Prologue
Patrick Jane sat heaving, trembling over the body of Thomas McCallister - Red John. The man who had terrorized and taken over his life for a decade.
The deed was done. His promise was fulfilled.
Red John was dead, at his hand, and his daughter and wife avenged. Finally.
He had always expected some kind of relief to wash over him. Everyone had always told him that revenge wouldn't make him feel better at the end - but he thought he knew better and expected it anyway. Now, kneeling next to Thomas McCallister's lifeless body, his head felt light and his hands were shaking. But there was no wave of bliss awaiting him. Only numbness.
The gun felt so heavy in his hand. There was only one thing that remained now.
Privately he had always planned on taking his own life after killing Red John. Revenge had been his only purpose for so long. It was the only reason he had held onto life in those darkest moments of his depression and grief. It was his only reason to live. He had thought that once he achieved this goal, he could be done with it all. There would be nothing left for him. Besides, he had already done the brooding prison thing after killing Timothy Carter and it didn't bear repeating.
He started to lift the weapon and slowly toward himself but before he could assume the gesture his hand stopped as if on its own accord.
Memories started to flood him from some corner of his memory palace. Teresa Lisbon - muttering a prayer beside him as she clutched the cross around her neck in the passenger seat of the car, a bomb strapped to her body. Seeing her for the first time in six months after his Vegas interlude and knowing with certainty, as he watched while hiding behind a church pew, that he as the subject of her silent prayers. He knew that if she were here in the park with him now, she'd be looking at him with big eyes and pleading for him to choose life. Praying, as ever, for the salvation of his soul.
He had to remind himself several times in these final throes of his battle that he needed to remain cold, ruthless, and cut off those emotional ties he had accidentally forged. But here, alone in the park, he could not extinguish her voice in his mind.
Plan B it would be then. He placed the gun in McCallister's still hand and walked away.
There had always been an alternate escape plan in place. He could never assume things would go to plan - not with Red John. He knew that he would have to disappear entirely if he wanted to avoid persecution for killing him. He would have to cut off all contact forever.
But, unable to resist, he allowed himself one final indulgence as he walked away – a goodbye.
He dialed her number into McCallister's phone and panted into the receiver. "Lisbon… It's over. I just want you to know I'm okay. And I'm going to miss you."