A/N: Apologies for the long delay. I plan to post new chapters weekly.
Chapter 37: Changes
A/N: Passages marked with asterisks (*) are quotations from The Mentalist "White Lines" episode.
Episode details were modified to fit this story, apologies to The Mentalist writers.
Oakland
"Thank you, Kimball. I'll fix dinner after a nap," his mother said in Korean as she disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door softly.
Cho paused in the hallway at loose ends. His mother needed to rest after each grueling physical therapy session. She was doing well in large part courtesy of an iron will cloaked by her soft-spoken, reticent demeanor. Despite repeated offers, she refused to let him do any chore she could manage.
Living at home – Home! – again after nearly twenty years was just ... strange. Sure he'd visited. There'd been furloughs while in the military, holiday gatherings when he was in the SFPD and later CBI. Once his father passed he spent many vacation days maintaining his mother's house and overseeing tradesmen for big or specialized jobs. Since he joined the FBI he'd only been back for one week in the past two years. Till now. Till his mother's stroke. True to form, among his mother's first questions after he said he was relocating back to the Sacramento/San Francisco area was what that meant for his career. He was grateful he could say he was still in the FBI, that he didn't add to her worries while she was recovering.
Cho was too restless to read the book he'd started on the flight from Austin. He grabbed a jacket and headed outside, dead-bolting the door behind him. Cho looked over her house. It was old but in good repair, neatly fenced to protect the yard and deter vandalism (or worse). He walked briskly, taking a spiral path to efficiently check out the neighborhood.
His mother's house was hardly representative. The area had been shabby when he was growing up and had only gotten older, tougher, and more worn. The Korean immigrants and their families were now settled and established. When grown, the first generation Americans moved to nicer areas if they could, leaving the elderly, gang members, and others unable to get a foothold on mainstream American life and prosperity.
In several places fresh paint gleamed on walls bordering sidewalks. The blank expanses were marred where thick chips flaked off surfaces with uncountable coats covering gang graffiti. Cho's expert eyes scrutinized insignia that hadn't yet been painted over. Some symbols he recognized from his youth; others he didn't know. He nodded minutely. New immigrants had pushed into the old neighborhood, first from Southeast Asia and, increasingly, from east Africa. The newcomers now faced the hard work of making a place for themselves in a strange and often hostile land. Those with education and good English skills located in wealthier areas, leaving the poorest, least educated, and most desperate in areas like this. The cycle started anew when teens – boys and girls – grouped themselves by race or mother country for protection, forming ersatz families to fill the voids left by dysfunctional biologic families.
And that brought him full circle. His walk reinforced his decision. Need to reconnect with my cousins and their kids... Anyone still here faces the temptations I did. He'd help ensure they had better options and nudge them to choose smarter paths than the one he'd stupidly taken. A ghost of a frown crossed his face. And what about Min-Je? Just getting her education at Berkeley? Or is more going on there too? Elusive and touchy, his cousin from Korea only visited his mom when he was out.
His aunt was planning a celebration for the completion of his mother's therapy in a few weeks. That would be his opportunity to start getting a handle on how his extended family was faring, before getting caught up in FBI work for the Sacramento region after his vacation ended.
It was nearing dinnertime when Cho returned. Without a word, he quietly helped his mother with tasks that were hard to do with only one 'good' hand.
Austin
Lisbon followed Jane out. She had reclaimed her apartment now that Blake was over and Cho had left. Still, the connecting door remained and the two apartments were essentially their combined home. Temporary home, she amended, itching to get on with it. At the moment, "it" meant getting back to the routine of regular FBI cases. In the longer term it meant following Jane's plan, whatever it was, to shuck his FBI trammels. Her confidence in Jane had never translated into comfort with winging it. His notion of a plan was her notion of hare-brained, spur-of-the-moment desperation, except for his annoying tendency to succeed.
The morning sun brilliantly backlit a corona of blond curls as she followed him to the SUV. She enjoyed the sight. Jane changed after their visit to Malibu and the cemetery. Relief from fulfilling his vow of vengeance and – two years delayed – tying up the loose ends left him relaxed, happy and looking years younger. His iconic smile of their early years was back. Now it was real. This was the Jane she'd imagined and prayed for all along. She hurried down.
