Still not mine…
Psych
Shawn was no stranger to the interrogation room; far from it, actually. In the four years since starting Psych he had been on both sides of the table, and before Psych had had a couple run-ins with the law to warrant a visit to the interrogation room. But he had never really felt like any other suspect before, not until today.
He had been sitting across the two-way mirror, avoiding his reflection, since three-thirty. It was about five-forty according to his watch. He had told Vick everything that seemed relevant, which was everything, beginning with his-what Henry called-'unhealthy' obsession with Abigail's case. Karen listened, took very detailed notes, only to leave him alone moments after he finished. Juliet was running the fingerprints on her phone and the phone Harrison gave him. Shawn had bagged Juliet's phone the moment he stepped foot into her apartment and had been ordered, by Vick, the moment he finished his story to give up Harrison's phone. Gus had gone to get a cup of coffee, being up all night made him more cranky than normal. And Henry was somewhere, Shawn wasn't exactly listening when his father mentioned where he was going.
Alone, he stared at the table. He didn't exactly like the quiet, it made him think. When he was avoiding Henry-staying locked in his room for long periods of time-he would put in mixed tapes just to drown out the quiet. It was easier to sing Everybody Wants to Rule the World or Video Killed the Radio Star than actually dwell on Her scent, Her smile, the last words She ever spoke to him, on what movie they would have seen… on everything about Her. It was bad enough he let his mind wander to the crime scene, but it was a necessary sacrifice to bring down the son of a bitch who killed Her.
The door opened causing him to look up into the blue eyes of his father. Henry closed the door with his foot, hands full with two cups of coffee and a greasy bag. He set the bag and coffee on the table, grabbed an empty chair from against the wall, and sat across from Shawn.
"I brought you something to eat," the ex-cop said pushing the bag toward his son. The smell of food hit Shawn's nostrils, his nose scrunching up. Food just didn't seem as appealing as it used to. Ignoring the freshly baked donuts in the bag, he grabbed the coffee and took a careful sip.
"Not hungry?" Henry asked, almost nonchalantly, picking up the other coffee.
"Not really," Shawn mumbled taking another sip. They fell silent, staring at each while they drank their coffee.
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Henry grabbed the bag of donuts from under Shawn's nose and pulled them toward him. He pulled out a chocolate one, covered in sprinkles. He took a huge bite, almost savoring the flavor. He chewed, swallowed, and said, "You sure you don't want one? I got them from your favorite place."
"I'm not hungry," Shawn replied glancing down at the table.
"Kid, you are going to have to eat sooner or later," Henry snapped losing any casualness he had managed to summon. He placed his donut on top of his coffee lid, leaned over the table, and said, "When I was seventeen I had this girlfriend named Jenny…"
"What?" Shawn asked looking into his father's eyes.
"Jenny was special to me," Henry continued as if Shawn hadn't interrupted him. "She was someone who totally got me, who didn't really care that my life's ambition was to stay in Santa Barbara and become a cop. I thought I was going to marry her…"
"So, you married Mom because she stole you from Jenny," Shawn said dully. "What does this have to do with anything?" he really didn't have time for one of his father's lessons or lectures. He was just too tired to really listen anymore, and if he could he would sleep forever. But nightmares plagued his sleep, horrible nightmares that had him questioning his sanity.
"Yes, I married your mother, but she didn't steal me from Jenny. Halfway through my senior year, after dating Jenny for nearly a year, she was killed in a car accident. I had been driving-we had been coming home from a date-when a drunk driver swerved into our lane. Jenny was killed instantly; I came away with a few broken ribs, some bruising, and a concussion. The driver didn't have a scratch. I wanted to kill the man, wanted to make him pay for taking Jenny from me, but he wasn't the only person I blamed. I convinced myself that I could have prevented that crash. My mind kept telling me 'you should have left the restaurant earlier' 'should have driven slower down the road' 'should have picked another night to celebrate your one year anniversary.' Even though I was following the law, even though we were two innocent bystanders, and even though that man choose to drink and drive I blamed myself for Jenny's death. And I know you feel the same way about Abigail's death…"
Shawn avoided his father's eye, a stain on the table catching his eye. There was no way he was going to admit to his father that that was exactly how he felt. He was the one who decided to become a psychic detective to stick it to his father. He was the one who fell in love with helping people and just couldn't give up the 'psychic' ruse. He was the one who suggested him and Abigail stop for a pineapple before returning to his place. And he was the one who started all this by helping put Darrel T. Bennett into prison. It was all him.
