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g0shawkTitle: Prisoner 1783 (4/?)
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
Chapter 3
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Gus entered the station, sighing as he found it to be in the same state as it had been when he left. If not for the group of men in suits occupying a rather large corner of the building, one would assume it was just business as usual. There was no other sign that mere hours ago a little girl had gone missing, and that there was currently an investigation and a massive search going on. The regular officers of the SBPD were no longer involved in the case, as they were needed for all of their common everyday duties. Gus had found this a bit confusing at first; it had seemed to him that in a case like this, all other crimes would simply disappear, allowing the police to deal with what was clearly most important. But that was not how it worked, and he had to concede that the thought had been slightly ridiculous. The thieves were still stealing, and the drug dealers were still selling—they weren’t about to stop. It wasn’t as though the police could just call a “time out.” So while the FBI agents continued to take calls and follow leads pertaining to Annie’s disappearance, the members of the SBPD dealt with minor crimes and traffic problems. Well, most of them that is. In a small area--the Head Detective’s to be precise--a minor rebellion was taking place.
Walking over to join his co-conspirators, Gus set a bag of sandwiches on the desk.
“Thanks man,” Shawn said, lunging to grab one, forcing Juliet and Lassiter to have to jump back to avoid him. “I’m starving,” he added, ignoring their glares as he tore open the wrapping.
“Well, maybe if you got up earlier you would have had time for breakfast,” Gus chided.
“I wamph uph earwy,” Shawn said with his mouth full.
Gus crinkled his nose in disgust. “You know, Shawn, it’s easier to understand people when they talk without food in their mouth.”
“I said, I was up early,” Shawn repeated indignantly. “Dad called at nine-thirty and forced me to go over!”
Juliet choked as Lassiter grinned. “Sorry,” she said, seeing Shawn’s bewildered expression. Trying to keep her face blank, she added, “So…nine-thirty is early for you, huh?”
Gus snorted. “I’ve called him at two in the afternoon and had him complain about me waking him up.”
While Juliet laughed, Lassiter’s grin grew. “You think that’s something…I set the alarm once to—” he stopped, remembering where they were. Glancing over at Officer Danes, who seemed to not be listening, he coughed nervously and said, “Well, you get the idea.”
Calming down a bit, they finished eating, and Lassiter got up to check on Officer Danes, who was concentrating on Lassiter’s computer screen. They had set up the system to filter through anyone who had a record and fit a description similar to the man Danes had seen. Even with the limited results, however, it was taking a while to find a match. The officer had been sitting at the desk for more than forty minutes.
“How’s it going?” Lassiter inquired, coming up behind him to peer at the screen.
“All right,” the officer responded. “I’ve recognized a few, but none are the guy you’re looking for. Still got a lot to go through, though. Good thing you’ve got me and not a civilian or you’d have one angry customer in your hands by now.”
Lassiter gave a short laugh. “I know the type. Thanks for your help.”
“Sure.”
Lassiter clapped him on the shoulder and re-joined the others. About fifteen minutes later, their conversation was interrupted when Danes suddenly exclaimed, “That’s him!”
They rushed over to look.
“Who is he?” Lassiter asked.
“His name’s Greg Sheridan,” Danes replied.
As they crowded behind the officer, leaning over to see better, Gus commented, “He does look like Warren.”
Lassiter nodded grimly. “There’s no way this guy planned all of this out by himself. Something else is going on here. Look at his record—he’s got a decent rap sheet, but he’s never been involved in anything major like this.”
“So what now?” Gus asked, glancing from Lassiter to Juliet.
Reaching forward, Lassiter took the mouse from Danes and printed the page. He turned back to face them. “Now we have something substantial to show the FBI. If we find Greg Sheridan…we could find Annie.”
----------------
Agent Grist checked his watch. “All right people, it’s five o’clock. The girl’s been missing for about seven hours now. How are the calls going?”
Just as an agent hurried up and started talking, a man Grist recognized as the Head Detective of the SBPD walked in, followed by two men he didn’t know and a young blond woman who seemed to be a detective as well. Putting his hand up to silence the agent, Grist stepped forward to greet them. “Head Detective—” he started as a greeting, offering his hand.
“Lassiter,” the detective said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Carlton Lassiter.”
“Right, what can I do for you, Detective Lassiter?” he asked.
“Actually, I believe we might be able to do something for you,” Lassiter told him.
“Oh?” Grist raised his eyebrows. He listened silently as the detective explained how he and his colleagues had pursued several leads on their own, and discovered something of interest. His thoughts whirled as Lassiter talked, and his alarm grew when he was handed a sheet of paper with a face he knew only too well. Hiding his feelings behind a stoic mask, he waited for the detective to finish speaking.
“So…” Grist said slowly, trying not to panic. “You’re saying you specifically disobeyed orders to stand down from this case, and spent the time you could have been using to fight crime pursuing meaningless leads instead.”
Lassiter and the other members of his little posse stared at him in shock.
The Head Detective’s face started to turn red. “Meaningless leads? Well, excuse me, but--” he stopped as Grist held his hand up, looking bored.
“You are dismissed, and don’t plan on wasting any more of my time.” When the detective opened his mouth angrily, Grist added, “I suggest you leave now if you have any interest whatsoever in keeping your job.”
Lassiter’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Finally, clenching his jaw, he spun around and stalked out of the room.
One of the other men watched him go, and then stepped towards Grist, only to be grabbed and dragged away by the blond and the remaining man.
As soon as they were out of sight, Grist heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back against a desk. The agent who had been talking to him before approached, but Grist waved him off. Standing up, he walked into the first empty room he came across, and closed the door. Hitting the speed dial on his phone again, he peered down at the paper he still held.
