CHAPTER TWELVE
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. . .
Lassiter slipped out of bed quietly somewhere around two a.m.
Juliet was asleep—he'd come home and woken her with a kiss as promised, but the kiss led to him joining her in bed and neither one getting out for awhile.
They had a very late dinner, then wrapped themselves up together on the sofa in front of the dark TV. She turned to him and said, "I went to see Shawn today."
He looked into her lovely blue-gray eyes and searched for... he didn't know what.
She met his gaze steadily, stroking his chest with gentle fingers. "It was okay. He's going to tell Vick he's not a psychic."
Lassiter couldn't help but doubt it was that simple. "But?"
Juliet reached up with a faint smile to touch the eyebrow he'd raised, smoothing it back down to where it should be. "Yeah. But."
His expression must have concerned her, because hers changed too. She sat up and turned to look at him directly, keeping one hand on his arm, the other on his thigh. As if he might be planning to run. As if he could escape her now—or ever wanted to.
He knew consciously she wasn't going to say anything as emotionally horrific as that she was giving Shawn another chance. But subconsciously, those old fears were far too ingrained. "What is it?"
"I spoke for you," she said quietly. "I told him you would agree to not telling the Chief about Desperaux being alive and stealing the painting."
Lassiter's automatic response was to try to stand—despite his seconds-ago belief that he wouldn't—but Juliet tightened her grip on him and he subsided. "Juliet," he said, all red alerts shrieking at the same time.
"It's not for him."
"Of course it's for him," he retorted. "He can shake off a fraud charge based on the cases he solved but he knows damned well he can't shake off the Desperaux cover-up."
"But we have no proof there was a cover-up. All we have is what I overheard, and both he and Gus can deny that. The medical evidence says the man is dead. And Shawn's comment about six paintings versus five? So what? A good lawyer can get him out of that, too."
His frustration was building. "What are you asking me, then? Why do you want us to lie to help him out of a situation he put himself in if you don't think he has anything to worry about?"
"He has plenty to worry about, Carlton." Her hands were gripping him so tightly, and her eyes were locked on his. "We have good lawyers too, and you and I could put together a list of a hundred other little things that don't add up, like a hundred complaints from witnesses and suspects about places he shouldn't have been. We could paint a pretty clear picture of the complexity and longevity of his fraud. You know we could."
Lassiter tried to relax. He put his free hand on top of the one she had on his thigh, in part to get her to relax her painful grip. "Then tell me why we have to lie."
"For Gus and Henry."
He closed his eyes, weary.
"They'd just be collateral damage."
Breathe deep, man.
"Carlton," she whispered. "I can't do it to them."
He thought of the scorpion and the frog… it's my nature… and it fit the whole insane arc of Spencer's life to be able to drag two damned good cops into the web in which he'd already trapped his best friend and father—without even trying, really, and that was the most maddening thing of all.
"Carlton." Her voice was almost too low to hear now, and so sad. "I won't blame you for saying no, because I understand you, and I love you. But I have to do this."
He opened his eyes to see tears in hers, and he enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest, breathing as hard as if he'd just come in from a run.
He promised her he'd keep it quiet, and he carried her back to the bedroom where he kissed away her tears and they made love again, slowly and tenderly and without speaking, and now he was sitting here on the sofa staring at the dark TV once more.
You have to choose. The lie or the truth.
The lie to cover up a lie.
The truth to expose it all—Gus and Henry's roles—which meant standing against Juliet, whom he loved more than anything and whom he knew more certainly than anything was motivated only by a brighter, clearer view of the big picture than he'd ever been able to manage.
He ran his hands through his hair, sighing.
Of course he was going to do as she asked. Of course he was.
He loved her enough to know he couldn't lose her now, and he knew she would never ask anything like this again—and wouldn't ask at all now if it weren't for… well, the greater good.
And the truth was, Shawn Spencer would never again wield the same power he once had. This exposure wouldn't "finish" him because damn, the man was irrepressible and unstoppable, but it would slow him down, and maybe he might even grow up a little.
Maybe.
Lassiter shrugged. Juliet was teaching him that all things were possible.
He got to his feet, tired beyond measure (and not just from four days of a lot of sex and very little sleep), and went back to the bedroom.
Juliet was sitting up in bed, cross-legged. The moonlight from the window gave a faint halo to her golden hair. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hi." He sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning back so his head was in her lap.
