Christmas Fic for det_lassiter : The Night Chicago Died, Eh?
Title: The Night Chicago Died, Eh?
Prompt: Pierre Despereaux has escaped custody. Lassie and Murphy are on the trail. Bonus points for shamelessly ripping off the Fall finale and having Shawn held hostage. Bonus, bonus points for sexual tension between Lassie and anyone.
Characters: Det. Carlton Lassiter, Det. Juliet O’Hara, Burton Guster, Shawn Spencer, Chief Vick, Pierre Despereaux, Lt. Connie Murphy, Harry Dresden.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Hints of Shawn/Lassiter and perhaps some O’Hara/Dresden.
Warnings: None
Author’s Notes: Let's see, there's action, sarcasm, a little angst, a little H/C and I even snuck in some humor. I think I hit every genre there is. Well, except PWP. Perhaps that comes later.
I had so much fun writing this. I hope you guys have fun reading it.
---
It was a lovely day in Santa Barbara. Like usual the weather was just about perfect, the sun was shining and in the Santa Barbara Police Department work continued on with its usual mild clatter. It was actually a rather quiet day for the department, something almost every officer noticed right away. The desk Sergeant was checking the clock on the wall every fifteen minutes as it drew closer and closer to ten o’clock. Every officer knew if they made it to ten o’clock with no floor show, there probably wasn’t going to be one and their day would be psychic free.
Lassiter tapped his foot impatiently against the floor as the second hand ticked closer and closer. One day without Spencer crowding his space, stepping over his case and throwing himself around the office like a rag doll, that was all he wanted. A nice quiet Monday and there was five minutes standing between him and that. He’d shoot those five minutes if he could, but it didn’t matter.
“Lassiter!”
The whole department let out a silent, mental groan. It wasn’t the psychic, but it was his partner and that meant Spencer couldn’t be far behind.
Lassiter dropped his head forward and got to his feet, arms braced on his desk. “Yes, Guster?”
At least it was Gus, who was generally much easier to deal with and reasonable.
“Iwenttotheofficetodayonmywaytomyrealjobanditwasclosedandtherewasthistappedtothedoor!” Gus said in a rush then brandished a maple leaf in a plastic bag at him. “Shawn’sbikewastherebuttherewasnoShawnandthedoorwaslockedandItriedhiscellphonebutIgothisvoicemaillisten!”
Now Gus held up his phone and after a minute of ringing, Spencer’s voice came over the speakers.
“You haven’t reached Shawn Spencer, world famous psychic, because if you had I’d be answering my phone. I’m sure you’re disappointed in not being able to reach my awesomeness but hey, leave a short message, senorita’s can leave longer ones, and if the wind’s not too loud, I’ll get back to you. Spencer, out!”
Gus snapped his phone closed, “SomethinghappenedtoShawnbecausethat’snothisusualvoicemailmessageanditwasthesameyesterdaywhenhewasscreeninghiscalls.”
“What, Gus, you need to take a breath and speak slower. We can’t understand you,” Jules said, going over to the clearly panicked Gus.
Lassiter left her to try and calm the man down. He snatched the plastic bag from Gus’s hand and stared at it. There weren’t many maple trees in Santa Barbara. He couldn’t remember seeing one anywhere near the Psych offices.
“Despereaux,” he growled, tempted to crunch the leaf in his hand. Only one criminal would taunt him like this, only one would rub it in his face and pour salt into the wound.
“What?” Jules looked over at him, still rubbing a hand over Gus’s shoulder.
“Get him to make sense,” he order, pointing a finger at her. “I have a phone call to make.”
While Jules led Gus towards the Chief’s office, Lassiter picked up his desk phone and started dialing. Within two minutes he had all the information he needed. Despereaux had slipped his cuffs while being transported to a new, more secure prison and escaped. The Mounties were still looking for him, but Lassiter knew he was long gone from Canada. Despereaux had come to Santa Barbara.
He slammed the phone when he hung up and stormed into the Chief’s office. “He’s here.”
“What? Who?” Chief Vick asked, frowning hard. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
“Despereaux,” Lassiter explained, putting the bagged leaf on the Chief’s desk. “He escaped from custody a week ago and came here.”
