Ronnie Masters | the MENTALIST (COMPLETE)

PILOT : pt I

The Palm Springs mortuary stood in the midst of one of the most God-forsaken heat zones that Ronnie Masters had found herself in during the past three years. She parked her bike in the shade of the rented CBI van, hoping it wouldn't be molten to the touch when she returned to it. Shrugging off her leathers, Ronnie stripped off her sweat-soaked t-shirt and pulled a fresh, black button down over her tank top.

She'd shown up ten minutes late.

Tucking her shirt into her dark wash jeans, Ronnie grabbed her backpack and her keys and hiked up the walk to the mortuary. Once she'd swiped off her sunglasses and flashed her badge, the desk attendant had pointed her in the right direction and she soon found herself marching down the eerie, chilly hallways towards the examiners room.

Seeing Lisbon and Jane through the window in the door, Ronnie pulled it open and slunk in sheepishly, nodding in apology to the boss. She snuck over to the stoic, well-built Asian man in the corner, trying not to cause a disturbance while the mortician was running down her report.

The woman wore a brightly-colored hair cap, providing the only pop of vibrance in the cold, dark-toned room. She held a clipboard, circling two tables where two bodies lay, pale, beneath sheets.

"Cho," Ronnie greeted, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes skated across the room while Cho returned the greeting with a silent glance in her direction before dropping his attention back to the notebook in his hands.

"Is that Jane?" Ronnie's eyes were on the wandering blond consultant. He was getting too close to one of the corpses, leaning in like he was going to sniff it. "I thought he was suspended." Few men got away with circumnavigating CBI top brass like the consultant did, much to the ever growing irritation of unit leader Teresa Lisbon.

"He's Jane." Cho responded, as though that explained everything. And it did, sort of.

"—27, married, no children; they were found at her listed residence; T.O.D looks to be early Saturday evening. On Alison, we have the same stun-gun marks, followed by binding with tight black plastic ligatures, frenzied cutting and stabbing assault of the torso, and subsequent abuse of the viscera." The mortician's monotoned report concluded simply, offering little more information than even Ronnie knew from the progress email she'd received that morning.

Her half-lidded eyes, bored and glazed over, passed around the room, landing briefly on Jane before returning lazily to Lisbon.

Cho stuffed his notebook back in his pocket and crossed his arms, mimicking Ronnie. "Textbook Red John." He stepped in closer to the bodies, seeing the injuries for himself once more.

Edging away from the cold examination tables uneasily, Ronnie shot a careful glance at Jane, who still stood leering over the corpses, expression focused. Few cases had come up over the years with the monstrous serial killer's MO. Every time one popped up they faced a nightmare of an attempt to keep Jane under control. The serial killer had the unparalleled ability to provoke Jane to the point of uncharacteristic daring, regardless of any consequences.

That fact made Lisbon's job a living nightmare.

"Who found the bodies?" Lisbon questioned, eyes turning to Cho. She tossed a nod in greeting to Ronnie, expression softening at the sight of the other female team member.

Cho nodded to the closest corpse. "This one's husband; coming home from the airport Sunday morning with his brother." After a second of silence, his shoulders moved as he stiffly turned to check on his partner.

Nausea started in Ronnie's gut, washing over her uncomfortably. The cold, dark room with the two bodies lying naked on the tables left her feeling sick to her stomach. She patted a clumsy hand against Cho's elbow to get his attention, not realizing that she'd already had it, mumbled, "I'm gonna wait outside," and then hurried from the room in search of fresh air.