Keeper [11/14]
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: 3857 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
Juliet had been frozen but now she was suddenly frenzied in her movements. She dug in her purse until she came up with her cell phone and punched the speed dial for Shawn's phone, praying he'd pick up quickly.
o.o
The chorus of LMNT's 'Juliet' suddenly filled the air and Shawn jumped in surprise, then dug his phone out of his pocket.
“Jules?” he said as soon as he'd punched the send button.
“Shawn, just do it.” He stepped away and lowered his voice.
“Juliet-”
“I know. But Jaime . . .” She couldn't finish and Shawn couldn't blame her. He sighed and paced a few more steps, running a hand through his hair.
“I'll bring him home,” he vowed. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He lowered the phone and shut it, then replaced it in his pocket.
“I'm not a psychic.”
Fieldstone smiled in triumph as Shawn turned back to face them.
“That's part of it. Now how did you do it? How have you been fooling the cops all these years?”
Shawn looked away from the TV and met Lassiter's gaze as he slowly came back to rejoin them before the TV.
“Do you remember that first day we met? In the interrogation room?”
“Yeah,” Lassiter said slowly, not quite believing his ears.
“Do you remember what I told you? What my explanation was then?”
“You said you were extremely observant. You'd spotted tells that pointed to the manager's guilt while watching the news. But, Spencer-”
“I have a photographic memory and a very keen eye for details,” Shawn said quietly. “My father has been training me to notice things like that since I was old enough to form coherent sentences. Probably before that, actually.”
“I didn't buy that then,” Lassiter challenged. “What makes you think I'll buy it now?”
Now that the moment of truth had come Lassiter was desperate to avoid it. There had to be another way. One that wouldn't end up with Shawn in prison or all of them dead.
“Well,” Shawn said with a self-deprecating smile, “let's review the other things I told you that day. Shall we?”
Lassiter wanted to say no. The childish urge to plug his ears and start singing loudly rose up, but the look in Shawn's eyes knocked it back down.
He knew exactly what he was doing. And he was okay with it.
How had Lassiter underestimated Shawn that much all these years?
“Okay,” Lassiter said and-because morbid curiosity drove him to it-thought back. “You mentioned Officer Allen's grandmother and her belief in psychics.”
“She's actually where I got the idea. She had crystals, a dream catcher, and other psychic paraphernalia on her desk, more on her necklace and earrings, and I overheard her conversation on the phone in which she mentioned said dead grandmother and was talking about visiting palm readers.”
Lassiter jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “McNabb's wedding.”
“I saw him at the copier practicing his dance steps and counting out loud. A guy like him learning the waltz? Wedding seemed most likely.” He looked to Buzz. “No offense.”
Buzz shook his head in dismissal, more concerned with what Shawn was revealing.
“The shards of taillight?” Lassiter asked, his voice growing faint with disbelief.
“They were originally on his sleeve. I actually told him to brush them away. He did, but when they went into his boot and he didn't even notice I figured it wasn't worth the trouble and let it go. Fortunate for me because then I had the evidence I needed to make you believe I was psychic-or at least to wonder if I was.”
Lassiter's eyes narrowed and his voice strengthened. “How did you know Detective Barry and I were dating?”
“I saw the reflection in the two-way mirror of you playing with her hair as you walked behind her. It was a guess but there was a better than even chance it was right. Obviously.”
Lassiter just stared at Shawn as it began to sink in that he was telling the truth.
Not only had Shawn Spencer just admitted he wasn't psychic, but he'd admitted that he'd told them that from the start. And Lassiter hadn't believed him.
His jaw dropped slightly as he tried to think of what to say and Shawn raised his eyebrows, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shrugged. There wasn't really anything else to say.
“Now, Shawn, don't you feel better? Confession is such a weight off your chest . . . Don't you agree, Detective?”
Lassiter finally tore his gaze from Shawn and blinked at the screen.
“What?”
“You know, Shawn, you're right not to listen to him. He may be smart, but he's not very trustworthy.”
Shawn snorted. “I trust him a lot more than I trust you, Larry.”
“You shouldn't. After all, he's the reason we're here right now.”
Lassiter swallowed.
Oh crap.
“Uh, nooooo,” Shawn said in a voice that suggested Fieldstone wasn't the brightest star in the sky. “That would be your fault. Remember? You hate me because you screwed up and I proved it. Any of this ringing a bell?”