“He’s got Shawn!” Gus broke in, “I mean, he has to right?”
“We can’t be sure, he might have left the leaf to taunt Shawn,” Jules looked at him but Lassiter shook his head and jabbed a finger at the leaf.
“He took Spencer. Gus, you said his bike was there?”
Gus nodded, “Right out front.”
“But why would Despereaux kidnap Shawn, he liked Shawn.” Jules looked between him and Chief Vick, confused.
“Because he helped us catch him. He thinks without Spencer, we’ll never get him this time.” And that really got to Lassiter. He could practically read Despereaux’s mind and he knew exactly what the thief was doing. Trailing him would be harder without Spencer, but Lassiter was going to find the French son of a bitch and make sure he stayed locked up this time.
“The voicemail!” Gus leapt up, startling them all. “Shawn wouldn’t just go with this guy without giving us some sort of clue. Remember when he called Jules when he got taken last time? He gave us clues and led us to him. The voicemail has to be a clue, right? Because it changed.”
“It sounded like typical Shawn to me,” Jules admitted.
“Well, yeah, but you know, he thinks he’s clever and he’d have to be to keep Despereaux from catching on.” Gus suddenly sounded a whole lot less sure. “Right?”
Lassiter thought back to the message. He wasn’t always good at figuring out Spencer’s stupid clues, but after four years, there had to be something he could catch. He snapped his fingers, “Chicago.”
“Chicago?” Chief Vick frowned.
“Spencer talked about the wind being too loud and senoritas. We both know a cop in Chicago, Lieutenant Murphy, who’s Cuban. Chicago is still a big shipping city, there have to be a bunch of ships that can get Despereaux close to the border without getting noticed.”
“Gus?”
Gus looked unsure, “Murphy is one of Shawn’s favorite people.”
“I know Despereaux,” Lassiter said, staring down the Chief. “I’d look for a way to get back into Canada, get lost in one of the small towns there until the heat died down and then I’d start stealing again.”
“But why would he go right through a city where Shawn has friends?” Jules asked the obvious. “He’d want to avoid any place with anyone who might try to help Shawn.”
“Because it pisses me off.” Lassiter turned on his heel and stormed out, going to book a flight and get Murphy on the phone. Despereaux was going down this time.
---
“Alright, listen up!” Murphy yelled as she walked into the 2-7 Homicide office. It was filled with uniforms, SWAT and other detectives. Everyone stopped talking and focused on her.
“These are Detective Lassiter and Detective O’Hara of the Santa Barbara PD. They’re our experts on this case. Uniforms are getting photo of Pierre Despereaux, the fugitive, and Shawn Spencer, the hostage. We’re lucky this storm is keeping ships docked. I want all eyes on the street looking for these two. If you find them, you call Captain Higgins of SWAT and me. Do not go after this guy yourself. When you’ve got your picture, get out there.”
“My turn, Murph?” Harry asked, stepping forward once the uniforms had left. He smiled at Lassiter and offered a hand, “Harry Dresden, I work for her.”
“The wizard,” Lassiter said with a healthy dose of skepticism in his voice. He ignored Harry’s hand and looked at her. “Is the magician really needed?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him, “If you want to find your psychic, yeah, he’s needed.”
“I think it’s really nice to meet you,” O’Hara broke in, taking Harry’s hand. “Murphy’s said you’re a big help to her.”
“She has?” Harry beamed, “Has she said anything else? Good, I mean, I don’t need to hear her complaints about me.”
Murphy thought the sound O’Hara made was dangerously close to a giggle and cleared her throat. “Did you bring what I asked?”
“Shawn’s brush, right.” She took it out of her winter jacket pocket. Murphy was pleased to see it was in an evidence bag.
“Ah, I’ll take that.” Harry took it gently from her and then tore the seal.
“Hey!” Lassiter protested, “That’s evidence!”
“Don’t worry, I only need one.” Harry carefully pulled out a hair from the brush and then dug a crystal out of his pocket.
“What’s he doing?” Lassiter demanded, glaring at her.
“If you have a little piece of someone, you can find them anywhere,” Harry explained, wrapping the strand around the crystal. “There. I’ll give you a call if I find anything.”
