“This is ridiculous.” Teresa Lisbon looked around CBI headquarters in exasperation. “I’m not going to pretend that Jane is my husband.”

Cho stared back at her, face impassive as usual. Rigsby flinched and pretended to check some paperwork when Lisbon’s gaze landed on him.

Jane perched on the edge of a desk, smiling in gleeful delight. Of course he would find this amusing.

Lisbon turned to Van Pelt, hoping for agreement or at least sympathy.

“I don’t know, boss,” the young agent said earnestly. “It could work.”

“Then you should do it.” That would solve the problem, even if it did make Lisbon’s stomach feel jittery for some reason. It wasn’t jealousy she felt; definitely not that. Concern – that’s what it was. Van Pelt was green for a major undercover assignment.

Jane shook his head. “They’d never buy it. Grace looks too innocent to be my wife.”

“I do?” Van Pelt said at the same time Lisbon said, “I don’t?”

“Grace is young, naive, charming. In this case, Lisbon, you’re a better fit.”

Lisbon didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. “If Van Pelt is too young, innocent, and charming, what does that make me?”

“Seasoned,” Jane replied, still smiling. “Besides, Minelli approved it this morning. No time to change the plan now.”

“You went to Minelli behind my back? Jane, I’m going to kill you.”

“You already sound like a married couple,” Cho said. Lisbon shot a glare at him, but he just shrugged, still impassive, and swiveled to face his computer.

“Cheer up,” Jane said. “It’s almost Halloween. It’ll be fun.”

As he walked past her toward his couch, he pressed something small and hard into her palm.

Lisbon uncurled her fingers. A piece of candy corn? Really?

“Great,” she muttered. “Halloween. Can’t wait.”

* * *

Almost a week had passed, and they were no closer to solving the case.

Lisbon and Jane had moved into the kind of house that she could never afford on her CBI salary – a three-story McMansion in an upscale cul-de-sac where everyone had pools, affairs, and overwhelming ennui.

And one of those residents was a murderer, at least according to Jane. Lisbon wasn’t convinced. Yet.

“Did you find out anything useful?” Lisbon asked as she walked in the door at the end of a long day.

They’d agreed that Jane would pretend to be a househusband while Lisbon continued going into work as usual. In theory, it would allow him to meet their neighbors and learn their secrets.

In theory. So far, he’d only learned that Joy Haversmith used low-quality mulch for her gardens, Ron Ducesne’s prized Porsche was a rental, and Sinna Mitchell had switched from Botox to fillers.

Nothing to help them find a murderer.

Jane didn’t look up from the book he was reading on the sofa. “No hello? No ‘how was your day?’ I’m disappointed. You didn’t even notice the decorations.”

Lisbon glanced around the room.

“Outside,” Jane said, still not looking up.

With a sigh, Lisbon stepped outside. Fake cobwebs lined the entranceway. Jack-o-lanterns grinned out at the world. Was this how Jane had spent his time? While she was dealing with dead bodies and paperwork, he’d been decorating for Halloween?

Irritated, she stomped back inside.

Jane was waiting, leaning against the wall. He must have known she was going to complain, because he pulled a sucker from a bucket of candy by the door and popped it in her mouth before she had the chance.

While she fumed, he took one for himself. “What do you think?”

“That we’re done here. This operation is over. We’re no closer than when we started.”

“Nonsense,” Jane replied. “We know who the killer is.”

Lisbon almost choked on the sucker. “We do?

“Of course. Joy Haversmith did it. Now let’s talk about tonight. Do you want to hand out the candy, or shall I?”

But she wasn’t going to let him distract her. Not when they’d been there for days, pretending. She deserved an explanation.

“Joy Haversmith, the sixty-year-old widow? How do you know?”

“It’s the mulch. It’s cheap.”

“So?”

“Her flowers mean everything to her. Do you really think someone who loves gardening that much would use poor-quality mulch? I’m guessing you’ll find the murder weapon buried there.”

Suddenly it clicked. “If she had to bury it in a hurry, she might have grabbed the first mulch she could find to replace what got disturbed. And once she re-mulched one bed…”

“She’d have to do them all so it wouldn’t be obvious where she buried the weapon.” Jane took the sucker from his mouth and grinned at her.

