Chapter 51 - Justice

Rigsby removed the Sheriff's weapon and pushed McAllister more roughly than was necessary to sit on the couch in his living room. Lisbon stood guard by the fireplace with her gun trained on him, her trigger finger poised and in a state of high alert. Jane brought the desk chair around in front and took a seat opposite the man he'd hunted for almost a decade. McAllister said nothing but stared questioningly into the blond haired man's eyes. For a long moment Jane merely stared back at him.

Eventually he shook his head and began to speak, his tone utterly conversational. There were no signs of the breakdown he'd suffered an hour earlier, his years of training his behaviour bearing fruit in this most important of confrontations. "I have to admit I was initially disappointed that it was you. But...now I've had time to adjust to the notion I'm pleased it is. Makes my life a whole lot easier that you're pretty much a nobody," he said with a glimmer of a smile.

McAllister frowned, feigned ignorance, "Patrick Jane, isn't it? Look, I have no idea-"

Darkly, "You're Red John." He gestured to Lisbon and Rigsby. Sighing, "We all know you're Red John so let's drop the pretence that this is some kind of a mistake. Hmm?"

McAllister's gaze darted to the others in the room who held his eyes as steadily as they held their weapons. Jane grinned. "There's no way out of this. You're going to die tonight so you might as well relax and make the most of the little time you have left."

A short bitter chuckle escaped McAllister's lips as his mask disappeared. He held Jane's stare and nodded. His voice lowered. "Bravo, Patrick. I suppose I should applaud you for your perseverance."

"You're wondering how I knew," Jane said, leaning his elbows on his knees to stare more closely at the other man.

"Well, I do admit I was certain Stiles wasn't capable of speech. Nice rumour you spread around the Capitol today that he hadn't talked."

"Oh, he didn't," Lisbon said with a smile, glancing at Rigsby.

McAllister frowned as Jane said to him, "You and Stiles were friends for a time. What went wrong?"

As McAllister opened his mouth, Jane shook his head. "It's okay, I don't require an answer, I've already worked it all out. You met when you were teenagers or in your early twenties, I'm assuming. He was here on some...what...foreign exchange program and you met then?"

"You tell me," the Sheriff replied with a neutral expression.

Jane grinned briefly. "Your paths crossed in your formative years. There was a bond straight away. Two ambitious young men starting out in life. He was older and the more charming one of the pair, though, wasn't he? The one the women were attracted to? Especially with that accent. I mean, come on, Tom, you never stood a chance to compete against him with them, did you? But you did okay, I imagine. Got his scraps at least, I'm guessing."

McAllister's features hardened. "You really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do. You learnt some...tricks...hypnotism being one. Maybe you did it to show off at first, to gain attention, make you stand out as more than a sidekick. Then you realised how powerful it could be in controlling someone when mastered correctly. And you did, you worked hard at it and accomplished what you set out. Stiles became more interested in you when he saw what you could do, pushed you to get better at it, and learned a few tricks himself in mind control. He was always cleverer and more assured than you...always readily grasping opportunities that opened up to him - or engineering them himself if he had to. You were a good one for him back then – a valuable resource he could use. He even lined up a few...test subjects for you to train your skills, didn't he? Some attractive young girls for you to practice on? Did you really believe at the time he did that because he liked you? That he didn't have his own reasons for encouraging you?"

Jane's eyes darkened with unabashed disgust. "You both took advantage of that situation, no doubt. Though I'd imagine he wouldn't have required them to be in a trance like you, where they had no choice but to feign interest in your shoddy and half assed attempts at seduction."

Red John lunged forward on the couch and Jane took the gun from the back of his pants and pointed it at him. Lisbon and Rigsby had already tightened their grips on their own weapons. "Sit back," Jane commanded him. "This is my time to talk and your time to listen."

McAllister tightened his jaw but sat back on the couch again, his eyes snakelike. Jane sighed and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "Soon the thrill of that wore off for you though, didn't it? Hypnotising a few innocent girls became child's play to you. Stiles got bored too. Or perhaps he'd always just seen it as a training exercise. He was looking for the next big challenge. For him...and for you, it was controlling people without the requirement of constant hypnosis that you sought out. He set his sights on Visualize, the perfect opportunity to broaden and enhance that skill. You were both so alike then, I imagine. Two peas in a pod. You both joined. But he became more interested in the applause, the spotlight, the financial gain it could provide for him, the high life.

