The following morning, Jane and Lisbon went to talk to Anthony, the young man Michelle had been 'not-quite-dating' prior to her disappearance, according to her mother.
"Hi," Anthony said, flashing a quick, uncertain smile when he stepped out of his classroom. He was a tall, gangly kid with a wide, toothy smile and a pair of warm, thoughtful brown eyes. "My teacher said you wanted to talk to me?"
"Anthony, my name is Agent Teresa Lisbon and this is my consultant, Patrick Jane," Lisbon said, showing him her badge. "We want to ask you a few questions about Michelle."
"Have you heard anything? Is she okay?" Anthony asked anxiously.
"We're still looking for her," Lisbon told him. "We're hoping you can help us out with that. Can you tell us the last time you saw her?"
"Sure," Anthony said. "The other day after school, right before she left for ballet. I wanted to walk her there, but she said Sadie and Norah were giving her a ride."
"Are you and Michelle dating?" Jane asked.
"No," Anthony said, flustered. "We're, uh, just friends."
"But you wish she were your girlfriend," Jane stated.
"Well…yeah," Anthony said, embarrassed.
Jane raised his eyebrows. "So what's the hold up? Why haven't you asked her out?"
"She has this ex-boyfriend back L.A. she still talks to," Anthony muttered. "And I don't know if she likes me like that."
"Ah, so you're a coward," Jane said. "Too scared to ask her."
"They dated a long time," Anthony protested. "I was—testing the waters."
"Uh-huh," Jane said. "Coward."
Lisbon broke in. "Did she talk much about this ex-boyfriend?"
"Not really. But he's on a group chat with a bunch of her other friends from L.A." He scowled. "He's always sending her flirty messages."
"What about her other friends in L.A.? She talk much about them?" Jane asked.
"Sure. She said she wished she could go visit them. That the group chats aren't the same as going to the beach with all of them, and that now there were all these in jokes in the chat that she wasn't in on. It sucked."
Lisbon exchanged a glance with Jane. "Did she ever talk about how she would get there if she went to visit them?"
Anthony shrugged. "Ask her mom for a plane ticket, probably. She doesn't have her license, so it's not like she could drive herself. She thought her mom would probably let her go for a week or two over the summer, though, especially if her dad was back there and she could stay with him."
"Does she get along with her mom?" Jane asked.
"Yeah, they're pretty close," Anthony said.
"What about her dad?" Lisbon wanted to know. "She ever talk about him?"
"Not much," Anthony said. "She said her mom gets really mad whenever she has to talk to him, and it stresses her out. She said her dad isn't that bad—they get along okay. But she doesn't see him that often, and she's way closer to her mom."
Lisbon nodded. "Anthony, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Michelle, to take her away? Or someone who might have persuaded her to go away with them, even if it was under her own power?"
"No," Anthony said, anxious again. "Do you think someone took her to hurt her?"
"We don't know," Lisbon said gently. "Right now, we're doing everything we can to find her. If you hear of anything that could help us find her, will you please let us know?" She gave him one of her cards.
"Yeah, I will," Anthony said, taking the card and stowing it in his backpack.
They thanked Anthony and left. They headed back to the CBI, with plans to go to the ballet studio later that afternoon and talk to Michelle's friends there.
xxx
Cho had managed to track down the contact details of the shift supervisor on the rig where Michelle's father worked, and Lisbon had arranged a call with him at noon. She called at the appointed time, but the connection was bad and she had trouble hearing him.
"Mr. Hicks?" she said when he came on the line. She could hear noise from the drills in the background in addition to the static on the line.
"Agent Lisbon," came a tinny voice from the other end. "Carl Hicks here."
"Mr. Hicks, I'm trying to reach Jake Aubrey. I understand he works with you. Is that right?"
"That's right."
"Is Mr. Aubrey there? Could I possibly speak to him?"
There was a faint crackling, and a second or two of screeching feedback that caused Lisbon to pull the phone away from her ear. "He's here," Hicks said, raising his voice. "But he can't talk. He's got laryngitis and a fever of a hundred and two."
Lisbon's heart sank. "Is he aware of the situation with his daughter?"
"Yeah. He's-" More crackling feedback. "But he's stuck here until the chopper comes out next week, so there's not much he can do about it."
"I see. Can you ask him to contact me? Even if it's through an email. I'd like to ask him a few questions."
Hicks sounded doubtful. "Well, like I said, he's pretty out of it. But I'll let him know you called."
She spoke with Hicks a few moments longer, but didn't learn anything else of use from him, so she ended the call and sat frowning at her screen for a moment, troubled.
"Knock, knock." She looked up to see Chris in her doorway, smiling sheepishly. "I wanted to check in, see how things are going."
Lisbon managed a smile. "Chris, hi. Come on in."
"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Chris said, concerned.
Lisbon couldn't help a genuine smile at the novelty of a Jane actually caring whether or not he was disturbing her. "Not at all, I was just wrapping up a call." She gestured to her couch. "Have a seat."
She got up and joined him on the couch, turning to face him so she could give him her full attention. "What's up?"
He paused and stared. "Wow."
"What?" she said self-consciously.
"Your eyes," he said. "They're really quite extraordinary."
She blinked, startled. "Oh," she said stupidly. "Thanks." She was suddenly extremely conscious of his long, wild curls, the gray-green eyes behind the glasses, and the sweet smile flashing out from behind his neatly trimmed beard.
He kept looking at her. "Listen, are you and my brother-?" He gestured vaguely, but his meaning was clear.
"What? No!" Lisbon felt a flush creeping up her neck.
"Ah," he said with a smile. "I see."
"See what?" she demanded. "I just told you, we're not a couple."
