SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, RED.
Fic' in response to Mentalist Kink Meme anonymous prompt: "During a blackout, Jane is stuck in an elevator with a man he slowly realises is Red John. Mind games, no killing of either character."
By GE Waldo (GeeLady)
Other elevator riders:
fellow with the out-of-minutes cellular phone – Ray Lyons
fellow with the dead batteries phone – Lionel Fowler
fellow by out-of-service elevator phone – Adam Kaplan
mother and baby – Kitty and Carrie Blake
7...8...9... Jane watched the numbers creep up in the turtle –slow elevator, tapping his foot impatiently and trying not too mutter aloud about the ancient workings in the neglected government building undergoing exceedingly slow renovations. Clearly they had not gotten around to replacing the fixings of the seventy-five year old elevators yet.
Lisbon had called him at home over an hour ago, getting him out of a cozy sleep-in, with a message about a murder that had all the earmarks of Red John. Since the murder had occurred after closing on the Friday of a three day weekend, the scene was already three days old, so their known perpetrator was already long gone.
No surprise there. Red John never hung around to gloat. The man had an ego but he wasn't stupid.
A shudder and a sudden violent jolt almost threw Jane to his knees as the elevator came to a grinding halt. When the lights went out, the few passengers aboard – himself, a woman with a newborn in her arms, and three other faceless men in grey business suites - exhaled a collective groan.
"Perfect." Jane muttered, straightening himself back up with a hand on the carpeted wall of the enclosure. He sighed. To make matters worse, he had forgot his cellular.
"Who's near the emergency phone?" He asked into the darkness, frowning that even the little red emergency light he assumed was part of the elevator's mechanical make-up had not lit up to give them a feeble glow to work by. He could not even see his hand in front of his face.
"Me." A man's voice said back to them in the dark. He coughed. His voice sounded rough. "Just a second..." He wheezed.
Jane could hear the fellow open the small door where the emergency phone was supposed to be housed. "Oh..."
It seemed more and more like a day where he should have stayed in bed. "What?" Jane asked.
"It's missing." The fellow explained. "The phone isn't even hooked up." He hacked a bit.
Jane heard him close the door again with a tinny click.
"That's not promising." The fellow mused.
"Doesn't anyone else have a cell phone?" Asked the mother with the newborn which baby promptly started wailing.
One fellow opened his phone and the glow from its screen illuminated his face in the dark. In the green light he looked weirdly evil, like a well dressed goblin. "I have reception but my battery's almost dead." The green light disappeared and the phone's cheap musical tone announced it was shutting down. "There it goes."
"Okay, does anyone else have a cell phone?" Jane asked growing impatient that no one present seemed capable of thinking on their own.
One of the other fellow's spoke up. "I do, but I'm out of minutes."
"Nine-one-one doesn't require minutes." Jane reminded him and was gratified that the fellow finally pressed the appropriate buttons.
After a few seconds "Jesus – they put me on hold." The fellow announced with incredulity. "It's an emergency line and I'm on hold for Christ's sake." The cheap sounding musical refrain of Hotel California entertained them all from the tiny speaker.
Above the cliché-d sounds Jane said "Oh, don't worry. There's only three and a half thousand or so calls made to the San Francisco emergency line every day, they'll get back to us - eventually." They could hope anyway.
The newborn was still wailing while the mother tried to sooth it with cooing. "I'm sorry everyone. She's hungry and I left her bottle in the car." She said. Her voice was strained with the rising tension of being stuck in a dark elevator with strangers and a crying baby. "I was only supposed to be in the building for a minute or two."
The man who was nearest the out-of-service elevator phone said "There's nothing to worry about. I'm sure we'll be out of here any time now."
The fellow with the out-of-minutes cellular phone said. "Well, we may as well introduce ourselves. I'm Ray Lyons."
The fellow whose cell-phone had dead batteries said, his tone a trifle bored "My name is Lionel Fowler. Hi everybody."
The mother said "My name is Kitty and my daughter is Carrie."
Jane spoke next. "I'm Patrick Jane. Is anyone here familiar with elevators? Or perhaps climbing out of them?"
No one offered a response. The last fellow by the elevator phone spoke. "My name is Adam Kaplan. Sorry I don't know anything about elevators. However, I am a little claustrophobic."
