Looking in from another point of view tends to be much harder than what is supposed. It's Carlton's least favorite thing to do. Having to see it from the criminal or killer's perspective caused him agony. He hated low-life criminals so much that when they got out Carlton would keep checking in a black book. Although he now made sure Juliet wouldn't find it. The one time he kept at work, she threw him a surprise party with the guest list from his cop book. He ended up having to move again.
Of all of their suspects he thought he'd never have to deal with Drimmer again. He drove himself into research trying to come up with a possible way that low-scum sucking thug was out. He came up with one reason. Drimmer case was arraigned five weeks before the shooting happened. Which meant Drimmer made bail, got revenge on him.
Drimmer was the second accomplice. But why wait until after he recovered is what didn't make sense to Carlton.
"What did you find, Partner?"
The voice spooked him, his head sprung up. "Geez, O'Hara!"
Juliet softly chuckled as she took a seat across from his desk. "Sorry to scare you."
Carlton scoffed in denial." Pshya… you didn't scare me more like you surprised me."
"Sure." She grabbed the stack of case files." Why are you going through all Shawn's recent cases?"
"I'm trying to find a connection between why Drimmer's been able to stalk Shawn when he's only been out for five weeks before I was shot."
"Actually, Carlton. You were shot then had a stroke which made you comatose. You spent three months in that hospital, rehab for 11 weeks. In total, Drimmer has been out for approximately five and half months."
He always seemed to forget he was in a coma for two weeks after his stroke. The doctors had told Juliet and his ex-wife, Marlowe, that if Carlton didn't wake up before two weeks it was likely that he'd never wake. Thinking back she remembered the countless nights Shawn begged to visit. As much it was a stab to her heart that Shawn is not in-love with her and Carlton. She also wanted her partner and Shawn happy too. And if that meant filing for divorce after three years she guessed that's how it had to be.
"Oh." He answered unusually quietly. "I forgot about that."
Juliet noticed the frown creasing in his lips. "Carlton… It's okay. You went under a lot of stress those weeks. It's normal to be forgetful."
"I had to relearn normal motor skills like eating or talking, Juliet. I was basically in a vegetative state. Sometimes I wonder… if Shawn would still be here if it wasn't for me."
"Carlton." She gasped, tears threatening to fall." You don't mean that."
"I do. I could've stopped you and everybody else from dealing with my weakness."
Juliet pushed back her chair, standing up, slowly approaching Carlton before placing her hands on his shoulders, gripping on. "No." She said strongly." No. You're not a weakness. You've come a long way in your recovery and also no, Shawn probably would've been taken still." Her eyes blinked back, a tear cascaded down her cheek. Carlton felt her grip strength tighten. "You are strong, getting stronger everyday. I don't care if you aren't as sharp as you used to be. Carlton Jebediah Lassiter, you are still just as strong as the day I met you. Even though you love Shawn doesn't change how I feel about you either, I know you don't want to hurt me. Sure I'll be devastated at first, but you deserve love just as much as anybody else."
Hearing this made Carlton's facade crack, pouring emotions out of him that he's been holding back since he got the call about Shawn. Juliet pulled him into a tight embrace, shielding him like he did once for her after she hung from the clocktower, seconds away from death.
His arms fell to his side, tears slid down his face, soaking Juliet's pantsuit. "It's okay, I've got you." She said confortly, shushing softly as his resolve shattered under the impact.
Later that day Carlton's Crown Vick pulled into the newest crime scene. It contained three messages and a dead body a look-like of Shawn. His stomach tightened at the thought of Shawn actually dying. He didn't like the feeling, despised it. Buzz McNab filed pursuit, leading their team through a busy bus load with new vans. He didn't know how the news output already gathered information before they did.
It infuriated him.
The limp in his leg purely annoyed him in every way possible. His doctor came up with this idea to use a cab to help him get around during cases which Marlowe, who is still primary medical proxy, agreed.
"Chief Lassiter, what are your possible leads at this moment?" Sudden voice broke his thoughts.
As he turned around, catching several reporters with microphones, camera technicians behind them. He could see in bolded type print: San Fran. Examiner, on their white-tanish news vehicle parked on the outside of the yellow tape. He pulled his black aviators off his face, shielding his face from the blinding sun rays. The question made his mind spin with insults, but knowing he had to act on a professional level, Carlton smiled tersely before dropping the act and fell into Chief mode.