“You better, Dresden. Keep that hockey stick in check, alright?”
He gave her a salute, smiled once more at O’Hara and took off.
“Don’t say it,” Murphy said, cutting off whatever remark or tirade Lassiter was about to start. “We’re going to the docks to start asking around. I give Harry about two hours before he finds something.”
“What makes you so sure he can help?”
She put on her heavier winter jacket and looked Lassiter over, “Because your thief might have thought he outsmarted you by taking Shawn, he’s not prepared for a wizard. No one ever is.”
---
Lassiter was looming over her shoulder but Murphy kept calm. Across the door from her, the SWAT team prepared to swing the hand battering ram to break down the door. Just like she had thought, Harry called roughly two hours after he left the station house and said he found Shawn. Despereaux was hiding out in a row house, not far from where the Chicago River met Lake Michigan. It was a place that was almost always busy with boat traffic of one kind or another. Just like Lassiter had said, it looked like Despereaux was trying to catch a boat to the border. The congratulatory backslapping could wait until after they got Shawn back.
“On my mark,” the lead SWAT said through the radio in her ear.
Murphy adjusted her grip on her gun as the first spikes of adrenaline started singing through her system. It might have been just another entry, but damn if it didn’t give her a little bit of a rush every single time.
“MARK!”
There was a crash as the battering ram took out the door in a single swing and then SWAT swarmed through the door with flash bangs blazing. She was in a second later, sweeping left and then up the stairs. Lassiter was right behind her until there was moment.
“Despereaux!” he yelled and thundered past her up the stairs.
“Damn it.” she grabbed her radio. “Suspect possibly upstairs. Secure the doors!”
Then she was chasing after Lassiter. She rounded the upstairs corner to see him disappear out the window onto the fire escape. She didn’t see Despereaux or Shawn, but every room she passed on her way to the window was empty.
“Suspect is on his way to the roof. Lassiter and I are in pursuit, does anyone have the hostage?” She switched her gun to one hand and charged up the metal stairs.
“Negative, Lieuteant. Suspect must still have him.”
“Son of a bitch.” She pulled herself onto the roof to see Lassiter with his gun drawn and pointed at Despereaux, who looked a little ruffled. His picture had shown him as immaculately dressed but this guy looked a little frayed around the edges.
“Detective Lassiter, so good to see you again,” Despereaux said calmly, jamming a gun underneath Shawn’s chin.
“Hey Murphy! That vest makes you look pretty badass,” Shawn said, smiling nervously. His hands were bound in front of him with flex cuff and he was doing his best to lean away from the gun. “I hope Lassie’s been behaving and listening to your orders.”
“Pierre Despereaux, you’re under arrest.” Murphy came to stand next to Lassiter, gun level and pointed right between Despereaux’s eyes. “Put the gun down and let the hostage go.”
“Oh come on, can’t you use my name? The news copters will be here any minute and this’ll be great publicity!”
“Spencer, shut up,” Lassiter barked.
“I’m rather impressed, Detective Lassiter. I was extra careful this time, certain that without your little pet psychic you would lack the edge to find me,” Despereaux said, inching towards the other end of the roof.
“I don’t need party tricks to find you,” Lassiter said, taking a step forward for every step back Despereaux took. “You’ve got nowhere to go except back to prison.”
“Ah, yes, but you see, I don’t intend to go back to prison and you should know, I always have an escape plan.”
Despereaux shoved Shawn forward, there was the clap of a gunshot and the front of Shawn’s shirt exploded. Shawn looked shocked for a second, then terrified as he staggered forward a step.
“Carlton?” he said and tipped forward.
Murphy started shooting the moment Lassiter did, but Despereaux was already running for the edge of the roof. There wasn’t even a decent gap between the next row house. A toddler could jump between the buildings.
“Forzare!” There was a sound like a thunderclap and Despereaux’s feet were knocked out from under him by some unseen force. He went down hard and Harry came running over, jamming his hockey stick into Despereaux back.
“Move one inch and your name will be Mr. Crispy,” Harry growled.
Murphy noticed immediately that Lassiter didn’t follow her as she jogged over to Despereaux and wrestled his hands into cuffs.
“I thought I told you to leave the hockey stick in check?” she said, but she was smiling gratefully at Harry.
