Causality (5/19)
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
Part Five
Jane sat on the couch, staring into space. His life had been turned upside down twelve hours ago. Just twelve hours. Not even a day. At every creak of the floorboard, he expected Angela to emerge from their bedroom, to sit by his side and wrap her arms around him. Every time he heard the footsteps of somebody else heading towards their own apartment, he thought she’d come through the door with a bag of groceries in her hand. But she didn’t, of course she didn’t. It was impossible. She was dead and he’d seen it happen with his own eyes. And he hadn’t been able to do a thing to stop it.
Instead, Danny Ruskin was there. He was the one who had practically forced a cup of tea into his hands. He was the one sitting on the chair, Angela’s favorite, the only thing that had survived from his own place. And he was staring at him, as if it were Jane’s fault that Angela had been shot dead As if he’d had any real control whatsoever over the situation.
It wasn’t surprising though, not really. Danny had always made it pretty clear that he didn’t like Jane. He’d always blamed him for ‘convincing’ Angela to leave the carnival circuit, when really, it was the other way around. If it hadn’t been for Angela, the idea that he could leave, or that he even wanted to, probably wouldn’t have ever crossed his mind. But still, Danny seemed convinced that Jane had stolen his elder sister and tied her down to one spot for no other reason than to spite him. It was little wonder that they had never gotten along, however much Angela had wished they would.
“What happened?”
Jane shrugged. What was the point in going over it again and again? He’d already explained himself to the cops once. And that woman, Lisbon or something, had said that she would drop by today, with some follow-up questions. Give him time to think about things some more, to let the event sink in. As if more time to think was what he really needed right now. Angela was dead, gone, and thinking wasn’t going to change that.
“Patrick, I said…”
“I heard what you said.”
The men glared at one another and after a second, Jane flinched. There was a certain look in Danny’s eyes, one he didn’t like. It was almost asking ‘why did my sister die and not you?’ Right now, Jane wished it had been him. That he could change places with Angela, but he knew deep down, that that was simply survivors’ guilt. It was only natural that he’d feel like this, especially given how raw the experience was. The last thing he needed was Danny staring at him and judging him.
“It happened quickly.”
“People always say that,” Danny said critically, “you’re sounding like a mark.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what?”
“You’ve never been in a situation like this.”
“I’ve just lost my sister.”
“And I’ve just lost my fiancée!” he shouted back and Danny looked stunned.
“What? You… you,” he stuttered, as comprehension slowly dawned. “You asked her to marry you? When?”
“Last night, just before…”
“Patrick… I…”
Danny looked lost, like he was losing control of the situation. That was something that was relatively unusual for someone with his confidence and demeanor. After all, like Jane, Danny was a showman at heart. A fake psychic, a conman. Jane had always regarded him as being less talented; Danny didn’t quite have the same people skills as he did, and it showed whenever he interacted with him. Naturally, that meant Danny resented Jane for not only the effect he’d had on his sister, but the simple fact that he was a constant threat whenever it came to clientele. Now, they were both a mess, for the same reason. And at the same time, they were both trying to point the blame for what had happened to Angela.
“I think, maybe, you should leave.”
“Yeah,” Danny agreed and Jane was relieved. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me know if you want help organizing the funeral.”
“I will.”
The door slammed behind Danny and Jane visibly relaxed. He didn’t start crying; he’d already shed far too many tears and it was growing exhausting. Instead, he returned to his silent vigil and stared at a photograph of Angela on the wall. There was no point in moving; the cops would be here soon. And then, they would just want to ask the same old, tired questions that everybody would be asking him for weeks on end. Offer him faux sympathy and promises that they’d capture Angela’s killer too. As if words could help. Like it would change a thing.
Already, Jane knew that it wouldn’t.
xxx
When the others had arrived, Rigsby and Cho apparently, Lisbon seemed to start ignoring Angela once more. Either that or she had stopped hearing her again. Angela found it frustrating. There seemed to be only one person who could actually hear her for some unfathomable reason and she was in denial, pretending she couldn’t. Why? She had no idea. It wasn’t as if the woman was going mad. Angela was still a living, breathing human being and it was the rest of the world that had a problem.
