PSYCH: From Beyond The Morgue (PG-13), Shawn/Lassiter.

[laytoncolt]

Shawn just wants to solve his latest case, but it isn't easy with Gus and Henry meddling in his love life, especially considering his love life consists of one bored workaholic detective on enforced leave.



back to part two

"Shawn!" Gus cried anxiously, as Shawn was pulled backwards. He reached out to try and grab him, missing his leg and clutching onto Shawn's left Kangaroo shoe. "I've got you! Hold on, Shawn!"

Gus flew backwards as the shoe came off in his hands, and they both heard someone give a long-suffering sigh. "Oh for-will you two calm down?" a voice snapped. "It's me."

Shawn slipped out of the grip around his throat. He stepped away to adjust his shirt with forced fastidiousness as it became apparent that the ghost-murderer was only Lassiter, a little wet from the rain, holding a high-powered flashlight. "I knew it was you, obviously," Shawn said. "I was just waiting for Gus to figure it out."

"Don't lie, Shawn! You were just as freaked as I was," Gus said.

"Yeah, well, you're useless as a savior," Shawn said, and grabbed his shoe back from Gus. "If Lassie really had been our murderer I'd be dead. And missing a shoe."

"It's not my fault you don't properly tie your shoes," Gus said.

"They're Velcro!" Shawn protested.

"Well, no one forced you to buy shoes without any laces, did they?" Gus asked. "I hope you've learned your lesson."

Shawn narrowed his eyes and started towards Gus, but Lassiter grabbed him around the waist, spinning him around so he was between them. "Alright, enough!" he snapped. "One of you needs to tell me what's going on, right now."

"Shawn saw a ghost," Gus told Lassiter.

"I did not see a ghost," Shawn corrected. "I saw a person."

"Shawn saw a dead person," Gus told Lassiter.

"Gus, there's no reason to think Holly is really dead," Shawn said. "That's what Harvey told Eveline. It doesn't mean that it's true. He also told Eveline that Holly was his sister. That's what we in the investigative trade call an unreliable source." Shawn turned to Lassiter. "How did you get in here?"

"You call me, tell me you've seen some non-existent dead person, and you thought what? I wouldn't worry?" Lassiter asked. "I found a way in, Shawn. I thought you were in trouble."

"Sorry," Shawn said. "I was going to call you back, but my battery died. How did you know we would be here?"

"I tracked down the butler, he told me he'd sent you back, so naturally I knew you'd still be snooping around here," Lassiter said.

Shawn grinned. "You know me so well," he said. "Were you in the other room?"

"What?" Lassiter asked.

"You came from behind us," Shawn explained. "And we didn't see you when we came out. Were you in the room across the hall?"

"Oh, yeah," Lassiter said. "It's the butler's room."

"He let you in?" Shawn asked. "Were there creepy collages plastered everywhere? Any Edger Allan Poe books? Maybe a copy of How To Build A Wall For Dummies?"

"I didn't stay long," Lassiter said. "I was just asking him where to find you."

"Right," Shawn said. "Well I hope you know you passed up a perfect opportunity to get some dirt on my lead suspect."

"That's your lead suspect?" Lassiter asked, disbelievingly. "He's like a hundred years old."

"What is with this bias against old people all the sudden?" Shawn demanded. "As though they're not just as capable of murder as anyone else. I'm highly offended on their behalf. You and Gus should both be ashamed of yourselves."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, ushering them both down the hall.

The three of them headed back to the kitchen. Sani had finally left for bed, but she had left pudding chaos in her wake. There were still pudding filled bowls littering most of the surfaces, chocolate powder sprinkled all over the floor. When Shawn opened the fridge, it was pudding top to bottom shelf.

"Pudding, anyone?" he asked. He turned back around to find Gus and Lassiter in some weird kind of face-off. Lassiter looked as confused about it as Shawn, but Gus had on his don't mess me with me face, which really was quite an impressive feat for someone with such a high-pitched scream. "What? No one likes pudding?"

"I think it's time Lassiter and I had a talk," Gus said. "Seeing as how this thing between the two of you looks like it's getting serious."

"What talk?" Shawn asked.

"The best friend, significant other talk," Gus explained. "To see where we stand."

Lassiter looked at Shawn. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

Shawn shrugged, grabbed a spoon, and started eating a bowl of pudding.

"I know you've always felt threatened by me," Gus told Lassiter, his eyes wide and earnest.

"Guster, I can tell you in all honesty, that I've never been even remotely threatened by you," Lassiter said.

Gus smiled wryly. "Ri-ight," he said. "Of course not, detective, I've got you." He winked for effect, and Lassiter opened his mouth to protest.

Shawn grabbed onto his arm before he could. "Gus has an eye twitch," he whispered. "Best you don't point it out."

Lassiter glanced over at him warily, but he had lost his chance to interrupt. Gus had started talking again. "Shawn and I, see, we're a package deal. We're partners. We solve crime together. We have movie nights on Tuesdays and Thursdays-"

"All the days that start with T, actually," Shawn said helpfully.

"Exactly. On T-days, we have movie nights. And we have video game marathons on Mondays. But you can have him Wednesdays and Fridays and the weekends, because honestly, I could use the break," Gus said.

"Hey!" Shawn protested.

"Are we arranging shared custody?" Lassiter asked in disbelief.

Gus thought about it, and then nodded. "Yeah, I think we are. Maybe we should put this down in writing?"

"There will be no writing anything down," Shawn said quickly. "You know binding contracts freak me out."

"Okay, it'll be an oral contract, then," Gus said, and paid no attention to Shawn's disturbed glance. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving."

"Where are you going?" Shawn demanded.

"It's Saturday, Shawn," Gus said. "That means you're Lassiter's problem now. I'm going home to get some sleep."

"But you're going to miss out on everything!" Shawn protested.

"Sorry, Shawn," Gus said. "I need my six hours of sleep, and I can't take this stress. Call me in the morning."

"Gus!" Shawn called, but Gus was out the door. He turned to Lassiter with a pout. "Can you believe that?"

Lassiter sits on the barstool beside him and rests his head on the counter. "Yes, I told you Guster was the only one with sense," he said. "Six hours of sleep sounds pretty good."

Shawn sighed. "What is it with you people? You act like you've never stayed up all night before."

"I don't usually," Lassiter said. "Sometimes on a big case."

"This case is big, and we still have lots of work to do," Shawn said.

"You're eating pudding," Lassiter said, eyeing him dubiously.

Shawn licked the spoon clean. "It's all part of my process," he explained. He finished off the bowl of pudding and then jumped to his feet. "Okay, let's-" He broke off as he realized Lassiter had fallen asleep, his head resting on his crossed arms, the toes of his shoes braced against the tile floor.

