Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or anything to do with it.
A.N. Right! New chapter! Hopefully get a few revelations in this chapter! Thanks for all your kind reviews! Enjoy!
Chapter Three
Andrew Sutton was in his final year studying Forensic Science and becoming more and more disillusioned with his chosen profession. It wasn't at all like it was shown on TV shows like CSI. For one thing, he thought, on TV they don't have to wear these ridiculous white suits which were stifling in the summer heat. Andy felt another bead of sweat run down his forehead and onto his nose. This was ridiculous.
He and several other of his classmates had been called in to assist the California Crime Scene Investigators in combing the house of a man who was suspected of being a serial killer. Andy had heard on the morning news that the man had been killed by a CBI consultant the previous day. The CSI's had been on their hands and knees, inspecting every inch of the house for hours and so far they were coming up blank. Damn cops, thought Andy, trying to cover their asses. The guy who owned this house probably hadn't even a parking ticket to his name.
His back ached from being hunched over on the carpet for too long. He sat up onto his knees, arching his back to stretch it and stared at the ceiling above him. Upon receiving a glare from one of his instructors, he hunched over again to look for clues.
Before rapidly turning his head skywards again.
Part of the ceiling was sagging. Calling out to one of his instructors, he pointed out the inconsistency in the otherwise immaculate house.
The carpet in the room directly above the sagging ceiling was hastily lifted and sure enough the cement had been freshly laid. Andy watched in suspense as the equipment for drilling through the flooring was brought up and used, creating a cloud of dust. Before it had cleared away, he and a qualified CSI were on their hands and knees, yet again, searching through the insulation beneath.
He felt a hearty pat on his shoulder as suits, much like their own, were revealed along with rubber gloves and other trinkets. Newspaper clipping, photographs and even a police file were revealed. But by far the strangest thing extracted from the mess was a blotchy Halloween mask.
Maybe this whole Forensic Science business wasn't so bad after all, he mused.
The lull that had hit Lisbon and Minelli's conversation was broken when the nurse brought Lisbon's breakfast. This started a much more light hearted discussion between the two about the evils of hospital food which then continued to the numerous times they had both been subjected to it.
Each had their share of war wounds- in fact, Minelli had first approached Lisbon about a position with the CBI when she was hospitalised for a bullet wound to the abdomen and another to the thigh. She had been working with SFPD at the time, under Sam Bosco. But the mention of that particular incident left Lisbon's smiles strained, though it didn't fade altogether. It didn't surprise him. He had heard about Bosco's team within SFPD and the relationship they shared which had other team officers turning green with envy and he hadn't honestly expected for his job offer to be accepted. But the day he had met young Teresa Lisbon, all was not well between her and her boss. He never found out what had fractured the relationship and, quite frankly, he didn't want to know. What Minelli did know was that it had not been repaired until many years later and was unfortunately followed by the premature death of Agent Bosco.
However they managed t stray back on to safer topics before Virgil was unceremoniously kicked out by a nurse with the express wish of changing Lisbon's dressing. He didn't mind- Teresa was looking considerably less distressed than she was when he had arrived so he bade her farewell with an awkward, one armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mission accomplished.
The nurse, who insisted on being called Christina, was a motherly woman, Lisbon discovered as the older woman fussed over her. As she taught Teresa how to change the dressing herself, she also took the time to warn Lisbon that she had better not see her in the hospital because she had overexerted herself. Cops, Christina proclaimed, may be very good at protecting citizens from harm, but they generally caused more harm to themselves than enough simply because they didn't look after themselves.
Lisbon couldn't honestly disagree.
Changing the dressing was easier than anticipated with only one available arm, but she was warned that it would be significantly harder when she wasn't being fed pain medication on a drip. Still, once she had been briefed on her medication and physiotherapy by Doctor Schafer and then redressed her shoulder to Christina's expectations without any help, she would be set free the next morning.
Lisbon also wrangled permission to use her mobile phone, "To check if someone could pick her up from the hospital," she insisted after Christina gave her a knowing look.
