This is the second part of the previous chapter. Actually it was meant to be one long chapter, but with the shift in perspective I decided to split it in two. So basically, this is the same thing that happened in the previous chapter from a different perspective. Enjoy.

Chapter 7 – Here's what happened

Carlton Lassiter had never been so glad to see the flashing lights of an approaching ambulance. Never in his entire life.

Spencer's latest bout of retching was over, but now he was simply staring ahead with glazed eyes and without focus, and that was even more worrisome. Catatonia, shock, Lassiter didn't know what it was. But it was bad.

Actually, he was surprised that the other man had made it this far.

Being chased down a mountain in handcuffs was one thing. Lassiter didn't quite know how Spencer could have seen it as entertaining in any way, but for somebody with a mind as childish as the psychic's it might have been like playing a strangely warped version of Cops and Robbers.

Until that shot had made it real.

Nothing like a lethal shot to make things so unbelievably real.

Shooting people was not what TV made you believe it was. Seeing the life vanish out of somebody's eyes when you pulled the trigger was haunting. Devastating. No matter if that person had earned it. Not matter if it had been either you or them. No matter if it was totally, legally justified.

Killing somebody took it out of the strongest.

Lassiter understood the retching. Throwing up because a dead man, a man you had just shot yourself, was lying on top of you was a perfectly normal reaction.

Walking around with the man's blood all over you had to be a nightmare.

But still Spencer had managed to get in the car and drive them down the mountain without killing them. Well, it had been a close call that one time, but he had managed to get them out.

But now Spencer's adrenaline levels seemed to be lowering and it was obvious that whatever had kept the younger man going was gone. Spencer seemed to have shrunk in on himself, and it was obvious that he was going into shock. Not the medical kind of shock, Spencer's injuries weren't bad enough for that.

But his brain seemed to be shutting down now. Maximum capacity reached, sensory overload.

The ambulance was approaching them, and Lassiter could see a second set of flashing lights from a patrol car. Just a minute longer, then help would be here.

The older Spencer was still talking on the phone, was yelling at them to answer, but right now Lassiter couldn't. It was hard enough to think coherently, how was he supposed to answer somebody's questions? Especially the questions of somebody who hadn't been there during the past hours, who knew nothing of what had been going on.

Lassiter's right shoulder throbbed, his ribs were aching fiercely now and he didn't dare to move his left hand at all. But with Spencer shutting down like that, somebody had to stay aware long enough to make sure that those guys didn't get away.

Carefully, Lassiter shifted his body so that he could reach out to Spencer with his right hand. The shoulder hurt like hell, but he managed to bring a hand up and press it against the psychic's jugular. Spencer's pulse was throbbing much too fast under Lassiter's fingers, his breathing was too flat and fast, but Lassiter didn't know what to do. He couldn't do anything but let his hand sink to Spencer's uninjured shoulder with a sigh and wait for the ambulance to arrive.

Spencer senior was still yelling.

Couldn't he stop the yelling? It was not as if that would change anything, and Lassiter was sure that his son was too far gone into shock to hear him, anyway.

"Henry." He finally croaked out, wondering why it required nearly superhuman strength to speak.

"Carlton, damn it why didn't you answer? What is wrong with Shawn, why isn't he answering?"

"He's in shock. Listen, I need to speak to the Chief. Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to the station, where else would I be? Do you seriously think I'd stay at home when my son calls me to tell me that he killed somebody? I'm not going to wait until somebody drops by with the answers!"

Carlton nodded. That was the first good piece of news in a long time.

"Listen Henry. Stay on the phone. Give it to the Chief. I need to speak to her."

"What about Shawn?"

"Ambulance just arrived. He'll be okay. Chief will know which hospital. Just give her the damn phone."

The line went silent, though Lassiter knew that Henry was still listening, trying to discern by the background sounds alone what was happening to his son. Lassiter didn't care right now, he had other things on his mind.

At that moment, two paramedics and two patrol officers arrived, and Lassiter squeezed Spencer's shoulder.

"Spencer. Spencer!"

There was no reaction from the younger man, and Lassiter sank back with a sigh.

The driver side door was opened and one of the patrol officers stuck his head into the car. Lassiter caught the man's eye.

"Carlton Lassiter, SBPD. We…"

The officer shook his head. "We were briefed on the radio, detective. Another ambulance is on the way, now we need to get you out of here."

His eyes fell on the handcuffs that were holding Spencer and Lassiter together and he frowned. "Although nobody mentioned that."

