Part Five: On The Un-Case

The police were there most of the night, and Vick ordered a patrol car to sit outside the house. Despite Shawn's efforts to convince them otherwise, they only viewed Ingles' phone call as further evidence of his guilt.

Shawn had been wired, and he had wanted to help, but after forcing him to get checked out by a paramedic his father had sent him back off to bed. Shawn vowed that as soon as his father no longer had a gun toting detective and the Chief of Police to back him up, he was going to make a point of doing the opposite of everything he said.

But as loathe as he had been to admit it, Shawn really had been tired, so he'd fallen into bed and slept for five hours, waking almost at ten, to Lassiter's snoring.

Shawn looked over at Lassiter, sleeping in his chair, and glared at him. Shawn briefly considered kicking him awake again, but quickly thought of a much better idea. He quietly slid off the bed, grabbed his clothes and shoes, and then slipped out the door and into the bathroom across the hall.

He got dressed and then tiptoed past his father's closed door and down the stairs. He was just about to reach the backdoor when his father said, "Going somewhere?"

Shawn spun around. His father was standing at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs, and Shawn narrowed his eyes. "You're cooking again," he said.

"Cooking is good stress relief," Henry said. "And my favorite fish was murdered last night in cold blood."

"I am sorry about that," Shawn said. "I would have taken the hit for him if I could have. He was a good fish."

"Don't even joke about that, Shawn," Henry snapped, dropping the frying pan and turning to look at him. "I really need for you to not joke about this."

Shawn resignedly moved away from the door, and sat down at the kitchen table. "You cook, I joke," he said. "That's just how it is. If I can handle you owning a whisk and a cake-mixer, then you're just going to have to let me make jokes."

"God damn it, Shawn," Henry said. "Do you even realize what happened here last night? Do you understand how close that was? This guy was coming to kill you."

"Stalkers crave recognition, they think that things revolve around them," Shawn said. "If they were going to kill the person they were stalking, they would want confrontation. They would want them to know who did it. Whoever was here last night was wearing a ski mask, he didn't want to be seen. It wasn't Ingles."

"He knew you were being watched by the police," Lassiter said, coming down the final steps to join them in the kitchen. "Maybe he was planning ahead."

"Whoever came here last night obviously wasn't planning ahead," Shawn said. "That was a disgraceful murder attempt. He didn't even have night-vision goggles."

Lassiter sat down at the table next to Shawn, watching him carefully. "I wanted to go to the station in a bit," he said. "You can either come with me, or I can have someone come relieve me. It's up to you. But if you come, you have to stay at the station."

"Shawn's not good at staying put," Henry said. "He was just about--"

"That sounds lovely," Shawn interrupted, turning to glare at his father. "I'll go with you. I want to check in with Jules on the case anyway."

Lassiter very carefully did not ask which case Shawn meant, he just nodded, before glancing at Henry. "Don't worry, Henry," he said. "I'll have McNab look after him. You know, he once went two and a half hours without blinking."

Henry didn't look at all reassured. "You'd better keep one eye on him, too, just in case."

Shawn huffed indignantly. "I do know how to look after myself, you know," he said.

Henry snorted, but did not comment. Lassiter just looked thoughtful. "I'll let the whole station know not to let him leave," he said.

Henry nodded. "Probably a good idea."

Shawn sputtered indignantly. "Seriously? That's not fair!"

Lassiter just smiled at him as Henry handed him a plate. "Like you said, Spencer, I take my job seriously. You should try it sometime."

Lassiter was becoming way too good at handling him, Shawn thought uneasily. He was learning all of his tricks.

Shawn slunk into his seat, and was careful to hide a smile. It was just a good thing that he loved a challenge.

xxxxx

Lassiter had made an announcement to all the officers on duty as soon as they arrived, letting them know that Shawn was in protective custody and wasn't to leave the station without prior approval by either Chief Vick or himself. Then he'd called Buzz over and told him not to let him out of his sight.

So now Shawn was wandering around the station, with Buzz trailing behind him like a six-foot puppy with an orbicularis oculi disorder. Shawn was really trying not to let it freak him out.

He went over to Juliet's desk, and jumped up on the edge. Juliet looked up at him with fond exasperation. "Hi, Shawn. Are you doing okay?"

"Right as rain," he said. "We're holding a funeral tomorrow at six o'clock. Do you think you can come? We're having a pot luck, but out of respect I ask that you please don't bring any seafood."

"A funeral," Juliet said slowly. "For the fish?"

