FIC: Acrimonious (5-1-2/21)
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 The 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.
5 1/2-
In the passenger seat of the CBI-owned SUV, Red John tried to hide his smirk from Teresa. The seatbelt felt tight against his chest and he kept his eyes on the tree-dotted landscape of rural California. Teresa hadn’t say anything to him, aside from “I called Agent Wainwright; he’s going to let us go, as he can’t bring another unit into this.” which she had told him earlier before ushering them both out from the bullpen.
Fitting in with the Serious Crimes Unit had been much easier than he had originally anticipated, as he had already gotten the infamous Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon banter down from watching them over the years; the few minor mistakes he had made with Patrick’s behavior could easily be corrected the next time that they all stood in the CBI. Sitting on Patrick’s desk or wearing a regular suit wasn’t enough for an outcry, but the unit had certainly taken his lack of pattern to be shocking. Grace had asked him if he was feeling okay and as humored as the question had made him feel at a little past eight in the morning, he didn’t want any more suspicions popping up about him.
Teresa’s concern, however, worried him the most.
The brunette Senior Agent had yet to say anything to him in the car about his “odd behavior” and he wondered if she had just decided to brush his behavior off as something trivial or if she had been weighing the options for the last hour and a half of their car ride to Dustin County.
Red John worried that Teresa would get the impression that his “break from usual habits” via the not sitting on Patrick’s couch and wearing Patrick’s three-piece suit and the other various things he hadn’t yet picked up on needed psychiatric help; even if the woman didn’t seem like the type of person to find psychologists charming or particularly helpful, he was still weary that Patrick’s “odd behavior” would send off a bunch of red flags to her.
“I’m surprised you haven’t turned on the radio yet.” Teresa’s voice broke through his thoughts and he forced his eyes away from the myriad of farms and towering Californian redwoods to stare at her.
“Do you want me to turn the radio on?” Red John responded to her question and she glanced in his direction briefly.
“Not particularly, no.” Teresa answered. Red John shook his head slightly at the response; had the Senior Agent allowed for Patrick Jane to control every aspect of her life? Teresa’s earlier lack of resistance toward his single piece of advice toward Luther Wainwright told him everything he had needed to know about her and Patrick’s relationship, really. Patrick’s wearing down of the woman had been more of a blessing than a curse; he remembered when he had been angry that Patrick had shot Dumar Hardy to save Teresa’s life, but in the end, the small little digression from Patrick’s vengeance had made his so-called seduction plans a million times easier.
After all, Teresa Lisbon was in love with Patrick Jane; he had noticed her flushed skin, how close the Senior Agent often stood next to Patrick without actually touching him, the darting glances she gave him, and Rebecca had relayed Teresa and Samuel Bosco’s conversation about how Patrick just solved cases.
Red John had disbelieved the solving cases crack too. Teresa and Patrick had worked together for nine years and feelings, whether one wanted them or not, were bound to happen in some form and at some point within their working relationship. Patrick had always been too focused on his thoughts and feelings for revenge that he had apparently never gotten the chance to fall in love with Teresa, although he had most certainly lusted after her body.
And of course, Teresa’s love for Patrick would be her ultimate undoing. It was the one thought that kept running through his brain and he had a feeling that if he played his hand just right, he and Teresa would be in bed together before two weeks were up. Red John wasn’t a stranger to the rituals of seduction, as he had seduced many women; some of them ended up in bed with him, crying out fake monikers into the night and allowing themselves to be used for the greater good. Others ended up under his knife, bleeding their lives away for him at his sweet words and caring ministrations.
Angela Ruskin-Jane had fallen into the second category, not that Patrick knew it though. The conman’s wife had gotten bored of playing the trophy wife at parties and social functions and had gotten tired of being adorned with bruises, where she would have to feel her husband’s arm wrap around her and she’d have to paint a fake smile across her lips to appease the media that everything was fine between the both of them. Patrick had often spent long periods out of town on the psychic circuit and after his little girl had said goodnight to her Daddy and had been tucked away in her purple sheets, mommy and mommy’s lover would fuck each other in the couple’s master bedroom; the light colored sheets pooled around them both, as he filled her with his length and she moaned out his current moniker.
If Patrick had ever figured out that his wife had been unfaithful to him, Red John had never known, as he had slaughtered Angela and Charlotte the following month; after all, there were dire consequences and lessons that needed to be learned for being unfaithful and slandering someone at the same time.
