I reposted chapter 1 because I found out part of the story got deleted. It should make more sense now. Also had to repost this one since it got screwed up the first time. I think this site hates me.
A note on chapter length; since each chapter is a separate day, chapter lengths will vary. This is one of the longer chapters.
I also apologize for Shawn and Gus in the first scene. They refused to talk about what I wanted them to talk about and instead kept going off on ridiculous tangents. I'll try to keep them in line next time.
Wednesday
"OK, sorry to bother you ma'am," Shawn said loudly into the phone over the yelling. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, trying to track down Nikki's mother. Gus was sitting at his own desk, memorizing new asthma medications and being no help to Shawn whatsoever. Apparently he was serious when he said he was taking no part in this case.
Shawn hung up the phone and sighed. With the Sanders' case pretty much wrapped up, he had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon working on Nikki's case. He had been able to find out a little bit more about her but not much. Knowing Nikki was going to come back by the office today, he decided to go direct to the source for answers. Her mom obviously knew the identify of the father. All he had to do was track her down. He knew her name was Sarah; a fact he had discovered in his research. A fact Nikki had neglected to tell him, which made him all the more eager to meet this woman. Unfortunately none of the Sarah Petersons listed in the phone book for the Santa Barbara area was Nikki's mother. He had then widened his search to include most of Santa Barbara and Ventura counties. He had just finished calling the last name on the list.
"Not having any luck?" Gus asked, looking up from a pamphlet on Dupilumab.
In response he balled up his list and tossed it at the trash can. He missed. Sighing, he looked over at Gus. "What I could gather from all the yelling was that she suspected her daughter was dating behind her back and someone is in a lot of trouble when they get home, Unfortunately her daughter's name is Annabelle, not Nicole." He opened a drawer and started digging through it. "So no, I'm not having any luck." He slammed the drawer shut in frustration. "Did you eat all my red vines?"
"I don't touch your candy, Shawn. Not after the Snickers snafu of '07." Gus shuddered at the memory.
"I could have sworn I had more in here," he said, opening another drawer. He paused, staring into it. "Have you been messing with my magazines?" he asked accusingly, looking up.
"I haven't touched your magazines," Gus said.
He gave Gus a disbelieving look before digging through the drawer. He pulled two magazines out and set them on the desk. "Someone has," he said, closing the drawer and looking intently at Gus. "I always leave a copy of the New York Times sitting on top of the stack." He held up the magazine in question by one corner. "That way it's easily accessible if there's a client I need to impress." He put it down and picked up the other magazine. "Someone," and here he glared at Gus, "left last month's People magazine on top." He shook the magazine at Gus.
"Dude, for the last time, I didn't touch your stuff," Gus said, getting annoyed. His look turned to one of confusion as Shawn put the magazine down and pulled a fingerprinting kit out of another drawer.
"We'll just see who's guilty after I dust for prints," he said. He had bought the kit just for this purpose. Although 'bought' may not be the right word, he mused as he opened the kit. Actually, he had found the kit in his father's attic while looking for his old Thundercats. Maybe it was better to say 'liberated,' as in he 'liberated' it from his father's house without his knowledge. Either way, it was his now and he had been waiting for the right time to test it out.
He laid the two magazines side by side. Very gently, he brushed the powder over the covers of both magazines, then blew it off just as carefully. The New York Times only yielded a couple of smudges. But the People magazine was covered in clear markings. He could make out two distinct sets of prints. He used lifting tape to pull two prints and secure them to separate white index cards. One card he glanced at and tossed, recognizing his own print. The other card he compared to a copy of Gus's fingerprints (which he had 'liberated' from the police station). They didn't match.
"Well, the good news is, you're off the hook," he said, looking at Gus. "The fingerprints don't match." He grinned sheepishly.
"I told you," Gus said, looking smug. Shawn saw him pause as the rest of what he said sunk in. "What do you mean good news?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "What's the bad news?"
"The bad news is that someone still went through my desk," Shawn said. He held up the index card. "This print doesn't match either of ours. Someone came in and moved the magazines around in my desk." He carefully placed the card down and pouted at Gus. "They also ate all my candy," he whined.
"So someone was really in here last night," Gus said, focusing on the important details. Not that stolen candy was unimportant. Just unimportant to Gus. After all, Shawn thought childishly, it wasn't his candy that was stolen.
Gus started looking around the office worriedly. "What else did they take?" He got up and went over to the DVDs and started looking through them.
"Relax, nothing was taken," Shawn said reassuringly. "I didn't notice anything different in here until I looked in my desk."
"My desk!" Gus explained. Shawn rolled his eyes as Gus ran across the room. He pulled open a drawer and started riffling through it. Shawn got up and went over to get a better view.
"How are you going to know if something was moved if you dig through it like that?" he asked in amusement. Gus was throwing most of the contents of the drawer to the floor. Papers scattered everywhere. A box of paper clips burst open when it hit the ground. A marble bounced out and rolled away under the couch. "What are you so worried about?"
"I keep an emergency stash of money hidden in this drawer, Shawn," Gus said, pushing more papers on the floor. "What if the intruder found it?"
"Relax," he said. "They would have to reach all the way to the back of the drawer and twist the secret panel 90 degrees counterclockwise while simultaneously pressing the hidden button on the outside of the desk. They would never figure that out." Gus stopped digging through the drawer and turned to glare at him. "If you keep making that face it will stick that way," he said, grinning back at Gus.
"How do you know that?" Gus asked. "Never mind," he said before Shawn could answer. "The money better still all be there." He started putting the papers back in the drawer.
"Of course it is," Shawn said reassuringly. "All $582 of it. Besides," he said as Gus muttered in annoyance about 'fake psychics' and 'deadbeat friends' "I never steal from you."
"You steal from me all the time, Shawn," Gus said. He put the last of the papers away and slammed the drawer. "You're the one who steals my candy. I have a separate stash just for you now."
"OK, let me rephrase that." he said, tacitly acknowledging his candy thievery. "I never steal money from you."
"What about my credit card?" Gus asked. "You steal that all the time. That's why I keep having to replace them."
