Fic: She's Not Heavy, She's My Daughter (Shawn/Juliet) R (1/?)
Title: "She’s Not Heavy, She’s My Daughter" (1/?)
Author: em2mb
Pairing/Character: Shawn/Juliet, ensemble.
Word Count: 4,113
Rating: R
Summary: “Everything, Shawn? Juliet knows everything about you? She knows you slip out every night and sleep on the couch because you’re too chicken to tell her she kicks in her sleep and a double bed isn’t big enough for both of you?” When a woman from Shawn’s past shows up on Woody’s autopsy table, the reason he came back to Santa Barbara threatens to unravel everything he’s worked for in the last six years.
Spoilers: Through 6x09, “Neil Simon’s Lover’s Retreat.”
Disclaimers: Not mine, mostly because I can’t be trusted with them, as evidenced below.
Author's Notes: I need a new fandom about like I need a hole in the head. Special thanks to lazaefair for being the Gus to my Shawn. Or something.
Newport News, 2001
Shawn’s palms were sweating as he dialed the number he’d gotten from Pete, an old cop buddy of his dad’s. The former detective had lived in San Antonio for years - long enough he hadn’t been around to watch the decline of Shawn’s relationship with his old man - and had rattled off Henry’s digits without a second thought.
“Spencer.”
His father’s voice was as gruff as he’d remembered it. Are you really doing this? Are you really calling the man you swore you’d never become for advice on being a father? Shawn coughed. “D-dad, it’s me.”
“Who?” Henry barked.
Let’s try this again. Shawn cleared his throat. “It’s your son. It’s Shawn.”
There was a pregnant pause. “I don’t have a son,” said Henry. “Don’t call this number again.” He slammed the phone so hard Shawn heard it bounce off the receiver before the line clicked off.
Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, his palm on his forehead. “That went well,” he whispered.
*
Santa Barbara, 2011
“Shawn, I’m not seeing it,” Juliet said, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she picked up a rotting banana peel from her boyfriend’s desk and tossed it in the garbage. She shifted her cell phone to her shoulder so she could flip through a stack of papers. No flash drive. “Tell me where you think it is again?”
“I don’t think, Jules, I know. The spirits are telling me all of our notes are on that flash drive, right next to my lamp.”
She rolled her eyes, beginning to open and close desk drawers. “Shawn, the only thing that’s next to your lamp is a half-empty cartoon of Chinese food that’s making the office smell like the alley behind Mama Garden.”
“Sweet and sour chicken or moo shu pork?” He was unwrapping something on his end of the line. She heard the tell-tale crinkling of a pack of gum. “Because - ”
“Whatever you were going to say, just don’t. When did you say you and Gus would be back?”
“Hard to say, Jules. These things take time.”
“You’ve been gone for three days already. Is it going to be like this with Gus every time we try to spend a few days alone?”
“Again, Jules, it’s hard to say,” he said, snapping his gum.
“I hate it when you chew gum in my ear, Shawn.”
“Sorry,” he said. There was more rustling on his end of the phone. “On second thought, I’ll be home tonight.”
“Because I reprimanded you for snapping your gum?”
“No, because the flash drive is in my pocket.”
“Shawn, you know I need those for court tomorrow!”
“Hence why I’ll be home tonight. What time do you get off?”
Juliet sighed and glanced at her watch. “Six.”
“But you’ll stay late - so I’ll come by about seven. Dinner in?”
“You’re not staying over.”
“I am so staying over.” She could practically hear him grinning. “Tell you what, I’ll throw in one of my famous Spencer back massages free of charge.”
Now she was smiling, too, in spite of herself. “Good-bye, Shawn.”
“Bye, Jules.”
Juliet ended the call. How’s that for my best supportive girlfriend? In reality, she was a little annoyed with him. Not only had he taken off with Gus the day after they’d gotten back from Ojai, but he’d lied about having a case. He’d come clean the night before, admitting he and Gus just needed some male bonding time.
Unfortunately, what Juliet needed was that flash drive of notes from an electronic tampering case they had worked before turning it over to the SBPD - and apparently, it was with Shawn, wherever he was.
She glanced around the Psych office one last time, dumping the rotting Chinese food in the trash with the banana peel. The blinds were closed, but sunlight still streamed in from two crooked slats Shawn had broken while tossing around a football. She sighed again. She’d come by hoping to have lunch with her boyfriend, not a date with the detritus on his desk.
The ring of the office phone startled Juliet. For a split second, she started to reach for it before realizing it wasn’t her call to take. She headed for the door as the machine clicked on.
“You’ve reached Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. You know what to do.”
“S-Shawn? Listen, it’s Sara. I know it’s been - well, a while, but I was hoping to see you. I’m in town, in Santa Barbara. Just - call me, will you? You know the number. Please, Shawn. I really need to - it’s important.”
Juliet stopped. She turned and walked back toward Shawn’s desk. Four new messages. She hit play.
“Shawn, where the hell are you? You told me you’d come over and help me with the - ”
Next.
“Hey, Shawn, it’s Buzz. Francine and I just wanted to invite - ”
Next.
“Shawn, it’s me, I tried your cell, but I really need that jump - ”
Next.
“S-Shawn? Listen, it’s Sara. I know it’s been - well, a while, but I was hoping to see you. I’m in town, in Santa Barbara. Just - call me, will you? You know the number. Please, Shawn. I really need to - it’s important.”