She slipped her gentle fingers into his hair, which he found soothing and sweet and faintly erotic.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." He sighed when her hands moved to stroke his temples and jaw. "I love you."
She sighed too, and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "Can you forgive me for doing this to you?"
"There's nothing to forgive, honey. You haven't done anything to me."
"You're my collateral damage," she said, a touch of regret in her voice. "By protecting Gus and Henry, I'm hurting you."
"No," he said at once. "You're not hurting me. I need you to remind me of the value of gray areas." He turned, sitting up so he could cup her face and kiss her gently. "Your heart is the most amazing, loving, wonderful—"
She cut him off with a kiss.
And okay, he loved it when she shut him up.
. . . .
. . .
Thursday morning, Detective Juliet O'Hara reported for duty at the Santa Barbara Police Department.
She was crisp, she was well-rested (actually she wasn't, but she wasn't complaining), and she was ready to hunker down and do her job.
She was greeted and welcomed; she gave pleasant adjective-filled descriptions of the resort, of the scenery and dining and walks she'd taken (all true; she was just leaving out the days of discontent, misery, unsettledness and non-stop run-on circular crazy-train thinking).
Carlton glanced at her from his desk, smiling a private smile she knew all too well now and loved completely.
Henry Spencer came in and said hello to her quietly as he got coffee, and she knew by looking at him that today was definitely the day and he didn't blame her for what was about to happen.
Chief Vick came back from an early meeting and went into her office, and a few moments later, Shawn showed up with Gus.
Shawn was subdued. Gus looked a little sick. Juliet felt sorry for him, but then again, he'd looked a little sick a lot over the years, so maybe this was nothing new.
Shawn came to Juliet's desk. "Do you want to be in there with us?"
It was really a question about whether she trusted him enough to tell the truth. "Do you want me to be there?"
"Yeah. Dad?" He waited for Henry's nod, then turned to Carlton. "You too, man."
Carlton was obviously surprised. "Are you sure?"
Shawn gave him a wry look. "It all started with you, Lassie. You might as well be there when it comes full circle."
To his credit, Carlton maintained his poker face.
The five of them went to Vick's office and Shawn tapped on the door. "Got a minute? Or maybe ten?"
She was standing at the filing cabinet, and glanced quizzically at the group of uncomfortable people before her. "As a matter of fact, I think I do. Especially," she added with unexpected cheer, "if this relates to why one of my detectives took over three weeks of emergency leave, my consultant liaison was suddenly ill without being ill at all, and two of my consultants were relentlessly unavailable when called upon."
They looked at her.
Shawn said, "What, nothing to say about Lassie?"
Karen rolled her eyes. "Just come in and close the door. This ought to be good." She went to her desk and got comfortable. "Sit right there, Shawn, right in front." She smiled when he gave her a curious look. "I'm already sure this story starts and ends with you. What did you do?"
Juliet looked between the two of them, wishing she was nearer to Carlton, but Henry was between them and Gus was facing them and she needed to buck up.
Shawn elected to remain standing. He took a deep breath and looked at each of them in turn, and then said evenly to Vick, "I'm not psychic. I've never been psychic. I claimed to be psychic only because Detective Lassiter was about to throw me in jail on suspicion of burglary—"
"Robbery," Carlton muttered.
"Okay, robbery. Point is." He let out a breath. "I lied. To him, to you. To everyone."
Karen stared at him. Juliet was a bit alarmed at how dark her eyes seemed right now.
Shawn added, "It's my dad's fault, really."
Henry muffled a curse and Karen's eyebrows went up sharply.
"No, wait, I mean—that's not what I meant. It's not his fault. I meant, he taught me to be observant and he taught me all about deductive reasoning, and everything I… divined… was really just that." He hesitated. "Paying attention. Really, really close attention."
Karen turned her head without seeming to move at all. "Henry," she said coolly, "I seem to recall you sitting in this office many years ago assuring me your son was, in fact, psychic."
Henry shifted—Juliet seldom ever saw him nervous—and then abruptly made himself relax. "I thought it was a one-time thing, Karen. I was doing my boy a favor. I never knew it was going to last beyond that first case."
"Neither did I," Shawn said, and Karen returned her not-in-the-least-bit-warm-brown gaze his way. "Or Gus. Nobody did. I mean, I thought it was fun but I'd never been good at sticking to anything so when it stopped being fun I was going to quit but… well… it never stopped being fun."
Gus mumbled, "It wasn't always fun, Shawn."
