Ricochet (20/25)
Chapter Twenty
"Right, and now I want to know what your real relationship with Dr. Miller is," Jane said firmly.
They had finally found themselves in the privacy of his office and both the door and blinds were firmly shut. The rest of the team knew that under no circumstances were they to disturb them, at least for approximately ten minutes. Jane wouldn't have had it any other way. Occasionally, people accused him of being somewhat tactless when it came to dealing with others, but that treatment never extended to Teresa Lisbon. Jane knew that despite her apparently tough exterior, she was really quite fragile underneath it all. After what had happened to herself and her family, that was highly understandable. The current Red John case (and the addition of a few lingering open ends from the murder house) were enough to take her to her very limits. Jane knew that this conversation could push her over the crumbling edge and that was the very last thing that he wanted. But still, he needed to know what Lisbon's relationship with this doctor was in order to get a full scope of the case and how the woman related to the serial killer's other victims.
Red John ordinarily did have a type and Sophie did fit in the pattern to a certain extent. Most of the time, his victims were young women in their twenties and thirties, who had everything to live for. Usually, they had also just experienced a bright turning point in their lives which meant they were truly being cut down in their prime. In Sophie's case, she had just transferred from clinical practice into research, dealing with exciting developments in brain and morality research. Occasionally, he broke M.O., in either petty revenge or to teach somebody else a lesson. Lisbon's family was the prime example of the latter, though not the only occasion for it to have happened. So, the fact that Sophie was known by one of them - and especially Lisbon - was a cause for concern. If Red John was changing his pattern, then he was only going to get more dangerous. But equally, Jane knew that this could easily end up marking the prime opportunity to work out who the serial killer was and deal with him accordingly. However reluctant she was to talk, Lisbon had to. He hoped she understood the necessity, but then, she usually did. And he hoped that she trusted him to make the right decision and to treat her revelation with the dignity it required; that was what was important right now.
"She was my doctor," Lisbon eventually answered, somewhat cagily. He could tell that she loathed the situation they found themselves in, but there was nothing that either of them could do about that.
"She was a psychiatrist. You hate psychiatrists."
Lisbon shrugged. "So do you."
"Teresa..."
"Sophie Miller was a good psychiatrist. I... trusted her."
"I doubt she would have been able to keep you in the room otherwise."
"It was a locked room."
"Oh," he replied. Uncharacteristically, his voice was small and indistinct. While it wasn’t a surprise that Lisbon had seen a shrink after her husband and daughter had been killed, the fact that she hadn’t had any choice in the matter was. It immediately shattered any illusions he may have had about her being mentally strong, almost to the extent of being superhuman. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing per se, but that didn’t mean it was an easy mental adjustment for him to make.
"I'm not ashamed of my previous health issues," Lisbon answered quickly, but Jane couldn't help but wonder just how much of it was truly left in the past. "I just don't like everyone knowing about it; it doesn't define who I am today."
Just a few hours earlier, Lisbon had told him that he would have found her unrecognizable a couple of years ago. This was exactly what she had meant at the time and neither of them had expected him to discover it so soon. She had fought tooth and nail to protect this secret from her past, had even gone as far as getting Minelli - or even Director Bertram - to obliterate the information from her CBI personnel records. Despite his initial shock and discomfort at the revelation, Jane could not judge her for her stint in a mental institution; if anything, it only served to help him understand the mystery hidden in an enigma that was Ms. Teresa Lisbon. He had genuinely wondered why she had been able to reflect on her husband and daughter's murders so rationally and that was precisely why. She wouldn't have gotten to where she was today without the help of Sophie Miller. Even so, he could still have believed she was capable of doing it on her own, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that she hadn’t. In the long run, the mandatory assistance of a trained professional had probably made the recovery process a hell of a lot easier for her to deal with. Even so, Jane couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason why the psychiatrist had ultimately lost her life to a murderer. Beyond the recent promotion and Sophie Miller being of the type that Red John specialized in, it did fit as an explanation for why she was targeted. After all, Red John did everything for a reason.
That was the other major issue that came to light with this revelation. Lisbon had always been deliberately coy about why she had chosen to dedicate her life to the CBI since her family's murders. Usually, they wouldn't even dream of letting relatives work on cases or even in the building for extended periods of time; technically, they were victims too. Just because they were alive, it didn't stop them from suffering. In some ways, Jane truly believed that they were in more of a state than the victim themselves. After all, once somebody was dead, their life was over and nothing more could be done for them. The relatives and friends were the ones who had the burden to deal with. It was a pain that everybody experienced at some point in their lives, everyone was touched by loss. However, it was always all the more painful if that loved one was stolen away by somebody else. Then, more than ever, people craved for answers they weren't necessarily able to get.
