All Roads Lead to Nowhere (8/10)
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven
Part Eight
She headed straight to the cemetery. A bunch of red roses - her mom’s favorites - were clasped in her left hand as she wove her way through the gravestones. Sometimes, at night, she still spoke to her mother. Van Pelt knew that she was still there; Yolanda had spoken to her a couple of times after her death. Unfortunately, her psychic cousin’s connections had never provided her with any useful information. But then again, the gift was fleeting and uncontrollable. And just because somebody had passed on, it didn’t grant them omniscience. Still, talking to her occasionally provided Van Pelt with a great comfort. If she was occasionally feeling lonely and ever needed a friendly, sympathetic ear to listen, her mom would be there for her.
Like she had been when she was a kid.
Whenever Van Pelt had bottled things up for too long, she just had to explode. It was always her mother who had been there to pick up the pieces. To tell her that everything would be fine. To put the proverbial band-aid over the wounds until the next time it was required.
As she grew older, Van Pelt may have found it easier to manage her emotions, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t prone to bursts of anger still. It was just that she left them firmly behind closed doors, only allowed her colleagues and friends to see her bright, optimistic side. She didn’t want to make anyone unhappy and therefore, shared the good while locking down the bad.
“Hi, mom.”
The grave was immaculately maintained. Van Pelt knew that her father came down regularly, to ensure that it looked perfect. She knelt down beside it, looking for something to do. No weeds needed pulling and the flowers her dad had left three days ago were still bright and fresh. Everything looked as perfect as the house her mother used to keep. Still, she busied herself with reorganizing the blooms. It was better than just doing nothing at all, staring at the grave and wishing that her mom was still alive. That she would be able to give her some good advice for mending a broken heart. Or that the family would still be intact instead of fractured due to the loss of the one person who could hold them all together.
Eventually, she just started to pour her heart and soul out to her mom. She had talked about work time and time again, behind closed doors, in the hope that she would be listening in heaven. But she hadn’t updated her, not yet. Talking was a form admission, of realizing that what had happened was real, to Van Pelt. But now, she needed to. The only other person she could consider telling, her dad, was furious with her. She needed to mend things with him before she told him the truth about O’Laughlin. However, her mom would. She always did, or so Van Pelt liked to think. Therefore, it all came out by the graveside. How the second man she had truly loved betrayed her completely, how Lisbon had nearly lost her life because of it, how Jane had killed a man instead of looking to the team for support. That Melody was still trying to kill herself, despite the efforts of many to prevent her from doing so. And that her dad was still angry with her, angry with Melody, angry with the world since her passing. The tears flowed as she spoke and there was nothing that Van Pelt could do to stop them. This was something she needed to do; it was a catharsis. She also knew that this wouldn’t be the last time it happened because of this situation, but it was better to get the process started than to continually lock it down.
This was the kind of thing that people said would make her feel better. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel much different. If anything, she was a little more bitter because so many bad things had happened to her at once. What had she done to deserve so much bad luck recently?
xxx
“What are you doing here?”
The last people Van Pelt had expected to greet her at home were Rodriguez and Mayer. Truth be told, she had expected them to still be at work; she never really stopped before six p.m. unless explicitly told to. And even then, those incidents were few and far between. If she had never worked in Iowa, then she would have put it down to the differences between working in a small town and a state capitol. However, this was where she started her career and she knew that despite the cases being significantly less interesting, they were still rushed off their feet.
“Oh, that’s just charming, isn’t it?” Rodriguez said with a smirk.
“Well?”
“Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?” Mayer asked politely and she nodded in response.
She took them through to the den, shooed Lily and Bouncer out and firmly shut the door behind them. Her dad was out, but she knew that Mayer would appreciate the smaller room, in comparison to the kitchen. Van Pelt folded her arms and stared at them searchingly. It was only then that she noticed that Rodriguez had a plastic carrier bag in his hands and inside, a familiar looking manila folder.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It is,” Mayer confirmed.
