Author's notes:
Thank you to two great writers and friends, make-mine-a-kiaora and Sue Shay, for their help. Be sure to check out their stories - I have favorited them in my profile for easy access.
I do not own the TV show The Mentalist and get no compensation from it. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only.
Please note: The action in this chapter begins an hour before Patrick Jane (aka Professor Marbray) called Teresa Lisbon.
Please note: The final four chapters, Chapter 16 ("One For My Baby"), Chapter 17 ("Gimmie Three Steps"), Chapter 18 ("Cheerful Little Earful"), and Chapter 19 ("Something With A Ring To It") are published all at the same time.
Chapter 16 - "One For My Baby"
An hour before the phone call…
What Henry wanted was simple - he just wanted to make sure that Annabelle was alright. Why did worry gnaw at his stomach? Was it the catch in her voice when they had talked on the phone? Or was it the whole swirl of events that started with the drone outside their window? Or was it Annabelle's skill at observation - something she'd learned as an EMT - that discerned something was afoot at River Manor Apartments?
Henry and Professor Marbray remained silent on their drive over to the apartment building. That was so unlike the two of them. Most often they carried on a steady stream of conversation. Once Henry glanced over at the professor to find him stroking his chin.
Marbray's fitting the puzzle together he thought.
Henry pulled his squad car a bit too fast into a parking slot. The low-hanging metal guard on the car's undercarriage scraped across the concrete barrier at the far end of the space. Then the front wheels slammed into the barrier and bucked up on top of it. Without thinking, Henry threw the transmission into reverse and the car jerked backwards. Coming off the barrier produced one more bone-jarring jolt. Although shaken, Henry punched the heel of his left foot on the parking brake, shifted the transmission to "P," and shut off the engine. Yanking the key out of the ignition, he glanced over to the passenger seat to see Professor Marbray. With his left hand, the professor pushed back against the dashboard. With his right hand, the professor held onto the hand grip above the passenger side window.
"Sorry, Professor. I guess I got carried away."
"No problem, Henry. I…"
"I've gotta get inside and check on Annabelle." He cut off Marbray as the two exited the car.
Henry sprinted ahead of the professor to the front door of the building. What he found there looked normal. Nothing seemed amiss. Sure the light bulb on the far right of the door frame had burned out, but it had been that way for months. Henry had complained five times to Owen Myer, the apartment manager, to replace it. Each time Myer had waved off Henry with an "I'll get around to it" that really meant "I couldn't care less about it." The off-kilter darkness at the edge of the door now gave a sinister cast to the entrance.
Henry slung the heavy door open. Its handle clanged against the brick wall to the right, and the door bounced back to slam into Henry's shoulder. He flinched.
"Are you okay, Henry?" He heard the professor's voice as Marbray caught up with him.
Henry took a deep breath.
"Yes, sir. I guess I'm just on edge. Being an expectant father and all that."
"I understand, Henry. Let's keep moving."
The two men went inside, scanning the hallway for any activity. They found none.
"Looks like everyone's gone to the park, Professor."
"You did say half the police force lived here, didn't you?"
"Yep. There must have been a mad dash when Chief Lisbon called everyone in. And the non-cops who live here must have seen all the Facebook and Twitter posts and whatnot. It doesn't seem like anyone's here."
The two men climbed the stairs. When Henry entered the third floor hallway, he froze. At the other end, the door to his apartment swayed. The professor saw it and halted as well.
"I take it Annabelle isn't in the habit of leaving the door open," said the professor.
"No, sir."
The two men crept down the hall. As he moved, Henry's hand went by instinct to check his sidearm. The thought of drawing his weapon put him more on edge. At the door, they peeked into the apartment.
"Annabelle. Annabelle! Annabelle? Are you here?" Henry's voice trembled as his hands shook.
No response came. Henry looked around the room. Nothing seemed amiss, yet something was wrong. What? Once, twice, three times he scanned the living room. He fingered his gun. Taking a deep breath, he moved around the apartment. He still found nothing.
"Her coffee is warm."
Henry jerked his head around. Professor Marbray stood by the kitchen table, his fingers touching a mug. Beside the mug, a half-eaten peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich rested on a plate.
"I'm worried, Professor."
Marbray grasped Henry's shoulder to jostle it.
"Henry. Don't let your unease get the better of you. You're a trained police officer."