Jane groaned inwardly. He could smell a group therapy session breaking out anytime. "Can someone use their cell phone light, if it has one, to look at the ceiling? Aren't there usually trap doors in these things?" Jane hated physical labour, and climbing out of here was not something he was inclined to do unless there came to be no other choice.
Ray, who was still on hold with the emergency department, shone the feeble blue light from his phone's face to the ceiling. There was indeed a small escape door, but it had a large padlock on it.
Jane said. "I can probably pick that lock if someone doesn't mind boosting me up there." He offered, not liking the idea of a stranger touching him, but the air inside the elevator was already getting way too close for his comfort.
Lionel said. "Yeah, I'll give you a boost – but where are you?"
Jane spread out his hands, his fingertips brushing the shoulders of two people nearby, the mother Kitty and judging by how close his voice sounded, Lionel himself.
Jane said "I think I'm beneath the door now. Ray can you shine your light up there again please? I need to see the pick the lock."
Ray obliged and Lionel linked his hands together. Jane felt around in his pocket and produced a small folding knife. He opened it and stuck it between his teeth and then, placing the ball of his left foot in Lionel's linked hands, pushed off with his right leg.
Instantly Jane was two and half feet taller and could easily reach the lock. Momentarily resting his left hand on Lionel's head to get his balance, after only a few seconds of trying the knife in the lock, Jane popped it open and removed it from the rings, letting it drop to the floor. "Watch out." He warned. Jane then pushed the door open with both hands, popping it out of place. As it swung away and fell fully open with a bang, dust rained down into Jane's eyes. He coughed and wiped at the grit. "Ray I need your phone."
Ray handed it up to him and Jane shone it out of the opening. There was barely enough light to make out what he was looking at but as far as he could tell the elevator was between floors and even if one of them could somehow manage to jump up to the next floor, they had nothing with which to pry the door open. It would be a feat to find even enough of a foothold while making the attempt.
Jane handed the phone back and easing first his right, then his left foot back down to the relative safety of the elevator floor. "Thanks." He said to Lionel. "Um, unless one of you can float in midair while squeezing yourself between two doors that are only a millimetre apart, we're stuck here."
Lionel said it for them all. "Shit."
Ray was the only one whose face they could see by the blue glow from his cellular. To the teeth grinding keen of Maria Carey, Lionel slid down the elevator doors to the floor. "May as well be comfortable." He said.
Jane heard shuffling as the others followed suit. In the weak cell-phone light, the outlines of the other passenger's bodies could be seen getting comfortable on the floor. Since rescue could be hours away, Jane did the same, coming to rest on his backside with his knees bent double and his arms crossed loosely across his chest. There was one good thing about it, Lisbon and the team were in the building and would soon begin to wonder what was taking him so long. Maybe she'd figure it out.
Then again, there were few workers in the building during renovations, and they had probably suffered a few elevator breakdowns before this one. And Lisbon knew he was often tardy and suddenly Jane felt bad about that - of all the mornings to sleep in. Ten minutes either way on the clock and he would not be stuck here. Irony was a bitch and for the last decade seemed to be especially mad at him.
Kitty's soft cooing had put her baby to sleep and for a few moments no one said anything.
Until Lionel asked "So what were you all coming here for?"
Ray, holding his cell away from his ear for a moment, asked back "What do you mean?"
"Well, this is a government building. People come here for social security numbers, marriage certificates, death certificates, stuff like that - legal documents. What did you all come here for?" When no one answered him, Lionel said "Look, I'm just trying to pass the time, okay. I came here because I'm getting married and I need the proper form. Not really exciting I guess. What about you?" He asked Ray.
When Ray ignored him, he turned to Kitty. "What are you here for?"
Kitty said, keeping her voice low so as to not disturb the sleeping Carrie "I just came here to pick up the forms for my daughter's Social Security number."
Lionel looked back at Ray. "Still on hold?" He asked him.
Ray said, a little sarcastically "Would we still be here if I weren't?"
Lionel rolled his eyes. "Sorr-ee." He looked at Jane. "How about you?"
Jane decided not to let them in on the quiet little death scene on the tenth floor. "I was just meeting my boss."
Lionel turned his head to the left to ask Adam the same question. "And you? Why are you here today?"
Adam said "I'm here for the murder."
Lionel laughed a bit. "Weird joke, man."
