Meanwhile, in the California Bureau of Investigation offices, an unusual movement of
personnel had taken over the building.
The news of four armed men kidnapping a police chief in her own home had spread
everywhere.
Only Lisbon's team knew the truth behind it; the rest was just speculation from colleagues
and journalists. Traffickers, Volker, witnesses, criminals she had arrested… they had tried to
frame her for murder before to discredit her career.
They managed to locate the car in which she had been taken, dozens of miles away. It was
a car stolen the day before, its owner an elderly woman of seventy years, and they found
nothing that could be linked in any way. It was just an easy target.
The discovery of the car didn't bring the relief or the clues they had hoped for.
Rigsby leaned over the open door, his face hardening as he saw the interior. Dark stains
covered the back seat and the passenger seat. It didn't take an expert to know it was blood.
A lot of blood.
"Tell me this isn't what it looks like, Cho."
Cho didn't respond immediately. He took out his flashlight, examining the area in silence, his
jaw tightening more with each second.
"Too much blood."
They knew Lisbon would fight until the end, that she would do the impossible to escape. But
this… this was different.
Rigsby ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"What if we're too late?"
Cho didn't look away from the vehicle. His voice was quieter than usual when he finally
spoke:
"We're not going to be late."
He turned around and took out his phone.
"We need a forensics team here. Now."
He hoped to find something that would lead them to her.
While both agents tried to track the kidnappers, Jane was in Lisbon's office, going through
everything she had received and kept from the stalker.
He knew she wouldn't be happy with the mess he was making, but he felt he was delving
into a very private area of Lisbon's life, and outside, he felt too exposed.
Letters, cards, hundreds of messages Lisbon had transcribed into a notebook, some she
had kept in her phone or email.
At times, he felt like vomiting reading the messages. He thought about the times he had
teased Lisbon about how bad a liar she was… and it turned out she did know how to keep
secrets. Technically, she hadn't lied… because no one had asked, she simply omitted to tell
them something… for months.
Olivia Benson had told him it wasn't something against him or the team… she had simply
downplayed the situation, ignored it until the problem became too much and began to
suffocate her, and by then, she didn't know how to ask for help. She felt guilty and ashamed.
And that was something he could see. Lisbon was a proud and introverted person, since
childhood, she had to solve everything herself, she was the one who helped others, not the
one who received help.
On top of that, in a predominantly male environment, Lisbon had learned that showing
vulnerability was a luxury she couldn't afford.
He couldn't blame her, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.
He kept flipping through the notebook where Lisbon had transcribed the messages. Her firm
handwriting and the organized way everything was structured contrasted with the unsettling
content of each note.
"You're so beautiful when you smile" was one of the first messages, the ones that followed
were equally "innocent." It didn't surprise him that Lisbon downplayed it when she was under
so much stress during those months of his absence, and when he returned, it wasn't as if
that stress had lessened.
The messages remained in that tone until the day the FBI ruined his plan to catch Red John.
"This is one of the most aberrant things Patrick Jane has made you do. Willing to ruin your
entire career and your team's to achieve his goals. I know you can't see it yet, but you need
someone to protect you from him."
Jane felt a chill run down his neck when he read that last message.
"You need someone to protect you from him."
His grip on the notebook tightened.
Jane clenched his jaw. Each word was poison that seeped under his skin.
After that, the tone of the messages took a complete turn. No longer just a creepy admirer,
now it was a disturbed man starting to create a story in his head.
It was even more terrifying that he was fully aware that Lisbon didn't reciprocate, that they
didn't have something. His stalking was a way to conquer her, to show her that he was
worthy. And in his twisted imagination, Jane was his competition. He was the one keeping
her away from him.
Since then, the messages alternated between emphasizing her qualities, telling her how
beautiful and intelligent she was, how he would take care of her, protect her, and the great
future they would have together. Some of the messages were about things too specific that
Jane also remembered, like how her pants fit her body, how adorable she looked with the
huge t-shirts she wore to sleep, the way her lips would tighten when she tried not to smile,
usually in response to his antics.
