Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I do not own any of the characters of Psych and am not affiliated with the show or USA Network. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 1

Shawn Spencer walked through the doors of the SBPD, scanning everything, as usual, but with a sharper focus than normal. He almost looked...serious. He rounded the corner from the reception desk and brightened instantly when he caught a flash of blonde hair near Detective O'Hara's desk. The brightness dimmed almost as quickly when he registered that the blonde hair belonged to an officer who was just walking past the desk, not to Juliet. He scanned the room again, feeling that uncomfortable tightness between his shoulder blades that he particularly hated. It was his worst annoyance, his biggest pet peeve: Shawn Spencer hated not knowing what was happening. And for the past few days, he didn't know what had been happening with his favorite detective. She had been absent from the station, and as usual Lassie had been totally uncooperative. When he'd been able to corner his less-favorite detective, which had been strangely harder to do, he'd been able to get no information from him whatsoever. Shawn was even contemplating following Lassiter to see if he would lead him to Juliet. He walked over and stood near her desk, staring at it accusingly.

"Hey, Shawn," greeted Buzz McNab as he walked past.

"Hey, Buzz," said Shawn. "Has Juliet been in today?"

"Actually, yes, I just saw her."

Shawn's eyes widened and he whirled to face the young officer. "Where? Where?"

Buzz took a half-step backwards in surprise. "Uh, she just came in the back door, by the lockers."

Shawn was already running for the steps that led down to the holding cells and the locker area. Buzz watched him go with a puzzled expression.

"Jules!" yelled Shawn as he skidded to a halt at the bottom of the steps.

Juliet was just putting something in one of the lockers. As he approached, she shut the locker quickly as if she was trying to keep the item from view.

"Hey, Shawn," she said with her patented bright smile. Shawn could tell that she seemed flustered or rushed, though. Something wasn't quite right.

"Jules, where have you been? Are you sick?"

"What? No, I'm fine. I've just been working," she said. She was still smiling, but it looked forced, and she seemed unfocused, like her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Working on a case?"

"Yes."

"Without Lassie?"

Juliet finally looked Shawn in the eyes and seemed to focus totally on him and their conversation. "Well, yes, for this one. It's a special case," she said vaguely. He realized with a shock that she seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Shawn tilted his head and looked at her expectantly, but she didn't elaborate.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around much, Shawn. I just can't talk about it right now, and I really need to go," she said, glancing around the room. She turned slightly, as if preparing to escape.

"Um, okay," he said, trying to figure out something to say to keep her talking.

"Bye, Shawn. Behave," she said with a mock-stern look, her eyes twinkling. She turned and walked briskly to the hallway that led to the back door of the police station.

Shawn's brow furrowed, and he started to follow her. He stepped into the hallway and saw Juliet just going through the back door of the station on the heels of another person. He glimpsed a dark sedan parked near the door.

"Hey, Shawn," said Buzz from the top of the steps.

Shawn pulled up short and then looked over his shoulder at Buzz. "Hey, Buzz?"

"I'm sorry, Shawn, but I need to ask you not to go down there."

"What?" Shawn stared at Buzz as if he'd grown another set of arms.

"Authorized personnel only, Shawn. Sorry," said Buzz, giving Shawn his best puppy-dog eyes.

Shawn grimaced. "Are you serious? Since when?"

Buzz just shrugged.

Shawn looked around, turning slowly and peering intently at the walls and desks. "Am I being punked?"

Buzz's eyes widened, and he looked around, too. "Gee, Shawn. I don't think so."

Shawn sighed and walked up the steps to stand next to Buzz. "There's some weird stuff going on around here, man."

Buzz shrugged again.

Shawn started to walk towards the entrance of the station, mind buzzing about what Juliet could be doing. It had to be an undercover assignment, because that's the only time he'd ever seen her working on a case without Lassiter. Well, except for the time Lassie had been suspended. And why else would she be leaving her cell phone in her locker? But what kind of undercover assignment could it be? She had been wearing a pair of slacks, a pretty top and a short-sleeved cardigan sweater that had looked somewhat expensive. It definitely wasn't her normal police-work outfit. Maybe it was some kind of white collar criminal investigation. The guy she'd followed out the back door had been somewhat short, pudgy and balding. Shawn had to admit he made a good undercover officer, because he looked nothing like a cop. He had been carrying a fancy, box-like leather case. Or was it called a satchel? Tote? Anyway, he'd noticed the initials "VB" embossed on the...case thing. As he was rounding the corner towards the front doors, lost in his thoughts, he nearly collided with Lassiter who was striding into the station and scowling furiously.

