Chapter 7

"How the hell did you manage to lose a patient?!" Lassiter was stood in in front of Shawn's empty hospital bed, yelling at the middle aged, dark haired male doctor in front of him, "What sort of hospital are you running here?"

"Detective, I understand that you're angry, but..."

"Spare me the excuses Doctor." Lassiter cut him off, turning his attention to his partner, "Have they found Samuals?"

"Not yet." Juliet answered, "Mr Spencer and Gus are on their way."

"You called his father?" Lassiter groaned.

Juliet was about to answer when one of the nurses screamed. Both detectives wasted no time in responding, each of them pulling out their guns and rushing towards the supply room that the nurse was pointing towards.

"Stand back." The head detective ordered as he approached, aiming his gun into the room, and then slowly lowering it again when he saw who it was, "Samuals...What the hell happened?"

The doctor, who had been restrained with ropes and gagged, shot the detective a look, "Et e out o here!"

Juliet quickly put her gun back into it's holster and started to untie the Doctor, starting with the gag, "What happened?"

"I didn't even see it coming." Dr Samuals sighed heavily, "I was grabbed from behind, drugged, and then apparently shoved in here."

"So, you didn't see who did this..." Lassiter was unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Well I didn't see his face, but I know who did this."

Juliet's eyes widened in hope, "You do...How?"

"I could see his feet...It was Forster." He answered, "I'd recognise those ridiculous looking pineapple shoe laces anywhere."

A moving sensation was the first thing Shawn became aware of as he started to regain consciousness, he tried to open his eyes but they were just so damn heavy. Panic started to set in as he desperately tried to remember where he was, why he felt so crap, and why his chest hurt so much. After several minutes of trying, he finally managed to get his eyes to open, blinking rapidly so he could focus before scanning his surroundings in an attempt to jog his memory.

He was riding shotgun in an unfamiliar car that kind of smelt like hospital. As his eyes finally landed on those of his captor's, he remembered exactly what had happened, and the danger he was in, "What did you do to Dr Samuals?" He croaked, praying that his doctor was alright.

"Nothing, Samuals is fine." He felt the fake psychic's head, "Still very warm...You must rest."

Shawn raised an eyebrow at his gently touch, "Where are we going?"

"Sleep."

"Sorry Doc, no can do." He stifled a yawn, his body begging him to obey the doctors orders, "Once I'm awake there's no getting me back to sleep again."

"Try."

"So, why target homeless people?" The fake psychic didn't really expect the doctor to answer, he was just trying desperately to stay awake. The flicker of disdain that appeared on the other man's face at the mere mention of 'homeless people' did not go unnoticed.

Shawn's mind suddenly flashed back to the Chief's office.

Shawn took a look over Lassiter's shoulder at the case file he was holding.

Deaths. Homeless. Organs Missing...

"Organs..." Shawn mumbled, the answer slowly starting to develop in his mind, "You wanted their organs...For your own patients." The look on Dr Forster's face told Shawn that he'd hit the jackpot, "You didn't think it was right that they were walking around with perfectly good organs, while your patients were waiting for new ones, so you decided to speed the process up a little." He was on a roll now, "You started killing homeless people and stealing their organs to save the lives of your own patients."

"I knew you were really psychic!" Forster smiled, "How else could you know that I'm the Grim Reaper?" He snorted, "Ah, such a silly nickname..."

"OK, I'm confused." Shawn cut in, "What does me seeing you kill someone have to do with my psychic abilities?"

"Don't you get it Shawn? You didn't actually see me, you were seeing me, psychically."

"Come again...?"

"Shawn, you were fast asleep the whole time."

What? Shawn's mind went back to that night.

Flash!

A female face pressed up harshly against the window.

Flash!

A knife...She was being murdered.

"The lightning..." Shawn muttered to himself, When the lightning flashed, Forster's side of the window turned into a mirror, that's why he didn't notice when I opened my eyes, because he was looking at his own reflection! Now everything made sense, well, almost everything...

Flash!

