Jane had hated the man even before he found out he kicked dogs, so all in all, he was glad Carl Jameson was dead.
Jameson was a drug smuggler, a murderer, and a bully. As far as Jane was concerned, when the team found him at his terrible apartment with his head bashed in with a lamp, it was good riddance. Also, Jameson had sneered at Lisbon when she and Jane had interviewed him at his office two days earlier, so it had been obvious from the outset that he was a waste of perfectly good oxygen.
"It's gotta be the Dirtbag Boys, right?" Rigsby said, eyeing the corpse on the carpet with disgust. Dirtbag Boys was the name Rigsby and Cho had coined for the group of thugs Jameson had tried to cheat out of twenty thousand dollars. "They're pissed about the money, they stop by and beat his brains out. Case closed."
"Jealous girlfriend?" Van Pelt suggested. "Lamp is an improvised weapon. Could have been a crime of passion."
"Who'd go out with him?" Cho said, looking around the dingy apartment.
"Rigsby's right," Lisbon said. "The leaders of the drug ring had the greatest motive, and we haven't turned up any personal connections recent enough to have an urgent reason to kill him. Let's search the place, see if anything else comes up, then turn the body over to the M.E.'s office. Tomorrow we can dig deeper on the drug smuggling angle."
The team split up, Cho taking the kitchen, Grace, the bathroom, and Rigsby, the living room. Jane followed Lisbon into the bedroom, distracted. He didn't care about Jameson, so his mind had gone careening off without his permission and landed on a far more enticing topic. Namely, their fair team leader, currently searching Jameson's dresser drawers with brisk efficiency.
He'd followed her automatically, Jane realized with chagrin. This had become a worrying habit. His eyes landed on her swishing shiny hair and squared shoulders a few feet in front of him and he instinctively wanted to close the distance. He caught a whiff of her delectably spicy scent and he followed his nose without thinking. He caught a glimpse of her teasing smile or her mesmerizing eyes and he was lost to their gravitational pull.
He'd been puzzling over the Lisbon problem quite a bit recently. There was no denying they'd gotten closer than he'd ever intended. Especially over the course of the last year or so. The Culpepper thing had forced him into a realization of how much he'd grown to depend on her, something he'd only recently accepted with grudging unease.
The question was what do to about it. Keep his distance? That would be the smart thing to do. But he'd been telling himself to do that since the day he'd met her, and he'd thoroughly failed at every possible opportunity. Give in to his increasingly overpowering attraction to her? The thought terrified him. Mostly because of the thought of what Red John might do to her if he found out, but also because he couldn't bear the thought of Lisbon turning away from him in disgust, which she would inevitably do if he tried to close the distance for real and allowed her to see his deepest self in the process.
He was starting to think he was going to need to remove himself from the situation somehow. How he was going to do that, what with the aforementioned dependence and gravitational pull, he had no idea.
Maybe he needed to get himself arrested again, he thought gloomily. That would put him safely out of reach of temptation.
Lisbon turned her head and quirked an eyebrow at him. He'd sat down on the bed and had been watching her search the dresser, not sparing any thought to Jameson whatsoever. "You gonna help, or what?"
"I'm putting myself in the mind of the victim," he told her loftily. In truth, he'd been puzzling over the Lisbon problem while simultaneously admiring her efficient movements and the pull of her jeans over her backside, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Well, put your mind in his closet."
Jane stood and dutifully searched the closet while Lisbon looked through the little desk in the corner, but the search was a bust. Nothing relevant to the case or even remotely interesting. Honestly, why were so many criminals so incredibly dull and unimaginative? It was highly dissatisfying.
"Find anything?" Lisbon asked.
He shook his head. "Not a thing."
Lisbon sighed. "Me, neither. C'mon, let's go rejoin the others. Maybe one of them found something."
They trooped down the hall in time to see Grace peeling off her latex gloves as she emerged from the bathroom and Rigsby pulling open the door to the hall closet.
"Nothing in the living room, boss," Rigsby reported. "He must—agh!"
Rigsby recoiled from the closet, staring in horror.
"What is it?" Van Pelt said in alarm. Then she covered her nose and mouth. "Oh—oh my God."
An unpleasant smell assaulted the five of them as Cho, too, came to see what the fuss was about.
A pathetic, skinny brindle dog looked up at the group of them with glazed eyes. It had clearly been locked in the closet at least a couple of days, based on the smell and the mess.
"Oh." Lisbon dropped to her knees and approached the dog, offering her hand for the dog to investigate. "She's hurt."
