A/N: Have I beaten you home today, Cat? And, and. This chapter takes me over 500,000 words archived on this site. Hee. I think that's rather cool.
Anyway, thank you to: boutondor, phoenixmagic1, Ebony10, Frogster, Koezh, yaba, Famous4it and April for reviewing part six. Especially so to April who logged in anonymously - glad you liked the chapter.
And backstory, people? Really? I hate writing fluff... *grumbles*
x tromana
Part Seven
Red John.
It just had to be, didn't it?
She'd almost forgotten how the rational side of Jane's brain just switched off whenever the serial killer was involved. How it was like watching a different man operate in his body. Somebody frenetic, obsessed and more than willing to throw his life away. Any sign of the light, carefree, teasing person she usually knew was practically erased from sight.
As was all of their history.
It didn't really scare her; she'd seen decent men do strange things time after time, it was in the very nature of her job. It just worried her and upset her more than a little too. There was no need for Jane to play the hurt, vengeful widow. He had already proven he was more than capable of moving on, with her, even though that relationship had come to an end.
Lisbon carefully sat on one of the Plaskett girls' beds and watched Jane warily. At least he'd stopped talking about how 'personal' the case was and resumed his search of their room. She sighed and pinched the bridge her nose. They weren't getting anywhere. There were no links as to why Red John would prey on the twins, especially girls slightly younger than his usual preference.
All she got was that he had wanted to make sure that he, they, worked the case.
Probably so he could keep an eye on them.
"Jane, calm down."
Lisbon glared at her ex-husband as he rifled through yet another draw, the contents of which were slowly spilling onto the floor of the relatively tidy bedroom. Holding a tube of mascara in one hand and a hairbrush in the other, Jane turned to face her, glaring.
Ignoring his contempt, she stood and plucked the items out of his hands, placing them down on the bed before wrapping her arms around his waist.
She knew it wasn't going to do much, but he needed the comfort - they both did.
And without even thinking it through properly, she rolled onto her tiptoes and gently placed a kiss on his right cheek. Even as she pulled away she regretted it somewhat; Red John's letters coming to the forefront of her mind. But he couldn't know, it physically wasn't possible unless he followed them constantly.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah."
She knew he didn't mean it, but didn't bother to take him on. What was the point?
"Come on, let's go talk to the parents."
000
When she heard Jane call for her, she was on her feet and back in the bedroom within seconds. Lisbon had wondered why Jane had wanted to look in there. He'd done a very thorough search the day before, until she had ceased his destructive actions.
Well, as she watched him gather together the camera and microphone wires and dump them on a bed, she knew exactly why. There had to be a logical explanation for it, didn't there?
The irrational part of her brain couldn't help but wonder though. What if the camera and microphone had been planted by Red John or someone he knew?
What if he had seen everything that had happened twenty four hours earlier?
What if he knew?
She paused briefly while she came to terms with this new discovery, simply to regain composure. Red John may have taken the girls and already killed one of them, but that didn't mean he was responsible for the camera too. There was little point in jumping to conclusions, especially when there were cold, hard facts to be gathered.
As she asked the family, Lisbon found herself hoping desperately that their brother was responsible. That due to his horror at the company they had recently been keeping, he was trying to do the 'brotherly' thing and keep an eye on them the only way he knew how. It was entirely plausible; it was the kind of thing her own brothers would have done if she had dared date someone that they disapproved of.
She realized that she had been clutching at straws when the Plasketts explained about their break in. The petty crime that could easily be cover up for darker deeds, such as the device now laying on the bed. When she had had a few more moments to process it all, she told herself she would make sure they took it as evidence.
How it would be useful, except for the fact it had been present in the room for eight months, she didn't know, but procedure was procedure.
Lisbon was almost grateful for Rigsby's phone call. It provided a distraction for her frazzled nerves and besides, it would hopefully give them a couple of answers and maybe even a location for R.J. Solutions.
Most importantly, it might just give them a solid lead rather than flimsy theories, which was all she felt like she had at that very moment.
000
It was suddenly very quiet.
A lot had happened in twenty four hours.
Setting up the plan with Jane; saying words that had more truth in them than she cared to admit.
Waiting nervously for what felt like an age. Lisbon had never been the most patient of souls, but for Jane's plan to work, he needed enough time for Red John to make his move.
Worrying that Red John would choose to go after herself rather than him. After all, she had broken that mutual agreement. The one she had agreed to by demonstration only; the fact that they divorced being evidence enough for the serial killer. The promise that had been reinforced so recently, shortly after Jared Renfrew's murder.
Going to Sparrow's Peak earlier than he anticipated to save his life and Maya's too.
Arresting Dumar Hardy too; she'd seen far too many crooked cops in her time. It was something that made her sick to her stomach. The fact that people could abuse the very laws they promised to uphold.
Another fight with her ex, this time them both knowing they meant every word.
Finding herself at the wrong end of a gun and Jane, of all people, saving her life.
Coming within a hair's breadth of finding Red John.
But they managed to return Maya Plaskett to her family. That was more than could be said for so many hostage victims. She was alive and well, relatively speaking. The emotional scars would take far longer to heal but there was little she could personally do for them.
Especially when she had her own to be dealing with.
Lisbon knew that she could be forgiven for feeling more than a little shook up after the day's events, not that she would ever admit it. But still, it was a relief to be home, alone.
The silence may have been deafening, but she preferred that to the alternative. At least it gave her overactive mind time to think. She knew she would be forced to have some appointments with the departmental shrink, but also knew that she would do more of the coming to terms with it on her own.
After a cup of tea, she padded upstairs. A bath sounded like a good idea. And maybe, in the morning, she'd treat herself to a hair cut. That seemed like a good enough thing to do on a rare day off.
Spoil herself for a change, instead of worrying about other people.
As she allowed herself to slip into the velvety bubbles, a treat for a stressful handful of days, a folded piece of paper was slipped underneath her front door. Instead of an envelope, it was decorated with a smiley face, drawn in a red sharpie.
TBC…