Author's Note: Thanks as always to those of you who continue to invest time in this story—I know I'd hesitate to commit to reading something this long! I so appreciate all of you who tell me to keep going, and never fear, we will get to an end at some point. I had originally hoped to finish before the season finale but I've been working so much overtime that seems highly unlikely. But then, maybe it's good to have something to keep myself sane during the hiatus!

Chapter 40

When Jane and Lisbon walked into the CBI the next morning, Cho tossed Jane his wallet. "Your phone was smashed," he said.

Jane sighed. He hated getting used to a new phone, and he knew he'd have to look pretty hard to find a flip phone instead of one of those overly complicated smartphones.

Lisbon asked, "Any sign of Lorelei?"

"She wasn't there anymore, but she didn't take time to clean up. There's plenty of evidence she and Jane were both there, and we found the tranquilizers and syringe she used, which makes it harder to argue Jane was there willingly."

"Good," Lisbon said, setting a box of pastries down on the table.

Cho continued, "The FBI is tracking down the owner of the property. Moore will be here later to get your statement, Jane."

"Fine," Jane said.

Lisbon said, "It goes without saying that we can't let Jane go anywhere on his own while Lorelei is on the loose."

"Yeah," Cho said. He looked at Jane. "Next time someone tries to abduct you, yell or something."

"You got it," Jane promised. He cast an annoyed glance at the pair of female agents in the hallway who had stopped to stare at him, whispering to each other. He didn't think he looked strange enough to gawk at; some of the dye had washed out, after all. So what if he was, temporarily, a brunet with blond highlights? Women changed their hair color all the time—wasn't it sexist to find it odd when a man did it?

Lisbon smirked a little. "You'll be quite the topic of conversation for a while."

Jane ran a hand through his hair. "I'll just tell them you made me do it so I'd be a less attractive target for prison escapees."

"Ha, ha. If I wanted to do that, I'd cut it too," she replied. "A buzz cut, maybe."

He stared at her in unfeigned horror. "I already promised to behave. You don't have to threaten me."

"Please. As if I could ever believe your promises again," Lisbon retorted.

Jane usually enjoyed playing a role, but he could already tell he was going to absolutely hate masquerading as an unfaithful husband. Lisbon deserved to enjoy whatever punishment she could devise for him, though. And they were beginning to attract a crowd. "I can only say I'm sorry and promise it will never happen again. Time will prove my sincerity," he declared.

"Until the next time Red John sends you a nice piece of temptation." Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Cho, let me know when Stan gets here. And keep an eye on this one."

"Will do," Cho said.

"Stan, is it?" Jane couldn't resist asking as Lisbon walked away from him. "Should I be worried?"

"Go to hell, Jane," she shot back, pushing her office door open with unnecessary force.

mmm

Moore took his time showing up, and Jane passed the morning on his couch, listening to snippets of conversation from passersby. A surprising number of people were inclined to speculate about his marriage, and even take sides in a nonexistent fight about which they knew absolutely nothing, since he was positive Cho, Rigsby, and Grace weren't talking. Had Kirkland managed to get rumors started so quickly without even making an appearance? Possibly. From what Lisbon had said, he was on good terms with Bertram, and Bertram's staff were some of the most dedicated gossips in the entire state capitol complex. He wondered if the director would come see for himself. Or perhaps, since Bertram was technically his boss, he should go make a report or something.

"No," Cho said when Jane got to his feet.

"What?" Jane protested.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't."

"But I was just going to make myself a cup of tea."

"Right." Cho was definitely not buying his innocent smile. "I'll just get myself some more coffee, then."

Rigsby and Grace tried not to smirk, since they were supposed to be angry with him on Lisbon's behalf, but their eyes gave away their amusement.

"I suppose," Jane said, resigned, "you won't let me visit the men's room unsupervised, either."

"That's Rigsby's job," Cho said, which was apparently news to Rigsby. "Do you need to go?"

Jane bristled at being treated like a four-year-old. "Not at the moment."

