Shawn didn't know where he was. He suspected he was in a dream because nothing looked right, but if it was a dream it wasn't very pleasant. He lay on the cold ground, a lumpy jacket crammed under his head. His temples throbbed and little stars danced in front of his eyes. Even though he lay still, the world tilted beneath him, making his stomach churn. He was a little worried that any sudden movement would have him hurling everywhere.
Gus had disappeared to find Shawn some water while his father still sat beside him, clutching his hand. He hadn't held his father's hand since the day Henry had been shot. It felt weird, a bit too close, but even with the faint fishy smell that clung his father, it was oddly comforting, and he was too weak to pull away.
Movement flickered in his peripheral vision. "How are you feeling?"
"Jules!" He couldn't help but smile as he blinked up at her, although he did feel a little confused by her presence. "Did you come to rescue me from the nightmare?" He hadn't noticed her arrival and he always noticed Juliet.
She crouched beside him, a radio in one hand. "Do you know what you are doing here?"
Shawn tried to look around 'here' but the slight movement made the world spin. "Um, having a nap on the ground I think. Send a note to the manager. This bed is not very comfortable."
Juliet's brow wrinkled, concern clouding her expression. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've been flattened by a spaceship," he said. "Was it a spaceship? That would be cool. Just don't get too close. I might throw up on you and you look very pretty today."
Juliet smiled so quickly he might have missed it if he wasn't attuned to every one of her expressions. She held the radio to her mouth. "Patient is conscious, but nauseous and disoriented. Advice ETA."
"Five minutes," came the static-filled reply.
"Just hang in there, Shawn. Help's almost here." Juliet said.
Shawn reached out and patted her knee. Or attempted to. He got one pat in and then it fell to the floor limply. "Okay sweetheart." He felt so tired, which was weird because wasn't he already asleep? "Can we go home soon?"
His eyes felt heavy and they began to close, but not before he saw the flash of pain on Jules' face. She was upset but he didn't know why. I'll have to fix it. His eyes shut completely and he let the exhaustion take over. Later…
Juliet flinched at the sound of Shawn's drowsy endearment. He didn't know where he was, it was possible he didn't recall their breakup, and his eyes were fluttering shut. She exchanged a worried glance with Henry.
"Hey, kid." Henry squeezed Shawn's hand. "Stay awake, okay?"
"Too late. I'm already asleep," Shawn mumbled, his eyes still closed. His breathing slowed, deepening into something that almost seemed peaceful, but the sight only made Juliet more anxious. His pupils had been dilated earlier, and even when he'd looked at her, his gaze had been unfocused, like he was struggling to stay present.
Gus burst into the room, breathless, with a bottle of water. "Sorry, it rolled under the car seat."
Juliet's attention snapped to Henry. "Did Shawn hit his head during the seizure?"
"I don't think so. Are you worried about a concussion?"
"He had one when he was kidnapped," Gus said. "Rollins hit him on the back of the head with a tire iron. If he relived that moment he could show the same symptoms."
Henry swore under his breath. "We never should've let him talk us into this dumbass idea in the first place." He glared at Gus. "You should have talked him out of it. He listens to you."
"You know as well as I do that Shawn would have snuck off by himself if we hadn't come." Gus shot back. "He'll do anything to find Rollins. There is no way he would back out of his first case since…" he trailed off with an awkward glance at Juliet.
"Enough. Let's focus on waking Shawn up." Juliet raised her eyebrows and the two men had the decency to look embarrassed.
"Come on, son. Let's sit you up." Henry scooped his arm around Shawn's shoulders and propped him up, ignoring the man's sleepy protests. "Here, have a drink."
Shawn accepted the water weakly, but after a sip he pushed it away, his face suddenly ashen. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. "I don't feel good."
Before Juliet could even register what was happening, Gus snatched up a small trash can from underneath the workbench and thrust it into Shawn's hands.
Shawn doubled over, shoulders shaking as he threw up, and Juliet instinctively stepped back, putting distance between herself and him.
Her feet felt rooted to the ground, a part of her aching to reach out, to comfort him like she always had. But the invisible wall between them held her in place.
As the sound of approaching sirens echoed through the room, Juliet seized the opportunity to leave—turning away from the scene, and from Shawn, before the emotions could pull her under.
Shawn sat on the back of an ambulance while a paramedic flashed a light in his eyes. They'd injected him with something and he no longer felt nauseous, which was a relief.
The distant hum of voices and the occasional beep of equipment buzzed in his ears, and he was confident now that he wasn't in a dream. Shawn normally thrived on attention, but with his hands trembling and his mind struggling to grasp even the simplest details, the fretting around him felt suffocating. His usual quick wit felt miles away, buried beneath the fog of dizziness.
"What day is it?" The paramedic asked. Mike, Shawn saw on his name tag.
"Taco Tuesday?" He remembered eating a taco but didn't know when that was.
Mike's frown suggested that was the wrong answer. "How about the year? Do you know what year it is?"
"Uh…" Shawn glanced around, hoping for a clue. He caught Gus's eye as he stood nearby, talking to Henry and another paramedic. "Hey, buddy!" he called weakly.