“But how…”
“Look, Gracie, we had to pull some strings to do this,” Rodriguez said, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “If people find out…”
“I know, thank you.”
She smiled slightly as she accepted the file. Right now, she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it, not after her little breakdown at the cemetery. Still, Van Pelt decided that she should take it as a sign. That her mom wanted her to discover the truth. These things happened for a reason and that was usually to learn from them. She had made a lot of mistakes of late and therefore, had a lot of learning to do. Still, she could only focus on one thing at a time and right now, it was looking like she was making the right decision to focus on her family instead of her own personal woes.
“Why couldn’t this wait until later? Not that I’m not grateful, or anything…”
“Oh, we were just passing by.”
“The Reynolds place has been burglarized,” Mayer expanded.
“Oh no,” Van Pelt said, a little shocked. “Who would do such a thing to them?”
“That’s what we’ve gotta find out, sweetie.”
“You go do that,” she replied, shooing them both out of the room.
“I hope you get the answers you’re looking for, Grace,” Mayer added quickly. “Really, I do.”
“Thanks, me too,” she answered back.
As they rushed off down the driveway, Van Pelt waved at them. She hoped that they wouldn’t get into too much trouble for releasing confidential files to her. They didn’t deserve that kind of mess, not just to help an ex-colleague for old times’ sake. Besides, they were some of the good guys, dedicated to their jobs and honest to the core. That was more than could be said to some law enforcement professionals she had known of late.
xxx
She stared at her cell phone, dumbfounded.
Rigsby had sent her a text message.
Van Pelt hadn’t expected any of the team to contact her while she was away. Part of her thought that because she was trying to temporarily forget about them, that they were doing the same to her. Now she knew that that was a foolish view to take. There were still so many loose ends regarding the recent debacle. Ones that Cho and Rigsby had been left to tie up, with the help of a couple of other agents from other departments. However much she didn’t want them to, of course they were going to touch upon O’Laughlin and his role in the whole matter sooner or later.
Slowly and steadily she re-read the words in the short message over and over, trying to take in the repercussions of it. O’Laughlin had never been a member of the FBI; he’d been merely posing fraudulently as a cop. It had all been a part of his and Red John’s scheme to allow him to worm his way into the CBI and eventually, Van Pelt’s heart. In a way, it made her feel a little better about the situation, or at the very least, her job. He was one less corrupt cop, going completely off the rails. However, they were meant to be able to detect things like that and he’d been able to pose as someone he wasn’t for so long. And even though he had been masquerading as a cop, it didn’t erase all the damage he had done to her.
He’d still aimed to kill Lisbon. Would have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for such a duff shot.
Still used her to get to Jane, to the whole team, even.
Made her fall in love with him.
If it hadn’t been for that, then maybe the revelation would have been more of a relief. However, it just settled uncomfortably in her stomach. How could she have not noticed that he wasn’t a cop? Had she really been that blinded by love to miss the most obvious clues? And if she had noticed, then maybe, things would have panned out differently.
She wouldn’t have been feeling so heartbroken, for a start.
Even if it had been easier to accept, it still wouldn’t have been enough for her to return home. For a start, her mandatory leave was still in place. This development wouldn’t have been enough to convince LaRoche to revoke that. Then, there was the fact that she was still recovering from being involved in a shooting. Just because some cops were capable of returning to work the morning after, it didn’t mean she was. She was younger, less experienced. This kind of thing still came as a shock to her. And besides, thanks to Mayer and Rodriguez, she finally had more information about her mother’s death. Van Pelt was more than aware that she was covering old ground that older, possibly wiser, cops had already gone over with the case. However, a fresh set of eyes never hurt anyone. Besides, she understood her sister’s mind better than they would have and she sincerely doubted that they had access to all of Melody’s diaries. Or even considered looking in them at all, for that matter.
Most importantly, she needed to do this, for her sake, as much as anyone else’s. If she could close this one specific case, she would have the answers she craved. Be able to get her father to see sense. And she would be able to prove to herself that the job was still worthwhile, despite all the tragedy involved with it all.