Not knowing what else to do, Angela followed Lisbon out of her office and into the bullpen. It was the first time she had been in a police investigation department and she had a feeling that she would find it all the more interesting if people weren’t just blanking her. Besides, she was horrified at the complete and utter lack of security. She was able to walk through the building freely and nobody batted an eyelid. They just didn’t seem to care that she - a civilian - could easily access confidential files and spread the information around. It was like everyone but she was in some sort of a daze. Except, of course, for those brief moments when Lisbon seemed to acknowledge her presence.
“Van Pelt, I want you to look into Patrick Jane and Angela Ruskin’s financials. See if there’s anything there which would cause them to be targeted…”
“I am here, you know,” Angela said, sniffing slightly.
“Rigsby, you go to the television center. Ask around. I want to know who they saw and what they did there last night…”
“I could tell you that.”
“Cho, you’re with…”
“Agent Lisbon, I demand that you-”
“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.”
Angela spun on her heels to see a bearded man staring at her with a wan smile. He was clutching hold of a paper bag as if his life depended on it. It had taken her somewhat by surprise. After all, he had been the first person to actually speak to her, barring Lisbon’s brief moment of comprehension in the early morning.
“Why not? Why won’t she listen to me? She did before.”
“She can’t hear you.”
“But she did.”
“That was just luck; it stops after a while. Believe me, I’ve tried,” the man said sadly and led Angela over to a battered couch. “Sometimes, you think you’re getting through to them, but most of the time, they just don’t notice.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t you get it?” he answered, somewhat surprised. “You’re a ghost.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“No, really. You’re dead.”
“Stop it.”
“Did you see yourself earlier-”
“Yes, but it’s just a practical joke, right? One of those twisted camera shows-”
“No, it’s all real sweetie,” he said and patted her on the shoulder. “Welcome to the afterlife.”
“There’s no such thing as an afterlife.”
“Funny, you look pretty dead to me.”
“How is that funny?” Angela snapped angrily.
“Try knocking that pile of paper off that desk there,” he said, nodding towards one of the desks in the bullpen. “Go on.”
“Why would I want to do something as stupid as that?”
“It’ll prove my point. How did you get here?”
“I followed her.”
Angela pointed at Lisbon, who was putting on her jacket. The man nodded and smiled. There was a look in his eyes that suggested he had a certain fondness for the petite agent. Jane wasn’t the only person who could read people fairly easily and besides even if she hadn’t been able to, she had been around him for more than long enough to pick up a thing or two. Reluctantly, she sat beside him and eyed him nervously. Despite the fact he was obviously slightly crazy, it was a relief that somebody was finally acknowledging her presence.
“That’s what I did.”
“What? Followed her? Agent Lisbon?”
“No, not Agent Lisbon. Though she is a sweet little thing. It was Agent Maguire in my day. He left a long while ago. Nearly seventeen years, it’s been.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” he replied, grinning. “And do you know where I died?”
“No, where?” she answered, humoring the crazy old man.
“Just out there,” he said, after jumping to his feet and pointing outside a nearby window. “And you know what? They never closed my case. Never found my killer.”
“I’m sorry,” Angela replied, not knowing what else to say.
“Don’t be. Though you’d think, being shot in the back of the head, directly in front of CBI headquarters that they’d have had a clue. Still, too late now. A cold case is what they call it.”
He started ambling out of the bullpen. Angela immediately sprang to her feet. What he’d said was slowly beginning to make sense, but that didn’t mean she wanted to accept it. All her life, she’d been reluctant to believe in the afterlife, the supernatural. And that meant her whole belief system was being threatened. Somehow, it felt more natural to cling onto what she knew and understood and treat everyone else as crazy as a consequence. Besides, there was still the old ‘it’s just a dream’ theory that she could always rely on.
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Don’t go by names anymore, miss. No point. Everyone comes and goes and I’m just stuck here.”
“What should I call you then?”
“The CBI Ghost will do.”
“Oh please, ghosts don’t-”
The CBI Ghost paused by a stack of files. With a devilish grin, he knocked them off. Angela was momentarily outraged. An exaggerated action like that wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Warily, she glanced around at the team who, excepting Lisbon, were still sitting around the table. All of them were looking fairly startled, though none of them were looking directly at her. Instead, they were looking at the mess on the floor, stunned.
