Thank you to Sue Shay for beta reading the first draft of this chapter. Her insightful comments and suggestions were extremely useful and I have tried to incorporate them into an updated story chapter. Sue is not only a talented writer but also an excellent teacher. Any mistakes in this chapter are, of course, my own.

This is a long chapter but I didn't want to break it as I wanted it all to be from Jane's POV and the next chapter is Lisbon's.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to "The Mentalist" and make no money from fanfiction.

Lisbon looks dreadful. She reminds me of a tree bending over the river as its roots are washed away, swaying with each treacherous gust of wind. How much more can she take?

I wonder what further shocks are coming. For each of us. It's clear that this is only the beginning.

Entering the elevator, I push the button for the parking garage whilst Teresa leans against the wall, her eyelids quivering as she lets them fall. I watch discreetly, wondering whether to ask her what she's thinking or, better, find a way to irritate her. At least that would ease her anxiety. An angry Lisbon has no fear.

She beats me to it, straightening and fishing her car keys from her jacket pocket as the doors slide open. Agent Lisbon is back in the building!

As we walk towards the vehicle my phone rings.

"Paddy?" It's Pete but from the stammer it doesn't sound good. "That you?"

"Yeah, what's up?" Something's definitely very wrong. "Where are you?"

"Still at Stony Ridge."

My heart drops. I'd hoped they were long gone by now. Outta state ideally. But as Pete clears the gunk in his throat -the nervous tic of a chronic smoker –I remember that he needs me.

"So what can I do for you?"

"Well we've had a visit. Or leastways, I had. Roddy and Sammy were off shopping with Caitlin. Damn good job. That son-of-a-bitch…"

"A visit from who Pete? Sean Barlow?"

"You got it in one. Here full of his bluster about how Caitlin should be his. No matter what. And how he's going to get her. A load of bullshit about how he'd paid for the kid so she belonged to him. Not us."

"Mmm. Did he say how?"

"Nah. Just some garbage about how nobody double crosses Sean Barlow. Who does he think he is?"

"Hang on in there Pete. Pepper and I'll be up to see you. Do me a favour though."

"What?"

"Get packed up and ready to leave. Stony Ridge isn't safe anymore. I'm guessing the others are back? Sammy got you to call me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Don't let them out of your sight."

I end the call and turn to Lisbon. She's grabbed some water from the stash in the back - used it to wash down some painkillers no doubt – and is now getting settled in the SUV. It's clear that one of her headaches is starting. She's got that scrunchedness in the side of her face. And from the way she favours her left arm, I'd say the tension isn't doing her old shoulder injury any good either. I wish I could help her – a little massage or some guided relaxation - but there's no way she'd let me. We'll just have to hope that the pills work their magic.

And now we have a change of plan I guess and I need to update her. "Sounds like Sean Barlow won't be home. We need to swing by Stony Ridge. Talk to Pete."

"OK."

I love this woman and how easily she adapts to things. Needless to say, she's driving. I wouldn't have it any other way.

As we leave the CBI, en route for Carson Springs, I fill her in and watch as she begins to see the implications.

"So who did Sean pay to abduct Caitlin? Doesn't make sense. Miriam Gottleib believed that she was keeping the child. And Red John has never acted as a mercenary before. It'd be beneath him surely."

"I know. That's what makes this interesting. Red John expected us to find Miriam and to take Caitlin back. That's why he left her with the disc. He'd have known that Caitlin would go back to her father. If he wanted Sean to have her, he'd have taken her somewhere else. Visualise maybe."

Lisbon half turns to look at me, carefully considering, before returning her attention to the road.

"So, what you're saying is that Red John manipulated Sean Barlow in some way and then left him hanging. From Barlow's perspective, treated him like a mark?"

"Exactly."

I stare out of the window at the passing Californian countryside whilst I give Lisbon a little more time to think.

She opens her mouth as if to speak but then stalls and looks back at her driving. Then she sighs in exasperation before blurting, "How do you think Red John got to know Sean Barlow in the first place? And… And you mentioned Sean's links to your father. Could he be involved in this somehow?"

OK. Not the questions that I was expecting from her, but good ones nevertheless.

"In answer to the first question. I don't know. Not yet. And as to the second?" I find myself shrugging my shoulders as I remember. My dear father. The bastard didn't even come to their funerals. Not even a note.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it." I recognise Lisbon's walking on barely crusted lava tone. "But considering everything, it might help make sense of what's happening. What went on between you and your father?"

