Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with The Mentalist in any way and make no money from fanfiction.

With thanks to Sue Shay and Cumberland River Relic for their critique of this chapter and for their friendship and support. Check out their latest stories – Sue's 'Mentalist 2pt0 drabble collection' and CRR's 'Blue Turtle'.

15th June, 2014

Dear Diary,

Today's the day. I've thought long and hard about how I could get a message to Lisbon, wherever she is, without alerting Abbott and his goons. And I've come up with a simple plan. Step 1: find out where Teresa is living now. Step 2: ask Pete and Sam if they can get a message to Pepper. Based on the usual carney circuit, the Turners should be picking up mail in West Wendover, Nevada in a couple of weeks from now. And they owe me and Lisbon a favour for getting Caitlin back to them safely.

So it's step 1 that's the difficult one. I can't contact any of the old CBI team cause Abbott will have that covered. I thought about Tommy and Annie. Annie, especially, I think would help me. She liked me and she wouldn't have a problem with what I did to McAllister. But, if I involve Teresa's family, and things go belly up, she'll never forgive me. That leaves Madeline, but she and her kids may still be undercover pending resolution of the Blake Association crap. So in the end, there's only one shot, but it's a good one. Virgil. Abbott wouldn't think to keep surveillance on someone long retired. Off the grid and out of mind. But what is Minelli going to think of me? That is the question.

Right. So this is the plan. Tomorrow I head back to Caracas. I'm not too worried if the Feds figure I'm in Venezuela since they can't touch me here. And if I use an airport payphone, I could be staying or just passing through. Mmm. That works. No need to find an undercover poker game to secure back channel access to a burner phone. In the US, I could find the right kind of contacts without any fuss. Always someone keen to sell you something. But here, with my halting Spanish, poker would be the safest way in if I do ever find myself needing something like that in the future.

Mmm, Lisbon would be impressed. I'm considering my personal safety. Whatever next?

And the best plans are always the simplest, after all.

16th June, 2014

Dear Diary,

After a 5am start to catch the only connecting bus service of the day, I arrived here without incident and booked into a cheap motel for the night. I'll head back home tomorrow morning.

I got to the airport about an hour ago and made my way to a diner for some welcome tea and eggs. Not up to Alfredo's standards, but palatable nonetheless. I'm sitting here, sipping the last of my drink, whilst psyching myself up. The payphones are at the far end of the booking hall on the right hand side. Currently, that area is deserted, which is just what I need.

I'll head to the newsagent stand. Pick up some gum, some English language books and a copy of 'USA Today' – one advantage of an international transport hub – and then I'll go make that phone call.

Well, diary, that was an eye-opener, make no mistake. I didn't even know that Virgil knew that kind of language. It's nothing new to be called a son-of-a-bitch, but some of the other expletives, well they were colourful. I find myself shaking my head, like a cat with ear mites, trying to dislodge them from my eardrums.

Suffice to say, he was not pleased to hear from me. Even though the lovely lady I fixed him up with is now his beautiful wife. That is one wedding that I am sorry that I had to miss.

But he did tell me what I needed to know. That the CBI is officially no more and that the team have scattered. Cho's doing OK. But Lisbon… Mmmeeerrrrr. She's not doing great. He didn't say so in quite so many words, but it's clear she ended up taking the fall for me, and did her best to shelter the others. So they threw the book at her and made her seem unemployable. The bastards. Nobody is more dedicated, courageous and hard-working than Lisbon. How dare they besmirch her good name!

But it turns out, I called the right person. Lisbon has just accepted a job as a police chief in a small town in Washington State. Cannon River. Minelli didn't have her address yet but that's good enough.

I'm going to head back to the motel for a while. Get some lunch, have an afternoon nap and then write my letters. Then I'll drop back here later to post them.

I have to say, diary, this has been an interesting trip. No doubt about that.

I'm sitting in my motel room, staring out of the window as I toss things over in my mind.

Teresa as a police chief in some backwater… That's so unfair that it makes me want to wring Abbott's neck with my bare hands. Something I could get a taste for. Though I must admit that my mood is somewhat lighter after the very pleasant little dream I just had. Lisbon in her police chief uniform, hair up in a tight bun, sporting a diamond encrusted tiara and angry as all hell with me. Wouldn't that be something? Shame I had to wake up….

The newspaper was informative. Apparently, the third week in the trial of Alexa Schultz began yesterday. The former FBI Director is on the hook for murder and corruption amongst other things. Another of the Blake Association's former senior lieutenants…. Now that's not a surprise.

And that's not all. The breadth and scale of the Association unearthed to date is staggering. And I bet that's only the start. Whilst I may not appreciate Abbott's behaviour regarding Lisbon and the team, when the man decides to clean house, he knows what he's doing.

Okaaayyyyy, time to write those letters. One for Pete and Sam, one which I'll ask them to pass onto Danny when they next see him, and then the really difficult one. For Teresa. I'm still struggling to think what to say.