Fic: Legendary part 8
part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here, part 6 here, part 7 here
I pored over security footage from the house. There had to be something. Red John couldn't be perfect all the time. We knew what time Volker had been killed. We knew how, what we didn't know is how it had happened and NO ONE had seen anything. It didn't seem probable. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. It didn't matter that I was the teams tech officer, my eyes still got strained looking at the screen. I decided to switch days of my search.
The dog had been bothering me. We were still waiting for calls back from former investigators and witnesses. We were still combing the files, but it seemed odd. I put the video cue to the day before the murder and watched in double time as the sun set and as cars drove by. And then, there was a man and a dog. A small black dog. Slightly fluffy. Was it possible? Could this be the same man?
I quickly printed off a screen shot of the man and his dog. It wasn't the best picture, but it was the best that we had.
I looked around the bullpen an saw Cho, pouring over files on his desk. “Hey, Cho. Find anything?”
“Yeah, eight years ago a woman was killed by Red John on a farm in Central California. The farm, in addition to growing corn, also did a small side business in dog breading. One of the puppies went missing and was never found.”
“What type of dog?” I asked, looking at the picture that was still warm from the printer.
“Not farm dogs More like lap dogs. Little yappers if I remember correctly.” He looked down at the folder, flipping through a few pages before speaking again. “Affenpinschers.”
“Are they small black and fluffy?” I asked, moving towards him.
Cho picked a picture up from the file on the desk and showed it to me, it was the same dog that was in the picture in my hand.”
We stared at the pictures. It was almost too good to be true. It didn't seem possible. But it was.
“I'm not telling them.” Cho said, as he put his picture back in the file.
I sighed. “I'll go.”
I took the file off the desk and looked towards Lisbon's office, she wasn't in there. I wasn't going to call her with this. I sat back at my desk and started reviewing more security footage. I put the footage of the Volker house in one corner of my screen and started pulling up footage form past crime scenes, if we could find more, then maybe we could be sure.
I sat in my attic brooding. Red John shouldn't be going after Lisbon. He should be going after me. He should be taunting me. He should be leaving me “gifts”. I know, somewhere deep inside, that this irrational anger isn't healthy, but I can't seem to help it. I wonder if my anger is because Red John is giving attention to someone else, or if it’s because he's giving attention to Lisbon. I don't think I want to know the answer.
I stare at the board in front of me. Pictures, maps, newspaper clippings, lines drawn in some bizarre connect the dots. I should be able to figure this out. I should know what the next move is. But I don't, and I can't seem to work out why Red John has changed things, why he had shifted focus.
I close my eyes, sometimes I'm able to visualize things better that way, and replay the crime scene in my head. The blood, not as much as usual, but still there. The face on the wall, red and glistening in the light. And Lisbon, looking for all intents and purposes as though she were in denial.
There was noting new there. I opened my eyes and stood. I needed tea. I remembered that Van Pelt had looked nervous when she saw me come in without Lisbon earlier and cursed that I didn't say anything to her before now.
I slowly made my way down the stairs. The call of a comforting cup of tea a shadow to my desire to know why Van Pelt hadn't wanted to talk to me before. I was heading to search her out, when she called to me first.
“Jane!” I turned and saw her coming up behind me with a rather frazzled and short tempered Lisbon in tow. When I stopped Van Pelt again looked nervous and unsure.
“We think we found something.” She said, not looking at me or Teresa.
“Found something?” Lisbon asked. I just looked at the rather thin file in her hand and wondered what she could have discovered that I didn’t already know.
“Um, yeah. Five years ago, do you remember a case eight years ago where Red John killed a woman on a farm in Central California?”
She paused and when neither Lisbon or I said anything she went on.
“Well, there was a dog that went missing at the same time. An affenpinscher.” She pulled out a picture of a small black dog with a decent amount of hair and then kept talking. “The description of the dog matches that of the one that the witnesses saw the other day, and it also matches a dog that was captured on the surveillance video from Volker's house last night.” She pulled out another photo that was slightly grainy, but showed a man in a ball cap with his back to the camera walking a dog that very much looked like the dog in the first picture.
“Is that all?” Lisbon asked, she almost seemed disappointed.
“No, that's not. We reviewed security footage from around crime scenes for the past eight years and found three different times when a man was walking a dog that looked very much like this one. And we showed this picture to the witnesses and they said that it was the same man and dog.”
We all stood in silence for a while before Lisbon spoke, awe in her voice. “Red John has a dog.”
