A/N: Quote credits: If You're so Smart, Why are you Dead?, The Old and the Restless, Meat is Murder but Murder is Also Murder.

Dahmer waited impatiently outside the door, gun in hand and ready, "I thought you said you'd be faster together."

Gus looked at him and waited for either a question or a fist. Dahmer scoffed and flicked his gun to the side, indicating their chairs, "Restrain the congenital then sit."

Gus inspected the chairs as they slowly limped back, the floor smooth against his bare feet. Both chairs looked damp and clean, and both had fresh restraints ready and waiting. Gus lowered Shawn into his chair before gently tightening the straps around his raw wrists. Shawn caught his eye: Robin Williams in a sweater jacket, "It's not your fault."

Gus nodded, not entirely sure he agreed. He limped over to his own chair and sat, putting his hands through his restraints like a good, perfect, little psychic. Dahmer tightened the zip ties and Gus welcomed the sting of the plastic pressing into the cuts on his wrists. It fit his mood, even if the pain was barely noticeable next to the fire raging in his leg.

Dahmer checked Shawn's restraints before grabbing the duct tape and re-securing them both firmly to their chairs. He hummed as he walked back to the kitchen counter where a couple of bandages lined in duct tape were laid out. Gus figured it was as safe of a time as any to ask, "Permission to talk?"

Dahmer looked at him and opened his mouth before pausing and thinking. Gus waited, not sure what the plan was if the bad guy said no. Dahmer made up his mind, "What is she thinking now?"

Gus listened to the electrodes and answered truthfully, "She's ready with her questions, but she's glad you're cleaning us up first."

Dahmer smiled happily, "You may speak."

"We need antibiotics," Gus said immediately. "Shawn's already got a fever and I'll probably get one soon. You said getting oxygen and IV bags was simple, so I'm assuming you can get antibiotics too."

Dahmer narrowed his eyes, "Getting drugs takes time and money. I see no point to that, you'll live long enough."

"What if it didn't cost you anything?" Gus asked. "I have a silver case in my apartment, there's samples of a new broad-spectrum antibiotic in it. It's several days' worth if it's only being split between two people."

Dahmer giggled, "You want me to break into your apartment?"

"I'd tell you where the spare key was…" Gus grumbled.

Shawn shot over a broadcast: A hollow rock hiding in plain sight on the second floor.

Gus shook his head slightly; he'd gotten a little better at hiding the key since then.

He suddenly had an idea. He was already in the danger zone, he may as well try and press his luck. "I have crutches in there too, under my bed. It'll go a lot better and faster at the lab if Shawn can walk on his own… I even have a splint under my bathroom sink."

Shawn sent a questioning ping, Gus met his eyes and answered with a small nod in his direction. He'd been slowly building up his stash of first-aid supplies, knowing there'd be a time Shawn would need them. Granted, he'd never expected a situation like this.

"You want an awful lot of things…" Dahmer said darkly, "what could you possibly have to offer that would be worth the risk?"

Gus internally sighed; he'd been hoping to save this card for a later time, preferably never, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "Rhianna's father had a stroke when she was young, it's why she studies neuroscience. It's probably something you two could bond over, what with your mother and all…"

Dahmer stared and Gus had to brace his shield against the suddenly overwhelming pull of the dark-red void. Dahmer approached him, scalpel in hand as he growled out, "How could you know that? You said you only see surface thoughts!"

Gus forced his voice to stay even as he answered, "I didn't lie, I can only read surface thoughts. But I haven't told you everything I can do. We get medicine, you get your answer."

It was dangerous, but Gus couldn't risk them finally getting out and then Shawn dying from sepsis. Not when there was something he could have done about it.

Dahmer snarled and leaned in close, bracing a hand against Gus' hurt leg while holding the scalpel right in front of his eye. "You don't make demands here. You behave and you get to live, that's how it works."

Gus spoke through his pain, his voice shaking as he prayed he wasn't about to lose an eye, "I won't live more than a few days with an infection, Shawn's got even less time. How long do you want to be able to study your first man-made psychic?"