To Part Nine
Part Eight
She headed straight to the cemetery. A bunch of red roses - her mom’s favorites - were clasped in her left hand as she wove her way through the gravestones. Sometimes, at night, she still spoke to her mother. Van Pelt knew that she was still there; Yolanda had spoken to her a couple of times after her death. Unfortunately, her psychic cousin’s connections had never provided her with any useful information. But then again, the gift was fleeting and uncontrollable. And just because somebody had passed on, it didn’t grant them omniscience. Still, talking to her occasionally provided Van Pelt with a great comfort. If she was occasionally feeling lonely and ever needed a friendly, sympathetic ear to listen, her mom would be there for her.
Like she had been when she was a kid.
Whenever Van Pelt had bottled things up for too long, she just had to explode. It was always her mother who had been there to pick up the pieces. To tell her that everything would be fine. To put the proverbial band-aid over the wounds until the next time it was required.
As she grew older, Van Pelt may have found it easier to manage her emotions, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t prone to bursts of anger still. It was just that she left them firmly behind closed doors, only allowed her colleagues and friends to see her bright, optimistic side. She didn’t want to make anyone unhappy and therefore, shared the good while locking down the bad.
“Hi, mom.”
The grave was immaculately maintained. Van Pelt knew that her father came down regularly, to ensure that it looked perfect. She knelt down beside it, looking for something to do. No weeds needed pulling and the flowers her dad had left three days ago were still bright and fresh. Everything looked as perfect as the house her mother used to keep. Still, she busied herself with reorganizing the blooms. It was better than just doing nothing at all, staring at the grave and wishing that her mom was still alive. That she would be able to give her some good advice for mending a broken heart. Or that the family would still be intact instead of fractured due to the loss of the one person who could hold them all together.
Eventually, she just started to pour her heart and soul out to her mom. She had talked about work time and time again, behind closed doors, in the hope that she would be listening in heaven. But she hadn’t updated her, not yet. Talking was a form admission, of realizing that what had happened was real, to Van Pelt. But now, she needed to. The only other person she could consider telling, her dad, was furious with her. She needed to mend things with him before she told him the truth about O’Laughlin. However, her mom would. She always did, or so Van Pelt liked to think. Therefore, it all came out by the graveside. How the second man she had truly loved betrayed her completely, how Lisbon had nearly lost her life because of it, how Jane had killed a man instead of looking to the team for support. That Melody was still trying to kill herself, despite the efforts of many to prevent her from doing so. And that her dad was still angry with her, angry with Melody, angry with the world since her passing. The tears flowed as she spoke and there was nothing that Van Pelt could do to stop them. This was something she needed to do; it was a catharsis. She also knew that this wouldn’t be the last time it happened because of this situation, but it was better to get the process started than to continually lock it down.
This was the kind of thing that people said would make her feel better. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel much different. If anything, she was a little more bitter because so many bad things had happened to her at once. What had she done to deserve so much bad luck recently?
xxx
“What are you doing here?”
The last people Van Pelt had expected to greet her at home were Rodriguez and Mayer. Truth be told, she had expected them to still be at work; she never really stopped before six p.m. unless explicitly told to. And even then, those incidents were few and far between. If she had never worked in Iowa, then she would have put it down to the differences between working in a small town and a state capitol. However, this was where she started her career and she knew that despite the cases being significantly less interesting, they were still rushed off their feet.
“Oh, that’s just charming, isn’t it?” Rodriguez said with a smirk.
“Well?”
“Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?” Mayer asked politely and she nodded in response.
She took them through to the den, shooed Lily and Bouncer out and firmly shut the door behind them. Her dad was out, but she knew that Mayer would appreciate the smaller room, in comparison to the kitchen. Van Pelt folded her arms and stared at them searchingly. It was only then that she noticed that Rodriguez had a plastic carrier bag in his hands and inside, a familiar looking manila folder.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It is,” Mayer confirmed.
“But how…”
“Look, Gracie, we had to pull some strings to do this,” Rodriguez said, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “If people find out…”
“I know, thank you.”
