Keeper [13/14]
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: 3406 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
In the rush of finding Jaime and surviving the bomb and having a baby-okay that was mostly Juliet, but it was still very distracting-Shawn forgot all about the fact that he'd confessed to defrauding the Santa Barbara Police Department for seven years.
But as he stared down at his daughter sleeping in her clear bassinet in the nursery he remembered it quite clearly.
And he was worried.
Would he get to see any of the significant events in her life? How long could he go to prison for this exactly? What was Juliet going to do? How was she supposed to raise two kids and hold down a job as a cop?
He didn't know the answers to any of those questions, but it was time to find out. Time to face the music. He'd done the crime and now he had to do the time.
What other clichés about time could he think up to delay actually going and finding the chief?
None, he decided. He kissed his fingertips and pressed it to the window, then mouthed a last 'I love you'.
Squaring his shoulders he turned and headed out.
o.o
“Chief, I can explain what happened.”
Three sets of eyes shifted as Juliet paused in her recounting of Shawn's arrival in the delivery room. Karen arched an eyebrow when she saw her head detective, Carlton Lassiter, standing in the doorway looking like something the cat wouldn't dare drag in.
“Carlton!” Juliet said in alarm.
Henry was holding Jaime-who'd thankfully fallen asleep-and so didn't say anything, though he'd already seen Lassiter downstairs so the other man's appearance wasn't a shock.
“Have you been seen by medical personnel?” Karen asked, taking in the torn and sooty clothing, the bruises and not-yet-scabbed-over scrapes.
“I'm fine,” he said and waved a hand in dismissal.
“What about your partner?”
That threw him. “What?” he asked and looked at Juliet.
Karen smiled. “Your other partner, Carlton. McNabb? Obviously I've already heard about Spencer.”
“Oh. Right.” He shook himself and tried to focus. “Cuts, scrapes, bruises, and a mild concussion. He's being kept overnight for observation but they're not worried. I can explain what happened.”
“You said that already,” she pointed out and shifted for a more comfortable position in her seat. “What exactly can you explain?”
“I understand that there was a closed circuit broadcast to the station of what happened in that warehouse.”
Ah. So that's what this was about.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them for a moment. She'd expected more time to prepare, given the reports from the scene.
“Detective-”
“It's not his fault.”
That threw her completely off track with its unexpectedness and she blinked in surprise. Juliet's eyebrows went up and she glanced at Henry but he was staring at Lassiter with an intent expression on his face.
“Excuse me?” Karen said after a moment to gather her wits.
“Spencer.” His eyes flicked to Juliet and clarified, “Shawn. It's not his fault. He told me way back when this all started and I didn't believe him. I forced him into this situation. So if anyone deserves to be punished, it's me.”
He assumed a position somewhere between attention and at ease, his hands behind his back, his chin up and his eyes focused on a spot behind her head, and waited for her to pronounce judgment.
“Carlton . . . no one is going to be punished.”
“Excuse me?” he said, his eyes dropping and his brows drawing down. “Why not?”
Now Henry met Juliet's gaze when she glanced at him. He was smiling slightly and he gave her a little nod which only confused her more. What did that mean?
“That's what I'd like to know,” another voice chimed in from the doorway.
“Ah, Mr. Spencer. Good to see you. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he said cautiously and entered when she waved for him to do so.
“An exciting day for you,” she said.
“Very. Speaking of which . . . You were talking about me, right?”
Karen chuckled and gestured to the chairs in the room for visitors. “Have a seat, both of you. Please shut the door, Mr. Spencer.”
They did as she said, exchanging wary looks. Shawn looked to Juliet who shrugged. She had no idea what was going on.
“Mr. Spencer, Detective Lassiter came here to tell me that he believes he is at fault for the last seven years since he didn't believe you when you told him the truth. Do you agree?”
Shawn gaped at Lassiter for a good long minute. “He said that?”
Lassiter rolled his eyes. “In a moment of poor judgment something along those lines might have slipped out,” he grudgingly admitted.