"It's good for the grieving process," Shawn explained, before smoothly moving on. "So, did you ever get Ingels' psychiatric files?"

Juliet shook her head. "I told you, we don't have any reason to get a warrant for them. We know what we need to already."

"But, Jules!"

"I'm sorry, Shawn," she said. "Can't you just, I don't know, view them psychically?"

"It doesn't work that way," Shawn said. "I can't just tap into someone's confidential records on the psychic network. I get senses, feelings, sometimes visions, but I don't make them happen at will."

"Then I don't know what to tell you," Juliet said. "I really have to go. Lassiter wants me to go back to Ingles' apartment to see if we missed anything. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah," Shawn said, waving her off. "I'll be fine. I've got Buzz to keep me company."

Juliet gave him a sympathetic smile. "It will all work out, Shawn," she said, before turning on her heel and leaving the station.

Shawn wandered around the station for a bit, skipping between desks, watching Buzz struggle to keep up with him. It was amusing for about three minutes, and then he got bored and stopped at one of the chalkboards. He picked up a piece of chalk, and furrowed his brow, before reaching out and drawing like he was possessed.

Buzz came to a stop behind him, and Shawn examined his work. It was a little stick-figure Lassie, waving around a gun, with a stick-figure Shawn beside him, offering a pineapple. Shawn drew in a text bubble, and wrote (Have a delicious pineapple!)

"I don't think you should be doing that," Buzz told him, casting a glance towards Lassiter, who was at his desk on a call.

"Think of your orders, Buzz," Shawn said. "You're only here to watch me, correct? And interfere only if I try to leave the station?"

"Yes, but--"

"This is a rare and unique opportunity for you to observe the work of a professional psychic," Shawn said. "This is my process. Please don't interrupt."

Buzz closed his mouth and nodded sagely.

"Thank you," Shawn said, and then he wrote Shawn and Lassie-face, and drew a big heart between them.

"How exactly does this help the case?" Buzz asked, apparently forgetting his oath not to interrupt again.

Shawn dusted the chalk from his hands. "It's a message from beyond," Shawn told him. "It means Lassie and I will need to work together to solve this case."

Buzz nodded. "I think that's a great idea. We'll find your stalker, Shawn," he said reassuringly.

"I'm not talking about that," Shawn said, but he was tired of explaining about the entire case that the SBPD had failed to see, so he just shrugged and walked across the room towards the bathroom. Buzz followed closely behind.

"I think I can handle this part on my own," Shawn told him.

"I'm not allowed to let you out of my sight," Buzz protested.

"I know, and you're really very good at that," Shawn said. "I feel I should tell you that Lassiter in no way meant that literally. Now I have to go the bathroom. There aren't any windows in there, remember? Because you guys don't want suspects jumping out them? I'll be fine."

"Okay," Buzz said eventually, but he still looked wary.

Shawn slipped inside before Lassiter could look up from his desk and see him, and then went into the stall against the back wall and closed the door. Gus hadn't been answering his phone all morning, so Shawn dialed the work cell number that he wasn't supposed to have. Gus answered on the third ring. "Burton Guster speaking, how may I help you?"

"You want a list?" Shawn asked. "First you leave me locked up in Lassie's handcuffs, and then you don't even call when some guy comes and shoots up my dad's house?"

"What?" Gus sounded horrified. "Shawn, where are you?"

"I'm at the station," Shawn said. "The Chief had me put in protective custody, and apparently thought it would be really hilarious to assign Lassiter to watch me."

Shawn could hear Gus's breath of relief. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Only my dad's fish," Shawn said. "And I'd never tell him this, but it was a total mercy killing."

"Shawn," Gus snapped. "Tell me what happened."

"I just did tell you what happened," Shawn said. "Weren't you listening?"

"Was it Ingels?" Gus asked. "I knew it, Shawn! See, I was right to call the police--"

"Don't get me started on that," Shawn said. "They've got people watching me constantly. I can't solve this case if I'm not allowed to investigate."

"There's nothing to investigate. You're safe at the station, you need to stay there," Gus said.

"There's something going on with the psychiatrist," Shawn said. "I don't know what. It's weird, though. He told Jules that Ingles' was dangerous."

"His psychiatrist said that?" Gus asked.

"Yeah. But there's just no way I could have been that wrong about him," Shawn said.

"Well, you obviously were," Gus said. "So just let the police handle this."

"On the contrary, my dear Watson," Shawn said. "That's exactly what we shouldn't do. I need to see Ingels' files."

