Chapter 9 - Fruit From The Poisonous Tree (M RATED)

It was very late in the evening when Van Pelt went to work tracking the numbers that Rigsby had copied from Kari Rollins' file. Cho and Rigsby had also made a copy of the complaint form at Visualize that held Lucy Jane's name on it. As Grace waited for results from her phone trace, Rigsby and Cho got to work trying to figure out what Jane's wife and their murder victim had in common. The common thread wasn't obvious, and neither could coax any information out of Jason Cooper, who had studiously ignored their requests to talk with the other members of the church to see if anything popped up on that front, or the person who signed the bottom of the complaint form as the in-taker.

"That place gave me the willies," Rigsby said, looking over Kari's complaint form. "And its connection to Jane's wife makes it even worse."

"What was a Visualize member contacting Lucy for?" Cho asked out loud though he meant it for himself.

"I don't know," Van Pelt said. "It seems strange that both were murdered by Red John. There has to be some sort of connection there. Lucy had to have spoken with Kari and Teresa. She had to have known them both somehow."

"The complaints were about Kari talking to someone on the phone. When the in-taker asked her who she was speaking with, Kari told them she was talking to Lucy Jane."

"What do we know about Lucy?" Cho asked.

"Nothing much. Sac sealed the files. Jane rarely spoke of her. He was private that way. He never really told us anything about her. But seeing as we have a connection hiding under our protection, Sac PD will need to unseal them for us."

"Think they will?"

"If they consent to it, yeah. It's part of an active investigation. If not, Minelli might be able to finagle a way..."

Cho sighed and looked at Rigsby. They knew they would have to tell Jane, but neither wanted to do it. They knew and had been on the brunt of Jane's moods when his wife was mentioned. He got defensive and often closed off and estranged from them for a while.

"Okay. Can we pull Lucy Jane's file?" Rigsby asked. "I know Jane won't like that," he added off Cho's look, "but we have to do it. We have to find the connection."

"We have no choice," Cho told him. "Jane would want us to do our jobs, too. But someone is going to have to go explain to him about Lucy and Visualize."

"Not it!" Rigsby and Van Pelt said in unison, each smiling at the other.

"Chickens," Cho said.

Cho got on the line and requested that Lucy Jane's file be transferred from Sac PD to the CBI. The Agent on the other end put him on hold for a few minutes, then returned to inform Cho that it would be a few hours before they could have it sent over. After hanging up, he stood and grabbed his jacket from behind his chair.

"If the file comes before I get back, take a look and see what you can see. Anything that might give us an idea as to how Lucy Jane knew Kari Rollins. Grace," he said, turning to her as she typed away on her computer. "If you can trace those calls. Let me know."

"Will do," Van Pelt said. "And Cho?"

"Yeah?"

"Go easy on him, okay? This is his wife we are investigating."

"Yeah," Cho told her. "I'll try. You know how he is."

Before Cho could leave, however, Minelli came out of his office and looked at them, his face a mix of unpleasant surprise and exasperation. He brought a hand to his aching neck and swore as the muscles clenched tightly, causing a knot to form. He sighed and sat on the edge of Van Pelt's desk.

"Sac PD just called me," he told them. "They said you want Lucy Jane's file." He let that hang in the air for a few seconds. "Care to elaborate on why? Did you find something at Visualize?"

Rigsby and Cho looked at each other. Finally, Rigsby sighed and nodded his head. "Seems the victim of the last murder, Kari Rollins, contacted Lucy a number of times. It's documented on a complaint form." Rigsby held up the folder.

"Uh, we also have her calls traced to a cell phone," Van Pelt said, looking up from her computer. "Looks like a burner phone. But it could be the number Kari called to reach Lucy."

"And you can't trace it further?" Minelli asked.

"Not burner phones, Sir," she told him. "But it would make sense."

"We need solid proof, Agent," he told her. "Where are you going?" he said, noting Cho inching toward the exit.

"To tell Jane we have a possible connection between his wife and the latest murder victim, and that Teresa Lisbon may be the other part of the connection."

"Don't wind him up, Kimball," Minelli said. "The last thing we need is for him to withdraw while watching over her. You know how he gets. And be careful. There is a detour about twenty miles out. It'll take you another forty-five minutes to get there."

He nodded at his boss and made his exit. Minelli looked at Rigsby and Van Pelt and motioned for them to do whatever they were doing before he interrupted them. He turned around, cursed loudly, and made his way back to his office.

