Ronnie Masters | the MENTALIST (COMPLETE)

THE THIN RED LINE pt. II

Lisbon and Jane took off shortly after their inflammatory meeting with the Davis PD officers to check out Patricia Matigan's mailing address, a location owned by a Lacey Wells. A testament to her well-trained patience and professionalism, Lisbon walked away from Preciado and Blakely as though nothing in the world bothered her, but the moment she closed herself into her vehicle Ronnie saw her shoulders slump in irritation.

Poor Jane would get the brunt of it from her, most assuredly.

Ronnie pinched her lips together as she watched them drive off, squinting against the sun overhead. "Do you think Lisbon ever snaps?"

Strolling past her towards their vehicle, Cho barely cast her a glance. "She never has before. If she ever does, though, it'll be at Jane, so I don't worry about it."

THE MENTALIST

They got back to the CBI, to-go lunches in hand, and headed upstairs to start writing up the crime scene reports. A few employees at the security checkpoint gave Ronnie some awfully hard stares, which she determinedly ignored.

Once comfortably seated at their desks, Cho and Ronnie dug into their burritos and got to work. The silence was only interrupted a few times by casual inquiries, such as:

"Has forensics sent over the evidence inventory yet?"

"Do you have that first address on file?"

"Can you pass the napkins?"

Nearly finished with her brief report, Ronnie stood to toss her garbage in the trash can, told Cho she was running to the rest room, and left the bullpen to wash her hands from the grease and salsa of the burrito.

The warped, speckled mirror shuddered as the bathroom door swung shut behind her. Ronnie elbowed the faucet on and dunked her hands under the spray, pausing only to collect a handful of soap from the motion dispenser. Shuffling and a small cough to her right told her someone else was in the room occupying a stall.

Blowing stray wisps of hair out of her face, Ronnie shook excess water off her hands and reached for a towel. Her eyes met their own reflection in the mirror, analyzing the dark bags and drawn expression. Sleeping hadn't been an affordable luxury of late. Ever since Cho got cameras installed in her home, she hadn't slept more than an hour at a time.

Tossing and turning night after night had left her weary, grumpy, and in less than combat-ready condition. She yearned for a full night's sleep. The bone-deep ache in her body for rest wore at her joints and left pain in her hips and back.

Somewhere down the line of doors, a stall opened and a woman stepped out, smiling politely as she headed for the sinks. After a swift glance, seeing reddish curls and a slim build, Ronnie stepped out of her way and finished drying her hands, trying to forget the haunted look in her own eyes as she dumped the wet towels in the trash.

Her hand was grasping the door handle when the woman's arm clamped around her throat from behind, closing down on Ronnie's windpipe.

She reeled back instinctively, bowling her attacker over backwards and slamming them both into the wall as hard as she could.

The mirror shuddered again with the impact as the woman grunted.

Ronnie's hands went back over her head to get two thick fistfulls of the woman's hair, arranging her feet around to leverage a toss. Black spots danced before her eyes as the hold on her throat tightened. The blonde could feel her heartbeat pounding frantically in her ears, her face going hot.