"I'm not joking. I'm a reporter and I have a pass to the tenth floor where a man was murdered over the weekend. Isn't that right, Mister Jane?" Adam said. "I recognised you from TV. You're that investigator with the CBI."
Looking at Jane, Lionel asked "What's the CBI?"
Jane stared across the darkness to the face in the opposite corner. He could see no face clearly. The light from Ray's phone did not reach beyond a few feet. "The California Bureau of Investigation." He explained.
"I've never heard of that." Kitty said. "Is it part of the FBI?"
"No. It's on its own, and it isn't new." Jane told her.
Ray shifted in his seat. "What's the hell is the hold-up I wonder?" He asked his phone.
Kitty asked "Was there really a murder here?" she asked.
Jane stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "Yes."
"So what so you do at the CBI?" Ray asked. "Are you a detective?"
"Not exactly. I'm a consultant." Jane said.
"He helps the actual detectives through psychic readings." Adam added. "Right?" He asked Jane. "You used to be a psychic."
Jane shook his head and then remembered the man couldn't see him. "No. There are no psychics, no real ones. What I do is closer to interpreting a suspects' body language and behaviour – and their speech. I sift truth from lies."
Lionel was curious. "Could you tell if one of us was lying?"
"Probably." Jane said.
"That's interesting. So from what we've said so far, has anyone here told a lie?"
"Leave him alone Lionel." Adam urged and coughed again. In the dark he could be heard shaking out pills from a small plastic container. "I'm sure he gets this all the time."
"I don't mind." Jane assured them. "I haven't heard enough of you – enough of anyone's speech to pick out a bald-faced lie yet, but from what I've heard so far I could probably make some loose guesses about your personal lives."
"Yeah?" Lionel asked. He was more curious than ever and a challenge underlay his next question. "Okay, Kreskin, what can you tell me about me?"
Jane took a deep breath and obliged the man. "You work out regularly because you were able to lift me and I know I'm heavier than I look." Jane began quietly. "You get bored easily and although you wear expensive suits you're careless with your hair and your accessories – your phone for example. Both tell me that you are not getting married as you claimed, but are more likely in the first stage of a divorce. No man about to be married to his true love would neglect his grooming or allow his cellular phone to run out of minutes, otherwise how would he be able to talk to his lovely fiancé whenever he wished to?
"You're too young to have been married very long anyway, and I suspect you have a very bad temper. The slightly mocking tone of voice you have been using in the last minute or so tells me that you don't much like people and you especially dislike me. Your soon-to-be ex-wife probably experienced this temper early on in your short marriage – hence the pending divorce. "
"You trying to be funny?" Lionel asked.
"No." Jane answered. "Just honest. I'm sure I must be wrong somewhere."
Lionel fell silent. It was all they needed to understand that Jane had been right about everything.
"How about we just pass the time quietly?" Jane suggested.
"No." Kitty said. "This is kind of interesting. How about me, Mister Jane? What can you tell about me?"
Jane did not like the direction this was all going. "Ray?" Jane asked hopefully. "Anything yet?"
Ray sighed. "I'm still on hold. Trust me, I'll tell you all when I get through."
"Please, Mister Jane?" Kitty asked again. "I'd really like to know."
"I don't think it's a good idea. Can't we just all sing Kumbaya or something?"
"Okay – fine! Whatever."
Kitty sounded hurt. Jane sighed once more. "You told us your name and the name of your daughter but you haven't mentioned a husband at all, not even once." Jane said, trying to keep his voice gentle. "Your baby is newborn so that tells me that if there was a husband in the picture you would have given us your whole name and proudly talked of the father, therefore you are a new single Mom and you're scared.
"You are here to pick up the forms for her Social Security number, that part's probably true, but you also came here to apply for some financial assistance to help raise that baby. The baby bottle you brought with you ran out of formula because this trip downtown was taking longer than you expected. That's why you don't have any more with you and not because you have a car parked out front with more bottles ready for her. You took the bus." Jane said, hoping her pride wasn't too injured. "I very much hope you get the financial assistance you need." He added kindly.
"You're wrong." Kitty said, suddenly breathing harder. "I do have a husband, and he's a good man. He's an excellent man. He just...he just couldn't come today because he works and he needed the car for work."