With Lucy Jane's file being unsealed, they could perhaps find the direct correlation between the two murdered women, and see how Lisbon actually fit into all this. Minelli's concern was for Jane's reaction to it. What would he say about it? As far as Jane and everyone else was concerned, it had been a random act of violence on the night in question.

It was only half an hour later that the file came (Rigsby thought it was Minelli who rushed it). The folder was flopped down on Rigsby's desk as he typed out a deposition he had. He was surprised at the speedy nature of the delivery. He pulled the file over and placed it on his keyboard, opening it and scanning the first few pages.

"Anything interesting?" Van Pelt asked, getting up from her desk and walking over to read over his shoulder.

"She looks normal," he told her. "I don't see anything in here to indicate a connection with Rollins. Lucy wasn't a member of Visualize was she?"

Van Pelt shook her head. "I don't think so. Visualize would have had a record of it, and I think Jane would have known, too. He wouldn't have held that back, Wayne."

He flipped back to the first page which held her vital statistics. Age, birthday, weight, hair color, eye color, height, profession and that type of thing. Van Pelt scanned the page and pointed to the profession part of Lucy Jane's file.

"What about that?" she asked.

"You think that might be the connection?" Wayne asked, following her pointing finger. "How do we know which one?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But we could look into it. What other lead is there? You could look at the crime scene photos and reports, and maybe the evidence they bagged, but I really don't think you'll get much out of that. Red John is too clean. And the biggest one is usually the right one, Wayne."

"I'll check it out. Anything at this point. It's like freaking Scooby Doo," he said, garnering a laugh from Van Pelt.

"I'll do it," she told him. "They might need a woman's touch. They are very strict about confidentiality rules." Van Pelt made her way to her desk and picked up the phone and dialing the number. "Yes, Sacramento News Herald? I am Agent Grace Van Pelt with the California Bureau of Investigation, and I am calling with regard to an investigative reporter who worked for your paper by the name of Lucy Jane."

He opened her door and entered very quietly. He shut the door with a soft snap and casually made his way over toward her bed, where he could see her lying on her side. He smiled to himself as he walked toward it, but the smile became a frown of pain when he tripped over her open suitcase.

"Shit!" he said, crying out in pain. "Jesus Christ!" he yelled softly, bending down to rub his bare shin.

"Patrick?" she called out sleepily, turning herself toward his voice. "What are you doing in here?"

"Trying to surprise you, but apparently, your suitcase had other ideas," he whispered, kicking her suitcase lid closed and walking up to the bedside. "Do you mind?"

"I thought you were punishing me like a five-year-old," she said though she reached back and pulled the sheet and cover back for him to slide in.

She heard him place something heavy on the nightstand and then crawl in beside her, lifting the sheet and cover over himself. When she didn't turn to face him, he reached out for her shoulder and turned her onto her back. She looked up and could see his blond curls falling into his face and his bluish-green eyes scan her green ones.

"I thought you learned your lesson," he whispered. "Unless you changed your mind?"

"What if I did?" she asked, trying to concentrate as she felt his fingers caress her arm. "What then?"

"Well, then," he smiled down at her. "This would be a very awkward situation, wouldn't it?"

"Potentially."

"Potentially," he agreed, lowering his head down so his lips could touch hers. "Potentially not."

He kissed her again, gathering her against him, tilting her chin up as his hand slid up and into her chestnut hair, tangling his fingers between her strands, letting them flow through like sand.

"I am sorry, you know," she told him. "For running off. It wasn't the best idea."

"Oh," he said, kissing the side of her mouth. "So you agree with me?"

"No," she whispered, kissing him back and bringing her hands to his T-shirt clad chest. "It wasn't a good idea because I didn't account for the stone fence. Too high."

He laughed against her mouth. "Always rebellious."

She chuckled and kissed him back, her mouth finding his whiskers scratchy but his lips soft. He brushed the strands of hair back from her face and lifted his lips from hers and kissed her forehead.

"I will save you, Lisbon," he told her. "I need you to know that. You are safe here. I won't let anything happen to you. Okay?"

"You said that," she told him. "And I believe you."

"Trusting me, huh?" He smiled. "I knew it."

"Shut up!" she said playfully, bringing her arm around to snake around his waist, her hand on his back. "Don't patronize me."

"Sorry," he said softly. "Let me make it up to you."

He leaned himself half across her body, his legs nudging hers apart under the covers. He brought the hand that was tilting her chin down, dragging his fingers across her throat column, down her collarbone, stopping to encircle her breast with his fingers, taking care to flick her erect nipple with his thumb, and ghosting a path down her ribcage. He traced her small, concave belly and navel before he found where the hem of her nightshirt had ridden up at her upper thighs.

