Ricochet (3/25)
Chapter Three
She was stunned to see Jane standing on her doorstep, with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He eyed her seriously and Lisbon found herself having to resist the temptation to sigh heavily. She should have known that Jane would have followed her home. The man had no sense of boundaries and respect. Even if she had told him that she needed a little personal time, he would still have managed to find a reason to disregard her request and interfere. Usually, that request hinged upon the reason of him ‘needing her help’ regardless of whether or not he actually did. And inevitably, her sense of righteousness meant that she gave into him. Along with Red John, doing her job and doing it well was her driving force now. She didn’t have a family to strive for any longer, and thus, her self-worth laid purely in her ability to solve crimes. It seemed like Jane interfering and wreaking havoc was just the way he was hard wired and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was just like she had to work in order to distract herself from the tragedy in her life.
"Jane? What the hell are you doing here?"
Without a word, he brushed past her and walked straight into the house. She watched as he took in each of the rooms one by one; they were scantly furnished and dirty from years of dust and grime building up. Lisbon didn't feel ashamed by the state of her property; she didn't live here full time anymore and thus, she felt no need to put the effort into maintenance. She didn’t dare rent out the property either, for fear of what clientele it might attract and in a way, she still felt the need to cling onto it. Besides, it all seemed so futile. You were born, you worked, and you died. Why waste time on things that were just going to be undone in the long run?
"Oh yes, Jane. Please, be my guest. Make yourself at home," she muttered angrily.
"Teresa, you can't live like this."
There was a deep dark look of concern hidden behind his eyes, but Lisbon couldn't help but note the hypocrisy. Jane didn't own his own place; instead, he chose to live in extended stay motels or occasionally, the attic of the CBI. Some called it dedication to the job. Lisbon believed it was a more deep-rooted issue, something to do with his past. He couldn't risk settling down out of a fear that one day it might all have been taken away from him. The fear was well-justified, of course. Even after just one year of working with Patrick Jane, he had nearly gotten himself killed on several occasions. If it hadn’t been for Rigsby, Cho and even herself on occasion, then Jane might not have been here at all. One day, she swore, his recklessness would cost the life of himself or somebody close to him, but Jane just couldn’t seem to see that.
In silence, she led him through to the kitchen. She knew she had a teapot somewhere and some old Ceylon tea that Andrew had favored when he'd been alive. Part of her felt like she was betraying her husband by offering it to Jane, but equally, she knew that she was only going to throw it away eventually. There was little point in it going to waste out of some sort of misplaced loyalty to her deceased husband. In silence, she prepared his tea, intrinsically aware of Jane's eyes watching her each and every move. When she handed him over the mug, he quietly thanked her and then she took a sip of her own cooling coffee. Lisbon knew she had to explain to Jane that she was perfectly sane, that she wasn't punishing herself for the death of her family. She did ensure she lived moderately well, mostly off of her income from the CBI. It paid enough for everything else and thus, her years of savings mostly went untouched.
"I don't stay here often, Jane," she explained and he still looked skeptical. "I sold most of the furniture. The things I couldn't bear to let go of all fit inside a small box, which is in my home in Sacramento."
It was the truth. After years of deception, Lisbon could no longer bring herself to tell lies, unless it was strictly necessary. When she had gained employment with the CBI, her Malibu home had become mostly irrelevant, and thus, she had decided to get rid of most of her belongings. Jane nodded slowly, but she still wasn’t entirely sure if he believed her. But then, it was his prerogative whether or not he did so. Lisbon knew that she wasn’t lying, and that was the main thing.
"You kept hold of the house as one of your remaining connections to your family?"
"Yes," Lisbon confirmed; there was little point in her lying to her boss. "I come here occasionally for reflection. Maybe one day I'll be ready to let it go, but not yet."
“Right,” Jane answered back.
Once again, they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lisbon regretted getting rid of virtually all of the furniture in her home now; she couldn’t even offer Jane a place to sit. But still, considering the amount of time she actually spent here, it felt like a waste just keeping it. Selling the stuff and ensuring it was used, and then donating the money raised to bereavement charities had helped her considerably.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Teresa," Jane said suddenly, and she was almost surprised by the sincerity of his tone. "I should go."
"You're here now. I don't mind."
"And you're lying to me," Jane said and her mouth dropped slightly in surprise. "Please, Teresa. I'm a detective. I can tell when somebody is lying. Maybe not as accurately as you, or the reasons why, but I have been doing this job for years. You learn these things."
"Finish your tea, at least," she instructed.
"Yes, ma'am."
