Complete Summary:
Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process. No one knew. Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list. With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him? Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled? Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules
A/N: And we meet again! Just a few review replies first...
Psychfan81692 - Glad to see you back and excited! Enjoy this chapter!
HPSmallCharm29 - Thanks - glad you like it!
pathera - Thanks so much! I'm glad you noticed that part about thinking Shawn was at Henry's... that's the effect I was going for. Thanks so much for the awesome review!
And thanks to all of you who added alerts and such - I know there were quite a few! Your support is amazing!
Warning: This chapter has some gore in it - just a warning!
Standard disclaimer applies. Enjoy!
An Apple a Day Keeps the Bullets at Bay
Smack.
"You know what I don't understand?" Shawn Spencer queried, tipping back in his office chair as an apple settled into his hand from its free-fall, the resounding smack echoing across the room.
"What?" Burton Guster asked as Shawn tossed the apple up into the air again.
Smack.
"Why would Parsons steal money from his own store?" Shawn replied, sending the apple ceiling-wards once more. "I mean, he makes a killing from selling used cars, he's got two houses and a yacht - apparently he doesn't even need the money. So why take it?"
Smack.
"Wait, what? I thought Richards was the guy!" Gus shot back, his eyes scanning the clear glass board.
"I was thinking that at first, but I don't think so anymore," Shawn told him distractedly, his eyebrows knit in frustration as he stared at the board.
Smack.
"Why?"
"Because Larry Richards is the accountant, but Parsons is the chief salesman and the owner. He knows every price and every sale that goes down at that store. So while it's true that Richards was writing down the wrong numbers into the dealer's account, it was because he was given the wrong numbers," Shawn explained, taking a bite of the apple.
"How do you figure that?" Gus asked, puzzled.
"We already know that Vick Parsons initials each day's balance sheet, right? It's a way to verify all of the day's sales."
"Yeah, but Richards could've written down the wrong number before Parsons initialed it," Gus suggested.
Shawn shook his head, chewing noisily. "He could've, but 'e didn't," he replied through a mouthful of crushed apple. "C'm'ere," he called, waving his friend over with the apple as he spread a bunch of files out on his desk.
Gus weaved his way around his own desk to peer over the pseudo-psychic's shoulder. "Okay, so we know all eight of these days were off in the totals, right?" Shawn continued. When Gus nodded in agreement, he said, "What do you notice about each of them?"
Gus stared at them for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Shawn tapped his foot, working his hardest to keep from pointing out the obvious link. Suddenly Gus' eyes widened. "Parsons claimed the sale on over half of the vehicles sold each time!"
"Exactly! And do you remember what Richards told us?" Shawn exclaimed triumphantly.
"He said he never has to double-check Parsons' sales, since he's the one in charge!" Gus replied excitedly. "So Parsons must've written prices lower than they actually were and pocketed the profit for himself! He knew Richards wouldn't double check, so he could make a big haul that day, and he initialed the numbers as being correct!" He paused, staring down at each of the files again. "But what's his motive?"
"That's what I don't get!" Shawn replied with a sigh, taking another huge bite of apple. He paused mid-chew to stare at the half-eaten fruit. "Why m'I eatin' dis?" he asked through a full mouth. He shrugged, swallowed, and said, "We need to head back to that used car lot." He tossed the remains of the apple in the garbage and followed Gus out of the office door.
"What've we got, O'Hara?" Carlton Lassiter demanded as he passed under the yellow crime scene tape. He eyed the handkerchief the young blonde was holding over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were watering slightly. "Is it that bad?"
Juliet nodded wordlessly, swallowing a few times. "DB appears to be a young male, maybe late teens or early twenties. It appears like he was severely beaten before he died - all of his appendages have multiple fractures, and his neck looks like it may have been broken. His left tibia appears to be poking straight through the skin. Some of the marks look like whip marks. He's been shot multiple times, as well as stabbed and possibly burned, although I couldn't tell you if it was pre- or post-mortem," she declared finally, leading him around several large boxcar containers. Lassiter wrinkled his nose as the breeze brought in the salty smell of the sea, the coppery smell of blood, and the harsh scent of decay.
