AN: I actually threw up my hands over this chapter a few times. It helped switching over to Pike's point of view. And finally, I had to cut it down yet again, and continue in yet another POV (Lisbon's) because the chapter was getting too long and because I wanted to give more information than Pike's perspective would allow. But I hope that it will satisfy anyone who has been waiting to hear Pulaski's confession, and maybe even whet the appetite for what comes next.
Chapter 12: Confessions part 2
The audience was small, but appreciative. Marcus Pike marveled at how little effort had been required to stage the tableaux before them. The criminal, who had specifically requested his interrogator, but never raised his eyes to her face. The lovely Agent Lisbon was even beautiful from behind, although she had changed into more practical clothing. Wylie was seated to the side, quietly taking notes, even though he knew that the session was being recorded. Marcus supposed that he was there for the experience, since he didn't seem to have anything to add. Teresa evidently had everything well under control.
Aaron Pulaski had been the star of the show for the past ten to fifteen minutes as he recited the names of accomplices and buyers, of galleries and stolen artworks. Occasionally Teresa Lisbon would ask a question about a detail she wanted clarified, and he would elaborate. There were a few gaps in Pulaski's memory, but not many. His complete openness stunned Pike, who had interrogated him a couple years before with absolutely no success. It was as if an entirely different man was animating the thuggish art thief's body.
But when Patrick Jane joined the group in the crowded observation room, he upstaged the newly minted informant.
"What on earth did you do to him?" Searles gaped at the consultant, who gave a modest half-shrug. "Abbott, any time you want to loan this man out, we'll be glad to have him!" Pike smiled at his colleague's enthusiasm. He had never seen the man so enthusiastic.
Abbott chuckled. "Sounds like they're trying to steal you away from us, Jane. Please tell me you aren't planning to leave us for the art squad."
"Meh," was the offhand reply. The blue eyes fixed themselves on the interview on the other side of the glass as he continued, "I think I've had enough of high stakes art theft for a while..."
Searles grinned ruefully. "Should have figured. Well, thanks anyway. Here, you can have my spot. Somebody has to start the ball rolling on some of these new leads."
Fischer hitched her chair forward so that he could squeeze between her and Jane, who had settled back against the wall with a look of fierce concentration as he followed the interaction in the next room. They had reached the final successful heist pulled by McKay's team.
"And were any of the pieces from the Hennigan Gallery sold before this evening, to your knowledge?"
"Most of the items were going into storage while the heat died down, but McKay had two buyers waiting in the wings specifically for items from Hennigan's. That's why we hit it."
"Could you give us their names, please?"
Pike was beyond impressed. He wished he could work with Teresa more often. Clearly there was much that he could learn from her. If only he had a better view.
Other than a very encouraging phone conversation last night, his direct contact with Teresa Lisbon over the course of this mission had been minimal. Still, everything he saw and heard, even second hand, increased his admiration and respect for her. Unfortunately his attempts to clarify her relationship with Patrick Jane had met with utter frustration. Agent Cho, who had known the two the longest, had refused to discuss it. Wylie seemed a bit equivocal regarding the status of Lisbon and Jane's relationship when Pike questioned him. Agent Fischer and Supervising Agent Abbott had been otherwise occupied throughout the operation, and Pike wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject with them anyway. They both had rather reserved manners that discouraged personal conversations.
As for Jane himself...
His respect for the man's foresight, for his capacity to anticipate and manipulate circumstances, had deepened and broadened over the course of this collaboration. Trying to understand the man himself, his character and motivations, was another thing entirely. It didn't help that Patrick Jane seemed determined to conceal his real thoughts and feelings as much as possible. Even in small matters, he routinely employed smoke and mirrors as if every scene in his life was a performance. And in matters of the heart, he seemed utterly inscrutable. While he had much to say in praise of his partner of many years, he showed no obvious signs of jealousy or possessiveness. Pike could not for the life of him be sure if that was because Jane didn't see Teresa as a romantic partner, or if he was just supremely self-confident.
So while there were evidences that suggested that Jane and Lisbon could be an item, there were plenty of counter-arguments which might indicate that their relationship was purely platonic. And Pike knew this, because he had gone looking for those arguments. Chief among them was Lisbon's apparent interest in Pike himself.
Pike wasn't one to waste time or mince words. For him, attraction turned easily to love. When he fell, he fell fast and hard. In spite of his reservations about whether Lisbon was, in fact, available, he had found it impossible not to act on the impulse to flirt with her. And her ready response was intriguing. Pike was convinced that under that no-nonsense, professional exterior was a passionate, sensual woman. The more he got to know her, the greater the temptation to explore further became. Like any addict, he found that the slightest taste of his drug of choice seemed an invitation to intoxication.
