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g0shawkTitle: Prisoner 1783 (3/?)
Author: g0shawk
Fandom: Psych
Rating: PG13
Characters: Shawn, Lassiter, Jules, Gus, Buzz, Chief Vick, Henry
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Summary: A serial killer is released, and there's an Easter egg hunt at the SBPD. What could go wrong?
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or its characters, etc.
Notes: This is 3rd in the Unexpected series. Previous stories: Unexpected Valentine and St. Patrick's Day.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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Juliet sat up as Gus jogged towards her desk. From the corner of her eye she saw Lassiter and Shawn look up at the same time.
“Gus?” she asked, wondering if something was wrong.
He arrived at their area, panting slightly. “Th—the AMBER Alert…they’ve started it, and it’s on the TV over there…” he paused to point his thumb over his shoulder in the direction he had come from. “I thought you might want to see it.”
Juliet felt herself relax at his words. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She turned to the other two men. “Are you coming?”
“Of course,” Shawn replied, standing up.
Lassiter nodded and joined them.
They hurried to the TV, getting there just in time to see a complete repeat of the announcement. The news reporter spoke the information aloud while pictures were displayed on the screen. First it showed Annie; they had a fairly recent photo, thankfully. After giving out basic facts about her, a copy of Joe Warren’s mug shot appeared, along with his name and the license plate number of his car.
By the time the reporter had started to read out the number to call, a crowd had gathered in the station. Officers shook their heads morosely and discussed the case with each other.
Ducking away, Juliet returned to her desk. When the others were back as well, she asked, “Are we going to tell them about the—”
“No,” Lassiter interrupted. “They have his plates already, and even if they saw that the driver was wearing a mask, they wouldn’t do anything to change their course of action. We still don’t know where she is. By telling them, we would just be revealing ourselves, and then we wouldn’t be able to help.”
Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance.
A commotion had broken out down the hall, by the chief’s office. Seconds later, FBI agents started pouring out of the room, speaking urgently to each other and through comms.
“What’s going on?” Gus asked Juliet.
She crossed her arms, saying, “Why do you always ask me questions like that?”
“Questions like what?”
“That I obviously can’t answer. I’ve been right here the whole time, just like you; how would I know?”
Gus looked pensive for a moment. “I—sorry, I don’t—I guess I just feel like you know everything.” He glanced at her sheepishly.
“Oh.” Her face softened.
“Hey guys,” Shawn said, smirking; “can we save the lovey-dovey for later, ‘cause otherwise I’m gonna feel like I’m neglecting Lassy-face here.” He elbowed the detective lightly.
Lassiter flushed, and pulled away.
Giggling at his expression, Juliet apologized and turned back to observe the scene in front of them. “Maybe they got a call,” she mused.
Shawn perked up at that. “Let’s follow them!”
“I don’t think—” Gus started.
“C’mon!” Shawn called, already halfway down the hallway.
Shaking their heads and sighing, they took off after him.
---------------
Clint sighed as he saw several cars pull up outside the bar. Why does everything happen here? Reaching under the counter he pulled out a pile of papers held together by a rubber band. He removed one sheet and returned the rest to their previous location.
Minutes later, a group of men came through the door together. The man in front approached Clint, asking seriously, “Are you the bartender, Clint Hill?”
“That’s right,” Clint nodded. “And you must be the FBI.”
“Yes, I’m Agent Grist.” The man placed a piece of paper in front of Clint. “Do you see the man who was in here?”
Clint gazed down at the eight photos arranged on the paper. The subjects all looked rather similar: white, male, brown hair. He spotted the man from earlier immediately, in the bottom left-hand corner. Pointing at it, he said confidently, “That’s him.”
“Are you sure?” Grist pressed. “Take your time.”
“Don’t have to; it’s him. Same as the one they showed on TV,” Clint replied, jerking his head in that direction.
“Alright. Thank you for calling.”
“Glad to,” Clint said. “I hope you find that little girl; reminds me of my own.”
