Note: We are nearing the end! Two more parts should do it, I think, three at the most! But I'm trying to at least have this done before Halloween, as it's kind of unintentionally a Halloween ghost story minus the ghosts.
Lassiter's head hit the tile floor with a loud crack, and he jerked awake, reaching instinctively for the butt of his gun. "Wha—what happened?"
Shawn was sitting cross-legged beside him, unconcerned. He was drawing what looked like Casper on a new stretch of paper with blue marker. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that," he said. "You were laying on my leg, and while very cute, I started to lose all feeling at about 4:00 AM and I was beginning to worry they'd have to amputate."
"You shoved me off?" Lassiter asked indignantly, pulling his shirt up to look at his stomach. "I think I have a gun indentation in my stomach."
Shawn paused, and glanced up. "Note to self: don't let Lassiter sleep with firearms down his pants. Could very well put an end to my new favorite pastime."
Lassiter turned to glare at him, and then seemed to notice the state of the floor. It was covered almost completely with paper, most of the writing on it nonsensical, including what appeared to be a three-page treatise on why the Pineapple Toss should be included in the Olympics.
"Have you been at this all night?" Lassiter asked incredulously.
"You were falling asleep on me like you had late onset narcolepsy, someone had to stand watch," Shawn told him.
"What is all this?" Lassiter asked.
"I'm organizing my thoughts," Shawn said.
"I'm sure I've said this before," Lassiter said, "but your mind is a scary place, isn't it?"
Shawn was about to respond when Lassiter took the marker from him, snapping the cap back on. "Hey!" he protested.
"Don't you think you should clean this up before someone comes in and sees it?" Lassiter asked.
"Honestly, I think it's an improvement over last night," Shawn said. "It looked like Count Chocula threw up in here."
Lassiter just sighed and started carefully gathering the papers together. More than one seemed to have bonded to the floor with sticky chocolate pudding. Shawn had gotten to his feet beside him, and he reached down to grab everything together in one frenzied move, crumbling the paper carelessly and then pushing it into the trashcan.
Lassiter frowned. "I thought that was your version of an evidence log?" he asked.
Shawn dusted his hands off and grinned. "Eidetic memory, remember?" he pointed to his head. "This is my evidence log. The coloring is just for fun."
Lassiter rolled his eyes and glanced down at his watch. "It's only about five thirty," he said. "We should go to my place and try and get some sleep."
"You've been sleeping all night," Shawn protested. "And I'm fine. We need to keep working."
"Laying on a hard kitchen floor with a gun digging into my stomach isn't exactly the most refreshing night's sleep I've ever had," Lassiter said. "And I thought you were over your insomnia."
"You don't get over insomnia," Shawn said. "Sometimes you have it and sometimes you don't, but it's not like there's a cure. Unless you count sleeping pills."
"Which you refuse to take," Lassiter said.
"You won't take them either," Shawn said.
"Why would I take them? I have no trouble sleeping," Lassiter said.
"Okay, I can't argue with that," Shawn agreed. "You're kind of like one those little toy dolls, your eyes shut when you lay down, open again when you sit up. It's really quite impressive."
"I've learned to grab sleep where I can," Lassiter said defensively. "But I've trained myself to wake at the slightest noise."
"Really," Shawn said. "It's funny you didn't wake up at all last night then, not even during my lovely rendition of Everybody Wants To Rule The World."
"Yeah, well, I've also trained myself to tune you out," Lassiter said. "So there's a conflict."
Shawn grinned, about to voice his rejoinder, when he heard the sound of clicking heels. Eveline walked into the room, apparently unconcerned with all the pudding, and made a beeline for the coffee machine. She was wearing pink high heels and another overpriced dress. This morning though, her make-up was perfect.
Once she had the coffee started, she finally glanced over at them. "Oh, Mr. Oats! I didn't realize you were here," she said.
Lassiter opened his mouth to let her know that wasn't his name, but Shawn beat him to the punch. "Please, Eveline, call him Holland," he said. "There's no need for formalities between us."
