Shawn was beyond frustrated. Last night was the third time Lassie had come over for sex and left before Shawn could get a word in. It wasn't that Shawn didn't enjoy the sex, he definitely did; it's just that they needed to talk, about their past and their future. He enjoyed pissing Lassie off on cases, it was a blast, but he missed having Lassie in his life as more than just a coworker. All his old feelings for Lassie were coming back and irritating him was only doing so much to subdue the feelings. For once, Shawn wanted to be the responsible one and talk it out. That freaked him out as much as anything.

He grabbed a copy of the newspaper and headed inside the diner. He was hoping a delicious breakfast would improve his mood. He paused mid-step when he noticed an adorable blonde sitting in his seat. It had a perfect vantage point of the door, the exact reason he had chosen it. It was strange that she had to pick that exact spot, and she sat tense as if she was waiting for something, or someone. Now he was intrigued. He walked over and set his paper down in the spot next to her.

"Excuse me, you're in my seat."

She looked up, shocked. "Am I?"

"Actually, yes, you are."

"You one of those weirdo compulsives who come to the same restaurant, sit in the same chair, and eat the same food every day?"

She really hadn't noticed his orange juice. She was distracted by something. At least she was funny. "No, no, no, I was sitting right there three minutes ago, and then I went outside to get myself a paper." He motioned to his paper. "I ordered a juice, and look, I made a crawling snake with the straw wrapper. You can finish it if you think you're up to the job." Shawn resorted to his childish behavior, getting the blonde to relax a little. Perfect. People revealed a lot when they're comfortable.

"I'm sorry. You want me to move?"

"Not anymore." Shawn took the seat next to her. "So, what's up?"

"I don't have time to talk."

Definitely waiting for something, she wasn't even properly reading the newspaper. "But you haven't heard what I'm going to say."

"See, now we've already talked more than I wanted to." She leaned down to grab her purse, and Shawn glanced her over. Cat hair on both her shoes and shirt sleeves. Gray and white. Photo of her parents in her purse. She pulled her purse in her lap and kept one hand on it at all times. Odd.

"Well, I did give you my seat, you know. I think that gets me one question."

"Listen, diner guy."

"Shawn."

"Shawn. Flattered, really. Very often, I am happy to meet new people. But today, right here, right now, I can't talk." She kept glancing at the door. She wasn't actually reading and she was keeping something close in her purse. He glanced something black in her purse. Undercover cop. Interesting.

"I understand. I do. What if I do the talking for both of us?" Maybe she was the replacement for Lucinda. Lassie had been worried about getting a newbie, looks like he was disappointed.

"Have at it! Do you mind if I read the paper and stare aimlessly out the window while you two talk?"

Of course not, he was going to wow her. Might as well prove he was a psychic early; he didn't need two skeptic detectives. "No. Can I get a name to work with?"

She was amused, good. "Juliet."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Juliet." He changed his voice to a high pitch female voice. "It's nice to meet you, too, Shawn. And I am sorry about your seat. So, lunch is on me. So, what do you do for a living?" He switched his voice back. "I do a little bit of everything."

She stopped pretending to read the paper and listened to Shawn.

His voice raises a few octaves again. "Oh, that sounds interesting. And maybe a little bit dangerous. Oh, I like your jacket. I like it-."

"Okay, can I stop you here? First off, in your portrayal of me, I sound like I'm in the eighth grade."

"Well, in my portrayal of you, you only have an eighth grade education."

She chuckled.

"All right, smarten you up. College, yeah? Top your class, graduate early. Got it." He raises his voice again, but smoothed it out to a more mature voice. "I'm new to town, and I don't know many people. But I do know my cats. Two of them. The gray one is very affectionate, the white one makes me work much, much harder for the attention."

Juliet started to get confused. How did he know all of this?

He returned to his normal voice. "And what about your family?" He raised it again. "My family is amazing! My parents have been together for, what is it, 30 years now?"

"Okay, do we know each other?"

"Yes, you were the girl who stole my seat!" A sketchy looking guy walked into the diner and Juliet tensed. She reached into her purse. Definitely a cop. "You're a cop!"

