Return to Sacramento: Chapter 6
Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I'm ready to go again!
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine
"We met in the interrogation room at his work, when my sister-in-law was murdered two years ago." Claire was telling Grace and Rigsby (the latter a little too busy stuffing the hotel's complimentary continental breakfast down his throat to really listen), the story of how she and Cho met in more detail. "I was really upset, as you can imagine. I was a mess in there."
"You didn't eve cry! I started suspecting you were the killer!" Cho argued beside her.
"I was holding myself together. A girl can't have her mascara running all over her cheeks because of a few questions, especially when she's got the hots for the interrogator!"
Might that have been a faint blush on Cho's cheeks?
"Anyway... They solved the crime and I thought I'd never hear from him again. About a week later, I get back from my lunch break and he's waiting outside the door of my boutique with coffee. And I guess the rest just... happened." Claire smiled brightly, blushing as she recounted her history with Cho.
"Cho, I thought you were dating Elise when we left?" Rigsby asked, earning a heavy slap on the shoulder from Grace. "Sorry. Didn't mean it like that." He directed to Claire.
"No worries. We broke up about a year before I met Claire. We had started drifting apart and were fighting a lot; mostly about my job."
Understanding nods were given across the table, and the breakfast continued in comfortable silence.
That was until the whirlwind of a very flustered Patrick Jane burst into the scene. He was looking decidedly disheveled; his hair curled wildly on his head, still a little bit wet, the buttons of his shirt were unevenly closed, and his vest hung open and unbuttoned over his chest. His eyes were wide and panicked; the eyes of a terrified man.
"Guys, I need to tell you something..." He said.
"Woah man, sit and calm down first. Here, have some bacon..." Rigsby offered. Grace gently helped Jane into an open chair beside him and offered him some water, which he promptly refused.
"There isn't time for bacon!" He was almost yelling now, but at the alarmed expressions of those around him, he quickly composed himself and sat the picture frame on the table with his trembling hands. "We found this at Jess' bedside this morning. Someone had snuck in last night and put it there..."
As the team looked at the terrifying scene depicted in the picture, their cheerful faces fell and were completely replaced with ones of concern.
"Are you sure it's..?" Grace was the first to find her voice.
"Yes, I am. No one else would do this..."
"Impossible. You shot Red John, dead. I saw the body at the coroner's office myself." Cho said.
"I know, I know. But what if that wasn't the real Red John? I've always wondered... Or what if this is just one of his little minions, or a copycat? Any of those options, all of them, are dangerous..." His voice was getting more hopeless and desperate with each moment.
"Okay, okay, calm down, Jane. Getting hysterical won't make any difference. Where's Jess now?" Grace asked, looking over her shoulder.
"She's with Teresa. They're checking out. We're going to a new hotel as soon as we can."
"Of course, of course." Rigsby nodded understandingly. "Maybe we should go with you. I mean, having three police officers with guns down the hall, it's not a bad idea."
"I couldn't ask that of you."
"Don't worry about it, man." Cho said. "We might even save a few bucks. This is the most expensive hotel in town..." Cho chuckled humorlessly, then looked down at the frame. "Was that all there was?"
"No, there was a red rose as well."
"We should get that to forensics. It's over the weekend, but I can pull some strings and have it searched for prints and DNA in a rush."
"Thanks you, Kimball." Jane said. He reached out for the glass of water and drank it greedily. "I can't believe this is happening again." He said as his head fell into his hands. "I... I-I won't be able to... If he..."
"It's okay, Jane." Grace said, hugging him from the back. "It's going to be okay. We'll make sure of that."
X
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but was there something wrong with your room?"
"No, there was nothing wrong with the room."
"Was it the service, or..?"
"No, there's nothing wrong with the hotel. We just..." She drew a hesitant breath and closed her eyes tightly, bravely fighting off her tears as the shock and panic from moments ago returned again. "We just need to check out. Right now. It's a lovely hotel, everyone has been great, but I just need you to check me and my family out please."
The receptionist – taken aback that the petite lady who had been so insistent to reserve the perfect rooms in the luxury hotel only a few weeks before was now insisting on leaving after one night – nodded mutely and started typing on the computer.
"All right, everything's set. Check out is at 12; we'll just need your room keys before you go. I hope you had a pleasant stay." She said with a wide, fake smile.
"Thanks." Lisbon said, taking Jess's hand – little Jess was silently standing next to her Mommy, still confused about her strange behavior earlier that morning.
"Teresa?"
Lisbon turned at the sound of a familiar voice – one she hadn't expected to hear again for a long, long time.
"Walter?"
Walter Mashburn was walking towards her, arms stretched out in a friendly hug. He was wearing a fine, tailored suit, possibly Dolce and Gabbana or Armani, shiny leather shoes and a charming smile. Other than a few extra laugh lines in the corners of his eyes and at his cheeks, it didn't seem like he had aged at all since their last encounter, more than five years ago. In fact, did his hair seem thicker, darker? She almost smirked as she suspected hair plugs.
