A/N: Ok, Chapter 4. Just before you start, I hope you've all read the new summary and seen the new aspect to the story. I thought it would make for a cooler story if I added this. No, I don't plan out my stories. :P I've learnt from mistakes of planning and then the story completely changing. Doesn't work. XD
But hey, enjoy!
(and big thank you to reviewer: Koezh (i hope i spelt that right :P), who's reviewed all the chapters so far and has been wonderful. I hope you keep following this story!)

Chapter 4

Patrick left a scribbled note attached to the back of the door before he left in preparation of his plan, just in case Lisbon came downstairs while he was gone. He would be back soon enough. And Lisbon didn't seem to need him right now anyway. Gathering up his jacket and putting on his shoes, Patrick closed the door gently behind him, slipping his hand through the crack and sliding the chain across for at least some security.

Hopping into his little blue car, he brought the tired old engine spluttering to life and headed for the nearest supermarket, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He formed a checklist of all the things he would need in his head. Three things to be precise.

Sam Bosco flicked through the newest additions to the Red John case file for the hundredth time, positive that he would uncover something if he stared at each page for half an hour each. He ran his hand roughly over his bald head and took a sip of steaming coffee from the takeaway cup sat beside the papers, his eyes unmoving from the open file. Running over the words splayed over the page again and again...and again...and again. Nothing was going in anymore. He took a deep breath in and shifted the strap of his shoulder holster.

Bosco reluctantly tore his eyes away from the page as Agent Dyson strode in and lowered himself into the chair opposite.

'Found anything?' Dyson asked, taking a gulp of his coffee.

Bosco sighed heavily, pushing himself back in his chair.

'No. I've been going through this damn file all morning. Nothing.'

Dyson nodded.

'Got no other cases then?' the agent inquired, seeing the frustration on his boss' face at the Red John case.

'Nope. It's a quiet day in California.'

Bosco looked out his window at the brightly lit scenery. He could almost see the words from the file imprinted in the back of his eyes for staring at them too long. As a purple finch swooped past the window, Bosco's office phone suddenly started ringing.

Flicking his gaze back to the office, he grabbed the receiver loosely and put it to his ear.

'Bosco.'

The line crackled, just allowing the sound of hurried breathing down the line.

'Hello? Who is this?' Bosco asked, his brows knitting together.

The breaths quickened. Heavy. Shaky.

'Sam Bosco?' a hushed voice came through, as if the call was forbidden.

Bosco glanced up at Dyson, who turned his attention to the phone call.

'Yes...who is this?' Bosco repeated slowly.

A quick, panicky breath.

'Doesn't matter...eighty one...Thresher Road...come quickly.'

A heavy crackle and the line went dead.

Bosco held the phone away from his ear, staring at it.

'Who was that?' Dyson asked, studying the look of confusion that Bosco was giving the phone.

'I'm...not sure,' Bosco replied, replacing the receiver. He grabbed a post-it note and scribbled down the address that he had been given by the anonymous caller.

'What did they say?'

Bosco handed the post-it to Dyson.

'Eighty-one, Thresher Road. Come quickly.'

'Check it out?'

'Yeah. Round up Hicks and Martinez.'

Patrick strolled down the fruit and vegetable aisle in the supermarket, a swinging basket held loosely in one hand, humming happily. He watched the brightly coloured food disappear past him while his search continued. Lisbon's happiness and willingness to let him be there with her depended on him finding what he came for. At least he hoped it would.

'Doo, doo, doo, da, da...ah, HA. There you are!' he declared, finding the boxes of fresh strawberries he knew Lisbon loved. He moved forward, looking for a good selection. Finally taking his first prize and placing it in the basket, he headed for the next aisle, a bit happier than before.

The almost blindingly bright supermarket lights flashed past as he hurried along the end of the aisles, checking all the signs for what he was looking for.

'Down here...' he murmured, spotting the right aisle.

Searching along the shelves of gift wrap and cards, he reached the ribbons and stood back, judging for the best one. So many colours...he grinned, picking a roll of plain thick red ribbon. Perfect. The glittery one with flowers was just overkill.

'Good...good...' he thought, putting the ribbon alongside the strawberries in the basket.

Two down, one to go.