After an awkward silence that lasted approximately one minute, they slowly started to discuss the current case. Lisbon was glad to get off the uncomfortable subject of her personal life; she always felt exposed whenever she discussed it with other people. Once, Lisbon had told Jane that she had masqueraded as a psychic, but that she had faked the ability using her natural skills of deception, reading body language, wordplay and the like. It hadn't bothered him much; if anything, he had seemed almost impressed by it. After all, in part, Jane had been responsible for securing her current position in the CBI; he had seen the benefits of her skills from the very beginning. Now, they mostly got along with the task in hand: solving crimes. Lisbon hated being reminded of her fear that everybody would figure out her secrets. She still had skeletons in the closet, though, so the fear had never really gone away.
It appeared that Jane had very similar thoughts about this supposed copycat Red John as she did herself. While the stalker seemed like a positive lead, she was far more interested in the marriage counselor. She had appeared more disappointed about the loss of income from the couple as her clients than she had about the death itself. And then, there was the opinions on Red John. Still, the supposed stalker needed investigating in order to be certain. However, Lisbon was fairly certain that 'stalking' had been an exaggeration and the deceased had just been a fairly anxious soul. She scrutinized Jane as she considered her thoughts. Jane was all about the result of the case; he’d rather close it and fast, even if that required cutting corners. Even though she had no training whatsoever, Lisbon had always been more methodical in her thoughts. She preferred not to leave a stone unturned before she headed down the correct avenue.
And then, there was the simple fact she had already urged Jane to close this case as soon as possible. She should have known better; she should have known that would encourage his reckless behavior in lieu of good, honest police work. He was already convinced of Dr. Wyatt’s guilt and thus, he wanted his confession. He was planning something and he wasn't to tell her precisely what it was he was planning. Nor did she entirely expect him to either. Jane was the boss, she was his subordinate, and he only needed to tell her what was strictly necessary. Still, it irked her, not being in the know. He was using her information and running risks. This was the kind of behavior that Minelli was hoping he’d temper by having her calming presence around. She really wasn’t doing a very good job at that.
“Thanks for the tea,” Jane spoke and he placed the cup on the side. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Jane…” she whispered and he turned on his heels.
“What?”
“Never mind,” she added hastily.
There was no point in pressing him to open up. That was, quite simply, a lost cause. Instead, she watched as he headed towards the front door and let himself out. If he was going to risk hanging himself, then so be it. Of course, she genuinely hoped that he would get a positive result instead, but she knew there was always the risk that the case would turn sour. But that was Jane; that was his chosen methodology and it seemed to work. And he was lucky, when it came to solving cases. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have still been in employment with the CBI. Would he?
xxx
He was disappointed. Jane had hoped that Lisbon would open up when he visited her. Regardless of what she claimed, the way she clung onto the past was unhealthy. But then, he could hardly blame her for that. Every night, when he tried to sleep, images of the car crash which had taken his mom’s life flashed through his mind. It had been his fault; she had been on the way to the pharmacy to pick up his prescribed medication after a bout of tonsillitis and his mind had always managed to fill in the blanks. In quick succession, the crash was followed by his father switching from hapless drunk to a blind rage in the flip of a coin. It always ended with seeing his dad hanging from the light switch from a makeshift noose. As much as he liked to believe the scars of the past remained right there, they clung onto him at night and reminded him of whom he was and where he came from. Even moving across the country, and over two decades passing, had done little to ease the pain.
They never caught the person responsible for the catastrophic turn of events that his childhood had turned into. And thus, he had never been able to reconcile it with himself. Jane had easily found a way to blame himself for the accident. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case, but it didn’t stop his mind from working in other ways. He always wondered what would have happened if his mom had never been involved in the crash, or if they had managed to get justice for her. Of course, those ‘what ifs’ were never answered; Jane knew they never would be. Instead, he was certain that it was the reason he had opted to become a law enforcement officer. He never wanted people to suffer the indignity that he and his family had. After all, he hadn’t been able to save his parents, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t save other people instead.
Jane also knew that his methodology was fairly unorthodox for a cop. He had been lucky to get as far as he had, and it all came down to the speed in which he closed cases. If he didn’t have that, then he would have been kicked out on his ass for being too much of a risk otherwise. But he was his father’s son, and had always felt the irrational need to push the limits. And ever since Teresa Lisbon had joined his team, the closed case record had only improved. She had strong insights and good instincts - better than his - and that meant he was able to use them in order to bring about justice for more families. Criminals deserved punishment, of that he was certain. And really, excepting the judge, jury and a plethora of D.A.s, who cared about the methods used, just so long as murderers ended up being caught and put behind bars? He certainly didn’t, and his team was more than happy to work for him. For the most part, even Minelli was content with his work ethic. It was just when a little too much paperwork landed on his superior’s desk that he got irritated.