"I'm not Watson," Gus snapped.

"Oh, please, you're totally my Watson!" Shawn said.

"Shawn! We're partners. You know we're Sonny and Rico."

"Oh, right," Shawn said. "Which one am I again?"

"You're Sonny, Shawn," Gus said.

"Well, regardless, my dear Rico," Shawn said. "We need to see those files."

"The police files?" Gus asked.

"No, his psychiatric files," Shawn said.

"Those are confidential, Shawn," Gus snapped.

"Well, I didn't say I was going to ask for them," Shawn said. "I'm just going to pay good ole Doc Arlin a visit."

"Wait, Dr. Edward Arlin?" Gus asked. "He orders his prescriptions from my company."

"It's kismet!" Shawn said. "This is perfect. I need you to get in to see him, in say, a half hour? Just tell him you're there to interview him to make sure he's satisfied with his level of service. Then I'll show up as your partner. It's perfect."

"Shawn," Gus protested. "Even if I was remotely inclined to do any of that, you're not supposed to leave the station. Lassiter isn't going to let you leave the station."

"Well, he can come with us," Shawn said.

"What? How do you expect to manage that?"

"I'll just tell him I have an appointment with my psychiatrist, and ask if he'll take me," Shawn said. "He's been trying to get me to seek professional help since I met him. He'll probably be thrilled."

"Someone's trying to kill you, Shawn," Gus said. "Maybe it's not Ingles, but you can't be running off--"

"I said I was going to take him with me," Shawn said.

"You say a lot of things," Gus snapped.

"I promise, Gus," Shawn said.

"You seriously promise?" Gus asked warily. "You're going to bring Lassiter with you?"

"Yes," Shawn said. "I'm pretty sure that's the only way I'm getting out here, anyway. Lassiter threatened to handcuff me to the file cabinet if I tried anything, and I don't think he was bluffing. I'm starting to think he has a handcuff fetish."

Gus sighed heavily. "Okay," he said. "But I swear to god, Shawn, if you sneak away from him again I will turn you in myself."

"I think you've made your feelings on the matter perfectly clear," Shawn said. "And don't think we're not going to have a long discussion about all the broken Codes of Friendship you're racking up as soon as this is over."

"Whatever, Shawn," Gus said. "I'll be there in half an hour."

Shawn hung up the phone, just as someone stormed into the bathroom. He frowned, and then someone was pounding on his stall. Shawn reached out to unlock it, and Lassiter stood there glaring in at him. "Spencer, what are you doing in here?"

"This place is called a bathroom," Shawn explained. "Generally the things that go on in here are not discussed in polite society."

"Spencer--"

"Okay," Shawn said. "The truth is I think I'm having a breakdown. I was almost murdered last night. I'm rightly terrified. I need to seek professional help."

"You'll get no argument from me," Lassiter said, but his eyes were narrowed. "But you handled last night as good as any cop I know. You were calm. You didn't panic. You were still cracking jokes."

"Total defense mechanism," Shawn said. "Honestly, I'm scared out of my mind about all of this. Everyone's saying so, you know, they think I'm in denial about the stalker. Maybe I am."

"You're admitting you might be wrong?" Lassiter asked.

"That depends," Shawn said. "If I do, will you take me to see my psychiatrist? I was just able to book an emergency session. I think it will really help me to come to terms with all of this."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, I'll take you," he said. "Like I don't have anything better to do on my lunch break."

As they were about to leave, Lassiter caught sight of the chalkboard and came to a slow stop. He tilted his head as he looked at it, before turning to Shawn. "Spencer, did you do this?" he asked. "Buzz, did Spencer do this?"

Shawn made frantic signals to Buzz behind Lassiter's back, which he hoped Buzz would interpret as 'No, Spencer absolutely did not do that.'

"I'm pretty sure it was the spirits that did it, sir," Buzz said, and Shawn grinned.

"Oh for--" Lassiter grabbed Shawn's arm and dragged him to the car.

xxxxx

"You can see the door from here!" Shawn said, pointing to the door. "It's not like I'm going to make a run for it. That would be completely undignified."

"I'm going in with you, Spencer," Lassiter said. "It's either that or I take you back to the station right now."

"But this is intensely private," Shawn complained. "I'm going to be revealing my innermost thoughts and fears, and also, I spend like fifty percent of my sessions discussing you."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I'm not going into the office with you, Spencer, I'm going into the building with you. I'll stay in the waiting room. Take it or leave it."

