[Note:Stitch is invisible to others expect Wednesday here. Only Aleksander and Wednesday can hear or see him. While Jane can sense something off, but he couldn't pin point it.]
Inside the California Bureau of Investigation, Patrick Jane lounged casually at the conference table, drumming his fingers against the wood.
Across from him, Teresa Lisbon looked anything but relaxed. She checked her watch, glanced at the door, and finally broke the silence."Do you know I had to call the Director and the Special Agent in Charge just to clear these two teenagers for the case?"
Jane smiled faintly without looking up. "I told you, all you had to do was drop the Morozova name. People practically bow when they hear it."
Lisbon shook her head, still unsettled. She'd just watched Director Minelli tear into her for entertaining Jane's stunt—until Jane mentioned Morozova. Then, almost instantly, the Director backed off. That wasn't normal.
"So what's the deal with this family?" she pressed.
Jane leaned back, eyes dancing with his usual mix of amusement and mystery. "Let's just say they have… an impressive filing cabinet. The kind that could bring down the country if they ever felt like it."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Lisbon muttered.
Jane didn't answer directly, but his expression told her plenty. He already knew more than he should, as always.Lisbon frowned. "You're not telling me everything."
Jane's smile deepened, almost mischievous. "Would you believe me if I said it's better this way?"
Lisbon gave him the look—half suspicion, half exasperation. She hated it when he was right, but worse when he enjoyed it this much.
The door slid open, Grace entered. Just behind came Wednesday, cool and observant, followed by Aleksander—confident, composed, and with Stitch perched on his shoulder. The little blue alien looked every direction at once, eyes wide, twitching his nose as he scanned the unfamiliar office.
Grace grinned, "Looks like our guests have arrived."
Jane stood up, a broad grin spreading across his face. He crossed to Aleksander and wrapped him in a quick hug. Lowering his voice, he teased, "So... did you actually fly that bike here?"
Aleksander shrugged, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. The skies were clear."
Jane's eyes sparkled with boyish excitement. "You owe me a ride. Flying beats traffic any day."
"I'll make sure you get one," Aleksander promised.
While Wednesday crossed her arms, lips twitching just slightly—a brief flicker of acknowledgment to the thrill of flight that she didn't voice but didn't deny, either.
Jane caught it. "See? Even you find flying... exciting."
Wednesday gave a quiet, almost imperceptible nod.Then her tone turned dry as ever, fixing Jane with a look. "Though it's a good reminder that the higher you soar, the harder the fall."
Jane straightened, amused, clearly enjoying her presence. "Ah, Wednesday. Always the optimist."
"I prefer realist," she corrected, without missing a beat.
Stitch, sitting upright on Aleksander's shoulder, chimed in quietly, his voice a raspy whisper only Aleksander heard."Why chairs spin? Why screens so big? More snacks here?"
Aleksander tilted his head slightly, replying behind his hand. "Chairs are for people to wait. Big screens for cases. Snack machine's out front."
Stitch gave a soft grunt of approval, still devouring the room with his hungry gaze. He murmured, "Lisbon looks bite-y."
Aleksander hid a smile, answering low. "She's just stressed. No biting."
Stitch's nose twitched toward Jane, who paused mid-step, eyes flicking to the space just beyond Aleksander's shoulder. A beat of uncertainty crossed Jane's face, gone as quickly as it came.
Lisbon, although she hadn't caught the conversation about the flying bikes, was already pinching the bridge of her nose. Finally, she cut in, voice firm. "Okay, enough. You two can talk later. Right now we have an important case, and my superiors are breathing down my neck for breakthroughs before the month's up."
Patrick sank back into his chair, smiling. "Lisbon, if stressing burned calories, you'd be invisible by now."
She shot him a sharp look, but there was a faint smile beneath it.
Stitch's large eyes flicked to the shadows in the room. He muttered quietly, "Room feels tight."
Aleksander leaned closer, voice low and calm. "Not much longer now. We'll be out of here soon."
Lisbon gestured toward Grace. "Grace, start the projection. Let's make sure everyone understands exactly what kind of case we're facing."
She turned off the lights in the room.Grace already had her laptop out and quickly connected it to the projector. The first image illuminated the screen—a blonde-haired woman with a haunted look in her eyes.
"Twelve victims so far," Lisbon said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. "All brutally murdered, all dismembered. The work is chilling and methodical."
She started scrolling through the images, listing off details for each: "Olivia Hart, a 28-year-old artist from Sacramento, was last seen leaving a gallery opening. Maya Lin is a 34-year-old software developer from San Francisco, reported missing from her home. Emily Santos, 25, a barista and aspiring musician in Los Angeles, disappeared after her shift. Jessica Chen, a 31-year-old nurse from San Diego, known for volunteering at shelters. Sophia Ramirez, a 22-year-old college student from Fresno, vanished after a campus party. Hannah Becker, 29, a teacher from Oakland, disappeared while jogging early one morning. Grace Morgan, a 33-year-old photographer from Bakersfield, last contacted friends days before her death. Natalie Woods, 26, a marketing executive from Irvine, was missing during a business trip. Leah Patel, 24, a journalist from Riverside, investigating local corruption. Isabella Torres, a 30-year-old community organizer from Long Beach, active in neighborhood causes. Allison Kim, 27, a chef from Santa Barbara, found missing after work. And Chloe Sanders, 23, a graduate student in San Jose last seen at the university library."
She glanced around at the dark room. "My senior was on this case before me. There's no real pattern, no clear motive—just a lot of brutality. That's what keeps everyone on edge."
Jane leaned forward, his expression unreadable as the photos kept cycling through. His gaze sharpened, piecing things together in his mind.
Aleksander pulled a stack of reports closer, flipping through them quietly,
Wednesday did the same, her silence more focused than distant.
Stitch tugging gently at his collar. "Bad pictures. Why everyone look sad?"
Aleksander whispered. "They're victims, Stitch. We're trying to find who hurt them."
Stitch's nose twitched, a cautious growl rumbling low in his throat. "Ugly hearts. No hunt. Just mean."
Then Lisbon spoke again, her voice heavier. "The real curveball? Several witnesses swear they saw these victims alive after their confirmed times of death."
Jane looked up, curious. "So, what did your senior make of that?"
Lisbon let out a faint sigh. "He—and most of the detectives—landed on two possibilities. Either someone with telepathic skills was feeding people illusions, or we were dealing with a shape-shifter playing the victims."
Stitch squinted at the screen, then whispered to Aleksander, "Many tricks. But Stitch knows real from fake."
Aleksander whispered back, "That's why you're here."
Jane's brows knit, sensing a presence he couldn't name. He glanced idly in Aleksander's direction, then back to Lisbon, that familiar curiosity stirring but unspoken.