Juliet played the message once, then a second time. She listened to the female caller’s voice hitch, then hesitate. How long had it been? If it had been so long, why would Shawn still know her number?
One more time, O’Hara. Then you’re going to get on with your life.
“S-Shawn? Listen, it’s Sara. I know it’s been - well, a while, but I was hoping to see you. I’m in town, in Santa Barbara. Just - call me, will you? You know the number. Please, Shawn. I really need to - it’s important.”
She was being silly, of course. Shawn had always been forthcoming about the girls that had come before her. “But none of them matter now,” he’d say, his voice husky as he kissed her nose. For the life of her, Juliet couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned a Sara.
A Sara who was, apparently, now in Santa Barbara.
“Chill, O’Hara,” Juliet said, surprised to hear her own voice ring out in the still office. She took a deep breath. Now she just needed to figure out how to reset Shawn’s machine so he didn’t know she’d gone temporarily crazy jealous girlfriend insane.
(Though, knowing Shawn, he’d probably find that hot.)
Juliet hit the back button.
“Message erased,” said the automated voice.
Oops.
*
“Gus, I don’t know what you want me to say,” said Shawn, throwing his overnight bag down in the middle of the Psych office. He collapsed in his chair and swung his legs up on the desk. “I’ve spent the last three days trying to make it up to you. It’s not my fault you refused to go to our racquetball lesson.”
Gus glared at him as he sorted through three days of mail. “You didn’t pack my helmet, Shawn. You know I won’t wear their helmets. They pinch my ears.”
“The couple’s massage?”
“Dude was six-foot-one, Shawn, he wasn’t laying a hand on me.”
“I was trying to make sure you got the girl this time! What kind of a dude is named Jayne, anyway? Come to think of it, who names their pretty, blond daughter Ryan? Hands like a goddess, that one … ”
“Does Juliet know you talk about other women like that?”
“I was talking about the knot she worked out in my back, Gus, why do you have to make everything dirty?”
“Did you check to see if there were any messages?” Gus asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Shawn hit the playback button on the machine. “You have no messages,” said the automated voice. He shrugged. “Guess not.”
“I heard the machine, Shawn.” Gus didn’t even look up from the mail.
Shawn couldn’t take it anymore. He swung his legs off his desk and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Why are you being like this? You’ve been pissed at me since I said we had to come back a day early because Juliet needed one of our case files for court tomorrow. In fact, you’ve been pissed all week. What did I even do? I’m sorry I put my vacation with Juliet on your credit card. I already said I’d pay you back.”
“Shawn, since when have I actually cared about money? I stopped counting what you owed me years ago,” said Gus, though he still would not make eye contact.
“Not true. You keep a running total in a ledger book in your desk, third drawer on the left. You’re off, by the way. I borrowed five bucks from you last week because I didn’t have any change to tip the pizza delivery guy. Seriously, man, what gives?”
“What gives? Do you really want to do this, Shawn?”
“Yes! I’ve wanted to do this all week! That’s why I let you take me away for a few days!”
“You let me take you away for a few days? It was your idea to get out of town!”
“Because you were all weird about me wanting to spend a few days alone with Jules! Oh God, that’s it, isn’t it? You don’t like her, do you?”
“I like Juliet just fine.” Gus leaned over and unzipped his backpack.
The next thing Shawn knew, his missing Nintendo DS had sailed through the air and landed in his hands with a tell-tale rattle. It took every ounce of willpower he could muster not to tear the back off right there and check for the ring. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“The hotel concierge found it in the trash,” said Gus. He was now going through the bills with his checkbook, just like he did on the first Wednesday of every month. “Go ahead, open it. See for yourself that the ring’s OK.”
Shawn almost cut his finger prying the little plastic door off the back of the handheld gaming device. Sure enough, the ring was right where he’d left it. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”
“I don’t know, Shawn. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to ask Juliet to marry you?”
“I did! I tried to, remember? I said we needed to talk!”
But Gus was shaking his head. He threw down his pen. “You were going to do it. You were actually serious.”
Shawn squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“You have a ring, Shawn!”
“I’ve had it for months, actually.”
“For months?”
“OK, maybe not months. But for a few weeks now, sure. I just - I saw the right ring, and I figured, why not?”
“Where were you that you just so happened to see the right ring, Shawn?”
Shawn avoided making eye contact with his best friend. “At - at the place where the rings live. I went to a jewelry store, OK?”
“Oh my God, you went ring shopping. You went ring shopping without me. You were going to ask her to marry you, and you weren’t even going to tell me. Unbelievable, Shawn. Just unbelievable. You must be outta your damn mind.”
“Is that what this is about? The fact that I didn’t tell you? Well, I’m telling you now she’s not interested. So you don’t have to worry anymore, buddy. She’s not coming between us.” Shawn tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he snapped the plastic lid back into place and chucked the entire unit, ring and all, into the top drawer of his desk. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this,” he added under his breath.
Gus heard him. “I don’t know why you aren’t! Last Month Shawn didn’t even want to move in with Juliet, and Last Weekend Shawn asked her to marry him?”
“I didn’t ask her,” said Shawn, hurt. “I didn’t get a chance. We were robbed, remember?”