Shawn sighed. He wasn't about to leave Lassiter asleep here with the undead on the loose, and he didn't want to wake him up. He moved quietly around the kitchen, searching for something to keep him occupied, and grinned when he saw the roll of butcher paper leaning against the counter.

He slid it to the floor and rolled it open, laying a long piece of paper parallel to the counter. He found a box of markers in one of the drawers, and pulled the cap off the blue one with his teeth before getting to work.

He paused with the marker held against the paper and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and drawing the lines from memory, labeling everything he recognized and leaving the rest blank. He pulled out a red pen next, tracing along the edges and moving to the side, nearly running off the edge of the paper.

He was nearly finished when he felt he was being watched, and he glanced up to see Lassiter was awake. "What are you doing?" Lassiter asked quietly.

"Drawing a map," Shawn said. "The one they have is wrong."

Lassiter stood from the stool and then kneeled beside Shawn, frowning at what he saw. It was an intricate blueprint of the house. He'd seen the map in the entryway when he came in, and this seemed to match it almost exactly from what he could recall.

"See this," Shawn said, pointing to the red marks on the map, a hallway that went down from the entryway and ended at two rooms. "It isn't on the official guide they have tacked up out there. Everything in red is what they didn't bother to put on the map."

"You did this from memory?" Lassiter asked quietly, turning to look at Shawn with something like disbelief. Since he learned the truth, Lassiter sometimes thought the psychic thing was the easier story to believe. "And the rest just from walking through the halls?"

Shawn nodded. "It's not like it's to scale or anything," he said, though Lassiter noticed that the lines all seemed perfectly straight, as though he'd drawn them with a ruler and not by sight. Shawn pointed to a small section lined off from the study. "This is where we found the hidden room."

"What hidden room?" Lassiter asked.

Shawn tossed Lassiter the diary. "Part of his daughter's old room, they had a wall built up around it when Harvey wanted it gone," he said. "Sent her off to an institution far as we can tell, though she came home recently. I saw her earlier. She's Gus's ghost."

"Daughter?" Lassiter asked.

"Oh, yeah, you were right that he doesn't have a sister," Shawn explained. "Holly Graves was his daughter, and she isn't dead."

Lassiter glanced through the diary, before looking back at the map. "I didn't find any record of a daughter, either. What else is down there?" he asked.

"Aldis's room, which you saw, and Harvey's study," Shawn said. "Maybe it's not on the map because Harvey wanted to keep his office private. Maybe it's because someone had his daughter locked up in the walls."

"Don't you think someone would have noticed?" Lassiter asked.

"People did notice," Shawn said. "It's just that they all thought she was a ghost."

Lassiter frowned as Shawn ripped the paper off the roll, before spreading out a new piece. "What are you doing now?" he asked.

"I like to make lists," Shawn said.

"Huh. That's what we do, too," Lassiter said, leaning over him. He looked at what Shawn was doing. "Actually, that's nothing like what we do. What is that supposed to be?"

"I write in code," Shawn said defensively. "Well, pictograms, anyway. I need to look again at my suspects. I feel like I'm in the middle of a rousing game of Clue. We've got the maid in the kitchen with pudding, the butler in the hall with a candlestick, the widow in the upstairs bedroom with the sleeping pills. The long-lost daughter in the hidden room."

Shawn squinted at his paper, drawing everything he described in stick-figure style. "And then we've got Harvey," Shawn said. "An expert swimmer who drowned in a seven foot pool."

"They're all good suspects," Lassiter said. "It could have been any of them."

"Except I don't think it was any of them," Shawn said.

"I thought you were blaming it on the butler?" Lassiter asked.

"Oh, he's definitely hiding something," Shawn said. "But I don't think he killed anyone, and Holly was the one spotted at the scene of the crime."

"What are you talking about? I talked to O'Hara and she didn't say anything about a witness," Lassiter said.

"Sani didn't tell the police," Shawn said. "She thought she saw an apparition. She didn't think anyone would believe her."

"So it's obviously Holly then," Lassiter said. "What's the problem?"

"It's obvious," Shawn said. "That's the problem."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. He settled down on the floor and paged through the diary for awhile before laying out and falling asleep beside Shawn. Shawn couldn't sleep, even if someone didn't need to stay on watch, so he laid out another strip of butcher paper and started to write down all he knew.

Eveline

Motive: Harvey was mean. Also lots of money.

Means: The pills were hers.

Defense: Probably didn't use a tripwire on herself. Or try to choke herself.

The Butler

Motive: Harvey was mean. Wanted the East Wing to himself.

Means: Access to Eveline's pills, trusted by Harvey.

Defense: Really really old.

Sani

Motive: Thought Harvey was gross. And mean.

Means: Access to pills and kitchen, could have slipped it in a drink.

Defense: Would not have had time to make so much pudding if plotting murders.

Holly

Motive: Harvey was really mean. Also, she's crazy.

Means: She can make her way through the house unnoticed. Access to everything.

Defense: She saved the card her father gave her. Lives in a wall. Obviously does not care about material gains.

It could have been any of them, but that didn't mean it had to be one of them.

Shawn had the worst feeling he'd left someone off the list.

x x x x x x

Lassiter's head hit the tile floor with a loud crack, and he jerked awake, reaching instinctively for the butt of his gun. "Wha-what happened?"

Shawn was sitting cross-legged beside him, unconcerned. He was drawing what looked like Casper on a new stretch of paper with blue marker. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that," he said. "You were laying on my leg, and while very cute, I started to lose all feeling at about 4:00 AM and I was beginning to worry they'd have to amputate."

"You shoved me off?" Lassiter asked indignantly, pulling his shirt up to look at his stomach. "I think I have a gun indentation in my stomach."

Shawn paused, and glanced up. "Note to self: don't let Lassiter sleep with firearms down his pants. Could very well put an end to my new favorite pastime."

Lassiter turned to glare at him, and then seemed to notice the state of the floor. It was covered almost completely with paper, most of the writing on it nonsensical, including what appeared to be a three-page treatise on why the Pineapple Toss should be included in the Olympics.

"Have you been at this all night?" Lassiter asked incredulously.

"You were falling asleep on me like you had late onset narcolepsy, someone had to stand watch," Shawn told him.

"What is all this?" Lassiter asked.

"I'm organizing my thoughts," Shawn said.

"I'm sure I've said this before," Lassiter said, "but your mind is a scary place, isn't it?"

Shawn was about to respond when Lassiter took the marker from him, snapping the cap back on. "Hey!" he protested.

"Don't you think you should clean this up before someone comes in and sees it?" Lassiter asked.

"Honestly, I think it's an improvement over last night," Shawn said. "It looked like Count Chocula threw up in here."

