A/N: I continue to appreciate your wonderful reviews! Thank so much! Sorry that this chapter is so late in coming, and that it is somewhat shorter too. My daughter got married, then, I've had family business to attend to. I've been busy, but this fic and you lovely readers have still been on my mind. I hope this was worth the wait.

Chapter 3

Toward morning, Jane had managed a light doze, waking completely as he felt Lisbon stir in his arms.

"Morning," he said softly.

Though her back was against him, he could still hear the smile in her voice. "Morning."

He closed his eyes, kissed the nape of her neck, then, mentally preparing himself, he moved to whisper in her ear.

"We need to be very quiet. I think someone might be listening." He felt her stiffen, but, instantly awake and alert as a long-time agent would be, she remained quiet, waiting for him to explain. He'd worried about this in the night, thinking it wouldn't be out of character for Red John to bug their hotel room. Better safe than sorry, especially since Partridge had warned Jane that he mustn't tell anyone his true identity. He was testing Jane, seeing if he had changed from his past behavior of keeping secrets from Lisbon.

"Last night," he continued, hoping his words would only be audible to her, "when I was in the bathroom, I was on the phone…with Red John." Only he would have detected the slight inhalation that masked her surprised gasp. "He spoke in his normal voice. It was Brett Partridge."

She protested with a sharp shake of her head. She'd found Partridge herself, knew firsthand that he was dead.

"You were tasered, knocked out, right after he seemed dead, right? So he must have been able to fool you somehow. The voice on the phone was Partridge's, I'm sure of it. I'd recognize that mealy mouthed imbecile anywhere. Although, apparently, the joke's been on me."

He frowned, and Lisbon turned to face him, her eyes wide with shock, her fingers reaching up to delve into his bedhead curls. She hugged him to her, and her mouth settled at his ear. Her breath there still had the power to give him a brief shiver, even though her words were deadly serious.

"He was dead, Jane. I checked his pulse. His throat was cut."

Jane turned to her ear again. "Special effects makeup. Biofeedback. Medications. Some Yogis can make their pulses seem undetectable to a casual touch. He told me he had wanted to retire. Killing Brett Partridge allowed him to do that, effectively took him off my list too. If he could arrange with his access to medical records to change McAllister's DNA records, he most certainly could have done it with his own."

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes filling with tears. She'd been so much more emotional with her pregnancy, but Jane felt his own eyes welling, and he didn't have that excuse. This news was devasting, to both of them, to their new-found happiness, to the safety of their unborn child.

"What now?" she mouthed.

He spoke into her ear again. "He's given me twenty-four hours to give this up, to leave California-or he starts killing again. People I—I care about, and finally, me. Kristina was just a warning salvo, while tying up a loose end—two birds with one stone. Only we know it wasn't a copycat killing."

"We have to warn Madeleine," she said. He nodded.

"And you need to go home," he insisted once more. He knew it was a lost cause, but he couldn't help himself.

Predictably, she brushed his concerns aside. "No. We've been over this, Jane. Besides, if he wanted to kill me, it wouldn't matter where I was, you know that."

He moved to rest his forehead against hers. They both closed their eyes against the fear and sadness overwhelming them. They felt the loss of their freedom even though nothing had been physically taken from them yet. She kissed him softly on the mouth, her anxiety making her become more urgent. He opened his mouth to hers, allowed himself to turn his own terror into passion, and they kissed and fondled until they were breathless.

"Jane," she said, as his mouth trailed from her lips to her neck, his hands sliding beneath her sleep shirt. "I really…really…need…to use the bathroom."

He chuckled. Never start something with a pregnant woman until she uses the bathroom first.

He let her disentangle herself from the sheets and from his arms, before he watched as she hurled herself toward the bathroom. He lay in bed a moment, trying to calm his rapidly pounding heart. As much as he wanted to continue things with his delectable wife, they had work to do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing they did after dressing and packing up in the hotel room, was to take their rental car back to the airport. On the assumption that someone might be watching them, they behaved as if they were leaving Sacramento, even going so far as to go through security with their carry-on bags, and head to the correct gate that was on their ticket. With an hour till their flight, they went to a gift shop, bought California souvenirs for their friends back in Austin, of course. But when the airline representative at their gate called their flight, Teresa and Patrick Jane did not board. Instead, they'd each visited the public restrooms, emerging at staggered times, hair tucked beneath baseball caps, sunglasses hiding faces. Their new t-shirts were emblazoned with California Dreamin', and The Oakland A's, their other clothes stuffed into their bags.

