Disclaimer: of course it's not mine and I make no money from fanfiction.

Sean Barlow had spooked her. Clear as a polished mirror.

And not surprising. "Psychic" or otherwise, he was good. Too good.

Oh not the first part – appealing to her religion because of the cross round her neck. Or the observations on her feelings. Even with her professional demeanour and controlled interview techniques, it was obvious that she was in love. Deeply so.

Jane allowed himself a few moments to reflect on her appearance. She was still a cop – it was still clear to carnies like him – but she had softened.

Her make-up and that silky jade top that brought out the light in her eyes.

Her whole stance and fluidity of movement.

But, more than anything, her hair. Her beautiful hair. Cascading freely down her back, clasped away from her face.

It tempted a man. And he was definitely a man. He wanted to run it through his fingers. Revel in it.

But not just that. No. The way it exposed the curve of her neck and her sweet little ears. Led the eyes lower.

He really shouldn't go there. But it would cause any man to contemplate. Not just him. It was a distraction. And one he wasn't going to deny himself.

Lisbon was projecting her femininity in a way that would attract men like the smell of home cooking. At least, cooking in the kind of proper loving home he'd wished for as a youngster and he tried to build with Angela. Clearly it was a reaction to a man of her acquaintance. And her associated wistfulness suggested it was unrequited, unfulfilled.

It didn't take much to figure out it was him she wanted. Who else would be stupid enough to keep her waiting, after all. And he knew that the two of them worked together with an ease and smoothness that spoke of intimacy as much as it did of their long platonic partnership.

He really wished that on the evening in question, they'd been pulling an all-nighter to bring down a perp, followed by 5 am breakfast at a greasy diner. That would have shut Barlow up. But he'd have noticed the fatigue and not made that mistake in the first place. Whilst Jane hated to admit it, the Barlows had always been comsumate showmen when it came down to it. And like all good cons, Sean Barlow's attention to detail was exquisite.

Not just that. The fact that he, a carnie in his blood, took her to visit his 'associate' spoke volumes. He could have given her the slip. Left her holding the ice cream. But these days he didn't want to. He wanted her to know him. To accept him at all levels and he was confident that she did. It must also have been obvious to Barlow that she knew full well of Jane's con-man days and it didn't shock her or repel her. That she bought his 'atonement'.

So that much was no surprise. After all, they were all things he would have seen and Barlow was talented – perhaps even as good as he had been, but certainly no better.

What was, however, disturbing was the choice of words. "You're a little bit in love with him".

That was close, too close, to Lorelei's words in the interrogation room almost a year ago. And then the second one – "honest advice from a friend."

It screamed Red John. And Barlow had disowned the woman he raised as his own daughter – giving her no options but to flee when her relationship hit a buried reef. One arm of the pincer movement. And Roddy had money troubles. How come, he wondered.

And then, there was the small matter of Lisbon's father, and the thing that had really thrown her. She'd covered the first part so well – for Lisbon – that he was proud of her. It couldn't have been easy having her feelings put on public view, but she'd taken it.

But her father… Yes, it was possible to tell if you spent time with her, and if you could cold read her slowly, building on her responses. He'd done that himself when they first met.

Whilst the thought terrified him, he also knew from Lorelei that Red John was fascinated by Lisbon and had probably studied her extensively and closely. How closely, he dared not think.

So as a line from Red John, it would make sense. As Sean Barlow himself, it didn't. Not even if he had followed Patrick's career or genned up on the internet after hearing about Lee-Lee's death. It was too much. And, if the con-man had got it from a third party, he was too arrogant and clever to resist using it. Proving he could do "the impossible". Red John would have known that.

So, Sean Barlow as one arm of the pincer movement. And the woman from child protective services as the other. They needed to get back to Carson and quickly.

Jane cursed the addled state of his mind. He had known that a week of sleep deprivation would be rough but he hadn't expected how slow his mind was now, nor how unpredictable his emotions.

There was something. Something he didn't want to remember. About the fall out, after the bust up between Barlow and his father. He'd never fully known the details, but somehow the mark bit back and Barlow, slick ass as he was, diverted the blame smoothly. Alex Jane had spent a few weeks in a cosy cell and child protective services had tried to hunt him down. He'd been 11 or so, and forced to go on the lam. He'd never known who'd tipped them off. After all, it wasn't like he'd have had no place else to stay. Pete's folks would have had him for a start. Instead it was living rough, creeping round and occasional meet ups with Sammy who'd tracked him down with the odd food parcel and the news.

He'd made it back, home with his father in their trailer, just after his twelvth birthday. And just before Lee-Lee and that 4th July picnic.

Maybe he had more reason to hate Sean Barlow than he'd thought.

Such a sweet homecoming. Red John would be proud.

But a baby was still missing, a woman was dead, and her true family were grieving. They had work to do.

Straightening himself up in the car seat, he scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before running his fingers through his curls, plumping them up from where they'd flattened against the window.

Lisbon looked over at him, "Hey, sleepy head. Another hour and we'll be back in Sacramento."

"Nah, we're going back to Carson Springs."

"We are?"

"Yeah."

"And the reason is…?"

Jane pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled,

"Van Pelt, I need your help. In tracking a call later this afternoon."

He tapped away on the dashboard as he waited.

"Mmmm.

You'll be there?

Good."

Turning to Lisbon, he gave her his best knock-em-dead smile,

"Why, to find a baby and catch a killer. Or killer's accomplice anyway. What else, my dear?"

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, and shaking her head, Lisbon flipped on the turn indicator at the next junction, Carson Springs it was.

Later that evening, after a Jane plan that went down remarkably smoothly despite the potential for bloodshed, Lisbon was in her car again.

"Sure you're not coming?" she asked Jane as he checked and rechecked the child seat that he'd installed. She watched as he pulled faces at baby Caitlin, making her laugh.

"Nah. Roddy might knock my lights out before he sees the baby."

He rubbed his head, pulling a mock-grimace of pain.

As Lisbon sped off into the night, taking Caitlin to her father and surrogate grandparents, Jane watched her go. Seeing Lisbon – Teresa – with a baby. It did things to his insides, to his mind, that he refused to look at too closely.

It was better this way.

And he didn't want Sammy or Pete noticing either.

Closed case pizza awaited. At least for the abduction. And it was Cho's turn to order.

He'd make sure that Rigsby didn't start on it without her.

And after that, the attic. And a DVD to watch.

And then, if he was really lucky, a chance to sleep. And perhaps to dream of jade eyes, flowing hair and pale skin.

Two hours later, Jane slumped over his desk as his third re-watch of the recording came to an end. He'd expected the news of Lorelei's dead body, when they'd found her, two weeks after the Jason Lennon incident. But not this.

And how?