So this is the final chapter for this story! When I originally thought of it I was just going to let it all run as the same story, but I think it will be better split up like this so we'll see how it goes. The next one probably won't be published for a little while because I'm having major writer's block and haven't written anything new in ages so I'm pretty behind! But I have been busy recently so hopefully when things calm down I'll be able to get the chapter's written more quickly and get them on the site. I hope that anyone who's read this has enjoyed it and thanks so much for reading, it means a lot. Also thanks to my followers and reviewers, again I really appreciate it. I was ridiculously excited whenever I got an e-mail regarding follows or reviews so I love you all long time. Please enjoy the end of my first story!
The house of Leon Davis was of a decent size. Bikes lay discarded in the garden and toys scattered the driveway. It was slightly run down, with weeds overtaking the stone steps and paint beginning to peel slightly.
The three made their way up to the house and knocked on the door. It was quickly answered by a young girl, no older than 4, with dark brown hair and flushed cheeks from exertion.
"Hi," she said, smiling toothily.
"Hi," Lisbon responded, bending down to her level, "are there any grownups in?"
"Sure, my grandpa's always in. Grandpaaa?" She shouted.
"What is all this racket?" A woman of about 50, with tired eyes and stress-streaked hair, came to the door.
"Eleanor, I've told you not to answer the door by yourself." She scolded and looked towards the three. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Yes, were looking for a Leon Davis?" Lisbon led.
"That's my grandpa!" Eleanor stated proudly.
The woman turned to the young girl."Ellie, sweety, why don't you go and find your brothers?"
Little Ellie didn't need telling twice, and ran through the house to find someone to play with.
"What's this about?" The woman addressed them.
"We're here to ask your husband about one of his 'clients'." Jane said.
"How did you know he was my husband?"
"You told me."
"No I didn't."
"Well, not verbally."
"Could we speak with him, ma'am?" Isabella asked, anxious for information.
She allowed them all into the house somewhat cautiously. It was cosy, with worn sofas and knitted comforters. Soft toys and remote control cars littered the floor, which were pushed hastily to the side by an embarrassed Mrs Davis.
"Sorry about the mess." She said as she led them to the door to the basement. She knocked a couple of times. "Lee, there are some people here to talk to you."
There was a clattering and then the scrape if a chair before footsteps were heard. Leon Davis was a thin haired, mousy kind of man, with watery blue eyes and rather large glasses.
"What can I do for you?" He asked as he came to the top of the stairs, closing the door behind him and wiping his glasses on an ink stained shirt. His gaze flickered between the three of them, holding the longest on Isabella.
"What you got going on down there, Leon?" Patrick asked, inclining his head towards the basement.
"Oh, uh, I paint figurines. It's kind of a hobby of mine." He chuckled nervously.
"Cool!" Patrick responded. "I love that kind of stuff."
He brushed past Leon and made his way down the stairs.
Leon's protests were ignored, as Lisbon and Issy followed Jane. The small room was dominated by a large desk illuminated by numerous bright laps. A suspended magnifying glass hung over dozens of passports and pieces of paper that on closer inspection appeared to be birth certificates.
"Wow. Got yourself a nice little earner down here, haven't you?" Patrick observed.
Leon looked flustered. "Look, please don't arrest me. I know I shouldn't be doing this but I have no choice! I got laid off last year, and we were doing fine on just Mary's money until the kids came. They're our son's but he's been in and out of prison for years and their mother died about six months ago. We couldn't sustain ourselves without the extra income! Please, I can't see the kids go into care."
Jane and Lisbon looked between each other.
"We'll cut you a deal. Tell us everything you know about Simon Parker and we'll... forget we saw this room." Jane bargained.
Leon exhaled, relieved. "Yes, yes of course."
He rushed to the desk and flicked through the passports, finding one that he was looking for and holding it out to them. Issy took it off him, opening it to see Simon's picture under the name of 'James Wilson'.
"He called me up a couple of weeks ago, said he'd heard about me from a previous client. He told me he'd need to get out of the country soon, gave me a couple of photographs and asked me to make the passports and documents for him. I told them they'd be ready in a week but he still hasn't shown."
"You said photos, as in plural. Who else did you forge for?" Isabella asked, already dreading the answer that she knew was coming.
He looked at her sheepishly. He passed her another passport, only this time she saw her own face looking back at her. 'Sarah Wilson'. Her alias. As Simon's wife.
