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Raquel glanced around the living room when the knocks sounded on the door, met her boyfriend’s brother’s gaze with question in her eyes. It took a long moment, several more persistent knocks and calls of ‘CBI! Open up’ for Ernesto to nod. She stood, wiped her eyes on the tea towel and hurried to pull it open before the CBI decided to knock down the outer door.
A woman’s fist paused midair when Raquel finally opened up, lowered when the blond beside her dramatically pulled it down, clicked his tongue as if the woman had been about to knock on Raquel’s forehead or something.
“Good morning.” The blond told her ironically, smile plastered across his face despite the sour look his companion shot him.
She gave him a tight smile, grabbed the second set of keys off the window ledge and unlocked the gate too, pushed the gate open, lent against the doorway in expectation of their introductions. The small brunette stepped forward.
“Hi, Raquel Romero?” She continued when Raquel nodded, sending a quick glance over her shoulder at her partner. “I’m agent Lisbon and this is Patrick Jane. I’m afraid we’re here with some bad news.”
Raquel pressed her lips together, wiped the sweat off her brow, nodded for her to continue. She already knew what was going to be said of course, Ernesto had come in early this morning with the news, but she thought it may look suspicious if they knew she knew that. According to the tv shows Emilio watched with her on those rare lazy mornings, the girlfriend/wife was always the prime suspect.
“Emilio Hernandez was shot dead early this morning.”
Raquel squeezed her eyes shut at the words, felt a rogue tear collect in the folds of her eyelids and quickly wiped it away. She missed the pitying look the CBI agent shot her, the mild curiosity in the blond man’s eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Romero. We’ll try our best to find out who did this.”
“No need!” Was called over from behind her.
Raquel glanced back to see that Ernesto had moved closer, was grabbing a fresh beer from the fridge. There were already cans littering the kitchen table. “I know who did it.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll get what’s coming for him.”
Raquel sighed heavily at his proclamation, pursed her lips and turned her eyes back to the two visitors. She hoped they wouldn’t take Ernesto seriously, she couldn’t lose him too. Besides, the warning wasn’t even for their benefit, it was for hers. It was well known among the family that she disapproved of violence, believed everything could be solved by talking it through. This was Ernesto’s way of telling her he was going to get his revenge despite her feelings. That no arguments would be had about it.
“Excuse me Miss Romero, may we come in?”
Raquel moved aside, allowed them entry, then stepped over to the sink to start doing the dishes. It seemed they were more interested in Ernesto anyway.
She tried to follow along the conversation, but the words were distant, like her head was under water. They’d only settled a few meters away in the living room but her mind was elsewhere.
Half an hour later, Agent Jane appeared beside her. He pulled the tea towel off her shoulder and began wiping down the wet plates and mugs. Raquel shot him a smile, raised an eyebrow more to herself than at him at his willingness, continued with her chore.
“Hey, detective! Let Raquel grieve, her boyfriend just died. She’s not gonna wanna talk to a cop.”
“I’m not a cop.” Mr Jane called back rather loudly, despite the fact that there were no walls between them. Then he bent down and theatrically whispered in her ear. “I’m not a cop, I swear.”
Raquel gave him a once over, saw the playful glint in his eyes and for the first time noticed how perfect his grey suit was. For a moment, she allowed herself a free thought. In another life, she may have liked this man. Truly. She might have smiled and whispered back and flirted. She shook her head, shook the thought away, turned back to the sink with a little guilt marking her features.
“You remind me of someone Agent Jane, you know that?” She asked him quietly, tried to ignore him as he hovered for the rest of their visit. The intensity of his stare was unnerving.
*
“Who’s she?” Cho asked as he strode past a silent Rigsby and Van Pelt, starling them out of their odd staring at a crying blonde. He gathered some papers on his desk, grabbed a pen, shoved some paperwork into his top drawer.
“Oh, that’s the victim’s girlfriend, Raquel Romero. Claims she didn’t know she was dating a drug dealer.” Rigsby relayed, shrugged. “Boss seems to believe her.”
