Chapter Eleven: Consequences Of Insolence
He rolled himself heavily over onto his side and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was mocking him, apparently. He hadn't been able to catch a wink of sleep since he laid down after drowning his bitter resentment of sleeping with her. He was being mean to Lisbon unfairly, he knew, but it was an unavoidable happenstance. Anything to do with Lucy or what he saw to be her preventable death made him irrationally lash out. She had lied, but he didn't know, thinking about it for hours lying in bed if he could blame her so harshly as he was.
Red John was nobody to mess with. Fear and paranoia ate people who knew the victims up. Hell, even people just watching the news were terrified. She was probably just scared he'd find her or her family. Sadly, her silence didn't matter. After the death of her family, she was probably always looking over her shoulder; dispatching her willpower to close her eyes at night when the obscurity in her room looked menacing and malevolent. Just like Lucy, Teresa Lisbon had paid for her sins she wanted to commit against this monster. She paid with her husband and son just as he had Lucy.
He had never even entertained a connection between his wife and Teresa Lisbon; the resident fake. He worked a lot, not that it was a particularly good excuse. For Lucy, she never discussed her work with him. Certainly, nothing about her exposes or Red John. She knew he'd never allow her to touch that story. That's partly why he was so upset, too. If he'd only known what she was planning! He hated to admit it to himself, but he was making Teresa Lisbon the scapegoat. That didn't mean he'd endure all her lies. Lucy had gone to her because she thought he was having an affair. That's how they met. But if Lisbon only knew the truth of why he was distant and cold, she'd be the one slamming a bedroom door in his face.
He sighed and rolled himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. He had said something he didn't mean to her; had hurt her with his insolence. He didn't think sleeping with her was a mistake. Poor timing, maybe, but not a mistake. He'd only said that out of anger. He enjoyed the feel of her skin on his and the attraction to her that made him work for it. He loved the game. He loved her playing hard to get. The only mistake was falling for someone too close to everything he tried to mask and disguise. Teresa hadn't killed Lucy. Not wittingly, anyway. But she was the closest person to him since Lucy, and he was hurt by her deceit.
What really ate at him with his behavior, though, was if he considered Lisbon as having a hand in killing his wife as he accused her, he'd be a hypocrite and sanctimoniously in denial. It was complicated. Whatever his feelings were in the heat of the moment, he had no right to be so abrasive to her. He slipped a hand through his messy hair and sighed, throwing back the covers and staring at the wall that separated his room from hers. Just a few hours ago, they were making love in there. He had felt alive and wanted and comforted. Even earlier, when he pinned her to the wall, he had wanted to touch her skin again; kiss her lips tenderly like before. He wanted not to be angry at her. He wanted to crash into her. It was like two people with so many similarities were finding each other in a new way. He hadn't wanted it to end. If he had more time to calm down and think clearly, he would have brought her to the edge of the world again and let her jump off with him.
"For fuck sake, sweetheart," he whispered. "What are you doing to me?"
He stood, walked past his clothing strewn about the floor in no particular heap and walked into the bathroom. Running the tap, he stuck his hands in a cup form under the water and splashed his face, his bare chest catching the stray, falling droplets. He reached over for a towel and dried his face and chest before looking at himself in the medicine chest's mirror.
"Well, Cho. I may have the fashion sense, but you have the manners," he said to his reflection, remembering Cho's words about treating a woman. "I guess I should apologize to her, huh?"
He shook his head at himself and turned off the bathroom light, walking to the lumpy piles and putting on his clothing. He glanced at the clock again before heading to the door. She was probably sleeping. It didn't matter. He'd wake her up and apologize and try to justify his asshole-ish behavior to a half-asleep Lisbon. He wouldn't press her to accept it, though. He wouldn't blame her if she didn't. He wrenched open his door and walked the few steps to hers.
"Teresa?" he called out, knocking lightly with his knuckles. "Are you awake?"
He waited for a few moments but was only greeted by deafening silence. "Sweetheart? I'm...I'm sorry, okay?"