Grist nodded in response. “I’ll need your full name, phone number, addre—” he stopped in surprise as Clint handed him a piece of paper with all the information already on it. “I guess this isn’t your first time dealing with police,” he said wryly, folding the paper and tucking it into his notebook.
Clint rolled his eyes. “Nowhere near.”
The agent chuckled. “We’ll keep in touch; let us know right away if he shows up again.”
“Will do,” Clint promised. “It’s not likely, though. We didn’t part on the best terms.”
------------------
Shawn turned away in disappointment. The table where he was sitting had been a perfect vantage point; he had managed to see and hear everything. Standing up, he left a tip and snuck out the door while the agent and the bartender were still talking.
Gus, Juliet, and Lassiter gathered around him when he arrived at the meet-point they had agreed upon earlier, a few blocks down the street.
“So, what’s the story?” Gus asked quickly.
“Nothing helpful,” Shawn answered. “Warren was in the bar a while ago, but they don’t know where he is now, and there’s been no sign of Annie.”
Juliet looked upset. “If they’d gotten the Alert out sooner, we might have caught him!”
“Maybe,” Lassiter said grimly; “but they didn’t, so we just have to work with what we have.”
“What do we have?” Gus looked at Shawn.
Shawn counted off on his fingers as he spoke: “We have…what Joe Warren looks like, where he was last seen, where Annie was last seen, the car, the—wait…”
Juliet’s eyes lit up and she clapped happily. “You got something, didn’t you?”
“Well…not really,” he said slowly. “I have an idea…”
“Let’s hear it,” Lassiter encouraged.
Shawn hesitated before speaking. “Here’s the thing…”
-------------------
The man walked down a narrow alley between two buildings. Looking up at the sky, he grinned at the sight of dark storm clouds. He lifted his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply. As he reached the end of the alley where it intersected with a larger street, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it with his heel. He turned onto the street and strolled down it, peering aimlessly through store windows. A TV screen flickered in one, and he paused to watch it. After a moment, he started to walk again, and then stopped in his tracks and looked back.
His own face stared back at him, with his name displayed in bold letters across the screen.
Joe Warren turned pale as the news program continued. When it was over he glanced nervously from side to side. Hurriedly, he returned to the alley. He thought for a few seconds and then proceeded to make his way along back roads and more alleyways.
Arriving successfully at his destination, he examined it carefully. He was in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Trying to recall the details from his single previous visit, he strode carefully along the wall on the right until he reached a black door without a knob. He lifted his fist and rapped sharply on it three times.
“Who’s there?” inquired a voice from the other side.
“Joe Warren.”
After a moment of silence, the door clicked and swung open. Stepping through, Joe pulled it closed with the knob on the inside.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?” asked the man standing in front of him.
Joe chuckled. “Been there, done that.”
“So what’re you doing here?”
“I need a place to stay for a while,” Joe told him.
“Okay, wait here. I gotta go check something in the back.”
Joe nodded, and watched pensively as the man left. After a waiting for only a moment, he followed quietly. Arriving outside a small office-like room, Joe stopped and stood next to the wall, listening.
“He’s here,” said the man he had followed.
Joe started. He hadn’t seen anyone else there when he had glanced in.
“A few minutes ago,” the man continued, as if he were answering someone.
Realizing he was on the phone, Joe stiffened at the words.
“Okay.” The phone clicked as it was hung up.
When the man stepped out of the room, Joe was waiting. Grabbing him by the throat, he threw him violently up against the wall. His eyes flickered as the man reached for his belt. Joe’s hand darted forward and he pulled out the hidden gun his captive had been trying to get to.
The man cursed as Joe held it to his head.
“Desert eagle point oh five, nice,” Joe stated calmly. “Now, I’m sure you know the power of this beauty. Can you imagine the damage it would do this close?”
The man gulped nervously, his eyes tracing the path of the gun as Joe ran the muzzle slowly down his temple and across his throat.
“So, tell me…what is going on? Who were you talking to? Why would you tell someone I am here?”