Which was why, as Pulaski droned on, as Pike stood in a small space crowded with other professionals, watching only her posture and the fall of her hair down her back, Pike found himself uncomfortably aware of her as a woman. He wished once more that he could see her face as she conducted the interrogation.
But perhaps it was for the best. Her calm, cool voice was enough of a stimulant. If he was watching the movement of her face, her lips, he might get that transfixed look currently dominating Pulaski's eyes. Only the art thug's gaze was directed a bit lower than her lips.
It was disconcerting to see the man staring, like a boy seeing his first centerfold. As if he was unaware of any audience. Even Wylie, sitting right next to them with some obvious signs of discomfort, did not deter him. He kept his eyes focused on a single point. As if he could see the cleavage now concealed behind her shirt.
Like most adult men, Pike had long since mastered the technique of subtle, barely noticeable glances, carefully timed to avoid detection. If a man was too obvious in his sexual interest, in the wrong contexts, a look was the most he was likely to get. Aside from contempt and possibly an enemy or two. Pulaski was not completely without class, as he had plainly shown at the party last night. He had not blatantly directed his gaze anywhere that his hands could not reasonably rest. Only Agent Fischer had drawn an obvious physical response. But Pike had known that there was interest towards Lisbon as well.
But not enough to hold his eyes hostage, not even in the dress designed to stop a man's heart. So why, now, was Pulaski so fixated?
Pike was not the only one who picked up on it.
"He hasn't looked her in the eye since she sat down. I know she changed clothes when we got back, so what's the fascination with her chest?"
Marcus Pike nearly choked swallowing his shock at Fischer's forthrightness. He disguised it with a cough. Abbott, seated in front of him, made a noncommittal sound as though in response, but otherwise kept himself focused on the spectacle on the other side of the glass.
Jane, who stood behind Fischer, corrected her mildly. "He isn't looking at her chest." His answer puzzled Pike. Did he really believe that? Or did he think he could make it so by stating it with such calm confidence?
Fischer turned in her seat and gave him a highly doubtful look over her shoulder. She then asserted with equal confidence. "He is absolutely looking at her chest." From her vantage point, Pike figured that she would know.
"You sound very sure. Care to make it interesting?" The consultant's eyes twinkled at her. Fischer's eyebrows climbed towards the ceiling, and Pike felt his doing the same.
"Are you seriously suggesting that we bet money on whether our informant is ogling Lisbon?" Pike tried not to smile at the skepticism in her voice, even though he shared it. The way Pulaski had looked at Teresa Lisbon on the video surveillance from last night, though subtle, was obvious enough for anyone to read. Even Pike found it uncomfortable to watch. He couldn't decide if Jane just didn't care, or if he was just way better at hiding his reactions than most guys would be.
Jane's ever-present smile grew wider yet in Fischer's direction. "I am stating flat out that if Aaron Pulaski's mind is on Lisbon's anatomy, I will be buying breakfast for the next month. Muffins, bagels, whatever suits you."
Fischer glanced at Abbott briefly, and then at Pike. "Don't look at me," Pike told her. "I still can't tell if he's joking half the time."
"That makes two of us," she griped, eyeing Jane's deepening dimples warily.
"I'll take that bet," Abbott said, startling both the younger agents. His eyes were still glued to the glass, but there was a broad grin stretching his cheeks. "If only because whatever else he confesses to, Aaron Pulaski is not likely to say whether or not he was admiring his interrogator's...physique."
"Fair enough," Jane countered. "Before Teresa Lisbon leaves that room, Pulaski will convince you by his own words and behavior that physical appetites are the farthest thing from his mind right now. Or I will be buying you..." He peered at the supervising agent for a moment, an assessing look. "Bacon, eggs, potatoes, and whatever vegetables your wife likes to put in your omelets. For a month."
Abbott turned from the glass to look directly back at the consultant. The murmur of Pulaski's narration continued, but Abbott was more interested, for the moment, in Jane's offer. "Alright. And if not, I buy you muffins for the month? The bureau already covers your tea." Pike noted how unequal the stakes were. Was Abbott calling Jane's bluff? Or checking to see how firmly he believed his own words?
"Oh, eggs, at least once a week. Other than that, muffins will do." Abbott kept his eyes for another beat. "Yes, I'm that sure," Jane confirmed.