“You try now,” he called before disappearing around a corner.
“What was that?” Rigsby asked dubiously before standing to pick them up.
Cho shrugged in response. “You didn’t put your files on your desk properly again.”
“But I swear I did.”
“Yeah, man, you always say that. And it always happens on your desk.”
Frowning, Angela waited until Rigsby had put the folders back on his desk. When he did so, she lifted her hand and pushed at them. Her hand went straight through the paper, as if there had been nothing but air in front of it. She repeated the movement a second time, but still, the paperwork remained firmly in place. Just to be sure, she tried a third and final time before giving up. For some reason, she was having no effect whatsoever on her environment and she didn’t like it one bit.
What the hell was going on? Was the supposed CBI Ghost telling the truth? Everything he said seemed to make sense and yet she was desperate for proof that he had been lying. However, it was becoming less and less likely that he was. People weren’t noticing her, she couldn’t move objects or have any effect on her environment and then there was the - her - body, which she had seen with her own eyes. If this were a court case, the jury would be beginning to find the evidence undeniable. She collapsed back down on the leather couch and rested her head in her hands. This was ridiculous, crazy.
How the hell did you come to terms with dying?
xxx
It was mid-morning before Lisbon and Cho headed towards Jane’s apartment. After the debacle of Rigsby’s files falling off of his desk, Van Pelt had piped up about the concept of ghosts. Though Rigsby had been quick to deny their existence and Lisbon had half-heartedly agreed, she wasn’t entirely sure at that specific moment in time. There was something about the way the morning had been going that unsettled her, but still she pushed it to one side. It was just because she was in a state of delirium. Being woken up in the dead of the night for a new case had that effect on people.
Still, at least they were finally on their way. Lisbon still felt a touch guilty about the resentment she’d had built up about Jane over the prior day. Then again, it was hardly her fault that something so catastrophic had happened to him last night. It wasn’t as if she were psychic, like she could forewarn such events. It wasn’t as if anybody could do that. But still, seeing the devastation in his face reminded her that he was still human, not some conman doomed to irritate her at work.
And now, she was doubtful that he would even join her at the CBI at all. If she were in his shoes, she certainly wouldn’t bother any longer.
Neither of them noticed Angela Ruskin slip into the van behind them. Instead, Lisbon and Cho remained mostly quiet, apart from Cho giving her the occasional direction to the apartment complex. Angela tutted and sighed behind them, though naturally, neither of them seemed to care about what she did. Lisbon just remained firmly focused on the road ahead of her. The feeling of exhaustion was slowly subsiding as she finally had something decent to focus on, to keep her awake. And of course, Cho’s presence stopped her from having any hope of noticing the woman who was following them around, in the desperate search of answers.
When they reached the apartment complex, Angela was frustrated to find she actually had to wait for people to open doors before she could enter her own home. Not that Lisbon cared; all she wanted was answers to a few questions from Jane. Then, there would be the hope of furthering their investigation into Angela’s death. She certainly didn’t realize that Angela was in denial, that she couldn’t accept the fact that her body was in a morgue and her spirit was elsewhere.
As they waited for the elevator, Angela continued yelling at Lisbon and on a couple of occasions, she noticed. Turning to Cho, she questioned if he had heard anything too and he just shook his head, stating that it was probably people speaking inside their own homes. Lisbon nodded in response, considering that Cho’s theory made sense. She wasn’t going mad. And as she disregarded it, Angela grew more frustrated, yet again. As far as she was concerned, both Lisbon and Cho were blind to what was standing right in front of them.
When they got to Jane’s apartment, Lisbon knocked sharply on the door. As she did so, she shivered slightly. It felt like somebody had just walked over her grave. She certainly didn’t realize that Angela was standing behind her, trying desperately to shake some sense into her. However, as soon as Jane appeared at the door, all puffy-eyed and shattered looking, Angela stopped. Lisbon offered her hand quietly, which Jane gratefully shook.
“Patrick…” Angela whispered gently and attempted to reach and touch his face. “Patrick, I’m fine. It’s okay, it’s just a big misunderstanding…”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Lisbon muttered as Jane led them through to the lounge. “Thank you for agreeing to see us again.”
