It had just been an average Saturday. I had faced what could have been actual death, Gus and I made it out alive, and we found out who the murderer was in the end. But when that blond woman walked into the Psych agency, I knew something was wrong.

She just strolled into the room, her long gray coat billowing behind her. "Hello!" She waved at us, a widespread grin across her face. "I'm the Doctor, and I need your help with something."

I looked toward Gus. "Who is this?"

"I don't know, Shawn!" He had the same puzzled look I had.

I turned back to the woman. "Could you repeat your name, please?"

"Oh." She pulled out a leather wallet with a license in it. "Inspector Jane Doe. I'm here because I'm looking for a missing girl. She's a friend of mine, short brown hair, hazel eyes, wears a denim jacket—"

"Ma'am, this is fake," I handed the wallet back. "Y'know how I know that? I go to the Santa Barbara Police Department every single day, I know everyone there, and you are most definitely not an inspector."

"Should've known that." She folded the wallet and placed it in her coat pocket. "I'm the Doctor, and I'm looking for a friend of mine. She has really short hair, wears a denim jacket, has on Converse, and she looks twelve years old."

"What's this girl's name?" Gus questioned.

The Doctor nodded. "She sometimes uses the name 'Jane Smith', but when she doesn't use that, she goes by 'the Expert'. She can be incredibly quirky, if you ask me. It's been ages since I saw her last."

"I'm guessing she's British, too?" I asked, just then noticing her accent.

She shook her head. "No, she has an American accent, although… Wait, no. She had an Irish one, but now… Yeah, she has an American accent now."

The Doctor chuckled softly. "Never was so confused when I was a man."

Gus's eyes grew wide. "You mean… You… Well, you're beautiful."

"Thank you," she beamed. "Well, best be going. Nice meeting you, and please find her."

With that, she walked out of the room.

I turned back toward Gus. "What just happened?"

"I don't know, Shawn," he admitted. "But whoever that girl is, we'd better find her."

He walked toward his desk and pulled out a history textbook. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I better look up some things from World War I."

Gus poked his nose into the book, and I walked over to him. I pressed my hand down on the tip of the spine so that he was facing me. "Gus, we need to look for that kid."

Catching a glimpse of Gus's eyes, I saw them wide and shocked. He turned the book over and pointed at the black-and-white photograph at the top of the page.

The picture was in front of a blue 1960's police box. In front of it was a man wearing a leather jacket. He had black hair that was barely visible, and his bright eyes gave off an alien vibe. The man had his arm draped across a young girl's shoulders. The girl next to him looked about twelve, and she had dark hair in a boyish pixie cut. Her light eyes had a childish look to them, but at the same time they looked too old to belong to a twelve-year-old girl. She wore a denim jacket, a paint-smeared T-Shirt, jeans, and galaxy Converse. All pieces of her clothing definitely weren't made in the time of World War I, and neither were the pieces of the man's clothing.

"Shawn," Gus whispered. "I think we found our missing girl."