He could feel her breathing increase as his palm found the cotton of her panties. He watched her face as she bit her lip and he felt her hands come up behind his neck and push him to her, kissing him deeply as his fingers rubbed her wet slit, causing her to hum against his lips and arch herself into his probing fingers.

"Patrick," she called out softly, breaking the kiss as his fingers pushed down on the sensitive nub above her cleft.

"Shh," he told her, deliberately circling her clit with his thumb. "It's okay."

She gasped and lifted her head, allowing him to trace kisses down her throat and back up along her jawline. He pressed against her swollen bud once more, causing her to cry out before he retracted his hand, sliding it back up, pushing her nightshirt up past her navel with his wrist before inserting his hand between her skin and the cotton of her black floral panties.

"Is everything okay?" he asked her. "You still want to do this?"

She looked at him and nodded her head. "Am I complaining?" she answered almost breathlessly.

He chuckled and lowered his hand until he felt her damp curls underneath his fingers. He felt her shudder under his touch as his fingers teased her with the slightest of rubs. He leaned down to kiss her as he slipped one finger inside her, making her moan softly as he wiggled it inside of her. She arched against him, reaching a hand down to come over the top of his, her panties the only barrier from contact.

"Patrick," she whispered, gasping again as he added another finger into her heat.

"Yes, Teresa?" he asked softly, stroking her in lazy circles, his thumb going counter-clockwise on her clit. He turned her head with his free hand and kissed her lips.

"Uh!" she cried out, feeling the familiar pull in her belly. She tried to stifle her cry but decided they were alone in the middle of nowhere and stopped trying.

It was a warmth and a tug before she released, her fingers flexing his hand in her panties. She shuddered and cried out, her moan stifled only by Jane reaching to kiss her deep, his tongue wanting entrance and Lisbon granting it. His fingers continued to pleasure her until she came again, calling out his name loudly against his lips. Feeling her on his fingers and the moan against his wandering lips, he could feel himself harden.

"I want to make love to you," he told her, extracting his hand from her panties and pushing it up under her nightshirt. "I want to feel you around me," he told her, pressing his hand up over her ribcage and to her breasts. He bent to kiss her belly before he brought himself on top of her completely, feeling her hands snake down his spine and rest on his ass, which was covered by his boxers. "I need to feel you, Teresa."

His breathing was erratic; it was needful and unrelenting desire. He needed her. Wanted her. He was sure she could feel it on her thigh. He rubbed his palm over her breast, squeezing it gently in his hand. She nodded her head at him and brought her hands up to the hem of his boxer shorts, playfully tugging them. His other hand came to slide over the skin of her naked hip.

"Don't tell me, Jane," she whispered. "Show me."

He let her pull his boxers down enough so he could pull them off and discard them, and then his hands worked at her hips to remove her panties, leaning to the side so she could toe them off and throw them aside with the boxers already piled on the floor. Next, she abandoned her nightshirt, flinging it God only knew where. She could feel his need on her thigh, hard and long. Her hands trailed on his ass, bringing him even harder against her as he ground himself gently into her.

He lifted his moist lips to her hard nipple, taking her in with a gentle, teasing suck. He felt her hands tighten on him and he smiled as he kissed the underside of her breast, his tongue coming back up. flicking the sensitive bud. He felt her wiggle beneath him, a small groan falling from her lips. His hands found the curve of her butt, his fingers dancing gently across her skin. He tapped her there, letting her know he wanted her to lift her legs for him.

"Lift, please," he told her, bringing his mouth back up to her lips and giving her a soft, sensual kiss.

"You should let me help you," she told him, referring to his hardened shaft.

"As a cop, we protect and serve," he told her. "I am protecting you, Teresa, so let me serve you, too."

She lifted her legs in response and locked them around his hips, pulling him flush against her. He smiled and kissed her lips once more, relishing the kiss back. He looked into her eyes for some signal it was okay. Finding a dark ring of desire and her own pupils dilated, he reached down between their interlocked bodies and grabbed the base of his hard cock, shifting to press the tip of him at her wet slit. He teasingly moved horizontal, eliciting a deep moan from her, and a pinch of one of his ass cheeks. Then he slid into her in one fluid movement.

He buried his face in her neck as he drove deep into her, a gasp leaving her mouth and loudly reverberating around him. He felt her legs lock tighter over his hips as he pulled out of her and drove back in hard and deep. He felt her nails digging into his ass and back, trying to gain leverage as he pushed in and out of her like waves in the tide. Riding her as if he'd be thrown off at any minute and had to savor.