"Watch where you're going, Spencer," growled Lassiter as he barely managed to sidestep away from Shawn.

Shawn pursed his lips, feeling Lassiter's irritated mood spark the fuse of his own bottled up frustrations. "Excuse me, Detective Right-Of-Way," he drawled, holding his hands out to his sides.

Lassiter's shoulders hunched and he paused, making a half-turn to look at Shawn. "What the hell does that mean?"

Shawn had the overwhelming desire to needle his favorite pincushion, so he skipped past the cryptic references and aimed straight for drawing blood. "So, what's Juliet been up to lately?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes and turned towards his desk. "Not this again, Spencer," he said with a groan. "Just drop it. I have work to do."

"Come on, Lassie, just tell me where she is!" cried Shawn, a note of exasperation clear in his voice.

Lassiter whirled around to face him. "Dammit, Spencer, can't you get it through your thick skull? I don't know where she is!" yelled Lassiter, his tone a mirror of Shawn's.

"You don't know? Really? Well, it's okay because I've already figured out that she's working undercover."

Lassiter raised his eyebrows, a brief look of surprise in his eyes before his standard glare covered it again. "Oh really? You figured that out, did you? How did you manage to do that?"

"It was pretty obvious when I talked to her just now," said Shawn with a smirk.

Lassiter blinked, the look of surprise clear again. "You...just now...O'Hara is here?" he asked, looking around the room hopefully.

"Well, she's gone now. She seemed to be in a hurry. It must be a really exciting case," said Shawn, sensing his opening.

Lassiter glared at Shawn for a moment, hands on hips and jaw working furiously, looking like he was counting down the level of his anger. "Not that I should have to explain this to you, *again*," he said, voice sounding forcibly steady with an undertone of grinding stones. "Especially after the near-debacle you caused for Detective Johnson's case."

Shawn rolled his eyes and held up a hand. "Don't throw that in my face, Lassie."

"Fine. Then see if you can understand this. You...not cop. O'Hara...cop. She's working on a case. The end."

"Very cute. You're like a tall, cranky version of Mr. Rogers. Thanks for the bedtime story, but all I really wanted to know was what kind of case Juliet's working on."

"All you want, Spencer, is to have your cake and eat it too," growled Lassiter. "Well, I'm all out of cake today. Sorry. You're just going to have to do some work for yourself. Divine or sense or commune with the spirits. Whatever. Knock yourself out. Just leave so O'Hara and I can do our real jobs here in the real world."

Shawn sighed and gave him a mirthless smile. "Okay. Sure, I can divine a lot, Lassie. Like, I'm sensing that you really don't know where Juliet is."

Lassiter threw his hands up in the air and barked out a laugh. "I told you that! You didn't divine it."

"I divined that you don't know where she is because you've been left out in the cold as much as I have," said Shawn, making the final cut. "How about that?"

Lassiter shifted his eyes to the side and then back to Shawn, and his face seemed to melt into a deep frown. "She's doing her job, Spencer. I'm doing mine."

"Right. Sounds fulfilling. I'll be off, then. I have a sudden craving for cake," he said with a smirk as he turned to go.

Lassiter shot a suspicious look at Shawn's retreating form. "Spencer, do not go poking your nose into O'Hara's case."

Shawn turned around and walked backwards towards the station doors. "Do I look like Jack Horner?"

Lassiter's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"The kid, in the nursery rhyme, sticking his nose in the cake."

Lassiter shook his head in confusion. "Little Jack Horner? He stuck his thumb in a pie, not his nose in a cake."

Shawn grinned, still walking backwards. "I've heard it both ways," he quipped. Then he turned and walked out of the station.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lassiter closed his eyes tightly for a moment, bringing his breathing under control. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a number of people throwing surreptitious glances his way, and a few pairs and groups holding whispered discussions. He grimaced and mentally kicked himself for getting drawn into an argument, yet again, with Spencer. He was sure this one would reach the chief's ears, too, when she got back from her meeting. Unfortunately, as the irritating psychic was wont to do, Spencer had hit a raw nerve when he'd started digging at Lassiter about Juliet's case. Lassiter really had been left out in the cold, or at least it felt that way. The chief had assigned Juliet to assist a special task force working on recent jewel thefts in the area. They had needed a female officer experienced in undercover work. Other than that, Lassiter knew very little of the operation. The chief had told him to carry on with his current cases and that she expected Juliet to be back in a week or so. He'd accepted the orders at the time with what he'd felt was grace, but now after the show he'd put on with Spencer, it was going to be all over the station that he wasn't happy with the situation.