Lassiter just sighed and started carefully gathering the papers together. More than one seemed to have bonded to the floor with sticky chocolate pudding. Shawn had gotten to his feet beside him, and he reached down to grab everything together in one frenzied move, crumbling the paper carelessly and then pushing it into the trashcan.

Lassiter frowned. "I thought that was your version of an evidence log?" he asked.

Shawn dusted his hands off and grinned. "Eidetic memory, remember?" he pointed to his head. "This is my evidence log. The coloring is just for fun."

Lassiter rolled his eyes and glanced down at his watch. "It's only about five thirty," he said. "We should go to my place and try and get some sleep."

"You've been sleeping all night," Shawn protested. "And I'm fine. We need to keep working."

"Laying on a hard kitchen floor with a gun digging into my stomach isn't exactly the most refreshing night's sleep I've ever had," Lassiter said. "And I thought you were over your insomnia."

"You don't get over insomnia," Shawn said. "Sometimes you have it and sometimes you don't, but it's not like there's a cure. Unless you count sleeping pills."

"Which you refuse to take," Lassiter said.

"You won't take them either," Shawn said.

"Why would I take them? I have no trouble sleeping," Lassiter said.

"Okay, I can't argue with that," Shawn agreed. "You're kind of like one of those little toy dolls, your eyes shut when you lay down, open again when you sit up. It's really quite impressive."

"I've learned to grab sleep where I can," Lassiter said defensively. "But I've trained myself to wake at the slightest noise."

"Really," Shawn said. "It's funny you didn't wake up at all last night then, not even during my lovely rendition of Everybody Wants To Rule The World."

"Yeah, well, I've also trained myself to tune you out," Lassiter said. "So there's a conflict."

Shawn grinned, about to voice his rejoinder, when he heard the sound of clicking heels. Eveline walked into the room, apparently unconcerned with all the pudding, and made a beeline for the coffee machine. She was wearing pink high heels and another overpriced dress. This morning though, her make-up was perfect.

Once she had the coffee started, she finally glanced over at them. "Oh, Mr. Oats! I didn't realize you were here," she said.

Lassiter opened his mouth to let her know that wasn't his name, but Shawn beat him to the punch. "Please, Eveline, call him Holland," he said. "There's no need for formalities between us."

Lassiter turned to glare at him, but Eveline just gave a slight smile, one that had Lassiter wondering if she knew very well it wasn't his name. "Holland, then," she said. "Where is Gus?"

"He's pursuing other leads," Shawn said. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than usual, thank you," she said. "It was very kind of you to stay here. Did you…encounter any spirits?"

"Not exactly," he said, reaching deep into his pocket. He stepped in front of Eveline, holding out his hand, the pearl earrings resting on his palm. "But I think these belong to you?"

"My earrings!" she said happily, taking them from him. "Where did you find them?"

"In your step daughter's room," Shawn said.

Eveline frowned. "I don't have a step daughter," she said.

"You do, actually," Shawn said. "Her name is Holly Graves."

Eveline sighed, leaning against the counter. "Harvey was even more of a bastard than I've been giving him credit for, wasn't he?" she asked quietly.

"Pretty much," Shawn said. "We found her room hidden behind the wall in his study. Do you know why that part of the house wasn't included on the map?"

"I never even noticed it wasn't," she said, shaking her head. "Harvey's study is pretty much all that's down there, I never spend any time on that side of the house."

"But Aldis does, do you know why?" Shawn asked.

Eveline shrugged. "He's free to go wherever he wants, he choose to sleep in the spare room down there," she said. "He asked if he could use Harvey's study after he died, and I said he could. I don't want anything to do with it myself."

"And you had no idea Harvey might have had a daughter?" Shawn asked. "You never received any strange phone calls from her, anything like that?"

Eveline turned to look at him sharply. "You're acting as though she isn't dead," she said.

"That's because I don't think she is," Shawn said. "I don't think your problem has anything to do with ghosts."

Eveline placed a hand over her mouth and sat heavily on one of the barstools. "This is all too much," she said. "Are you sure it's not Harvey?"

"Your husband is dead," Lassiter told her firmly. "I saw him myself."

Eveline nodded, but still turned to look at Shawn. "And he's…gone? He's really gone?"

"Your house is 100% ghost-free," Shawn told her. "But that doesn't mean it's safe. Are you sure you can't tell us anything else about Holly?"

"No, I had no idea about any of this." Eveline sighed. "You should talk to Aldis. He knows all of Harvey's dirty little secrets."

Shawn nodded. "Okay, we will," he assured her. "Then we're going to have to go check some things out. You need to be careful, you might want to get out of the house for awhile."

"You should stay with a friend," Lassiter told her. "Or at a hotel."

Eveline shook her head. "This is my home," she said. "I wasn't going to let a ghost drive me out of it, and this isn't any different."

"This is different because this threat is real," Lassiter snapped.

Shawn stepped in front of him. "What he means is, ghosts are ethereal, the damage they can do is limited," he said. "Someone flesh and blood doesn't have that kind of limitation."

"Mrs. Graves," Lassiter interrupted. "If you don't listen to our advice, we can't protect you."

"I understand that," Eveline said. "I'll be careful." She walked over to the intercom. "Aldis, Mr. Spencer and Mr. Oats would like a word with you. Please meet them in the entry way."

"Thank you," Lassiter said.

"Be careful," Shawn told her. "The good news is that the killer only seems to strike at night, and with any luck, we'll have caught them by then."

Eveline nodded. "I'll be okay," she said. "It was the thought of Harvey being here that was scaring me. Anything else I can handle. Even a stepdaughter I didn't know I had. Anyway, I always said I'd like to have met her."

Lassiter frowned as he and Shawn went to meet Aldis. "She should be more careful what she wishes for," he said.

"You don't know it's Holly," Shawn said. "Innocent until proven guilty. Isn't that a cop rule?"

"No," Lassiter said dryly. "That's a lawyer rule. We have to look at everyone like they're guilty until they're proven innocent."

"Well, that explains our first meeting," Shawn said.

Lassiter frowned. "That's not fair," he snapped.

"And all of our subsequent meetings," Shawn continued. "And all of your meetings with anyone else ever."

"What are you trying to say?" Lassiter demanded.

"You're kind of a suspicious person," Shawn said. "It's okay. I still love you. Here, have a hug!"

Lassiter held out his hand, placing it over Shawn's face to hold him back. "I am not a suspicious person," he said. "And no hugging in public. Someone could be watching."

Shawn stuck out his tongue, and Lassiter pulled his hand away in surprise. Shawn grinned at him. "You think we're being watched, but you're not suspicious?"

"Sirs," Aldis said dryly.

Shawn glanced over at him. "Huh," he said, before turning to Lassiter. "What do you know? You were right. We were totally being watched."