“I orchestrated all of this, yes. But I wouldn't have if Detective Lassiter had done his job like he was supposed to. It wasn't supposed to come to this. I don't know if it was cowardice or sentimentality . . . but either way the result is the same. I suspect cowardice since he obviously didn't tell you.”
Shawn frowned and tossed a thumb at the TV as he turned to look at Lassiter.
“You have any idea what he's talking . . . about . . .” He trailed off at the somewhat panicked look in Lassiter's eyes.
“Lassie?” Shawn asked. He looked at Fieldstone, then back to Lassiter and found that the panic was gone, replaced by fury.
He almost thought he might have imagined it.
“Go ahead, Detective,” Fieldstone encouraged with a grin, obviously enjoying this. “Tell him about the DVD I sent you.”
Lassiter scowled at the TV.
“Don't try to pin this on me, Fieldstone. This was all your doing.”
Fieldstone sighed. “Well that clinches it. Definitely cowardice. You see, Shawn, what your 'friend' here isn't telling you is that he's known for several weeks now that you're not a psychic. He has proof of it. Video footage of you planning a 'vision' with your co-conspirator Mr. Guster that I gave him. I expected him to take that and go to Chief Vick with it.
“Not that it would have changed your fate,” he added thoughtfully. “But I would never have had to kidnap Jaime to use as leverage to force you into confession. His inactivity left me no choice but to do something that couldn't be ignored.”
Shawn just stared at Lassiter as the pieces finally began to come together.
//“You know the only time I tense up like this is when I have to deal with interference by a fake psychic.”
//“Don't worry about the case. Let an actual detective do that.”
//“Until then I'm going to leave you to practice your next vision and go do some real detective work.”//
Lassiter had known. For the last . . . wait . . . weeks?
“That's it,” Shawn said softly, his gaze flicking back and forth as though reading something-or connecting the dots. “That's what's been bugging you! I thought it was just PMS-”
“Excuse me?” Lassiter demanded.
“But now it all makes sense. The mood swings, the little jabs at my abilities . . .” He looked up. “But why? Why did you have to think about it? It's what you've wanted for seven years and yet . . . It was eating you alive, the indecision.”
His eyes narrowed. “But what was there to think about?”
Lassiter didn't have an answer. Not one that he'd say out loud without more duress than he was currently under.
But he didn't need to. Now that Shawn had the pieces, the puzzle was quickly coming together.
A slow smile spread across his face. “You like me.”
“Spencer, I think of you like a swollen appendix. When you're gone you'll take a lot of pain and suffering with you.”
The grin grew. Obviously Shawn saw right through that.
“You do like me! I think we have to hug now.”
He started to take a step forward, arms open wide, but Lassiter put a hand up and stepped back.
“Spencer!” he barked and pointed at the TV. “Focus.”
“Right,” Shawn said, sobering. “We'll finish this later,” he added with a ghost of a smile and a twinkle in his eye.
Lassiter resisted the urge to snort. That was rather optimistic considering where Shawn was likely headed after this.
“This is all very fascinating,” Fieldstone said, “but I'm more interested in how you helped my ex-wife.”
Shawn looked at the TV and shrugged. “Your girlfriend bragged to her friends about her married lover. Might not have been so bad if she hadn't done it at a bar that was frequented by two of the guys who worked in the mail room. Also she had a journal that detailed several of your dates and her plans for your money after she'd convinced you to get rid of your wife. Her plans might have worked if I hadn't seen her writing in it and then putting it in her desk drawer at the office. I simply told your wife where to find it and gave her the names of the mail guys. But the fact that you had a lawyer who rolled over like a kayak with a narcoleptic fat guy isn't my fault.”
Shawn glanced at Lassiter and said, “For what it's worth, Lassie, when I first told you I was a psychic . . . I never thought it would go this far.”
Lassiter blinked in surprise. He actually believed that.
“It wasn't me?” Fieldstone sound like he was in as much shock as Lassiter had been. That drew Shawn's attention.
“What?”
“It wasn't me.” He looked straight at the camera. “It's nothing I did wrong. It was all Shelia's fault.”
“Well you did cheat on your wife.” Then Shawn frowned. “Wait, you didn't know?”
“No, I . . . I never knew the details of the evidence. But I'd spent all of my money on that . . . idiot Mercer. I couldn't afford another lawyer and he told me that there was nothing I could do . . . that the evidence was incontrovertible. He lied to me.”
Shawn jerked his head back. “Wow. You really got shafted on that deal. Seriously that's . . . pathetic.”
Fieldstone's gaze had dropped and he contemplated what he'd learned in silence.