"Sweet justice," the hardened detective breathed when he caught sight of the body. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a few other officers quietly puking in a nearby garbage can. He didn't blame them; he had to swallow hard a few times himself.
The kid's body was completely mutilated. O'Hara's description was bad, but the actual thing was ten times worse. The skin was mottled and purple, and some of it was tinged with rot. Deep slashes crisscrossed over the body's torso, and the limbs were sprawled on the dock at half-hazard, grotesque angles. Black blood had oozed out of several bullet holes peppered over the body and around the white bone protruding from his lower left leg.
Lassiter took note with some surprise, however, that the vic's face was practically untouched. There was a bruise on his right cheekbone, and he appeared to have broken his nose recently. His eyes were mercifully closed, but the look on his face suggested he was in severe pain when he died.
"Alright, I want an ID on this kid, and I wanted it yesterday, got it? Who he is, where he's from, his last known whereabouts - the whole nine yards. Understood?" Lassiter barked at a group of officers who had chosen to hang back from the gruesome sight. They all nodded and scurried away, relieved to get away from the sight and smell of the body.
The Head Detective turned his attention back to the body. Next to him, Juliet was silently watching the coroners conferring with a few members from the forensics team. "The Chief's on her way down. She should be here soon," she murmured finally. When Lassiter raised an eyebrow, she explained, "Apparently she heard how gruesome it was and wanted to see it first hand. I don't know why."
The pair turned as McNabb came up. "I think he's ready now, ma'am," he told O'Hara.
"Thanks, Buzz," Juliet replied with a smile. The tall officer nodded and turned to head back the way he had come.
Lassiter and O'Hara followed. "A dockworker found the body. He managed to keep control of himself until officers arrived, but…" Juliet trailed off as Lassiter nodded once. He had already spotted a stout man with short dark hair leaning weakly against a railing.
"Mister Redburn? This is my partner, Carlton Lassiter. He's the Head Detective at SBPD," Juliet called.
Redburn nodded in Lassiter's direction. His dark eyes looked a little glazed. "I've seen ya on the news a few times. Ya do good work," he said, a slight Southern drawl to his voice.
Lassiter blinked. "Thank you," he said, slightly surprised. He pulled out a small notebook and pen. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Redburn took a deep breath. "I was just doin' my normal preparations t' set out for a day of fishin' - it's actually my day off, and I like t' fish. Anyways, I caught a whiff of somethin' rotten. We smell it all th' time, what with all th' fish guts people like t' leave behind. At firs' I thought it was another fish, but it didn' smell quite right, so I went to go check it out, and - and-" His ruddy face turned very pale again, and he swallowed hard.
"You found the body," Lassiter finished. Redburn nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Do you recognize the victim?"
Redburn shook his head. "No, I ain't never seen him 'round here before."
"Have you noticed anyone strange hanging around here? Anyone who's not supposed to be here?" O'Hara asked.
"Not really. 'Course, I don't see everybody tha' comes here, so tha' doesn' mean there wasn' any. But I can tell ya one thing - that body wasn' here las' night. No way, no how. I didn' leave here 'til 'bout ten or so, and there weren't no body."
"Thanks. That's good to know," Lassiter replied, jotting something down in his notebook. "If you think of anything else, let us know immediately, okay?"
"Sure thing," Redburn replied. "Jus' find the guy that did this, a'ight?"
"We'll do our best, sir," Juliet declared firmly. Redburn nodded and shakily turned away.
"Well, that gives us a starting point," Lassiter said as he and O'Hara headed back towards the body. The coroner was wheeling the now-covered body away. "It's pretty obvious this kid's been dead for a least a little bit, and that he wasn't killed around here. The body must've been dumped here last night."
"I'll go check and see if there's security cameras in the parking lot or along the docks. There can't have been too many cars coming in and out of here that late at night," Juliet volunteered immediately.
"Good, good. I'll head down to the morgue, see if we can't figure out what exactly this poor kid died from," Lassiter replied. He paused and glanced around. "I'm faintly surprised Spencer isn't here yet - normally he jumps all over cases like this."
"There's the chief," O'Hara cut in, pointing. Karen Vick was striding towards them rather forcefully. "And Gus told me yesterday they were working a private case - embezzlement, I think. At a used car lot or something."
