FIC: Acrimonious (6/21)
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.
6-
“Boss?” Lisbon glanced up from the Ryder file, as Van Pelt briefly knocked on her office door and stuck her purple hairband head into the room with a slight frown. The Junior Agent looked visibly distressed, which made Lisbon set down her file and go into a fret of silent worrying; she tried to tell herself that Van Pelt was fine and that the young woman had only come to give her information on their case, but it didn’t stop the worry from slowly creeping in.
“Van Pelt?” Lisbon asked, once the redheaded agent stepped into her office and took a seat. “Did you need something?” Van Pelt nodded. Lisbon watched the young woman work her bottom lip between her top teeth, which meant that whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be good news or related to their case at all.
“I’m worried about Jane, boss.” Van Pelt replied and Lisbon let out a small sigh. “His behavior is starting to concern us all.” She couldn’t argue with Van Pelt’s statement. It had been almost two weeks since the three day weekend and Jane’s semi-personality change and she still had no idea what was going on with him. Lisbon nodded for her subordinate to continue on, mainly because she needed more information on the matter. She had asked the team to keep an eye on Jane, which made her feel better knowing that somebody had an eye on him (and his subsequent mental health).
“He’s been leaving the vest off in his three-piece suits. He’s been oddly helpful with paperwork lately, and Rigsby caught him drinking coffee yesterday morning.” Lisbon’s frown deepened at each change given to her from Van Pelt. Before Amy’s suicide, Jane had hated paperwork and he had often complained about the lack of health benefits in coffee, which made her question when he had changed his mind. “He also said to me: ‘is that top felt?’ I said no and he said ‘would you like it to be?’?” The Junior Agent’s cheeks went scarlet and Lisbon refrained from rolling her eyes. As much as she cared for her youngest agent, Van Pelt had the tendency to believe that everything was a pick-up line.
Of course, with the death of her fiancé Craig O’Laughlin, Van Pelt probably hadn’t been too aware of what a pick-up line was and wasn’t from another male.
“I’m sure he’s just being his usual Jane-self, Grace.” Lisbon tried to soothe the fears from the redheaded agent. She had a gut feeling that Jane would eventually be fine, only if they just gave him the time and allowed for him to escape from whatever funk he had buried himself in. “If anything was truly a concern, I’d step in and do something about it.”
And she would.
His abnormal wearing of three-piece suits, his cooperation to do paperwork and his drinking of coffee hadn’t been the only things to set off several red flags. Jane’s off-kilter behavior had included the demeaning of her in front of her team and Sherriff Tyler at the beginning of the Ryder case, his semi-good behavior with the lack of usual ploys to discover that young Kirsten was a prostitute, and other various things that weren’t Jane-like at all. Jane had obviously never been a saint, but his lack of secret keeping had begun to grate on her nerves and if she hadn’t known any better, she would have believed that the man had lost his memory again.
Van Pelt nodded, stood and left before she left the office, before Lisbon tapped her fingers against the surface of her desk. Was it possible to have a relapse in memory loss? His amnesia, she had thought, had completely faded away with the reminder of Red John’s work on the wall to his master bedroom, but it didn’t mean that a recent tragedy-Amy’s suicide-hadn’t triggered any negative consequences in his mental health.
Lisbon remembered the vague words from Dr. Carwin at the seminar Wainwright had ordered them all to go to days go: “Hopelessness is what happens when we know long know who we truly are, Mr. Jane.”. She didn’t want to be too concerned about Jane, as he had a habit of acting odd, but she feared that his continuing behavior would encourage him to try and do something stupid.
Slowly, she picked up her office phone and hit 9 to dial out. The phone rang three times in her ear, before the automatic service greeted her.
“Welcome to Sacramento General Hospital. Our hours are currently nine to five. We’re the premiere hospital in the greater Sacramento area. If this is an emergency, press one. If not, hold on and you will be connected with someone shortly.”
Lisbon sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long day, especially as they still had to speak again with Nicole Wright.
“Thank you for speaking with us again, Ms. Wright.” Lisbon greeted the well-dressed brunette woman of thirty-years. Nicole Wright shook Lisbon’s hand with a smile, before she and Jane claimed their seats in front of Nicole’s paper cluttered desk. “We won’t keep you long; as I’m sure you’re busy.”
Nicole nodded as she brushed the imaginary lint off her buttoned-up striped collared shirt. “We’ll be doing a tent sale in a few days. I’m just finishing the final preparations.” Lisbon nodded. “Are you here about that poor girl’s death again? I told the other agents everything I already knew about her.” Lisbon had sent Van Pelt and Cho to the Do It Wright car dealership after Phil Raleigh’s alibi had provided them with more questions than answers and according to the two, Nicole had been more than helpful to provide them with everything that they had needed.