"First of all, I 'borrow' your credit card," he explained. "Secondly, it's a credit card, not money. And thirdly, I always help pay the bills. I don't see why you keep getting new cards. Do you really need another Venture card?"
"You get free miles for signing up – ." Gus paused, looking at him. "How do you know I have a new Venture card?" He pulled out his wallet and started looking through it.
"Lucky guess?" Shawn said, mentally hitting himself on the head. Why hadn't he slipped Gus's credit card back last night like he had planned?
Gus pocketed his wallet and glared at him. "Where is it Shawn?" he asked in an eerily calm voice.
"I have it right here," he said, pulling out his wallet. He slipped out Gus's credit card and handed it to him. "See, nothing to worry about." He gave Gus a reassuring grin.
Gus grabbed it from him, "You better not have used it," he said, sitting at his desk.
"Of course not," Shawn said, pretending to be insulted. "I only use your credit card for emergencies." He slipped his wallet back into his pocket.
"Like the romantic weekend with Juliet?" Gus asked. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.
"That romantic weekend was as much for you as it was for me," he argued. "You said you wanted some 'Gus time.' I was just respecting your wishes." He thought back to the events of that weekend. A couple had robbed their room, then been accused of murder. "Besides, we ended up working a case. That weekend practically paid for itself."
"How about the 300 lbs of kangaroo paste?" Gus asked.
"That was an emergency," he explained. "My hair was completely flat and without style. That paste saved it." Gus snorted, which he decided to interpret as a comment on how his hair looked before the paste. "Dude, this morning blows. Let's go get some smoothies."
"In a minute," Gus said. He was staring intently at his computer screen.
"Since when do you pass up smoothies?" he asked. He came around Gus's desk. "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to peer at the screen.
"I'm checking the transactions on my credit card," Gus said. "I'd rather know how much you spent now then wait for the bill and be surprised." He started clicking away at the screen.
"Why worry now when you can worry later?" Shawn asked quickly. He'd rather wait for Gus to get the bill before he yelled at Shawn. That would give him time to plan a counterargument. Or flee the country. "Come on, let's get those smoothies." He grabbed Gus's arm and tried to pull him out of the chair.
"Let go Shawn!" Gus said, breaking free. "We can get smoothies after I check. And you're paying."
"I believe it's your turn to pay," he said, momentarily distracted. "I paid the last time,"
"No," Gus said, not looking up. "You pretended to forget your wallet so I had to pay. It's your turn."
"Agree to disagree," he said. He watched warily as Gus peered at the screen.
"Well, that's not as bad as I thought. You only used the card twice," Gus said, causing Shawn to relax. Luckily the charge for the new air hockey table hadn't gone through yet. Gus did some typing, then looked up at Shawn. "How did you manage to spend $115 dollars at a diner?" he asked in bewilderment.
"I was really hungry," he said hurriedly. "How about those smoothies?" He sighed as Gus looked back at the screen.
"There's also a charge on here from Smoothie Shack," Gus said, pointing at his computer. "The charge is for two smoothies." He looked suspiciously at Shawn. "Who were you with yesterday?"
"Who says I didn't drink both smoothies myself?" he asked defensively.
"You only had one when you came into the office," Gus said. "Besides, you never get two. The second one gets all melty by the time you finish the first." He crossed his arms and stared at Shawn. "What are you hiding?"
He hated when Gus got all detectivey. Resigned to the fact the conversation couldn't be postponed, he crossed the room and sat at his desk. The distance would be better in case Gus tried to hit him. "I may have taken someone out to breakfast," he said slowly. "Someone who apparently has a endless pit for a stomach."
"Does this someone have a name?" Gus asked.
"Don't be silly Gus," he said evasively. "Of course she does. Everyone has a name."
"Shawn," Gus said sternly. He gave Shawn the Look.
"Ok," he said after a minute. He could never stand up to the Look. "It was Nikki."
It took Gus a second to place the name. "Nikki, as in Nikki the girl who wants us to find her father?" Gus asked in surprise. "How did you end up buying breakfast for her?"
"I don't know," he whined. "She came by to see how the case was coming. I asked some questions. She ate my bag of Doritos. I was hungry. Somehow we ended up at the diner where she proceeded to eat her own weight in food." He thought back, trying to figure out how exactly she had convinced him to buy breakfast. "I think it's the way she talks," he said after a moment. "She talks so fast it creates a wall of sound that incapacitates her targets." He looked at Gus excitedly. "Dude, she's like a super hero!"
"I told you she would be trouble, Shawn," Gus said. He had his smug 'I told you so' face on.
He picked up the index card. Fiddling with it, he sat there for a minute, thinking. Gus had said he didn't want to get involved in the case. But that was just when it was a missing person's case. Shawn was starting to feel that something more was going on. "I think she's in trouble," he said, staring at the wall. Feeling Gus's questioning look, he continued. "Something is going on with her mom. She tenses up anytime you mention her. When I bought her breakfast yesterday she acted like it was the first real food she's had in weeks. And she's worried about us going to the police." He finally risked a glance over at Gus. "What do you think?" he asked. He continued to fiddle nervously with the card as he waited for an answer.
Gus slowly closed his laptop and turned to face Shawn. "I think you might be right," he said. "You need to go to the police."
"But she specifically asked us not to go to the police," he reminded Gus. "She was very clear about that."
"All the more reason you should," Gus said emphatically. "You said yourself she's hiding something. And you couldn't find her mom within a 100 miles of here. Maybe she's a runaway. Or maybe," he said, lowering his voice, "Nikki isn't even her real name." He leaned back and nodded mysteriously.
"Of course it's her real name," he scoffed. Gus was starting to sound paranoid. "Otherwise how would she expect me to find her father?" He looked at Gus triumphantly.
"Think about it Shawn," Gus said, still talking in a low voice. "It's all a ruse. You haven't been able to find any information on her. Why? Because she gave you a fake name. She's probably been playing you from the start." He was starting to get agitated. Shawn knew he needed to stop this rant now before Gus became completely irrational.
"Gus," he said calmly. But Gus was too wound up in his theories to hear him.
"Maybe someone hired her to find out if you're really psychic," Gus said. He looked worriedly at Shawn. "Has she been asking you questions about how your psychic abilities work? Has she let slip any leading hints implying she thinks you're not really psychic?"