Lassiter turned to glare at him, but Eveline just gave a slight smile, one that had Lassiter wondering if she knew very well it wasn't his name. "Holland, then," she said. "Where is Gus?"
"He's pursuing other leads," Shawn said. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than usual, thank you," she said. "It was very kind of you to stay here. Did you…encounter any spirits?"
"Not exactly," he said, reaching deep into his pocket. He stepped in front of Eveline, holding out his hand, the pearl earrings resting on his palm. "But I think these belong to you?"
"My earrings!" she said happily, taking them from him. "Where did you find them?"
"In your step daughter's room," Shawn said.
Eveline frowned. "I don't have a step daughter," she said.
"You do, actually," Shawn said. "Her name is Holly Graves."
Eveline sighed, leaning against the counter. "Harvey was even more of a bastard than I've been giving him credit for, wasn't he?" she asked quietly.
"Pretty much," Shawn said. "We found her room hidden behind the wall in his study. Do you know why that part of the house wasn't included on the map?"
"I never even noticed it wasn't," she said, shaking her head. "Harvey's study is pretty much all that's down there, I never spend any time on that side of the house."
"But Aldis does, do you know why?" Shawn asked.
Eveline shrugged. "He's free to go wherever he wants, he choose to sleep in the spare room down there," she said. "He asked if he could use Harvey's study after he died, and I said he could. I don't want anything to do with it myself."
"And you had no idea Harvey might have had a daughter?" Shawn asked. "You never received any strange phone calls, anything like that?"
Eveline turned to look at him sharply. "You're acting as though she isn't dead," she said.
"That's because I don't think she is," Shawn said. "I don't think your problem has anything to do with ghosts."
Eveline placed a hand over her mouth and sat heavily on one of the barstools. "This is all too much," she said. "Are you sure it's not Harvey?"
"Your husband is dead," Lassiter told her firmly. "I saw him myself."
Eveline nodded, but still turned to look at Shawn. "And he's…gone? He's really gone?"
"Your house is 100% ghost-free," Shawn told her. "But that doesn't mean it's safe. Are you sure you can't tell us anything else about Holly?"
"No, I had no idea about any of this." Eveline sighed. "You should talk to Aldis. He knows all of Harvey's dirty little secrets."
Shawn nodded. "Okay, we will," he assured her. "Then we're going to have to go check some things out. You need to be careful, you might want to get out of the house for awhile."
"You should stay with a friend," Lassiter told her. "Or at a hotel."
Eveline shook her head. "This is my home," she said. "I wasn't going to let a ghost drive me out of it, and this isn't any different."
"This is different because this threat is real," Lassiter snapped.
Shawn stepped in front of him. "What he means is, ghosts are ethereal, the damage they can do is limited," he said. "Someone flesh and blood doesn't have that kind of limitation."
"Mrs. Graves," Lassiter interrupted. "If you don't listen to our advice, we can't protect you."
"I understand that," Eveline said. "I'll be careful." She walked over to the intercom. "Aldis, Mr. Spencer and Mr. Oats would like a word with you. Please meet them in the entry way."
"Thank you," Lassiter said.
"Be careful," Shawn told her. "The good news is that the killer only seems to strike at night, and with any luck, we'll have caught them by then."
Eveline nodded. "I'll be okay," she said. "It was the thought of Harvey being here that was scaring me. Anything else I can handle. Even a stepdaughter I didn't know I had. Anyway, I always said I'd like to have met her."
Lassiter frowned as he and Shawn went to meet Aldis. "She should be more careful what she wishes for," he said.
"You don't know it's Holly," Shawn said. "Innocent until proven guilty. Isn't that a cop rule?"
"No," Lassiter said dryly. "That's a lawyer rule. We have to look at everyone like they're guilty until they're proven innocent."
"Well, that explains our first meeting," Shawn said.
Lassiter frowned. "That's not fair," he snapped.
"And all of our subsequent meetings," Shawn continued. "And all of your meetings with anyone else ever."