Joe chuckled at the man’s silence. “Come now, it will be much easier if you just answer me. After all, you may like your head, but I do not happen to share that affinity.”
Sweat beaded on the forehead of the other man, but still, he said nothing.
“Hmm, interesting,” Joe remarked, grasping the man’s jaw firmly with his free hand. “Someone holds the key to this lock.” He gazed into the eyes in front of him. “But no worries; there are other ways of getting in.”
Cocking the gun, he stepped back and then shrugged. “You had your chance.” He aimed and fired two shots.
The man screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground.
“Oh shut up,” Joe said coldly. “You’re alive, aren’t you? If you’re smart, you may even be able to walk again, but if you’re not…” he aimed the weapon; “let me put it this way…are you fond of your hands?”
The man groaned and lifted his hand, flattening it against the wall and giving him an easy target.
Joe lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t used to finding people so loyal…either that or the man was terrified of whoever was keeping him quiet. It would not be a problem, though. Sooner or later, they all caved; they always did. As he pulled the trigger, something stung his neck, causing him to lose his concentration. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, missing his target completely. Joe raised a hand to his neck in confusion, staggering. Seconds later, he fell heavily to the floor and blacked out.
The gaze of the wounded man followed his descent and then snapped back up. His eyes widened in recognition.
“Thank God! What took you so long?” he exclaimed with relief.
“Did you tell him anything?”
“No, nothing,” the man said.
The newcomers glanced at each other.
The man struggled unsuccessfully to get up. “Hey, you wanna give me a hand here?”
The leader of the group stepped forward and picked the gun off the floor, where it had fallen out of Joe’s hand.
“Sorry,” he said, pointing it at the man without a trace of emotion. “We have no need for you anymore.”
The man froze in horror as he pulled the trigger.
Handing the gun to someone else, the leader gestured towards the lifeless body.
“You know what to do.”
--------------------
“…I’m gonna need one of those things with the pictures.”
Lassiter, Juliet, and Gus stared at Shawn blankly.
“C’mon, you know…those…uh…what the heck are they called? Do they even have names? I bet they don’t give them names on purpose just to confuse—”
“Shawn!” Gus interrupted.
“What?”
“We have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, look…the cops use them all the time. The FBI dude just showed one to the bartender…it had a picture of Warren and a bunch of other guys that look kinda like him. The person you’re talking to is supposed to point out the picture they recognize…”
“Ohhh,” Lassiter and Juliet said, understanding at the same time.
“We can get one at the station,” Lassiter told him.
“Sweet! Let’s go!” Shawn tripped as Lassiter pulled him back by his elbow. “What?” he asked, trying to free his arm from the other man’s grip.
“You haven’t told us what your plan is,” Lassiter reminded him.
“I have to tell you? Can’t you guys just follow my lead?” Seeing their expressions, Shawn said, “I guess not,” and sighed. “Fine, I was just thinking that since the FBI is sure that Warren is the kidnapper and they already know the plates of his car, they probably haven’t checked with the impoundment lot; and since we know Annie was taken in the car, but the driver was wearing a mask, we could find out who was working when the car was picked up, and show them the pictures…”
“And find out if it really was Warren!” Juliet finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“Alright,” Lassiter said; “let’s hope this gets us something new.”
Getting into the Head Detective’s car, they rode back to the station. Lassiter told the rest of them to wait while he went to get the paper they needed.
Shawn sat on someone’s desk and fiddled with the objects on it as Gus and Juliet talked. Someone called his name sharply, causing him to jump in surprise and slide awkwardly off the desk.
“Oh…hi dad, what are you still doing here?”
“Never mind that, why are you here? You know you’re off the case.” Henry looked at him sternly, waiting for an answer and completely ignoring Gus and Juliet.
“Uh, well…I’m just…helping...notwiththecaseofcourse—” Shawn stuttered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. He decided that claiming aliens had dragged him back probably wouldn’t appease the former policeman.
Suddenly, Henry looked up and Shawn felt an arm settle on his shoulders.
“Time to go, Shawn; stop dawdling. This may not be the case you wanted, but it’s still important.”
