I wanted to explain the use of swear words in this story. Normally I use as little as possible - I find it usually distracting and often doesn't fit the character. In this story I felt like it would be totally in character for the bad guys - especially Zach. I find it equally as distracting when people use euphemisms in scenarios where most people would swear (hero drops a hammer on his toe and says "oh darn" - not realistic). So ... I'm sorry if anyone is offended but I have to be true to my characters and the scenes.

Thank you to all of you who have reviewed. I don't always get back to people right away, but please know I appreciate it greatly and you inspire me!

Teresa wanted to scream. They'd arrived at the airport and they'd been happy to find a plane ready and waiting. Hightower had come through for them. Unfortunately, they were still waiting for the okay to take off due to some problem with a disabled plane. The delay was killing her.

"It'll be okay boss," Cho told her from the seat beside her. "We'll be there soon. It's not a long drive from Burbank to Malibu."

They'd agreed it would be faster to fly to the smaller, Burbank airport from Sacramento than to fly into LAX, which was huge, congested and a longer way from Malibu. She just wished the damn plane would get going!

Almost as if in answer to her silent words, the pilot came on and announced they had been given the go ahead to take off. The ride itself was only about an hour and a car would be waiting for them at the other end.

"Any word from the Malibu police department?" Grace asked. She was sitting next to Rigsby who was across the aisle from Cho. It was a small plane with only eight seats, two deep on each side.

"Just that they saw someone come out the front door and walk around for a few minutes. They couldn't tell who it was other than it was an average sized man."

"Could it have been Jane?" Rigsby asked. "I mean, he is average."

"No he's not," Cho answered, no inflection in his voice.

"I meant his height," Rigsby clarified. "He's anything but average in other ways."

"Maybe it was him," Grace said hopefully. "What I can't figure out is why he drove all the way to Malibu. He seemed fine at the end of the case although he told me he was tired and was looking forward to an evening listening to music and reading a book. "

There was a long pause filled only with deep silence before Lisbon finally answered. "It was my fault," she told her team.

"It was not your fault boss," Cho told her. "You just told him the truth."

"But I didn't need to be so mean about it," she said, her voice filled with guilt.

"What did you say?" Grace wanted to know, although immediately she looked uncomfortable for asking.

"She told him he'd been an ass for how he'd behaved during the case."

"You did?" Grace's eyes grew big.

"No I didn't," Teresa defended herself. "But I did tell him he'd behaved inappropriately. I also told him – I didn't want to see him. He needs to know that he can't get away with acting like that. He needs to know there are consequences to his actions."

"You told him you didn't want to see him – for how long?" Rigsby wanted to know. "I mean – Jane does stupid things, but we're his only friends. At least I think we're his only friends. How did he – react?"

Lisbon sighed and leaned her head back against the backrest. The plane had taken off and would be landing soon. In the meantime her headache had grown worse. "I – I think he was upset," she said. "God, why was I so mean? I could have told him how I felt without telling him I didn't want to see him. Stan told me he thought there was something wrong with Jane - that maybe he'd been -" she stopped and bit her lips.

" He'd been what, boss?" Rigsby asked. "And Stan who? The parking lot guy?"

"Yes, that Stan. And he thought that – Jane might have been crying."

"Jane doesn't cry," Cho said.

"Yes he does," Grace said softly, sadly. "I've seen him."

"You've seen him cry?" Lisbon looked at her in surprise. She'd seen Jane uncomfortable, scared, hurt, embarrassed and many other emotions, but she'd never once seen him cry.

"Yes. But look – it was private and – I don't think I should have said anything. I just think he does a really good job at hiding his emotions, but underneath that there's a lot of pain."

Teresa closed her eyes, overwhelmed with regret and guilt. She new how much sadness Jane carried, that he had to live with a horrible tragedy. But he pretended so well that even she forgot sometimes. She thought back to her words to him and would have given anything, at that moment, to take them back. If anything happened to Jane because of her, she'd never forgive herself.


A few moments later they landed and her thoughts were taken up with all the details of getting to Jane's house. She'd worry about everything else later.

Jane woke to darkness and the distant sound of waves. Again he was disoriented, unsure where he was or why he was – wherever here was. He blinked a few times to determine if he could see, but then realized that wherever he was, it was dark.

He was slower to come to full awareness this time, and admitted that he was getting worse. His headache hadn't abated and he found it even harder to concentrate. Something must be seriously wrong.

A few seconds later things started to come back to him – the three crappy criminals: Ed, Zack and Charlie, being hit over the head, waking up in his house, ordering pizza and then watching two of the men fight. After that things grew a bit fuzzier although he remembered little bits of his escape.