The idea that this man had been observing the same things he had made him nauseous. If
he had known…
But then came the more violent messages, the more aggressive and threatening ones. He
no longer praised her. It wasn't just about winning her over and showing her that he was the
one. It was control, possession.
He believed Lisbon belonged to him.
"You don't know how much it hurt to think you were dead. Didn't you think about the damage
you'd cause me?"
"I'm sorry for my behavior the other day, I shouldn't have punished you for that. It's not your
fault. It's Jane's."
"So Patrick Jane kissed Lorelei and excused himself by saying she was just a bridge to get
to Red John. What makes you think you're not just that too?"
"Mmmm I heard from a good source that Patrick Jane is trying to get Lorelei out of federal
prison. What a stubborn man. Do you think all that's because he believes she'll give him Red
John? To me, it seems more like a man in love."
Jane only read the messages that referenced him. Not all were transcribed by Lisbon. He
decided to leave many only in her phone, but there was a pattern, and most of the messages
that spoke about him weren't transcribed into the notebook.
But he didn't just talk about Jane. He mentioned Van Pelt, and although in his other
messages he constantly praised Lisbon's beauty, in these, he compared it to the beauty and
youth of her younger subordinate.
In others, he questioned her policing skills, her leadership abilities. He compared her to Cho
and suggested that the team probably expected him to take the lead.
Hightower, Bosco, Rigsby, and Minelli were also mentioned in some of those messages.
The stalker aimed to create a rift between her and anyone she might turn to for help.
Regarding Jane, the stalker had speculated that he was the closest person to her, so most
of his messages were meant to break the trust she had in him—not just friendship, but also
romantic and professional trust.
Message by message. Day by day. Chipping away at her confidence, making her feel
inferior, alone.
Lisbon was an intelligent woman, and Jane knew she probably ignored all those messages,
aware of the sender's intention. However, it was impossible to read those words day after
day and not question them at least once.
How many times had she wanted to ask for help but decided against it? How many times
had she looked at him, about to say something, only to hold back?
He closed his eyes and let the guilt slip from his mind. There was no point in blaming
himself or wondering why she didn't turn to someone… to him. He had to focus on finding
her—there would be time for everything else later.
The door opened with a sharp bang.
"What did you find?" Olivia Benson's firm voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Nothing useful… yet," he replied, without lifting his gaze from the notebook where he was
noting down a timeline, marking some messages that stood out to him. "And?"
"And what?"
"You look like you want to tell me something. Something you didn't mention with the others
present, which makes me think it's personal or embarrassing."
Olivia Benson sighed and sat on the other side of the desk, glancing over some loose
papers. One of them caught her attention.
"It's the list of suspects Lisbon was working on," she finally said, showing him the page. It
had two rows of names written on both sides, many of them crossed out. Jane recognized
some of them. "It was hard for her to put this list together because she couldn't think of
anyone who might have become obsessed with her. So, I suggested she write down every
name that came to mind, focusing on those she thought had flirted with her or been overly
kind."
"The main problem was timing. Although he acted after you left the CBI, we don't know when
the obsession started. It could've begun with something small—maybe he didn't even know
her in person…"
Jane continued tracing his finger over the dates he had written down, noticing the variations
in the frequency of the messages. They were more insistent after key events. He was
methodical. Calculating.
"It turned out to be a list of over a hundred people. Thanks to… some assumptions, it seems
the list has been reduced to twelve people and…" Benson continued.
Jane's gaze swept over the names. Some he knew, others he didn't. The pattern in the
cross-outs caught his attention. Some names were barely marked, while others were
crossed out with more force. The neatly crossed-out ones were probably the first to be
discarded—these included some CBI members, Lisbon's ex-boyfriend who had been a
suspect in a case some time ago, a church priest, and others he didn't recognize. But one
name caught his attention. It had been crossed out, but not with a single line—it was a
scribbled mess, as though she had hesitated several times, only to write the name again
later, this time uncrossed.
