The police station was bustling when Shawn got there. Juliet was the first one he came to. "Jules!" he said happily. "Guess what?"

"Now really isn't a good time, Shawn," Juliet said, glancing over at him apologetically. She frowned as a patrolman walked by with riot gear. "Did Lassiter tell you to get that? I told him—"

Shawn watched her run off and fought off a pout. "But you didn't guess what!" he called after her.

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, Lassie!" Shawn said, breaking out into a smile and deciding to start again. "Guess what?"

"You were just leaving?" Lassiter asked.

"No, try again," Shawn said.

"Now is not a good time, Spencer," Lassiter said. The patrolman ran up to Lassiter with a clipboard, and Lassiter absentmindedly scribbled down his name as he frowned at the man. "Where's your riot gear?"

"Detective O'Hara said—"

"People!" Lassiter shouted. "Get your act together, we've got to be out of here five minutes ago!"

"My time machine's out back, if that'll help," Shawn said. "You could even leave ten minutes ago if you had to."

Lassiter ignored him, pushing past him towards the supply room. "If you want something done right," he muttered.

"Wait, I know this one!" Shawn said, following on his heels. "You do it yourself, right? I've found that this works especially well for me."

Shawn's eyes widened as he looked at the walls and walls of riot gear. Lassiter was pulling on a bulletproof vest and Shawn put on one of the helmets. He pressed down the visor. "Can I have this?" he asked. "This is way cooler than mine."

Lassiter reached over and grabbed it off his head. "No, you can't have it," he snapped. "What are you doing here? We're a little busy, if you hadn't noticed."

"I solved the case," Shawn said. "You're all kind of stealing my thunder, though. You know the High-Land Jewel Heist?"

"Sure," Lassiter said. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Blue diamonds were taken, right?" he said. "Natural ones. The hard to get kind."

"Yeah, one large five carat one, about a dozen smaller ones. All of them very rare, and very expensive," Lassiter said. "But how did you find that out? That was never released because of what was going on with the owner."

"What was going on with the owner?" Shawn asked. He picked up a rubber bullet gun. "How about this? Can I have this?"

Lassiter grabbed it out of his hands. "The 'owner' was a criminal kingpin, Max Diaz, and he had the diamonds illegally. As soon as we started to investigate the robbery, we got lucky and realized we had more than enough evidence to put him away instead."

Shawn frowned. That explained why he hadn't seen any further coverage about the actual High-Land robbery, everyone had been preoccupied with taking down the mob boss that had owned the diamonds. "So you never caught them?"

"No, we never caught them, or recovered the diamonds," Lassiter said. "What is this about? You're looking into cold cases now?" Lassiter pushed back out of the room, and Shawn followed him again, reluctantly leaving all those shiny toys behind.

"Maybe I am," Shawn said. "What I want to know is, why did you stop looking in the first place?"

"Some cases go unsolved, Spencer. There was no pressure for us to solve this case, no owner trying to get their diamonds back. Diaz was more concerned with his 25-to-life sentence, and we had more important things to worry about, too."

"Lassiter!" Juliet called. "Come on, we've got confirmation, we're needed on site."

"Stay here, Spencer," Lassiter said, fastening his gun into his holster and starting off towards Juliet.

"What? You can't leave now," Shawn protested. "I solved the case! I found out who really killed Mark Lyle!"

"Good for you, you've come to your senses, then?" Lassiter asked. "Because we were just about to pick him up."

"What? Wait, who are you talking about?" Shawn asked.

"Cyril Riner," Lassiter said. "We've got him pinned down at a motel near Summerland. We're going to pick him up now."

"But I'm not talking about Cyril! Cyril didn't kill anyone," Shawn protested. "I know who did!"

"Okay, fine then, Spencer, who is it?" Lassiter demanded. "Who's the 'real' killer?"

"Well, I can't just tell you," Shawn said. "I have to create an elaborate set up and bring everyone together before announcing it, Diagnosis Murder style."

"I don't have time for this," Lassiter snapped, starting to leave.

Shawn jumped up, starting to follow him. "But Lassie!"

Lassiter pointed at Buzz. "McNab, your job is to keep Spencer here."

"Lassie!" Shawn shouted again. Buzz gently grabbed his arm to hold him back.

Lassiter turned back around, getting right in Shawn's face. "You are a civilian, Spencer, and you've been running free too long. I'm through—got it? No more tagging along on busts, no more facing down armed suspects. You go to crime scenes escorted, that's it."