“I’m surprised Agent Wainwright let us out onto the field.” Teresa changed the subject, as she continued to drive into Dustin County. “When you shot Hardy three years ago, Minelli refused to let us go anywhere without speaking to Carmen first.” Red John glanced in her direction to see a grimace on her face. He knew all about Dr. Roy Carmen; the man, who had tried to set Teresa up for the murder of a paroled rapist. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the doctor would have sold his own mother for a better offer, Red John would have approached him about getting Teresa framed for murder and locked away also.
Of course, he had a different motive for her arrest than Roy Carmen had, but still.
“Can little boys follow protocol?” Red John asked her and Teresa’s grimace turned into a frown.
“Agent Wainwright is our…”
“Boss, I know.” Red John interrupted. He could have argued with Teresa about Luther Wainwright not being a proper boss, as the kid clearly didn’t have enough experience to be leading the entire CBI anywhere. Wainwright had allowed for Patrick to go on a national television show with the intent to have a serial killer slander another serial killer and it had worked. Patrick had gifted him with another kill to add to his ever-growing list and Red John had gifted Patrick with the cantankerous FBI Agent Susan Darcy, who had been so much fun to stalk and who he had often imagined draining the life from.
“Young or not, you can’t say he isn’t qualified.” Teresa explained and Red John silently agreed with her. He had briefly read up on Agent Wainwright; the little boy had come from a rich background and his parents had given him a top-notch education. He had graduated from the top of the academy, but book smarts and street smarts were two completely different things and Wainwright was not street smart. At all. Red John had a feeling that Patrick had also complained about Wainwright’s qualifications at one point and Teresa had told him the same exact thing, over and over again too.
“Wouldn’t you have been more qualified?” Red John asked, out of curiosity, as Teresa turned into the parking lot of Saint George’s Senior High. Teresa kept quiet, until she had parked the SUV in one of the vacant parking spots and turned the vehicle off.
“I’m not head material, Jane.” Teresa informed him, before she opened her car door and motioned for him to follow after her. “Come on; we’re late enough as it is.”
Next to Teresa, Red John pushed open the large double doors to the auditorium of Saint George’s Senior High School with a smile on his face. Despite the fact that they were at a crime scene and somebody had actually died within the hallow halls of a high school, he continued past the wall that blocked his view of the theater with a content hum.
The auditorium reminded him of almost every other high school auditorium, except for a few wooden crosses that hung upon the walls; the rows upon rows of blue chairs, the paint-speckled carpet beneath his feet, the California and United States flags displayed proudly along one side of concrete wall with a set of steps on each side, and the glorious stage.
Excitement danced up his spine at the sight of the beautiful yellow crime scene tape, which had been stretched from one end of the small stage to the other; the beautiful red curtains swayed from the movement behind them. The idea of viewing a theatrical murder in the flesh and being able to smell the copper tang of blood in the air for his very first case in person with the Serious Crimes Unit thrilled him.
Teresa continued past him and Red John followed her half way down the main aisle, before they met Rigsby and Grace. “What do we have?” Teresa questioned the two agents.
“Kirsten Denise Ryder, age twenty-three.” Rigsby informed her with his eyes focused on the notepad before him. “Mr. Joshua Cole, the school’s choir teacher, found Ms. Ryder after he had pulled back the curtains in preparation for their annual spring concert tonight.” Rigsby glanced up, before he continued on. “Mr. Cole promptly shut the curtains to the stage and called 911, hence the reason why the curtains are closed and we’re here.”
Teresa nodded. “Cause and time of death?”
“Time of death, the coroner labels at around two to three this morning. Cause of death though,” Grace chimed in, “you’ll want to see this one for yourself, boss.” Red John caught the brief moment of eye contact between both agents and he almost rolled his eyes, as they all continued up the steps and onto the back area of the well-lit stage. Red John watched Teresa push aside the black curtain backdrop, until he and she stood on the main stage, surrounded by officers in navy blue and a rather picturesque crime scene.
Red John stared at the crime scene, transfixed by the theatrical beauty of it.
A white cardboard slab, painted in blood, hung from the shafts of the stage and the setup reminded him vaguely of a magician’s knife trick, except without all of the colorful balloons attached.
The presentation before him had used a naked human body-a brunette woman with long, slender legs, a small torso, and firm-looking breasts-instead of the balloons that usually covered the knives.
