Russian Roulette (11/16)
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten
Part Eleven - Suspicions and Lies
Lisbon didn’t bother to tell Patrick Jane that she was married.
What was the point? From what she knew about him already, she knew he would somehow be able to use it as leverage against her. Everything he did, there seemed to be an agenda behind it. Even the simple fact he was working for the CBI had a reason behind it. If her team wasn’t running the Red John case, then she would never have been introduced to him. He would have had no interest in working underneath her, nor in any of the other cases. His motive for solving them was to simply stay with the team, in order to seek more information on Red John. It was clear there was only one motive for his association and that was revenge.
Even so, as days changed to weeks and weeks to months, Lisbon gradually found herself enjoying his company more and more. There was something about his presence which lightened the atmosphere and made work all the more enjoyable. Even though she couldn’t always say that she agreed with his methodology, Lisbon knew that he took his work deadly seriously. He knew what it was like to live without answers; he had been in the same position as many of the grieving relatives they came across. In fact, he was practically stuck in limbo because of it.
Grace Van Pelt, the new rookie who had been hired to join the team, was also developing nicely. She was a little highly-strung and a little too eager to please, but generally she had slotted in well. Cases came and went and the closed case record of the unit improved greatly. Of course, the number of complaints due to Jane’s behavior also increased, but there was always a price to play. Generally, Lisbon found she was at her happiest at work for a long while. It felt good to have some company she felt close to, especially since Jackson had left the CBI.
The only thing that marred the mood was the fact that Red John was still out there, somewhere. Since Jane had joined, the serial killer had struck twice and each time she had watched the openly fake psychic go completely off the rails. There was nothing she could do to control him during those times; it was like he was blinkered and only focused on one thing only. She understood his desperation; she felt it too, albeit for different reasons. As far as she was concerned, Red John was her greatest failure.
As well as things were going at work, sometimes it felt like she was having the opposite problem at home. Jackson seemed to be spending an increasing amount of time away from home and whenever she saw him, things seemed a little more fractious than before. She was entirely open with him about her chaste relationship with Patrick Jane, but he seemed to approve of the man even less than he did Tommy. Every time they covered the subject, he found something damning to say about him. Jackson even went as far as to say that he was corrupting her, that she didn’t seem like the cop he’d met when she’d first joined the CBI.
Those callous accusations were the ones that hurt the most. She always tried to rationalize them; he didn’t work for the CBI anymore, he didn’t know how well her team was doing it. Clearly, he had a reason to be so distrustful of Patrick Jane.
But why?
As far as she knew, the two men had never met. Certainly, she had never dared to introduce them. Lisbon had a feeling that if she did, it would be a complete and utter disaster. The two men were like chalk and cheese. Sure, they shared a few characteristics - they were both charming and charismatic for a start - but that didn’t mean they’d get along like a house on fire. Instead, she was fairly certain that they would spontaneously combust if they ever were to interact.
And that was where her suspicions lay. The secrecy was beginning to drag her down. He’d even taken to hiding things, like his laptop and keys, specifically so she couldn’t use them. Whenever she lightly questioned him about his company, he cast her queries aside as if they didn’t matter, tried to distract her or simply ignored her. She hated the half-truths he was telling her, the things that he was not. Lisbon wondered whether or not she was just reading too much into things. However, she also wondered if it was just Patrick Jane rubbing off on her. Regardless, it was becoming an incessant itch that she couldn’t scratch. There had to be more behind her disconcertion than she actually thought.
One day, when he disappeared off on yet another one of his mysterious ‘business trips’, she took it upon herself to investigate. When she was sure that he had gone, she crept down to the cellar, a place which she never bothered to go. Jackson had claimed that he had made it into his office, of sorts, and that there was nothing of interest to her down there. Naturally, she had respected his privacy and allowed him to get on with whatever he did down there.
Until now.
The steps creaked as she made her way down into the cellar. She shivered; despite it being his ‘office’, he hadn’t bothered with heating down here. Slowly, Lisbon made her way around the room, eyeing each piece of furniture one by one. There was nothing that particularly caught her eye, nothing seemed like it could technically be out of place. Except for the freezer unit, that was. Why the hell would he need one of them in an office?
Just as her fingers touched it, she heard footsteps approaching. Silently, Lisbon cursed at herself and she scanned the room for a suitable place to hide. Only a couch seemed to offer her any chance of being hidden, so she immediately dove behind it.