He tasted a horrible taste in his mouth, which brought to mind the fact that he'd been sick. He hoped the evidence didn't give away his route.

It took him a few more seconds to remember where he'd gone and where he'd ended up. It was the smell of the place – the damp earth and salt water smell that told him he was in the cave – Charlotte's cave.

He felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but then tried to put everything out of his mind except how to survive. Hopefully whoever was after him – Zack, he thought – wouldn't find the cave and he'd be safe.

But then another problem came to him. What if he grew sicker and couldn't get out? Would he simply die here, only to have his body found years later by some kids exploring the cliffs? That would be a horrible end, although part of him thought that there would be no better place for him to die. He at least would be surrounded by thoughts and memories of his daughter.

He wondered briefly why he hadn't picked this place to kill himself years ago – when he had desired death. But that idea immediately was rejected. How could he possibly defile this place with a cowardly act of suicide? No – this was a special place, in many ways a holy place, if there were such a thing. It had been filled with laughter and innocence and joy.

He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling more aware. Maybe his daughter's spirit lived in this place and was affecting him.

"You're crazy Patrick," he whispered to himself. He didn't even believe in spirits! But he admitted to himself – sometimes – that a tiny part of him did believe, or at least wanted to believe, that Charlotte and Angela were out there somewhere – happy and safe

Most of him, however, didn't. Most of him thought that they were gone, forever – ashes to ashes – and that only his memories would keep them alive.

"Well, that just means you have to stay alive," he murmured. He finally decided he had to do something other than lie on his back, especially since rocks were sticking into him in various tender places.

It took a few minutes, but he finally managed to sit up, even though he continued to sway. His eyes had grown slightly accustomed to the dark – which was pierced by faint moonlight peering carefully into the cave.

He glanced around – and suddenly felt a swift jab to the heart. A old, dirty looking doll was lying in the corner – it's blanket beginning to rot in the sea air.

He closed his eyes and felt his throat constrict. It was Maddy – the doll he'd bought Charlotte when he'd gone away on a trip to Vegas to do a one-week psychic show. She had only been three at the time and had fallen in love with the doll. Right up until the time she'd died she'd slept with her and played with her.

He'd gone crazy looking for Maddy after Charlotte was killed. He'd sobbed when he couldn't find the doll – curled up in the corner of her room, devastated and horrified by the thought of burying his daughter without Maddy beside her.

He'd never thought about looking for her in their cave. He remembered now that Angela had told him that Charlotte had disappeared for almost an hour that morning - the morning of the day she'd died– and Angela had been scared to death. She'd given their daughter a severe talking to and a lengthy time out after the fact, but she hadn't told Jane where Charlotte had gone. He hadn't had time to get the details before he'd gone on the TV show which had spelled their deaths. Now looking at Maddy, he realized she must have sneaked away, without permission, to their cave.

And left her doll for her father to find years after her death.

He slowly made his way over to the doll and carefully picked it up. Although the blanket was rotting, the doll itself simply needed some cleaning. He hugged it and held it to his face, hoping he could smell one last hint of his daughter.

But all he smelled was mildew and dirt. There was nothing left of his little girl other than an old, plastic doll.

The tears slipped out of his eyes and he leaned against the rock wall, the doll clutched tightly in his hands.

"Teresa, where are you?" he whispered. He needed her to come and save him, not only from the cave and from danger – but from his memories.


Zack stubbed his toe against another rock and swore. He was getting angrier with every step he took and every toe he bashed. Where the hell was Jane? He couldn't have made it too far, not in the shape he was in.

"Are you hiding Mr. Jane?" he hissed. It was what he'd done as a child – hidden away so his father couldn't find him and do those things to him. He remembered trying to be perfectly still, to not make a sound so that the footsteps would go away and he'd be safe, at least until the next time his father wanted to play his perverted games.

Zack stopped and looked around carefully. Where could someone hide on a rocky beach? There was no place to go to the left of the path down the hill, it was simply another sharp cliff. So that left only one way, except straight out to the sea. Along the base of the cliff, with a narrow band of rocky beach, was the way Jane must have travelled.

Suddenly a dark spot appeared in the cliff face up ahead about 50 feet. He grinned and began to stride forward. Jane must have hidden in that cave.

It didn't Zack long to get to the point he'd seen. The moon had come out from behind the few clouds and was now shining brightly, illuminating the whole beach. He could also clearly see the cave in the side of the cliff.