Someone on the other side of the line picked up. “What is it?”
Still looking at the face on the paper, Grist said nervously, “We have a problem…”
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“What the hell was that?” Lassiter exclaimed furiously, standing back at his desk.
Gus and Juliet eyed him uneasily from a few feet away. Only Shawn was brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough, to approach him.
“Look, Lassy--”
“No Spencer!” the detective shouted, directing his rage towards the other man. “Don’t ‘Lassy’ me, you almost cost me my job!”
“Whoa there,” Shawn said, putting his hands up and backing away. “What are you--”
“Just get the hell out of here you son of a b--”
“Detective Lassiter!”
They all turned to see Chief Vick staring at Lassiter, looking shocked. “What is going on here?!”
While Lassiter argued with Vick, Shawn slipped away unnoticed. When he got outside, he walked to the car in a daze. Realizing that he didn’t have the keys, he leaned back against the side and slid down to the ground. Folding his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them, rested his head against the driver’s door, and closed his eyes.
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When Gus finally managed to tear his gaze away from the scene in front of him, he looked around to find that his friend was nowhere in sight. Getting a sinking feeling, he excused himself from Juliet, whose eyes were still glued to the scene. A quick walk around the station verified that Shawn wasn’t there. Stepping outside, Gus peered around and then walked to the car. He relaxed slightly as he saw Shawn resting against the side.
“Shawn?”
Getting no answer, he crouched down next to him. “Shawn,” he repeated softly.
Without opening his eyes, Shawn said dully, “He’s never yelled at me before. Not like that. I mean, we’ve had arguments, and you know how he got annoyed at me in the station…before we got together. But…that was different.”
Gus sighed. Not knowing what else to do, he reached over and pulled Shawn into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, patting him awkwardly on the back.
Shawn sniffed and mumbled something into Gus’s shirt.
“What?” Gus said.
Shawn leaned back and looked seriously into his friend’s eyes.
“Would it be wrong for me to kiss you right now?” Shawn asked innocently.
Gus gave him the look he saved especially for Shawn when he was being crazy or ridiculous or annoying or, well, Shawn. “In so many ways.”
“Oh come on, you know you want me to,” Shawn teased.
“No, no I don’t…Shawn, Shawn!” Gus pushed him away as Shawn leaned towards him making kissing noises.
Shawn grinned at the slightly panicked look on his friend’s face. “Gus, don’t be such a scaredy-cat. I was just kidding. Besides, if we hooked up, who would be left to be my best friend?” Jumping up, he started tugging at the door handle, regardless of the fact that it was obviously locked. “So,” he said excitedly. “Ready to go?”
Gus stood up, glaring at him. “Would you stop that? You know it’s locked. Go where?”
“To follow our next meaningless lead, of course!” Shawn grinned.
Gus couldn’t help but smile back. Grabbing the keys and unlocking the car, he got in after Shawn and started the engine. Looking at his friend, he said, “Which way?”
-------------------
Lassiter sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He knew he was lucky he hadn’t been suspended after everything that had happened, but all he could think about was Shawn. He groaned as he agonized over what to do. His first impulse had been to go after the younger man, but he realized that leaving his job was probably not the best idea at the moment. He had picked up his phone to call Shawn, had even dialed the number, but he hung up after only one ring. What would I say? he wondered wearily.
Suddenly, a quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. “Detective Lassiter?”
He looked up to see his partner peering at him in concern. He sighed. “Yes, O’Hara?”
“Um…we have a case,” she said carefully.
Lassiter jumped up hastily, nearly knocking a stack of papers off his desk. “What are you waiting for?” he said sharply. “Let’s go.”
He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he grabbed his jacket. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. At least I have something to distract me now. As he strode towards the door, O’Hara nearly had to jog to keep up with his pace. “So, what’s the story?” he asked her.
“We got an anonymous call,” she told him as they left the station and headed for the cruiser. “Someone found a body.”
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They arrived at their destination within minutes; Lassiter had used the siren despite the look Juliet had given him when he put it on the roof of the car. Luckily, she had the good sense to stay silent. Normally Lassiter would not have used it in a non-emergency situation such as this, but he couldn’t stand having more time to think; his mind was driving him crazy. He just wanted something to keep him busy—very very busy.
CSU was already there, and officers were putting tape up even though it wasn’t likely that anyone would be in around in this isolated area. The scene of the crime wasn’t even outside—it was in an abandoned warehouse.
Fortunately for the officer guarding the entrance, he recognized Lassiter immediately, and let him through right away. In the mood he was in at the moment, Lassiter wasn’t sure what he would have done if the man had stopped him. He could be sure none of the possible situations that had flashed through his mind had involved simply showing the officer his badge.
As he walked through the warehouse he glanced around, scanning the surroundings. Ignoring O’Hara, who was still following behind him, he stepped through a handle-less black door, which had been propped open with a box. Noting a video camera in a corner near the ceiling of the room, slightly hidden behind a lamp, he said curtly, “I’ll need to see that tape.” Not waiting for an answer, he continued through the next door. It wasn’t his problem if O’Hara failed to keep up.
Spotting the body of the victim against a wall, Lassiter strode over briskly and started to question one of the officers milling around.
-----------------
After taking a look at the body, Juliet returned to the room with the camera. Peering up at it, she scowled and grabbed a chair. She placed the chair underneath and then stood on it, testing it quickly beforehand to make sure it could hold her weight. “Don’t know why I bother,” she muttered. Reaching into the camera, she pulled out the tape and inspected it briefly. It was a standard tape—a standard video camera, actually. Glancing up again, she paused, something bothering her. Why is there a video camera in a supposedly empty warehouse? And why not an actual security camera? This is just a hand-held camcorder—nothing special. The tape wouldn’t even last very long, so what’s the point? Unless someone wanted to tape something specific… She tried to find how the camera was attached to the wall, and sighed when she saw that it had been connected to some sort of device that would need a screwdriver to be removed. Thinking for a moment, she stepped down from the chair and hurried outside, calling over the first CSU member she saw.