There was a tense silence before Dahmer started to move, lightly running the scalpel down the side of Gus' face and neck before stopping at the bandage on his arm. The void overshadowed the beakers as he used the edge of the blade to peel up the tape and remove the bloody cloth.

He didn't say a word as he started to carve another line next to the older cuts. Gus clenched his jaw against the new sharp pain and felt incredibly grateful that it was his arm getting cut into again and not Shawn's.

"What's the address?" Dahmer asked calmly as he turned the blade without lifting it, slicing back diagonally across the previous scratches and cuts. Gus jolted and squeezed his eyes shut as his already-tender arm screamed in pain. Dahmer stopped cutting and left the blade in place as he gently slapped Gus' cheek. "I asked you a question."

Gus gasped out his address through gritted teeth as Dahmer finished connecting the four knife wounds.

Shawn's thoughts were ponging black as he glared, unable to do anything but watch.

"One for speaking out of turn, one for lying," Dahmer said coolly. The scalpel moved again, lower this time, and Gus pressed himself back as he prayed desperately that the bad guy was aiming for his leg.

Dahmer rested the knife on his inner thigh and waited, clearly enjoying himself as he made Gus squirm. His hand shifted after a few seconds and he grabbed the bottom of the shorts, pulling them straight so they covered the bandage over the bullet wound. Gus almost collapsed in relief as Dahmer straightened up and walked away, moving to the kitchen counter to grab a bandage and alcohol wipe.

"You're lucky that Rhianna's waiting… " Dahmer growled out as he came back and wiped off the new blood dripping down Gus' arm. He pressed the clean bandage over the wounds and Gus felt another burst of relief for not having to deal with the alcohol bottle. He immediately berated himself for feeling anything other than anger towards the situation.

Dahmer slapped the bandage once he was done and Gus bit his lip, trying to not yelp at the hot flare of pain that ran through his arm. Dahmer stepped back and looked him over with a critical eye, "I suppose you're acceptable now."

Gus was so glad he was good enough for the bad guy's girlfriend; shaking in pain, sweat running down his back, still reeking of blood.

"Where's the spare key?" Dahmer asked as he picked up a new bandage and approached Shawn.

"On top of my door frame," Gus rasped out. Shawn and Dahmer both stopped and looked at him in disbelief.

"That's a terrible place to put a spare," Dahmer informed him seriously. Shawn jolted back like he'd been slapped before his thoughts colored in disgust at having shared an opinion with the bad guy.

Gus shrugged, not sure if he was supposed to answer or not.

Dahmer hummed and quickly changed the bandage on Shawn's arm, giving it a hard squeeze once he was done. He grinned at Shawn's wince before reaching out and grabbing his chin. He used an alcohol wipe to clean off the dried blood that had dripped down Shawn's face from the cut on his forehead. Shawn kept his eyes shut as the wipe moved roughly over his cut and bruises.

Once Dahmer was done, he stepped back and looked everything over, nodding in satisfaction. He pulled out a febreze can and gave it a few sprays before throwing the dirty bandages in one of the now-empty plastic bags. He walked off and Gus craned his neck around to keep Dahmer in sight as he went into the bathroom and came back a minute later with a bag full of their dirty clothes.

"Well now, this is much better," Dahmer told them cheerfully. His tone didn't change as he laid down his rules, "Answer her questions properly and I'll get the medicine. Misbehave and I make him scream until you have no choice but to tell me everything."

He smiled widely and carried the trash up the stairs. Shawn immediately sent a broadcast: Dahmer pinned on his back as lava slowly flowed over his body, writhing as he burned. The lava crept over his face, but his mouth was left exposed so he could still scream.

"You know that's right," Gus grumbled out, appreciating Shawn finding non-bloody ways to torture the imaginary-Dahmer so he wouldn't have to fight his gag reflex.

This situation was so fucked up.