"Gus – " Shawn started, before Gus cut him off again.
"Or maybe she's part of a gang of thieves," Gus said, abandoning his earlier theory. He got up from his desk and came to stand in front of Shawn. "And she's casing out the joint so they can come back and rob us later." He pointed to the index card still in Shawn's hand. "Maybe that's her fingerprint."
"Gus, don't you think your overreacting a little?" he asked, finally able to get a word in. "All I did was buy her breakfast." He decided not to mention the fact that Nikki had questioned his psychicness. It was just curiosity. Nothing else.
"That's how it starts with con artists," Gus said knowingly. "They get on your good side, gain your trust. Then three days later we come in to find the office cleaned out and the headline 'Local Psychic a Fake.'"
"Do you hear yourself right now?" he asked incredulously. This was a little extreme, even for Gus. "She was just hungry, She was not trying to con me." He held up the index card. "This is not her fingerprint."
"You don't know that for sure," Gus stated stubbornly.
"Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll have Jules run the print," he snapped. He was not used to being the logical one in the argument. He didn't like it. He took out his wallet and slipped the index card inside. Putting his wallet away, he said, "She's not a con artist."
"Who's not a con artist?"
He jumped. Turning, he saw Nikki standing in the doorway. She was wearing what looked to be the same ripped jeans of the past two days and a plain black t-shirt. Gus threw him a disgruntled look and went back to sit at his desk.
She came into the room and stood near his desk. "Who's not a con artist?" she repeated.
He didn't think Nikki would appreciate being called a con artist, so he said the first thing to pop into his head. "Kate from Lost." He heard Gus snort behind him. Ignoring it, he said "I think she was just trying to find her way out of a bad situation." He looked pointedly at Gus.
"Well, I think it was her own fault she was in that bad situation in the first place," Gus replied, staring right back.
"Maybe she just made a few mistakes," he shot at Gus.
"Maybe they weren't mistakes," Gus shot back.
The two stared at each other across the office, neither willing to give in. Nikki looked back and forth between them with confusion.
"Wasn't Kate on the run because she killed her stepfather?" she asked. When both men turned to look at her, she blushed and said quietly "Maybe I remembered it wrong."
"You're absolutely right," Shawn said, recovering quicker than Gus. "She did put herself in that situation. In that respect Gus was right. But she only lied to get away from her past, like I said. So we were both right." He looked over at Gus and said carefully, "No need to discuss this anymore, right?"
"For now, Shawn," Gus compromised. He eyed Nikki suspiciously.
"OK," she said slowly, still looking confused. "Do you have anything to drink?"
"Soda and juice in the fridge," he said, pointing out the fridge in the corner. As she headed over to it, he got up and walked around to the front of his desk. "Dude, knock it off," he whispered to Gus.
"I don't trust her Shawn," Gus whispered back.
"She's not a con artist," he said, watching her dig through the fridge.
"Then prove it," Gus retorted. "Ask her about her mom."
"What?" he asked, a little too loudly. Gus shushed him as Nikki looked back over at them. He gave a little wave. She returned it hesitantly and went back to looking through the fridge.
"You said she was hiding something about her mom," Gus said, making sure to keep his voice low. "So ask her about it."
"I can't just ask her about it," he exclaimed softly. He saw her straighten up, examining a can of soda in her hand.
"If you don't I will," Gus said with finality.
"Fine," he snapped, as she closed the fridge and headed back over to them.
"What are you guys whispering about?" she asked, cracking open the soda.
"Ninjas," he said quickly. She just rolled her eyes. He debated how to ask Nikki about her mother. Slowly ease into the subject? Or just ask her outright? He could see Gus urging him on over Nikki's shoulder. She glanced behind her, only to see Gus casually reading a pamphlet on Xolair. Turning back, she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged and leaned against his desk. Going for the outright approach, he asked, "So how's Sarah?"
He couldn't have had better timing. Nikki had just taken a gulp of her soda and immediately started choking on it. He leaped in to grab the can from her flailing hand before it went flying. He glanced worriedly at Gus, wondering if he should do something. Gus didn't seem too concerned. He nodded at Nikki and raised an eyebrow. He obviously thought her reaction proved he was right about her. He ignored Gus for now, watching Nikki carefully. She had finally stopped coughing and was trying to catch her breath. He noticed now how pale she had become. Since most people turned red when choking, he assumed it was from the shock of his question. Or fear of him learning something she didn't want him to know. He wondered what was so bad that the mention of her mom would scare her this much. When she was breathing normally again, he handed gave her back the soda.
"Thanks," she said, voice raspy. She took a few sips to clear her throat, pausing between each one to make sure it wouldn't trigger another coughing fit. Noticing Shawn and Gus watching her, she said quickly, "It's just went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine." She cleared her throat, then looked warily at Shawn. "How did you find out my mom's name?"
"The spirits came across it while looking for information about you," he said. He knew this was a delicate subject and used the psychic charade as a sort of buffer between them.
"Did they tell you anything else?" she asked. He could hear a slight tremble in her voice.
"No, just her name," he said. He saw her visibly relax at the news. He glanced at Gus, who nodded. He had noticed it too.
She took a deep, steadying breath. "So, any news on my father?" she asked, changing the subject. She was trying to keep her tone light, but he could still hear a slight tremble in her voice. He had obviously upset Nikki by asking about her mother. He made a mental note to look more in-depth into her mother later. Something was definitely going on.
"Not yet," he said, adopting the same light tone. He could see the disappointment on her face. "But I'm getting closer. I'm sure I'll find him soon," he said reassuringly.
"It's fine," she said with a sigh. "But if I'm going to be waiting around, maybe I can help out." She walked behind Shawn's desk, sat in his chair and propped up her feet. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Her spunkiness was refreshing and he was curious to hear what she had to say. "Did you figure out who killed Sanders yet?" she asked.
"You told her about the case?" Gus said accusingly.
"Of course I didn't tell her about the case," he said scornfully. "I never discuss open police cases. That would be unethical."
"You tell the woman at the coffee shop about your cases all the time," Gus pointed out.