He shrugged. “Must have miss heard you.” He looked over at where paramedics and Lassiter were crouched next to Shawn. Murphy had never seen Lassiter look that worried before and she didn’t miss the way one hand was running through Shawn’s hair.
“He’ll be okay, right?” Harry asked.
“If he isn’t, this bastard probably won’t make it back to prison.”
---
Five hours later, Murphy stood in the doorway to Shawn’s hospital room with two cups of decent coffee in hand and a folder under one arm. Lassiter was slumped in the chair next to Shawn’s bed, one hand very subtly resting on top of one of Shawn’s. It was a bit surprising, but she wasn’t going to say anything about it. It actually cleared up a few things she had always wondered about Lassiter and Shawn.
Clearing her throat she walked in, holding out the coffee cup. “So, Despereaux claims he won’t talk to anyone but you.”
Lassiter grunted and took the coffee from her. “I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”
“That’s what I thought. I put him in with gen pop for now.” She found a good place to lean against the wall. “He’ll last about half an hour, hour at most before he gets moved to a private cell for his own safety. You know how cons feel about guys who mess with kids.”
Lassiter paused with his coffee halfway to his lips. “Thanks,” he said and then took a sip of his coffee.
She shrugged. “I get pissed when criminals shoot my friends just to get away. Is he going to be okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah, just a long recovery but Despereaux didn’t hit anything major.”
“Good.”
“Where’s O’Hara?”
“Harry offered to drive her back to your hotel once all the paperwork’s done.” She smiled a little, “I think he’s got a crush.”
Lassiter snorted. “And you just stopped by to bring coffee?”
“No, I also brought you some paperwork to do while you don’t sleep.” She pulled the folder from under her arm and tossed it on the edge of Shawn’s bed. “Just make sure it’s on my desk by the end of shift tomorrow and then you’re free to make sure Shawn doesn’t pull his stitches.”
Very slowly, Lassiter looked at her, quietly assessing her and if her words really held the double meaning he thought they did. She gave a little nod, he relaxed and then she pushed off from the wall.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to some Mounties to bother in Canada. They just hate it when we Americans get one over them.”
---
Prompt: Pierre Despereaux has escaped custody. Lassie and Murphy are on the trail. Bonus points for shamelessly ripping off the Fall finale and having Shawn held hostage. Bonus, bonus points for sexual tension between Lassie and anyone.
Characters: Det. Carlton Lassiter, Det. Juliet O’Hara, Burton Guster, Shawn Spencer, Chief Vick, Pierre Despereaux, Lt. Connie Murphy, Harry Dresden.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Hints of Shawn/Lassiter and perhaps some O’Hara/Dresden.
Warnings: None
Author’s Notes: Let's see, there's action, sarcasm, a little angst, a little H/C and I even snuck in some humor. I think I hit every genre there is. Well, except PWP. Perhaps that comes later.
I had so much fun writing this. I hope you guys have fun reading it.
---
It was a lovely day in Santa Barbara. Like usual the weather was just about perfect, the sun was shining and in the Santa Barbara Police Department work continued on with its usual mild clatter. It was actually a rather quiet day for the department, something almost every officer noticed right away. The desk Sergeant was checking the clock on the wall every fifteen minutes as it drew closer and closer to ten o’clock. Every officer knew if they made it to ten o’clock with no floor show, there probably wasn’t going to be one and their day would be psychic free.
Lassiter tapped his foot impatiently against the floor as the second hand ticked closer and closer. One day without Spencer crowding his space, stepping over his case and throwing himself around the office like a rag doll, that was all he wanted. A nice quiet Monday and there was five minutes standing between him and that. He’d shoot those five minutes if he could, but it didn’t matter.
“Lassiter!”
The whole department let out a silent, mental groan. It wasn’t the psychic, but it was his partner and that meant Spencer couldn’t be far behind.
Lassiter dropped his head forward and got to his feet, arms braced on his desk. “Yes, Guster?”
At least it was Gus, who was generally much easier to deal with and reasonable.