Minutes later, she returned to the room, this time with a screwdriver. Good thing they had one, she thought as she got back on the chair and started to remove the camera from the wall. When she was done unscrewing it, Juliet took it down and, pulling the tape from her pocket, placed it back in the camera. Sitting down on the chair, she rewound it and then pushed the play button.
------------------
Lassiter was crouching near the body, examining it, when Juliet rushed over to him.
“Detective Lassiter!” she said excitedly.
He didn’t bother looking up. Annoyed by the interruption, he growled, “Later, O’Hara.”
“You have to see this! It’s--”
“Can it wait?” Lassiter interrupted, his tone suggesting that it had better. “As you can see, I’m busy tr--”
“It’s Warren!” Juliet continued, too excited to care about his mood.
Turning, Lassiter looked at her sharply. “What?”
“Look!” she showed him the video camera; she had paused it on the face of the man who was clearly Warren. “He was here,” she told him. “Maybe he was the one who did this.” She gestured at the scene in front of them.
Lassiter stood up, suddenly feeling better. “We’re going to need the results on those fingerprints ASAP. I know someone who might be able to push them through faster. “And I’ll need this,” he added, taking the camera from Juliet’s hands. As he started to walk away, he paused and looked back, clearing his throat lightly. “Oh, and O’Hara?”
“Yes sir?”
“Good job,” he said shortly, before walking off.
Juliet smiled as she watched him go. It was a start.
-----------------
“Turn right up ahead,” Shawn said absently, staring out the window as the scenery rolled past.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” Gus asked, following his directions.
“And ruin the fun?” Shawn teased. “Nah.”
Gus rolled his eyes. They became silent again. As the minutes passed, he tensed up, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. When Shawn still didn’t say anything, Gus cracked. “Shawn, why don’t you just--”
“No,” his friend said darkly, before he could finish.
“But he—” Gus tried again.
“No. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Shawn said, leaving no room for argument.
Gus sighed, but stayed quiet.
“Two more lefts and then we’re there,” Shawn muttered a little while later.
Several streets later, Gus parked and turned to face his friend. “Shawn, why are we at a prison?”
Shawn looked back at him sadly and put a hand on Gus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he said mournfully. “I can’t hide you anymore…right is right and…wrong is wrong. Don’t worry, you’ll get out in a few years.” Patting his shoulder, Shawn turned back to the door and got out of the car.
Gus got out on his side. Glaring at his friend, he said, “Shawn--”
“Come now, Gus; we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” Shawn walked over and started to steer Gus towards the entrance.
“Shawn—”
“Gus, do I need to call for the nice men in uniforms to come get you?” This time Shawn couldn’t hide a grin. “Ow! What was that for?” The grin became a scowl as he rubbed his arm where Gus had just punched him.
Gus scowled back at him. “Stop messing around. Why are we really here?”
Shawn opened his mouth.
“Seriously,” Gus added firmly.
“Okay, okay,” Shawn surrendered. “We’re here to check in on David Jones, one of Greg Sheridan’s known associates.”
“Greg Sher—the guy who took Warren’s car? But are you sure we can—I mean, that FBI agent said—wait, how do you know who his associates are?” Gus stopped talking, looking puzzled.
Shawn laughed at him. “Since when do we listen to what the cops tell us? And I know his associates ‘cause I saw that paper Lassy printed out, remember?”
“But you only saw the paper for—never mind.” Gus shook his head. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
Shawn just grinned at him and started walking up to the entrance of the building. When they reached the front door, Shawn pushed through, and, putting on his most innocent Bambi expression, approached the main desk. “Hi,” he said shyly to the officer sitting behind it. “I’m here for a conjugal visit.”
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Sitting back in the car, Gus glanced down at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Shawn had been in the prison for over an hour and a half. Somehow he had managed to talk the officer into letting him see Jones alone, leaving Gus behind to worry. Just as Gus was considering going back in to inquire after his friend, Shawn exited the building and jogged towards him.
“Finally!” Gus exclaimed. He turned pale as Shawn got closer. “Shawn, your jeans are unzipped…”
Shawn looked down. “Whoops,” he said, fixing it.
Gus stared at him. “You didn’t seriously—what did you--”
Shrugging, Shawn sat back in the passenger seat. “No big deal.” When he saw that Gus was still gaping at him, he said, “What?”
“What?” Gus spluttered. “What? What do you mean, what? You said you were going in for a conjugal visit, and you come out with—with—”
As Gus’s face started to turn red, Shawn smirked at him. “Dude, you’re making it way too easy for me. Relax, I didn’t do anything; I opened the zipper right before I came out. I’m just playing with you.”
Gus eyed him suspiciously. “You better be. So if you didn’t really…do anything…what did you do?”
“Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”
“I think so, why?” Gus rummaged around in his briefcase and held out a blank sheet. “A pen okay?”
“Sure.” Taking the pen and paper, Shawn started writing. Filling the front of the paper, he turned it over and kept writing.
Gus leaned forward, trying to see what he had written. “What are all those names for?”
“They’re more people Sheridan associates with, and the places where he likes to hang out,” Shawn told him as he finished scribbling.
“Nice,” Gus said. “How’d you get that guy…uh, what was his name?”
“David Jones.”
“Yeah, how’d you get him to tell you all this?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Shawn said, pretending to be hurt. “I have my ways.”
“Fine,” Gus replied, shaking his head. “Let’s just get going.”
