A/N: Hey guys! I know, I know... it's been WAY too long...

I know this is a short chapter, but it was just sitting there in my computer, all lonely and sad and stuff because I hadn't posted it yet. I thought I'd add more, which I did... but I'd thought I would've added a little bit more by now.

Well, as you can see, that didn't work out. All of a sudden, THIS came out and I was like "What? Where did that come from?" but it works. And it had such a nice cut off point, too! You guys know me :) I have an addiction to cliffhangers :D

PS: We meet a new character in this chappie!

ENJOY!

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

Alexander Carmichael smiled to himself as he sat at alone in the farmhouse, thinking about his plan. It was perfect. Flawless. There was no way the psychic would get the better of him this time; because he couldn't.It was impossible for him to escape, and impossible for the police force to rescue him. His sister, Ramona, and her husband had that part covered.

After all, Alexander thought as he rose from his seated position to gaze out the window, Shawn Spencer is as good as dead.

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

"Can't you go any faster?" Juliet, in the passenger seat, complained for what seemed like the millionth time.

"I'm going as fast as I can, O'Hara," Lassiter answered her.

They'd been in the car for a few minutes, and Juliet couldn't seem to stop whining. She was constantly asking him if he could go faster, and when he said no, she pestered him to turn the sirens on. Lassiter would then remind her that they were already on.

Gus, on the other hand, was completely silent. The only visible sign of his anxiety was the constant taptaptap of his fingers on the door handle. As the day wore on, Gus seemed to get progressively better at hiding his inner turmoil. Though every once in a while, Lassiter would hear a whispered, "C'mon, c'mon."

Just as Lassiter was about to turn onto a residential street, Gus made an announcement.

"We're being tailed," he said in an alarmed tone. His dark eyes were wide and his left hand nervously clutched the door handle.

Lassiter quickly glanced at the rearview mirror as Juliet craned her neck to peer through the rear window. He didn't see anything unusual at first, but as he took a second look, he saw a familiar car just behind them.

"Relax, Guster," Lassiter said, turning his attention back to the road. "It's the Chief's car."

"Oh," was all Gus said as he settled back into his finger-tapping habit, which only grew more irritating as time passed. Lassiter soon found that if he concentrated hard enough the sound would fade into the background noise of the rumbling engine.

A beat went by before anyone spoke again. "Hey," Juliet piped up. "What's the Chief doing?"

Lassiter glanced in the mirror again, but this time, Vick's car wasn't there. He cast a quick look out the driver's side window. His brow furrowed in confusion as he watched Vick's car pass his own. Looking at the speedometer, Lassiter concluded that the Santa Barbara Chief of Police was indeed speeding.

"She passed us, Carlton!" Juliet was practically bouncing in her seat now, anxiety clear in her voice. "We have to speed up!"

"She didn't pass us," Gus said quietly. "Henry did."

"Henry?" Juliet quit bouncing. "Why would Vick let Shawn's father drive her car?"

The incessant tapping stopped as Gus thought for a second. "Knowing Henry, she probably didn't," he answered. He fell silent after that, and began mentally cataloguing the cars that drove by. Green Ford Focus, blue truck, white van... He did this for the next few minutes, until the screech of tires and the pull of the seat belt against his chest brought him back to reality. He looked around in confusion before noting that they seemed to be caught in the middle of a car accident.

"Oh, hell!" Lassiter snarled in frustration, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. The horn blared loudly, causing both Juliet and Gus to flinch.

Lassiter didn't turn off the sirens before he threw open the door of his brand new car rather carelessly and climbed out. He left the door open as he strode over to the scene of the accident, practically growling under his breath the whole time.

Two cars lay haphazardly over the dotted yellow line. One was a gold van, the other a smaller, more nondescript silver vehicle. The former was flipped on its side, having been hit by the smaller car, which had been traveling at a speed far beyond that of the limit.

Lassiter hardly even noticed when the Chief joined him, walking beside him silently. She wasn't quite as angry as he seemed to be, but she was pissed nonetheless. The stupidity of some people astounded her. She wondered what could possibly cause the driver of the silver car to suddenly accelerate and ram into a car in the opposite lane?

Unless, she thought, speeding up as suspicious thoughts raced through her mind. Unless he did it on purpose.

"Lassiter!" She barked, taking charge as they approached the accident cautiously. She was determined to follow protocol to the letter. "Find the driver responsible, get his name," she ordered, nodding her head in the direction of the silver car.

He glanced at her curiously, his eyes telling her they didn't have the time, but he listened to her. Following her directions he walked up to the driver's side. The car was relatively unscathed, as was the middle aged, silver-haired man inside, Lassiter noted.

The driver was conscious, but taking in rapid, wheezing breaths. At first Lassiter thought he'd broken a rib, which could possibly have punctured a lung. Then he noticed that the man's face wasn't lined with pain, and his eyes were glazed over and clouded with agony. No, they were clear and unwavering. The only thing they told Lassiter was that this man was scared.

"What's your name, sir?" He asked him authoritatively, whipping off his sunglasses in a very David Caruso-esque move.

Suddenly, the fear vanished from the other man's eyes. He now seemed at ease with the situation, with the question. Smirking, he said, "Pleased to meet you, too, Detective Lassiter. I'm Trenton Clarke."

As he reached his outstretched hand out the window, Lassiter's face drained of color a little, and his right hand twitched toward his holster. He knew that name...

Meeting the detective's gaze head-on, Trenton added, "But I believe you know me better as Ramona's husband."

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

So, I have no idea if any of you even remember my evil nanny character, Ramona, but Trent is her husband. Now they're an evil FAMILY! Yay!

He's gonna come to play more in the next chappie, or the one after that. I really don't know.

PS: This was NOT what I intended to write. It just happened, totally by accident!

But I like it. :)

Please be a good Samaritan and review! The review button is REALLY lonely...

Oh, and I can't promise when the next chapter will be out, sorry... But if you have any requests or suggestions I'll take them!