Cho paused, looked up to study the sweet-looking girl rubbing her eyes with her sleeve in the boss’ office, saw Lisbon hand her a tissue with a patient smile on her face.
“That's Hernandez’s girlfriend??”
“I know, right?” Van Pelt allowed herself one more glance, sighed, shook her head as she turned back to her computer. “Guess you never really know, do you? If someone’s lying to your face and leading a double life, I mean.”
Cho and Rigsby shot each other a look, eyes straying back to their friend. Rigsby turned away first, straightened a stapler on his desk.
“Right.”
“She’s guilty.” Jane called over from his couch, eyes closed and an open book shielding his face.
“Who? Romero?” Van Pelt paused in her typing, gave all her attention to the girl once again. Took several moments to study her. “No way. She’s so innocent. I bet she’s never even killed a spider.”
“Spiders can be incredibly hard to kill. There was one in Ben’s cot the other day and finding it in the covers was impossible. I had to move Ben instead.” Rigsby made a face at the memory. “Of course then he cried.”
“That’s a facade. Raquel Romero isn’t actually that sweet innocent girl we see, she’s just playing a role, a character.” Jane pulled the book off his face and sat up, threw it haphazardly beside him. “She’s using the ‘girl next door’ act to cover up the murder.”
“She’s got an iron-clad alibi.”
“The family’s clearly covering up for her. They’re all in on it.”
“Why would they help an outsider cover up the murder of Emilio Hernandez?” Van Pelt shook her head. “You’ve got to admit Jane, it doesn’t make much sense. Besides, we have a whole list of more promising suspects.” She held out a piece of printer paper for him to take. “Here, take a look.”
“No thanks.” Jane stood, walked right past the proffered list, made his way over to Lisbon’s office.
The rest of them glanced at each other. Rigsby shrugged, Van Pelt clicked her tongue, Cho barely acknowledged Jane’s departure, but took the list. They quickly got back to work.
*
Raquel pressed her palms against the steel table, kept herself still otherwise, waited for the agents to finally come and interview her.
She’d been here a while, likely several hours, and nobody had come in yet. She understood of course, that they did it on purpose, that they wanted her to get nervous and worry that maybe they had something on her, something that would link her to Emilio’s death.
She guessed it would have worked too, this silent treatment tactic that they’d resorted to, if she’d actually been guilty. Her mind would have been spinning with all sorts of possibilities by now, anyone’s would be, trying to find an escape like a mouse in a trap. As it was, Raquel wasn’t worried. In fact, despite being known for her patience she was beginning to lose some of it. Soon enough she’d ask for a lawyer just to be allowed to leave the building. Thankfully, that was when the interrogator finally stepped in.
“Hi.” She offered immediately, giving him a polite smile.
He remained expressionless, though he did respond to her greeting in kind, before settling in the chair across from her and putting a slim file onto the table between them. She assumed it was her information; she’d never been in trouble with the law so she guessed that was why it was so thin.
“You were with Emilio’s mother Andrea at the time of the murder, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Raquel bit the inside of her cheek, considered whether now was the time for the games Ernesto had asked her to play. He’d told her to never say more than exactly what was asked, to keep her sentences short and sweet, but her bladder was in no condition to be following his advice after so many mugs of tea. “The restaurant we ate at had cameras, I’m sure. The cars people bring over there are too expensive to not.”
“Yes, we have footage from that night. Unfortunately, there are multiple gaps of time during which we cannot account for your whereabouts. Can you explain why you disappeared from view between 9:33 and 9:47?”
Raquel swallowed, glanced down at the page before him, wondered if he’d believe that was one of three trips to the restroom in as many hours. Already knew that he wouldn’t.
By the time she looked up, he was watching her carefully. Raquel guessed the agents behind the screen would be too. Her hesitation had cost her.
She inhaled, prepared for a lie, let it leave her mouth as quickly as possible, like ripping off a plaster. “Please don’t tell anyone this…but I…never really quit vaping."
