(Heroes/Psych) Victim No 09 - Santa Barbara for perdiccas
Title: Victim No 09 - Santa Barbara
Author: gladdecease
Fandoms: Heroes/Psych
Characters Audrey Hanson, Matt Parkman, (implied) Sylar; Shawn Spencer, Burton Guster, Carlton Lassiter
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2238
Spoilers: 1.03 for Heroes, general background for Psych
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Heroes and Psych belong to their respective creators
A/N: Felipe is, technically, an actual Heroes character. I just placed him in Santa Barbara for the sake of the story. Thanks again to my beta - Caroline, you're pretty awesome, and quick to help when I'm short on time.
Summary: A man who comes to the Psych team for help ends up with the top of his skull removed, and his brain missing.
The whole thing starts as it often does with Shawn and Gus: they find a case.
It's police leftovers, again, which bothers Gus but pleases Shawn. In his opinion, such cases give him the opportunity to work on something serious, with the added bonus of being able to point out to Lassiter, yet again, that he is both competent and better than him. The detective will never believe him, but Shawn knows the facts bother him.
The case starts like this: a man, afraid he's being stalked, goes to the police. They listen to his story, briefly investigate, and decide he's delusional. The man respectfully disagreees. But, because Shawn strolls into the station looking for his next paycheck just as Lassiter is escorting the angry man out of the building, he isn't out of hope just yet.
Though now that he's heard the full story, Shawn is reconsidering. Sometimes, when the police think a guy is nuts, he's actually nuts.
Gus walks into the office, and Shawn turns to him, all grins. "Great, you made it! Phil, this is my partner, Jude Nelson." The client looks up at Gus, who flares his nostrils, glaring at Shawn when he adds, "No relation to the incredibly talented Judd Nelson, unfortunately. Jude, this is Phil Acerra."
Gus holds out a hand to shake, but the client shakes his head, curling in on himself. "No, thanks. Can't be too careful." When Gus has no response to that, Shawn says, "Did I mention Phil here thinks he's being stalked?"
"Mr Spencer, I told you I didn't want you to call me Phil. My name's Felipe."
"Whatever makes you more comfortable, Felipe," Shawn says dismissively. "Now, why don't you tell Jude here what you just told me?"
Felipe squirms in his seat. "Alright," he says uncertainly. Gus pulls out his desk chair and takes a seat a comfortable distance away from Felipe. He smiles brightly and says, "Don't worry, Mr Acerra. We're here to help."
Felipe takes in a deep breath. "Right. Right." He looks up at Gus and sighs. "It all started last week," he begins. The world starts to fade around Gus, as his mind takes the story Felipe is telling him and turns it into a low quality movie clip. It's the same thing that happens when Shawn explains how he solved a case - the explanation becomes more of a flashback.
In the mental film, Gus is in the starring role of Felipe Acerra, ordinary man. He works a nine to five, lives in an okay apartment downtown, and visits his girlfriend in LA on the weekends. For most of his life, it was good. Ordinary, but good. Then, starting last week, it went very suddenly bad.
He was driving back to Santa Barbara on Sunday when he heard the sirens. He spotted police cars in his rear-view mirror, but couldn't see who they were chasing, until a man cut him off. Felipe's breaks squealed, and he was sure he was going to hit the guy, he'd shut his eyes in anticipation of the crash -
And there was no crash. He opened his eyes to see the guy he'd nearly hit standing behind him, staring at him. His face was hidden by his black baseball cap, but there was a gleam in his eyes that Felipe would never forget. It was terrifying.
The man only stood there for a moment, and then he was running again, onto a small sideroad the police cars couldn't follow him down.
Ever since, Felipe has felt eyes on the back of his neck. And whenever he looks around, there isn't a soul in sight. Just this feeling that he's still being watched.
Gus is abruptly pulled from the story by a series of slaps to his shoulder. He startles, looks around, then frowns at Shawn.
