A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed for not giving up on this story. Some Real life deadlines for original writing projects made this installment later than planned, and for that, I can only offer apologies. As always, I don't own or profit.
Knowing what people think really makes my day, and it makes me do a snoopy happy dance besides, so if you feel like leaving a review, or dropping in to say Hi, it will be welcomed. I hope you enjoy the story.
Chapter 8:
Jane opened the envelope, unfolded the document, and started reading. His first thought was of the time he had been summoned by the television personality, Karen Cross, for her show, "You've Been Served." He doubted very much that she would try it with him again, as it hadn't gone the way she wanted it to the last time, and Jane had shown her just how hard controlling him could be. Still, she might think she would have an easier time if she summoned all of them.
Oddly enough, this summons looked somehow more official and more legitimate than that one had, though Jane couldn't tell what it was about the document that made him think so. Jane looked up to see that Lisbon and Abbott had moved back down the sidewalk next to them, and they were all watching him, waiting for him to finish reading.
"Any idea why we've been summoned?" He asked, looking at Abbott.
"Not if it doesn't say. I'll make some calls tomorrow and see what I can find out. You all go home and get some sleep tonight."
The four parted company, and Jane walked Lisbon to her car. "Where is Agent Potts?"
"Wylie gave her a ride back to the office. After I got served, I wanted to wait and see if it was only me, or all of us. Looks like it was all of us."
"Are you worried about it?" Jane asked, opening her car door for her.
"Aren't you?" Lisbon asked, as she sat down in the driver's seat of her car.
He shook his head. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. We've dealt with worse. Drop me at the office?" She nodded. With that, he closed her car door for her, and ran around to the passenger side.
(0o0)
Lisbon parked her car in her driveway, glancing up and down the street, trying to spot the uniforms that had been assigned to her place, as she unlocked the door. There, she saw them. They sat in a nondescript car two doors down in front of a neighbor's house. Closing the door behind her, she took off her jacket and hung it over the back of one of her dining room chairs. She poured herself a glass of jack and moved upstairs to soak in the tub. After a few minutes under the hot water, she started to relax.
She stayed in the tub until her fingertips puckered and the water had cooled until it was almost cold. She climbed out and put on her night clothes, which these days consisted of an oversized shirt and a pair of old, ratty shorts. Glancing at the clock on her phone, she was shocked at how late it was. As if her body was agreeing with her, she let out a huge yawn and, placing her phone on the side table next to her bed, she climbed under the covers, rooted around until she found a comfortable position, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come.
She couldn't rest. Troublesome images kept playing on an endless loop in her mind, haunting her sleep. Amanda Shaw, Volker's pretty young assistant, hanging by a bedsheet in her apartment. A man, dead for about two months, lying in an abandoned warehouse. A little boy, running for his life at the zoo. A dust covered toy car. Volker, sitting on Shaw's front steps beside her, blaming her for Amanda Shaw's suicide. Mocking her. A curly headed henchman, dead from stepping in front of a bus.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes, and a feeling of uneasiness she couldn't explain washed over her. As her breathing slowed, and she realized she was safe in her own bedroom, she calmed down a bit. She turned over on her side, pulling the blankets up a little closer around her, like a cocoon, and closed her eyes once more. She opened them again immediately, when she heard a loud beep. Glancing around, she saw that her phone screen was lit up, as though someone was calling. She looked at the screen and gasped.
She had received a text message from a number she didn't recognize. "Enjoy your life, while you still have it. Love the pajamas. Sleep well." She sat up straighter in bed, alarmed. Volker. He had said something like that to her once before. "You have no idea what's happening at all, do you? Enjoy your job, while you still have it, Teresa." She saw him sitting there, smiling that reptilian smile, and she felt sick to her stomach. What kind of game was he playing?
She wasn't sure what to do.
Knowing she probably wouldn't sleep any more that night anyway, she quickly dressed, hiding both her off duty Glock and her FBI issued sidearm on her person, along with one or two extra clips for each. She then stuffed a box of shells in the pocket of the light jacket she wore against the nighttime chill and picked up the double barreled shotgun her grandfather had given her when she left for California.
Slipping out the back door, she vaguely registered the coolness of the early spring night air. The cheerful lilt of far off voices floated on the air. I should probably call Cho. Except there was nothing unusual about this night. She circled the house. Nothing out of place. No lights in windows. No high vantage points from which someone could watch unobserved. And most of the neighborhood had motion detector lights in the back yard, so anyone or anything walking through would trip them. By the time she made it around to the front of the house, she had started to feel better. She continued walking around the house, and back into her back yard, planning to go back in the door she came out of, because that was the only door she had unlocked behind herself. She had almost reached the door when she heard a sound in the edge of the woods. It sounded like something crashing through the underbrush—cracking twigs and rustling leaves as it came. She looked that direction and saw a light bobbing up and down through the trees Probably just a teenager from the neighborhood, messing around in the middle of the night, but it was worth checking into.