"Okay then."

Grace managed to turn her laugh into a coughing fit, so Jane went over and patted her on the back helpfully. Then he went into the break room and took his time brewing a cup of tea, pondering what he would get Lisbon for lunch. Since he was supposed to be in trouble with the entire team, he thought he'd spring for lunch for everyone. But it needed to be something Lisbon would particularly enjoy, especially since he hadn't been able to cook her a good breakfast.

He wandered back into the hallway just in time to see Moore knock on Lisbon's door. "Stan!" he called out cheerfully.

"Patrick," Moore replied. He looked exhausted, but he gave a wan smile. "Made it through the night in one piece, I see."

"Yes." Jane was struck by inspiration. "Have you eaten? I was just about to spirit my lovely wife off to lunch. You're welcome to join us."

"Sounds great," Moore replied, confirming Jane's hunch that he hadn't had breakfast.

Jane followed Moore into Lisbon's office and plucked her jacket off her chair, holding it and waiting for her to stand. "Lunchtime, my dear," he prompted. "I hope you don't mind that I invited Stan to join us."

"Jane, I'm in the middle of something," she said, annoyed.

"And it will still be here when you get back. You have to eat, and we have to cooperate with the FBI," Jane pointed out. "Represented by a very hungry Agent Moore."

She sighed and got to her feet, and Jane helped her into her jacket, giving her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. He tried to drop a kiss into her hair, but she ducked away from him and shot him an irritated look.

"I'll just get the others," Jane said, ignoring Lisbon's attempted protest.

mmm

Lisbon didn't feel like driving, so she agreed that she and Jane would ride with Moore while the others followed in Cho's car. Jane chattered away with Moore, making small talk; she knew he was saving his account of his abduction until they were all together so he wouldn't have to repeat it. She was free to let her thoughts drift, so she did.

It was hard pretending to be mad at Jane when her predominant feeling was relief at having him back. She had to actively concentrate on the annoyance she felt at his having run off, but frankly she was used to that when Red John was concerned. She mostly felt resigned; although Jane had eventually chosen to come back to her this time, he would always struggle with his priorities when it came to Red John.

She was so tired of this. It wasn't as if this was new knowledge about Jane, but when they'd become a couple, they were both under the illusion that they wouldn't have to deal with this issue anymore. She didn't know how they could sustain their marriage without finding a better way to cope than their old pattern of reckless pursuit on his part and fruitless pleas for caution on hers.

It was a hopeful sign that Jane took his vows to her seriously enough to have abandoned his course, even if he'd waited until almost the last minute. Before, she thought he would have stayed, taking even the smallest chance to get to Red John. But then, if this had happened before they became lovers, he would have given Lorelei what she wanted, perhaps increasing his odds of success.

Jane was taking great pleasure in organizing their lunch, she noticed, making a point of choosing one of her favorite restaurants and charming the hostess into a table with a nice view when they arrived. He insisted on waiting until they had eaten to talk seriously, which she hoped was for Moore's benefit, not hers. But finally they were all full, and it was time for Jane to tell his story.

He stuck to the facts, but Lisbon could fill in the blanks with what he'd been thinking and feeling. She knew he hated anything that interfered with his ability to think, so he must have found being drugged terrifying.

Moore listened closely, then handed Jane a copy of the note that had accompanied the ring. "And you don't remember writing that?"

"No. If I did, she must have dictated it. I wouldn't have written it that way," he said, reaching for her hand under the table.

"I agreed with Agent Lisbon about that," Moore said. "You would either have written pages of apologies or omitted them altogether."

Jane frowned, then looked at her with his most intense gaze. "I'd never do it at all. I promised until death, and I meant it."

"I know," she murmured. Then she remembered she wasn't supposed to be forgiving him yet and said more loudly, "If you do decide to leave me, I expect you to give me the opportunity to tell you what a jerk you are in person."

"And possibly punch me," he grinned. "Yes, dear, I promise you that. And in the much more likely event that you decide to end it, will you promise to do it in person?"

