A/N: Thanks again for those of you hanging in there for this crazy little fic. I really appreciate all the kind reviews! I struggled with this chapter, I have to say, but I hope it turned out to your liking. It focuses a little more on the case, but I tried not to make it too boring, and wanted the case to merely be a vehicle for Jane's introspection and Angela's plan. Above all, this fic is a romance, after all…

Chapter 3

Lisbon glanced at Jane as the glasses and bottles behind the bar began to clink together, the hanging lamps over the tables commenced to swaying, and the floor beneath their feet shook violently. He sat on his barstool, frozen to the spot, staring at the empty stool beside him with wide eyes.

"Jane, get under here," she exclaimed, pulling him down from the barstool to take cover beneath the overhanging bar. He complied wordlessly as the earthquake continued for about thirty seconds, then abruptly stopped. They waited there another minute in case of aftershocks. The few people in the lounge began to emerge from beneath their tables, talking loudly about the quake, guessing the strength of it, comparing it to other recent quakes or worse ones as Californians were wont to do.

"Geeze," Lisbon said. "That was a good one."

"Yeah," Jane said. "Let's get out of here, in case there's another one." He looked again to his right, as if seeking approval.

"So, do you believe in me now?" asked the ghost. "Or do you need another one?"

She looked toward the heavens again. "No! I believe you," he whispered frantically.

"Good," said Angela.

"What?" Lisbon asked.

Jane cleared his throat. "I said I believe it was about a 6 on the Richter scale," he replied to cover the blunder of speaking to Angela aloud.

"That sounds about right," Lisbon agreed; the concerned expression now seemed to be permanently tattooed upon her face.

Seeing no damage within the lounge, no one in need of their help, Jane took out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the bar, nodding farewell to the bartender. He and Lisbon left the lounge, the ghost of Angela Jane walking beside them.

The SUV was still where they'd left it, and as soon as Jane and Lisbon were inside, Lisbon turned to him.

"Now, before we were so rudely interrupted by that earthquake, you were about to tell me what the hell is wrong with you today."

Jane stole a glance in the vanity mirror and saw Angela behind them, smiling while humming the old song, I Feel the Earth Move.

Jane grinned. "Nothing, Lisbon. Just a bad morning. You know how I am sometimes. I'm fine now though. That earthquake literally shook me out of my miasma."

But she was still skeptical. "Really? Because it's highly unlike you to be knocking back shots at ten o'clock in the morning."

"What can I say? I woke up feeling particularly…haunted this morning." He caught Angela's smiling eyes again, and the ghost laughed at his cleverness. "Please, stop worrying," he said to Lisbon. "Let's focus on this case, all right? Next stop, the McCoy's?"

"Yeah," she replied, and pointed the car toward the old money part of town. But when she caught him smiling at his own reflection in the mirror, she was still worried.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The McCoy's mansion was only accessible through a locked gate and a camera. Lisbon rolled down her window and pressed the call button.

"McCoy residence," came the proper voice of an English butler. "May I have your name please?" Lisbon rolled her eyes, and held her badge up to the camera.

"Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI. I need to speak to Mr. and Mrs. McCoy please."

"What is this regarding, Miss?"

"Official police business. We have a few questions for the McCoy's. If we have to, we'll come back with a warrant which will allow us to search every nook and cranny of the entire house."

There was a pause, then the gate clicked and opened wide before them. "Very well, Miss. Please enter and I will greet you at the top of the front stairs."

"Gets them every time," said Jane in amusement.

The circle drive was packed with expensive cars; apparently the family was still entertaining post wedding. Lisbon pulled in as close to the front door as she could, and she and Jane emerged from the SUV to climb the stairs as directed. The butler, complete with dark suit and fussy bearing, opened the door and ushered them inside to what the man weightily designated the library.

"Would you care for refreshment?"

Jane, feeling the effects of the whiskey, begged a cup of tea. Lisbon declined and took a seat while Jane did his usual snooping around. Angela had disappeared again. Above the mantle of the fireplace was a giant oil painting of some stuffy male ancestor. Smaller, more recent photographs lined the mantle. None of them appeared to be their victim, but then, Jane hadn't expected that. Cinderella quite obviously hadn't belonged in a place like this.

A few minutes later, and the library door opened, admitting a middle aged man and woman, the man faintly resembling the gentleman in the portrait.

"I am Robert McCoy," he said, holding out his hand. "My wife, Liz."

Jane and Lisbon shook their hands and sat down on the comfortable leather furniture.

"So, Agent Lisbon, how may we help you? Please forgive us if we are still a little overwhelmed with company after our son's wedding last night."

"We'll try not to take up too much of your time," said Lisbon. She pulled from a file folder the photo of their Jane Doe. "Do you recognize this woman?"

They took the picture from her and Jane watched the couple closely. It was obvious from the blood on the victim's face and the closed eyes that she was dead. Mrs. McCoy gasped in recognition, and Mr. McCoy's jaw tightened.