She froze, hidden behind an old leather couch, willing him not to come any closer. Lisbon held her breath, but swore that Jackson could probably tell where she was just by how loud her heartbeat alone seemed. With eagle eyes, she watched as he moved over to the safe, opened it quickly with gloved hands and withdrew a single knife blade.
When he left, she let out the breath she had been holding.
That didn’t stop her mind from racing, however.
xxx
It felt like a blessed relief to escape from the house.
Ever since Patrick Jane had been back on the scene, Red John had grown more than a little nervous. The man may not have been a psychic, but he still knew how to read people. And Jane had clearly made it his mission to know as much as possible about him. Once, he had laughed at the foolhardy claims of revenge, but now he wasn’t so sure. There had always been something quite cold and calculating about the man; he wouldn’t put murder past him. If he worked out who he was, of course.
And he had been changing his Lisbon. In small, subtle ways, which even Lisbon herself hadn’t been able to notice. Of course, Red John had known immediately. There was nobody who knew his wife better than him and for good reason.
Part of him was beginning to wonder if this was the beginning of the end. Red John had always imagined that he was in total control of his relationship with Lisbon. He’d decided that he would carry out his plans when he grew bored of her, when their relationship no longer provided him with a spark. And the spark had begun to dim, that he was certain. The screaming matches they shared showed the cracks that were beginning to appear.
However, even though she had stopped providing him with such an interest at home, she did provide a new spark elsewhere. Since Jane had rediscovered some of his health and vitality, Red John had begun molding him into the perfect nemesis. The fact that he had been partnered up with his wife in the workplace both intrigued and horrified Red John. He hated the way that Jane was pulling her away from him. But she seemed to offer him something, and he wasn’t entirely sure what. Whenever he questioned Lisbon about Jane, she always denied everything. She claimed that their relationship was entirely platonic and that there was nothing going on between them. He was just a friend, nothing more and nothing less.
That wasn’t what his spies and allies within the CBI told him, however.
If they were to be believed, there was a certain chemistry between the pair. Whether or not they acted upon it was another matter. They hadn’t shown signs that they were, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being discreet about it.
From his own observations, Red John could see that Patrick Jane was beginning to rely more and more heavily upon his wife for comfort, and maybe even more. When he had first been released from the mental institution, Jane had seemed fine, but Red John was the master of masquerades. It was clear that there were flaws between the lines and that he wasn’t quite as healthy as he purported to be.
The closer that Jane and Lisbon got, then the harder that Jane would fall after her death. Especially when he discovered that the same man to kill his family had brutally murdered the petite senior agent.
And then, they would be thrust together. The serial killer and his nemesis, united in supposed grief. The husband and the lover, both grieving for a woman lost.
It was almost poetic.
No, it was perfect.
In that moment, he decided that Lisbon could live to see another day. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have another murder planned for that very night, after all. His hold-all sat neatly by his side, containing everything he needed: leather gloves, protective clothing, his mask and his trusted silver knife.
The knife.
He cursed silently as he realized he’d left it behind. Theoretically, he could have just bought another one, but as far as he was concerned, that one was special. It was the one he’d used for each and every one of his murders to date. Red John had style and tradition and he simply wasn’t going to sacrifice either of them. It may have meant a slight delay, but he’d left early in case of delays anyway. Rolling his eyes, he promptly turned his car around and drove straight back home.
The house was quiet when he walked back in. Though her car was still parked on the driveway, Lisbon was nowhere to be seen. Figuring she must have gone for a walk or something, he headed straight to the staircase leading to his cellar. This was his private sanctuary, his inner sanctum. Lisbon managed to respect that he deserved some privacy in at least one room, and she never bothered to enter it. If she did, then she would have some interesting surprises to say the least. Though none of his equipment was in full view, it didn’t take much rummaging to find any of it.
Still, he almost liked the danger. He enjoyed knowing that a cop - and not just any cop, the one who was investigating the Red John murders - lived above his prep room. Besides, if he didn’t run risks, what was the point in him doing what he did at all?
Humming to himself, he promptly went and unlocked his safe. Holding it up to the light filtering from the small window, Red John smiled at his silver blade.
Little did he know, that less than five feet away, Lisbon was watching his every move.