She continued when she saw the expression on his face, like he was actively resisting a face palm. "I uh, pretended to. But the truth is I couldn’t, it's too relaxing. I get stressed, really stressed, especially when meeting Andrea for dinner because I just want her to like me and —”
“Okay. I understand. That’s enough.”
He flipped the file closed, sighed, stood, began to leave the interrogation room only to be stopped by the abrupt entrance of Mr Jane (Agent Lisbon had assured her he wasn’t an agent).
“Don’t listen to her. She’s lying Cho.” Jane strode forward, rounded the table and stopped directly beside Raquel, towering over her. “Do you honestly expect us to believe you spent a total of half an hour vaping while having dinner with your boyfriend’s mother? You were only there for two and a half hours. That’s one fifth of the time you’re supposed to spend impressing the parent - i.e. on your best behaviour - down the drain.”
“No, I don’t.” Raquel shuffled a little back, titled her head back to look up at Mr Jane and meet his eyes. Again, she didn’t appreciate the games, his power play, but she’d have to indulge him if she really wanted to get to a restroom anytime soon. “Because I didn’t spend half an hour vaping."
"No?"
"No. The first time I left the table was to vape in the disabled bathroom. You should be able to check, there was a camera in the hallway. The second to go to the loo. And the third was because I thought I’d left the iron on at home. I called Emilio and asked him to have a look.”
The agent shot Mr Jane a look, turned sideways and lowered his voice as he spoke. Raquel could still hear him.
“That matches the call log, Jane. I think you might be wrong about this one.”
*
“Fine, can’t you arrest her for vaping indoors?” Jane muttered. “She's even admitted to it.”
Lisbon only just resisted rolling her eyes. She sighed, gave her partner a once over, furrowed her brows at the creases in his button up, the slight dishevelment of his hair.
“Jane, why has this gotten so far under you skin? She’s innocent, we’ve got the real killer.”
“She’s not innocent Lisbon. Look at her.”
Lisbon did. And while Jane was gesturing at her like she was a leaking gas stove beside a lit match, all she saw was a grieving girl with bruises under her eyes and shoulders that looked to be carrying the weight of the world. Her eyes trailed back to Jane. She raised her eyebrows at him.
“I think you’re just sore that you were wrong about the case. This is what? The first time ever you’ve been wrong.”
“I’m never wrong Lisbon. Mark my words.”
“Sure, sure. Does that mean case closed pizza is on you this time?”
*
“Woah, guys can you smell that?” Jane waved his hands over his nose dramatically, paused, sniffed the air.
Raquel stilled at Mr Jane’s words, barely even having to subtly inhale to smell the weed that somehow had gotten so close to her. It permeated the air.
Subtly, as the agents surrounding her began searching for the source of the smell, Raquel dipped her hands into her pockets, sinking feeling already forming in her chest at Mr Jane’s delighted expression at her action. It closed around a plastic baggie that definitely hadn't been there earlier.
The way he was watching her, observing the expressions flashing across her face as realisations hit her, looked so alike to a predator watching the last struggles of its prey that she repressed a shudder.
She bit her lip, her eyes darted towards the exits, then back to him to try to see if he’d planned for that eventuality. His lips had pulled into a self-satisfied smirk. Of course he had. They both knew that if she tried to leave now, him having her caught would be as easy as pointing her out. Raquel bit the inside of her cheek. She waved a hand at him in resignation, gesturing for him to complete his plan. His smile widened into a grin that was all teeth.
“Miss Romero, you’re very quiet. Would you might ever so much if I were to search you? You'd be able to go if you're clean.”
“Of course not, Mr Jane.”
She forced her feet to stay planted on the ground as he advanced on her, several agents having stopped what they were doing to watch their rather theatrical interaction. Most of them were part of Mr Jane’s team.
Raquel felt like a rabbit in headlights, the vehicle of her doom approaching in the form of Mr Jane, but the lucky thing about that is that the expression tends to describe the ‘freeze response’. By the time he was within arms reach, Raquel couldn’t have so much as flinched even if she’d wanted to.
