Keeper [7/14]
Title: Keeper
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Lassiter, Juliet/Shawn, Team Psych, OFC, OMCs
Warnings: Spoilers, non-graphic abduction of a child, violence
Spoilers: 1.01 Pilot, 1.04 9 Lives, 1.13 Game, Set . . . Muuurder
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Het, Family, Friendship, Casefile, Future!Fic
Chapters: 14
Completed: Yes
Word count: 4432 this chapter
Disclaimer: See Prologue or Master Post.
Notes: See Prologue or Master Post.
Awards: See Prologue or Master Post.
Summary: Lassiter finally gets the proof he needs to bring Shawn Spencer's psychic charade to a screeching halt. If only it was that simple...
P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 E
After making sure the bulk of the initial investigation was done and it was down to mopping up the details, Lassiter left McNabb in charge and headed back to the station.
He needed to report to Karen on this latest development and when that was done he needed to give her a certain DVD.
He'd come to his decision. He was done with this whole mess. Shawn Spencer had faked his last vision.
Lassiter didn't know who had called Spencer, but his suspicions were leaning towards McNabb-and if he found out that was the case then the junior detective would also be going up on charges.
One thing he did know, no vision from the spiritual plane had told Shawn about the theft.
No media had been allowed enough access to give it away either, so that meant that the little birdie chirping in Shawn's ear was someone on the force. He'd known that for seven years, he thought and angrily slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, but he'd let sentimentality get in the way of pursuing the investigation.
Well not any more, he vowed as his jaw clenched in remembered anger for their argument in the locker room.
He knew it would hurt Juliet and he wasn't happy about that part, but it couldn't be helped.
Did she even know? he wondered. Had Spencer told his wife that he was a fraud?
For Juliet's sake he hoped not, because that would make her an accessory.
She probably wouldn't do as much jail time, he thought and shifted uncomfortably, but there was no getting out of it if she'd found out at some point and kept it a secret.
And surely they'd wait until after she had the baby, he reasoned. Of course, with both parents in jail, Jaime and his unborn sibling would go into the foster care system. Seventeen years as a cop had given him enough experience with that social service and the criminals it produced to know that it wasn't a fate he'd wish on any child.
Maybe Henry could petition for custody. Unless he knew as well . . .
Guster certainly knew, so he'd be no help. He'd be in jail right along with the rest of them.
Lassiter wondered if it would be worth tracking down Shawn's mother. Assuming she wasn't also in on the scam.
With a vivid curse Lassiter smacked the steering wheel again.
What had he done to piss off the powers that be this way? Why had he been the poor sap chosen to decide the fate of an entire family?
He stopped for a red light and rested his mouth on his fist. His crystal clear decision of all of three minutes previous was now as clear as . . . butter, to quote Shawn Spencer.
Unbidden, the memory of Jaime sitting in his lap while he waited to see his mother again rose in Lassiter's mind.
The hour of worry over his mother's health would be nothing compared to the years of waiting for his mother and father to get out of jail. And once they were released, getting custody back would be a long messy battle guaranteed to leave scars on everyone involved.
He cursed again and pressed the gas when the light changed to green.
The memory of Jaime shifted and turned into a slide show, a jumble of images from the past-his birth, parties, holidays, Saturday mornings at Henry's house when Carlton and Henry had gone fishing but been delayed by Jaime needing to give his Grampa a kiss and a hug before they left.
Juliet and Shawn were doting parents and had shared the joy of childrearing with everyone around them.
How many times had Shawn interrupted a meeting to hand out pictures and recount Jaime's latest misadventures and accomplishments?
Everyone at the station knew Jaime from the times he'd been brought in by one or both parents. The kid was as friendly and charming as his father and had wiggled and danced and grinned his way into everyone's hearts.
If Shawn was the department's pet, then Jaime was their adopted child.
The slide show took a dark turn when images from the future of Jaime without his parents started to interpolate themselves. He was a bright kid and as clever and manipulative as his father-that much was evident even at his young age.
Without the right guiding force he'd become the spawn of Satan. It wouldn't be long before he'd join his parents in the state penal system.
