FIC: Acrimonious (1/21)
Title: Acrimonious
Author:
sirenofodysseus
Disclaimer: …it’s probably better that Bruno Heller owns The Mentalist, really.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After FBI Agent Susan Darcy is overheard telling Special-Agent-in-Charge Luther Wainwright that Patrick Jane may be working with Red John, Red John steals Jane’s body and begins to destroy the team’s lives one-by-one.
Spoilers: Brief spoiler for Crimson Hat (4x24), but the rest of this story is set after Something Rotten in Redmund (4x20).
Warnings: Violence, language, drug use, sex, non-con situations, mentions of child abuse/domestic abuse, negative character portrayals, major and minor character death.
Pairings: Red John/Teresa Lisbon, Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon, Wayne Rigsby/Sarah Harrigan, Kimball Cho/Summer Edgecombe.
Artist:
loveconquerallx
Beta:
loveconquerallx
Link to Art: Here
Note:
Every spare moment of my time was spent on this fic, which ended up being twenty-one chapters and almost 108k long. I would say that this fic is a monster, but somehow, I don’t think monster quite describes this fic.
I want to thank my amazing cheerleaders for holding my hand and keeping me on task:
loveconquerallxand frogster_15. I want to say something more touching here, but my words can’t describe how much you two are appreciated in my life. I don’t know how I would have finished this fic without the tweets, the text messages, the facebook messages from you both; and honestly, this fic would never have been finished if it weren’t for loveconquersallx, who basically told me to suck it up and deal with it. (but that’s okay, because this fic is pretty much all her fault and she paid for it with the betaing/art. ;))
I’ve never been prouder of a piece, honestly, and without further babble, I present my Serial Killer Big Bang 2012 piece: Acrimonious.
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1-
“I think he’s working hand-in-hand with Red John.”
In the dim light of his study, Red John tilted his pink lips and shook his head at what Agent Susan Darcy was thinking. The small television before him, perched on a few yellowing copies of Writer’s Digest and Kitchen Ware, was tuned into one of the many cameras that he had placed within the California Bureau of Investigation, and although the quality wasn’t the greatest, Red John could hear the pair of idiots discussing Patrick Jane and himself.
Special-Agent-in-charge Luther Wainwright was really pushing things, wasn’t he? The young boss had already involved himself in his and Mr. Jane’s games more than he should have and although, his hands itched to paint a mural of his blood upon the walls of the CBI, he knew Agent Wainwright (much like Agent Darcy) was still an important key to bringing down Jane and his merry band of playthings.
With a press of a button on the television remote, Red John watched Patrick and his brunette bitch-Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon-stand close together near one of the CBI elevators; a soft smile across the consultant’s face, as his bitch hit him lightly in the shoulder before she stomped away. He shook his masked head at the adolescent behavior displayed between the both of them; how in the world did Patrick expect to catch the serial killer who had killed his family, if he couldn’t even keep his emotions away from his little toy?
Red John scowled. Teresa, even before she and Patrick had begun to work together, had always been a minor wrench in his best laid plans: the brunette woman was, of course, attractive, intelligent, and powerful. But as of late, she had become a major problem and her continuing presence distracted Mr. Jane from the larger picture: his overall quest for vengeance against the so-called “monster”.
Years ago, Teresa had been one of his main targets. Instead though, she had been pushed aside in favor of Kristina Frye; the only woman worse than Teresa Lisbon, in his opinion. He idly wished that he had gone ahead with his plan to kill Teresa years ago, just to drive Patrick absolutely insane.
Nonetheless, he thought with a cold smile, if I don’t take care of her now, she could destroy all the years of my careful planning and the mind games that both Mr. Jane and I enjoy so much.
Red John moved to click off his small television, before he could find himself in the midst of yet another soap opera occurring within the CBI elevators. Witnessing Agent Kimball Cho and his prostitute friend make out had only served to make him want to put an end to that sickening relationship, by killing them both. Even more so, the entire unit, as far as he was concerned continued to be a complete and utter failure, and all of them needed to be taught a lesson.
“Sir, do you need anything?” Red John grimaced, as the pencil jar he had accidently knocked off his desk, hit the floor and shattered. The entire Serious Crimes Unit needed to learn so many lessons, yet because he was the most wanted serial killer in the state of California, he couldn’t do anything without arousing suspicions. Of course, he knew he could always tell his latest mole within the CBI to muck up the entire unit, but where was the fun in that for him? “Sir?”