Standing in the middle of the aisle for a moment, he patted his stomach thoughtfully. Food...

As if in confirmation, his stomach growled.

'Hunger, we meet again...' he murmured, moving off towards the savouries and cakes with a grin on his face.

One pasty and two blueberry muffins later, he stood in line at the checkout, awaiting service. He looked down the line, seeing an old lady shuffling a pile of toilet rolls towards the checkout lady with the speed and strength of a dead slug.

'Ugh,' Patrick muttered. Normally, he'd be a lovely, charming person towards the elderly...but he needed to check off the last thing on his list and get back to Lisbon's apartment sharpish.

Searching along the tills, he spotted a free self service. He gave a warm smile to the lady behind him, and set off, ready to take the quick route out, even if it meant trying out one of the brand spanking new, untrustworthy, machines. Eventually reaching the automated machine, he glanced over it, as if weighing up an enemy. He pressed 'start' on the touch screen and listened to the pre-recorded female voice telling him to scan the first item.

'Yes, ma'am,' he said under his breath, passing the ribbon's barcode through the streams of red light, followed by the strawberries, then the muffins, and finally the pasty.

Finishing off all his items, Patrick placed them in one of the carrier bags to the right. And then it had a turn.

'Unexpected item in the bagging area!' it blared, 'Unexpected item in the bagging area!'

Patrick stared at the machine, his lips pursed. He narrowed his eyes and chewed his bottom lip.

'Um...'

Soon, a shop assistant came to the rescue.

'Pain aren't they?' the young brunette smiled up at Patrick.

Patrick smiled back. 'Apparently there's a UFO in the bagging area...'

The girl laughed. 'Happened so many times today...utterly useless.'

'Honestly,' Patrick tutted, causing another wide smile to erupt over the girl's face. She tapped on the screen of the end console a few times and Patrick's machine shut up.

'Silence in the bagging area!' Patrick declared happily, pushing the necessary notes into the slot and dashing off, putting distance between him and the machine. Grasping his shopping in one hand, Patrick waved to the girl, who was now giggling at his antics.

'Thank you! And have a good one!' he called.

'You too!'

A wide grin was spread all over Patrick's face as he got back to the car for his journey to the next store.

'Where'd you go?' Van Pelt enquired as Cho re-entered the bullpen.

'Went to look for Lisbon,' Cho replied, sitting himself back at his desk and picking up his book. He flicked it open where the page was folded and submerged himself once more.

'So...?' the younger agent pressed.

'So?' Cho repeated, intent on finding the sentence at which he'd left off.

'Where is she?'

'Her apartment.'

'Is she ok?'

'Wouldn't say. Looked upset though,' Cho said, still looking at page 157.

'...Cho. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't care.'

Cho took in a deep breath and blew out through his nose. He looked up.

'I do care.'

'Doesn't seem like it.'

'That's your problem. I know I care. Do you care?'

'Of course I care!' Van Pelt looked aghast.

'Good.'

Cho returned his concentration to the creamy page underneath his thumb.

Van Pelt looked grumpily in Cho's direction. But he didn't seem to notice.

'I care!' Rigsby randomly piped up from his place, spread across the desk before him.

'You don't even know what we're talking about,' Cho told him.

'Good point....what are you talking about?'

When it was obvious that Cho wouldn't reply, Van Pelt spoke up.

'Lisbon.'

'Oh...yeah. We all care...'

Sam Bosco stepped towards the front door of Eighty-One Thresher Road. His shoes crunched the gravelly path as he moved slowly closer. His eyes flew over the yard, noticing the thick bushes and creepers littering the vicinity, browning grass providing ground cover. Drawing his vision back to the house, he saw how the majority of the windows were boarded up, pitch blackness beyond the clear ones.

What was this? Anonymous tip off to an abandoned house? Something didn't feel right, but Bosco kept up his advance.

Placing his foot on the first wooden step up onto the veranda, he briefly glanced back at his team following him, guns held cautiously in front of them. Bosco placed his weight onto the step, causing it to creak loudly. He cringed back slightly, casting an apprehensive glance over the old house, trying to figure out whether he'd been heard from inside. If there had been a tad more information in the call, he wouldn't have been as worried, but underneath the circumstances, he had no idea what he was walking into.