To Part Six
Part Five
Jane sat on the couch, staring into space. His life had been turned upside down twelve hours ago. Just twelve hours. Not even a day. At every creak of the floorboard, he expected Angela to emerge from their bedroom, to sit by his side and wrap her arms around him. Every time he heard the footsteps of somebody else heading towards their own apartment, he thought she’d come through the door with a bag of groceries in her hand. But she didn’t, of course she didn’t. It was impossible. She was dead and he’d seen it happen with his own eyes. And he hadn’t been able to do a thing to stop it.
Instead, Danny Ruskin was there. He was the one who had practically forced a cup of tea into his hands. He was the one sitting on the chair, Angela’s favorite, the only thing that had survived from his own place. And he was staring at him, as if it were Jane’s fault that Angela had been shot dead As if he’d had any real control whatsoever over the situation.
It wasn’t surprising though, not really. Danny had always made it pretty clear that he didn’t like Jane. He’d always blamed him for ‘convincing’ Angela to leave the carnival circuit, when really, it was the other way around. If it hadn’t been for Angela, the idea that he could leave, or that he even wanted to, probably wouldn’t have ever crossed his mind. But still, Danny seemed convinced that Jane had stolen his elder sister and tied her down to one spot for no other reason than to spite him. It was little wonder that they had never gotten along, however much Angela had wished they would.
“What happened?”
Jane shrugged. What was the point in going over it again and again? He’d already explained himself to the cops once. And that woman, Lisbon or something, had said that she would drop by today, with some follow-up questions. Give him time to think about things some more, to let the event sink in. As if more time to think was what he really needed right now. Angela was dead, gone, and thinking wasn’t going to change that.
“Patrick, I said…”
“I heard what you said.”
The men glared at one another and after a second, Jane flinched. There was a certain look in Danny’s eyes, one he didn’t like. It was almost asking ‘why did my sister die and not you?’ Right now, Jane wished it had been him. That he could change places with Angela, but he knew deep down, that that was simply survivors’ guilt. It was only natural that he’d feel like this, especially given how raw the experience was. The last thing he needed was Danny staring at him and judging him.
“It happened quickly.”
“People always say that,” Danny said critically, “you’re sounding like a mark.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what?”
“You’ve never been in a situation like this.”
“I’ve just lost my sister.”
“And I’ve just lost my fiancée!” he shouted back and Danny looked stunned.
“What? You… you,” he stuttered, as comprehension slowly dawned. “You asked her to marry you? When?”
“Last night, just before…”
“Patrick… I…”
Danny looked lost, like he was losing control of the situation. That was something that was relatively unusual for someone with his confidence and demeanor. After all, like Jane, Danny was a showman at heart. A fake psychic, a conman. Jane had always regarded him as being less talented; Danny didn’t quite have the same people skills as he did, and it showed whenever he interacted with him. Naturally, that meant Danny resented Jane for not only the effect he’d had on his sister, but the simple fact that he was a constant threat whenever it came to clientele. Now, they were both a mess, for the same reason. And at the same time, they were both trying to point the blame for what had happened to Angela.
“I think, maybe, you should leave.”
“Yeah,” Danny agreed and Jane was relieved. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me know if you want help organizing the funeral.”
“I will.”
The door slammed behind Danny and Jane visibly relaxed. He didn’t start crying; he’d already shed far too many tears and it was growing exhausting. Instead, he returned to his silent vigil and stared at a photograph of Angela on the wall. There was no point in moving; the cops would be here soon. And then, they would just want to ask the same old, tired questions that everybody would be asking him for weeks on end. Offer him faux sympathy and promises that they’d capture Angela’s killer too. As if words could help. Like it would change a thing.
Already, Jane knew that it wouldn’t.
xxx
When the others had arrived, Rigsby and Cho apparently, Lisbon seemed to start ignoring Angela once more. Either that or she had stopped hearing her again. Angela found it frustrating. There seemed to be only one person who could actually hear her for some unfathomable reason and she was in denial, pretending she couldn’t. Why? She had no idea. It wasn’t as if the woman was going mad. Angela was still a living, breathing human being and it was the rest of the world that had a problem.