"What are you trying to say?" Lassiter demanded.
"You're kind of a suspicious person," Shawn said. "It's okay. I still love you. Here, have a hug!"
Lassiter held out his hand, placing it over Shawn's face to hold him back. "I am not a suspicious person," he said. "And no hugging in public. Someone could be watching."
Shawn stuck out his tongue, and Lassiter pulled his hand away in surprise. Shawn grinned at him. "You think we're being watched, but you're not suspicious?"
"Sirs," Aldis said dryly.
Shawn glanced over at him. "Huh," he said, before turning to Lassiter. "What do you know? You were right. We were totally being watched."
Lassiter pushed past him in irritation. "We have some questions for you," he said. "Where were you on the night of Harvey's death?"
"I was asleep in my room," Aldis said.
"Of course you were," Shawn said, deciding to take up the role of 'good cop.' "But where was Holly?"
Aldis' lips twitched slightly, but that was all that gave him away. "She was in the picture above the fireplace," he said. "Since her death that's the only place she can be found."
"Then who was checked into Acres and Groves?" Shawn asked.
"I'm sure I don't know, sir," Aldis said. "I imagine a great number of people have been."
"And I'm sure you know nothing about the room hidden in Harvey's study, either?" Lassiter demanded.
"As far as I know the only room in Mr. Graves' study is Mr. Graves study," Aldis said. "If there is nothing else, please, allow me to get the door for you." Aldis walked to the door, and generously held it open for them.
Shawn knew that was his fancy, upper class way of saying, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. He only let him get away with it because he had other places to be, other people to question that may actually even tell him the truth.
He grabbed Lassiter by the sleeve and tugged him along. "See you again soon," Shawn called behind him, and Aldis closed the door in his face.
"What was that about?" Lassiter demanded. "You didn't get him to talk at all. We need to go back in there, he knows something."
"Of course he does," Shawn said. "But he's not going to tell us, so we might as well not waste our time. What we need to do is go to Acres and Groves."
"What's so important about Acres and Groves?" Lassiter asked. "Isn't it a mental hospital?"
"Yes, and possibly it's where Holly's really been since her tragic 'death,'" Shawn said.
Lassiter ran a hand over his face and then looked at Shawn with narrowed eyes. "You haven't fallen off the wagon, have you?" he asked. "You look pretty awake."
Shawn rolled his eyes. "No, I've been Red Bull free all week," he said. "Scout's honor."
"Were you really a scout?" Lassiter asked.
"Have you met my father?" Shawn asked. "I was a Cub Scout, a Boy Scout, a Rover Scout, an Air Scout, a Sea Scout. Take your pick. Never more than a week for any one of them, mind you, but they still count. I have the badges and everything." Shawn paused, and placed a hand to his heart. "Scout's honor."
"I don't know why I'm surprised," Lassiter said, before giving him a push towards the car, which was still parked on the other side of the fence.
Shawn glanced up at the tall fence. "How did you get in here?" he asked. "Did you scale the gate?"
"Yes," Lassiter said, "I don't have the code to open it, and it's not that high. You don't think you can manage it?" Lassiter smugly blew on his hands, and pulled himself up the first half of the gate.
Shawn watched him for a moment, and then punched the code into the control box beside the fence. It started to open with a loud creak, taking Lassiter with it. Shawn waved happily as he moved along the road until he was hovering over the lawn.
"Damn it, Spencer," Lassiter snapped, before dropping to the ground. "How did you know the code?"
Shawn heaved a sigh as Lassiter walked over to join him. "I miss the old days when I didn't have to explain myself," he said. "I could just say, I'm psychic! And then leave it at that. You want to take the magic out of everything."
"How, Spencer?" Lassiter demanded.
"It's Holly's birthday," Shawn said. "I found a birthday card in her room and it was dated in the corner. Harvey had guilt issues about locking up his kid that resulted in him putting her picture everywhere. It seemed to follow that he'd set her birthday up as the code, that's probably how she got in. My dad uses my birthday on his safe, too. It's just lucky for him that I have no interest in his collector's edition fishing lures."