Shawn gave him a mental nudge: The moving truck, a clock ticking past an hour, Gus' apartment, the ticking clock again.

Gus nodded in agreement. Based on how long all of the trips in and out of town were taking, it was probably going to take at least two hours round trip for Dahmer to get the medicine. He smirked darkly as his leg and arm burned, "Two hours of safety for only two cuts… that's basically a bargain."

Multiple people in a crowd standing up, "I am Spartacus."

"I know," Gus acknowledged, "but I'm glad it was me. You got more cuts last time."

Shawn snorted, clearly annoyed at the answer.

Gus felt the electrodes start to pull in excitement and he realized this might be his last chance to talk to Shawn alone before his friend was taken to the lab. Nearly all of Rhianna's thoughts were focused on Shawn's 'abilities' and wanting to understand why different psychics worked differently. She might not want to wait until nighttime to get him in the MRI machine.

Gus listened for the cracking beakers and made sure Dahmer wasn't near the stairs before speaking quietly, "Listen, we need to make sure they don't figure you out. I don't know what would happen, but there's no way it would be good."

Several of Shawn's thoughts stuttered and Gus could feel an echo of fire in his veins. Shawn shook his head slightly, trying to dismiss the memory, and Gus gave him a small smile in understanding. He hated that they both knew what the formula felt like now. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too…"

Shawn sent a small memory: A blood pressure cuff around his arm, wires around his chest and finger, Lassiter in front of a lie detector, "Are you, Shawn Spencer, psychic?"

Gus nodded, it wasn't like it was the first time Shawn had to fool a machine, "I've been thinking about that... and I have an idea. When I was in the lab, she kept saying that it was my parietal lobe that was lighting up whenever I used my psychic abilities."

Shawn rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance.

"It's the part of the brain that processes our senses. And it makes sense, right? With how I feel everything?"

A frustrated man in a hotel room, "Here's an idea, have a point!"

"I'm getting there!" Gus hissed. "I think the reason you can do what you do is because your memories get stored differently in your brain. I'd guess that they're at least partially tied to the parietal lobe because of how vivid they are. So… if they tell you to look for the spirits, and instead you remember something…"

Shawn's eyes lit up as he caught on: A magician palming the trick coin and showing the real one in its place.

"Exactly." Gus knew it was a long shot, but he had to ask, "I don't suppose you actually looked at her paper?"

Shawn shook his head and showed the title page, the only one he'd seen.

"I didn't think so. It's fine, I think I remember enough of it, and I was listening last night…" The creaking of the stairs broke off their conversation and Gus mentally prepared himself to bullshit the shit out of the next conversation.

Shawn's life was depending on it.

Rhianna carried a laptop down the stairs and Dahmer followed, looking intrigued. He made his way behind Shawn and took up his position with his right hand on the back of Shawn's neck, a constant reminder of what would happen if Gus didn't behave. Rhianna opened the laptop and turned it so Shawn and Gus could see before clicking play on a video.

A shaky cellphone video started playing, showing Shawn as he stood in front of a room of kids in red polo shirts. "Today's lecture will cover comeuppance, and how to solve a crime in a crowded room. Someone here is living a lie!"

The video followed Shawn as he found a killer posing as a teenager, leading to an arrest. Rhianna asked her first question, speaking to Shawn, "You told Jeffery that your visions were usually very physical, but in this case it's almost like you already knew everything and just wanted to show it off. With minimal input from the 'spirits'. Why?"

Gus could feel the skepticism in the electrodes and realized they had a much harder job in front of them than he'd realized. She'd already started to suspect the truth.

Shawn sent him an answer: Seven dwarves walking by, each with a different emotion and personality.

Gus welcomed the help, "He says that the spirits are all different and communicate in different ways. Some communicate more physically, others let him just talk it out."

She nodded her head and moved to a new tab, pressing play again. This time the video was from a surveillance camera looking over an open room full of old people. Gus watched as Shawn seemed to be pulled into frame, "There is a malicious force at work in Glorious Pines! The recent rash of illnesses here… not an accident."