Lisbon found herself smiling back, almost against her will. “But why? What’s her motive?”

The doorbell rang, interrupting whatever Jane had been about to say. His entire face lit up.

“It’s time. I hope I got enough candy.”

Of course he had. Lisbon watched as he interacted with kid after kid. They came on their own, in groups, and with parents, and he charmed them all.

He must have been a great father.

The thought made Lisbon sad so she turned away. She’d fix some food and they could discuss wrapping up the case while they ate. The mulch theory made sense, but they’d need something more to get a warrant.

By the time Jane finished, the food was done and waiting under a warmer. Lisbon watched him as they silently took their seats on opposite sides of the table. He seemed lighter than usual tonight.

Jane always had a playfulness to him, but beneath that lay something sadder. Something darker that he very rarely let others glimpse. But now, that underlying edge had softened.

They ate, still in silence for a few moments, until Lisbon swirled around a glass of wine and gave him a pointed stare.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Ha ha. You noticed that mulch the first time we interviewed Mrs. Haversmith.”

“True.”

“That was before we moved in here.”

“Also true.”

Exasperated again, Lisbon set down her glass. “At what point did you realize she was responsible?”

“As soon as I saw her flowers.” Jane went on eating as if he’d said something mundane about the weather.

“Then why did you set up this”--Lisbon gestured around them--“ruse? I don’t like being tricked.”

Jane reached forward and cupped Lisbon’s face. His hand, rough and slightly warm, brushed against her ear. Her breath caught as their gazes connected, tangled, and held. Then he pulled back, flipping a coin through his fingers.

Oh. The old pull-a-coin-from-behind-the-ear trick. For a second, she’d thought…

She didn’t know what she’d thought
.
“That,” Jane said, “was a trick.” He gestured around the room just as Lisbon had. “This is a treat.”

“On the CBI’s dime.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a treat if we had to pay for it, would it? Besides, you said it yourself. We needed motive. Might as well enjoy ourselves while we found it.”

Lisbon shook her head. “You’re terrible.”

“You love it.”

A sip of wine tried to slide down Lisbon’s windpipe. She’d thought he was going to say she loved him for a second. Which was ridiculous. Absolutely, totally ridiculous.

Jane rose and rounded the table. He sat next to her and took her wineglass from her hand, setting it on the table. “Admit it, Lisbon.”

She swallowed, some of the wine still struggling to go down the right way. Maybe he really could read thoughts and knew what she'd been thinking.

“Admit what?” Lisbon used her toughest voice, but it came out strangled.

He reached forward and cupped her face again, just as he had earlier. She waited for him to pull out another coin, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand rested there, warm against her cheek.

Lisbon’s eyes drifted shut, and she took a deep breath, trying not to think about how much she liked the feel of his skin touching hers.

Of how much she liked him.

“You needed a treat,” he said softly. “We both did.”

“Jane,” she started, but he rubbed his thumb gently over her lips.

When he pulled back, Lisbon tried not to be disappointed. She did like him – how could she not? But nothing could ever happen between them. They worked together, for one. And then there was Red John. As long as he was out there, Jane would never truly be free.

Jane was watching her with an intensity that forced her to look away.

He pulled the coin back out from one pocket and took a candy corn from the other. “Make a deal with me. Choose a hand. If you pick the trick”--he held up the candy corn-- “I’ll tell you the motive, and this will be over. We’ll get a warrant and go home, and none of this ever happened.”

“What if I pick the coin?” she asked.

Jane held it up. “You choose the treat…we stay another couple of days. And I get a kiss. A real one.”

“Why would I make this deal? What’s in it for me?”

Jane gave her a look.

“Fine.” Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

Despite her tone, something fluttered around in her stomach. Anticipation. Excitement.

Desire.

Leaning slightly forward, Jane put his hands behind his back where she couldn’t see what he was doing. Finally, he put both of them in front of him.

“Which one, Lisbon?”

“I know this is a trick,” she said as she tapped his right hand. They’d worked together for too long. If he hadn’t swiped that candy corn out for a second coin, she’d be shocked.

And maybe disappointed?

Jane uncurled his fingers, looked at what lay inside.

And smiled.