Her partner nodded distractedly as Vick joined them. "They already carted the body out," Lassiter said to the Chief.
"How did he die?" Vick asked tersely.
Both Juliet and Lassiter blinked in surprise at both the suddenness of the question and the tone of her voice. "We're not entirely sure. He had several gunshot wounds, but it looked like his neck was broken, too. He was also severely beaten, although his face was relatively unmarked," O'Hara answered. Noting the tense look on the older woman's face, she asked, "Chief, what's wrong?"
"This is sounding like a copycat of a serial killer - James McKillian," Vick replied after a moment. "I was a rookie when he was arrested. He killed ten kids, kidnapped a total of thirteen - one body was never found. This MO is very similar to his."
"So someone's trying copy McKillian? Or is McKillian out?" Lassiter asked.
"No, McKillian is still locked up, as far as I know. He got life in prison for what he did," Vick said. "There's no way they would have let him out."
Suddenly Vick's phone rang. "Hello?" There was a long pause. Vick's brows narrowed in confusion. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, Mr. Guster. Start over." O'Hara and Lassiter glanced at each other as there was another pause. Vick's eyes went wide. "He's WHAT?"
"He's shooting at us!" Gus replied, ducking down as another bullet twanged off the already dented door of an old red truck. "Shawn had a vision, and we figured out Parsons was embezzling from his own funds, but we didn't know why," he explained.
"Mr. Guster, what are you talking about?"
Gus stuck a finger over his free ear so he could hear the Chief's voice better. "The embezzlement case Shawn and I are on - Juliet knows about it. We're down at Vick Parson's car lot."
"Are you injured?" Karen asked.
"I'm fine, but I don't know where - Shawn!" Gus suddenly exclaimed as the psychic seemed to materialize out of thin air next to him.
"Who're you talking to? Vick? Here, let me," Shawn panted, snatching the phone from Gus' grasp before he could reply. "Chief?"
"Mr. Spencer, what on earth are you doing?" Vick demanded.
Shawn could hear the sound of doors slamming in the background, and he grinned. "Good, you're coming! Well, I was solving an embezzlement case, although I think it may have just become a murder case," he replied.
"WHAT?" both Gus and Karen exclaimed at the same time.
"I had a vision of Larry Richards lying in a growing pool of blood. I think he reached the same conclusion about his boss that we did, and he tried to confront him about it," Shawn continued, cautiously lifting his head over the bed of the pickup. He dropped down immediately as another hunk of lead zinged over his head, burying itself in a nearby car door. "That, combined with the fact Parsons has us pinned down, makes for a most interesting situation," he gasped.
"Alright, Mr. Spencer, just sit tight, we're on our way, and there's two more units en-route," Vick told him tersely.
"Aye-aye, Chief," the psychic replied, snapping Gus' phone shut and handing it back to his friend.
Gus took it, wide-eyed. "Richards is dead?"
"Or he will be soon," Shawn affirmed grimly. "I managed to catch a glimpse of Parsons with a mirror. Richards was lying on the ground behind him, and I spotted a couple of clips of ammunition on a nearby chair, so I don't know how many shots he has left."
"Well, this is just great," Gus huffed, slumping back against the tire of the truck.
"I know you and your buddy are out there, psychic!" Parsons suddenly yelled. "Why don't you show your face?"
"What, so you can blast it off? Don't think so!" Shawn shouted back, rolling his eyes. "What's the big deal, anyway? Why'd you shoot Richards?"
"He shoulda kept his nose in his own damn business!" Parsons replied loudly. "Just like you two! I told him we shouldn't hire you, but he insisted on it! Look where it got him! Look where it got you!"
"This guy's nuts, Shawn!" Gus hissed
"You think I don't know that?" Shawn shot back under his breath. "Why'd you embezzle money out of your own store?" he called to the salesman.
"You're the psychic, why don't you tell me?"
Shawn's eyes widened. Parsons voice was coming from a slightly different direction. "He's moving!" he whispered fiercely. "He's trying to get a clear shot!"
Gus's eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Then we need to move, too!"