"You can't—"

"It was the Chief's idea," he said. "We didn't want to deal with the paperwork if you finally succeeded in getting yourself killed."

"You can't hold me here," Shawn said.

"Try me, Spencer," Lassiter snapped.

"He's free to leave," Vick said, walking over to join them. "But, Mr. Spencer, let me be clear, if you go anywhere near that motel—"

"Don't worry, I won't," Shawn told her. "Because you're all going after the wrong guy." Shawn pulled out of Buzz's grip and pushed past Lassiter.

"Mister Spencer, wait just a moment!" Vick snapped. She frowned, and then turned to Buzz. "McNab, I want you to go with him. Use your judgment. Call for back up if you need to."

"Yes, Chief," McNab said, before following Shawn as he pushed out the doors.

x x x x x x

Lassiter felt a prickling on the back of his neck as he drove to the Ridgeway Motel. Catching Cyril Riner was now almost a sure thing, three patrol cars were already on scene and had him pinned in, though Riner was refusing to surrender to anyone but Lassiter.

Lassiter had to go. There was no telling how long the stand off might last without him there. Riner promised to come peacefully if he showed, so he was going. He'd go even if he hadn't, and take him down by force if necessary.

He just wished he could forget Spencer's parting words. You're all going after the wrong guy. He just wished Spencer wasn't always right.

What was he supposed to do? Give up a sure thing on the rantings and say so of someone with no qualifications? With no basis for them at all? If Spencer had only given him something, evidence, a clue, anything.

If only he'd stop with that damn act.

But Lassiter had a job to do, and McNab would keep an eye on Spencer.

"Are you okay, Lassiter?" Juliet asked.

"Fine," he said tightly. "Let's just do this."

Lassiter pulled to a stop in front of the motel. Lights were flashing, and men were pouring out of their vehicles with their riot gear. Juliet sighed. "He said he's going to surrender," she reminded him.

"Yeah, you trust him?" Lassiter asked.

"Shawn does," Juliet said. "And I do trust Shawn."

"I don't trust either of them," Lassiter said, before moving away to join the lead on scene.

"You Detective Lassiter?" the man asked, holding out his hand. The name on his vest said Michaels. "Guy's been asking for you."

"Where is he?" Lassiter asked.

Michaels nodded towards the slightly opened door to motel reception. "Holed up in there. Says he's got a hostage."

Lassiter narrowed his eyes at the door. Juliet ran up to him and held out a megaphone. "You want to talk to him and tell him to come out?" she asked. "Remember to ask nicely. It never hurts to be polite."

Lassiter ignored the megaphone and stepped forward. "Cyril Riner!" he shouted.

"Lassiter?" Cyril called.

"I'm here," he said. "You ready to put a stop to this?"

Cyril tossed his gun out the door. Michaels reached forward and quickly grabbed it up. Cyril stepped out of the doorway slowly, holding up his hands. "There's no bullets in this gun," Michaels said bemusedly.

"Where's your hostage?" Lassiter demanded, as he stepped forward to pull Cyril's hands behind his back and cuff him.

Cyril grinned. "I don't have a hostage. I let the receptionist go out the back like ten minutes ago."

"And Reed-Fry? Where is he?" Lassiter demanded.

"I don't know anyone with that name," Cyril said.

Lassiter snapped the cuffs together. "Cyril Riner, you are under arrest. Again. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. You got all that?" he asked. "You should have them memorized by this point, right?"

"You don't understand," Cyril protested. "Look, just look in my pocket."

"Excuse me?" Lassiter demanded.

"There's a note, in my shirt pocket," Cyril said.

Lassiter frowned, but pulled it out. He unfolded it, and recognized the handwriting immediately as Shawn's. It said: Hi Lassie! You've got the wrong guy. Meet me at the Dah-Ling Store-It-Yourself A.S.A.P. Then there was a smiley face. Lassiter glared at the note. "When did he give you this?" he demanded.

"I don't know. I found it in my glove box," Cyril said. "Look what it says on the back."

Lassiter turned it over. It said: Cyril, give this to Lassiter when he arrests you.

Cyril gives a kind of disbelieving laugh. "I was sure you wouldn't catch me, I didn't expect to give it to you. I should have known better. He really is psychic, isn't he?"

Lassiter shook his head. "No, he's not," he snapped. "That's the part that's scary." Lassiter folded the note again and put it in his own jacket pocket.

"Does this mean you finally believe me?" Cyril asked.

Lassiter shoved Cyril at Juliet. "This means I believe him."