Exiting the FBI elevator on their floor, Jane split off to the break room for his indispensable tea. Lisbon dropped her briefcase on her desk. Her eyes automatically searched for Cho before knowledge he'd relocated kicked in. She guiltily looked away only to notice Wylie's eager visage. Wylie caught her gaze and smiled, brightening further as Jane arrived with cups of tea and coffee. Abbott's e-mail was the first thing she saw upon booting up her computer.
"Abbott's out. Pike's subbing again," she mentioned as Jane set down her coffee.
"Our Blake paperwork is done–" Lisbon snorted at Jane's "our," "–so what do we do?" He turned to Wylie, "Any new cases?" he asked hopefully.
"Not that I–"
"Lisbon, Wylie, Jane," Pike interrupted as he walked in, "you're up. Five DEA agents murdered in Corpus Christi."
"Five," Lisbon echoed faintly, equal parts appalled and sad.
Pike stepped aside, revealing the man behind him. "Agent Tork is acting unit leader till we get a replacement for Cho."
Refocusing on the present Lisbon immediately extended her hand. "Tork, nice seeing you again. Didn't know you joined the FBI."
Tork took her hand. "Lisbon. Likewise."
Jane smiled broadly and nodded. "Tork. We meet again."
"Yeah." Tork was barely civil.
"Wylie, you anchor the case here." Pike turned to the others, missing the young agent's crestfallen expression. "The rest of you – on the road in five minutes. Oh, Agent Fischer will be working with us since you're down one agent." Fischer was recently cleared for active duty after months of recovery and therapy, both physical and psychological.
Lisbon bristled and took a breath to object when Jane put his hand on her arm and shook his head minutely. He motioned with his chin for them to follow Pike out. They trailed Pike, Tork and Fischer to the parking lot after everyone fetched their away bags. The group split up into two SUV's – Pike, Tork, and Fischer in one; Lisbon and Jane in the other. Fischer carefully avoided looking either Jane or Lisbon in the eye.
Making a decision, Lisbon stepped in front of Fischer and forced her to pause. Quietly, "Glad you've recovered, Fischer. Welcome back."
Fischer blinked. "Uh, thanks," she replied awkwardly as Lisbon stepped away to the other SUV.
En Route, Austin to Corpus Christi
It was three hours of mostly flat, uninteresting interstate driving to Corpus Christi. Jane immediately arranged himself in a comfortable slouch against the door to nap. Lisbon shook her head. His insomnia was largely history yet he could sleep anywhere, anytime.
Without opening his eyes, "Anything to avoid boredom," he commented as though she'd spoken.
"You sayin' I'm boring?"
"Never. But since you insist on driving, you get to pay attention for three tedious hours."
Once she merged with interstate traffic, she asked, "Jane, your contract says you don't have to work with Fischer. After the detention abuse, why–"
"–Let it go. Her father was worse than mine," he flatly dismissed the issue.
Lisbon's eyebrows rose. Jane's placid expression revealed nothing. S-o-o-o, her father's betrayal now makes her what – innocent victim? Huh. She shrugged, more than happy to set aside any lingering hostility. Interesting that Fischer's bastard father triggers Jane's sympathy.
When she next looked Jane was asleep. A hundred miles passed before he stirred.
He yawned and stretched. "If you're going to think that loud, we may as well talk."
"I'm not–" She stopped and took a breath, "Care to share the plan?"
"Guess we'll find out who murdered the DEA–" She flicked him with her fingers. "Ow! Words, Lisbon. No violence necessary." He straightened and sipped from his bottle of now-tepid water. Idly watching the passing landscape, "Long con, not a precision operation." He yawned again. "I'm looking for opportunities to be useful-but-annoying to our overlords. After Sacramento, Marion Schultz won't mind losing me. And Tork is a gift."
"He's just subbing," she objected.
"He wants Cho's job permanently."
Lisbon's eyebrows furrowed at that thought.
Jane continued, "Pike's buddy. If Pike gets promoted, Tork will get it."
"Think Pike will get the SA position?"
Diffidently, "Either he does or he doesn't. If it's someone else, I'll work on him – or her. That, my dear, is why I can't give you a nice, tidy timetable."
"Pfft," she reacted to the teasing.
"Patience, woman. We'll have fun meanwhile." He grinned. "Tork already hates my guts. Little man, long memory. Pike ... Pike I have to work on."
"What about Abbott?"
Jane shook his head. "Haven't discovered the deep dark secret I need to fix. But I will. Things must be heating up on Lena Abbott's promotion. One way or another it will come to head."
"So, we just wait?"
Lisbon resolutely focused on the road while he scrutinized her. Softly, "Why's that eating you?"