He turned back towards his desk, feeling acutely disappointed that he'd just missed seeing his partner. Even if they couldn't discuss her case, it would've been nice talking to her again. It would've felt normal. The last few days had just been...off. He sighed and sat heavily in his chair. He had reports to finish and some witness follow-ups to do. Juliet had only been gone four days, but he already felt the extra load of work beginning to strain his time and patience. It was nice having a partner to share the work, and it was especially nice to have such a pleasant and effective partner as Juliet O'Hara. But it was also frustrating to have that partner leave him alone to run off on a secret mission investigating jewel thieves. He felt that annoying pang again, what he recognized as jealousy but was ashamed to admit even to himself. Juliet was a good officer, and she was doing her job, he told himself just as he'd told Spencer. He felt another pang, stronger this time, only now it was directed at Shawn Spencer. He just knew in his core that Spencer was going to try and find out what Juliet was up to, and as much or more than feeling anger at Spencer for interfering with police business, he felt jealousy that Spencer probably would, and could, break the rules to find out what Juliet was doing.

Lassiter huffed out a half-sigh, half-growl and decided he might as well get some lunch and let his emotions cool. He grabbed his suit coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on as he stalked towards the doors. He donned sunglasses as he stepped out of the station and into the bright Santa Barbara day. Mexican, he thought ruefully, feeling that the burn of spicy food would distract him from the pain Spencer had caused in his neck. He took a somewhat leisurely lunch at his favorite taco stand, leisurely for him meaning that he ate his food on a bench instead of in his car. He watched the pedestrians walk by and busied his mind with visions of all of the jaywalking citations he could be handing out. The irritations of earlier had begun to fade when his cell phone rang. It was the chief. The tacos performed a quick dance in his stomach.

"Hello, Chief," he said, keeping the grimace on his face out of his voice.

"Detective, I need to see you, in my office, ASAP. And bring Mr. Spencer with you," said Chief Vick with a disturbingly clipped tone.

He closed his eyes. "Um, sure thing, Chief, but Spencer isn't with me right now."

"I didn't ask if he was with you, Detective. I said bring him with you."

"Uh, right. Copy that. I will need to track him down..."

"As. Soon. As. Possible," she said menacingly, and then she hung up.

Lassiter blew out a long breath and rubbed a hand across his face. He couldn't remember the chief sounding this angry in a long time. He searched for the fire of his own anger, but the heat of the chief's fury had eclipsed it. Now there was only resignation and anticipation of a massive chewing-out in his future. At least he wouldn't have to endure it alone, he thought with grim satisfaction. He opened his phone again and dialed Spencer's number. The call went to voicemail.

"Oh, you're not going to worm your way out of this one, Spencer," said Lassiter as he hung up and then dialed again. He noticed a woman nearby give him an odd look and rolled his eyes. He stood up and walked to his car as he listened to the phone ring through to voicemail again. "Dammit!"

He got in the car and dialed again. This time Shawn picked up after the fourth ring. "Lassie! I just saw you, like, a half hour ago. And you miss me already! I gotta say this stalkerish behavior isn't very becoming of you."

"Shut it, Spencer. The chief wants to see us in her office, ASAP."

"No can do, Lassifoo," he said with a strangely subdued voice, almost like he was trying to whisper. "Kinda busy at the moment."

Lassiter narrowed his eyes and paused, hearing a familiar noise coming from Spencer's side of the line. He couldn't quite place the sound, though. "It's not a request, Spencer. The chief is hot, and ducking this is only going to make it worse."

"Well, I agree that Chief Vick is an attractive woman, but I didn't realize you felt that way about her, Lassie."

"What the...NO! I didn't mean that kind of hot...dammit Spencer! She's pissed off at us for arguing in the station earlier. She's going to reprimand us."

"Oh! Well, if you put it that way...why the hell would I want to rush back to the station for that? Seriously, dude, you need to get out more."

Lassiter closed his eyes and growled into the phone. "You will go to the station, now! I am not facing the chief's wrath alone on this one."

There was a pause on the other end, and then a beeping noise, as if Spencer's phone was running low on battery. "Really can't, Lassie," said Shawn again, sounding distracted.

"I will find you and drag you in there by your precious hair if you don't."