His fingers twitched toward his knife displayed proudly on the desk; he wanted to kill the little worm that had completely disobeyed his orders of being left alone for the evening, when a thought occurred to him:
Why couldn’t I destroy the Serious Crimes Unit on my own?
Besides the most obvious answer of him being Red John-the most wanted serial killer in the state of California, he couldn’t find another reason. He had been sitting idly in the shadows for way too long, allowing for his accomplices to screw up his best well-thought plans with their bumbling remarks. And the more he truly thought about it, the more his cool smile became a sinister smile. The worm, who had tried so hard to pretend he wasn’t afraid of being in front of him, took a step backwards in fright.
“I’m good.” Red John answered, as he leaned across his desk to pick up the phone. “In fact, I’m just perfect.” From the corner of his eye, he saw the worm relax slightly and Red John rolled his eyes. He would kill the man later, as it only took one weak link to bring down his entire network.
He continued to smile. If everything worked out, which he knew it eventually would, he’d have Patrick Jane and his merry men right where he had always wanted them: out of the picture.
Patrick Jane smiled lightly at Teresa Lisbon, who continued to ignore him in the driver’s seat of the SUV. Without even hearing the words from her mouth, he knew she was still beyond irritated, frustrated, and angry with him for his treatment of FBI Agent Susan Darcy and Special-Agent-in-charge Luther Wainwright earlier. He waited for her to say something, because she had that look on her face, as he fiddled with the radio controls and flipped between soft jazz and country.
The beginning chords of a country song came through the speakers, when Lisbon decided to speak.
“Did you really have to do that?” Lisbon asked and Jane could see the tension rolling off her shoulders in waves from the corner of his vision.
“Do what?” Jane tried to act innocent with a small smile; she didn’t even take her eyes off the road to glare at him. “I only changed the radio station, as I know how much you love to sing-along with the radio.”
“Damn it, Jane!” Lisbon cursed. Jane glanced at her in surprise; it had been so long since she had snapped at him for something non-case related that he almost had to do a double take. Their relationship, ever since Darcy had accused him of working for Red John, hadn’t been a good one. Lisbon believed in him, he knew that much, but the entire investigation into him had also questioned her role as the Senior Agent to the Serious Crimes Unit. So, while he didn’t exactly care about his own position with the California Bureau of Investigation, he knew it was one of the few “good” things Lisbon had left. “You know what I’m talking about! Does it bother you at all that your actions may have consequences for us both?” Jane pretended to yawn behind his hand. He did care, but Darcy and Wainwright were beyond irritating; all they both continued to do was poke their noses where it didn’t belong and come between his and Lisbon’s friendship. Lisbon couldn’t stop the two, due to her precarious position with both Bertram and Wainwright, but he could and would.
“They’ll get over it.” Jane said, while he waved her concern away. “They’ll both realize that me either working for Red John or being Red John is absolutely ridiculous and eventually, they’ll drop this entire accusation by apologizing to us both.” He went back to fiddling with the radio, before he spoke again. “Don’t worry about it, Lisbon. Wainwright is just upset he can’t be promoted, due to his boyish looks and mental age, while Darcy just wants to prove me wrong.” Jane threw her another grin, Lisbon grimaced. “Now, where are we going? And are we going to get something to eat soon? I’m feeling a bit famished at the moment.”
He saw Lisbon roll her eyes from the corner of his vision. Changing the subject had always been one thing in his favor when Lisbon brought up anything related to Red John. He wondered how much longer she would allow him to do so though, especially with the pink elephant that always seemed to be in the room between them both.
“We’re going to visit the victim’s family again.” Lisbon said with an almost inaudible sigh and Jane continued to grin. Returning to the victim’s family meant one thing: he had been right about their latest case. Alice Child’s, their latest murder victim, sister hadn’t been completely truthful in her statement four days prior.
Until Lisbon had pulled into the driveway of the Child’s family home and had undone her seatbelt, she had managed to not say another word to him. “Don’t start anything, Jane.” Lisbon threw open her car door and stepped from the driver’s seat; he heard the gravel crunch beneath her feet, before she slammed the car door shut. Jane chuckled quietly, as he undid his seatbelt and left the passenger seat.
How would not starting anything help us solve the case? He wondered. He knew Lisbon was looking forward to a three-day vacation and unless they solved the case, nobody was going anywhere for Memorial Day weekend.
Lisbon stepped forward to pound on the door, when her ringing the doorbell yielded no response. The Senior Agent, he had also noticed idly, seemed more impatient (if possible) than usual, as she crossed her arms against her chest and tapped her foot against the concrete porch. “Come on.” She said in frustration, before she rang the doorbell again.