Esthetically, if she had been alive, the woman would have ultimately appealed to him and his sexual desires. Red John had always had a thing for brunettes and red heads and the woman displayed above them all would have been considered for one of his many one-night stands.
However now, with fifteen knives having impaled her from behind, she didn’t look so appealing.
“Agent Lisbon, I presume?” Red John glanced away from the crime scene to stare at the newcomer; a navy-uniformed sheriff from Dustin County PD, who seemed slightly uncomfortable at the sight around him. “I’m Sherriff Austin Tyler with the Dustin County PD. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The pretty boy Sherriff shook Teresa’s hand. “Our department doesn’t have quite the manpower to solve this one alone, as murders don’t happen here.”
“Do you put that on tourist brochures?” Red John asked and Sherriff Tyler glanced in his direction, confusion written across his features. Clearly, the Sherriff only had his good looks going for him. “Dustin County: Murder-less Capitol of the World?” He felt Teresa’s narrowed eyes on his profile and he turned his head slightly to offer her a fake apologetic smile, which sedated her momentarily.
Of course he wasn’t truly sorry for his comment. The pretty boy Sheriff’s handshake with Teresa had lasted a bit longer than normal and if Teresa got any ideas relating to the Sheriff, his plans would be completely ruined.
“How could you tell our victim was Ms. Ryder?” Teresa asked and the Sheriff rushed to explain.
“Principal Maddock found a blood-stained wallet near the choir room doors.” Sheriff Tyler pointed across the stage, where a hidden door decorated with a cross remained. “Looks as if our murderer might have tried to toss the victim’s identification cards away, as it belongs to a Kirsten Ryder.” Sheriff Tyler waved one of his deputies over, who handed the evidence bagged wallet to Teresa. Red John watched Teresa open the wallet from within the plastic, before she glanced down at the license and back up at the impaled victim with a frown across her face.
“Did you make these assumptions off the blood-stained wallet, Sherriff?” Teresa asked, something darker underlined the tone of her voice and the Sherriff nodded at her with a smile.
“Of course, Agent Lisbon!” Sherriff Tyler responded, brightly. “Who else would this blood-stained wallet belong to?” Teresa looked irritated, not that he could blame her though. Even as a serial killer, he knew jumping to conclusions about the evidence could make or break a case.
“It could belong to our killer, Sherriff.” Lisbon responded, as she passed the evidence-bagged wallet to Grace, who stood behind her. Red John wondered how exactly the Sherriff had been able to identify the victim, especially as the fifteen knives had pierced through young Kirsten’s skin in a symmetrical line down the white slab of cardboard. The Sherriff bowed his head for a moment and Red John refocused his attention on the impaled corpse.
Despite all of the blood that had dried upon the slab, the knives, and the floor below the victim, Red John noticed that the murderer had rammed Kirsten onto the knives before having dragged her body down by the knives until her blood-stained feet dangled feet from the dark, wooden stage floor.
Her hazel eyes had been pried wide open, clouded with both fear and death, which made him slyly smile. Red John had always enjoyed seeing fear in a victim’s eyes, both before and after death, even if the murder wasn’t by his own hand.
Red John stepped closer to the victim, mindful of the pool of blood around the victim’s final resting spot. His eyes caught sight of the slashes across Kirsten’s pale throat, wrists and ankles, which made him, scoff silently. It had taken the murderer sixteen knives to do what he could have done in just one.
Amateurs, he thought. Hadn’t they ever heard of the expression that less was more? It was one of the various reasons why he had only killed with one knife; when painting a picture of the same consistency, after all, one didn’t want to change the brush size.
“Notice anything about the victim, Jane?” Rigsby asked and Red John side-eyed him. What kind of question was that? The young agent had eyes, why couldn’t she notice anything? Did the unit continuously rely on Patrick for everything? Patrick was smart, of course, but the man wasn’t perfect; he was flawed also.
“Yes.” Red John answered, coolly. Rigsby met his eyes and raised his eyebrow, which prompted Red John to speak again. “She’s dead.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Red John ignored the agent’s comment. Kirsten’s body was just so much more enjoyable to focus on, rather than answering the dumb questions from a sex deprived man, who was only grumpy because his whore of a girlfriend hadn’t been putting out for him lately.
