Chapter 45: Only Willingly

A/N: Dialog marked with an asterisk ("*") is quoted from The Mentalist Byzantium episode script.

Jane-Lisbon Apartment, Austin, Tuesday Morning

Jane stood at the bathroom sink with a towel around his waist after showering. He swished his razor clean and continued shaving. Lisbon brushed behind him to reach the other sink.

"Ow!"

"What?" he asked, attention snapping back to the present.

"Damn cap. Cold water, hot water, air." She adjusted the water to tepid then rinsed her mouth of toothpaste.

"No permanent cap yet?"

Sharply, "When have I had time, Jane?" After a beat, "Sorry. Dental pain is a bear."

"Any pain." He resumed shaving. "You know," he said, stretching the skin taut for a close shave, "stubble is the 'in' look these days," wiggling eyebrows appealingly at her in the mirror.

"Not for you, buster. –That is, if you wanna get kissed."

"That's all my kisses are worth? Better step up my game."

"Just keep shaving."

He grunted and she focused on keeping eyeliner out of her eye. They fell silent. Lisbon nudged him when he was rinsing his razor again. "Penny for 'em."

"Hm?"

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

"Nothing... Gabriel's prediction."

"–Because?"

He scoffed, "'Number three – you'll know it when you see it'? Lame. I made better psychic predictions as a kid."

"So why's it bother you?"

"It's stuck in my head. Power of suggestion. Human brains find patterns even when there are none." He shaved his other cheek and continued with a wave of the razor. "One: Get Abbott off the hook so he owes me. Done. Two: Get Abbott promoted and get him to revise my contract. In the works. Three: Ditch the FBI and get on with our lives. Soon. See? Looking for 'three's' now."

"Oh." Anxiety flashed across her face then was gone.

He turned to her. "What?"

She shook her head a little. "Nothing. Just 'oh.'" She finished up and left.

FBI, Austin

Lisbon and Jane exited the elevator and headed to the break room.

"You know odds are the 'bones and red clay' won't pan out."

"We'll know when we get out there. After all, you are why I think it's worth checking."

"Me?! I told you he's just reading people–" Jane broke off when he caught sight of Pike. "Ah, look at that," voice alive with interest.

"What?" Lisbon asked, looking around.

Jane motioned with his chin as Pike walked past. "Jaunty, satisfied, confident. Pike got the promotion."

Dubious, "Abbott's here till end of next week."

Jane shrugged, still watching Pike. "Just not official till then."

Tork poked his head in the other door. "Lisbon. Jane. We're meeting the cadaver dog handlers. Five minutes. Fisher and Wylie stay to check leads on the murdered couple." Lisbon stashed her things and poured her coffee into her travel mug. Jane just gulped most of his tea. Then they were on their way.

Red Clay Area, Austin

The dogs found the first body in 30 minutes; four more in two hours. Tork called in forensics as soon as the dog signaled the first body, which had been buried months ago if not longer. Tork had Lisbon and Jane canvass area businesses about anything unusual or suspicious while forensics painstakingly unearthed the corpses.

"Anything?" Tork asked when Lisbon and Jane returned.

"No. Too long ago, too general," Lisbon responded. Perking up at the sight of the fully-revealed remains, "They've made progress."

"Yeah. –Take a break guys," Tork called to forensics as the three of them approached the burial site.

Jane asked, "Any more than these five?"

"Nah." Tork glanced up at the brilliant sun. "Handlers are done today 'cause of the heat. Back tomorrow to check farther out."

"Five buried close together." Jane looked around. "Plenty of room for more. Surprising if there is another site."

"What I think," Tork echoed.

Trailing Tork and Jane, Lisbon muttered, "Sure. Now that Jane mentioned it."

"Looks like a new one was added every few months," Tork noted, taking in the varying stages of decomposition.

"Same apparent MO. Bullet to the heart," observed Lisbon.