Not knowing what else to do, Angela followed Lisbon out of her office and into the bullpen. It was the first time she had been in a police investigation department and she had a feeling that she would find it all the more interesting if people weren’t just blanking her. Besides, she was horrified at the complete and utter lack of security. She was able to walk through the building freely and nobody batted an eyelid. They just didn’t seem to care that she - a civilian - could easily access confidential files and spread the information around. It was like everyone but she was in some sort of a daze. Except, of course, for those brief moments when Lisbon seemed to acknowledge her presence.
“Van Pelt, I want you to look into Patrick Jane and Angela Ruskin’s financials. See if there’s anything there which would cause them to be targeted…”
“I am here, you know,” Angela said, sniffing slightly.
“Rigsby, you go to the television center. Ask around. I want to know who they saw and what they did there last night…”
“I could tell you that.”
“Cho, you’re with…”
“Agent Lisbon, I demand that you-”
“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.”
Angela spun on her heels to see a bearded man staring at her with a wan smile. He was clutching hold of a paper bag as if his life depended on it. It had taken her somewhat by surprise. After all, he had been the first person to actually speak to her, barring Lisbon’s brief moment of comprehension in the early morning.
“Why not? Why won’t she listen to me? She did before.”
“She can’t hear you.”
“But she did.”
“That was just luck; it stops after a while. Believe me, I’ve tried,” the man said sadly and led Angela over to a battered couch. “Sometimes, you think you’re getting through to them, but most of the time, they just don’t notice.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t you get it?” he answered, somewhat surprised. “You’re a ghost.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“No, really. You’re dead.”
“Stop it.”
“Did you see yourself earlier-”
“Yes, but it’s just a practical joke, right? One of those twisted camera shows-”
“No, it’s all real sweetie,” he said and patted her on the shoulder. “Welcome to the afterlife.”
“There’s no such thing as an afterlife.”
“Funny, you look pretty dead to me.”
“How is that funny?” Angela snapped angrily.
“Try knocking that pile of paper off that desk there,” he said, nodding towards one of the desks in the bullpen. “Go on.”
“Why would I want to do something as stupid as that?”
“It’ll prove my point. How did you get here?”
“I followed her.”
Angela pointed at Lisbon, who was putting on her jacket. The man nodded and smiled. There was a look in his eyes that suggested he had a certain fondness for the petite agent. Jane wasn’t the only person who could read people fairly easily and besides even if she hadn’t been able to, she had been around him for more than long enough to pick up a thing or two. Reluctantly, she sat beside him and eyed him nervously. Despite the fact he was obviously slightly crazy, it was a relief that somebody was finally acknowledging her presence.
“That’s what I did.”
“What? Followed her? Agent Lisbon?”
“No, not Agent Lisbon. Though she is a sweet little thing. It was Agent Maguire in my day. He left a long while ago. Nearly seventeen years, it’s been.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” he replied, grinning. “And do you know where I died?”
“No, where?” she answered, humoring the crazy old man.
“Just out there,” he said, after jumping to his feet and pointing outside a nearby window. “And you know what? They never closed my case. Never found my killer.”
“I’m sorry,” Angela replied, not knowing what else to say.
“Don’t be. Though you’d think, being shot in the back of the head, directly in front of CBI headquarters that they’d have had a clue. Still, too late now. A cold case is what they call it.”
He started ambling out of the bullpen. Angela immediately sprang to her feet. What he’d said was slowly beginning to make sense, but that didn’t mean she wanted to accept it. All her life, she’d been reluctant to believe in the afterlife, the supernatural. And that meant her whole belief system was being threatened. Somehow, it felt more natural to cling onto what she knew and understood and treat everyone else as crazy as a consequence. Besides, there was still the old ‘it’s just a dream’ theory that she could always rely on.
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Don’t go by names anymore, miss. No point. Everyone comes and goes and I’m just stuck here.”
“What should I call you then?”
“The CBI Ghost will do.”
“Oh please, ghosts don’t-”
The CBI Ghost paused by a stack of files. With a devilish grin, he knocked them off. Angela was momentarily outraged. An exaggerated action like that wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Warily, she glanced around at the team who, excepting Lisbon, were still sitting around the table. All of them were looking fairly startled, though none of them were looking directly at her. Instead, they were looking at the mess on the floor, stunned.
