It didn't take long for the police to show up. It took even less time for the two detectives to pinpoint Danny as the one who called 911, and therefore at the top of their list for questioning.

"Did you notice anything suspicious before the victim started convulsing?" Detective Lassiter asked, pen poised to jot down Danny's response.

"Like what?" Danny asked with a shrug.

"Any strange behavior, anyone looking nervous, anything that looked like it could possibly be poison?"

"No. I…I didn't see anything." Danny felt the back of his neck and looked away. The speaker's body had already been covered and carted off, and Danny was grateful. Fifteen minutes ago the speaker had been a bumbling leprechaun, giving a talk on theories his parents abandoned months before. Now he was dead, his body on its way to the coroner. It didn't seem possible.

Lassiter wrote that down. "Did you know Mr. Neely personally?'

"No. I-I only came because he based his talk on my parents' research."

"Uh-huh. Jack and Maddie Fenton, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And did they know about Mr. Neely's presentation?"

"Yeah, but they didn't think a whole lot of it. Kinda laughed it off. I mean, they abandoned the theory he used six months ago."

"Were they angry about his use of their research?"

Danny glanced up sharply. "No. They thought it was pretty funny, actually. But they weren't mad."

Lassiter nodded, scribbling in his notebook. "Out of curiosity, can you explain what would possess him to put a 7 in the middle of his name?"

"Uh…."

"It wards off ghosts, Lassie." Danny turned toward the voice. The brown-haired man sauntered forward.

"Spencer, what are you doing here?"

Spencer grinned, hands shoved in his pockets. "I had a vision of murder. And hot babes in Spandex. Given that powerful combination, it would take an army of fat men threatened with diet and exercise to stop me.

"Dude, you had a what?" Danny had learned from experience that in a police investigation, it was best to keep your questions to a minimum. But this Spencer didn't act like a cop, so he figured a question or two would be okay. Spencer grinned and offered his hand.

"Shawn Spencer, psychic detective."

"Cool!"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Okay, Spencer, you've had your fun, now it's time to move along."

"Can't move me along, Lassie. I'm a witness. You need me."

"I have all the information I need."

"Is that why you're questioning a thirteen-year-old kid?"

"I'm fifteen."

"Close enough."

A pretty blonde woman approached Lassiter, notebook in hand. "I questioned some of the people just outside the conference room when the victim fell, Carlton. None of them saw anything suspicious."

Danny couldn't hide a snicker. "Dude, his name is Carlton?"

Lassiter whirled. "You got a problem with that?'

"Uh, no. Sorry."

Sensing Danny's capitulation, Lassiter turned back to the matter at hand. "Did any of them explain why the victim put a 7 in the middle of his name?"

"No."

"Did you ask?'

She folded her arms. "No, Carlton, I didn't ask. I felt the details of the victim's death were more important than whether or not he had a number in his name."

Danny saw the storm brewing and cleared his throat. Three pair of eyes turned on him. "Uh, sorry to interrupt, but you could just ask my parents. They're right down the hall."

"It's just horrible."

Juliet O'Hara took a breath. "Did you hear anything beforehand?"

Maddie shook her head. "No. The conference just started today, and we didn't arrive until late last night."

"Did you know the victim at all?"

"No. I mean, he contacted us to ask permission to use our research, but we never met him in person."

Lassiter jumped in with a question of his own. "Did he show any signs of mental illness when you spoke with him?"

Juliet cast an icy glance at her partner. "What he means to say is….well…." She tried to think of a more delicate way to put it and failed.

Jack glanced at the briefcase in the corner. "I don't think he was insane. Superstitious, yes. And he wasn't very good at his job."

Juliet expected an outburst from Maddie, but she merely sighed. "Unfortunately, Jack is right. We wouldn't let him use our research at first because we abandoned that theory six months ago."

Lassiter waved his pen. "Your son mentioned that."

Jack's eyes widened and Maddie blanched. "You saw Danny?"

"Yes," Juliet said. "He was at the crime scene."

Lassiter regarded them curiously. "Was he not supposed to be?"

Maddie looked at her husband. "He said he'd come to ours!"

"He was running a little late, but he said he'd show up," Jack said. "What was he doing at that workshop?"

"He picked a charlatan over us?"

"Woah, woah, calm down." Juliet raised her hands. "Let's just focus on the questions, all right? You said Andr7ew Neely was superstitious. Can you define that?"

Maddie combed her red hair with her fingers, taking a deep breath. "Well….you saw the 7 in his name."

Juliet glanced at Lassiter. "Yes."

"There's an entire school of thought that believes the number 7 has….protective qualities."

"They think that if you keep it near you-in your name, for example," Jack added, "that it will ward off ghosts."

"But Jack and I disproved that theory almost a year ago!" Maddie sighed. "I don't know what he thought he'd gain from putting a number in his name." She stood. "If you don't have any more questions, I think we'll find our son."

Danny laughed. "Dude, that is so cool! Predict something else!"

Shawn put a hand to his temple and closed his eyes. "I'm sensing….anger. No, no-rage. Yes, helpless, burning rage, the kind that comes when Gus discovers someone has raided his drawer full of Skittles."

"That's you, Shawn. I don't care about Skittles. I am a mature adult."

"Yeah, that's what you said when I caught you watching Sesame Street this morning."

"I was between channels!"

Danny blinked. "I'm not really sure what to say about that."

"Don't say anything," Gus said. "Trust me."

"So. Back to the vision. Rage! Hot, burning rage! Yes, yes, it's very strong now-" His eyes snapped open. "Lassie's here."

The door opened and Lassiter entered.

"How do you do that?' Danny asked.

"I told you. I'm psychic."

Danny watched O'Hara follow her partner, holding the door open for….