"And you couldn't have mentioned that a few moments before?" Lassiter asked.
"I didn't know it would work," Shawn said, as Lassiter moved to the driver's side of his car. "It could have just as easily failed spectacularly, and I would have had to climb that gate right along side you."
Shawn dropped into the passenger seat and pulled open the glove box. He frowned. "You ate all of the Red Vines? Really?" he asked. "That was going to be my breakfast. Maybe we should go back for more pudding."
Lassiter put the car in drive without bothering to respond to that. "What we're doing," he said, "is going to my place to get in bed."
"I know I'm really hard to resist," Shawn said, "but we're in the middle of a murder investigation, this is hardly the time for a booty call."
"To sleep, Spencer," Lassiter said.
"You've reverted back to calling me Spencer," Shawn said. "It's Shawn, remember?"
"You still call me Lassiter," Lassiter said. "Or Lassie, which is worse."
"Carl—Carlt—nope, can't do it," Shawn said. "You're a Lassie. I think it's your big soulful puppy dog eyes."
Lassiter heaved a sigh. "You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?" he asked.
"I always give nicknames to people I love," Shawn said. "Gus. Jules. Henry."
"Henry isn't a nickname," Lassiter said. "And those are all better than mine."
"You'd rather I call you Jules?" Shawn asked.
"That's not what I meant," Lassiter snapped.
"How about Lassoles? Lasselot? Lass? Ass?" Shawn grinned. "That last one has potential."
"Stick with Lassie," he snapped.
"I knew you'd come around," Shawn said, and continued to rifle through the glove box to find any spare snacks. It looked like Lassiter had eaten his way through all of them. Shawn frowned when he glanced back up and realized they were on Lassiter's street. "I don't have my motorcycle here. If you really need to take a nap, can you drop me off at the Psych office first?"
"You need to sleep, Shawn," Lassiter said. "How long have you been up now?"
"Insomnia only kills you if you go eleven days without sleep," Shawn said. "I think I'm still safe."
"Will you at least try?" Lassiter asked. "Because I need to sleep, Shawn, and I don't like the idea of you going to a mental institution without supervision. They may not let you out."
"They'd be lucky to have me," Shawn said. "I'm a lot of fun."
"Shawn," Lassiter said.
Shawn rolled his eyes as Lassiter pulled into his driveway. "Fine," he said. "But we're going to Acres and Groves, first thing after your beauty sleep, right?"
"Of course," Lassiter said. "It's not even six. We need to rest or we'll miss something."
"That's not actually a problem for me," Shawn told him, but Lassiter was already out of the car. Shawn followed him with another heavy sigh, and braced himself to go inside. They hadn't come to Lassiter's house much since they had gotten together. They had spent most of their time at Shawn's apartment.
Logistically Lassiter's house made a lot more sense. It was bigger, the kitchen was always well stocked with the staples, there were no nosy neighbors. Shawn's apartment was fairly small with noisy people above and beside it, and the only thing he had in his fridge were Skittles.
Shawn stopped in the entryway as Lassiter locked the door behind them and tried not to look into the living room. The bloodstains had all been cleaned, of course. Lassiter had the carpet ripped up and replaced as soon as the CSIs cleared it of all evidence—even the couch was brand new.
But that was the thing about remembering everything. If Shawn looked too hard at the living room floor he could see Drimmer's body laid out across it like it was still there.
Lassiter grabbed his shoulders and steered him past the living room towards the bedroom, which was one part of the house that Shawn had nothing but fond memories of. Lassiter put his gun in the nightstand and toed off his shoes at the same time he shrugged out of his jacket, and Shawn glanced at the floor.
Shawn knew he would be expected to make some kind of lewd comment, but he always felt a little off-kilter when he came here. Lassiter grabbed Shawn's hand and pulled him towards the bed, frowning slightly. "I can move again," he said, and Shawn didn't like that he was that easy to read, so he looked up at Lassiter and grinned.