Abbott nodded, his eyes narrowed. "That isn't what you were saying before the interrogation," he commented.
What does that mean? Pike wondered.
Jane shrugged. "I can admit when I'm wrong. Wylie read this one right. You'll see." The cryptic comment made Pike more puzzled yet.
"Then will you buy me breakfast sandwiches for a month, too?" Since her boss seemed okay with the arrangement, Fischer seemed to be warming to the idea. "I mean, assuming Pulaski doesn't convince me that his thoughts are pure?"
"Fresh to your desk every morning," Jane agreed without skipping a beat.
"Alright," she said, looking quite satisfied that she had made a safe bet. Pike had the impression that, like probably anybody ever, she had never won a bet against Jane. That incentive was even more appealing to her than the pay-off, he suspected. "How about you, Pike? Are you in?" Pike wondered if Fischer was hoping to humble the consultant, looking to Pike to pile on.
Pike met Jane's eyes for an instant, and was surprised when Jane broke eye contact first. In Pike's experience, the challenge of locking eyes was part of how one signaled certainty when making a bet. But he could see how Jane's eyes had snapped back to Pulaski. What was he saying?
"...told me if we kept going like this, I'd be able to retire a rich man after a couple more jobs." The thief's eyes dropped even lower for a moment, to his hands, clenched on the table. He blinked, working his jaw.
"So what about it, Pike," Jane said, as the silence stretched.
"I'm with you," he found himself saying. "If Pulaski's confession is about more than just attraction to Lisbon, somebody buys me waffles for the month." He glanced back at the consultant. Was this what Jane had expected, or was he hiding surprise behind that broad grin? "If not, we'll divvy up breakfasts for Fischer and Abbott for the next month."
Lisbon's voice was heard again before Fischer and Abbott could respond. "So that brings us to your most recent escapade, attempting to steal the VanGogh and various other pieces from rival art thieves. But since we already have the details for that one..."
"Not... not all the details." His voice was suddenly halting, tense, and Pike wondered for a moment if he had spoken too soon. Once more, Pulaski's eyes were fixed several inches below Lisbon's chin.
Pike could hear the unease in Teresa's voice as she hastened to say, "You don't have to..."
"Can I ask you something, Teresa?" Pulaski blurted it out as though he had been mustering his courage. "I mean, Agent Lisbon," he amended, contrite.
"About the sting?" Her voice was wary, but Pike could tell that she wasn't going to let him rattle her, whatever he wanted to ask.
"No. Something personal. Where did you get that necklace."
"My necklace." The flat tone could not completely conceal her surprise.
"When I saw it, I knew I had to come clean completely. No more hiding, no more lying to myself."
Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Jane, but he was watching the scene beyond the one-way glass with the faint hint of a triumphant smile. Pike had a vague recollection of a simple delicate cross necklace hanging from a chain at Teresa's neck. Was that what had held this hardened criminal spellbound? Who would have guessed?
Jane knew, Pike thought to himself. How did he know?
Teresa was silent for only a beat before responding. "It was my mother's. When she died, it passed on to me."
"My sister has one like it. She got it from our mother, too. Do you... do you believe in that stuff? About Jesus dying for... for people like me?"
Teresa was sitting very straight and still. Pike thought he saw one hand twitch. "All people. Yes. I do believe that."
"And all you have to do is confess and repent and you can be made a new person?"
She shifted her weight, and Wylie looked up at her from his notes, agape. "Well, some people say..."
"I'm not asking some people, I'm asking you." Pulaski raised his eyes to her face with what looked like extreme effort.
"Yes. I believe that, too. But it isn't as easy as it sounds." Measured tones. Suppressed emotion.
"I don't need it to be easy. It shouldn't be easy. After all that I've done."
She shifted uncomfortably again. "Aaron, I'm not a priest. After we're done here, maybe we can call..."
"My sister says all believers are priests. Do you believe that?"
A long pause ensued. Wylie squirmed in his seat next to her. Finally her voice, low and clear, was heard again. "I think I've read something like that, too. But I don't know enough to help you, you need someone ordained, someone with experience."
"I've met enough preachers. They never helped me so far. And I trust you. And then, there's this," Pulaski's voice dropped in pitch and volume, and everyone on Pike's side of the one-way glass leaned in quietly, straining to hear. "I know that I wronged you more than anyone else. You have no idea how much. And now that I'm going back to prison, I just need to know if there's anything left to hope for. Is my life just garbage, or is there really someone who cares about me enough to make it worthwhile? If someone like you, who believes in someone like that and lives like it, can know who I am and what I've done and still forgive me... then maybe it's real. Not just hypocrisy and pretense. Can you... can you just hear me out?"
