Fic: Legendary part 4
part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here
The next time I came down Teresa’s block it was dark. There was a more guarded feeling to the street. The blinds in all of the houses were closed tight, but the lights were all on, casting a vague hazy glow onto the sidewalk. My dog was having fun playing in the light from the windows. There was only one house on the block that is dark.
My dear sweet Teresa was still hard at work. Her front curtains still wide open like they had been the night before; no lights were on at her house. I could see people moving in and around the house next door still. Processing the scene, hoping for anything that might be of help in catching the most legendary serial killer that California has known.
I did wish that I could see Teresa, but she wasn’t home. She was probably at the CBI office, pretending to work. I did hope that my gift has had its intended effect. I did not want to scare her from her home, only show her how much I have grown to appreciate her in these years that she’s been working with Patrick. I have many times underestimated her.
I used to wonder what it was that Patrick saw in her, what it was that had him so desperate to protect her. But now I think I know. She’s a wonder, she’s a marvel. There’s no one like her. Yes, I’ve had my fair share of women, there are any number that would throw themselves at me if given the chance, but Teresa, she resists. She’s resisted Patrick all these years, and she resists me now.
I didn’t spend any more time that I needed to on her street; I didn’t want to arouse suspicion. I glanced one last time at her dark house and turned the corner. It was time to start working on my next gift.
I shouldn’t be hiding in the attic. I should be down stairs, in the bullpen, trying to help the team, trying to figure out who it is that has been toying with Lisbon. My Lisbon. I felt a possessive twinge at the thought of Red John pursuing her and I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve always thought of Lisbon as my friend or because I’ve always thought of Red John as mine. I’m not as bothered by that thought as I probably should be though. I stared in frustration at the files spread around me. My notebook open on my lap, names scrawled and crossed out. Half formed thoughts and phrases littering the pages. I know him, I know Red John better than anyone else does, and still he eludes me.
And now this change. Why now? I wonder if it is somehow my fault. I wonder if somehow me being with Lorelei, capturing her, breaking her out, has shifted attention from me to Lisbon. His request…Lisbon’s head on a platter, like a biblical sacrifice. Proof of loyalty. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill Lisbon, even if that meant being able to get Red John. And now…Red John had turned his sights on her.
Everything in my life has been touched by that man and I seem powerless to stop it. I hadn’t spent near as much time as I should have at the crime scene. I’ve seen so many Red John crime scenes that there never seems to be any difference. I didn’t talk to the neighbors, what would be the point? He’s too clever to get caught by a busy body or a Peeping Tom.
I felt a twinge of hunger in my gut and look at my watch; it’s after 7:00. We’ve been back at the CBI since just after noon. The rest of the team felt like I did, there was no point looking around; there would be nothing new to look at, nothing new to learn.
I left the attic only after making sure that all of my notes were well hidden, I didn’t want to run the risk of someone finding them and thinking I was giving up, or worse, was on the way to an actual mental breakdown. I knew from experience that written ramblings often made a person look crazy.
I was just coming into the bullpen when I heard the unmistakable voice of a very pissed off Teresa Lisbon.
“Why are you three just sitting here? You should be back out there trying the people who weren’t home this afternoon.”
I wanted to look, but decided that it wouldn’t be the best idea. I knew why she was upset. I would be too, who am I kidding, I was. But I know as well as she does that no one will have seen anything that matters. No one will have noticed anything that makes difference. No one ever sees anything.
I hid in the break room making a cup of tea until Cho and Van Pelt left the bullpen. I waved them into the break room without making it too obvious.
“What’s going on?” They looked at me like I was crazy, as if I’d asked if my face was covered in purple spots or if the rain was falling up.
“The boss is…” Van Pelt started but trailed off, not sure how to continue.
“It’s Red John, Jane. You know how it is.” Cho finished, his arms crossed over his body in a somewhat more defensive stance than I would have expected from him. I just nodded my head. I did know how it was. Red John could get to a person, I should know better than anyone.
“What are you guys going to do?” I asked, not sure if they were actually going to go back and canvas Lisbon’s neighborhood again.
“We’re going to do what she asked.” Van Pelt told me, looking tired and weary. Red John was getting to her too. I could sense that she was ready to be done with him. With his playing and twisting in our lives.
“You never know,” Cho said, as they turned to leave, “Someone might have actually seen something.”
I watched them leave and then sagged against the counter. Normally I would be more fired up about a Red John case, normally I would be the one insisting on canvasing the neighborhood, looking for cameras or hoping that Red John somehow slipped up, but I wasn’t this time and that bothered me. Was it because Lisbon had suddenly, well maybe not suddenly, finally garnered Red John’s attention? Was I jealous that Lisbon was getting the attention of a serial killer? Was I annoyed that I was no longer the toy to be taunted with? Quite possibly I was. And as much as I knew that was the wrong way to be thinking, I couldn’t help it. I wanted him back for myself.
I didn’t like this not knowing with Red John. Though he had always been one step ahead of me I had still always seemed to know where I stood with him, and now I wasn’t sure. I knew that he had used murder to get close to some of his minions before, but I wasn’t sure if this was the case with Lisbon. I didn’t know if he was looking to win her over, or drive me crazy.
I found that I no longer wanted tea. I needed to get out of the building, go for a walk, clear my head. There were too many people here, even in my attic, there was too much there. Too many ghosts haunting me. Too much keeping me trapped in my mind.