Her tongue has probably also been cut out, Red John realized from the unnatural red shade of the brunette’s lips. The young woman most likely hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut about something important.
To Red John, that signified two possible motives for the young woman’s murder.
One, Kirsten had found her own self caught up in a drug deal and the killer (or killers, as he hadn’t been able to decide if the person had acted alone or not) had silenced her permanently, in the most gruesome way possible.
Or…
Two, Kirsten had found her own self mixed up in some sordid love affair with a married man and an angry wife had silenced her husband’s mistress forever, by cutting out her tongue and impaling her with knives.
Either way, Kirsten dead and the sight of her battered and knife-ridden body had filled him with a burning sense of nostalgia. Red John wanted to do nothing more than pry one of the scarlet-drenched blades from Kirsten’s bloodless body and have his way with Teresa, but he knew he had to wait. Killing her after she (and various members of the Serious Crimes Unit) had flagged possible concerns about him in the back of their minds would have ended the game long before it could have even begun.
Patience, after all, he thought with a soft smile, is a virtue.
Teresa’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Where’s Mr. Cole or Principal Maddock right now?”
“I had them sent to the choir room, ma’am.” The Sherriff pointed toward the now barely hidden door, which made Red John roll his eyes. If the Sherriff wanted to flirt with Teresa and gain her attention, the man was going about it all wrong. Teresa needed somebody to put her in her place; not somebody, like the pretty boy sheriff, who would allow her to remain indecisive in her decisions. Red John would teach the sheriff how one was supposed to handle Teresa, if only to get the message across that Teresa was his.
“Has anyone questioned either the principal or the choir teacher yet?” Grace and Rigsby shook their heads at Teresa’s question.
“Cho was waiting for you; he’s in the choir room.” Teresa nodded and moved past the body. Red John followed her into the medium-sized choir room, where a set of pale risers belonged, along with Cho and two other individuals.
Red John watched Cho greet his boss with a brief nod, before Teresa turned to the two individuals, who both seemed slightly anxious.
“Which one of you is Principal Maddock?” The woman, a petite blonde with a slight overbite and who wore a pink cardigan paired with tan pants, raised her hand into the hair. Red John could tell that the blonde had been crying, as the skin around her eyes held a slight puff to them and he couldn’t believe the audacity of the principal. Death, whether anyone liked it or not, happened and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Her crying over the death of someone she probably didn’t even know, in his opinion, made her completely worthless to the investigation.
“That would be me, Principal Amanda Maddock. Officer…?” The blonde trailed off in her sentence, the twang of a southern accent colored her voice, as she continued to focus on Teresa.
“Agent Lisbon with the California Bureau of Investigation.” Teresa answered. The Senior Agent flashed both individuals her badge, who both nodded in understanding. “Behind me, Agent Van Pelt, Agent Rigsby, and Agent Cho and next to me is Mr. Jane, our consultant.”
“You mean like the local branch of the FBI?” The male beside Amanda Maddock spoke, wire-framed glasses perched on his button-like nose. Red John looked Joshua Cole over; he was a young brunette and much like his boss, also dressed professionally with a short-sleeved polo and tan pants. Teresa nodded, before she brought her attention back on the principal.
“Before today, had you ever seen the victim before?” Amanda furrowed her brows, before she pulled her bottom lip under her top teeth. Red John waited for her answer, as he brought his arms against his chest in impatience. Was it really that difficult to answer the question of whether you knew the victim or not? “Or does the name Kirsten Ryder sound familiar to you?”
Amanda shook her head, after a few more moments of silence. “I’ve never heard the name before.”
“Is it possible that Kirsten was once a student here?” Amanda let out a watery chuckle at Teresa’s question, which brought her a few stares. “Why is that funny, ma’am?”
“You’re asking a Senior High School principal to recall the names of all her students from the past, Lisbon.” Red John commented, dryly. “Even for you, that’s a little daft.” The room fell completely silent and Red John managed to keep the smirk off his face. He enjoyed putting women in their place almost as much as he enjoyed slitting their throats. “Most of us can’t remember what we ate last Tuesday for lunch, let alone the names of every student who passes through the halls of this fine establishment.” Patrick’s sarcasm had always been easy to craft, it had just taken a small amount of time to fine tune the underlying insults. He had always been direct with his accomplices and subtle insults had never been needed, as his accomplices usually knew that they were idiots.