Karen arched an eyebrow. “So you didn't mean that? You said you thought that you deserved punishment instead of Shawn. Are you saying that's not what you meant? You believe Shawn is responsible and deserves punishment?”
“Well,” Lassiter said and shifted in his seat, “I mean . . . I think that . . .” Shawn's grin grew with every fidget and pause and finally Lassiter gave up and glared. “Oh stop that. I said you weren't at fault. I didn't say I liked you. And I still don't believe you're psychic. In fact I know it now.”
Shawn's smile didn't waver in the slightest.
Instead he popped up and all but bounced over to the other chair and swarmed the detective with a hug.
“Spencer! Get off of me!”
“Dude, I owed you that from before. I told you we'd finish this later. And I so knew you liked me. I even have witnesses!”
“I just said I DON'T like you!” He managed to push Shawn away but the grin was still there.
“Wait . . .” he said in sudden dread when Shawn's last statement penetrated his annoyance. “Witnesses?”
Shawn nodded so hard and fast Lassiter swore he heard something rattling.
“Yep! There's no use denying it now! The whooooole department knows you were trying to protect me from being exposed! And,” he added, “technically, what you said a few moments ago was 'I didn't say I liked you.' But you were thinking it!”
He moved in for another hug and Lassiter jumped up-and then winced when it aggravated his injuries.
“Come near me again and I'll shoot you, I swear I will.”
“Both of you sit down,” Karen ordered, reminding them they weren't alone in the room.
They did so, Shawn grinning and leaning over the side of his chair, one arm propping up his chin as he stared at Lassiter. Carlton was scowling and when he saw Shawn he leaned further away.
“Would you stop that!”
“Mr. Spencer,” Karen said pointedly, drawing his attention her way.
“Yes?”
A knock on the door right then interrupted her again and she rolled her eyes. “What?” she called, her tone just a bit snappish.
Gus poked his head in.
“Sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all, Mr. Guster,” Karen reassured him. “Please come in. This concerns you too.”
Gus nodded and entered. He shut the door behind himself, then came forward to stand behind Shawn's chair and to the right just a little.
“As I was saying, the reason you are not going to be charged, Mr. Spencer, is because I've known the entire time that you weren't a psychic. Therefore, it could be argued that you weren't actually deceiving me.”
Around the room jaws hit the floor as everyone but Henry stared at her in shock.
“You knew?” Shawn finally demanded and leaned forward.
Karen nodded. “I've known what you could do since I was your father's partner almost twenty-five years ago.”
“Oh this is so not fair. Chief, why didn't you say something? You lied to me!”
Her eyebrows went up and he sat back in the chair. “But then you are the chief so you get to do things like that.”
She held the look for a moment longer, then turned when Carlton spoke up.
“I hate to say it since it means I'm agreeing with Spencer, but . . . why didn't you say anything?”
“Because it was simpler. Because it gave me an excuse to keep Shawn around and out of trouble. Out of more trouble,” she amended when she was bombarded by incredulous looks. “He's been an asset, a valuable one, and it was the only way to utilize him since he absolutely refused to attend the academy and do things the easy way.”
“Wow,” Shawn said after a moment to absorb that. “So, I have to ask . . . what does this mean now? I mean, everyone knows I'm not really a psychic-”
“Actually the broadcast was only inside the police station. So every cop on the force knows you're not a psychic. But no one outside those walls does. And they won't. I've put a gag order on the subject. Anyone caught divulging this piece of confidential information will be discussing their future as a police officer with me.”
“You're serious?” Lassiter asked after a moment without a punchline.
“As a heart attack,” Karen replied. “I believe Mr. Spencer is still an asset and I intend to continue using him.” Shawn was grinning again so she continued. “However.” The grin vanished and he gave her his full attention.
“He will limit his more energetic displays to those locations where there are persons present who are not privy to the true nature of his abilities. In the station when it's just department personnel he will spare us the dramatics and simply share his information. Is that clear?”
“As a freshly Windexed window,” Shawn said.
“Good. Now, Mr. Guster?”
Gus was still recovering from the revelation that they'd been doing this for seven years and all along she'd known. All this time . . . all those visions . . .