Walking on the balls of her feet, as her brothers and later her law enforcement training had taught her to do, so she wouldn't make a sound in the woods, she moved carefully and quickly toward the light, gun drawn. As she stepped into the edge of the woods, the light went out. She dug a flashlight out from among her things and turned it on. The small beam didn't do much to push back the darkness, but it did help a little. She thought she saw something moving in the shadows, just outside of the beam of light. kept walking along the trail where she had seen the light, her senses on high alert. After a few minutes, the trail opened into a clearing and forked in two directions, and she no longer saw movement, so she wasn't sure which way to go.
She shone her flashlight around the area but there was nothing there except leaves moving gently in the night breeze and stillness. Whatever it was she had seen was gone, and she was beginning to believe it was nothing except for lightning bugs moving in the breeze anyway.
She turned and started walking back along the trail, pulling her jacket closer around her because the night had a definite chill. As she walked back, she started thinking about the text message, trying to determine what made her think there was something outside. They had mentioned her pajamas—that was it. She had thought there was someone watching because they knew she was wearing pajamas. She usually slept in just a night shirt, but they wouldn't have known that, would they? The message was sent at bedtime. Somebody, trying to scare her, probably just took a guess and got lucky. Feeling a little silly for feeling the need to walk around the house in the middle of the night, she resolved to look in the FBI database to see to whom the number the message was registered was assigned. All of that could wait for tomorrow. The fresh air had at least made her sleepy.
She stepped out of the edge of the woods, headed back toward the house, when something hit her hard from behind and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
(0o0)
Lisbon wasn't sure how much time had passed when she became aware that she was gently swaying back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She was aware, on some level, of well ordered activity taking place in the background. A jumble of sounds, which she recognized but couldn't say why she did so, coalesced into voices, though she couldn't say she actually recognized any of them. She couldn't see anything but blackness, all around her, though she didn't really understand why.
"Evening Lisbon. Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"
She opened her eyes to find Jane sitting in front of her, smiling widely, She put one leg down—from where?—and he put a hand out to stop her from sitting up. The action caused her to sway wildly again, and it was then that she realized she was lying on her porch swing, which meant that Jane must be sitting in one of her rocking chairs on her front porch. So many questions bombarded her head at one time that she didn't think she'd ever remember to ask them all.
"Don't try to sit up. Not yet. The doctor's on his way."
"What are you doing here?"
"The two uniforms watching your house saw movement around the side of the house, and then heard a gunshot. They went to check it out and found you unconscious at the edge of the woods, with a shotgun lying next to you. They carried you up here, and called Cho, who called me, and we came as soon as we heard. How are you feeling?"
Groaning loudly, she struggled into a sitting position, ignoring the warning not to sit up. Pain rocketed through her skull and she grimaced.
"I'm okay. I don't need a doctor." She rubbed her face with her hands. "What time is it?"
"A little after 5. Cho thought you might say that. He said, and I quote, "I'll be the judge of what you need and don't need, as senior agent on the scene. Also, the doctor has instructions to be discreet."
As much as she wanted to protest, she couldn't find the energy to do so, so she settled for resting there on her swing with her eyes closed. There would be time enough to answer questions when Cho came back from wherever he was, and she didn't really feel like talking about it anyway.
"No, Lisbon. Open your eyes. Don't go to sleep. You might have a concussion."
"There's tea in the kitchen if you want to make some," she said, in a voice that wasn't at all sleepy, though her eyes remained closed.
"I already made some for both of us. Now, open your eyes."
For a moment, she contemplated pretending to be asleep, but she knew it wouldn't work. This man read body language like other people read comic books. He had known the moment she woke up.
"You know I'm not crazy about tea."
He looked at her with that way he had and said, "Just try it. I think you might like this one."
"You could have brought me some coffee."
"Not a good idea at this time of night," he said.
"I probably won't sleep anyway."
"Well, peppermint helps with clarity for the discussion that still has to happen with Cho. You don't need to sleep with a concussion, but you also don't need a caffeine high when the adrenaline wears off."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You pulled Cho out of bed in the middle of the night. I'm pretty sure he's going to want some answers."
When she was sure she could take the cup Jane offered without spilling it, she did so, and they sat together for the next few minutes, neither saying anything. She sipped the tea he had brought her, and had to admit that she liked it more than she thought she would, and it probably was a better choice than coffee in the middle of the night.
Cho walked up on the porch a few minutes later, and pulled the other rocking chair over next to Jane, facing the swing Lisbon sat on.
"What happened?"
Lisbon shook her head. It was all a jumble. She needed to sleep, then she could tell them all about it.
"We found a shotgun with one shot fired. I sent it over to the crime lab, so that should give us some answers. We'll have a crew here at daybreak, looking for the shell and any other clues. Rest until the doctor gets here., but don't go to sleep. We're right here if you need us."