“Then how do you know she’s not interested?” Gus narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“She told me she wasn’t. I mean, she didn’t say never. She just doesn’t seem to think we’re ready.”
“And you do?”
“I don’t know, man.” Shawn looked desperately at the clock on the wall above Gus’s head. He could try to duck out now, but Gus knew he wasn’t meeting Juliet for another half hour. Besides, he’d probably just bring it up again in the morning, when Shawn wouldn’t want to talk about it any more than he did right now. “I love her. I’ve loved her for years. She knows everything about me. Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life with her?”
But Gus had stopped listening. “Everything, Shawn? Juliet knows everything about you? She knows you slip out every night and sleep on the couch because you’re too chicken to tell her she kicks in her sleep and a double bed isn’t big enough for both of you?”
“Well, maybe not everything - ”
“Does she know about Chicago, Shawn?” Gus interrupted.
“No! Of course she doesn’t know about Chicago, you’re the only one that knows about Chicago.”
“It’s never come up once, why you came back to Santa Barbara?”
“Gus, please, you know I hate talking about it. Why’d you have to go there?” Shawn whined. Don’t say it. Don’t bring it up. Please, Gus, just don’t say her name.
“Because this is insane, Shawn! You were going to ask Juliet to marry you, yet you can’t even come clean about Addy?”
“Dammit, Gus,” Shawn swore. He’d gone there. His best friend - no, make that alleged best friend - had really gone there. “And what would be the point? I haven’t seen Addy in six years. Do you really think Sara is going to call tomorrow and invite me magically back into their lives? I don’t think so.”
“You have a kid, Shawn. That’s a pretty big thing to just gloss over.”
“No, Gus, I don’t have a kid. Sara’s made that much abundantly clear. I’m nothing more than a wallet to her - or to Addy, for that matter.”
“Fine, then how are you going to explain to your wife where you send half your paycheck every month?”
“Dude, that’s easy. I’m paying you back for the last 35 years.”
“I’m never going to see any of that money, am I?”
“Not a dime.” Shawn ran a hand through his hair. “Now can this conversation be over?” Because you know how incredibly painful it is for me to talk about, he added silently. “Please?”
For a second, Gus almost looked guilty. For a second. “I’m sorry, man. I know you’d still be a part of her life if you could.”
“That’s not not talking about it,” said Shawn sullenly. “Listen - ”
“Right, you need to meet Juliet. I’ll be in tomorrow, after my route.”
Shawn was already headed for the door. “I’ll be in tomorrow after I sleep off the coil in her couch that always pokes me in kidneys,” he called over his shoulder.
“You could start by telling her about the kicking!” Gus hollered as he finished paying the water bill online. Before he left, he added “November child support” as a deduction in Shawn’s checkbook - it drove him nuts that his friend still couldn’t figure out how to balance the thing himself - and made a mental note to have the ring appraised so it could be added to the renter’s insurance.
*
Juliet opened one eye slowly. Sunlight poured through the window of her apartment, casting rays on the empty pillow next to her. “Shawn?”
“Morning, beautiful.” He was standing in the door frame, already dressed in the clothes he’d worn over the night before and holding two cups of coffee from the bakery down the block. Under the covers, Juliet folded her legs to make room for him. He kissed her on the nose as he passed her the steaming latte and settled on the edge of the bed.
“Mmm,” she said, closing her hands around the warm beverage and sipping through a layer of cinnamon and foam. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to eight.”
Juliet sighed. “I’m supposed to be at the courthouse in an hour,” she said, sliding out of bed, a blush rising to her cheeks as Shawn eyed the thin camisole and shorts she slept in, a suggestive smile on his face. She picked up her towel and snapped it at him.
“What, a guy can’t enjoy the show?” he asked, scrambling to his feet to keep from spilling his coffee on her bed.
“If you had told me before we started dating that Shawn Spencer was a morning person, I never would have believed it,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Just wait until you see the donuts I left on your kitchen table. You’re welcome.”
Juliet heard the front door click shut, followed by the engine of Shawn’s motorcycle firing up outside her window. She padded into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a box from Bobo’s Donuts on the counter. Inside, Shawn had left a Post-It with the words, “Have a bear-y nice day!” next to her bear claw. She would have been content to keep standing there, popping little bits of apple pie filling goodness into her mouth and appreciating what was clearly Shawn trying to apologize for taking off with Gus, had her cell phone not started trilling in the next room.
“O’Hara,” she answered, a bit out of breath after catching it on the last ring.
It was Chief Vick. “Good, you’re up. Listen, I just got a call from the prosecutor. Morris’s lawyer cut a deal. I’m not going to need you and Lassiter to testify. But I do need you down at the morgue. Body dump on the beach this morning. A couple of fishermen found her - young woman in her late 20s.”
“Of course, Chief,” Juliet said, dropping the half-eaten donut on her dresser, beginning to rifle through her closet for something to wear. “Cause of death?”
“Looks like a stabbing,” the chief said. She must have been at home - Iris’s chatter was audible in the background. “Listen, O’Hara - I’m going to go ahead and call in Psych. It’s close enough to the boardwalk that they’ll catch wind of it in no time, and besides, we’re looking at a pretty brutal crime. It’s all hands on deck for this one.”
