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Previously
The rain was still pelting down, but no one on the boat seemed to mind.
Shawn curled up on the floor of the boat.
Juliet lied across the bench seat with the supplies in her lap.
Lassiter sat against the back of the boat.
Only one of them stayed awake.
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Chief Vick was in a state of chaos. "Where are Lassiter and O'Hara?" she asked no one in particular.
The chief had called both of their phones numerous times, and in a fit of desperation, had even contacted the coast guard. Unfortunately, nothing came up that would give her any information on the whereabouts of her two best detectives.
Well. There was the storm forecast.
Chief Vick shook her head. She would not think about that.
Luckily, a distraction arrived: Henry Spencer.
He didn't look any better than Chief felt. Henry had bags under his eyes, and he seemed panicked—there must be a big problem, if the stone-cold Henry Spencer seemed anxious.
Henry rushed right into her office.
"It's Shawn," he said, panting heavily. "He should be back by now!"
Of course the young Spencer was into trouble. Chief Vick did have her doubts, however. "Henry, your son is probably just fine. Do you have any evidence that proves otherwise?"
Henry nodded, his face ashen. "First of all, Shawn didn't tell Gus. He would never leave without at least calling. Second of all…" Henry held up a license plate. "This is Shawn's. I found it on the side of the road. Something bad happened, Karen. What case was he working on last?"
Chief Vick thought back. "We had a killer on the loose, one who had murdered multiple people and left us a threatening message before he fled on a boat in the Pacific Ocean."
"What was the message?"
The chief could remember it as if she were reading the words in front of her. "I will not repeat myself. Drop this case or I will drop bodies into the ocean—bodies you may recognize. Strangely enough, the killer targeted none of O'Hara's or Lassiter's families…"
Henry nodded grimly. "Unless the next victim was Shawn."
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George Ewell roared in frustration. "Where did he go?!"
George had gone off, in a fit of kindness, to get the psychic—no, the thing—some food. However, upon returning, George saw that the thing had made a run for it.
In the following days, George scoured the island, occasionally muttering to himself things like "He had a bullet wound—how far could he go?" and "I knew getting him food was a bad idea."
It had only made him more angry to find that none of his henchmen could find the psychic either. "It's like he vanished."
But of course, that was not possible.
What was possible—and much more probable—was the Hawaiian airlines. The psychic must have snuck on and made it to California…somehow.
So George Ewell hopped on the first flight he could, and reached Santa Barbara as quickly as possible.
Knowing that the psychic had a bullet wound, George called in all the hospitals with a fake identity to see if the man was checked into any of them. He wasn't.
Either the psychic had died in some hole, or the police had heard the story and were hiding him somehow. "Meaning that they know who I am!"
George cursed—something he had done more often in the past few days than the time a mole had gotten in on his plans and almost leaked everything to the cops. That was how the detectives even knew his name.
The question was: where would the police think to hide an injured psychic detective?
George smiled.
The answer: the psychic's ex-cop father.
The psychic was as good as dead.
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Shawn opened his eyes, but saw nothing but darkness. Panicking, he opened them again.
Color greeted him, but his world was hazy. Shawn rubbed his eyes and sat up in the boat. For a second, the world spun alarmingly, but he managed not to faint or vomit.
Looking around, Shawn saw that the sun was shining—a big contrast from last night's storm. Juliet was sleeping peacefully, but Lassie was gazing out on the horizon.
"Hey, Lassie," Shawn said; or rather, tried to say, as his throat was too scratchy. He could really go for some water.
The backpack was lying on the floor of the boat, and Shawn reached for it and looked inside. There was one sandwich, a handful of grapes, and two bottles of water.
Shawn spoke up. "Are we rationing this?"
Lassie started, but calmed when he realized it was just Shawn. "You sound terrible."
Shawn felt terrible. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and reality didn't feel like reality. Rather than making a comeback like he normally would, Shawn just nodded.
Lassie seemed to understand, and his whole demeanor changed. "Uh..you can have one of the bottles of water, I guess."
Shawn half-smiled gratefully and drank the whole bottle, trying not to take in too much at a time.
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Lassiter looked over at the psychic as he drank. The younger man seemed to be in bad shape—well, why wouldn't he be, with the gunshot wound and swollen ankle! The fake psychic had also lost weight, and his clothes hung off him.
Lassiter really would kill Ewell when he got the chance.
When Spencer finished the water, Lassiter saw how his eyes strayed toward the sandwich. And what would be the point of rationing if we died?
Lassiter handed Spencer the last sandwich, and the fake psychic took a deep breath before taking it, as if the simple act of reaching his arm out was too hard. Lassiter looked at the blood caked on Spencer's shirt.
They really needed to reach California.
Soon.
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Chief Vick decided to drive Henry Spencer home. After hearing the message, Henry was in no state to drive.
And anyway, it wasn't like the chief had anything to do.
Pulling up into the driveway, Chief Vick saw movement in the upstairs window. "Is anyone home?" she asked.
Henry looked up at the window. "It could be Shawn," he said doubtfully.
"Let's go check it out." If this was some common burglar, he would soon find himself at gunpoint with the chief of police and an ex-cop.
Henry and Chief Vick quickly got out of the truck, and Chief pulled out her weapon.
It seemed to take ages before they reached the door, and even longer to unlock it. Chief Vick went on ahead, taking the stairs two at a time, while Henry stayed at the base of the stairs to catch the robber if he tried to run past the chief.
When she saw who was inside Henry's house, Chief Vick did not hesitate to fire her weapon.
It was none other than George Ewell.
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