Thanks again for the tremendous feedback- it really does keep me going! Some people have asked about Erica's part in all of this, and all I can say is that she will have an important role in the plot later on. Until then…
Chapter 4
"So this is the beginning of the summer rush Virgil warned me about." Teresa stretched her tired feet out in front of her and hooked them on the rung of the nearby chair. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun soothe and envelope her as she reached her arms above her and allowed her entire body to sink into the cushioned patio seat. She and Grace had just arrived at the pub, and after the long day they had had a happy hour complete with a every variety of battered and fried foods from the menu definitely seemed to be in order.
"You know, maybe we should start looking for our summer help now," Grace started as she poured herself a glass of beer from the pitcher the waitress had just delivered. "Get someone hired and trained in before Memorial Day. If we're just looking for someone to bus tables and work in the kitchen, maybe one of the kids from my class would want to do it."
"That's a great idea," Teresa replied, rubbing her aching thigh and sitting herself upright. She took the pitcher and began pouring a glass for herself. "So, how's your class going by the way? Do you see the future Bill Gates or Steve Wozniak amongst any of your fresh-faced young scholars?"
Grace gave a little shrug. "It's hard to tell. They're fourteen; all most of them care about is programming their phones or getting to the next level on Minecraft."
"That reminds me of my brothers growing up," Teresa remembered with a chuckle. "I practically had to have their Nintendo controllers surgically removed from their hands to get them to the dinner table every night."
Grace nodded and grinned as she took a long drink from her frosty glass. "I have to say, though, they're a pretty good group of kids. Although I think I caught Jason Wylie trying to hack into NORAD when I wasn't looking, so I suppose I'd better keep a closer eye on him."
The two women began to laugh until they noticed the light around them shift and a shadow being cast on their table. They looked up to see Patrick Jane standing a few feet away, a drink in his hand and a small smile on his face. The rays of the sun shone through his curly mop of hair giving it the appearance of a blonde, glowing halo.
"Good afternoon, ladies," he said smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting, I just saw you two sitting out here and wanted to say hello."
"Nice to see you again, Mr. Jane," Grace replied brightly, then after a moment added, "Would you like to sit down and join us?"
Teresa shot a not-so-subtle sideways glance at her friend, which did not go unnoticed by Jane. He paused for a moment and looked over at her with raised eyebrows, as if silently asking her consent, and she immediately felt her face tinge pink with embarrassment. Just because she was wary of him and his so-called psychic shtick, there was no reason for her to be rude or unfriendly. "Yes, by all means, join us, Jane," she offered somewhat weakly.
"Call me Patrick, please," he replied, "and thank you." He pulled up a chair and seated himself across from them, his eyes twinkling as he crossed his legs casually in front of himself. Why did she get the feeling that he was fully aware of her present discomfort at his being there and that he was secretly enjoying it?
"So, you've been busy," Grace began. "We've noticed you moving into your new store across the street from us."
"Yes, I am almost ready to open up for business in fact," he answered. "Just a few more things to get done, and I'll be raring to go"
Teresa couldn't resist. "Oh, still unpacking all your magic crystals and Ouija boards?"
Her snarky comment didn't seem to faze him at all; if anything he seemed slightly amused by it. "As a matter of fact, Ms. Lisbon, I tend not to rely so heavily on such tools of the trade in my practice. Not to besmirch those who do, but I don't find them to be particularly useful. On the contrary I feel that they… get in the way more than anything else."
"Get in the way of what, exactly?" she countered without hesitation, trying not to roll her eyes. As far as she could tell this guy was just spouting some pre-rehearsed line of bull that he had probably used a thousand times before. And with his dazzling smile and breezy charm, he was no doubt used to it going unchecked much of the time. She, however, had no qualms about holding his feet to the fire a bit.
"Well, most psychics will use such items- the crystal ball, the astrological charts, etc. as conduits, a way to connect the person they're reading with the greater forces at work. I can read a person much more clearly just by looking into their eyes, focusing on the information and energy they're sending me directly. The tarot cards and tealeaves? For me they're just props, window dressing, really."
Teresa regarded him for a moment. Was all this just part of the sales pitch he used to reel people in? Or did he actually believe this drivel he was spouting? Her skepticism was undoubtedly written all over her face, and when he looked over at her, his eyes danced impishly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was daring her to speaking it out loud.
"So, can you really read people just by looking at them?" Grace asked, genuinely curious.
"Certainly," Jane replied, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "I could tell you a little about yourself, if you're up for it."
"Okay," Grace replied eagerly. She moved forward slightly as well, grinning from ear to ear.
"Careful, Grace," Teresa cautioned. "He hasn't quoted you a price yet."
"Oh, don't worry about that. This one's on the house," Jane responded, flashing her a sly wink and smile.
