Shawn stared at the map on Gus' computer screen. Dr. Erickson's offices were nowhere near the crash site. If Gus had been on his way to visit him, why was he on the other side of town?
He played with Alan Matheson's business card in his fingers. If Gus had been going to see Dr. Matheson, that made sense, it was near the crash. Shawn frowned, but Matheson was a con man not a doctor. He rubbed his forehead with his hands. He hadn't really slept in days and all this thinking was making his head hurt. Without Gus to be his sounding board, Shawn felt as if his head would burst.
Shawn wasn't sure how long he sat at the computer just staring at the screen. Finally he shook himself and started to head out the door. A little voice in the back of his head, which sounded an awful lot like Gus, was telling him to go to the police station to convince Lassie and Jules to help him find Matheson. Shawn pushed that voice to the side as he started up his bike. He had to go check out Matheson's address before he tried to talk Lassiter into helping him.
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"Why do you think the spirits pegged Matheson as somebody Shawn should ask us about?" Juliet interrupted her partner's train of thought as she voiced the thought that had been puzzling her since Shawn had called earlier.
Lassiter rolled his eyes before turning to look at her. "O'Hara, Spencer is in a disturbed state of mind," He paused and then muttered. "more than usual." O'Hara frowned at him, but let him continue. "What did you find on Matheson?" He headed for her desk to check on the work she'd done.
"There's only one known address on file for him." O'Hara turned her computer monitor so Lassiter could see. "Remmington Ct." She realized something. "That's only a half mile from where Gus had his accident." She glanced at her partner when he didn't say anything.
Despite being bested by Spencer on a weekly basis, Carlton Lassiter hadn't been named the youngest head detective in department history for nothing. His finely tuned criminal catching mind was working now as he pieced together the information.
"What is it?" Juliet looked concerned when Lassiter didn't say anything.
"Damn it, O'Hara, I didn't think he'd be such an idiot." Lassiter jotted down the address and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "Grab your gun." He snapped at her. "If Spencer is his normal two steps ahead of us, then we'll need it."
Juliet grabbed her sidearm from her locked desk drawer. She had to hurry to keep up with Lassiter's long strides. "Carlton, I still don't understand what's going on?" She gripped the armrest of the car as her partner fired up the sirens and flashers and made a sharp left out of the station lot.
"I just hope Spencer isn't going to do what I think he's going to do."
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Shawn parked his bike near the street and stood staring at the house. This had been the address listed on Matheson's business card, hardly a child friendly place. It was old, half abandoned and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. The ground was still damp from the rain on Friday.
Steeling himself Shawn crept around to the side of the house. For once the sneaking skills his father had drilled into him during all those games of hide-and-seek were useful for something besides scaring Gus during their horror movie marathon on Halloween. Hopefully they'd get to do that this year, Shawn thought as he glanced into the house.
There was a door on the side of the house and Shawn slipped through it. He paused, making sure he hadn't alerted anyone of his presence. Not hearing any movement, Shawn looked around. The kitchen was cleaner then it could have been considering the appearance of exterior of the house. There were fresh dishes near the sink. The refrigerator was running and the clock on the microwave had been adjusted for day light savings time.
Shawn crept through the kitchen and down the hall. He could hear a television towards the front of the house. Slowly he made his way into the living room. The TV was on, the blinds were drawn and there was someone seated at a card table going over papers.
A balding man in his mid-forties looked up as Shawn entered the room. In one fluid motion the man's hand flew to the gun on the table, he stood and leveled the gun even with Shawn's chest.
"Who are you," He growled his voice raspy like that of a habitual smoker.
"Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. And you're Alan Matheson I presume."
Matheson's face flickered with confusion. "What's it to you?"
"You don't mean anything to me, but you've met my best friend, Burton Guster." Shawn could feel a pit forming in his stomach. Now that he was here in the house, he wasn't really sure how this situation would unfold. He couldn't feel the familiar weight of his iphone in his jacket pocket, because he had left the phone in the office earlier, charging so that if he did encounter an emergency he could call someone.
"The pharmaceutical rep?" Matheson made a face of annoyance. "You moonlight as a pediatrician for one afternoon and you get yourself saddled with the stupidest sales rep out there."
"Gus isn't stupid," Shawn defended his buddy immediately.
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"Damn it, Spencer pick up your phone." Lassiter growled as his call was directed to the psychic's voicemail once again. He skidded to a halt outside the address O'Hara had found. He swore when he saw Shawn's bike leaned against the tree. "Call for backup, I'm going in."
"Carlton, wait you can't." O'Hara knew her partner shouldn't go in alone.
"Just call for backup." Lassiter snapped. His glock was out and at the ready as he made his way around the house.
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Matheson glanced towards the window when he heard the sirens, then turned his attention back to Shawn. "What are you doing here?"
"You put my best friend in a coma. My best friend since before I can remember. We were adventure scouts together. We have solved over fifty cases for the Santa Barbara Police Department and we're the best three-legged racers in the tri-county area." Shawn could feel the pit in his stomach being replaced with a surge of pride.
"Your friend saw too much," Matheson repeated.
Shawn could see a bruise forming on the right side of Matheson's face, probably from where he had hit the frame of the car during the crash. Shawn moved a hand towards his temple. "He saw you stealing a car, but not his car, just a random car. You got into the blueberry with him and then something happened and you crashed, but you escaped. Did you hit him?" His eyes flashed with anger at the thought of Matheson harming Gus.
Lassiter came up behind Shawn at that moment, gun drawn and focused on the con man. "Spencer," His voice was low and calm.
Matheson jerked at the new presence. "Stay where you are," His voice was shakier and his finger was dangerously close to the trigger.
"It's too late for you," Shawn said darkly. "This is the most finest of Santa Barbara's finest."
"Shut it, Spencer." Lassiter hadn't moved his attention away from Matheson. Outside he could hear the tell tale sound of more police sirens. Backup was on it's way, now Lassiter just had to figure out how to get out with any of them getting shot.
"Shoot him Lassie." Shawn's voice was still dark and very unlike the psychic's normal tone. "He's why Gus is in the hospital."
"I can't do that, Spencer."
"What if it had been Juliet?" Shawn turned to look at Lassiter, his eyes wet with emotion.
"It was O'Hara," Lassiter reminded Shawn.
"And when it was you went after Yin."
"No!" Lassiter's voice was rough with the memory of that night. "I went after my partner. Guster isn't dangling from a clock tower, he's in the hospital. We're not here to do justice, Spencer. We're just here to make an arrest."
Shawn looked helplessly at Matheson and then back to the detective. His shoulders slumped. "Book 'em, Lassie,"
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McNab ran up to Juliet as soon as his car was parked. "What's going on?"
"Lassiter and Shawn are both in there," Juliet looked more worried then Buzz could ever remember seeing her. "I think Matheson is as well."
A shot rang out from the house and Juliet whipped her head to look fearfully at the peeling paint and knew if someone was hurt the odds of it being her partner or her friend were high.