Shawn glanced out the window. He could make out Gus's little blue car at the other side of the lot. If Gus was in the waiting room, his cover would be blown. Still, it didn't look like he had much choice. "Okay," Shawn said. "But don't write all the answers in the Highlights while you wait. I call dibs on those."

Shawn glanced at the directory as they went into the entryway, and saw Arlin's name listed as being on the second floor. He started up the stairs without stopping, and tried to put a bit of distance between him and Lassiter.

He opened the door, glancing inside. He could see Gus flirting with the receptionist through the glass wall of the waiting room, and he pulled back from the door, knocking Lassiter back with him.

He started shaking his leg. "Oh, there's a presence here!" Shawn said. "It's angry. And crazy."

"Spencer," Lassiter snapped. "Knock it off."

"Just wait a moment," Shawn said, and fell against the wall like he was exhausted. He sucked in a deep breath. "Okay. I think it's gone."

Shawn pushed in front of Lassiter again and leaned in the room. Gus was gone. Shawn let out a breath and then entered the office, with Lassiter behind him. "Okay, wait here," Shawn said. "My psychiatrist could only free up about ten minutes, so I won't be long."

Lassiter nodded. He crossed his arms and stood right by the only door.

Shawn went into the office, and came to a stop at the receptionist desk. "Hello there," he said. "My name is Dill Von Brugal, I believe my associate just arrived."

The receptionist frowned. "You're with Mr. Guster? He said a Shawn Spencer would be coming in--"

"Mr. Spencer is unfortunately quite dead, and I have been sent in his stead," said Dill Von Brugal. "Is Dr. Arlin available?"

The woman looked startled. "No, but he's going to be in soon. I asked Mr. Guster to wait in his office."

Von Brugal gave a little bow. "Then if you do not mind, I will join him."

She nodded. "My condolences about Mr. Spencer!" she called.

"I will pass them on!" he said, before turning down the hall. Dr. Arlin's office was the first he came to, and he slipped inside. Gus was sitting quietly on the therapy couch.

"Dude," Shawn said. "You used my real name? You can use your name because you really are a pharmaceutical rep, but I'm incognito here."

"She asked for a name, Shawn," Gus, said. "What was I supposed to tell her?"

"That your partner's name was Dill Von Brugal. I should think that would be obvious, Gus," Shawn said, before moving around the desk to drop down into Arlin's chair. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Found anything?" Gus asked. "I thought we were here to question him."

"No, Gus," Shawn said. "We're here to look at Ingles' files. Seriously, it's like no one has been listening to anything I've said all week."

"Shawn!" Gus said, getting to his feet and moving to the door. "He's going to be here any minute!"

"You're look-out," Shawn said. He experimentally tugged at the file cabinet, but it was predictably locked. He was just about to ask Gus if he still had that swizzle stick on him when he noticed a manila folder on the surface of the desk. He reached out and grabbed it, and the tab read 'Dupree, Ingles.' He showed it to Gus. "Careless, for someone so concerned with patient/doctor confidentiality. Think he had a good reason for leaving it out?"

"Hurry up, Shawn," Gus said warningly.

Shawn flipped through the file, glancing at the dates of each entry of notes. "Huh," he said. "Ingles went from being classified as obsessive and slightly anti-social, but mostly harmless, to delusional and dangerous in just a matter of weeks. What could have happened to him to cause that drastic of a change in that short of time?"

Gus snorted. "Well, he met you," he said.

Shawn glanced up and gave him a look. "I don't think so," he said. He frowned at the reports. The older files were written in a quick, nearly illegible cursive. The newer files were all written in un-hurried print. "He's re-writing the reports," Shawn said.

"What?" Gus asked.

"He's re-writing them to make Ingles' look like something he's not," Shawn explained.

Gus heard footsteps, and quickly moved to one of the chairs. "Get out of his chair," he hissed. "He's coming."

Shawn replaced everything in the folder and set it back, before getting to his feet. He could see the edge of the door already opening, so he moved to the window instead of trying to make it to the chair, and pulled the curtain aside to look outside.

Shawn turned around when Dr. Arlin came in, like he was startled to see him there. "I was just looking at the view," he explained. "And might I say that brick wall is just lovely."

"Thank you," Dr. Arlin said. He looked pale. Shawn looked him over. He was wearing a similar sweater vest to the one he'd been wearing in his interview with Juliet. Shawn wondered if Arlin had seen him that day, because he could swear that there was recognition in his eyes.