Shawn sighed gratefully at Lassiter’s intervention. “Right, sorry. Gotta go, dad; bye.”
“Wait,” Henry said, stopping them. “You’re working on a different case?”
Shawn opened his mouth to answer, but Lassiter spoke first.
“That’s correct. If you’ll excuse us, we do have to get going.”
Henry nodded, almost reluctantly. “Just don’t forget you still have a job to finish,” he said.
“Kay,” Shawn replied, already heading in the opposite direction. Once they were outside he said in annoyance, “Man, is it not enough for him that he got to order me around for 18 years? Now he has to come to my job and bother me too?”
Gus walked up to Shawn, a look of understanding on his face. “He’s not here now; you’re the one solving the cases, not him.”
Shawn smiled back at his friend. “I know. Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem.”
Getting back on track, Shawn walked to the car. The others followed, and they set off for the impoundment lot.
When they arrived, they headed over to question the officer at the main entrance.
“Can I help you?” asked the officer.
Shawn and Lassiter started to speak at the same time.
Grinning, Shawn bowed slightly, allowing the detective to take the lead.
The corner of Lassiter’s mouth twitched slightly in what might have been construed as a smile by those who knew him well. Turning to the officer, he showed the man his badge.
“Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, SBPD. We need to ask a few questions.”
“Alright, what do you need to know?”
“Do you have a record of who was on duty when the car with license plate number J-L-K-0-2-5-1 was picked up?”
“Yeah, hold on a second,” the man affirmed, shuffling through some papers. Finding the right one he ran his finger down the list. “You said J-L-K-0-2-5-1, right?”
“Yup,” Shawn answered.
“…5-1…here it is…Jeremy signed that one out—Officer Danes.” The officer pointed him out, saying, “He’s over there if you want to talk to him.”
Thanking him, they walked over to the other officer. Lassiter introduced himself once again, and explained that they needed to talk to him about the car.
“Do you remember who picked it up?” the detective asked.
“What kind of car was it?”
“A silver Toyota Camry.”
“Oh, yeah,” the officer said. “I remember that one; it was picked up on Sunday. The driver…I think it was a Warren…Joe Warren, if I’m not mistaken.”
Shawn and Lassiter exchanged glances while Gus looked at Juliet in disappointment. Lassiter pulled out the paper with the photos on it.
“One last thing…would you mind pointing him out?”
Officer Danes seemed confused by the request, but agreed. Taking the paper, he scanned the faces carefully. Shaking his head, he said, “He’s not on here.”
Juliet’s eyes widened, and Gus squeezed her hand nervously.
“You’re sure?” Lassiter said urgently.
“Absolutely. Although, the guy in the bottom left here actually looks a lot like him…in fact, I think I recognize him…but he’s not the one who got the car.”
Grimly, Lassiter took the paper back. “We’re going to need you to come back to the station. Can you get off now?”
“I guess so; Kyle can cover my shift. What’s going on?”
“Long story,” Lassiter started, leading the way back to the car.
As the others followed behind them, Gus said slowly, “So if Joe Warren isn’t the one who picked up the car, who has Annie? And where is Warren?”
-------------------
Agent Grist walked back into the police station where he had set up a temporary operations center. As he headed back to his desk, another agent hurried up to him and quickly brought him up to date.
“Do any of the calls seem legitimate?” Grist asked.
“We’re still investigating, but none have led to anything yet,” the agent answered.
“Let me know if something comes through.”
“Yessir.”
Grist watched the agent leave, and then strode down a hallway into an empty room. Locking the door, he hit the speed dial on his phone. After two rings, someone answered.
“Yes?”
“We have Warren,” Grist said shortly.
“Good.” The dial tone sounded as the person on the other side of the line hung up.
Grist closed the phone and exited the room.
To Be Continued…
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A/N: Sorry for the wait; this is actually pretty hard to write—lots of details. Anyway, I’m nearing the end of this semester and I have finals coming up soon, ugh, so I don’t know when the next chapter will be ready. Review please! I want to know what y’all are thinking!
