A/N: I'm currently working on chapter four. I have to figure out how exactly I'm going to get where I have to go, but then it should be up.

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

Chapter 3

"…when the little picture of a happy father's face looks up in yours,…"

It was the picture of Lassiter and Henry from their fishing trip. The only photograph in the house that had someone other than Lassiter in it and it had to be Shawn's dad. Shawn sighed as he plucked the picture from where it was tucked into the frame of the mirror. When he pulled it out, another piece of paper fluttered to the ground; Shawn sighed and bent to pick it up.

It was a newspaper clipping of Shawn from the first case he had worked with the police. Shawn stared down at the picture, because that was what it was, just a picture. None of the article or headline had been cut out. He flipped the gossamer paper over in his fingers and saw that Lassiter had written "Shawn" on the back.

Shawn sighed and slipped the pictures back into the mirror's frame, there was nothing useful there. He slowly made his way back downstairs, where the Forensics team was finishing up. He stood in the kitchen doorway and took in the scene, memorizing every detail at a glance. He followed the trails of dirt with his eyes, taking note of where they started, where they stopped, and where they began again, all the while hoping that some minute detail would jump out at him and he would solve the case in an instant.

None did.

.-.-.-.

The stars. Repeat offenders. People he checked up on to make sure they were obeying the law. That, Carlton had decided, must have had something to do with his predicament; he just, couldn't figure out which one of those names these people were or were associated with. He didn't have the list memorized, which was why it was written down in the first place, and since his black book was in his desk he couldn't go through name by name and figure out suspects. Of course, even if he'd had the book he wouldn't have been able to go through it since his hands were still tied.

"You thinkin' of escaping?" Caleb asked, making a failed attempt at looking menacing as he slapped a piece of pipe against his hand. "Well don't."

"Is that a threat?" Lassiter inquired, he knew he shouldn't have the minute he said it, as Caleb pushed his face into Carlton's and made a sad attempt at a snarl while wrapping his thin, slimy fingers around his throat.

"Don't mess with me," Caleb said, and he pushed away from Carlton. "I'll mess you up so bad you won't know which way is up."

"I'd count on it, too," Kasey's voice said from somewhere behind Carlton. "He's small, but I've seen him bite a man's hand clean off." Carlton sighed.

"Now, be a good little policeman and take a fucking nap," Caleb said. Carlton obligingly let his head fall to his chest as he tried to think of what he could do. He thought back to everything he had done the day they had taken him, but nothing stood out enough to assure him that Vick would be suspicious. His mind kept telling him he had one hope, just one.

"Spencer," he whispered as a short prayer.

.-.-.-.

"Gus! Get the door," Shawn called out as he pushed at the door to his office. His arms were laden with reports and maps that he had convinced Juliet he would need copies of in order to 'divine' his answer to the question of Lassiter's whereabouts. Gus pulled the door open and stepped back, raising his eyebrow at his friend's burden.

"What's goin' on, Shawn?" he asked.

"Lassy-face," Shawn said, pushing files off of Gus's desk, much to Gus's chagrin, and dumping his pile of papers on top of it instead.

"What about him?" Gus said as he gathered up his disrupted papers.

"He's missing," Shawn replied. "And it's our job to find him."

"Uh, don't you mean your job, Shawn? You are the 'psychic,'" Gus replied, emphasizing the word psychic with finger quotes. Shawn looked at Gus and sighed.

"Our job, Gus, because you're my partner," he said. Gus shrugged and proceeded to help Shawn organize the maps and reports now adorning his own desk. They went through pile after pile, looking for something out of the ordinary, or maybe too ordinary. They got through every single piece of information available to them with no coffee breaks, and at the end of it they had found nothing.

Shawn sighed and tossed the final folder onto his desk while Gus pushed aside his sad attempt to re-roll one of the maps. The both leaned back in their respective chairs, and Shawn ran a hand through his hair while Gus rubbed his eyes.

"That was unsuccessful," Gus said. Shawn sighed again and reached for the first report.

"We'll just have to keep looking," he declared. Gus groaned.

"Shawn, my eyes hurt," he complained. Shawn flipped carelessly through the folder he had picked up and then tossed it aside again.

"Yeah, mine, too," he said.

"I mean, what good are soil samples and all that if we don't know who wanted Lassiter out of the picture?" Gus ranted, Shawn perked up as his friend spoke.

"That's it!" Shawn exclaimed.

"That's what?" Gus asked, puzzlement lacing his voice.

"The little black book," Shawn said, standing up and grabbing the phone. "Lassy's little black book has the names and addresses of all the people he arrested!"

"Stars for repeat offenders!" Gus finished.

"Exactly," Shawn said, dialing Juliet's number.