The Mentalist <Must Read>

As they drove away, Jane leaned back and closed his eyes. The case was solved, another small victory in a life defined by the one killer he couldn’t outsmart— Red John . For now, the small wins would have to be enough.

The air in the California Bureau of Investigation (CBI) office was thick with the scent of stale coffee and unwashed paperwork. , draped over his usual leather couch, stared at the ceiling as if the cracked plaster held the secrets to the universe. The Mentalist

Lisbon sighed, already regretting the interaction. “We don’t even have a suspect yet.” As they drove away, Jane leaned back and closed his eyes

“She’s at the park,” Jane whispered to Lisbon as they walked back to the car. “Wearing a blue scarf. She’s waiting for him, but she doesn't realize he’s already broken.” The air in the California Bureau of Investigation

Jane didn’t move. He just smiled, that annoying, knowing grin. “He didn't steal the painting for the money, Lisbon. He stole it because he’s in love with the woman in the frame.”

At the gallery, the owner, a nervous man named Mr. Henderson, was vibrating with anxiety. Jane didn’t look at the empty wall where the masterpiece once hung. Instead, he watched Henderson’s hands.