Keeper [8/14]
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: 2961 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
It was inching closer to the end of the day but Lassiter was still awake. He was going over forensics reports and crime scene photos trying to find what it was that they were missing. No crime was this perfect. There had to be a mistake somewhere, something they could use-
A knock at the door interrupted his frustrated musings.
He glanced at his watch, noted the late time, and then rolled his eyes.
Ten bucks said it was Spencer come to try to apologize again or something.
Lassiter debated ignoring it, but when the knock came again he shifted Dinah off his lap and stood. She stretched and gave a meow that demanded to know why she'd been awakened, then followed him to the door to see who it was that had disturbed her comfortable slumber.
He yanked the door open, angry rant already pooling on the end of his tongue . . . and then swallowed it whole when he saw that it wasn't the Spencer he was expecting.
“Henry?”
“Carlton,” Henry said with a nod. “Can I come in?”
“Um . . . yeah. Sure. Of course.” He stepped back and allowed the other man in, then shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
Henry shrugged as he led the way into the den where the case files lay spread out. Dinah-familiar with this person since he always brought her little chunks of dried fish-rubbed up against his ankles and purred.
Henry smiled and crouched down, producing the expected treats from his pocket. He fed them to her and stroked her spine, then straightened again when they were gone.
“You came to feed my cat dried fish bits at midnight?” Lassiter asked.
Henry chuckled and took a seat, making himself at home.
“No. I came because you had a problem and my idiot of a son chased you away.”
Oh.
Lassiter sighed and retook his seat on the couch, absently petting Dinah when she leapt up and bumped his hand with her head in request.
“It's not that important,” he said dismissively.
Henry just raised his eyebrows. “Well it doesn't look like you're going to sleep any time soon so I'm not keeping you up. Maybe you can tell me about this jewel theft case. Shawn says it's a real brain buster.”
Lassiter looked at Henry and considered, then decided that now was as good a time as any. And he probably wasn't going to leave until he'd gotten what he came for anyway.
“Evidence has come forward that casts doubt on Shawn's claim of being a psychic.”
Henry didn't immediately react, then he leaned forward and said matter of factly, “How strong is it?”
Lassiter blinked. He'd expected more of a denial.
“I found this in my mailbox a few weeks ago,” he said and pulled out the zip-lock baggie that he'd been keeping it in to preserve any fingerprints or other forensic evidence. He doubted there was anything there, but he didn't want to spoil it with mishandling if he ended up using it.
Henry accepted it and looked it over, noting the words written on it.
“What's it got?”
“A surveillance video of your son and his partner at their office planning one of Shawn's visions. It's not conclusive I'll admit, but . . . it doesn't look good either.”
Henry nodded, still turning the disc over in his hands. “You said you've had this for a few weeks. I'm assuming that because my son is still walking around free and clear that you haven't shown this to anyone else at the department.” Lassiter nodded and Henry asked the $64,000 question: “Why not?”
Carlton ran a hand through his hair and then laughed. “You know, I don't really know.”
Henry frowned and he continued.
“I was going to. I almost have several times but . . .” He looked up. “I don't know if I should.”
Henry leveled a stern look on the younger man that had Lassiter feeling like he was back at the academy. Without conscious thought he sat up straighter.
“This is evidence of a crime and you are a detective with the Santa Barbara Police Department. It is your obligation and responsibility to deliver this evidence to Chief Vick and see that an investigation is initiated to further determine the validity of it.” He dropped the disc on the table and startled Dinah out of her doze. She yawned and stretched, then turned a circle and plopped back down, twisting so her white belly was exposed and ready to be rubbed.
Lassiter obliged, but he was still focused on Henry.
“So you think I should turn him in? Even though he's your son?”
“You know that I myself arrested him, right?”
“Well, yeah, but that was twenty years ago. What about his family?”
Henry tilted his head.
“Are you suggesting that we remain quiet about this? That we suppress evidence of a crime?”
Lassiter looked quite baffled as to how to answer.
Henry let him think for a minute, then leaned back and took pity on him.
“Why did you come to me tonight instead of going to Karen a month ago?”
“Because . . . because I still don't know what to do. You're right. I should have immediately turned this into Karen and arrested Shawn.”
“But?” Henry prompted.
“But . . .” He trailed off, then moved Dinah to the couch and got up to pace while he explained. “He's not technically hurting anyone. And he's kind of useful. And those are really bad excuses, I know,” he said before Henry could start what he'd opened his mouth to say. “But . . .”
He paused to gather his thoughts and Henry let him, crossing his arms over his chest while he waited.