She tried to hide it. "I'm not a cop!"

He internally rolled his eyes. "The paper, the vantage point, the layout. You got defensive when Scary Guy walked in, you're totally a cop!"

"Okay, Shawn, I may need you to do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Duck!"

Shawn dropped his head to the table when two undercover cops, how did he miss them, emerged from the booths and Carlton burst into the diner. "Police!"

Juliet stepped around Shawn and pulled her gun. Her hands shook while she held it.

They got the guy handcuffed and out of the diner in under a minute. Carlton glanced over to check on his new partner, and was pissed to find Shawn there, waving at him. Could he not get one day without Shawn showing up? He promptly left the diner.

Shawn turned at watched Juliet put her gun back in her purse, still a little shaky.

"First time pulling your gun?"

"Maybe." She left the diner. Yup, Lassie was likely pissed he had to train a newbie detective. She seemed pretty easy going, maybe she'd help loosen Lassie up a bit.

1989

"Thirty seconds, Mr. Guster."

Shawn sat with the rest of the school as Gus competed in the school's spelling bee. His word was aggiornamento. Shawn knew Gus knew the word, he had gone over it just two days ago while Shawn had been waiting to go home. Shawn had learned a lot of words he wished he'd never heard of over the past two weeks while his best friend crammed for this competition.

"A-G-G." Gus paused, unsure of the next letter. "Let me start over. A-G-G-."

Gus' parents had been discussing sending him on to bigger spelling bee competitions if he passed. It sounded like a lot of work to Shawn, and he knew his best friend wouldn't enjoy the constant studying, so he mouthed the letter "O" to Gus up on stage. He knew the next letter was "I" but this was for the best.

"O?" The judge buzzed the buzzer and Gus' shoulders dropped in disappointment as he shuffled off stage. It was for the best, right?

"Beautiful Santa Barbara, California, is the backdrop for this afternoon's coverage of the American Spelling Bee, being held at the downtown Cabrillo Theater." Gus sat in the Psych office, watching the spelling bee. "Champions from all over these western United States have made the trek to test-." He heard the office door open and reached for the remote, quickly turning it off. Shawn saw a glimpse of the screen from the other room, easily figuring out what it was.

"The Spelling Bee Regionals? Come on, man, you couldn't be watching Korean porn or something?"

Gus sat at his desk. "Don't mock me, Shawn. It's a huge event."

"No, I'm just, I'm shocked that you didn't take the whole day off." Shawn smirked.

"It's on Sports Cal Two, for your information. And it's hosted by Bud Collins."

"Really? Did they bump the car washing championships for this? And is it over soon? 'Cause I'd like to get back to the woodcarving finals."

Gus stood up and walked back over to the chair, turning the Spelling Bee back on.

"Let's recap this morning's unexpected high drama." Bud Collins said from the TV.

"It's being held in Santa Barbara this year. Down at the Cabrillo. It's huge. Sold out."

"All the experts are shaking their heads." On the TV, a competitor is trying and failing to get medicine from his inhaler.

"I tried to get tickets, but you gotta know somebody."

Shawn shook his head and headed to his desk. "Somebody lame. Dude, I can't believe you're watching that!" Spelling became his least favorite subject after Gus competed back in middle school. He knew how to spell way more words than he had ever wanted to, it was useless information he hadn't needed to know.

"I'm taping it! And I don't care what you think, Shawn, I watch the bee semis every year."

"Okay, for your sake and mine, stop giving the spelling bee hip little nicknames."

Bud Collins came back on screen. "For those of you who have just joined us, well, a bit of a shock. And a little sad, too. The heavy favorite has had a bad spell, and Brendan Vu is out!"

"What?" Gus was shocked.

"Boo-hoo for Vu, Bud."

"No way. Brendan Vu is out? Already?"

The name rang a bell in Shawn's memory. "The runner up last year?"

Gus looked at Shawn in shock.

Shawn shrugged. "I glanced a headline last year, trust me it's not a fact I'm happy to know." He turned to watch the TV too.

"Okay. We're gonna show this again. It looks like young Mr. Vu may be having trouble breathing." Bud said on TV.