"And what about Red John?" he asked somewhat tentatively. The words felt like they were sticking in the back of his throat. Jane was distinctly aware of a lump forming in the base of his throat. He dreaded the answer and how it could potentially change their working relationship. After all, it had always seemed too good to be true that she was working with them solely for the most honorable of reasons. If he were in her shoes, Jane knew that he would be out for blood. Heck, he was still spending hours of his time wondering precisely what had happened to the man who had ran over his mother and not even bothered to stop by the dying woman’s side. If he had the opportunity to deal with that person, then they wouldn’t stand a chance after Jane had finished with them. He clenched his fists and let out a measured sigh. Frustrations of the past never got him anywhere, but that had been his defining story. Just like Red John was for Teresa Lisbon.
"I mean what I've always said; Red John needs to be tried in a court of law. Only then will he be truly held accountable for every single crime that he has committed."
Sometimes, the way that Lisbon spoke still had a tendency to surprise Jane. She often reacted to crime in a similar way to cops that had fifteen to twenty years of service under their belts. It always took him a brief second to remind himself that she was just a consultant and not a cop at all. After all, she behaved far more like a cop than he ever bothered to do so. But then, he had an understanding boss in Virgil Minelli. He actively encouraged all of his subordinates to behave in the way that got the best out of them. Sometimes, he complained loudly about the paperwork that incurred, but for the most part, he didn't mind so long as it ultimately got the result that they were looking for. However, that didn't change the fact that Lisbon had a very natural aptitude for police work. Jane couldn't help but wonder if they had found themselves in the wrong roles these days.
“You’re too good. You know that, right?”
Lisbon shrugged. “It’s what I believe in.”
Briefly, her fingers touched the cross pendant that she wore on a daily basis. They rarely talked religion and for good reason; it was a dangerous subject to get involved in within the CBI offices. Even so, that necklace was the only sign of Lisbon’s beliefs; she never spoke of church, or of prayers. Only on very rare occasions did she say that she would ask God for assistance on somebody else’s behalf. From personal experience, Jane knew that the only other sign of her belief was a battered leather bible that she kept in her bedroom at home. He had immediately assumed it was a family heirloom, one of the few things her parents had kept a hold of while they traveled the carnival circuit. It had obviously been well-thumbed but still, he hadn’t dared to bring it up. It was her choice what she believed, regardless of how contradictory it appeared to be when compared to the rest of her skills. She was so in sync with her mind and that of other people too, it seemed odd that she could even consider there being another being out there.
Jane pulled up some case files, and specifically, the photographs of the crime scene that Van Pelt had taken prior to their arrival. This morning, all his thoughts had been on his brother, and now, Edward had to share his mind with Red John. It truly was a strange day, but that was merely a way of life for a senior agent for the CBI. Deep down, Jane knew that he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Regardless, he couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about the fact that the one day he had dedicated to grieving for his brother had been rudely interrupted by a seemingly clairvoyant serial killer. Of course, psychics, clairvoyants, mystics or whatever else they wanted to call themselves didn’t exist. They were merely people trained in certain skills, just like his consultant. Red John was just exceedingly clever and at least three steps in front of them. As much as he hoped that Sophie Miller’s death would provide the much-needed development and break in the case, he felt like it was unlikely already.
But, it had been so long since they last had a break. It felt like months since they had had somebody they knew was one of Red John’s men in custody. And he had slipped through their fingers, death by poisoning. Despite many hours of research, they hadn’t been able to catch the security guard who had been working with Red John too. Eventually, they had found him, dead, in the murder house along with all those other victims. His closest acquaintances had been informed, but the man had been so close, yet far away. It still felt a bit like a personal insult to know that one of Red John’s friends had somehow been placed within the CBI, unbeknownst to any of them. That ex-employee hadn’t had a single member of family, and all of his closest co-workers had had no idea. Lisbon had even resorted to hypnotism - something which they all knew was highly illegal - and yet, it had all been in vain. The lead had dried up, just like that. It felt like they were always thrown back to square one when it came to Red John and that, in Jane’s opinion, just wasn’t fair.
“We’ll catch him,” Jane assured her, but in reality, he knew he was only saying it in attempt to try and convince himself that it was true.
“I know,” she muttered in response.
xxx
Lisbon felt entirely drawn out by the end of the day. Working with Jane was always intensive and she had known that from the offset of their partnership within law enforcement. However, everything about their relationship had changed in recent months. Really, the triggering point for it all had been when she had insisted he stay with her instead of returning to the motel room where Red John had killed. She had hated the fact that Jane had even given half a thought about going back there; Red John had sent them a clear message. If he had killed in the personal space of any of the team, she would have reacted in exactly the same way. But, for some strange reason, she knew that it was Jane and Jane only that would have changed her so much. Lisbon did believe in fate and wondered if their connection was inevitable, that they would always have found one another, against all odds. Even if Jane didn't live with her for a spell, their relationship would have ended in this way anyhow. Being forced to live together, albeit temporarily, had merely sped up the process. Besides, being forced to endure the company of her father instead only served to make Lisbon miss Jane more. For some reason, it didn’t seem to matter that she saw him on a daily basis via work. It just wasn’t the same.