"As of this time we don't have any leads on who would be the Perpetrator. All that can be said right now is that the crime scene is very gruesome, as of my word, that is all I can say." He said in a collected tone, almost put-together.
"But Chief, what about Shawn, is he still missing?" Jules shot him a look which said stay calm.
"Mr. Shawn Spencer is still missing. There have been tied ends on what is feasible to use as evidence. We did discover that the killer has been keeping an eye on Shawn Spencer for sometime now." He tried his best not to let his voice waver for not too long.
He didn't need them to know that he's deeply affected by his disappearance. It was his job as Chief to put emotions aside and focus on the crime but he found it nearly impossible knowing Drimmer has Shawn's life in his cruel length.
"How do you feel personally about Shawn being taken?" It took him by wind when the reporter asked about Shawn.
Struck by the bolt of their question, it took Carlton a minute to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat, swallowing the overwhelming feeling. "I feel the same as our team feels. As much as the man annoyed me on multiple occasions he also made great sacrifices even without being asked or told to. Shawn is part of our team and we will bring him home, alive." Carlton's voice filled the air with strong sediment, hope and a firm belief.
He turned away from them as comments roared into chaos. He needs to breathe and be as far away as possible. He needed to believe that everything said would come true.
"Chief!"
Then Juliet stepped in, along with Brannigan, Buzz and Chief Vick shifted the focus on him as he made his way out of the crowd, avoiding questions.
Around six o'clock Carlton stares at beach waves crashing against the low tide boulders down coast. That's where Guster found him, his dress shoes lying in sand, pale bare feet catching ocean spray sprinkles as the high-tide met low. The sun was setting just over the horizon, signaling that evening had approached.
"I thought I'd find you here."
He didn't bother lifting gaze, muttering quietly over the curve the waves made. "How did you find me?"
"Juliet said you like collecting yourself down by the open ocean. I figured you would go down here, listen to the sound of currents catching speed."
Gus kicked off his open-toe sandals, not wanting unwanted sand inside. "I saw the interview on TV."
"Hmm.. and?" Lassiter groaned quietly, his feet carving lines in the sandy bay.
"The reporters were badgering you unnecessarily."
"It's nothing new, Guster."
Gus sat down next to Lassiter. "That may be true, but shouldn't be the norm. You deserve respect and privacy just as much as we have."
"I'm the chief of police, Guster. I'm supposed to give all the answers but I couldn't be honest not on Live television when Shawn won't be able to hear it first."
"Carlton." This time he looked at Guster as the serious tone remained. "I understand how you're feeling. Everyday that goes by ticking without Shawn or any leads makes my stomach hurt. I know you want to find him as much or maybe more than we do. Shawn means a lot to you."
Briefly, he frowns." And what happens if we don't find him?" The self doubt ate away at him, almost immediately regret hit hard. Guster's face went ghastly pale. "I-"
"Lassie… I don't want to think of What if's right now. I'm barely holding on as it is."
Silence hit dead-on a nail for them. For quite some time neither man spoke as they watched patiently as the sun started to set, glowering the skyline with various colors.
An four quarter inch slot let sunlight seep through the crack, shining on Shawn. His daily moments of peace will soon be interrupted in seconds. He kept trying to think of escape routes, so far none. Imaging happy times made brief grins mark his features. He could reflect on the patterns that made up a rainbow, maybe a pot of gold for luck at the end. His memory filled in blank spaces on the chamber's walls, making time seamlessly.
He remembered seeing two red cones directing the hidden hide-away before being strapped by metal chain links, hanging clipped onto a radiator.
"Time to eat up, Shawny." A creepy voice became familiar inside the room.
Shoved forcefully into his bare chest, littered with burn infractions from the electric voltage, was a plain basic dinner-tray with the most putrid assortments. He held back bile fluid as the extremely appetizing platter horned in his view.
"You couldn't splurge for anything tropical pineapple." He muttered in displeasure.
Drimmer's eyes flared dangerously. "You're lucky I decided to feed you at all." The cruel undertone made Shawn squirm in the hardback chair, chafed under his thighs. "This is a form of neglect!"
He sneered." Did you think abducting was a luxury spa retreat?"
"I--MMMPHHHH!" The last of his words were snatched off by sticky material slathered over his mouth, quieting any protest. "Finally peace and quiet!" He pulled a knife." Now let's have some real fun."