"What do you think I'd do, text you?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm a grown up. Of course I would do it in person. In fact, I'd probably drag you to months and months of couples counseling first."

"Good to know," he said. Then he turned back to Moore. "Any luck finding her yet?"

"Yes, actually." Moore pulled a photo out of his briefcase, then handed it to Jane.

Lisbon leaned over to get a look, stifling a gasp of shock as she recognized both the killing style and the victim. "Red John killed Lorelei last night."

"Very early this morning," Moore corrected. "There's more, Agent Lisbon. Anything else look familiar?"

Jane said, "He left her in a church. See the stained glass in the corner?"

Cold dread washed over her. "Which church?" She hoped fiercely that she was wrong about her sudden hunch.

Moore looked grim. "Saint Teresa's. It's across town."

"I know where it is," she murmured. At least he hadn't defiled the church she went to regularly, though he probably knew which one it was. Instead, he'd opted for one with her name, to make the connection obvious even to people who didn't stalk her.

Jane squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her even though she could feel how tense he had become, and said, "This is different. He laid her out formally. Was the sheet brought from somewhere else?"

"Yes. The church staff said they'd never seen it before."

"A sign of respect, or maybe affection," Jane murmured.

"Or regret," Moore added. "To make the point that this was a sacrifice for him."

"For my benefit?" Lisbon asked, glancing at Jane.

"This isn't your fault," he said quickly.

Moore said, "My guess is that this is a message for you, Agent Lisbon. A gift, if you will. Because everyone knows you felt threatened by her."

"I did not," Lisbon said firmly.

"You broke off your engagement because of her," Moore said.

"That wasn't about her," Lisbon protested.

Jane intervened. "He meant for you to see her as a home wrecker. Lorelei said that you wouldn't take me back because you wouldn't be able to believe me when I said I didn't sleep with her."

"So he sent her to come between us and then killed her as some kind of gift to me?" Lisbon shook her head. "That's crazy."

Jane nodded. "He must be a little desperate for ways to impress you. Not much does. He lacks my main advantage of increasing your case closed rate, after all."

"Murder certainly isn't the way to impress me," she frowned.

"In his mind, he gave up someone who mattered to him for you," Moore mused. "He'll almost certainly expect you to return the gesture."

Lisbon looked around the table at her people, all of whom mattered to her very much. She couldn't live with herself if something happened to any of them because of Red John's obsession with her.

Jane leaned close and murmured, "You are not responsible for anything he does."

You hypocrite, she thought. How could he say that to her and yet refuse to apply it to himself? She bit her tongue to avoid pointing out that by that logic, he wasn't responsible for his first wife's and daughter's deaths. That was a truth he wasn't ready to accept, and might never be.

Moore continued, "But there's one very odd thing here. I don't know if you can see it, but this mark on her shoulder? It's a bite mark. We got a clean impression from it, which we can match to dental records when we get a suspect. But what bothers me is that it's so unlike Red John to leave such evidence."

"Because he didn't," Jane said. "That was, er—" He made a complicated gesture with his free hand that was apparently meant to be an admission.

Lisbon's stomach turned, and she snatched her hand out of Jane's, threw her napkin on the table, and got to her feet, murmuring, "Excuse me."

"Teresa, wait," Jane protested, coming partway out of his chair.

She dodged his outstretched hand, snapping, "I don't want to hear it." Then she hurried toward the ladies' room.

mmm

"Grace," Jane said urgently, but she was already on her feet and hurrying after Lisbon. He scrubbed at his face, frustrated that he couldn't tell how much of Lisbon's reaction was real. He had no such difficulty with Cho's and Rigsby's expressions of disgust, however.

He'd never really recognized how much of his self-worth was invested in his identity as a good husband. He'd been faithful to his first wife and proud of it, seeing his resistance to near-constant temptation as the mark of a strong character. And he'd indulged her to feed his own vanity, he realized now. But he hadn't been a good enough husband to give her what she really wanted, the one thing that would have saved her life: abandoning his career as a fraud. He'd remained true to her memory as penance, though, only giving up his celibacy for a chance at getting her killer.