“Iwenttotheofficetodayonmywaytomyrealjobanditwasclosedandtherewasthistappedtothedoor!” Gus said in a rush then brandished a maple leaf in a plastic bag at him. “Shawn’sbikewastherebuttherewasnoShawnandthedoorwaslockedandItriedhiscellphonebutIgothisvoicemaillisten!”
Now Gus held up his phone and after a minute of ringing, Spencer’s voice came over the speakers.
“You haven’t reached Shawn Spencer, world famous psychic, because if you had I’d be answering my phone. I’m sure you’re disappointed in not being able to reach my awesomeness but hey, leave a short message, senorita’s can leave longer ones, and if the wind’s not too loud, I’ll get back to you. Spencer, out!”
Gus snapped his phone closed, “SomethinghappenedtoShawnbecausethat’snothisusualvoicemailmessageanditwasthesameyesterdaywhenhewasscreeninghiscalls.”
“What, Gus, you need to take a breath and speak slower. We can’t understand you,” Jules said, going over to the clearly panicked Gus.
Lassiter left her to try and calm the man down. He snatched the plastic bag from Gus’s hand and stared at it. There weren’t many maple trees in Santa Barbara. He couldn’t remember seeing one anywhere near the Psych offices.
“Despereaux,” he growled, tempted to crunch the leaf in his hand. Only one criminal would taunt him like this, only one would rub it in his face and pour salt into the wound.
“What?” Jules looked over at him, still rubbing a hand over Gus’s shoulder.
“Get him to make sense,” he order, pointing a finger at her. “I have a phone call to make.”
While Jules led Gus towards the Chief’s office, Lassiter picked up his desk phone and started dialing. Within two minutes he had all the information he needed. Despereaux had slipped his cuffs while being transported to a new, more secure prison and escaped. The Mounties were still looking for him, but Lassiter knew he was long gone from Canada. Despereaux had come to Santa Barbara.
He slammed the phone when he hung up and stormed into the Chief’s office. “He’s here.”
“What? Who?” Chief Vick asked, frowning hard. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
“Despereaux,” Lassiter explained, putting the bagged leaf on the Chief’s desk. “He escaped from custody a week ago and came here.”
“He’s got Shawn!” Gus broke in, “I mean, he has to right?”
“We can’t be sure, he might have left the leaf to taunt Shawn,” Jules looked at him but Lassiter shook his head and jabbed a finger at the leaf.
“He took Spencer. Gus, you said his bike was there?”
Gus nodded, “Right out front.”
“But why would Despereaux kidnap Shawn, he liked Shawn.” Jules looked between him and Chief Vick, confused.
“Because he helped us catch him. He thinks without Spencer, we’ll never get him this time.” And that really got to Lassiter. He could practically read Despereaux’s mind and he knew exactly what the thief was doing. Trailing him would be harder without Spencer, but Lassiter was going to find the French son of a bitch and make sure he stayed locked up this time.
“The voicemail!” Gus leapt up, startling them all. “Shawn wouldn’t just go with this guy without giving us some sort of clue. Remember when he called Jules when he got taken last time? He gave us clues and led us to him. The voicemail has to be a clue, right? Because it changed.”
“It sounded like typical Shawn to me,” Jules admitted.
“Well, yeah, but you know, he thinks he’s clever and he’d have to be to keep Despereaux from catching on.” Gus suddenly sounded a whole lot less sure. “Right?”
Lassiter thought back to the message. He wasn’t always good at figuring out Spencer’s stupid clues, but after four years, there had to be something he could catch. He snapped his fingers, “Chicago.”
“Chicago?” Chief Vick frowned.
“Spencer talked about the wind being too loud and senoritas. We both know a cop in Chicago, Lieutenant Murphy, who’s Cuban. Chicago is still a big shipping city, there have to be a bunch of ships that can get Despereaux close to the border without getting noticed.”
“Gus?”
Gus looked unsure, “Murphy is one of Shawn’s favorite people.”
“I know Despereaux,” Lassiter said, staring down the Chief. “I’d look for a way to get back into Canada, get lost in one of the small towns there until the heat died down and then I’d start stealing again.”
“But why would he go right through a city where Shawn has friends?” Jules asked the obvious. “He’d want to avoid any place with anyone who might try to help Shawn.”