They watched the video until Shawn was done exposing a caretaker for poisoning her residents to make room for her mother in the retirement home. A spike of anger came from Dahmer's thoughts and Gus looked over in worry. The bad guy's eyes were glued to the screen and to the woman who was being held by the security guard as Shawn ran away.

"Is this more what you meant by 'physical visions'?" Rhianna asked Shawn. He tried answering, tilting his head side to side, but the hand on his neck stopped him.

Gus answered for him, not needing the visual help, "Sometimes they get even more physical than that, it depends on the spirit."

Rhianna hummed in thought as she went to the last tab. This was another cell phone video, showing Shawn and Gus walking together through a crowd of people in an office. In the video, Gus suddenly blurted out, "Key laces, shoe boards, pineapples!"

The Shawn in the video worriedly informed the room, "Oh no, the visions have become too complex for one person to decipher. Gus, might I offer my help?"

Gus swallowed, thinking fast, "Ok… I can explain."

"You said you'd never had visions!" Dahmer said in a low voice as he dug his nails into Shawn's neck.

"Yes, I also told you I faked visions once, remember?" Gus turned to Rhianna, "My uncle was in town, he thought I was the psychic, it was this whole thing… It's complicated."

"Your great aunt told him and you didn't correct it," Dahmer recited as he remembered, "And there was something about a contract?"

Gus was surprised that he remembered that many details from their first rounds of questions. "Ok, so it's not that complicated... Shawn coached me through that case so I wouldn't lose face in front of my uncle. We didn't want the police to know because, at the time, they barely believed he was psychic. Shawn had his vision before we exposed the killer and we faked it together."

Rhianna looked at him in confusion, "Why would he do that? It was his vision, why do extra work so you could get partial credit?"

Gus caught Shawn's eye, "Because he's awesome like that."

A robot with waggling eyebrows, "Attractive… nice software."

Gus had to immediately stop himself from informing Rhianna that his best friend was also an idiot. Dahmer relaxed his hand and Rhianna closed the laptop before addressing Shawn again, "You say you see the spirits like the acquired sees our thoughts, is it the same mix of sensations like he described?"

Shawn immediately shook his head no and Dahmer tightened his hand to keep him still. Shawn's thoughts flared in annoyance before sending a visual: A 'spot the difference' page in a Highlights magazine.

Gus agreed, there was no way that Shawn's MRI would look the same as his; they had to lay the groundwork for the idea that their abilities were linked, but not the same. "He says it's similar, because it's stronger than a memory but not as strong as his other senses, but the spirits are different than thoughts. They tell him things about people, he doesn't read that information from the people themselves."

Shawn pinged a warning with a memory: His father sighed in defeat, "Shawn, the easiest way to catch a liar is to let them keep talking. The more details they give, the easier it is to trip them up. If you have to lie, then only say as much as you need to and let the other person fill in the blanks."

Gus was curious about the situation that had brought about that Henry-lesson, but he tried to keep the advice in mind.

"So, these spirits… they're actual creatures? They're not just echoes of people's thoughts?" Rhianna asked carefully as she watched Gus for a reaction.

He realized why Shawn had sent the warning, it was time to play damage control. He shrugged, "We don't know what they are, we just know Shawn can see them and they can communicate with him. That's all we've ever needed to know."

Rhianna adjusted her glasses as she thought out loud, her electrodes pulling quickly, "We can't measure the psychic signal even though we're all broadcasting. So maybe it's not actually… And why couldn't there be life too? It would explain a lot. So psychics could actually be able to see... Which professor was it who wrote that paper on multiple dimensions?"

Dahmer spoke up, his beakers crashing in excitement, "Wasn't that Dr. Carter?"

"Yes, yes, I think you're right, it was her… I need to read…" Rhianna felt her pockets before giving up and opening the laptop again to type herself a note.

Shawn looked over and Gus shrugged, he didn't know and he didn't want to know. But he was relieved that Rhianna seemed to tentatively be back on the 'Shawn is psychic' belief train.