"But Shawn," his father's voice brought him back to reality, "you can't blame yourself. This is far from your fault. You want to blame someone, blame me. I'm the one who put you through all those lessons, the one who strengthened your mind to see what others don't. Throw a couple punches at me if it'll make you feel better."
"I don't blame you, Dad," Shawn said quietly, eyes still glued to the stain. "I would never blame you." He couldn't believe his dad was even suggesting laying the blame on him. If it was anyone's fault it was Mahoney's, Harrison's, and people like them. They were the ones who took innocent lives every, single day. Took them and destroyed everyone else's around them. Those sons-a-bitches should be the ones in the morgue not Abigail. Not her…
The door opened making both Spencer men jump. Both looked toward the entry way, Jules standing with a folder in her hands. She glanced between Henry and Shawn, the latter feeling heat spread up his neck and across his face in embarrassment. He hadn't exactly planned to empty his stomach contents in her toilet, let alone have a major breakdown in front of her. She probably thinks I'm a major wussy, he thought bitterly.
"I got those fingerprints back," she said crossing the room.
"And?" Henry questioned getting to his feet.
"They matched up with a couple guys in our system. Samson Mahoney, or Walter S. Waters, is wanted in six states for everything from robbery to attempted murder. He's had ties with several major crime bosses since the early '80's."
"What about Harrison," Shawn asked after clearing his throat. An uncertain look crossed Juliet's face, one that Shawn caught even though she tried to quickly hide it. "Jules, what is it?"
"Mahoney has ties with Harrison," she started after a few more seconds' hesitation.
"Yeah, they're enemies…" Shawn said slowly, but trailed off when he realized Harrison didn't exactly admit to being enemies with Mahoney. He had assumed they were, but maybe he was trying to get his partner locked up to get the heat off of him. Maybe…
His thoughts trailed off when Juliet started speaking again, "Harrison had worked with Mahoney a while back, before branching out on his own. Him and his brother."
"Brother," Shawn and Henry asked simultaneously, almost identical looks of curiosity crossing their faces with a hint of caution thrown in.
"Bradford Harrison's real name is Denis Raymond Bennett. He's Darrel Bennett's brother…"
PSYCH
"He's what," Shawn whispered far from sounding like himself. He had gone pale, his eyes locked on the table. Juliet hated seeing him like this, hated not knowing what was going through his head. She quickly flipped through the top folder, showing him the results.
"It's all there. Plus, I looked through archives for the man who tried to blow me up and shot you…" her voice trailed off, eyes scanning Shawn's face for any emotions. He had slipped on an emotionless mask, one that Juliet wished he would drop. When he had broken down in front of her, showed her a flash of what he was feeling, she thought that would have been the start of him sharing more of his feelings. She had totally been wrong.
"He also rigged that shotgun to shoot the first person to enter psych," Henry pointed out crossing his arms.
"Allegedly," Jules mumbled, but still nodded. There was no doubt he did it, evidence be damned.
"Who is he?" Shawn asked his voice nothing but curious, the mask that stabbed at Juliet's heart still planted firmly on his face.
"His names Francis McGee," she replied, shutting out all personal thoughts and feelings, opening the second folder. The sneering face of the auburn haired man looked up at her. She managed to suppress a shiver, still remembering her nightmare.
"Shawn, is that him?" Henry asked glancing at his son. Juliet followed his gaze, eyes landing on Shawn's face. A flash of anger crossed his face, disappearing in seconds. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and said, "Yeah, that's him."
"He's been arrested twice on armed robbery, and is wanted in five states for murder. He's an alleged hit man for hire. He travels into town, does his job, takes his money, and leaves. Or so everyone says. There's no actual proof of his crimes, seeing as no one has actually lived to indentify him. We are the first."
"Lucky us," Henry muttered bitterly. "What do you plan to do with all of this?" Two sets of eyes fell on Juliet, both giving him identical inquisitive looks. She couldn't help but notice how similar both Spencer men were. It was no wonder they butted heads all the time, they were practically the same person.
