Lassiter gave a contented sigh as he sat down at his desk Friday afternoon. It had been the perfect day. O'Hara was out of town for a training seminar which meant that Lassiter had enjoyed not one, but two whole days Spencer free. He had no idea what the supposed psychic and his best friend were up to, but he didn't care as long as they didn't bother him.
He inhaled the sweet scent of the three creams and four sugars in his coffee and relished the silence that the lack of Spencer gave the station. Sure there were still phones ringing, drunks yelling and papers being shuffled, but Lassiter thought of those as white noise compared to the wild flailings of Spencer.
He twirled a pen around in his hand as he flipped through the case report in front of him. There had been a rash of break ins in an upscale part of town and the mayor was anxious to get them solved. Lassiter frowned, this normally wouldn't be something that a head detective would work on, except the mayor was wanting them solved.
"Detective Lassiter," Chief Vick walked by, stopping at his desk.
"Yes, chief?" Lassiter raised an eyebrow.
"With the pressure from the mayor, I'm going to be calling Guster and Spencer in to help you with those robberies."
"Chief!" Lassiter protested, "I have everything under control."
"The mayor wants this solved before his house is broken into next." Karen crossed her arms.
"Give me til the end of the day," Lassiter pleaded. "I'll find something."
The chief gave a deep, long suffering sigh and then finally nodded. "You have the rest of the day. McNab can work with you if you need him."
Lassiter nodded and the chief headed back to her office. If she thought he needed McNab to babysit him on patrol, then she was dead wrong, Lassiter grumbled to himself as he checked his glock. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
Shawn Spencer was not psychic, Lassiter knew that much, but when the head detective's cell phone rang the minute he turned his key in the ignition a flicker of doubt passed through Lassiter's mind.
"What?" Lassiter snapped into the phone.
"Hey, Lassifrass," Spencer's voice was casual, almost too casual for Lassiter's liking.
"Spencer, make it fast, I have a case to solve."
"Well, you know, I'm sure you'll be great at that. But before you go solve that case would you be able to help me out with something?"
"Why can't Guster help you?" If Spencer was making another one of those prank calls, Lassiter would have his head.
"Gus is at a convention in San Francisco," Lassiter could hear the psychic's eyes rolling as he said it. "Anyways, I kind of got myself stuck at this warehouse and I'm pretty sure that I have a concussion."
Lassiter remembered what the department's therapist had recommended and slowly counted to ten before speaking. "If you have a concussion, why did you call me?"
"Well, you know, you're practically 911." Shawn said, his words slurring slightly. "Plus, I couldn't remember the number."
"Do you remember what warehouse you're at?" Lassiter didn't exactly want to go along with Spencer's shenanigans, but if Spencer were really in trouble and O'Hara came back on Monday to find her boyfriend was dead he would never hear the end of it.
There was a pause and then Shawn giggled into the phone. "Sorry, I just realized you couldn't see me nodding. I'm at the refrigerator place by Palmer street." He sighed. "Can you bring a jacket with you? It's getting kind of cold."
There was silence and Lassiter realized that Spencer had hung up on him. He swore and turned on his sirens. He almost went back to get McNab, but there was still a small part of him that considered the fact Shawn could be drunk and sitting in the Psych office laughing his ass off.
OoO OoO OoO
The warehouse at Palmer street was silent as the grave when Lassiter got there. He slowly got out of the car and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, the company who manufactured the trucks for the warehouse had gone out of business taking the shipping business with it. That meant the building had been abandoned for almost three years now.
Lassiter shivered as the wind picked up and groaned out loud when he realized his jacket was still on the back of his desk chair. He'd been so worried with getting out of the station before McNab noticed that he'd forgotten it. He was about to get back in his car when he saw Spencer's bike propped up against the wall near an open door.
He walked through the door and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was hardly anything left in the building. Just a couple of smaller trucks and a few crates here and there.
"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted. "Spencer, damn it, where are you?" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the psychic's number.
