously finished going through the last eight journals on his list, just in case.
Three of these had been published very recently. All of them referred to the deaths of Angela and Charlotte. He hadn't read them at first, finishing the others before going back to them, finally skimming them just in case. No new details. That was when he'd come out here, picking up a sandwich and soda from a campus vending machine on the way. That was why he was playing with a coin. He was getting ready to put himself into a mild trance state, practicing really but also to calm himself after reading those last three articles. He had briefly considered trying to hypnotise Maure the previous night but had dismissed the thought immediately. He hadn't done anything like that for a year, he needed to get back in practice first, self-hypnosis was the most effective place to start. Playing with a coin was in itself relaxing, stopped him fidgeting, gave him something to focus on that wasn't Red John. The quarter span around in his fingers, rolling from index to pinkie and back.
Something pale crossed his field of vision. He looked up to find a tiny girl, blond, blue-eyed, watching him from a few feet away. The sight so matched his internal reverie it drew an involuntary gasp from him but this child was real and she wasn't Charlotte. She was too young, had straight hair with a heavy fringe, a different face. Patrick scanned the surrounding area but there was no sign of anyone nearby who might be with the child.
"Hello," he smiled.
"Gen!" was her only response, watching his hands, simple expectancy written across her face.
"Gen, a-gen!" Impatient now as he hesitated. Patrick span the coin there and back once more, while trying to look further afield for anyone who might be looking for her. Still no-one. The girl laughed then abruptly sat down, as though preparing to watch her own private magic show.
"I'm Patrick, what's your name?" he asked gently, but her only reply was "A-gen, a-gen!"
He moved the coin to his left hand, reached for his jacket pocket with his right as he rolled the coin around his fingers again, slightly slower with the wrong hand but nevertheless entertaining enough, as her renewed laughter indicated.
"Where's your mommy?" The question made the little girl look around briefly as if she was trying to spot her mom standing behind her. When she turned back she didn't seem upset that she couldn't see mommy anywhere, she just wore the same expectant look. He proceeded to do variations on the trick, rolling it one finger then two then three but this didn't produce a counting response in the girl. Very young. What on earth is she doing here alone? All this time he was scribbling the letters M-A-U-R-E as thick and dark as he could, each letter filling one of the sheets of paper he'd extracted from his jacket.
"Please stay there? I'll be right back," he said to the girl as he held up a finger. Eyeing the tall post that held the nearest camera he stood and walked to roughly the center of its field of view, placed the sheets of paper on the ground and weighted them down with a few small stones. She turned to watch him do this but didn't get up, prepared to allow an interval in the performance but not an end to it. He returned to his jacket and started going through his full coin trick repertoire, slowly, first with his right hand and then his left. He paused after each trick to let her laugh, miming applause which she obediently copied, so the ten minutes it took for security to arrive passed quickly.
The afternoon then rapidly became eventful. He explained the little he knew to Deputy Hu of the Stamford DPS, the first responder. He re-told the story to a friend of the relieved mother, then to Deputy Garcia who had escorted the two women from the spot way across the campus where several young families had met up for a picnic earlier that day. He repeated it, much interrupted by her barely-coherent thank yous, to the Mom herself as she held the little girl tightly in her arms. Finally, escorted to the overcrowded office of the new Head of the Department of Public Safety, he told it to around half a dozen people including two dressed in suits and a Sherriff from Santa Clara County Police Department.
Patrick didn't understand exactly why the incident had escalated like this, why they were paying him so much attention. Did they suspect he had lured the girl away from her Mom for some reason? He'd been worried that she was lost but unwilling to approach her in case she screamed or ran – neither response would bode well for him or her. He thought using the camera to quietly attract Maure's attention while continuing to entertain the girl would reunite child and parent as quickly as possible without distressing the child or creating a fuss. Well it had reunited them quickly, the kid hadn't seemed distressed at all but here he was caught in the middle of apparently endless fuss.
In the crowded DPS office he explained why he had been sitting under the tree, what he had been doing with the coin (with a brief diversion into the history of therapeutic self-hypnosis), how he had known Maure was working camera surveillance, where he first saw the girl, why he had carried on with the coin tricks. Absurdly he even gave a short impromptu encore to his earlier performance, the solemn adult faces of his new audience a stark contrast to the little girl's delighted laughter and applause. He had felt reluctant to talk about exactly what he'd been doing on campus apart from calling it 'research' but no-one had asked, presumably anyone's research was way too esoteric to go into unless strictly relevant to an inquiry. Eventually Maure poked his head around the door and the boss left to have a quick word with him. When they both returned looking more relaxed Maure escorted Patrick out of the building.
"I seem to be doing this a lot recently," he remarked drily to Patrick.
"Did they think I took her? Is that what all this was about?" Maure shook his head.
"I didn't think you had but we needed to check CCTV footage. You were acting nervous."
"Nervous?"
"You keep tapping your face, moving your hands." Patrick realised he was fidgeting even now, rubbing the tips of the fingers of one hand against the edge of the other. He stopped at once, plunging his hands into his pockets.
"I guess I haven't slept much recently," he replied weakly. I'm a mess! So much for not drawing attention to myself! I must be the most suspicious-looking guy on the campus!