Henry took a deep breath then nodded to the professor.
"Let's go see the manager, Owen Myer."
Looking around as they made their way down to Myer's first floor office, the men found no sign of Annabelle. At the bottom of the stairs, Henry froze again. The door to Myer's office stood ajar. Henry hadn't noticed that when they came in. Something he couldn't discern was wrong, and he felt his hand tremble again. By reflex, he reached down to pat his sidearm. Henry glanced at the professor, and he could read Marbray well enough now to see that the professor was worried too.
With as little pressure as he could use, Henry pushed the door open. He found an empty office. Nothing. Although still worried about Annabelle, Henry relaxed a little. Then he saw the floor beside the desk. In an instant he drew his revolver, his hand shaking so much he could hardly steady it.
"Professor…" Henry's voice trembled.
Marbray circled around Henry and stooped down to examine blood on the floor. Then he cast his gaze around. Looking up at Henry, the professor pointed at the carpet.
"There was a shooting that occurred here, and these flecks of red are more blood stains. Someone dragged a body out of this office."
Henry reached for his phone to call for backup. As he was pressing the button to call, something distracted him. A squeak. For anyone else in world, the sliver of noise would only be a snippet of a human voice. But for Henry, it meant everything.
"Annabelle!"
Henry brushed past Professor Marbray as he ran into the hall. Looking up and down, he decided her voice had come from the far end, at the rear of the building. Henry ran that way. In the background he heard the thump-thump-thump of the professor's footsteps as he followed.
At the end of the hall was the doorway that led to the basement. Now Henry thrust open the door. He scurried along the dark corridor that ended at the stairway to the basement. His shoulders brushed against the rough concrete of the tight walls. Claustrophobia made him nauseous, but Henry pressed on.
Ahead Henry saw that a dim light glowed from below in the basement. When he came to the stairs, he didn't hesitate. Thinking only of Annabelle, Henry bounded down the steps with the professor close behind.
What he found made Henry come to a dead stop.
"Stop right there, officer." A man who looked vaguely familiar held his arm around Annabelle's shoulders.
Annabelle trembled with fear, her eyes pleading to be free. When Henry glanced around the room, he gasped. A body lay on the floor amid a puddle of blood. He gasped again when he recognized who it was - Owen Myer.
"Dirk Trumble. You said you never left your compound." Professor Marbray's voice behind Henry addressed the man holding Annabelle.
"I had reason to leave. I thought no one would interrupt my work. Too bad this woman heard the noise."
"Let Annabelle go." Henry didn't know he could utter words in that strong a voice until that moment.
"I have no quarrel with any of you. Not with this Annabelle, not with the professor, not with you…" Trumble squinted to look at Henry's name plate. "…Officer Karson. But I insist that you let me go about my work. Drop your weapon."
"Sir, release her at once or…"
Trumble jerked his right hand out from behind his body. In a vise-like grip he held a pistol. Raising the pistol, he pushed the barrel against Annabelle's cheek.
"Officer, you and the professor will move back. I must finish what I started. Then I will leave the three of you alone. I ask you again to drop you weapon." His eyes compressed to slivers. "If you do not, I will take action. There will be more unpleasantness."
Trumble pushed his pistol harder against Annabelle's face. Henry set his gun on the floor. Then Trumble eased up, lowering the pistol. Even though the gun no longer pointed at her, Annabelle convulsed in shudders of fear. She moaned.
Seeing his wife in danger and the gun lowered for a moment, Henry acted. Was it an impulse? Yes. Was it something he'd think through more clearly if anyone else was the hostage? Yes. Did he regret what happened next? Yes.
The instant Henry began his forward motion he knew he'd made a mistake. A big, terrible mistake. As he closed the distance between himself and Trumble, Henry saw Trumble raise his gun towards him.
The last thing Henry saw was a flash of motion. The last thing he heard was Annabelle's scream. The last thing he felt was searing pain.
Then his world went black.
To be continued.
Author's notes:
Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer wrote "One For My Baby" in 1943, and Ella Fitzgerald recorded my favorite version on her album, Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Harold Arlen Songbook.
Readers interested in the music used as chapter titles in the story can check out the playlist "Mentalist - Cheerful Little Earful - playlist for fanfic" in Youtube.
Thank you for reading the story and I'd love to hear from you.
Up next: "Gimmie Three Steps"