Lisbon was right, Jane realized. The dog could barely move, and her fur was coming out in clumps. "Looks like she has a broken rib or two," Jane observed. Rage seared through his chest. Jameson. He'd kicked the poor defenseless creature and locked her in here without food or water. Jane was savagely grateful the bastard was already dead. Served him right.
"Boss, be careful," Rigsby said, alarmed. "It could bite."
"Don't be silly," Lisbon said, her eyes not leaving the dog. She inched closer, not wanting to startle the dog. "She's a sweetheart."
"Rigsby's right," Van Pelt said. "An injured dog is more likely to exhibit aggressive behavior, even if they're normally not inclined to bite."
Lisbon waved this off and kept her eyes on the dog, still moving closer.
"Boss, that dog has mange," Cho said, a warning in his voice. "Probably has fleas, too."
"That's easy to fix," Lisbon said, eyes still not leaving the dog. She extended her hand and the dog gave her hand a tentative lick. "Rigsby, go into the kitchen and get her some water. Grace, see if you can find some food. Cho, find me a number for an emergency vet."
Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho exchanged glances, but did as they were bidden.
Jane knelt beside Lisbon and offered his hand for investigation. "Tough life, huh, girl?" he said, letting the dog lick his hand, too. "How'd you get so sweet when you had such a rotten owner?"
Lisbon stroked the dog's head, scratching her ears. "Why would Jameson even have a dog if he was going to do something like this?"
"Maybe he kidnapped her for some kind of petty revenge," Jane said.
"Sounds like him," Lisbon agreed. She rested her hand on the dog's head. "She's burning up, Jane."
"We'll get her over to a vet as soon as possible," he told her. "I'll help you."
Lisbon shot him a grateful look. "Thanks, Jane."
"Here's the water, boss," Rigsby said, coming up behind them with a small bowl of water. He kept well back but handed the bowl to Lisbon.
"Here you go, girl," she crooned, setting the bowl in front of the dog. "This should make you feel better."
The dog made a half-hearted attempt to raise her head and sniffed cautiously at the water, then turned her head away.
"She won't drink," Lisbon said, alarmed. "That's really bad, Jane."
"It's the fever," Jane said. He scooped a palmful of water from the bowl and put his hand out to the dog again. "Poor thing. She can't think straight anymore." The dog tentatively lapped up the water from his hand, then laid her head down with a sigh.
"She's been in here for days, Jane." Lisbon continued stroking the dog's head, concern etched over her face. "She needs to drink more."
"I've got it," Jane assured her. He scooped up another palmful of water and got several more handfuls of water into her that way.
"Do you want the food now?" Van Pelt asked.
"Yes," Lisbon said firmly. "She should be able to take it now." She took the offered bowl of dog food and offered the dog a few bits of kibble.
The dog took it gently from her hand. "Good girl," Lisbon said, pleased. She offered her a bit more, and after several more rounds of coaxing and gentle caresses, the dog had eaten a respectable portion.
"Found a vet," Cho reported. "It's a couple miles from the office."
Jane looked at Lisbon. "Do you think it's safe to move her?"
"We'll put her on a litter," Lisbon said, looking around for something suitable.
"I'll find something," Van Pelt told her. "Wayne, come on. You can help me."
In the end, Rigsby and Van Pelt unscrewed the hinges from a kitchen cabinet door to make an improvised stretcher.
The dog was alarmed and confused by the prospect of being moved onto the stretcher, but Lisbon coaxed and soothed her with silly murmurings and soft caresses, so they got her onto the stretcher into the end. Cho and Rigsby carried the dog out to Lisbon's car.
They put her in the back of the SUV, Lisbon still stroking the dog's head.
"I'm going to take her to the vet," Lisbon informed the team. "Cho, you're in charge. You okay to wrap up here?"
"Yeah. We got this, boss," Cho said. "Go on."
"I'll drive so you can stay in the back with her," Jane told Lisbon. "She might still be scared."
"Thanks, Jane." She gave him her keys and climbed into the back of the SUV, settling the dog's head in her lap and still murmuring the sweet silly murmurings to her as Jane pulled away.
Jane found he quite enjoyed the sweet silly murmurings. His heart was growing alarmingly soft and melty at the sound of it, but he was still abjectly grateful that he'd been afforded the opportunity to witness this side of the normally tough as nails Teresa Lisbon.
