Author's Note- So long since I updated this story, but its more of an in-between fic so I don't feel too bad.
Disclaimer- If it were mine, this is what would have happened... I think. So it's obviously not.
The inside of the tiny house had wooden floors and blue walls. A kind of blue that was soothing to Jane's strained eyes after the too bright sunlight outside. Passing through a crowd of uniforms circling the front door like flies around a corpse, he followed Lisbon over the threshold into the sea. His headache lessened just a bit and he almost sighed aloud with relief as the cops parted before the woman in front of him like fish before a shark. It was enough to make him smirk at them, despite the heavy pulse in his temple. Lisbon was tiny, both in frame and stature, but she carried about her an authority rightly earned. A confidence that she sometimes hid and other times wielded like a knight might wield a shield or a weapon. He loved it when she did that.
They moved on from the crowded hallway into the living room. The place was slightly messy, with a few toys littered across the floor and obvious signs of occupation. There was a fireplace on the opposite end of a couch and some chairs that were facing each other. Lisbon walked forward and shook the hand of one of the Detectives, getting down to the business of being briefed.
After nodding at the plain-clothes briefly, Jane let his attention wander. Ignoring the couple sitting on the couch and looking on like the living dead, he instead meandered over to the shelves lining one wall so he could examine the contents. Especially the pictures.
The Lister's were a typical family. Mr. Lucas Lister had dark brown hair and a broodiness about him. Mrs. Lister was one of those bubbly people he was amazed still existed at all in the world. That was obvious both from the pictures in front of him and the way she was sobbing into her hands not far away.
Finished with the detective, Lisbon introduced them both in a quiet voice that nonetheless carried, the voice she used almost specifically on grieving family members. Then she sat across from them and started with her own questions.
He kept moving, content to let Lisbon do her thing and listened with half a mind to the responses. It wasn't necessary to devote all his attention to them, so he wouldn't even if he could. His feet took him over to the fireplace. His head was still throbbing gently, making it difficult to concentrate, but Jane tried to focus on the the ballerina made of glass on the mantle anyway. "Was this Joanna's?" He asked abruptly over his shoulder.
Lisbon gave him a slight twisted frown, meaning she was frustrated with him interrupting her, but as usual didn't complain. She had her thing, he had his.
As he'd hoped, the question from him startled the couple and their basic reactions were telling. Despite the woman's blubbering, Joanna's sister-in-law wasn't half as fond of the deceased as she tried to pretend. The brother, however seemed genuine in his remorse. "Yes. I bought it for her when we were eight. She gave it to Maggie when she said she wanted to be a dancer like- like her." The man's voice broke a little.
Jane nodded and glanced through the archway into the kitchen and on through the glass doors into the backyard. He knew where Maggie probably would have been sent.
"Your oldest took after Joanna?" Lisbon regained their attention, and as usual, her timing was impeccable.
With everyone distracted again, he headed into the kitchen, intent on making himself a cup of tea to combat the headache still piercing the back of his eyes, knowing Lisbon would fill him in on anything else Joanna's family might let slip.
Motions more mechanical than thought through, he pulled a kettle from the back burner, filled it with water and set it on high heat. As he turned back to search through the cupboards, he caught sight of a dark brown head of hair ducking back out of sight. It brought a smiled to his lips.
He had caught sight of the tiny eyes watching him almost immediately upon entering the kitchen, just at the edge of his vision, but tried not to let on in order to put the watchers at ease. Eventually, he saw a little girl break away from the bushes and run back to the middle of the yard without looking back. Absently keeping an eye on her, he took the kettle from the heat and poured the steaming water into his cup. For a moment, he mixed, unwilling to risk any sudden moves. It was only when he gathered the cup and saucer up in both hands that he looked directly out the large windows.
Two young girls were playing in the back, blissfully unaware as of yet of exactly why there were policemen in their house. They kept shooting glances at him as they played though, obviously a little on edge.
He pulled the sliding door open and slipped outside. The light wasn't as intense to his sore eyes now. There was a picnic table off to the side of the small yard, so he creakily took a seat there, leaning back a bit and sipping from his cup.
The youngest girl, about the age of four, gathered the courage and wandered over to him.
"Hi." He spoke gently.
She gave him a squint, as though still unsure of him. "Are you a policeman?" There was a slight lisp to her words.
"No, they're just my friends. My name's Patrick." He smiled, then looked her up and down as though suddenly suspicious. "What about you, are you a policeman?"
"No!" The girl scoffed, smiling back and revealing her two missing front teeth. "I not."
The older of the two girls, Maggie, had sidled up beside her sister by now. "She'd be a policewoman anyway."
"Of course, my mistake." He said seriously. "A policewoman then."
The little one grinned at him.
"You're here about Aunt Jo, aren't you?"
The question caught him off guard, and he squinted up at the older girl curiously. She was facing him straight on, but her uncertainty came out in the fidgeting of her hands against her jeans. He decided to go with the truth. "Yes. How'd you know that?"
"I heard Dad say her name, but I haven't seen her."
"Observant." He said approvingly.
"If she was here, she'd come to see me first." She added sadly.
He tipped his head. "Does your aunt always come find you when she comes to visit?"
She nodded, tears appearing suddenly in her eyes.
"You two must be close."
Again, a nod. "Is she okay?" It was whispered and almost wailed.
To that, he didn't really know how to answer. He couldn't very well tell the girl that her father's sister had been found practically sawed in half and left on display like a deer carcass. Taking a deep breath, he met the girl's eyes. The pale brown of them made her expression somehow sadder and harder to face. "You should ask your momma."
She swallowed, a tear escaping down her cheek.
"Aunty Jo gived me a new bicytle." The younger one interrupted, looking between the two of them worriedly. She probably sensed something was off and wanted to dispel the sadness in her sister's expression. "You wanna see?"
"I-" He eyed Maggie up and down to be sure she was alright. "-would love to." Setting his tea aside, he stood and followed the girl to the side door of a garage at the other end of the yard.
She opened it and went inside.
Maggie and he followed more slowly. He was trying to stay close, making sure the older girl wasn't going to break into sobs or anything. Impressed at her stoicism though, he stepped over the lintel and glanced at the back of the garage where the little one had just grabbed her bicycle by its handlebars.
He froze. The hairs all over his body felt like they were standing on end quite suddenly and the floor seemed to disappear beneath his tilting world. Then he was grabbing the little girl, pulling her away from her bike and into his arms on instinct, herding Maggie back at she shouted. "Lisbon." His tone held an edge of panic. "Lisbon!"