To Part Twelve
Part Eleven - Suspicions and Lies
Lisbon didn’t bother to tell Patrick Jane that she was married.
What was the point? From what she knew about him already, she knew he would somehow be able to use it as leverage against her. Everything he did, there seemed to be an agenda behind it. Even the simple fact he was working for the CBI had a reason behind it. If her team wasn’t running the Red John case, then she would never have been introduced to him. He would have had no interest in working underneath her, nor in any of the other cases. His motive for solving them was to simply stay with the team, in order to seek more information on Red John. It was clear there was only one motive for his association and that was revenge.
Even so, as days changed to weeks and weeks to months, Lisbon gradually found herself enjoying his company more and more. There was something about his presence which lightened the atmosphere and made work all the more enjoyable. Even though she couldn’t always say that she agreed with his methodology, Lisbon knew that he took his work deadly seriously. He knew what it was like to live without answers; he had been in the same position as many of the grieving relatives they came across. In fact, he was practically stuck in limbo because of it.
Grace Van Pelt, the new rookie who had been hired to join the team, was also developing nicely. She was a little highly-strung and a little too eager to please, but generally she had slotted in well. Cases came and went and the closed case record of the unit improved greatly. Of course, the number of complaints due to Jane’s behavior also increased, but there was always a price to play. Generally, Lisbon found she was at her happiest at work for a long while. It felt good to have some company she felt close to, especially since Jackson had left the CBI.
The only thing that marred the mood was the fact that Red John was still out there, somewhere. Since Jane had joined, the serial killer had struck twice and each time she had watched the openly fake psychic go completely off the rails. There was nothing she could do to control him during those times; it was like he was blinkered and only focused on one thing only. She understood his desperation; she felt it too, albeit for different reasons. As far as she was concerned, Red John was her greatest failure.
As well as things were going at work, sometimes it felt like she was having the opposite problem at home. Jackson seemed to be spending an increasing amount of time away from home and whenever she saw him, things seemed a little more fractious than before. She was entirely open with him about her chaste relationship with Patrick Jane, but he seemed to approve of the man even less than he did Tommy. Every time they covered the subject, he found something damning to say about him. Jackson even went as far as to say that he was corrupting her, that she didn’t seem like the cop he’d met when she’d first joined the CBI.
Those callous accusations were the ones that hurt the most. She always tried to rationalize them; he didn’t work for the CBI anymore, he didn’t know how well her team was doing it. Clearly, he had a reason to be so distrustful of Patrick Jane.
But why?
As far as she knew, the two men had never met. Certainly, she had never dared to introduce them. Lisbon had a feeling that if she did, it would be a complete and utter disaster. The two men were like chalk and cheese. Sure, they shared a few characteristics - they were both charming and charismatic for a start - but that didn’t mean they’d get along like a house on fire. Instead, she was fairly certain that they would spontaneously combust if they ever were to interact.
And that was where her suspicions lay. The secrecy was beginning to drag her down. He’d even taken to hiding things, like his laptop and keys, specifically so she couldn’t use them. Whenever she lightly questioned him about his company, he cast her queries aside as if they didn’t matter, tried to distract her or simply ignored her. She hated the half-truths he was telling her, the things that he was not. Lisbon wondered whether or not she was just reading too much into things. However, she also wondered if it was just Patrick Jane rubbing off on her. Regardless, it was becoming an incessant itch that she couldn’t scratch. There had to be more behind her disconcertion than she actually thought.
One day, when he disappeared off on yet another one of his mysterious ‘business trips’, she took it upon herself to investigate. When she was sure that he had gone, she crept down to the cellar, a place which she never bothered to go. Jackson had claimed that he had made it into his office, of sorts, and that there was nothing of interest to her down there. Naturally, she had respected his privacy and allowed him to get on with whatever he did down there.
Until now.
The steps creaked as she made her way down into the cellar. She shivered; despite it being his ‘office’, he hadn’t bothered with heating down here. Slowly, Lisbon made her way around the room, eyeing each piece of furniture one by one. There was nothing that particularly caught her eye, nothing seemed like it could technically be out of place. Except for the freezer unit, that was. Why the hell would he need one of them in an office?
Just as her fingers touched it, she heard footsteps approaching. Silently, Lisbon cursed at herself and she scanned the room for a suitable place to hide. Only a couch seemed to offer her any chance of being hidden, so she immediately dove behind it.