Gus walked over, taking a seat beside him on the back of the ambulance. "How are you feeling, Shawn?"
"Mike doesn't know what year it is. Can you help him out?"
Gus chuckled. "I think that question was for you to answer."
"Oh." Shawn looked down at his unsteady hands. "Pass. Can I get another question?"
Mike made a note in his chart before responding. "Do you know where you are?"
Shawn looked around, relieved that his vision wasn't as Tilt-A-Whirl as it had been a few minutes ago. "A gas station." He nodded towards the sign. A flash of memory hit him and he closed his eyes. "The gas station. I did not enjoy my time here. I gave it one star on Yelp."
"And do you know why you are here now?" Mike pressed.
"Of course I do, Mike." He looked at Gus, searching for a hint.
"Rollins," Gus prompted.
"Right. Rollins." Shawn closed his eyes as dizziness washed over him. "He escaped. We came here. I did a memory dive to find him." He opened his eyes and looked at Gus. "Did I get anything?"
Gus nodded. "There's a third man involved. Rollins might be at a cabin somewhere in the Rockies. Juliet just heard back from the station—they can't find any property linked to Rollins or Longmore, but maybe it's tied to this third guy."
A whirl of images played in Shawn's mind. Papers with names on a desk. Duct tape smeared with red. A bear. Muffled voices. None of it made sense. He put his head in his hands, trying to sort through them.
"Mr Spencer, I think you should lie down." Mike made more notes, looking concerned.
"It's Shawn," he replied through his fingers. A third man. There was something important—something he needed to tell Jules. His head continued to spin with fragments of memories, and he heard the man's voice, cold and mocking, telling Rollins and Longmore they should've just killed him. "Gus, what state are the Rocky Mountains in?"
"Actually, the mountain range is huge and stretches through a number of states," Gus said. "British Columbia and Alberta in Canada. Plus Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, Idaho, Utah, and New Mexico."
"Colorado," Shawn murmured, squeezing his eyes shut again, straining to remember. The image of Rollins' file flickered in his mind—he could see it, laid out on the desk in the briefing room. The word 'Colorado' next to a name. Bernard. "Bear… and," Shawn said slowly, the pieces finally clicking into place. His eyes snapped open. "I've got it!"
Another officer had arrived at the gas station to take over the protection detail. Since Shawn was getting checked out by the paramedics and seemed okay—if still a little disoriented—Juliet decided it was time to get back to the station and help track down Rollins.
As she pulled out onto the dusty road and picked up speed, movement caught her eye out her side window. Shawn stumbled off the back of the ambulance, shoving past the paramedic as he ran, his legs barely steady beneath him. He looked wild, desperate, and before she could process it, he was sprinting straight at her car.
She slammed on the brakes, tires kicking up a dust cloud in front of her. The car lurched to a stop just as Shawn's hands slammed on the bonnet. They locked eyes for a moment, both breathing heavily but for very different reasons.
Adrenaline surged as she climbed out of the car, half from the shock of almost hitting him, half from the sight of him, pale and trembling. "I could have killed you, Shawn!" she shouted, though her anger was mostly masking the fear still gnawing at her insides.
"Injured at most," he replied, sounding unconcerned. But Shawn's legs shook as he pushed off the car, and his hands came back to lean on the bonnet for balance. Juliet could see the effort it took just to stand there and speak.
"Shawn! Running out in front of a car after you've just—"
"I have a name," he cut her off, his eyes suddenly sharper, more focused than they had been since they'd arrived at the gas station. "Bear...and."
Juliet closed her eyes for a moment, her frustration rising. She thought he was about to tell her something useful, but clearly, he was still confused. "Shawn, you need to go back to the ambulance."
"Rollins and Longmore kept talking to a bear when I was unconscious," Shawn insisted, his voice stronger now, as if the words were giving him energy. "At first, I thought they were planning a hunting trip, but then it clicked. 'Bear…and.' It wasn't a bear. It was Bernard."
"Bernard?" Juliet frowned, still not following.
"Bernard Chatman," Shawn said, as if it was obvious. "He's in Rollins' file. They were talking to him. I misheard because of, you know, the tire iron to the head."
"Bernard Chatman," Juliet repeated, trying to recall the name. "You're sure he's the third man?"
Shawn gave her an incredulous look. "He's from Colorado. I bet he or someone he knows owns a cabin in the Rocky Mountains." He swayed slightly as he spoke, the pale look returning to his face, but there was a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"I'll call it in." Juliet pulled out her radio as one of the paramedics came running over. "But you need to get back to the ambulance."
"I can come with you!" Shawn protested, though his legs wobbled dangerously beneath him. The paramedic quickly caught him before he fell.
"Shawn." Juliet placed a hand on his shoulder, her tone softening as she met his gaze. "You've done enough. Let us take it from here, okay?"
Shawn stared at her for a long moment, her face conflicted. "Will you call? When you find him?"