Jane said nothing to her, as he moved to one of the many closed windows and pressed his nose against the glass to see if he could help Lisbon out. The seemingly heavy yellow curtain blocked nearly all of his vision, except for the smallest sliver of a pale woman, who had her back turned to the window. “Lisbon!” He called without looking away from the sight before him. “Come here!”
“This better not be yet another spider web, Jane.” Lisbon stated; she moved closer and took Jane’s spot against the outer window pane. He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she slowly went to retrieve her weapon from its holster and she stepped away from the window. “Stay back,” was all the warning he received, before she lifted her leg and kicked open the white door. “CBI!”
Jane followed behind her into the house, only to find Amy Child, the victim’s sister, pointing a gun at her own head. The brunette woman was visibly distressed; her hand holding the gun trembled, one sleeve of her shirt had been pushed to the crook of her elbow and her green eyes were wide. He knew if Lisbon would just give him the chance, he could probably talk the woman from taking her own life.
“Put the gun down, Amy.” Lisbon ordered. Amy shook her head; tears streamed down her pale black and blue splotched cheeks, which Jane realized hadn’t been there the other day. “Amy, you don’t have to do this…”
“Yes, I do!” Amy replied, frantically and Jane quickly glanced around the room. Amy, while distressed, didn’t sound distressed enough to take her own life without reason. From the way her legs continued to tremble, Jane had a feeling that she didn’t want to kill herself any more than they did. “I killed my own sister and I deserve to pay for my sins.” Her eyes focused on a point behind his shoulder. Jane recalled from his memory that Amy didn’t believe in the idea of religion, which had immediately made her the black sheep of the family. “I’m sorry.” Before Lisbon could manage to leap into action, Amy moved the gun from against her temple to beneath her chin and pulled the trigger.
Jane barely had time to blink, before the bullet shot from the gun and through Amy’s chin. In a matter of seconds, the bullet caused a fury of brain matter, blood, and tissue to explode everywhere: on the heavy yellow curtains, the white patterned ceiling, the red carpet beneath their feet, and had almost come too close for comfort, inches from his feet. Amy’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor and Jane forced his eyes away. He barely heard Lisbon talking on her cellphone, as he turned to avoid looking at the mangled corpse and see if he could find exactly what Amy had looked at the moments prior to her death.
It took him a few seconds to pinpoint the video camera attached above the front door; its red light blinking back at them in response.
“Jane?” Jane heard Lisbon ask and he turned back to stare at her. “You okay?” He nodded; the mangled bodies of his wife and child had been so much worse to see. “I called it in.” Jane had figured that much, as he stepped closer to her and took the moment to appreciate how she smelled, with her shoulder pressed up against his: a light mixture of a vanilla and cinnamon fragrance, which managed to somewhat cancel out the lingering odor of gunfire and cigarette smoke from the home, before he spoke again.
“Amy didn’t kill herself.” Jane told her, lowly. Lisbon turned her head slightly to stare at him in moot surprise. “She did kill herself, but she didn’t.” She continued to eye him and he sighed. It was a beyond complicated situation. “This was staged.” He spoke again, although he knew she was readying herself to respond. “Amy stared at the camera before she pulled the trigger. Somebody forced her into pulling the trigger.” Lisbon took a step back from him and he frowned at the loss of contact. “If you expect me to find the equipment, I have no idea…”
“Shut up, Jane.” Lisbon ordered. Jane closed his mouth without further comment. He watched Lisbon glance around the foyer, until she started toward the staircase near Amy’s body. He followed close behind her again, and they both climbed the stairs; her, two steps at a time without hesitation and him, at a much slower pace. On the white walls along the stairwell, he noticed the countless pictures of Amy and Alice (the victim) growing up together; vacations to Disneyland, family holidays, awkward school pictures, and various awards that both girls had been given throughout the years. Jane knew the acting and singing accomplishments belonged to Alice, without even seeing her name printed across them, because even in her death; the twenty-year-old had apparently been quite the drama queen. The various other academic achievements however, belonged to Amy.
Jane opened his mouth to address Lisbon, when he heard gunshots and found that the brunette had already gone ahead of him.
“Is leaving me behind your idea of revenge, Lisbon?” Jane asked her, as he stepped into the bedroom at the very end of the long hall to find Lisbon handcuffing one of the two individuals, who had apparently thought escaping out a two-story house window without traction would be a good idea. Lisbon said nothing as she seized both Tylor and Frank Gibbons, the relatives they had both met on their first visit to the Child’s home, by their arms and hauled them both from the room littered with surveillance equipment.