She froze, hidden behind an old leather couch, willing him not to come any closer. Lisbon held her breath, but swore that Jackson could probably tell where she was just by how loud her heartbeat alone seemed. With eagle eyes, she watched as he moved over to the safe, opened it quickly with gloved hands and withdrew a single knife blade.
When he left, she let out the breath she had been holding.
That didn’t stop her mind from racing, however.
xxx
It felt like a blessed relief to escape from the house.
Ever since Patrick Jane had been back on the scene, Red John had grown more than a little nervous. The man may not have been a psychic, but he still knew how to read people. And Jane had clearly made it his mission to know as much as possible about him. Once, he had laughed at the foolhardy claims of revenge, but now he wasn’t so sure. There had always been something quite cold and calculating about the man; he wouldn’t put murder past him. If he worked out who he was, of course.
And he had been changing his Lisbon. In small, subtle ways, which even Lisbon herself hadn’t been able to notice. Of course, Red John had known immediately. There was nobody who knew his wife better than him and for good reason.
Part of him was beginning to wonder if this was the beginning of the end. Red John had always imagined that he was in total control of his relationship with Lisbon. He’d decided that he would carry out his plans when he grew bored of her, when their relationship no longer provided him with a spark. And the spark had begun to dim, that he was certain. The screaming matches they shared showed the cracks that were beginning to appear.
However, even though she had stopped providing him with such an interest at home, she did provide a new spark elsewhere. Since Jane had rediscovered some of his health and vitality, Red John had begun molding him into the perfect nemesis. The fact that he had been partnered up with his wife in the workplace both intrigued and horrified Red John. He hated the way that Jane was pulling her away from him. But she seemed to offer him something, and he wasn’t entirely sure what. Whenever he questioned Lisbon about Jane, she always denied everything. She claimed that their relationship was entirely platonic and that there was nothing going on between them. He was just a friend, nothing more and nothing less.
That wasn’t what his spies and allies within the CBI told him, however.
If they were to be believed, there was a certain chemistry between the pair. Whether or not they acted upon it was another matter. They hadn’t shown signs that they were, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being discreet about it.
From his own observations, Red John could see that Patrick Jane was beginning to rely more and more heavily upon his wife for comfort, and maybe even more. When he had first been released from the mental institution, Jane had seemed fine, but Red John was the master of masquerades. It was clear that there were flaws between the lines and that he wasn’t quite as healthy as he purported to be.
The closer that Jane and Lisbon got, then the harder that Jane would fall after her death. Especially when he discovered that the same man to kill his family had brutally murdered the petite senior agent.
And then, they would be thrust together. The serial killer and his nemesis, united in supposed grief. The husband and the lover, both grieving for a woman lost.
It was almost poetic.
No, it was perfect.
In that moment, he decided that Lisbon could live to see another day. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have another murder planned for that very night, after all. His hold-all sat neatly by his side, containing everything he needed: leather gloves, protective clothing, his mask and his trusted silver knife.
The knife.
He cursed silently as he realized he’d left it behind. Theoretically, he could have just bought another one, but as far as he was concerned, that one was special. It was the one he’d used for each and every one of his murders to date. Red John had style and tradition and he simply wasn’t going to sacrifice either of them. It may have meant a slight delay, but he’d left early in case of delays anyway. Rolling his eyes, he promptly turned his car around and drove straight back home.
The house was quiet when he walked back in. Though her car was still parked on the driveway, Lisbon was nowhere to be seen. Figuring she must have gone for a walk or something, he headed straight to the staircase leading to his cellar. This was his private sanctuary, his inner sanctum. Lisbon managed to respect that he deserved some privacy in at least one room, and she never bothered to enter it. If she did, then she would have some interesting surprises to say the least. Though none of his equipment was in full view, it didn’t take much rummaging to find any of it.
Still, he almost liked the danger. He enjoyed knowing that a cop - and not just any cop, the one who was investigating the Red John murders - lived above his prep room. Besides, if he didn’t run risks, what was the point in him doing what he did at all?
Humming to himself, he promptly went and unlocked his safe. Holding it up to the light filtering from the small window, Red John smiled at his silver blade.
Little did he know, that less than five feet away, Lisbon was watching his every move.
To Part Twelve