He withdrew his head, exchanged a few words with one of the paramedics. The officer handed something over to the paramedic who was next to stick his upper body into the car. His eyes roamed over Spencer's unresponsive form and then turned towards Lassiter.

"All right, we need to get those cuffs off before we try to get the two of you out of here." He inspected Spencer's wrist first, but was done after a few seconds. Then his eyes fell on Lassiter's wrist, which by now was swollen so much that the metal of the cuffs was biting into his arm. "And that's going to hurt."

Lassiter nodded. He probably wouldn't feel the pain anymore. Certainly there had to be a maximum level of pain above which the body simply shut down its pain receptors. If so, he had certainly reached his limit.

The paramedic put the key into the lock of the handcuff and unlocked it.

The click Lassiter heard as the lock disengaged and the cuffs opened was probably the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

The pain that followed as the cuff was gently, carefully removed from his wrist was blinding.

And then it all happened really fast.

The second ambulance arrived together with two more patrol cars. The first two paramedics processed to move Spencer out of the car, including all the usual behavior Lassiter had witnessed at scenes of accidents countless times before. Not that they had even had an accident. At least not with the car. One could call their entire day a string of stupid accidents, but the car ride had been one thing that had gone smoothly. Rather smoothly. Not perfect, but still.

Spencer was still staring ahead without focus and didn't seem to be entirely there. At times, he would blink and draw in a sharp breath, just as if he was about to snap out of it and ask a question, or crack one of his stupid jokes, but that would vanish as quickly as it had come and he'd settle back into his catatonic stare. He didn't even blink as the paramedics started to move him out of the car.

The passenger side door of the car was opened and more paramedics and patrol officers started to work on Lassiter. He too had to undergo the usual procedure of how to get an injured man out of a car, and the paramedics wouldn't be deterred from that no matter how often he told them that he was fine. Finally, he was lifted out of the truck's cabin. For the first time in what felt like an eternity he found himself more than two feet away from Spencer, and somehow that experience was a little disconcerting. On any ordinary day, he'd proclaim that no place on earth could be far away enough from the annoying alleged psychic, but right now it was extremely disturbing that he couldn't see the younger man anymore.

Spencer's condition was worrisome, and he would most certainly not explain to the man's father how it was possible that his son had ended up like this on Lassiter's watch. And he most certainly wouldn't want to face O'Hara on that matter, either.

But as soon as he was strapped on a gurney and his most obvious wounds were being taken care of, the gurney was rolled around the truck and he could see Spencer again.

The psychic was strapped onto a gurney just like Lassiter was, and he was still staring straight ahead, not even aware of the people fussing around him.

Something pulled at his hand and Lassiter noticed that he was still clutching the dead man's cell phone in an iron grip. And now a paramedic was trying to take it away from him.

"Need…phone."

The paramedic nodded. "Of course, but we need to examine you. You can call somebody later. Or we'll call them for you."

Lassiter shook his head and tried to scowl at the young woman who quite obviously didn't realize how important all this was.

"No. I need the phone. Need to tell the Chief."

The paramedic looked as if she was ready and willing to drug Lassiter senseless just to take the phone away from him, but at that moment, fortunately, blissfully, the little device sprang into life again. Spencer senior had arrived at the station, it seemed.

"Carlton? Carlton, are you still there?"

It was the Chief's voice, and she sounded rattled.

"Need the phone." Lassiter pressed out, knowing fully well that he'd not be able to raise his hand to his ear on his own. "Important police work."

The paramedic stared down at Lassiter for a moment, deliberating, then she sighed and took the phone out of his hand and held it beside his ear.

"One minute." She said strictly, but Lassiter didn't hear.

"Chief." He croaked out.

"Carlton, what in the name of all that's good is going on?"

Her voice was sounding through the earpiece with a strange echo, and Lassiter knew that Vick had him on speakerphone. Probably half the station was listening in. "Ambulance's here. Need you to…listen Karen. The guys, the jewel thieves."

"That's what this is all about?"

"Just listen. They're trying to flee. Mexico. Border Patrol needs to close the border. Four guys, two cars. Brown panel station wagon, blue SUV, both…Santa Barbara license plates. Guys are Caucasian, all around thirty years. The guys in the brown car have the diamonds."

"All right Carlton, I'll pass it on. But now I want you to tell me what has been…"

"Not finished yet Karen." It was getting harder and harder to think coherently. He needed to tell the Chief everything he knew before he passed out or before the paramedics helped that process along.

