Chapter 16: Red John's Friends - Part 1
November 3, 2008 - Morning - CBI Headquarters
The man's name was Jared Renfrew.
Lisbon called the team together at eight AM, her expression grave. We gathered in the conference room—me, Jane, Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt—while she pulled up a file on the projector.
"Jared Renfrew, thirty-four, contacted us yesterday claiming to have information about Red John." She clicked to a photo. "Says he was part of Red John's 'circle' five years ago."
The room's atmosphere changed instantly.
Jane went rigid. Not obviously—his posture remained casual, legs still crossed—but the tension was unmistakable. Every muscle locked, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the screen with laser intensity.
The System activated automatically.
[ **ANALYZING: PATRICK JANE** ]
[ **CONFIDENCE: 51% - STILL DIFFICULT TO READ** ]
[ **EMOTIONAL STATE: EXTREME STRESS 94%** ]
[ **HATRED: 97%** ]
[ **HOPE: 67%** ]
[ **PERSONAL TRIGGER DETECTED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 76/100** ]
"Red John. The serial killer who murdered Jane's family. This is THE case for him."
"What does he want?" Jane's voice was controlled, carefully neutral. Too neutral.
"To talk," Lisbon said. "Specifically to talk to you. By name. He said 'Tell Patrick Jane I knew his family. Before.'"
The words landed like physical blows. Jane's fingers gripped the armrest, knuckles white. Rigsby and Van Pelt exchanged uncomfortable glances. Even Cho's usually impassive expression showed concern.
I tried accessing my meta-knowledge about Red John. The show, the plot, the eventual resolution. And found nothing.
Blank spaces. Corrupted data. Fragmented images that wouldn't coalesce into useful information. I knew Red John existed—serial killer, Jane's nemesis, multiple seasons of cat-and-mouse. But specifics? Details? The actual truth about Red John's identity?
Gone.
[ **WARNING: SUBJECT 'RED JOHN' APPEARS IN CORRUPTED MEMORY SECTORS** ]
[ **RELIABLE PREDICTIVE DATA: UNAVAILABLE** ]
[ **META-KNOWLEDGE COMPROMISED** ]
[ **RECOMMENDATION: TREAT AS UNKNOWN VARIABLE** ]
[ **ENERGY: 74/100** ]
"I'm blind. I transmigrated into this world knowing the general story, but the most important part is missing."
"Where is he?" Jane asked quietly.
"Interview room two. Been waiting since six AM." Lisbon studied Jane carefully. "You don't have to do this. I can handle the interrogation."
"No." Jane stood, smooth and controlled. "He asked for me. Let's not disappoint."
November 3, 2008 - Late Morning - Interview Room
Jared Renfrew looked ordinary.
Brown hair, average build, plain features. The kind of man who could disappear in a crowd, completely forgettable. He sat at the metal table, hands folded, smiling pleasantly like we were meeting for coffee.
Jane entered first. I followed, clipboard in hand, officially there to observe and document. Lisbon watched from the observation room with Cho.
"Patrick Jane." Renfrew's smile widened. "It's an honor. I've followed your work."
"Have you." Jane's voice was flat, emotionless. "Tell me about Red John."
"Oh, I can tell you many things. Where to begin?" Renfrew leaned back, completely relaxed. "I was part of his circle—his friends, his confidants. Five years ago, before your... unfortunate family situation."
I activated every System function simultaneously. Profile Generator, Lie Probability Gauge, Influence Metronome. Data flooded my peripheral vision.
[ **ANALYZING: JARED RENFREW** ]
[ **CONFIDENCE: 79%** ]
[ **LIE PROBABILITY: 12% - SUBJECT IS TRUTHFUL** ]
[ **EMOTIONAL STATE: CALM, SATISFIED, GENUINE BELIEF** ]
[ **DECEPTION MARKERS: MINIMAL** ]
[ **ENERGY: 71/100** ]
The readings made no sense. Twelve percent deceptive meant he was telling the truth—or believed he was. But his claims were insane.
"Red John is a visionary," Renfrew continued. "A necessary force in an imperfect world. He cleanses. Purifies. Removes those who would corrupt true beauty."
Jane's hands trembled slightly. "He murders innocent people."
"Innocent?" Renfrew laughed. "No one is truly innocent, Mr. Jane. Red John understands that. He showed us the truth beneath the facades people wear."
[ **LIE PROBABILITY: 8% - GENUINE CONVICTION** ]
[ **SUBJECT BELIEVES STATEMENTS COMPLETELY** ]
[ **WARNING: TRUE BELIEVER DETECTED** ]
[ **DELUSION VS DECEPTION: SYSTEM CANNOT DISTINGUISH** ]
[ **ENERGY: 68/100** ]
"He's not lying. He actually believes this. The System can detect lies, but not delusions. If someone genuinely believes their own insanity, it reads as truth."