"Here. Left hand on these bodies," Jane pointed to the most recently buried bodies.

Lisbon squatted next to him. "Fingernail removed." Wearily, "We're looking for a serial killer.*"

FBI, Austin, Noon

Tork's team gathered in the fishbowl to hash out the case over takeout. Everyone settled in and started to eat.

"Let's go over what we got so far. Autopsies for the five new bodies will take a while though the chest bullet wounds seem pretty obvious. Forensics did give me a rush read on the bullets." He glanced up as Pike joined them. "Boss, just going over the case. -Five victims. All killed with the same gun that killed Donnie Portman and Marie Brooks. All in the past year.* Each with a fingernail removed where we could tell, y'know, given decomposition."

"So there's no doubt it's a serial killer," Fischer said.

Lisbon added, "The first three victims had no ID's on them. That and the way they were dressed leads me to believe they were either homeless or drifters. Victims four and five were foreign exchange students that were reported missing two months ago."*

Jane tapped his fingers on the table. "No obvious connections. –Of course, we've barely started to look."

Wylie said, "I checked databases for the fingernail MO two days ago. No hits. Want me to consult the profilers at Quantico?" He looked between Tork and Pike. "They'll expand the search and see if there are any consistent patterns with the other victims.*"

Tork nodded. "Yeah, do it."

Fischer again, "What about the media?* Seven victims? Word will get out."

After a moment, Pike said, "Sit on it for now. Tork, next steps?"

"Gabriel Osborne took us to a field that had five bodies buried in it. If he didn't do it, he knows who did." Pike nodded his agreement.

Finished with lunch, Fischer volunteered, "I can bring him in."*

Pike rose. "Need to solve this one fast." Lisbon closed her eyes so she wouldn't roll them at the inane order. Pike looked around, gaze lingering on Lisbon a few seconds too long. "Get to it, agents."

FBI, Austin, Afternoon

Jane entered interrogation and sat, putting his tea on the table. He motioned, silently offering, but the other person shook his head.

"Hey. Heard you had a spell. How're you feeling now?"*

"Fine. I'm tired but I'm okay. ... Something different about you from last time we talked. You look lighter. Less conflicted. Number three. You saw it and found an answer, huh?"*

"Number three is incredibly common, Gabriel. You see it everywhere. Red clay? A little rarer but not much."* Jane laid out photos of the remains of five victims at the exhumation site.

Sounding ill, "I didn't wanna be right."*

"Of course you did."*

More emphatic, "I don't want to see these things. I don't ask for visions."*

Mocking, "Yeah, visions are a real drag. I know how you feel."*

Angrily, "You can't know how I feel."*

"I used to be you, Gabriel.*"

"What is that supposed to mean?"*

Jane leaned forward slightly. "You spent a year of your childhood struggling with an illness. That's when you learned to love to read. You used to play piano but you didn't like it so you quit. You're not half as unsure of yourself as you pretend to be."*

Sharply, "Who told you all that? My sister?"*

"Nobody. No one."*

"You're lying. You don't have visions."*

"No, I don't have visions and neither do you, Gabriel."*

"Why're you playing games with me?* I only want to help.*"

"Then start by telling me how you know what you know.*"

"I saw that the killer's going to kill again. Tonight. If you won't listen to me I'll tell everyone. I have to warn people!*"

"You can't leave."*

"Why not?"*

"Because I came in here to figure out if you are just a fraud. Or if you are a monster."*

"What did you decide?"*

"You have to stay here, Gabriel."* The door closed softly behind Jane.

Tork intercepted him a few yards from the room. "We didn't find anything in Gabriel's house."

"He's not breaking.* He's not lying.*"

Perplexed, "You sayin' he's a real psychic?"*

Equally perplexed, "No. I don't know what he is. We have to keep him here.*"

"Except you have no cause, agents," a man in a suit interjected. He walked up to them accompanied by Ree Osborne. "My client cooperated. You searched their house. You will now release him because you have no cause to hold him."