"She's eighty-two," he explained. "Everyone knows old people don't count." He gave Gus a pitying look for not knowing this common fact.
"It's still talking about the case," Gus argued.
"Fine," he said, conceding the point. He crossed his arms and looked stubbornly at Gus. "But it doesn't mean I told Nikki."
"Then how does she know about the case?" Gus asked, sounding smug.
"She figured it out on her own," he said. He turned to give Nikki a grin. "It was rather impressive."
"You really expect me to believe that a 15 year old girl figured out not only that we had a case but the details of the case? Gus asked incredulously. "Without you saying anything?"
"Shawn's telling the truth," Nikki said. Gus looked doubtfully at her. "I did figure it out on my own." She smirked at him. "Not bad for a 15 year old, huh?"
"How exactly did you figure it out?" Gus asked suspiciously.
"Where's the mystery if I just tell you?" she said, pouting. She looked at Shawn. "So what happened? I heard someone got arrested." She seemed eager to hear about the case.
"Someone did," he said. "Dr. Lyle Pratt."
"Really?" She seemed surprised at Pratt's arrest. "Are you sure it was him?" she asked doubtfully.
"Positive," he said confidently. "Pratt and Sanders have been rivals for years. They were always fighting for grants because they were doing similar research. Pratt was even sabotaging Sanders' experiments. Now the school is planning on closing one of their labs down. We believe Pratt killed Sanders' in order to keep his lab." It was a short wrap-up, but it was an open and shut case.
"What about his job offer?" she asked.
"What job offer?" he asked, perplexed.
"You're the psychic, shouldn't you already know?" she asked mockingly.
"Sometimes my psychic channels get blocked, letting key pieces of information elude me," he said. It was his favorite excuse to use for the Chief when he had missed some vital clue. Although she never really seemed to buy it.
"Yeah, sure," Nikki said. She didn't seem to buy it either. She put down her soda and pulled an envelope out of her pocket. She handed it to him.
He looked at the envelope. "A phone bill?" he asked skeptically.
"Look inside," she said. She picked up her soda again and took a sip.
He pulled out the contents of the envelope and unfolded them. "It's still a phone bill," he said. This was starting to feel like a joke.
She sighed. "Flip the page."
"OK," he said with a sigh. He flipped the first page. He stared for a minute, frowning.
"What is it?" Gus asked. He got up and came around his desk to have a look.
He handed Gus the paper. "It seems Pratt was offered a job by the Department of Defense," he said as Gus glanced over the letter. "Six figure salary, full funding for all his projects. With such a sweet deal on the table, he had no reason to kill Sanders." And he had missed it. He better up his game before he missed anything else. He turned to face Nikki. "Where did you find this?"
"Pratt's desk," she said. "After the police arrested him, I snuck into his office to have a look around." She pointed to the letter. "I found that in his desk drawer. I used to hide letters the same way."
He recalled the glimpse of someone in blue with brown hair he had seen at the school yesterday. Nikki must have followed them, then stuck around to do some snooping. He couldn't really blame her. He often did the same himself.
"So what are we going to do now?" she asked. She looked expectantly at him and Gus as she drank her soda.
"We are not going to do anything," Gus said, circling the three of them with his finger. "You," he pointed to Nikki, "are leaving while we" he gestured to himself and Shawn, "try to find out who the killer is."
"Come on, I can help," Nikki pleaded. She looked at Shawn. "I did find the letter."
"She does have a point," he said to Gus.
"No, Shawn," Gus said sternly. "Besides, how can we explain who she is to the police?"
"I can pretend to be a psychic," Nikki said. "I know how Shawn does it, so I bet I can fake it just as well."
"Fake it?" Gus asked. He turned angrily to Shawn. "You told her?"
"OK Nikki, time to go," he said quickly. He walked around the desk and yanked her out of his chair. He grabbed the now empty soda can from her and threw it at the wastebasket. He missed. "I'll just walk you out," he said, ushering her from the room. He could feel Gus's angry stare burning into his shoulder blades.
He steered Nikki quickly towards the door. A little too quickly; she tripped over a stuffed pineapple on the floor and fell into him. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor. "Sorry," he said, setting her back on her feet. He kicked the pineapple out of the way. "You ok?"
"I'm fine," she said, adjusting her clothes. "Any more surprise fruit I should worry about?" she joked.
He checked the path from there to the door. "All clear," he said. They made it to the door without incident. He let Nikki through first, following her out and shutting the door behind him.
"What was all that about?" she asked, turning to face him. "Why did you rush me out of there so fast?"
"Gus tends to worry when anyone figures out my secret," he said, checking to make sure Gus wasn't peeking through the blinds. "Especially when that person is an underage kid we met two days ago and know nothing about." Satisfied Gus wasn't around, he leaned back against the door. "It's best to give him some time to cool off."
"Tell Gus not to worry," she said breezily. "I won't tell anyone." She gave a snort. "I doubt anyone would believe me anyway."
"You'd be surprised," he said. He knew of one headstrong detective in particular who would be fascinated by what she could tell him. He crossed his arms, looking at her carefully. "I noticed you didn't just say I was a fake psychic. You said you knew how I do it." Several people had known he was a fake, yet no one had ever claimed to know the real secret behind his gift.
"I just thought about how I would do it if I was in your place," she said. "It couldn't be simple detective work, or the other cops would have figured out how you do it already. Then I realized we have the same gift." She closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. "On Gus's desk, there is a medical dictionary to the left and a laptop to the right. A pile of pamphlets for what looks like asthma medication lies in the center of the desk; I'm not even going to try to pronounce the names of the drugs. Under that is a large calendar. Friday's date is circled but nothing is written there. There is another calendar in front of the dictionary. Two blue tickets are sticking out from under it. I can make out the word 'planet' on it. Next to that is a container of pencils, a nameplate, a box of tissues, and a stuffed frog." She opened her eyes and looked at Shawn. "How'd I do?"
"Perfect," Shawn said, causing Nikki to grin widely. He had never come across a person with his near perfect recall before. His dad came close, but only after years of looking for clues while on the force. This girl could put even Henry Spencer to shame. He had the stray thought of introducing her to his dad, just to see what would happen.