"Ok, um…" Rhianna closed her eyes and Gus could see her mentally checking her list of questions, "Jeffery said most congenital psychics have their ability from birth, but your fans couldn't find any documented visions from before you were twenty-nine…"

Shawn's eyes lit up and he pinged a fast question. Gus was just as surprised, "He has fans?"

"Where do you think I found those videos?" Rhianna asked as she scrolled to the top of the webpage and showed them a green banner with the word 'Psych-Os' proudly displayed.

Shawn's eyebrows went up and he pinged his excitement over and over again with a broadcast: Two stepbrothers, "This is the best day ever!"

Gus raised an eyebrow and waited for Shawn to hear what he'd just said. Or, rather, what he'd just thought.

Shawn rolled his eyes: An animated super villain with crazy hair, "Oh, come on, you gotta admit this is cool!"

Rhianna sighed, "Jeffery?"

Dahmer grinned and dug his nails into Shawn's neck, immediately breaking up their exchange.

Gus flared his hands in surrender, "Ok, ok! I'm sorry! We were just surprised. What was the question again?"

"He's a congenital, why didn't he have visions earlier?" Rhianna reiterated.

Dahmer pulled his hand back slightly, digging his nails in and leaving behind several deep gouges, a mirror of the scratches from the last round of questioning. Shawn winced and Gus met his eyes, trying to silently ask for permission.

Shawn pinged his agreement along with a visual of Henry.

Gus answered, still feeling wrong for telling the bad guys anything true about Shawn's private life, "Shawn's dad is a cop, he doesn't believe anything he can't put in an evidence log. He just thought Shawn was super observant, so he trained him to think like a cop would. Shawn was a kid and wanted to impress him, so he hid the psychic stuff. Once he moved out, he stopped pretending."

"But the spirits still talked to him back then?" Rhianna clarified.

Gus sighed, wondering why it was important, "Yeah, they did."

"And it was the same intensity, the same sorts of visions?"

Gus frowned and took a second to listen to the electrodes: A list of differences between adolescent and adult brains, a diagram of the parietal lobe, annoyance at having to wait for the acquired to translate.

Shawn was sending him a broadcast, but he ignored it. He knew what answer she was expecting, "Shawn's always had his abilities, but he had to learn how to use them just like everything else."

"Hmm, and no changes in his ability during his teenage years?"

Gus figured puberty didn't affect their other senses much, so it shouldn't affect a psychic sense either, "Nope."

Rhianna nodded and made a few notes on the laptop before closing it again, "That gives me a good place to start. Jeffery, are you sure we can't go to the lab earlier? It's Saturday, no one will be there…"

"Darling, the congenital is cleaner, but he's still too noticeable. It's safer to wait until it's dark. I have another idea though, and I think you'll like it. I just need a few minutes to make arrangements. Shall we?" Dahmer gestured towards the stairs with his free hand while keeping his nails buried in Shawn's neck.

Rhianna sighed and left the basement. Dahmer waited until she was at the top of the steps before he squeezed his hand tighter, drawing blood. Gus tensed but didn't dare say anything, knowing that their fates were hanging in the balance.

"You did acceptable, but you still forgot your place. We'll have to work on that…" Dahmer let the threat hang in the air as he pulled his hand back and off of Shawn's neck, lengthening the deep scratches in the process.

He smiled widely at Gus before sauntering to the stairs and out of sight.

Shawn let out a deep breath and rolled his head, stretching out his bleeding neck. Gus figured he knew the answer, but he still had to ask, "You ok?"

The black knight hopping around, "Just a flesh wound."

"Yeah, that's what I figured-" Gus cut himself off as the stairs creaked again. He whispered quietly in annoyance, "Oh come on…"

Was it really too much to ask for the bad guys to go upstairs and stay upstairs long enough for them to have a proper conversation?

"Pet, where are you going?" Dahmer's voice called out.

