The following has some disturbing images (nothing graffic) and is appropriate for adults.

"Oh come on", he yelled. "This is so not cool. There's a Knight Rider marathon on tonight and I'm pretty sure Kitt is gonna meet a Lamborghini and fall in love. Of course she'll turn out to be the bad car, but hey I really don't want to miss it because there's nothing quite like watching two cars get it on." He tugged on the tape holding his arms to the chair. "Come on – don't just leave me here! It's the Knight Rider!"

The total silence continued, which was really beginning to freak him out, although there's no way he'd let whoever his kidnapper was know that. No – he had to remain cool cause he was Shawn, the psychic detective of awesomeness!

"Hello", he called again, hoping for something or someone. "I have to use the potty and unless you feel like cleaning up after me you'd better get in here!"

He'd woken up in a plain room which held nothing but the chair he was sitting in, a small wooden table off to one side, and a bare light bulb hanging down over his head. His first thought, after waking up and realizing he was in trouble, was that it was way too clichéd. "Come on Dude – a bare hanging light bulb? It would have been way scarier if it was one of those poofy lights from Ikea."

He continued to talk as he again tried to loosen the duct tape that was holding his arms to the chair his legs to those of the wood chair. No matter how hard he tried though, it didn't seem to budge. He hated duct tape!

He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious although his head was still throbbing like crazy. He was pretty sure he didn't have a concussion – or if he did it was only mild – because he wasn't feeling nauseated and his vision seemed okay. "Not that I have anything interesting to SEE", he ended on a yell. "Dude, you're gonna kill me with boredom here and I don't expect that was your plan."

"No – it wasn't." The door had opened so silently that Shawn practically missed it. He felt a shiver up his spine as the man who entered spoke, although the last thing he was going to do was to let the guy know that.

"Uh – hi. I assume you're here to apologize and let me go?" He looked at the man who entered, closely, and was more than a little surprised that he didn't know him. In fact, he was positive he'd never even seen the guy before.

The man laughed – a soft laugh that sounded sane although Shawn thought that maybe he heard something a bit off.

"But I've waited for so long for this moment Shawn", the guy said. "I would feel badly about cutting our visit short."

"Right- well I don't want to be rude, but maybe we could arrange it for another time – you know, when I'm free and don't have somewhere else I'm supposed to be."

"I thought you were going home to watch Knight Rider?"

"Uh – yeah." Okay – that proved the room must be miked – either that or the guy had been outside the door listening. "But that was after I was expected at my Dad's – and you know – or maybe you don't. He gets real nervous if I don't show up on time. I wouldn't be surprised if he calls the cops and has them start looking for me."

The man laughed again, sounding genuinely amused. "Really? I don't think your Dad's expecting you Shawn. In fact I know he's not. You and he had one of your regular fights and he isn't expecting to see you anytime soon. Beside which the cops wouldn't start looking for you until you'd been gone for at least 24 hours."

Shawn took a deep breath and tried to appear relaxed. What the hell did this guy want? "Uh – right – well why don't we get the introductions over with – you haven't told me your name – then we can chit chat for a little while, have a drink, eat some munchies and I'll head home. I can probably still catch the tail end of Knight Rider."

"Sorry", the man sighed, sounding sorrowful. "That's not going to happen I'm afraid. No – you and I have some business to attend to. As for my name, why don't you just call me Bill?"

"Bill – that's a nice name. It's a – a friendly name you know. In fact, I've often said to G – to someone I know, that one day I'd name my kid Bill because I'd like a friendly kid. It's the name of someone who would never hurt anyone, you know. Nope – it's the name of a nice guy who wouldn't hurt a porcupine."

The man raised his brows and shook his head. "You surprise me Shawn", he said. "I knew you were a bit – different – but I had no idea you could be so flippant."

"Flippant? Me? No – no, I'm just trying to be friendly. The 'chit chat' part of the evening you know."

"Evening?"

"Uh – it is evening– right?" He was desperate for some information to help orient himself. There were no windows in the room and he hadn't been able to tell anything when the man entered.

Bill didn't answer, he simply looked at Shawn for a couple more minutes and then turned and walked to the door.

"Hey – where are you going? I thought it was going nicely. Don't be offended. In fact, if you just release me we can shake hands and be friends."

Just as he reached the door Bill turned to him, a strange look on his face. "I'm not interested in being your friend." He paused and again stared at Shawn. "I'm going to get some things and then we'll get started."

After he was gone Shawn licked his lips and took a few deep breaths. He looked over the room one more time, hoping for something that could help him. He tugged at his bonds again but still there was no change. He didn't know what Bill had meant about getting started – but it didn't sound good – not at all.

"Gus", he whispered, "where are you when I need you man?"

In fact Gus was on his way over to Henry's. Shawn still wasn't answering his door and his voice mail was full. Lassiter had just called – for the third time – so he hadn't heard from him either. He'd finally bitten the bullet and called Henry a few hours ago, but the man hadn't heard anything from his son.