"Perhaps not," Chris said, his gaze still fixed on her. "But there's something between you. My brother has some kind of emotional investment where you're concerned."
"What makes you say that?" Lisbon asked before she could stop herself.
He shrugged. "I can see it in the way he looks at you."
Lisbon blushed. "He doesn't… look at me in any particular way."
Chris laughed. "I don't know who the two of you think you are fooling. Very well, I retract any statement that could be construed as me hitting on you."
Lisbon paused. "Wait, does that mean that you were hitting on me just now?"
"Of course," he said, unperturbed.
"But now you retract the hitting on?" Lisbon said uncertainly.
He shrugged. "He's my brother. I wouldn't do that to him."
"I assure you, there's nothing going on between us," Lisbon insisted, aware that her face was now flame red.
He raised his eyebrows. "You're telling me it wouldn't be weird if you and I went out?"
Lisbon blew out a breath. "Okay, yeah. It would be weird. But only because you look exactly like him, except, you know, kinda hotter in a scruffy kind of way, and I have to work with him every day—"
Chris flashed a grin at her, that beautiful Jane grin that lit up the whole room, and Lisbon's hormones kicked into confused overdrive again. "You think I'm hotter than Patrick?"
"Yeah, well," Lisbon mumbled, mortified. "You're very…fit. And there's something about the glasses, and the beard…"
He laughed, a joyful, free sound she heard only rarely from his brother. "Consider me flattered. I think you're very fit, too."
She punched him on the arm. "Hush. I thought you retracted the hitting on."
"I wasn't hitting on you that time," he protested. "Just stating a plain fact."
She shook her head, smiling. "All three of you are incorrigible, you know that?"
"Yes," he agreed. "It's one of our common traits."
"All right, all right," Lisbon said in mock surrender. "Enough. What did you come in here for in the first place?"
"I just wanted to check on how things are going," Chris said. "Any progress?"
"Not much," Lisbon admitted. "It's been slow going. But we'll get there."
"Good," Chris said. "Daniel's really worried. We both are."
"Where is he now?"
"He's with Olivia," Chris said. "He doesn't want her to be alone right now."
"He really loves her, huh?" Lisbon said.
"Yeah. This is his first time with the real deal," Chris said. "I mean, he's dated a lot—a lot," he emphasized. "But he's never really been like this over anyone else. It scares the crap out of him. But I think—well, we were both always a little envious of what Patrick had with Angela. Watching the two of them—let's just say we know what it looks like when it's the real thing. Not that we'd ever admit that to Patrick. But anyway—I think Daniel knows this is his shot for the real thing. He's determined not to mess it up."
Lisbon looked down, suddenly feeling flat. What Patrick had with Angela…the real thing. "Yeah," she said, dejected.
"Hey." Chris touched her hand. "Not to speak out of turn, but, well—I kinda get that 'real thing' vibe from you and Patrick, too."
She shook her head. "You're mistaken. Jane doesn't—he isn't…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"Maybe so," Chris said, watching her closely. "But I'm gonna maintain my 'not-hitting-on-you' position, just to be safe, you know what I mean?"
Lisbon managed a weak smile. "What about you? You ever find the real thing for yourself?"
"Oh, well," Chris said, mustering a smile of his own. "I'm always falling in love. Left and right. But as for the real thing—well, I guess I'm still waiting for it to come along."
Lisbon touched his sleeve. "Your turn will come one of these days," she said softly. "I'm sure of it."
"Lisbon, I—" Jane barged into her office without knocking, then stopped dead when he saw Chris and Lisbon sitting together on the couch. "What's going on?" he asked sharply.
Lisbon hastily removed her hand from Chris's sleeve. "Nothing."
Jane's eyes narrowed.
Chris raised his hands in surrender. "Easy there, brother. Teresa and I were just getting to know each other a little better."
Jane's eyes flicked to Lisbon. "Can I have a word?" he said curtly.
"Sure." Lisbon got to her feet, and Chris followed suit. She turned to Jane expectantly. "What's up?"
"I'm sure Chris has to be going," he said, glaring at his brother as he stepped forward and tucked his fingers under Lisbon's elbow, not very subtly maneuvering himself between the two of them.
"Here's your hat, what's your hurry?" Chris said cheerfully. "I can take a hint, okay? I'll talk to you later, Teresa," He tipped an imaginary hat to Lisbon and strolled out of the office, perfectly at ease.
Lisbon shook Jane off with some difficulty—he seemed reluctant to release his hold on her arm. "What did you want to talk to me about, Jane?"
"What were you and my brother talking about?" Jane demanded.
"Nothing," Lisbon said, but she felt herself blushing again. "He came to ask about the case, that's all."
"You're blushing," Jane accused. "You wouldn't be blushing if you were only talking about the case. What else did he say to you?" He stopped, appalled, when Lisbon's blush only deepened. "Did he hit on you?"
"Sort of," Lisbon said, flustered. She cursed her fair skin. "Well, not really. He retracted the hitting on."
"That's not a sentence," Jane said, frowning. "What does that mean, he retracted the hitting on?"
"Nothing," Lisbon insisted. "Forget it. What did you want to talk to me about?"
Jane looked like he was not prepared to forget it at all.
"For God's sake," Lisbon said irritably. "What's it to you if he hit on me? Why would you care?"
Ha, she thought with satisfaction. That had boxed him in. He could either explain why it mattered to him that his brother had hit on her, a challenge Lisbon was confident he was not prepared to meet, or he could shut up.
Predictably, he retreated. He snapped his jaw closed, then, very stiffly, said, "I thought you wanted to go to the ballet studio to talk to Michelle's friends."
Coward, she seethed inwardly. Aloud, she said, "I do. Let's go."