Shawn nodded. He pointed frantically at the underside of another car while yelling, "I know you were having problems with some rather shady characters. Drug dealers aren't the best people to hang out with, right?"
Gus stared at him in shock, but moved forward wordlessly under the car. Shawn dove behind him.
"I'm impressed, Spencer! I didn't think you were for real!" Parsons called. His voice sounded from behind them and to the left. Shawn crab-walked behind the row of cars, Gus hot on his heels.
"You owed someone a lot of money!" Shawn continued as he forced Gus under another car. "And you didn't want to sell any of your property because you needed to save face. No one wants to by cars from a druggie - or anything else, for that matter. 'Cept maybe drugs."
"And I was in the clear - one more big day of sales, and I would've been debt free!" Parsons exclaimed angrily.
Shawn and Gus paused, leaning against the side of a compact car, gasping for breath. "You would've been debt-free until your next fix, anyway," the psychic continued loudly. He popped up briefly and caught a glimpse of the overweight car salesman marching down a row of cars carefully, his Glock poised. He ducked back down as Gus yanked on the hem of his shirt.
"Are you insane?" Gus whispered fiercely. "Did he see you?"
"No, he was facing the wrong direction," Shawn replied with a firm shake of his head. He paused, cocking his head to the side, before he grinned. "Cavalry's coming."
Gus raised an eyebrow, but then he heard it - sirens in the distance. He couldn't hold back a smile.
"What do you know? I could've quit if I wanted to - I would've after I paid off what I owed. But then Richards figured out something was off when he did that damn audit and insisted on hiring you when I wouldn't go to the police, the moron," Parsons sneered.
Shawn gave Gus a gentle shove forward, and together they scrambled forward, passing though a gap between two cars as Parsons continued ranting. "But now he's dead, and once I finished you two, I'll be able to get past this nightmare."
"Too late for that, dude," Shawn replied. "You hear what I hear?" A moment later, he heard Parsons curse fiercely as he registered the sirens. "Did Larry forget to mention that I'm a consultant for the SBPD?"
"I'm gonna kill you!" Parsons screamed. Gus and Shawn ducked instinctively as the gun went off again. There was a distinct thud of the bullet landing into the opposite door of the vehicle they were currently cowering behind. They stared at each other wide-eyed.
Then they heard squealing tires and slamming doors. "SBPD! Drop your weapon and get your hands in the air!"
"Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed, but the second syllable of his exclamation was drowned out by three rapid-fire gunshots. Bullets twanged around them, causing them to cringe.
The shots stopped, and a clicking sound could be heard. "He's out of ammo! Now's our chance!" Shawn hissed, grabbing Gus by the elbow.
"You don't have to tell me twice!" Gus replied as they ran forward together.
"Gotcha!" Parsons suddenly exclaimed triumphantly. The duo immediately whirled in time to see the car salesman smirking, his Glock leveled at them. Shawn automatically moved in front of Gus to act as a shield as a thunderous bang echoed around them.
Shawn blinked. Instead of searing pain in his chest, he saw the gun drop as blood started gushing from the back of Parsons' hand. He scrambled forward and picked up the fallen weapon, getting to his feet and training the gun on the killer as footsteps ran up behind him.
"You guys okay?" Juliet asked as Lassiter moved to handcuff Parsons.
"Yeah," Gus replied breathlessly as Shawn slowly lowered his trembling arms, thumbing on the safety. "Who shot him? Lassiter?"
"Wasn't me," the Head Detective replied tersely as another pair of officers escorted a whimpering and moaning Parsons to their squad car.
Shawn's eyebrows arched. "Then who-"
"All these years, and I still have to cover your six, Spencer? Pathetic," a gruff voice suddenly called.
Lassiter immediately whirled towards the voice, raising his gun. The others turned in confusion to see a tall, lithe man with slightly graying brown hair marching towards them as he holstered his weapon. His green eyes were creased into a smirk as he stared at Shawn.
The hollow sound of a gun hitting the blacktop echoed around them, and the others turned to see Shawn's eyes wide open and his jaw dropped in astonishment.
"Charlie?"
A/N: Thanks again for reading. If you have any questions, please ask... although I can't guarantee I'll answer all of them because you are supposed to have some questions... see you later!
moogsthewriter