When he again was greeted by silence, he reached down and took the doorknob in his hand. He pushed open her door and peered inside. It was pitch black and he could see emptiness. He stepped inside and walked slowly up to her bed, taking care not to bang into her suitcase again. He reached out into the open darkness, resting a knee on the bed as he leaned over. He expected to feel Teresa's arm, but instead, his hand fell straight to the mattress. He turned himself and switched on the table lamp on the nightstand beside him, turning to find her bed empty.
Jane didn't panic. Instead, he looked around the room and then headed back out of it, closing the door behind him. He walked down the hallway and into the living room. As his eyes scanned the entire living area and kitchen, he went from no panic to very distressing panic.
"Teresa?" he called out, turning himself around and looking back down the hall in case she had come from one of the other rooms. "Teresa, this isn't funny!"
When he got no answer, he ran back up through the hall and threw open the doors to all the rooms they did not use. He flipped on the lights and with each empty room, his panic rose higher and higher. He reached down into his pants pocket and felt around to make sure the front door key was still there. It was. He walked through the living area and into the kitchen to grab his cell phone to call the CBI, but he remembered that there was no signal up here. He slammed his phone down in anger onto the counter and ran a hand through his hair. He could feel himself shaking. He didn't have Teresa's skills, but he could feel something wasn't right.
As he looked to his right, on the stool Lisbon had been sitting on, there was a single piece of paper. Jane lifted it up and read it, the horror crossing his face as he read the crude message in red typeset:
NEVER GO TO BED ANGRY, PATRICK.
YOU MAY COME TO REGRET IT.
LET THE HUNT BEGIN.
COME AND FIND US.
That wasn't all. Beside the crude message sat Teresa Lisbon's ring she wore on a necklace. It was stained in blood.
"That's horrible," Grace told Cho. "Not surprising after what Annette from the newspaper said, though." She held the missing page of the binder up and read it. "How do you think Red John got into the newspaper office? How do you think he got into that remote cabin?"
Cho shrugged. "He's gotten away with over twenty murders, Grace," Cho reminded her. "He's slick. We don't know if he actually delivered this package on his own. Anyway, Jane is vigilant. He'll keep watch."
"How does Red John know about Lucy's report or anything? I mean, it's pretty close-lipped stuff."
"That's just the question, isn't it?" Rigsby answered. "Well, at least we know how, now. You take her statements?"
Cho shook his head. "Uh, no. They... They weren't up for statements, exactly. I told them I'd come back tomorrow."
"Whatever you called me in for better be good, Kimball," a voice said from behind them. "It's very late and I think I almost fell asleep at the wheel," Minelli said.
They turned to him and looked at each other. Finally, Cho spoke, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "We have several promising leads, boss. We got this," he shoved the box toward his boss, "and we got some interesting developments with Ms. Lisbon and her connection to Lucy Jane."
"There is a connection to Lucy Jane? I mean, they knew each other before the photographs Jane found?"
"Apparently," Cho said. "Teresa Lisbon knew both Lucy and Kari Rollins. Lisbon was talking to Lucy about Red John using Kari. Anyway, Lucy was a reporter. She was going to do an expose on Red John, and Lisbon was going to provide the source."
"I see," Minelli said, shaking his head. "A crap storm! And what about this Kari?"
"Lisbon was using her as a go-between. She didn't want Lucy to get suspicious of her. She was reading Lucy for years before this Red John expose. She thought Lucy would suspect something if one day she just called her up and said, "hey, hello, I know who Red John is"," Cho told him. "Kari was the middle man. Setting up everything. It was actually genius of Lisbon."
"If Lucy was getting readings from Lisbon, why would Lisbon feel the need to use Kari? Wouldn't Lucy believe her?"
Rigsby weighed in. "Maybe Lucy stopped believing her?"
"I got the feeling that Lisbon's readings were becoming source material of their own in one of Lucy's exposes," Cho told them. "It's possible that Lisbon didn't want to approach Lucy directly in fear Lucy would call her out. But the allure of the Red John view made Lucy interested."
