It had taken Lassiter over half an hour to get Shawn and Gus out of his condo. Even after telling them he wasn't going to fall for Laura's schemes, the duo seemed convinced Lassiter would be making them waffles.
"We like powdered sugar and strawberries on them," Shawn was still protesting as Lassiter shoved him into the hallway and shut the door, throwing the deadbolt just in case.
He glared at the door for a moment as he realized that he was never going to be able to get back to sleep. He resigned himself to getting ready for the day, grumbling under his breath about psychic shenanigans.
He drove to the station, trying to forget about Laura Peters and her ridiculous website. Yes, he had made an account on the stupid thing, but that was only to keep closer tabs on a known sociopath. He hadn't posted or looked at the photo gallery... much.
By the time he reached the station, trying to forget about the website had only succeeded in making him more and more irritated by it. Several hours later, he was still grumbling under his breath as he filled his mug with fresh coffee when McNab appeared beside him.
"Any new cases?" Lassiter growled at the rookie.
"Nothing yet... Well, there's been a slew of break-ins near Sacramento and some assaults, but-"
"If the citizens of Sacramento can't keep their own valuables locked up or defend themselves, it's no concern of ours," Lassiter cut him off and headed for his desk. "At least I can catch up on some of these reports."
Juliet was waiting for him at his desk when he arrived with coffee cup in hand; she had the same look on her face that she'd had when Spencer had accidentally spilled coffee down the front of her new white blouse.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" she asked him.
Lassiter ducked his head and busied himself with the pile of paperwork on his desk. "Not anything that I can think of."
"Maybe something about a website?" Juliet prompted.
"I hear the National Basset Hound Society updated their webpage," Lassiter commented, trying to be conversational.
"Carlton!" Juliet yelled at him, attracting the attention of the entire bullpen.
"Has Spencer been here?" Lassiter glanced around, as if the psychic would be hiding in the conference room or under his partner's desk.
"He called me after you kicked him out this morning," she replied, her voice lower but still exasperated.
"It was four in the morning and he wouldn't shut up about waffles!" Lassiter protested.
"I don't care about waffles!" Juliet glanced around and then grabbed Lassiter's arm. She half-dragged him into the conference room. Once she shut the door, she turned on him again. "You've known for weeks about the website." It wasn't a question; it was a direct accusation.
"I've been monitoring it," Lassiter sighed.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Juliet's irritation was gone, replaced by genuine worry.
"Because technically she isn't breaking her parole."
"You still could have said something," Juliet half-reached out like she wanted to hug him and then put her arms back at her sides. "I don't like her."
"She stalked your boyfriend," Lassiter scowled. "Of course you don't like her."
"She almost killed my partner," Juliet snapped at him. "That seems a bit more important."
Lassiter opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. Letting out another sigh, he held out a hand. "I promise that if she contacts me again, you will be the very first person I tell. Deal?"
"Deal," Juliet bypassed his hand and gave him a hug.
"Can we go finish that paperwork now?" Lassiter asked, pulling away before anyone happened to look in. "I'd like to have a clean desk before the next case."
"After you show me the site." Juliet raised an eyebrow at him.
"Sweet Lady Justice; I should start charging for this," Lassiter grumbled, but followed her out to the bullpen and pulled up LassiterRocks .com. "See, nothing terrible."
Juliet pushed him out of the way and scrolled through the site herself. "It does sound a little ominous, though," she observed after a few minutes of reading.
"Well, so do those emails that threaten to curse you if you don't forward them within 24 hours, or people saying they're going to die if they don't get something they want," Lassiter responded. "It's just harmless internet jargon."
Juliet shook her head. "I'm not completely convinced."
"It'll be fine," Lassiter assured her. "Just be grateful there aren't any stories. Plus, these fans haven't organized any phone and email campaign to get you to appreciate me more."
"I appreciate you already," Juliet scowled at him.
"Laura Peters doesn't live in Santa Barbara any more," Lassiter assured her. "The worst she can do is email me pictures of kittens."
Dear Lassitarians,
Lassitarians sounds like a political party... maybe we should all write in Carlton Lassiter for the election this year! Lol, I digress. Let's get back to the matter at hand; Carlton Lassiter visiting this site.