"I'm sure he's just out somewhere Gus", Henry had said calmly. "You said his bike is still there? Well then – he probably took a cab somewhere. Maybe he met some woman and is spending the night?"

Gus wasn't about to say anything, but he knew there was no way Shawn was with a woman – not unless that woman was Juliet. And he knew that couldn't be because she'd also called him looking for Shawn.

Since his friend had broken up with Abigail he hadn't been out with anyone. Gus knew that he had it bad for Juliet – real bad – but he also knew that Shawn hadn't done anything about it yet. Still, it meant that there was no way he was with another woman.

So now he was going to Henry's – his senses all telling him that something was wrong – very wrong. Shawn might be irresponsible – and careless and immature – but he was rarely unpredictable. Gus was pretty good at figuring out where he could be at any given time. This time he was in none of those places.

As he drove the Blueberry to Henry's he had to force himself to ignore the guilt for now. He was pretty sure that it was his rejection of his best friend that had led to this. He just prayed Shawn wouldn't get himself into serious trouble because his feelings had been hurt.

After parking his car he made his way to Henry's front door. He didn't think Henry would call him crazy, but you never knew with Shawn's dad. Still, he had to try something.

"Gus, I'm sure he's simply out doing whatever he does", a tired looking Henry, dressed only in his robe, sat across the kitchen table from him, sipping on a cup of herbal tea. "Caffeine keeps me awake", he'd told Gus as he made a cup for himself.

"I don't think so", Gus shook his head. "I know the places Shawn likes to go and he's not at any of them. Besides that, he would never leave his bike."

"He would if he was planning to go to a bar and drink. It's the one area where Shawn is really responsible. He'd never drink and drive."

Gus nodded but continued. "He barely drinks", he told Shawn's father. "I can't remember the last time he went into a bar, unless it was on a case."

"Really?" Henry sounded surprised – and surprisingly pleased. "I didn't know that."

"Shawn doesn't need alcohol", Gus snorted. "He's high on life!"

Henry snorted as well and took a sip of his tea. "Yeah, you've got that right. So where do you think he could be?"

"I don't know, that's the problem. It's not like him and frankly, I'm worried Mr. Spencer."

Henry sighed. "When was the last time you talked to him?"

"Uh – four days ago."

"For days? Isn't that longer than you usually go without talking to him?"

"Yeah", Gus looked down. "I kind of – told him I didn't want to see him", he muttered.

"Really? What did he do this time?"

Henry said it casually, as if he wasn't surprised that Gus would have written off his friend. For some reason that really bothered him.

"Nothing – I mean nothing really. I had an important interview at work and I asked him not to bug me. He came over anyway and I kind of got mad at him. I didn't really mean -" he stopped and looked down, feeling even guiltier. "Yes – I did mean it – then. I was angry at him and I said some terrible things." He stood suddenly, knocking back his chair. "It's all my fault", he cried, looking distraught. "I did this to him. I destroyed him – me, his best friend! Why did I do that? Why?"

"Calm down Guster", Henry said, taking another sip. "You didn't destroy him at all. In fact it was probably good for him that you stood up for yourself. I expect you asked him nicely not to bug you and he did it anyway? Yeah well then, he deserved it. But it wouldn't have made him run away or get into trouble."

"Are you sure?" Gus asked hopefully.

"Yes, I'm sure. Come on – you know Shawn. He was probably just waiting for things to blow over and then he'd show up at your place and invite you out for jerk chicken."

"And he'd 'accidentally' forget his wallet and I'd have to pay", Gus said softly, a smile on his face.

"Exactly! See that's Shawn. Any anyway, if his bike is still there it means he hasn't left town."

"But then where is he?" Gus said again, the frown reappearing on his face. "And why isn't he answering his phone?"

"Probably a dead battery", said his loving but experienced father.

"But his voice mail is full. He always checks messages. He's sure that one day David Hasselhoff is going to call and want to hire him and he doesn't want to miss it."

"His voice mail is full?" Henry had thought about phoning his son earlier but had put it off. He knew he had to apologize but it was something he'd done very rarely with Shawn and he found it surprisingly uncomfortable so found himself avoiding it. Usually it was the other way round – or at least it should have been, although Shawn wasn't that great at apologizing either. So, decided to call tomorrow. Now however – he wished he had because he was starting to agree with Gus. Something was definitely wrong.

"Let's call Lassiter", he said suddenly. "I think we should at least check it out."

"Okay, although they know he's missing. They've been trying to get ahold of him about a case."

"Not the Scheffer case?" Henry asked, surprised.

"Yeah, that's the one. I guess the mayor isn't happy with the slowness of the investigation and asked for Psych to be brought in."

Henry didn't say another word – instead he quickly stood up and went over to his phone and grabbed the receiver. He hit one number – damn, he had the cops on speed dial, thought Gus. After a moment he spoke.

"Carlton? Yeah, it's Henry Spencer. Say, Gus and I are a little worried about Shawn. We can't seem to locate him and I was wondering if you'd heard anything?" There was silence for a few moments. "I know he's a grown man but this isn't like him." Another silence. "No, it's not. Look I think Burton and I know him better than you and we both think there's something wrong. Yes", he nodded after listening to Lassiter for a few seconds. "I'd appreciate that. Let me know if you find anything."