“Okay,” Shawn agreed. “We can try this place first.” He pointed at the name of a bar he had written down. “It’s pretty close.”
Within minutes, they were back on the road. Looking over at Shawn, Gus coughed awkwardly. “So…uh…nothing happened?”
Shawn sighed. It was going to be a long night.
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Lassiter stared out his window at Shawn’s apartment. He had been sitting in the car with the engine running for he didn’t even know how long. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned the key. Next step, get out of the car, he thought to himself. He could have just gone back to his own apartment, but he didn’t want to wait any longer to talk to Shawn. Groaning, he opened the door and forced himself to get out. After locking it and stalling for several minutes by checking and re-checking to make sure it had really locked, he ambled up the path to the apartment. The lights had been off since he had arrived, and he was pretty sure Shawn wasn’t there, but he knocked anyway, hesitating slightly beforehand. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, debating whether or not to use his key. Realizing he didn’t know when Shawn would come, and knowing he would lose his nerve if we went back to wait in the car, he let himself in.
He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer, then sat down on the couch to wait. When the silence started to get to him, he mulled over the case to distract himself. The fingerprints they had found on the body had indeed been Warren’s. Lassiter was at an impasse: everything seemed to be pointing him toward Annie’s case, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against the chief’s, let alone Grist’s orders to leave well enough alone. What he wanted most of all was to catch the bad guy, but the FBI seemed to be going in the completely wrong direction. His life had been simple before Shawn came along—so goddamn simple—he did his job, and he did it well. He followed the rulebook (to a certain extent), and he followed orders (when he agreed with them). Now here he was questioning authority and disregarding some of the most basic rules he had learned in the academy. When he took the time to actually think about it, though, a little girl’s life was at stake, and when asked to make a choice between the badge and what his gut was telling him, a criminal justice degree didn’t mean squat.
When the door opened, Lassiter almost didn’t hear it. He looked up right as Shawn stepped inside. The younger man closed the door without looking directly at Lassiter; he didn’t seem surprised to see him. Oh…the car, Lassiter remembered. At least he came in anyway.
“Shawn--” he murmured.
Still avoiding eye contact, Shawn turned into the kitchen without responding.
Lassiter grimaced and stood up. Walking over, he paused a few feet away from Shawn, whose back was to him. “Shawn—” Lassiter reached out a hand to touch him on the shoulder, but Shawn flinched away.
“It wasn’t fair,” Shawn said, finally turning to face him.
“I know,” Lassiter agreed softly. “It wasn’t fair. I was taking my anger out on you because I couldn’t on Grist or Karen…and that’s no excuse, I know…but…I-I’m sorry.” His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out again. “I really am.”
Shawn observed him silently for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Lassiter repeated after him, unsure what he meant.
“As long as you promise never to do it again—” Shawn waited for an affirmation.
“I promise,” Lassiter said solemnly.
“Then I guess we’re hunky-dory,” Shawn grinned. “And tell you what…take it out on Gus next time--”
Lassiter raised his eyebrows.
“I’m kidding,” Shawn said, raising his hands in surrender. “Just kidding!”
Shaking his head, Lassiter cuffed Shawn lightly on the back of his head.
Shawn scowled playfully at him. “You’re going to pay for that…”
“Oh?” Lassiter started backing away, trying to hide a smile. “How?” Giving Shawn one last glance, he headed towards the bedroom.
“You’re evil, you know that?” Shawn shouted after him. “Evil!”
“Yes, and?” Lassiter called back.
Shawn grinned and walked forward in slow motion.
Lassiter, now devoid of his shirt, stuck his head back out of the room. He scowled as he noticed Shawn’s pace. “Or we could just talk about the case and what you’ve been doing all day--”
Shawn’s eyes widened and he rushed past Lassiter saying quickly, “No that’s okay we can talk tomorrow.”
“You sure?” Lassiter inquired, leaning back against the doorframe and folding his arms. “Because--” he stopped as Shawn turned and moved towards him. Putting a hand on Lassiter’s chest, Shawn whispered, “Don’t tease…you know I always win.”
Lassiter knew.
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Fluorescent lights flickered in the quiet station as officers finished up paperwork and janitors rolled cleaning supplies across the floor. Only one section of the building still held a decent-sized group of people. The FBI agents were no longer fielding calls – tips had diminished along with the fading light outside—but there was plenty of investigating still going on.
Agent Grist woke with a start as his phone rang right by his ear. He had been taking a quick nap while he wasn’t needed. Flipping the phone open, he mumbled blearily, “Hello?”
A low voice answered without any sort of introduction. “Two guys were here earlier, askin’ ‘bout Greg Sheridan. Thought you’d wanna know.”
Grist sat up and said sharply, “What? Who were they? What did you tell them?”
“Dunno…said they were friends of some guy…David Jones, I think it was. I tol’ them I hadn’t seen Greg for a couple-a weeks.”
Trying to keep calm, Grist paused before speaking. Something occurred to him, and he asked, “Were they cops?”
The other man snorted. “Not a chance.”
“Then…was it a black man in a suit and a kind of scruffy looking white guy?” Grist continued.
“Yeah,” the man said, surprised. “You know them?”
Grist sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Unfortunately.”
“So what do we do?”
“Give me second!” Grist snapped. Something had to be done about this…somehow these men were finding things they weren’t supposed to find. He needed to cover the tracks, clear up loose ends, throw them off. And that meant…
“We need Sheridan out of the picture…” Grist said slowly.
“Out of—you mean—”
“Yes,” Grist interrupted. “He served his purpose…we don’t need him anymore. Eliminate him.”
“You got it.”
To Be Continued…
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Author’s Note: Sorry again for the wait! This is the longest chapter yet—hope it was good! Thanks for reading!