"Lassiter?" Juliet asked.

"Take him to the station and book him," Lassiter said.

"What about you?" Juliet demanded.

"I'm going to the Store-It-Yourself," Lassiter snapped. "Much as I hate to admit it, Spencer's never been wrong yet, and if he's right, then he's just stupid enough to be meeting with a killer right now."

Lassiter reached for his phone to call McNab as he started back towards his car, but it wasn't in his jacket. He paused for just a moment, pressing his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

"I'm gonna kill Spencer," he said.

x x x x x x

Buzz didn't entirely fit inside of Gus's Echo. He'd pushed the seat back as far as it would go with all of Gus's medical supplies stacked up in the back, and his knees were still awkwardly pressed up against the dashboard.

"We could have taken my car," Buzz said. "It's got the sirens and everything."

Shawn patted the Echo fondly. "The Psych-Mobile would have felt left out, and it's kind of Gus's proxy, I had to bring it," he said.

"Where is Gus?" he asked.

"The creature in the basement got him," Shawn said. "It's very sad, but I think it teaches us all a lesson. You should always watch where you're walking, and you should never abandon a friend in the middle of the road, am I right?"

"Huh?" Buzz asked. "Wait, so Gus is where?"

"Gus was busy," Shawn said, sugar-coating it for him. "So he let me borrow his car so I could go solve the murder."

"Oh," Buzz said. He looked out the window and frowned as Shawn pulled them to a stop. "But what are we doing here?"

Shawn got out of the car. The Dah-Ling Store-It-Yourself's neon sign was just flickering to life as the sun was starting to go down. "Solving crime," Shawn said. "You're a very lucky man, Buzz. Since you're the only one who bothered to show up to see me work my magic, I say this bust should belong to you. Of course, if Lassiter gets the message I left for him, he might be showing up too. And you know what a glory hound he is, so good luck with that."

"What bust?" Buzz asked. "I thought Riner was at the motel?"

"Right, and that's going to be very embarrassing for everyone involved when he's cleared of all charges," Shawn said. "We, on the other hand, get to be right."

Buzz was wary as he followed Shawn to the gate. "Are you sure about this, Shawn?"

"Yep," Shawn said. "Our real murderer is here."

The lock on the gate was still unlatched, so Shawn swung it open and walked inside, turning right to head towards the aisle that held lot number thirty-six.

"How can you be sure?" Buzz asked. "Did you have a vision?"

"Actually, I sent them a text message and told them to come here," Shawn said, as though it was obvious.

"And you think they'll show?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep. I used Lassiter's phone to do it," Shawn explained. "And our murderer has a big huge crush on him. Sad really. I almost feel bad. Lassiter is very hard to resist."

Buzz frowned. "Right. But. Wait, what?"

"What are you doing here?"

Buzz and Shawn turned at the sweet voice, and Ava Dah-Ling came marching down the row of storage rooms. "You can't be here," she said. "This is private property."

"Yes, but not yours," Shawn said, stepping forward. "You sold this place before your father was even in the ground."

Ava glared at him. "You don't scare me, psychic," she said scathingly. "You know nothing. Where is Carlton? He asked me to meet him here."

"Right here," Lassiter said, coming in from behind her. He stayed at the other side of the aisle, blocking the only other way out, while Shawn and Buzz stood at the opposite side. He glanced over at Shawn. "Spencer?"

"You got my note!" Shawn said happily. "I was hoping that would be timed right. The spirits aren't always punctual, you know."

"I admit I was intrigued," Lassiter said. "Want to tell me why we're here?"

"I thought that was obvious," Shawn said, and pointed at Ava. "That's your killer."

"I thought you were insisting that Lyle was the killer?" Lassiter demanded.

"He pulled the trigger, but he was just a hired gun. She's the one that hired him," Shawn said. "She's also the one that killed him."

"That's ridiculous," Ava said, and glared at him. "You'd better go back and consult your crystal ball, mystic."

Shawn grinned at her. "Oh, I don't think so, I think I've got this crystal, already," Shawn said, and brought a hand to his head, closing his eyes. "You hated this place. You hated working here. Then you met Mark Lyle. He was a common thug, but he was working with some pretty professional thieves. And they were storing all their stolen goods in lot number thirty-six."