Shawn moved from the window and sat in the chair beside Gus. Arlin came slowly around the desk to sit down in his own chair. It didn't go unnoticed by Shawn that the first thing he did was take Ingles' file and lock it away. "Now, what is this was about? My next appointment is in just a few minutes."

"Oh, this won't take long," Shawn said quickly. "We're just here to make sure that you're satisfied with your current pharmaceutical representation. It's a quick survey. Won't take but a minute."

Gus nodded his support. "It's completely routine," he said quickly. "We just want to make sure you're receiving the best service possible."

Arlin leaned back in his chair, assessing them. "You're here about pharmaceutical sales?" he asked. He seemed confused.

"Why else would we be here?" Shawn asked.

Arlin straightened up. "I wouldn't know," he said. "I've just never had a visit like this from the company. I'm perfectly satisfied with everything. Honestly, there's no need for this."

"Surely there must be something wrong with our service," Shawn said. "Late deliveries? Bad quality? Any patients turning orange?"

"Shawn," Gus hissed.

"No, no, there's nothing," Arlin said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. This just isn't a good time."

Arlin stood awkwardly and held out his hand, shaking Gus and Shawn's hands in turn, before quickly ushering them out the door.

"One more thing," Shawn said, turning back around, putting his foot in the door before Arlin could slam it shut on them. "What kind of car do you drive?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arlin asked.

"Oh, just curious," Shawn said. "I was thinking of buying a car myself, and you doctor types always have such good taste."

"I drive a Lexus," he said impatiently.

"Huh," Shawn said. "That's interesting."

Arlin watched him stiffly. "Why is that?"

"No reason," Shawn said. "I just would have figured you for a BMW."

Arlin forced the door closed on them without another word.

"What the hell was that, Shawn?" Gus demanded. "What kind of car does he drive?"

"He knew who we were," Shawn said. "But he didn't want us to know he knew who we were, or he would have called us on it."

"So? Maybe he was just being polite," Gus said. "What's he going to say? Aren't you that psychic guy?"

"Sure," Shawn said. "Why wouldn't he?"

"You think he has something to do with this?" Gus asked disbelievingly.

"I think we need to go back to Alice Clothing," Shawn said.

Gus snorted. "Good luck, Shawn. Lassiter is never going to take you there."

Shawn grinned brightly.

"I don't like that look," Gus said.

"I just need you to call Lassiter for me," Shawn said. "Tell him I just showed up at your place."

"You want me to lie to an officer of the law?" Gus asked, outraged.

"Only to Lassie," Shawn said. "And he doesn't count."

"No way, Shawn."

"I've got to see this place," Shawn said. "Either you can come with me, or I can sneak off later on my own."

"You always have to have your way, don't you?"

"After all of our years of friendship, you shouldn't sound so surprised," Shawn said.

Gus glared at him, but took out his phone. "Hey, Lassiter, I just wanted to thank you for finding Ingles. What do you mean you didn't? Shawn's here now and he said--"

Shawn and Gus leaned around the corner of the office, and watched as Lassiter angrily shut the cell phone and went running out the doors. Shawn grinned. "This is too easy," he said.

xxxxx

Shawn and Gus were both feeling pretty smug as they climbed into the car, so they were understandably startled when Lassiter leaned forward from the back seat. "How stupid do you think I am?" he asked. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice this car?"

"Wow, Lassie," Shawn said. "I'm impressed."

"I'm Head Detective," Lassiter snapped. "I think I can manage to keep track of one troublesome psychic. What are you up to, Spencer? I thought you said you weren't going to try anything?"

"I know, I'm sorry," Shawn said, and went for an earnest expression. "I just really need to go back to Alice Clothing."

"Why?" Lassiter asked. "I told you, there's nothing there."

"And I'm telling you that there is," Shawn said, "I feel very strongly about this. The spirits are certain that the answers are there."

"Forget the theatrics, Spencer," Lassiter said. "Just tell me what you know."

"That is what I know," Shawn said. "I'll be able to tell you more if you let me go."

Lassiter leaned back in the seat with a sigh. "Why do I get the feeling this wasn't really your psychiatrist?" Lassiter asked.

"Because I don't have one?" Shawn suggested. "Lassie, this is important. Believe me, I wouldn't have tried to give you the slip if it wasn't."

"Fine," Lassiter said, after a moment. "But I'm going with you. You don't leave my sight. Understood?"

"Understood," Shawn said, before turning to Gus. "You know, I've got like, two stalkers now, and you don't even have one. How cool am I?"