Oh no.

His Mom entered, followed by his Dad. And they didn't look happy.

Gus leaned toward Shawn. "I don't think it was Lassie you sensed."

Jack and Maddie Fenton weren't perfect; they were usually late, Jack laughed too loud, and Maddie jumped to conclusions. But whatever you wanted to say about them, two facts remained clear; they were two of the best ghost hunters in the country, and they had a good sense of timing.

When they sat next to Danny, Jack on one side and Maddie on the other, Danny half-hoped they'd begin the lecture immediately. Instead, they stayed where they were, silently fuming. Throughout Lassiter's announcement that the convention center would be locked down for a few hours, Danny battled the urge to run away.

The announcement was much too short for Danny's liking. Then again, he reasoned, maybe it was better to just get it over with. Listen to whatever his parents had to say, apologize and move on.

He took a deep breath and looked up, bracing himself. Maddie met his gaze.

"We'll talk later."

Danny sighed. Of all the things she could have said, this was the worst.

"You should've called us!"

Danny stood, back against the wall of the vacant conference room, careful not to back into it. Nervous as he was, he didn't know if he could keep his powers under control long enough to not phase through the wall. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know I should've called."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I…forgot."

Maddie paused, putting a hand on her hip. "You forgot? Danny, that speaker was murdered!"

"It's not like I knew he'd be murdered when I walked in!"

"But he was! Danny, that could've been you!"

Danny frowned. "Really?"

"Yes, really. You're our son, aren't you? A ghost hunter's son is as good a target as a ghost hunter."

"For who?"

"A ghost, of course," Jack said.

Danny held up both hands. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second. You think a ghost did it?"

"Who else would kill a ghost hunter?" Jack asked with a shrug.

"Um, another ghost hunter, maybe?"

Maddie lifted an eyebrow. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Shawn Spencer. He's psychic."

Jack and Maddie looked at each other. "Is that why the police wanted to question us?"

Oh no. What can of worms had he opened now?

"I don't know," Jack said. "Do you think the Santa Barbara PD would listen to a psychic?"

"I don't know, but if he's still around…."

"Unless he somehow got clearance, I'm sure he's still here."

"Let's go, then." At the door, Maddie turned and shook a finger at Danny. "We're not done here, young man."

Danny still couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut.

Shawn shoved the five-dollar bill into the vending machine. "Come on, come on…." The machine accepted the bill with a mechanical whirr. Shawn threw both hands into the air. "Yes!" He pressed a few buttons, and a small bag of Skittles fell from its slot.

Gus eyed the candy with disapproval. "Really, Shawn? Did you really need more Skittles?"

Shawn collected his Skittles and his change. "Of course I do. Skittles open the mind, expand the senses, make higher thinking possible. That's called enlightenment, my friend."

"That's called food coloring, Shawn. And it's been scientifically proven to cause cancer in rodents."

Shawn paused, his palm half-full of brightly colored candy. "Seriously?" He shrugged, tossing the Skittles into his mouth. "Good thing I'm not a rodent, then."

"Yeah, but rats and humans have a lot of physiological similarities. You could die."

"From eating Skittles? Doubt it." He shook another handful into his palm as they rounded a corner, nearly banging into a couple in hazmat suits.

"Sorry," Shawn said, then started off again. The woman caught his arm, and he recognized her then as Danny's mom.

"You're Shawn Spencer, aren't you?"

"Who wants to know?"

Maddie Fenton raised an eyebrow. "You're psychic. You tell me."

Maddie found an empty conference room a few steps away and pulled Shawn inside. Jack and Gus followed.

Jack wasted no time in getting to the point. "What makes you think a ghost hunter killed Andr7ew Neely?'

"The spirits told me. I'm sure your son told you I'm psychic?"

"He mentioned it."

Shawn leaned back against the wall. "What else did he mention?"

Jack leveled a serious gaze. "You tell me."

Crap. Shawn put a hand to his temple, furtively looking them over for a clue, any clue to what Danny had said. Finding none, he guessed.

With a sharp gasp, he pulled his hand away. "Nothing. That's why you're here, isn't it?" Jack and Maddie drew back slightly, and he continued. "You found us in a hurry. Didn't even finish lecturing your kid, did you?"

"Y-yes," Maddie said, glancing at her husband. "But that doesn't answer our original question."

"Well, like I said. I don't know. The spirits do. The spirits know all."

Jack leaned forward. "Who's going to win the Super-bowl?"

"They only tell me about murders."

"They're evil that way," Gus said.

Jack and Maddie glanced at each other. Shawn smiled a bit.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find a vending machine that doesn't charge three bucks for a bag of Skittles."

Jack sniffed. "Good luck with that."

The trouble with being stuck in a locked-down convention center was there was never enough to do. Going out among a bunch of ghost hunters seemed unwise though, so Danny made the most of it.

He left the conference room and checked both ways. No ghost hunters or cops, but there was probably a security camera somewhere. Suddenly vanishing from sight was bound to make someone suspicious, so he walked to the nearest window.

Santa Barbara was a nice-looking city, he had to admit. Palm trees rustled beneath a cloudless sky, brushing against red adobe rooftops. He smiled slightly. He could just imagine soaring above those rooftops, the wind in his hair and the sun at his back.

Something darted past the window at the same moment Danny's breath turned to mist. He was on his feet and at the window in an instant. Nothing but palm trees and red adobe.

Danny stumbled back a step, running his fingers through his hair. Should he shift into his ghost form and go after whoever it was? Or just stay here? If he went after the ghost, he might get caught…but if he stayed here, who could say what the ghost might do?

The sound of approaching footsteps made him jump. Someone was coming.

Danny turned from the window and quickly walked away. The ghost would have to wait.