Lassiter pushed past him in irritation. "We have some questions for you," he said. "Where were you on the night of Harvey's death?"

"I was asleep in my room," Aldis said.

"Of course you were," Shawn said, deciding to take up the role of 'good cop.' "But where was Holly?"

Aldis' lips twitched slightly, but that was all that gave him away. "Young Miss Graves died some time ago," he said. "I'm sorry to say she's been dead ever since."

"Then who was checked into Acres and Groves?" Shawn asked.

"I'm sure I don't know, sir," Aldis said. "I imagine a great number of people have been."

"And I'm sure you know nothing about the room hidden in Harvey's study, either?" Lassiter demanded.

"As far as I know the only room in Mr. Graves' study is Mr. Graves study," Aldis said. "If there is nothing else, please, allow me to get the door for you." Aldis walked to the door, and generously held it open for them.

Shawn knew that was his fancy, upper class way of saying, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. He only let him get away with it because he had other places to be, and other people to question that may actually even tell him the truth.

He grabbed Lassiter by the sleeve and tugged him along. "See you again soon," Shawn called behind him, and Aldis closed the door in his face.

"What was that about?" Lassiter demanded. "You didn't get him to talk at all. We need to go back in there, he knows something."

"Of course he does," Shawn said. "But he's not going to tell us, so we might as well not waste our time. What we need to do is go to Acres and Groves."

"What's so important about Acres and Groves?" Lassiter asked. "Isn't it a mental hospital?"

"Yes, and possibly it's where Holly's really been since her tragic 'death,'" Shawn said.

Lassiter ran a hand over his face and then looked at Shawn with narrowed eyes. "You haven't fallen off the wagon, have you?" he asked. "You look pretty awake."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "No, I've been Red Bull free all week," he said. "Scout's honor."

"Were you really a scout?" Lassiter asked.

"Have you met my father?" Shawn asked. "I was a Cub Scout, a Boy Scout, a Rover Scout, an Air Scout, a Sea Scout. Take your pick. Never more than a week for any one of them, mind you, but they still count. I have the badges and everything." Shawn paused, and placed a hand to his heart. "Scout's honor."

"I don't know why I'm surprised," Lassiter said, before giving him a push towards the car, which was still parked on the other side of the fence.

Shawn glanced up at the tall fence. "How did you get in here?" he asked. "Did you scale the gate?"

"Yes," Lassiter said, "I don't have the code to open it, and it's not that high. You don't think you can manage it?" Lassiter smugly blew on his hands, and pulled himself up the first half of the gate.

Shawn watched him for a moment, and then punched the code into the control box beside the fence. It started to open with a loud creak, taking Lassiter with it. Shawn waved happily as he moved along the road until he was hovering over the lawn.

"Damn it, Spencer," Lassiter snapped, before dropping to the ground. "How did you know the code?"

Shawn heaved a sigh as Lassiter walked over to join him. "I miss the old days when I didn't have to explain myself," he said. "I could just say, I'm psychic! And then leave it at that. You want to take the magic out of everything."

"How, Spencer?" Lassiter demanded.

"It's Holly's birthday," Shawn said. "I found a birthday card in her room and it was dated in the corner. Harvey had guilt issues about locking up his kid that resulted in him putting her picture everywhere. It seemed to follow that he'd set her birthday up as the code, that's probably how she got in. My dad uses my birthday on his safe, too. It's just lucky for him that I have no interest in his collector's edition fishing lures."

"And you couldn't have mentioned that a few moments before?" Lassiter asked.

"I didn't know it would work," Shawn said, as Lassiter moved to the driver's side of his car. "It could have just as easily failed spectacularly, and I would have had to climb that gate right along side you."

Shawn dropped into the passenger seat and pulled open the glove box. He frowned. "You ate all of the Red Vines? Really?" he asked. "That was going to be my breakfast. Maybe we should go back for more pudding."

Lassiter put the car in drive without bothering to respond to that. "What we're doing," he said, "is going to my place to get in bed."

"I know I'm really hard to resist," Shawn said, "but we're in the middle of a murder investigation, this is hardly the time for a booty call."

"To sleep, Spencer," Lassiter said.

"You've reverted back to calling me Spencer," Shawn said. "It's Shawn, remember?"

"You still call me Lassiter," Lassiter said. "Or Lassie, which is worse."

"Carl-Carlt-nope, can't do it," Shawn said. "You're a Lassie. I think it's your big soulful puppy dog eyes."

Lassiter heaved a sigh. "You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?" he asked.

"I always give nicknames to people I love," Shawn said. "Gus. Jules. Henry."

"Henry isn't a nickname," Lassiter said. "And those are all better than mine."

"You'd rather I call you Jules?" Shawn asked.

"That's not what I meant," Lassiter snapped.

"How about Lassoles? Lasselot? Lass? Ass?" Shawn grinned. "That last one has potential."

"Stick with Lassie," he snapped.

"I knew you'd come around," Shawn said, and continued to rifle through the glove box to find any spare snacks. It looked like Lassiter had eaten his way through all of them. Shawn frowned when he glanced back up and realized they were on Lassiter's street. "I don't have my motorcycle here. If you really need to take a nap, can you drop me off at the Psych office first?"

"You need to sleep, Shawn," Lassiter said. "How long have you been up now?"

"Insomnia only kills you if you go eleven days without sleep," Shawn said. "I think I'm still safe."

"Will you at least try?" Lassiter asked. "Because I need to sleep, Shawn, and I don't like the idea of you going to a mental institution without supervision. They may not let you out."

"They'd be lucky to have me," Shawn said. "I'm a lot of fun."

"Shawn," Lassiter said.

Shawn rolled his eyes as Lassiter pulled into his driveway. "Fine," he said. "But we're going to Acres and Groves, first thing after your beauty sleep, right?"

"Of course," Lassiter said. "It's not even six. We need to rest or we'll miss something."

"That's not actually a problem for me," Shawn told him, but Lassiter was already out of the car. Shawn followed him with another heavy sigh, and braced himself to go inside. They hadn't come to Lassiter's house much since they had gotten together. They had spent most of their time at Shawn's apartment.

Logistically Lassiter's house made a lot more sense. It was bigger, the kitchen was always well stocked with the staples, there were no nosy neighbors. Shawn's apartment was fairly small with noisy people above and beside it, and the only thing he had in his fridge were Skittles.

Shawn stopped in the entryway as Lassiter locked the door behind them and tried not to look into the living room. The bloodstains had all been cleaned, of course. Lassiter had the carpet ripped up and replaced as soon as the CSIs cleared it of all evidence-even the couch was brand new.

But that was the thing about remembering everything. If Shawn looked too hard at the living room floor he could see Drimmer's body laid out across it like it was still there.