Gus gave him a strange look. "When this is all over," he said. "I really am going to make you go see a psychiatrist."

Shawn laughed. "Only if we can go to couples counseling," he said.

Lassiter kept hitting the back of Shawn's seat as he tried to adjust himself in the small space. "I was going for dramatic effect by getting in your car," he said, "but I really should have insisted we take mine."

"There's nothing wrong with my car," Gus said defensively.

"Don't listen to him, Gus," Shawn said. "The man drives a Crown Vic. He's obviously got no taste in cars."

"Hey!" Lassiter snapped.

Shawn was pretty sure when he hit his chair that time, it was on purpose. He glanced into the side mirror, and was about to retort, when he saw a small figure riding on a little scooter, at about ten miles per hour. He looked behind him to make sure that Lassiter had not noticed.

This was not good.

"Can't we go any faster?" Shawn asked.

"I'm going the speed limit, Shawn, you know how I feel about the rules of the road." Gus looked into the rearview mirror, and gave Lassiter an angelic smile. "I never break the law."

"Seriously, go faster," Shawn said. He looked back ahead, and didn't know whether or not to be grateful that they had arrived at Alice Clothing. If Lassiter turned around--

"Stalker!" Lassiter shouted. "It's the stalker!"

Shawn let his head bang against the dashboard, as Lassiter pulled out his gun and pushed his way out of the car. "Stay here, Spencer," he said.

"I was so hoping to avoid that," Shawn said.

Gus and Shawn both turned to watch. Lassiter went running down the street. Ingles', on his little scooter, let out a scream and made the widest U-Turn Shawn had ever seen, before racing back down the street, hitting speeds of nearly twelve miles per hour. On foot, Lassiter was quickly catching up, shouting lots of things like 'police' and 'stop' and 'pull your scooter slowly to the side of the road.'

Gus watched this whole scene with an odd expression. "I'm starting to think maybe you're right about Ingles," he said.

"See?" Shawn said. "Now, let's go prove it."

Shawn got out of the car and went to the doors of Alice Clothing. There was a keypad on the door, where a code could be entered to get in. Gus ran up beside him.

"Lassiter told you to wait here," Gus said.

"Yes, but he didn't really define the parameters of 'here,' did he? Here could be a big place. You say, I am here, and what do you mean? This street? The Earth? The Solar System?"

Gus glared at him. "I'm pretty sure he meant the car," he said.

"Then he should have told us to stay in the car," Shawn said, and punched a code into the door. It clicked open, and Shawn walked in.

Gus followed him with a sigh. "How did you know the code?" he asked.

"Someone named Kelly doesn't have a very good memory. She has it written on a post-it on her desk. I noticed it the last time we were here."

"Sometimes you really do scare me, Shawn," Gus said. "How did you know it wasn't just a file number or something?"

"I didn't," Shawn said, and shrugged. "What do you think? Should we start in the basement?"

"The basement?" Gus looked wary. "Shawn, why would we go into the basement? And why isn't there anyone here?"

"They're still closed down," Shawn said. "Officially, it's still a crime scene. The gang squad is working to decipher the graffiti. They could have saved themselves the time if they'd listened to me. It doesn't mean anything."

Shawn found the service staircase, and quickly headed down. He turned on the lights, but there were only three wall lights in the whole room, each of them flickering in horror film fashion. "I don't like it here, Shawn," Gus said.

"You said it yourself, Gus," Shawn said. "There's no one here. And the best of the SBPD is right down the street chasing down a stalker on a scooter. We're perfectly safe."

Shawn walked further into the room. He could see the air conditioning vent and some kind of boiler, and there was something familiar--

"Gus, I need the Super Smeller," Shawn said. "What is that?"

Gus sniffed the air. "That's bleach!" he said.

Shawn glanced at the cobweb filled corners. "I don't think anyone's been down to clean this place in a long time," he said. "I'm thinking this was more of an impromptu thing."

Gus was following his nose to an old file cabinet that had been pushed against the wall. Shawn walked over to him, and glanced down at the floor. Part of the floor was discolored, cleaner than the rest. He looked at the corner of the file cabinet. "Gus, help me move this," he said.

Gus and Shawn pushed the cabinet a few feet down the wall, and then stood back to see what they had revealed. Shawn frowned down at the floor. There were little bits of skin and blonde hair that had been caught on the edge of the cabinet, all stuck to the floor in a mess of congealed blood.

"Gus, I know what happened!" Shawn said, but Gus wasn't there.

Gus had already run screaming back up the stairs.