"Hey, there's no law against drinking too much coffee," said Maure with a smile. "It's just the new boss covering his ass. I checked the security footage, tracked her right across the campus. No-one took her. She just wandered off then kept on wandering. Wouldn't have believed she could get so far if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I could see you lying under that tree the whole time. Good idea, writing my name and putting it in front of the camera like that," he said approvingly. "Got my attention, and quick. You, uh, looked straight into the camera too. First clear footage we had of you since you left the library."
Ah-ha! Though I wasn't exactly detained I still wasn't free to go until you confirmed all that, thought Patrick. Avoiding the cameras can draw as much attention my way as appearing in them, it seems, in the wrong circumstances. Maure knows I was avoiding them, he's letting me know that he knows but unlike the rest of that crowd he didn't think it was suspicious. He thinks I'm odd in an amusing way, not a sinister one. Interesting.
"Really?" Patrick said out loud, not-quite-convincing innocent surprise dripping from every syllable to test his theory. Maure's response to that was an appreciative chuckle. Yes, I amuse him. He must have found me amusing when he took me out of the library last night. That's why he didn't find me threatening. That got him on my side, made him want to convince the others I was harmless. That's why he went through the camera footage when he did, to help get me out of there. Patrick felt grateful, a good cop indeed. They'd reached the main doors and Maure held out his hand with an unsuppressed grin on his face.
"Goodbye again, Mr. Jane." They shook hands. "It's been a real pleasure. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I hope we bump into each other again before your research is over, in happier circumstances."
Concerned, Patrick asked, "The little girl's OK, isn't she? Her and the mom?" They'd seemed fine to him as Garcia led them both away, the mom carrying her daughter, relief pouring off the one and contented sleepiness filling the other. Maure nodded and Patrick saw something else as well as reassurance in the gesture. More approval?
"Both just fine, thanks to you. I was thinking more about your, uh, unproductive afternoon."
Nonplussed Patrick replied, "I guess I could learn to be a little less camera-shy," which heightened the amused look on Maure's face.
"Might help keep you out of trouble more than avoiding them does," he nodded, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Thank you, Deputy Maure, I shall take your advice to heart."
I must have seemed pretty furtive, Patrick considered as he headed across the campus, now towards the main University library where they kept the psychology books and journals. He was no longer avoiding the cameras. I thought I managed to keep my darkness to myself but maybe I didn't, maybe that's what the others saw that made them suspicious. Patrick paused in his thoughts. I don't think so, Maure's sharper than all of them and I'm sure he didn't see it. He was too distracted because my actions amused him. No, he also believes I'm a good man. He thought I did everything I could to reunite the girl with her mom, that's why he dug out the proof of his theory so quickly. He approved just now when I asked if they were both OK. He thinks that makes me a good man. Another pause. It's true, I really did do something altruistic today, I didn't care that it got me into trouble. Maybe that does make me a good man. Or, he chuckled cynically at himself, at least not all bad. Although…
The darkness inside dispassionately reviewed the afternoon's events as he walked. When people find me amusing they don't see me, not the scary part of me. The little girl didn't see it, Maure didn't either. When they're laughing they aren't scared. That was a revelation. His previous life had been built around the exact opposite, getting people to take him seriously when inside he'd been amusing himself. My previous work life, anyway. Life outside of family. The only kind of life I have now. It wouldn't be such a big change for him to do the opposite, amuse the world to hide the darkness inside. He was good at entertaining people, he'd been an entertainer all his life. I can hide behind that truth, divert them away from seeing anything scary in me.
He thought about Dr. Miller and the choices he'd made that day. I didn't go looking for trouble today but I didn't care when trouble found me. Why should I? What trouble could be worse than what Red John did? Maure imagined I did the right thing and to hell with the consequences. Well I did do that, in a way, but not for the reason he thought. Their kind of consequences just aren't very consequential to me any more. I might be a murderer but I still know the difference between right and wrong. Why not choose to do the right thing when the opportunity arises? Why not start looking like one of the good guys? That way I can live with my conscience and it's also another truth I can hide behind.
He hadn't realised he'd been fidgeting. How long had that been going on? Though subconsciously I must have noticed, that's why I got the coin out. He paused, reflecting again that he was more of a mess than he had thought.I guess they get a lot of oddballs doing research here. That's also how Deputy Maure sees me. I am an oddball, now, I can't hide my fidgeting when I don't know I'm doing it but I can hide the truth of my new vocation behind the truth that I'm so obviously a harmless mess. Mostly harmless, anyway. Maybe I should say: harmless to most.
Hiding the darkness behind truth rather than lies. It was another intriguing, beguiling idea. The truth was easier to keep track of, after all. He'd done it all that afternoon without meaning to, without even realizing that was what he had done, as naturally as if he'd been doing it all his life. Truth but not the whole truth. The kind of truth that hides another reality. Dishonest truth. That sounded like something he would find easy to do.
I don't want to become Captain Ahab. Why not be a boy scout or Coco the Clown instead? I'd rather the world laughed at me than fled in terror, or pitied me. There's only one man I want to scare.