*
“Well, your girl had a record,” Woody the corner said, tearing into a licorice whip with his teeth as he handed Lassiter a file over the dead woman’s body. “Got a hit off her prints. Sara Ramirez, 28, originally from Thousand Oaks. Arrested twice in 1999 and again in 2000, but those records are sealed. Mickey Mouse stuff. She never served time.”
“She’s from Thousand Oaks?” said Juliet, peering down at the young woman’s face peeking out of the body bag. She had the pinched, unhealthy appearance of someone who had lost a lot of weight in a short period of time and looked much older than 28. She certainly didn’t look like she’d spent much time in the posh municipality recently.
Lassiter skimmed the cover sheet. “Her parents reported her missing later that year. Teenage runaway. What else can you tell us?”
Juliet glanced at the door as Woody unzipped the body bag the rest of the way. “Shouldn’t we wait for Shawn and Gus?”
Lassiter arched an eyebrow. “You heard the woman. Quick, before the Bureau of Spellcasting and Magic arrives.” Juliet glared at him.
Woody sucked in the last of the licorice whip and cleared his throat, peeling back the young woman’s bloodstained clothes. He gestured to the deep slashes in her torso. “Nasty job, this one. Stabbed to death, obviously. I counted at least 13 entrance wounds during my preliminary report, but I’ll have to open her up and confirm. It’s a messy job, for sure. Oddly, very few defensive wounds. I’ll swab under her fingernails, but I don’t think we’ll find any DNA. I put time of death around 4 a.m.”
Juliet felt her stomach lurch. She didn’t often feel sick during autopsies, but there was something pitiable about Sara Ramirez. “Any signs of sexual assault?”
Woody shook his head. “Pelvis indicates she’s given birth, though. See these stretch marks here?” He pushed back the waistband of the woman’s jeans several inches. Juliet wrinkled her nose while Lassiter’s eyes remained focused on a fixed point somewhere above Woody’s shoulder. “Kid’s probably older, at least eight or nine. Usually when you see scarring like that it’s someone who gave birth as a teenager.”
“So we could be looking for a kid?”
“Possibly. I think your victim just arrived back in the area. I found a couple of baggage claim stubs in her pockets,” said Woody, gesturing at the counter. “They’re from the day before yesterday.”
Juliet beat Lassiter to them. “ORD … that’s Chicago, isn’t it?”
“Let me see those,” said Lassiter, swiping the evidence bag from her hand. “No names, but see? The reservation numbers are different. Two different bookings. She was traveling with someone.”
“I was about to say that,” said Juliet through gritted teeth, trying in vain to grab the claim stubs back from Lassiter. “Did you find anything else in her pockets, Woody?”
“Motel key,” he called, his voice muffled because he was rooting around in one of the body bays. He emerged holding a cartoon of Chinese food. “I think I set it … here.” He triumphantly laid his hands on the evidence bag and handed it to Juliet.
Lassiter glowered as she held it up to the light. It was an old-fashioned key card, the plastic kind with the punches. “No markings,” she said finally. Lassiter tried to tug it away from her, but Juliet’s grip remained steady. They were so busy scuffling over the contents of the victim’s pockets they missed the knock at the door.
“Never fear, mere mortals, your connection to the spiritual realm has arrived,” Shawn said, sweeping his arms and smacking Lassiter in the chest. The head detective retaliated by swatting at him with the evidence bag.
“Get off me, Spencer,” Lassiter growled. Shawn winked at Juliet.
“Shawn! Gus!” said Woody brightly through a mouthful of Chinese food. “Chicken chow mein?” he offered, extending the carton over the body. A strand of vermicelli slipped from his chopstick and landed with a splat on the cart.
“No thanks, Woody, no sweet ‘n formaldehyde chicken for me. Gus is making me cut back. My levels of embalming fluid were sky high last month.” Shawn clapped his hands together. “So what do we have - ”
He broke off. No. No way. This isn’t happening.
Shawn spun around and groped blindly for support as the bile rose in his throat, colliding with Gus and clinging to his friend’s arm for dear life.
•
Chicago, 2001
“Excuse me.”
The girl pushed past Shawn and his buddy Charlie so quickly all Shawn saw was swinging auburn curls and sashaying hips as she bellied up to the bar.
Shawn whistled. “Yo quiero senorita,” he said under his breath.
Charlie laughed. “Her,” he said, giving Shawn a push forward.
“Her? But she’s like - like a Hispanic goddess. You can’t hit on a girl like that with a bad pick-up line, no way.”
“Well, you better find someone else to go home with then because I’m going home with her,” said Charlie, pointing to a stacked blond that had just walked into the club. Shawn sighed as his friend disappeared into the crowd. He glanced back at the girl, who glanced down at her drink very suddenly. Was it possible? Had she been checking him out? He took a deep breath and started toward the bar.
Under the light from the neon Budweiser sign overhead, Shawn could see that her auburn curls were really honey brown streaked with red dye. Still, that ass. Shawn tapped her shoulder and prepared to be shot down.
“You know what would look good in your pants?”
The girl arched her eyebrow and pointed over Shawn’s left shoulder. “That guy?”
Shawn turned his head in the direction of a handsome, muscular man who was now threatening Charlie for hitting on his date. “My God, I think he’s an underwear model.” The girl laughed. “I’m Shawn, by the way.”
“I’m Sara.”
“Can I buy you a drink, Sara?”