"He said you were running away together, that you were in an abusive relationship."
"And you believe the stories of all the people that get you to make them fake identities?" Isabella scoffed.
"I don't ask questions. They come to me and I give them what they want." Leon held up his hands.
Isabella shook her head, but her anger was misdirected. She wasn't angry at this man, who'd taken in grandchildren he couldn't afford to keep in order to save them from a potentially damaging care system.
"Did he ever tell you where he was going, or where he was staying? Anything at all?" Lisbon pressed.
"No. I try to stay out of all that. I'd rather not know."
"If Simon comes, will you call me? Try to find out something." Isabella knew that this was an imposition, but at that moment she didn't care. She cared about catching the lunatic that had planned all of this, expecting her to run away with him as though this had been what she'd wanted all along.
She scribbled her number down on a piece of paper, thanked him quickly and sprinted out of the house. She needed to breathe, and couldn't do so in that tiny room. Issy blinked back tears and waited for Patrick and Lisbon to join her.
"You okay?" Lisbon asked when they'd finished up.
Isabella nodded once and they headed to the car. She looked back at the old house to find a small, chubby face peeking out of an upstairs window. Ellie waved, innocent and unknowing. Issy waved back, disheartened that the little girl had to grown up in a world of evil and darkness and hate, and knowing that she wouldn't be protected from it.
It was early afternoon by the time they had returned to the bureau. The other agents had hit a dead end after looking for any booking at an airline or hotel by a James Wilson and no one was sure what else to do.
Issy was sat on a sofa, thinking. She'd been there a while when Patrick joined her. They were silent, both consumed by their own thoughts. She was unsure how long she'd been sitting there when she started to feel tired. Her eyes drooped and head fell to the side. She was so lethargic that she didn't even realise that the hard surface she was resting on was Patrick's shoulder.
By the time Issy woke, it was nearly closing time. She sat upright, slightly embarrassed for sleeping in front of the agents, feeling something fall to the floor as she did so. Patrick's jacket. She hung it on the back of his desk chair and heard her phone ringing. She noted the unknown number, presuming Leon had something to tell her, and answered with, "Has he been?"
An all too familiar voice greeted her. Issy's blood ran cold.
"Simon." She acknowledged.
"Indeed. Or you could call me James, I suppose. I know you paid dear Leon a visit. He tried to call you but he's... currently indisposed."
Van Pelt had noticed Isabella's distress and walked over to join her, offering support. Rigsby had gone to collect Lisbon and Jane from the agent's office.
"Where are you?" Isabella was angry at herself for the slight waver in her voice.
"What, so you and your little friends can come and collect me? I don't think so. If you come, you come alone or others will die. And you know that I'm not afraid to kill people that stand in my way, don't you Issy?"
She was silent. Others gathered around her, watching helplessly in wait for information.
"You're not going to be able to see me unless you answer me, Isabella."
"Where should I go?"
"How about that café you've been visiting recently. The one that the blonde took you to, what's his name, Patrick Jane? Yes, you seem to be getting on very well with him recently. Kindred spirits, I suppose." Issy turned to look at Patrick. "The charlatan turned do-gooder after the brutal murder of his wife and child. It's almost biblical."
"I'll see you later then, my love."
He disconnected. Isabella kept the phone to her ear for a few seconds longer, then let her arm drop limply by her side.
"He's meeting her at the café." Jane announced, collecting his jacket and starting to put it on.
"No." Issy said.
Jane stopped. "No he's not meeting you at the café?"
"No. I mean, yes he is, but you can't come. He'll kill more people. I'll go alone."
Issy walked towards the stairs. Jane followed.
"Don't be ridiculous. You'll need back up."
"What can he do to me, Patrick? He's destroyed everything I care about, so what else can he do?"
Patrick saw the resolution in her expression and resigned. Sighing, he said, "okay. He'll be watching from a vantage point in a building not far away, to make sure that we don't show. When he's convinced we're not there, he'll come and meet you."
Issy nodded and thanked him, relieved that he understood, pleading with him to check on Leon and his family. She couldn't stand anyone else dying because of her. She took the stairs two at a time.
Lisbon and the team, having witnessed the exchange, joined Patrick.
"Are we really letting her go on her own?" Lisbon asked as the others looked on in anticipation.