Cho's update was brief. Vincent Pride was almost without a doubt, Red John. This relieved Lisbon more than anything- if Jane had to kill someone, at least it wasn't an innocent man. But she wasn't the only one who was relieved- Cho's normally impassive voice was laced with the emotion when she informed him she would be released the next day and he insisted that he would be there at two o'clock to pick her up.
Lisbon had no intention of staying in that hospital room quite so long.
She slept well and listened attentively to Schafer's instructions the next day, swearing blind that she would follow them to the letter. She ate her breakfast and changed her dressing flawlessly before dressing carefully. In general, she acted like a perfect patient. Schafer discharged her with the instructions to come back in a week so he could inspect the wound. The she called a taxi and asked the driver to take her home.
This was all before eleven o'clock in the morning.
When she did reach her apartment the first thing she did was have a very long, very hot shower. It was then that she decided on her final course of action.
She was not going to go out of her way to find a loophole in the law for Jane to slip through. Neither was she going to condemn him to life imprisonment. She was simply going to treat him like any other criminal and since he had been caught and confessed to the crime that meant that she was free to ignore him. He was a big boy and no longer her responsibility. She had tried to convince him that revenge was not the answer and, while she had failed, it was not as if she had handed him the gun and pointed him in the right direction.
Well, she had inadvertently helped him find Red John, but she hadn't told Jane to shoot him!
She was not guilty. This was not her fault. She just hoped that feeling remained once she saw Jane in handcuffs and a prison suit.
Lisbon dressed herself, being forced to redress her shoulder after the shower. She even managed to make herself a meal with what little food she had that hadn't gone off in the few days she had been indisposed. Following her doctor's instructions to the letter, she downed her meds in one gulp.
Teresa Lisbon then proceeded to call a cab and smash every other precaution she had promised her doctor to take.
Kimball Cho and Wayne Rigsby had maybe a full eight hours sleep between them since their boss had been carted off to hospital. They were running on caffeine, adrenaline and sheer willpower as they sifted through the bagged evidence that had been removed from Pride's house. What his body couldn't tell them, his collection could. Vincent Pride was a sick bastard. It was a fact and there was no disputing it.
What disturbed Cho the most was the newspaper clippings. Everything seemed to have been buried in the housing insulation in a precise order, the forensic guys had told him. They could tell what had been stored away most recently by the age of the cement on the floor. It created a timeline of sorts. But the clippings were threaded through the timeline, not only documenting his kills, his victims, but also the CBI Agents who had worked the case over the years. Naturally, Jane was the most prominent figure who appeared, but he was followed closely by Lisbon. He could follow the past eight, nearly nine years of his boss's career. And that meant that Red John had his eye on her before she had taken over the case.
Cho hoped it was the lack of sleep that fed his paranoia, but he couldn't help but fear that it had been a planned move, placing Teresa Lisbon at the head of the Serious Crimes Unit. He just hoped it wasn't planned by Red John.
He glanced at his watch before gulping down the last of his cold coffee and left the mug in the kitchen sink to be washed later. He ran the cold tap, splashing water on his face in an attempt to wake him up. It wouldn't do if he picked Lisbon up from the hospital, only to have her taken back there because he had fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed the car.
His voice was hoarse with disuse when he announced his departure to Rigsby. The two men were too tired to chat and the bigger man simply told him to give his best wishes to Lisbon. That was when they heard a low voice behind them announce, "You can give them to her yourself, Agent Rigsby."
La Roche's large stature made her look physically smaller than usual. It wasn't helped by her unusually pale skin and one arm dangling uselessly in a sling. But her back was straight as she strode across the room, in contrast to La Roche's smaller, more cautious steps. He was eyeing her closely, waiting to catch her should her strength fail her and she collapse.
Cho couldn't help but smile and it was mirrored by Rigsby. Teresa Lisbon may have taken a beating, but she wasn't down and out. The boss was back, and somehow, that made the situation look a little less bleak.
A.N. Not entirely happy with this chapter, but it was necessary before the real action begins. Please let me know what you think!
~Sweetdeath04