"He does look to be under some sort of duress, Bud." On the screen Brendan Vu struggles to breathe and takes puffs of his inhaler.

"His inhaler did not appear to help, and Vu tumbled."

"Dang!" Gus and Shawn watched closely as Brendan fell to the ground. Shawn noticed something.

"Paramedics rushed to the scene, and within moments, the competition had taken an unexpected turn." Bud continued to narrate.

"Wait a second. Did you see that?" Shawn grabbed the remote and rewound the video. The kid's hand shook around the inhaler. It wasn't working, which doesn't make sense, and what else could it be in a competition besides sabotage. "This is no accident. There's something wrong with that inhaler."

Gus took back the remote. "Shawn, get out of here."

The phone rang and Shawn answered it. "Psych." He covered the speaker and spoke to Gus. "It's the Chief." He listened and Gus walked over. "I'll have to check with Gus." He turned to his best friend. "Are we available?" He took the look he got as a yes. "Appears we are…We'll be right there." He hung up the phone.

"What?"

"I can get us into the Spelling Bee."

"Really?"

"Guess I was right about the whole Bandon Dunes thing."

"Brendan Vu."

Shawn shrugged. "Sure."

"They need a psychic detective for that?"

"They don't, unless he was sabotaged." He sat down in his chair. "The kid said his inhaler felt funny. When he used it, his hand stung. Paramedics get there, there's no inhaler."

Gus quickly went to grab his coat.

"Apparently, the thing just vanished into thin air."

Gus headed out of the room. "Shawn, we are so taking this! Let's go!" He rushed out of the office.

"How come I can't get you this excited about girls?"

"Let's go, Shawn!"

"Or Mexico?"

Shawn and Gus got to the convention center as the Chief was leaving. They walk over to her.

Shawn gestured to himself and Gus. "We're here."

"Go on in, Mr. Spencer. I've arranged everything you need inside."

"You're leaving?"

"Oh, I was only here for the mayor's presentation, and we have a robbery standoff across town."

"Whoa, shouldn't I go to the hospital, meet the victim, get his statement?" Talking to the victim would let him know for sure it was sabotage, while also giving him a potential list of suspects.

"Mr. Spencer, the case is sabotage. There are 43 remaining contestants, all presumably with a motive. Now, you can read guilt just by talking with someone, right?"

Shawn nodded.

"Do it."

That seemed like a waste of time to Shawn. "You want us to talk to all of them?"

"And their parents."

"Today?"

"Mhm. By 5:00. In two days, this whole thing is over. At that time, all the witnesses will be in 100 different cities all over the western United States. So, it's now or never. Good luck." The Chief turned and headed to her car.

Gus immediately headed inside the convention center with Shawn trailing behind.

"Spell Master Elvin Cavanaugh is a secretive guy, and yet, he has called for a press conference after this round!" Bud Collins announced to the audience before the competition continued.

"Can you repeat that, please?" The contestant asked.

Shawn and Gus headed down the steps of the auditorium, headed towards the front row.

"Butyraceous," the Spell Master read.

"Definition, please?"

"Adjective. "Having the characteristics of butter.""

Gus spoke to Shawn in a low tone. "This thing's been sold out for weeks."

Shawn glanced around, already bored. "I can see why. It moves so fast, it's like hockey with words."

They stop by their seats and Gus points up to the Spell Master's box above the audience. "There's Elvin Cavanaugh, the greatest spell champion ever. He's been the Spell Master for 14 years. He's a legend."

"Wow. He sits up there all by himself in that fancy box? What is he, the Phantom of the Opera?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "He's a huge celebrity! He can't just sit in the crowd!" They sit down.

"Can you repeat the word?"

"Butyraceous."

"Butyraceous?" The contestant repeated what the Spell Master said, buying time to spell the word.

Shawn leaned his head back in exasperation. "Oh, come on, dude, you're not bored at all?"

"Do you know how to spell any of these words?"

"Proudly, I have never heard of any of these words. I file these words under "Things to say when I want to be ridiculed or kicked out of bed."" Actually, Shawn did know this word, Gus had studied it for their sixth grade spelling bee, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"See, the problem is that butyraceous is clearly a Round One word."