"Well?" Gus looked at him expectantly.

"They're going over to check Shawn's place. They're going to ask the landlord to open his door to check that everything is okay." Henry frowned suddenly. "Don't you have a key to his place?"

"I did", Gus said dejectedly. "He changed the lock this week so I can't get in."

"He – why?"

"He was mad at me", Gus answered. "He didn't want me in his house."

Henry frowned even more. "That doesn't sound like Shawn", he said. "I can't imagine him even thinking about something like that. He would have had to be pretty mad,"

"Or hurt", Gus admitted. "Well if it wasn't for me, why would he have changed the lock?"

Henry had no idea and so didn't want to even speculate. Instead he wanted Lassiter and O'Hara on this now. The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. He was positive that something was really wrong.

It wasn't long before Bill came back. This time he was carrying a backpack and – Shawn frowned – a brown manila envelope?

His kidnapper put both the envelope and the backpack down on the table and then pulled it over in front of Shawn.

"I have a little homework for you", he said casually. "You're going to help me."

"Uh – okay – glad to. I think. You are going to pay me right? I mean, G – I usually get $1200 a day for my work."

"Shut up", the man said calmly as he opened the envelope. "I'd wanted to see you work", he said casually. "In fact, I planned it that way, in the way of a reference you know."

Shawn frowned. He'd planned it? What did he mean? "A reference?"

"Yup – I was going to watch you work cause then I knew I'd know if you were a fake." He looked up abruptly, sudden fury written on his face. "And I was right", he hissed. "So I'm afraid I'll have to make you pay for that."

"I don't have a lot of money Dude", he said quickly, although he was pretty sure the guy wasn't talking about getting paid in cash. "But you can have that. And what did you mean by you were right? I'm not a fake if that's what you're talking about. No! I am the real thing!" he said, using his deepest voice.

Without any warning at all – not even a slight change of expression on his kidnapper's face – Bill reached out and struck him across the face.

His head was jerked to the side and back into the chair. It hurt! What made it worse, the man was wearing a ring and it hit Shawn right on the cheek bone. The aching in his head just moved up about ten notches. And the guy was married? He somehow wouldn't have figured that one out.

"Ow – why'd you do that?"

"Shut up", Bill said quietly as he pulled things out of the envelope and began to lay them on the table in front of him. "You're going to get the chance to prove me wrong and solve this case for me."

"Okay sure, I'll try", he said, trying to see the photos, although his eyes were still a bit wonky from the hit on the head and the slap. He assumed the pictures were crime scene photos and he wondered again what this was about.

"No", Bill swung around angrily, "you won't try – you'll do it and the longer it takes the more painful it'll be for you."

Bill's voice again sent shivers running through him. He quickly turned his eyes back to the photos and squinted, trying to see them better. "What the -?" He quickly looked up and then down again. "These are – my god – who is this?"

Shawn was pretty used to seeing dead bodies and had a tough stomach. His father had made him look at crime scene photos from the time he was a kid and he'd quickly learned to look for clues and not pay attention to the actual dead human being. But these pictures were impossible to look at clinically. These photos made him want to throw up.

"What do you see?" Bill growled. "Tell me – you're the psychic – at least you say you are. WHAT DO YOU SEE?"

Shawn swallowed, and closed his eyes. He really couldn't bear to look at them. The slap again threw his head back and it hurt even more this time. He was afraid one of his molars might be loose.

"Open your eyes", Bill hissed. He grabbed Shawn by the hair and shoved his head back into the chair. "Don't close them. You're a psychic – or at least you say you are – and I want you to tell me who killed her."

Shawn opened his eyes and licked his lips. "Who – who is she?" he asked. The pictures were horrific and probably the worst thing he'd ever seen. The victim looked like she couldn't have been more than five or six years old. And she had been tortured.

"You don't know?" his kidnapper bent down and spoke, his face inches from Shawn's. "You are a fake!"

Shawn forced himself to look again at the photos, focusing his eyes on the one that wasn't horrible. It was a picture taken of the little girl – obviously before she was taken. She was laughing at the camera, a little stuffed rabbit in her arms. He felt his throat tighten but he kept looking at it. "She was your daughter", he said softly.

"Yeah", Bill straightened up. "The best thing in my life." He reached over and picked up the nice picture, tracing it gently with his finger. "She loved that rabbit. Her Mom and I bought it for her third birthday – she never went anywhere without it after that."

Shawn stayed quiet, listening to a man who had obviously been destroyed by grief. It was funny, but his sympathy instantly went up – but so did his fear. This was someone who had nothing to lose in life – not after he'd lost the most important thing of all. That made him unpredictable and Shawn suddenly knew his life really was in real danger.

Bill gently laid the picture down and turned to Shawn. "Enough", he said softly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to prod your memory", he said. He walked a couple of steps and lifted the backpack. He unzipped the bag and reached in. "I find that pain is a great help."