"Then...and I don't know how or when it happened...then he realised the depth of the darkness in you. He'd always seen it from the day he met you, saw the use it could be to him to have a man like you by his side. He had it too, of course, that dark side to his soul, but not quite so black. Not quite so deranged. Anyhow, he wanted to move up the ranks and to do that certain individuals needed to be removed from the hierarchy. People like Timothy Farragate-"

At McAllister's startled expression, Jane smiled. "Yes, I know about Farragate. It's what you had on Stiles, evidence of his part in that kill. It was his idea to have him murdered and something you hung over Stiles' head every time you needed a favour. We've been here quite a while digging through your files, Tom."

Jane continued, "Sheriff Elliott Ellswood also formed part of your merry band back then too, always good to have a friend in Law Enforcement in case of local difficulties. Stiles manipulated him into killing Farragate. With your help, naturally. I wonder if that's when you found out you could kill without conscience... but I'd bet by then you'd already killed a drifter or two, just to see how it felt. To see if doing that would fill some of the emptiness inside you. And whereas Stiles had Farragate killed purely for advancement reasons within Visualize, you, on the other hand, conspired in it out of your thirst for blood. Was that where the first crack in your relationship came with Stiles? Hmm? He noticed how much you enjoyed the killing part? How much you revelled in it afterwards?"

McAllister drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest. "Stiles was an attention seeker from the outset. Always had to show off. Just like you, Patrick, in so many ways. A showman. Well, just like you were before I pulled the rug out from under you, that is," he smiled.

Jane stared back at him, unfazed. A smile crept up on his lips. "He left you behind. Your friend...the one person in the world you thought you had a connection with and who liked you. He left you for the spotlight, the adoration of others, the money. You helped him become someone and still, there you were, left in the doldrums."

McAllister laughed. "You have no idea of the power I hold, Patrick. No idea."

"No? We'll see about that," Jane smirked. He cleared his throat. "Controlling others became more and more important to you, you clung onto that. Used hypnotism to hasten it. You sought out the weak...the damaged - easy prey. But killing people was what gave you your ultimate thrill. That's where you found your niche, your...sweet spot, if you will. Stiles knew you'd killed others before you ever invented Red John. Of that I'm sure. He might even have helped you cover up early victims due to some misguided sense of loyalty or shame he'd hastened that process along in you. But he never had the bloodlust you had.

"The relationship fractured, you left Visualize. Became a cop instead, eventually a Sheriff like your old pal Ellswood. Long dead now too. All that death and murder and blood is right in your wheelhouse, after all. And you began to hone your skills, learned what gave you the greatest thrill when killing. Attractive women...the girls you first took advantage of through hypnosis, they gave you your first rush of power so hardly a leap that they would go on to largely form your type. You wanted – needed – to feel that rush, time and again. Killing them made it all the better, much more of an adrenalin rush than merely hypnotising them into submission. It became more about them begging you for mercy when they were fully conscious and less about the killing. Although you took pleasure and pride in that part too, no doubt. Two thrills for the price of one, I guess. In truth, you're right. You're just as power hungry as Stiles. Just more secretive about it. And clearly not so charismatic to get it by any other means than murder or manipulation of the weak.

"You still had a bond with Stiles, though, even if it became weaker over time. You still did favours for each other on occasion, your lives forever tangled and intertwined with the younger versions of yourselves, some secrets never documented and only known to the pair of you, I'd bet. For a long time you tolerated his meteoric rise and he your craving for blood due to what became a symbiotic relationship. You helped him increase his flock, sending cops and others you encountered to Visualize to have their minds cleared after committing one atrocity or other. He recorded their misdeeds on camera as part of that process and passed the information back to you, a useful tool in your recruitment of them and leading to your recruitment of other Blake Association members."

Jane studied the other man, taking pleasure in noting his dumbfounded expression at the mention of Blake.

Jane asked, "I have one question though, why did you try to frame him by leaving that letter in a house you knew I'd eventually find? Just to confuse me...or for a deeper reason?"

McAllister relaxed visibly, coming out of trance he was in after the avalanche of information he'd just heard. "Suppose it makes no difference now. I knew you'd cling on to that piece of information...that it would consume you, that you wouldn't rest until you spoke to Stiles. That you would suspect him, go after him."

