11. A BRUTAL LOVE

Amy Larson was a lovely young woman, sparkling and fragile like sugar-spun lace. She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Jane and poured another for herself before settling precariously on the edge of the delicate Louis XVI chair.

"Mrs. Larson—"

"Amy . . . please."

"Amy." Lisbon smiled quietly at her. Jane had seen this exchange many times: Lisbon gentling the angry, the frightened, the slightly obsessive and neurotic. "Tell me about your relationship with Ryan."

Ryan. Not your late husband. Not Mr. Larson. So calming, so intimate. Lisbon cared.

"He loved me. He took care of me. He promised he would, and he always did. Sometimes even . . ." She looked away, trying to compose herself before turning back to speak again. "And I loved him . . . dearly."

He almost looked at Lisbon to see if she had caught it. The hint of deception. The barely discernable tick of the left eye. Amy must have perceived something in Jane's gaze as well for she turned her head away again, dipping it in a desire to further hide herself. The strands of honey-colored hair that fell against her neck separated, and Lisbon's shift told him that she had seen what was revealed in that instant. A thin, angry red line ran around the base of Amy Larson's neck.

Lisbon moved forward in her chair, but something in Jane's body language caused her to still. She understood it was time to go.

"That's all for now, Amy," her voice still gentle even though she had just seen evidence of the brutal truth. "If it's all right, we may have a few more questions later. We'll see ourselves out, okay?"

A barely perceptible nod was taken as a dismissal, and Jane and Lisbon quietly exited the room. At the SUV, they paused before walking to their respective sides of the vehicle.

"What do you think?"

"I think we need to see if the lab got anything off of that pendant and then have Amy and Kimberly brought in."

She nodded in agreement then made her way to the driver's side, and they silently drove away from the Larson mansion.

Once both women were at the station, Cho permitted Kimberly to hope she would not be regarded as an accomplice, and Lisbon allowed Amy her delusion that the two young women were in this together. It wasn't difficult to extract the truth from them. The two had met in college and were immediately almost inseparable. Even though Kimberly had not been monogamous, Amy considered only the fact that she always came back. When they graduated, the two had been forced to separate. Amy, unable to withstand her father's stranglehold on her, had returned home to California and married the unwitting young man her father had deemed appropriate. The state senator was by party and economic opinion a liberal, but he was socially conservative. While he never used the phrase "family values" to describe himself as a politician, the multitude of press photos of the man surrounded by his loving family got the message across. All he had to do was keep his weak-willed, wayward daughter out of trouble. Kimberly Nesbitt was definitely persona non grata. While Kimberly's parents had seemed to accept their daughter's orientation, her many indiscretions were a source of embarrassment. They had kicked her out, practically disowning her.

The problems started when Ryan Larson actually fell in love with Amy. So in love, he never questioned her hesitance in intimacy. He thought it was further evidence of her modesty and delicate nature. He didn't like Nesbitt, but when she showed up three years into their marriage completely without resources, he couldn't say no to his wife, his heart, when she asked if her best friend from college could move into their guest house. He was naïve and foolish and blinded by his affection for and desire to take care of his wife. It was the greatest understatement to say catching Amy making out with Nesbitt in a bedroom at the Carlisle home had been a shock. All the disjointed pieces had fallen into place very quickly, and the heartbroken young man had turned on his heel and headed straight to where their car was parked at the bottom of the drive.

Amy had run after him, fear overtaking her. What would their friends say? What would her father say? What would become of her? Had she really believed she could convince him to just let things stay the way they were? At the suggestion, he had suddenly realized the significance of the pendants they wore. His heartbreak had turned to anger, and he had told her exactly what would happen. He had grasped the chain that hung around her neck, taunting him, twirled it around his fingers and snapped it violently off of her so that she drew away from him and stumbled backwards to fall to the ground. In gentlemanly instinct, he reached for her to take her hand and help her up, apologizing for hurting her. Seeing that everything that meant anything to her was going to be taken away, her hand closed around the loosened landscape brick on which it had landed. She lifted it and swung it around in a wide arc, brutally smashing the life out of her young husband.

They arrested her, but even though repulsed by what she had done, Lisbon could not bring herself to cuff her. Rigsby escorted her out as Kimberly exited the interrogation room across the hall. An armed guard took custody of Amy even as she tried to reach for Nesbitt. When Kimberly drew away from her, Amy became hysterical and lunged toward her. The burly guard circled her waist with one arm from behind and pulled her down the hallway. By the time he got her to the elevator, her arms were outstretched, hands grasping, feet dragging on the floor looking for purchase to halt the separation, hoarse cries of "No, no, no!" echoing pathetically down the hallway. They could still hear her screams as the elevator car descended. Nesbitt, arrangements made for her temporary release against charges of obstruction, turned without a word and walked away. Everyone went back to their respective desks and couch to wait out the day.

At five thirty, Lisbon abruptly entered the bullpen announcing that she was going home and ordering everyone else to do the same. Jane swallowed his disappointment at not being invited to tag along with her, as well as the now familiar feeling of unease he had every time she was out of his sight, telling himself that his only concern was that she shouldn't be alone. He had noticed but not quite understood the effect the scene in the hallway had had on her. An hour later, he finally admitted he didn't want to be alone and stood to shrug his jacket on, wondering if he should call first.