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Author: g0shawk
Fandom: Psych
Rating: PG13
Characters: Shawn, Lassiter, Jules, Gus, Buzz, Chief Vick, Henry
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Summary: A serial killer is released, and there's an Easter egg hunt at the SBPD. What could go wrong?
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or its characters, etc.
Notes: This is 3rd in the Unexpected series. Previous stories: Unexpected Valentine and St. Patrick's Day.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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Juliet sat up as Gus jogged towards her desk. From the corner of her eye she saw Lassiter and Shawn look up at the same time.
“Gus?” she asked, wondering if something was wrong.
He arrived at their area, panting slightly. “Th—the AMBER Alert…they’ve started it, and it’s on the TV over there…” he paused to point his thumb over his shoulder in the direction he had come from. “I thought you might want to see it.”
Juliet felt herself relax at his words. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She turned to the other two men. “Are you coming?”
“Of course,” Shawn replied, standing up.
Lassiter nodded and joined them.
They hurried to the TV, getting there just in time to see a complete repeat of the announcement. The news reporter spoke the information aloud while pictures were displayed on the screen. First it showed Annie; they had a fairly recent photo, thankfully. After giving out basic facts about her, a copy of Joe Warren’s mug shot appeared, along with his name and the license plate number of his car.
By the time the reporter had started to read out the number to call, a crowd had gathered in the station. Officers shook their heads morosely and discussed the case with each other.
Ducking away, Juliet returned to her desk. When the others were back as well, she asked, “Are we going to tell them about the—”
“No,” Lassiter interrupted. “They have his plates already, and even if they saw that the driver was wearing a mask, they wouldn’t do anything to change their course of action. We still don’t know where she is. By telling them, we would just be revealing ourselves, and then we wouldn’t be able to help.”
Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance.
A commotion had broken out down the hall, by the chief’s office. Seconds later, FBI agents started pouring out of the room, speaking urgently to each other and through comms.
“What’s going on?” Gus asked Juliet.
She crossed her arms, saying, “Why do you always ask me questions like that?”
“Questions like what?”
“That I obviously can’t answer. I’ve been right here the whole time, just like you; how would I know?”
Gus looked pensive for a moment. “I—sorry, I don’t—I guess I just feel like you know everything.” He glanced at her sheepishly.
“Oh.” Her face softened.
“Hey guys,” Shawn said, smirking; “can we save the lovey-dovey for later, ‘cause otherwise I’m gonna feel like I’m neglecting Lassy-face here.” He elbowed the detective lightly.
Lassiter flushed, and pulled away.
Giggling at his expression, Juliet apologized and turned back to observe the scene in front of them. “Maybe they got a call,” she mused.
Shawn perked up at that. “Let’s follow them!”
“I don’t think—” Gus started.
“C’mon!” Shawn called, already halfway down the hallway.
Shaking their heads and sighing, they took off after him.
---------------
Clint sighed as he saw several cars pull up outside the bar. Why does everything happen here? Reaching under the counter he pulled out a pile of papers held together by a rubber band. He removed one sheet and returned the rest to their previous location.
Minutes later, a group of men came through the door together. The man in front approached Clint, asking seriously, “Are you the bartender, Clint Hill?”
“That’s right,” Clint nodded. “And you must be the FBI.”
“Yes, I’m Agent Grist.” The man placed a piece of paper in front of Clint. “Do you see the man who was in here?”
Clint gazed down at the eight photos arranged on the paper. The subjects all looked rather similar: white, male, brown hair. He spotted the man from earlier immediately, in the bottom left-hand corner. Pointing at it, he said confidently, “That’s him.”
“Are you sure?” Grist pressed. “Take your time.”
“Don’t have to; it’s him. Same as the one they showed on TV,” Clint replied, jerking his head in that direction.
“Alright. Thank you for calling.”
“Glad to,” Clint said. “I hope you find that little girl; reminds me of my own.”