Shawn, however, hadn't forgotten that somewhere in this building was his son-and somewhere close to his son was a bomb. “Hey, Larry?” That didn't work so he tried snapping. “Larry! Lawrence Fieldstone! HEY!”
That got the other man's attention.
“What?” he asked dully.
“So, now that I've answered all your questions . . . do you think maybe you could let us go? And also maybe tell me where my son is? If you're not too busy wallowing in self-pity there. That'd be . . .” He trailed off. “Larry? LARRY?”
The only response was for Fieldstone to point the remote at the TV . . . and turn the camera off.
“What does that mean?” McNabb asked after a moment.
“It means we need to go,” Shawn said.
“But-”
“Now!” he added, turning and pushing the two detectives towards the door.
It took a moment but they caught on and started running back the way they'd came.
Shawn passed them and led the way to a stairwell in the corner of the warehouse. Arriving on the second floor they found it was laid out exactly like the first which made searching it a lot easier.
“Jaime!” Shawn yelled and ran from door to door, throwing them open and glancing inside. As soon as he saw it was empty he moved on.
McNabb echoed the shouts and took the other side of the hall.
Lassiter only followed them down the hall a few feet, then backtracked and hurried up the stairs. They were running out of time-if it wasn't already up. He kept expecting for the world to erupt in chaos and the stray thought of how much it would hurt to die in an explosion flitted through his head but he shoved it down and kept going.
They weren't leaving without Jaime.
He was halfway through this floor when Shawn and McNabb joined him. It took only another minute or two to finish checking the rooms.
They were all empty except for the last two which were locked from the inside.
Shawn rattled the handles uselessly on one and kicked the door.
“Come on! You've got be kidding me! Jaime!” he yelled and pounded on the door.
Lassiter looked around for something they could use to get the doors open. He'd considered shooting them but they were steel and therefore not exactly a good thing to be shooting at.
It was McNabb who found the solution. There was an axe in a fire response station in the stairwell. Lassiter thought he was insane at first, but instead of trying to hack his way through he dropped to his knees by the hinges of the closer door.
“Buzz! You're a genius!” Shawn cheered and dropped down next to him. It took a little work to get the blade in between the pin and the hinges and then it took both Shawn and McNabb to work the pin up and free of its rusty prison.
They stood and repositioned for the upper hinge, then began pushing again. Both were red faced from the effort and Lassiter went over and added what little help he could.
“Come on!” Shawn forced out through gritted teeth. “Come ON!”
It finally popped free with a tortured shriek and landed a few feet away with a clatter, but none of them noticed. Buzz shifted his grip on the ax and chopped downward, using every bit of force he could to get the blade between the door and the wall.
Wiggling the ax back and forth until Lassiter and Shawn could get their fingers in enough to help pulling, they eventually pulled it away from the frame enough that gravity took over. It tilted and then swung towards them, pulling the other door along and forcing them to jump back so they weren't hit by it.
But Jaime wasn't behind door number one.
Fieldstone was, standing in the center of a room with enough electronics equipment to account for the video surveillance and transmission as well as a white plastic drum filled to the top with something dark with wires attaching it to a digital display that sat on top.
The time was now seven minutes and twenty-three seconds.
Fieldstone didn't even glance over as he raised the gun in his hand and prepared to put the barrel in his mouth.
“No!”
The shout came at the same time that Shawn and McNabb jumped forward to grab him.
Lassiter got there first though and he was faster than any of them had accounted for.
In seconds the gun was twisted out of his hand and Fieldstone had been slammed back onto the table, his head bouncing off the metal in a way that had to have been quite painful, Lassiter's hands gripping his shirt in white-knuckled fists.
When he spoke his voice was a lethal hiss that neither Shawn nor Buzz would have guessed him capable of. “Where's Jaime?” he snarled, then added a colorful curse-just in case his opponent doubted his sincerity.
Fieldstone's eyes were wide and his throat worked convulsively. “A-across the hall.”
“Keys?”
Fieldstone lifted a shaking hand and pointed to where a keyring sat on top of one of the pieces of equipment.
“McNabb,” Lassiter snapped and Buzz nodded and grabbed them, then left to find which one on the ring would open the other door.
“How do we disarm the bomb?” he asked next.
“I don't know.”
Lassiter jerked him up and then slammed him back down, eliciting another head bounce and a groan.
“Lassie!”
“Spencer-” Lassiter started without looking away.
“He doesn't know. Plans to build a bomb don't necessarily tell how to disarm it,” Shawn said, overriding the protest. “And he had no intention of doing so,” he added quietly.