"What? You were totally lost in your movie flashback, dude."
Ignoring the fact that Shawn has a point, Gus looks back at Felipe. "This sounds serious, Mr Acerra. Why didn't the police look into this case?"
Felipe fidgets. "I wasn't exactly... coherent when I explained myself to them."
"I don't know what you said, Phil, but color me impressed." Shawn laughs. "You should have seen the look on Lassie's face, it was hilarious."
Gus considers the variety of faces he's seen the detective make. Only a few would amuse Shawn. "Twitchy and red? Barely containing his extreme and silly anger?"
There is a fist bump of agreement, and, after a long look, a nod. Shawn turns to Felipe, grinning madly.
"We'll take the case."
--
As it turns out, this isn't the kind of case they should be taking. There is something going on here that's bigger than Shawn can handle, and definitely bigger than Gus wants to take on. He looked into police reports on the day of Felipe's car incident, and didn't find a thing. Expanding his search (or, as Shawn might say, using Google properly) brings up something, though - Felipe had been driving past the local FBI Headquarters.
He presents his theory to Shawn - serial killer, escaped from FBI custody, out to kill the man who saw him escape. He should have known better.
"Dude, FBI case? That is awesome!"
"It's dangerous!" Gus insists. "This guy could kill us, Shawn."
"National security is a very important issue here at Psych," Shawn says, undeterred. "It's our duty as American citizens to step up and catch this criminal."
"No, that's the duty of federal agents. It's our duty to inform them of the crime taking place."
Shawn pouts. "And not get paid? No way! Gus, we can do this! Just keep Phil safe for a few weeks while we look into this theory of yours. If it's legitimate, then yeah, we'll hand it over. But it might not be, Gus. This could just be a guy with paranoia."
That's when the police scanner buzzes. Shawn picks it up, adjusts the frequency to listen closer, and frowns as the messages repeats. "Where, exactly, did Phil say he lived downtown?"
"One of those apartment complexes near El Camino," Gus says. Shawn's expression goes blank. "Why?"
Shawn sighs, turning off the scanner. "Because someone just reported a murder in an apartment building on Normandie Street."
The Blueberry is zipping down El Camino in a matter of minutes.
--
A familiar looking Crown Vic is already parked outside when they reach the scene. There's yellow police tape wrapped around a door on the third floor. It's practically a neon sign saying "a murder happened here, ask me when and who!"
Gus feels queasy even before they go in, and the sight he finds makes him downright nauseous. There's Felipe, and yeah...he's dead.
He's also pinned to the wall with plastic spoons in his arms and legs.
And, oh yeah, the top of his head is gone. Cut off. And - oh dear God - Felipe's brain is missing too.
"Excuse me," he squeaks, before he's running out of the room. Gus huddles over in the stairwell for fifteen minutes before he feels okay enough to go back in.
There are a few CSI guys hanging around, but all the detectives are gone except Lassiter. Shawn's sitting on Felipe's couch, answering questions slowly. The set of his jaw and the downwards angle if his brow make it obvious to Gus that Shawn is pissed.
Lassiter glances up and nods. His face is hard, a forced neutral expression. "Guster."
"Detective Lassiter. I guess Shawn filled you in?" Lassiter grunts, glancing at Shawn.
"I've gotten just about all I need from you. Unless you can think of anything else?" Shawn is silent, wound up and tense where he sits. Lassiter sighs, shaking his head. "Then you should probably leave."
Shawn stands up to leave, Gus following him. Quietly, he says, "I just wish we'd taken his concerns more seriously."
Lassiter spins around. "What, and you think I don't?" He sounds furious.
"It's not that," Shawn sighs. "It's just - we promised to help him. And now he's dead."
"Yeah, well. It happens, Spencer. We just have to make sure the scumbag who did it is brought to justice."
Shawn snorts. "A scumbag who can stab through bone and muscle with a set of plastic kitchenware? Good luck with that."