Shawn held his breath. Slowly, the corners of Sara’s mouth turned upward in a smile. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Chapter Two
Author: em2mb
Pairing/Character: Shawn/Juliet, ensemble.
Word Count: 4,113
Rating: R
Summary: “Everything, Shawn? Juliet knows everything about you? She knows you slip out every night and sleep on the couch because you’re too chicken to tell her she kicks in her sleep and a double bed isn’t big enough for both of you?” When a woman from Shawn’s past shows up on Woody’s autopsy table, the reason he came back to Santa Barbara threatens to unravel everything he’s worked for in the last six years.
Spoilers: Through 6x09, “Neil Simon’s Lover’s Retreat.”
Disclaimers: Not mine, mostly because I can’t be trusted with them, as evidenced below.
Author's Notes: I need a new fandom about like I need a hole in the head. Special thanks to lazaefair for being the Gus to my Shawn. Or something.
Newport News, 2001
Shawn’s palms were sweating as he dialed the number he’d gotten from Pete, an old cop buddy of his dad’s. The former detective had lived in San Antonio for years - long enough he hadn’t been around to watch the decline of Shawn’s relationship with his old man - and had rattled off Henry’s digits without a second thought.
“Spencer.”
His father’s voice was as gruff as he’d remembered it. Are you really doing this? Are you really calling the man you swore you’d never become for advice on being a father? Shawn coughed. “D-dad, it’s me.”
“Who?” Henry barked.
Let’s try this again. Shawn cleared his throat. “It’s your son. It’s Shawn.”
There was a pregnant pause. “I don’t have a son,” said Henry. “Don’t call this number again.” He slammed the phone so hard Shawn heard it bounce off the receiver before the line clicked off.
Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, his palm on his forehead. “That went well,” he whispered.
*
Santa Barbara, 2011
“Shawn, I’m not seeing it,” Juliet said, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she picked up a rotting banana peel from her boyfriend’s desk and tossed it in the garbage. She shifted her cell phone to her shoulder so she could flip through a stack of papers. No flash drive. “Tell me where you think it is again?”
“I don’t think, Jules, I know. The spirits are telling me all of our notes are on that flash drive, right next to my lamp.”
She rolled her eyes, beginning to open and close desk drawers. “Shawn, the only thing that’s next to your lamp is a half-empty cartoon of Chinese food that’s making the office smell like the alley behind Mama Garden.”
“Sweet and sour chicken or moo shu pork?” He was unwrapping something on his end of the line. She heard the tell-tale crinkling of a pack of gum. “Because - ”
“Whatever you were going to say, just don’t. When did you say you and Gus would be back?”
“Hard to say, Jules. These things take time.”
“You’ve been gone for three days already. Is it going to be like this with Gus every time we try to spend a few days alone?”
“Again, Jules, it’s hard to say,” he said, snapping his gum.
“I hate it when you chew gum in my ear, Shawn.”
“Sorry,” he said. There was more rustling on his end of the phone. “On second thought, I’ll be home tonight.”
“Because I reprimanded you for snapping your gum?”
“No, because the flash drive is in my pocket.”
“Shawn, you know I need those for court tomorrow!”
“Hence why I’ll be home tonight. What time do you get off?”
Juliet sighed and glanced at her watch. “Six.”
“But you’ll stay late - so I’ll come by about seven. Dinner in?”
“You’re not staying over.”
“I am so staying over.” She could practically hear him grinning. “Tell you what, I’ll throw in one of my famous Spencer back massages free of charge.”
Now she was smiling, too, in spite of herself. “Good-bye, Shawn.”
“Bye, Jules.”
Juliet ended the call. How’s that for my best supportive girlfriend? In reality, she was a little annoyed with him. Not only had he taken off with Gus the day after they’d gotten back from Ojai, but he’d lied about having a case. He’d come clean the night before, admitting he and Gus just needed some male bonding time.
Unfortunately, what Juliet needed was that flash drive of notes from an electronic tampering case they had worked before turning it over to the SBPD - and apparently, it was with Shawn, wherever he was.
She glanced around the Psych office one last time, dumping the rotting Chinese food in the trash with the banana peel. The blinds were closed, but sunlight still streamed in from two crooked slats Shawn had broken while tossing around a football. She sighed again. She’d come by hoping to have lunch with her boyfriend, not a date with the detritus on his desk.
The ring of the office phone startled Juliet. For a split second, she started to reach for it before realizing it wasn’t her call to take. She headed for the door as the machine clicked on.
“You’ve reached Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. You know what to do.”
“S-Shawn? Listen, it’s Sara. I know it’s been - well, a while, but I was hoping to see you. I’m in town, in Santa Barbara. Just - call me, will you? You know the number. Please, Shawn. I really need to - it’s important.”
Juliet stopped. She turned and walked back toward Shawn’s desk. Four new messages. She hit play.
“Shawn, where the hell are you? You told me you’d come over and help me with the - ”
Next.
“Hey, Shawn, it’s Buzz. Francine and I just wanted to invite - ”
Next.
“Shawn, it’s me, I tried your cell, but I really need that jump - ”
Next.
“S-Shawn? Listen, it’s Sara. I know it’s been - well, a while, but I was hoping to see you. I’m in town, in Santa Barbara. Just - call me, will you? You know the number. Please, Shawn. I really need to - it’s important.”