He looked through the window, straight into cold, merciless eyes. Forster pointed at Shawn with one hand, and slid the knife in front of his throat with the other.

"Wait...If you thought I was asleep, then why did you threaten to kill me?"

"Are you talking about the whole knife-throat-slice thing?" On Shawn's nod he continued, "I wasn't threatening you Shawn, I saw you sleeping there and pretended like I had an audience. It was just in the moment, I mean, how was I supposed to know you had a gift?"

"When did you find out about my gift?"

"Well, I witnessed your little show at the hospital, but quite honestly I thought you were just doing a bit." He chuckled, "Can you believe that? I just assumed you were this extremely observant guy. Ridiculous theory huh?"

"Yeah..." Shawn's eyes widened, "That is pretty far-fetched."

"And when you were telling Samuals that you knew who the killer was, I just figured you were all talk." He continued, "After all I was standing right there in the room, and you never said anything."

"Wait, so you're saying that you didn't know, that I knew you were the killer, until I actually told you?"

"Yes." Forster confirmed.

Whoops... Shawn cringed, My bad!

"And that's when I started to wonder whether you were actually telling the truth about being psychic."

"But what about the attempts on my life? Someone tried to run me off the road."

"I had nothing to do with that. Although if you were unwell at the time, I would assume your fever was to blame."

Shawn was having trouble wrapping his head around all of this, how could he have been so right, yet so wrong about this whole thing? Shawn knew there was no use in dwelling on it though, the truth of the matter was, he'd messed up, and there was a good chance that it would cost him his life.

"We're almost there." Forster said suddenly, slipping his hand in his jacket pocket.

Shawn's eyes widened when Forster took out another syringe, "Wait, you're gonna kill me now?"

"No I'm not going to kill you." Forster rolled his eyes, "It's just a sedative, I can't have you seeing the location, you'll lead your friends right to us with your mind powers."

Shawn pressed up against the car door in a feeble attempt to escape, "Why can't..." He felt the needle piece his skin, "I just..." He began to feel even drowsier as the drug entered his body, "Wear a blindfold..." He mumbled, just before his world turned to black.

"Gone?" Henry demanded, "What do you mean he's gone?" He turned towards Lassiter, glaring accusingly at the head detective, "This is all your fault!"

Lassiter's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?!"

"Shawn begged you for police protection and you didn't listen." Henry pointed towards the empty bed, "Now look what's happened!"

"Hey, I wasn't the only one who didn't listen to Spencer!" Lassiter defended himself, "No one else in this room believed him either."

"Well, nobody else in this room is head detective."

"What does me being head detective have to do with anything? You're his father," Lassiter pointed out, "and as far as the whole 'police protection' goes, if you'd have actually believed that Spencer was in any danger, you would've gone over my head, straight to the Chief."

"Hey, here's an idea." Gus suddenly spoke up, unable to keep the irritation from his voice, "Perhaps instead of arguing amongst ourselves, we could actually start looking for Shawn."

"Gus is right." Juliet agreed, "None of this is helping."

"OK." Lassiter swallowed hard, turning his attention to Dr Samuals, "In your professional opinion Doctor, how much time do we have before Spencer becomes worm food?"

"Carlton!"

"What?" He looked down at Juliet in confusion, "It's a fair question."

The doctor ran a hand down his face, "Well, assuming that Shawn isn't..."

"Already dead?" Henry asked when the doctor hesitated.

"Yes." Dr Samuals nodded, "Then taking your sons current state into account, along with the very real possibility of another pneumothorax occurring, I would say that without treatment, it's imperative that he is found well within twenty four hours if he is to have any chance of making a full recovery."

When Shawn came around he found himself in a small, windowless room, with grimy looking walls, and a hard, wet, stone floor. "Oh come on man, are these things really necessary?" Shawn asked as he noticed Forster tightening the restraints on his wrists and ankles., "You and I both know that I'm not going anywhere." He pulled at the restraints weakly, "So, what happens now?" He looked the doctor straight in the eyes, "Are you gonna kill me?"

