Chapter 2
Jane was lying on his makeshift bed in the attic, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Sorting out his feelings wasn't exactly an easy task.
His mind went back to the somewhat awkward date he had had with Kristina Frye – so long ago. He'd been intrigued by the woman, he had to admit. She used to have a strange, beguiling way to deal with reality. Completely different from his own. That was exactly what had attracted him, though he was still reluctant to acknowledge it.
Things wouldn't have gone any further, however – even if she hadn't been so damn foolish as to draw Red John's attention to her. He had cared for her after his own fashion, but that was all.
He didn't want to brood on that subject anymore. For better or worse, Kristina was gone. Red John had left just an empty shell, the ghost of her previous self. Kind of ironic, for a woman who had always claimed she could get in touch with dead people…
Then there had been Erica Flynn. A dangerous, unscrupulous woman. It had kind of reminded him of his own past as a conman. The chemistry he had felt was mostly due to the challenge she had represented. They had both tried to use each other, and she had succeeded in winning the first round. His wounded pride still hadn't healed completely, even if he had managed to catch her in the end.
She had tried to seduce him from the first time they had met – shortly after she had murdered her own husband. Kissing her had been a deliberate act, in order to show her she was wrong.
Part of him was still ashamed that he'd been affected by that kiss much more than he had expected.
He suspected his almost decade-long celibacy had something to do with this. Not to mention the unhealthy allure of danger itself – the same feeling that leads some people to keep poisonous snakes as pets.
Now Erica was finally back to where she belonged. Namely in jail. End of story.
He wasn't sure how he'd gotten entangled with Leslie Clarke. Maybe he was just tired of being alone. Especially after Lisbon had shot that bullet into Red John's head.
That was kind of ironic too, since she'd always been the one who had tried to prevent him from shooting the serial killer. Not that she had had much choice, anyway. It had been a touch-and-go thing. He was more than glad that she got out of it alive.
Well, perhaps he had unconsciously regarded Leslie as a sort of kindred spirit. She felt guilty about her husband taking his own life – and he knew exactly that kind of feeling.
Moreover, her kids were absolutely adorable. Somehow, they had made him want to be a father again.
However, he had quickly understood he couldn't date their mother just in order to become the kids' stepfather. It surely wasn't fair to anyone.
He had told her that, as they were sitting at a table of the most expensive restaurant in south Sacramento. Leslie had regretfully agreed and wished him good luck.
What he hadn't told her was that he had discovered a most unexpected thing that evening.
He was actually in love. For the first time since his wife. And he probably had been for quite a long time.
For a moment he had wished that that woman was sitting in front of him right then, instead of the gorgeous blonde widow.
The only problem was that he cared too much for the woman in question. Her well-being mattered to him far more than his own.
Maybe he'd better bury those feelings deep down inside himself. After all, he'd been alone for the best part of the last ten years. He could spend the rest of his life likewise.
Anything would be better than hurting the most precious thing he still had in this world.