She protested. "It isn't." After a moment, "Not much. We want to get back to California but can't."
"Hey." He laced fingers with her right hand resting on the console. "You're still fighting crime," and lightly mocked, "making a difference." He squeezed gently. "Won't take forever so let's enjoy the game. Together. –That's something."
She smiled. "That's a lot."
DEA Office, Corpus Christi
The FBI group was met at the Corpus Christi DEA office by agents Cifuentes and Higgins. The two men were alive by virtue of being out of the office when the attack occurred. A few deliberately casual questions by Pike established that each agent had a solid alibi, ruling them out as suspects. One had been at a stakeout; the other, at home on his regular day off.
The bland, generic office space was soaked with the blood of five, bullet-riddled corpses. Despite the forensic team's impatience, the murder scene hadn't been disturbed in anticipation of the FBI's arrival.
The murdered DEA agents didn't know what hit them. Bullet casings showed at least three shooters were involved. Two hidden security cameras were destroyed – dashing hopes of a recording of the attack - which suggested inside knowledge. Fortunately, a mirror oddly placed high on the wall piqued Jane's curiosity. Jane ignored Tork's barb about admiring himself and motioned Fischer over to check it out with her latex-gloved hands. The third camera was undisturbed behind the mirror, yielding a desperately needed surveillance recording.
The case was both suspiciously easy and frustratingly hard. Wylie used facial recognition software and immediately ID'd the three shooters on the recording. The FBI contingent met with Cifuentes and Higgins in a conference room a few hours later to share evidence, knowledge and suspicions.
Pike opened. "We ID'd the shooters. Three low-level street thugs with long sheets in southern Texas." He passed around the photos and information Wylie had sent. "Know them?"
The senior DEA agent Cifuentes glanced at his partner then replied for both. "Heard of the first two, don't know the other. Not connected to the drug trade so far as we know."
"Okay. File addresses are likely useless so we put out a BOLO. We'll determine the connection when they're brought in for questioni–"
"–I know who did this. I know it!"* interrupted Higgins.
Cifuentes glanced sharply at him then smoothly explained, "What Agent Higgins means is the DEA has strong reasons to believe a Corpus Christi narcotics organization is behind the murders – the Gulf Coast Ring."*
"Why would they want to do this?"* Fischer asked.
"Retaliation. Last month, we shot ... and killed one of their lieutenants.* Righteous shoot." he explained. "We've been hearing they want payback. ... We first caught wind of the ring two years ago. They're disciplined, they're organized, and highly secretive. The bust ... was the first dent we made in their operations. But they still control virtually all drug flow into Corpus Christi."*
"Who runs the Gulf Coast Ring?"* asked Tork.
"We don't know,"* answered Higgins, "But we do have a profile."*
Cifuentes continued, "We think this Mr. X is an intelligent and disciplined businessman, most likely using a legitimate front as cover."*
"Hiding in plain sight,"* mused Lisbon.
Higgins nodded. "That's right. Look, most of these guys – they want you to know who they are. It drives them. But this one – it's like he doesn't have an ego."*
Jane spoke, tapping his lip with an index finger, "Well, that's odd, isn't it?"*
"What's that?"*
He frowned in puzzlement. "Well, you said that Mr. X is disciplined. Uh, I would think that shooting five DEA agents is anything but disciplined."*
Pike frowned and intervened to get the discussion back on the important question of suspects. "Who do you have in mind?"*
Cifuentes and Higgins went through the most promising suspects: Hector Ruiz, a real estate developer with dealings throughout Texas; Francisco Perez a.k.a. Paco, a Colombian national tied to a drug cartel; and Michael Ellis, the shady head of a private equity financial group with international connections. A photo of a handsome man and woman remained on the table when the other files were passed around.
Jane asked, "Um, wh - who's this?"* Lisbon glanced at him curiously.
Cifuentes gave an off-handed reply. They'd brought the photo only because the man's death had triggered the retaliation. "Richie Vargas. He's the ring member who got killed in the bust."*
"Yeah, no, the woman,"* Jane clarified, ignoring Pike's annoyed glance.
"Oh. It's Krystal Markham, Vargas' girlfriend."*
"Know where we can find her?"*
Pike started to interrupt but Cifuentes answered anyhow with a shrug. "We've questioned her in the past. ... She wasn't much help.* Here's an address." Cifuentes jotted it down. "See for yourself."