Pike arrived a moment later. "Let him leave," he said eyebrows furrowed.

"But–"

The lawyer's eyes narrowed, "Way I see it, after my client's efforts to help, you're holding him to show the FBI is doing something, that it has a 'person of interest' to minimize your embarrassment. Only problem? My client has done nothing."

Pike, Tork and Jane followed as the Osborne's and their attorney descended the main staircase to the lobby.

Tork caught sight of the crowd below. "What's all this?"

Pike replied glumly, "Press got wind of a serial killer. Ree Osborne sicced them on us for leverage to release her brother."

The three civilians paused a few steps from the lobby floor, using the step as a podium. The hum of voices swelled as the crowd caught sight of them. The three FBI men stopped mid-way down, resigned to media coverage they had very much wanted to avoid.

The attorney raised his hand, palm out, and the crowd quieted. "Ladies and gentlemen."* Louder, "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. My client Gabriel Osborne has been illegally detained by the FBI for attempting to help them capture a serial killer. A serial killer that's currently on the loose in Austin–"*

A particularly bold reporter called out, "Mr. Osborne! Mr. Osborne, we just need to know a few things. Do you–"*

The attorney spoke over him, "Let's have Gabriel tell the story in his own words."*

"I had a vision that helped them find five bodies today."* Noise swelled at confirmation of the number. "They don't have any suspects. The FBI thinks it was me. They want to frame me. They want to hide the truth. There is a serial killer out there. He is a man with an evil heart and an appetite to kill. He won't stop. He can't stop. And he's gonna kill again."*

The attorney stepped forward again and managed to speak over the hubbub, "That's all for now."

The Osborne's were shepherded away by their lawyer. Pike and Tork descended the rest of the way with Jane lingering behind. The press eagerly turned toward them.

Pike said loudly, "I will make a brief statement about the case. Please keep in mind I cannot share details on active investigations."

"-Is it true you have no suspects?"

"–Are you sure there aren't more–"

"–Why focus on Gabriel Osborne when–"

"Gentlemen!" Pike near-shouted. When relative quiet was restored, "A couple was found murdered in a nearby state park on Saturday. Mr. Osborne's – insight – led us to search the red clay area just outside Austin and five more bodies were discovered. The murders have the same MO. We believe they were murdered by the same person. That is all we can release about this case for now."

"–But!–"

"–How dangerous is–"

"–Does the FBI believe Gabriel Osborne is a psy–"

"–Why does the FBI employ psychic Patrick Jane if you don't believe–"

The last reporter aimed his questions at the man a few steps higher on the staircase, the one obviously not an agent. His cameraman focused on Jane and the group quieted upon hearing the new angle.

"We don't–" began Pike.

The reporter addressed Jane directly. "You're Patrick Jane, famous TV psychic from a while back, right? Your family was killed 13 years ago by serial killer Red John and there are rumors you helped get him in California. Are you now working with the FBI as a psychic?"

Jane gripped the railing, knuckles white. "I – I, uh–" he regained his composure, "I'm a consultant for the FBI. No connection to–"

Another reporter interrupted, "You're not law-enforcement, not a detective. You help the FBI with your psychic gifts, right?"

"No. I am a consultant who works with–"

"–Did your psychic abilities ID Sheriff McAllister as Red John? What do you see about this serial killer?"

Pike savagely told Jane, "Leave." He turned to the crowd. "Patrick Jane is a consultant under contract to help with investigations. No further comments." He and Tork turned their backs on the media and followed Jane to the second floor.

Jane disappeared before Pike and Tork got to the bullpen.

Tork, "Wylie, where's Jane?"

"Went home, I think. Said he didn't feel well." Wylie elaborated helpfully, "–He really didn't look so good."