Vowing to be a better husband for Lisbon, he'd felt virtuous for giving up his vengeance to save her. He pampered her and did his best to make her happy, pouring his energies into their relationship to keep from confronting the void left by his failure to kill Red John. But the moment he'd caught a glimpse of a chance to achieve his old goal, he'd taken it, despite the fact that he knew he was hurting Lisbon, possibly even endangering her, in the process.

If Red John's goal had been to show Lisbon what an unworthy husband she had, he'd succeeded. And now Jane was walking around with a figurative scarlet letter, an object of scorn. He hated it passionately. It felt like failure—spectacular, public failure.

Moore cleared his throat, pulling Jane's attention back to the here and now. "Maybe we should take advantage of this time to discuss any details your wife would find upsetting."

"There's nothing to discuss. I already told you I distracted Lorelei by pretending to want sex with her. She liked it rough, so I bit her to make sure she wouldn't notice me lifting her keys. That's all there is to it."

"We also found evidence that she was raped. Whoever did it wore a condom, though, so no DNA. You want to change your story? You said she liked it rough—maybe it wasn't Red John who had sex with her, but you?"

"I didn't have sex with her," Jane replied, keeping his voice calm.

Moore glanced at Cho and Rigsby. "Can you guys give us a minute?"

Jane said, "I have nothing to say that they can't hear."

"Are you sure? Because it's well known that Agent Lisbon's team are fiercely loyal. I could understand if you were worried about getting beat up in a dark alley for cheating on her."

"I didn't cheat on her!" Jane felt frustration rising and took a moment to swallow it down. "Sit down, Rigsby." Cho hadn't moved, he noticed.

Rigsby dropped into his seat again, glancing worriedly around.

Moore continued, "Can you prove your whereabouts between two and four a.m.?"

"I was at home, in bed, with my wife. The lobby security footage should support that," Jane said. "Since I take it you won't accept her word alone."

"Personally, I would," Moore said, shrugging. "But my boss won't. I'll get the footage; that should help."

"Wait a minute," Rigsby said. "Red John killed Lorelei. Why do you want Jane's alibi?"

"Because if you look closely, the cutting style is slightly different. Sloppier. It could be a copycat." Moore was speaking to Rigsby, but he was looking at Jane.

"Let me guess," Jane said. "Having studied Red John so closely for so long, you think I'd have no trouble recreating his particular style?"

Moore leaned forward slightly. "Are you denying that you have that ability?"

Cho said, "Jane. Stop talking now, until you get a lawyer."

"Don't be absurd," Jane scoffed. "I don't need a lawyer. I'm innocent." He refrained from reminding his friend that he'd beat a murder rap of which he was actually guilty without resorting to a lawyer.

"You're an idiot," Cho retorted. "Rigsby, get Lisbon."

"Right." Rigsby was out of his chair before Jane could stop him, his long strides taking him across the restaurant in almost no time.

As much as Jane wanted to see Lisbon right now, he also didn't want to give her yet another problem. He could take care of this before it got out of hand. "Stan—"

"Jane, I'm serious," Cho interrupted. "Don't make me shut you up."

"Are you threatening me?" Jane demanded incredulously.

"Do I need to?" Cho responded, folding his arms.

"Look," Moore said, "this isn't a witch hunt. I don't think Jane killed Lorelei Martins. But my boss is going to ask these questions, and I need to have answers."

"Uh huh." Cho looked unconvinced.

It occurred somewhat belatedly to Jane that Cho was a talented interrogator in his own right, and if he thought this was going badly, perhaps it would be wise to listen to him. But that didn't mean he had to cave to blatant threats. "Are you volunteering as my lawyer?" he asked.

"No. I'm trying to keep you from being perp walked out of this restaurant before you've paid for lunch."

