I didn't know where we were going as we pulled out of the parking lot, and for some reason I was suddenly scared to ask.

Fortunately, my phone rang before the pregnant silence could linger too long.

I knew it was Juliet even before I answered it, even before I saw the caller ID.

For the first time, it didn't even occur to me to think it might be Shawn.

"What's up, Jules?" I asked.

"Gus," she spoke quickly, the terror already audible in her voice in that single word. "I'm at the scene…whoever called it in didn't give us the whole story."

She hesitated before pressing on, and when she finally managed to force herself to continue I could hear her straining to keep her voice from cracking. "The bike's destroyed. It looks like it got creamed by a semi. I can't keep it quiet anymore, Gus. I called in the crime scene unit…and we have to find Mr. Spencer. Now. It's going to hit the papers tomorrow morning. Do you have any idea where he is?"

"No…" I replied slowly, glancing cautiously at Henry out of the corner of my eye, knowing he could hear every word of the conversation. "I have no idea where he is."

She sighed heavily. "Gus…it's a potential homicide now."

My fingers tightened around the phone as my teeth clenched. "I know."

There was a long pause on the line as the thought hung between us. It was too unspeakable to allow us to continue with the conversation until it had completely passed.

"I'm going back to the station in a few minutes," she told me. "There's not much more for me to do here, unless I want to stand around and watch the forensics team bag every beer can and apple core on the side of the highway. I'm going to start checking into some of Shawn's open cases…there aren't any skid marks. Maybe he got too close... Did you find anything at his apartment?"

"Uh…" I stammered, remembering for the first time since seeing Henry behind my desk the reason I had gone to Psych in the first place. "I haven't gotten there yet."

"What have you been doing?" she demanded, suddenly sounding almost angry. "It's been an hour! I thought you working on the case!"

"I am!" I shot back. "I'm on my way now!"

She sighed, the irritation in her tone melting into pleading desperation. "Call me if you find anything, Gus. If he's still alive, he doesn't have much time."

"I know."

I shut my phone and slammed on the breaks, spinning the wheel as hard as I could. The tires squealed on the pavement as I made the only illegal U-turn of my entire life.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was grateful in that moment that Henry was retired. If he could have, he would have written me a ticket.

Probably two…I was also speeding.

"Where--?" he started to ask, but I answered before he could finish.

"Back to Psych," I said. "I have a spare key to Shawn's apartment."

"Key?" Henry snorted. "Who the hell needs a key? I picked his cheap lock after I went to the scene. There's nothing there, Gus. Nothing that tells where he was going or who was meeting or who ran him down."

"Well, we're going back." I informed him.

"Why?" Henry demanded. "I told you—"

"Because!" I snapped. "You probably didn't check his freezer!"

Fifteen minutes later, we were in Shawn's apartment.

It was a dump, like always, though this time I wasn't sure if it was because he's a slob or because his dad had ripped it apart looking for clues.

Of course, I didn't have to rip it apart. I stepped over the scattered mess and went directly to the freezer. Henry followed closely behind.

"Gus! What the hell does his freezer--?" he demanded again, but stopped when I opened the freezer door.

Inside were about twenty manila file folders, each with random papers and photos sticking out of them and nothing else.

Not even ice.

"What the hell?" Henry muttered, reaching in and grabbing the one on top.

"It's his filing cabinet," I rolled my eyes. "It started with some lame joke about freezing my assets that went too far…"

When I saw the confused, almost disgusted, look on his face I stopped the explanation.

There really wasn't a way to explain it without coming out looking like an idiot.

"Anyway…" I pressed on, clearing my throat as I took out the rest of the files and shut the freezer door again. "This is where he keeps all his files on active cases."

I sat down at the table and began to flip through them, looking for any promising leads. Henry stared at me for a moment, still trying to process the freezer file cabinet, but finally rolled his eyes and joined me.

He picked one up as he slid into the seat on the other side of the table and sighed. "They're cold," he muttered, opening it almost bitterly.

I laughed, moving onto my second file.

After about five minutes, Henry looked up. "Gus…what about Gary Chapman?" he asked me, handing me the file he was flipping through.

I took it, my brow furrowing as I tried to recall the case. "I remember that one…" I murmured. "The Chief gave it to us last week. Someone burned down a minimart. Chapman was the main suspect. He worked there part-time."

"And he has a record," Henry nodded. "He assaulted his boss a few years ago, served six months."

"And he got in a fight with the manager day the mart burned down," I remembered, standing up and grabbing my phone out of my pocket. "That's why he was on the suspect list."

I went to dial, but Henry grabbed my wrist before I could hit a single number. "What the hell are you doing?" he snapped, his voice suddenly stone cold.

I almost dropped the phone in surprise. "What do you mean? I'm calling Jules. I have to tell her we have a lead."

Henry's jaw clenched as his grip around my wrist tightened.

"Drop the phone, Gus."