"Oh, God, stop talking. I'd like to pretend we still have things in common, Gus!"

"Well, instead of sitting here, maybe we should get to work!" Gus hopped out of his chair and headed through the doors to the back area, followed by Shawn.

"Try not to break anything." Ms. Foote, one of the coordinators led them back into the junk filled room. Random stuff like costumes, clowns and props filled the room. Gus and Shawn looked around.

"Wow! So this is what it looks like."

"What?" Shawn poked a nearby, giant, clown.

The comfort room. This is where you go to deal with missing a word."

"Oh, yeah? Where do they take you to deal with missing your entire childhood?" Ms. Foote was not amused.

"Shawn, this misplaced malevolence you have with the spelling bee is getting monotonous. Stop hating on the bee! I'm sorry, ma'am, I do apologize for his inappropriate virulence."

Seriously? Was Gus really trying to impress this lady? "Why are you using all these big-ass words all of a sudden?"

"I'm not doing that." Gus turned to Ms. Foote. "That's preposterous! I was in the spelling bee myself. I almost won."

Shawn rolled his eyes with an amused grin. "Dude, are you still on that?"

"Of course I'm still on it! I knew it wasn't "O"!"

Ms. Foote interjected. "You may have five minutes with each contestant, no more. If the room is needed, you'll be asked to vacate. I'll begin with the eliminated contestants."

"Actually, we'd only like to speak with the ones that were still in the competition when the accident occurred. Ms...Foote. And let's start with the shifty-eyed ones, shall we?"

Gus nodded in agreement. Ms. Foote left to get the contestants, exasperated.

Shawn and Gus sat across a mother and son, the son was soft-spoken and had excellent posture.

"And you were there the whole time?"

"I was," the child confirmed.

"Assimilation," the mother interjected.

Shawn looked at Gus in disbelief. This was seriously not the time to be practicing.

"A-S-S-I-M-I-L-A-T-I-O-N. Assimilation."

Gus merely nodded his approval of the spelling.

They now sat across from a father and son. The father did most of the talking and had a Czech accent, while the teen, Jiri, stared at the inhaler in his hands. Shawn watched the kid more than the father, trying to determine if he was just shy or if he was hiding something.

"My son, no one expect him to come this far. But he surprise everyone. You watch him win."

Shawn finally glanced at the father. "Oh, I don't know. Are they running odds on this thing now? 'Cause I've got some cash I'd like to lay down on the really, really tall girl with the bulldog underbite. What, is she on stilts?" He was not met with amusement.

"You do not understand. This contest, it is money for scholarship. It is entry into any school in the future."

"Yeah, Shawn. The winner of this competition can just about choose his university," Gus pointed out.

"Your friend is right."

"And it teaches grace under pressure. Poise. Dignity."

"All things you can get at a hot-dog eating competition. Plus Hot dogs." Shawn got a chuckle out of the teen and counted it as a win.

"Still studying, huh?" They sat across from a mother and daughter. The daughter silently read the dictionary. Shawn didn't think it'd be a very interesting read.

The mother smiled. "Oh, she loves it. Won't put that thing down."

"Well, kudos on the childrearing. Let me know how the therapy goes."

The mother looked at Shawn in confusion. "Huh?"

The round of the spelling bee ends, but the cameras keep rolling on the hosts. "We're gonna keep rolling because of the exceptional request by Elvin Cavanaugh, a behind-the-scenes guy, to give a press conference right here at this stage of the competition! What's that all about?"

"Well, I mean, this could be something big, Bud."

Shawn and Gus reenter the auditorium and turn to watch the TV's with the footage of the hosts.

"I mean, this year's competition has just been peppered with controversy," The co-host continued.

"It certainly has. Well, he's been watching from a private box on the balcony, but now, he's going to come out so that we can see him." The hosts and cameras turn to the balcony. Shawn and Gus turn around.

"This could be something big, Bud."

They all watched as Cavanaugh stumbled to the railing of the balcony and clutched his chest. He didn't appear to be breathing.

