I wasn't planning on updating until Wednesday, but I couldn't resist (: So here you go, two days early!

Quick question, does anyone remember which episode it was that Shawn had his motorcycle accident?

Psych Quote of the Day: "Just call me the suck-stopper. No, wait. Don't ever call me that." ~ Shawn

-O-

Chapter 10

Mrs. White in the Library with the Candlestick

"An old high school friend of Shawn's. Jeff Wilson."

Lassiter wasted no time in pulling out his cell phone. He glanced up at Gus as he dialed. "When was the last time you saw this Wilson character?"

"The other day," Gus answered. "He stopped by the Psych office looking for Shawn."

"O'Hara," Juliet's voice came on the other end of the phone. Her speech was slurred and mumbled.

"O'Hara, are you sleeping?" Lassiter asked, stunned.

"Not anymore," was her snapped reply. "I had a headache, Chief told me to go home and get some rest," she explained before Lassiter could cut in. "What's wrong?"

"Is Chief Vick down at the station?"

"No, she's still out looking for Shawn. But I think Buzz is there. Lassiter, what's going on?"

Lassiter ended the call, and immediately dialed another number. "McNab, I need you to run the name Jeff Wilson."

There was a lengthy pause, during which Gus assumed the officer was finding the requested information. He glanced worriedly at Henry, who was sitting on his son's couch, his hands rubbing his face. Gus couldn't blame him. Shawn was in danger, they had no idea where to find him, and worst of all, he really was innocent – and no one had believed him. Even Gus had become skeptical after hearing about the note in the waitress's pocket. He would do anything now to take it all back, but it was too late, and Shawn was wandering around somewhere, unaware of the danger that stalked him. Or maybe he was aware, and was lying face down in a ditch somewhere. No, don't think like that! Gus kicked himself. Shawn was okay. He had to be.

Lassiter snapped his phone shut.

"Well?" Henry stood up, impatient.

"No results for a Jeff Wilson. But the computer did find results for a Charlie Wilson. He was convicted of several counts of assault with a deadly weapon and two counts of breaking and entering."

"So what does he have to do with Jeff?" Gus asked, wondering if he should hope or be afraid if the answer was "nothing".

"You don't recognize the name, Guster?"

"Should I?" An ominous feeling made Gus shiver.

"You and Spencer were the one to solve the case," Lassiter paused. "And Jeff Wilson is his brother."

"Damn it!" Henry slammed his fist against the wall, making them all jump. "Damn it, Shawn, what the hell did you get yourself into?"

"Henry, calm down-"

"No, don't tell me to calm down!" Henry shouted, interrupting the detective. Gus backed up warily. "My son is out there somewhere, oblivious to the danger he's in, and we have no way of warning him!"

"Well, we're not going to find him standing around here!" Lassiter snapped back.

"Then what are we waiting for? To the Blueberry!" Gus cut in. Normally, he would have been amused to watch Lassiter and Henry going at it, but right now Shawn's safety – and probably life – was on the line. Gus wouldn't let the two men's bickering cost Shawn his life. He took several deep breaths, trying not to panic, as the two turned to face him.

"No offense, Guster, but I am not riding in that pathetic excuse of a car," Henry said.

Normally, Gus would have said anything to defend his company car. Now, he was too worked up and too concerned about Shawn to do anything. "Okay, fine. To the Lassie-mobile, then!"

-O-

Shawn was unusually quiet in the car with Jeff. The radio filled the silence, blaring out Michael Jackson's "P.Y.T" as the car sped along the road. A faint smile played across Shawn's lips as he remembered Gus's Michael Jackson costume, and the disaster that had been their performance. Gus started singing a different song halfway through, only to switch back to the original one at the end – a verse behind. Shawn let out a small laugh, wondering if his name would ever be cleared, if he would ever be able to embarrass himself alongside his partner ever again. There were only two probable endings to his situation, and neither of them were promising. He would either continue to evade arrest, and eventually flee the state, or he would be caught and have to spend the rest of his life in jail for the four murders he didn't commit.

Shawn glanced over at Jeff, about to try to start a conversation, when he noticed the gloves his friend was wearing. They were leather, but they weren't very thick. He frowned, wondering why Jeff would still be wearing them. It was cold outside, but the heat inside the car was blasting hot enough to make it feel like a sauna in there. His hands had to be sweating, wrapped in all of that suffocating leather. And yet he showed no signs of discomfort as he turned the wheel to the left. If anything, he seemed almost pleased. About what, Shawn could only guess.

He scanned the car's interior, noticing how clean and devoid of stuff it was. Shawn supposed it made sense, though, because the car was a rental, according to the slip sticking out of the side compartment. The only thing in this car that hadn't been built into it (besides Shawn and Jeff) was a mini evergreen tree air freshener that swung back and forth like a pendulum as they drive around a bend in the road.

Shawn turned back to the front in time to see a shadowy figure dart in front of the car.

"Look out!" he cried, hardly believing what he was seeing.

Jeff let out a cry, eyes bulging as the car swerved. Only it didn't swerve away from the figure, it swerved toward it. Shawn glanced downwards to see that Jeff's foot still rested on the gas pedal.

He barely had time to comprehend the information before the car slammed against the figure and jolted to a stop. A crushing wall of whiteness rushed at Shawn's face, slamming him against his seat and knocking the breath out of him. His vision blurred. The seatbelt flattened against his skin, cutting off circulation in his arms and thighs. Black dots appeared around the edges of his vision as he struggled against the crushing weight of the airbag. His head was on fire, and dots of red dripped onto his lap, staining the white fabric of the bag.

Shawn groaned, the only sound he was able to make. Unconsciousness nagged at his mind, but he pushed it away. He was vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening. The weight was removed from his chest. There was a faint click, and blood returned to his wrists in a hurry, sending thousands of needles pricking into his skin. A blurry figure appeared overhead, as something slid underneath his back.

He was promptly lifted out of his seat. His eyes could barely open, but he could tell by the icy blast of air on his skin that he was no longer inside the car. He groaned again as his body was jostled around, a fiery pain woke in his chest. Colors of red, black, and muted gray swirled across his vision as he struggled to keep the black dots from overwhelming his vision completely. He fought to piece together what had happened.

"Jeff," his voice came out hoarse and pained. A chuckle was his response.

There was the sound of the car door opening again. Plush leather once again supported Shawn's back, but it felt strangely prickly, as though he were sitting on a bed of needles. He couldn't resist as Jeff repositioned his body in the driver's seat, gloved hands temporarily warming his skin wherever they touched.

"You… you were framing me…" Shawn groaned. "It was you who… killed… those people. I still… haven't pieced together the why… but I know the how. You came to Psych… looking for me. I wasn't there… so you left… taking my shirt with you… and a knife. And then you… killed that waitress… the note in her pocket was from me, but it wasn't to her. It was… to you. I wrote that note… to you… in twelfth grade. And… the man… on the beach. You shot him… and gave me the gun…"

Jeff chuckled. What scared Shawn the most was the fact that the laugh sounded genuine. "Speaking of that gun…" Shawn felt a hand slip into his pocket, and saw the blurred shape of the gun as it moved past his line of sight. "I'm sorry to do this Shawn... Aw, who am I kidding. This has been fun! Don't worry, I'm nearly done. I just have one final stop to make at a certain female detective's house."

"What're you…" Shawn didn't get to finish the sentence, as the butt end of the gun collided with Shawn's skull.

-O-

Ouch. Will Shawn be okay? Review and maybe you'll find out sooner than planned(: