Shawn watched his father through the two-way window of the interrogation room as Lassiter questioned him.
It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince the Chief to let him stay. She had initially told him to just go home.
"It's not your case, Mr. Spencer. In fact, you being here is the definition of conflict of interest."
"My interests aren't conflicted," he assured her. "Promise. Pinky-swear!"
Shawn offered his pinky as proof, which the Chief declined. But she did finally concede.
"You stand there and say nothing," she ordered, pointing to a place on the floor in front of the window.
"I.A.B. cleared me ten years ago, when he went missing," Henry was saying from his seat while Lassiter paced the room. Both men were cool, having each other sized up perfectly.
Shawn had to admit he was slightly impressed that Lassiter could meet his father's hard, steady gaze evenly without flinching or bursting into flames.
Even he couldn't always do that.
He also had to admit he was a bit impressed that Henry could look at Lassiter and not have the impulse to muss his hair, chuck him gently under the chin like a kid, or find some way to torment him relentlessly.
He definitely couldn't do that.
"I went through all this back then," Henry continued. "You said you read the file. You know that."
"But they didn't have a body back then," Lassiter pointed out. "They had no proof a murder had actually been committed."
"The body suddenly appearing doesn't change the fact that they couldn't place me anywhere near Kitchel on the day he went missing. I was here. Working. Just like every other day."
"Then why don't you just take me back, step-by-step, through that day?"
"It was ten years ago. I know I was working, but that's about it. Do you remember everything you were doing on some random day ten years ago?"
"If it was the day the target of my biggest investigation went missing, I might remember a few details. Yeah."
Henry shrugged, folding his arms stubbornly.
I know that look. Shawn thought to himself. He knows more than he's telling.
"Well, I don't."
Henry Spencer admitting to forgetting something? What's wrong with this picture…?
Lassiter wasn't buying it, either.
Shawn shook his head.
Buzz approached the Chief nervously.
"Uh, Chief. The ballistics report you wanted just came in."
He handed her the file, and left, refusing to even look at Shawn.
Uh-oh.
The Chief was reading the report. Shawn didn't have to see it to know what it said.
Her face told everything.
"It's a match, isn't it?" He asked quietly.
Vick nodded. Stiffly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer. But it's a perfect match. The bullet that killed Kitchel came from your father's gun. I wouldn't believe it, either, but I'm looking at the report. I don't have a choice, Shawn."
She grabbed her cuffs and went to the door of the interrogation room, pausing before she opened it.
"You can't be here when I come out," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Until this is completely closed, you can't be around at all anymore. I'm taking you off all cases, just to make sure we have a clean investigation."
She closed the door behind her. Shawn watched her approach Henry, speaking in a low voice…
He left before the cuffs came out.
He left before he could see his father's reaction.
But I'll be damned if I am off this case…