"Since I'll be hanging around for awhile, how about making me your fake psychic apprentice?" she said in a playful tone. He couldn't tell if she was serious or not. It would be nice to work with someone who saw things the way he did. And she had already proven valuable on the case.
"Love the idea, just one problem," he said regretfully. "Gus has trust issues. He even keeps his candy locked in a desk drawer so no one steals it." He could imagine Gus's reaction if he suggested Nikki start helping them out on cases.
"As long as it's not red vines, he has nothing to worry about," she said blithely. She started walking down the boardwalk. Right before she reached the end of the block, she looked back and shouted, "At least think about it." Then she turned the corner and was gone.
Red vines huh. Maybe Gus wasn't that far off, thinking Nikki had broken into the office. He decided to keep the observation to himself for the time being. No reason to upset Gus any further.
Going back inside the office, he saw Gus sitting at his desk. "I don't trust her," he said as soon as he entered the room.
Shawn sat at his desk and sighed. "You've already made that abundantly clear," he said, pulling a yellow legal pad toward him. He quickly started jotting things down.
"And now she knows your secret," Gus said. He glared angrily at him. "What were you thinking, telling her that?"
"I didn't tell her," he said. He kept his focus on the pad, not looking at Gus.
"Oh, and I suppose she just figured out that on her own too," Gus said sarcastically.
"Yes, she did." Glancing up, he met Gus's disbelieving look. "She has a photographic memory."
"Really?" Gus asked, still not believing him.
"While we were outside, she was able to recite every item on your desk. Including tickets for the new planetarium exhibit opening Friday." Gus frantically dug around on his desk. "Under the calendar." Gus grabbed the offending tickets and put them away in a drawer. "Really, Gus? The planetarium? That's your idea of a big date for Rachel?" He tsked at Gus, disappointed.
"So, what you're saying," Gus said, changing the subject. "Is that she's like you."
"Please," he scoffed. "No one's like me. She just uses details she remembers about the scene to recreate what happened." He paused, thinking about what he just said. "OK, somewhat like me," he amended.
"So that's what you were talking about outside?" Gus pressed.
"Pretty much," he said, focusing once again on the pad. He circled something, then sat contemplating what he had written.
"Pretty much?" Gus asked suspiciously. "What else did you talk about?" He narrowed his eyes. "Are you hiding something?" He looked intently at him.
"Me? Hiding something from you?" he asked, sounding hurt. "When do I ever keep secrets from you?" Seeing Gus about to open his mouth, he stopped him. "Don't answer that." He fiddled with his pen, as Gus continued to stare at him. "OK, she may have said something else." He took a deep breath. "She wants to be my fake psychic apprentice and I think she may have been the one to break into the office last night," he said in a rush. He figured it was better to get the news out quickly, like ripping off a band aid.
Gus just sat there silently for a minute, absorbing the news. "We need to go to the police," he said finally.
"All right," he said, throwing down the legal pad. "Let's go." He got up and started heading for the door.
"Wait a minute," Gus said, causing him to stop. He turned to look at Gus as he continued. "I thought you didn't want to turn her in."
"I don't," he said. "But if she's right about Pratt, there's a killer on the loose. Since the only evidence the police have points to Pratt, I'm betting he was framed. Talking to him is our best chance of finding out who the killer is." He grabbed the legal pad and handed it to Gus. On it was two lists; did it and didn't do it. The did it list was significantly longer. At the bottom the word 'framed' was circled.
"I still think we should turn Nikki in," Gus said, handing back the pad.
"Dude, give it a rest," he said with a sigh. He turned and headed out the door.
Gus followed after him. "I'm not letting this go, Shawn," he said. He made sure to lock the door behind him.
True to his word, Gus didn't let it go. He spent the entire drive to the police station trying to convince Shawn to turn Nikki in. Gus's arguing strategy had two stages. Stage 1 was trying to convince the victim (ie. Shawn) through logic that Gus was right. Since he had tried that at the office and failed, he was now on Stage 2; list all the reasons he was right until the victim (ie. Shawn) gave in. Since Stage 2 required very little input on his part, he tuned Gus out. Instead he used the ride to think about Nikki. He wasn't too worried about her breaking into the office. She hadn't taken anything valuable, just eaten some candy and read a magazine or two. While Gus may not agree, it all seemed harmless to him. What was more worrying was Nikki's reaction to any mention of her mom. She hadn't asked if he had talked to her. Rather, she asked what Shawn had found out about her mom. That, combined with all the other little things he had picked up over the last two days, made him wonder if he should get the police involved.
"Reason 7," Gus was saying. "If Nikki cons us, it proves your not psychic. What psychic wouldn't pick up on a conman, or woman? Then we'll end up in prison for defrauding the police. And I'm not going to prison." He glared at Shawn.
"We're not going to prison," he said wearily. Gus just shook his head and moved on to the next reason on the list. He let his mind drift back to Nikki. She hadn't done anything criminal yet. Until he found out more or something changed, he decided to wait before bringing her to the attention of the police.
Gus was still arguing as they walked into the police station. "Reason 23," he said as they stopped in the middle of the station. "If we are robbed, our insurance goes up. We can barely afford it as it is. We should turn Nikki in before that happens." He seemed to finally notice Shawn's inattention. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Not even a little," Shawn said. He was scanning the station, looking for Juliet. He finally spotted her coming up the stairs from the interrogation rooms, arms full of files. He waved until she spotted them.
"You have to tell her about Nikki," Gus said quietly as Juliet headed towards them.
"I'm not telling her," he said irritably.
"Dude, you have to," Gus said, voice dropping to a whisper.
"I'm not telling her," he hissed to Gus.
Juliet was almost up to them. Gus leaned in close to his ear. "Tell her," he whispered slowly.
"Dude!" he exclaimed, pushing Gus away. "Stop spitting in my ear." He tried to use the edge of his shirt to wipe his ear clean.
"Hey guys," Juliet said. She watched him contort his body trying to wipe his ear. "Are you ok?" she asked worriedly.
"I'm fine," he said, dropping the edge of his shirt. He gave Gus a glare before turning a smile on the detective. "And how is my lovely Juliet today?"