His hand slipped into her blazer pocket, brushed the back of hers, pulled out the baggie full of weed.
She stayed quiet as he lifted it above his head, announced it to the entire CBI.
In less than a minute, Agent Cho was snapping cuffs onto her wrists, handing her over to Ron for him to lead her to a cell.
Raquel didn’t fight it, just allowed things to run their course.
She was only in the cell for an hour, certainly less than she’d spent waiting for her interview earlier that day, before she was once again being led back up to Mr Jane’s floor, being told to wait by the CO’s office, that the charges against her were to be dropped.
The door was pulled open.
“Miss Romero, I’m Agent Hightower, please come in.”
It was held open for her. Raquel shot one final glance at Mr Jane who watched from the kitchenette before stepping into the taller woman’s office. She muttered a thanks when the cuffs restraining her wrists were undone, moved to settle into the offered chair.
“I’ve gotten a very interesting call from Director Bertram concerning the charges being pressed against you just now.” Raquel nodded, she’d expected something like that. “I’m told it is a matter of the upmost importance that they are dropped, that they are certainly…bogus, for lack of better word. Is this correct?”
“Yes ma’am. I believe Mr Jane planted the drugs, though I can’t prove it of course.”
Raquel watched Hightower pinch the bridge of her nose, close her eyes like she was praying for strength.
“I apologise, Miss Romero, for the actions of our consultant. He is not an agent of the CBI and—“
“Don’t worry, agent Hightower, I’m not about to press charges.” Raquel smiled in amusement when the woman seemed to lose most of the metaphorical weight on her shoulders. “But I would like to get out of here before I get framed for something else, if that’s alright with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
Raquel stood, reached a hand across the desk to shake Hightowers.
“Please do keep this conversation between us, agent, as well as the one with Director Bertram.”
“Of course.”
Raquel couldn’t resist a smirk and a teasing wave at Mr Jane as she passed him on her way to the elevator.
*
"Jane? What are you still doing here?" Lisbon asked as she left her office, changed course when he didn't respond, walked towards the sofa he was laying on.
She snorted when she noticed his closed eyes, his deep even breathing. Of course he'd fallen asleep again, she should have guessed. Her lips twitched when he let out a long snore (he was lucky the rest of the team weren't here, Rigsby would have videoed it).
Just as she turned away, his arm moved, flopped sideways, Lisbon heard paper crease under its weight. She stepped closer, looked into the crevice of the couch, saw a familiar file being scrunched up. Jane must have fallen asleep reading it, or with it resting on his stomach like he had with that book last week. She slowly reached over, grabbed hold of the brown card and tugged on it until it broke loose of Jane's hold. The movement seemed to wake him.
"Lisbon." Jane greeted a little hoarsely, cleared his throat. "You're still here."
She just raised an eyebrow, flicked to the first page of the file he'd been holding captive to see a photo of Raquel Romero smiling up at her. Her gaze lowered to meet Jane's, she gave him an unimpressed stare.
"Don't look at me like that, Lisbon. She's clearly not what she portrays."
"You're lucky she's not pressing charges for the stunt you pulled!" She hissed at him. "Hightower ordered you to stay away."
"And I will. Just until she makes a mistake, then I'll be right there to watch you slap on the handcuffs."
"No. There'll be no handcuffs, Jane." Lisbon closed the file, shoved it into her bag. "Because she's an innocent girl grieving the loss of her boyfriend. Why are you so fixated on sending her to jail? She's done nothing to warrant it."
"Yes— well, no, she hasn't." Jane conceded, but continued right on, ignoring Lisbon's 'exactly' like she'd not said it. "Which is exactly the problem, Lisbon. She's done nothing."
"Jane..." Lisbon sighed.
He stood in one fluid movement, grabbed the file back from inside Lisbon's bag. Flicked it open to the first page, tapped the photo for emphasis.