Grist nodded in response. “I’ll need your full name, phone number, addre—” he stopped in surprise as Clint handed him a piece of paper with all the information already on it. “I guess this isn’t your first time dealing with police,” he said wryly, folding the paper and tucking it into his notebook.
Clint rolled his eyes. “Nowhere near.”
The agent chuckled. “We’ll keep in touch; let us know right away if he shows up again.”
“Will do,” Clint promised. “It’s not likely, though. We didn’t part on the best terms.”
------------------
Shawn turned away in disappointment. The table where he was sitting had been a perfect vantage point; he had managed to see and hear everything. Standing up, he left a tip and snuck out the door while the agent and the bartender were still talking.
Gus, Juliet, and Lassiter gathered around him when he arrived at the meet-point they had agreed upon earlier, a few blocks down the street.
“So, what’s the story?” Gus asked quickly.
“Nothing helpful,” Shawn answered. “Warren was in the bar a while ago, but they don’t know where he is now, and there’s been no sign of Annie.”
Juliet looked upset. “If they’d gotten the Alert out sooner, we might have caught him!”
“Maybe,” Lassiter said grimly; “but they didn’t, so we just have to work with what we have.”
“What do we have?” Gus looked at Shawn.
Shawn counted off on his fingers as he spoke: “We have…what Joe Warren looks like, where he was last seen, where Annie was last seen, the car, the—wait…”
Juliet’s eyes lit up and she clapped happily. “You got something, didn’t you?”
“Well…not really,” he said slowly. “I have an idea…”
“Let’s hear it,” Lassiter encouraged.
Shawn hesitated before speaking. “Here’s the thing…”
-------------------
The man walked down a narrow alley between two buildings. Looking up at the sky, he grinned at the sight of dark storm clouds. He lifted his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply. As he reached the end of the alley where it intersected with a larger street, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it with his heel. He turned onto the street and strolled down it, peering aimlessly through store windows. A TV screen flickered in one, and he paused to watch it. After a moment, he started to walk again, and then stopped in his tracks and looked back.
His own face stared back at him, with his name displayed in bold letters across the screen.
Joe Warren turned pale as the news program continued. When it was over he glanced nervously from side to side. Hurriedly, he returned to the alley. He thought for a few seconds and then proceeded to make his way along back roads and more alleyways.
Arriving successfully at his destination, he examined it carefully. He was in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Trying to recall the details from his single previous visit, he strode carefully along the wall on the right until he reached a black door without a knob. He lifted his fist and rapped sharply on it three times.
“Who’s there?” inquired a voice from the other side.
“Joe Warren.”
After a moment of silence, the door clicked and swung open. Stepping through, Joe pulled it closed with the knob on the inside.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?” asked the man standing in front of him.
Joe chuckled. “Been there, done that.”
“So what’re you doing here?”
“I need a place to stay for a while,” Joe told him.
“Okay, wait here. I gotta go check something in the back.”
Joe nodded, and watched pensively as the man left. After a waiting for only a moment, he followed quietly. Arriving outside a small office-like room, Joe stopped and stood next to the wall, listening.
“He’s here,” said the man he had followed.
Joe started. He hadn’t seen anyone else there when he had glanced in.
“A few minutes ago,” the man continued, as if he were answering someone.
Realizing he was on the phone, Joe stiffened at the words.
“Okay.” The phone clicked as it was hung up.
When the man stepped out of the room, Joe was waiting. Grabbing him by the throat, he threw him violently up against the wall. His eyes flickered as the man reached for his belt. Joe’s hand darted forward and he pulled out the hidden gun his captive had been trying to get to.
The man cursed as Joe held it to his head.
“Desert eagle point oh five, nice,” Joe stated calmly. “Now, I’m sure you know the power of this beauty. Can you imagine the damage it would do this close?”
The man gulped nervously, his eyes tracing the path of the gun as Joe ran the muzzle slowly down his temple and across his throat.
“So, tell me…what is going on? Who were you talking to? Why would you tell someone I am here?”
Joe chuckled at the man’s silence. “Come now, it will be much easier if you just answer me. After all, you may like your head, but I do not happen to share that affinity.”