The meeting broke up soon after. Pike thanked Cifuentes and Higgins and asked them to continue sharing their knowledge as the investigation proceeded.
After the DEA agents left Lisbon began, "Agent Pike–"
"'Pike.' Or 'Marcus'–"
"–Jane and I would like to check out Krystal Markham. Address isn't far."
Pike frowned then said, "I want to hold off tackling the suspects till that BOLO turns something up. Go ahead but I may have to pull you back."
Fischer spoke up, "Mind if I go with?" glancing uncertainly between Lisbon and Jane.
Lisbon nodded encouragingly. Jane gave a slight smile. Pike approved and waved them out. The three disappeared, leaving Pike and Tork in the conference room. Pike and Tork started rereading the files.
"Sure as hell isn't a lot to go on," Tork complained, tossing the file back in disgust. "Even if it is one of these three, which one?"
"We should get something out of the shooters. Trace back who hired them, even if there were intermediaries." Pike pushed the files away, realizing answers would require more information. Pike frowned as he sipped his coffee. "What's with Jane? He so interested in the ladies that he gets sidetracked on a case?" Every man around the table was struck by the beauty of the young woman in the photo. Jane was the only one to say anything about her.
Tork shrugged. "Wasn't known as a player, but he sure comes across like one, doesn't he?" thinking of Jane's immaculate three piece suit, looks, and manner. Tork had the nasty suspicion that his entire wardrobe cost less than one of Jane's suits.
"Thought you said he closed cases?" Pike countered mildly.
"Lisbon's unit had a great rep, but who knows who did what."
Pike tilted his head. "I can believe she's good." Turning back to the case, "–No matter. Let's hope that BOLO produces something fast."
Lisbon, Fischer and Jane took one of the FBI SUV's. Lisbon drove. Surprisingly, Jane let Fischer ride shotgun while he stared out the back seat window, mulling the case.
Fischer spoke first. "Talking to someone beats sitting around a conference table."
Lisbon nodded. "How I feel. Case files are only as good as the information in them." She checked the rear view mirror. Jane remained preoccupied.
Fischer drummed her fingers on her knee. "The DEA surveillance recording. You notice anything about the audio – background noise?"
Hesitantly, thinking back to the tape, "Just a low rumble, like a car idling."
Fischer smiled the first time that day. "It was, wasn't it?!" Excitedly, "We couldn't see the gunmen's car. But if that is engine noise we might get make, model and year for the getaway vehicle."
Lisbon goggled at her. "We can?"
Fischer held up a finger as she placed the call. "Hold that thought," After a moment, "Wylie, Fischer. The background noise in the surveillance video. It might be engine noise from the getaway car. Can you clean it up and ID it for us? ... Call when you have something."
Amazed, "He can?"
Fischer looked more alive than she had since the shooting. Emphatically, "He can." She purred with a note of pride, "This is the FBI, Lisbon. –Every engine has a unique audio signature and we just might get a match."
"Wow."
Lisbon pulled up at Krystal Markham's address. Markham had just gotten out of her car.
"Krystal Markham?"
"Yes?"
"Agent Fischer with the FBI. Agent Lisbon and Patrick Jane. We'd like to ask a few questions about the recent shooting at the DEA office." Lisbon and Jane flanked her, content to let Fischer take lead while they observed.
"I don't know anything about it."*
"Five DEA agents lost their lives, ma'am."*
"Oh. Yes. I remember now, it was on the news. Terrible. What about it?"*
"Well, some people think the Gulf Coast Ring did it – revenge for the death of your boyfriend Richie Vargas."*
"Richie wasn't my boyfriend."*
"No? What would you call him?"*
"A friend. A good friend. And I'm very sad that he is gone. He – um, he was a sweet guy."
Lisbon had a deja vu moment, thinking of a similar exchange with Abbott about Jane three years ago. She doubted a woman who looked like Markham would be "just a friend" to a drug wholesaler for more than a nanosecond. She blinked and returned to the conversation.
Fischer countered bluntly, "He was a gangster."*
"I didn't know that."*
Yes, you knew that. Unless you're dumb as a box of rocks, Lisbon thought. She looked at Jane but he was paying rapt attention to the conversation. Lisbon's cell vibrated. She stepped away to take Wylie's call. Wylie called her when Fischer's cell went to voice mail. Lisbon got the information and told Wylie to call Pike as well. She returned to Fischer and Jane as Markham denied knowing what Vargas did for a living. Fischer turned toward Lisbon.