In the end, he gave up and turned on the side lamp. He needed to think through this case, to work out a way of getting Dr. Wyatt to confess to the murder of Sally Hughes. The first problem was trying to figure out the motive. During the conversation at her old house, Lisbon had briefly touched upon her suspicions for motive, but she had stubbornly refused to expand upon it. She often did that; it was like she believed that if she only told him half the story, it would stop him from being reckless. However, and he was well aware that she knew it; it often encouraged him to do the exact opposite in order to bring about justice as soon as possible. Besides, he liked being able to prove to her that he could be just as intelligent and almost as intuitive as she was.
After putting together the shreds of information that Lisbon had offered him, Jane suspected that Sally Hughes had done some research into Wyatt and discovered she had faked her certificates. She wasn’t actually a qualified doctor and she wasn’t even a qualified counselor. The woman had threatened to go public with that news unless they received a substantial payoff in exchange for her silence. In the end, Wyatt had decided to take matters into her own hands, especially when she discovered that Sally Hughes was less than virtuous too. The victim had been having an affair with another woman behind her husband’s back and that was enough to tip Wyatt over the edge. Of course, it was all supposition and they didn’t have any evidence yet, but that would come in time. One of the reasons he had picked Grace Van Pelt to join his unit was because she had excelled at the computer based researched during her training. Now, it was time to put her skills to the test.
In the meantime, he and Lisbon were going to have to get the confession. Lisbon rarely liked Jane’s plans, but he knew he would be able to convince her to participate eventually. After all, as he always justified it, it was for the greater good. They knew who was responsible, they both agreed on it in spite of a lack of evidence, and they just needed to get them to confess. Jane dug out his faithful notepad and began to scribble down in it. He needed Lisbon to re-interview the suspect, alone, and work out for certain if she was guilty or not. Then, he needed to actually get her to confess. The first part was easily planned, the second less so.
Just what would trigger a confession from a cold-hearted killer who could blithely lie to the police with practiced ease? She’d lied about knowing who Red John was; that page was the most read in her book on serial killers.
Then, he smiled. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Come morning, while they were leaving Rigsby and Cho to follow up on the stalker and Van Pelt to research Wyatt, Jane dragged Lisbon back to the marriage counseling clinic. It was early and a man waved cheerily at them as he watered the fuchsias. Lisbon was in a petulant mood; Jane had already explained the plan, but she was still in the ‘stubbornly refusing to participate’ mode and he needed to shake her out of it, and fast. He’d already booked the emergency appointment for her with Wyatt. Jane had claimed that she needed help sleeping, an easy lie for him considering he was a chronic insomniac himself. However, Lisbon hadn’t been impressed by the concept of having to see some kind of shrink at all; briefly, Jane found himself wondering if she had some kind of impression with all shrinks, psychiatrists and counselors, but then he knew her sense of professionalism would win out. She would speak to this doctor, because she wanted the case closed as much as he did.
“I’m not doing this,” she said bluntly as they walked through the door for the umpteenth time. “I don’t see why…”
“Shh, Teresa,” he answered soothingly and placed a hand on the small of her back. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s for your own good.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, but didn’t retaliate. Of course, she knew they were in a very public place where they were likely to be overheard, so she couldn’t snap back in the way she saw fit. Naturally, Jane was more than happy to use this to his advantage; he was going to get her into Dr. Wyatt’s office, and she was going to talk to her. Lisbon was going to use the fabricated appointment to have a proper read of the counselor, and then, she could report back. All she had to do was pretend she had a problem for a very short while, and that was it. This was something she had done for years when she had pretended to be a psychic; he wasn’t asking her to do anything outside of her comfort zone. Theoretically, she should have been absolutely fine.
“Teresa Lisbon?” the receptionist called, and Lisbon froze for a second. “Dr. Wyatt will see you now.”
“Jane, I can’t…” she whispered, and for a brief second she looked slightly paler than usual.
“You’ll be fine,” he urged. “Go on. The sooner you deal with this, the better, yes?”
Her glare deepened, but in the end, she sent him a decisive nod and he was relieved. Jane knew that Lisbon would come around in the end, but sometimes, she was a lot of hard work. At least he had managed to convince her to go ahead with it now.
xxx
“You don’t want to be here, do you?” Dr. Wyatt started softly.
Lisbon avoided making eye contact with the fake counselor and instead, drummed her fingers against the coffee table that sat between them. On it, Wyatt had placed a notebook, some pages printed off of the internet and a ballpoint pen. However, Lisbon was staring at the bookcase. Even from here, she could see the textbook on serial killers. This woman was a con artist, just like she had been prior to the death of her family. And the fact that she had now killed in order to continue with the deception made Lisbon sick to her stomach. She showed remorse every single day for what happened to her husband and daughter, whereas Wyatt was more than happy to pretend that nothing had ever happened.