And now, it was becoming clear that Red John had eyes and ears everywhere. Nowhere was safe, there was nowhere they could hide. Jane was obviously a little more cautious about whether or not her connection to Sophie Miller was simply a coincidence, but Lisbon absolutely wasn't. She knew Red John and knew that when he discovered the link, he would have been drawn to her psychiatrist like a moth to a flame. The fact that she had been distracted from the cause of hunting down the serial killer probably only served to make Sophie, a blast from her recent past, all the more alluring. And, she considered, if he got a taste for it, then she would have to watch out for anyone she had ever cared about. Since she had spoken about the serial killer on television, he had been out to hurt her, to teach her a lesson about slander. While she had been careful about what she had said, more because of confidentiality, she hadn't been careful enough.
That wasn't a mistake she was willing to make twice.
Lisbon blinked. Suddenly, she saw Grace Van Pelt's body lying broken on the floor. A pool of deep red blood stained her already bright red hair. Just above her head was the famous smiley face, the one thing that everybody knew about Red John. She shuddered, opened her eyes and stared back at the paperwork. Blinking again, she saw Rigsby's body, then Cho's and eventually, Jane's. For half a second, it all felt painfully real and Lisbon knew exactly why. Although she only wanted to capture Red John to bring him to justice - not just for Andrew and Eva but for every single one of the victims he had killed - the serial killer still had an obvious personal vendetta against her. At face value, his reasons for it still seemed petty but Lisbon couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than that. There were many skeletons in her closet, things that she had actively tried to forget in order to be able to live with herself. But, these things were still buried deep in her memory palace; Lisbon couldn't just stop remembering like other people, instead, she just avoided thinking about very specific subjects at all costs.
That was a task made exceedingly difficult by the presence of her father. A lot of those memories were associated with him; as much as he had honed her skills, he had also done detrimental damage to her as well. However, she had been pleasantly surprised by his behavior during the time he had spent with her post-accident. Although they still argued occasionally, with him making cutting remarks and judgments, for the most part, he had avoided unnecessary conflict. It helped that she spent a lot of time out of the house due to work though. The paranoid cellphone calls had died down too, almost as if he realized she needed her personal space and had to apply herself fully to work, without undue distraction. He was still throwing himself into the physiotherapy with great enthusiasm, determined to regain full mobility of his bruised and battered limbs. The progress he had made seemed encouraging too; in fact, it was getting to the stage where there really was no need for him to be living under her watchful eye any longer. Lisbon really hoped that was the case. Deep down, she did love Jason Hamilton - he would always be her father, no matter what - but she was craving her personal space now.
Especially so as she still wanted to figure out what the heck was going on in her mind with regards to a certain Patrick Jane. That was definitely something which she needed space and time alone to breathe in order for her to truly be able figure it out. Once again, she tried to focus on the Red John case files that lay in front of her. They were something she had read a thousand times or more, or so it felt, but that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't have been able to see it from a different perspective today. But naturally, that was proving to be harder than it should have been. She twisted the simple gold wedding band around the ring finger of her left hand. It had never occurred to her to take it off, even after the past couple of years. Unto death do us part, she had once said to Andrew Lisbon. Death had torn them apart, but she was still deeply in love with the man. She always would be; he was her first love and the father of her only daughter. Nothing would ever change that. And she was under no illusions that she would see him alive again, that physically wasn’t possible, but the ring was her connection to Andrew like the cross was to her mother. But these thoughts, these feelings that were beginning to emerge for Jane...
Was it dishonoring his memory to fall in love with another man? Especially so, when she considered the fact she had never really achieved closure when it came to Andrew Lisbon. The very thought made her heart hurt. It didn't help matters that, yet again, she found herself in confined quarters with Jane. By choice, of course; she could easily have chosen to perch herself behind her desk in the bullpen and discussed theories with Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby instead. Still, during any Red John case, Jane’s office always felt like the right place for her to be. For just a moment, she gave up trying to read what was in front of her at all and instead, regarded Jane with a critical eye. He had his eyes closed and fingers were pressed to his temples. Not because he had a headache, but because he was deep in thought. Suddenly, his eyes sprang open and he looked at her, the expression grim.
"We're not getting anywhere," he muttered.
"I know."
"Leave it till tomorrow?"
She shrugged. Ordinarily, she would have disagreed in an instant; she would have argued that time was of an essence. If they didn't act fast, then any chance of working out the identity of Red John, never mind apprehending him, would just slip through their fingers. With these specific cases, the leads tended to die before they even had the chance to dig a little deeper. On occasion, that thought even applied literally. But she was tired and frustrated. She would have thought that after all these years of working the case, the CBI would at least have had a suspect list, but even that wasn't the case. Looking for Red John was like looking for a needle in a haystack. And that thought made her feel even more depressed about this sorry scenario. She now knew three victims of Red John's personally and Jane had known one too. And the whole team felt like that list was only going to increase now.
"I think we should go for dinner," Jane suddenly propositioned, much to her surprise. "Without the others; it’s my treat."
"Jane..." she started lamely.
"Lisbon, please. We've been working on this for hours and nothing has changed since this afternoon. Rigsby and Cho have already confirmed that the family is a non-starter. We can't interview work colleagues at Sophie Miller's old or new workplaces until tomorrow and the autopsy report isn't expected for another 24 hours either. What else can we do when we have nothing new to work with?"