"I just forgot a question. Don't worry, I'll be right back up." Rhianna answered from the top of the stairs.

Shawn sent a hopeful ping: Rhianna with the scalpel, cutting them free.

Dahmer seemed to be thinking along the same lines as the cracking beakers tinged in suspicion. Gus shook his head, knowing better. Rhianna was even thinking about them in terms of 'congenital' and 'acquired', he was pretty sure she wasn't going to be switching sides anytime soon.

"...All right, but let me know if you need any help," Dahmer offered.

Rhianna answered as she continued down the steps, "I will."

Gus watched her carefully, hoping to find an opportunity to try and appeal to her better side. There was still a small chance that she could be their ticket out. Shawn sent him encouragement: Pussy Galore in a pile of hay, fighting a kiss until suddenly kissing back.

Gus gave him a look, making sure it conveyed the proper amount of 'what is wrong with you?!'

"You said you could read surface thoughts, does that include memories?" Rhianna asked, not waiting for them to finish their exchange.

"Yeah," Gus answered, wondering where the question was headed.

Rhianna stared at him and narrowed her eyes. Her electrodes stopped pulling and started to push, a visual zapped into his mind: He was sitting in a booth, a plate of pancakes in front of him. A man sat across from him, slightly overweight, balding, laugh lines around his eyes. "I know this is important to you, but you're barely holding onto your position as it is. If you go to the board with this list, they'll throw you on the street. I admire your work, Rhi, but you can't jump to the experimental stage without some proof of concept…" He felt frustration rise up, he couldn't prove his theory if he wasn't allowed to actually run his tests. They were asking for the impossible.

Gus grimaced and shook his head as the memory cut off, fighting back the urge to spit on the floor to try to get the bad taste out of his mind. He didn't want her inside his head, it was bad enough having to constantly feel her thoughts on the outside.

"What did you see?" she asked, not caring about his discomfort.

"You were in a diner and a friend was telling you why you were nuts," Gus snapped out, his skin still crawling from the mental intrusion.

Shawn sent a small ping of worry as Rhianna smiled, "Do you know his name?"

Gus sighed and thought back, "Jack? Jack Brown."

"So, it's not just the conscious thought, but the subconscious as well…" Rhianna trailed off as she thought. She broadcasted another image: A small house on a busy street with a swing set.

"Would you stop that?" Gus shook his head again and tried to brace his shield against her, hoping to keep her next attempt at bay.

"Why? Does it hurt?" She asked unconcerned.

"No…" Gus figured she asked a question, he could give her an honest answer, "but I already have to deal with you here, I shouldn't have to deal with you in my head too."

Shawn's thoughts jolted, but Gus didn't have the mental bandwidth to figure out what had just bothered his friend.

"You think I'm a bad guy, don't you?" Rhianna asked in surprise.

Gus stared at her, dumbfounded, before snapping out, "You're down here, he's not, and we're still tied up. What do you think?!"

Shawn sent a quiet broadcast: A cowboy pulling back on the reins, "Woah, boy, woah."

Gus clenched his jaw and tried to get his emotions back in control. Shawn was right, he didn't have the luxury of being able to lose his temper.

"I know it must seem cruel from your perspective, but this work can save so many lives," Rhianna spoke earnestly, "Not just by unlocking the psychic potential of the brain, which is groundbreaking on its own, but by learning how those brain pathways were unlocked. The possibilities are endless, and you're living proof that we can do it. This is more than just your life."

"Is there a question in there?" Gus asked tiredly.

Rhianna's lips tightened and she sighed, "I suppose there's not. The house, where is it?"

Gus shook his head, "I don't know. You grew up there, that's all I got."

"Interesting…" Rhianna adjusted her glasses as she thought.

Gus was pretty sure it was a lost cause, but he still owed it to Shawn to try. He thought about his dream and separated out the parts that felt like hers, "You know, there's more than one way to leave a legacy."