"Wylie ID'd the vehicle," Lisbon said. "Late '60's Chevy Impala. There are three in the area, but none ... registered to the gunmen."*
"Do we know where the three are?"*
"One's in downtown Corpus Christi. Second was spotted near the warehouse district, and the third is in Bella Vista, so we have our day cut out for us,"* Lisbon replied. Markham was still within earshot.
Fischer belatedly dismissed Markham, "Thanks for your time, Ms. Markham." She and Lisbon walked toward the SUV, stopping when they realized Jane wasn't following. "Jane?"
"Give me a moment," he called and faced Markham with his back to the agents. Fischer and Lisbon exchanged glances and got into the SUV.
Fischer, "What's he doing?"
Lisbon, voice dry as dust, "Asking her out I imagine."
Fischer's eyebrows rose. "I wouldn't think she's his type," then winced and looked away from Lisbon.
"She isn't."
"Um, I – never mind." Fischer looked out the front windshield, glancing at Markham and Jane now and then.
Lisbon steadily watched them while taking care not to stare. Markham's gaze trailed down Jane's body, then back to his face. Her eyes flicked to his left hand then to his lips. Markham jotted something on a slip of paper and gave it to Jane. She smiled and walked away – a tall, cool drink of blond loveliness in the hot Texas sun. Lisbon's lips pressed tight for a moment before she smoothed her expression to neutral.
Jane slid onto the rear seat and closed the door.
"Got anything?" Lisbon asked.
"We should check out the warehouse district first. She reacted to that."*
"And?"
He grinned, "Her phone number."
Lisbon talked with Pike, who agreed to start with the warehouse district. Pike noted the warehouse district was no farther than downtown and a lot closer than Bella Vista. The silence en route was deafening.
Warehouse District, Corpus Christi
"This our car?"* asked Pike.
"Yep," answered Tork.
The four agents donned kevlar vests and stormed the warehouse, two taking the side door and two going in the front. Jane waited outside for safety. Several minutes later Tork surprised Jane when he pulled up the overhead door. Jane closed his cell and stepped inside.
Lisbon told him sourly, "Found the gunmen."
The three ID'd thugs lay dead on the warehouse floor. Each was shot in the head and had his throat slit, though there was rather less blood than might have been expected. Jane surveyed the scene. Lisbon recognized the germination of a theory when he cocked his head, but he said nothing and she didn't press him. The thugs' guns were holstered, suggesting they had been dispatched in cold blood by someone they knew ... and trusted.
The sharp ring of Jane's cell was startling. Jane moved away from the scene and answered in honeyed tones, "Hi, Krystal. ... I couldn't wait that long. So, how about dinner tonight? ... Great, great. ... Let's say 8:00. ... Um, shall I pick you up – or meet you there? ... Awesome. Look forward to it."* He turned back and was met with an angry glare from Lisbon and the disbelieving stares of Pike, Tork and Fischer. Jane shrugged and smirked.
After a moment Pike cleared his throat and turned back to the scene. "Hey –" he exclaimed, sliding a burner cell phone from under a wooden pallet. He picked it up with gloved hands. "If we're lucky, this belonged to one of them."
They left a quarter-hour later, turning the crime scene over to forensics. Lagging behind the others, Pike grabbed Jane's arm before they reached the SUV's. Jane stiffened and paused. Quietly, "Good you figured out this location from Markham, Jane. But make any personal calls on your own time." Only someone who knew him well would have noticed the vast amusement Jane was hiding. Jane just nodded. The five drove back to the DEA office to chew over the new information.
DEA Conference Room, Corpus Christi
"So all three victims were killed in the same fashion. Throat slit and shot in the head close range," Pike summarized. Jane blinked at the summary and Lisbon's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Cifuentes responded, "Someone sure wanted these men dead. You work any cartel murders before?"*
"Enough to know this fits their M.O.,"* Pike answered.
"Just what I was thinking."
"Found this burner phone at the scene," Pike said as he pulled the evidence bag from his pocket. "No numbers in the contacts.* Six calls were made in the past three days to the same number." Jane impatiently drummed his fingers on the table, earning an irritated glance from Pike.
"Try it?" asked Higgins.
"Discontinued, but the phone company says it was registered to a Frank Price." The DEA agents leaned forward. "Recognize him?"