Juliet knew how hard it must be for him, knowing one of the men who'd kidnapped him was still out there. She'd felt that same weight after Yin—always watching over her shoulder, wondering if he'd come for her. "I'll call," she promised. "But only if you go back to the ambulance and let them check you out properly."
Shawn's grin returned as the paramedic led him away. But just as he was being steered back, he turned around one last time. "Jules?"
Her hand hovered over the radio.
"Stay safe, okay?" His voice was soft, but the sincerity in it made her heart ache. "I got the sense that this Chatman is dangerous. More than Longmore or Rollins ever were."
Juliet nodded, her chest tightening with the urge to wrap him in a hug like she would have only two weeks ago. But instead, she pressed the radio button and forced herself to focus on the job ahead.
It had taken hours of paperwork and calls from Chief Vick to secure the interstate warrant. Now, the wind cut sharply against Juliet's face as she climbed the narrow, rocky path. Her lungs burned, the thin air of the Colorado mountains making each breath feel like a struggle. A team of officers from the SBPD and Colorado State Police followed closely behind, their boots crunching against the dirt and snow that clung stubbornly to the higher elevations.
It was strange not having Lassiter by her side. He'd be disappointed to miss a case like this. Instead she was paired with unfamiliar faces in an unfamiliar place. And none of that mattered because all she could think about was Shawn.
Shawn had been right. Again.
Chatman did own a cabin in the mountains. He'd somehow sensed that Chatman was more dangerous than Rollins even though he wasn't really psychic. When Juliet had seen Chatman's criminal record she'd been shocked. There were several violent murders he was suspected of, but somehow the charges never seemed to stick. Shawn couldn't have know that—he hadn't known more than his name. But somehow, he had.
She shook the thought away, wiping the sweat from her forehead despite the cold. This wasn't the time to think about Shawn. Right now, her focus had to be on the cabin that lay just ahead, hidden in the treacherous mountains where Rollins might be hiding.
Juliet glanced up at the cabin perched on the rocky hillside, barely visible through the thickening fog. It was a perfect hideout—isolated and hard to reach.
Her hand rested instinctively on the gun at her hip as they approached the door. The other officers were on high alert, moving in with their weapons drawn, but Juliet signaled for them to hold back. "Stay behind me, we don't know what we're walking into."
She wasn't sure why, but something about the silence around the cabin unnerved her. The air was still, too still, and the usual sounds of the wilderness—the wind in the trees, the distant call of birds—were eerily absent.
Juliet pushed open the door slowly, wincing at the creak of the old wood. The cabin's interior was dimly lit, light filtering through dirty windows. The air was thick with the musty smell of old wood and mildew, and dust particles floated in the pale beams of sunlight.
The first thing she noticed was the overturned chair in the center of the room. Next, scattered papers on the floor, as if someone had been rifling through them in a hurry.
But it wasn't until she saw the body slumped against the far wall that her heart lurched in her chest.
"Jesus." One of the Colorado officers came up behind her. "Isn't that the guy we're looking for?"
Juliet nodded grimly. "Rollins."
His face was frozen in a twisted grimace, his hands still clutching his stomach where a dark, drying pool of blood stained his shirt, surrounding the handle of a hunting knife. A clean shot to the head, execution style like Chatman's other alleged killings, had ended whatever pitiful struggle Rollins had tried to put up.
Juliet's breath caught in her throat as the sight of his lifeless body sent a chill crawling down her spine. "Spread out," she instructed the officers. "Check the rest of the cabin for any clues on Chatman's whereabouts."
She stepped closer to the body, careful not to disturb the scene. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the clues scattered around. Her gaze fell on a stack of papers near the fireplace. Newspaper clippings, several of them featuring the armoured truck trial that Shawn had testified against Rollins at. She crouched down, her fingers trembling slightly as she flipped through the articles.
One headline jumped out at her: "Psychic Detective, son of Ex-Santa Barbara Police Officer Testifies." Beneath it was a grainy photo of Shawn and Henry walking down the steps of the courthouse. Shawn's head was ducked down and Henry's arm was around his shoulders, guiding him through the crowd. Juliet hadn't gone to the trial but Lassiter had looked grim for days afterwards.
She flipped through the papers again, and spotted a photograph. It was of MacQuarrie—the man Shawn referred to as Longmore. He stood next to a red haired woman, holding her hand. Her face had been circled in red marker. Maureen, Juliet remembered. She'd disappeared before the trial even began.
Unnerved, Juliet stood up, then motioned for the other officers to process the scene. She radioed through what they'd found, then scanned the cabin again.
Why would Rollins or Chatman have been interested in Maureen? It didn't make sense. And the article about Shawn made her stomach tighten. She hadn't thought Rollins would go near Shawn because it would have been too big a risk. Chatman had no idea they were onto him though. If he thought Shawn knew something he might go after him.
Realization dawned on her. What if Chatman had helped Rollins escape, thinking he could lead him to Maureen? But when Rollins failed, Chatman killed him. Now, if Chatman thought Shawn was really psychic, he might believe Shawn could find Maureen.
Juliet's heart raced. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Shawn's number. He was in danger, and she was miles away.
