Disclaimer- They are like little action figures I do not own, but have the incisive need to play with. CBS owns them. Mr. Heller made them. Chompy wants to play with them. No money is, was, or ever will be made from this.

[Chapter 8]

They were speeding down the road with the lights and sirens on, anxious to catch sight of the navy blue van.

Cho slowed the vehicle down. There was a man standing in the middle of the road waving his arms trying to get their attention.

"That was quick," the older man said. He approached the SUV and spoke to them from the passenger's side. "I just called the sheriff's office a few minutes ago."

"Sir, we are in the middle of an investigation. Please move or I will have you arrested for obstruction," Lisbon told the old man.

"Now you just wait one second young lady. Back in my day, we had manner and respected our elders-"

"Sir, We really don't have time for this..."

"That's the guy who almost hit me..." The old man reached into the SUV and tried to grab Jane's ID card sitting on the console in front of Lisbon.

"Don't do that," Cho warned.

Cho grabbed the old guy's thumb and twisted it back. The man yelped in pain.

"Ahhh. Let go. I didn't mean any harm... You almost broke my thumb. Children these days manhandling an old man. First I almost got run over-"

"Sir, what did you mean almost ran you over?" Lisbon asked.

"You two are awfully rude. Where's Rob? He's a man with manors. I don't even know if you are officers of the law..."

Lisbon took a breath and started over. "I'm sorry sir. I'm Agent Lisbon and this is Agent Cho. We are with the California Bureau of Investigations."

Cho flashed his badge.

"Blondie came racing up the hill and almost hit me. I was standing right there. He just missed me. Almost killed me." He pointed a few yards away from the tire tracks.

"Are you sure it was him."

"Yes, he was with another fella, black hair. Bigger. Solid looking..."

"Sir, can you wait over there for a minute?" Lisbon asked.

"Sure, since you asked so politely," The old man stumbled a few feet from the car.

"What do you think?" Lisbon turned to Cho.

"Rigs sounded like he were in a moving vehicle when they called. Van Pelt puts that call in this area. We have dozens of CHP screening the roads and a copter up in the air looking for the Sprinter."

"He did describe Rigsby. The old guy's a little tipsy. You can smell the bourbon on him."

"Yeah. I know."

"Why would they be headed there?"

"Let's find out."

Lisbon hopped out of the SUV and headed towards the old guy. "Sir, What's your name."

"Ian. Ian Graham."

"Mr. Graham. What are you doing out here?"

"Just taking a stroll. I love the heat. I use to live in New Mexico. This is nothing."

"Mr. Graham, we're going to check it out. Do you need anything? I can call Deputy Milton to come get you."

"No, it's fine. You just arrest that blond guy."

"I'll give him a good scolding."

"Good enough," the old man said and he continued on his way.

"Boss, I just got off the phone with the guys in the chopper. They made a pass earlier. The only things around here are a few dirt roads and some sort of structure."

"Let's go."

They made their way up hill until the came to an olive green squarish metal structure. The fence around it was damaged.

"We've got probable cause. We should enter the property." Cho pulled his gun from his holster. "It isn't closed off. There no forced entry on our part."

"Something isn't right here." Lisbon examined the fence closer. "The posts and the links are all facing outward. The direction of the grass denotes that the truck was traveling outward."

"Boss, check that out." Cho pointed to a hole in the wall. "Kinda looks like Jane's suit jacket. Same color he was wearing last week."

Lisbon pulled the phone from her pocket and dialed Van Pelt. "Grace can you get a fix on my location. There's a fenced off shed, I want to know who owns it. There shouldn't be one here? It's on state property? Great. Tell Hightower I need another team out here to this position."

Cho dragged a barrel to the opening, climbed up and peered inside. He waited for Lisbon to hang up the phone before he spoke. "Looks like a meth lab. There's a bunch of broken crates and white powder all over the place. I can see Jane's vest and a few more articles of clothing on the ground. There's also what looks to be blood on the opening."

"Are you sure it's Jane's jacket?"

Cho pulled the suit jack from the opening then jumped off the barrel. He checked the pockets. The inner jacket pocket held Jane's wallet. "It's Jane's. We going in?"

"No, all the evidence leads out. I think the old guy is a little confused. We're going to follow the tire treads. They're not in there are they?"

"No."

"We'll have another team look into it. It's on state property. We have jurisdiction. Let's go that way." She pointed to the hole in the fence. "We're close I can feel it."

"It was meth."

"Really? Why do you say that?" Rigsby asked.

"Accessibility."

"By your theory, and I'm not saying that I've done either, marijuana is as easily accessible."