"Does that look right to you? For the girlfriend of one of the biggest drug suppliers in the state? She doesn't seem a little too innocent to be true?"
"So you're saying she's lying because she's too naive." Lisbon's tone was deadpan, utterly disbelieving. "Jane, I think you're reading too far into this. Romero isn't some mastermind, she's just a girl who fell in love with the wrong guy. Why is being right about this so important to you anyway?"
"She's wrong Lisbon. What kind of girl next door dates a drug dealer?"
"Plenty of them, Jane." Lisbon sighed, put her bag onto Van Pelt's desk, settled on Jane's couch and patted the space beside her. He sat. "Usually because they want some excitement in their lives. But as it stands Romero didn't even know Hernandez was involved in drugs, her story makes sense."
"It doesn't. There's something there, I'm sure of it."
"Do you want a drink Jane?" Lisbon offered after a few beats of silence, wondered if he'd spill the truth with some tequila shots in him from the bottle she kept in her desk. "It might help relax your mind. Give you a better grasp of the bigger picture."
"You don't have to ply me with alcohol Lisbon. If you want to know so badly you could have just asked."
She shot him a glare. They both knew that she already had. Twice.
"She said my Words." Jane told her quietly.
Lisbon stilled, turned to look at Jane in shock. So many questions ran through her head. She took a deep breath and pushed them to the back of her mind, reached out to take his hand.
"Why does that have to be a bad thing?"
"I can't be matched to someone like that Lisbon, it's completely illogical. I'd ruin her."
"That's why you're so hellbent on trying to prove she's not as good as she seems? Because she's too innocent for you?" Lisbon barely withheld a scoff at the absurdity of the situation. "Jane that makes no sense."
"Raquel Romero cannot be my soulmate. She's nothing—" he cut himself off, looked down at their hands. "She's nothing like Angela."
Lisbon sighed, wondered if she should be saying anything at all in this situation. She squeezed his hand, let him know she was listening. In the back of her head, she scrambled to imagine what she'd say to one of her brothers in these circumstances. Whether there was anything to say.
"How did it feel? When you first met her? Did it feel right?"
"I don't know Lisbon."
"Did she like you? Don't give me that look, we both know you have a way of knowing those sorts of things."
"I don't...she was grieving, sad. I didn't pay much attention."
"Okay but surely she should have..." She paused, furrowed her brows, tried to think back to the first encounter at the front door. She knew what he'd said, that he'd been the first to speak to Raquel, but even despite the sinking feeling in her chest Lisbon scoured her mind hoping to God Jane's first words to his soulmate hadn't been 'good morning'.
"What— what was it that you said to her? What were her Words?"
"I uh, 'good morning', I believe."
"Jane." She took a deep breath, glanced over to him, saw that he'd dismissed her question without much thought. "Have you considered that the entire issue could be the Words?"
"Wha— Lisbon what are you—" he cut himself off. Belated understanding began to dawn on his face.
"Maybe she acted 'wrong' because you expected her to reciprocate, Jane." Lisbon asked, tone gentle.
"She doesn't know." Jane's voice held a significant amount of realisation. His eyes flicked over to Hightower's office. "And now she's gone."
Neither of them said anything for a while. Lisbon waited for Jane to speak, move, come up with some sort of master plan, anything really. He did none of those things. Instead, she watched him as he stared expressionlessly into the palms of his hands.
"Tea?"
"Only if I make it."
*
Twenty months later:
“Just ask Lisbon, your spiralling thoughts have been giving me a headache for days.”
“Okay.” She turned, lent back against the countertop, watched Jane for reactions as she spoke. “Raquel Romero. Why haven’t you talked to her?”
His expression barely changed, but she noticed a slight hesitation as he poured his tea. The stream of hot water coming from the kettle stuttered, a little splashed onto the counter. Jane let it be.
“You said it was Red John,” Lisbon prompted. “That you didn’t want him to use her like he had Kristina. But Jane, Red John’s been dead for months now. He’s not a threat to—“
“She’s getting married.”