Jane watched Lisbon lead them both out of the house and into the sunshine through the small black and white monitor, a small frown across his face.
Each of the signs within the case had pointed them toward the parents, not the mother’s relatives, which made Jane wonder if they had missed something all together.
“Mr. Jane?” Jane glanced up from his turquoise tea cup to stare at the blonde-haired and tanned boyfriend of Alice Child, before he shifted slightly. Lisbon had long interrogated Tylor and Frank Gibbons, who had both confessed to the murders of their female cousins, because their grandparents had decided to give the females their shares of a sizeable fortune.
“Yes.” Jane said and the young adult stuffed his hands into his pocket nervously; Jane waited for him to speak, while he swirled his tea at the island playfully.
“I wanted to thank you for catching Al’s killer.” Jonathan Collins replied. Jane waved the thank you away with his free hand; it was their job after all, as Lisbon often said. “It means a lot to Al’s family and me.”
“It was no problem, Jon.” Jane answered. He didn’t glance up from his teacup. “Alice’s killers were driven by greed, although I am sure they won’t be getting much now.” Jonathan chuckled lightly, before he stopped and bowed his head in shame. Jane still didn’t glance up. “It’s okay to laugh, so you know. Laughter is the best medicine.” He glanced up slightly and shot the teen a weak smile; it hadn’t been Jon’s fault that Alice or Amy had been murdered, and the teen needed to realize that to get on with his life.
“The family wanted to thank you themselves, but the security is adamant about only two people at a time.” Jonathan answered. “So, they decided to send me and a thank you note from Al’s Uncle.” Jane watched as the teenager withdrew a small red envelope from his pocket and held it out. He took it with a slight nod. “Al’s Uncle suggested you don’t open that here.” Jane eyed the red envelope in his fingers. What was so special about a thank you letter, besides it being from the side of the family that had driven one of their own to suicide? Jonathan chuckled again. “It’s nothing illegal. Alice’s Uncle Frew wouldn’t do that. He just said something about Agent Lisbon and how she couldn’t begin to appreciate something like that.” Jane raised his eyebrows and Jonathan shrugged. “That’s Uncle Frew for you, though and from what Alice said, Uncle Frew doted on Amy.”
“I’ll open this later then.” Jane stated, before he moved to hastily stuff the envelope away within the hidden pocket of his jacket. Jonathan gave him a weak smile and then left him to his tea in silence. Lisbon found him there moments later. “I’m surprised you’re still here, Lisbon. You closed your case, you’ve probably finished enough paperwork to wake the dead, and almost everybody has left to take advantage of the holiday weekend.” Rigsby had left earlier to head home to his girlfriend and new son, Van Pelt had left after two rounds of solitaire on her computer, and Cho had left after Summer had sprung him with the promise of a “hot” date. Jane had almost asked him what she had meant just to tease him, but the agent hadn’t seemed like he wanted any questions as he gathered all of his items in a rush.
“We need to talk about Red John, Jane.” Lisbon muttered and Jane eyed her. She seemed as if she wanted to be anywhere but there with him at the present moment and he honestly couldn’t blame her.
“What about him?”
“Agent Darcy is in my office right now.” Lisbon spoke and Jane frowned. Did the FBI agent not take holidays or ever stop butting her nose into their business? He thought he had put an end to her “being Red John” theory by promising to take a lie detector test to prove his innocence. “She wants to talk to us.”
Jane sipped at his tea, gave the idea a moment of thought, before he slowly shook his head. “Hm. I don’t think so.” Jane watched Lisbon cross her arms against her chest in great amusement. The fact that the slender agent thought she could intimidate him into speaking to Susan Darcy was laughable. “I’m sure whatever she has to say can wait, until we’re both well-rested come Tuesday morning.”
“You’re talking to her,” Lisbon ordered, “even if I have to haul your ass in there myself.” She drew herself to her full height and Jane shook his head; it wasn’t going to happen.
“I said all I needed to say to her yesterday morning.” Jane replied with a shrug. “If Susan thinks we should talk, tell her to give me a call. I’m sure she has my number.” Jane stepped away from Lisbon to rinse his teacup out and put it back into the cabinet, before he started to walk past Lisbon.
She halted him with her hand. “I’m not kidding, Jane.” Lisbon said and Jane rolled his eyes. He didn’t understand the point of this. Lisbon knew he wasn’t going to give Darcy any more information. “Do this for me.” He almost thought about telling her no again, but their conversation from earlier that afternoon reminded him that Lisbon did, in fact, need her job.