When the woman repeated her forename, Lisbon reluctantly drew her gaze away from the bookshelf and back onto Wyatt. The woman rearranged her scarves and smiled genially. Slowly, she reached out to touch her hands gently, but Lisbon automatically pulled them away before she had a chance to do so. Fleetingly, Wyatt frowned before she rearranged her features into a soothing expression once again. However, Lisbon had already seen the chink in her armor. Despite her ‘many years of experience’, or so she claimed, she wasn’t all that prepared for tough patients who didn’t want to open up.
“I’m sure your boss booked this appointment for a reason. He wants to help, and so do I.”
“Right.”
“I’ve been told you have sleeping problems?” she asked and Lisbon jerked her head in a slight nod. “I assume this stems from the death of your family. They were killed by Red John, correct?”
“Yes. And I thought you’d never heard of Red John.”
Wyatt glanced out of the window briefly. It was the first time in this whole farce of an appointment when she had stopped staring relentlessly at Lisbon. She was almost glad for the reprieve, but she also knew that whatever came out of her mouth next would be a lie. The woman’s tells were blatant, after all.
“Please. Everyone’s heard of Red John,” Wyatt answered dismissively.
“Then why did you lie about it yesterday?”
“It would have been a little bit suspicious, considering…”
“Considering what?” Lisbon pushed her, keen to hear the words herself.
“Never mind,” Wyatt retorted, but Lisbon had heard enough.
“Thank you for your time.”
She stood and headed straight for the door. When Dr. Wyatt called her name several times, she blindly ignored her and went to the waiting room. There, Jane sprang to his feet and practically chased her out of the clinic. It wasn’t until they were safely in the SUV that Lisbon dared to confide in him about what she discovered. Wyatt was definitely the person responsible for Sally Hughes’ death and she had very nearly confessed to Lisbon. She was frustrated; if Wyatt had actually confessed, then all Jane would have had to do was arrest her. Lisbon would have been more than happy to testify in court as to what she had heard. Instead, she knew that Jane was going to do something risky simply to squeeze the confession out of her.
Once they were back at the base Van Pelt had set up for them in the Malibu P.D. headquarters, the young rookie obligingly confirmed that the paper trails led to Wyatt fabricating her qualifications. Rigsby and Cho called soon after to say that the supposed stalker was definitely a dead end. The man, while familiar with Sally Hughes, certainly didn’t seem to have an unhealthy interest in her. That meant the case was heating up. Jane quickly informed each of them that they had mundane tasks to do - Van Pelt to look at the Hughes family bank details, with Lisbon’s assistance. Rigsby and Cho were to interview the boss, just to make sure. Lisbon was about to complain about being ‘wasted’ doing paper trails, but before she had a chance, Jane had disappeared.
Vaguely, she watched as Van Pelt typed furiously at the laptop. To keep herself busy, Lisbon prepared her several cups of coffee, but soon found herself growing bored. If they had a spare laptop, then maybe she would have been of more assistance. She had experience looking in databases and the like for information, too. Slowly, her mind strayed to whatever the hell Jane’s plan was and she was getting increasingly concerned. Knowing him, he would do something drastic to get the confession, like pretend to be the real Red John. Then, fear grabbed hold of her. She could easily have planted that seed in his head when she had expressed the urgency to close the case. Swiftly, she apologized to Van Pelt, explained that she had to go and quickly called Rigsby and Cho.
She met them both back at the clinic. Wordlessly, Rigsby burst into the building and Cho stayed with her. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was more than enough comfort. Just so long as Rigsby stopped Jane from doing anything stupid, then that was the main thing. After a tortuous five minutes, Rigsby and Jane eventually appeared with a handcuffed Simone Wyatt in tow. Jane guided the woman into the car and Lisbon caught Rigsby by the arm.
“What did he do?” she asked him quietly.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
Ignoring the pleas to come back, she headed straight into the clinic for the second time that day and went towards Wyatt’s office. The receptionist immediately complained, but Lisbon ignored her. She pushed the door roughly open with her right hand and stared at the opposite wall in immediate disgust. There, was a half-painted facsimile of Red John’s calling card, the smiley face. Just as she suspected, Jane had threatened her, had pretended he was the real Red John masquerading as a cop. Lisbon, automatically, was furious. Her anger was partially directed at Jane, of course, for taking it way too far to get a confession, but also at herself. She could have stopped him from doing this and she should have known better.
And then, there was the simple fact that he knew just how much Red John hurt her.