Pike found himself holding his breath. He wondered if Abbott would call a halt to this now that they had what they needed and the interrogation was drifting decidedly off topic. He wondered if Fischer would voice her evident discomfort with the awkward turn of events. He really wondered what was going on behind Jane's eyes as they bored into the glass. Was this what Jane had expected? Because Marcus Pike was utterly flummoxed.
The observation room was as still as dawn.
"Alright," Teresa finally conceded, "Go on."
Pulaski let out a breath, but to Pike it wasn't clear whether he was relieved, or even more anxious than before. "I'm not sure where to start. I know pretty clearly when I started breaking laws, but the things I've done wrong where you're concerned...It's more complicated. It isn't just what I've done, it's what I didn't do. Stuff that I said, or should have said. Even just the way I thought about you was wrong."
Wylie looked over his shoulder at them, an obvious plea for deliverance. Abbott hummed and leaned forward, but did not move to intercede.
"I mean, envy, just for starters. I wanted what you and Patrick had. What Dennis had. I wanted that life, the car, the fancy house and the parties, and beautiful ladies hanging off me. That was always what I thought I deserved. Stupid, right? Like I ever earned even the good things I got. I got people who love me that I hardly ever speak to, people who would fight for me no matter what. And I take them for granted. Any money I make I pretty much blow on booze and women. Sometimes worse stuff than that. I hurt people more than I ever helped anyone. So for me to be mad about you and Patrick living the easy life... was just... just... sick."
Pike became aware of the buzzing noise as Abbott pulled out his cell. After a swift glance, he stood abruptly. "Excuse me, I have to take this." He pushed in his seat. He directed a look at Jane as he eased toward the door. "We'll talk later about your eggs and muffins, Jane."
Fischer made a noise of protest, but Jane merely nodded, still intent on the interview in progress. As Fischer squeezed in again to let Abbott pass, Pike slipped into the chair that the supervising agent had vacated. He glanced at her disgruntled expression and smiled briefly. "It's okay. If you're still not convinced, we can keep this one between you and me." Her brief smile of acknowledgment said that it was only a minor sop to her ego. What she really wanted was to prove Jane wrong, for once. But at least, Pike knew, it would be Abbott, not Fischer, paying for the privilege of admitting that Jane had been right. And if she wouldn't admit it, Pike figured he could pump her for information on Lisbon while he was buying her breakfasts. He wondered if Fischer liked waffles as the door closed.
And then he caught an unexpected fragment of Pulaski's confession. "...anger, and jealousy, and lust." In the awkward pause, Pike and Fischer sat up straighter, their eyes drawn back from their unrelated thoughts, and Wylie did a double take from his notes to Aaron Pulaski, who was looking Lisbon determinedly in the face. From where he sat, Pike thought she had frozen in place. He really, really wished he could see her face. Or Jane's for that matter. But he couldn't look away from the criminal, who paused, then continued. "Lust is a sin, right?"
Wylie cringed into his seat.
To her credit, Lisbon kept her voice completely even. "So I've been told. A very common one."
"But, umm, not actually illegal," Wylie put in, with another glance towards the room from which he probably hoped Abbott would be coming to put a swift end to his torment.
"I'm just saying, as motivation for life choices, it's never lead me to any good ones. Nothing I could say I'm proud of, anyway. It's all about what makes me feel good, and it never bothered me before whether it was really good for anyone else. But last night I got a good look at how destructive it could be, just to myself. And that's if I don't even consider what my lust might have done to...Agent Fischer. Or to you."
Pike tore his eyes away from the scene to look at Kim Fischer, sitting beside him looking extremely unsettled, and then at Jane. Had he clenched his jaw slightly? Or was Pike imagining that? Uncertain if this should be allowed to continue, he began "Um, should we..."
"No." Fischer looked over her shoulder at Jane, too, as if in challenge. "Let the man keep talking. If Lisbon is okay with this, why should we object?" Pike took in her arched eyebrow and sardonic tone and wondered if Fischer wanted to win the bet that badly, or if there was more to this exchange than he could discern.
Jane nodded. "By all means. Let's hear the rest of his confession."
Thanks to everyone who is still following this story, even after the rather lengthy hiatus. I promise, I will do all I can to bring this to some kind of satisfying conclusion. And it would help me greatly if some of you could spare a moment to review and share your thoughts on how it's going so far. But one way or another, I fully intend to finish what I've started here, God willing.