"I still don't hear any reasons why you should be taking me out for dinner," Lisbon answered bluntly.
"Because you need the distraction. Red John is always personal for you and this time, even more so. You need to take your mind off it for a little while."
"I'm fine," she interrupted.
"And besides, it's what friends do," Jane soldiered on, unperturbed. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Teresa."
“Is this considered as payment in kind for this morning?”
“No,” Jane answered back and she glared at him. “Well, maybe a little.”
“You are going to have to take no for an answer, anyway.”
She folded her arms, resolute in her decision. It was for the best, she told herself. They were work colleagues, she couldn’t go complicating matters. At least not until Red John was over, but who knew how long that would take? It wasn’t as if they could hope that the serial killer would decide to take a quiet retirement out in Switzerland. And besides, even if he did, there were still many people - well into the hundreds by now - who craved justice. That was something she just couldn’t let die just yet.
“I thought you might say that.”
“Then why did you even bother trying to ask?”
“Just change it to taking a rain check?”
“Maybe,” she replied cryptically. After all, there was no saying in specifically how long he would have hoped she would be able to hold him off for.
“And make sure you eat properly tonight.”
Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
“You know, it’s only because I care.”
“I know,” she whispered quietly and picked up her purse from the floor. “Goodnight Jane. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t you stay here all night, either. Go home, get some rest.”
“Yes, Mom,” he replied with a grin.
She shook her head and left the room promptly. After making a detour to the bullpen to bid farewell to the guys, she headed straight to the elevator. Lisbon knew that the rest of the team was in for a long night at work and she felt a pang of guilt over leaving so soon. But, there was only a finite amount of things that she was capable of doing; some stuff was simply best left to the pros. As she drove home, she attempted to rid her mind of all thoughts about Red John. She didn’t want her father to know the serial killer had chosen to resurface again. That would be a sign of weakness and thus, a way for him to take advantage of her again. Lisbon just couldn’t afford to let that happen again; he had controlled her for far too much of her adult life already.
When she pulled up in front of her modest townhouse, Lisbon closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. When she took a look at her home, she realized something was off. None of the lights were on; her dad wasn’t there. A spasm of fear ran through her body, but not necessarily for the right reasons. Lisbon shook her head, deciding she was being ridiculous and headed inside. This was what she wanted, she firmly reminded herself. He was merely reclaiming his independence, just as a man of his age should. It would be a long while until Jason Hamilton would allow himself to be dragged away to a care home, anyway.
It was another two hours until he turned up on her doorstep. At nine pm, Lisbon had found herself getting increasingly worried. He didn’t say anything to her as he sidled inside, his arms laden with bags from the local grocery store. Instead, he headed straight for the kitchen and started to put everything away. Lisbon followed him through, quietly judging him for his behavior. He hadn’t even messaged her once all day, in spite of his opinion on her accompanying Jane to his brother’s funeral. Maybe, the silent treatment was just his way of expressing his disgust. And if it was, then he could go to hell. She knew that she had done the right thing.
“Aren’t your doctors still telling you to take it easy?” she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“And here was me, thinking that you wanted me to start making efforts to move out,” he muttered under his breath before continuing, louder. “And besides, I don’t think my daughter of all people should be judging me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Besides, I’ve been helping you.”
“You have?” she echoed, incredulous.
“Yes. I’ve set up a poker game for you to play in, with some of the brass from a local law firm. I know you can take them for all their worth, hypnotize nasty little habits like smoking and alcoholism out of them, and pretend to speak to their dead relatives. In just one night, I’m sure you could raise enough cash to buy me my own place and get me out of your hair.”
“No,” she replied, immediately stubborn. There was absolutely no way she was going to do such a thing. She only ever played poker with the team these days, and only ever for candy, potato chips or the like. As far as she was concerned, she always had an unfair advantage. And then, there were his other, less salacious plans for her for the evening. It was simply out of the question.
“No?”
“No. I don’t do that anymore.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Teresa. You may have shed my surname, got yourself a boring, respectable job and pretended to be a better person, but you will always be my daughter. You will always be a Hamilton, through and through.”
Although this wasn’t necessarily the worst thing he had said to her during his re-emergence in her life, it was the thing that hurt the most. It was more the timing than anything else. If she hadn’t been to a funeral this morning, empathizing with Jane’s situation and then hadn’t had to endure the loss of her psychiatrist to Red John, then maybe she might have been able to feel a little differently. As it was, she steadied herself against the counter and tried to regain her composure. If she knew he had somewhere else to stay, then she would have kicked him out on his ass in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was her father. However, he had already made it clear that he had nowhere else to go. She just couldn’t force him out on the streets; she refused to have that on her conscience.
“I was never like you in the first place,” she eventually replied, keeping her tone as even as feasibly possible.
“You say that now, but one day, when you least expect it, the past will catch up with you. And don’t come crying to me when it does. Because then, you’ll know that you have been lying to yourself for these past few years. I promise you that.”
