Chapter 88: The Woman Who Paints Oil Paintings
"You're smarter than me!" Patrick Jane exclaimed after slapping himself.
It was indeed impossible for Chuck to have seen his show in advance, but he had come to his house to wait beforehand, obviously predicting that he would do something so stupid.
In the past, he hadn't accepted it when his wife Angela said Chuck was smarter than him.
But now he was just extremely grateful that Chuck was smarter than him!
"Don't state the obvious," Chuck shook his head.
"...Thank you for staying and waiting for me to come home."
Patrick Jane suppressed the urge to argue and expressed his gratitude again.
If it weren't for waiting for him to return, Chuck should have taken the BAU's private jet back to the East Coast. If Chuck hadn't stayed to wait for him, he could imagine how terrified his wife would be at home alone after such an ordeal.
"Just a layover," Chuck said matter-of-factly. "Even if I hadn't waited for you, my flight is booked for tomorrow morning."
"You booked your own ticket instead of taking the BAU's charter plane..."
Patrick Jane said this, then suddenly realized something. He said incredulously, "You think it's unsafe to take the BAU's charter plane right now? Do you really think Red John's influence is so extensive that he could sabotage the BAU's aircraft?"
"What's so surprising about that?" Chuck looked at him curiously. "Red John's network spans coast to coast, and he's infiltrated various law enforcement agencies. It would be simple for him to tamper with it. They could sabotage the plane during routine maintenance at the airport, hack the flight systems mid-air and cause it to crash, or even simpler—a single surface-to-air missile could eliminate the threat that Red John's capture poses to the entire organization."
Faced with such a methodical Chuck, Patrick Jane still felt Chuck was being overly paranoid, but he had no counterargument.
These scenarios were extreme, but theoretically they weren't impossible.
Chuck, reading his expression, once again quoted his favorite saying: "Ignorance and weakness are never obstacles to survival; arrogance is."
Patrick Jane: "..."
He was known for his sharp wit and cutting remarks, and he owned it. But when he was around Chuck, it was easy to get depressed if he didn't fight back with some snark.
"How did you predict that?" Patrick Jane asked, suppressing his inner complaints.
"Your ghost told me," Chuck said with a straight face.
"..." Patrick Jane's mouth twitched when he saw Chuck using his own psychic nonsense against him, and he winced in pain again: "Seriously."
"This isn't the first time you've been so reckless on TV. Last time, you exposed a husband's affair on live television in front of everyone, which led to their divorce after the show aired. Also, when you help police solve cases, you like to exploit people's vulnerabilities to make them expose themselves. To that end, you don't hesitate to traumatize criminals' relatives to force confessions. You once manipulated a daughter's trust in you and had her confront her criminal father, forcing him to admit his guilt so you could catch him while hiding nearby. These tactics are effective, but they make you plenty of enemies."
Chuck looked at him: "This may be the first time with Red John, but it definitely won't be the last.
People say a leopard can't change its spots. You asked for this trouble yourself—is it really hard to predict?"
"...Not hard to predict." The mentalist Patrick Jane smiled bitterly.
After Chuck laid bare his past behavior, he suddenly realized that although he seemed to be getting smarter since becoming famous, he was actually getting more and more stupid—so stupid that even he couldn't stand his current self.
"I want to go to Quantico!" After wrestling with these complicated thoughts, Patrick Jane's eyes narrowed. "I can't let Angela and Charlotte live in such a dangerous environment. I want to help eliminate Red John's network."
"Not necessary," Chuck shook his head.
"You doubt my abilities?" Patrick Jane protested. "Although my psychic abilities are fake, my observation, deduction, and acting skills are first-rate, and I can help you."
"None of your methods work on him," Chuck said bluntly. "Even I can't use micro-expressions to read his true thoughts. He's a genuine sociopath. Not as sophisticated as that curly-haired high-functioning sociopath, but unless he chooses to speak, you won't get any useful information from him."
"Fine, whatever. I'm going to talk to Angela about moving."
Patrick Jane stood up and headed upstairs.
Chuck's words made him feel even more horrified about Red John. He couldn't stay in this place anymore.
Even the FBI's BAU didn't dare linger, let alone him with a wife and daughter to protect.
London.
In a manor house.
The spacious room had been converted into an art studio, surrounded by paintings. An easel stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows. A woman with long, flowing blonde hair, wearing a white blouse, sat on a tall stool with her back to the door, a paintbrush in one hand and a palette in the other.
The painting on the easel was already taking shape: an intricate spider web. The blonde, her face hidden by the easel, dipped her brush in red paint and added a single strand of crimson thread.
Her phone buzzed nearby. The woman set down the palette, picked up the phone, looked at it, paused, then set it back down. Looking at the unfinished red thread, she murmured, "Such a waste."
Setting down her brush, she stood up, turning toward the sunlight, revealing a stunning face that perfectly complemented the surrounding artwork. She exuded a classic, refined elegance.
The blonde whispered, "Chuck Wolfe..."
The next morning.
Sacramento.
Chuck sat at the breakfast table, frowning at the persistent attention from the little girl, Charlotte.
"Charlotte, stop bothering Uncle Chuck," Patrick Jane said, though his smug smile revealed his true amusement.
Charlotte, though adorable, was no different from any other child. She ignored her father's halfhearted instruction and instead clung to Chuck even more.
"Uncle Chuck, why don't you smile?"
"Uncle Chuck, can I sit on your lap?"
"Uncle Chuck, why are you ignoring me?"
The little girl, who had slept soundly through last night's events, was completely oblivious to what had happened, radiating pure childish energy.
Patrick Jane watched this scene, smiling until the smile froze on his face as overwhelming dread returned.
They say fear of the unknown is the most terrifying, and he understood that completely. But he would add that the fear that comes after is equally terrifying.
He and his wife Angela hadn't slept all night.
Literally. They couldn't sleep at all, constantly discussing what to do next. They had already decided to move away right after breakfast, far from this dangerous place.
Who cared about being the most handsome and famous psychic master on TV, the mentalist? To hell with all that.
Nothing was more important than his family's safety!
(End of Chapter)
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