He returned his attention back to Grace and looked intently into her eyes. Her face was now fixed with a blank expression; Teresa could tell she was trying valiantly to betray as little emotion as possible. But Jane kept his eyes trained on hers and after a few moments, her stoic façade cracked with the slight upturn of her lips as she stifled an uncomfortable laugh, which seemed to be his cue to begin. His cadence varied as he spoke- sometimes slow, other times in an almost rapid-fire pace, each sentence punctuated by deliberate, carefully-timed pauses:
"In you, Grace, I see an open, kind-hearted person. You've lived in Cannon River your entire life, I suspect, and while you're content enough with your life here, you harbor other ambitions as well… perhaps pursuing a different career path or moving to a new city. And I believe… you are in love (Grace colored visibly, quickly averting her eyes) or at least in the early stages of a new relationship. Yes, very early, in fact. You think this man could even be 'the one', although you haven't dared speak this hope out loud. You will be happy, Grace… with whatever path you choose or wherever this relationship leads. That I can tell you with certainty," he finished solemnly.
Teresa couldn't help but openly roll her eyes now. "Oh, come on. Everything you just said was about as specific as a horoscope from the newspaper; broad generalizations and a couple of lucky guesses, nothing more."
Rather than respond directly to Teresa's accusation, Jane turned to her friend. "Grace, would you say that my reading of you was accurate?"
"Sure," she answered obligingly with a slight shrug.
"Well, of course it sounded accurate." Teresa began. "Most people in their twenties are thinking about romantic relationships and contemplating their professional choices. It doesn't take a psychic to know that. You just picked up on Grace's reactions to what you were saying and let them be your guide to what you would say next. It's a clever maneuver, Jane, but it doesn't mean you're reading her mind."
There was pregnant pause, during which Teresa took a sip from her glass, almost defiantly maintaining eye contact with him. She was surprised that he wasn't going on the defensive in the face of her pointed barbs; if anything he seemed to be entertained and energized their little exchange. It spoke to a confidence (or perhaps an arrogance) he possessed, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
Grace, who was clearly enjoying the spirited debate playing out in front of her, broke the silence and turned to Jane.
"Why don't you do a reading on Teresa?" she suggested mischievously.
"Ah, now that could be interesting," Jane replied. "But I doubt Ms. Lisbon would agree to that. You see, she's about 95% certain that I'm not on the level, but she can't be absolutely sure. I suspect it would wound her pride a little too deeply to be proven wrong so early in our acquaintance."
Teresa shook her head at this juvenile attempt to provoke her. "Oh, so now you're basically calling me chicken to get me to participate in this little charade of yours?"
"Has it worked?" he countered without missing a beat, his eyes blazing.
Teresa straightened herself up in her chair and turned to face him head on. "Sure. Give it your best shot."
She took a deep breath in (hopefully he hadn't made note of that; he would no doubt see it as a sign of nervousness, which of course it was) and steadied herself for what she considered to be nothing more than the equivalent of a childish staring contest.
He began just as he had with Grace, leaning forward a bit and staring attentively into her eyes, keeping his own expression neutral and emotionless. After only a few seconds of holding eye contact with him, however, she suddenly found herself faltering under the intensity of his gaze. His hazy blue-green eyes seemed to pierce through her, almost as if he were hypnotizing her into some kind of trance. She fought to maintain her composure, telling herself how ridiculous it was that she should be flustered by such a silly exercise. But the harder she tried, the more unsettled she became, and she could feel her cheeks color with embarrassment.
A few agonizing moments later, he blinked unexpectedly and she noticed his face soften. There was an almost imperceptible flicker in his eyes, nothing like his usual cheeky or playful expression, but one that seemed almost natural and unguarded. She unconsciously let go of her breath, which up until that point she didn't even realize she had been holding.
He leaned back a bit and put his game face back on, the fleeting moment that had passed between them gone as quickly as it had come. He looked down briefly, as if he were gathering his thoughts, then turned back to the two women in full showman mode, the look on his face as cool and collected as ever.
"So, what'd you see?" Grace asked impatiently.
"I see an outsider. You're someone who hasn't lived here long, who's been accepted into the community well enough, although perhaps not as fully embraced as you'd like to be. You're a naturally reserved person, so making friends in a new place, especially a small town like this, has been a challenge for you. But your customers like you and you've clearly become close with your good friend Grace here... How am I doing so far?"
"Keep going," Teresa nodded, trying to keep a straight face. She didn't want to give him any more clues in her facial expressions or responses that might help him along, especially since everything he had said so far was, as vague as it was, on the nose.
"You're clearly competent at your job, but it's new to you, completely different from the work you were doing before."