“What?! To who?”
“Ernesto Hernandez.”
“The brother?” Her face screwed up a little as she tried to picture him. He’d been tall and well built, like Rigsby in that way, but certainly not as good looking as Emilio. Not at all as charming as his late brother was rumored to have been either. “And you’re not going to do anything about it? That doesn’t sound like you, Jane.”
“I already tried to ruin her life once, Lisbon. I think she deserves a happy life without me.” He poured boiling water into her mug, put the kettle down on the cooker with a thunk. “She seems happy enough.”
“You and I both know that’s never going to be good enough for you, Jane. ‘Happy enough’? What does that even mean?” She snatched a tea bag out of his hand and began dipping it into her mug restlessly. “Not to mention the fact she’s marrying the leader of a drug cartel.”
“That’s her choice—“
“No. Don’t start with the lies today Jane. What’s your plan?”
He paused in his fluid movements, hand holding onto the string of the earl grey, turned to her with a smile. “Ah, you’ve gotten good. Since when can you tell—“
“The plan, Jane.”
He sighed, glanced around to make sure nobody was listening too closely and lowered his voice as he began explaining.
“I’ve been looking into her. Her habits, her daily routines, weekly and monthly patterns. All compiled into a file that will help me figure out what’s wrong with her before I approach her.”
“You’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“You’ve been stalking your soulmate to figure out why you got a hunch two years ago?” Lisbon sent him a look. A look he should very well know by now because she gave it to him every time he outlined an insane idea.
Jane looked away, stirred his tea.
“Are you real—“
“It’s just—“
“You go.”
“No, you go.”
“Alright, fine. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that such a sweet girl would date not one, but two cartel leaders?”
“We all have types, Jane. Most of us grow out of our bad-boy phase,” Lisbon shrugged, snatched his spoon away and sent him a smug smile, pushed her teabag against the side of the mug to drain out the liquid. “She’s still young.”
“Most girls go for the antisocial smoker who rides a bike and occasionally smokes, not high up drug dealers.”
“She didn’t know Jane.” Lisbon reminded him, reaching across him to grab the milk carton. “And after? Can you blame her? She’d lost her boyfriend, it would make sense to hold onto the people that reminded her of him.”
“Okay Lisbon, say you’re right. She’s had some bad luck.” Lisbon poured the milk in, glanced up at Jane as he spoke to see a small furrow between his brows. “But given her profile, her moral code should have prevented her from moving on from one brother to the other. Can you explain how she’d justify dating Ernesto to herself?”
“Sure, maybe they grew closer as they grieved and decided to give a relationship a chance.” She spun the lid onto the milk, reached back over Jane to place it in the fridge. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous?”
“What? No—“
“Awwwe. Yes you are!” Lisbon’s voice gained a sing-song quality as she began teasing him. “Jane’s a little bit jealous.”
“I'm just con—“
“Jealous Jane, that’s a great nickname.”
*
Twenty seven months and fourteen days later:
Jane sat with the team and chewed on the rubbery pizza, tried to zone out the background chatter while massaging his temples. He’d drunk way too much on the santa case and could hear his thumping heartbeat punishing him for it even now. It was seven pm. Of the next day.
The blasting TV certainly wasn’t helping. He lifted his gaze to glare at it. Why did the news even need a theme tune?
Unfortunately, they chose that moment to show the breaking news.
News that made Jane’s heart freeze in his chest.
FBI raid Hernandez villa in Palo Alto. Ernesto Hernandez shot by sniper. Fiancé Raquel Romero injured and in critical condition.
He didn’t even think before his body was in motion, the chair wheeling itself into Cho’s desk as he sprinted to Hightower’s office. Lisbon wasn’t far behind him, had caught up by the time he burst into the office, caught their boss completely off guard. Jane didn’t bother smoothing things over, trying to put a smile on her face after disrupting her phone call with her children, only said two words.
“Raquel Romero.”
“Excuse me?”