"Shawn I've already told you, I won't kill you." Forster told him, "But I also won't help you to stay alive."

The fake psychic raised an eyebrow, "Wait...How's that different exactly?"

"Because it's the illness that will kill you, not me."

Shawn shot him an incredulous look, "So why am I here then?"

"Because I need your help again."

"You need my help again?" Shawn repeated slowly, trying to figure out what the other man was referring to.

"Yes." Forster smiled, looking quite excited, "Wait here, I have something to show you!"

Shawn looked down at his restraints as the unhinged doctor left the room, and rolled his eyes, "Really?"

Dr Forster returned a moment later, pushing a bruised and bloodied man into the room. Shawn cringed in sympathy as the man landed in a heap on the floor in front of him, the fake psychic's eyes narrowing when he realised that there was something very familiar about him...

"You!" Shawn pointed

"Who...Me?" Asked the disheveled looking doctor.

"I'm sensing a dark cloud around you." He made circular motions in the Doctor's direction, "Your girlfriend...She kicked you out, and ever since then you've been sleeping here at the hospital."

"Thanks, I guess I'm homeless again, now that everyone knows I've been living here!" The doctor stormed off.

Shawn's eyes widened at the realisation of what was about to happen, "No...You can't do this!"

"Of course I can Shawn, and it's all thanks to you." Forster dragged the doctor up roughly by his hair, smirking when he cried out in pain, "I may never have found out that Dr Sanders' was homeless without the help of those wonderful psychic abilities of yours."

This guy's insane! Shawn's disgust quickly turned into worry when Forster took out the knife he'd used outside the Psych office a few nights earlier. The fake psychic pulled harshly at the restraints in a desperate bid to break free. He needed to help Sanders, there was just no way he could sit back and do nothing as he witnessed another victim being stabbed to death.

"I dedicate this sacrifice to you Shawn!" Forster announced as he slashed the homeless doctor's throat.

"No!" Shawn cried out, his mind flashing back to a distant memory...

Gus looked at the name on the window, "Psych? As in 'gotcha'?"

"Or." Shawn pointed out, "As in 'Psychic'."

"You named your fake detective agency Psych?" Gus asked incredulously, "Why don't you just name it, 'Hey, we're fooling you and the police department. Hope we don't make a mistake and someone dies because of it'."

Shawn curled his lip in anger, "You son of a..."

"Now, now Shawn." Forster interrupted, "You're in no condition to kill anyone yourself." He grabbed Sanders' wrist and wiped the blood from the knife on the sleeve of his arm, "Don't you see, with your psychic powers and my knifemanship, we'll be unstoppable!"

"I'm not a..." Shawn began to say in his outrage, but bit his lip before he could finish the sentence.

Forster looked at him curiously, "You're not a what Shawn?"

"Murderer." The fake psychic covered, "I'm not a murderer Forster, and I sure as hell ain't gonna start by murdering a bunch of vulnerable homeless people."

"They're not people!" He yelled

"Oh my god." Shawn mouthed incredulously, "Seriously?"

"Why are you starting to bail on me now Shawn?" The grip on his knife tightened, "Why now?"

"Bail on you?" Shawn shook his head, "Doc, I was never with you in the first place!"

"Yes you were Shawn."

"No. I wasn't." He cringed as the pain in his chest increased.

"Then why did you assist me with Sanders' kill?"

"I didn't assist you with anything!" The fake psychic shot back, "How are you even a doctor?"

Dr Forster's face contorted in anger at that comment, "I'm a good doctor!"

"Good doctors help people, they don't kill them."

"They're not people!" Forster screamed, striking Shawn's head with the butt of his knife in a fit of rage, his eyes widening when the already weak man's body fell limp, "No..." He shook the fake psychic in an attempt to rouse him, "Shawn...Shawn wake up." He shook him harder, "Come on Shawn, please... I didn't mean to..." Forster gently touched the blood that had started to trickle down the unresponsive man's forehead, "Oh Shawn..." He frowned, "Look at what you made me do..."