Jane nodded to her though he knew she could not see him. "Okay. I'm wrong. I'm sorry." He was prepared to accept her assertion that he was lying if it would soothe her hurt feelings. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure you'll be a very good mom."
Kitty didn't answer him and the elevator fell silent for a five glorious minutes.
Until "You shouldn't have said those things, Mister Jane." Ray said his face still stuck in his cell-phone, its weakening light shining water-blue on his thin face. "Do you usually try to hurt people while plying your trade?"
Jane wished he was in his bed in a dreamless slumber. "I usually only ply my trade when I'm on the job." Jane answered. "But people want to know what others think of them, only rarely do they want to hear a completely honest opinion." It was all the explanation required. "Can we drop this game now?"
Kitty spoke quietly in her own defence. "I have a boyfriend, if you must know. He is Carrie's father."
Jane nodded. "Good to hear. I'm sure you'll be very happy together." Please let that be the end of it.
No such luck as Jane and the others then heard sniffles coming from Kitty's corner of the elevator. "But he's not always a nice man." She said her voice cracking.
Jane wished he was made of vapour and could disappear through the crack between the doors. Jane whispered "Sorry." What else was there to say to her? She had made choices and thus far they had been mostly poor ones. "I'm sure others have talked to you about it, but if he's hurting you or Carrie why haven't you left him?"
"He's violent sometimes, but he still takes good care of us." Kitty insisted. "And he adores Carrie."
Some care. No extra bottle, no car, and by the looks of her clothes no pocket money.
"What does he do?" Lionel asked.
"I don't know." Kitty said. "He sends me money sometimes. And he visits us when he can."
Weird sort of relationship. "You don't live together?" Jane asked.
"Of course we do." Kitty said as though the question were a foolish one. "He just isn't around a lot. John's a busy man. He travels and visits friends and when he comes home, he takes me shopping."
Adam spoke from his corner. "How could you not know what he does for a living?"
"It doesn't matter – does it? We love each other. We're soul mates."
"What's his last name?" Jane asked. "What's yours for that matter?"
"Legion. Mine is Blake, but we're thinking of taking his name." Kitty explained and Jane could hear her whisper it in a falsetto to her sleeping daughter. "Aren't we, little one? Yes we are. Yes we sure are. We're going to take daddy's name, yes."
"Legion." Adam said. "It means many."
Jane nodded to himself. "Or demon." He offered. John Legion. John. Red John. Demon-man. It was creepy how terrible Red John reminders followed him around and whispered their spells into his ear. These days everything reminded him of Red John. Jane wasn't happy about that. He wondered if it was sign of another breakdown.
"Do you have children Mister Jane?" Kitty asked.
This was a controversial and deeply personal path he had no intention of turning down with a group of strangers. "No."
"Not now, anyway." Adam voiced to the group.
The goddamn reporter had to be in there with them, didn't he? Jane thought. Why were all reporters so insufferably mouthy? Anything for a story. Any person, any place, any time, as long as there was a chance it could turn juicy.
"Is that right?" Lionel asked him. "You used to have kids?"
Without permission Adam answered the question. "Mister Jane doesn't like to talk about it. He had a daughter..."
"Shut your mouth." Jane said. "It's no one's business but mine."
"Is that right?" Ray never-the-less asked him, still holding the phone to his ear. "What happened to him?"
Jane begged the damn emergency operator to finally answer the call and put his fellow elevators patrons out of his misery. "Her. And it's my private life." Jane said. "It's not open for discussion."
"You told everything you knew about us, didn't you?" Kitty pointed out. "Now it's your turn."
Jane leaned his head back against the wall and said nothing.
Adam continued. "Mister Jane's family, his wife and daughter, were murdered by a serial killer who hasn't been caught yet. They think the murder on the tenth floor was done by this killer. That's why he's here." Adam explained. "I've been covering the killer for a long time. That's why I'm here. He uses the name Red John, but he goes by many names."
Jane opened his eyes. "That has never been made public. How would you know that?"
"Come on...I have my sources, Mister Jane, I'm a reporter – remember? A Red John murder makes great cover. I might even write a book. Maybe you'd let me interview you sometime, a whole chapter just for you. How's that sound?" A hacking cough could be heard.
"Like pages of misquotes. No thanks."
"What was she like, Mister Jane?" Kitty asked. "Your daughter?"