“Raquel Romero. Whoever it was that told you to drop the drug charges, call them. She’s been shot. She’s in critical condition.”
“Patrick, what are you—“
“I apologise, agent Hightower.” Lisbon interrupted. “Jane’s just concerned for her safety. What Jane meant to ask was whether you could please give her associates a call, as a personal favour.”
“A personal favour to you, agent Lisbon? Or a personal favour to Patrick?” Hightower’s gaze turned to said man, took in his mussed hair and the pallor of his face. “Because were I anybody else, I may be especially uninclined to extend any courtesy after that display. Fortunately for you however, you’re talking to me. Sit. Both of you.”
She reached over to the office phone. Dialled the first extension, waited. Watched her two subordinates with unimpressed eyes.
“I hope you both understand that once this…critical situation is dealt with, I expect an explanation.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Patrick?”
“You got it, Hightower.”
“Good.” Her eyes flicked down, she listened to whoever had picked up. “Yes, hi Jackie. This is agent Hightower, I must urgently speak to Director Bertram. Yes. Yes, that’s right. Thank you.” Her gaze raised after a moment and she once again levelled her two companions with an annoyed stare.
“Hello Director, yes, good evening.” Hightower paused, pursed her lips, glanced away as she listened to whatever the Director had started speaking about. “No actually, I’m calling for a different reason, sir. I’ve got Jane and agent Lisbon in my office, dead set on speaking directly with one Raquel Romero.”
There was another pause.
“Yes, that’s right. That’s the one from the Hernandez—“ She cut herself off, her brow furrowed, her eyes turned back to Jane and Lisbon and she studied them thoughtfully. “Yes, I would appreciate that, thank you sir. Thank you, good night.” She put the phone down slowly, measuredly, took a deep breath.
“I don’t understand how the two of you get into so much trouble.”
“Trouble, ma’am?” Lisbon questioned, daring a glance at Jane.
“Yes. Now, I’ve got to get home to my girls soon, so I won’t wait with you.” She shuffled some papers, finished the glass of water on her desk. “The Director has promised me he’ll get in touch with Romero’s contacts. You should receive a call soon, Patrick.”
*
Lisbon sat beside Jane in the glass cubicle, tried to watch him discretely. Any other time, he would have noticed, might have made a joke about how caring she was like that time she’d offered to let him drive. But right now he was so far in his head that he probably wouldn’t notice at all.
She pursed her lips, glanced around for any sign of the special agent that had promised to return soon, to provide them with some answers. There was barely anyone in sight, just the workaholics and cleaning staff. Her eyes drifted back to Jane. She couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling, what it must be like, to lose a family and then the mere possibility of a second chance to the same man. Her hand reached out to rest on his shoulder, he seemed unable to even acknowledge it.
The door opened. They both glanced up. The special agent was back, his bald patch a little more shiny with sweat and two sets of documents in his hand, two cheap biros in the other.
“I’m going to need you to sign these, agent Lisbon, Mr Jane.”
Lisbon flipped round the one slid closest to her, glanced at the title.
“We’ve already signed confidentiality agreements for the CBI.”
“These are more binding and very specific. They keep our investigations secure.”
Jane barely gave it a proper glance, just flipped the stack over to reach the back page and signed. Lisbon hesitated, knew it wasn’t smart, then followed his lead.
“Excellent. If you would just give me a minute.” He grabbed both contracts, left the pens behind, hurried out of the room and turned right, directly out of their line of sight due to the opaque glass.
Not ten seconds later the door opened once again, Lisbon glanced up, away from a miserable Jane, and met the eyes of Raquel Romero. She opened her mouth, closed it, turned to Jane and nudged him when it became clear he was much more interested in allowing himself to be consumed with guilt. When he finally did look up, it was only the fact that Lisbon knew him so well that allowed her to notice the shock lining his features.
“Hello Agent Lisbon, Mr Jane.”