Shawn walked over to storage room, running a hand across the number on the door. "You seduced him, and got him to tell you what was inside, then you convinced him to steal it for you," he said. "But when that guard showed up he screwed up. You didn't catch Cyril in the act. You were watching the whole thing, and you only stepped in after Lyle got away, holding Cyril there to be the fall guy. It was a pretty perfect plan, actually. Cyril's caught red handed, the goods in storage are never reported stolen, because they'd been stolen already, and so no one even really looked for that second guy Cyril kept telling everyone about, he got away clean. And you? Well, you were a hero. You were the Dah-Ling Darling. No one even dreamed of suspecting you."

Ava tilted her head back. "That's a nice story, you have a big imagination. I'd enjoy watching you get laughed out of court with your psychic testimony, but we both know you don't have enough to even warrant a hearing. I've done nothing."

"But you have," Shawn said, "and you made one mistake. You're clever, I'll give you that, but after you stole those diamonds you had to hide them somewhere."

Her eyes narrowed. "All I have in my account is the money I got from selling this place, please, feel free to check, it's all you'll find."

"Yeah," Shawn said. "You've been very careful about that. In fact, you've yet to make a cent from what you've stolen, because you've been biding your time, waiting for your father to die so you could sell this place and leave it behind."

Ava stepped forward angrily. "I loved my father."

"I'm sure you did," Shawn said. "Otherwise he couldn't have kept you here all this time. He died last week, isn't that right? I bet if we checked, your apartment would be all packed."

"It isn't against the law to move away," Ava said.

"No, but that's about the only thing you've done lately that isn't," Shawn said. "And you're wearing all the proof we need to prove it, right there on your wrist."

Ava's eyes went wide, and for the first time since Shawn started talking, she looked scared. She took a step back, covering her diamond bracelet with her hand. "This was a gift," she protested.

"Nice gift," Shawn said. "That's worth, what? Half a million? And the thing about diamonds is they might as well have fingerprints. Did you know jewelers can tell every single one of them apart? I bet the jewelers over at High-Land would love to get a look at those. I noticed earlier that every other diamond on that bracelet is blue."

Ava reached into her purse, stepping forward as she pulled out a gun to aim it straight at Shawn. "You've ruined everything, you meddlesome tea-leaf reader!"

Shawn stared down the barrel of the gun until he was cross-eyed. "I'll have you know I drink coffee, not tea, and in any case I've never read it," he told her.

"Spencer," Lassiter growled in warning. Shawn could see Lassiter and Buzz closing in from both sides, and both of them had pulled out their guns. Shawn returned his focus to Ava.

"And I bet that's the gun you used to kill Lyle, too. You're not doing anything for your case," he said. "Now we've got you dead to rights."

"The only thing that's going to be dead is you," Ava said.

Shawn watched her carefully, narrowing his eyes as he noted her increased pressure on the trigger. He was searching for the right words to stop her when he was thrown clear, Lassiter barreling right past him and into Ava, tackling her to the ground. Shawn heard the gunshot go off and saw, as if in slow motion, the bloody tear appear on Lassiter's left sleeve.

Shawn stumbled to his feet. "Lassie!"

Lassiter kicked Ava's gun away and holstered his own, dragging her arms behind her back. "McNab!" Lassiter snapped. "Keep Spencer back and toss me your spare cuffs. I already used mine on Riner."

Buzz grabbed Shawn by the back of the shirt with one hand, and tossed Lassiter the cuffs. Shawn easily pried his fingers off. "Have you been taking manhandling lessons from Lassiter?" he asked. "I'm sorry to say you have a long way to go."

Then he slipped straight past him and dropped down by Lassiter's side. "You're bleeding," he gasped. "You've been shot! And you just totally saved my life! Maybe you really are Gerard. Or Mahone. I can't decide. You don't keep any Midazolam in your pen, do you?"

Lassiter cuffed Ava, and then carefully unlatched the diamond bracelet from her wrist to drop it in his coat pocket. He stood, pulling her to her feet. She glared haughtily at Shawn. "This isn't over, mystic," she said. "I'm—"

"Do you mind?" Shawn asked. "We're in the middle of a conversation here."

"I'm fine, Spencer," Lassiter said, and started dragging Ava towards his car. He shoved her into the back of the car and slammed the door, before spinning around to confront him. "You, on the other hand, are in a lot of trouble."

Shawn took an uncertain step back. "For doing your job for you?" Shawn asked. "Really I think if anything I deserve a nice little thank you card, maybe a Pineapple gift basket."

"McNab," Lassiter shouted. Buzz jumped to attention. "Keep an eye on Dah-Ling. Spencer and I need to have a word."

