Disclaimer: We don't own Psych.

Note: The other author of this story, Lauren, her username on is sparrowlove. Her work is amazing.

Shawn examined the woman sitting in front of them. "You know your name is Dr. Love?" he asked.

"Yes, I know." The doctor replied. She was fairly young and fairly pretty and as Shawn looked at her, he realized that she was also fairly guilty. He noticed that her nails were rough and dirty and that she had a splinter in one finger. She had probably gotten it pulling up the floorboards, Shawn inferred.

"I think you killed Garrett Wild," Shawn blurted out.

"You have no proof of that," Dr. Love replied calmly.

"No, he doesn't," Emily said. Shawn glared at her. Then she pressed her hand to her forehead. "But… I bet I know how you did it. You… you argued because… Garrett lied to you? I sense a lie. You went to him and he lied and you argued.

"He didn't lie to me. We just argued But I didn't kill him."

"But you did. I still see a lie. Maybe yours that you are innocent. You slit his throat with a… a butcher knife and then buried it in a… I'm seeing a box. A coffin? No. A toolbox? No… a windowbox." The doctor's eyes widened. Shawn knew Emily must be right. He was impressed. This went beyond observation, perhaps Emily was the real deal after all. Shawn got a bit nervous. He interrupted Emily, eager to show his skills as well.

"You didn't kill those other psychics, did you? Just Garrett. But you took him to the convention hall so people would think he was killed by the person who killed the others." The doctor said nothing. Her face was stony. "This is the part," Shawn said, "Where you say you would've gotten away with it if it weren't for us meddling kids." The doctor glared at him as she was handcuffed and led to a cell.

"So," Emily said casually. "You made some pretty good observations there…"

"Yeah, I…" Shawn stopped. "No, they were predictions. I…" he put his head on the table.

"Aha!" Emily said triumphantly. "You're not a psychic, are you?"

Shawn hit his forehead against the table. "Like you're one either. I mean, that flowerbox thing was clever," he mumbled angrily, but you must be just acting."

"Of course," Emily said simply. "I'm an actress. I've been doing theater since… probably before you were born. I was hired to expose you; the police fed me evidence so I could pretend to be a psychic."

"But… why?" Shawn stammered. "That makes no sense. Everyone believes me. Even Lassie believes me."

"It was nothing personal, as far as I know. The department is trying to cut costs."

"Then why did they hire an actress?" Shawn yelled.

"Hiring an actress once," Emily replied calmly," Is much cheaper than hiring a liar over and over. Think about it, what if you got hurt and it came out that you were just a civilian, not a psychic? You're a liability."

Shawn hit his head against the table again. "So you're going to tell them?"

"It's my job."

The sound of Shawn's forehead against meeting the wooden table was a sort of a cross between a 'thwack' and a 'clunk'. Emily left the room. A few minutes later, Juliet entered.

"Here to fire me?" Shawn asked miserably.

"Huh?" Juliet asked distractedly. "You solved the case, didn't you? Well, the one at least, we still don't know who killed the other psychics. Why would you be getting fired? No, I just came to tell you that someone's here to see you."

"What?"

"He's in the lobby."

"He? It's not my dad, is it? Just what I need" Shawn said, walking out of the room. Then, seeing the visitor, he grinned and nearly forgot his current problem. "Gus!" he yelled. The man at the front desk gave him an annoyed look. "I though you weren't going to be home until tomorrow."

"They were able to clear the runways faster than they thought. So what's happened while I've been gone?"

"I blew it," Shawn said soberly.

"What?"

"I told someone," Shawn whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"This is why I can't leave you alone," Gus said. "At least tell me she was hot."

"She's a middle aged woman," Shawn replied. "She tricked me."

"Is she a hot middle aged woman, at least?"

"She's an actress. She pretended she was a psychic."

"How dare she?" Gus said sarcastically.

"And now she knows and she's going to tell them and I'm going to lose my job."

Emily walked out of the chief's office. Shawn glared at her. She winked and walked outside.

Lassiter came out of the chief's office and handed Shawn a folder. "Why are you just standing here? Dr. Love didn't kill the other psychics. You still have a murder to find."

"Me?"

"Yes. Emily has just informed us that you are, in fact, a real psychic. She's an actress by the way. The department's on our tails to make budget cuts. Someone figured that if they could prove you fake, that'd be one way to cut costs." Shawn pretended to look interested, as if he hadn't heard the same thing a few minutes before. He was growing happier by the minute.

"Hang on a minute, Lassie," he said, running outside. He caught up to Emily. "You didn't tell them."

"No," she said smiling.

"Why?"

"Why not?" she replied. Shawn stared after her as she walked away. Then he walked back into the police headquarters smiling. When Lassiter walked away, Shawn turned to Gus and said, "Looks like we're still in business after all!" He flipped quickly through the folder that Lassiter handed him. Then he leaned against the wall, put his hand to his head…

And Gus thought "Here we go again…"