"I think he's having difficulty breathing!" Bud exclaimed.

"He does look under duress, Bud," the co-host agreed.

Shawn quickly examined the guy from a distance. He appeared to have stopped breathing, potential heart attack? Maybe poison causing heart attack like symptoms. They all watched as the Spell Master tumbled over the railing. Shawn knew the man was dead before he hit the seats.

People called out of help and to call 9-1-1.

"Not to belittle this guy's life, but this just got more interesting than the woodcarving finals." Shawn glanced at Gus who was not amused.

1998

Carlton emailed Shawn two weeks after they parted ways. He sent the basic niceties and waited for a response. He got one within the day.

Shawn was happy to hear from Carly, and they quickly fell into easy conversation in their emails. Since they couldn't discuss much of what Shawn did, they often talked about Carlton's cases and his life.

Carlton never knew if he'd see Shawn again, but he was thrilled to have someone to talk to that could keep up with his cases, outside of the station. Shawn always gave a new perspective and would slip in ideas without blatantly telling Carlton where to look, giving him a chance to figure it all out himself.

They also occasionally discussed their pasts, though this happened mostly by phone. They called at least every other week when Shawn was available, and that was when the real talks happened. Shawn talked about his rocky relationship with his dad, his childhood shenanigans with his best friend, and the decisions that led to him joining the army. Carlton talked about his less than stellar childhood, his time at Old Sonora, and his choice to join the police academy.

They got to know each other well in those 2 months before Shawn had to leave on mission, where he wouldn't have communications for awhile.

The coroner zipped up the body bag around Cavanaugh. Juliet watched with unease and walked away as they rolled the body from the building. She walked over to where Carlton was snacking on popcorn. "When do we decide if we should cancel this event?"

Carlton glanced at his new partner. "Why would we cancel?"

"Well, a body did just tumble into the crowd."

He shrugged. "Didn't land on anybody." This is one of the reasons he hated newbies, they thought every scene was a big deal.

"It might be traumatic."

"For who? The mayor, when he realizes all the hotel rooms are now empty?"

"We could postpone at least a day, I'm sure that's allowed."

"Do you have any idea how important this event is to the city? Now, unhealthy guy has heart attack, falls over railing. Case closed. Certainly not declaring it a crime scene. Come on, you can introduce me to the press."

"Okay, just be sensitive."

"How about if we don't sell the seat the guy landed on?"

Shawn and Gus listened to the detectives from the hallway. A heart attack was a good theory, but Shawn wasn't sure. There was already an act of sabotage, now a death? It was more likely that they were connected.

They headed upstairs to the balcony so they could get into the room where Cavanaugh spent the competition. They run into a cop, and after freaking him out with some psychic mumbo jumbo, they get inside the room. The room is a mess and there's half eaten food scattered around. Shawn picks up a half-eaten donut.

"Well, we certainly know what his vice was."

"He was a heavy eater, so what?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking Lassiter's heart attack theory might not be so far off." He looked at the booklet on the desk and saw the number 1953. "Who's contestant 1953?"

"It only goes up to 200-something."

Shawn flipped the page with a pencil and saw the number 1953 again. "What's 1953 mean?"

"Nothing. Is it a rule?"

"No, they don't really number the rules like that."

Shawn glanced around the room again and noticed the chair was knocked over, as well as the plant and the pencil holder. Maybe he stumbled around while he had his heart attack, or whatever killed him.

"Think there was an altercation?"

"No, something else. He was all by himself up here."

"You smell that?" Gus sniffed around.

"Dude, don't look at me."

"It's sulfuric." He tried to find the source.

"Gus, I am not the one who had the egg salad."

"No, no, no. We manufactured something last year, heavy stuff. When it starts to go bad, smelled the same. You could pick out a bottle across the warehouse."

"I can't smell anything!"

"Well, you don't have the Supersmeller."

"Gus! You have got to stop calling your nose the Supersmeller. You wanna nickname a body part? Nickname your butt, man! Call it the "tight bouncer," or the "hexagon." Ladies are gonna dig that, I'm telling you."