"That's why we're here." The unfamiliar voice from the doorway gets all their attention. It's a blonde woman, hair cut short, in a professional suit. She flips open a leather wallet - there's a badge inside. "FBI. I'm Agent Hanson, this is my associate, Detective Parkman." A big guy, clumsy-looking but with a determined gleam in his eye, follows her inside.
"You looking for the guy who did this?" Gus asks.
"What do you know about it?" Parkman asks, giving Gus the evil eye. And now he's just staring. It's weird either way.
"Felipe said he was being followed," Shawn says. "By a guy he'd seen being chased by police in LA."
"That was us," Hanson says. "He's a serial killer, on the run. Killed half a dozen people in the last few months, in increasingly gruesome ways." She steps closer to Felipe's body, wrinkling her nose. "But always this in common. He always takes the brain."
Gus elbows Shawn before can make a crack about zombies, because now is really not the time. Parkman looks disapprovingly at Shawn anyway, as if he'd heard what Shawn was thinking.
And now he's looking warily at Gus. Yeah, this guy is seriously weird.
"Head Detective Lassiter, SBPD. How can I help?" Lassiter says to Hanson, handing her his notes on the scene. She skims them, one eye on the notes and one on the victim.
"This man... Felipe Acerra? Did he come to the police for assistance recently?"
"He did. He was raving, talking about invisible men following him, trying to kill him. We were... disinclined to believe him."
"And then he went to you," Parkman says, pointing at Shawn. It's a little weird how that's not a question. They've only been doing this private detective thing for a few months, police in LA shouldn't know anything about them.
"That's right," Shawn says after a moment of careful not-looking. He's figured something out, Gus thinks. "He was looking for assistance, and we thought we could give it."
Hanson turns to look at Parkman, then at Shawn. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a psychic detective, Agent Hanson."
"Really."
"I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but -" Shawn cuts himself off, surprised. "You believe me?"
Lassiter looks at Hanson, his brow furrowed. Gus figures he's disappointed that a federal agent might believe in psychics.
"I didn't say that," she insists. She's very carefully not looking at Parkman, Gus realizes, Who is very carefully not looking at anyone.
Gus has a sudden, crazy idea. He thinks about it, and really concentrates on the idea. When Parkman glances at him, then quickly looks away, Gus knows he needs to say something.
"You didn't have to," Shawn says before Gus can grab his attention. Shawn lets himself be pulled to the far corner of the room before he yanks his arm from Gus's grasp. "Dude!" he protests. "That seriously hurt!"
"Shawn," Gus whispers, "I think that detective is psychic."
Shawn laughs. "What? No. Look at him, he isn't even looking for evidence. He's just staring at Felipe's stove really intensely."
"Not your kind of psychic," Gus corrects. "I mean psychic-psychic." Before Shawn can tell Gus how absolutely ridiculous he sounds right now (and Gus knows how ridiculous he sounds right now), he continues. "How else would he know we're detectives? We could have just been friends of Felipe, or his neighbors. And when you said you were psychic? Agent Hanson wouldn't look at him. He wouldn't look at anyone!" Gus gestures. "Look, right now! He's avoiding eye contact."
Shawn looks. And it's true, Parkman isn't looking at anyone, even as he walks past Lassiter and Hanson. Shawn hums in the back of his throat. "Interesting," he says. Then, slapping Gus on the back: "Well, Gus, all your crazy theories have been right so far this case! Maybe you'll pull through yet again."
When Parkman goes outside "for some air," Shawn follows. Gus stays when Lasster leaves for the station, telling Agent Hanson about his suspicions. When he asks about the killer, she gets a dark look in her eye.
"He's a sick son of a bitch," she says at last. "We were going after him for kidnapping the daughter of the last set of victims when he found your guy. How he managed to track him down while hiding from us, I'll never know." She sighs. "But we're getting close. He's been heading west this whole time, and now he's about as far west as he can go."