"That's Jamie something-or-other," Mr. Mcoy said. "She showed up at the reception last night uninvited. My other son, Toby, escorted her out before she could make a scene."

"Is Toby here?" asked Lisbon.

The parents looked at each other, realizing the implication of her request, an unspoken message passing between them, as often did with longtime spouses. Jane caught the look, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Are you implying that our son killed this girl?" asked Mr. McCoy.

"Not at all," Lisbon said.

"Yes," said Jane. He looked at Mrs. McCoy. "Why do you also suspect him, Liz?"

"I—" Her husband grasped her hand and squeezed to stop her reply.
"I think we are finished with the questions until we have our lawyer present," said McCoy haughtily.

"Call him," conceded Lisbon. "We'll wait. Unless you'd rather we take you and Toby to CBI Headquarters and we meet him there."

"No." He took out his cell phone and walked to the other end of the room for privacy. Jane glanced at Lisbon knowingly. This was going to be easier than it looked. At that moment, Angela appeared near the door.

"Toby's getting away," she told Jane, nodding toward the window facing the front driveway. The muffled hum of an expensive sports car starting its engine called Jane to the window.

"I think that's Toby," Jane said, parting the heavy curtains and noting the bright yellow Ferrari. Toby's way was blocked by the guest's cars so he drove off the pavement and onto the perfectly manicured grass, the churning wheels making deep ruts before it sped onto the driveway again. The gate opened by an unseen hand, and Toby McCoy made his escape with a roar of his engine.

"Dammit!" said Lisbon. She shot an angry glance at Mr. McCoy. "You texted him, didn't you? That's obstruction, sir."

Lisbon pulled out her gun and pointed it at the McCoy's. "You two, stay where you are."

She pulled out her own cell and called SacPD to send the nearest squad car in search of their newly fleeing suspect. Her next call was to Cho, giving him the names of their suspect and what they knew of the victim.

That done, Lisbon detached a pair of handcuffs from her belt and a zip tie from her jacket pocket, handing them both to Jane. "If you wouldn't mind doing the honors," she asked him.

Jane grinned, never having been asked to perform such a task for her before. He tightened the restraints behind their backs until the couple gasped in pain, then opened the door as Lisbon herded them out of the library and down the hall to the front door.

"Robert and Liz McCoy, you're under arrest for obstruction of justice and interfering with a police investigation. You have the right to remain silent…"

"Call my attorney," yelled Mr. McCoy to the flustered butler carrying a tea tray. Mrs. McCoy began crying in earnest as the houseguests began emerging from various rooms to watch with open mouths as their hosts were rustled into the back of the black SUV. Sirens sounded in the distance.

Jane shot a look at Angela as they stood by the car. "Thanks," he said softly.

She smiled. "You're welcome. I never thought working for the police could be so much fun."

"It can be sometimes," said Jane, and his eyes alighted on Lisbon. She was on the phone again, this time with Wainwright. He took a moment to admire how in control she was, despite this less than desirable situation. He noticed too how the soft auburn streaks in her shiny hair caught the light, how her moss green eyes seemed to become iridescent in the late winter sunshine. She caught his eye and smiled a little, and Jane felt an unfamiliar tightening in his gut, a momentary halting of his heart. He glanced at Angela guiltily.

"It's all right, Patrick. I know you feel something for her. You have every right to. That's why I'm here, remember?"

He believed her now, believed that this was really Angela from beyond the grave. He had concluded after the earthquake that either he could call himself crazy and miss this second chance to talk with his wife, or he could ignore the fact that he was likely crazy, and at least pretend for a while that she really was here. Isn't that what faith was? Choosing to believe in spite of how illogical it seemed?

He still had so many questions, but he was terrified to ask them. Maybe when they had the chance to be alone he would ask her all the things that he'd wanted to since he'd found her and Charlotte dead beneath that bloody smile.

"All in good time," Angela said. She nodded toward Lisbon. "Now you owe it to Teresa and yourself to explore these feelings you have for each other."

Jane looked at his wife, her familiar beauty making his heart ache for what he'd lost, but knowing that whatever she was, whatever form she was taking, he could never have her again the way she once was.

"I'm dead, Patrick. You understand that. You have to let me go. It's okay though, my love. You'd already started letting go last year, when you finally went to visit our graves."

It was true. Seeing their headstones in the cemetery for the first time was the beginning of all this, he realized. It was the first necessary step to moving on that he'd avoided taking for years until his brother-in-law had shown up, insisting he take him. He'd cried there, but looking back he saw that his tears had not only been because of the pain seeing their graves had caused him. It was also because he knew he was ready to let them go a little, let both of them rest in peace.