"Swamped," she huffed, brushing her hair back from her face. "I have six cases, including the robbery downtown yesterday." She eyed him hopefully. "You didn't have any visions about the robbery, did you?"
"Sorry Jules," he said with a shrug.
"It's ok," she said with a sigh. "I know you can't control what visions you have." He hated disappointing her, but between finding Sanders' killer and tracking down Nikki's mom, he hadn't had time for anything else.
Gus leaned over to him again. "Tell her," he whispered again, though thankfully not in his ear. He elbowed Gus in the side.
"Tell me what?" Juliet asked, looking from him to Gus.
"How lovely you look today," he said, throwing Gus a quick glare. "And that I have some new information on the Sanders case." He put his hand to his head as he said, "I'm getting a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer."
"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because last night you said anyone that looks like Jonathan Stryker had to be the killer."
"I realized he looks more like Dean Wormer," he said.
"Weren't both characters played by the same actor?" Gus asked. "And wasn't Jonathan Stryker a victim, not the killer?"
"Exactly," he said. "Which is why my psychic cross-hairs were tangled. That makes Pratt an ass, but not a murderer." He looked at Juliet. "We just need to talk to Pratt. I'll prove I'm right."
"Lassiter just brought him into Interrogation Room B," she said. The guys tried to walk towards the stairs when she stopped them. "But I should warn you. He's not going to let you talk to Pratt."
"Jules, Lassie loves us," he said. Next to him Gus rolled his eyes. "What makes you think he won't let us talk to Pratt?"
"Because he said he doesn't want you talking to Pratt," Juliet replied. "He doesn't want you to muck up the case. His words, not mine," she added defensively at his look.
"Muck up? Really?" he asked incredulously. "Who says 'muck up' anymore?" He turned to Gus. "Someone please get Lassie to use slang from the 20th century."
"It's the 21st century, Shawn," Gus said.
"Really?" he asked, confused. "Since when?"
"Since 13 years ago," Gus said with exasperation.
He thought about it a minute. "Did we win Y2K?" he asked finally.
Gus elbowed him. "Focus Shawn."
He turned back to Juliet. She was used to his exchanges with Gus and didn't seem phased by the random segways. "Jules, sweety. Do you think you can get us in to see Pratt?" He gave her his most pleading, puppy dog look.
Unfortunately, constant exposure had made Juliet immune to his look. "Sorry Shawn," she said. "But I'm too busy to arbitrate between you and Lassiter. If you want to talk to Pratt, you're on your own." She turned and headed to her desk.
"What are we going to do now?" Gus asked.
"Plan B," he said with a grin. He went down the stairs Juliet had just come up, heading for the interrogation rooms.
Lassiter stood in Interrogation Room B, glaring at Pratt. He liked to start every interrogation with a steady, unwavering glare. He'd had perps break on the glare alone. It always left them feeling nervous, unsettled, maybe frightened. However, Pratt seemed to be made of sterner stuff. He had been glaring for five minutes already and Pratt hadn't so much as bated an eyelash. What had started as an intimidation technique had turned into a battle of wills between himself and the suspect. Neither man was willing to back down. The tension was mounting and eventually something had to give.
"As much fun as it is watching you two gaze into each other's eyes, perhaps Detective Lassiter should ask a question." Spencer's voice rang out in the silent room, causing both him and Pratt to jump.
"Spencer!" he yelled, glaring at the two-way mirror. He couldn't see the annoying psychic but he knew he was there. Probably making faces at him too. "This is an official interrogation. Quit interfering."
"How can I interfere in an interrogation if you aren't actually interrogating him?" Spencer said. "Unless you were planning on wooing him with your baby blues to get him to confess." He could hear the smirk in Spencer's voice.
He heard a snort behind him. Turning, he saw Pratt sitting there with a smirk on his own face. "Boyfriend trouble?" he asked snidely.
He could feel his control of the situation slipping. He had to get rid of Spencer before this whole thing got out of hand. "Excuse me for a minute," he said to Pratt through clenched teeth.
"Take your time," Pratt said loftily. "I was growing bored anyway."
Growling under his breath, he exited the interrogation room. He took a minute to compose himself in the hallway. He would not let Spencer see how much this was getting to him. When he felt calmer, he opened the door to the observation room.
Spencer and Guster were standing at the window, looking at Pratt. Spencer turned as he entered the room. "I don't think you have a chance with him," he said. "He's way out of your league."
"Spencer, what are you doing here?" he asked, trying to stay calm.
"Here in this room? The station? This town? Really, Lassie, you need to be more specific," Spencer said with a grin.
"Spencer," he growled, his temper rising once more.
"I have a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer," Spencer said,
"He had motive, means, and opportunity," he said stated. "Plus his fingerprints were on the murder weapon."
"Come on, I can prove it," Spencer said, practically whining. "Just give me five minutes with him."
"Absolutely not," he said.
"Pretty please with ice cream on top?" Spencer wheedled.
"No Spencer," he said firmly.
"OK," Spencer said, suddenly withdrawing. "That's fine."
"That's fine?" he asked, suddenly suspicious. He never gave in that easily.
"If you don't want me to talk to Pratt, there's nothing I can do," Spencer said. He sounded oddly innocent, which made Lassiter even more worried. Spencer looked around the room, not looking him in the face. "I guess I can go back upstairs and talk to Jules. We can talk about Val Kilmer, John Landis films. Or," Spencer said, eyeing him directly, "tap dancing."
"Tap dancing?" He tried to keep calm. After Guster had taught him some tap moves during a case, he had found tap oddly relaxing. He had started taking tap lessons in an effort to control his anger. However, he had been very secretive about it. He had signed up under a false name and never took the same route to the studio. There was no way Spencer knew.
"Tap dancing," Spencer confirmed. "Specifically the Tuesday night class at Dance Unlimited." His mouth went dry as Spencer grinned at him. "I hear someone is getting good."
"No one would believe you," he said weakly. He knew this was a lie; everyone believed whatever ridiculous thing the psychic said. But as long as Spencer didn't have proof, he could still deny it.
"I have pictures," Spencer said, shattering his hopes.