Torturous muffled screams filled the dungeon along with sinister laughter. Shawn's body withered as the bastard's hand snatched up his hair, tugging cruelly, tears splashed onto his battered looking cheeks. Next Drimmer swung the baton, directly hitting his kneecap, sending Shawn howling.
Trying to block out the obvious searing pain in his lower back, Shawn's eyes squeezed tightly shut. Drimmer grabbed the camera, angling over Shawn's head. "Our time has been glorious, hasn't it." He didn't bother for a protest as Shawn's breathing came to a halt.
Assaulted by a pistol struck at the back of his head, his breathing shallows as blood profusely emptied from him. The lightheadedness grew more significant as time ticked away. Strapped to his body, his spine, fear signals caused havoc on his mental state. Some beeping that Shawn couldn't see by the pitch darkness affecting his visualization.
"Lassiter, your time is up."
Lassie? Then the thought occurred to him, a riddle was given three days ago and now… it hit him. He's going to die. Everything he's never done would stay unfinished. His dreams, accomplishments, and winning over Carlton vanished as soon as his blood killed him.
"….leave…I'll kill you….don-….Shawn!" He only heard very few words as he started to slip unconscious.
"It's too late…Lassiter, he's dying and there is nothing you can do to stop it."
Shawn audibly heard these words before the darkness disappeared, sending him into a rush of chills before heart rate became rapid.
"…I…Shawn…you…stay….Shaw….."
—-xxx—-
—-xxx—Ten Hours Prior—xxx—
"Chief Carlton Lassiter."
He groggily answered his phone, barely awake when he heard Juliet holler.
"We found the location. 2341 South Gravel DR."
Carlton's eyes shot open, sat-straight in bed. "Y-you found Shawn?"
Hope started to flow throughout his veins. "I'm on my way!" He hung up.
Bolting out of bed, throwing on the nearest outfit he could as he swiftly got into crown Vick, racing to his thriving hope. Gun clenched in hand on arrival to the scene, looking over his shoulder as surveyed the area. He kicked the door, unsurprised by the fishy sulfur stench sneaking up his nostrils.
"Chief!"
McNab called." Drimmer has been here, eyewitness said they stopped him dragging a black tarp into an four-door SUV with expired plates."
"Brannigan!"
Betsy pulled out an image, showing a grainy figure approaching." Ran the plates, Chief, they belonged to Drimmer."
Swallowing down the lump down his throat." Where's his last known address?"
Six hours Later….
After several times they finally found Drimmer's last possible address, the man moved in three months ago into a one-bedroom rental under the name John Drimmer. Juliet and Buzz entered the front entrance while Lassiter took a brief moment before sliding around the back property. In the backyard Drimmer's place looked at an slob, trash buried under windowsill, old furniture pinned against the egg-shell sliding. Kicking in the door, Carlton coughed as dust flew into his lungs.
"Sweet Lady Justice, why is it so dusty?"
He heard muffled creaking coming from underground. He pulled the safety trigger, holding it in front of his body, waving around each corner. As he kept closer the sounds heard earlier amplified, the basement door looked heavy and sturdy. "Head Detective, approaching possible hostages, send backup." He jiggled the door knob as it creaked open.
There was a winding staircase, missing a stairwell handlebar, he held his breath as he slowly, carefully crept down. And what he saw caused blinding rage to develop inside. He pulled out a flashlight, hovering over tools caked with a red liquid dried on. Carlton gagged as the smell reached his nose.
It was indefinitely blood as the realization. Then further down the hallway he saw a large x-shaped stretched across the image of Shawn Spencer in the local San Francisco Examiner newspaper. "Local Bay-Area Psychic Strikes AGAIN." Was printed on the center top page. Carlton remembered that Shawn was given credit for finding who shot him during an interview. Next to that happened to be an image of Shawn holding his hand. It looked like it was dated only days after his first surgery.
"Shawn Spencer bravely discovered his former co-worker's attempted murder. Spencer revealed to sources that Chief Carlton Lassiter is now out of harm from Doctor Dolores O'Riordan, who tampered with Lassiter's recovery by knowingly giving him flavored ice, leading to Lassiter's disillusions. For more information from the San Francisco Examiner's website."
Below the article was written: "Three down a Psychic to go."
He scanned the area as sudden muffled screams echoed. He threw open a door, eyes widened seeing an extremely tattered man chained to a radiator, bruises covering his chest, were being held by hair, an abuser laughing as cruel words:
"Lassiter, your time is up."