Juliet played the message once, then a second time. She listened to the female caller’s voice hitch, then hesitate. How long had it been? If it had been so long, why would Shawn still know her number?
One more time, O’Hara. Then you’re going to get on with your life.
“S-Shawn? Listen, it’s Sara. I know it’s been - well, a while, but I was hoping to see you. I’m in town, in Santa Barbara. Just - call me, will you? You know the number. Please, Shawn. I really need to - it’s important.”
She was being silly, of course. Shawn had always been forthcoming about the girls that had come before her. “But none of them matter now,” he’d say, his voice husky as he kissed her nose. For the life of her, Juliet couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned a Sara.
A Sara who was, apparently, now in Santa Barbara.
“Chill, O’Hara,” Juliet said, surprised to hear her own voice ring out in the still office. She took a deep breath. Now she just needed to figure out how to reset Shawn’s machine so he didn’t know she’d gone temporarily crazy jealous girlfriend insane.
(Though, knowing Shawn, he’d probably find that hot.)
Juliet hit the back button.
“Message erased,” said the automated voice.
Oops.
*
“Gus, I don’t know what you want me to say,” said Shawn, throwing his overnight bag down in the middle of the Psych office. He collapsed in his chair and swung his legs up on the desk. “I’ve spent the last three days trying to make it up to you. It’s not my fault you refused to go to our racquetball lesson.”
Gus glared at him as he sorted through three days of mail. “You didn’t pack my helmet, Shawn. You know I won’t wear their helmets. They pinch my ears.”
“The couple’s massage?”
“Dude was six-foot-one, Shawn, he wasn’t laying a hand on me.”
“I was trying to make sure you got the girl this time! What kind of a dude is named Jayne, anyway? Come to think of it, who names their pretty, blond daughter Ryan? Hands like a goddess, that one … ”
“Does Juliet know you talk about other women like that?”
“I was talking about the knot she worked out in my back, Gus, why do you have to make everything dirty?”
“Did you check to see if there were any messages?” Gus asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Shawn hit the playback button on the machine. “You have no messages,” said the automated voice. He shrugged. “Guess not.”
“I heard the machine, Shawn.” Gus didn’t even look up from the mail.
Shawn couldn’t take it anymore. He swung his legs off his desk and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Why are you being like this? You’ve been pissed at me since I said we had to come back a day early because Juliet needed one of our case files for court tomorrow. In fact, you’ve been pissed all week. What did I even do? I’m sorry I put my vacation with Juliet on your credit card. I already said I’d pay you back.”
“Shawn, since when have I actually cared about money? I stopped counting what you owed me years ago,” said Gus, though he still would not make eye contact.
“Not true. You keep a running total in a ledger book in your desk, third drawer on the left. You’re off, by the way. I borrowed five bucks from you last week because I didn’t have any change to tip the pizza delivery guy. Seriously, man, what gives?”
“What gives? Do you really want to do this, Shawn?”
“Yes! I’ve wanted to do this all week! That’s why I let you take me away for a few days!”
“You let me take you away for a few days? It was your idea to get out of town!”
“Because you were all weird about me wanting to spend a few days alone with Jules! Oh God, that’s it, isn’t it? You don’t like her, do you?”
“I like Juliet just fine.” Gus leaned over and unzipped his backpack.
The next thing Shawn knew, his missing Nintendo DS had sailed through the air and landed in his hands with a tell-tale rattle. It took every ounce of willpower he could muster not to tear the back off right there and check for the ring. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“The hotel concierge found it in the trash,” said Gus. He was now going through the bills with his checkbook, just like he did on the first Wednesday of every month. “Go ahead, open it. See for yourself that the ring’s OK.”
Shawn almost cut his finger prying the little plastic door off the back of the handheld gaming device. Sure enough, the ring was right where he’d left it. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”
“I don’t know, Shawn. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to ask Juliet to marry you?”
“I did! I tried to, remember? I said we needed to talk!”
But Gus was shaking his head. He threw down his pen. “You were going to do it. You were actually serious.”
Shawn squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“You have a ring, Shawn!”
“I’ve had it for months, actually.”
“For months?”
“OK, maybe not months. But for a few weeks now, sure. I just - I saw the right ring, and I figured, why not?”
“Where were you that you just so happened to see the right ring, Shawn?”
Shawn avoided making eye contact with his best friend. “At - at the place where the rings live. I went to a jewelry store, OK?”
“Oh my God, you went ring shopping. You went ring shopping without me. You were going to ask her to marry you, and you weren’t even going to tell me. Unbelievable, Shawn. Just unbelievable. You must be outta your damn mind.”
“Is that what this is about? The fact that I didn’t tell you? Well, I’m telling you now she’s not interested. So you don’t have to worry anymore, buddy. She’s not coming between us.” Shawn tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he snapped the plastic lid back into place and chucked the entire unit, ring and all, into the top drawer of his desk. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this,” he added under his breath.
Gus heard him. “I don’t know why you aren’t! Last Month Shawn didn’t even want to move in with Juliet, and Last Weekend Shawn asked her to marry him?”
“I didn’t ask her,” said Shawn, hurt. “I didn’t get a chance. We were robbed, remember?”
“Then how do you know she’s not interested?” Gus narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“She told me she wasn’t. I mean, she didn’t say never. She just doesn’t seem to think we’re ready.”