Images of her impish face never left him, whether he was awake or sleeping. Jane shook his head, not wanting those images to flood into his mind right now. The elevator was feeling more and more like a prison, the people more and more like his tormentors. "She's dead."
"Red John's killed plenty of women, but the murder of Mister Jane's daughter was something new." Adam of the scratchy voice explained for them all. "Red john probably knew it would be more devastating to him than simply killing the wife."
Jane tried to close his ears as his personal tragedy was discussed around the group. None of these people seemed to care that what they said might be upsetting him. Revenge, he supposed, for his earlier honest assessments. Other than on the job he should learn to keep his opinions to himself.
"Your daughter is pretty, Miss Blake." Adam offered. "What kind of baby shampoo is that? She smells like strawberries and cream."
Jane opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. "What did you say?"
Ray, tired of holding his phone had placed it on the floor beside him, answered. "He said the baby smells like strawberries. He's right. I smell them, too."
"I love that shampoo." Kitty said. "I love the smell of strawberries? Don't you, Mister Jane?"
But Jane did not answer. He was too busy listening to his heart pound against his chest like a native drum. "No." He said finally. "Not anymore."
"I like the smell, too. I'll bet Carrie is the most precious thing in the world to you." Adam said. "I'll bet you sometimes sleep in her room, or take her to yours."
"Every night." Kitty said, her voice beaming with pride. "She's my angel."
Jane swallowed. "How often does your boyfriend come home?" Jane asked. As far as was his pattern, Tagliaferro only saw Rosalind once or twice a year. "How many times a year does John come home?"
"That's an odd question." Kitty remarked. "A few times I suppose. Enough for me."
"What does he look like?"
"Tall, handsome, dark. Wonderfully kind eyes. We drink tea together when he comes. I bake cakes for him."
Kitty's voice had taken on a surreal quality, like a woman reciting things she'd read in a popular magazine, or like a page from a romance novel. Was she drugged, Jane wondered? Or hypnotized?
"You mean for a man who isn't always kind." Jane said to her.
Kitty had stopped sniffing minutes ago. "Not everyone is always kind, Mister Jane. You're not."
"Mister Jane used to be a bad man." Adam said. "I've read all about him. He used to cheat and pretend and tell terrible lies. Until Red John came along. But now he's a better man, aren't you, Mister Jane?"
Jane swallowed hard. "At least I'm not an ice-hearted killer who cuts up women." Jane said. In the dark Jane felt around in his pockets, looking for his tiny knife. It wasn't much but it would have to do.
Ray said. "But you are kind of a jerk."
Lionel had ceased talking at all and Jane asked "Lionel? Are you all right?" Lionel had been sitting closest to the elevator phone box. Next to Adam.
Lionel didn't answer.
"I think he's asleep." Ray said.
Jane took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Sure, sure he's probably asleep. Don't anyone disturb him, okay?" Asleep or dead either way he wasn't going to be useful. "Just let him sleep."
But Jane was positive Lionel was dead. He could smell no blood or bowel in the confined space though and when a body dies, you almost always get either or both.
Jane began to go through his memory to try and pick out the faces of each of his elevator companions. Simply because he had been coughing so much, Adam's was the fuzziest. You don't look over at a sick person if you can help it. It might bring the sickness to you. Jane rapped his knuckles on the floor twice, loudly enough that everyone could hear it. "Kitty. Are you sure John did not come with you today?"
"What colour are his eyes?" Jane remembered those with perfect clarity – the only parts of Red John he had ever seen. Hazels. Hazels that had looked right through him.
"Blue. Blue like his daughter's."
"Mine are hazel." Ray said. "Why are we talking about eyes?"
"Oh," Jane said, trying furiously to think, "No reason really...just conversation." Jane could no longer see the cellular phone's blue light. "Where's your phone Ray?"
Jane could hear the man scraping around on the carpet with his fingers. "Shit. I can't find it. Where the hell did it go?"
Jane could guess. Ray was next closest to the elevator phone box, and to Adam. "Don't move Ray. On second thought, can you scoot over closer to us? To me and Kitty? There's plenty of room beside the stroller."
"Why would I want to?" Ray asked suspiciously, as though Jane were making a pass at him.
"Thought you might want to be more comfortable." Jane could feel his shirt sticking to his back. "Adam? Do you have Ray's phone?"
Ray had not moved from his place across from Jane. "Give it back."