"If we're only going to have one of them, I don't see why we can't do it right here," Shawn protested, as Lassiter dragged him to the next row of storage rooms and out of sight.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Lassiter snapped, pushing Shawn against the wall. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn't been here? You could be dead, and if not you, then McNab."

"I tried to tell you—" Shawn protested.

"It's not hard to do, you just say, Ava did it, she's the killer," Lassiter snapped.

"I did say that, if not in so many words, but no one was interested!" Shawn protested. "And it's not as though you would have believed me! If I hadn't done it this way she would have had time to cover her tracks."

"You saw the diamonds on her bracelet, right? That's how you figured it out?" Lassiter demanded. "You could have told me that."

"You should really get your arm looked at," Shawn said, hesitantly reaching out for it, but pulling away before he got there. "Your shirt's all bloody."

Lassiter shook his head, and started to head back to the car. "We're going to the station," he told him. "My arm's fine."

"You're mad at me," Shawn said incredulously, as he darted after him. "Why? I only did what I always do."

"Which is exactly the problem, Spencer," Lassiter said. "McNab, make sure Spencer gets to the station, I'm taking Ava in."

"You probably shouldn't be driving, you've just been shot," Shawn protested. "You should take McNab with you."

Lassiter's only answer was to slam the door and drive off. Buzz bit his lip uncertainly. "Well, I guess I'm going with you," Buzz said.

x x x x x x

Shawn and Buzz reached the police station a few minutes after Lassiter and Dah-Ling. Shawn reached across to get Gus's emergency medical kit out of the glovebox while Buzz went rushing inside. Shawn put it under his arm and then followed him into the station.

The station was in even more upheaval than it had been earlier. Shawn saw Juliet leading a now sobbing Ava Dah-Ling towards the cells. Shawn was pretty sure she was one of those people who could cry on cue, and he suspected she was going to have a field day with her jury. He spotted Lassiter on the other side of the room, sitting on the edge of his desk, speaking with Cyril Riner, who appeared to be handcuffed to a chair. Shawn started towards them.

"Cyril!" he said happily.

Cyril smiled. "Hey, Shawn," he said. "I hear you've been busy."

Shawn frowned at the handcuffs. "Why is he handcuffed?" he asked. "You know he's innocent now, right?"

"There's still a lot he has to answer for," Lassiter said stiffly, before standing. He grabbed Shawn and took him over to Juliet's desk, before sitting him down on it. "And so do you."

Shawn slid Juliet's chair closer with his foot, and then unbalanced Lassiter so he fell into it. Shawn could manhandle too, if the situation required it. He ignored Lassiter's sound of protest and opened the med kit. "You really should be getting this checked out," he said. "But since I know you won't—"

"You're trying to distract me," Lassiter said. "It's not going to work."

"You got shot," Shawn said. "Normal people would be distracted by that without any help from me."

Shawn grabbed Lassiter's torn sleeve and ripped it the rest of the way off. "Hey!" Lassiter snapped.

"It was ruined anyway," Shawn told him. "Besides, this is a good look for you. You're like the urban Rambo. I'm just surprised Jules hasn't already taken care of this."

"She doesn't know yet," Lassiter said. "She gets kind of worked up when people get shot. I sent her off to book Ava Dah-Ling and lock the bracelet up in evidence."

Shawn winced as he examined the cut. It was about an inch across, and half an inch or so deep. He'd had worse cuts from getting thrown out of a moving truck, but still, it wasn't pretty. He ran an antiseptic wipe across it and then pulled out the gauze. "You should get stitches, if you don't it's probably going to scar," Shawn told him. "I know it would look very butch, but health first."

"We need to talk about what happened, Spencer," Lassiter said.

"Okay," Shawn said easily. "Well, for my part I thought you were really awesome. You're totally my hero now. I think I'm going to have Shawn Hearts Lassie embroidered on my shirts."

"That's not what I meant," Lassiter said.

"I know what you meant," Shawn said, taping the gauze at the ends and then pulling his hands back. He restlessly got to his feet, and glanced around the station. He could see Juliet coming back up the steps by the entryway, which meant both the evidence and Ava were safely locked away. Cyril was spinning absentmindedly in the chair, his wrist still attached to the arm on one side, a water guy with a nametag that said "Ed" was refilling the water-cooler.

"Spencer," Lassiter snapped, bringing Shawn's attention back to him. "You shouldn't have done this."

"Is this because I borrowed your phone?" Shawn asked, pulling it out of his pocket to set it on Juliet's desk. "Because that was an accident. I thought it was mine."