“And you do?”
“I don’t know, man.” Shawn looked desperately at the clock on the wall above Gus’s head. He could try to duck out now, but Gus knew he wasn’t meeting Juliet for another half hour. Besides, he’d probably just bring it up again in the morning, when Shawn wouldn’t want to talk about it any more than he did right now. “I love her. I’ve loved her for years. She knows everything about me. Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life with her?”
But Gus had stopped listening. “Everything, Shawn? Juliet knows everything about you? She knows you slip out every night and sleep on the couch because you’re too chicken to tell her she kicks in her sleep and a double bed isn’t big enough for both of you?”
“Well, maybe not everything - ”
“Does she know about Chicago, Shawn?” Gus interrupted.
“No! Of course she doesn’t know about Chicago, you’re the only one that knows about Chicago.”
“It’s never come up once, why you came back to Santa Barbara?”
“Gus, please, you know I hate talking about it. Why’d you have to go there?” Shawn whined. Don’t say it. Don’t bring it up. Please, Gus, just don’t say her name.
“Because this is insane, Shawn! You were going to ask Juliet to marry you, yet you can’t even come clean about Addy?”
“Dammit, Gus,” Shawn swore. He’d gone there. His best friend - no, make that alleged best friend - had really gone there. “And what would be the point? I haven’t seen Addy in six years. Do you really think Sara is going to call tomorrow and invite me magically back into their lives? I don’t think so.”
“You have a kid, Shawn. That’s a pretty big thing to just gloss over.”
“No, Gus, I don’t have a kid. Sara’s made that much abundantly clear. I’m nothing more than a wallet to her - or to Addy, for that matter.”
“Fine, then how are you going to explain to your wife where you send half your paycheck every month?”
“Dude, that’s easy. I’m paying you back for the last 35 years.”
“I’m never going to see any of that money, am I?”
“Not a dime.” Shawn ran a hand through his hair. “Now can this conversation be over?” Because you know how incredibly painful it is for me to talk about, he added silently. “Please?”
For a second, Gus almost looked guilty. For a second. “I’m sorry, man. I know you’d still be a part of her life if you could.”
“That’s not not talking about it,” said Shawn sullenly. “Listen - ”
“Right, you need to meet Juliet. I’ll be in tomorrow, after my route.”
Shawn was already headed for the door. “I’ll be in tomorrow after I sleep off the coil in her couch that always pokes me in kidneys,” he called over his shoulder.
“You could start by telling her about the kicking!” Gus hollered as he finished paying the water bill online. Before he left, he added “November child support” as a deduction in Shawn’s checkbook - it drove him nuts that his friend still couldn’t figure out how to balance the thing himself - and made a mental note to have the ring appraised so it could be added to the renter’s insurance.
*
Juliet opened one eye slowly. Sunlight poured through the window of her apartment, casting rays on the empty pillow next to her. “Shawn?”
“Morning, beautiful.” He was standing in the door frame, already dressed in the clothes he’d worn over the night before and holding two cups of coffee from the bakery down the block. Under the covers, Juliet folded her legs to make room for him. He kissed her on the nose as he passed her the steaming latte and settled on the edge of the bed.
“Mmm,” she said, closing her hands around the warm beverage and sipping through a layer of cinnamon and foam. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to eight.”
Juliet sighed. “I’m supposed to be at the courthouse in an hour,” she said, sliding out of bed, a blush rising to her cheeks as Shawn eyed the thin camisole and shorts she slept in, a suggestive smile on his face. She picked up her towel and snapped it at him.
“What, a guy can’t enjoy the show?” he asked, scrambling to his feet to keep from spilling his coffee on her bed.
“If you had told me before we started dating that Shawn Spencer was a morning person, I never would have believed it,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Just wait until you see the donuts I left on your kitchen table. You’re welcome.”
Juliet heard the front door click shut, followed by the engine of Shawn’s motorcycle firing up outside her window. She padded into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a box from Bobo’s Donuts on the counter. Inside, Shawn had left a Post-It with the words, “Have a bear-y nice day!” next to her bear claw. She would have been content to keep standing there, popping little bits of apple pie filling goodness into her mouth and appreciating what was clearly Shawn trying to apologize for taking off with Gus, had her cell phone not started trilling in the next room.
“O’Hara,” she answered, a bit out of breath after catching it on the last ring.
It was Chief Vick. “Good, you’re up. Listen, I just got a call from the prosecutor. Morris’s lawyer cut a deal. I’m not going to need you and Lassiter to testify. But I do need you down at the morgue. Body dump on the beach this morning. A couple of fishermen found her - young woman in her late 20s.”
“Of course, Chief,” Juliet said, dropping the half-eaten donut on her dresser, beginning to rifle through her closet for something to wear. “Cause of death?”
“Looks like a stabbing,” the chief said. She must have been at home - Iris’s chatter was audible in the background. “Listen, O’Hara - I’m going to go ahead and call in Psych. It’s close enough to the boardwalk that they’ll catch wind of it in no time, and besides, we’re looking at a pretty brutal crime. It’s all hands on deck for this one.”
*
“Well, your girl had a record,” Woody the corner said, tearing into a licorice whip with his teeth as he handed Lassiter a file over the dead woman’s body. “Got a hit off her prints. Sara Ramirez, 28, originally from Thousand Oaks. Arrested twice in 1999 and again in 2000, but those records are sealed. Mickey Mouse stuff. She never served time.”