In my head voices were screaming and cheering. We finally had something. Sure it was small and almost inconsequential, but we had something on Red John. We had a picture, we had a theme, we knew something about him.
part 9 here
I pored over security footage from the house. There had to be something. Red John couldn't be perfect all the time. We knew what time Volker had been killed. We knew how, what we didn't know is how it had happened and NO ONE had seen anything. It didn't seem probable. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. It didn't matter that I was the teams tech officer, my eyes still got strained looking at the screen. I decided to switch days of my search.
The dog had been bothering me. We were still waiting for calls back from former investigators and witnesses. We were still combing the files, but it seemed odd. I put the video cue to the day before the murder and watched in double time as the sun set and as cars drove by. And then, there was a man and a dog. A small black dog. Slightly fluffy. Was it possible? Could this be the same man?
I quickly printed off a screen shot of the man and his dog. It wasn't the best picture, but it was the best that we had.
I looked around the bullpen an saw Cho, pouring over files on his desk. “Hey, Cho. Find anything?”
“Yeah, eight years ago a woman was killed by Red John on a farm in Central California. The farm, in addition to growing corn, also did a small side business in dog breading. One of the puppies went missing and was never found.”
“What type of dog?” I asked, looking at the picture that was still warm from the printer.
“Not farm dogs More like lap dogs. Little yappers if I remember correctly.” He looked down at the folder, flipping through a few pages before speaking again. “Affenpinschers.”
“Are they small black and fluffy?” I asked, moving towards him.
Cho picked a picture up from the file on the desk and showed it to me, it was the same dog that was in the picture in my hand.”
We stared at the pictures. It was almost too good to be true. It didn't seem possible. But it was.
“I'm not telling them.” Cho said, as he put his picture back in the file.
I sighed. “I'll go.”
I took the file off the desk and looked towards Lisbon's office, she wasn't in there. I wasn't going to call her with this. I sat back at my desk and started reviewing more security footage. I put the footage of the Volker house in one corner of my screen and started pulling up footage form past crime scenes, if we could find more, then maybe we could be sure.
I sat in my attic brooding. Red John shouldn't be going after Lisbon. He should be going after me. He should be taunting me. He should be leaving me “gifts”. I know, somewhere deep inside, that this irrational anger isn't healthy, but I can't seem to help it. I wonder if my anger is because Red John is giving attention to someone else, or if it’s because he's giving attention to Lisbon. I don't think I want to know the answer.
I stare at the board in front of me. Pictures, maps, newspaper clippings, lines drawn in some bizarre connect the dots. I should be able to figure this out. I should know what the next move is. But I don't, and I can't seem to work out why Red John has changed things, why he had shifted focus.
I close my eyes, sometimes I'm able to visualize things better that way, and replay the crime scene in my head. The blood, not as much as usual, but still there. The face on the wall, red and glistening in the light. And Lisbon, looking for all intents and purposes as though she were in denial.
There was noting new there. I opened my eyes and stood. I needed tea. I remembered that Van Pelt had looked nervous when she saw me come in without Lisbon earlier and cursed that I didn't say anything to her before now.
I slowly made my way down the stairs. The call of a comforting cup of tea a shadow to my desire to know why Van Pelt hadn't wanted to talk to me before. I was heading to search her out, when she called to me first.
“Jane!” I turned and saw her coming up behind me with a rather frazzled and short tempered Lisbon in tow. When I stopped Van Pelt again looked nervous and unsure.
“We think we found something.” She said, not looking at me or Teresa.
“Found something?” Lisbon asked. I just looked at the rather thin file in her hand and wondered what she could have discovered that I didn’t already know.
“Um, yeah. Five years ago, do you remember a case eight years ago where Red John killed a woman on a farm in Central California?”
She paused and when neither Lisbon or I said anything she went on.
“Well, there was a dog that went missing at the same time. An affenpinscher.” She pulled out a picture of a small black dog with a decent amount of hair and then kept talking. “The description of the dog matches that of the one that the witnesses saw the other day, and it also matches a dog that was captured on the surveillance video from Volker's house last night.” She pulled out another photo that was slightly grainy, but showed a man in a ball cap with his back to the camera walking a dog that very much looked like the dog in the first picture.
“Is that all?” Lisbon asked, she almost seemed disappointed.
“No, that's not. We reviewed security footage from around crime scenes for the past eight years and found three different times when a man was walking a dog that looked very much like this one. And we showed this picture to the witnesses and they said that it was the same man and dog.”
We all stood in silence for a while before Lisbon spoke, awe in her voice. “Red John has a dog.”
In my head voices were screaming and cheering. We finally had something. Sure it was small and almost inconsequential, but we had something on Red John. We had a picture, we had a theme, we knew something about him.
part 9 here