They left the gate area separately, Lisbon taking the route through baggage claim before hailing a cab; Jane jumping aboard a hotel shuttle that took him to a nearby hotel. From there he took his own taxi. By the time he reached the old CBI building near the Capitol, Lisbon had already been admitted, thanks to the flash of her FBI badge and a quick call by the parking lot attendant to Hightower's office. Jane showed his own badge and was waved on through. He didn't know if their ruse had worked, but it was the best they could do under the circumstances. If someone was waiting for them to arrive at Austin, well, that gave them about five hours before they were discovered.

"Playing tourists?" Hightower asked in amusement, eyeing their airport purchases. "I thought you guys had left."

They sat in front of her desk in her old office, all of them feeling a strong sense of déjà vu, despite how everything had been re-decorated.

"We were," replied Jane grimly. "Until Red John called me last night."

He played the recording of the call for her, and she and Lisbon listened intently. It was the first time Lisbon was hearing it too.

"Dear God, that is Partridge," said Lisbon.

"I know it might be a dead end, but we need to see if we can find out where this call came from," said Jane. "No offense, but I don't want to use the CBI."

Hightower nodded wryly, though Jane could see the old fear in her eyes. "None taken."

The State Attorney General, along with the FBI, had thoroughly cleaned house after the Blake Association had been exposed, but Jane still had a healthy distrust of the agency, and a healthier respect for Red John's ability to infiltrate or hack a government entity.

"We have some mutual friends that I think we can trust, who are experts on this sort of thing," said Jane. He caught Lisbon's eye and they both smiled. "In the meantime, you might consider taking your kids on a little trip out of town for a while."

"The kids are actually with their dad right now, in Florida, but I'll have him take them somewhere else. I'm not going anywhere though until we know for sure what we're dealing with. If Red John really is back, I figure I owe him one."

Jane thought about the cousin she'd lost at the serial killer's hands, at the damage to her career, the threats to herself and her kids three years ago. He didn't try to dissuade her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Lisbon? Jane?" Wayne Rigsby's eyes were wide with surprise as he answered the door of their San Francisco home. They hugged all around, then their former colleague invited his unexpected guests inside. "Grace! We've got company!"

A chattering toddler was the first reply, then the beautiful redhead bounded down the stairs, babe in arms, wearing jeans and a blue sweater, ponytail swinging. She stopped halfway down, her expression mirroring her husband's.

"Hey! Wow! This is a surprise." More embraces, this time around the little girl, who shyly clung to her mother. Jane held out his hands to Maddie, who, like most children, immediately took to Jane's smile and sparkling eyes. Lisbon shook her head as the child went happily to Jane's arms.

"Oh my gosh," said Grace, admiring Lisbon's swollen belly and rosy cheeks. "Look at you! You look beautiful!"

Lisbon flushed further. "I feel like a whale."

Grace laughed. "It only gets worse. Please, sit down and rest." They converged on the Rigsby's living room, refusing offers of refreshments.

"Something tells me this isn't a social call," said Rigsby. Jane looked up from dandling Maddie on his knee, giving her a rather raucous horse ride. The little girl squealed with laughter.

"No," said Lisbon grimly. "And I should tell you right now that if you choose to help us, you're putting your lives and your kids' lives on the line. We'll understand if you refuse. We just don't know who else to trust."

"It's…Red John," said Jane softly.

"What?" the Rigsby's said in unison.

Jane reached into his suit coat pocket and retrieved his phone, tossing it to Wayne.

"Can we take this somewhere private," Lisbon said, glancing nervously at their child.

Jane shrugged. "I'll watch little Maddie here. Lisbon knows all the details. And the recording will speak for itself."

The trio left Jane for Wayne and Grace's home office. Jane happily played with the toddler, imagining how, in a matter of months, he'd be holding his own child in his lap. That is, if he could keep all of them alive long enough.

Twenty minutes later, the three returned, their faces grim. Little Maddie, however, was sleeping peacefully in Jane's arms, a beatific smile on her cherubic face.