Gus sniffed around the room and under the desk. He spotted a container of Chinese takeout. He stood up and pointed under the desk. "It's there. It's right there. It's subtle, but it's right there."

"Well, what is it?"

"I don't know. It's nothing we manufacture."

"Aren't you supposed to know this kind of stuff?"

"Shawn, I sell pharmaceutical supplies, I'm not a scientist!"

"But you're saying it is something?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure."

Shawn picked up the container and looked inside.

"Don't eat it!"

"What, do I look like an idiot?" Shawn set it down and took an evidence bag out from his back pocket. He put some of the noodles in the bag.

"What- What are you taking some to go?"

"Yes! For the road! In case later on I get hungry enough to eat something that might be poisoned!"

Gus noticed Carlton enter the auditorium below and hit Shawn in the shoulder. The two of them ducked under the table.

"Man, we gotta go!" The two of them snuck back out of the room and out of the balcony.

Carlton stood in front of the press and cameras, Juliet by his side. "Sorry, could I try that again. I kind of fumbled the "safe and secure" part."

The main reporter nodded. "Sure."

Jules turned to Lassiter. "Be sensitive."

Carlton held back rolling his eyes. He knew how to speak to the press. "Of course." He turned back to the press. "The finals will continue tomorrow as scheduled."

Shawn and Gus headed down the steps of the auditorium and watched Carlton talk to the press.

"At this point, all indications are Mr. Cavanaugh was having a heart attack, stumbled forward, falling over the railing to his death." Juliet shot him a glare. "But we want to assure everyone that this building is both safe and-."

Juliet stepped slightly in front of Carlton. "Our sympathies go out to Mr. Cavanaugh's family, and we would like to offer counseling to anyone who feels that they might need it."

"Who's the blonde?" Gus didn't recognize the female detective standing with Carlton.

"Lassie's new partner. They transferred his girlfriend."

"I bet you're thrilled about that."

Shawn rolled his eyes and elbowed his best friend in the side. Gus glared at him.

Carlton interrupted Juliet. "And again, we want to ensure everyone coming out for this fantastic event that it is entirely safe."

"Shawn! They're going to stop investigating!"

"One last question, and then I really have to go wrap up this thing," Carlton addressed the press.

Gus nudged Shawn. "Do something."

The main reporter spoke up. "Is there any word as to what Cavanaugh's big announcement was?"

Shawn raised a hand to his temple and closed his eyes. "Moo goo gai pan!" The cameras turned to face him. "Beef lo mein, kung pao! Uh…Check the food! It was murder!"

Carlton's decent mood disappeared. He couldn't get a single day without Shawn's nonsense interfering with his cases.

"Oh, did I just say all of that out loud?" Shawn acted like it was all an accident. He fended off any questions from the press and Gus and he snuck out of the auditorium before an angry Carlton could catch up with them. Once outside, Shawn pulled out the evidence bag of pasta.

"Shawn, you'll never find out what that is without a lab."

"I'll get a lab."

"A high-tech lab? Right now? You going to use your military connections?"

"No, I can't use those right now. But I might still have a connection."

Shawn parked his bike outside his dad's house. He walked up as his dad grabbed his fishing gear.

"Yo!"

"Shawn."

"Hey, Dad, great shirt!"

He stopped just inside the door. "You want something."

"Why do you always think I want something?"

"Oh, you don't want anything. What a pleasant surprise." Henry headed inside the house.

"Okay, you got me! I want something."

Henry walked back to the door. "I got a poker game in 45 minutes."

"You still talk to Jim Syklan?"

"Syklan? Sometimes. Why, what's he to you?"

"Is he still working at the regional crime lab out here?"

"Last I checked. Why?"

Shawn pulled out the evidence bag of food. "I need to know what this is."

Henry glanced at the bag. "It looks like a Number 15 with chicken."

"Dad, you made a joke! I think there's poison in it."

"Goodbye, Shawn." Henry closed the door on his son. Shawn groaned before heading to the window. "It's just one time! Once."

"No cases, Shawn! I was painfully clear about that."

"Oh, no, no, this isn't for a case. This is…for a friend."

"Oh, friend, different. No!" Henry closed the curtains. A few moments later, he stepped out of the house to head to his truck.