It was up about five feet off the ground, but low enough that it shouldn't have been a problem for even a man who was hurt. Zack hurried to the entrance, although he kept himself well out of the range of any attack which might come from within.

After a few minutes of silence he managed to peek his head into the cave. "Damn," he said silently. He couldn't see well enough to know whether or not Jane was there. He'd have to go in and check, secure in the knowledge that this is where Jane had to be.

He kept his gun at the ready, but managed to pull himself up into the mouth of the cave. He immediately noticed the smell. It was one of unuse and decay – a musty smell that he associated with a place unused by humans.

He eventually pulled himself up over the edge, a little apprehensive as to what was going to happen. When nothing did, he pulled himself in all the way -

- only to find a completely empty cave. Okay, there were some branches and grass, left by nesting birds, but nothing else of interest or importance. And clearly, based on the smell and the rotting pile in front of him, no human had been here for a long time.

"Shit!" he cried, kicking the pile in front of him – which only resulted in a foul odor permiating the cave, which came from the rotting corpse of a dead seagull.

"You fuckin' shit!" he cried. "I'm gonna kill you when I find you!"

Zack turned around and practically flung himself out of the cave – which only resulted in him tumbling to the ground and cracking his head on the rocks lining the cliff. He swore again and rubbed his head, positive there'd be a huge bump. If that's all he had to show for this trip he was gonna go back and kick Ed's ass!

He debated for a second whether to keep going, or to give up and head back to the house. Who knows, he thought, maybe Charlie had found Jane out front of the house. It would be just like him not to say anything, but to let Zack go huntin' around in the dark, practically killing himself.

As he was silently ranting to himself about the unfairness of it all, and the fact that everyone was out to get him, something caught his eye in the distance. He squinted, only to see another dark spot against the cliff.

He'd already walked past that point – it was back the way he'd come – and he hadn't seen anything, so it could have been an optical illusion. But he decided it was worth it to check it out. This time he was going to be careful not to disturb any piles of crap!

It took him a few minutes to get back to the anomaly he'd seen since the moon had once again gone behind a cloud and it was hard to see. He cursed the fact that there was no moonlight as the dark gave him the creeps.

"Well I'll be damned," he whistled when he arrived. There, in the side of the hill, was the opening to a cave – one that he'd completely missed on his journey out. Maybe this time he'd get lucky!


"Are we there yet?"

"You sound like a ten year old," Cho told Rigsby. "We'll be there when we get there."

"Yeah, well you sound like my father," Rigsby shot back. "6u7I'm worried, okay? I just want to have an idea of how long until we arrive at Jane's house. I've never been there before."

"It'll be another fifteen minutes," Lisbon said. She had insisted on driving and up until now had been quiet.

"What's it like," Grace asked softly. Teresa turned her head to look at the woman beside her.

"What's what like?"

"Jane's house," she said. "I – just can't imagine what kind of house he has. I mean – Malibu? Now he lives in an attic or a grungy motel. I can't picture him in an actual house."

"I've only seen it once," Teresa confessed. "It's empty – no furniture – but it's in a beautiful location. It overlooks the ocean."

"Wow! It must be worth a lot of money."

"Probably hard to sell," Cho added from the backseat. "People don't like to buy houses where people were murdered."

"Ooh – that's creepy!" Rigsby told him.

"Just tellin' the truth. Would you want to buy that kind of a house?"

"I don't know," Wayne shrugged. "I'll never be able to afford a house in Malibu anyway, so it won't come up."

"There are houses in cheaper areas where people have been murdered," Cho pointed out. "They usually end up bull dozing them."

"What a waste!" Grace shook her head. "It's all so sad – a beautiful house, totally bare with only the memory of finding your wife and child murdered. I think he should get rid of it. Even if they tore the house down the property has to be worth a lot."

"I think he keeps it for a reason," Teresa said softly, speaking more to herself than to her colleagues.

"Really?" Grace asked. "Why?"

It was Cho who answered, rather than Lisbon. "I think it keeps him focused on his hunt for Red John. It's a reminder."

There was more silence but then Teresa sighed. "I think you're right," she agreed, although she didn't say anything about the face on the wall. They might end up seeing it, but if not it was something she'd keep private. Jane deserved that.

The GPS told her to turn and the next thing she knew they were on a residential street, although the houses were spaced far apart from one another. It was a beautiful area and she realized that what Grace had said was true. Jane's house – or the property – must be worth a lot. She briefly wondered how he afforded the taxes, but then she spotted a police car and pulled up behind it. They had arrived.