Lassiter doubted many things about Shawn Spencer, but one thing he did not doubt was that if anyone could keep Jaime from becoming a career criminal it was his father. Only Shawn had the energy to deal with Jaime for extended periods of time and only Shawn could understand how that little brain worked.
Juliet had learned a lot of tricks from dealing with her husband, but even she couldn't be expected to know all. She didn't think the way those two did. In the long run she'd never be able to keep up without Shawn and if she couldn't, then no foster parent was going to be able to.
This time the curse was long and colorful in its composition.
What was he supposed to do? he silently fumed. There was no good answer, he admitted bitterly. Someone was going to lose.
Then another thought occurred to him.
Even if he did keep quiet that just made him an accessory. Right now he could play off the hesitation on looking for more evidence, but how long could that hold?
And how long did he have?
Whoever this anonymous tipster was, he was proving to be determined. He'd taken the risk and gone to the trouble to get surveillance into the Psych office. He'd waited until he got the evidence he needed and then he'd packaged it up neatly and delivered it to Lassiter's house.
Something said in that long ago phone call came back to him now.
“Detective, I have done my homework. You don't believe Shawn Spencer is a psychic any more than I do.”
One more curse was added to the pile as the import of that hit Lassiter.
He had done his homework. And anyone who put as much effort into this as he had wasn't likely to give up easily.
The question was, what would he do if and when he realized that the DVD hadn't worked?
Would he try again with Karen? And why hadn't he done so in the first place? Why was he so insistent on being anonymous?
Lassiter pulled into his parking spot at the station and turned off the car, but remained where he was.
How far would this guy go to prove Shawn wasn't a psychic? Were he and his family in danger from this . . . anti-fan?
Oh this was perfect. This was just what he needed right now: two unsolvable cases to contribute to the nervous breakdown that had been building up for seven years now courtesy of Shawn Spencer.
Leaning forward he rested his head on the steering wheel and laughed mirthlessly.
He was definitely getting too old for this.
He stayed there for a minute or two, then sat up and took one last deep breath.
He couldn't do this alone. He hated asking for help but he was at the end of his rope. If he didn't do something to end this he was going to . . .
He didn't know exactly what. But it would be bad for him and any innocent bystanders that might be around when it happened.
Of course with something like this there was only one place he could go. Accessory though Henry might be, he was the only person Carlton felt comfortable taking this to.
This new plan could end very badly. If Henry somehow didn't know then this would open up a whole new can of worms, but that was really unlikely when one considered it. He had been a good cop, an outstanding detective . . . He had to know what was going on.
The question was, would Henry know what to do now?
There was only one way to find out. He'd drop by after work tonight and hopefully he could finally get some peace on the subject-or at least a co-conspirator to share the burden.
His decision made he forced his mind back to what he was supposed to be doing right then and climbed out of his car to go find Karen.
o.o
Shawn stared at the clear board where everything was pinned up and scrawled in various semi-coded colors. “We're missing something here.”
“A suspect. A motive. An MO.” Gus snorted from his reclined position facing half away from his desk. “Take your pick.”
“Gus, that's so helpful!” Shawn said. “I was thinking we needed more hot sauce, but maybe you're right. Maybe instead of Tabasco we need information about our thief.” He smacked a palm against his forehead. “Why didn't I think of that?” He capped this sarcastic comment with a glare, but over three decades of experience just made Gus shrug.
“I don't know. Maybe because you're allowing yourself to become distracted by Lassiter's problems?”
Shawn stopped pacing and turned to look at his partner. “You're not worried about him? Dude, did you see him today? My shoulder still hurts from that secret ninja move he used on us.”
“Mine, too,” Gus agreed, “but he's not about to open up to us with a problem in his personal life.”
“He opens up to me,” Shawn protested.
Gus laughed. “When you get him drunk. I don't think he's going to go drinking with you right now. And if he does, I wouldn't leave your drink unattended.”
“Gus, don't be silly. Lassie would never actually seriously try to harm me.”
“You think?”
“I know. Juliet would kick his butt if he did.”