I smile grimly.

"My dear father. That would be a long story." I pause and collect my thoughts for a few moments. Could my father be involved in all of this? I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't. If he was still alive? Perhaps I should have asked Pete but I really didn't want to know.

I glance back at Lisbon. She's feigning nonchalance. She really should know better. It makes her look like a rookie driver. Her arms are locked like tension rods and her neck is stiff enough to hold up the DoJ dome.

"My father." I stop, clearing my throat to get rid of the hoarseness which has no right to be there. I long since wrote him off as having no significance, so why is the anger and disgust beginning to rise? He was worthless and I rejected any hold he ever had over me many years ago.

I am going to be calm about this. And I want Lisbon to know. So I take a deep breath and jump in. "My father… I haven't seen nor heard from him since I left the show. He disowned me just like Sean did Lee-Lee. The last thing I knew was him shouting at my back that he had no son now. Funny, I didn't have a father, but then again, I never did.

You know, from the moment I could walk, he had me out earning money. At first it was being dressed up in silly costumes so that the punters could take photos with little Jack and his beanstalk or some other fairytale character. I never had any proper schooling because that was time that could be better spent on him lining his pockets. I only got what I learned going round the other carney folk and from the books that I was able to scrounge. Rest days, I'd find the nearest town library."

Lisbon looks horrified. "But surely you had someone?"

I ignore the interruption and press on, avoiding eye contact.

"Later, he made me part of his act. One long, nasty, unsophisticated con. Horrible."

I'm prepared to be open with Lisbon -more so than with anyone since Angela - but some of those things were shameful. I don't want to remember them let alone share. It's time to move the story forward a little.

"That was until he realised my talents with memory and observation. Then I became the main act – the Boy Wonder – with him as my assistant and 'manager'. I'd pull in the crowds – you really don't want to know how - and he'd pocket the lot except for a few dollars if he was feeling generous. He'd head out to the backstage poker games. Blow it all most nights. If I was lucky, he won and spent the night drinking and whoring and I didn't see him for a day or two. If not… well, I learned how to make myself scarce. And I hoarded the money that I got so as I could buy food for us both rather than go hungry after each of his benders."

I pause, stealing a look at her face, unsurprised by the outrage and disgust I see there. My dear little avenging angel. Even you can't change the past.

"To my father, I was an unlimited blank cheque. Took me years to see through all his bull about how he kept me and every penny it had ever cost him to feed and clothe me. And, not long after, I took up with Angela. We'd been friends for years but disillusion made us closer and from there we fell in love. She vowed to escape that life. She was always braver than me, but by that stage I wasn't prepared to live without her. So, after a while, we agreed that we'd do just that, and we'd do it together. You know the rest."

I stop for a second and consciously engage my memory blocks. Continuing down this path will only show me Angela and Charlotte. Their mutilated bodies on our bed. And the blood. It's nauseating enough to re-live it all again in my dreams, when I can't override it, and I am so not going there now. Now, where was I? Ah yeah.

"You know you're right Lisbon, we should look into Alex Jane thoroughly alongside Sean Barlow. I'm sure he hates me enough to be involved and he never could stand anyone getting one up on him. Perhaps van Pelt can track him down."

Teresa still doesn't look at me, though she's exhibiting the kind of radiant attentiveness that people do when they eavesdrop on private conversations. I leave her to contemplate for a few moments whilst I fiddle with the radio, tuning into a jazz station and letting the music fill the car. I lean back and close my eyes like I'm going to nap, even though nothing is further from the truth.

Mmm, Lisbon has gone squirmy. I crack open one eye and look at her. "Out with it."

"I'm not sure if I should. If there's a reason…"

"For what?"

"Your mother. I mean. You never talk about her. You've never even mentioned her. Even a 'genius' like you must have had one, right?"

She's blushing up nicely. Awkward Lisbon is a beautiful sight.

"That's because there's nothing to say. She died when I was about 14 months old. An accident when they were assembling one of the rides. I don't really remember her. I have a few vague sense impressions but I could have imagined them."

"I'm sorry."

"No need. Stuff happens. You know that."

We lapse into silence. That easy silence of long acquaintance. Jazz pours in through the airwaves and I turn back to the scenery. Another twenty minutes or so to Stony Ridge.