Amanda cleared her throat, awkwardly. “If it would help, I have school records that I could bring up. Our new record system goes back as far as 1999.”
“That would be extremely helpful.” Teresa answered. Red John blinked in disbelief at her ignorance of him, as the Sherriff disappeared with Amanda into the small choir room office. Nobody had ever ignored him before and it filled him with rage. He had gone out of his way to appreciate Teresa, to show her that he cared and wanted her, only for her to completely ignore it and him?
She’s going to thank me for this; Red John thought with his eyes on her back, all women do eventually.
“And you must be Mr. Cole?” Teresa turned to the choir teacher, who nodded. “Can you tell us what you saw when you found Ms. Ryder?”
“He saw a dead body, Lisbon.” Red John responded. “What more could he have possibly seen? The murderer holding a neon sign, declaring: ‘Here I Am! Come arrest me!’?” Red John scoffed; no wonder the Serious Crimes Unit had yet been able to apprehend him; they were asking all of the wrong questions. “Do you know the…”
“Jane.” Teresa interrupted him, hastily. She didn’t turn around to face him, which filled him with even more anger. “I apologize for my colleague, Mr. Cole.”
Joshua waved it off. “I deal with high school students, Agent Lisbon. Some days, even here, the students can become disgruntled with me.” Joshua chuckled, before he spoke again with a more somber tone. “Tonight is…” he paused to take a small breath. “…was…our annual spring concert; the auditorium hadn’t been used since yesterday afternoon by the drama department, who had just finished a final production of something Phil Raleigh wrote and produced for his students.” Teresa nodded. “Anyway, I stepped onto the dark stage to make sure that the drama department had put everything back; we all share the stage, after all. Nothing seemed out of place in the backroom, until I noticed that the backdrop curtain hadn’t been closed completely and I moved to close them when I felt something hard.”
“Out of curiosity, I walked to the stage and turned the floodlights on only to find the body. I promptly locked my students in the room and called Amanda.” Red John noticed the platinum wedding band around Joshua’s ring finger with interest. Young Kirsten could have been with Joshua and Amanda had found out, hence the reason for the tears.
“You and Amanda seem awfully cozy with one another.” Red John idly pointed out. He glanced in the direction of the brightly lit choir office, the glass was see-through and his eyes caught the various trophies sitting within the room. Joshua smiled brightly. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Mr. Cole?”
“Is this question even pertinent to our current investigation, Jane?” Teresa asked, as she turned to face him.
“Joshua found the body, Lisbon.” Red John said, pretending that Teresa was a small child, who couldn’t comprehend various things. “It is always possible that he had an affair with Ms. Ryder and Principal Maddock found out; jealousy, after all, is a motive and stabbings are a crime of passion.” Red John glanced at Joshua, who wore a deep frown.
“Before you go down that rabbit hole,” Joshua responded with his arms against his chest. “Amanda and I have been married for six years this July; I have never been unfaithful and Amanda is expecting our first child.” Red John said nothing. Although, Amanda’s worthless tears made more sense; the woman was pregnant and probably hormonal. “The very idea that I would cheat on my wife is blasphemous, Mr. Jane.”
“It’s a question that has to be asked.” Teresa simply stated and Joshua glanced in her direction. “It’s just standard procedure, Mr. Cole.”
“I don’t insult easily, Agent Lisbon, but I don’t want my marriage ruined over such baseless accusations.” Joshua replied. “I love my wife.” Red John opened his mouth to point out that Amanda could have killed Kirsten out of jealousy, but Amanda and the Sherriff returned before he could. Amanda’s shaking arms were full of papers, which she quickly passed over to Teresa. Joshua’s arm slipped around his wife’s waist and he pulled her closer. “She went here, didn’t she?”
Amanda nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Class of 2007. I remember her now.” Hormones or not, Red John thought the principal’s act was a little over the top. “Kirsten Ryder was a shy student, who received decent grades; she never caused any problems, until the very end of her high school career.”
“How so?” Teresa asked.
“Kirsten became pregnant.” Joshua continued for his wife, who nodded in agreement. “I never had her in class, but I remember hearing the students’ gossip about the pregnant senior.”
“No offense ma’am,” Grace cut into the conversation, “but how do you not remember a pregnant teenager within a Catholic school setting? Pregnancies around here, I’m sure, have to be pretty uncommon.”
Amanda shook her head. “It’s a reoccurring myth that our school belongs to the Catholic or Christian faith, especially with the crosses all over the auditorium right now.”