"I hope you find him before he kills again."
She runs a hand through her hair, and it occurs to Gus how very tired she looks. "So do I."
With that, she leaves, calling Parkman after her. Gus walks out quickly enough when he realizes that it's just him and what's left of Felipe in the apartment.
He finds Shawn leaning against the rail, staring blankly at nothing.
"Shawn?"
Shawn blinks and turns to look at Gus. Gus looks at him expectantly, and Shawn frowns.
"What?"
"I should say something, but I can't remember what." He scratches his head. "Something about Horace's philosophy, maybe?"
Gus frowns. "Shawn, you better not be trying to quote Hamlet to me. I took two courses on Shakespearean literature in college."
Shawn smiles. "I know. It's just... appropriate." He glances down at the parking lot below, where Parkman is climbing into the passenger side of a nondescript car. The engine rumbles, and Gus joins him in watching them drive away.
"So," Gus says. "They'll be able to catch this guy, right?"
"Yeah," Shawn says. "Yeah, I think they will."
-END-
Prompts:
-conspiracy theory
-Audrey/any of: Shawn, Gus or Lassiter (gen)
Author: gladdecease
Fandoms: Heroes/Psych
Characters Audrey Hanson, Matt Parkman, (implied) Sylar; Shawn Spencer, Burton Guster, Carlton Lassiter
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2238
Spoilers: 1.03 for Heroes, general background for Psych
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Heroes and Psych belong to their respective creators
A/N: Felipe is, technically, an actual Heroes character. I just placed him in Santa Barbara for the sake of the story. Thanks again to my beta - Caroline, you're pretty awesome, and quick to help when I'm short on time.
Summary: A man who comes to the Psych team for help ends up with the top of his skull removed, and his brain missing.
The whole thing starts as it often does with Shawn and Gus: they find a case.
It's police leftovers, again, which bothers Gus but pleases Shawn. In his opinion, such cases give him the opportunity to work on something serious, with the added bonus of being able to point out to Lassiter, yet again, that he is both competent and better than him. The detective will never believe him, but Shawn knows the facts bother him.
The case starts like this: a man, afraid he's being stalked, goes to the police. They listen to his story, briefly investigate, and decide he's delusional. The man respectfully disagreees. But, because Shawn strolls into the station looking for his next paycheck just as Lassiter is escorting the angry man out of the building, he isn't out of hope just yet.
Though now that he's heard the full story, Shawn is reconsidering. Sometimes, when the police think a guy is nuts, he's actually nuts.
Gus walks into the office, and Shawn turns to him, all grins. "Great, you made it! Phil, this is my partner, Jude Nelson." The client looks up at Gus, who flares his nostrils, glaring at Shawn when he adds, "No relation to the incredibly talented Judd Nelson, unfortunately. Jude, this is Phil Acerra."
Gus holds out a hand to shake, but the client shakes his head, curling in on himself. "No, thanks. Can't be too careful." When Gus has no response to that, Shawn says, "Did I mention Phil here thinks he's being stalked?"
"Mr Spencer, I told you I didn't want you to call me Phil. My name's Felipe."
"Whatever makes you more comfortable, Felipe," Shawn says dismissively. "Now, why don't you tell Jude here what you just told me?"
Felipe squirms in his seat. "Alright," he says uncertainly. Gus pulls out his desk chair and takes a seat a comfortable distance away from Felipe. He smiles brightly and says, "Don't worry, Mr Acerra. We're here to help."
Felipe takes in a deep breath. "Right. Right." He looks up at Gus and sighs. "It all started last week," he begins. The world starts to fade around Gus, as his mind takes the story Felipe is telling him and turns it into a low quality movie clip. It's the same thing that happens when Shawn explains how he solved a case - the explanation becomes more of a flashback.