"This is about you running off again without giving everyone the facts," Lassiter snapped.

"You're feeling guilty," Shawn said, after a moment. "That you didn't believe me, right? Don't worry, Lassie. I'm like the boy who cried wolf. You know, if there actually was a wolf every time, but everyone kept thinking he was lying anyway." Shawn paused thoughtfully. "Actually, it's not really like that story at all."

"This is not me feeling guilty, Spencer," Lassiter said. "This is me mad. And you are lying to me."

"I was right all along," Shawn protested. "Cyril didn't kill anyone, but you don't ever take my word for anything."

"How did you know that he was innocent?" Lassiter asked quietly. "I spent hours with this guy before the trial. I went through his life with a fine-tooth comb. His work at the Hottie Tottie, any possible connections to his former jobs, the people he hung out with. So how did you spend a couple hours with him, as his hostage, and just know?"

"I'm psychic," Shawn said. "I only had to—"

"And then you wonder why I won't believe you," Lassiter interrupted.

Shawn opened his mouth to protest and paused. He titled his head and stepped past Lassiter. There was an empty water-cooler water tank sitting on a desk a few feet away. "Don't they take those with them?" he asked vaguely. "To recycle?"

"Who?" Lassiter demanded.

"The water guy, the guy who refills the cooler," Shawn said.

"We don't have a water guy, we refill it ourselves," Lassiter said. "Stop trying to avoid the subject."

Shawn spun back around. The chair by Lassiter's desk was empty, the unlatched handcuff hanging loosely off the arm. He looked around for Ed, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Shawn frowned, and stepped towards Lassiter's desk. "Uh, Lassiter?" he said. "I think Cyril might have left again."

"What do you mean he left? I handcuffed—" Lassiter broke off, rushing to his desk. "Where's Cyril Riner?" he demanded. Everyone turned to look at him, but no one seemed to know. "How does a convicted felon walk out of a police station, for god's sake!"

"But I thought he was innocent," Buzz protested. "Miss Dah-Ling is still here. We put her in the cell downstairs."

Juliet was frowning as she joined them. "I didn't see him," she said.

Shawn closed his eyes and called up a picture of the water guy. His nametag said 'Ed,' and the company name was 'Ferry Glen.' "The water guy!" Shawn said. "It was Fred Greenly!"

"Who's Fred Greenly?" Lassiter demanded.

"Glen Reed-Fry," Shawn said. "Also, Ed of Ferry Glen."

"What?" Lassiter asked. "How do you know?"

"Guy's got a thing for anagrams," Shawn said.

Juliet bit her lip. "Well, this isn't so bad, right? Riner is innocent," she said. "You know they're going to grant him immunity for the rest of the charges considering he was falsely convicted of murder. So he hasn't really escaped again. Exactly."

"Yes, he has," Lassiter snapped. "O'Hara, I want you to get me road blocks, every way out of town. Let them know Riner's on the loose."

"And probably not empty-handed," Shawn said after a moment.

"What?" Lassiter demanded.

"You might want to check the evidence locker," he said.

Lassiter cursed and rushed past him, and Juliet and Shawn followed him. He unlocked the evidence room door and Juliet walked past him to where she had filed away the bracelet. She pulled the box down and set it on the table. The gun was there, in its evidence bag, the seal unbroken.

But instead of the diamond bracelet, there was a Red Bull with a red ribbon tied around it, a note slipped beneath with Shawn's name written along the side. Lassiter pulled it out and spread it on the table in front of them.

Thought you might need this, it said, but it wasn't signed.

Cyril was too smart for that. The handwriting probably wasn't even his.

"Son of a bitch," Lassiter shouted. "He got away with all of it."

Shawn took a deep breath. "Well, if it helps at all, it wasn't all of it," he said, and he pulled out the blue diamond Amelia had given him from his pocket. He dropped it into the slack-jawed detective's hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go rescue Gus and get my dad out of the basement."

Shawn went out the door, and returned a moment later, grabbing the Red Bull. "I'll just take this," he said.

"That's evidence, Spencer!" Lassiter shouted after him.

x x x x x x

Shawn went straight to his father's house, because he was starting to feel slightly guilty, and also because he really wanted to avoid that conversation Lassiter kept wanting to have with him. He pulled to a stop in front of the house and saw Gus calmly eating a Pixy Stix on his father's front steps.

Shawn cautiously made his approach. "I see you still have all your limbs," he said, in greeting.

Gus held out his hand. "Keys," he said.