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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
Chapter 3
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Gus entered the station, sighing as he found it to be in the same state as it had been when he left. If not for the group of men in suits occupying a rather large corner of the building, one would assume it was just business as usual. There was no other sign that mere hours ago a little girl had gone missing, and that there was currently an investigation and a massive search going on. The regular officers of the SBPD were no longer involved in the case, as they were needed for all of their common everyday duties. Gus had found this a bit confusing at first; it had seemed to him that in a case like this, all other crimes would simply disappear, allowing the police to deal with what was clearly most important. But that was not how it worked, and he had to concede that the thought had been slightly ridiculous. The thieves were still stealing, and the drug dealers were still selling—they weren’t about to stop. It wasn’t as though the police could just call a “time out.” So while the FBI agents continued to take calls and follow leads pertaining to Annie’s disappearance, the members of the SBPD dealt with minor crimes and traffic problems. Well, most of them that is. In a small area--the Head Detective’s to be precise--a minor rebellion was taking place.
Walking over to join his co-conspirators, Gus set a bag of sandwiches on the desk.
“Thanks man,” Shawn said, lunging to grab one, forcing Juliet and Lassiter to have to jump back to avoid him. “I’m starving,” he added, ignoring their glares as he tore open the wrapping.
“Well, maybe if you got up earlier you would have had time for breakfast,” Gus chided.
“I wamph uph earwy,” Shawn said with his mouth full.
Gus crinkled his nose in disgust. “You know, Shawn, it’s easier to understand people when they talk without food in their mouth.”
“I said, I was up early,” Shawn repeated indignantly. “Dad called at nine-thirty and forced me to go over!”
Juliet choked as Lassiter grinned. “Sorry,” she said, seeing Shawn’s bewildered expression. Trying to keep her face blank, she added, “So…nine-thirty is early for you, huh?”
Gus snorted. “I’ve called him at two in the afternoon and had him complain about me waking him up.”
While Juliet laughed, Lassiter’s grin grew. “You think that’s something…I set the alarm once to—” he stopped, remembering where they were. Glancing over at Officer Danes, who seemed to not be listening, he coughed nervously and said, “Well, you get the idea.”
Calming down a bit, they finished eating, and Lassiter got up to check on Officer Danes, who was concentrating on Lassiter’s computer screen. They had set up the system to filter through anyone who had a record and fit a description similar to the man Danes had seen. Even with the limited results, however, it was taking a while to find a match. The officer had been sitting at the desk for more than forty minutes.
“How’s it going?” Lassiter inquired, coming up behind him to peer at the screen.
“All right,” the officer responded. “I’ve recognized a few, but none are the guy you’re looking for. Still got a lot to go through, though. Good thing you’ve got me and not a civilian or you’d have one angry customer in your hands by now.”
Lassiter gave a short laugh. “I know the type. Thanks for your help.”
“Sure.”
Lassiter clapped him on the shoulder and re-joined the others. About fifteen minutes later, their conversation was interrupted when Danes suddenly exclaimed, “That’s him!”
They rushed over to look.
“Who is he?” Lassiter asked.
“His name’s Greg Sheridan,” Danes replied.
As they crowded behind the officer, leaning over to see better, Gus commented, “He does look like Warren.”
Lassiter nodded grimly. “There’s no way this guy planned all of this out by himself. Something else is going on here. Look at his record—he’s got a decent rap sheet, but he’s never been involved in anything major like this.”
“So what now?” Gus asked, glancing from Lassiter to Juliet.
Reaching forward, Lassiter took the mouse from Danes and printed the page. He turned back to face them. “Now we have something substantial to show the FBI. If we find Greg Sheridan…we could find Annie.”
----------------
Agent Grist checked his watch. “All right people, it’s five o’clock. The girl’s been missing for about seven hours now. How are the calls going?”
Just as an agent hurried up and started talking, a man Grist recognized as the Head Detective of the SBPD walked in, followed by two men he didn’t know and a young blond woman who seemed to be a detective as well. Putting his hand up to silence the agent, Grist stepped forward to greet them. “Head Detective—” he started as a greeting, offering his hand.
“Lassiter,” the detective said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Carlton Lassiter.”
“Right, what can I do for you, Detective Lassiter?” he asked.
“Actually, I believe we might be able to do something for you,” Lassiter told him.
“Oh?” Grist raised his eyebrows. He listened silently as the detective explained how he and his colleagues had pursued several leads on their own, and discovered something of interest. His thoughts whirled as Lassiter talked, and his alarm grew when he was handed a sheet of paper with a face he knew only too well. Hiding his feelings behind a stoic mask, he waited for the detective to finish speaking.
“So…” Grist said slowly, trying not to panic. “You’re saying you specifically disobeyed orders to stand down from this case, and spent the time you could have been using to fight crime pursuing meaningless leads instead.”
Lassiter and the other members of his little posse stared at him in shock.
The Head Detective’s face started to turn red. “Meaningless leads? Well, excuse me, but--” he stopped as Grist held his hand up, looking bored.
“You are dismissed, and don’t plan on wasting any more of my time.” When the detective opened his mouth angrily, Grist added, “I suggest you leave now if you have any interest whatsoever in keeping your job.”
Lassiter’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Finally, clenching his jaw, he spun around and stalked out of the room.
One of the other men watched him go, and then stepped towards Grist, only to be grabbed and dragged away by the blond and the remaining man.
As soon as they were out of sight, Grist heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back against a desk. The agent who had been talking to him before approached, but Grist waved him off. Standing up, he walked into the first empty room he came across, and closed the door. Hitting the speed dial on his phone again, he peered down at the paper he still held.
Someone on the other side of the line picked up. “What is it?”