“Gus,” Shawn hissed and elbowed his friend.
“What?” he said and blinked. “Oh. Right.
“Fieldstone confessed to everything. We knew he did it, of course, but most of the physical evidence was in the warehouse and beyond recovery. Sanderson and Dobson are working on the paper trails to see what else they can come up with.”
“Thank you,” Karen said and stood. Lassiter followed her cue and jumped up, hoping to escape before there was another attempted hugging.
“Now that we've got all of that business behind us . . .”
“Actually, Chief,” Shawn interrupted, “there is one more thing.”
“Sweet merciful justice, what?” Lassiter demanded.
“The jewel thefts. It was the courier.”
It took everyone a second to realize what he was talking about.
“The courier?” Juliet repeated, her brow furrowing as she tried to think of who that was. Suddenly a memory of a midnight revelation surfaced. “Pizza is the key!”
“Exactly!” Shawn said with a huge grin.
But no one else seemed to get it.
“What does pizza have to do with anything?” Lassiter demanded.
“The courier. The brunette with the dimples that worked for the courier service that just happens to be the preferred delivery service for all of the stores and the museum? Sarah Jamison is her name. Or at least her legal one. She may have used an alias or two. She's like a pizza delivery guy. No one suspects anything because they expect her to be there.”
“How did she get into the private homes?” Lassiter asked, though he wasn't dismissing it out of hand. She had been one of those that was higher on the list because she had access to more of the locations than most but they hadn't been able to connect her to the three private residence robberies. “And why didn't they mention her?”
“Because none of them wanted to get in trouble,” Shawn answered.
“Why would they get in trouble?” Karen asked, intrigued. Even knowing how he did it she was often impressed by his contributions to their cases.
“Because she wasn't supposed to be there.”
That didn't clear it up for anyone so he explained further.
“She was sleeping with someone in each house, someone who was not supposed to be entertaining visitors for secret trysts.”
“Pierre Bristow isn't interested in women,” Lassiter pointed out.
“Or so he wants everyone to believe,” Shawn countered. “How embarrassing would it be for your 'life partner' to know that you weren't as committed to the lifestyle as they thought? Or, in the case of Jesse Wardlaw, for your mother to find out that you'd brought your girlfriend into the house and left her alone in the vault with all the thousands of dollars worth of jewelry?”
“Thomas and Marilyn Regan?” Lassiter asked, naming the victims in the third house.
“They were high-school sweethearts and have been happily married for forty-seven years. Sarah-or, as Thomas knew her, Brina-was a moment of weakness. One he never gave into again after that first mistake.”
“How was there no evidence?” Juliet asked.
“Because they were all meticulous in cleaning up after their rendezvous and none of the thefts were reported until they were noticed a few days after the fact. None of them even suspected their visitor might be involved-and if they did they certainly weren't going to mention it in an official report that might be read by someone who wasn't supposed to know about their dirty little secret.”
“Mr. Spencer, how sure are you of this information?” Karen asked.
“As sure as I can be, Chief, without having heard her confess. But if you need more proof, guess who is scheduled to be on a flight leaving for San Diego this evening?”
“Why San Diego?” Gus asked. “It's not very far away.”
“No,” Shawn agreed, “but it is the departure port for her five day, four night South American cruise. She's supposed to start her week's vacation tomorrow-the one her boss has known about for months. Anyone want to lay odds on whether or not she'll be on that ship when it returns? Anyone? I've got two kids to put through college now. I could use the money.”
“Okay, hotshot,” Lassiter said, annoyed at how well this was all fitting together. “You know so much. What's her motive for all of this?”
“That one I can't answer.”
Lassiter's eyebrows went up. “But you knew everything else.”
“Yeah, but all of that I could see or hear or smell. There was nothing that I've found that indicates any kind of motive. If I were really psychic, I might be able to help you out there,” he added. “But I'm not, remember?” Then he slapped Lassiter on the shoulder.
“Look on the bright side, Lassie. That means you get to contribute something. Go scare an explanation out of her.”