He guessed that the way she had compiled the list was similar to how he had once created
his list of Red John suspects. The difference was that he had known exactly what he was
looking for, while Lisbon had been searching for someone who had shown interest in
her—something she didn't always notice, and he knew that for certain.
"So, what are those assumptions that narrowed the list down?"
"There were several factors, but it all comes down to how much he knows about Lisbon's
life. Either he works in law enforcement or he has enough money to pay for information…"
Nothing she said surprised Jane. Given Lisbon's environment and limited social life, the
stalker was probably an agent or someone wealthy… and in that last regard, two names
sprang to mind, though both were already crossed off the list.
"Also, the two physical attacks helped to rule out some suspects…"
Jane lifted his head from his notes and gave her a questioning look.
"The first attack in Denver helped us narrow down the list. We ruled out anyone who
couldn't have been there. But the second attack was more complex… and since most of the
suspects are from the area or nearby, we managed to discard a few."
"Why are you being vague about that attack? You barely mentioned it before, and now it's
obvious you're avoiding the subject."
"It's not something Lisbon wanted the whole team to know. Plus, it's already under
investigation."
Jane quickly lost his patience.
"Yeah, well, she didn't want to be kidnapped by a psychopath either, and yet here we are."
Olivia frowned at him but continued.
"It was during poker night. She felt dizzy, thought she had drunk too much. She went to the
bathroom, and... someone followed her in. There was something in the drinks; everyone
ended up intoxicated."
"A couple of judges, Bertram, the FBI director... and Hightower. The recordings disappeared,
and no one saw anything."
"Hightower? I didn't know she attended poker nights," Jane said, though it wasn't
strange—after all, she was head of the CBI, and Lisbon had probably invited her.
"Yes, but as you can imagine, Lisbon didn't tell her anything beyond what they already
knew. She called me as soon as she could. It took me a lot to convince her to get a rape
exam, but..."
Jane didn't react right away. He didn't ask, didn't make a sarcastic comment, didn't even
release the breath caught in his chest. He just froze, staring at the notebook page without
really seeing it.
"You said he didn't…" Jane asked quietly.
The ticking of the office clock became unbearably loud for him. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
"No… There was no penetration, if that's what you're asking. At least, that's what Lisbon
told me. The rape kit didn't show anything. This time, he left DNA, but it wasn't in the
system."
Jane felt a cold wave of rage run down his spine. The notebook flew from his hand, hitting
the wall with a dull thud. He stood there, chest heaving, hands trembling. He wanted to
scream but bit his tongue. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.
"DNA?" His voice was rougher than he expected.
"Under her nails. Lisbon thinks she scratched his face, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't fully
conscious."
Jane slammed the notebook shut.
"But again, she didn't have time to process what happened, because the next day she was
called to an important case."
Jane swallowed hard.
"Lorelei."
It wasn't a question.
In any other case, Lisbon could've taken a few hours off, but when Lorelei Martin kidnapped,
tortured, and murdered a woman, Hightower and Bertram demanded Lisbon's immediate
presence. No one said it, but everyone knew about Jane's weakness for Lorelei. And he
couldn't say they were wrong—he hadn't even noticed how sleep-deprived both his bosses
looked.
Jane let out a dry, bitter laugh, though it tasted like ashes in his mouth. He stood up
suddenly, pushing the chair back with a screech. He paced back and forth like a caged
animal. How had he not seen it before? How had he been so blind?
Lisbon had been too busy making sure he didn't dive headfirst after Lorelei to take care of
herself.
From that moment, Lisbon avoided being alone with him.
He hadn't noticed at first; she had always been reserved. But after that case, her office door
stayed closed longer than usual. Her responses were sharper, as if she wanted to talk to him
as little as possible.
Guilt coiled in his chest like a snake, tightening slowly.
If he had paid attention.
If he had looked beyond his own demons…
Maybe he would've noticed she was fighting hers too.
What a fraud of a psychic, he told himself. What kind of friend was he?