Unfortunately, Lisbon had learned that overly helpful individuals were the ones who had something to hide, and Nicole Wright hadn’t been the exception to that rule.
From Kirsten Ryder’s roommate, Katherine Perrot, they had learned that the adjacent corner outside of Nicole’s Do It Wright car dealership had been the area that Kirsten (or Ruby Jewel; a name the young woman had called herself) had chosen in soliciting prospective clients, three nights a week.
When Lisbon had pulled up to the dealership, Jane had immediately pointed out that it was completely possible for Nicole to have exchanged heated words with Kirsten, who had most likely been luring away Nicole’s prospective business clients via her body and cheap sex.
“Do you know a woman by the name of Ruby Jewel?” Lisbon redirected her questioning from Kirsten’s birth name to the woman’s stage name. Nicole shook her head, slowly. “Are you sure? Because Ruby Jewel stood opposite of your car dealership, three nights a week.”
“Do you know how many women stand opposite of my car dealership, three nights a week?” Nicole asked, dryly.
“Enough?” Jane guessed from beside her and Nicole nodded. “Does solicitation happen often here?”
“Considering I sell medium-to-high price ranged cars, I would say yes.” Nicole answered. “It’s not unusual to find a slut working the corners in this town though, especially as the economy crash has taken half of the town with it.” Lisbon nodded again. Dustin County had once been a thriving mechanical town, full of car dealerships and repair shops, but now, it was just a ghost town with one or two mechanics and only Nicole’s dealership. “I’m surprised Sherriff Tyler didn’t tell you about the prostitute problem, considering he’s hauled a few away from here in handcuffs before. I don’t tolerate the idea of anyone gaining sex off of my prospective buyers, Agent.”
“Not to mention prostitution is illegal.” Jane pointed out and Nicole nodded again. “Unless you’re in Amsterdam, of course. They have health insurance.” Lisbon turned her head to stare at him in scorn, before she refocused her attention on Nicole.
“I’m trying to run the last honest car dealership here.” Nicole explained. “I don’t need anyone ruining the reputation of myself, my employees, or of my business.” Lisbon almost wanted to ask the young front runner about her employees, as nobody had greeted them on the way in. “It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Do It Wright is going to become a national chain car dealership soon…”
“Why shouldn’t it surprise us?” Jane interrupted Nicole. Nicole didn’t seem thrilled that the consultant had interrupted her. “You’re clearly the only employee here and the women on the street corner are enhancing your revenue, not decreasing it.”
“Those women on the street corner,” Nicole spat with scorn and Lisbon eyed her in surprise, “are nothing more than crack addicts, who are too lazy to get normal jobs.” Nicole stood from her desk and threw her arms up in the air. “I worked hard to get where I am, Agent. I never once had to show a breast or open my legs to get where I am today.” Lisbon doubted that, especially with the way that the young woman leaned forward and had one button on her top undone.
“Did you ever have an altercation with one of these women?” Lisbon questioned and Nicole shrugged.
“It depends on how you define altercation.” Nicole explained at Lisbon’s inquisitive look. “A few weeks ago, one of the women and I screamed at each other.” Lisbon stared at Nicole. If Nicole hadn’t known any of her soliciting neighbors, it was possible that the brunette was telling the truth. “I found one of the women, a brunette dressed in a gaudy red and white outfit with sparkles everywhere, trying to break into one of my vehicles on the lot. It was nothing violent; I just told her that if she didn’t stop it, I’d call the Sherriff.”
Jane scoffed. “Some prostitute breaks into one of your vehicles and…”
“She tried, Mr. Jane.” Nicole corrected him without blinking. “There’s a difference between actually trying and actually doing.” Nicole brought her arms against her chest, which only enhanced her chest more. “Am I a suspect or are you this rude to everyone?” Nicole’s blue eyes narrowed slightly, as she continued to smile.
“He’s only asking questions crucial to the investigation, ma’am.” Lisbon said. She hoped that her words would put a buffer between Nicole and Jane, as arresting Nicole would probably flood the entire CBI with a team of snooty lawyers. The fact that most car dealerships had a team of snooty, rich lawyers tucked away somewhere in their pockets made Lisbon wish that any murder related back to car dealerships weren’t allowed to happen. “Why didn’t you mention this altercation to Agent Van Pelt or Agent Cho when they had asked if you had been in any fights lately?”