“Fine.” Jane reluctantly gave and Lisbon let his arm go.
“Thank you.” Lisbon stated, softly before she stepped past him and he followed her to find Darcy sitting on Lisbon’s white couch.
“Mr. Jane, Agent Lisbon.” Darcy greeted them both. Jane nodded politely from his spot against the doorway, as Lisbon moved to sit behind her desk. “I don’t think this will take us too long. I just wanted to see if Mr. Jane was still willing to take that lie detector test.” Jane rolled his eyes again. He doubted his answer to her proposal would have changed in the past twenty-eight hours, but apparently Darcy didn’t trust him enough to take his word at face value.
“I am, Susan.” Jane replied and Darcy smiled. “I just haven’t had the time to find myself strapped to tiny wires, answering questions about what I did last night and if I killed over a dozen women with a kitchen knife.” He sent her a bright smile, while she and Lisbon grimaced. “But, I’ll get around to it when I remember exactly where I put my kitchen knife and rubber gloves.” Although he was extremely amused with his own answer, Lisbon wasn’t. Darcy seemed to have gotten his jab, as she said nothing in response. “Obviously, I’m joking. I planned on taking the test…” Lisbon narrowed her eyes on him. “…right now.” He just didn’t want Lisbon angry with him come Tuesday morning.
“Good.” Darcy responded and she stood from the couch. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Jane. I’d love to accompany you.” He did mind. Darcy had used Lisbon to gang up on him into taking the test, when they both had better things to do (he had an envelope to open, Lisbon had a weekend full of ice cream and time away from him), but at Lisbon’s continued glare from behind her desk, he smiled sweetly at Darcy.
“Not at all, Agent Darcy.” He said, as he made a sweeping motion with his hand and she stepped through the doorway, with him at her heels.
“How did it go?” Lisbon asked him the moment he stepped back into her office and collapsed onto her couch. “Did you pass?”
“If you’re asking whether or not I’m Red John, let your fears be soothed that Darcy found no traces of deception.” Jane answered her with his eyes closed. “It seems I will forever be stuck here with you, until Agent Darcy finds another way to accuse me or you tire of me.” He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Lisbon was probably staring at him, trying to hide her smile at his announcement, but he did so anyway. “I’m surprised to see you’re still here, Lisbon.” Her slight smile turned into a grimace.
“Wainwright wanted to know the emotional state we found Amy Child in.” Lisbon explained, while she glanced back down at whatever form she had to fill out. “He believes her family might decide to sue the CBI for emotional suffering.” Jane glanced at her in amusement; people would try anything to get money, even if they had to exploit their daughter’s suicide to do so.
“They’ll drop the possible lawsuit.” Jane informed her and Lisbon raised her eyebrows in response. “A family of fools would not go as far to drag their own issues through the mud. Amy was distressed, yes, but her family continuously belittled her and forced her into taking an extremely dark path.” Lisbon continued to stare at him as he spoke. “If the courts ever became aware of that, the CBI would be making money and we could afford some better tea.”
“Because better tea is in the annual budget for the CBI, right?” Lisbon asked, teasingly and Jane nodded; it should have been anyway. “Just because you say a lawsuit isn’t going to happen, doesn’t mean one won’t.” He had never been wrong in the past about avoiding lawsuits, especially when he had tweaked that rich business man on the nose years ago. With the shake of the head, he wondered if Lisbon would ever learn that he was always right. “Jane?” Her voice interrupted his musings and he glanced at her again.
“Hm, Lisbon?”
“I asked if you were all right after seeing…” She trailed off and he nodded; she wanted to know if he needed to visit the department psychologist, even though they both knew he’d never go.
“I’m fine, really.” Jane said. “Her death, although tragic, taught me that I should learn to love life and not trust my outlying family members.” He threw her a small smile again, which she answered with another grimace.
“Jane!” Lisbon chided and he waited for her lecture to come. “If any of the family members heard you say that, you…”
“Do you see anybody else around?” Jane asked, as he made a quick sweep of the office with his eyes only to find himself and Lisbon in the tiny space. “We’ll be fine.”
“Have some decorum, will you?” Lisbon replied.
Jane nearly scoffed. “I have no respect for that family, whether they’ve lost both daughters or not.” Lisbon should have known he wasn’t going to treat the family with kid gloves, especially after having learned how the family treated one of their own. “Jon Collins came into thank me on behalf of the entire family for solving Alice’s death, not for figuring out their eldest daughter hadn’t been suicidal.”