"Careful, Jane. It sounds like you might actually attempt to tell me something specific about my life," she remarked daringly.
"Well, you obviously have a strong moral compass, deeply instilled ideas about fairness and right and wrong, a desire to see justice in the world. And you'd have a job that would give you a sense of purpose, the feeling that you're contributing to the betterment of society.
"You keep referring to me by my last name, which suggests you're accustomed to a face-paced, probably male-dominated work environment where the use of surnames is a more common practice. You almost could be an attorney, a public defender perhaps? Except that you don't have that dead-eyed, beaten-down look you'd no doubt have if you were in that particular line of work. I'm thinking… a journalist, maybe, an investigative reporter?" He continued to keep his eyes trained closely on hers, then shook his head. "No, that isn't quite right either."
He paused once more, tapping his forefinger on his lips a few times, then brought his hands down, folding them in his lap in an almost triumphant manner, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Law enforcement. You're a police officer." He spoke the words with such certainty it was a little unnerving, but she tried not to let the shock register on her face.
"Whoa! That was amazing," Grace exclaimed.
"So, I'm right?" Jane asked unnecessarily, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.
"You are. I am a cop, a detective in fact, and that was very impressive, Jane." she conceded good-naturedly. "But I'm afraid your little demonstration has only further proven the point I was making earlier."
"How so?"
"Your reading of me was based almost entirely on the information you already had, along with your close observations and some careful guesswork. I told you the first time we met that I didn't grow up here, so you made the reasonable guess that I moved here recently. Then you picked up a quirk in my speech, one of those little details most people wouldn't notice, which informed yet another correct set of assumptions. Add in a couple of leading statements, gauging my reactions as you went, and you were able to figure out a few things. It's an extraordinary talent, I'll give you that. But it doesn't mean you're a psychic. It just means you… pay attention."
The sound of a ringing cell phone interrupted them. Grace reached in her bag to answer it and quietly excused herself from table, almost looking relieved to escape the mounting tension that was now hanging in the air.
Jane waited until she had left before responding. "Well, you certainly seem very confident in your reading of me, Ms. Lisbon." He sipped casually from his drink and his tone was even and controlled, but for the first time Teresa detected just a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
"Well, I know people like you. At the Portland PD we have consultants who help us out with cases- 'mentalists' we call them. They're experts on body language and human behavior. They can read people's tells, help us determine whether or not they're lying or concealing something. But none of these consultants would claim to be psychic, in fact I have a feeling most of them would probably tell me that there's not such thing."
He took another drink from his glass and shifted subtly in his chair. She could tell that he was more than a little bothered by what she was saying.
She leaned forward and spoke in a soft, almost placid tone. "Look, Mr. Jane…"
"Please, call me Patrick," he interjected quietly, a tentative smile on his face.
She grinned back at him in spite of herself then continued. "I'm not trying to attack you here or expose you in any way if that's what you're thinking. You are absolutely free to call yourself whatever you want and conduct your business as you see fit. As long as you're not defrauding people or doing anything illegal, I don't have a problem with it and won't do anything to get it your way."
"So you won't be organizing any late-night mobs to run me out of town with pitchforks and shotguns, then?" he replied, his easy, playful demeanor returning.
"No," she answered with a small smirk of her own, "but I reserve the right to do so in the future, if I see the need."
Grace reappeared at the side of their table, tucking her phone away in her pocket.
"So," she began cautiously, "are you two playing nice here?"
"Yes, we are, Grace," Jane replied quickly, looking over at Teresa. "Very nice indeed."
xxxxxx
A few hours later as she was trekking up the hill towards home, Teresa kept replaying in her head the conversation and encounter she had had with Jane at the pub. She couldn't help but admonish herself a little for how hard she had laid into him. The guy was probably harmless, she figured, so why had she so quickly reverted to cop mode like that? Treating him like he was some suspect in an interrogation, wrangling for control. Had she overreacted? Was it any of her business what he did or how he did it?
On the other hand, she thought to herself, she was cop. It was a deeply ingrained part of who she was, and just because she wasn't currently on the job didn't mean she checked those instincts at the door. Like Jane himself had said, she did have a strong sense of right and wrong and felt compelled to look out for her community and the people around her. Considering the fact that there wasn't an actual police department in town (Cannon River was under the jurisdiction of the county sheriff's office instead) what was wrong with letting this guy know that someone (she) was keeping an eye on him?
Later that night, though, as she lay in bed drifting off to sleep, her last conscious thoughts weren't of Patrick Jane the conman or his trickster ways. Instead the last image lingering in her mind was of those blue-green eyes that had penetrated her own so deeply and of that brief, unexpected moment when she had, just maybe, caught a glimpse of the real man behind them.
A/N: More on Teresa's backstory coming soon. Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts in the comments below!