Lassiter grabbed his shoulders and steered him past the living room towards the bedroom, which was one part of the house that Shawn had nothing but fond memories of. Lassiter put his gun in the nightstand and toed off his shoes at the same time he shrugged out of his jacket, and Shawn glanced at the floor.

Shawn knew he would be expected to make some kind of lewd comment, but he always felt a little off-kilter when he came here. Lassiter grabbed Shawn's hand and pulled him towards the bed, frowning slightly. "I can move again," he said, and Shawn didn't like that he was that easy to read, so he looked up at Lassiter and grinned.

"Why would you do that?" he asked. He dropped down onto the bed and pushed his shoes off too, before slipping back towards the pillows.

Lassiter lay down beside him with a sigh, and placed a hesitant arm around his waist. "Next time we'll go to your place," he said quietly.

Shawn closed his eyes instead of answering, but he didn't go to sleep.

x x x x x x

Shawn waited until Lassiter was asleep, snoring softly, before slipping out of his arms. Sleep had never come easily to Shawn. Having a mind that remembered everything it saw always made for vivid dreams-and lately the things Shawn had been seeing lend themselves more to nightmares.

He found it especially hard to sleep beside Lassiter. He didn't want to ruin his image by waking up screaming bloody murder because behind his eyes he had seen Lassie or Gus or his father dead, which was mostly the way it went these days, almost always. He was always at the scene of the crime and he was always blind, unable to see a thing to solve the case.

He bet his mother would have a lot to say about something like that. It was probably for the best that he wouldn't ever tell her.

Anyway Shawn didn't know what he was so worried for. He figured that of the four of them the one most likely to end up dead was him. He wondered what it meant that he never dreamt about that.

Shawn shed his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom, and stood under Lassiter's shower for a good fifteen minutes, with his head pressed against the tile, taking careful deep breaths as he dispelled all the images from all the dreams he was refusing to have again. He turned his mind instead to the case at hand. He had to pay a visit to Acres and Groves, he had to find out if Holly ever made it there, and how long she'd stayed. That was the first thing.

He felt better with a goal in mind and finished the shower, before putting his jeans back on and stealing some of Lassiter's socks. He opened the closet carefully and surveyed the stock. Lassiter had shirts all pressed and hung side by side, three nearly identical suit jackets pushed to the far left. Shawn grabbed a blue dress shirt off one of the hangers and pulled it on.

He buttoned it up and rolled the sleeves back a few times, but they still hung over his wrists. It would have to do. He and Lassiter had yet to reach the stage of their relationship where they had assigned each other a drawer, so for now he'd just have to continue to resort to stealing his stuff.

Shawn was searching for his shoes when the doorbell rang. Lassiter rolled over in irritation, his hand automatically going for the drawer where he kept his gun. "I'm 'onna 'ill 'em," he said.

Shawn grabbed his hand before he could grab it. "Simmer down, dirty Harry, it's probably just a girl scout," he said. "I'll answer the door."

Lassiter let out a sigh that may have been an acknowledgement and rolled back over, and Shawn half-wondered if he ever actually fully awoke. He wandered into the living room and opened the door, stiffening almost unconsciously when he saw who was standing there on the other side.

"Well, you're certainly not a girl scout," Shawn said.

His father gave him a once-over that was tempered with badly reigned in disapproval, obviously noting the too large shirt and the fancy black dress socks that didn't have any holes and couldn't have more obviously not belonged to him.

"I've been calling you most of the night," Henry said, looking back up to meet his eyes. "I went to your apartment and you weren't there. It finally occurred to me that I should check here."

"You're quite the detective," Shawn said, stepping onto the porch and closing the door. "What's so urgent that it couldn't wait until I remembered to recharge my phone?"

"I'm worried about you, Shawn, you're going to get hurt," Henry said. "It isn't easy being a cop's wife."

"I believe the politically correct term is 'life partner,'" Shawn said.

"You know what I mean," Henry said, frustrated. "You're just like her, you know."

"You always have to bring her into it, don't you?" Shawn demanded.

"She was a hippie when I met her, into all those new-age psych classes," Henry said. "She hated to be tied to any one place, still does. Sound familiar at all? She couldn't handle it, Shawn, what makes you think you can?"

"Okay, first of all, she handled it for seventeen years, and second of all, I think we both know the problem was less that you were a cop than it was that you were you," he snapped. "And then there's the fact that I'm not mom. And Lassiter sure as hell isn't you."

"I just don't think you're thinking this through," Henry said. "What do you and Lassiter even have in common?"

"We both enjoy a good pineapple," Shawn said. "What's with the twenty questions? You've never cared who I dated before."

"You were never serious about anyone before," Henry said. "I think maybe you are about this, and I don't know if you're ready for this kind of commitment. What happens if you and Lassiter have a fight? You're going to be halfway across state lines before the door finishes slamming shut."

"That's not fair," Shawn said. "I've been back here longer than you, and I haven't run yet. Believe me when I say it hasn't been easy, but I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere."

Henry sighed, glancing back towards the street. "I hope that's true."

"What did you really come here for?" Shawn asked.

"I want you and Lassiter to come for dinner," Henry said. "No surprises this time. Just dinner."

"I'm not sure Lassie can handle seeing you again so soon," Shawn said. "You nearly traumatized him the last time."

Henry crossed his arms. "I'm allowed to be protective, Shawn. You're always going to be my kid. I wanted to know his intentions."

"His intentions? You worried he's not going to make an honest man of me?" Shawn asked.

"I'm worried he's going to break your heart," Henry snapped. "There's not too many people in this world you actually let close, Shawn. I'm not even sure if I'm one of them, there's your mother and Gus and that's pretty much it."

"You're one of them," Shawn said, only somewhat resentfully. "If not entirely by choice."

"Just come for dinner, okay? I promise not to be too hard on him," Henry said. "How's Monday?"

"Monday is a Gus day," Shawn said. "Wednesday would be better."

"A Gus day?" Henry started. "Nevermind. Wednesday's fine. Be there at seven."

"Alright, but if you start talking about your gun collection again I'm going to grab Lassiter and run," Shawn told him as Henry started towards his truck.

"Oh, and kiddo," Henry said, spinning back around to face him. "The basement looks good. See what you can accomplish when you put your mind to it?"

"It did go much faster after I started selling most of your stuff on eBay," Shawn called after him.

Henry just waved and got in his truck. Shawn figured he'd probably done inventory the moment he left, and so knew he was lying. He closed and locked the door behind him and then wandered back into the house. He stopped right where the kitchen tile met the living room carpet, and frowned down at it. It was the same off-color white that it had been before.