In the mental film, Gus is in the starring role of Felipe Acerra, ordinary man. He works a nine to five, lives in an okay apartment downtown, and visits his girlfriend in LA on the weekends. For most of his life, it was good. Ordinary, but good. Then, starting last week, it went very suddenly bad.
He was driving back to Santa Barbara on Sunday when he heard the sirens. He spotted police cars in his rear-view mirror, but couldn't see who they were chasing, until a man cut him off. Felipe's breaks squealed, and he was sure he was going to hit the guy, he'd shut his eyes in anticipation of the crash -
And there was no crash. He opened his eyes to see the guy he'd nearly hit standing behind him, staring at him. His face was hidden by his black baseball cap, but there was a gleam in his eyes that Felipe would never forget. It was terrifying.
The man only stood there for a moment, and then he was running again, onto a small sideroad the police cars couldn't follow him down.
Ever since, Felipe has felt eyes on the back of his neck. And whenever he looks around, there isn't a soul in sight. Just this feeling that he's still being watched.
Gus is abruptly pulled from the story by a series of slaps to his shoulder. He startles, looks around, then frowns at Shawn.
"What? You were totally lost in your movie flashback, dude."
Ignoring the fact that Shawn has a point, Gus looks back at Felipe. "This sounds serious, Mr Acerra. Why didn't the police look into this case?"
Felipe fidgets. "I wasn't exactly... coherent when I explained myself to them."
"I don't know what you said, Phil, but color me impressed." Shawn laughs. "You should have seen the look on Lassie's face, it was hilarious."
Gus considers the variety of faces he's seen the detective make. Only a few would amuse Shawn. "Twitchy and red? Barely containing his extreme and silly anger?"
There is a fist bump of agreement, and, after a long look, a nod. Shawn turns to Felipe, grinning madly.
"We'll take the case."
--
As it turns out, this isn't the kind of case they should be taking. There is something going on here that's bigger than Shawn can handle, and definitely bigger than Gus wants to take on. He looked into police reports on the day of Felipe's car incident, and didn't find a thing. Expanding his search (or, as Shawn might say, using Google properly) brings up something, though - Felipe had been driving past the local FBI Headquarters.
He presents his theory to Shawn - serial killer, escaped from FBI custody, out to kill the man who saw him escape. He should have known better.
"Dude, FBI case? That is awesome!"
"It's dangerous!" Gus insists. "This guy could kill us, Shawn."
"National security is a very important issue here at Psych," Shawn says, undeterred. "It's our duty as American citizens to step up and catch this criminal."
"No, that's the duty of federal agents. It's our duty to inform them of the crime taking place."
Shawn pouts. "And not get paid? No way! Gus, we can do this! Just keep Phil safe for a few weeks while we look into this theory of yours. If it's legitimate, then yeah, we'll hand it over. But it might not be, Gus. This could just be a guy with paranoia."
That's when the police scanner buzzes. Shawn picks it up, adjusts the frequency to listen closer, and frowns as the messages repeats. "Where, exactly, did Phil say he lived downtown?"
"One of those apartment complexes near El Camino," Gus says. Shawn's expression goes blank. "Why?"
Shawn sighs, turning off the scanner. "Because someone just reported a murder in an apartment building on Normandie Street."
The Blueberry is zipping down El Camino in a matter of minutes.
--
A familiar looking Crown Vic is already parked outside when they reach the scene. There's yellow police tape wrapped around a door on the third floor. It's practically a neon sign saying "a murder happened here, ask me when and who!"
Gus feels queasy even before they go in, and the sight he finds makes him downright nauseous. There's Felipe, and yeah...he's dead.
He's also pinned to the wall with plastic spoons in his arms and legs.
And, oh yeah, the top of his head is gone. Cut off. And - oh dear God - Felipe's brain is missing too.
"Excuse me," he squeaks, before he's running out of the room. Gus huddles over in the stairwell for fifteen minutes before he feels okay enough to go back in.