"Unfortunately the battery in it is dead now." Adam said ominously. "Very dead."
"I still want it." Jane could hear Ray move to retrieve it from the weird Adam and quickly said to him "Ah, Ray, don't-don't do that. Just let him keep it, okay? It's important that you don't move."
Ray sounded a little put out now. "What the hell are you talking about, Jane? Weirdo." He whispered under his breath though they all heard it.
Desperate times were upon them. "Yes" Jane said loudly. "Yes, I am weird. In fact I'm crazy and if you move form that spot, I'll kill you Ray. I have a knife, Ray. Don't move or I'll slit your throat."
"Holy shit – you are nuts. Don't come near me, you freak! I saw that knife, it's -"
"-it's six inches long and would cut through you like butter." Jane said, drowning out whatever Ray was about to say. "Isn't that right, Adam?" Jane asked.
As calm as a gentle breeze "I don't know, Mister Jane, I did not see the knife." Adam said.
"Yeah." Jane said. "Because we wouldn't want anyone in here to get hurt, now would we? No. No one is going to get hurt."
"If you say so, Mister Jane." Adam remarked.
"Kitty?" Jane asked. "You still with us?"
To Jane's horror, her voice came from where Adam's was originating. She was no longer sitting beside him but directly across from him, next to Adam and the dead Lionel. Jane had not heard her move at all. "Kitty, what are you doing?"
"I'm letting Adam hold Carrie. He appreciates children."
"Please take your baby back in to your arms, Kitty and come back over here. Please? I would like to hold Carrie, too. I miss my own daughter, and I'd love to hold yours."
"Not likely, Mister Jane, you threatened poor Ray with a knife. I think you really are mad."
Jane sweating profusely and his stomach quivering in his belly said "Adam? Adam? You're not going to...do anything are you? You won't...you won't...?"
"No, Mister Jane. I shall be very loving to the precious Carrie. That's a wonderful name by the way, Kitty. It reminds me of fire and warm things, glowing things, red things. Like roses, strawberries, or a beautiful tiger in a summer night..."
"You're almost a poet Mister Kaplan."
"Please, call me Adam."
Jane could feel his heart racing as though time had sped up. His breathing was laboured –all the signs of the flight or fight reaction as adrenaline coursed through his system, the other people oblivious to the danger they were in. Everyone except for Lionel, who was already beyond the cares of the world.
Jane could hear voices from outside and heavy footsteps. After a few minutes the elevator lurched and began to move. The lights, however, stayed out.
Suddenly, there beside him, was someone's hot breath in his ear and before he had even the mind to react or to raise his pitiful knife, Jane felt the prick of a needle in his neck. "What symmetry, Patrick. Beautiful, wasn't it? Simply beautiful..." and the dark world of the elevator went over to its blackest black.
"How is he?"
It was Lisbon's voice.
"He'll be fine." Another voice he didn't recognise. Clinical. A doctor, a nurse, maybe a medical technician. "But he's pretty out of it. It's almost like he's drugged."
"What happened to the other guy?"
"We don't know yet. Heart maybe, though he's pretty young for that. Most likely panic set in, blood pressure, a stroke. They'll have to do an autopsy to find out."
"Thanks." Lisbon said to the other voice. Then Jane could sense her leaning over him and then movement. He was being loaded into an ambulance. "Hey, Jane? Can you hear me? How are you feeling?"
Evidently Lisbon was coming along for the ride. Jane tried to open his eyes but the lids were too heavy. He found his voice in a weak whisper. "Red John." He said.
"Yes. It was a Red John murder we think. But the team is taking care of it. I promise we'll get you pictures and everything okay? But for now you just rest. You scared the hell out of me."
"He was here."
"Yes, but Red John's long gone, Jane, so stop talking and rest. Red John never hangs around after a kill – you know that, so you're safe. We all are. There's no need to be afraid. Everything's fine." She petted his hair back from his forehead.
"No, no, he was in the..." Fatigue caught up with him and his mouth refused to articulate the last word.
Sharply "Jane - enough." Then gently "Please just rest?"
More petting of his hair. It felt nice.
"Red John can't hurt you, and everything else can wait until tomorrow." Lisbon assured him with her kind words and kinder fingers. "So stop fretting." She said softly.
"I mean, it's not like he was in that elevator with you."