"Why would you do that?" he asked. He dropped down onto the bed and pushed his shoes off too, before slipping back towards the pillows.
Lassiter lay down beside him with a sigh, and placed a hesitant arm around his waist. "Next time we'll go to your place," he said quietly.
Shawn closed his eyes instead of answering, but he didn't go to sleep.
x x x x x x
Shawn waited until Lassiter was asleep, snoring softly, before slipping out of his arms. Sleep had never come easily to Shawn. Having a mind that remembered everything it saw always made for vivid dreams—and lately the things Shawn had been seeing lend themselves more to nightmares.
He found it especially hard to sleep beside Lassiter. He didn't want to ruin his image by waking up screaming bloody murder because behind his eyes he had seen Lassie or Gus or his father dead, which was mostly the way it went these days, almost always. He was always at the scene of the crime and he was always blind, unable to see a thing to solve the case.
He bet his mother would have a lot to say about something like that. It was probably for the best that he wouldn't ever tell her.
Anyway Shawn didn't know what he was so worried for. He figured that of the four of them the one most likely to end up dead was him. He wondered what it meant that he never dreamt about that.
Shawn shed his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom, and stood under Lassiter's shower for a good fifteen minutes, with his head pressed against the tile, taking careful deep breaths as he dispelled all the images from all the dreams he was refusing to have again. He turned his mind instead to the case at hand. He had to pay a visit to Acres and Groves, he had to find out if Holly ever made it there, and how long she'd stayed. That was the first thing.
He felt better with a goal in mind and finished the shower, before putting his jeans back on and stealing some of Lassiter's socks. He opened the closet carefully and surveyed the stock. Lassiter had shirts all pressed and hung side by side, three nearly identical suit jackets pushed to the far left. Shawn grabbed a blue dress shirt off one of the hangers and pulled it on.
He buttoned it up and rolled the sleeves back a few times, but they still hung over his wrists. It would have to do. He and Lassiter had yet to reach the stage of their relationship where they had assigned each other a drawer, so for now he'd just have to continue to resort to stealing his stuff.
Shawn was searching for his shoes when the doorbell rang. Lassiter rolled over in irritation, his hand automatically going for the drawer where he kept his gun. "I'm 'onna 'ill 'em," he said.
Shawn grabbed his hand before he could grab it. "Simmer down, dirty Harry, it's probably just a girl scout," he said. "I'll answer the door."
Lassiter let out a sigh that may have been an acknowledgement and rolled back over, and Shawn half-wondered if he ever actually fully awoke. He wandered into the living room and opened the door, stiffening almost unconsciously when he saw who was standing there on the other side.
"Well, you're certainly not a girl scout," Shawn said.
His father gave him a once-over that was tempered with badly reigned in disapproval, obviously noting the too large shirt and the fancy black dress socks that didn't have any holes and couldn't have more obviously not belonged to him.
"I've been calling you most of the night," Henry said, looking back up to meet his eyes. "I went to your apartment and you weren't there. It finally occurred to me that I should check here."
"You're quite the detective," Shawn said, stepping onto the porch and closing the door. "What's so urgent that it couldn't wait until I remembered to recharge my phone?"
"I'm worried about you, Shawn, you're going to get hurt," Henry said. "It isn't easy being a cop's wife."
"I believe the politically correct term is 'life partner,'" Shawn said.
"You know what I mean," Henry said, frustrated. "You're just like her, you know."
"You always have to bring her into it, don't you?" Shawn demanded.
"She was a hippie when I met her, into all those new-age psych classes," Henry said. "She hated to be tied to any one place, still does. Sound familiar at all? She couldn't handle it, Shawn, what makes you think you can?"
"Okay, first of all, she handled it for seventeen years, and second of all, I think we both know the problem was less that you were a cop than it was that you were you," he snapped. "And then there's the fact that I'm not mom. And Lassiter sure as hell isn't you."
"I just don't think you're thinking this through," Henry said. "What do you and Lassiter even have in common?"