To Chapter Twenty One
"Right, and now I want to know what your real relationship with Dr. Miller is," Jane said firmly.
They had finally found themselves in the privacy of his office and both the door and blinds were firmly shut. The rest of the team knew that under no circumstances were they to disturb them, at least for approximately ten minutes. Jane wouldn't have had it any other way. Occasionally, people accused him of being somewhat tactless when it came to dealing with others, but that treatment never extended to Teresa Lisbon. Jane knew that despite her apparently tough exterior, she was really quite fragile underneath it all. After what had happened to herself and her family, that was highly understandable. The current Red John case (and the addition of a few lingering open ends from the murder house) were enough to take her to her very limits. Jane knew that this conversation could push her over the crumbling edge and that was the very last thing that he wanted. But still, he needed to know what Lisbon's relationship with this doctor was in order to get a full scope of the case and how the woman related to the serial killer's other victims.
Red John ordinarily did have a type and Sophie did fit in the pattern to a certain extent. Most of the time, his victims were young women in their twenties and thirties, who had everything to live for. Usually, they had also just experienced a bright turning point in their lives which meant they were truly being cut down in their prime. In Sophie's case, she had just transferred from clinical practice into research, dealing with exciting developments in brain and morality research. Occasionally, he broke M.O., in either petty revenge or to teach somebody else a lesson. Lisbon's family was the prime example of the latter, though not the only occasion for it to have happened. So, the fact that Sophie was known by one of them - and especially Lisbon - was a cause for concern. If Red John was changing his pattern, then he was only going to get more dangerous. But equally, Jane knew that this could easily end up marking the prime opportunity to work out who the serial killer was and deal with him accordingly. However reluctant she was to talk, Lisbon had to. He hoped she understood the necessity, but then, she usually did. And he hoped that she trusted him to make the right decision and to treat her revelation with the dignity it required; that was what was important right now.
"She was my doctor," Lisbon eventually answered, somewhat cagily. He could tell that she loathed the situation they found themselves in, but there was nothing that either of them could do about that.
"She was a psychiatrist. You hate psychiatrists."
Lisbon shrugged. "So do you."
"Teresa..."
"Sophie Miller was a good psychiatrist. I... trusted her."
"I doubt she would have been able to keep you in the room otherwise."
"It was a locked room."
"Oh," he replied. Uncharacteristically, his voice was small and indistinct. While it wasn’t a surprise that Lisbon had seen a shrink after her husband and daughter had been killed, the fact that she hadn’t had any choice in the matter was. It immediately shattered any illusions he may have had about her being mentally strong, almost to the extent of being superhuman. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing per se, but that didn’t mean it was an easy mental adjustment for him to make.
"I'm not ashamed of my previous health issues," Lisbon answered quickly, but Jane couldn't help but wonder just how much of it was truly left in the past. "I just don't like everyone knowing about it; it doesn't define who I am today."
Just a few hours earlier, Lisbon had told him that he would have found her unrecognizable a couple of years ago. This was exactly what she had meant at the time and neither of them had expected him to discover it so soon. She had fought tooth and nail to protect this secret from her past, had even gone as far as getting Minelli - or even Director Bertram - to obliterate the information from her CBI personnel records. Despite his initial shock and discomfort at the revelation, Jane could not judge her for her stint in a mental institution; if anything, it only served to help him understand the mystery hidden in an enigma that was Ms. Teresa Lisbon. He had genuinely wondered why she had been able to reflect on her husband and daughter's murders so rationally and that was precisely why. She wouldn't have gotten to where she was today without the help of Sophie Miller. Even so, he could still have believed she was capable of doing it on her own, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that she hadn’t. In the long run, the mandatory assistance of a trained professional had probably made the recovery process a hell of a lot easier for her to deal with. Even so, Jane couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason why the psychiatrist had ultimately lost her life to a murderer. Beyond the recent promotion and Sophie Miller being of the type that Red John specialized in, it did fit as an explanation for why she was targeted. After all, Red John did everything for a reason.
That was the other major issue that came to light with this revelation. Lisbon had always been deliberately coy about why she had chosen to dedicate her life to the CBI since her family's murders. Usually, they wouldn't even dream of letting relatives work on cases or even in the building for extended periods of time; technically, they were victims too. Just because they were alive, it didn't stop them from suffering. In some ways, Jane truly believed that they were in more of a state than the victim themselves. After all, once somebody was dead, their life was over and nothing more could be done for them. The relatives and friends were the ones who had the burden to deal with. It was a pain that everybody experienced at some point in their lives, everyone was touched by loss. However, it was always all the more painful if that loved one was stolen away by somebody else. Then, more than ever, people craved for answers they weren't necessarily able to get.