“Because it pisses me off.” Lassiter turned on his heel and stormed out, going to book a flight and get Murphy on the phone. Despereaux was going down this time.
---
“Alright, listen up!” Murphy yelled as she walked into the 2-7 Homicide office. It was filled with uniforms, SWAT and other detectives. Everyone stopped talking and focused on her.
“These are Detective Lassiter and Detective O’Hara of the Santa Barbara PD. They’re our experts on this case. Uniforms are getting photo of Pierre Despereaux, the fugitive, and Shawn Spencer, the hostage. We’re lucky this storm is keeping ships docked. I want all eyes on the street looking for these two. If you find them, you call Captain Higgins of SWAT and me. Do not go after this guy yourself. When you’ve got your picture, get out there.”
“My turn, Murph?” Harry asked, stepping forward once the uniforms had left. He smiled at Lassiter and offered a hand, “Harry Dresden, I work for her.”
“The wizard,” Lassiter said with a healthy dose of skepticism in his voice. He ignored Harry’s hand and looked at her. “Is the magician really needed?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him, “If you want to find your psychic, yeah, he’s needed.”
“I think it’s really nice to meet you,” O’Hara broke in, taking Harry’s hand. “Murphy’s said you’re a big help to her.”
“She has?” Harry beamed, “Has she said anything else? Good, I mean, I don’t need to hear her complaints about me.”
Murphy thought the sound O’Hara made was dangerously close to a giggle and cleared her throat. “Did you bring what I asked?”
“Shawn’s brush, right.” She took it out of her winter jacket pocket. Murphy was pleased to see it was in an evidence bag.
“Ah, I’ll take that.” Harry took it gently from her and then tore the seal.
“Hey!” Lassiter protested, “That’s evidence!”
“Don’t worry, I only need one.” Harry carefully pulled out a hair from the brush and then dug a crystal out of his pocket.
“What’s he doing?” Lassiter demanded, glaring at her.
“If you have a little piece of someone, you can find them anywhere,” Harry explained, wrapping the strand around the crystal. “There. I’ll give you a call if I find anything.”
“You better, Dresden. Keep that hockey stick in check, alright?”
He gave her a salute, smiled once more at O’Hara and took off.
“Don’t say it,” Murphy said, cutting off whatever remark or tirade Lassiter was about to start. “We’re going to the docks to start asking around. I give Harry about two hours before he finds something.”
“What makes you so sure he can help?”
She put on her heavier winter jacket and looked Lassiter over, “Because your thief might have thought he outsmarted you by taking Shawn, he’s not prepared for a wizard. No one ever is.”
---
Lassiter was looming over her shoulder but Murphy kept calm. Across the door from her, the SWAT team prepared to swing the hand battering ram to break down the door. Just like she had thought, Harry called roughly two hours after he left the station house and said he found Shawn. Despereaux was hiding out in a row house, not far from where the Chicago River met Lake Michigan. It was a place that was almost always busy with boat traffic of one kind or another. Just like Lassiter had said, it looked like Despereaux was trying to catch a boat to the border. The congratulatory backslapping could wait until after they got Shawn back.
“On my mark,” the lead SWAT said through the radio in her ear.
Murphy adjusted her grip on her gun as the first spikes of adrenaline started singing through her system. It might have been just another entry, but damn if it didn’t give her a little bit of a rush every single time.
“MARK!”
There was a crash as the battering ram took out the door in a single swing and then SWAT swarmed through the door with flash bangs blazing. She was in a second later, sweeping left and then up the stairs. Lassiter was right behind her until there was moment.
“Despereaux!” he yelled and thundered past her up the stairs.
“Damn it.” she grabbed her radio. “Suspect possibly upstairs. Secure the doors!”
Then she was chasing after Lassiter. She rounded the upstairs corner to see him disappear out the window onto the fire escape. She didn’t see Despereaux or Shawn, but every room she passed on her way to the window was empty.
“Suspect is on his way to the roof. Lassiter and I are in pursuit, does anyone have the hostage?” She switched her gun to one hand and charged up the metal stairs.
“Negative, Lieuteant. Suspect must still have him.”
“Son of a bitch.” She pulled herself onto the roof to see Lassiter with his gun drawn and pointed at Despereaux, who looked a little ruffled. His picture had shown him as immaculately dressed but this guy looked a little frayed around the edges.