Shawn dropped Gus's keys into his hand. "You know you totally deserved it, right?" Shawn asked.

"I'm not mad, Shawn," Gus said. "You want to know why I'm not mad?"

"Actually, I kind of want a Pixy Stix," Shawn said.

Gus ignored that. "I'm not mad because your father's going to kill you, and I'd hate for our last conversation to be in anger. So I forgive you."

"That's big of you," Shawn said. "I guess that means you let him out?"

"Yes, Shawn," Gus said. "Because unlike you, I do not lock people in basements." Gus finished off another Pixy Stix. "Also Mr. Spencer promised to give me these."

Shawn sighed and walked past Gus up the steps. He pushed the door open to find his father pacing the kitchen, on the phone. He hung up the moment he saw Shawn, and then let out a kind of disbelieving laugh, like he still couldn't believe what Shawn had done.

Shawn thought that Henry would have stopped being surprised by him years ago.

"Gus thinks you're going to kill me," Shawn said. "I'm pretty sure he's out there right now trying to get a sugar high so he can write my eulogy or something."

Henry crossed his arms. "Honestly, Shawn, I don't even know what to do with you anymore."

"I solved the case," Shawn said hesitantly. "I was right that Cyril wasn't the killer."

"Yeah, I heard," Henry said. "I also heard you almost got killed, and that your buddy Cyril disappeared with all the evidence."

"Not all the evidence, only the evidence with high monetary value," Shawn said. "We've still got the gun, and anyway Ava Dah-Ling practically confessed."

Henry turned away with a sigh. "I heard something else, too," he said. "Lassiter saved your life."

"Yeah," Shawn said. "I think I'm going to have to buy him a smoothie or something."

"It was smart to have him go with you," Henry said. "Maybe you are getting the hang of this after all."

Shawn didn't dare tell his father that the chances of Lassiter actually getting the note he'd left with Cyril and showing up at the right time had probably been something like 15%. No reason to shatter the illusion if Henry thought he'd finally done something right. "Yeah, Lassiter's pretty good at what he does."

"You could learn a lot from him," Henry continued.

"I'm learning all the time," Shawn said.

"I—" Henry paused, tapping a finger on the edge of the kitchen table. "I respect that you're not giving this up, the way you—well, the way you have before. I just want you to be more careful. And if you ever lock me in the basement again, I swear to God, Shawn, I'll—"

"You know I don't ever do the same trick twice," Shawn said. "Next time I was thinking of locking you in the attic. Maybe getting you a dress and a rocking chair."

"Cute," Henry said. "I'm trying to talk seriously, here, Shawn."

"Look, it all worked out," Shawn said. "The bad guy—bad girl—is in jail, and no else was hurt."

"This time," Henry snapped.

"Well, yeah, dad, this time," Shawn said. "Contrary to what I like to tell people, I can't actually predict the future."

Henry just shook his head, pulling something out of the cupboard before tossing it to Shawn. "I want you to have that."

Shawn tilted the large canister to read it. "Pepper spray? Really? What is this, the industrial size version?"

"Just take it, Shawn," Henry snapped. "It'll make me feel better."

"Okay," Shawn said, putting in his jacket. "I'll put it on a key chain. Or maybe use it for weight-lifting, what is this thing, eighty pounds?"

"Shawn," Henry said tiredly. "Just take it, okay?"

"Yeah," Shawn said. "I'll keep it at the office. Gus gets scared there at night, and this is definitely a step up from threatening people with dish soap."

"Good," Henry said. "Okay. Yeah. Keep it there."

"I should probably be going," Shawn said, turning around.

"Shawn," Henry said. "You'd better be here on Saturday to clean my basement. I want it spotless."

"Saturday? I'm actually—"

"You don't want me to come find you," Henry said.

"Don't be so sure you can take me," Shawn said. "I've got the super-sized mace."

"Saturday," Henry repeated slowly.

Shawn sighed. "Yeah, that's fair," he said, opening the door.

"And Shawn? It's not that I'm not proud of you," Henry said quietly.

Shawn paused for a moment, smiling where his father couldn't see it, before shutting the door behind him, because coming from his father that was almost as good as saying that he was.

Gus was still on the porch, sucking down what looked to be his tenth Pixy Six. Shawn sat down beside him. "Still alive, huh?" Gus asked, and then cautiously offered a Pixy Stix.

Shawn took it and nodded. "He's going to make me clean his basement instead of killing me," Shawn said. "I guess I'm grateful."

