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Theresa has never had a very good sleep schedule. Between early starts, late nights and the insomnia that comes with witnessing all of the worst of humanity, she has gotten used to it over the years. She’s now able to run on getting eight hours sleep over two nights instead of one.
She isn’t a machine, though. While she is resilient, she does have a breaking point. No one was sure where it was, until she went three days without sleep.
It started with a kidnapping case that came in at eleven o’clock at night. Theresa was already at home, getting ready for bed, when she got the call. Apparently the team that normally covers the night shift was dealing with a triple murder downtown. It had to be her.
The team meets at the home of the missing girl. Van Pelt’s hair is still wet and Rigsby’s socks are mismatched. Cho looks as sharp as ever - does he ever take his suit off? Jane must have had a cup of tea with extra caffeine on the way here, because he’s bouncing off the walls.
“Mrs Wilson,” He asks the mother of the kidnapped child, in the middle of Lisbon’s questioning. “Where’s your husband?”
“I’m not married.” Mrs - or apparently Ms - Wilson says.
“No, you’re divorced. Or widowed?” Jane guesses.
Theresa has never quite believed his talk about deduction. It must all be guesswork. At least the few of the things he has said about her have been absolute nonsense. She thinks so, at least. Every day she gets less sure.
“Both, actually. Katie’s father died and I divorced my ex-husband last year.” Ms Wilson says. She clings to her daughter - Katie’s - favourite stuffed animal. A grey and white kitten called Molly, which she apparently wouldn’t have willingly left the home without.
“But Katie liked her stepfather a lot, yes?”
“How did you-”
“Pictures in her room.” Jane says. So that’s where he disappeared off to for ten minutes. “Lots with you, of course, and then some with two different men. One when she was younger, a man with the same eyes as her. Then as he gets older, he disappears and is replaced by another man who has no family resemblance.”
“Yes, she loved Steven. When we split up she made him promise to stay in contact. She doesn’t remember her biological father very well so Steven and I were all she really had. Steven loved her like his own daughter too.”
Jane nods thoughtfully. “And you split because of your gambling debts.”
“How the hell-” Theresa starts. The quick background checks she had Van Pelt run didn’t bring that up.
“Poker set on the dining room cabinet. Lovely apple blossom air freshener in there, by the way.” Jane rambles so he has a moment to think. “You both gamble but you were better about not losing the mortgage payments.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Ms Wilson agrees.
“Ms Wilson, Agent Lisbon needs a list of everyone your ex-husband owes money to.” Jane says urgently. “I bet one of them has your daughter.”
Then came tracking down all of Steven Wilson’s creditors. There were dozens. The man owed money to half of Vice’s most wanted list. It took until the next evening until they figured out which one was most likely to kidnap a girl for ransom.
“James Cook.” Cho drops a file onto Theresa’s desk, along with another mug of coffee. She’s sure her blood is 75% caffeine at this point. “He has previous for wrongful imprisonment of an ex-girlfriend.”
“Where is he?” Theresa picks up the file and skims through it.
“No clue.” Cho admits.
“Cook’s uncle has a cabin upstate. Isolated, no neighbors.” Rigsby says, putting his head around the door. “Sounds like a good place to keep a kidnapped little girl.”
“I’ve just tracked a car registered to Cook’s daughter heading that way.” Van Pelt says, appearing beside him.
“He doesn’t want to kill her. If we give him an ultimatum, he’ll let her go.” Jane says, a cup of tea cradled in his hands.
“You’re sure?” Theresa asks.
“When am I ever wrong?”
“Don’t make me answer that.”
Driving upstate takes five hours, after they’ve scrambled a firearms unit and coordinated with local law enforcement. By the time they’re at the cabin, it’s early afternoon. Theresa is already running on fumes and excessive amounts of coffee. She isn’t one hundred percent sure how long it has been since she slept for more than a few minutes.
They take Jane’s advice and Cook gives up pretty quickly. He must realise that he’s outnumbered, outgunned, and this all isn’t worth the few grand that Steven Wilson owed her. Katie is returned to her mother (and Molly the toy cat), who won’t let her stepfather near her. They can’t arrest Steven Wilson for anything. Being a shit father isn’t a crime on its own.
The drive home takes longer thanks to rush hour traffic. Then there’s the paperwork. Oh God, the endless paperwork. Theresa swears they invent a new form every time she sits down at her desk. It takes her all night. By the time she gets up from her chair again, she can’t tell up from down. Everyone else has gone home, at her insistence. She thinks she’s alone in the office.
She tries to make herself more coffee, but she drops the mug and it shatters on the kitchenette floor. Defeated, she stares at it until Jane finds her standing in the shards. He must not have left after all.
“Are you hurt?” He asks.
She slowly shakes her head, too tired to deny it. “I don’t even know what happened.”
Jane takes one look at her and shakes his head too. “You need to take a nap.”
“But-”
“No buts, you can’t work while you’re this tired. Come on.” Jane carefully leads her over to the couch in her office and helps her lay down on it. “I’ll clean up and hold off Hightower for a couple of hours. You rest.”
Theresa knows when she’s beat, so she kicks off her shoes. “Thanks, Jane.” She mumbles, already falling asleep.
“No problem, Lisbon.”