Sweat beaded on the forehead of the other man, but still, he said nothing.
“Hmm, interesting,” Joe remarked, grasping the man’s jaw firmly with his free hand. “Someone holds the key to this lock.” He gazed into the eyes in front of him. “But no worries; there are other ways of getting in.”
Cocking the gun, he stepped back and then shrugged. “You had your chance.” He aimed and fired two shots.
The man screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground.
“Oh shut up,” Joe said coldly. “You’re alive, aren’t you? If you’re smart, you may even be able to walk again, but if you’re not…” he aimed the weapon; “let me put it this way…are you fond of your hands?”
The man groaned and lifted his hand, flattening it against the wall and giving him an easy target.
Joe lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t used to finding people so loyal…either that or the man was terrified of whoever was keeping him quiet. It would not be a problem, though. Sooner or later, they all caved; they always did. As he pulled the trigger, something stung his neck, causing him to lose his concentration. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, missing his target completely. Joe raised a hand to his neck in confusion, staggering. Seconds later, he fell heavily to the floor and blacked out.
The gaze of the wounded man followed his descent and then snapped back up. His eyes widened in recognition.
“Thank God! What took you so long?” he exclaimed with relief.
“Did you tell him anything?”
“No, nothing,” the man said.
The newcomers glanced at each other.
The man struggled unsuccessfully to get up. “Hey, you wanna give me a hand here?”
The leader of the group stepped forward and picked the gun off the floor, where it had fallen out of Joe’s hand.
“Sorry,” he said, pointing it at the man without a trace of emotion. “We have no need for you anymore.”
The man froze in horror as he pulled the trigger.
Handing the gun to someone else, the leader gestured towards the lifeless body.
“You know what to do.”
--------------------
“…I’m gonna need one of those things with the pictures.”
Lassiter, Juliet, and Gus stared at Shawn blankly.
“C’mon, you know…those…uh…what the heck are they called? Do they even have names? I bet they don’t give them names on purpose just to confuse—”
“Shawn!” Gus interrupted.
“What?”
“We have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, look…the cops use them all the time. The FBI dude just showed one to the bartender…it had a picture of Warren and a bunch of other guys that look kinda like him. The person you’re talking to is supposed to point out the picture they recognize…”
“Ohhh,” Lassiter and Juliet said, understanding at the same time.
“We can get one at the station,” Lassiter told him.
“Sweet! Let’s go!” Shawn tripped as Lassiter pulled him back by his elbow. “What?” he asked, trying to free his arm from the other man’s grip.
“You haven’t told us what your plan is,” Lassiter reminded him.
“I have to tell you? Can’t you guys just follow my lead?” Seeing their expressions, Shawn said, “I guess not,” and sighed. “Fine, I was just thinking that since the FBI is sure that Warren is the kidnapper and they already know the plates of his car, they probably haven’t checked with the impoundment lot; and since we know Annie was taken in the car, but the driver was wearing a mask, we could find out who was working when the car was picked up, and show them the pictures…”
“And find out if it really was Warren!” Juliet finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“Alright,” Lassiter said; “let’s hope this gets us something new.”
Getting into the Head Detective’s car, they rode back to the station. Lassiter told the rest of them to wait while he went to get the paper they needed.
Shawn sat on someone’s desk and fiddled with the objects on it as Gus and Juliet talked. Someone called his name sharply, causing him to jump in surprise and slide awkwardly off the desk.
“Oh…hi dad, what are you still doing here?”
“Never mind that, why are you here? You know you’re off the case.” Henry looked at him sternly, waiting for an answer and completely ignoring Gus and Juliet.
“Uh, well…I’m just…helping...notwiththecaseofcourse—” Shawn stuttered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. He decided that claiming aliens had dragged him back probably wouldn’t appease the former policeman.
Suddenly, Henry looked up and Shawn felt an arm settle on his shoulders.
“Time to go, Shawn; stop dawdling. This may not be the case you wanted, but it’s still important.”