*
Raquel watched Mr Jane and agent Lisbon in undisguised curiosity as they sat silently, waited for them to talk, to give something away as to why they were still interested in her so long after their meeting. There wasn’t much to see, they barely moved, didn’t interact at all apart from Lisbon placing a comforting hand on Mr Jane’s shoulder.
When her boss had informed her of the development, just as she was getting ready to leave the building, she almost hadn’t believed it. It was certainly a blast from the past. A past she very much wanted to forget. But she couldn’t quite escape the nagging intrigue as to why Raquel Romero of all people was being asked about by those two CBI agents.
So, she’d stayed a little longer. Allowed them to be brought into the offices, consented for them to be told and even to meet them so long as the correct documents were signed. They’d both done it so easily, had barely read the front page of a fifty-five page booklet. That was even more intriguing. Why were they so determined to see her?
To top it all off, the pair actually looked emotionally invested. Mr Jane’s slouched posture, his messy hair and exhausted eyes, Lisbon’s gesture to comfort him, it all suggested much more attachment than was logically possible for someone they’d interacted with maybe five times two years ago.
On anyone else, Raquel might have attributed all of this to guilt, a need to apologise for trying to frame her before she died perhaps, likely triggered by the news. But Patrick Jane was sociopathic in nature, had scored high on the test done by his CO under controlled conditions. This man didn’t typically feel guilt. Hadn’t displayed any for matters not linked to Red John.
It was all of these contradictions, maybe also a need for one last hit of adrenaline before she folded, that pushed Raquel to step into that glass cubicle, to raise an eyebrow at Lisbon when she looked like a fish out of water at her presence. To greet them both calmly and settle in the chair opposite them.
“Hello Agent Lisbon, Mr Jane.” She crossed her legs, folded her hands on the table in front of her. “What brings you to talk to me?”
“Shouldn’t you be in an ICU somewhere?”
“No.” She smiled at the brunette, gestured at her left bicep, at the unusual padding under her blazer’s sleeve. “It was a light graze, nothing quite that serious.”
“I knew there was something.” Jane muttered, more to himself it sounded like, but either way both women heard him. “So what are you? FBI? CIA? CBI?”
“FBI. Was. The Hernandez case was my last assignment before I retired.”
Raquel suppressed a smile at Lisbon’s shocked face, the way the little muscles in her jaw slackened. She wondered briefly if it was the accent, Americans were always thrown off by her Londoners accent, but didn’t fixate much on it.
She enjoyed the power she held over them two, the fact that for the first time in at least three years she held the cards and didn’t have to capitulate to maintain cover. Raquel allowed her chin to stay high and inhaled the air of freedom. Soon, nobody would know her at all. She could start over, unpick the persona she’d been hiding behind and live in a way that suited her, rather than the ‘man of the house’.
“What’s your name?” Jane asked, having nodded at her revelation like it was only confirmation for something he’d suspected for a long time.
“Amy Wells. It’s nice to meet you both properly.” She held out a hand, offered it as if to two strangers.
They both shook it, “Patrick Jane” first, “Teresa Lisbon” second.
She smiled at them.
They were the first people she’d introduced herself to truthfully since she’d been back.
“Well, can you tell me why you wanted to speak with Raquel Romero so urgently?”
“Jane,” Lisbon prompted, tone a little softer like she thought he might change his mind.
“I came to talk to you. Not Raquel Romero. Although that is the only name I had for you at the time.” Amy nodded, held his gaze, willed him to continue. “You said my Words when we met.”
Her eyebrows rose, gaze flicked to Lisbon who seemed unsurprised. She pressed herself to think back to their first meeting, to remember how he’d greeted her, what she’d said to him.
“You said ‘good morning’,” her brows furrowed and she pushed her mind further, trying harder to remember. “And I told you, Mr Jane, that…you reminded me of someone.” She smiled sadly. “My sister, she was a little like you too.”
“You called me ‘agent’.” Jane clarified. Amy wondered if he’d been able to read her doubts so easily, swallowed in vague discomfort at the possibility. “Nobody else has made that mistake before.”