Author's Note- So many asked, I finished one as soon as I'd completed my other obligations IRL. Happy Reading! :)
Disclaimer- If it were mine, this is what would have happened... I think. So it's obviously not.
They pulled up to the Brannit House not twenty minutes later.
It was small, like the Lister house had been, but where the other was pink, this one was a funny off brown color. The paint was chipping, revealing an earlier bright blue that was flaking away too. The entire neighborhood was shabbier than the other one had been, more run down and with fenced yards full of things one wouldn't usually expect to find in front of a house. Encased in bowing boards warped by weather, the porch in front wasn't exactly inviting. In the shadow of the short roof, a gray couch peeked out, it's tattered remains like some kind of warning sign.
Why did it fill her with such disquiet?
"Get an ETA on the backup. And stay here." Lisbon ordered sternly to Jane when he took off his seatbelt at the same time she did, giving him a look she hoped conveyed her seriousness.
He put up his hands like he wouldn't dare disobey her.
Yeah, right.
She drew her gun and climbed out of the car. The hard metal under her fingertips reverberated faintly as she close the door as silently as possible. She slid her hand across it while moving to the front of the van before raising her weapon in the other, staying with the hood between her and the house.
There didn't seem to be any sign of movement, not in any of the windows that she could see. Slightly crouched, feet moving swiftly but keeping her upper body still, she came out and approached the fence. Unlatching it, she swung it open and gave a quiet, short whistle. If there was a guard dog, she'd rather it didn't startle her. When nothing came, she continued on up to the porch, weapon leading as she glanced again at the empty windows.
Still nothing.
Perhaps the killer, or Red John, had already been and gone. Perhaps there wasn't anyone home. Maybe they were already at work. Wetting her lips, she put her back to the wall, and looked back to the car.
Jane was watching her from inside. He wasn't stupid enough to leave before he knew someone wasn't going to immediately start shooting at him. Sometimes, he had a remarkable self-preservation instinct.
Sometimes.
At least he usually knew when to high-tail it out of a situation and let her handle it.
She turned her attention back to the door beside her. There wasn't time to wait around. If they'd managed to beat Red John here, there was a limited window to get in place. Carefully, she edged the screen door open and knocked on the cracked door. "CBI, open up!"
Still nothing.
Knocking again, she pitched her voice louder. "This is the police! Please answer the door!" After several beats, she figured no one was going to answer. She tried the handle and it barely turned before meeting resistance. Locked. Okay, deep breath. With a controlled spin she lined herself up with the door and kicked in right beside the latch, splintering the wood on the frame just slightly as the thing gave way and let her through.
It was dark inside, maybe as gloomy as the barn had been earlier, or so it seemed. The shock of coming into it after the muted light outside was disorienting and she hooded her eyes by curling her head down, so that she could still see until her eyes adjusted. The first room was some kind of living area and was clear of any bodies, warm or cold. She swept into the next, turning methodical as she searched the house. Nothing on the first floor.
She hesitated at the stairs, thinking that back up should have arrived by now. A glance back the way of the front door was fruitless.
Still nothing.
Cho hadn't been that far behind them, had he?
It was only a small stall that kept her there because she was in sweep mode, which meant you moved fast and with determination. Hesitation got you shot. Her foot landed on the bottom stair and her legs kept her other steps swift and silent as she moved upward. The stairs led to a hallway and she checked two bedrooms before she heard sounds downstairs.
"Lisbon?" Cho called faintly.
Edging open a third door, she was met with the barrel of a shotgun pointed at her stomach.
"Police! Drop the weapon!" She said quickly, forcing down the momentary panic to grip her gun more tightly. It was at an angle, so the door jam would take the worst of any shot.
"Whoa, now." The shotgun was turned to the side, held loosely and out to her. "Police? I don't want no trouble."
Very slowly, she reached out her left hand and took the proffered shotgun before she responded.
"Boss?" Cho was at the other end of the hall, gun drawn, watching her for signs of distress. He'd probably heard her call out to the man to drop the gun.
"Situation's under control." She assured him, not letting the strange man out of her sight, and then turned her attention completely back to the man in the bedroom. He was in a wheelchair, and the room beyond looked like his bedroom. "Are you Sylas Bannit?"
"Yeah, that's me." He gave her a questioning look.
"Is there anyone else in the house, sir?" She handed the shotgun to Cho when he got close to her.
"Nah, just me." He tried to peer around the doorjamb, his white knuckles turning whiter when he did. "You and whoever else you brought into my house."
"I did knock, and announce myself." She was feeling a little miffed now. The small scare of a shotgun barrel wasn't something she felt inclined to forgive quickly.
"Well, now. I'm not so good with my hearin' anymore." He rubbed the back of his head. "Just thought you was Rita at first, but then you go creeping..."
She squinted her eyes at him. "Rita?"
"My woman... she been here just this morning. Said she was going shopping, so's we had fixin's for Camryn."
"Your niece."
He looked up at her with slightly widened eyes. Almost like he was asking her how she knew. "Yeah, she comes around sometimes. Tries to clear up a little. Rita told her it's no use, but she come anyway. We was gonna celebrate Rita got made supervisor... at work." He trailed off, frowning. "How you know Camryn?"
Finally accepting that the man didn't really pose a threat, she holstered her weapon and signaled to Cho to give them some space, just before he was called away to the stairs. "I'm sorry, sir- but I'm not bringing good news."
"Cops rarely do." Mr. Bannit eyed her up and down. "You here about Camryn then, ain't you?"
Lisbon pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid we found her body this morning sir."
The way his face crumpled just slightly was more heart-wrenching than if he had burst into tears.
"Boss, sorry-" Cho came up to her, turned his back on the man struggling for composer, and leaned in close next to her ear. "Where's Jane? We found something he should look at."
"He's in the car." She answered without looking away from Sylas Bannit. The echoing silence that followed that, without the sound or feel of movement, made her look up at his eyes slowly.
He had that look on his face. The stone waiting for the statue to bleed. The expectation that had made a thousand mouths spill their secrets.
"Shit." She was already moving when the expletive left her lips, getting to the stairs and practically sliding down them. The turn through the kitchen and out to the living room was just as fast, her heart playing an uncomfortable tattoo against her sternum as she ran full tilt toward the door. Her momentum took her out to the front porch and she could see the car for herself.
Empty.
She swore again. "Jane!" Hopping down the steps to the front walk, she looked around for the consultant. "JANE!"
Still nothing.
Moving around the house, she only breathed when she spotted his curly blonde hair in the backyard, backed up against a fence. The relief flooding through her was so powerful, it was painful. Growling in frustration, she continued through the small gap between the fence and the house, dodging an old cracked sink and some metal siding that was more rust than metal. She wrinkled her nose when she passed what looked like an old sock stuck in a pipe jutting out from the house and at last staggered into the backyard. "Dammit, Jane, you trying to give me a heart attack?!" She shouted.
"Lisbon." Her name was uttered quietly.
It made her pause and look where he was facing. Her stomach felt like it fell down to her toes.
The body of a man was slumped against the fence, a blood smiley face traced across his vacant features. His hands were nailed to the boards behind him. There was a bloody gash down the front of his chest, where his blood-soaked shirt was open enough to let the gruesome wound show. Above his head, the fence bore the words- 'The mire was deep' and below the right arm- '& the child did weep'.
After a second, Lisbon took a slow step forward, recognizing the man beneath the blood.
Tom Wilcox.
Well. That was something.