He wanted to wring Spencer's neck but knew it was a bad idea. Guster was standing right there and someone was bound to hear the commotion. "Five minutes?" he asked, giving in to Spencer's request reluctantly.
"That's all I'll need," Spencer said. He patted Lassiter on the shoulder and left the room.
"Tap lessons?" Guster asked, looking over at him.
"I find it relaxing," he said grudgingly. Guster at least was one person who wouldn't tease him about the tap classes.
"If you ever need someone to practice with –"
"Stop talking," he said groaned. He could feel a headache coming on, the kind he only seemed to get whenever Spencer was around. At least Guster would stay quiet. Unlike his friend, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
He watched as Spencer sauntered into the interrogation room. He took a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat in it backwards. He leaned on the back of the chair as he addressed Pratt. "Hey Pratt, how's it hanging?" He held out his hand. "Shawn Spencer, psychic. We met yesterday."
"That's Dr. Pratt to the likes of you, charlatan," Pratt said, ignoring Spencer's hand.
"Again no handshake? You wound me sir," Spencer said, putting his hand to his heart.
"Your wasting my air," Pratt said disdainfully. "Leave."
"Harsh man," Spencer said, shaking his head. "You should be nicer to the people trying to help you."
"You?" Pratt asked with a laugh. "I'd have better luck with a vagrant off the street. Who are you going to call as witnesses? Tinkerbell and Bigfoot?"
"Everyone knows Tinkerbell isn't real," Spencer said. He frowned thoughtfully. "Although I can check on the availability of Bigfoot."
"My tolerance for stupidity ran out with the so-called detective in here earlier," Pratt said haughtily. "Go con somebody else. I don't need your help."
"Even with all the evidence pointing towards you? Even with your known rivalry with the victim?" Spencer asked. "Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want my help."
"You have to be equals to be rivals," Pratt said. "Sanders was a joke. He wasn't even worth a second glance until six months ago. I go on sabbatical and he manages to publish seven papers while I'm gone. But even that just brings him up to mildly annoying. Certainly not important enough to kill."
"Even though funding was being cut from one of the labs?" Spencer asked.
"I wasn't worried," Pratt said with a smug grin. "Now, you're giving me a headache." So I'm not the only one, Lassiter thought. "Leave."
"If that's what you want," Spencer said. He got up and started heading for the door. Lassiter was surprised he gave up so easily. Until he heard what Spencer said next. "Be sure to tell Lassie about that sweet new government job."
"Wait!" Pratt said. Spencer stopped with his hand on the door knob. He threw a grin at the two-way mirror before heading back to the table.
"What job?" Lassiter asked, turning to Guster. He had done the background check himself on Pratt. There had been no mention of a new government job, or any new job for that matter.
"Shawn had a vision," Guster said. Of course he did, Lassiter thought. "He was offered a job at the Department of Defense."
"Then why couldn't I find out anything about it?" he asked. Guster just shrugged. Grumbling, he brought his attention back to the interrogation room.
Spencer was once again sitting in front of Pratt. "What do you know?" Pratt was asking.
"I know someone got a very cushy government job recently," Spencer said. "Someone who wouldn't need to kill over university funding."
"Nice theory," Pratt said evenly.
"Nice theory?" Spencer exclaimed. "I'm totally right! You should be jumping for joy. Or at least smiling. Maybe a little giddy?" He looked at Pratt's face, which showed no emotion whatsoever. "This totally gets you off the hook," he explained. He kept looking at Pratt, waiting for some kind of reaction.
"I'm not saying another word," Pratt said. He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.
"But this clears you," Spencer said again, confused. Pratt said nothing.
"Is this one of those secret government jobs no one is supposed to know about?" Spencer asked, pointing at Pratt. Pratt's gaze didn't waver an inch.
"But if you don't say anything, you'll go to jail and they won't know I'm right," Spencer whined. "They have motive, mean, and opportunity. Your prints were on the chemicals in the lab. Plus you were sabotaging Sanders' experiments," He stared imploringly at Pratt.
"Sabotage, uh," Lassiter said. Spencer had finally been able to provide some useful information. He didn't believe for a second the bogus job offer. Pratt wasn't the type of man to keep it a secret, even if it was a matter of national security. With the fact that Pratt was already sabotaging Sanders' experiments, he'd have a virtually airtight case. He made a mental note to talk again with the lab staff, see if anyone noticed anything suspicious.
"Come on, you have to talk sometime," Spencer said pleadingly. Clearly the silent treatment was getting to him.
Pratt opened his mouth. "I want a lawyer."
Spencer threw up his hands. "Fine. Do it the hard way. I'm going to go find the real killer." He got up and stomped out of the room, like a five year old throwing a tantrum.
Grinning, Lassiter went to meet Spencer in the hallway. "Good going Spencer," he said. "Not only did you not prove his innocence, you got him to lawyer up." He slowly clapped his hands mockingly.
"I got him to say more than you did with your staring contest," Spencer said petulantly.
"Unfortunately, none of it was useful," he said, enjoying Spencer's failure. "In fact, you provided more useful information than the suspect did." He grinned at Spencer's confusion. "Sabotaging experiments certainly looks guilty to me." He patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past him. He was going to get started on this lead right away.
"But he's not the killer." he heard Spencer yell after him.
He just kept walking, smiling to himself. As he headed up the stairs, he realized that Spencer could be useful, on occasion. When he wasn't mucking things up or running around like an overgrown child. "O'Hara," he said as he reached his desk. "Pull up the list of staff for Sanders' and Pratt's labs. I want to talk to them again."
"Well, that didn't go as planned," Shawn said. He and Gus followed behind Lassiter up the stairs and back onto the main floor of the station. "We have no leads and I think I made the case against Pratt stronger." He stopped in the foyer and watched as Lassiter went to his desk and immediately called for Juliet. "I almost wish he did do it. He's kind of a prick."
"There's no kind of about it," Gus replied. He turned to Shawn. "What do we do now?"
"Grab some jerk chicken and reexamine the case," he said. He had been working all morning and skipped breakfast again. If he didn't eat soon he was thinking of turning cannibal. "Come on." He started toward the exit.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Gus asked. Shawn turned around. Gus was still standing where he had left him, arms crossed. He looked at Shawn expectantly.