To Chapter Four
She was stunned to see Jane standing on her doorstep, with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He eyed her seriously and Lisbon found herself having to resist the temptation to sigh heavily. She should have known that Jane would have followed her home. The man had no sense of boundaries and respect. Even if she had told him that she needed a little personal time, he would still have managed to find a reason to disregard her request and interfere. Usually, that request hinged upon the reason of him ‘needing her help’ regardless of whether or not he actually did. And inevitably, her sense of righteousness meant that she gave into him. Along with Red John, doing her job and doing it well was her driving force now. She didn’t have a family to strive for any longer, and thus, her self-worth laid purely in her ability to solve crimes. It seemed like Jane interfering and wreaking havoc was just the way he was hard wired and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was just like she had to work in order to distract herself from the tragedy in her life.
"Jane? What the hell are you doing here?"
Without a word, he brushed past her and walked straight into the house. She watched as he took in each of the rooms one by one; they were scantly furnished and dirty from years of dust and grime building up. Lisbon didn't feel ashamed by the state of her property; she didn't live here full time anymore and thus, she felt no need to put the effort into maintenance. She didn’t dare rent out the property either, for fear of what clientele it might attract and in a way, she still felt the need to cling onto it. Besides, it all seemed so futile. You were born, you worked, and you died. Why waste time on things that were just going to be undone in the long run?
"Oh yes, Jane. Please, be my guest. Make yourself at home," she muttered angrily.
"Teresa, you can't live like this."
There was a deep dark look of concern hidden behind his eyes, but Lisbon couldn't help but note the hypocrisy. Jane didn't own his own place; instead, he chose to live in extended stay motels or occasionally, the attic of the CBI. Some called it dedication to the job. Lisbon believed it was a more deep-rooted issue, something to do with his past. He couldn't risk settling down out of a fear that one day it might all have been taken away from him. The fear was well-justified, of course. Even after just one year of working with Patrick Jane, he had nearly gotten himself killed on several occasions. If it hadn’t been for Rigsby, Cho and even herself on occasion, then Jane might not have been here at all. One day, she swore, his recklessness would cost the life of himself or somebody close to him, but Jane just couldn’t seem to see that.
In silence, she led him through to the kitchen. She knew she had a teapot somewhere and some old Ceylon tea that Andrew had favored when he'd been alive. Part of her felt like she was betraying her husband by offering it to Jane, but equally, she knew that she was only going to throw it away eventually. There was little point in it going to waste out of some sort of misplaced loyalty to her deceased husband. In silence, she prepared his tea, intrinsically aware of Jane's eyes watching her each and every move. When she handed him over the mug, he quietly thanked her and then she took a sip of her own cooling coffee. Lisbon knew she had to explain to Jane that she was perfectly sane, that she wasn't punishing herself for the death of her family. She did ensure she lived moderately well, mostly off of her income from the CBI. It paid enough for everything else and thus, her years of savings mostly went untouched.
"I don't stay here often, Jane," she explained and he still looked skeptical. "I sold most of the furniture. The things I couldn't bear to let go of all fit inside a small box, which is in my home in Sacramento."
It was the truth. After years of deception, Lisbon could no longer bring herself to tell lies, unless it was strictly necessary. When she had gained employment with the CBI, her Malibu home had become mostly irrelevant, and thus, she had decided to get rid of most of her belongings. Jane nodded slowly, but she still wasn’t entirely sure if he believed her. But then, it was his prerogative whether or not he did so. Lisbon knew that she wasn’t lying, and that was the main thing.
"You kept hold of the house as one of your remaining connections to your family?"
"Yes," Lisbon confirmed; there was little point in her lying to her boss. "I come here occasionally for reflection. Maybe one day I'll be ready to let it go, but not yet."
“Right,” Jane answered back.
Once again, they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lisbon regretted getting rid of virtually all of the furniture in her home now; she couldn’t even offer Jane a place to sit. But still, considering the amount of time she actually spent here, it felt like a waste just keeping it. Selling the stuff and ensuring it was used, and then donating the money raised to bereavement charities had helped her considerably.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Teresa," Jane said suddenly, and she was almost surprised by the sincerity of his tone. "I should go."
"You're here now. I don't mind."
"And you're lying to me," Jane said and her mouth dropped slightly in surprise. "Please, Teresa. I'm a detective. I can tell when somebody is lying. Maybe not as accurately as you, or the reasons why, but I have been doing this job for years. You learn these things."
"Finish your tea, at least," she instructed.
"Yes, ma'am."