"Oooh! Okay that doesn't help the stalkerish problem you seem to be having."

"Where are you?" asked Lassiter through clenched teeth.

"Oh, wait, you want to have your cake and eat it too? Sorry, I'm all out of cake...well, I am now, because I ate it all. And now I need milk. See ya, Lassie."

"Spencer! Don't hang up, so help me..." he stopped when he heard the line go dead. "Sonofabitch!" He slammed the phone shut so hard he was vaguely afraid it might be broken, but at the moment he didn't care. He took a few breaths to clear the red haze from the edge of his vision, and then he narrowed his eyes again. The sound he'd heard in the phone. He placed it now. It was the sound of the bell tower near the West Beach boatyards. And those yards were only a few minutes away. A feral grin broke out on his face.

"I smell cake," he said as he started the car and took off towards the boatyards, tires squealing.

He almost turned on the lights, but decided he was in enough trouble with the chief already. As he drove, he tried to figure out what Spencer could be doing at the boatyards. It had to have something to do with Juliet's case. Spencer must've figured out something about it, already. He grimaced and marveled yet again at Spencer's ability to put together the most obscure observations to come up with accurate conclusions. At least, they were accurate often enough to be both annoying and effective at solving cases. He never had been convinced of the "psychic" part of it all, but it hardly mattered anymore. The concrete results were the important thing, and he knew, however grudgingly, that Spencer produced results. But when he used his "talents" to stick his nose into police business where it most certainly didn't belong, he was going too far. Lassiter had no problem with Spencer throwing a wrench into the works of bad guys and their criminal plans, but police business was off-limits. And when it was his own partner whose case might be compromised, possibly putting her in danger, he took it personally.

After a couple of minutes, he saw the bell tower. He scanned the area and considered the list of businesses in the vicinity that he could remember. The bell had sounded somewhat faint, so Lassiter took a wide loop around the area. There was a small mall, a scattering of apartment buildings, two tiny parks with a handful of kids and adults. As he drove, he scanned alertly, evaluating every pedestrian and taking note of all motorcycles in hopes of spotting Spencer's. He continued circling around the tower, approaching an area near the water that was dominated by boatyards and the large, hanger-like buildings used to store and repair the boats. He slowed the car. There was very little traffic, and the boatyards appeared mostly abandoned. It seemed like the perfect setting for suspicious business. His eyes swept over a small side road that led to another boatyard building, surrounded by various boats, parts and other clutter. He stomped on the brakes and turned slightly to look back, something his eyes had glanced over finally registering in his brain. Sitting up against the shadowed side of a garage near the road was Spencer's motorcycle. His heart gave a few extra hops and he grinned with triumph.

Lassiter backed up and parked his car alongside the garage, blocking the motorcycle in. At least, Shawn would have to do some work to get it clear for riding. He got out and looked around, trying to figure out where the psychic had gone. He gazed down the small side road leading to the large boatyard building. The front of the building would logically face the water, so this small road apparently led to the rear of the structure. And what better way to sneak around and spy than entering from the back door? He walked down the road, peering from side to side at the clutter that littered the backyard of the building, the repository of the least useful parts and scraps of the boats and yachts that were repaired here, it seemed. His gun felt heavy in its holster and his hand itched to draw the weapon, but he reminded himself that he was just tracking down Spencer and not some dangerous criminal. The building loomed ahead, larger than it looked even from the main road's short distance. It reminded him of an airplane hangar or warehouse. It had to be large enough to house the expensive yachts that needed cleaned or repaired, he supposed. He spotted a regular door near the corner of the back wall, next to two tall garage-type doors. When he reached the door, he paused, listening for anything, but the door was too heavy to leak any sounds from inside and the outside of the building was deathly silent. The only sounds were the occasional ring of the tower bell on the quarter hours and a faint hush of the water on the far side of the building.

He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his inner coat pocket as he debated about entering. Technically, it would be trespassing, but if Spencer was inside, then he'd be stopping Shawn from committing that very infraction. And if he'd guessed wrong and Spencer wasn't here, he could just flash his badge and explain that he'd been looking for a suspicious character and was very sorry for the inconvenience. Because, really, he had so very many suspicions about Spencer, that it wouldn't technically be a lie. And at this point, what did it matter if there was one more thing for the chief to be mad about? He gripped the door handle and twisted. It was unlocked. He cracked the door and tried to peer inside, but the interior was too dark compared to the bright daylight outside. He looked around one more time, and then entered the building, holding the door so it closed quietly behind him.