A/n: You guys are awesomefaces! I love it when you review. It makes me all smilies on the inside. And outside for that matter. And I don't remember if I said this, but I'm planning on putting out a chapter every night my beta is here with me. Hopefully that works out in our favor!
For continuation's sake, and cuz I never have before, this WILL be in Lassieface's POV
Beta: TalaDentro because we are watching Moulin Rouge!!!
Chapter the next: Quiver, quiver
I loved my job. It was a great feeling, possibly the greatest, to be able to find a criminal and put him behind bars for what he'd done. And the fact that I got to carry a gun made it all that much greater. But this past year, my work had been harder to enjoy. For one reason, and one reason only. Shawn. The "psychic" had become an extreme nuisance I'd had to deal with once a week.
Bzzt Bzzt. Bzzt Bzzt.
I took my phone out of my pocket, flipping it open without seeing who it was.
"Lassiter." I said as I pulled up to a stoplight.
"Yes, hello detective. This is the coroner. The results on that odd rash came back."
"What is it? Poison Ivy?" I asked.
"No. It seems Mr. Spencer had an allergic reaction to oleoresin. It's an ingredient used in lotions for people with highly sensitive skin. These lotions aren't usually sold commercially. So you should probably look towards small boutiques." I smiled. Maybe this case would be a quick close.
"Good work." I said, shutting my phone and placing it back in my pocket. I'd reached the station by now. I walked quickly to my desk, almost jumping out of my skin when I saw Spencer sitting there.
The sight of him set my mind back to when he showed up at the crime scene. When he saw Henry's body. The look on his face was one I'd never seen before and would not soon forget. His features were completely softened and serious. There was no happiness or tomfoolery in his eyes. But there was something that looked slightly like….relief. But of course, that couldn't be right. It didn't make sense. And making even less sense, was the strange need I felt to comfort him.
"Lassie, I know I'm pretty, but you don't have to stare." Spencer's voice yanked me from my reverie and I realized that I had stopped moving and had indeed been staring at him. Damn, I thought.
"What are you doing here, Spencer?" I asked, slightly exasperated. "Where's Guster?"
"Well, I knew you weren't going to call me when the coroner's report came in, so I figured I would camp out here. Since you did say I could come along. And he left to go visit his sister." He replied, dropping into the chair on the other side of my desk. "So, has Woody called?"
"Yes, Spencer. It was an allergic reaction to an ingredient in boutique lotions. So I have to find what stores use it in the area." I replied. Spencer leaned forward onto my desk, a thoughtful look on his face.
"How long does it take to run one of those searches?" He asked.
"An hour, at the least." I said. "Why?"
"I want to go back to the house. I want to see if we missed anything. If the spirits have anything more to tell us." I nodded, seeing that he needed this. Besides, if we didn't do this, we'd be sitting around for an hour doing nothing.
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We pulled up to the house and got out of the car, following the crime scene tape to the door. As we entered the now empty house, a thought occurred to me.
"You seemed extremely shocked when you saw Henry. Didn't you have an inkling that it would be him when you saw what house it was?" I asked as we rounded the stairs.
"No. This isn't where he was living when I last saw him. That was about…..four years ago." He replied. We walked into the bedroom and Spencer immediately walked to where Henry's body had been when we found it. Right in the middle of the room.
"Who called it in?" He asked, kneeling down to look at the floor.
"A neighbor saw the front door ajar. Thought it was suspicious." I replied, looking around. I didn't know what it was, but somehow, no matter where I looked, my eyes always landed back on Spencer. On his shoulders, hunched in thought. And as I circled the room, on his face. His gray eyes were agitated and his bottom lip was quivering uncharacteristically.
"Spirits not telling you anything, Spencer?" I asked, trying not to think about why I suddenly found his face so interesting.
"No. They are being very quiet." He replied, his voice was distant, not really paying attention. He stood and walked over to the bed, looking down at the covers. After another minute of silence, he suddenly gasped.
"Lassie! The spirits are telling me something. Here." He whipped out an arm and pointed it towards the bed. "Someone sat here. Recently." He opened his eyes and looked down at the bed again. "Yeah. Here is the impression. It's too small to be his." He turned his relieved gaze towards me. "A woman. About……156 lbs."
"How do you know she is 156 lbs?" I asked him. He smiled a bright white smile.
"My dad did teach me all of these things, Lassieface. I can tell."