“You try now,” he called before disappearing around a corner.
“What was that?” Rigsby asked dubiously before standing to pick them up.
Cho shrugged in response. “You didn’t put your files on your desk properly again.”
“But I swear I did.”
“Yeah, man, you always say that. And it always happens on your desk.”
Frowning, Angela waited until Rigsby had put the folders back on his desk. When he did so, she lifted her hand and pushed at them. Her hand went straight through the paper, as if there had been nothing but air in front of it. She repeated the movement a second time, but still, the paperwork remained firmly in place. Just to be sure, she tried a third and final time before giving up. For some reason, she was having no effect whatsoever on her environment and she didn’t like it one bit.
What the hell was going on? Was the supposed CBI Ghost telling the truth? Everything he said seemed to make sense and yet she was desperate for proof that he had been lying. However, it was becoming less and less likely that he was. People weren’t noticing her, she couldn’t move objects or have any effect on her environment and then there was the - her - body, which she had seen with her own eyes. If this were a court case, the jury would be beginning to find the evidence undeniable. She collapsed back down on the leather couch and rested her head in her hands. This was ridiculous, crazy.
How the hell did you come to terms with dying?
xxx
It was mid-morning before Lisbon and Cho headed towards Jane’s apartment. After the debacle of Rigsby’s files falling off of his desk, Van Pelt had piped up about the concept of ghosts. Though Rigsby had been quick to deny their existence and Lisbon had half-heartedly agreed, she wasn’t entirely sure at that specific moment in time. There was something about the way the morning had been going that unsettled her, but still she pushed it to one side. It was just because she was in a state of delirium. Being woken up in the dead of the night for a new case had that effect on people.
Still, at least they were finally on their way. Lisbon still felt a touch guilty about the resentment she’d had built up about Jane over the prior day. Then again, it was hardly her fault that something so catastrophic had happened to him last night. It wasn’t as if she were psychic, like she could forewarn such events. It wasn’t as if anybody could do that. But still, seeing the devastation in his face reminded her that he was still human, not some conman doomed to irritate her at work.
And now, she was doubtful that he would even join her at the CBI at all. If she were in his shoes, she certainly wouldn’t bother any longer.
Neither of them noticed Angela Ruskin slip into the van behind them. Instead, Lisbon and Cho remained mostly quiet, apart from Cho giving her the occasional direction to the apartment complex. Angela tutted and sighed behind them, though naturally, neither of them seemed to care about what she did. Lisbon just remained firmly focused on the road ahead of her. The feeling of exhaustion was slowly subsiding as she finally had something decent to focus on, to keep her awake. And of course, Cho’s presence stopped her from having any hope of noticing the woman who was following them around, in the desperate search of answers.
When they reached the apartment complex, Angela was frustrated to find she actually had to wait for people to open doors before she could enter her own home. Not that Lisbon cared; all she wanted was answers to a few questions from Jane. Then, there would be the hope of furthering their investigation into Angela’s death. She certainly didn’t realize that Angela was in denial, that she couldn’t accept the fact that her body was in a morgue and her spirit was elsewhere.
As they waited for the elevator, Angela continued yelling at Lisbon and on a couple of occasions, she noticed. Turning to Cho, she questioned if he had heard anything too and he just shook his head, stating that it was probably people speaking inside their own homes. Lisbon nodded in response, considering that Cho’s theory made sense. She wasn’t going mad. And as she disregarded it, Angela grew more frustrated, yet again. As far as she was concerned, both Lisbon and Cho were blind to what was standing right in front of them.
When they got to Jane’s apartment, Lisbon knocked sharply on the door. As she did so, she shivered slightly. It felt like somebody had just walked over her grave. She certainly didn’t realize that Angela was standing behind her, trying desperately to shake some sense into her. However, as soon as Jane appeared at the door, all puffy-eyed and shattered looking, Angela stopped. Lisbon offered her hand quietly, which Jane gratefully shook.
“Patrick…” Angela whispered gently and attempted to reach and touch his face. “Patrick, I’m fine. It’s okay, it’s just a big misunderstanding…”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Lisbon muttered as Jane led them through to the lounge. “Thank you for agreeing to see us again.”
To Part Six