He could hear the faint sound of the Dragnet theme from the other side of the room. Lassiter started walking towards the phone, but when Spencer's phone kicked over to voicemail he broke into a jog. He came around a stack of crates and saw Spencer's phone lying on the floor, he bent down to pick it up and suddenly everything went black.
OoO OoO OoO
"Lassie, Lassie!"
Lassiter came to with someone kicking him in the legs and shouting his name.
"I'm up!" He snapped, to get the kicking to stop. He opened his eyes, or at least he thought he did. "Why is it dark?"
"There aren't any lights on." That was Spencer's voice. At least Lassiter hoped it was.
"What happened?" Lassiter tried to raised a hand to his head to check for blood, but found his arm wouldn't budge.
"Stop pulling on my arm!" Shawn protested.
Lassiter took a deep breath and then reached with his free hand to touch his wrist. He felt the cool metal of handcuffs attaching his right arm to Spencer's left.
"Spencer," Lassiter was trying to remain calm.
"Yes, Lassie?"
"Why are we handcuffed together and in a dark, contained, smelly place?" Lassiter wrinkled his nose as he realized the stale stench that was wafting around them.
"Well," Shawn seemed to have to consider this. "There's three possibilities. The first being that you and I were abducted by aliens. The second being that we've been cast in the latest installment of the Saw movies,"
"Sweet Justice," Lassiter muttered, Spencer's concussion was making him more ridiculous than usual.
"But the third is more probable, and that would be because I found a murderer's hideout and he smacked me on the back of the head. Then I ran and hid and called you, but then he found me and put me in here and then you showed up and he put you in here too."
"You found a what?" Lassiter wasn't sure if it was the dark or the stench that was making it hard to concentrate.
"You know that girl who went missing in Sacramento last year?" Shawn asked. "The one who was from New Jersey and was here on vacation."
Lassiter remembered the case, it had been a six month search for the girl's body followed by a three month search for her killer. All the tips had been dead ends and the family had gone home without closure.
"Well," Shawn continued. "The guy who did it, he was skulking around here." Shawn laughed. "That's a fun word, skulking."
"You found Morgan Greene's killer?" Lassiter asked, the disbelief evident in his voice.
"Yup," Shawn said proudly. "I found him and he's crazy as a loon." Shawn elongated the O's in loon.
"Spencer," Lassiter cut him off.
"Hang on, I wasn't done with my story!" Shawn protested.
"Spencer," Lassiter said more firmly. "When did you get hit over the head?"
"I told you," Shawn was indignant. "When I got here, about three hours before you got here."
"And how long have I been here?"
"According to the glowy hands on your watch, two hours." Shawn went quiet for a moment. "Hey, Lassie, did you bring me my jacket? Cause I'm cold."
At first Lassiter thought Spencer was cold because of his head injury, but then the detective realized that he was cold as well. They had to be in one of the refrigerated trucks. That gave them even less time to get out.
Lassiter shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. "Spencer,"
"Yes, Lassie?"
"Did your dad ever teach you how to escape a truck?"
"Nope," Shawn said sadly. "Though we did know one thing."
"What?" Lassiter said, distractedly as he hauled Spencer to his feet. They needed to know what kind of space they were dealing with.
"The light does not stay on in a refrigerator truck when the door is shut." Shawn snickered as he let Lassiter lead him down the truck to the door end.
Lassiter ignored the pun and started feeling his way down the wall of the truck. Hoping there was nothing slimy his hand would come into contact with.
"What about your phone?" Shawn asked as they reached the end of the truck.
Lassiter felt in his pockets for his phone, but that only confirmed what he had assumed. There was no phone.
He could feel Spencer shivering next to him. The psychic was wearing short sleeves and Lassiter knew they wouldn't have much time.
Lassiter started to feel his way around the rest of the truck, when a sudden lurch threw both men to the floor.
"It's an earthquake," Shawn decided, trying to steady himself.
"No," Lassiter's heart sank. "We're being driven somewhere."