“I haven’t punched anyone.” Nicole stated with a shrug and Lisbon wasn’t sure if the woman was telling the truth. “I exchanged harsh words with some prostitute, who left right afterwards.” Lisbon opened her mouth to say something when Nicole’s desk phone rang loudly and with a quick apology, Nicole cradled the phone to her ear. “Hello…I said blue not red…yes, there is a difference…between you and me, who owns this business...exactly! I do, you don’t...the psychological effects of the color will help boost our sales…” Nicole rolled her eyes and Lisbon glanced indiscreetly at her watch. It was a quarter after one and she knew they had to leave soon or Jane would be late for his unknown appointment. Nicole’s blue eyes met hers. “…look, I’m busy at the moment…”
“It’s fine.” Lisbon stated, as she stood from the leather chair. “Thank you for answering all of my questions, Ms. Wright.” Lisbon motioned for Jane to stand from his seat, which he did with a smile.
“I didn’t even get the chance to try and offer the both of you a sweet deal on a vehicle.”
Nicole frowned at the both of them, before she hung up her desk phone and stepped around her desk toward them. Lisbon stared at the young woman. Neither she nor Jane needed a new vehicle, they just needed to catch Kirsten’s murderer.
Lisbon shook her head. “No thank you…”
“It depends on the vehicle.” Jane interrupted from behind her and Lisbon turned on her heels to gape at him. Jane had been driving in his little blue vehicle for years and she had moaned about the lack of seat belts within the contraption for years, only for him to suddenly feel the need to purchase a brand new vehicle from one of their suspects?
In distrust, Lisbon continued to eye him with a frown. Either Jane was pulling one of his asinine stunts or he was honestly looking to buy a new car.
Nicole’s face lit up. “You seem like a hybrid-type of man, Mr. Jane.” Jane continued to beam at the young saleswoman, much to Lisbon’s annoyance. “I’ve got a few top of the line hybrids I could show you.” Nicole, it seemed, didn’t care that she was a suspect in a murder investigation.
“That would be wonderful.” Jane stated, before he glanced at her. “Go and wait in the vehicle, Lisbon. I’m sure I’ll be along shortly.” He glanced away from her again to focus on Nicole, who still wore a bright smile. “I’m going to go and see all what Ms. Wright has to offer me.” Jane and Nicole slipped out the door without another word and Lisbon stared at where he had been standing in shock.
Had Jane just brushed her off to do something completely out of character?
Down the hall, she heard Nicole giggle and Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose.
Something was definitely wrong with Patrick Jane and whether he liked it or not, she was going to get to the bottom of it. The Patrick Jane that she had worked with for nine years would have done something to signal to her that his running off with Nicole had been a ploy, an angle that he needed to work to get the young business owner to spill her secrets and close the investigation.
Instead, he had just told her to go and wait in the vehicle as if she were some disobedient child, who didn’t know any better.
She released the bridge of her nose with a soft sigh and glanced around Nicole’s bland little office.
If she had known that after the Memorial Day weekend that Jane was going to become even more impossible than usual to deal with, she would have never let him leave her office with the satisfaction of having the last words. Lisbon would have given Jane the lecture that the man had deserved from the moment that he had killed Timothy Carter in cold blood and had expected the entire justice system to let him go, because he had managed to liberate the world of one more evil psychopath.
Lisbon stepped from Nicole’s office and down the plain-colored hallway, only to find Jane and Nicole hovered over a vehicle.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Nicole asked, enthusiastically. The woman had practically thrown herself at Jane. “Seven airbags, seventeen inch alloy wheels, split third-row seat…”
Jane’s eyes, however, weren’t anywhere near the navy vehicle.
Both of his eyes were focused on Nicole’s plentiful chest, where she had managed to undo three of the buttons on her blouse.
“Yes, they are.” The sultry tone in his voice reminded Lisbon of when Jane had lost his memory and how he had hit on all of those random women, both married and single. Her heart sank into her stomach.
Was she losing him all over again?
Jane was both her best friend and partner. Someone she cared about, very much so. And if something was wrong with him, she had the right to worry about him. She also had the right to do everything in her power to make sure he was okay, even if that meant hauling him into the hospital with a pair of handcuffs on.
Quietly, Lisbon slipped from the car dealership and slid into the CBI-issued SUV out front. With the diluted sunlight cascading through the tinted windshield, she closed her eyes and her fingers brushed against her cross.
Or, she thought with a frown, did I never really have him at all?
In the silence, she waited for an answer to come to her. But nothing came at all.
Red John grimaced as he and Teresa sat together within the slightly crowded hospital waiting room; he knew the doctor would find absolutely nothing wrong with him and the whole hospital outing would become a giant waste of time, all because a certain somebody had worried way too much.