“That's true,” Gus said with a half shrug. “Anyway, I think it's safe to say that this case is causing some of the stress, even if it's not all of the reason behind it. So if we solve it, then he'll relax a little. Plus we'll have the time free to investigate what else might be going on. Well,” he corrected, “you'll have the time to investigate. I need to put in some hours at Central Coast to make up for all the time I've missed recently. Lassiter isn't the only one stressed by this case being unsolved.”
“I just don't know if it can wait that long . . .” Shawn said, perching on the edge of his desk and letting his gaze lose focus as he looked out the window.
“Then let's finish this now,” Gus said and swung around, sitting up straight.
Shawn shook himself and stood. “You're right. Splitting my attention isn't helping. Let's solve this case.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together as he walked over to the clear board.
“We'll take this one step at a time.” He did a silent eeny-meeny-miney-moe in his head, then pronounced: “Motive.”
“There isn't one,” Gus said immediately.
“Stop being negative, Gus. There is always a motive. People don't just wake up one day and plan a series of flawless jewel heists without a reason.”
“What if the reason is because they can?”
“That's still a reason.” Shawn considered it for a moment. “And a good possibility for this thief. But we can't prove that right now, so let's try thinking a little more. Outside the box this time.”
“Shawn, there is no unifying factor that ties all of the jewels together,” Gus pointed out. “It's not value. There were so many others to pick up at half the locations. And none of these places were cleaned out. Only a single jewel was taken from each one.”
“So our thief isn't greedy,” Shawn concluded. “That's one motive we can eliminate,” he said with a grin.
Gus did not look impressed.
“Great. Now we only have an infinite number left.”
“Not infinite. Just unknown.”
Gus rolled his eyes. “Oh that's so much better.”
“It's progress,” Shawn said. “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” He frowned and scanned the board. “We took our step, now we just need to find . . . Wait a minute,” he said and froze.
“What? You have something?”
“Yes.”
“You know who did it?”
“No.”
"You know why?”
“No.”
“You know how?”
“No.”
“Well what then?”
“I'm going to be late for dinner.”
“You're what?” Gus demanded.
“If I don't leave right now, I'm going to be late for dinner with my dad and I still have to pick up Juliet and Jaime. I gotta go. We'll finish this later,” he called as he headed out the door at a sprint.
“Shawn!” Gus yelled, but he knew it was too late.
Muttering dark threats under his breath, Gus grabbed his jacket and followed Shawn to the parking lot. He was going out to eat tonight. He deserved a reward for once again resisting the urge to kill his best friend.
o.o
A knock on the door had Henry checking his watch. It was too early to be Shawn and Juliet.
She'd called not forty-five minutes before and said that Jaime had only just gone down for his afternoon nap. She wanted to give him at least an hour so she could catch her breath before she revived him and Shawn wasn't home yet anyway. He was still working on the Rimini burglaries and had called to say he was on his way, but he'd be a little late.
Gus was, more than likely, with Shawn, so it wasn't him either.
When Henry opened the door and found Carlton Lassiter standing there, however, he was a little surprised.
“Carlton,” he greeted, and opened the screen door. “Come on in.”
“Thank you,” the younger man said and accepted the invitation. He shut the door behind himself and followed Henry back to the kitchen.
“Drink?” the retired cop asked.
“No thanks,” Lassiter said as he looked around the room. It hadn't changed in the last seven years with one exception: the fridge door was now hidden. Mostly by candid shots and birthday shots and Christmas shots of Jaime or crayon scribbles from the same, though tucked in amongst the rest was a three by five of Shawn and Juliet on their wedding day, both of them grinning like fools and looking nauseatingly in love.
He quickly shifted his gaze to the stove to where Henry was cooking-shock and amazement-fish.
“Been a while since we went out on the boat,” his host said. “I know you're in the middle of a big jewel heist right now, but maybe when it's wrapped up we can go see what's biting?”
“Yeah,” Carlton said. He morbidly wondered if that would ever happen. The odds of all of them ending up in jail was increasing by the moment. There wasn't a lot of fishing to be done in jail.
“What brings you around here?” Henry asked as he flipped the fish in the skillet.
Lassiter shrugged, feeling reluctance to open the topic of discussion now that he was here. “Just wondering how you were doing.”
Henry splashed a sauce of some kind on the fish and set it snapping and popping, then turned to lean against the counter and folded his arms over his chest.