"Annette did say Lucy was impressionable and eager. She probably thought if the information panned out, it would make her career," Grace interjected.
"Huh," Minelli told them. "It just gets better and better. I want her back here tomorrow, Kimball. And get that shit to forensics. I don't think we will get anything off it, but it is the protocol, so do it."
"Yes, boss," Cho told him.
"I want you in my office to explain this in detail," Minelli said. "And I want to know how the hell he got into that place. It's like fucking Fort Knox."
"I wonder how he got passed the two cops stationed outside," Grace said.
"What cops?" both Minelli and Cho said at the same time.
"Uh, the two cops that said you called Sac PD to patrol?"
"I never sanctioned a damn thing," Minelli said.
"I never saw anyone outside the gates, either," Cho said.
"Jesus Christ!" Minelli said. "Let me call Sac and make sure this isn't them pulling some shrewd shenanigans," Minelli said, turning and walking away from them. "And get that box to forensics, Cho!"
When Teresa Lisbon woke up, she was lying on a cold, resinous floor. She groggily tried to sit up but found that her ankle was shackled to the floor. She couldn't move. She could feel the slight breeze hitting her bare knees, and she coughed at the dry air surrounding her. She was inundated in darkness, but she could feel that she was still dressed in her nightshirt.
She was also aware of a sharp pain near her temple. She automatically put a hand to her head and felt a lump and sticky blood. She blinked back the urge to cry out in pain. She shifted herself onto her back and coughed again.
"You're awake," the voice said from somewhere on her right. "I was starting to think this wouldn't be fun, after all."
She turned her head toward the voice and leaned on her elbows. "What do you want?" She didn't ask the logical question most would because she already knew the answer. "Come to finish me off?"
"Now, now, Teresa," the voice said. "I don't think that's nice to say." The body that belonged to the voice stepped out into the small shaft of light coming from the only window. His face remained encased in shadow.
"What do you want?" she reiterated. "If you're going to kill me, do it already."
"Patience, Teresa," they said. "Every distressed damsel needs a hero, no?"
It struck her then that this wasn't him playing with her before he finished her. This was a sick, twisted game that he was playing with both herself and Jane, too.
"You're sick!" she told him. "I don't even know where I am! How is he going to know?"
"That's the fun of it, Teresa." He laughed. "He's a detective, isn't he? He'll figure it out."
"You like grandeur, don't you?" she asked him. "You're an evil, sexually perverted sociopath with pathetic delusions of grandeur. The rest is just details." When he didn't reply, she went on. "You feed off getting away with killing people. It's like a sport. You were probably ignored as a child. Am I warm? Bed-wetter, maybe?"
"Your son and husband were very clean," he said. "I took my time. I had lots of time, you know. But I made commiseration. Quick and clean and not slow and nasty." He laughed when she didn't reply. "You shouldn't have gotten into something you couldn't understand, Teresa. Kari died because she was going to tell about the expose. She was going to tell the media how she knew who I was. And I couldn't have that, now could I, Teresa?"
"And me?" she asked hoarsely.
"Ah, yes. Yes. You," he chuckled. "Well, you see, Teresa, the only one left who knew about it was you. Now, I killed your lovely son and husband because you crossed me. You were going to slander me. I had to show you what that would mean for you, Teresa."
"And Lucy?"
"No more questions!" he yelled suddenly. "I am expecting a guest soon, Teresa. I must prepare. I'll be back."
He whistled Jimmy Crack Corn softly as he left the room. She could hear the door close. She reached down with her hands and tried to yank on the chain. It didn't yield. Looking around in the darkness, Lisbon thought she could make out some familiar things in the outline of the dusky twilight. She squinted in the dark and sat up, lying on her side. As the moonlight shifted, she got a glimpse of some things across the room.
She gasped out loud. She knew exactly where she was. Her heart sunk. Jane would never find her here. She was going to die.