Shawn figured these memories would be a lot a easier to get over if Lassiter was a normal person and had a television instead of a wall of Wanted posters. Shawn didn't like the constant reminders, but he wasn't most people, and he didn't need the reminders because he carried everything around in his head. Shawn looked over at them and then smiled at the one between Attempted Murder Guy and Assault With A Deadly Weapon Guy.

It was a picture of Gus glaring at the camera, eyes squinted, and captioned:

Burton "Buster" Guster
8,000,000.00
Dead or Alive.

He'd made it in photoshop and tacked it up himself in an attempt to give this place the personality that Lassiter's home deserved. He found it endlessly amusing that Lassiter still hadn't noticed it to take it down, and the next time he had a free moment he was going to have to make one for himself. He always wanted a second chance at a good mug shot. His father hadn't let him fix his hair at all before taking the first one.

Shawn was getting restless, so he leaned over the kitchen counter to look at Lassiter's key rack, but the car keys weren't there. He must still have them in his pocket. It was just lucky that these days Shawn was allowed to stick his hands down Lassiter's pants.

He slipped back into the room, pushing his shoes back on before walking to the bed. Lassiter was still sleeping soundly, and Shawn leaned over him, kissing him softly goodbye as he carefully pulled the keys from his pocket. Lassiter stirred awake and ran a hand over his eyes. "Who was at the door?" he asked.

"My dad," Shawn told him.

"You should be sleeping," Lassiter said, frowning as he noticed Shawn was dressed. "Where are you going?"

"Following up on a lead," Shawn said. "Go back to sleep."

Shawn started to pull away, and Lassiter caught his wrist, turning it up to see the keys in his hand. "You must think I'm nuts if you think I’m letting you drive my car," Lassiter said.

Shawn grinned. "Then you'd better get dressed, because you've just volunteered to come with me."

x x x x x x

While Lassiter reluctantly took a shower so he could play chauffeur, Shawn took the opportunity to go through his things. It's been Shawn's experience that organized people always had a Monica Closet. Monica Geller fooled everyone for years into thinking she was the quintessential clean freak, until Chandler stumbled on that closet with all that junk stacked inside nearly bursting right out of it.

Shawn wanted to find Lassiter's Monica Closet. The wisdom inherent in Friends hadn't let him down yet.

He checked the drawers and under the bed, but all he found in the drawers were gun magazines and the only thing he found under the bed was one of his own socks that had been MIA since his last visit here.

Shawn listened at the door to make sure the water was still running and then went to check the rest of the house. There was no attic. The hall closet held a broom and some spare sheets. Shawn had already seen the garage. Lassiter was one of those odd, rare people that actually kept the garage clean enough that he had space to park his car.

The basement was his last hope. Shawn opened the door and flipped on the light.

He grinned. Jackpot.

Shawn started down the steps and was pulled to an abrupt stop. "Going somewhere?" Lassiter asked, all freshly cleaned in a new suit.

Shawn turned to face him. "I wanted to see your basement, you know, compare notes. I just finished organizing my father's, and I thought you might have some useful tips. But obviously your method of storage is to just toss a bunch of random stuff down the stairs and see where it lands."

Lassiter frowned at him. "It's not that bad," he said, looking back at it. "It's just the stuff I don't have time to deal with."

"I'll organize it for you," Shawn offered.

Lassiter narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?" he asked.

"No catch," Shawn said. "I love to clean. Ask anyone."

"You have three weeks of dishes in your sink," Lassiter said.

"I don't count dishes," Shawn said. "Dishes are a whole other thing. No one likes cleaning dishes, or cutlery of any kind."

"You just want to go through my stuff," Lassiter said, pulling him out of the basement and shutting the door. "There's nothing special down there."

"You have a ten foot stuffed panda down there," Shawn said. "Tell me there's not a story behind that."

"It's only three feet, and there's no story, I just won it at a carnival," Lassiter said. "Look-we don't have time for this. I thought we were going to go investigate?"

"Right," Shawn said, though his fingers were itching to reopen that door. "Eveline. Holly. Murderer on the loose. You're right. First things first. I'll go through your stuff later."

"I'm not letting you organize my basement," Lassiter said.

"Okay," Shawn said. "That's your choice. I respect it. I promise when I come back to go through your stuff later, I'll make a point not to organize it at all."

Lassiter sighed and pressed the palm of one hand against his forehead. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" he asked.

"Are you going to tell me you haven't gone through my stuff?" Shawn asked.

"Frankly, Shawn, I'm afraid to go through your stuff," Lassiter said. "There's probably a dozen things I could arrest you for just in your bedside drawer. Impersonating an officer, impersonating a health inspector, impersonating a rodeo clown-"

"Are you sure that last one is against the law?" Shawn asked. "I don't think you can actually prove that I'm not a rodeo clown."

"You're kind of missing the point," Lassiter said.

"Is the point that you have stuff in your basement that could get your arrested?" Shawn asked. "Do you keep stolen goods in the panda?"

"No," Lassiter snapped.

"Then you're right, I'm missing the point," Shawn said. "Why can't I go through your stuff again?"

"Because we're leaving," Lassiter said in irritation, and steered Shawn to the front door. Shawn decided to let it go for now, and climbed into the passenger side of Lassiter's car.

Lassiter pulled out of the driveway, and glanced at Shawn, obviously trying to distract him. "Was your father really here?"

"I know you're changing the subject," Shawn said. "I'm going to let you get away with it only because I think you have a right to know that yes, my father did come to your house. He knows where you live. Be afraid."

"Henry's been here before, Shawn, he was here after Drimmer," Lassiter said, and then grimaced. "He came over for poker a few times before that."

"Poker?" Shawn asked. "And you didn't invite me?"

"You probably cheat," Lassiter said.

"Is counting cards cheating?" Shawn asked. "I don't think so. Everyone has their own way to play. I can't help that my way of playing is better than most."

"What I'm trying to say is, I'm not afraid of your father," Lassiter said.

"You looked pretty terrified the other day," Shawn told him.

"I've had time to process it since then, and I've decided it's really ridiculous, being intimidated by Henry," Lassiter said. "Henry wouldn't do anything crazy."

"Pretty much everything Henry does is crazy," Shawn said. "You only know police officer Henry, who plays poker and likes to fish. You haven't quite gotten to know dad Henry yet, and while I think it's really adorable how you're not scared, dad Henry is the craziest Henry of all."

"Everyone thinks that about their dad," Lassiter said.

"Henry is not a normal dad. He's like every crazy sitcom dad ever rolled into one. He nailed my window shut once," Shawn said. "Can you believe that?"

"Were you using it to sneak out?" Lassiter asked.

"Of course," Shawn said. "But it was still excessive. He also used to follow me on dates. One weekend he even set up a whole fake vacation, said he was going out of town with my mom, and the whole time they were at a motel a couple of blocks away. He wanted to know what I would do when I thought he was out of town. He set up a sting, on his sixteen-year-old son, and then got all self-righteous when I threw a party. He sets me up to fail."