“You obviously know about this,” Lassiter said, then added, “You don't have to answer that and incriminate yourself. I'm just thinking out loud at the moment.”
Henry stayed quiet, more to not interrupt the train of thought than because he was worried about incriminating himself.
“I know Guster knows. Besides the video evidence I've got, he and Shawn are as close as any two friends I have ever seen.”
“Since they were barely old enough to talk,” was all Henry would say.
“My problem comes in the fact that I don't know if Juliet knows.”
“Does that make a difference?” Henry asked.
“It shouldn't,” Carlton said.
“But it does,” Henry responded. It wasn't a question.
Carlton turned and sighed again, then dropped back onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.
After a moment he looked up again.
“It's not about her being my partner. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”
“So what is it about?” Henry asked.
“Jaime.”
Henry's eyebrows went up again.
“Jaime?” he repeated. “I thought it was about Juliet.”
“Well . . . it is. It's about both. It's about the fact that I don't know that I can be the one to take both his parents, his grandfather, and his surrogate uncle away from him. Not to mention the effect this will have on the baby that's not even born yet.”
“But if Shawn is breaking the law, what kind of example is he setting for his son? Is that really the home Jaime should be in?”
Lassiter thought about that for a second, then frowned. “Whose side are you on?”
Henry shook his head. “I'm not on a side in this conflict. This is all you. I just want to make sure you really think this though before you act, because once you do there won't be any going back.”
Lassiter's expression relaxed and he said softly. “I know. That's why I've waited.”
“Okay, let's think about this logically.”
Carlton sat up straight and grabbed a legal pad and pen. “I considered making a pros and cons list, but it was in the middle of Juliet's visit to the hospital and I never got around to it after that.”
“Well let's take the time now.”
They spent the next half hour debating points in favor of turning Shawn in or destroying the DVD and never thinking about it again. Henry did his best to play devil's advocate, but there was little he mentioned that Carlton hadn't already considered a thousand times.
Then Lassiter brought up the notion he'd had about the tipster and how he thought the phone call was connected to the DVD and that his inactivity might push the man to take more drastic measures.
That had Henry a little worried and Lassiter said that he had yet to think of a way to protect Shawn and his family without tipping them off that something else was going on.
“Leave that to me,” Henry said. “I'm always warning him about being careful, but maybe it's time we talked about early retirement.”
Lassiter gratefully conceded the duty and then looked at his list.
It was a written edition of the thoughts that had been chasing around in his head for the last few weeks and while it felt good to have them in ink and quantified so precisely, as he scanned it now he wasn't sure it would help much.
It wasn't a simple matter of which side had more bullets-especially since the number was evenly tied. The items listed were not nearly even in their weight.
How did one balance driving Lassiter nuts against Jaime and his unborn sibling losing their entire family in one fell swoop?
Or, conversely, defrauding the police department for seven years against maybe possibly thinking of Shawn as something that resembled a friend?
He let his head drop back and closed his eyes.
Maybe he was wrong, he thought. Maybe the tipster wasn't after Shawn.
Maybe he was just trying to drive him insane.
“Carlton, look at me.”
At the soft command he raised his head and blinked away the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him. All the sleepless nights were beginning to take their toll.
“You've made your list. You know how things stack up. Now you have to decide one way or the other what you're going to do.”
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes and the bridge of his nose where a headache was beginning to form.
“I can't do it for you,” Henry continued. “And putting it off by thinking it to death won't make it go away.”
“I know.”
Henry nodded and stood. “Well, I'm not as young as I used to be and there's nothing else I can do here, so I'm going to call it a night.”
Lassiter started to stand, but Henry waved him off.
“I know where the door is.”
He stopped to give Dinah a last scratch between the ears, then left.
Carlton stayed where he was for another few long moments, then dropped the legal pad on the table and pushed to his feet.
“Come on, Dinah,” he said wearily, leaving everything where it was. “Time for bed.”
He delayed just long enough to set and check all the locks and his security system, then he shuffled off to toss and turn until dawn.
o.o
Henry drove home but didn't immediately go to bed, despite what he'd told Lassiter. He sat on the porch and watched the moonlight on the ocean and thought about his own dilemma.
Seven years ago he'd seen this day coming. He'd foolishly thought that he'd figure out what to do before it happened-but not right now. He'd do it later.
And now it was too late.
He was surprised, however, at how little internal conflict he felt over this whole thing.
By all rights he should be working up into a fine panic over what to do. Six lives were potentially about to be drastically changed-one of them not even begun yet-and he was feeling remarkably calm about it. Seven lives if you counted Lassiter, who would certainly take some fire over this.