We pull in next to the Airstream and I jump out, bashing on Pete and Sammy's door. Lisbon waits in the SUV, giving us space.

"Paddy!" Sammy flings herself into my arms, clinging to me like I'm a man-sized teddy bear. "Pete, look who's here."

Pete lumbers to the door, hanging back whilst his better half mauls me. Eventually Sammy lets go, jumping down from the step and throwing open the SUV driver's door.

"Pepper! You gonna sit there or are you comin' in? Kettle's on."

As Lisbon gets out of the vehicle and thumbs the central locking, Sammy grabs one of her wrists with her left hand and reaches out to me with her right. She drags us both to the door of the Airstream where Pete is waiting. He pulls me into a brief one armed hug before cautiously extending his hand to Lisbon. I step back, ushering my partner through the door and following her in. Sammy's gone to town. A pot of tea is already brewing and a selection of home baked biscuits lies ready on the table, where we make ourselves comfortable. From the wonderful smell they're fresh from the oven.

Settling in, we make cautious small talk around inconsequential topics for several minutes until Pete invites me outside to check over a few things. As we're leaving, Sammy gets out a large carrier bag of baby clothes and starts to go through them with Lisbon – this morning's take from the goodwill shop and in enough different sizes to last for the next year – whilst Teresa does her best to be interested. It's a small miracle, Sammy opening up to a cop. I'm not sure if it's returning Caitlin that has caused this or something more. At this rate, they'll end up swapping knitting patterns before they've finished!

Half an hour later, I'm ready for us to take our leave of Pete and Sammy. I haven't learned that much more than Pete had told me on the phone, except that Barlow completely lost his temper and cursed Pete uphill and down dale. He did say that he'd come inland to find the 'main man' and get satisfaction. And that he had no doubt about what the outcome would be. But that doesn't really take us any further at distinguishing between the suspects.

What I have done though is explained the gravity of the situation to Pete – mentioning no names, of course. I've also checked that he's neither seen nor heard of our seven suspects - after judicious hypnosis and a post-hypnotic suggestion to forget. Much easier without 'the law' looking over your shoulder. At least Pete assures me that they'll all be heading off in the next hour, out of state and onwards for a couple of days. They'll aim to join up with Nicky and some of the other old timers in eastern Nevada. I hope it's far enough. I would hate anything to happen to them. If they can, they'll get word to Danny for me too. Warn him to lay low. As my last remaining relative, I know he's likely on Red John's radar.

Heading back into the Airstream, I'm intrigued to see the two ladies in animated conversation. Looks like Lisbon – or should I say Pepper – has found a new friend. I'm glad. Sammy may be as prickly as a hedge of wild bramble but she has a good heart. And Teresa is broad minded enough to see past the cultural differences and accept the warm welcome for the gift that it is.

Doesn't look like we'll get to Venice Beach till tomorrow, after Lisbon's meeting with Bertram, but it's probably saved us a wasted journey. If Sean has decided to go after Red John and demand his payment, it's unlikely to end well for him. I hope he's not that foolish. I also wonder if he does really know who Red John is or whether he's been dealing with a minion.

If I thought that Barlow would cough up any information about Red John – especially given he must have talked with him in some fashion after Lorelei's capture and death – I'd be camped out by his apartment waiting. But I know it's not that simple and also that Lisbon and I are both needed here. If I was to rush off alone it would be a good opportunity for Red John to divide us.

The game has changed alright. From now on, defence is the priority. Of Lisbon and the team. And I'll take the fight to Red John's door only when it helps my cause. I'd assumed, as a currently useful tool, Sean Barlow would be safe until the end of the Eileen Turner case – an irritant and obstacle and a channel for Red John – but we all know what happens to minions after they have served their purpose. Sean may have just hastened his fate.

Still. One less scumbag in the world. There's always an upside.

Relaxing in the passenger's seat, I start to drift off to sleep. Lisbon will wake me when we get back to the CBI and I need to be alert to take the night watch. From now on, she will not sleep unguarded. And we do know now that all seven of the shortlisted serial killer suspects are located within 30 miles of Sacramento. I just hope that it's enough.

And I better tell Lisbon my other bit of news soon. The scheme is in play but the crunch part is still to come. I need Teresa's buy-in but I know it's going to choke her. I'll leave it a little longer before I tell her as I may need to find a helmet first. I'd rather keep my nose as part of my face if at all possible.