"Let's see," he said, heading back to Gus. He started counting points off on his hand. "I said hi to Jules and annoyed Lassie. We got nowhere with Pratt." He thought for a moment, recounting the points on his fingers. "Nope, that's it. Nothing forgotten."
"What about the fingerprint?" Gus asked. "You said you would have Juliet check it out."
"Dude, I thought we agreed to drop this," he said with frustration. He always went with his gut when deciding whether people were trustworthy. And his gut trusted Nikki. His gut was also complaining how empty it was, making him irritable.
"I never agreed to anything," Gus said. "You, on the other hand, agreed to have Juliet check the print. Someone was in our office and I want to know who it was." He looked at Shawn intently.
"Fine," he snapped in frustration. "If it means we can finally get out of here and get some food, I'll show Juliet the print." He looked around for the detective. He saw her heading towards the evidence room. "Hey Jules!" he called, waving her over.
"What is it, Shawn?" she asked when she reached them. "Lassiter wants to reinterview most of the lab staff and I still have made no progress on the robbery. So keep it quick please." She looked harried by all the interruptions.
"Real quick," he promised. "I just need you to check something for me." He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. It wasn't there. "Just a second." He quickly check his other pockets but came up empty. "Damn, my wallet is missing." He tried to think back to the last time he had seen it.
"I don't have time right now," Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts. "When you actually have something to show me, then you can bother me." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "See you tonight." She hurried off back towards the evidence room.
"You lost your wallet? Where have I heard that excuse before?" Gus asked sarcastically. He tsked and shook his head.
"What? I really lost it," he complained. He turned out his pockets to show Gus they were empty. "I must have left it at the office."
"I saw you put it back in your pocket before Nikki showed up," Gus said. He frowned at Shawn. "This isn't just a ploy to make me pay for the food, is it?"
"Gus, you know you were going to pay anyway," he said absentmindedly. He was going over in his head the last time he remembered having his wallet. He put the fingerprint card in the wallet, then put the wallet in his pocket. He didn't remember taking it out after that. "Let's go. Maybe it fell out in the car." He headed for the door, checking his pockets again like the wallet would magically appear in one of them.
"I hope you find it soon. That print is a key piece of evidence," Gus said. He followed Shawn out of the police station.
"Did you find your wallet?"
"What?" Shawn asked, looking up. He was at home having dinner with Juliet. He had been thinking about the Sanders' case. Gus had had a route that afternoon, so he was left with reexamining the case so far. He was thinking of stopping back at the school tomorrow to talk to the students working in the lab. Maybe they knew something that would point to the killer. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard what Juliet said. "Sorry, the spirits are a little loud tonight. Could you repeat that?"
Juliet rolled her eyes but repeated the question. "Did you find your wallet?"
"Yeah, I left it at the Psych office," he said. She nodded and went back to her food. In truth, he still hadn't found his wallet. It wasn't in the Blueberry or at the office. He hadn't been anywhere else before he noticed it was missing. Gus had been annoyed he had to pay for the food again but that was normal. He hoped it turned up soon. Before Gus noticed the other credit card he had borrowed.
"You're awfully quiet tonight," Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts again.
"Am I?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't realized he was spending that much time brooding over the case. "I'm sorry. I know you cherish our delightful dinner conversation."
"Quiet is nice too," Juliet said. "Especially compared to when you decided to describe the Saw movies to me over dinner. In detail." She made a face and shuddered. "I don't think I can ever eat ravioli again without remembering that conversation."
"You asked what Gus and I did all day," he said by way of defense. "I was just explaining what we were watching."
"It was still gross," Juliet said, wrinkling her nose.
He laughed at her face. Juliet stuck her tongue out at him. The conversation turned to safer, less appetite ruining topics. He was able to keep both the Sanders' case and his missing wallet off his mind for the rest of the meal.
Later, they sat on the couch watching Miss Congeniality. It wasn't really his type of movie but Juliet liked it. A light rain was falling outside, the gentle pattering adding a cozy feel to the evening. Relaxed and bored, his mind started to wander. He thought again of his missing wallet. He mentally retraced his every step since the last time he saw it. He put it in his pocket. Nikki came in. He moved in front of his desk. She choked. They talked. He escorted her out of the office. She tripped and fell into him on the way to the door –
He groaned, realizing what must have happened. Juliet looked over at him with concern. "Is everything OK?" she asked.
He nodded. "Just imagining what a bikini wax must feel like," he said.
Juliet looked at him strangely. "That was 20 minutes ago."
"Yeah, my mind is a little behind tonight," he said. It was the last scene he remembered watching before his mind wandered. "But keep watching. I know you enjoy it." She gave him another strange look before turning back to the movie. He tried to keep his face calm but inside he was kicking himself. Gus was right. Nikki was nothing but a thief. She had picked his pocket when she fell into him. That's why he couldn't find his wallet. He was upset he hadn't seen it before. He was usually a better judge of character.
Juliet looked back over at him. "Are you sure everything is all right? You're awfully tense."
"Yeah, just thinking about a case," he said. He hated to do it, but maybe it was time to get some outside help. "Remember that girl I was telling you about?"
"The one looking for her father?" Jules asked.
He nodded. "That's her, I'm having a real hard time tracking him down." He sighed and put on his pitiful look. "I think there's too much interference on the psychic wavelengths from the Sanders' case. I don't want to disappoint her." He looked down as if defeated.
Just as he knew she would, Juliet jumped at the opening. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, looking sympathetic.
"Well, if you could run her name, see what you find out, it would be really helpful," he said, still trying to look defeated. "Maybe then I can clear my psychic channels and track her father down."
"Of course," Juliet said. "Anything to help a poor girl." She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Don't worry, it will all turn out OK." She smiled as he looked up at her.
"Thanks Jules," he said sincerely. He hated lying to her, but if she knew Nikki was stealing she would want to bring her in. He wasn't ready to turn her over to the police just yet. He still felt there was more going on with the case.
"Now stop worrying and watch the movie," Juliet ordered.
He obediently snuggled in closer to her, shoving both cases to the back of his mind, and just tried to enjoy spending time with the woman he loved.
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