He supposed shooting whom he thought was Red John had been another cathartic moment, even though it had turned out to be a mistake. In those brief hours before he'd discovered the truth, he had felt so free. He'd let go of his anger and felt more relaxed and satisfied than he had in years, despite the possibility of life in prison. The feeling was addictive, and it was hard to let it go completely, even when Rosalind Harker had confirmed his suspicions.

He still wanted to get Red John if it took his last breath, but suddenly he knew there were other things in life worth dying for, or, more accurately, worth living for. Teresa Lisbon, his work with her team, had filled a void in his life without his even knowing it. His near-death experience had shown him that life was a gift, and kissing Erica Flynn had shown him that he could want a woman that wasn't his wife.

Now, Angela was here telling him that Lisbon loved him, and what's more, she approved. If she wasn't a ghost, wasn't truly here, his subconscious was obviously telling him it was okay to move on.

"I always wanted to be able to crawl inside your head, Patrick," Angela mused after she'd listened to his thoughts and watched the accompanying emotions crossing his face. "Let me tell you, it is a strange yet wondrous place, and not nearly as scary as I'd imagined in life."

He looked at her sheepishly. "I'm glad you think so, because I'm frequently terrified by what goes on in there."

"You ready?" asked Lisbon, unknowingly interrupting. "Cho and Rigsby are almost here to take over the investigation of Toby's room. We'll get these two back to HQ, hold them for questioning and see if the AG's office wants to file charges."

"Don't you just love parents who'll do anything for their kids?"

Lisbon's cell rang and she held it to her ear. "Yeah. Yeah. Dammit. Okay. Guess I'm the one who has to tell the parents."

Lisbon caught Jane's look and shook her head. Bad news.

"Okay. Thanks, sir." She disconnected and looked at Jane, then at the couple in the backseat of the SUV and sighed.

"His car crashed?" asked Jane perceptively.

"Yeah. Goddammit." Her hand came up to her forehead. "Let's get them out of there. No parent needs to hear about their son's death in handcuffs."

"She really is a compassionate person," Angela said sincerely.

"Yes," said Jane, and he looked at Lisbon, allowing for once his admiration to show clearly on his face. Lisbon appeared momentarily startled by what she saw there, and hesitated as Jane went to the door of the SUV and helped the McCoy's out again. Lisbon came back to herself and holstered her weapon. She passed her key to Jane to unlock the cuffs on Mr. McCoy, while she used the small knife from her keychain to cut Mrs. McCoy's zip tie.

"What is it?" Liz McCoy asked anxiously. "What's happening?"

"Come back inside, please," Lisbon said gently.

Mr. McCoy's face looked stricken as he realized what must have happened, and Jane met his eyes, instantly understanding his feelings, empathizing with how he would likely feel once he realized he was partly responsible for his son's death. He pitied the man; it was the worst feeling in the world.

"Where's Toby?" insisted McCoy's wife. McCoy put a hand on her lower back and directed her toward the house.

"Come on, ma'am," said Lisbon gravely. "Let's get in out of the sun."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, Jane knocked on Lisbon's office door. She looked up from the report on the McCoy case she was finishing and waved him inside. Jane opened the glass door and entered, holding up a plastic evidence bag containing one lady's shoe.

"Aw," said Lisbon. "Cinderella's missing slipper."

"Cho found it beneath the seat of Toby McCoy's car."

"And to think," mused Lisbon, "we didn't have to search every Ferrari in the kingdom to find the right fit."

"And sometimes a fairy godmother steps in to help," replied Jane, finding his way to her overstuffed couch. He settled back against it with a sigh, tossing the evidence on the coffee table. He looked inconspicuously around the room, surprised that Angela's ghost wasn't beside him.

"What?"

Jane shrugged. "Just continuing the fairy tale metaphor."

"You don't seem quite as triumphant as I would have expected you to be," said Lisbon. "Given that you were right about the shoe and all, right about which formal event to look into…"

"I guess this one hit a little closer to home than I'd like."

She regarded him a moment, trying to understand the connection. "Oh," she said finally. "Toby's parents."

Jane nodded. How was it that this woman knew him so well? "Is the AG's office pressing charges?"

"For what?" asked Lisbon innocently.

Jane caught her eye, his lips quirking slightly. "You didn't tell them they tipped off Toby, did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her expression blank. But under his intent gaze of admiration, her face softened. "They'll be punishing themselves for the rest of their lives for their hands in his death. I can't think of a worse prison, can you?"

Jane felt his throat tighten, and he merely nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay now?" she asked him.

"Yes," he managed in a whisper. He paused then, clearing his throat. "You know, Teresa, you really are one hell of a woman."

She flushed slightly. "Where's that coming from?"

"My heart," he said simply.

At that moment, Jane glanced up to see Angela standing at the door, a smile of approval lighting her ghostly face.

A/N: Hope this chapter was worth the wait. It would be great if you could sign in and let me know what you think!

While I'm sad there isn't a new episode this week, next Thursday and Friday, we get two nights in a row of new episodes! I can't wait.