Teresa had her eyes focused on some nondescript magazine; her small lips pressed into a firm line and her loafered feet tapped impatiently upon the black and white tiled floor, which made him wonder if she was still angry with him for earlier. Whether Teresa would believe his lies or not, he had tried to explain to her in the CBI-issued SUV that his conversation with Nicole had been strictly case related, even if he had caught a small glimpse of the brunette’s rounded breasts down her shirt, imprisoned by her black-lace bra.
Or if Teresa was jealous, because he had flirted with Nicole Wright on purpose. The woman, after all, was a little whore and whores only deserved to be dominated.
Red John’s grimace became a thin smile. In the days after his first kill, he had started to build his first circle of accomplices using the cliché notions of love, a quest for enlightenment and his skills of subtle flirting to lure mostly innocent women and men, who had all been scorned by someone in their lives, into his hands.
Dumar Hardy had felt the responsibility to follow in the footsteps of his father, Orville Tanner, who had been the first true friend that Red John had ever had. When they had both been children, Orville had always been interested in death and years later, when the man had been arrested for murder, he had taken the true identity of Red John to his grave.
Red John had felt a tiny amount of sorrow at Orville’s passing, but he had quickly moved onto the next thing. Orville wouldn’t have wanted him or his son to focus on his death for long as they all had a mission to continue on with.
Red John hadn’t wanted Hardy dead, but the young man had been reckless and Patrick had shot the accomplice. And all of his accomplices, upon joining him on his mission of “enlightenment”, knew that death was always a possibility and that if they were to die, they would have died valiantly for a worthy cause.
Rebecca, on the other hand, had been abused as a child; her father had walked out on the family before Rebecca had even been a year-old, her mother had continuously locked the young girl into a closet for hours on end, and her brother, Danny, had overdosed by the age of seventeen. As a young woman, fresh from college and a horrible home life, Rebecca had needed guidance and in the darkest hours of her life, he had stuck his hand out to her and had helped her down the path of righteousness.
The notion of valiantly dying for a worthy cause was why Rebecca had smiled upon being poisoned; the emotionally-damaged brunette had realized early on that sacrifices had to be made and although it had pained him to kill her, Red John knew the dangers of allowing his accomplices to keep their voices after they had no use anymore.
And the individuals who worked within law enforcement had always naively believed that their security systems were safe or that no serial killer could infiltrate the inside of their organizations, when in reality, it wasn’t too hard to sneak anywhere, especially if one had a few good friends on the inside and patience.
Todd Johnson had just been an idiot from the get-go, though. Shooting other officers dead had been an alright idea, but then, the young officer had murdered his fiancée and Johnson had become a security risk. In the end, however, O’Laughlin had taken care of their little security risk in the most appropriate of ways; Johnson had been burned alive within the bowels of the CBI, before he had been able to utter anything remotely helpful to Patrick Jane.
Craig O’Laughlin though, hadn’t even popped up on his radar until after the man had started to investigate Bret Stiles and Visualize within the FBI. Bret Stiles had informed him that O’Laughlin was a “bright, misguided FBI Agent, who would go far” and Red John found himself interested in O’Laughlin’s potential. However, Stiles had warned him that O’Laughlin wouldn’t join a serial killer, unless he was given a good enough reason to do so and Red John had arranged for O’Laughlin to be kidnapped on a case.
By the time the FBI found O’Laughlin, two weeks after he had been kidnapped and had seen the logic in what Red John had done, the FBI Agent had united himself to Red John’s mission of “enlightenment” and had sworn to protect Red John’s life, even if it meant losing his own in the process.
Lastly, Timothy Carter had been recruited years after the first known “Red John” killing in 1998 as the man had found everything else to be quite boring. Compared to the other accomplices, Carter and O’Laughlin had been the only two intelligent and cunning enough to become his left and right hand men. Carter’s death (in the same hour as O’Laughlin’s) had been enough to make Red John weary of the entire Serious Crimes Unit, as they just didn’t know when to very well leave things alone.
Teresa shifted slightly next to him and he blinked the thoughts away. Dwelling in the past did nothing but make the present more difficult.
Within the uncomfortable red leather chair, Red John appraised Teresa in her irritation. Her toned arms were on display for his ultimate viewing pleasure as she had taken the time to rid herself of that ugly, constricting black blazer. Her dark shoulder length hair had curled against her face, while the black tank top that she wore drove his imagination (and Jane’s body) wild; the top seam of the strapped tank top sat just above her creamy breasts and her golden cross shimmered in the hanging fluorescents of the waiting room. Due to the overwhelming heat outside, the black cotton of her tank top clung to her ivory skin, decorated with little beads of sweat.