Shawn sighed gratefully at Lassiter’s intervention. “Right, sorry. Gotta go, dad; bye.”
“Wait,” Henry said, stopping them. “You’re working on a different case?”
Shawn opened his mouth to answer, but Lassiter spoke first.
“That’s correct. If you’ll excuse us, we do have to get going.”
Henry nodded, almost reluctantly. “Just don’t forget you still have a job to finish,” he said.
“Kay,” Shawn replied, already heading in the opposite direction. Once they were outside he said in annoyance, “Man, is it not enough for him that he got to order me around for 18 years? Now he has to come to my job and bother me too?”
Gus walked up to Shawn, a look of understanding on his face. “He’s not here now; you’re the one solving the cases, not him.”
Shawn smiled back at his friend. “I know. Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem.”
Getting back on track, Shawn walked to the car. The others followed, and they set off for the impoundment lot.
When they arrived, they headed over to question the officer at the main entrance.
“Can I help you?” asked the officer.
Shawn and Lassiter started to speak at the same time.
Grinning, Shawn bowed slightly, allowing the detective to take the lead.
The corner of Lassiter’s mouth twitched slightly in what might have been construed as a smile by those who knew him well. Turning to the officer, he showed the man his badge.
“Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, SBPD. We need to ask a few questions.”
“Alright, what do you need to know?”
“Do you have a record of who was on duty when the car with license plate number J-L-K-0-2-5-1 was picked up?”
“Yeah, hold on a second,” the man affirmed, shuffling through some papers. Finding the right one he ran his finger down the list. “You said J-L-K-0-2-5-1, right?”
“Yup,” Shawn answered.
“…5-1…here it is…Jeremy signed that one out—Officer Danes.” The officer pointed him out, saying, “He’s over there if you want to talk to him.”
Thanking him, they walked over to the other officer. Lassiter introduced himself once again, and explained that they needed to talk to him about the car.
“Do you remember who picked it up?” the detective asked.
“What kind of car was it?”
“A silver Toyota Camry.”
“Oh, yeah,” the officer said. “I remember that one; it was picked up on Sunday. The driver…I think it was a Warren…Joe Warren, if I’m not mistaken.”
Shawn and Lassiter exchanged glances while Gus looked at Juliet in disappointment. Lassiter pulled out the paper with the photos on it.
“One last thing…would you mind pointing him out?”
Officer Danes seemed confused by the request, but agreed. Taking the paper, he scanned the faces carefully. Shaking his head, he said, “He’s not on here.”
Juliet’s eyes widened, and Gus squeezed her hand nervously.
“You’re sure?” Lassiter said urgently.
“Absolutely. Although, the guy in the bottom left here actually looks a lot like him…in fact, I think I recognize him…but he’s not the one who got the car.”
Grimly, Lassiter took the paper back. “We’re going to need you to come back to the station. Can you get off now?”
“I guess so; Kyle can cover my shift. What’s going on?”
“Long story,” Lassiter started, leading the way back to the car.
As the others followed behind them, Gus said slowly, “So if Joe Warren isn’t the one who picked up the car, who has Annie? And where is Warren?”
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Agent Grist walked back into the police station where he had set up a temporary operations center. As he headed back to his desk, another agent hurried up to him and quickly brought him up to date.
“Do any of the calls seem legitimate?” Grist asked.
“We’re still investigating, but none have led to anything yet,” the agent answered.
“Let me know if something comes through.”
“Yessir.”
Grist watched the agent leave, and then strode down a hallway into an empty room. Locking the door, he hit the speed dial on his phone. After two rings, someone answered.
“Yes?”
“We have Warren,” Grist said shortly.
“Good.” The dial tone sounded as the person on the other side of the line hung up.
Grist closed the phone and exited the room.
To Be Continued…
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A/N: Sorry for the wait; this is actually pretty hard to write—lots of details. Anyway, I’m nearing the end of this semester and I have finals coming up soon, ugh, so I don’t know when the next chapter will be ready. Review please! I want to know what y’all are thinking!
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