"No, of course not." He responded, then addressed everyone with the real plan of action.
Issy sat waiting impatiently at the same table she had previously sat at, tapping her feet and drumming her fingers. Her breathing hadn't regulated since she had heard Simons voice about an hour ago. She'd taken Patrick's words into account, parking close to the café to show that she was alone. She'd had time to think about what she would do when she saw him and still hadn't come to a conclusion. She wanted nothing more than to run and attack him, but if she wound up dead then Simon may never be caught and held accountable for his actions. She owed her family at least that.
People passed around her, some noticing her anxiety and glancing at her nervously, others obliviously continuing on with their lives. She wished that she was as lucky as they were.
The sun was low in the sky and there was still no sign of Simon. Issy analyzed all of the buildings in sight, eyes flicking between windows and doors and heart stuttering sporadically whenever one opened. She gave up after a while and stared at her hands. She didn't know why she looked up when she did - intuition, she supposed - but as she did so, Issy saw Simon exit a building opposite the café. She stood so quickly that the chair she had been sitting on clattered to the floor loudly. Isabella didn't hear it.
He grinned maniacally, strutting towards her with arms wide as if to embrace her.
What happened next almost occurred in slow motion.
"Stop where you are!" A voice rang clear.
Simon froze, a look of utter fury on his face. Isabella had never seen such piercing anger, and had to look away.
"Let me see your hands. Raise them above your head, slowly."
Simon's grin had returned as he reached towards his pocket.
"This is your last chance."
Reluctantly, his hands raised to his head and he dropped to his knees, eyes never leaving Isabella's face. Lisbon and the rest of the team closed in around him cautiously, guns raised, and it was then that Issy had realized that it was Teresa's authoritative voice that had led the charge. Isabella sank to the ground, suddenly unable to support her own weight.
The following hour passed as though it were a dream. The edges of her vision were blurred and there was a ringing in her ears that prevented her from hearing properly.
She was brought back to the CBI building in a car she didn't recognise and comforted by the agents there. Agent Lisbon approached Isabella to inform her that they would be interviewing Simon and asking if she wanted to watch. She did; she needed to hear what he had to say. Issy followed Lisbon and entered the viewing room, watching Simon through the one-way mirror.
Patrick was already in the interview room when Lisbon entered, leaning back in his chair with his arms and legs folded.
"So, Simon. Can you tell us why you murdered Richard, Samuel and Elizabeth Sanders?" He asked evenly.
Simon leant forward onto the desk, elbows on the table and cuffed hands joined together. "Well, Patrick, I murdered them so that Isabella and I could be together."
"Did she ever express that that was what she wanted?"
"It was what she wanted."
"I think you're mistaken."
"You're entitled to think that, but you would be wrong."
Patrick shook his head. "You poor deluded man. You've prevented a woman from ever seeing her husband and children again."
Simon smiled at Patrick and shrugged his shoulders. "Life is made of ever so many partings welded together."
"Dickens." Patrick noted. "Perhaps if you'd paid a little more attention to the woman you say you love than to your English lectures you might have been in for a shot." Patrick rose from his seat. "You'll have a hell of a long time to think about that in prison."
Lisbon guided Simon out of the room and through the office towards the holding cells. Issy was waiting for him.
"Ah, Issy, my love. Have you missed me?" He asked, smiling widely.
"No. I haven't. And you need to understand that there is no one on this earth that I could hate more than I hate you."
"You're angry now, I understand, but when you get over it-"
"I will never get over it! I will never be happy again, and I will never, ever see you again, as long as your pitiful life may last."
Simon scowled as Issy turned her back on him, no longer able to face such an evil man.
"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Simon exclaimed, struggling to escape the grip of Rigsby and Cho who now held him.
Isabella ignored him, doing exactly that.
She continued walking.
"Elizabeth cried like a baby when I cut her brother."
"Richard wasn't even man enough to protect his kids, he just lay here." Simon scoffed. "You're 8 year old son did more to protect your family than your husband, how sickening is that?"
"That's enough." Rigsby warned, restraining Simon a little more tightly.
Isabella began to shake as Simon chuckled wickedly.
"He was pathetic. Just a useless, waste of space that wasn't worth your time, you should be so grateful."