"Hmm... Say that one more time." Jane stopped to face him.

"No."

"Come on. I wasn't watching. I was looking at the jonquil colored flowers that turn into a gradient of saffron."

"What?"

"The yellow flowers."

"Why can't you just say yellow?"

"I did. You were going to say it one more time."

"No."

"Fine. My new theory is that it's both."

"What? No. It's neither."

"Remember believe the lie." Jane laughed out loud. "I know you've tried one of them. You ducked your head slightly again..."

"Why are we discussing this?" Rigsby growled. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Sure you do. I went with meth, and I could be wrong, because it was already in house. There were several drug convictions in your father's record."

"Can we not talk about my father and concentrate on getting out of here."

"It's okay my father has a few convictions himself. Fraud and theft charges on him. Learned a lot from him."

"I'll bet."

"We are our father's sons."

"I'm not anything like him."

"Neither am I. Struck a nerve there. Sorry." Jane changed the subject. "Boy, it's hot out here. I bet I'm pretty burnt."

"Yes, yes you are..." Rigsby mumbled, then spoke up again. "You're beet red, like a cooked lobster."

"Hey look, Amaranth. We can eat its leaves as vegetables," Jane strayed.

"I'll pass. Come on. We don't know if Troy is behind us. We need to move quickly and get to the main road." Rigsby looked around as he decided which path they should take. "That is we need to find the main road."

"Amaranth is a shade of red by the way."

Jane continued to walk, but he focused on the red flowers. He tripped over an overgrown root and used his hands to break his fall.

"Jane?" Rigsby called from a few feet ahead. " You okay? You need to watch where you're going."

"I'm alright..." Jane stared down at his hands. One hand was bleeding pretty badly and the other was covered in red clay and dirt. "Red..."

He was caught red handed.

The roller coaster in his mind shifted to more sinister thoughts. Red. The color of guilt.

Jane looked up again and everything had a tint of crimson to it. Even the once shamrock and mantis colored leaves held a tint of crimson.

Red. The color of destruction, mourning and death.

"Jane." Rigsby looked back. His colleague was stopped in his tracks, fixated. "Jane, We don't have time for this.

Red. The color of anger and pain. Scarlet to denote sin. It was their blood on his hands.

"We have to go. Troy and Humpty could be right behind us..."

Carmine, the color of the now dry calling card that the devil left for him, left laughing at him.

"Jane come on," Rigsby grabbed his arm. "Are you okay? Jane?"

"Don't touch me!" Jane screamed.

"Jane." Rigsby grabbed him by the shoulder. "It's me Rigsby."

"Get off me," the consultant tried to pull away.

"Jane. Calm down. It's the drugs doing it to you." Rigsby held his ground.

Blue. Rigsby's iris were ice blue. Jane's mind focused on them. They held a hidden sadness in them. He was hurt by people he loved and trusted. Jane knew this, read it in a file.

"Look at me. You're all right. Look at me," Rigsby tried to soothe.

Blue. They also held an optimism and the strength to keep going. The roller coaster in his mind shifted to happier memories earlier in the day. When those eyes held a happy sparkle as he was a rock star to the audience of two.

"Jane? It's alright."

Blue. Clear skies, happier times.

"Let's go." Rigsby told him in a calm even tone. "We'll get out of this. It's fine. I got you. I won't let anything happen."

Jane said nothing, but followed closely behind Rigsby through the brush.

"We were near Mt. Diablo. There's got to be a ranger station or something around here. A hiker with a phone, though I don't want to get anyone else-"

Pieces of tree bark went flying towards them as the adjacent red wood's bark exploded. Rigsby instinctively pushed Jane and himself to the ground as another buckshot flew past.

"Don't move." Humpty scurried towards them. He stood over them with the shotgun cocked, ready to fire.

"Hey Wayne, who's your friend?" Troy grinned.

"Damn..."

"Not gonna answer?"

"We work together," Rigsby said.

"We need to chat."

"You could have just called."

"I'm a more face to face guy," Troy told him. "Toss them both into the van. We need to chat about Leland."

"Uncle Lee?" Rigsby helped Jane up and led him to the Sprinter. "He's been dead for years."

"I've got some info saying he isn't." Troy reached into the front seat and pulled out a manilla envelope and tossed it to Rigsby. "That's pretty good for a dead guy."

Rigsby opened the envelope and looked at the photos inside. They were snapshots of an older man, hair graying at the sides, but they looked a lot like an older version of his dead uncle. The uncle who he thought was killed when he was sixteen.

"Nothing to say Wayne?"

"I don't know?" Rigsby shrugged. "It's Photoshop?"

TBC