Indiscreetly, he kept his eyes focused on Teresa’s breasts and he folded his hands in his lap. Nicole’s breasts had been well-rounded and eager within that bra of hers, but as a precaution, Red John refused to fuck drug dealers. One never knew how many diseases a prostitute or drug dealer had on the inside of their clitorises and Red John wanted to keep his penis, clean and STD-free.
Nicole Wright and her ‘boyfriend’, Phil Raleigh, definitely weren’t dating. Nicole had been all too eager to strip her clothing on the sales floor and let him have his own way with her, which had signaled that both Nicole and Phil were up to something questionable. Considering that Phil hadn’t gotten any less jittery and Nicole wore designer undergarments, as he had seen a flash of her red thong, Red John guessed that Nicole was a drug dealer, Phil was the buyer and Kirsten had just gotten caught up in the middle of it all.
Even if Nicole hadn’t been a drug dealer, he still would have passed on her. Nicole’s breasts, while well-rounded lacked the fullness and challenge that Teresa’s held. He wanted to cup Teresa’s creamy full breasts and mold them with his hands and know that he had succeeded in tricking her into believing that he was Patrick Jane.
Red John had always known that the women on Patrick’s unit were attractive; in the past, he had often found himself drawn more toward Grace and her long, flowing red hair as it reminded him of blood, however lately, his sexual attraction to Teresa had grown tenfold in the past week. At first, he had considered that the amplified feelings had something to do with Patrick’s body or some unexpected side effect from the Vicissivenom, but as the week had gone on and they had spent hours together on the Ryder case, he had slowly realized that it was him, who was becoming sexually attracted to her.
Teresa Lisbon was a beautiful creature, after all, and it would have been a complete waste if he didn’t take her for a test spin, before he decided to break her.
Teresa shifted in her seat again and he fixed her with his best Patrick-like smile. If Patrick hadn’t displayed more affection toward Teresa, it would have been easier to designate all of his sexual feelings on Grace, but Patrick had made it completely clear that Teresa was the most important thing to him.
“You can leave, if you want.” Red John told her. Teresa glanced up from her magazine to fix him with an irritated stare, which secretly amused him. Teresa wore jealousy well.
“And have you steal the keys from me and run off?” She asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I don’t think so. Don’t think I haven’t learned anything from you, Jane.” The brunette glanced back down at her magazine and he continued to smile, even though he still wanted to slit her throat. He hadn’t needed to be sitting in a waiting room to have his damned head examined, all because Jane hadn’t been acting like himself lately; Red John needed to be with the unit.
Red John fell silent. He knew he could have hypnotized her into leaving or calling off the appointment within the SUV, but because she didn’t fully trust him (yet), she wouldn’t have allowed him to rest a hand on her and hypnotic suggestion without touch was nearly impossible to accomplish.
“Patrick Jane.” The nurse dressed in blue scrubs called into the waiting room from the doorway. Red John slowly stood from his chair, only to find Teresa moving behind him.
“You’re not coming in, are you?” Red John asked. He didn’t want her to come within five feet of the doctor, especially if the man was going to do a brain scan. While Kraze had once reassured him that nothing would appear abnormal between his and Jane’s brain, he still couldn’t take the chance of anything tipping her off to something being absolutely wrong. “I think I can handle undressing myself, Lisbon.”
He didn’t turn around to stare at her, although he felt her glare on his back.
“No.” Teresa answered and he raised his eyebrow, though she couldn’t see it. Why on earth had the woman put her magazine back on one of the tacky end tables then? He turned his head to stare at her and she gave him a hard look, which made him close his mouth and continue on toward the patiently waiting auburn nurse.
“How are you doing today?” The auburn haired nurse-Ashley Martin, her laminated name badge read-asked with a bright smile and Red John kept from rolling his eyes at her overly perky behavior. Women like Ashley Martin, he had always believed, deserved to find themselves at the end of a sharp knife. “Follow me, Mr. Jane.” Ashley said after a moment of silence and Red John followed after her, both of their footsteps echoing down the long hallway, until she waved him into one of the rooms and asked for him to step up onto the scale.
Whether Teresa knows it or not, Red John thought as he allowed for the nurse to scribble Patrick’s weight into her little chart, she is going to pay dearly for this one.
--
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five 1/2 - Part Five 2/2 - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine 1/2 - Part Nine 2/2 - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen 1/2 - Part Sixteen 2/2 - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty 1/2 - Part Twenty 2/2 - Part Twenty-One