The fundamental limitation crystalized. The Lie Probability Gauge measured deception—intentional falsehood. But true believers weren't deceiving anyone. They were simply, terribly wrong.
"Where is Red John now?" Jane asked.
"I don't know. He moved on after... your situation. The circle disbanded. But his work continues." Renfrew's expression was serene. "He's creating art, Mr. Jane. Beautiful, terrible art. And you're part of it—the grieving husband, the vengeful investigator. You play your role perfectly."
Jane lunged across the table.
Rigsby caught him—must have been watching from the doorway—pulling him back before fists connected with Renfrew's face. Lisbon entered immediately, voice sharp.
"Jane. Outside. Now."
Jane allowed himself to be guided from the room, but his eyes never left Renfrew. The hatred in that gaze was molten, barely contained.
I stayed behind, studying the man who claimed to know Red John.
"You're new," Renfrew said conversationally. "Detective Colen, isn't it? I've heard about you."
[ **WARNING: SUBJECT KNOWLEDGE OF YOU DETECTED** ]
[ **SOURCE: UNKNOWN** ]
"Heard from whom?" I asked carefully.
"Oh, people talk. The detective who transferred from Sacramento. Close to the Governor. Dating someone who lost family to violence." His smile was knowing. "You're looking for a killer, aren't you? Someone who hurt someone you care about?"
My blood went cold. He knew about Lorelei. About Miranda's murder. How?
[ **ANALYZING: INFORMATION SOURCE** ]
[ **PROBABILITY: RENFREW HAS RED JOHN NETWORK ACCESS** ]
[ **WARNING: YOUR INVESTIGATION MAY BE COMPROMISED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 65/100** ]
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
"Of course you don't." Renfrew's smile never wavered. "But he knows. Red John knows. He's always watching, Mr. Colen. Especially those who hunt him."
The interview ended shortly after. Renfrew gave nothing useful—no locations, no names, no evidence that would hold up in court. Just philosophy and veiled threats wrapped in serene certainty.
November 5, 2008 - Evening - CBI Headquarters
The case went nowhere.
Two days of investigation, dozens of interviews, and we found nothing concrete. Renfrew's claims about Red John's circle couldn't be verified. His knowledge of Red John's movements was vague, useless. And Jane spiraled into dark frustration.
By Wednesday evening, the bullpen had cleared except for me and Jane. He lay on his couch, staring at the ceiling, radiating barely contained fury.
"He knows nothing," Jane said finally. "Just a delusional follower, feeding on scraps of a reputation. Useless."
"Maybe. Or maybe Red John keeps his followers compartmentalized." I closed my laptop. "So none of them can give up meaningful information."
"Then why contact us? Why reach out if he has nothing to offer?"
"Because he's a true believer. He wanted to meet you. The man hunting the god he worships."
Jane turned his head, studying me. "That's cynical."
"It's accurate."
We sat in silence. The case had revealed my biggest weakness—meta-knowledge about Red John was corrupted, useless. I was navigating this investigation blind, same as everyone else. The only advantage I had was the System, and even that had limits.
Renfrew's comment about Lorelei haunted me. "Dating someone who lost family to violence." How did he know? Had Red John's network been monitoring shelter investigations? Was Lorelei already on their radar?
My phone buzzed.
Lorelei: Rough case. Can I see you tomorrow?
Me: Of course. My place, 7 PM?
Lorelei: Perfect. I need to talk about something I found at the last shelter.
Dread settled in my stomach. She'd found something. Something important enough to discuss privately.
And Renfrew had implied Red John was watching.
The pieces were moving faster than I could track, the timeline diverging in ways I couldn't predict. Miranda's investigation was drawing attention—the wrong kind of attention.
Jane sat up. "Your mysterious girlfriend. The one you're investigating for."
"What about her?"
"Be careful." His voice was serious, stripped of usual playfulness. "Red John ruins everything he touches. If he becomes interested in her, in you, in your investigation... it will end badly."
"Voice of experience?"
"Always." He stood, grabbed his jacket. "I'm going home. You should too. Tomorrow will be interesting."
He left me alone in the empty bullpen, surrounded by cold case files and corrupted memories. The System provided final updates.
[ **QUEST PROGRESS: PREVENT LORELEI'S RED JOHN RECRUITMENT** ]
[ **STATUS: 58% COMPLETE** ]
[ **WARNING: RED JOHN NETWORK AWARE OF INVESTIGATION** ]
[ **EXPOSURE RISK: HIGH** ]
[ **RECOMMENDATION: PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION** ]
[ **ENERGY: 62/100** ]
Tomorrow, Lorelei would tell me what she'd found. And I'd have to figure out how to protect her from a killer I couldn't remember, couldn't predict, and apparently couldn't hide from.
The hunt was becoming a trap, and I'd walked us both straight into it.
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