I left the building, not sure where I was going, not really having a destination in mind. I just needed to get out. I didn’t take my car, I just took my feet. The night was cool, not quite cold, but still cool. I wished briefly that I had gone back to the attic and grabbed my coat, but just brushed the thought off. If I walked long enough I knew that I would warm up.
part 5 here
The next time I came down Teresa’s block it was dark. There was a more guarded feeling to the street. The blinds in all of the houses were closed tight, but the lights were all on, casting a vague hazy glow onto the sidewalk. My dog was having fun playing in the light from the windows. There was only one house on the block that is dark.
My dear sweet Teresa was still hard at work. Her front curtains still wide open like they had been the night before; no lights were on at her house. I could see people moving in and around the house next door still. Processing the scene, hoping for anything that might be of help in catching the most legendary serial killer that California has known.
I did wish that I could see Teresa, but she wasn’t home. She was probably at the CBI office, pretending to work. I did hope that my gift has had its intended effect. I did not want to scare her from her home, only show her how much I have grown to appreciate her in these years that she’s been working with Patrick. I have many times underestimated her.
I used to wonder what it was that Patrick saw in her, what it was that had him so desperate to protect her. But now I think I know. She’s a wonder, she’s a marvel. There’s no one like her. Yes, I’ve had my fair share of women, there are any number that would throw themselves at me if given the chance, but Teresa, she resists. She’s resisted Patrick all these years, and she resists me now.
I didn’t spend any more time that I needed to on her street; I didn’t want to arouse suspicion. I glanced one last time at her dark house and turned the corner. It was time to start working on my next gift.
I shouldn’t be hiding in the attic. I should be down stairs, in the bullpen, trying to help the team, trying to figure out who it is that has been toying with Lisbon. My Lisbon. I felt a possessive twinge at the thought of Red John pursuing her and I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve always thought of Lisbon as my friend or because I’ve always thought of Red John as mine. I’m not as bothered by that thought as I probably should be though. I stared in frustration at the files spread around me. My notebook open on my lap, names scrawled and crossed out. Half formed thoughts and phrases littering the pages. I know him, I know Red John better than anyone else does, and still he eludes me.
And now this change. Why now? I wonder if it is somehow my fault. I wonder if somehow me being with Lorelei, capturing her, breaking her out, has shifted attention from me to Lisbon. His request…Lisbon’s head on a platter, like a biblical sacrifice. Proof of loyalty. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill Lisbon, even if that meant being able to get Red John. And now…Red John had turned his sights on her.
Everything in my life has been touched by that man and I seem powerless to stop it. I hadn’t spent near as much time as I should have at the crime scene. I’ve seen so many Red John crime scenes that there never seems to be any difference. I didn’t talk to the neighbors, what would be the point? He’s too clever to get caught by a busy body or a Peeping Tom.
I felt a twinge of hunger in my gut and look at my watch; it’s after 7:00. We’ve been back at the CBI since just after noon. The rest of the team felt like I did, there was no point looking around; there would be nothing new to look at, nothing new to learn.
I left the attic only after making sure that all of my notes were well hidden, I didn’t want to run the risk of someone finding them and thinking I was giving up, or worse, was on the way to an actual mental breakdown. I knew from experience that written ramblings often made a person look crazy.
I was just coming into the bullpen when I heard the unmistakable voice of a very pissed off Teresa Lisbon.
“Why are you three just sitting here? You should be back out there trying the people who weren’t home this afternoon.”
I wanted to look, but decided that it wouldn’t be the best idea. I knew why she was upset. I would be too, who am I kidding, I was. But I know as well as she does that no one will have seen anything that matters. No one will have noticed anything that makes difference. No one ever sees anything.
I hid in the break room making a cup of tea until Cho and Van Pelt left the bullpen. I waved them into the break room without making it too obvious.
“What’s going on?” They looked at me like I was crazy, as if I’d asked if my face was covered in purple spots or if the rain was falling up.
“The boss is…” Van Pelt started but trailed off, not sure how to continue.
“It’s Red John, Jane. You know how it is.” Cho finished, his arms crossed over his body in a somewhat more defensive stance than I would have expected from him. I just nodded my head. I did know how it was. Red John could get to a person, I should know better than anyone.
“What are you guys going to do?” I asked, not sure if they were actually going to go back and canvas Lisbon’s neighborhood again.
“We’re going to do what she asked.” Van Pelt told me, looking tired and weary. Red John was getting to her too. I could sense that she was ready to be done with him. With his playing and twisting in our lives.
“You never know,” Cho said, as they turned to leave, “Someone might have actually seen something.”
I watched them leave and then sagged against the counter. Normally I would be more fired up about a Red John case, normally I would be the one insisting on canvasing the neighborhood, looking for cameras or hoping that Red John somehow slipped up, but I wasn’t this time and that bothered me. Was it because Lisbon had suddenly, well maybe not suddenly, finally garnered Red John’s attention? Was I jealous that Lisbon was getting the attention of a serial killer? Was I annoyed that I was no longer the toy to be taunted with? Quite possibly I was. And as much as I knew that was the wrong way to be thinking, I couldn’t help it. I wanted him back for myself.
I didn’t like this not knowing with Red John. Though he had always been one step ahead of me I had still always seemed to know where I stood with him, and now I wasn’t sure. I knew that he had used murder to get close to some of his minions before, but I wasn’t sure if this was the case with Lisbon. I didn’t know if he was looking to win her over, or drive me crazy.
I found that I no longer wanted tea. I needed to get out of the building, go for a walk, clear my head. There were too many people here, even in my attic, there was too much there. Too many ghosts haunting me. Too much keeping me trapped in my mind.
I left the building, not sure where I was going, not really having a destination in mind. I just needed to get out. I didn’t take my car, I just took my feet. The night was cool, not quite cold, but still cool. I wished briefly that I had gone back to the attic and grabbed my coat, but just brushed the thought off. If I walked long enough I knew that I would warm up.
part 5 here