She smiled slightly as she accepted the file. Right now, she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it, not after her little breakdown at the cemetery. Still, Van Pelt decided that she should take it as a sign. That her mom wanted her to discover the truth. These things happened for a reason and that was usually to learn from them. She had made a lot of mistakes of late and therefore, had a lot of learning to do. Still, she could only focus on one thing at a time and right now, it was looking like she was making the right decision to focus on her family instead of her own personal woes.
“Why couldn’t this wait until later? Not that I’m not grateful, or anything…”
“Oh, we were just passing by.”
“The Reynolds place has been burglarized,” Mayer expanded.
“Oh no,” Van Pelt said, a little shocked. “Who would do such a thing to them?”
“That’s what we’ve gotta find out, sweetie.”
“You go do that,” she replied, shooing them both out of the room.
“I hope you get the answers you’re looking for, Grace,” Mayer added quickly. “Really, I do.”
“Thanks, me too,” she answered back.
As they rushed off down the driveway, Van Pelt waved at them. She hoped that they wouldn’t get into too much trouble for releasing confidential files to her. They didn’t deserve that kind of mess, not just to help an ex-colleague for old times’ sake. Besides, they were some of the good guys, dedicated to their jobs and honest to the core. That was more than could be said to some law enforcement professionals she had known of late.
xxx
She stared at her cell phone, dumbfounded.
Rigsby had sent her a text message.
Van Pelt hadn’t expected any of the team to contact her while she was away. Part of her thought that because she was trying to temporarily forget about them, that they were doing the same to her. Now she knew that that was a foolish view to take. There were still so many loose ends regarding the recent debacle. Ones that Cho and Rigsby had been left to tie up, with the help of a couple of other agents from other departments. However much she didn’t want them to, of course they were going to touch upon O’Laughlin and his role in the whole matter sooner or later.
Slowly and steadily she re-read the words in the short message over and over, trying to take in the repercussions of it. O’Laughlin had never been a member of the FBI; he’d been merely posing fraudulently as a cop. It had all been a part of his and Red John’s scheme to allow him to worm his way into the CBI and eventually, Van Pelt’s heart. In a way, it made her feel a little better about the situation, or at the very least, her job. He was one less corrupt cop, going completely off the rails. However, they were meant to be able to detect things like that and he’d been able to pose as someone he wasn’t for so long. And even though he had been masquerading as a cop, it didn’t erase all the damage he had done to her.
He’d still aimed to kill Lisbon. Would have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for such a duff shot.
Still used her to get to Jane, to the whole team, even.
Made her fall in love with him.
If it hadn’t been for that, then maybe the revelation would have been more of a relief. However, it just settled uncomfortably in her stomach. How could she have not noticed that he wasn’t a cop? Had she really been that blinded by love to miss the most obvious clues? And if she had noticed, then maybe, things would have panned out differently.
She wouldn’t have been feeling so heartbroken, for a start.
Even if it had been easier to accept, it still wouldn’t have been enough for her to return home. For a start, her mandatory leave was still in place. This development wouldn’t have been enough to convince LaRoche to revoke that. Then, there was the fact that she was still recovering from being involved in a shooting. Just because some cops were capable of returning to work the morning after, it didn’t mean she was. She was younger, less experienced. This kind of thing still came as a shock to her. And besides, thanks to Mayer and Rodriguez, she finally had more information about her mother’s death. Van Pelt was more than aware that she was covering old ground that older, possibly wiser, cops had already gone over with the case. However, a fresh set of eyes never hurt anyone. Besides, she understood her sister’s mind better than they would have and she sincerely doubted that they had access to all of Melody’s diaries. Or even considered looking in them at all, for that matter.
Most importantly, she needed to do this, for her sake, as much as anyone else’s. If she could close this one specific case, she would have the answers she craved. Be able to get her father to see sense. And she would be able to prove to herself that the job was still worthwhile, despite all the tragedy involved with it all.
To Part Nine