"There's a gravel road a few miles…a few miles away from where we're now. Leads into the mountains. You need to send O'Hara and backup teams. There should be glass on the road from our back window. You need to go into the woods there…north. A few hundred yards north there's a crime scene. Coroner needs to get the body."

"So what Henry said is true? Somebody was killed? Carlton, what happened?"

Lassiter ignored her. "Second guy is still on the run. He's on foot. He's armed. You need to find him, Karen. He's armed. Dangerous. And you need to get that body to the…the morgue."

"Carlton, answer me! What happened? Who is the dead man?"

"Backup crew. Wanted to kill us."

"And how did he end up dead?"

"Spencer…Spencer shot him."

Chief Vick fell silent, but Lassiter could clearly hear the loud curse in the background which told him that the older Spencer was still there and had heard that last sentence. Before the Chief could think of something to say, the female paramedic was back and took the phone away from Lassiter.

"No…"

She shook her head. "No discussion. We need to get you to the hospital now." She brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello? No ma'am, he's stable so far. But we need to get him to the hospital quickly, so I'm afraid you'll have to end this conversation now. Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital, yes. Everything else you want to know, you'll have to wait until we're there. No…I understand that it might be important, but I'm afraid neither of the two is in the condition to answer any more questions. Goodbye Ma'am."

She hung up and put the phone away. "Now we're going to get you to the hospital, sir."

Lassiter looked around, confused to notice that the other ambulance seemed to have left already.

"Spencer?"

The paramedic raised an eyebrow as she and her colleague rolled the gurney towards the ambulance.

"Your friend is on his way to the hospital. His condition wasn't critical, I'm sure he'll be all right."

But Lassiter had seen the empty look in Spencer's eyes. He didn't know if the man would be all right again. At least not by Spencer's own standards.

Taking a life tended to screw with your ability to bounce back to normal.

It didn't matter how justified it was to pull the trigger.

He was jostled around a little as the paramedics loaded the gurney into the back of the ambulance, and the pain from his shoulder wound flared up with renewed force. Finally, the gurney was in place, the doors were slammed shut and the ambulance started moving.

Lassiter knew that the drive to the hospital would take some time, even if the driver of the ambulance didn't have to stick to the speed limit. His shoulder was throbbing, his wrist was throbbing, his ribs were hurting with every breath he took, his head was aching as if somebody had used it for an anvil, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

But just as he wanted to close his eyes, the paramedic shone a light right into his pupil. Lassiter hissed and tried to move away, but he couldn't move.

"Now, I'm afraid you'll have to stay awake a little longer sir. You seem to have a concussion, if possible you need to stay awake."

Lassiter groaned. He knew the drill. It was not as if this was his first bump to the head, or his first concussion. And even if he told that paramedic now that he had been unconscious earlier and had woken up again just fine without falling into a coma, he knew that it was senseless to start that discussion.

So instead he silently rolled his eyes and stared up at the roof of the ambulance. The paramedic tried to keep him talking while she took his blood pressure and did god only knew what else. Lassiter answered monosyllabically, just enough so that she was assured he wasn't falling asleep. He didn't even think about what he was saying. If that paramedic has just asked him if he was married to Madonna, he had agreed. If she had asked him if he was married to David Letterman, he had also agreed. And actually, he didn't particularly care.

Thinking was too much of a bother right now. He had told the Chief everything he could. She knew enough to take over the case, and Lassiter was relieved about that. Normally he liked to be in charge of things, but right now he'd gladly hand the case over to somebody else. Border patrol could take care of the guys trying to get to Mexico, and somebody else could try to find Greg in those woods in the middle of the night. Good luck to the poor bastards who had caught the night shift today.

Lassiter only wanted to sleep.

But he wasn't granted even that small mercy.

Oh, sure. In about an hour, after examination in the hospital he'd probably be allowed some time of drug induced sleep. Maybe even surgery. Just great. Anesthetics always screwed him up badly.

But Lassiter had no illusions about his injuries. By tomorrow morning, he'd have enough drugs in his bloodstream to sustain an aging Hollywood actress through at least a week.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed when the ambulance finally stopped. A moment later the doors were opened and his gurney was unloaded. It was a little disconcerting not to be able to see where he was going, but his position on the gurney had him staring straight up at the ceiling. He wondered if it was possible to get seasick from the ride on a gurney. Right now, he was tempted to say that if this transport took any longer, he might just need something to vomit into. But they hadn't made it far into the hospital when he heard a known voice.

"Hold on a moment!"