Still looking at the face on the paper, Grist said nervously, “We have a problem…”
-------------------
“What the hell was that?” Lassiter exclaimed furiously, standing back at his desk.
Gus and Juliet eyed him uneasily from a few feet away. Only Shawn was brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough, to approach him.
“Look, Lassy--”
“No Spencer!” the detective shouted, directing his rage towards the other man. “Don’t ‘Lassy’ me, you almost cost me my job!”
“Whoa there,” Shawn said, putting his hands up and backing away. “What are you--”
“Just get the hell out of here you son of a b--”
“Detective Lassiter!”
They all turned to see Chief Vick staring at Lassiter, looking shocked. “What is going on here?!”
While Lassiter argued with Vick, Shawn slipped away unnoticed. When he got outside, he walked to the car in a daze. Realizing that he didn’t have the keys, he leaned back against the side and slid down to the ground. Folding his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them, rested his head against the driver’s door, and closed his eyes.
------------------
When Gus finally managed to tear his gaze away from the scene in front of him, he looked around to find that his friend was nowhere in sight. Getting a sinking feeling, he excused himself from Juliet, whose eyes were still glued to the scene. A quick walk around the station verified that Shawn wasn’t there. Stepping outside, Gus peered around and then walked to the car. He relaxed slightly as he saw Shawn resting against the side.
“Shawn?”
Getting no answer, he crouched down next to him. “Shawn,” he repeated softly.
Without opening his eyes, Shawn said dully, “He’s never yelled at me before. Not like that. I mean, we’ve had arguments, and you know how he got annoyed at me in the station…before we got together. But…that was different.”
Gus sighed. Not knowing what else to do, he reached over and pulled Shawn into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, patting him awkwardly on the back.
Shawn sniffed and mumbled something into Gus’s shirt.
“What?” Gus said.
Shawn leaned back and looked seriously into his friend’s eyes.
“Would it be wrong for me to kiss you right now?” Shawn asked innocently.
Gus gave him the look he saved especially for Shawn when he was being crazy or ridiculous or annoying or, well, Shawn. “In so many ways.”
“Oh come on, you know you want me to,” Shawn teased.
“No, no I don’t…Shawn, Shawn!” Gus pushed him away as Shawn leaned towards him making kissing noises.
Shawn grinned at the slightly panicked look on his friend’s face. “Gus, don’t be such a scaredy-cat. I was just kidding. Besides, if we hooked up, who would be left to be my best friend?” Jumping up, he started tugging at the door handle, regardless of the fact that it was obviously locked. “So,” he said excitedly. “Ready to go?”
Gus stood up, glaring at him. “Would you stop that? You know it’s locked. Go where?”
“To follow our next meaningless lead, of course!” Shawn grinned.
Gus couldn’t help but smile back. Grabbing the keys and unlocking the car, he got in after Shawn and started the engine. Looking at his friend, he said, “Which way?”
-------------------
Lassiter sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He knew he was lucky he hadn’t been suspended after everything that had happened, but all he could think about was Shawn. He groaned as he agonized over what to do. His first impulse had been to go after the younger man, but he realized that leaving his job was probably not the best idea at the moment. He had picked up his phone to call Shawn, had even dialed the number, but he hung up after only one ring. What would I say? he wondered wearily.
Suddenly, a quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. “Detective Lassiter?”
He looked up to see his partner peering at him in concern. He sighed. “Yes, O’Hara?”
“Um…we have a case,” she said carefully.
Lassiter jumped up hastily, nearly knocking a stack of papers off his desk. “What are you waiting for?” he said sharply. “Let’s go.”
He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he grabbed his jacket. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. At least I have something to distract me now. As he strode towards the door, O’Hara nearly had to jog to keep up with his pace. “So, what’s the story?” he asked her.
“We got an anonymous call,” she told him as they left the station and headed for the cruiser. “Someone found a body.”
-----------------
They arrived at their destination within minutes; Lassiter had used the siren despite the look Juliet had given him when he put it on the roof of the car. Luckily, she had the good sense to stay silent. Normally Lassiter would not have used it in a non-emergency situation such as this, but he couldn’t stand having more time to think; his mind was driving him crazy. He just wanted something to keep him busy—very very busy.
CSU was already there, and officers were putting tape up even though it wasn’t likely that anyone would be in around in this isolated area. The scene of the crime wasn’t even outside—it was in an abandoned warehouse.
Fortunately for the officer guarding the entrance, he recognized Lassiter immediately, and let him through right away. In the mood he was in at the moment, Lassiter wasn’t sure what he would have done if the man had stopped him. He could be sure none of the possible situations that had flashed through his mind had involved simply showing the officer his badge.
As he walked through the warehouse he glanced around, scanning the surroundings. Ignoring O’Hara, who was still following behind him, he stepped through a handle-less black door, which had been propped open with a box. Noting a video camera in a corner near the ceiling of the room, slightly hidden behind a lamp, he said curtly, “I’ll need to see that tape.” Not waiting for an answer, he continued through the next door. It wasn’t his problem if O’Hara failed to keep up.
Spotting the body of the victim against a wall, Lassiter strode over briskly and started to question one of the officers milling around.
-----------------
After taking a look at the body, Juliet returned to the room with the camera. Peering up at it, she scowled and grabbed a chair. She placed the chair underneath and then stood on it, testing it quickly beforehand to make sure it could hold her weight. “Don’t know why I bother,” she muttered. Reaching into the camera, she pulled out the tape and inspected it briefly. It was a standard tape—a standard video camera, actually. Glancing up again, she paused, something bothering her. Why is there a video camera in a supposedly empty warehouse? And why not an actual security camera? This is just a hand-held camcorder—nothing special. The tape wouldn’t even last very long, so what’s the point? Unless someone wanted to tape something specific… She tried to find how the camera was attached to the wall, and sighed when she saw that it had been connected to some sort of device that would need a screwdriver to be removed. Thinking for a moment, she stepped down from the chair and hurried outside, calling over the first CSU member she saw.
