A/N: Quotes are from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Disclaimer:I don't own Psych.
Chapter One
"I have sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming by and by into our lives."
The minute he walked into his house, Carlton Lassiter knew something was wrong. His doormat was covered in dirt, which had also been tracked into his kitchen. He followed the trail across the linoleum, crouching behind the counter and reaching for his weapon. The sound of a gun cocking behind his head made him freeze. He tried to catch a reflection in the window above his sink, but all he saw was the starry sky.
"Put it on the ground and kick it away from you," a gruff voice said. Lassiter obliged. He loosened his grip on the weapon and tapped it with his foot. As he watched his gun skitter across the floor, he began to lash out with his arm to try and surprise his attacker. He was halted by the butt of a gun colliding with his head. He crumpled to the floor, watching his kitchen fade to black.
.-.-.-.
"Detective O'Hara," Chief Vick shouted from her office. Juliet sighed. She set aside her work and headed for the chief's office. She stood awkwardly just inside the door, trying to decipher the chief's expression.
"What is it?" Juliet asked, as politely as possible.
"Where's Detective Lassiter?" Vick demanded.
"Um, I don't know. I just assumed it was his day off," Juliet replied. This answer earned her a glare from the chief.
"Call Mr. Spencer," Vick said.
"Um, Chief…?" Juliet asked.
"Does Detective Lassiter seem like the type to take a day off?"
.-.-.-.
Shawn groaned and rolled over as the shrill ringing of the telephone burst into his sleep. He pulled his blankets over his head, attempting to muffle the sound. It didn't help. Finally, he gave in. He felt around blindly for the phone. His fingers closed around the receiver and he pulled it under the blankets to press it to his ear, prepared to berate Gus for waking him up.
"Hello?" he asked his voice groggy and raspy.
"Hey, Shawn, it's Juliet," the voice on the other end said. "We have a case for you."
Shawn sat up quickly.
"Really?" he asked.
"How soon can you get here?" Juliet asked. She sounded worried; Shawn noted this and tucked it away in the back of his mind.
"I'll be there soon," he said. He hung up and hurriedly dressed.
.-.-.-.
"Wake up, sweet prince," a voice says. It's gruff, and he feels like he's heard it somewhere before, but there's a clog in his brain and he can't remember. He blinks rapidly, his eyes protesting to the sudden surge of light after so much time in the darkness. When his pupils finally adjust, he tries to lift his head to examine his surroundings, but his head begins to throb and he lets it return to his chest.
He hears laughing.
"He's sleepy, mate," a new voice says. This one is accented and high pitched, and it sets the throbbing to a new level.
"Yes, he's sleepy," the gruff voice responds, and he finds himself grateful that it has taken charge. Then it yells. "Lift yer head you lazy bum!"
For the first time he notices the gruff voice's accent. It's very subtle, not like the high voice's. The high voice is dripping in its accent, while the gruff one's is behind everything. Like the bass line in music, always there, but not always noticeable.
He lifts his head.
He has to close his eyes because of the throbbing, but he opens them again quickly to avoid angering the gruff voice. He finds two sets of eyes staring at him, and two bodies blocking his sight lines. He can't see where he is. Panic begins to rise in his throat, but he pushes it down.
I am Carlton Lassiter, head detective of the SBPD. I do not panic, he thinks to himself. He only has to wait until the eyes move, and then he'll know what to do.
.-.-.-.
Shawn knew what the case was the minute he stepped into the police station. He took in Lassiter's empty desk as he was ushered quickly into the chief's office, where only Vick and Juliet awaited him. The minute he stepped inside, he threw himself against the door.
"Oh, oh no," he said, pushing his palm against his chest. "It's Lassy-face." Juliet nodded solemnly and handed him the case file. He flipped through it, instantly wishing he had never started working as a consultant for the police.
"Whatever you need," Chief Vick said, "is at your disposal. We need our detective back."
"I need to see his home," Shawn said, shutting the file and tucking it under his arm. He patted the folder. "And I need more time with this."
"Juliet, you and Shawn go to Lassiter's house. The forensics team is already there," Vick said. Through her business like exterior, Shawn noted the little clues that showed she was worried. He took all of those in as he turned to follow Juliet to her car.
As they walked past Lassiter's desk, still untouched by forensic scientists, Shawn memorized every detail of it. The line of pencils on the desk, the perfectly placed stack of files, the spotless desktop, and the drawer towards the bottom that was oddly ajar.
"I'll meet you out there," he told Juliet, she nodded and continued on her way. Shawn glanced around, ensuring that no one was watching, and peered into the drawer. It was empty. He shrugged, glanced around again, and hurried to join Juliet outside.