“If you aren’t Catholic or Christian,” Red John voiced, “then what are you?”
“We’re a school that accepts all faiths.” Joshua replied and Amanda nodded. “Usually, the auditorium isn’t decorated with crosses, but Phil left them…” Before Joshua had the chance to explain, the door to the choir room flew open and crashed into a wooden bookshelf along the white wall. Red John glanced at the brunette man, who stood within the doorway of the choir room with his fists clenched tightly together in anger.
“And I would have taken them down eventually!” The brunette male exclaimed, before he turned to the principal. “Damn it, Amanda! You didn’t need to get the cops involved for something so trivial!”
Joshua scowled. “Not everything is about you or your drama department, Raleigh.” Red John glanced between the two males in amusement. Phil Raleigh, a pale and jittery drama teacher, really thought he could take on Joshua Cole in front of the CBI? Teresa looked ready to intervene when Phil took a step closer to both Joshua and Amanda.
“You’re still bitter that your precious wife chose to give my department more money than yours.” Phil ranted with a matching scowl across his features. “Just because your kids can win various choir concerts doesn’t mean that your wife doesn’t see the values in drama programs.” Phil turned to Teresa. “I’ll take the damned crosses down, okay? God, everyone makes such a huge deal over three forgotten crosses.”
Phil’s erratic behavior amused him highly. The youthful brunette was clearly on something, especially from the way he kept challenging a pregnant woman and her husband in front of the CBI, but Red John couldn’t tell if the substance was alcohol or not.
Either way, Phil Raleigh had something to do with Kirsten’s death.
“Mr. Raleigh, I presume?” Teresa asked and Phil nodded. “We’re not here about the crosses. We’re here about the murder of Kirsten Ryder; the young woman who was impaled on the stage.”
Red John waited for Phil to react to the news. The man did, even though his reaction was delayed by a few seconds.
“Dead?” Phil asked in a hushed whisper and Teresa nodded. “Oh god, who would do such a heartless act to such a troubled soul?”
You and whoever helped you, Red John replied back to Phil’s question in his head. A stiff breeze looked as if it would have blown Phil over and if the man had been intoxicated, the man would have never been able to lift Kirsten up by himself.
Not that he would tell Teresa or her unit that though.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Mr. Raleigh.” Teresa said. “Did you know Ms. Ryder well?” Phil nodded.
“Kirsten had been in my drama classes. If it hadn’t been for her unfortunate pregnancy, she would have gone far outside of these halls.” Phil glanced at his shoes. “I can’t believe she’s dead. I just saw her last Tuesday night too.” Red John realized that the man was either telling the truth or he was an exceptional liar, although, he couldn’t tell which one Phil really was though.
“Where?” Teresa asked, as she removed her notepad.
“The local pharmacy in town; Weaseco. Kirsten had been paying for a pregnancy test.” Phil answered.
“Another pregnancy?” Amanda gasped and Phil nodded. “That poor child.”
“I asked her how things had been going and how her child was doing; she told me that she had miscarried, before she paid for her item and rushed out of the store.” Amanda’s loud gasp filled the room, which didn’t surprise him. No pregnant woman wanted to hear about the miscarriage of another woman’s baby. “I quickly followed her from the store and watched her get into a silver Toyota with tinted windows.”
He’s lying, Red John realized. Too many details, without being prompted, signified a well-crafted lie.
Teresa nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Raleigh.” Phil nodded again.
“Anything to help out.” Phil responded. “I just hope you’ll find whoever did this to Kirsten.”
“We will.” Teresa promised. Red John watched her glance between the three. “Did Ms. Ryder have any family around here?”
“All of the information for Kirsten is in the papers I’ve handed you.” Amanda replied, while she motioned toward the papers in Teresa’s grasp. “If her parents have moved away since graduation though; I’m not sure how much help those papers will be.”
“Thank you, Principal Maddock.” Teresa stated, before she turned to stare at Joshua, who still had his arm wrapped around his wife. “Who has access to the auditorium?”
“Well,” Joshua began. “I, Amanda, Phil and the custodial staff all have keys.”
“However,” Phil added. “Anybody could have gotten into the auditorium last night or this morning; the doors were unlocked to allow the custodial staff easier access into cleaning the carpets before the choir concert tonight and anybody could have slipped in.”