"Right." Jane reached for his wallet and signaled the waiter for the check.

mmm

Lisbon leaned against the sink and glanced at her watch, wondering how long she needed to give this before she could return to the table. Reassuring Van Pelt that she wasn't going to have a breakdown in a public restroom had taken all of two minutes, and now it was just a question of making this look realistic. Fortunately they had the room to themselves, so she didn't have to keep up the act in here.

Of course, the thought of Jane with Lorelei really had unsettled her stomach a bit. She wished she had some Tums on her. She wondered if she should send Van Pelt out to ask for some, but that had a pretty good chance of resulting in Jane barging into the ladies' room, intent on taking her home to fuss needlessly over.

Van Pelt looked like she was debating something. Then she drew a breath and asked, "Do you believe Jane? That he didn't sleep with her?"

"I choose to believe him," Lisbon replied. Which was different from knowing he hadn't done it, of course, but she might never know that for sure. She couldn't discount the possibility that Jane was lying through his teeth to avoid hurting her. All she could do was trust her instincts, which told her he was sincere when he'd answered her question last night. Being married to a such a proficient liar had its drawbacks, but she'd had a long time to learn his tells, subtle as they were.

"But I don't need to hear the gory details of how he didn't sleep with her," she added. The bite mark had seared one vivid image into her memory; she didn't want any more.

A loud series of knocks startled them, and Rigsby called, "Boss, we need you out here."

"Great," Lisbon sighed. Honestly, couldn't she leave Jane alone for five minutes, even with Cho and Rigsby to watch him? She pulled the door open and took in Rigsby's worried expression. "What happened?"

"Moore thinks Jane killed Lorelei," Rigsby replied, leading the way back to the table.

Van Pelt gasped, "What? That's crazy!"

Lisbon was surprised, but she was resigned to having a shitty day, so in a way this made perfect sense. She followed Rigsby back to the table. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

All three men were glaring at each other. Jane turned to look at her as he replied, "Agent Moore is floating a ridiculous theory, which Cho is validating by insisting I need a lawyer before I can be allowed to speak."

Lisbon folded her arms and decided not to sit down. Someone might need punched before this was over. She just wasn't sure whom yet. "Agent Moore, I'm pretty sure they still teach you at the FBI that you need actual evidence before you go around accusing other law enforcement professionals of murder." She glared at Moore, daring him to dispute her description of Jane.

Of course, Jane wasn't buying it either. "Or even law enforcement consultants," he added.

"The only physical evidence on the body was left by Mr. Jane, by his own admission," Moore pointed out.

"The autopsy will show that bite was made several hours before the murder," Lisbon said confidently. "Besides, Jane was with me all night."

"You were awake all night to vouch for that?"

"All night, no. But several times during the night. Jane had a nightmare. I looked at the clock after he wen back to sleep, and I remember it was a quarter after three. I had trouble getting back to sleep, so I read my email on my phone and responded to some of them. You can check that."

Jane had scowled when she mentioned his nightmares—did he really think that was a secret? But as she neatly provided him a solid alibi, he grinned a little. "I never thought I'd be grateful you're a workaholic," he murmured.

Van Pelt said, "Oh! One of those was to me." She pulled out her phone, searched for the email, and showed it to Moore.

Moore smiled. "Good."

They all stared at him, and he sighed. "I told you, I don't believe Jane killed Lorelei. He wouldn't kill in that way, and he certainly wouldn't have drawn Agent Lisbon into it by choosing a church with her name to leave the body. But my boss will want him excluded definitively. Agent Darcy's theories have their adherents."

Jane smiled, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. "Well then, it seems lunch is over. Can I convince anyone to accompany me to Renatta's for a cannoli?"

"Of course," Moore continued, "an alibi provided by a spouse is always a little suspect. And I'm afraid it's widely believed Agent Lisbon lies for you on a regular basis."

