Ronnie Masters | the MENTALIST (COMPLETE)

RED SAUCE : pt II

Being back at work was like a breath of fresh air. She had her routine back; her morning cup of coffee was so much more special when she had to savor it because she wouldn't get a chance to taste another cup for who knows how many hours. She actually got to pick through her wardrobe again instead of wearing the same three pairs of sweat pants in constant rotation.

She got to see Rigsby's dumb spiked hair every morning, and see Jane's silly magic tricks make the vein in Lisbon's forehead pop.

More than anything, she got to see the California countryside every time a case took them out to the sticks. Cho's apartment was without a doubt an improvement on her hotel room, but nothing beat the places they visited on the job.

Ronnie kicked a few stones away from her shoe and stretched her arms over her head. Picking her way through the backyard of the victim's wife, she swept her gaze back and forth, taking in everything from the deer tracks in the flower bed to the neighbor's cars parked on the other side of the fence.

Lisbon, Cho, and Van Pelt had forced their way into the woman's house after she hadn't responded to their knocking. Lisbon had merely suggested that their suspicion that the woman's life may be in danger would supersede the need for a warrant, and Cho had needed no further prompting to knock the entire door down.

Ronnie had found this to be just a touch invasive and had voted to keep an eye on the back door.

As she passed by what must have been the kitchen window, shouting suddenly sounded from within. Someone—an angry someone—was screaming from upstairs, words that Ronnie couldn't make out.

She heard Lisbon's soothing voice calling back, but the other woman's shouting didn't stop.

Hand on her sidearm, Ronnie turned on her heel to run into the house, but immediately ducked into a crouch when car doors slammed somewhere around the corner.

Running footsteps mingled with the sound of the woman's shouting, coming closer. Ronnie crawled towards the back door, peeking around the corner to see who was coming. A group of people, two men and a woman, bolted up the driveway and plowed straight through the back door, guns drawn.

Ronnie crept up beside them, and in seconds was posted in the doorway. As soon as she drew her own sidearm and levelled it with the woman's head, her brain caught up to her eyes and she read the words 'U.S. Marshal' written in bold yellow across the backs of their windbreakers. All of a sudden, pointing her gun at the backs of their heads didn't seem like the smartest move. "Heads up," She announced herself.

All four of the marshals' heads whipped around, stunned to find her drawn and ready on their heels.

Her eyes flashed to Lisbon, who stood using the wall as cover and had one hand pointing a weapon around the corner and the other pressing her phone to her ear. Across the foyer, Cho took cover behind the other wall, Grace carefully positioned behind him. Both of them had weapons drawn. Another marshal had come in through the front door, locked and loaded at Grace's head.

The man who had entered first, a tall, greying man with gaunt cheeks, stared from Ronnie, to Lisbon, to Cho. "Who are you people?"

Lisbon didn't bother putting the phone down. "We're with the California Bureau of Investigation. I'm Agent Lisbon, these are agents Cho, Van Pelt, and Masters."

Ronnie couldn't see the woman who had been screaming her head off, presumably on the other side of the wall that her colleagues were hiding behind. Cho hadn't removed his eyes from something in that direction, which Ronnie assumed was their irate person of interest, Mrs. Didrikson.

"We're U.S. Marshals." The Marshal returned sharply. Neither he nor his men lowered their weapons, so Lisbon and hers didn't either.

"Yeah, we can see that." Cho snapped, despite having still not turned his gaze from Mrs. Didrikson.