"And what about Red John?" he asked somewhat tentatively. The words felt like they were sticking in the back of his throat. Jane was distinctly aware of a lump forming in the base of his throat. He dreaded the answer and how it could potentially change their working relationship. After all, it had always seemed too good to be true that she was working with them solely for the most honorable of reasons. If he were in her shoes, Jane knew that he would be out for blood. Heck, he was still spending hours of his time wondering precisely what had happened to the man who had ran over his mother and not even bothered to stop by the dying woman’s side. If he had the opportunity to deal with that person, then they wouldn’t stand a chance after Jane had finished with them. He clenched his fists and let out a measured sigh. Frustrations of the past never got him anywhere, but that had been his defining story. Just like Red John was for Teresa Lisbon.
"I mean what I've always said; Red John needs to be tried in a court of law. Only then will he be truly held accountable for every single crime that he has committed."
Sometimes, the way that Lisbon spoke still had a tendency to surprise Jane. She often reacted to crime in a similar way to cops that had fifteen to twenty years of service under their belts. It always took him a brief second to remind himself that she was just a consultant and not a cop at all. After all, she behaved far more like a cop than he ever bothered to do so. But then, he had an understanding boss in Virgil Minelli. He actively encouraged all of his subordinates to behave in the way that got the best out of them. Sometimes, he complained loudly about the paperwork that incurred, but for the most part, he didn't mind so long as it ultimately got the result that they were looking for. However, that didn't change the fact that Lisbon had a very natural aptitude for police work. Jane couldn't help but wonder if they had found themselves in the wrong roles these days.
“You’re too good. You know that, right?”
Lisbon shrugged. “It’s what I believe in.”
Briefly, her fingers touched the cross pendant that she wore on a daily basis. They rarely talked religion and for good reason; it was a dangerous subject to get involved in within the CBI offices. Even so, that necklace was the only sign of Lisbon’s beliefs; she never spoke of church, or of prayers. Only on very rare occasions did she say that she would ask God for assistance on somebody else’s behalf. From personal experience, Jane knew that the only other sign of her belief was a battered leather bible that she kept in her bedroom at home. He had immediately assumed it was a family heirloom, one of the few things her parents had kept a hold of while they traveled the carnival circuit. It had obviously been well-thumbed but still, he hadn’t dared to bring it up. It was her choice what she believed, regardless of how contradictory it appeared to be when compared to the rest of her skills. She was so in sync with her mind and that of other people too, it seemed odd that she could even consider there being another being out there.
Jane pulled up some case files, and specifically, the photographs of the crime scene that Van Pelt had taken prior to their arrival. This morning, all his thoughts had been on his brother, and now, Edward had to share his mind with Red John. It truly was a strange day, but that was merely a way of life for a senior agent for the CBI. Deep down, Jane knew that he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Regardless, he couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about the fact that the one day he had dedicated to grieving for his brother had been rudely interrupted by a seemingly clairvoyant serial killer. Of course, psychics, clairvoyants, mystics or whatever else they wanted to call themselves didn’t exist. They were merely people trained in certain skills, just like his consultant. Red John was just exceedingly clever and at least three steps in front of them. As much as he hoped that Sophie Miller’s death would provide the much-needed development and break in the case, he felt like it was unlikely already.
But, it had been so long since they last had a break. It felt like months since they had had somebody they knew was one of Red John’s men in custody. And he had slipped through their fingers, death by poisoning. Despite many hours of research, they hadn’t been able to catch the security guard who had been working with Red John too. Eventually, they had found him, dead, in the murder house along with all those other victims. His closest acquaintances had been informed, but the man had been so close, yet far away. It still felt a bit like a personal insult to know that one of Red John’s friends had somehow been placed within the CBI, unbeknownst to any of them. That ex-employee hadn’t had a single member of family, and all of his closest co-workers had had no idea. Lisbon had even resorted to hypnotism - something which they all knew was highly illegal - and yet, it had all been in vain. The lead had dried up, just like that. It felt like they were always thrown back to square one when it came to Red John and that, in Jane’s opinion, just wasn’t fair.
“We’ll catch him,” Jane assured her, but in reality, he knew he was only saying it in attempt to try and convince himself that it was true.
“I know,” she muttered in response.
xxx
Lisbon felt entirely drawn out by the end of the day. Working with Jane was always intensive and she had known that from the offset of their partnership within law enforcement. However, everything about their relationship had changed in recent months. Really, the triggering point for it all had been when she had insisted he stay with her instead of returning to the motel room where Red John had killed. She had hated the fact that Jane had even given half a thought about going back there; Red John had sent them a clear message. If he had killed in the personal space of any of the team, she would have reacted in exactly the same way. But, for some strange reason, she knew that it was Jane and Jane only that would have changed her so much. Lisbon did believe in fate and wondered if their connection was inevitable, that they would always have found one another, against all odds. Even if Jane didn't live with her for a spell, their relationship would have ended in this way anyhow. Being forced to live together, albeit temporarily, had merely sped up the process. Besides, being forced to endure the company of her father instead only served to make Lisbon miss Jane more. For some reason, it didn’t seem to matter that she saw him on a daily basis via work. It just wasn’t the same.
