3 Month Leave | the MENTALIST

MONTH 2 : pt III

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Peter Lewis. Start with how he turned into Rick Tiegler in your subconscious." Hotch sat once more in Cho's living room, leaning earnestly over the coffee table. His dark eyes tracked her pensive expression. "If you've never worked a case relevant to him, how did he make an appearance in your head?"

He had arrived at their doorstep within fifteen minutes after she'd called him.

Ronnie explained the vague email that she'd received before the bomb occurred. The cryptically threatening poem, the references to Scratch—she must have seen the email in passing, stored the information away without realizing it, and then just dropped a version of him into the story.

"Why would he have emailed you?"

She may have subconsciously renamed him Rick Tiegler, but clearly she knew him as Peter Lewis, which is how he was known to the FBI.

Cho stood in the kitchen, completely confused. He had no idea who Peter Lewis was, or Mr. Scratch, or Rick Tiegler.

"I don't know why he emailed me," Ronnie wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "If my memory is accurate, I met him when I was ten. He used to prey on Carla's clients. She would use him to sell her...wares," There was nothing easy about referring to the fact that her mother used to sell human beings to the criminal underworld. "And he would take advantage of the opportunity to practice his hypnotism. He used drugs, of course, it wasn't quite as holistic as in my story, but he got good at it. He's responsible for hundreds of sales for Carla."

Hotch jotted notes in his book. "And your engagement with him?"

"He used me as a prop for his sales pitches." Ronnie answered. "I was in marginally better shape than the girls that were actually being offered, so I looked better for business." He had been nice to her. She'd liked being sent off with him on the days that he worked commission for Carla. He'd take her to the business meetings, and treat her with kindness and respect—even if it was intoned in a somewhat greasy manner—and he never let the guys he was pitching to touch her.

He'd tell the men that the girls were too precious to touch for free. As disgusting a sentiment as it was, it meant that no sleazy businessmen or statesmen laid a hand on Ronnie during the meetings. If he made a sale, he'd take her to her favorite burger place before returning her to their mother, and let her pick whatever she wanted.

If he didn't make a sale, he'd take her shopping. "They would have taken the offer if my model had this season's style," He would tease, and then he'd buy her a whole new wardrobe and a tube of lip gloss.

When he returned her to her mother, and Carla examined her shiny new jacket or shoes, and the traces of makeup on her face, he would convince her that if Ronnie looked good, the business looked good. She would roll her eyes at Peter's extravagance and forget about the new clothes.

Peter Lewis protected her from sleazy men and her mother, and she had been heartbroken when he stopped coming around five years later.

Hotch took in all of the information with a studious frown.

"I know it's meaningless to say that he was kind to me while he was selling helpless girls to terrible people, but I always knew that I would be safe on the days that he came around." She felt idiotic saying it out loud.

Peter Lewis was a monster and a murderer, and she sounded like a battered wife sticking up for him.

Hotch stood up with a small smile and shook her hand warmly. "I'm sure it was difficult for you when his later crimes came out. Thank you for calling me, and we'll keep an eye out for him. Let me know if you get any follow up contact from him."