Karen said, "No, I don't see how it could have been. I seem to remember a disturbingly large number of cases where people put their lives on the line so you could have fun, Mr. Spencer, and sometimes the lives at risk were yours and Guster's."
"Chief, I swear—"
"I also seem to remember a few times when our jobs were on the line. I hope you were having fun when the screw-ups in the Sergei Czarsky investigation almost let that man go free."
Icicles hung from the light fixtures, her tone was so cold.
Shawn abruptly sat down. "No. No, Chief, that wasn't fun at all." He rubbed his face. "Look, I've made mistakes. I've been an ass. I dragged my best friend and my dad onto this ride with me and I told myself it was about solving crimes. Being the hero. And yeah," he admitted, "having fun." He gave a sidelong glance to Carlton. "A little competition, too."
Carlton remained impassive.
Thank God, Juliet thought.
Karen stood up slowly, moving back to the windowsill, crossing her arms and giving him what Juliet was certain had to be her steeliest glare. "When I think of all the times—and there were a lot of times, Mr. Spencer, a hell of a lot of times—when we jumped through hoops to guess your meanings, or we wasted precious time while you put on a show—oh my God, I remember you doing a musical number in here—" She stopped to draw an angry breath. "You made us look like fools. Now I understand exactly why O'Hara had to leave town, because frankly, I want to kill you right now, and the smartest thing you ever did in your overdramatic life was bring these people in with you to stop me."
The silence was profound. Shawn had never been more still than he was right then, and Juliet mused that's twice I've seen him like that this week. Shawn is finally learning, the hard way, how to be still.
Karen drew herself in and sat down again, palms flat on the desk, as if holding on that way would calm her down. "Go. I have to think about all this. I have to think about what to do."
They were all frozen for a moment.
"Go," she snapped.
Gus was at the door a second later, Shawn not far behind. Henry paused to look at Karen, but she shook her head.
"O'Hara, Lassiter, stay. Close the door."
Juliet stood beside her partner, drawing from his solid strength and the heat she could feel between them. "Chief."
Karen's jaw was impossibly tense. "This is why you left?"
"Yes. I overheard them talking—Shawn and Gus—and it more or less threw me into a tailspin."
She nodded. "And you, Carlton?"
"O'Hara told me the day I went up to see her."
"Triple homicide," Karen agreed, almost absently. "Sorry I had to call you back for that."
"It's my job," he said neutrally.
Karen returned her piercing gaze to Juliet. "You gave him an ultimatum?"
"If he didn't tell you, I would." She felt those words weren't enough. "I was a mess, Chief. I knew instantly the relationship was over but I had to work through my own anger and frustration and disappointment and—"
Carlton put his hand on her back, and it soothed her instantly.
"In retrospect, maybe I should have told you immediately. But truthfully, I could barely form sentences and that wouldn't have done either one of us any good."
"Yes, I understand, because I'm currently experiencing that myself." She sighed. "All right. I have some thinking of my own to do. Is there anything else I need to know about this particular 'big reveal'?" Her gaze moved lower; it was apparent she had noticed Carlton's hand was not at his side.
"Not about Shawn," he said, and Juliet was grateful to have him take the lead. "The, uh, nature of our relationship has changed. We wanted you to know."
She had no particular expression for a moment.
Juliet was holding her breath.
"I guess I'm not terribly surprised, given how you've acted during her absence, and how you acted when I told you he was giddy." She smiled just a little. "And it is somewhat ironic, I suppose, isn't it?" She looked at Carlton, bemused. "Shawn broke up your inappropriate relationship when he breezed in here six years ago, so it's fitting you'd be starting a new inappropriate one as his era comes to an end. Or at least changes." She stood up.
"'Inappropriate' is a bit harsh," Juliet said carefully.
"In the eyes of the higher-ups, O'Hara, because you're partners. Relax. Right now a relationship between you two is at the very bottom of my list of low priorities."
"We're not going public yet. We wanted to tell you, in the spirit of…" He paused. "In the spirit of lie-reduction."
"Uh-huh." She put her hands flat on the desk again, already distracted. "Okay. Go off and be discreet." Glancing past them, through the blinds on the glass door, she said very quietly, "Revoke their visitor passes until further notice. I don't want to see them around until I've decided what to do. And send Henry in here. I'm going to have to suspend him for awhile."
And if that was the worst of it for him, he was damned lucky, Juliet thought, but was still sorry to see it happening. She was sorry about all of it, really, except for Carlton.
He would blush later when she told him he was her silver lining.
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