Pike ordered tersely, "Tork, make damn sure Jane doesn't talk to the press again. This media mess–"

Lira hurried up to Pike, "Excuse me, Agent Pike. Regional Director Schultz wants to speak with you immediately." Pike strode off, following Lira to his office. Tork disappeared into his.

Lisbon entered the bullpen and looked around. "Wylie, what's going on?" Wylie explained. He was startled by Lisbon's fervent, "Dammit all to hell."

Jane-Lisbon Apartment, Austin, Evening

It was past 11 p.m. Lisbon bolted the door and dropped the take-out bag on the table.

"Jane?" She walked through the rooms, first Jane's apartment – living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. Then she stepped through the connecting door between the walk-in closets – bedroom, bathroom, living room. "Jane?" He was seated in a side chair, silhouetted against her living room window by the faint glow from street lamps.

"Jane. Why are you sitting in the dark?"

He glanced over his shoulder, then back out the window. Neutrally, "Didn't want to advertise I'm here. ... In case a reporter dug up the address."

Clicking on a lamp, she sat on the chair's arm and rubbed his shoulder. "Heard about the press conference." She looked at him searchingly, uncertain of his reaction at being flung back into the public eye. Pale. Tired – okay, it is pushing midnight. She looked closer. Depressed? Worse – her breath caught. –Why?

"On TV. The internet. The tabloids. Probably tomorrow's front page."

Deliberately upbeat, "Hey. It'll blow over. I – I know you don't want all that dredged up again."

"Mm." He tilted his head. "You were staking out Gabriel?"

"With Fischer. Tork and Wylie have second shift. Art Squad, third." Making conversation, "Think anything's gonna happen?"

He rose. "Something always happens. Only question is what."

"I brought burgers. C'mon before the fries are cardboard."

Jane silently followed her to his kitchen. Lisbon got plates and let him divide the food. She popped a coffee pod into the brewer, dropped a tea bag in a cup, turning on the heat upon discovering the stone cold kettle. She sat opposite him.

She tried again. "It'll die down. Tork and Pike don't want publicity about any of that either."

"Tork texted. Four times." He made no move to unwrap his food.

Tentatively, "What's going on with you? There's something more than being blind-sided by the press."

Voice sere and desolate, "You didn't tell him."

"I – what?"

"Pike. You didn't tell him. He's interested, thinks you are too."

She sighed and shook her head. "Oh, that. We've had back-to-back cases. Never had the chance."

"Three weeks. That's not an accident. You don't want to tell him."

Cutting tone, "There's nothing going on between Pike and me."

"Not the right question." Jane leaned back, observing her closely. After a moment he pulled an envelope from the suit jacket he still wore. He tossed it on the table.

Forehead creased, Lisbon hesitantly reached and opened the envelope. Two tickets to London fell out for a flight a month hence. She blinked. "What's this?"

Sighing, "Our vacation after the FBI frees me."

Faintly, "Oh."

Jane leaned forward, intense gaze laying her bare. "The closer we get to being able to leave the FBI, the more anxious, the more uncertain you are. Nothing's going on with Pike. But it could. If you wanted."

"Jane, that – that's crazy. I – I missed you, was dying in Washington after the Blake mess."

"You're out of Washington. Teresa, you can have everything you ever thought you wanted right here. FBI position. Big cases. Your own team in a year or so. Pike–"

"–Jane, I–"

Sharper, "Hear me out! Pike or some other generic square-jawed, square-headed agent. Solid. Predictable. Two-point-three kids and a government pension in 20 years." Softly, "There's nothing wrong if that's what you want. We both know that I'll never be that man. What do you want, Teresa?"

She slumped, then straightened a second later. Angry now, "I'm a cop, Jane. Everything fell apart with the CBI. It feels like that again."

Jane roughly shoved his chair back. He walked around, pulled her up and hugged her tightly. He eased his embrace to look her in the eyes. Quietly, "This change is on your terms. You said you don't want the FBI. Try something different. Don't like that? Then change, join up again - FBI, CIB, whatever. Life is a feast but you have to want it. I can't make up your mind."