"You wanted me to believe he was Red John. Why? So I'd despatch him for you, perhaps?"

The other man smirked. "More just to fire a warning shot at him. Though you were doing quite a good job of taking him down for me. But hell, if your patience ran out or you suspected he really was Red John at any stage then that would have been the cherry on top."

Jane nodded slowly. "And if I had then no doubt your plan was to have yet another re-emergence. Maybe just when I thought it was over. And then tell me that I had destroyed my best chance of ever discovering who you were. Hopefully while I was in a prison cell awaiting trial for his murder."

"That, plus rid me of someone who has long outstayed their usefulness in my life."

"Hmm," Jane replied, tapping his index finger to his lips. "I think there's more to it than just that." He sighed then smirked, "So, have you worked out how I knew it was you yet?"

He bristled, shifting in his seat. "Well, if you expect me to believe you have genuine psychic powers then you're out of luck. Gonna tell me you communed with the dead, Patrick?" he muttered scathingly.

Jane laughed. "You and I both know I'm not psychic. No such things as psychics."

McAllister frowned then nodded. "Ah, lovely Grace," he said with a bite to the words. Rigsby held his gun tighter and Jane glanced at him, sensing his impatience to put a bullet in his fiancée's attacker. He shook his head at him, telling him with his eyes to continue with the plan laid down. The tall agent nodded and took a breath.

Jane went on, "You never showed her your face but you did talk to her. Even if you did put on that imbecilic high voice of yours. Do you remember what you said or were you too pumped full of adrenalin in the heat of the kill to recall?" Jane asked him calmly.

McAllister frowned and before he responded Jane said, "You told her that you'd been waiting on the chance to kill her since that day on the road. You told her you'd been waiting for the moment for years. So I searched my memory palace, knowing you'd met her before, most likely on a case as I'd surmised already you worked in Law Enforcement."

Red John blinked and Jane grinned. "Oh yeah, like I mentioned before, we know all about Blake. We had quite a look around here before you came home today. Actually Grace...the woman you almost murdered-" Jane's grin turned smug, "-she's quite the computer whizz. Found lots of interesting information on their activities, thanks to you." Jane glanced at Rigsby. "We were even able to find a list of its members."

Lisbon cut in, "I really should applaud you on your record keeping, you're very methodical and a great note taker. Everything in its place...makes it all so easy to find."

Jane smiled, briefly glancing behind him at Lisbon. "You know I absolutely abhor paperwork but now I'm beginning to see the value in it."

"Better late than never," Lisbon said affably.

"Indeed it is, my dear," Jane agreed, smiling at Red John.

McAllister's fingers dug into the leather armrest in disgruntlement of the mocking he was receiving. "Well," he stated, clearing his throat, "if you're all as clever as you think then you'll realise that Blake is my organisation. I don't need the idolatry that Stiles needed, the attention from the masses. People answer to my tune without even realising I'm the puppet master of the piece. If that's not what real power is, then I don't know what is." Pride swelled in his voice and he smirked, "And whatever you believe you have planned for me, you should know my legion of followers will not allow my death to go unpunished. So kill me, if you can. But you'll be signing your own death warrants too."

"Hmm. Doubtful," Jane shrugged. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I just realised something. That's why you really wanted Stiles out of the way - you were planning your own little coup of Visualize with one of your own people taking control. Someone you knew you could manipulate. You were worried Stiles was eventually going to grow a conscience and put an end to your arrangement, cut off the supply of blackmail you could use for your own means."

McAllister shrugged but said nothing.

Jane continued, "Now let's get back to how I knew it was you. I digressed. Back to Grace's recollection that led me to you. Of course, it could have meant any day...any road that you mentioned, but then I remembered seeing you that day with her when we were trying to lure out that pair of killers with their penchant for redheads. At the time...at the time I took you for the dumb sheriff you purported to be and paid it no further attention. But knowing you'd said that...and, recalling it further with hindsight, coupled with your height and weight and approximate age considering your long relationship with Stiles, I was able to make an educated guess it was you."

"That's quite a guess based on not much evidence."