"Did you hypnotize her or something?" Rigsby whispered, bending to lift his daughter into his arms. "I can never get her to fall asleep like that, especially at naptime."

Jane shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you. Some people just have the magic touch."

"You probably just wore the poor thing out with that bucking bronco ride," Lisbon said, but inside her heart was overflowing at the thought that he would soon be lulling their own child to sleep.

"I couldn't trace Partridge's number," Grace reported, once Rigsby had taken their little girl up to her room.

Jane nodded. "I'm not surprised. It was worth a shot, and we didn't want to risk doing this over the phone. Does this mean you're helping us now?"

"As if we had a choice," said Rigsby. "He ruined our lives at the CBI, a job we loved. We had to relocate, start over. We lived in fear for our lives, for my son's. After Grace finishes analyzing the recording, I'll send her and the kids somewhere safe till this blows over. But I'm in all the way, Boss. Whether Partridge is Red John or not, he has to be stopped."

Grace glanced at her husband in unspoken agreement.

"Thanks," said Lisbon to them both.

Grace turned to Jane. "I downloaded the recording onto my computer, and I'd like to amplify it some, see if I can hear any clues in the background noise."

"Aw, very old school," said Jane. Rigsby trotted back down the stairs to join them. "Wayne, you wouldn't happen to have a clean cell phone? I need to call Cho on a secure line."

"Sure," he said, and he and Grace both went back to their office, leaving Lisbon and Jane alone.

"Hey," said Lisbon, sitting next to him on the couch, touching his arm with concern. "You seem overly calm, considering."

He chuckled. "I recall you used to complain I was acting crazy whenever Red John's name was mentioned. Now I'm too calm? Women…" He looked heavenward.

But she wasn't fooled. She could feel the tension in his arm, could sense how his anxiety was humming just beneath the surface. She squeezed his arm consolingly, and he met her eyes, his mask dropping. He took a shuddering breath.

"I'm okay, really. It's the waiting. But I have a plan. I have people I trust around me."

Rigsby returned with a burner phone. Jane smiled his thanks and called Cho in Austin.

"Cho," he answered.

"Hi, Kimball. Jane here."

"Jane. I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Sorry about Kristina."

"Yeah, me too. You heard then that it looked like a Red John copycat."

"Yeah."

"Well, it's not. It is Red John. He's not dead."

There was silence from the Austin side, and Jane could sense Cho's indecision on how to approach this. Was Jane going crazy again? Lisbon and Rigsby looked at each other knowingly; it all sounded very hard to believe, and they had actually heard the recording for themselves.

"I'm not crazy, Cho. He called me last night. It was Brett Partridge. Partridge somehow tricked us. He was really Red John."

"That's impossible. I saw his body at the morgue."

"You saw his face, or were you just looking for his tattoo?"

There was another pause, as the FBI agent in charge took himself back to that day three years ago. Jane was about to offer hypnosis, but Cho finally spoke. "No," he said simply. "I didn't see his face."

"And I heard his voice. There's no doubt it's Partridge. Which leads me to the huge favor I need to ask of you."

"Okay," was Cho's noncommittal reply. Jane almost smiled.

"I have Partridge's call with me recorded. I'd like to play it for Rosalind Harker."

It only took Cho a moment to realize what he was asking and all the ramifications of that. "No. She's in witness protection."

"I know. But you could get access to her whereabouts. If I could just get her on the phone—"

"No."

"Kimball. Please."

"If this is true, you've been wrong twice before already. It's not worth risking her life for this."

"Ouch," said Jane.

"Sorry, but the answer's no."

Jane swallowed hard, running his fingers through his hair in a rare display of agitation. He played his last card: "Look, he's threatened Lisbon and our baby, and Hightower and her kids. He's through toying with me. He really wants me to suffer again, and I know in my gut he's not kidding. He's going after everyone in my life I care about. You may be on that list too. Rigsby and Grace. Their kids. Everyone, until finally, he kills me. I'll send you the recording, and you can hear for yourself."

"It's true, buddy," came Rigsby's voice, loud enough for Cho to hear.

"I'll do what I can," said Cho in resignation, then hung up.

Jane nodded thankfully to Rigsby, took Lisbon's cold hand in his. He could feel the pressure of time upon his shoulders, hear the ticking in his ears like a clock counting down the seconds. His heartbeat quickened to match it.

A/N: Thanks for reading!