"We both enjoy a good pineapple," Shawn said. "What's with the twenty questions? You've never cared who I dated before."
"You were never serious about anyone before," Henry said. "I think maybe you are about this, and I don't know if you're ready for this kind of commitment. What happens if you and Lassiter have a fight? You're going to be halfway across state lines before the door finishes slamming shut."
"That's not fair," Shawn said. "I've been back here longer than you, and I haven't run yet. Believe me when I say it hasn't been easy, but I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere."
Henry sighed, glancing back towards the street. "I hope that's true."
"What did you really come here for?" Shawn asked.
"I want you and Lassiter to come for dinner," Henry said. "No surprises this time. Just dinner."
"I'm not sure Lassie can handle seeing you again so soon," Shawn said. "You nearly traumatized him the last time."
Henry crossed his arms. "I'm allowed to be protective, Shawn. You're always going to be my kid. I wanted to know his intentions."
"His intentions? You worried he's not going to make an honest man of me?" Shawn asked.
"I'm worried he's going to break your heart," Henry snapped. "There's not too many people in this world you actually let close, Shawn. I'm not even sure if I'm one of them, there's Gus and that's pretty much it."
"You're one of them," Shawn said, only somewhat resentfully. "If not entirely by choice."
"Just come for dinner, okay? I promise not to be too hard on him," Henry said. "How's Monday?"
"Monday is a Gus day," Shawn said. "Wednesday would be better."
"A Gus day?" Henry started. "Nevermind. Wednesday's fine. Be there at seven."
"Alright, but if you start talking about your gun collection again I'm going to grab Lassiter and run," Shawn told him as Henry started towards his truck.
"Oh, and kiddo," Henry said, spinning back around to face him. "The basement looks good. See what you can accomplish when you put your mind to it?"
"It did go much faster after I started selling most of your stuff on eBay," Shawn called after him.
Henry just waved and got in his truck. Shawn figured he'd probably done inventory the moment he left, and so knew he was lying. He closed and locked the door behind him and then wandered back into the house. He stopped right where the kitchen tile met the living room carpet, and frowned down at it. It was the same off-color white that it had been before.
Shawn figured these memories would be a lot a easier to get over if Lassiter was a normal person and had a television instead of a wall of Wanted posters. Shawn didn't like the constant reminders, but he wasn't most people, and he didn't need the reminders because he carried everything around in his head. Shawn looked over at them and then smiled at the one between Attempted Murder Guy and Assault With A Deadly Weapon Guy.
It was a picture of Gus glaring at the camera, eyes squinted, and captioned:
Burton "Buster" Guster
8,000,000.00
Dead or Alive.
He'd made it in photoshop and tacked it up himself in an attempt to give this place the personality that Lassiter's home deserved. He found it endlessly amusing that Lassiter still hadn't noticed it to take it down, and the next time he had a free moment he was going to have to make one for himself. He always wanted a second chance at a good mug shot. His father hadn't let him fix his hair at all before taking the first one.
Shawn was getting restless, so he leaned over the kitchen counter to look at Lassiter's key rack, but the car keys weren't there. He must still have them in his pocket. It was just lucky that these days Shawn was allowed to stick his hands down Lassiter's pants.
He slipped back into the room, pushing his shoes back on before walking to the bed. Lassiter was still sleeping soundly, and Shawn leaned over him, kissing him softly goodbye as he carefully pulled the keys from his pocket. Lassiter stirred awake and ran a hand over his eyes. "Who was at the door?" he asked.
"My dad," Shawn told him.
"You should be sleeping," Lassiter said, frowning as he noticed Shawn was dressed. "Where are you going?"
"Following up on a lead," Shawn said. "Go back to sleep."
Shawn started to pull away, and Lassiter caught his wrist, turning it up to see the keys in his hand. "You must think I'm nuts if you think I'm letting you drive my car," Lassiter said.
Shawn grinned. "Then you'd better get dressed, because you've just volunteered to come with me."