Lisbon snapped, "Let me get this straight. I drive out to the middle of nowhere to go get my drunk husband, keep him from getting arrested, take him home to clean up, and then wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone. And instead of calling my team to help track him down so I can knock some sense into him, I wait quietly at home until he comes back? And help him get rid of any incriminating evidence, I suppose!" It was definitely Moore who needed punched, she decided.

Moore held up his hands. "I'm just being thorough. People who don't know you might suspect you were in on it, that you allowed or even urged Jane to find and kill her."

Lisbon couldn't keep her voice from shaking with anger. "I am a cop, not goddamn Lady Macbeth! If I wanted Lorelei dead, I'd have killed her myself, not sent Jane to do it."

"I think I see the narrative here," Jane mused, seemingly unruffled. "Lisbon sent me out to clean up my mess, threatening me with divorce if I didn't. But you see, Stan, the reason everyone else is looking at you like you have two heads is that Lisbon has never, in all our years together, sent me to clean up my own mess. In fact anyone who knows me knows I can't be trusted not to just make it worse. Besides the perfectly obvious fact that Lisbon does not view murder as the preferred solution to any problem. She's been trying to talk me out of killing Red John for years, although most people would agree that is a fate he completely deserves."

Cho said, "This isn't what you should be looking at. If Red John meant to get Lisbon's attention by killing Lorelei, he'll be watching to see how she reacts. We all need to be on the lookout for anyone trying to get close to her."

"Right," Rigsby said firmly.

Lisbon's phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her pocket and stifled a groan at the caller. It appeared that, against all odds, her day was about to get worse. "Director Bertram," she greeted him as pleasantly as she could.

"Agent Lisbon, where are you?"

Out to lunch with Jane wasn't going to go over well, so she converted it to, "Meeting with Agent Moore. Do we have a new case?"

"No, but I need you in my office as soon as possible. Bring Moore. His boss and I are having a little chat."

"We'll be right there," she said, then hung up. "Moore, your boss and mine want to see us. Jane, you ride back with Cho."

"I should come with you," Jane argued, frowning.

"No, you shouldn't," she retorted. "Cho, keep an eye on him. You have my permission to handcuff him to something if necessary."

"Lisbon," Jane whined.

"Go with the others," she ordered.

Cho said, "One of us should go with you, Boss."

"I'll be fine," she said.

Moore volunteered, "I'll escort her back to CBI. I won't let her out of my sight until she's back with you."

Jane scowled but didn't protest. Moore didn't fit the criteria they had for Red John: someone Lisbon had known for years. They couldn't rule out the possibility that he was a disciple, but Jane obviously didn't think he was, or he would be making a scene.

"Let's go," she said to Moore. Bertram hated to be kept waiting. As they left, she glanced over her shoulder at Jane, who looked thoroughly unhappy. "Be good," she told him sternly.

He gave her a lopsided smile, but made no promises.

mmm

"Who is your boss?" Lisbon thought to ask as she and Moore made their way through the Capitol to Bertram's office.

"Alexa Schultz," Moore replied. His tone was even, but something in the way he said it made her think he wasn't thrilled about it.

She wasn't either; Schultz was definitely not a fan of Jane's, or of Lisbon's either, for that matter. Moore's pushing Jane made more sense now. "We've met."

Moore grinned. "I know. That meeting is almost legendary. The first thing they told me when I got the Red John case was to never let Jane make me lose my temper. Schultz was furious with Mancini for that stunt in the courthouse." Then he sobered. "Sorry. I forgot you were dating him."

Lisbon shook her head. "I wasn't, not really. Jane thought he might be connected to Red John. I was trying to disprove his theory."

"Ah. That explains a lot," Moore said. "I wondered why you were dating him when it was clear in retrospect that you must already have had feelings for Jane. Trying to spot a Red John connection makes perfect sense. Though I admit I'm surprised Jane would use you like that."

"It wasn't his idea," Lisbon replied.

"But he went along with it." Moore stopped walking, a stunned look on his face. Then he grinned. "Until he couldn't stand it anymore. He wrote that note, didn't he? And Red John took offense and came after you to teach him a lesson. Which is why he felt so guilty that when he finally had a chance at Red John, he turned his back on it to save you."