After an awkward silence that lasted approximately one minute, they slowly started to discuss the current case. Lisbon was glad to get off the uncomfortable subject of her personal life; she always felt exposed whenever she discussed it with other people. Once, Lisbon had told Jane that she had masqueraded as a psychic, but that she had faked the ability using her natural skills of deception, reading body language, wordplay and the like. It hadn't bothered him much; if anything, he had seemed almost impressed by it. After all, in part, Jane had been responsible for securing her current position in the CBI; he had seen the benefits of her skills from the very beginning. Now, they mostly got along with the task in hand: solving crimes. Lisbon hated being reminded of her fear that everybody would figure out her secrets. She still had skeletons in the closet, though, so the fear had never really gone away.
It appeared that Jane had very similar thoughts about this supposed copycat Red John as she did herself. While the stalker seemed like a positive lead, she was far more interested in the marriage counselor. She had appeared more disappointed about the loss of income from the couple as her clients than she had about the death itself. And then, there was the opinions on Red John. Still, the supposed stalker needed investigating in order to be certain. However, Lisbon was fairly certain that 'stalking' had been an exaggeration and the deceased had just been a fairly anxious soul. She scrutinized Jane as she considered her thoughts. Jane was all about the result of the case; he’d rather close it and fast, even if that required cutting corners. Even though she had no training whatsoever, Lisbon had always been more methodical in her thoughts. She preferred not to leave a stone unturned before she headed down the correct avenue.
And then, there was the simple fact she had already urged Jane to close this case as soon as possible. She should have known better; she should have known that would encourage his reckless behavior in lieu of good, honest police work. He was already convinced of Dr. Wyatt’s guilt and thus, he wanted his confession. He was planning something and he wasn't to tell her precisely what it was he was planning. Nor did she entirely expect him to either. Jane was the boss, she was his subordinate, and he only needed to tell her what was strictly necessary. Still, it irked her, not being in the know. He was using her information and running risks. This was the kind of behavior that Minelli was hoping he’d temper by having her calming presence around. She really wasn’t doing a very good job at that.
“Thanks for the tea,” Jane spoke and he placed the cup on the side. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Jane…” she whispered and he turned on his heels.
“What?”
“Never mind,” she added hastily.
There was no point in pressing him to open up. That was, quite simply, a lost cause. Instead, she watched as he headed towards the front door and let himself out. If he was going to risk hanging himself, then so be it. Of course, she genuinely hoped that he would get a positive result instead, but she knew there was always the risk that the case would turn sour. But that was Jane; that was his chosen methodology and it seemed to work. And he was lucky, when it came to solving cases. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have still been in employment with the CBI. Would he?
xxx
He was disappointed. Jane had hoped that Lisbon would open up when he visited her. Regardless of what she claimed, the way she clung onto the past was unhealthy. But then, he could hardly blame her for that. Every night, when he tried to sleep, images of the car crash which had taken his mom’s life flashed through his mind. It had been his fault; she had been on the way to the pharmacy to pick up his prescribed medication after a bout of tonsillitis and his mind had always managed to fill in the blanks. In quick succession, the crash was followed by his father switching from hapless drunk to a blind rage in the flip of a coin. It always ended with seeing his dad hanging from the light switch from a makeshift noose. As much as he liked to believe the scars of the past remained right there, they clung onto him at night and reminded him of whom he was and where he came from. Even moving across the country, and over two decades passing, had done little to ease the pain.
They never caught the person responsible for the catastrophic turn of events that his childhood had turned into. And thus, he had never been able to reconcile it with himself. Jane had easily found a way to blame himself for the accident. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case, but it didn’t stop his mind from working in other ways. He always wondered what would have happened if his mom had never been involved in the crash, or if they had managed to get justice for her. Of course, those ‘what ifs’ were never answered; Jane knew they never would be. Instead, he was certain that it was the reason he had opted to become a law enforcement officer. He never wanted people to suffer the indignity that he and his family had. After all, he hadn’t been able to save his parents, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t save other people instead.
Jane also knew that his methodology was fairly unorthodox for a cop. He had been lucky to get as far as he had, and it all came down to the speed in which he closed cases. If he didn’t have that, then he would have been kicked out on his ass for being too much of a risk otherwise. But he was his father’s son, and had always felt the irrational need to push the limits. And ever since Teresa Lisbon had joined his team, the closed case record had only improved. She had strong insights and good instincts - better than his - and that meant he was able to use them in order to bring about justice for more families. Criminals deserved punishment, of that he was certain. And really, excepting the judge, jury and a plethora of D.A.s, who cared about the methods used, just so long as murderers ended up being caught and put behind bars? He certainly didn’t, and his team was more than happy to work for him. For the most part, even Minelli was content with his work ethic. It was just when a little too much paperwork landed on his superior’s desk that he got irritated.