"Shawn," Lassiter started.

Shawn ignored him, and glanced out the side window. "And then of course you know about the time he arrested me."

"You stole a car," Lassiter said.

"I borrowed a car," Shawn said.

"I read the report," Lassiter said. "You hotwired it."

"If my dad didn't want me to hotwire cars, he shouldn't have shown me how to do it," Shawn protested. "He overreacts about every little thing."

"Look," Lassiter said, "at least he cares, okay? My father never did any of those things."

"You're lucky," Shawn said.

Lassiter pulled to a stop in front of Acres and Groves. "He never did those things, because he wasn't there to do them," he said, glancing over at Shawn. "At least Henry was trying."

"Lassie," Shawn started, but Lassiter climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Shawn followed him out. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that."

Lassiter pulled his shades off. "I'm not here officially," he said. "I can't flash my badge to get people talking."

Shawn winced. Lassiter was getting good at switching the topic of conversation. "Don't worry, I never have trouble getting people talking," he said. "Just follow my lead."

"We health inspectors?" Lassiter asked dryly.

"I left all my fake IDs in my bedside drawer, so we'll have to wing it," Shawn told him, and entered Acres and Groves. Acres and Groves looked more like a nice hotel than the horror film set that was Wispy Sunny Pines, but it still had that cloying air that could always be found in hospitals: antiseptic and ammonia and something else.

Shawn stopped at the reception desk and rang the bell. Lassiter stood behind him, scanning everything with narrowed eyes. A woman in pink hospital scrubs with little blue and purple hearts on them walked over to the counter. She had short cropped hair dyed Ronald McDonald Red, and about nine different piercings Shawn could spot just on her face. Three in each ear, one in the nose, one in the lip, one in the tongue.

Lassiter was staring at her in horror, but Shawn liked to think he was more hip about stuff like that. He glanced at her ID. Her name was Molly Raines. "Groovy piercings, Molly," he said.

She raised a pencil thin eyebrow. "Groovy?" she echoed.

"Hasn't that word made a comeback yet?" Shawn asked. "Groovy? Psychedelic? Psychedelic is a favorite of mine for personal reasons, but didn't seem to apply."

"Are you here to check yourself in?" she asked, in a sotto voice aimed to keep him calm.

"Oh for-" Lassiter snapped, before pushing Shawn out of the way. "We're here about Holly Graves."

"Oh, thank god!" she said, her demeanor switched from wary to relieved in a few seconds flat. "I was so afraid no one was going to come. I called weeks ago."

Lassiter opened his mouth and this time Shawn was the one to push him aside. "We're sorry it's taken us so long to get back to you," he said. "What's happened to Holly?"

"She's gone," Molly said. "She just disappeared one day. We searched the whole hospital, none of the alarms were ever set off, she was just gone."

"Why wasn't this reported to the police?" Lassiter demanded.

"This isn't a prison, Holly was put here at the request of her father, not for any crime," Molly said defensively. "Mr. Graves didn't want anything reported. He said he knew where she was, but I didn't believe him. I tried to get in touch with Mr. Matheus, but I couldn't seem to find him."

"Aldis Matheus the Seventh?" Shawn inquired.

"Yes," Molly said, and then started to look a little suspicious. "I assumed you were here on his behalf. I left a dozen messages with him."

"Of course we are," Shawn said. "But as you know there were six other Aldis Matheus' before him, and it doesn't hurt to be exact."

"I guess," Molly said bemusedly, before turning back to Lassiter. "Anyway, Mr. Graves called and said Holly wouldn't need to come back, but now he won't return any of my calls. I wanted to make sure she was alright."

"You seem close with her," Shawn said. "Did you bond over your rhyming names?"

"We were kind of friends," Molly said quietly, before glancing behind her to make sure they were alone. "You're not really supposed to do that. I mean, be nice, right, but not become friends. Except Holly was different, she wasn't like the others. She didn't belong here."

"What was she diagnosed with?" Lassiter asked.

"Don't you know?" she demanded. "I thought you were friends with the family?"

"We are," Shawn said. "But everything we know about it we heard from Harvey, and I think we both know he would have said anything to excuse keeping Holly here."

Molly sighed. "You know about that?" she asked. "He's awful. Makes these huge donations to this place, gets a wing named her, all in return for keeping her safely locked out of his sight, and all unofficial-like. You won't find her name on any of our records. And do you know he only visited her once a year on her birthday? At least Mr. Matheus was here everyday. But you didn't hear any of this from me."

"She never had any other visitors?" Lassiter asked.

"No," Molly said. "She always told me Andie was going to show up every day. But whoever he was, he never did."

"And how long was Holly here for?" Lassiter asked.

"About fifteen years?" Molly guessed. "Since long before I started anyway."

"You never told us what was wrong with Holly," Shawn asked.

Molly frowned. "Well, she wasn't like other people, she wasn't perfect, but she didn't have to be here," she said. "Her diagnosis was always tentative. Doctors thought maybe some Asperger syndrome, but she functions fine, mostly. Just a little odd. Has trouble relating to others, making connections, but she's smart. Reads books I'd need a dictionary to understand. In my opinion she could easily be living on her own, but I'm not a doctor, right, so what do I know?"

"You think she was smart enough to sneak out of here without setting of any of the alarms?" Shawn asked.

"She must have," Molly nodded. "Because I know she left on her own, she left me a note."

"Do you still have it?" Lassiter demanded.

"No," Molly said, "but I remember what it said. Just: Goodbye, I'm going to find Andie. That's all."

"And you don't know who that is?" Shawn asked.

"No idea," Molly said. "But I hope she finds him. She deserves better than she's had."

"One last question," Lassiter said. "When exactly did Holly leave here?"

"Two weeks ago," Shawn answered.

Molly glanced at him, startled. "Yes, almost to the day," she said.

"Thank you, Molly, you've been a great help," Shawn said, before spinning around and starting for the doors. Lassiter followed after him.

"You're onto something," Lassiter said.

"Not yet," Shawn said. "I'm still piecing it all together, but we're close."

"I'd say we're more than close," Lassiter said, as they got into the car. "Holly spends fifteen years exiled to that place, breaks out, kills Harvey and then goes after Eveline."

"No," Shawn said.

"What? What do you mean no?" Lassiter demanded. "You're the one that figured it out. You were right."

"No, there's something not quite right about that," Shawn said. "We're missing something."

"We've got motive, means, opportunity," Lassiter said. "Just what are we missing?"

"Andie," Shawn said. "Who's Andie?"

"She was crazy," Lassiter said. "It was probably her imaginary friend."

