Red Wolves in White Fleece

Jane was desperately trying to make the latest death mean something by getting a useful lead out of it to track Red John. "A hatchet. Or bone-saw." he said distractedly in the bullpen. "He would have needed to purchase one – hacking people up isn't part of his normal repertoire."
Rigsby nodded. "A saw is more likely. I'll circulate Partridge's picture to local hardware stores and medical supplies." he grabbed a case file and strode over to talk to Brenda about organising the PR.

Jane tried to think of other useful angles. "If I could look over her apartment..."

"We've been through this." Lisbon said tightly. "Cross wasn't abducted from home. She was lured away from her workplace." Lisbon was done with his game. She'd tried it his way and it had backfired. Horribly. Now they would do it her way, safe and sensible. Jane was not leaving the walls of the CBI.

Jane looked up from his distracted state and hooked onto Lisbon's phrase. "Lured how?"

She swallowed uncomfortably but told him in a neutral tone: "Someone rang the station and left a message for Cross that they had the inside scoop on the handprint case. She went to the morgue to meet them."

"Ah." Jane nodded, seeing the extra little detail Lisbon hadn't reported in her eyes. "The caller who left the message for Karen said they were me, didn't they? That's why she jumped right on it."

"Yeah." Lisbon said bleakly.

Jane just nodded to himself, as though he were recovering from a physical blow. He'd never liked Karen Cross but he did regret being responsible for her death. And he was responsible, in more ways than one. He was the one who had fed her the "rumour" about the copycat killer before the press conference.

And he had an uncomfortable feeling that Lisbon knew it.

Red John had known.

"We keep working the crime scene." Lisbon said. "One thing we do know is that Red John was in a hurry this time. He might have gotten sloppy." Cho nodded and grabbed his keys to head back out to the morgue.

"Where would he have taken the body?" Lisbon asked Jane.
"He'd have kept it to examine." Jane muttered. "If he hid Karen's body in one of those wheeled forensics trolley-cases to get it into the crime scene, it stands to reason he took Jane Doe out the same way."

"So he would have had to cut her up too?" Lisbon asked
"It's likely." Jane said. She saw the discomfort come into his eyes.

She moved on. "So we're looking for somewhere with lab equipment or at the very least a large freezer."

Just then, a messenger arrived. It was a young man with "Speedfreak 24 hour Courier Services" printed on his cap.

"Mr Jane?"
Jane nodded.
"Will you sign for this?"
"Sure." He reached for the box but Lisbon slapped his hand away.
"Jane, you know who this is from. There could be anything inside. Anthrax. A bomb. Anything."

The delivery boy blinked and put the box on a table, backing away slowly, looking like he was going to leg it and the tip be damned. "Hey" Lisbon said, grabbing the boy by the shoulder. "We need to ask you some questions."
"No need." Jane cut in. "You work for an Internet start-up company. The order was placed online, requesting express-same-day-delivery. You picked up the parcel from a man with a lilting voice who paid in cash and met you in the driveway of a house in a nice suburban neighbourhood with a For Sale sign out the front.

"Pretty much." the boy choked,
flabbergasted.

"See?" Jane said. "He picked an empty house at random and just stood out the front of it. Nothing useful there." His eyes turned to the far more tangible clue of the box.

"Nevertheless, we're going to need the address of the house you picked this up from." she told the boy. "And we need you to look through some photos to I.D. the man who handed you the package. "

Lisbon sent the boy off with Rigsby to be questioned. Then she turned to their present problem: the box. They both knew doing things by the book – calling in the bomb squad and what have you – would take precious hours. Jane pressed his ear to the box, sniffed it, and looked at it from every angle. Lisbon only had time to say "Jane, don't!" before he'd lifted the lid.

Inside was a piece of paper wrapped around a human hand. Lisbon saw Jane become pale. He deftly unwrapped the piece of paper from the hand and unrumpled it, letting the hand thunk grossly back into the bottom of the box. He read aloud:

"When God commanded this hand to write
In the studious hours of deep midnight.
He told me the writing I wrote should prove
The Bane of all that on Earth I lov'd."

"More Blake?" Lisbon asked.
"It's another passage from The Grey Monk." Jane stated blandly. He handed the note to Lisbon so she could read the final personalized part of the message:

You know what happened to the boy who cried wolf, don't you Jane?