Lisbon had no intention of confirming that Jane had manufactured evidence. But Moore didn't seem to expect her to. He appeared to be reevaluating everything in this new light, and she wondered what difference it made. Did he think that if Jane hadn't written the note, he would have chosen differently? Lisbon didn't, and she knew what Jane would say if asked.

Moore seemed to realize he was ignoring her. "Sorry. That just resolved some things that were bugging me. Now that I have all the pieces, I know I wasn't wrong about Jane's character."

"How so?" She was curious what the profiler made of the mentalist.

"The suddenness of the change in your relationship bothered me. I thought that meant it was an act for him, and that meant he was an amazingly good actor. But the truth is so simple: you were already in love with each other. The acting was all happening before Red John made him choose."

Lisbon asked, "Does that mean you'll stop accusing him of murder?"

"Agent Lisbon, you should appreciate the difference between accusation and interrogation." Moore pushed open the door to Bertram's outer office. The assistant waved them through, and Lisbon went first, pushing the door open before Moore could beat her to it.

Bertram hadn't mentioned Kirkland, so she was surprised to see him sitting beside Schultz in the chairs opposite Bertram's desk. Evidently Lisbon and Moore were meant to stand. The room suddenly felt like a hostile environment.

"Agents," Bertram greeted them. "I believe we're all acquainted? Then I'll get straight to the point. Director Schultz has brought me very disturbing news. If Jane is implicated in the murder of Lorelei Martins, I have no choice but to suspend him until the investigation is concluded."

Lisbon had two thoughts: Red John was definitely trying to separate her from Jane, and Jane had played right into his hands. As she opened her mouth to respond, however, Moore beat her to it.

"I've just come from interviewing Mr. Jane. I'm satisfied he was not involved in the murder of Lorelei Martins."

Lisbon was the only one in the room not stunned by this announcement. Schultz recovered first. "And do you have any evidence to back your assertion? Or has Mr. Jane hypnotized you?"

Lisbon decided to help Moore out, as he was looking like the closest thing she had to an ally in this room. She waved her hand in front of his face and watched closely. "Not hypnotized," she pronounced. "And I'm something of an expert by now. Besides, Jane has a solid alibi." She explained her wakeful night and email.

"That proves nothing," Schultz pointed out.

"The GPS in my phone will."

Kirkland said, "That only proves your whereabouts. We still have only your word that Jane was at home."

"Are you accusing a CBI agent of lying and making myself an accomplice to murder?" Lisbon demanded, hoping that would be too much for Bertram to swallow.

"No, no," Kirkland said. "I'm sure you are above reproach, Agent Lisbon."

"Thank you. I would hope you would take into account that, as an officer of the law, I would never take part in a murder or cover one up," she replied.

Bertram stopped scowling long enough to say, "Given this new information, does the FBI still consider Patrick Jane a suspect?"

Schultz corrected, "A person of interest, rather."

Bertram sighed. "Mr. Jane will make himself available for more interviews or even a polygraph, whatever you need. But if he is not a suspect, I see no reason to suspend him."

Lisbon wondered if she was really detecting regret in his voice. "Thank you, sir. Of course Jane will cooperate fully with the FBI." Though knowing him, he'd probably make them regret it.

"Very well, Agent. That is all," Bertram said.

Moore included himself in the dismissal, and they escaped into the hall. "What is Homeland Security doing in a murder investigation?" Lisbon wondered.

"The reasoning I've been given is that they're interested in Lorelei's escape. But just because the cover story is bullshit doesn't mean they don't have valid reasons."

"Hm." Lisbon felt her phone vibrate and pulled it out to see a text from Cho: Jane is bouncing off the walls. Should I hit him or drug him?

Lisbon sighed and texted back: I'm on my way back. If he needs hit I'll do it.

Got it.

"Jane?" Moore asked.

"Got it in one," Lisbon sighed.