“She’s from Thousand Oaks?” said Juliet, peering down at the young woman’s face peeking out of the body bag. She had the pinched, unhealthy appearance of someone who had lost a lot of weight in a short period of time and looked much older than 28. She certainly didn’t look like she’d spent much time in the posh municipality recently.
Lassiter skimmed the cover sheet. “Her parents reported her missing later that year. Teenage runaway. What else can you tell us?”
Juliet glanced at the door as Woody unzipped the body bag the rest of the way. “Shouldn’t we wait for Shawn and Gus?”
Lassiter arched an eyebrow. “You heard the woman. Quick, before the Bureau of Spellcasting and Magic arrives.” Juliet glared at him.
Woody sucked in the last of the licorice whip and cleared his throat, peeling back the young woman’s bloodstained clothes. He gestured to the deep slashes in her torso. “Nasty job, this one. Stabbed to death, obviously. I counted at least 13 entrance wounds during my preliminary report, but I’ll have to open her up and confirm. It’s a messy job, for sure. Oddly, very few defensive wounds. I’ll swab under her fingernails, but I don’t think we’ll find any DNA. I put time of death around 4 a.m.”
Juliet felt her stomach lurch. She didn’t often feel sick during autopsies, but there was something pitiable about Sara Ramirez. “Any signs of sexual assault?”
Woody shook his head. “Pelvis indicates she’s given birth, though. See these stretch marks here?” He pushed back the waistband of the woman’s jeans several inches. Juliet wrinkled her nose while Lassiter’s eyes remained focused on a fixed point somewhere above Woody’s shoulder. “Kid’s probably older, at least eight or nine. Usually when you see scarring like that it’s someone who gave birth as a teenager.”
“So we could be looking for a kid?”
“Possibly. I think your victim just arrived back in the area. I found a couple of baggage claim stubs in her pockets,” said Woody, gesturing at the counter. “They’re from the day before yesterday.”
Juliet beat Lassiter to them. “ORD … that’s Chicago, isn’t it?”
“Let me see those,” said Lassiter, swiping the evidence bag from her hand. “No names, but see? The reservation numbers are different. Two different bookings. She was traveling with someone.”
“I was about to say that,” said Juliet through gritted teeth, trying in vain to grab the claim stubs back from Lassiter. “Did you find anything else in her pockets, Woody?”
“Motel key,” he called, his voice muffled because he was rooting around in one of the body bays. He emerged holding a cartoon of Chinese food. “I think I set it … here.” He triumphantly laid his hands on the evidence bag and handed it to Juliet.
Lassiter glowered as she held it up to the light. It was an old-fashioned key card, the plastic kind with the punches. “No markings,” she said finally. Lassiter tried to tug it away from her, but Juliet’s grip remained steady. They were so busy scuffling over the contents of the victim’s pockets they missed the knock at the door.
“Never fear, mere mortals, your connection to the spiritual realm has arrived,” Shawn said, sweeping his arms and smacking Lassiter in the chest. The head detective retaliated by swatting at him with the evidence bag.
“Get off me, Spencer,” Lassiter growled. Shawn winked at Juliet.
“Shawn! Gus!” said Woody brightly through a mouthful of Chinese food. “Chicken chow mein?” he offered, extending the carton over the body. A strand of vermicelli slipped from his chopstick and landed with a splat on the cart.
“No thanks, Woody, no sweet ‘n formaldehyde chicken for me. Gus is making me cut back. My levels of embalming fluid were sky high last month.” Shawn clapped his hands together. “So what do we have - ”
He broke off. No. No way. This isn’t happening.
Shawn spun around and groped blindly for support as the bile rose in his throat, colliding with Gus and clinging to his friend’s arm for dear life.
•
Chicago, 2001
“Excuse me.”
The girl pushed past Shawn and his buddy Charlie so quickly all Shawn saw was swinging auburn curls and sashaying hips as she bellied up to the bar.
Shawn whistled. “Yo quiero senorita,” he said under his breath.
Charlie laughed. “Her,” he said, giving Shawn a push forward.
“Her? But she’s like - like a Hispanic goddess. You can’t hit on a girl like that with a bad pick-up line, no way.”
“Well, you better find someone else to go home with then because I’m going home with her,” said Charlie, pointing to a stacked blond that had just walked into the club. Shawn sighed as his friend disappeared into the crowd. He glanced back at the girl, who glanced down at her drink very suddenly. Was it possible? Had she been checking him out? He took a deep breath and started toward the bar.
Under the light from the neon Budweiser sign overhead, Shawn could see that her auburn curls were really honey brown streaked with red dye. Still, that ass. Shawn tapped her shoulder and prepared to be shot down.
“You know what would look good in your pants?”
The girl arched her eyebrow and pointed over Shawn’s left shoulder. “That guy?”
Shawn turned his head in the direction of a handsome, muscular man who was now threatening Charlie for hitting on his date. “My God, I think he’s an underwear model.” The girl laughed. “I’m Shawn, by the way.”
“I’m Sara.”
“Can I buy you a drink, Sara?”
Shawn held his breath. Slowly, the corners of Sara’s mouth turned upward in a smile. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Chapter Two