“Each person copes differently with loss.” Lisbon explained, softly. Jane rolled his eyes. “Some people take to coping with one death at a time and…”
“Suing the establishment, who supposedly brought your family peace, is coping?” Jane asked, dryly. Lisbon nodded with a soft frown. “It’s utter ridiculousness and idle pettiness.”
“I know, Jane.” Lisbon agreed. “However, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t make them mourn the loss of their daughter and I can’t make them pay for how they treated her.”
“What’s the point of our jobs, then?” Jane threw back. He didn’t doubt that she cared; he just doubted the entire justice system once again. “We can’t save people alive, can’t save people dead, and the paycheck is pretty lousy.” Lisbon pursed her lips. Jane knew it wasn’t right taking his frustrations toward everything; the case, Red John, Darcy and Wainwright, out on her, but it didn’t mean he was going to stop as he continued on. “If they sue the CBI, sue them right back for something else. How about for: ‘wasting our time’?”
“That’s not how it works.” Lisbon responded, with her lips still pursed. “And I’m sorry you feel that way, Jane, but we’re doing our best.”
“Our best isn’t good enough.” Jane retorted; if he hadn’t been watching the senior agent somewhat closely, he would have never noticed her flinch in response to his remark. “If you can’t even stop someone from killing themselves, why do you continue to…?”
“Stop it.” Lisbon interrupted, quietly. “Just stop it.” In the dim light from her office, the woman suddenly looked more exhausted than usual and he felt somewhat horrible. Lisbon didn’t deserve any of the treatment she received, but as he continued to eye her in contempt, he realized that she would never understand how meaningless their jobs were some days. “Whatever you’re saying is because you’re clearly traumatized…” Her hand went for her desk phone, when he spoke again.
“I’m not traumatized, Lisbon.” Jane said. “I’m merely asking why we can’t do anything but help a person until after they’re dead.”
Lisbon dropped her hand from the phone to stare at him. “It’s our job.” Of course, she believed that.
“You just go on believing that, Lisbon.” Jane told her, before he stood from her white couch and stared down at her. “Have a good three day vacation. I’ll see you Tuesday morning.” Jane didn’t wait for her to say anything else, as he hurried out of her office and retreated up into the safety of his moonlit attic.
He took a deep breath, before he kicked his foot out at the box underneath the three pane window, which allowed for moonlight to spill into the cluttered room. Jane hadn’t meant to upset the woman or worry her, but the attitudes of the CBI continuously bothered him. Wainwright could have done something about the family when Lisbon had raised her concerns days ago, but no. The Special-Agent-in-charge had ignored her concerns by spending all his spare time poking his nose where it didn’t belong, and if Jane hadn’t truly cared about Lisbon, he would have left the CBI years ago.
Jane stuck his hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to pull out his cellphone and call Lisbon to apologize, when he felt the envelope brush against his fingers.
Lisbon briefly forgotten, he pulled the envelope out and stared down at it. Did he want to open it? The entire Child’s family didn’t deserve the chance to say thank you, let alone write it down in a card. However, Jon had said that the Uncle doted on Amy, which made him more inclined to open the envelope. Carefully, he opened the flap on the red envelope and pulled out a single piece of white paper. It wasn’t a card; it was somebody’s address.
He stared down at it, unblinkingly. What had the Child’s family given him? The black type lettering shimmered beneath the moonlight and it brought him back to a letter he had received from Red John seven years ago, taped to the door of the master bedroom to his home.
The address, a 9034 Ditch Avenue, wasn’t a place he was familiar with. However, judging from the fact that the town wasn’t labeled as Sacramento meant wherever this avenue was, was going to take him far from Sacramento.
Jane shook his head and allowed for the slip of paper to fall from his grasp. Running off to random addresses without cause didn’t sound like a good idea, especially as the gun he had used to kill Carter was still in evidence and Lisbon sure as hell wouldn’t lend him her gun. He smiled; he could just imagine Lisbon’s reaction to that request.
Still with a smile on his face, he glanced down at the white slip of paper on the floor only to find something other than the address written in black ink:
Red John’s smiley face, drawn crudely in red ink, stared up at him from below.
--
Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five 1/2 - Part Five 2/2 - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine 1/2 - Part Nine 2/2 - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen 1/2 - Part Sixteen 2/2 - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty 1/2 - Part Twenty 2/2 - Part Twenty-One