“I'm doing just fine. Juliet's still in some pain, but if she takes it easy it's not so bad. Shawn you see more than I do, so you probably know better than me. And Jaime has already mastered counting to ten without his fingers and is anxious to start learning the alphabet. Now that we've exhausted all of the obvious delaying tactics, why did you really come here?”
Carlton feigned surprise. “I can't just check on a friend I haven't seen in a while?”
“No,” Henry said without missing a beat. “What's up?”
Carlton remained silent and considered how best to phrase it.
Henry filled the gap while he deliberated. “Okay. We'll go for the less obvious stalls. I hear you got a new partner while Juliet's temporarily out of commission.”
“McNabb,” Lassiter said with a nod, grateful for the further delay. “He made detective a week before Juliet left. Chief Vick was planning to assign him to Jackson, but he's got another two months of rehab before he'll be back at his desk. So he's been temporarily assigned to me.”
“He's the tall one that grins a lot, right?”
“It's like being partnered with a puppy,” Carlton said, making Henry chuckle with the aggravation that came through in his tone. “It could be worse, of course. I could be partnered with-”
Henry just laughed at the momentary look of panic on the other man's face when he stopped cold.
“Shawn,” Henry finished. “You could be partnered with Shawn. But he's not a real cop and Karen doesn't want to see you go to prison for strangling him anyway, so I think you're safe in that respect.”
“I don't know how you let him survive to adulthood,” Carlton confessed.
“Some days, neither do I.” He flipped the fish again and asked, “Is it about Shawn?”
And that was the end of the stalling. Unfortunately he still didn't have the right words.
Before he found them, the sound of the front screen door opening and closing with a bang sounded and then little footsteps pounded towards them.
“Grampa! Grampa! Guess what I did today!”
James Daniel Spencer-Jaime to everyone except his angry mother-slid to a stop and began babbling nonstop at his grandfather who listened attentively as he continued to watch the fish.
Carlton observed the three-year-old bounce and dance and wiggle in his excitement and decided that he was probably seeing thirty-four years into the past. The only thing out of place was the towhead he'd inherited from his mother, but otherwise he was the spitting image of his father down to those green eyes that brimmed with mischief.
“Wait just a minute here,” Henry interrupted when Jaime stopped to take in a breath. “I thought you were supposed to be napping.”
Jaime rolled his eyes. “I'm too old for naps.”
“He's too high on sugar from the candy bar he stole from my stash for naps,” Juliet corrected as she entered the kitchen. She had a bowl of something covered with plastic wrap in one hand, the other resting on her bulging stomach.
“Hello, Carlton,” she said when she spotted him. She smiled as always, but there was a hint of uncertainty to it and a shadow of concern in her eyes.
It made Lassiter suddenly self-conscious. Was he that transparent?
She set the bowl down, shifted in a moment of indecision, then rounded the table and enveloped him in a hug.
To say it took him by surprise was an understatement and after she pulled away he gazed at her in confusion.
She just smiled again, then turned and began fussing with the food she'd brought.
“Carlton?” Jaime repeated, then turned and spotted the quiet detective. “Lassie-face!” he yelled and ran over to say hello. He latched onto Carlton's leg and hugged while the owner of the leg rolled his eyes.
Yeah, that just made his day, knowing that Spencer had taught his son the nickname he hated the most.
Not that he was going to call Jaime on it. He'd been wrong earlier, he realized. Jaime wasn't as charming as his father.
He was as charming as his father and as endearing as his mother. That was a lethal combination and there was no defense against it.
Juliet gave her son a stern look and Henry turned away to conceal a smile and stifle a laugh, but neither got in the first words.
“Jaime!” Shawn said as he entered, a plate of something that looked dessertish under the foil covering in his hands. “Buddy! Remember that talk we had?”
“The one about how I'm not supposed to call him that to his face?” Jaime asked innocently.
Now Shawn was on the receiving end of Juliet's stern look as he chuckled. Henry's shoulders shook in silent laughter while he tended to the stove.
