Return to Sacramento: Chapter 11
Hi guys. Sorry, I know it was a very long wait. But I've been busy... and a little uninspired, so...
The plot – you'll see... – belongs to DanH2010, who suggested it in a review a while ago. See? I like suggestions, remember them and use them. Which is why it's totally worth your time to press that review button till it hurts and send me a nice, long review after reading this chap...
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine
He sat and listened to the voices crackling through the speakers of his laptop. Mindless chatter about old times. A few stories about the lives of the speakers nowadays.
He tentatively dragged a bony, pale-skinned finger across the mouse pad and clicked; the chatter became significantly softer, but still sounded in the background, as the other microphone picked up other sounds. Gentle breathing, of a mother and daughter sleeping.
A cruel smirk appeared on his face, illuminated by the blue light that shone from the monitor.
There she was; his treasures.
Soon, Patrick Jane will crumble down in mercy at his hand.
He will watch as his father's nemesis squirms in the terrible pain, the nightmarish deja vu. And he will finally have his revenge.
Five years ago, his father made a fatal mistake. He got arrogant; he thought that he could play with Patrick Jane face-to-face and walk away. He lost his caution.
He paid for it.
Five years ago, he lost his father. He had just found him, a few years prior, and only found out about his hobby days after his death. When his mother's vigorous isolation failed to keep him from reading the front page heading of a newspaper.
Five years ago the sixteen-year-old him sat huddled under the covers with a flashlight, reading the front page article. Realizing that his father had a very dark hobby... Realizing that it might be heretic.
That first article was followed by many, many more – he stole the newspapers from the corner cafe on his way to school and read it in the back corner of the bus. How the blonde-haired man who always wore ridiculous suits, Patrick Jane, was tried in a court of law; how he was acquitted of all charges and released from prison on some technicality based on evidence found by a dark-haired co-worker of his. The charming fluff-piece about a year later on how he and said dark-haired co-worker were moving to Los Angeles and were now happily living together or something or other.
He also read a lot about his father in these articles. About the darker side of the father he never really knew.
And he started plotting.
He started plotting his plan and finally, many years later, he found the perfect opportunity. He caught wind of a CBI Fundraiser Function, and heard that Patrick Jane would be attending. With his wife and child.
Oh, what wondrous symmetry.
He would finally make his father proud – even in death. He would finally do what his father failed to; what he lost interest in, stupidly thinking his plaything would lose interest with him.
But he wouldn't allow himself to think like that.
He had his father's DNA, yes, but he was younger, stronger, smarter.
He would continue the legacy, but better it. He would make his father so proud by painting innumerable red faces on walls, each one undoubtedly the signature; by chilling the public to the bone with perfectly symmetrical and passionately-administered slashes to his victim's throats. He would see his father's name in the newspaper headlines once again, and he would smile, knowing that it was his work.
The horrifying crime scene pictures the papers weren't at liberty to publish would have happened at his hand. And the images would be forever entered into his memory...
Don't get ahead of yourself, Reid... He thought. I've got a job to do first.
His attention turned back to the laptop's screen, when he heard that now-familiar voice sound on the speaker.
Commenting on whatever someone said.
Laughing.
Go ahead and laugh now, Patrick. He thought. You won't be laughing soon.
Okay, so that was a very short chapter. But now you know who's behind it! So that's good... I hope you like the plot.
Please review! I'm desperate for some feedback.
Much love, Zanny