And now, it was becoming clear that Red John had eyes and ears everywhere. Nowhere was safe, there was nowhere they could hide. Jane was obviously a little more cautious about whether or not her connection to Sophie Miller was simply a coincidence, but Lisbon absolutely wasn't. She knew Red John and knew that when he discovered the link, he would have been drawn to her psychiatrist like a moth to a flame. The fact that she had been distracted from the cause of hunting down the serial killer probably only served to make Sophie, a blast from her recent past, all the more alluring. And, she considered, if he got a taste for it, then she would have to watch out for anyone she had ever cared about. Since she had spoken about the serial killer on television, he had been out to hurt her, to teach her a lesson about slander. While she had been careful about what she had said, more because of confidentiality, she hadn't been careful enough.
That wasn't a mistake she was willing to make twice.
Lisbon blinked. Suddenly, she saw Grace Van Pelt's body lying broken on the floor. A pool of deep red blood stained her already bright red hair. Just above her head was the famous smiley face, the one thing that everybody knew about Red John. She shuddered, opened her eyes and stared back at the paperwork. Blinking again, she saw Rigsby's body, then Cho's and eventually, Jane's. For half a second, it all felt painfully real and Lisbon knew exactly why. Although she only wanted to capture Red John to bring him to justice - not just for Andrew and Eva but for every single one of the victims he had killed - the serial killer still had an obvious personal vendetta against her. At face value, his reasons for it still seemed petty but Lisbon couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than that. There were many skeletons in her closet, things that she had actively tried to forget in order to be able to live with herself. But, these things were still buried deep in her memory palace; Lisbon couldn't just stop remembering like other people, instead, she just avoided thinking about very specific subjects at all costs.
That was a task made exceedingly difficult by the presence of her father. A lot of those memories were associated with him; as much as he had honed her skills, he had also done detrimental damage to her as well. However, she had been pleasantly surprised by his behavior during the time he had spent with her post-accident. Although they still argued occasionally, with him making cutting remarks and judgments, for the most part, he had avoided unnecessary conflict. It helped that she spent a lot of time out of the house due to work though. The paranoid cellphone calls had died down too, almost as if he realized she needed her personal space and had to apply herself fully to work, without undue distraction. He was still throwing himself into the physiotherapy with great enthusiasm, determined to regain full mobility of his bruised and battered limbs. The progress he had made seemed encouraging too; in fact, it was getting to the stage where there really was no need for him to be living under her watchful eye any longer. Lisbon really hoped that was the case. Deep down, she did love Jason Hamilton - he would always be her father, no matter what - but she was craving her personal space now.
Especially so as she still wanted to figure out what the heck was going on in her mind with regards to a certain Patrick Jane. That was definitely something which she needed space and time alone to breathe in order for her to truly be able figure it out. Once again, she tried to focus on the Red John case files that lay in front of her. They were something she had read a thousand times or more, or so it felt, but that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't have been able to see it from a different perspective today. But naturally, that was proving to be harder than it should have been. She twisted the simple gold wedding band around the ring finger of her left hand. It had never occurred to her to take it off, even after the past couple of years. Unto death do us part, she had once said to Andrew Lisbon. Death had torn them apart, but she was still deeply in love with the man. She always would be; he was her first love and the father of her only daughter. Nothing would ever change that. And she was under no illusions that she would see him alive again, that physically wasn’t possible, but the ring was her connection to Andrew like the cross was to her mother. But these thoughts, these feelings that were beginning to emerge for Jane...
Was it dishonoring his memory to fall in love with another man? Especially so, when she considered the fact she had never really achieved closure when it came to Andrew Lisbon. The very thought made her heart hurt. It didn't help matters that, yet again, she found herself in confined quarters with Jane. By choice, of course; she could easily have chosen to perch herself behind her desk in the bullpen and discussed theories with Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby instead. Still, during any Red John case, Jane’s office always felt like the right place for her to be. For just a moment, she gave up trying to read what was in front of her at all and instead, regarded Jane with a critical eye. He had his eyes closed and fingers were pressed to his temples. Not because he had a headache, but because he was deep in thought. Suddenly, his eyes sprang open and he looked at her, the expression grim.
"We're not getting anywhere," he muttered.
"I know."
"Leave it till tomorrow?"
She shrugged. Ordinarily, she would have disagreed in an instant; she would have argued that time was of an essence. If they didn't act fast, then any chance of working out the identity of Red John, never mind apprehending him, would just slip through their fingers. With these specific cases, the leads tended to die before they even had the chance to dig a little deeper. On occasion, that thought even applied literally. But she was tired and frustrated. She would have thought that after all these years of working the case, the CBI would at least have had a suspect list, but even that wasn't the case. Looking for Red John was like looking for a needle in a haystack. And that thought made her feel even more depressed about this sorry scenario. She now knew three victims of Red John's personally and Jane had known one too. And the whole team felt like that list was only going to increase now.
"I think we should go for dinner," Jane suddenly propositioned, much to her surprise. "Without the others; it’s my treat."
"Jane..." she started lamely.
"Lisbon, please. We've been working on this for hours and nothing has changed since this afternoon. Rigsby and Cho have already confirmed that the family is a non-starter. We can't interview work colleagues at Sophie Miller's old or new workplaces until tomorrow and the autopsy report isn't expected for another 24 hours either. What else can we do when we have nothing new to work with?"