"Vick has issued an APB for all three of their arrests, but seeing as they only appear to Shawn…" she let her voice trail off. That was the problem, they only appeared to Shawn. And he was currently in the SBPD interrogation room, cut off from all contact from either Mahoney or Harrison. Their arrests may be harder than they thought.
"That's all I have. I'll go talk to Chief Vick, see if you can leave." Juliet backed away from the table, heading toward the door. "I'll leave those files for you to look at." With that she stepped outside the room, heading quickly down the hall.
The police station was abuzz with uniforms, a third working on locating Mahoney, a third on Harrison, and the last third on McGee. Vick had taken everyone off their regular cases to concentrate on this one. She had also sent two officers to the hospital to keep an eye on Lassiter. McNab was still Juliet's tail, but he hadn't been needed since she had stepped into the police department.
She headed toward Vick's office, but froze when she heard Karen's angry voice drift through the doors. "My psychic, his partner, and two of my detectives are being targeted; of course I'm going to use every resource available." She was quiet for a moment before saying, "I do realize there are other crimes going on, but this one is priority number…" she was interrupted, her voice more frustrated when she hissed, "Twenty-four hours? Twenty-four hours won't even guarantee one arrest…" Juliet stepped away from the door, figuring she'd ask Vick later. The Chief clearly had more pressing matters to deal with, and Shawn was, by far, safer here than on the streets.
She headed toward the door, silently slipping outside. She found Gus sitting on the steps, eyes glued to the buildings across the street. She walked up to him, sitting next to him. He glanced over at her, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face.
"Hey," he said quietly, his eyes drifting back to the buildings.
"Hi," she said as her eyes scanned the empty sidewalk. It wasn't that uncommon, the emptiness. Most people were either still sleeping or just getting ready for work. They weren't all like Henry and Lassiter, up at the crack of dawn and ready for the day by six. Of course, they weren't like Old Shawn either. Most were up and working before the double digits.
"It's peaceful this early," Gus commented checking his watch.
"Yeah," Juliet mumbled watching the first rays of light attempt to peak out of its home. She hugged her knees, eyes drifting to the ground below her. A leaf was pulled across the cement, a breeze leading it against its will.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, enjoying the sunrise. When the sun managed to brightened the sky, a pale blue color battling its way to fill the horizon, Gus got to his feet. Juliet followed, stretching her muscles. She couldn't believe something so beautiful could occur during such a crappy time.
"Can you believe," Gus started his brown eyes falling on Juliet's face, "that such a magnificent sight can occur while all this madness is going on?" it was almost like Gus read her mind. She was going to tell him so, when the car skidded to a halt against the curb.
"Who's…?" Gus started but cut off when two guys got out: one very, very familiar. He smiled at Juliet as he took out his gun. "Howdy, little lady. I see you're alive and well." His voice sent an involuntary shiver down Juliet's back.
"No thanks to you, McGee," she snapped glad to hear her voice steady. That was all she needed, showing her fear in front of this psycho.
"So, you've heard of me," he said smiling wider. "That's awesome." He gestured toward the car, his gun flashing when the weak sunlight hit it, and said, "Get in. Our bosses want to see you."
"Over my dead body," Gus spat sounding far braver than Juliet knew he was feeling. She lightly touched his hand, hoping the gesture would calm him down. She didn't want to see another one of her friends hurt. Hell, she didn't want to see Shawn's face if Gus ended up dead. No doubt, it would be worse than Abigail.
"That could be arranged," McGee sneered pulling the hammer back on his gun and pointed it directly between Gus's eyes. "A quick death," he started before moving the gun slowly toward Gus's abdomen, "Or a slow one. Your choice."
"Knock it off, McGee," the other guy said wearily. He was big, bigger than both Jules and Gus combined, in both height and muscle mass. He had graying brown hair and had to be in his late thirties. There was no doubt that he was there to make sure McGee didn't kill them. That fact was confirmed when he said, "You know your orders."
"Look, I was hired to kill a couple people. I never agreed to follow any extra orders," McGee argued, his green eyes briefly meeting the bigger man's brown ones.
"Yeah, but if you kill them now you won't get your money." McGee rolled his eyes at the other man's attempt at reason. The bigger guy's voice got gruffer as he repeated, "You know your orders." The bigger guy turned to Juliet and Gus and said, "Get in the car, please."