Lassiter glared and Shawn grinned. “Oooh . . . That's a good one. Use that face and and she'll crack in no time.”
Karen smiled and decided that now was a good time to intervene before things got out of hand. Shawn had given them enough to investigate at least and if it turned out to be true, she had confidence that Lassiter could handle it on his own.
“Thank you, Mr. Spencer. Your help has, once again, been invaluable.”
Shawn grinned. “Any time, Chief.”
“Now I don't want to see you in my office for at least a week,” she added, “though when you do come back I expect pictures.”
Shawn laughed. “As if you could stop me.”
Karen nodded and started to leave, following in the trail that Lassiter had blazed as soon as she'd started her thank you.
She stopped at the door and half turned back.
“Oh and one more thing. I don't expect you to spend your time off this week on it, but you will need to acquire a real private investigator's license. Just in case there are future difficulties with your 'abilities'.”
He nodded. “Yes, Chief.” It was a much lighter sentence than he'd expected and he wasn't going to push the limits of her generosity.
She nodded in return and left.
“Wow,” Gus said and sank into a chair. “She knew all this time . . .”
“Yeah,” Shawn said, taking the other chair. There was a moment of silence and then he looked up at his father. “And you knew that she knew.”
Henry just smiled and patted Jaime's back. “I'm going to take him home to sleep in a bed. We'll be back later tonight with something to eat that's not marked 'for institutional use only'.”
“Dad,” Shawn said warningly.
“Bye, Shawn.”
“Dad!”
“You did good, kid.”
The door shut behind him and Shawn debated following him-for half a second.
Then the nurse appeared with Anna in her arms for the next feeding. Shawn jumped up and carefully took his daughter, cooing and making faces as he carried her over to Juliet.
“Is someone hungry?” he asked in a bright voice that was completely at odds with everything that was Shawn Spencer as far as most of the world was concerned. “Anna is!” he said and waved a finger in front of her face which she hit as she gently flailed her arms newborn-style. It was completely by accident but Shawn's grin stretched, threatening to break something if it went much further.
“Well,” Gus said, when he realized that's what was going to happen. “I'm going to go now,” he said, watching Juliet take Anna and situate her for dinner. It was under a blanket, but still. This was Juliet.
“I've got . . . paperwork . . .” he said lamely. “So I'm just . . . gonna . . . go now.” He winced when Juliet giggled and cooed at her daughter.
“Oh, Gus?” Juliet said right as he reached the door.
“Yes?” he asked and turned back, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
“I'm sorry about Janelle.”
Gus blinked, then realized who she was talking about. “Oh . . . well . . .” he stammered.
“It wasn't my place to interfere,” she continued. “It's just, when Shawn told me he saw her with that other guy . . .” She had the grace to look sheepish. “It was a bad day, hormone-wise. I might have overreacted a little.”
“No, it's cool,” Gus assured her. “Really. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Juliet smiled in gratitude for his forgiveness. “She wasn't right for you anyway. You deserve more.”
“Yeah. I know.” He started to leave again, then stopped and turned back. “Just out of curiosity, what did you say to her?”
Her blush deepened and she lifted the blanket under the pretense of checking on Anna.
Shawn, however, wasn't so bashful.
“Dude, you should have seen it. It was awesome. Ow!” he said when Juliet elbowed him in the ribs. 'Later,' he mouthed and Gus nodded.
“Okay. I'll see you guys tomorrow then.”
He left, taking a moment outside the door to exhale all the stress that had built up over the day.
He needed a vacation.
o.o
Since Lassiter's car had been blown up they took Karen's back to the station to begin chasing down Shawn's information. It was quiet most of the way until Lassiter couldn't resist any longer.
“You know, knowing how he does it is only part of the explanation. A photographic memory and sharp eyes will only get you so far. How does he get to where he can see some of this stuff?”
Karen just smiled and shook her head. “That's the part we may never figure out, Detective. You should probably just get used to it.”
Lassiter grunted but didn't argue. If he hadn't by now, he doubted he'd ever get used to working with Shawn Spencer.
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