"I still don't hear any reasons why you should be taking me out for dinner," Lisbon answered bluntly.
"Because you need the distraction. Red John is always personal for you and this time, even more so. You need to take your mind off it for a little while."
"I'm fine," she interrupted.
"And besides, it's what friends do," Jane soldiered on, unperturbed. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Teresa."
“Is this considered as payment in kind for this morning?”
“No,” Jane answered back and she glared at him. “Well, maybe a little.”
“You are going to have to take no for an answer, anyway.”
She folded her arms, resolute in her decision. It was for the best, she told herself. They were work colleagues, she couldn’t go complicating matters. At least not until Red John was over, but who knew how long that would take? It wasn’t as if they could hope that the serial killer would decide to take a quiet retirement out in Switzerland. And besides, even if he did, there were still many people - well into the hundreds by now - who craved justice. That was something she just couldn’t let die just yet.
“I thought you might say that.”
“Then why did you even bother trying to ask?”
“Just change it to taking a rain check?”
“Maybe,” she replied cryptically. After all, there was no saying in specifically how long he would have hoped she would be able to hold him off for.
“And make sure you eat properly tonight.”
Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
“You know, it’s only because I care.”
“I know,” she whispered quietly and picked up her purse from the floor. “Goodnight Jane. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t you stay here all night, either. Go home, get some rest.”
“Yes, Mom,” he replied with a grin.
She shook her head and left the room promptly. After making a detour to the bullpen to bid farewell to the guys, she headed straight to the elevator. Lisbon knew that the rest of the team was in for a long night at work and she felt a pang of guilt over leaving so soon. But, there was only a finite amount of things that she was capable of doing; some stuff was simply best left to the pros. As she drove home, she attempted to rid her mind of all thoughts about Red John. She didn’t want her father to know the serial killer had chosen to resurface again. That would be a sign of weakness and thus, a way for him to take advantage of her again. Lisbon just couldn’t afford to let that happen again; he had controlled her for far too much of her adult life already.
When she pulled up in front of her modest townhouse, Lisbon closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. When she took a look at her home, she realized something was off. None of the lights were on; her dad wasn’t there. A spasm of fear ran through her body, but not necessarily for the right reasons. Lisbon shook her head, deciding she was being ridiculous and headed inside. This was what she wanted, she firmly reminded herself. He was merely reclaiming his independence, just as a man of his age should. It would be a long while until Jason Hamilton would allow himself to be dragged away to a care home, anyway.
It was another two hours until he turned up on her doorstep. At nine pm, Lisbon had found herself getting increasingly worried. He didn’t say anything to her as he sidled inside, his arms laden with bags from the local grocery store. Instead, he headed straight for the kitchen and started to put everything away. Lisbon followed him through, quietly judging him for his behavior. He hadn’t even messaged her once all day, in spite of his opinion on her accompanying Jane to his brother’s funeral. Maybe, the silent treatment was just his way of expressing his disgust. And if it was, then he could go to hell. She knew that she had done the right thing.
“Aren’t your doctors still telling you to take it easy?” she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“And here was me, thinking that you wanted me to start making efforts to move out,” he muttered under his breath before continuing, louder. “And besides, I don’t think my daughter of all people should be judging me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Besides, I’ve been helping you.”
“You have?” she echoed, incredulous.
“Yes. I’ve set up a poker game for you to play in, with some of the brass from a local law firm. I know you can take them for all their worth, hypnotize nasty little habits like smoking and alcoholism out of them, and pretend to speak to their dead relatives. In just one night, I’m sure you could raise enough cash to buy me my own place and get me out of your hair.”
“No,” she replied, immediately stubborn. There was absolutely no way she was going to do such a thing. She only ever played poker with the team these days, and only ever for candy, potato chips or the like. As far as she was concerned, she always had an unfair advantage. And then, there were his other, less salacious plans for her for the evening. It was simply out of the question.
“No?”
“No. I don’t do that anymore.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Teresa. You may have shed my surname, got yourself a boring, respectable job and pretended to be a better person, but you will always be my daughter. You will always be a Hamilton, through and through.”
Although this wasn’t necessarily the worst thing he had said to her during his re-emergence in her life, it was the thing that hurt the most. It was more the timing than anything else. If she hadn’t been to a funeral this morning, empathizing with Jane’s situation and then hadn’t had to endure the loss of her psychiatrist to Red John, then maybe she might have been able to feel a little differently. As it was, she steadied herself against the counter and tried to regain her composure. If she knew he had somewhere else to stay, then she would have kicked him out on his ass in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was her father. However, he had already made it clear that he had nowhere else to go. She just couldn’t force him out on the streets; she refused to have that on her conscience.
“I was never like you in the first place,” she eventually replied, keeping her tone as even as feasibly possible.
“You say that now, but one day, when you least expect it, the past will catch up with you. And don’t come crying to me when it does. Because then, you’ll know that you have been lying to yourself for these past few years. I promise you that.”
To Chapter Twenty One