"Look, I'll do anything whatever you want, it's one favor." Henry stopped walking and listened to his son. "Anything he can tell me about this would be very helpful. It's serious."

"Shawn, this is really important to you?"

"Extremely."

"And you'd do anything?"

"Name it."

Henry smirked and led Shawn around the house to the garage. He dug around and pulled out a some wood covered in a blanket. "Grab a saw."

"What, now?"

"Well, you said you'd do anything, right?"

Shawn headed into the garage and grabbed a saw. He walked over to his dad. "You know, most people will wait five, six whole minutes before they cash in a favor." He paused and looked at the blanket. "I will not saw through bone for you."

Henry chuckled and removed the sheet, revealing a partially finished dog house.

Shawn just stared at it in disbelief. Seriously? "The doghouse? From eighth grade?"

"Well, it's not really a doghouse. Not yet."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Finish it."

Shawn chuckled before looking at his dad's serious expression.

"What, now?"

"Or whenever you want your information." Henry headed towards his truck. "You got more wood out back, nails on the workbench, Home Depot's open till 9:00. Don't cut any corners."

"You're insane!"

"You're losing light! Make sure you lock up." Henry drove off.

"It's creepy that you kept this!"

Shawn stared at the doghouse. He remembered back when he asked for a dog; his dad's one condition was that he build a doghouse for the dog. Shawn never finished it. He still didn't know quite how to build a doghouse, it not being something he needed to know in the military. But he'd seen enough people built stuff, it shouldn't be too hard. Shawn got to work.

Shawn worked hard on the doghouse. He followed all the specifications his dad gave him back in eighth grade and it was actually looking pretty decent. His dad's truck pulled into the driveway just as everything fell apart, literally.

Henry walked over as Shawn was putting the last nails in the roof. He was actually impressed with Shawn's work when one bang of the hammer caused the whole roof to collapse in.

"Fuck!"

"Well, keep working. Don't be too loud, the neighbors are trying to sleep." Henry headed inside the house.

Shawn glared at the house and kicked it, causing one of the walls to collapse in too. "Damn it." He dropped the hammer on the ground and headed to his bike.

He drove around back roads to clear his mind. He needed to get working on this case, if it was poison, he needed to figure out who killed Cavanaugh. He had a nagging suspicion it had something to do with the numbers written in the spell master book. 1953. Maybe it had something to do with the Spelling Bee of 1953? But why would that matter? None of the kids or parents he talked to showed any suspicious behavior. All the kids were pretty quiet and listened to their parents, which was odd in and of itself, but they were all odd kids who loved spelling.

As he was lost in thought, headlights shined in Shawn's eyes. He quickly realized a van was coming straight for him. He swerved out of the way and skid off the road. His quick reflexes prevented him from flipping over, but his knee got caught under his bike as he slid to a stop. With how heavy bikes are he struggled to free his leg, and could feel it swelling at this angle.

He fumbled to pull his phone out of his jacket. He dialed his second speed dial without thinking about it. His call was answered after a couple rings. "Hey, I could use some help."

1998

Shawn pulled up on his bike outside the address he found for Carlton. He had just gotten back from a month-long mission and hadn't been able to contact Carlton the whole trip. Now they were given a week long leave and Shawn had decided to surprise Carly. He parked his bike and headed up to the door. It was late in the evening, so Carly should be home.

Shawn knocked and waited. He smiled when Carlton answered, though he was surprised to see a gun tucked behind Carlton's leg. "Really Carly, I drive all the way here to see you, and you're going to shoot me?"

Carlton relaxed when he recognized Shawn. "I wasn't expecting any visitors, can't be too careful."

"You going to let me in, Lassie-frass?"

Carlton showed a hint of a smile at the nickname and moved aside so Shawn could enter his home.

"We got a week's leave, so I thought I'd come surprise you."

Carlton led the way into the living room and placed his gun on the side table. He turned to face Shawn. "That's actually sweet of you, Shawn."

"I try." He stepped into Carlton's personal space. "Now where's my hello kiss?"

Carlton was more than happy to oblige.