The movement on the gurney stopped and a whole stampede of footsteps approached him. Had they even left somebody at the station to mind the telephones?

Karen Vick's face was the first that came into his line of vision, followed quickly by O'Hara's and – oh joy! – Henry Spencer's. Judged by the expression on the Chief's face, Lassiter had to look even worse than he thought he did.

"My god, Carlton."

"Ma'am, we really need to bring the detective up for examination."

"You have already wheeled one of my men past without so much as saying a word." The Chief's voice sounded angry.

"'s allright…" Lassiter slurred, struggling to keep his eyes fixed on Karen Vick's face. "Spencer?"

Vick shrugged. "He arrived a few minutes ago, but they brought him away immediately."

"Where did all the blood come from?" Henry Spencer's voice sounded as if they were all standing on the brink of a catastrophe if he didn't get an answer to that particular question soon. "There was blood all over him, what happened?"

"Not his. The dead guy's. Long story."

"Ma'am, we really need to examine him now."

Vick nodded. "All right. You'll be fine, Carlton. I'll handle the situation from here."

Lassiter nodded, but his gurney was already moving and he could no longer keep his eyes on her face. They moved through a set of doors, around a corner and into a room.

All during the examination, Lassiter couldn't help but wonder where Spencer was right now. He had to be around somewhere, couldn't have arrived much earlier than he had. A few minutes, tops. Maybe he was even being examined in the room next to this, or the one across the hall. Lassiter hoped they'd also take a look at Spencer's shoulder, Lassiter wasn't comfortable with having set it without any form of medical aftercare.

Which brought him back to his own problems. His own shoulder.

His shirt and jacket were long ruined now, that was the only reason why he didn't get totally pissed as the nurses started cutting the fabric away from his torso. It had been his favorite shirt, too. Just for the record.

Spencer was going to buy him a new shirt, there was no way around that. And if it cost him an entire consulting fee, Lassiter didn't care.

X-rays. He hadn't had one of those in quite a while. If he asked nicely, maybe they'd perform his annual checkup right away, then he didn't need to schedule a doctor's appointment.

The examination took endless, but Lassiter was not in the least surprised when the final verdict was surgery on his shoulder wound. Obviously, the bullet had nicked his shoulder blade and they needed to fix something. Scratch out bone fragments, glue things back together, do a jigsaw puzzle on his shoulder blade. Whatever.

This was just great. Drug induced sleep and at least an entire day of total disorientation due to anesthesia. Just what he had had in mind for this weekend.

Oh, and he also still had a shot at the bonus prize, he shouldn't forget that. His wrist was broken, but they wanted to wait for the swelling to go down before they made the decision whether or not he needed surgery on that as well. Great. Two for the prize of one. But considering his wrist by now looked as if he had a baby whale attached to his left arm, this might take a while anyway.

Lassiter nodded as the ER doctor explained his injuries and the treatment he suggested, and he nodded his consent. He really did his best to at least pretend that he was in any condition to decide anything but when to draw the next breath, but the doctor seemed to buy it. Lassiter only hoped he hadn't just agreed to a gratuitous vasectomy.

The Chief was outside, she could take care of the paperwork. It wasn't as if he was in any way able to fill out his admittance forms. She had a badge. And a gun. Lassiter was sure that would work out somehow. But there was still his emergency contact list. He had wanted to update that one for months now.

His still-married-but-soon-to-be-ex-wife would probably just hang up when the hospital called. Maybe she'd tell them that it'd be no shame if they screwed up his medication dosage and he never woke up again. Lassiter didn't care.

But he distinctly remembered that his mother was also on that list.

Crap.

Suddenly, anesthesia and its aftermath didn't seem all that bad anymore. Maybe they'd give him an extra large shot of medication and he'd be out for two or three days. But who was he kidding. Knowing his luck, he'd be wide awake as soon as the medication wore off.

And he didn't even want to think about that right now. The Chief would rip him a new one if she got to know the details of what exactly had happened today. And she'd be right. Didn't mean Lassiter had any desire to go through it, though.

The doctor finished his examination and suddenly the gurney was moving again. Lassiter didn't care. He wanted to sleep. He only wanted to close his eyes and sleep. Maybe tomorrow morning he'd wake up and all this had been a bad dream.

He was barely aware on his way up to the operating theatre. The pre-operation procedures passed in a blur of hushes voices, bright light and green-clad people fussing around him. Then the anesthetic was inserted into his bloodstream and finally his eyes closed in exhausted, blissful, drug-induced sleep.