Someone is stalking his son. Of that Henry Spencer is sure. He just can't prove it yet.
For as often as he is busting Shawn's ass about not being observant, he's the one who missed the obvious signs.
The case that plagued him when Shawn was a boy is back to haunt him – it's just changed so much, it was almost unrecognizable.
Back then he was investigating the rapes and murders of little kids, Shawn's age, with his hair (matted with blood and made unrecognizable) and his eyes (vacant and void of life) on another's body.
When Shawn went off to college and Henry retired, he spent his free time scanning newspapers from all over the country: Florida, the Midwest, home (which always was California), New York. That's how he found out about the violent killing spree out near his son.
It wasn't until years later that Henry made the connection. That the brutal slaughters that occurred in that quaint and innocent village were all college-age males, with brown hair, brown eyes and proud fathers to grieve them.
And now they're back in Santa Barbara. He and Shawn are almost happy in their coexistence, his son's crazy antics blocking their way less and less often.
But the bodies are back, more bloody and mangled than ever, an omen that the killer has escalated. The almost thirty-something victims are nearly unrecognizable, and when the cops finally unearth enough information to ID the bodies, it turns out none of them have families, no wife or kids to speak of.
And this time, Shawn noticed it first. He does a damn good job of covering it up, never letting on as Henry muses. The only thing giving him away is the occasional glimmer in his eyes that disappears, a light being snuffed out, as if his son is asking him if he's going to die this time.
Because he doesn't have to say it; His number is almost up. Shawn Spencer knows he's next.
Henry takes out his gun and cleans it every night. Nobody is his family is going down without a fight.
Henry goes over the illegal evidence he has collected (or confiscated) personally over the years one last time to make sure it's not a coincidence.