Cifuentes, eyes gleaming, "That's a known alias of Francisco 'Paco' Perez-"
Higgins added, "-Who has strong family ties to the Espedes cartel in Bogota."*
Tork asked, "You said he's been in the States the last three months. Doing what?"*
"Not sure."*
"Before that?"*
"Again, not sure. Colombian records aren't what they could be."*
Pike picked it up again, "And you like him for our Mr. X?"
Cifuentes nodded. "Always have. The other suspects – Ruiz and Ellis? They fit the profile but, uh, I've met 'em, talked to 'em. Running a drug ring? Murder? I don't see them as being capable."
Fischer asked with a frown, "Then why not just move in on Perez?"*
"He was a hard sell to my supervisors. Our intel tells us that Perez is a middleman between the cartel and the Corpus Christi drug ring, not the man in charge. But for my money, he's the guy."*
Pike exhaled in frustration. "We're having a hard time tracking Perez down."*
"Perez keeps a low profile. To be honest, I'm surprised he left behind a burner cell. It's not like him. It's sloppy."*
The meeting ended and Jane immediately popped up from his chair. Pike frowned at him and said to the group, "We'll break till tomorrow unless the local LEO's find Perez before then. Meet up at the hotel lobby at 8:00 a.m." Wylie had reserved hotel rooms for them nearby. The group gravitated toward the door. Pike and Fischer automatically grouped together from past association in Austin, with Tork tagging along as Pike's friend. Jane impatiently ushered Lisbon out the door to take the other SUV.
En Route to Hotel, Corpus Christi
Lisbon slammed shut the driver's door, not quite ripping it from its hinges. Jane got in and gently closed the passenger door.
Once underway Lisbon growled, "What the hell was all that, Jane?"
"All what?"
She took a breath to rein in her temper. "You're being a complete ass around Pike and Tork."
Coolly, "Annoying them is required."
"Yeah, but do you have to be so damn good at it?" she muttered to herself. Louder, "Okay, you obviously think Markham knows more than she says–"
"–knew about the warehouse–"
"–so what's your plan?"
He shrugged, "Just fishing for info," as he carefully watched her face.
"Hmph," she grunted, not buying it.
Amusement flooded his face. "Well, well, well. Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Teresa?"
"In your dreams. -You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" he asked innocently.
"Playing your own game, keeping secrets. What did you see at the warehouse?"
"What makes you–"
"Oh, please. I can read you, too, Jane."
They arrived at the hotel, parked, got their keycards and took the elevator to their floor.
"The blood," he answered after the other guest exited the elevator.
"Go on."
"Correct me if I'm wrong – I'm not, though – but doesn't a cartel hit start with slitting their throats and then shooting them in the head? There's–"
"–not enough blood! You think they were shot first and then had their throats cut to make it look like a cartel hit."
"Yeah. No blood pressure if they were already dead. I didn't see the kind of arterial spray we should have seen if their throats were slit first."
"Maybe. Makes sense. –So if not a cartel hit, then who?" They got off on their floor.
Soberly, "Someone who wants it to look like one. Misdirection. The elusive Mr. X hiding behind the cartel."
"And where does Markham fit in?"
He pressed his lips together. "Remains to be seen. She's involved somehow in a lot bigger way than just Vargas' girlfriend."
"And so you're going to dinner with her." Sarcastically, "No back-up, no monitoring. Lying to–"
"–Uh, just not telling–"
"-Pike."
"Lisbon. I'm having dinner with a woman in a public restaurant – this hotel's restaurant, as a matter of fact. Stop worrying!" Checking that the corridor was empty, he kissed her at her door and walked on to his room. Neither denying nor confirming a relationship, they just didn't advertise it. As expected, Wylie had booked separate, but adjacent rooms.
Hotel Room, Corpus Christi
Lisbon roughly stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Damn, smug jackass. Jealous! Why would I be jealous of a tall, drop-dead gorgeous woman 15 years younger who's coming on to my – my – partner. No reason at all.
She lathered and scrubbed with extra vigor. Early days and the body count is already eight. But, no! I'm not s'posed to worry that Jane finds dangerous, devious women fascinating.
She rinsed and stood under the showerhead as the needle spray pounded the tension from her shoulders. Dammit, I don't call the shots anymore. I can't pull his ass from the fire when his schemes crash and burn. I swear, self-preservation instinct of a lemming." She toweled off, inserted a tampon and dressed.
She placed a call. "Kim, Lisbon. ... Can I interest you in dinner? ... Hotel restaurant, if that's okay with you. ... Yeah. ... How about 7:45?"