Minutes later, she returned to the room, this time with a screwdriver. Good thing they had one, she thought as she got back on the chair and started to remove the camera from the wall. When she was done unscrewing it, Juliet took it down and, pulling the tape from her pocket, placed it back in the camera. Sitting down on the chair, she rewound it and then pushed the play button.
------------------
Lassiter was crouching near the body, examining it, when Juliet rushed over to him.
“Detective Lassiter!” she said excitedly.
He didn’t bother looking up. Annoyed by the interruption, he growled, “Later, O’Hara.”
“You have to see this! It’s--”
“Can it wait?” Lassiter interrupted, his tone suggesting that it had better. “As you can see, I’m busy tr--”
“It’s Warren!” Juliet continued, too excited to care about his mood.
Turning, Lassiter looked at her sharply. “What?”
“Look!” she showed him the video camera; she had paused it on the face of the man who was clearly Warren. “He was here,” she told him. “Maybe he was the one who did this.” She gestured at the scene in front of them.
Lassiter stood up, suddenly feeling better. “We’re going to need the results on those fingerprints ASAP. I know someone who might be able to push them through faster. “And I’ll need this,” he added, taking the camera from Juliet’s hands. As he started to walk away, he paused and looked back, clearing his throat lightly. “Oh, and O’Hara?”
“Yes sir?”
“Good job,” he said shortly, before walking off.
Juliet smiled as she watched him go. It was a start.
-----------------
“Turn right up ahead,” Shawn said absently, staring out the window as the scenery rolled past.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” Gus asked, following his directions.
“And ruin the fun?” Shawn teased. “Nah.”
Gus rolled his eyes. They became silent again. As the minutes passed, he tensed up, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. When Shawn still didn’t say anything, Gus cracked. “Shawn, why don’t you just--”
“No,” his friend said darkly, before he could finish.
“But he—” Gus tried again.
“No. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Shawn said, leaving no room for argument.
Gus sighed, but stayed quiet.
“Two more lefts and then we’re there,” Shawn muttered a little while later.
Several streets later, Gus parked and turned to face his friend. “Shawn, why are we at a prison?”
Shawn looked back at him sadly and put a hand on Gus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he said mournfully. “I can’t hide you anymore…right is right and…wrong is wrong. Don’t worry, you’ll get out in a few years.” Patting his shoulder, Shawn turned back to the door and got out of the car.
Gus got out on his side. Glaring at his friend, he said, “Shawn--”
“Come now, Gus; we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” Shawn walked over and started to steer Gus towards the entrance.
“Shawn—”
“Gus, do I need to call for the nice men in uniforms to come get you?” This time Shawn couldn’t hide a grin. “Ow! What was that for?” The grin became a scowl as he rubbed his arm where Gus had just punched him.
Gus scowled back at him. “Stop messing around. Why are we really here?”
Shawn opened his mouth.
“Seriously,” Gus added firmly.
“Okay, okay,” Shawn surrendered. “We’re here to check in on David Jones, one of Greg Sheridan’s known associates.”
“Greg Sher—the guy who took Warren’s car? But are you sure we can—I mean, that FBI agent said—wait, how do you know who his associates are?” Gus stopped talking, looking puzzled.
Shawn laughed at him. “Since when do we listen to what the cops tell us? And I know his associates ‘cause I saw that paper Lassy printed out, remember?”
“But you only saw the paper for—never mind.” Gus shook his head. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
Shawn just grinned at him and started walking up to the entrance of the building. When they reached the front door, Shawn pushed through, and, putting on his most innocent Bambi expression, approached the main desk. “Hi,” he said shyly to the officer sitting behind it. “I’m here for a conjugal visit.”
------------------
Sitting back in the car, Gus glanced down at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Shawn had been in the prison for over an hour and a half. Somehow he had managed to talk the officer into letting him see Jones alone, leaving Gus behind to worry. Just as Gus was considering going back in to inquire after his friend, Shawn exited the building and jogged towards him.
“Finally!” Gus exclaimed. He turned pale as Shawn got closer. “Shawn, your jeans are unzipped…”
Shawn looked down. “Whoops,” he said, fixing it.
Gus stared at him. “You didn’t seriously—what did you--”
Shrugging, Shawn sat back in the passenger seat. “No big deal.” When he saw that Gus was still gaping at him, he said, “What?”
“What?” Gus spluttered. “What? What do you mean, what? You said you were going in for a conjugal visit, and you come out with—with—”
As Gus’s face started to turn red, Shawn smirked at him. “Dude, you’re making it way too easy for me. Relax, I didn’t do anything; I opened the zipper right before I came out. I’m just playing with you.”
Gus eyed him suspiciously. “You better be. So if you didn’t really…do anything…what did you do?”
“Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”
“I think so, why?” Gus rummaged around in his briefcase and held out a blank sheet. “A pen okay?”
“Sure.” Taking the pen and paper, Shawn started writing. Filling the front of the paper, he turned it over and kept writing.
Gus leaned forward, trying to see what he had written. “What are all those names for?”
“They’re more people Sheridan associates with, and the places where he likes to hang out,” Shawn told him as he finished scribbling.
“Nice,” Gus said. “How’d you get that guy…uh, what was his name?”
“David Jones.”
“Yeah, how’d you get him to tell you all this?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Shawn said, pretending to be hurt. “I have my ways.”
“Fine,” Gus replied, shaking his head. “Let’s just get going.”
