Karen Vick had first met Richard McCallum when he'd been a witness for the prosecution on a fraud case that she'd work on for the District Attorney's office, years before she was called in to investigate Camden McCallum's disappearance. He'd been extremely helpful those years ago and his cooperation then had made her even more determined to help him when he'd come to her about his son.
She'd already been knee-deep into that little slice of history when her head detective had crashed into her office, spewing bile about one Shawn Spencer, supposed psychic helper of the police. Lassiter had flung down Spencer's file and she'd flipped through it as she'd listened to Lassiter's list of his sins -- He knows things he shouldn't, I don't know how, because he's not a goddamn psychic -- and had zeroed in on the important facts: he had a history of giving them good leads...
...and he was Henry Spencer's son.
It hadn't been quite the miracle she'd been hoping for but it had been close enough.
Although she was still skeptical, Karen had to admit that Shawn Spencer had come through for her. Of course, the ending had been so unbelievable that only a psychic could've wrapped his mind around the truth -- the kidnapping, faked? McCallum, his son's murderer? She was still having a difficult time accepting it and she'd watched through the two-way glass while the millionaire had choked out his confession to Detectives Lassiter and Berry, all the while eyeing the bandage on his arm as if it were the cause of all his troubles.
That had been a day ago and the remains of the case lay strewn across her desk, odds and ends waiting to be tied up by the force's new Interim Chief. In her opinion, the case itself was finished, from the confession to the physical evidence and the statements. There was just one tangential issue she needed to handle before she could close the case completely.
And it all started with one phone call.
The number was scribbled on a sticky note pressed against the edge of her computer screen, waiting. She'd looked it up earlier that morning, before she'd gotten distracted by open cases, by personnel problems, by the ache in her back that hadn't subsided since she'd hit the third trimester of her pregnancy.
But now her schedule was clear and the call still needed to be made, the bright yellow Post-It like a challenge from the corner of her eye.
Since there wasn't any real reason to put it off any longer, Karen grabbed up the phone and dialed the number, settling the phone in the cradle of her shoulder as it rang √ one, two, three times.
When the caller answered, he sounded like he always had, his voice unaffected by age. "Spencer," he barked, strong, curt, like the no-nonsense detective he'd been for so long.
Even as Karen tamped down on an annoying rush of emotion -- which she had no qualms blaming on pregnancy hormones -- she felt herself relaxing into its familiarity. "Henry."
There was a pause, just a beat, as if he was trying to verify a conclusion he clearly disbelieved. "Karen?"
"The one and only," she affirmed. "Surprised?"
"To be hearing from you?" he asked. "Yes, definitely. It's...been a while."
"Yes, it has," she agreed, not wanting to think about how many years had actually passed.
"Well..." He cleared his throat. "It's good to hear from you."
"It's good to be heard," she admitted. "How's retirement treating you?"
"Fine, fine," he assured her, in a way that made her think that he was chafing under all that free time, just as she'd warned him long ago. "How about you? Still doing the DA's dirty work?"
"Oh." Karen wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that he hadn't heard of her promotion. She knew he had to be in touch with some of old friends who were still with the force. "No, I'm not working as a DAI anymore. They brought me back into the force."
"Really?" She could hear his interest over the phone.
"I took over for Fenich," she explained without preamble.
"Fenich?" Henry echoed. "Fenich?"
"I didn't realize that retirement made you hard of hearing, Spencer," she couldn't help but tease.
"That's a tough assignment, Karen," he told her seriously. "It's not going to be easy."
"I wasn't expecting it to be," she said. She shifted a little, trying to ease the ache in her lower back.
"Well, if you're looking for a pep talk, you called the right place." His voice softened just a fraction. "I know you can do this, Frazier."
The sound of her maiden name from Henry's mouth slid warmly down her spine, the same way it had when she'd been a rookie detective and her veteran partner had slapped her on the back after she'd chased down a fleeing suspect and rewarded her with a "You'll do, Frazier" for her trouble.
"Vick," she heard herself correct him automatically. "It's Vick now."
"Ah."
Karen couldn't read his tone and she decided not to try, though the temptation was there. "As nice as your vote of confidence is, that's not why I called," she told him, forcing herself back on topic. "It's about your son."
"My son?" Henry echoed again, warily. "Shawn?"
"Yes, Shawn." Karen could remember the photos she'd seen on Henry's desk, on his mantel and tried to reconcile that smiling boy with the √ unusual √ young man she'd been working with the last few days. "You always said he was an extraordinary child, Henry, but you never mentioned that he was psychic."
"Yes," he began. "Well, ah..."
"If you don't mind," she continued, ignoring his obvious incoherence. "I'd like you to come down here this afternoon. I have a few questions for you."
"About Shawn." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," she said. "If you don't mind."
"No, of course not," he hastily assured her. "It'll be good to see you again."
"How's 2 o'clock sound?" she asked, glancing at her Outlook to make sure she'd be free.
"Sounds great," Henry agreed, though his voice said otherwise.
"See you then, Henry," she answered.
When she heard the tell-tale click on the other end of the line, Karen finally laid the phone back on its base, still marveling at the strange coincidences of the case. She'd known that a great deal had been resting on her ability to solve her first high-profile case but she'd never expected it to bring her face-to-face with her past so forcefully. Again she pushed away any kind of nostalgic emotion threatening her equilibrium.
Karen sighed and reached for her phone once again -- she still had one more Spencer to call.
end.