"And did she build that wall by herself?" Shawn asked. "No, she had help. Someone was helping her. Maybe someone still is."

"Even if someone is, I still have to call this in, you know that," Lassiter said.

"Call it in?" Shawn asked. "Call it in where?"

"The station, Shawn," Lassiter said. "They need to go pick Holly up."

"For what?" Shawn demanded.

"Well, let's see, she's an escapee from a mental institution, sneaking around and living in a hidden room," he said. "And someone's been trying to kill Eveline in her home. Guess who gets to be suspect number one."

"The butler?" Shawn asked. "I admit that Alfred is growing on me, but I'm not ready to count him out yet. He's the only one to consistently visit Holly."

"Holly needs to be brought in, for her own good as much as anyone else's," Lassiter said. "I'm calling O'Hara. They need to take her in for questioning."

"This is a bad idea," Shawn said. "We should just go there alone, talk to Holly, try and figure out what's really going on here."

"I'm not working this case officially, and I'm not letting you anywhere near some crazed potential killer," Lassiter snapped. "We do this by the book. I'm sure O'Hara will let you talk to Holly just as soon as we have her in custody."

"Fine," Shawn snapped, and sunk low in the passenger seat.

Lassiter let him sulk, and pulled out his phone to call O'Hara. "O'Hara. Lassiter. It seems that Harvey Graves has a daughter that's spent the last fifteen years over at Acres and Groves. She snuck out a couple weeks ago and has been hiding in the mansion ever since."

Shawn, despite all appearances of nonchalance, strained to hear Juliet's response. "Got it," she answered. "I'll get a team together and go pick her up now. You think she's dangerous?"

Lassiter glanced at Shawn, who looked away. "It's always safer to assume they are," he told her, before hanging up. He started up the car and pulled out quickly. "We'll go there, okay? Once she's secured I'm sure you can talk to her, but I told you before you can't keep running off to try and catch these people alone. You're not trained for this."

Shawn didn't answer him. Instead, he turned away and braced one of his feet against the glove box. He saw Lassiter's mouth tighten, worrying about footprints on his flawless interior no doubt, but he ignored it.

"What, you're not talking to me now?" Lassiter demanded.

Shawn crossed his arms. "I don't do long silences," he said resentfully, "but that's the only reason I'm still talking to you."

"I'm just doing my job," Lassiter said. "And whether you like it or not, part of that job is protecting you."

"Well, my job was a lot easier when you didn't care what happened to me," Shawn said petulantly. "I can take care of myself. I've done it for years without help from anyone. Well, except for Gus, but he doesn't count!"

"I'd be doing the same thing with anyone, no matter my personal feelings," Lassiter snapped. "I resent the implication that I wouldn't."

"How many times, since you've known me, have I been wrong about a case?" Shawn asked quietly.

Lassiter's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn't answer.

"Yeah," Shawn said, leaning back in the seat and putting on his sunglasses. "That's what I thought."

Shawn and Lassiter didn't speak for the rest of the ride. Shawn's fingers itched to turn on the radio just to have some sound, but knowing Lassiter it was probably tuned to NPR, and all in all he'd prefer the awkward silence.

Shawn pushed the sunglasses back on his head and sat up straighter when they pulled into the driveway of the mansion. There were three patrol cars in front, with lights flashing but no sirens. He could spot Jules and Buzz amongst all of the bullet-proof vest wearing officers, standing on the front step talking to Eveline.

"Do you think she brought up enough backup?" Shawn asked snidely.

"We need enough people to search the house," Lassiter told him calmly. "You wouldn't be here at all if you weren't our best shot at finding her quickly."

Lassiter got out of the car and slammed the door, and Shawn was tempted not to help. It would probably take them hours to find that hidden room without him, and she might not even be there. But one way or another, Holly couldn't keep living like that. She had to be found.

Shawn got out the car and joined Lassiter, Jules and Buzz at the doorway. Eveline smiled gratefully when she saw him. "Shawn, I don't know what's going on. They want to search the house for Holly, but I don't think this is necessary, really, I-"

Shawn wanted to agree with her, but he didn't. "Holly left a psychiatric hospital without permission," Shawn said. "She may need help. We need to find her. We'll all be very careful, won't we?"

"Of course," Juliet said reassuringly.

After a moment, Eveline nodded and stepped back. She grabbed Shawn's arm when he went to follow the others. "They said Holly might have killed Harvey," she said. "Do you think that's true?"

"I need to speak with her before I know anything for sure," Shawn said.

Eveline nodded and let him go. Lassiter and Juliet were waiting for him by the hallway.

"Shawn, do you know where she is?" Juliet asked him.

Shawn pointed to the stairway. "She'd go somewhere she felt safe, she'd probably be in her father's room."

"Shawn," Lassiter said tightly.

Shawn heaved a sigh, and pointed to the other hallway. "Okay, she'd probably be in the hidden room down that way." He started towards the hallway and Lassiter grabbed him by the back of his shirt, before turning him towards the other hall.

"Wrong hall," Lassiter snapped. "Stop messing around and show us the room."

"Okay," Shawn said, slipping out of Lassiter's grip. "Fine. If you already know where she is, then why don't you lead the way?"

"Harvey's office," Lassiter said, staring at Shawn the whole time. "It's this way."

Shawn followed Juliet and Lassiter, walking beside Buzz. Juliet motioned for the rest of the officers to spread out. The lights in the hall still weren't working, but there was enough spare sunlight that they could see where they were going. Juliet went into the office first, gun out, to secure the room.

Lassiter ushered Shawn in after her, while Buzz stayed to guard the door. "Okay, Shawn, where is it?" Lassiter asked.

Shawn pointed to the wall. "There somewhere," he said. "Just look for the crack in the wallpaper. I can't remember exactly."

"Stay back," Lassiter told Shawn.

Lassiter and Juliet ran their hands over the wall, searching for any break. He figured Shawn knew exactly where the door was, but was just being purposely vague. That was to be expected, but after a moment Lassiter realized that Shawn had listened to the order to stay back. Shawn never did as he was told.

That's when he started to worry.

Lassiter spun back around, and the room behind him was empty. Shawn was gone. He went to the doorway. "McNab," he snapped. "Where did Spencer go?"

"He didn't go anywhere, he's still in the room," Buzz said.

"Lassiter?" Juliet asked. "What's wrong?"

Lassiter narrowed his eyes at the opposite wall. Unlike Shawn, he made no claims of prescience, but he still knew he should have seen this coming. "He lied, the door's hidden on the other wall," he snapped, moving towards it.

He scanned the wallpaper until he spotted the door, but when he pressed against it nothing happened. He slammed a hand against the door. "Spencer! Spencer, you open this damn door!"

on to part four