"Teresa." His smile widened further and he enveloped her in a too-tight hug. Oh yes, Walter. Always just a little inappropriate. But now much more than a little, of course. Back then she was a single woman – and for a little while, his lover – and now she was a happily married woman with a child.
And much bigger problems on her plate than an overtly-grabby ex-lover.
As he pulled away from the hug, he immediately started babbling, not allowing her space to speak.
"I haven't seen you in, what, five years? You look good – fantastic, even. But then, you always have. Are you checking out? What a shame. We could've gotten together for drinks, had a few laughs about the old days..." He smirked that mischievous smirk of his.
"I'm up for it."
Walter's eyes moved to the other masculine voice that had cut into the conversation. That of another familiar face he hadn't seen for just around the same amount of time.
"Patrick Jane." He said with a surprised smile, shaking the man's hand friendlily. But when Jane picked up a little girl with Lisbon's dark tresses and his arm went around Lisbon's waist, holding her tightly against him in a shameless show of male possessiveness, Walter's eyebrows slowly raised and his lips slowly formed an "oh".
"Oh. Oh. Oh, I see..." He said, seemingly seeing the little girl for the first time, smiling and pointing his finger between Jane and Lisbon. Then he nodded in approval and slyly looked at Jane. "Nicely done, Patrick."
"Thank you." He gave a small smile. Then he turned his face to Lisbon. "Teresa, dear, have you checked out already?"
"Yeah, check-out's at 12."
"Good, because I just talked to the team and they all agree that it'll be best that they check out too. So they can stay close."
"The whole team is here?" Mashburn asked gleefully. "And you're leaving just as I get here?"
For a moment Jane paused, then asked: "You're just getting here now, Walter?"
"Yup. Just drove in. What a shame. But if you're still in the city we should really all have dinner together. I'd really love to see how my favorite crime fighters are doing. And hear how this happened." He signaled between Jane and Lisbon again. "But I really must get up to my room now. I don't trust bellboys with my luggage for too long. I will call you for dinner."
"Good bye, Walter." Jane said, smiling behind him.
"Bye, Walter." Lisbon echoed.
Once Mashburn was behind closed elevator doors, Lisbon sighed and hid her face in Jane's chest. He turned her around so that he could take her in a full embrace.
"Walter's here." He stated the obvious.
"Please don't think what I'm hoping you're not thinking." She mumbled against his shirt.
Jane frowned. "That's not how the saying goes, my dear."
"Whatever."
"I'm suspicious. And wary. But not too worried."
"Mommy, Daddy, what are you talking about?" Jess asked, sandwiched between them in the hug.
Lisbon chuckled watery, the situation becoming very overwhelming for her. Teresa Lisbon was an iron-willed, rock-hard hellcat when she wanted to be, but there was no question that there was one place where her heart was as soft as a marshmallow: her daughter. The thought of losing her, ever, sent her into spells of blind panic.
"Nothing, my princess." Jane said, breaking the hug and kissing his daughter's cheek. "Why don't you and Mommy go back upstairs so long? I'll be right up with you in a minute. Just want to sort out some details with the team about the rooms."
"Okay. Let's go, Mommy!" Jess hopped up and down on Lisbon's hip hurryingly, and Lisbon strained a smile.
Jane's eyes followed his wife and child to the elevator until the doors closed. Once they were gone, he let his shoulders slouch and started slowly walking the elegantly tiled floors of the hotel lobby. His hands went to his jacket pockets as his brain started taking in the magnitude of the morning's events.
Quickly he moved to the ground floor's men's room. Just as elegant, just as regal. He caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror on the wall; he seemed terribly out of place in this beautiful setting.
He looked terrible; his face was miserable, his clothing unruly from his hurried dress after the discovery that morning. The buttons of his shirt were in the wrong loops, making the collar stand all asymmetrical. The restroom was empty, so he slowly unbuttoned and re-buttoned the shirt, then his vest. He ran his fingers through his hair, hastily arranging the curls to stand just a little less chaotic.
He wasn't exactly looking his dapper best, but fine considering the circumstances.
Oh, the circumstances.
Just at the thought, he saw immediately as his eyes turned watery, his cheeks blot red. That picture... The exact image that flooded his mind when he felt the fear, the horrible gut-wrenching fear that his daughter was stolen from him again. He knew he wouldn't be able to take it again. Even if the mysterious killed – Red John or not – somehow spared Teresa this time, he wondered if he'd be able to even survive losing his daughter.
Jess.
No.
No.
Sighing, he opened the faucet and washed his face. He needed to get back upstairs. The team could sort their out their business on their own.
Right now he needed to be with Teresa and with Jess.
So what do you think? I thought that by adding the intrigue of Mashburn, I'd get my groove back. It seemed to work, I wrote this chap in record time and it's almost past 2000 words. I'd call that my muse a-knocking! Anyway, I'd love some feedback, as always.
Much love, Zanny