I need to post this, just as counteraction of today's other post.

When Shawn was sixteen, he decided he hated his father.

It wasn't a decision he came to lightly. For years, he'd sat comfortably in the knowledge that his father was his hero - was just a hero, period. He was a cop, a person and profession Shawn had always known was the best, the ( Read more... )

Then, though, a firm hand caught his elbow, and he turned his head to see Spencer leaning toward him. In the light from the lamp on the tiny bedside table, his skin fairly glowed. He'd put on a tiny smile, tugging at Lassiter's arm. He looked… perfect, Lassiter thought with an odd sense of vertigo - warm and healthy and inviting, as though there ( Read more... )

"I'll do it," he said. He felt almost detached as he watched Spencer's expression morph from its cool bitterness to shock.

"What?"

"If you need to - I mean, if you still want to…" He couldn't actually bring himself to say it, not with all of Spencer's shocking attention suddenly focused on him. "I'll do it."

Spencer shook his head. "I don't ( Read more... )

Lassiter remained at the station for two more hours. The Chief had to call the district attorney and present the bizarre circumstances of McKinney's confession. They argued back and forth for a solid hour and a half before the DA would concede that a kiss couldn't count as coercion, so the confession would likely hold up in court. Upon Chief ( Read more... )

Previous Part

The following afternoon found Lassiter sitting bolt upright at his desk, in stubborn defiance of the overwhelming exhaustion which had overtaken him during the case. He glared at his computer screen, wishing the cool blue background of the Word document could somehow wipe the angry, blackened thoughts from his mind.

Against his ( Read more... )

Previous Chapter

Saturday dawned bright and breezy, all hint of cloud cover driven from the overly blue sky. Lassiter pulled into the St. Francis visitor's lot and sat for a few minutes, the engine turned off. Santa Barbara citizens (or Barbarians, as he'd heard Spencer refer to them on occasion) trickled in and out of the glass-fronted entrance. ( Read more... )

God, I love writing. It's so fun. You get to create whole worlds, even if you're stealing someone else's. Man.

All right, so, I felt bad for leaving the story that way. It was totally evil, I'll admit. (Doesn't mean I didn't have fun with it, though.)

Here's the next bit. And, by the way, Annie's Homegrown Honey Bunnies cereal is strange.

( Chapter Three )

Previous Part

Lassiter spent the next several days on continuing research. As other, smaller cases came up, his team of detectives was filtered down, until he had just three as full time assistants: O'Hara, Jackson, and Martinez. The week was almost out and there hadn't been another body; he didn't know whether to count that as a minor victory or ( Read more... )

The Third Law

Santa Barbara, CA

April 1984

Shawn Spencer sat sullenly under his father's eye; his ankles crossing and uncrossing under the rough bench. His eyes were closed.

"This isn't a game, Shawn."

"I know, Dad."

Outfitted in full police regalia, Henry Spencer glared down at the tousled brown head, arms crossed. Shawn was ( Read more... )