No movement was visible through the dusty old windows, and the only thing that could be heard was the gentle breeze whistling through the cracks in the glass. Bosco brought himself up onto the veranda, and it suddenly seemed so cold; the heat of the Californian sun blocked out by the roof. He approached the door, giving five brief knocks to the creaky, splintered wood, before stepping to the right slightly. He peered through the window, trying to make out what was on the other side. Light, furniture. Anything. But nothing. An empty room with a crumbling fireplace at the far end.

Bosco knocked again, but the only sound was the hollow tapping that his knock made, echoing through the hallway.

Nodding briefly at his team, Bosco checked his stab vest and shifted his grip on his glock. He took a deep breath and rested his hand on the tarnished door knob. Putting as much of his weight into it as possible, Bosco shunted the door heavily with his shoulder. He immediately straightened up on the other side and glanced round the hallway, bringing his gun up to height.

'CBI!' he yelled, beginning to secure all the rooms one by one.

Patrick plonked himself down on the lounger once more, phone book on his knee. He rifled through the pages, searching for a locksmith...door fixer...person. He picked up his freshest cup of tea and sipped it, flicking over the page and running his finger down the list.

'Ah...Lock N' Key...you sound like my kinda business,' Patrick mused, tapping the phone number and draining his mug.

Hurriedly walking across the room, casting a brief look into the dark stairwell, he grabbed the phone of the hook and trundled back to the lounger. Happily landing on the soft cushions, Patrick smiled. Phase three of plan very nearly completed. He crossed his legs over and tapped in the number, lifting the phone to his ear.

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.

'Yes, hello, my name's Patrick.'

'How can we help you Patrick?'

'I've got a bit of a problem. My front door's been busted up a bit...I was wondering if you could come over and fix up a new lock for me?'

'Certainly, when would you like us to come?'

'As soon as possible, really. Today.'

'O..k,' the Lock N' Key man replied, seemingly writing down the information.

'Is it possible for you to bring a selection of doors round for me as well? Just a few...'

'Urm...yes...I think so. What kind are you looking for?'

'Just plain white I think...maybe with little windows at the top?'

Patrick wanted the something nice for Lisbon to see when she came down from her room...other than him. He grinned cheekily and just remembered to listen to the reply that the man gave.

'I think I can find something for you, Patrick.'

'Thank you.'

'So we'll come round in the next hour? Is that alright?'

'Perfect.'

'Can I have an address please?'

'Yeah. Apartment 4...Crescent Cross.'

'Ok, thank you very much. We'll be with you as soon as possible.'

'Thank you!'

Patrick hung up the phone with a grin. Excellent. Everything was going to plan.

Bosco, Hicks, Dyson and Martinez regrouped at the end of the hallway, just outside the last door.

'Nothing upstairs boss,' Dyson informed Bosco.

Bosco nodded briefly. 'Last door then. Ready?'

'Yeah,' Martinez replied, raising his gun and repositioning it in his hand.

The other two nodded and Bosco took the signal, twisting the brass door knob slowly, holding his gun up in his other hand.

The four CBI agents entered the room slowly, casting hurried glances around the kitchen area and the chipped and frail dining table.

'Anyone here?' Bosco addressed the seemingly empty room.

Then he heard something; a quiet shuffle from behind the kitchen counter. Bosco's head snapped round to the source of the noise.

'Did you hear that?' he whispered to his team, nudging forward, gun poised before him.

'Hello?' he called again.

Bosco took a firm step forward and peered round the corner of the counter to be met with the sight of a youngish Asian man, crouched on the grimy floor.

Lowering his weapon ever so slightly, Bosco met gaze with the man. 'Are you the anonymous caller?'

'Y-yeah...' the man replied.

'Why did you call us here?'

'Um...I...I have...information.'

'About what?'

'R-Red John...'

A/N: I don't feel right, continuously bugging people for reviews, but I just want to know whether all the wonderful people who reviewed the first chapter are still reading? I got 15 reviews for the first chapter and then 2 each for chapter 2 + 3. Just lets me know people are still interested and keeps me enthusiastic about what I'm writing!
I'm sure of the thousand of so people who've read this story, a few more people could just spend a minute or two on a review?
Sorry for bugging, but thank you anyway. xx Love all of you readers and reviewers alike!