Please be forewarned that this chapter contains scenes and descriptions of violence against women. Please don't read if this is disturbing for you.

"Did you need anything else tonight, Chief Lisbon?"

Cannon River Chief of Police Theresa Lisbon shook her head. "No, Francie. I'm about ready to head home myself. Have a nice evening."

"You too, Theresa."

Lisbon watched the older, gray-haired woman who served as her part-time clerical assistant leave the office, and then she started to gather her own things. The day had been pretty standard, not a lot of action in the small 3000 person town of Cannon River. It was pretty calm. Her mind flashed back to some of the more exciting times at the CBI and she realized she sometimes missed a more chaotic environment. Most days, Cannon River was a breath of peaceful air, but every now and then she longed for the crazy...the uproarious...the frustrating antics of…

The image of one smiling blonde consultant flashed into her mind. Jane. Even after all their time apart and then him turning up 30 days ago at the FBI office in Austin, Texas, and immediately causing chaos, he still haunted her thoughts. She wondered if he'd received her letters. If so, then he was realizing that she had confessed caring about him and she wondered about his reaction. She knew he cared about her, but the question is how much? Did he care enough to concede to Dennis Abbott's terms? The truth was that Theresa could no longer deny her true feelings. She thought about their hug upon seeing each other again after two years. As far as hugs go, it was top of the scale--off the scale. He had pulled her in tightly snuffling her hair and neck and she wished it could have gone on forever. He was a tan, healthy, sun-bleached, lightly bearded, casually dressed, sockless, and smiley Jane, and she had been so overjoyed and relieved to see him.

Theresa sighed and flipped off the lights of the office. Who was she kidding? Jane would never concede to Abbott's terms. He was as stubborn as they came. She loved him, but the whole situation was beyond her now. It was up to Jane to figure it out. Theresa drove home and turned her favorite 80's station up loud to try to clear her mind. Elton John's Your Song was on and Theresa sang along to it, but somehow it made her mood even more pensive.

...If I was a sculptor, but then again no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it's not much but it's the best I can do

My gift is my song

And this one's for you...

Damn it, Jane! Why couldn't this song be their story? She had finally realized that she didn't need much...basically just Jane. She wanted him. More than she ever had. She wasn't used to being this honest with her feelings, but frankly she was tired of denying her feelings. Twelve years was a long time to care for someone so much and never receive affirmation.

Once home, Theresa changed into her comfy clothes, reheated some leftovers in the microwave, poured a glass of wine, and settled into her couch with the box of Jane's letters he'd sent to her when he was in Venezuela. She'd read them too many times to count, but they always gave her comfort and happiness. Mostly they were Jane's description of his carefree days on the island, but for Lisbon, they provided an escape from reality and a chance to daydream about a different lifestyle on a tropical island. The minor fact that her daydreams always included herself and Jane together was a bonus.

Theresa awoke several hours later having dozed off on her couch. The box of letters had spilled from her lap. She picked them up, stumbled to her bedroom and fell quickly back to sleep fully clothed atop her comforter. She snuggled into her pillow with an exhausted sigh.

About an hour later, Lisbon was startled from sleep by an unusual noise. She sat up disoriented and confused, but with her cop sense on high alert. That's when she realized she was not alone in her bedroom.

Before she could react, a gloved hand was placed over her mouth and a large, strong man flipped her over and sat on her, restraining her arms and holding her down. Using all her strength and not wanting to become a victim, Lisbon fought back, managing to bite down hard on the hand across her mouth. Kicking and thrashing with all her strength, she managed to get the perpetrator off balance and he fell off the bed. She rolled the other way and now the two stood on opposite sides of the bed in defensive stances. In the dim light of the one street lamp outside her house, she could see that he was dressed all in black and wearing a knit face mask. She suddenly realized he was holding a knife. Dammit, her gun was in the drawer of her bedside table, but on the side of the intruder.

"Bitch! I'm gonna make you pay for that!"

"Get the hell out of my house!"

Reaching for the lamp near her, Lisbon grabbed it and held it in front of her weapon-like. The much taller man across from her lunged at her with the knife. Suddenly a bright light shone directly at Lisbon, startling and blinding her at the same time. The perp moved quickly, and Lisbon felt a fist hit her face dead center stunning her, making her drop her lamp weapon, and more than likely breaking her nose. She cried out in pain. Still not out of the fight though, she fought back, slapping and punching out, but suddenly she was grabbed and he held the knife to her neck. She froze.

The intruder was breathing heavily, but he had a strong grip on her, and she could feel the cold steel blade against her neck. Her face and nose were still burning from the hard punch she'd taken and she tasted blood.

"What do you want?" She whispered.

"I want you to suffer as I have, bitch." He dragged the flat side of the blade along the skin of her neck. Theresa thought she'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't place it. Holding her arms behind her back tightly, he said, "Come on, let's go have some fun Theresa Lisbon. Any funny stuff, and I will shove this knife right into your kidney. Now move."

Theresa had a sinking feeling of dread as the intruder kept a strong hold on her arms and she could feel the point of the knife at her side. She suddenly realized where she recognized the voice too. She was at least 90% sure that the voice from her perpetrator was that of Richard Heibach, the sicko socio-path from their Red John days.