The vet was a kindly older woman who was very gentle with the dog. She also seemed to have the trick of the right kind of reassuring murmurings, and the dog accepted her examination docilely.
"What a sweet little thing," the vet remarked, running her hand along the dog's side very softly. "How could someone do something like this to her?"
"Don't worry, he's dead," Jane said. "So we don't need to worry about exacting vengeance on him or anything."
The vet looked startled. "I see," she said. She looked at Lisbon.
"We found her at the scene of a murder in the course of our investigation," Lisbon explained. She'd already identified herself as a CBI agent and explained the circumstances of the abuse as best as she could. "We're not actually certain the murder victim was her owner. Can you think of any way we might find out a bit more about her history?"
"She's not wearing tags, and she's not microchipped," the vet said doubtfully. "I suppose you could ask the neighbors, call around to other vets to see if they might recognize her. But it doesn't seem like she's been getting any care at all, so that may be a bit of a longshot."
"We'll try it," Lisbon told her.
"What kind of dog is she?" Jane asked.
"She's definitely a mutt, but she looks like mostly Treeing Tennessee Brindle," the vet said, eyeing the dog critically. "Maybe a bit of Vizsla in there, too."
"Those are dog breeds?" Jane said. "They sound like expensive whiskeys."
"That's helpful to know, thank you," Lisbon said to the vet.
"So what do you want to do with her?" the vet asked. "Are you planning to call the Humane Society, or…?"
Lisbon frowned. "That is the usual protocol in cases like this," she said, her frown deepening.
"Well, we're not going to let her go into a shelter when she's sick and injured," Jane said firmly. "Shouldn't she stay here for the night?"
"She could," the vet said. "Though there's not much else I can do for her here. She'd be more comfortable in a real home."
"Then Teresa will take her home for tonight, and we'll figure out a plan tomorrow," Jane said.
"Jane, my condo doesn't allow pets," Lisbon protested.
"It's just for one night," Jane said. "There's nothing in the condo by-laws about esteemed but temporary canine guests, is there?"
"I suppose not," Lisbon said reluctantly.
"What else are you going to do? You're not going to leave her here by herself all night, and you're definitely not taking her to some awful shelter, are you?"
"No," Lisbon said, squaring her shoulders. "You're right. It's just one night, and she needs someone to take care of her."
"Then it's settled." Jane turned back to the vet. "What's next, doc?"
In the end, the vet sent them home with some ointment for the mange, instructions to keep the dog calm and not let her move around too much with the broken rib, and some antibiotics for the infection. She also gave them some puppy pads, warning them that the dog might find it difficult to get outside to relieve herself for a few days between the fever and the broken rib.
They stopped by the store to pick up some dog food, then Jane took Lisbon and the dog back to Lisbon's condo. They got the dog settled in Lisbon's living room. Jane hovered a bit, fetching and carrying water and food to the dog and discussing the best placement for the puppy pads, and then abruptly, there wasn't anything more for him to do.
"Do you want me to stay?" Jane heard himself say.
Lisbon looked up from where she was kneeling by the dog, startled. "Stay?"
"You might need a hand," Jane said lamely.
Her expression softened. "It's very sweet of you to offer." She stroked the dog's head affectionately. "We'll be all right."
"All right," Jane said reluctantly. "Call me if you need anything."
She got to her feet and walked him to the door. "Thanks for everything, Jane. I really appreciate it."
"Of course," Jane said dismissively. Like he would have left Lisbon alone to care for a sick and injured dog all by herself. "I'll check in with you in the morning."
She pressed her keys into his hand. Jane suddenly felt hot under his collar, unbearably clumsy, and hyperaware of her fingers brushing against his. "Take my car. Yours is still at the office, isn't it?"
Jane shook his head. "You might need it. I'll find my own way home."
"All right," she said softly. She looked at him for a long moment, then surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "You really can be very sweet sometimes, you know that?" she said. "Thank you again."
"You're welcome," Jane said, a little dazed.
"Good night, Jane."
"Good night, Lisbon."
xxx
A/N: I wrote this story during a particularly stressful couple of months at work as a warm and cozy place to retreat to in my own mind (things are still busy but more manageable now). I hope it is a warm and cozy retreat for you all, too. :)
A/N2: I have been feeling a hankering to write a Christmas fic, but haven't come up with any inspiring premises so far. If anyone feels like shooting me a prompt, I will ponder and see if I can develop a story from any of them. No promises...and also I might not get it done til next year even if I find a prompt that speaks to me, but putting it out there for consideration!