She froze and he knew he'd hit the right spot. He continued, hoping it wouldn't make things worse, "You're right and you want everyone to know you're right, but it's more than that. You need to leave a mark; you need people to know you were here and that you made a difference. You need people to know who you are now: smart, competent, able to focus without drooling... And you don't know how much time you've got left to do it."

Rhianna flinched back and spoke in a quiet voice, "Get out of my head."

"I wish I could," Gus said sincerely before making his play, "My name's Burton Guster, my best friend here is Shawn Spencer. We have friends, family, and we work together on a job that helps save lives. If you keep going like you are, then our blood will be on your hands. Is that really the legacy you want to leave?"

"I think you should be quiet now," Rhianna told him in an ice-cold voice as she looked up the stairs, the threat clear. Gus sighed and stopped talking.

Rhianna shook her head and moved to leave the basement before speaking over her shoulder, "Thousands of people have died for miniscule advancements in the medical and science field. You could advance us by leaps. That's a legacy worth leaving."

Shawn sent his answer: A FBI agent glaring at Hannibal Lector, "Shut up."

Rhianna continued up the stairs and Gus slumped back into his chair, feeling every single one of his injuries as well as sheer mental exhaustion. He waited until she was safely upstairs to mutter, "Dude, this sucks."

Shawn made an affirmative sound before hesitating and humming: I never meant to cause you any sorrow, I never meant to cause you any pain.

Gus looked at him in confusion, "Wait, what?"

Shawn growled before pinging a small apology with a memory: Gus snapping back, "I shouldn't have to deal with you in my head too."

"Oh…" Gus breathed out in realization, "Dude, you're fine. You're not her, you're… you. If I'm cool with anyone in my head, it's you."

Shawn made a tentative questioning sound and Gus didn't realize that his heart could both break and glow at the same time. Shawn was willing to let go of his main form of communication if it was making Gus uncomfortable.

"Yes, I'm sure," Gus choked out past the lump in his throat, "and if you stop talking to me, then I will personally switch out all of your hair gel with lavender oil."

Shawn gasped and sent a visual: A kid in a red jersey staring at his friend who had just jumped into his dad's Ferrari, "Hahaha, NO."

Gus hiccupped a laugh before taking a deep breath to settle his emotions. He answered the broadcast with a quote, "A. You can never go too far."

Shawn finished the quote with the scene from the movie: Ferris Bueller speaking directly to the camera, "B. If I'm gonna get busted, it's not gonna be by a guy like that."

Gus smiled, glad that his friend had his back. The corners of Shawn's eyes crinkled and he kept the movie going, distracting them for a while from the basement and the bad guys.

"Son of a bitch!"

Juliet flailed awake at the yell, rolling off of the couch with a loud thunk. She scrambled to her feet and ran into the next room where Henry was cursing up a storm as he ran his hands over his head.

"Spencer, what is it?" Lassiter's voice cut through the vulgarities.

"I swear, I triple checked this list! I don't know how I missed it," Henry said, clearly distressed. He turned his computer monitor so both detectives could see it, "I was making sure our residential list wasn't missing anything. I realized it's early for tourist season, there's lots of vacation houses sitting empty… Look at this name."

"John McKinley? Who's that?" Juliet asked.

"He's Adam McKinley's brother," Lassiter answered, "but that doesn't mean-"

Henry interrupted him, "That list of comments McNab gave us from the notebooks. In Adam McKinley's section it said he 'mentioned a nice potential.' What if it meant a potential hideout? Shawn said this guy was obsessed with Dr. Millers, that everything was about impressing her…"

"He wants to show off," Juliet realized, her hope rising. "He'd want to make everything as nice as possible."

"Son of a bitch." Lassiter pulled out his phone as he jogged to the door, Juliet and Henry right behind. "Chief, we've got a lead, a house owned by the brother of one of the previous vics. We're going to need backup and an ambulance."

Juliet typed the address into her phone's navigation app as Lassiter finished his call and climbed into the car. She showed him the route, "It's almost an hour away…"

Lassiter turned on his lights and sirens, "No it's not."