Detective, I hope you aren't disappointed to see a lack of stories, you seem like the kind of man who would appreciate those. But, my therapist said that living in the fictional realities of my writings wasn't a healthy mental environment.
Remember how I said I was in fear for my safety? The guy who lives four blocks from me was attacked yesterday! Attacked in his own home. It's scary how many people there are out there that want to hurt others. Maybe I'm next on this attacker's list? Carlton, I know that this may sound odd, but those hours we spent together in the basement of my cabin, watching my homemade documentary on Shawn Spencer, connected us in a deeply spiritual manner. You're the only one who can help me figure out who this attacker is.
I know some of the others there might be trying to convince you not to trust me, but I've changed! I promise! Right now, I'm just worried that someone might be coming after me. I'm sure you can understand that.
3 - Laura
"What does she mean by 'deeply spiritual'?" Gus was leaning over Shawn's shoulder and staring at the computer screen. As soon as Juliet saw there was a new letter posted on the site, she had called Shawn and Gus down to the station. She was prepared to give Lassiter an intervention and block the site on the station's system, but she wanted to be rational about the whole thing.
"It's probably the kick in the face I gave her when she tackled me on the stairs," Lassiter spoke up from his desk. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
"What's the matter, Lassie?" Shawn glanced up at him. "Irritated that we're invading your own personal stalker site? Maybe Laura has a bedroom in her new house with pictures of your face plastered all over the walls."
Lassiter threw his empty Starbucks cup at the duo and then went back to scowling.
"Fine, I'm just going to call you Grumpy Smurf," Shawn smirked.
"Zip it, Spencer," Lassiter glared at the psychic.
McNab came over at that moment. "I don't mean to interrupt," he had an envelope in his hands, "but the chief wanted me to give this to you guys if you stopped by today." He handed the envelope to Gus.
"Our check for the gymnast case," Gus observed. "Thanks, McNab," he gave the rookie a fistbump. "Now we can go see the traveling Irish Step Dancers in Sacramento."
Buzz grinned, "Just be careful, the luck of the Irish might not be enough to save you from the assaults that they've been dealing with up there." He shook his head and turned back to the front desk.
Shawn shook his head and placed a comforting hand on Gus' shoulder. "Gus, we can go to the Lord of the Dance show some other time. I hear it's magically delicious." He kept a straight face until he said the last line and then he started laughing.
"Irish step dancing is a revered tradition," Lassiter snapped at him.
"Exactly," Gus nodded. "Maybe I'll just take Lassie with me; he appreciates talent."
"He doesn't appreciate me," Shawn protested.
"I appreciate you," Juliet put a hand on his shoulder, calming him down.
"You guys can have your weird dance date," Shawn rolled his eyes. "It's not like I wanted to go to Sacramento anyways." He froze, remembering the return address label from the letter Laura had sent Lassiter.
"What is it, Shawn?" Juliet studied her boyfriend's face for any clues.
"I just thought of another reason not to go to Sacramento," Shawn half-laughed as he looked at Lassiter. "Laura Peters is currently living there."
"The city has over 400,000 people living in it, Shawn. I doubt we'd run into Laura." Gus crossed his arms. "You're just jealous."
"Jealous?" Shawn repeated. "I don't want to get within a six hour drive of a convicted psychopath and that means that I'm jealous? I hope we all remember what happens when you play along with Laura's schemes."
"People get hurt," Juliet whispered.
Shawn nodded. "Exactly, Lassie gets shot and I find out more information than I ever needed to know about the world of fan fiction. I still have nightmares about those fake weddings." Shawn's voice was getting louder and louder. "So you guys go see your red headed, tight wearing, prancers and I will stay right here and eat Cheetos while watching The Voice."
"I haven't even accepted Guster's invitation to see the show," Lassiter mumbled. "Look, you two go find something to do with your check. I have cases to attend to." He grabbed the stack of reports from his desk and headed for the peace and quiet of the conference room.
Thankfully Spencer and Guster didn't show up again for the rest of the day and Lassiter was able to finish his work quickly. He picked up some Chinese on the way home and gave a sigh of relief when he unlocked the door to his condo.
He flipped the light switch by the door and immediately dropped the brown paper bag holding his food on the ground and drew his service weapon.
"Is that anyway to treat a guest?" a quiet feminine voice asked from the couch.