In the end, he gave up and turned on the side lamp. He needed to think through this case, to work out a way of getting Dr. Wyatt to confess to the murder of Sally Hughes. The first problem was trying to figure out the motive. During the conversation at her old house, Lisbon had briefly touched upon her suspicions for motive, but she had stubbornly refused to expand upon it. She often did that; it was like she believed that if she only told him half the story, it would stop him from being reckless. However, and he was well aware that she knew it; it often encouraged him to do the exact opposite in order to bring about justice as soon as possible. Besides, he liked being able to prove to her that he could be just as intelligent and almost as intuitive as she was.
After putting together the shreds of information that Lisbon had offered him, Jane suspected that Sally Hughes had done some research into Wyatt and discovered she had faked her certificates. She wasn’t actually a qualified doctor and she wasn’t even a qualified counselor. The woman had threatened to go public with that news unless they received a substantial payoff in exchange for her silence. In the end, Wyatt had decided to take matters into her own hands, especially when she discovered that Sally Hughes was less than virtuous too. The victim had been having an affair with another woman behind her husband’s back and that was enough to tip Wyatt over the edge. Of course, it was all supposition and they didn’t have any evidence yet, but that would come in time. One of the reasons he had picked Grace Van Pelt to join his unit was because she had excelled at the computer based researched during her training. Now, it was time to put her skills to the test.
In the meantime, he and Lisbon were going to have to get the confession. Lisbon rarely liked Jane’s plans, but he knew he would be able to convince her to participate eventually. After all, as he always justified it, it was for the greater good. They knew who was responsible, they both agreed on it in spite of a lack of evidence, and they just needed to get them to confess. Jane dug out his faithful notepad and began to scribble down in it. He needed Lisbon to re-interview the suspect, alone, and work out for certain if she was guilty or not. Then, he needed to actually get her to confess. The first part was easily planned, the second less so.
Just what would trigger a confession from a cold-hearted killer who could blithely lie to the police with practiced ease? She’d lied about knowing who Red John was; that page was the most read in her book on serial killers.
Then, he smiled. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Come morning, while they were leaving Rigsby and Cho to follow up on the stalker and Van Pelt to research Wyatt, Jane dragged Lisbon back to the marriage counseling clinic. It was early and a man waved cheerily at them as he watered the fuchsias. Lisbon was in a petulant mood; Jane had already explained the plan, but she was still in the ‘stubbornly refusing to participate’ mode and he needed to shake her out of it, and fast. He’d already booked the emergency appointment for her with Wyatt. Jane had claimed that she needed help sleeping, an easy lie for him considering he was a chronic insomniac himself. However, Lisbon hadn’t been impressed by the concept of having to see some kind of shrink at all; briefly, Jane found himself wondering if she had some kind of impression with all shrinks, psychiatrists and counselors, but then he knew her sense of professionalism would win out. She would speak to this doctor, because she wanted the case closed as much as he did.
“I’m not doing this,” she said bluntly as they walked through the door for the umpteenth time. “I don’t see why…”
“Shh, Teresa,” he answered soothingly and placed a hand on the small of her back. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s for your own good.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, but didn’t retaliate. Of course, she knew they were in a very public place where they were likely to be overheard, so she couldn’t snap back in the way she saw fit. Naturally, Jane was more than happy to use this to his advantage; he was going to get her into Dr. Wyatt’s office, and she was going to talk to her. Lisbon was going to use the fabricated appointment to have a proper read of the counselor, and then, she could report back. All she had to do was pretend she had a problem for a very short while, and that was it. This was something she had done for years when she had pretended to be a psychic; he wasn’t asking her to do anything outside of her comfort zone. Theoretically, she should have been absolutely fine.
“Teresa Lisbon?” the receptionist called, and Lisbon froze for a second. “Dr. Wyatt will see you now.”
“Jane, I can’t…” she whispered, and for a brief second she looked slightly paler than usual.
“You’ll be fine,” he urged. “Go on. The sooner you deal with this, the better, yes?”
Her glare deepened, but in the end, she sent him a decisive nod and he was relieved. Jane knew that Lisbon would come around in the end, but sometimes, she was a lot of hard work. At least he had managed to convince her to go ahead with it now.
xxx
“You don’t want to be here, do you?” Dr. Wyatt started softly.
Lisbon avoided making eye contact with the fake counselor and instead, drummed her fingers against the coffee table that sat between them. On it, Wyatt had placed a notebook, some pages printed off of the internet and a ballpoint pen. However, Lisbon was staring at the bookcase. Even from here, she could see the textbook on serial killers. This woman was a con artist, just like she had been prior to the death of her family. And the fact that she had now killed in order to continue with the deception made Lisbon sick to her stomach. She showed remorse every single day for what happened to her husband and daughter, whereas Wyatt was more than happy to pretend that nothing had ever happened.