"Teresa," he called out against her neck, feeling her walls quiver around him. "Sweetheart."

He could feel her release coming as her walls contracted around him. Finally, she cried out loudly from underneath him and shuddered in her orgasm. She reached her hands up to take hold of his golden curls, pulling on them as her body convulsed under him. He held out for a few more deep, hard thrusts into her before he, too, came warm and fast into her. He called out "Sweetheart" against her neck again and didn't move as he waited for his own body to come down from his high.

It was as both of them lie there with bated breaths that Jane heard something from outside the room. It sounded like a door sliding open or closed. Quickly, in full cop mode, he pulled out of Lisbon and rolled off the bed, gathering his boxers, putting them on in the dark bedroom as he rounded the bed and grabbed his gun off the nightstand.

"Jane, what-!"

"Shh," he told her, aiding the covers over her naked body. "There's a noise outside," he told her in a whisper. "Stay here and don't move! Promise me, Teresa!"

"Yeah," she said dazedly. "Okay."

He kissed her cheek softly before he got up and quietly made his way over to the door. He turned back to Lisbon and held a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet.

"Jane, what's going on?" she whispered very low.

"I think someone is inside the house." He cocked his weapon.

He could hear them having sex as he entered through the side patio door. He carried the box very carefully and sat it on the kitchen island, close to the door. He made sure the card was arranged neatly so that he could see it. Inside was the real prize, though. But he quite thought the two of them getting to this stage was a prize, too. One more thing to destroy.

He heard a car approach from the glass front doors. He turned and slipped out, closing the patio door behind him. He smiled at the thought of them having sex. Not the actual act, but the aftermath. That would be something to see. He'd make sure he would see it, too.

He took one last look at the box on the counter and smiled before running back around the large house, where he waited for Agent Kimball Cho to be let inside. Then he would make his getaway. His help did his job. He was in and out of there in little time. The next time he would meet up with Teresa Lisbon, she'd be alone and all his. Every square inch of her would be his. Patrick Jane may have gotten the forbidden fruit, but he'd be the snake to poison it so she could never offer it again...and Jane would never want it.

Rigsby and Van Pelt stood inside the vast offices of Sacramento News Herald. They were waiting for the chief editor to come down so that they could speak with her about Lucy Jane, and see if there was any connection to Visualize, or if anything she could tell them might be helpful to this perplexing case. It was very, very late, but she had graciously told Van Pelt that she was in for the overnight news hour, and would be happy to assist in any way she could.

"You really think we are going to get anything from them?" Rigsby asked. "They tend to keep their work close to them, those reporters. Used to date one. It was awful."

Van Pelt laughed. "We'll see, won't we? Oh, I think this is her!" she said, hitting Rigsby on the chest and nodding toward a blonde woman walking toward them.

"I'm sorry for my tardiness," the plump, blonde-haired woman said, reaching out to shake each of their hands. "I'm Annette Norlice, editor-in-chief here."

"Hi! We're looking for information about Lucy Jane. We understand she was a reporter here. It's regarding an active case of ours," Rigsby said, noting the woman's strict posture.

"Of course! Whatever I can do to help. If you'll follow me to my office," she told them, turning and leading them back through a small, narrow hallway and into the room at the end, whose door bared her name. "Please. Sit." She waved at two large, comfortable chairs facing her desk.

Rigsby and Van Pelt sat down and waited for Annette to sit down before going ahead with their questions. Once she was settled, Van Pelt leaned forward and cleared her throat.

"We wanted to ask you if you knew anything about a woman named Kari Rollins? Maybe you saw her around or..." Van Pelt slid a picture of Kari Rollins across the desk.

They watched as Annette picked up the photo and scanned it. Van Pelt's heart picked up when the blonde nodded her head. She passed the picture back to Van Pelt and smiled.

"Yes," she told them. "I've seen her in here a few times. That was...oh, I would say two or three years ago."

"Do you know what she was doing here? If she was visiting Lucy?" Rigsby asked.

"Oh, yes," Annette said, laughing. "She was here to see Lucy. Lucy was one of those kinds of people that nervous people came to see."

"What do you mean?"

"Lucy was an investigative reporter, Agents," she told them. "She wrote exposés and exposed the worst of people. This young lady came to see her about a story she was doing."

"A story?"

"She came to me about three months before she was killed and pitched an idea to me," Annette explained. "I told her if she could find me proof, I'd allow her to print her Exposé. My guess was this Kari was part of that."

"What was the story she was pitching?" Van Pelt asked.