Maybe his sanguine attitude came from the fact that he just couldn't see Shawn-or any of them for that matter-actually ending up in prison over this.
Once upon a time, maybe, but gone was the kid who'd do anything to get out of trouble, even if it meant shifting the blame so someone else took the punishment in his place.
He'd been replaced by a man who had matured-in a still loose interpretation of the word-into a father, husband, and son that knew how to take responsibility and would do so when he had to.
And if Shawn didn't go down for this, he wouldn't let anyone else take the fall either.
But quite simply, despite the maturation over thirty-seven years-and especially the last seven-he'd pretty much proven to Henry that his son had a silver tongue that could get him out of most situations and the charm to make up any difference. He'd gotten both from his mother.
From him Shawn had gotten . . . well it wasn't something he was comfortable saying out loud considering Shawn's use of said inheritance, but he'd gotten the rare gift of exceptional skills in the field of criminal detection. He had a mind that was as sharp as a Ginsu and faster than a seagull chasing a French fry down on the boardwalk.
And he'd managed to do something with it. Seven years of something with it, though, again, his methods left a little to be desired.
Henry couldn't help but feel a little pride in that and the contributions-however unintentional-that he'd made.
Shawn would do at least seven more, too, given the chance.
This little hiccup was just that. Little and fleeting. He'd go into Karen's office and smile and make a joke, maybe flip and flop a bit, and then he'd turn this thing around and probably nail his accuser with some crime that would put him in jail where he expected Shawn to go.
In truth, Henry was more worried about the other thing Lassiter had said, about how determined this informant seemed to be.
It was pretty obvious that unless Carlton turned the disc in and Shawn was packed off to prison this wouldn't stop.
But until Shawn could pin this guy down-and Shawn would pin him down, Henry was sure-there was an unknown threat. Would he escalate to harming Shawn's family to get his revenge?
Henry sighed and shook his head. The things his son got into.
He'd said he would warn Shawn and he meant to. The question was, how much should he tell him and when?
He wasn't keen on turning his son into a fugitive from the law by telling him to leave tomorrow and never come back, but at the same time . . . Lassiter had a point. Jaime and the baby didn't deserve to end up in the black hole known as family services and the foster system.
Or should he wait and see how Lassiter's decision-whatever it was-turned out? It might be a moot point if the disc was revealed and Shawn could identify the man right away.
And on top of all this was the fact that Karen knew what was going on with Shawn not being psychic.
That was the other reason Henry wasn't so worried about them all going to prison. Karen had played a part in this and she wouldn't let Shawn and the rest of them take all the blame either.
It really wasn't as bad as Lassiter feared.
And yet neither was it all that good either.
How much flack would Karen take for this? he mused. She could try to play it off as a confidential situation and a need to know basis, but would that really be enough?
Maybe he should warn her instead of the impending storm.
Tomorrow, he decided. He'd go to the police station in the morning and let Karen know that she needed to be prepared for the possibility of Shawn's façade coming to an end. Then he'd find Shawn and have a discussion about quitting while he was ahead.
He'd done seven years of good work-and proved Henry and everyone else wrong along the way-but maybe it was time to take down the old shingle and retire on a high note. He needed to be there for his kids and the longer this went on the less likely that was.
Decision made Henry rose and stretched, then went inside and ended his day.
o.o
Shawn's brain never quite shut down.
Even when he wasn't conscious it was still chugging away, working on various things that he'd begun thinking about while awake.
More than once in their five years of wedded bliss Juliet had been awakened by him sitting bolt upright in bed and declaring a random thought that had coalesced into a more concrete form during slumber. But even if it was concrete it wasn't generally coherent or in context.
After all, who was expected to understand the relevance of 'Mangled baby ducks!' at three a.m.?
Sometimes he'd lay back down and just ponder his unexpected revelation. Sometimes he'd get up and go do something about it. Unless it was really important he rarely bothered Juliet with it. That she was a creature who needed her sleep with minimal interruptions was a lesson he'd learned very early in their marriage.
Tonight, for example, he popped up and yelled, “Pizza is the key!”
She cracked one eye, saw the confusion flit over his face as he tried to to decipher what that meant, then watched as understanding took over his expression.
He slid carefully out of bed so as to not disturb her any more than he already had, then ran from the room like a pack of crazed hedgehogs were nipping at his heels.
She let her eye drift shut again, rolled over into a more comfortable position, and was asleep before she'd stopped moving.
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