“Detective Lassiter, so good to see you again,” Despereaux said calmly, jamming a gun underneath Shawn’s chin.
“Hey Murphy! That vest makes you look pretty badass,” Shawn said, smiling nervously. His hands were bound in front of him with flex cuff and he was doing his best to lean away from the gun. “I hope Lassie’s been behaving and listening to your orders.”
“Pierre Despereaux, you’re under arrest.” Murphy came to stand next to Lassiter, gun level and pointed right between Despereaux’s eyes. “Put the gun down and let the hostage go.”
“Oh come on, can’t you use my name? The news copters will be here any minute and this’ll be great publicity!”
“Spencer, shut up,” Lassiter barked.
“I’m rather impressed, Detective Lassiter. I was extra careful this time, certain that without your little pet psychic you would lack the edge to find me,” Despereaux said, inching towards the other end of the roof.
“I don’t need party tricks to find you,” Lassiter said, taking a step forward for every step back Despereaux took. “You’ve got nowhere to go except back to prison.”
“Ah, yes, but you see, I don’t intend to go back to prison and you should know, I always have an escape plan.”
Despereaux shoved Shawn forward, there was the clap of a gunshot and the front of Shawn’s shirt exploded. Shawn looked shocked for a second, then terrified as he staggered forward a step.
“Carlton?” he said and tipped forward.
Murphy started shooting the moment Lassiter did, but Despereaux was already running for the edge of the roof. There wasn’t even a decent gap between the next row house. A toddler could jump between the buildings.
“Forzare!” There was a sound like a thunderclap and Despereaux’s feet were knocked out from under him by some unseen force. He went down hard and Harry came running over, jamming his hockey stick into Despereaux back.
“Move one inch and your name will be Mr. Crispy,” Harry growled.
Murphy noticed immediately that Lassiter didn’t follow her as she jogged over to Despereaux and wrestled his hands into cuffs.
“I thought I told you to leave the hockey stick in check?” she said, but she was smiling gratefully at Harry.
He shrugged. “Must have miss heard you.” He looked over at where paramedics and Lassiter were crouched next to Shawn. Murphy had never seen Lassiter look that worried before and she didn’t miss the way one hand was running through Shawn’s hair.
“He’ll be okay, right?” Harry asked.
“If he isn’t, this bastard probably won’t make it back to prison.”
---
Five hours later, Murphy stood in the doorway to Shawn’s hospital room with two cups of decent coffee in hand and a folder under one arm. Lassiter was slumped in the chair next to Shawn’s bed, one hand very subtly resting on top of one of Shawn’s. It was a bit surprising, but she wasn’t going to say anything about it. It actually cleared up a few things she had always wondered about Lassiter and Shawn.
Clearing her throat she walked in, holding out the coffee cup. “So, Despereaux claims he won’t talk to anyone but you.”
Lassiter grunted and took the coffee from her. “I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”
“That’s what I thought. I put him in with gen pop for now.” She found a good place to lean against the wall. “He’ll last about half an hour, hour at most before he gets moved to a private cell for his own safety. You know how cons feel about guys who mess with kids.”
Lassiter paused with his coffee halfway to his lips. “Thanks,” he said and then took a sip of his coffee.
She shrugged. “I get pissed when criminals shoot my friends just to get away. Is he going to be okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah, just a long recovery but Despereaux didn’t hit anything major.”
“Good.”
“Where’s O’Hara?”
“Harry offered to drive her back to your hotel once all the paperwork’s done.” She smiled a little, “I think he’s got a crush.”
Lassiter snorted. “And you just stopped by to bring coffee?”
“No, I also brought you some paperwork to do while you don’t sleep.” She pulled the folder from under her arm and tossed it on the edge of Shawn’s bed. “Just make sure it’s on my desk by the end of shift tomorrow and then you’re free to make sure Shawn doesn’t pull his stitches.”
Very slowly, Lassiter looked at her, quietly assessing her and if her words really held the double meaning he thought they did. She gave a little nod, he relaxed and then she pushed off from the wall.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to some Mounties to bother in Canada. They just hate it when we Americans get one over them.”
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