"She told me that she had a source that could tell her who Red John was and provide proof," Annette told them, leaning forward and frowning. "I, of course, didn't believe it. It seemed too far-fetched. We don't waste time on empty stories, Agents. I thought Kari might be the source."

Rigsby and Van Pelt looked at each other and then at Annette. "Did she say anything else that you can recall?"

"She didn't say, Agents," Annette said. "I told her to drop the story. I was under the assumption she had."

"Do you know anything about Teresa Lisbon? Did Lucy ever mention her?" Van Pelt asked.

Annette thought about that for a moment. "The psychic lady from TV?"

"Yes."

"If Lucy was talking to her, it was off the record," Annette told her. "I haven't heard of her in any of Lucy's meetings with me. But, if you want, you can access some of Lucy's things she left behind. They're in storage. Been that way since she died."

"That would be great, thank you, Annette," Van Pelt said.

"No problem," Annette said, rising and walking around her desk. "Follow me."

Rigsby and Van Pelt followed Annette out of the office and down the hall to a room full of files and folders. She led them over to a large box and pointed to it.

"This is her stuff," Annette said. "I hope you can find something of use in there."

Grace thanked her and watched her leave the room. As soon as she was gone, she looked at Rigsby and shook her head. "Oh, no."

"Oh, no, is right," Rigsby said. "She signed her own death warrant with that Exposé."

Jane opened Lisbon's bedroom door and looked out, pointing his service weapon as he turned to his right and aimed, his eyes sweeping back and forth. He could see nothing in the darkness. He slowly made this way through the living room and into the kitchen. Seeing nothing, he lowered his weapon.

"What the hell is this?" he asked out loud, noticing the small, rectangle box.

He reached out and lifted it, looking at the tag. It was addressed to him. He felt uneasy as he reached for it. Just as his hands found the red strings of the box, he heard a knock on the front door. Lifting his weapon again, he made his way over to the door.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"Cho."

Jane sighed, lowered his weapon and saw Lisbon exit her room wearing her nightshirt again. He put a hand up to halt her. "One second. Let me get the key."

Jane went to the living room, picked up his vest lying across the arm of the couch and dug out the key. He walked back over and unlocked the door. Cho entered and took in Jane in his boxers and Lisbon in her nightshirt.

"Uh..." Jane started to explain.

"I don't care to know," Cho said. "You want to have sex, far be it from me to ruin your party."

"What—what are you doing here, Cho? It's almost eleven!"

"I came to tell you something," he said. "It's about Lucy."

Jane looked at Cho and Lisbon could see his face change. He locked himself down.

"No."

"Jane, it's important."

"No!" he asserted.

"Lucy has a connection with the murder victim where you found the photos, Jane," Cho told him.

Lisbon backed herself up and watched Jane as he just stood there. "Patrick..." she whispered.

"We think there is a connection with Lisbon, too," Cho said. "We just don't know how. We think Lucy may have known her."

Jane turned to look at Lisbon, and she could see the change in his face. She knew he was seeing that part of her mask crumble. The knowing that something Lisbon was hiding from him, that he suspected from the start, was connected to his wife. The look of a man who was betrayed in the worst way possible.

"You knew my wife all along?"

"Yes," she whispered, not able to lie to him any longer. "I'm sorry!"

"All this time? And you never said anything? You never uttered a word?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. But I am."

He was taking a shot at their lovemaking, and she knew it.

"Patrick, please," she begged. "Let me explain."

"I don't want you to explain. Everything you tell me is a lie! I shouldn't have trusted you."

"What is going on here, Jane?" Cho asked, confused.

"Not a damn thing," he told him. "Not anymore."

"Do you think that we can talk, Jane?" Cho asked. "Listen, I know you don't want to do it, but it is very important. It could crack the case wide open."

He looked at Lisbon and then at Cho. He sighed, ran a hand through his tousled hair and nodded. "Yes, I guess so."

"What's that?" Cho asked, nodding toward the box on the counter. "Looks odd."

"I don't know," Jane said truthfully. "Did you do this?" He turned to Lisbon and pointed to the box.

"No, of course not, Patrick."

"My name is Agent Jane," he told her indifferently.

Jane walked over to it and untied the red string. opening the flaps and lifting out an envelope from inside. He opened the envelope, scanned the papers and looked back up at Lisbon. He shook his head at her and looked down into the box and pulled out the other content.

"I think we've found the connection to all three women," Jane said, lifting it into the air. "Here it is."

"What? Lisbon asked.

"How you killed my wife," he said, shoving it at her. "How you are responsible for my wife's death!"