“No,” Shawn said and set the plate on the table and scooped up his son, swinging him onto his shoulder. “You're not supposed to call him that at all.” Shawn grinned at Lassiter. “Only I can. Hi, Lassie-face!” The tone was cheery and exactly what everyone would expect, but there was caution and the wary anticipation of things blowing up in his face in Shawn's eyes.
“Spencer,” Carlton said through gritted teeth as the youngest member of the clan giggled.
Lassiter wasn't going to continue their earlier discussion right now-even he wasn't that stupid or heartless. He was still pissed about
Shawn going behind his back and sneaking into the museum, but his realizations in the car had changed things. Now it wasn't just a question of whether or not to turn the fake psychic in, but possibly protection from whoever was intent on ruining him.
Lassiter's life was too complicated these days.
“What brings you by?” Juliet asked as she helped Henry set the table. Shawn was flipping Jaime around so he giggled more, but after dealing with the rowdy child for the last half of the day-thank goodness for mornings at the daycare-Juliet was more than happy to let his equally rambunctious father help burn some of that energy.
“I just came by to see how Henry's doing. But you're obviously getting ready to eat so I should go.”
“Oh no, don't hurry off,” she said. “Stay and eat. There's enough, right, Henry?”
“More than enough,” Henry agreed.
“No, really,” Lassiter said, backing towards the door. “I've got plans. I just . . . I was in the area and stopped by and now I really should be going.”
“Don't be a comatose sloth, Lassie,” Shawn said. He was looking down at his son who was hanging upside down and swinging back and forth, but he looked up when he added, “You love fish. And Juliet made raspberry bars for dessert. I know you love raspberry bars,” he finished in a singsong. Once again the lightness in his tone was proven false by the serious look in his eyes. He was obviously hoping to mend some fences.
“Raspberry bars?” Lassiter asked, hesitating. He did love raspberry bars and the way Juliet made them . . .
No. Staying was a bad idea. He had to make a decision on what to do about the DVD and it was clear that Henry wasn't going to be a good sounding board right now. Maybe sleeping on it for another night was a good idea anyway.
Yeah, he'd come back tomorrow.
It had nothing to do with feeling like a traitor for watching them live their lives with no idea it could all come tumbling down very soon.
Lassiter desperately wanted to believe he wasn't going soft, so he fell back on his old standby of biting contempt. “I have a string of jewel thefts to solve, Spencer. I don't have time for raspberry bars.”
With that he left, knowing that behind him looks of confusion were being exchanged.
He'd made it outside and almost to his car before Shawn caught up to him.
“Lassiter, wait!”
With a roll of his eyes and a frustrated sigh he turned around.
“What is it now, Spencer?”
“You okay, man?”
The sincerity in the question just frayed his temper more.
“Just fine,” he bit out. “If you'll excuse me.”
But Shawn was never one to let things go and this time was no exception. He grabbed the door to Carlton's car and held onto it when the other man tried to yank it shut.
“Spencer,” Carlton said in a low voice. “Let go of the door.”
“Not until you tell me what's up. Is it the case?” Lassiter rolled his eyes and yanked again, to no avail. “Because I'm getting a strong vibe that we're going to solve it really soon. We're so close and I think-”
“Did the spirits tell you that?” Lassiter snapped with more than a little bitterness.
Shawn cut off in surprise and stared at his quasi-partner.
“Seriously, Carlton, what's wrong?”
“What's wrong is that I'm still here with you when I could be out looking for a thief.”
Shawn finally let go of the door and Lassiter slammed it with just a bit more force than necessary.
“Go eat your fish and your raspberry bars, Spencer. Don't worry about the case. Let an actual detective do that.”
He shifted into reverse and pulled out. Glancing in the rearview mirror he saw Shawn still standing there, confusion on his face.
Well good. When it came to Shawn that described most of the last seven years for Lassiter. Let the fake psychic see how it felt for a while.
Maybe by the time Shawn had figured out what was wrong, he would have decided what to do about that stupid DVD.
At the moment he was wishing he'd thrown it in the trash as soon as he saw it. Unfortunately that was no longer an option.
He debated what to do now and decided on going home and looking at the case files again. The clue he needed had to be in there somewhere. And it wouldn't drive him nuts like the question of what to do about Shawn and the DVD.
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