Grabbing his gun and phone, Jane hurried out the front door, not bothering to close it or lock it behind him. He got into his Citroen, turned the ignition over, and floored it. He was heading back to the CBI. He couldn't stay here, and he didn't know where to start with this sick game. He needed the help of his colleagues.
It was his responsibility. All his fault. The same thing happened with Lucy. He couldn't save her. He hadn't wanted to tell Lisbon this, but her reading that night of him in saying he wanted to save her like he couldn't his wife was dead-on. He had wanted to protect Lisbon from the start. Now, she was in the hands of a serial killer who had tried once to kill her, slicing her neck before he got there to stop it.
When he got to the gate, he found it disturbing that the two officers that had been there earlier were gone. There was no sign of them. Jane stopped the car and got out to put in the code for the gate. He got back in as the gates opened and floored it again. It was an hour and fifteen minutes later when Jane made his way into the CBI bullpen.
"Jane!" Van Pelt squeaked, seeing him without his witness. "Where is Teresa?"
"Gone," he said. "She's fucking gone and it is all my fault!" He sat himself down at an empty desk and slammed a fist down. "I let her out of my sight! I shouldn't have done it."
"Did she run off again?" Van Pelt asked.
"No," Jane said, shaking his head. He pulled out the letter and Lisbon's bloody ring and handed them to her. "He left this behind."
"He? As in Red John?"
He didn't even bother to respond. "We have to find her, Grace. We can't let him do what he did to Lucy or her family. We have to find her so I can tell her that what I said to her tonight was wrong! I have to save her, Grace."
He looked up at her and she noted that he looked like a small child; his eyes glassy and his face resolute but scared. He looked past her and rose. Minelli came out of his office and as soon as he saw Jane without Lisbon, he hung his head.
"Lisbon was taken, Virgil. Where was the patrol? They were gone when I left," Jane asked. "They could tell us something!"
"They can't tell us shit, Patrick," Minelli told him, rubbing his head like he often did under stress. "I never authorized any patrol to stand guard. Neither did the Sac PD."
"What are you saying?" Grace interjected. "They said you called Sac and their Sarge called it in!"
"They lied, Grace," Minelli said. "They weren't supposed to be there. One or both are involved in the kidnapping of Teresa Lisbon. I want you to get a BOLO out for her likeness and I want the two cops found and brought to me!"
"He's too smart, Virgil," Jane told him. "You won't find them."
"But we can say we tried, Jane," he answered. "What's that?" He nodded to the ring and letter in Grace's hand. "That from him?"
"Yes," Jane confirmed. "I found it on the kitchen stool."
"Take the ring to forensics. Tell them this is the priority. I want to know if it is really Teresa Lisbon's blood."
"We have to find her alive, Sir," Jane said.
"I know, Jane, and we will try our damnedest," he replied. "Do you have any ideas as to where Red John would take her? Did she ever mention any place in particular?"
"Just a cabin her husband and her owned. Like a vacation home," Jane said, "But he wouldn't know about that."
"Yes, he would!" Grace interrupted. "Someone stole her file. We can assume it was given to Red John, right?"
"Yeah?"
"The sealed file that was stolen contained the addresses of any property she owned. If she owned it with her husband, the location would be listed! It's why her file was stolen. Red John didn't need the transcripts. He stole the file for the address of that cabin but found use in the transcripts to plan this out!"
"Check the-"
"On it!" Jane said, typing on the keyboard in front of him. "Got it! It's out by Joshua Lake!"
"Let's go!" Rigsby said from behind them.
"No!" Jane told them, standing up. "I have to go alone. If you come with me, he will kill her for sure. I want her alive!"
"Jane," Minelli said gently. "Our Agents are a high precedence."
"She's important, Virgil," he said, begging the older man to understand. "Please."
There was silent understanding there. He sighed and nodded his head. "Go. It'll take you a half hour to get there. You have one hour, Jane. One hour and we are coming."
He nodded his head and stood. He took the ring from Van Pelt. "I want to give this back to her." He stuffed it gently in his pocket and walked from the bullpen. He was going to save her. And after he did that, he was going to save himself with her help.