Lisbon sighed. "He knows about Jane Doe." She felt a little numb. After ten years of antagonising him, Jane had finally succeeded in getting a death threat from Red John. She wondered whether this is what he'd wanted, subconsciously, all along: not to catch Red John, but to be killed by him. To join his wife and daughter.

"Lisbon," Jane cut across her reverie. "What kind of tracking devices do the CBI have?"
"We use basic GPS trackers mostly." Lisbon said hesitantly. Why?"
"We need to sew one in the lining of my coat. That way when Red John grabs me – "
"Red John isn't going to grab you." Lisbon cut in. "You're going into protective custody until he is caught."
"Of course I'm not, Lisbon. Think about it. He's not going to rest until he's killed me and you can't keep me locked in a safe-house forever: better just to let him make his move."

"There's a reason we don't let potential victims opt out of protective custody." Lisbon rebuked. "They make irrational decisions and put themselves in danger. This is not a discussion! Pack a bag." she ordered.

Jane took a deep breath and got rid of all the angst and feverish excitement in his face. Then, with a patient expression, he clasped Lisbon's hands. "This is the final leg of the journey." he said. "I can feel it. This is when we catch Red John. But we need some bait. I need you to take a chance and let him take me. Will you help me finish this, Lisbon?"

All Lisbon could picture was opening that cold steel draw, and a head rolling towards her. Only this time, it had blonde curls and piercing blue eyes. But he knew exactly what he was risking. She swallowed.

"Fine. But we draw up a plan and get the Special Response team in on this. We'll let you get "nabbed" from a safe-house and track you, flanking the car before you reach your destination. So no quick moves. Methodical planning."

Jane nodded, giving her a smile warmer than sun breaking through storm clouds. She did have faith in him to do this after all.

Suddenly, Rigsby burst back through the door, mobile phone in his hand. "Boss," he cried out, voice shaking with nerves "Ben's missing! He's been taken."

Lisbon looked up in alarm.

"His nanny was knocked out cold. When she came to, Ben was gone. It's got to be Red John doesn't it?!" Rigsby was beside himself. Lisbon strode over to him and put a calming hand on his shoulder. She dialled her phone one-handed and began barking orders to Missing Persons then to Brenda, asking for Ben's picture to make the nightly news bulletin. Then, while she called in another team and forensics to sweep Rigsby's house, she forced him to sit down in his chair and take a few deep breaths. He was almost doubled over in shock.

Jane knew only too well what sort of fear and dread Rigsby was going through. Rather than comforting him, Jane removed himself from Rigsby's eyeline because he knew his presence served as a reminder of the worst possible outcome of cases like this. He ducked out into the corridor and called Cho.

"Jane." he answered.
"When was the last time you saw Agent Van Pelt?" Jane asked him, voice laced with curiosity.
"Lunchtime. Why?"
"Did she talk to Rigsby?" Jane asked.
"Sort of. We discussed the handprint case. What's this about?"
"What exactly did you talk about?" Jane queried.
"Your relationship with Grace, whether or not you might be the handprint copycat, and whether losing your wife and child was emasculating." Cho's deadpan voice didn't skirt around the awkward topics. "Why do you want to know?"

Jane was a little surprised that they'd been discussing him like that. Even if some of it was true. But he ignored it and pushed on to the business at hand. "Ben's missing."

Cho paused. "I'll be right there."
He hung up.

Jane had a theory that they wouldn't be seeing Van Pelt at the CBI tomorrow. Or perhaps ever again. He had wondered why Red John had sent Van Pelt, and now he knew. She was supposed to be the apple of discord, to stir up trouble with the team, that he'd already known. But it was more than that. The rape allegations, the kidnapping...for some reason Red John had tasked Grace with breaking Rigsby. And to achieve this, she'd taken Ben for Red John.

From what he had seen a few moments ago in the bullpen, her plan was working.

Jane continued into the men's bathroom and leaned against the sink, breathing heavily. He dearly hoped he wasn't responsible for putting another man through his own private agony.

That's when he felt something hard crack over the back of his head. He staggered and fell to the floor. Looking up, his vision doubled. The figure above him was wearing a janitor's uniform. His face was swollen and bruised, but he recognized the high purring voice.

"Hello Patrick."

Jane groaned and tried to roll away but the figure put one foot on his chest and pinned him before injecting something into his neck.

Jane went limp, raging within his helpless body as he listened to that familiar chuckle.

The world fluttered and faded to black.