Lassiter considered that for half a second and then straightened, pulling Fieldstone up with him.
He let go with one hand, but only so he could pull it back and give it some good momentum when he buried it in Fieldstone's gut.
Then he let go with the other so Fieldstone could crumple to the ground, gasping for breath and holding his midsection.
“You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Jaime Spencer,” he said with disgust. “And that's only the tip of the iceberg. I'm going to have fun writing up your charge sheet.”
Shawn's head snapped around at the sound of a door being opened and he left Lassiter to deal with Fieldstone while he ran to find Jaime.
It took an eternity to cross that hall. Buzz was visible in the other room, crouched down and gesturing to the corner to the right of the door. “It's okay, Jaime,” he said softly.
“Jaime?” Shawn called.
“Dad?” a soft whisper came and Shawn's step faltered from the relief.
“Jaime! Buddy, where are you?” He entered the room then and almost ran into Buzz, though he was completely unaware of that fact.
All he could see was his son, tears on his face as he stood up, his eyes locked on Shawn.
“Dad?” he repeated. “I wanna go home.”
“Oh me too, Jaime. Come here.”
Jaime quickly ran over and Shawn dropped to one knee and scooped him up in a crushing bear hug, several tears falling into his son's hair. Jaime heartily returned it, doing his best to strangle his father in his relief.
“Spencer,” Lassiter said after giving them a few precious seconds. “We need to go. Now.” He was in the center of the hallway, a handcuffed Fieldstone at his side, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Just leave me,” he plead.
“You're not getting out of this that easily,” Lassiter growled.
Shawn stood, retaining his tight grip on Jaime-not that it was necessary the way Jaime was clinging to him. He rearranged Jaime for a more comfortable hold, then they headed for the stairs intent on getting away from this place as fast as humanly possible.
“How much time do we have?” Shawn asked.
“Not nearly enough,” Lassiter replied.
o.o
“Juliet, you have to stay calm,” Gus admonished her. He and Henry were kneeling on either side of her in Karen's office while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.
She'd been fine enough right up to the point where there had been a brief flash of orange and the signal went dead.
Then her knees had given out and only the two men flanking her kept her from going down hard.
Shawn and Lassiter and McNabb had all left the room by that point, but seeing evidence that the building had blown up with no way of knowing if they'd gotten out in time had been a bit of a shock to her.
None of them were answering their phones now-in fact, all three were going straight to voice mail indicating that the phone itself no longer had power.
Whether that was because of dead batteries or because the phone-and the person carrying it-was no longer in existence was uncertain.
All of which had led to the current situation where Juliet had gone into the first stages of shock-and shortly thereafter labor.
First aid had helped with the shock but there wasn't much to be done for the labor except to get her to a hospital.
And since Karen was out trying to ascertain what had happened and if there were any survivors, that left Gus and Henry to stay with Juliet.
“Breathe, Juliet. In,” he said and put action to words, “and out.”
“I can't lose them both,” she said as she gripped Henry's hand and ignored Gus's advice. “They can't both be gone.”
“They're not,” Henry told her sternly. “Shawn's not nearly that easy to get rid of. You know that. They got out in plenty of time.”
“They had to find Jaime-” She was cut off with a scream as a contraction hit and Gus started frantically breathing Lamaze style, trying to get her to follow his rhythm. It passed eventually and she let her head fall back onto his balled up suit jacket, the tears running down the sides of her face.
“I can't lose them both,” she repeated in a broken whisper.
Gus looked at Henry but neither had an answer for that beyond what had been said already so the former just kept breathing in time for her and the latter squeezed her hand.
Fortunately the paramedics showed up then and there was no room to get the words in.
Orders were called and vitals were taken and an IV was hooked up as they prepared to move her onto the gurney. She kept her hold on Henry throughout and he followed her out to the ambulance while Gus watched them go.
When the EMTs tried to tell him he couldn't come with her in the ambulance she aimed a punch at one of them. He managed to dodge it but it drew the attention of those around them and Karen came over.
When they EMT explained what happened Karen had shut him down and said simply that Henry was to stay with Juliet and anyone who had a problem with that needed to speak up now.
They loaded her up without further incident and the doors were slammed shut and the ambulance left amidst the flashing of lights and the screaming of sirens.
Karen watched it go and said a silent prayer, then turned back and dove into the chaos that was the police station. Henry would take care of Mrs. Spencer and the younger child. She had to find Mr. Spencer and the older child.
“Mr. Guster, you're with me.”
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