Joshua nodded in agreement.
“You will all understand the need for my last question then.” Teresa continued. “Where were you three at around two am this morning?”
“I was with Josh.” Amanda gave, sheepishly. Joshua nodded again. “We had early wake up calls this morning, Agent Lisbon.”
“And you, Mr. Raleigh?” Teresa turned her attention to the lying Phil Raleigh, who merely smiled in their direction.
“Out with my girlfriend, Nicole Wright.” Phil answered. “We both ended up at Cockatoo’s, a local bar in town, until at least one am and then, we both went home to sleep.”
Teresa nodded. “We’ll need Ms. Wright’s number.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Phil rattled off the phone number, which Teresa wrote down. “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” Teresa answered. “For now, anyway.”
Amanda and Joshua dismissed themselves into Joshua’s office, while Phil hurried from the choir room, which left the CBI and Sherriff Tyler alone.
Teresa turned to him, a small frown across her lips. “Any thoughts, Jane?” Red John nodded; he thought Teresa had absolutely no intelligence or common sense, as the woman had completely believed all of Phil’s lies. Teresa stared at him. “I’m not trying to push you into speaking your mind, but maybe sharing with the class will help us out. We do have a murder to solve, after all.”
“Were you not paying attention, Lisbon?” Red John sardonically asked, as he smiled in her direction. Teresa’s dark eyebrows shot up into her bangs. “We have a dead body, fifteen knives that impaled our victim and all you want to know is if their alibis have checked out?” Red John rolled his eyes, as he continued to speak. “Please tell me how you became Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit again, Agent Lisbon.” Teresa narrowed her green eyes. In the pocket of her jacket, he watched her place the notebook away, before she crossed her arms against her chest.
“Excuse me?” Teresa asked with her eyes still narrowed on him and he continued to smile. Teresa just couldn’t get, could she? The proper response to his comments was a thank you, not some comment that made him explain himself. Red John didn’t explain himself to anyone.
“You heard me, didn’t you?” Red John retorted, dryly. Even if her reaction wasn’t what he wanted, the sight of her being angry thrilled him. It had been so long since he had caught sight of a truly outraged Teresa Lisbon. Her green eyes sparked with electricity and he felt his body reacting in a pleasurable way. Of course, Patrick would have also found Teresa’s anger stimulating; he was a masochist, after all. “Unless you’re hard of hearing too and this wouldn't surprise me." Red John watched her body tremble; the breasts beneath her light blue collared shirt moved slightly with every staggering breath she took, which he wanted to cup within his own hands and mold them into his liking. He refused to stop though. Her anger, to him, was like a sexual climax: it needed to spill from her and she needed to scream and it needed to dilute everyone around them, before he could be completely satisfied. “You completely ignored the facts and made meaningless conjecture off the information that anybody could enter into the auditorium.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer, before he continued on. “Why would anyone, let alone the staff, leave the doors to a high school unlocked? Can you imagine the amount of graffiti come morning?” Red John shook his head with a bitter laugh. “Either the principal, the choir teacher, or the drama teacher is lying.”
“You’re way out of line, Jane!” Teresa gritted out from her clenched teeth.
Red John shook his head again. Had Teresa forgotten that she had asked him for his thoughts? If she had forgotten, he was going to remind her. “I’m not finished yet. You asked me for my thoughts and I can’t help it if you don’t like what I’m saying.” Years ago, Teresa would have punched Patrick in the face for such comments. He remembered watching the conversation that the two had held in the elevator years ago; Teresa had hauled off and punched Patrick in the nose for lying to her.
Now though, Teresa was as tame as a house cat and he was safe from her wrath.
“Did the amounts of alcohol you consumed over the past weekend cause a relapse in your skills, Agent?” Red John stated. “If so, a trip to Alcoholics Anonymous might be needed.” The team and Sherriff said nothing, as he turned to face them. “I’ve got better things to do than be your human lie detector, so I’ll be leaving now.” With that, he left them all in the choir room; the largest smile still on his face, as the late May heat and overcast sun hit his face.
Red John could only imagine the looks of confusion, surprise, and irritation from the team, as he moved toward the CBI’s dark SUV and leaned against the heated vehicle, which filled him with more glee.
Amy’s suicide, while ultimately tragic, had been the best thing to happen for him and to Patrick Jane and the man’s slowly “deteriorating” sanity.
Part Five 2/2