After Lorelei's second escape, Lisbon stopped inviting him to her house. At the time, he
thought it was because he had hurt her. Now, he knew it was because she was scared. She
was probably afraid for him too. The jealousy of a psychopath wasn't something you wanted
to provoke—especially if you thought it could be an experienced agent.
"It wasn't your fault… I don't know you. Everything I know about you is through Teresa's
eyes, and let me tell you, that's a very good view. She wouldn't want you to feel guilty…"
Benson said, but Jane wasn't listening.
He began scrolling through the messages on the phone, searching for those closest to the
date of the second attack. He found that, a couple of days after the attack, Lisbon did
something she hadn't done all along—she responded aggressively to a message.
"What did he send her here? Lisbon didn't note it in the notebook, but it was important
enough to make her lose control and respond," Jane asked, showing the message to Olivia.
"He sent her a video. She didn't tell me exactly what it contained. Only that it was from
Lennon's security camera—the guy Lorelei shot…" she said, trying to recall every detail.
"She said that video wasn't among the case evidence and that if someone had gotten
access to it, her career would've been at stake."
He felt like vomiting just imagining what the video contained. He had done far worse things
than kissing a fugitive murderer, but the thought of Lisbon watching that video, her trust
breaking apart, made him nauseous.
Jane clenched his teeth and ran his hands over his face, but the pressure in his chest didn't
ease. He slammed his fist onto the table, the bang echoing through the office. The tangle of
pieces in his mind twisted, mocking him.
What if it was already too late?
What if every lost second drove her further away?
"And Lisbon destroyed that video." It wasn't a question. He knew she wouldn't leave behind
anything that could hurt him.
"Yes," Olivia confirmed. "It was already destroyed when she called me. No fingerprints, no
evidence at all."
"Did you investigate the people who worked on the case?"
"Yes. No one matched the list of suspects. But I think it could be connected to Red John."
That caught Jane's attention—he was about to dismiss the idea immediately, but Olivia
spoke faster.
"At first, I thought it was just a coincidence that both attacks happened alongside important
cases. It's unlikely, but not impossible. Lisbon is a team leader; it's very likely she'd be
required in the field. Her pride and sense of responsibility would stop her from taking time off
for something she didn't consider debilitating, but…"
"In both cases, the messages intensified a few days before, and there was a veiled threat on
the same day. Also, both times, he sent messages about me—about questioning her trust in
me and…"
"And he emphasized how Red John and your revenge will always be your priority. It's like he
knew something was going to happen that day, so his moment to strike was the day before,"
Benson said slowly, as if giving him time to process the idea.
"If Red John orchestrated Lorelei's escape and followed her steps afterward, it's possible
the stalker found out through him. But Lisbon was sure he wasn't a follower of Red John."
Jane exhaled slowly, trying to organize his thoughts.
The stalker knew Lorelei would escape from federal prison, but he couldn't have found out
through Red John—because, of course, it was Jane himself who planned and executed the
escape.
Besides, after the escape, Lorelei was supposed to be off Red John's radar, searching for
the truth about her sister's murder.
How could Red John have known when she would attack?
"And since the threats and attacks were timely, it's likely he's not acting alone. Red John
may not be interested in Lisbon, but he could be interested in manipulating you," the
sergeant continued, regaining his attention.
Could it be possible that Red John was behind all this? He didn't think so—not directly, at
least.
If the stalker knew about Lorelei's escape before it happened, then he had to be connected
to the people involved in that plan: himself, and the other person he had asked for
help—Bret Stiles.
Bret Stiles owed him a favor, and reluctantly, he repaid it by providing a contact who helped
with the escape.
But Jane doubted Stiles was the stalker. Still, somehow, the church was connected to both
things: Lorelei's escape and Red John.
Stiles had already boasted about his connection to the killer—what kind of connection was
something Jane had never figured out. After the last case, he assumed they might've met at
that farm years ago, but he wasn't sure of anything.
But when he thought of Visualize, another name came to mind.
He cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.
"Where are you going?" Olivia asked, watching Jane bolt from the office as though struck by
an epiphany.