Jane shrugged. "It's what I do. But we have all the evidence we need now in any case." He took a breath and he pronounced to the man opposite him, "You're Red John. You murdered my wife Angela and my daughter..." He took another breath, "And now it's your time to die."

McAllister shook his head. "You're not that man, Patrick. You're...you're not like me. This will haunt you." Seeing Jane was staring blankly back at him, McAllister fixed his eyes on Lisbon. "Teresa, you don't believe in this course of action. You're an officer of the law-"

"So are you. Didn't stop you killing all those people in cold blood."

"But that's not who you are. Neither of you. You're...you're good people."

"And that's why we have to stop you."

He was beginning to panic now, realising his time was running out. Beads of sweat surfaced on his brow. "So arrest me then? I'll...I'll come quietly. I'll admit to everything. All the murders...there are more...more people I killed you don't know about, I can give you names-"

"We know," Rigsby stated. "We found that list too. Little harder to find but Grace was able to crack the encryption." Derisively, "You couldn't help but catalogue your kills, could you?"

Red John looked from Rigsby to Lisbon. "I can understand Patrick's need for this and...even your need for it, Agent Rigsby, but Teresa...you have no stake in this-"

"You threatened my niece. So yes, I do. And even if you hadn't I'd still be ready to kill you for what you've put these two good men here through and countless others whose lives you shattered."

He shook his head wildly. "Don't you realise? Bringing Patrick into your life was a gift to both of you. A perfect alignment of needs and desires. A perfect pairing, if you will. I provided you with that." His tone turned bitter. "I could have let him die but I did not. I saved his life. I answered your call, Teresa-"

"Only because it suited you to do so," she glared back at him. "You didn't do that for me...for us...you did that for your own damn self so you could continue to play God."

She took a breath as she seethed at him. McAllister shook his head at each of them in turn before he focused back on Jane who was staring at him with a faint smile on his lips.

He evened out his breathing. "Well, Patrick. It seems you're more manipulative than I ever gave you credit. You have your own band of followers in your wake too. We really are alike."

Jane laughed contemptuously and replied, "If you say so. You've lost your power over me. I'm no longer your plaything. Your words mean nothing to me. It's game over. Time to accept defeat."

Menacingly, "My people will come after you. They'll know it was you behind this as much as you try to cover it up. And Teresa-"

"No, they won't," Jane said with a sigh, appearing bored with the conversation and pushing a piece of fluff from his pants onto the floor. He stared at his nemesis again. "Thanks in large part due to your own scrupulous separation of your hidden life with the act you've perfected in your public one."

McAllister frowned and shook his head.

Jane leaned forward, fixing him with a steely gaze.

He took delight in his next statement. "You see, to anyone who knows you, you're Sheriff Thomas McAllister, the shambolic but well meaning Sheriff of Napa. But not much going on between the ears, if you know what I mean. Now, who would believe that such a man could ever be Red John? I'd bet I could put you in a line up of six people and not one person could believe that to be true. It's ridiculous, isn't it?

"So, here's what's going to happen. We've wiped any record of your being Red John from your computer. We've removed your trophies. We've searched every inch of this place and we've found your fake passports, ID. We have it all. We left some cash in your hidey-hole in the bedroom, makes it look like you were on the take and stupidly embroiled yourself with some criminal elements who came after you. We've removed your name as the leader of Blake from the registry of Blake Association names-"

Jane laughed suddenly as McAllister's face became more and more horrified as he continued his speech. "Ironic, isn't it? That the organisation you set up – and I have to admit that was a very fortunate turn of events to discover that for certain today – will exist without your name at the helm? We've left you as a member due to the tattoo you no doubt have on your shoulder, but you'll be nothing but a foot soldier when that list makes its way into the hands of the authorities. Because it's a secret organisation, and you've been so careful to exercise your power in it so covertly, that I doubt whether ten people actually know who you really are. And, after you're gone, what would they have to gain from telling people that they knew that? Why would they add to the charges they'll already face for their crimes within Blake when arrested?"

Red John shook his head, his eyes darting back and forth between the other occupants of the room. "No," he said breathlessly, "you can't so this to me...this is my legacy...you can't-"

"Take away the identity you're most proud of? The person you really are? The power you hold? The morbid glory in holding that title?" Jane smirked. "Yes, we can. We already have. You'll die without anyone ever knowing you were Red John. Your death will be met with indifference, not a wringing of hands or a thirst for revenge by your disciples. Not martyrdom in your name or immortality in the pages of a psychology text book. Thomas McAllister will die as nothing more than a dumb sheriff who couldn't even fight off a couple of clumsy robbers." Jane laughed, "So thank you for choosing the persona you did. I doubt many will be surprised that's how you ultimately meet your end."