She pulled back. "I can't count how many times you've changed my mind!"

Hoarsely, "Not on this. I love you, want to spend my life with you. But willingly, only willingly. We can't build a future on a trick. You have to–"

Her cell phone sounded, startling both. He released her and turned away in frustration. She glanced at the screen. "I have to take this."

Facing her again, "Of course. You're a cop." His smile was as ironic as it was painful.

"Lisbon. ... We'll be right there." She turned to Jane. "Ree and Gabriel Osborne are missing."

Jane's focus jerked back to work. "How? Are Wylie and Tork okay?"

Jane followed as Lisbon grabbed her keys and weapon. "Wylie was attacked, guess he's okay. Know more when we get there."

Osbornes' Home, Austin

Squad car lights flashed blue, red, blue, red. Yellow crime scene tape already cordoned off the house and driveway from the half-dozen neighbors who'd ventured outside.

An Austin cop was telling Tork, "...neighbor girl heard something when she came home, maybe an intruder. She ran into her house and called 9-1-1. We got here ten minutes after her call."

"And?"

"Checked out the house. Door was standing open, but no signs of a struggle."

"Where's the g–"

"Over there." The cop pointed to a girl trembling under a blanket near an ambulance. Wylie sat on the bumper, rubbing his head as he talked to the EMT.

"Thanks." Tork walked over to question the girl.

Lisbon and Jane arrived in time to hear the cop's report. After glancing at the girl, Jane entered the house followed by Lisbon. Every light was on.

Passing through the kitchen into the living room he murmured, "No struggle but they didn't leave on their own." At her questioning glance he explained, "Just one of her nurse's shoes – who takes off just one?"

"Kick one off here, another in the bedroom maybe?" she argued.

"Not someone this orderly." The kitchen was almost obsessively clean and neat.

They continued into the living room. The TV was on. Jane pointed to the lamp still on next to the recliner. The remote was on the floor under the side table.

"Intruder follows Ree in and overpowers her, maybe with chloroform. Quiet enough so Gabriel doesn't notice while he's watching TV in this recliner." Jane looked back to the kitchen. "His back's to the kitchen door. Intruder surprises him from behind and chloroforms him as well."

Lisbon nodded. "Reclined like that it'd be hard to fight someone off. Gabriel didn't seem particularly strong." She frowned. "I'll see if that girl saw anything to give us a lead on how to find them."

"I'll look over the rest of the house."

Lisbon intercepted Tork. Hopeful, "She see anything? A lead?"

"No." He exhaled sharply in frustration.

"You and Wylie didn't–"

"No. I made a circuit of the outside while Wylie watched the door. When I came back Wylie was unconscious on the sidewalk and the Osborne's were gone. My fault for putting a tech guy in the field, dammit." Tork broke off to talk to the forensics team that arrived. With luck, they might find fingerprints from the intruder – kidnapper. Even more luck would be needed for a match with prints stored in law-enforcement databases.

Lisbon approached Wylie, who held an ice pack against the knot on his head. "You gonna be okay?"

Glumly, "Yeah." He sighed, "I don't think I'm cut out for the field."*

"This is rough work. You get banged up every once in awhile."*

He looked at the small, fierce woman and reluctantly admitted, "I don't think I can do this."*

"Do you want to?"

He bit his lip. "Thought I did."

"You want to go back to the office and answer phones?"*

Wylie shook his head then frowned as that aggravated his headache. "No. No, I want to stay. What can I do here?"*

"You can put together a description of your attacker."*

"I don't know if it was Gabriel or someone else who attacked me. And now Gabriel's gone."*

"Jane's inside. Go see him."*

"Why?"*

"Just go."*

Jane looked up when Wylie entered the kitchen. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just banged up a little."

"Notice anything about your attacker?"

"I – Nothing other than it was a man."