"Shawn won't fall for this trap," Juliet barked as her detective skills kicked in. She knew what was going on, and it would be a cold day in Hell before she agreed to go with those guys. A gunshot rang out, Gus collapsing onto the steps clutching his leg. Hell just dropped a couple degrees, she thought and quickly headed toward the car. McGee followed her, the bigger guy pulling Gus up.
The injured Pharmaceutical Rep was pushed into the back seat after her, the door slamming behind him, and the bigger man dove into the passenger seat. McGee squealed away from the police department seconds before a group of uniforms, McNab in the lead, came tearing out of the front doors. They missed us by seconds, Jules thought as anger filled her heart, mere seconds. Damn it. It was times like these she really wished she was like Lassiter, always keeping a gun on her person. She had-not contemplating a kidnapping-left it on her desk.
As the car disappeared around the corner, away from any help she and Gus could have had, she promised herself that if she got out of this she would never be unprotected again. She would always have a weapon on her. Just to avoid things like this, and nearly getting blown up, and anything resulting in her getting into trouble.
She glanced over a Gus, who was still holding his leg. Blood was seeping through his fingers, a new, unwanted hole in his thigh.
"Are you okay?" she asked in a whisper.
"Let me…get back…to you…on that," Gus hissed between clenched teeth. This is bad, Juliet thought trying to take a calming breath. Really, really, really bad. She had a feeling it was just going to get worse and it scared the hell out of her to think like that. But she couldn't help it; it was just her psyche's way of telling her she was screwed.
Maybe, it started sounding like her ninth grade PE teacher, you won't be able to keep that promise, Juliet. Because on the off chance that you do manage to get away from these two guys you still have a bleeding Pharmaceutical Rep sitting next to you. Unless you gain about thirty more pounds of upper body strength in about fifteen seconds you aren't going to be able to carry him. You are completely and utterly screwed. She had always hated Ms. Packer and her stupid negativity.
The car pulled up to the docks, parking in front of an old boat. McGee put the vehicle in park, turning the ignition off. He threw open his door, getting out of the car. With an almost boisterous bounce to his step, he pulled Gus's door open and pulled him from the car. The Pharmaceutical Rep cried out in pain as his injured leg was jostled. McGee laughed at the sign of weakness before pushing Gus to the ground. He landed on his hurt side, another cry of pain escaping his lips.
"Oops," McGee said sarcastically.
"Frank," the bigger guy warned.
"What? He tripped."
Grumbling, he opened Juliet's door and pulled her out. She fought the entire time, trying to break free of the bigger guy's grip. He just tightened his hold, shaking her to cut off her struggles. He dragged her toward the boat, Juliet aware of McGee following with a stumbling Gus.
"Ah, Mr. Guster, Ms. O'Hara," a voice said the moment they entered the boat. He sounded almost excited to see them, like a host welcoming two guests to his boathouse. Instead, it was an intimidating looking blond man. He had cold gray eyes, colder than McGee's-if that was even possible. There was a vibe that rolled from him, one that clearly screamed, 'Run from him and never look back. But neither one could do that with McGee and his partner keeping tight grips on their arms.
"I'm Bradford Harrison," the blond said giving them a small smile. "Welcome to the end," he continued gesturing to the boat.
"Give it up, Bennett," Juliet snapped. "I know exactly why you are doing this and it won't work."
"Do you now, Juliet, and why is that?"
"B…because Shawn put your brother away and you want revenge." She was aware of the stutter, had really tried to hold it in, and was pissed at herself for even allowing that much weakness to leave her voice. Harrison found it funny, a big smile appearing on his face.
"Not quite," Harrison said slowly. "I gotta tell you, I am impressed you figured out who I was. The way the SBPD runs nowadays I'm surprised you even know your head from your asses." Before Juliet could ask what that meant, Harrison had continued speaking, "Yes, I am upset that your 'psychic' friend helped put Darrel in jail. But there's more to it…"
"Get on with it, Denis," a new voice said and a second man walked past them. Juliet saw recognition in Gus's eyes. She, too, recognized the man from his mug shot. She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach when she realized the bigger picture. Harrison-or Bennett-hadn't been working by himself to bring Shawn down. He was working with someone else, someone Shawn had spoken to the day before. Harrison was working with Walter Waters: AKA Samson Mahoney…
