Chapter 9 – We Have a Problem
"Shawn…" Juliet breathed as it hit her that he must have eaten a crab cake. It would be just like him to snitch food at a crime scene. Shawn too, had been poisoned. 'Some detective I am.' she thought and tried to re-start her heart, staring at her dying friend.
Lassiter's eyes widened as he concentrated on Spencer's comments, "I know who it is!" he shouted.
With that announcement, the air was split with gunfire.
oO0Oo
Everyone dove for cover.
Shawn shoved Gus towards Juliet. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to safety behind some lab equipment. Without waiting, Shawn then dove for Lassie, who was lying in the middle of the floor, having been the recipient of at least one of the gunshots. He grabbed his shoulders and pulled him behind a table.
Henry had been standing under the balcony and went unnoticed by the gunman. He pulled his gun and began to silently make his way to the upper level.
"'Suddenly shots rang out?' Seriously?" Shawn asked breathlessly. He turned to the detective, "Lassie! You okay?"
"No, I'm not okay!" Lassie growled in pain, "I've been shot!"
"I know." Gasp, "That's not what I meant…" Gasp. "Can you still shoot?"
Juliet was trying to return fire, but she had horrible position. The gunman, however, had stopped shooting and was slowly and silently creeping over to where he would have a clear shot at the pair.
"Give me your gun, Lassie," Shawn held out his hand.
"Spencer, why are you shaking? And, no! I will not give you my sidearm. I am perfectly capable-"
"Really, Lassie? Have you seen your arm?"
And suddenly the pain hit. It figured that Lassiter, in declaring he knew the identity of the killer, had become the first target. He'd taken a bullet in the right shoulder and in the forearm. His hand was almost useless.
Shawn had grabbed a towel from where it fell when he'd overturned the table and was wrapping Lassie's forearm with it. He grabbed another cloth and handed it to the detective, "Apply pressure. And, unless you're just as good lefty as you are righty… give me your gun before it's too late!"
"I will not give my weapon to a civilian who's shaking so badly he can barely see!"
"The crab cakes," Shawn explained matter-of-factly, "were delicious." He waited for it to sink in. Lassiter's eyes widened at the implication.
"And… apparently I'll quit being cold in a second…"
Lassiter glared at Shawn's outstretched hand which had, in fact, stopped shaking. He slapped his weapon into the palm of the man he reluctantly had to agree was his partner's best hope.
"You're too late, anyways," Lassie growled in frustration, "He's out of our line of sight."
"No. He's not…"
Lassiter stared at Shawn as he very calmly lined up a shot for a spot that was twenty yards away and about the width of a quarter. The shooter was just barely visible between the crates he was using for cover. However, the muzzle of his gun was quite clear past the edge of the crate. It was pointed directly at an oblivious Gus.
"Don't kill him," Lassie ground out, "We need hi-"
He fired.
oO0Oo
"SBPD! Show me your hands!" His dad shouted from above, four whole seconds later: an eternity in Shawn's mind.
That was the last thing Shawn heard. He lay where he had fallen after Lassie's gun kicked back at him. He was too weak, now, to hold onto it.
Gus and Juliet were safe. His Dad had the guy. That was good. But his head throbbed. He couldn't think. Everything hurt. And he was so hot.
He had failed. It was too late. Too late to save Amy. He could barely make out Lassie leaning over him. Why's he doing that? He just wanted it all to go away.
And it did.
oO0Oo
Meanwhile, on the upper level, Henry held his gun on the shooter who was lying on the floor grasping his thigh. "Show me your hands!"
"Nah, man! I'm bleeding!" He pleaded.
"Yeah – you're bleeding. And my son is dying," Henry approached slowly, wrath clear on his face, "because of you. Where is the antidote?" His voice was frighteningly soft, and tightly controlled. With one more step he kicked the man's dropped weapon out of reach. Henry's face curled into a snarl. This trash was only alive because he had the antidote. As soon as it was found- he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions.
The murderer slowly raised his blood covered hands. You didn't need to be psychic to see that the cop was ready to pull that trigger. His eyes darted in every direction, desperate to see a way out.
Meanwhile, Juliet and Gus had reached the overturned table.
"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed as he knelt next to where his friend had crumpled. Frantic, he felt for a pulse.
Juliet, who had grabbed the lab's first aid kit on the way over, was tending Lassiter's wounds. Both detectives looked at Gus expectantly.
"He's still alive." He told them fearfully, then repeated it much louder so Henry would hear. He pulled off his jacket and bunched it up under Shawn's head, "We need that antidote. Now." He turned back to his buddy and begged softly, "C'mon, Shawn. Hang in there."
"Back-up and ambulance are on the way," Juliet told her partner, "Gus called while we were pinned down."
Lassiter looked up at the balcony where he could see Henry, his weapon pointed at the man out of sight on the floor. "Go." He commanded his partner, his voice tight with pain, "Guster can do this. Spencer needs back-up."
Juliet nodded once, pulled her weapon and headed for the stairs.
"You're not getting out of here," Henry ground out, "You're going away for murder. Your only chance is to keep it to one count. If you don't give me that antidote – right now – it'll be three counts of murder. You'll die in prison." He swallowed, "That is – IF you make it that far."
"I've got it! The antidote! I've got it in my pocket here…" he protested, using the railing to pull himself to his feet. Certain the cop would make good on his threats, he was frantic to escape at any cost.
"Henry?" Juliet had arrived and was very worried the former detective in front of her was about to do something he would later regret.
Desperate, the man took sudden advantage of what he hoped was a distraction. He grabbed the railing and launched himself over, planning to land on one of the tables below and from there, make it out the door.
Henry, however, had not been the least bit distracted by Juliet's arrival. Already reaching towards the antidote, he grabbed a leg just as the idiot cleared the railing, unfortunately changing his trajectory, and turning his leap for freedom into a headlong dive. "NO!" Henry shouted, his hands clenching the top rail as he looked down.
A second later, he turned to face a shocked Juliet. "He has the antidote," was all he said. Then he brushed past her and hurried down the stairs.
Lassiter, his arm well bandaged, met him at the body. They both dropped to their knees and began to search. Lassiter pulled out a wallet, but Henry shouted in triumph as he pulled two small vials of clear liquid from a pocket.
Thankful they were still intact. He handed them to Juliet before joining Gus at Shawn's side. "Aw, kid…" He spoke softly as he sat and pulled Shawn into his arms, his head falling against Henry's shoulder. His son's face was deathly pale, his forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat and his breathing was shallow and erratic. "We got it," he whispered into Shawn's hair. "We got it. Just hang on a little longer." He turned to the others, "Why didn't somebody bring a syringe?" he demanded, mostly angry at himself for not thinking of it.
Lassiter was studying the wallet and nodding. "Allen French" he announced the dead man's name. "This guy was on our list. He worked for one of the suppliers until he was fired two weeks ago. He was also on the list of people who had access to the house – he got a job delivering the dry cleaning, which was probably how he both approached Manfredsen in the first place, and how he was able to poison the crab cakes." He shook his head, "Just glad he had the brains to carry the antidote."
Juliet, who had been studying the two vials while she waited for the ambulance, approached the group. "We have a problem." Three heads turned to listen while she shook her head, "These bottles are different. They have very different labels, but they're in some kind of code."
Gus jumped to his feet and studied them, hoping his medical knowledge would be helpful. It wasn't. "They're different alright. And there's no way to tell which one is the antidote..."
TBC…
Uh oh – guess Shawn's not out of the woods yet…
Thanks for reading! And please review.