When the woman repeated her forename, Lisbon reluctantly drew her gaze away from the bookshelf and back onto Wyatt. The woman rearranged her scarves and smiled genially. Slowly, she reached out to touch her hands gently, but Lisbon automatically pulled them away before she had a chance to do so. Fleetingly, Wyatt frowned before she rearranged her features into a soothing expression once again. However, Lisbon had already seen the chink in her armor. Despite her ‘many years of experience’, or so she claimed, she wasn’t all that prepared for tough patients who didn’t want to open up.
“I’m sure your boss booked this appointment for a reason. He wants to help, and so do I.”
“Right.”
“I’ve been told you have sleeping problems?” she asked and Lisbon jerked her head in a slight nod. “I assume this stems from the death of your family. They were killed by Red John, correct?”
“Yes. And I thought you’d never heard of Red John.”
Wyatt glanced out of the window briefly. It was the first time in this whole farce of an appointment when she had stopped staring relentlessly at Lisbon. She was almost glad for the reprieve, but she also knew that whatever came out of her mouth next would be a lie. The woman’s tells were blatant, after all.
“Please. Everyone’s heard of Red John,” Wyatt answered dismissively.
“Then why did you lie about it yesterday?”
“It would have been a little bit suspicious, considering…”
“Considering what?” Lisbon pushed her, keen to hear the words herself.
“Never mind,” Wyatt retorted, but Lisbon had heard enough.
“Thank you for your time.”
She stood and headed straight for the door. When Dr. Wyatt called her name several times, she blindly ignored her and went to the waiting room. There, Jane sprang to his feet and practically chased her out of the clinic. It wasn’t until they were safely in the SUV that Lisbon dared to confide in him about what she discovered. Wyatt was definitely the person responsible for Sally Hughes’ death and she had very nearly confessed to Lisbon. She was frustrated; if Wyatt had actually confessed, then all Jane would have had to do was arrest her. Lisbon would have been more than happy to testify in court as to what she had heard. Instead, she knew that Jane was going to do something risky simply to squeeze the confession out of her.
Once they were back at the base Van Pelt had set up for them in the Malibu P.D. headquarters, the young rookie obligingly confirmed that the paper trails led to Wyatt fabricating her qualifications. Rigsby and Cho called soon after to say that the supposed stalker was definitely a dead end. The man, while familiar with Sally Hughes, certainly didn’t seem to have an unhealthy interest in her. That meant the case was heating up. Jane quickly informed each of them that they had mundane tasks to do - Van Pelt to look at the Hughes family bank details, with Lisbon’s assistance. Rigsby and Cho were to interview the boss, just to make sure. Lisbon was about to complain about being ‘wasted’ doing paper trails, but before she had a chance, Jane had disappeared.
Vaguely, she watched as Van Pelt typed furiously at the laptop. To keep herself busy, Lisbon prepared her several cups of coffee, but soon found herself growing bored. If they had a spare laptop, then maybe she would have been of more assistance. She had experience looking in databases and the like for information, too. Slowly, her mind strayed to whatever the hell Jane’s plan was and she was getting increasingly concerned. Knowing him, he would do something drastic to get the confession, like pretend to be the real Red John. Then, fear grabbed hold of her. She could easily have planted that seed in his head when she had expressed the urgency to close the case. Swiftly, she apologized to Van Pelt, explained that she had to go and quickly called Rigsby and Cho.
She met them both back at the clinic. Wordlessly, Rigsby burst into the building and Cho stayed with her. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was more than enough comfort. Just so long as Rigsby stopped Jane from doing anything stupid, then that was the main thing. After a tortuous five minutes, Rigsby and Jane eventually appeared with a handcuffed Simone Wyatt in tow. Jane guided the woman into the car and Lisbon caught Rigsby by the arm.
“What did he do?” she asked him quietly.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
Ignoring the pleas to come back, she headed straight into the clinic for the second time that day and went towards Wyatt’s office. The receptionist immediately complained, but Lisbon ignored her. She pushed the door roughly open with her right hand and stared at the opposite wall in immediate disgust. There, was a half-painted facsimile of Red John’s calling card, the smiley face. Just as she suspected, Jane had threatened her, had pretended he was the real Red John masquerading as a cop. Lisbon, automatically, was furious. Her anger was partially directed at Jane, of course, for taking it way too far to get a confession, but also at herself. She could have stopped him from doing this and she should have known better.
And then, there was the simple fact that he knew just how much Red John hurt her.
To Chapter Four