McAllister's breathing sped up and he swallowed thickly. "No...no...I...how do you expect to get away with this? Questions will be asked-"

"No, they won't," Jane told him. "Because, thanks to your files, we already have a patsy set up to take the fall. The person who will, for all intents and purposes, be Red John. Or so people will think. It'll allow the public to sleep in their beds at night and ensure no Blake member suspects or comes after us for disposing of their leader. Not to mention it spares me a lengthy trial, a lethal injection, or a requirement to leave the country.

"Hell, even the people who believed you were Red John may pause for thought when we prove it was someone else. They may even think it was merely attention seeking and idle boasting on your part when you divulged you were him to them."

Jane continued matter-of-factly. "The Red John we've chosen won't die though, like you will shortly. He'll be arrested for the killer he already is. We'll just...tag a few more on to his already high kill rate, plant evidence at his home that he's Red John. Though choosing him proved more difficult than I imagined. There are a lot of evil men in those files of yours, after all. But he's a monster in his own right, just not the monster who murdered my family."

McAllister's breathing accelerated and Jane breathed out calmly as he leaned back in his chair. Then he got up and turned to Lisbon. His back to McAllister, he caught her eyes and exhaled silently. They exchanged victorious small smiles. Then he nodded, and his expression darkened, a silent signal that it was time for her to leave.

Her eyes questioned him. 'Are you sure?'

He nodded once more and she exhaled loudly before licking her lips and blinking in acquiescence.

"Rigsby, let's go," she said, still looking at Jane. More quietly and to Jane alone, "We'll be right outside when you're done."

"I promise I won't be long," he said, his tone deep and rich and confident.

"You better not be," she ordered gently, a slight panic in her voice.

His dazzled her with a quick reassuring smile before he gestured towards the door. "Go," he told her softly, his face serious again.

She pushed past him, her fingers briefly touching his as she went. Jane turned to face McAllister again with his gun raised as the others made their way out of the front door.

Red John tilted his head to the side in a question as Jane stood by the fireplace silently as he watched the other man. "It's not too late, Patrick," he said sympathetically. "I can see that you don't want to do this."

Jane shook his head. "Believe me, I'm not wavering. I'm just savouring the last few pages of this book before I start the next one."

Then he pulled the lilac ribbon from his vest pocket and ran it through the fingers of his left hand, the gun in his right still trained on the man opposite. McAllister's eyes widened. "You took this from my daughter, Charlotte." Jane's voice quieted to barely a whisper as he addressed the other man. "Tell me, wasn't taking her life enough for you that night?"

McAllister lowered his head towards his lap. "Look at me," Jane bellowed, startling McAllister with its sudden strength.

The other man shook his head, the coward in him racing to the surface. "I'm...I'm sorry..."

"You think a few crocodile tears and apologies are going to make a difference to how this ends? You think I care if you're remorseful now your neck is in the noose?" He took a deep breath and placed the ribbon back in his vest pocket carefully.

As Jane dipped his head slightly to replace the ribbon McAllister took the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere momentarily. With a roar, he made a sudden lunge towards the blond man from his place on the couch.

Lisbon paced the porch outside, her arms crossed in worry as she went back and forth across the wooden boards, her head bowed. If she were a nail biter they'd have been down to the stubs.

Rigsby stood alert, watching the front door for any sign of movement. Lisbon stopped walking and they eyeballed each other as a shot rang out inside. Before they made it to the door they heard a second.

A/N: Last chapter (pre epilogue) is coming up next. And this time I mean it, honestly.

And I apologise for this rather long winded and mostly one sided conversation. This was my first ever real RJ/PJ confrontation and I couldn't stop writing (plus I had a lot of plot to cover to tie up loose ends). I know I theorised pretty wildly here to fit the RJ/Stiles relationship into this story. I would have loved to have known more about that on the show so couldn't help make up my own backstory for them. Anyhow, I hope I've covered everything. Any questions let me know. Thanks.