Jane sat Wylie down. Soothingly, "Just close your eyes. Breathe in. ... And out. ... In. ... And out." After Wylie had relaxed, "What did you see out of the corner of your eye? Keep your eyes closed, just let it come to mind."

"Nothing. I didn't see anything."

"Be still. Think back. What did you hear? Voice? Type of vehicle? Anything?"

Wylie's face crumpled in a combination of pain and dismay. "I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry I–"

"Hey. It's fine. Keep them closed. Relax. –You smell something, maybe just faintly."

Puzzled, "Uh. Yeah, I did."

"Can you tell what it was?"

"Not sure."

"Does it remind you of anything?"

Doubtfully, "Something like my uncle's fishing shack."*

"Fish?"*

"No, he mainly went there to drink."*

"What did he drink?"*

"Beer."* A hint of recognition, "Spilled beer."*

Jane patted his shoulder. "You did great."

Jane joined Lisbon and Tork. "Wylie smelled beer, stale beer."

"Bar?" asked Tork.

Jane shook his head. "If it was a bar, there'd be cigarette smoke, the smell of hard liquor too. –Someplace so saturated the attacker's clothes would pick it up."

Overhearing, the Austin cop said apologetically, "There's an old brewery near here. Closed years ago. Stinks to the heavens inside."

Jane looked at him curiously, a glint of humor in his eyes. "You know this how?"

The LEO cleared his throat, "Messed around in there with my buddies when we were in high school."

"Thank you," Jane answered with a grin.

"Address?" Tork asked.

Brewery, Austin

It was past midnight when the FBI team arrived outside the abandoned brewery, Fischer having belatedly returned from an out-of-town date. Austin police provided the extra manpower needed to secure the large site. Several outbuildings had already been cleared without turning up anything of interest. Police established a secure perimeter and then the team minus Jane silently filed inside the cavernous brewing building. Flashlights pierced the gloom with slender fingers of light. The sour smell of stale beer hung heavy. Someone tripped over debris, shattering the silence as metal clattered on concrete.

The Osborne's were soon found. Tork quickly verified both were dead. The team finished methodically clearing the facility, hoping to find the killer, needing to ensure it was safe. Nothing. The lead cop waved Jane inside after being radioed by Tork.

Flashlights lit Gabriel Osborne's corpse as it gently swayed, hanging from a beam by his arms bound at the wrists. Blood soaked his shirt from the bullet wound to his heart. Red rivulets had run down his arms and dried. "FAKE" was carved into the skin of his left forearm and one finger was bloody where a fingernail had been pulled off. Ree Osborne lay nearby, still tied to a post. A bullet through the heart obviously killed her as well.

After Tork called for forensics he said, "Same MO. Gunshot wound COD and missing fingernail."

Lisbon offered, "Some differences. Gabriel was tortured first."

Fischer added, "The killings are more frequent. This makes four in one week." The group exchanged glances, appalled at the realization.

Wylie asked, "And why the word 'fake'?"

Jane commented expressionlessly, "Apparently our killer doesn't appreciate psychic frauds."

Tork, "Why would he care?"

"What else was Gabriel known for? He wants one for some reason and Gabriel didn't pass the test.* Of course, corroborating evidence would be welcome."

Squatting next to the woman's body, Lisbon said, "–Which we may have. Look." She pointed to the crook of Ree Osborne's right arm. "Doesn't that look like the puncture wound an IV makes?"

Wylie asked, doggedly maintaining his composure, "The killer put something in her? Poison?"

Jane, "Or took something out."

"Blood? What – what could-" Wylie paused then offered, "Uh, there are kinky groups on the net that are into vampirism and other occult things that ... require human blood."

Tork looked at his watch. "Call it a night. We'll go over it tomorrow first thing. Maybe forensics will find something useful." He looked around, "Nothing to the press." He jabbed at Jane with his index finger, "You especially."

Lisbon and Jane rode back in silence. Tuesday had been a hell of a day.