“Okay,” Shawn agreed. “We can try this place first.” He pointed at the name of a bar he had written down. “It’s pretty close.”
Within minutes, they were back on the road. Looking over at Shawn, Gus coughed awkwardly. “So…uh…nothing happened?”
Shawn sighed. It was going to be a long night.
---------------------
Lassiter stared out his window at Shawn’s apartment. He had been sitting in the car with the engine running for he didn’t even know how long. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned the key. Next step, get out of the car, he thought to himself. He could have just gone back to his own apartment, but he didn’t want to wait any longer to talk to Shawn. Groaning, he opened the door and forced himself to get out. After locking it and stalling for several minutes by checking and re-checking to make sure it had really locked, he ambled up the path to the apartment. The lights had been off since he had arrived, and he was pretty sure Shawn wasn’t there, but he knocked anyway, hesitating slightly beforehand. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, debating whether or not to use his key. Realizing he didn’t know when Shawn would come, and knowing he would lose his nerve if we went back to wait in the car, he let himself in.
He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer, then sat down on the couch to wait. When the silence started to get to him, he mulled over the case to distract himself. The fingerprints they had found on the body had indeed been Warren’s. Lassiter was at an impasse: everything seemed to be pointing him toward Annie’s case, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against the chief’s, let alone Grist’s orders to leave well enough alone. What he wanted most of all was to catch the bad guy, but the FBI seemed to be going in the completely wrong direction. His life had been simple before Shawn came along—so goddamn simple—he did his job, and he did it well. He followed the rulebook (to a certain extent), and he followed orders (when he agreed with them). Now here he was questioning authority and disregarding some of the most basic rules he had learned in the academy. When he took the time to actually think about it, though, a little girl’s life was at stake, and when asked to make a choice between the badge and what his gut was telling him, a criminal justice degree didn’t mean squat.
When the door opened, Lassiter almost didn’t hear it. He looked up right as Shawn stepped inside. The younger man closed the door without looking directly at Lassiter; he didn’t seem surprised to see him. Oh…the car, Lassiter remembered. At least he came in anyway.
“Shawn--” he murmured.
Still avoiding eye contact, Shawn turned into the kitchen without responding.
Lassiter grimaced and stood up. Walking over, he paused a few feet away from Shawn, whose back was to him. “Shawn—” Lassiter reached out a hand to touch him on the shoulder, but Shawn flinched away.
“It wasn’t fair,” Shawn said, finally turning to face him.
“I know,” Lassiter agreed softly. “It wasn’t fair. I was taking my anger out on you because I couldn’t on Grist or Karen…and that’s no excuse, I know…but…I-I’m sorry.” His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out again. “I really am.”
Shawn observed him silently for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Lassiter repeated after him, unsure what he meant.
“As long as you promise never to do it again—” Shawn waited for an affirmation.
“I promise,” Lassiter said solemnly.
“Then I guess we’re hunky-dory,” Shawn grinned. “And tell you what…take it out on Gus next time--”
Lassiter raised his eyebrows.
“I’m kidding,” Shawn said, raising his hands in surrender. “Just kidding!”
Shaking his head, Lassiter cuffed Shawn lightly on the back of his head.
Shawn scowled playfully at him. “You’re going to pay for that…”
“Oh?” Lassiter started backing away, trying to hide a smile. “How?” Giving Shawn one last glance, he headed towards the bedroom.
“You’re evil, you know that?” Shawn shouted after him. “Evil!”
“Yes, and?” Lassiter called back.
Shawn grinned and walked forward in slow motion.
Lassiter, now devoid of his shirt, stuck his head back out of the room. He scowled as he noticed Shawn’s pace. “Or we could just talk about the case and what you’ve been doing all day--”
Shawn’s eyes widened and he rushed past Lassiter saying quickly, “No that’s okay we can talk tomorrow.”
“You sure?” Lassiter inquired, leaning back against the doorframe and folding his arms. “Because--” he stopped as Shawn turned and moved towards him. Putting a hand on Lassiter’s chest, Shawn whispered, “Don’t tease…you know I always win.”
Lassiter knew.
--------------------
Fluorescent lights flickered in the quiet station as officers finished up paperwork and janitors rolled cleaning supplies across the floor. Only one section of the building still held a decent-sized group of people. The FBI agents were no longer fielding calls – tips had diminished along with the fading light outside—but there was plenty of investigating still going on.
Agent Grist woke with a start as his phone rang right by his ear. He had been taking a quick nap while he wasn’t needed. Flipping the phone open, he mumbled blearily, “Hello?”
A low voice answered without any sort of introduction. “Two guys were here earlier, askin’ ‘bout Greg Sheridan. Thought you’d wanna know.”
Grist sat up and said sharply, “What? Who were they? What did you tell them?”
“Dunno…said they were friends of some guy…David Jones, I think it was. I tol’ them I hadn’t seen Greg for a couple-a weeks.”
Trying to keep calm, Grist paused before speaking. Something occurred to him, and he asked, “Were they cops?”
The other man snorted. “Not a chance.”
“Then…was it a black man in a suit and a kind of scruffy looking white guy?” Grist continued.
“Yeah,” the man said, surprised. “You know them?”
Grist sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Unfortunately.”
“So what do we do?”
“Give me second!” Grist snapped. Something had to be done about this…somehow these men were finding things they weren’t supposed to find. He needed to cover the tracks, clear up loose ends, throw them off. And that meant…
“We need Sheridan out of the picture…” Grist said slowly.
“Out of—you mean—”
“Yes,” Grist interrupted. “He served his purpose…we don’t need him anymore. Eliminate him.”
“You got it.”
To Be Continued…
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Author’s Note: Sorry again for the wait! This is the longest chapter yet—hope it was good! Thanks for reading!
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