"Need a ride home?" Gus asked, after a moment.

Shawn spun the Pixy Stix in his hand. "Yeah," he said. "It's probably about time I got some sleep."

x x x x x x

Shawn was just locking his apartment door behind when his phone started ringing. He was tempted to let the answering machine get it for about three seconds before it sunk into his consciousness that the ring tone wasn't quite right.

Shawn turned around and there was a disposable phone sitting on his coffee table, with a note propped up beside it: Answer me, it said.

Shawn picked it up and hit talk. "Cyril?" he said.

"Hey, Shawn," Cyril said. "I didn't get a chance to say thank you."

"For what, exactly?" Shawn asked. "For clearing your name or for practically delivering those diamonds into your hands?"

"It wasn't like that," Cyril started.

"No, of course not," Shawn said. "I know what really happened."

"You do?" Cyril asked.

"You weren't there to help Lyle with the robbery," Shawn said. "You were there to stop him from ripping you off. You're the one that pulled off the original robbery. That little band of jewel thieves you were talking about, the ones Lyle used to work for, that was you and Fred Greenly. You were always good with the planning. It only took you two years to plan your way out of a maximum-security prison. That's almost as good as Michael Scofield."

"How long have you known?" Cyril asked.

"I'm psychic, I've known it all along," Shawn said.

Cyril laughed. "And yet you haven't told anyone?"

"You're asking me? What about you? Why didn't you tell anyone?" Shawn demanded.

"Do you think the cops would have been sympathetic if I tried to explain? If I'd said, oh no, officer, I wasn't trying to rob this Store-It-Yourself, because actually what I've done is rob 700,000 in diamonds a couple of nights ago. But hey, this rented storage space, that part's totally legit."

"I see your point," Shawn said.

"And it wouldn't have done anything to prove me innocent," Cyril said. "It would have just made my story that much harder to believe."

"But you were using me," Shawn said. "You didn't stick around to clear your name. You wanted to find the diamonds."

"Of course I was using you," Cyril said. "I took you hostage at gunpoint. I thought you were psychic?" He sighed. "But for the record, I wanted to do both. And anyway, you got away with one of them, too, didn't you? I know Amelia gave it to you. I should never have asked her to get it, but Lassiter had the place under surveillance and I couldn't get in through the back, so I was desperate."

"You were the one that hid it there, weren't you?" Shawn asked. "You didn't trust Lyle, and so one day when you working there you hid it in the stage. Lyle wasn't at that place all the time looking at the girls, he was looking for the diamond."

"Yes. That was my fault. I was going to go back and get the diamond after I left you in the truck, but Clavor was outside, and you know what happened from there," Cyril said. "I underestimated him. I had no idea he knew I'd hidden it somewhere in the Tavern. I thought he would have been long gone by now with what he had found in the Store-It-Yourself.."

"But Ava had those," Shawn said. "And she was doing everything she could to keep Lyle dangling, probably stringing him along all this time with stories about what their lives would be like once her father was out of the picture. How they were going to live the big life."

"And what about you? What are you going to do with yours?" Cyril asked.

"It was never mine," Shawn said. "I gave it to the police."

"Weren't you even tempted?" Cyril asked after a moment. "Do you have any idea how much it's really worth?"

"I guess we all put different values on things," Shawn said. "I certainly didn't realize that they meant this much to you."

"You telling me you didn't see this coming then?" Cyril asked. "I spent two years in that hellhole. I think I'm allowed a little recompense."

"I thought you wanted your life back?" Shawn asked.

"What life?" Cyril asked. "I wanted to clear my name, sure. But I never said I wasn't a thief."

"No, I guess you didn't," Shawn admitted.

"This is who I am," Cyril said. "I'm sorry if it makes you think less of me."

"As far as my former kidnappers go, you're still way ahead in the game," Shawn said. "Have a good life, Cyril."

"You too," Cyril said. "And say goodbye to Lassiter for me."

"It's probably best for both of us if he never knows this conversation took place," Shawn said. "I'd hate to have to tell him where you're going."

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. "You're bluffing," he said.

Shawn closed his eyes and pictured that gorgeous mountain shot, framed in a little five inch by five inch square frame on Cyril's keys. He knew exactly where he'd be.

"Enjoy Nepal," Shawn said sweetly. "I hear the view from Everest is breathtaking."

Shawn ended the call before Cyril could answer, but not before he heard him laugh.

Almost done! Still to come: A Very Shassie Coda (finally, I know), and a brief 1987 Flashback.