Isabella turned back toward him, fierce hatred burning in her eyes, and landed a punch on Simon's face so hard that the break of his nose was audible to all present. He cussed loudly and Patrick winced. After a few seconds, Simon started to chuckle.
"This is perfect. You'll be arrested for assault and we can be together, just like we've always wanted."
"Assault?" Lisbon questioned. "I saw you struggle against these agents and fall onto a desk, isn't that right?"
Simon looked between the agents, who were nodding their confirmation, and watched, forlorn, as Isabella walked away from him for a second time.
"Issy, wait! Isabella?" The helplessness in his voice was almost pitiful.
"Take him away." Lisbon instructed.
He was led away by the two agents struggling uselessly against them.
Patrick found Isabella in the kitchen flexing her right hand and pacing. "That was one hell of a punch."
She looked up startled, evidently unaware he had joined her. "Yeah, it wasn't one of my best."
She looked down at it, noticing the swelling had already started. Patrick reached for a first aid kit.
"No, it's fine. It hardly hurts."
"Yeah, I'm sure it doesn't with all of that adrenaline pumping through you. Give it an hour."
He boiled the kettle, wrapping up Issy's hand clumsily with a bandage in the meantime, and offered her a cup. She declined, informing him she had to leave and thanking him for his help.
"Say thanks to the other for me?" She asked.
"Of course." He paused as though he wanted to say something. Deciding against it, he finished making his tea and said goodbye. He made his way to the sofa and sat down, sighing heavily.
"Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute." He recited, more to himself than anyone else.
It was nearing midnight and Isabella was still outside, sat on a bench facing a large pond in some random park she'd stumbled upon a few hours ago. She'd walked around blindly for a while when she had left the office, wanting to be anywhere but the confines of the hotel. She'd always loved the water and felt like she needed to be around it at this moment. She had had plenty of time to think whilst she'd been there and yet her mind was still as unclear as it had been when she set off. Her face was puffy with long ago dried out tears.
Suddenly, she felt something drop onto her shoulders. A familiar jacket housing the familiar scent that she'd grown accustomed to over the last few days.
"You know that you were diagnosed with hypothermia recently, right? The doctor told you to stay out of the cold." Patrick scolded lightly.
Issy was about to tell him that she was warm, but now that she thought about it she was freezing. She just didn't notice things like this anymore, the cold and hunger. It all seemed so irrelevant.
"How did you know where I was?"
"Well," Patrick started, "you had to have walked to wherever you were, considering you hadn't taken any money with you and your car was still in the lot. You'd want to be somewhere quiet and open, so not your hotel room. This inferred a park. You like the calming effect water has on you, and at a time like this I thought you'd appreciate that. There were only a few parks that fit that description."
Isabella shook her head, unable to comprehend his abilities.
"You used to pretend to be a psychic, right?" Patrick nodded. "Why?"
It took a while for him to answer.
"Money. Vanity. Arrogance." He shrugged. "Things that were important to me before just aren't anymore."
Issy could understand that. They were silent for a while.
"Can I ask you something?" Patrick asked.
Issy looked up at him waiting for his question.
"How do you feel. You know, now that Simon's been caught."
She thought for a second. "No different. I expected relief or happiness or... something but instead I just feel empty. Just the same as it's been since that day."
He considering this for a while.
"Well, come on then." He said standing. "You can't stay out here all night, you need to sleep."
"Yeah, right..." Issy said sceptically, knowing that sleep was as unlikely to come to her tonight as her husband was, but followed him all the same.
He drove her back to her hotel and walked her to her room. She opened the door and turned to face him, removing his jacket and handing it back to him with a smile.
"Thank you, for everything, Patrick. You've helped me so much more than you can know." She told him sincerely. "I hope that you can find happiness soon."
She reached forward and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Take care of yourself."
He hadn't expected this, and cleared his throat before speaking. "You too, Issy."
Patrick walked down the hallway a little sadly after his goodbye with Isabella. It had been refreshing, although horrendously sad considering the circumstances, to have somebody like him to converse with. She was nice and he would miss her. He hoped that now that the killer of her husband and children had been apprehended that she could move on with her life and start again. Considering her pain and deterioration, however, he expected it to be a long time before she began functioning normally again, as he knew only too well.
She smiled after him, closing the door as he began to walk away, pondering what she would do with her life now. She had no plans whatsoever, but, she thought sadly as she prepared for another restless night, she had all the time in the world to figure it out.