There are a few CSI guys hanging around, but all the detectives are gone except Lassiter. Shawn's sitting on Felipe's couch, answering questions slowly. The set of his jaw and the downwards angle if his brow make it obvious to Gus that Shawn is pissed.
Lassiter glances up and nods. His face is hard, a forced neutral expression. "Guster."
"Detective Lassiter. I guess Shawn filled you in?" Lassiter grunts, glancing at Shawn.
"I've gotten just about all I need from you. Unless you can think of anything else?" Shawn is silent, wound up and tense where he sits. Lassiter sighs, shaking his head. "Then you should probably leave."
Shawn stands up to leave, Gus following him. Quietly, he says, "I just wish we'd taken his concerns more seriously."
Lassiter spins around. "What, and you think I don't?" He sounds furious.
"It's not that," Shawn sighs. "It's just - we promised to help him. And now he's dead."
"Yeah, well. It happens, Spencer. We just have to make sure the scumbag who did it is brought to justice."
Shawn snorts. "A scumbag who can stab through bone and muscle with a set of plastic kitchenware? Good luck with that."
"That's why we're here." The unfamiliar voice from the doorway gets all their attention. It's a blonde woman, hair cut short, in a professional suit. She flips open a leather wallet - there's a badge inside. "FBI. I'm Agent Hanson, this is my associate, Detective Parkman." A big guy, clumsy-looking but with a determined gleam in his eye, follows her inside.
"You looking for the guy who did this?" Gus asks.
"What do you know about it?" Parkman asks, giving Gus the evil eye. And now he's just staring. It's weird either way.
"Felipe said he was being followed," Shawn says. "By a guy he'd seen being chased by police in LA."
"That was us," Hanson says. "He's a serial killer, on the run. Killed half a dozen people in the last few months, in increasingly gruesome ways." She steps closer to Felipe's body, wrinkling her nose. "But always this in common. He always takes the brain."
Gus elbows Shawn before can make a crack about zombies, because now is really not the time. Parkman looks disapprovingly at Shawn anyway, as if he'd heard what Shawn was thinking.
And now he's looking warily at Gus. Yeah, this guy is seriously weird.
"Head Detective Lassiter, SBPD. How can I help?" Lassiter says to Hanson, handing her his notes on the scene. She skims them, one eye on the notes and one on the victim.
"This man... Felipe Acerra? Did he come to the police for assistance recently?"
"He did. He was raving, talking about invisible men following him, trying to kill him. We were... disinclined to believe him."
"And then he went to you," Parkman says, pointing at Shawn. It's a little weird how that's not a question. They've only been doing this private detective thing for a few months, police in LA shouldn't know anything about them.
"That's right," Shawn says after a moment of careful not-looking. He's figured something out, Gus thinks. "He was looking for assistance, and we thought we could give it."
Hanson turns to look at Parkman, then at Shawn. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a psychic detective, Agent Hanson."
"Really."
"I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but -" Shawn cuts himself off, surprised. "You believe me?"
Lassiter looks at Hanson, his brow furrowed. Gus figures he's disappointed that a federal agent might believe in psychics.
"I didn't say that," she insists. She's very carefully not looking at Parkman, Gus realizes, Who is very carefully not looking at anyone.
Gus has a sudden, crazy idea. He thinks about it, and really concentrates on the idea. When Parkman glances at him, then quickly looks away, Gus knows he needs to say something.
"You didn't have to," Shawn says before Gus can grab his attention. Shawn lets himself be pulled to the far corner of the room before he yanks his arm from Gus's grasp. "Dude!" he protests. "That seriously hurt!"
"Shawn," Gus whispers, "I think that detective is psychic."
Shawn laughs. "What? No. Look at him, he isn't even looking for evidence. He's just staring at Felipe's stove really intensely."
"Not your kind of psychic," Gus corrects. "I mean psychic-psychic." Before Shawn can tell Gus how absolutely ridiculous he sounds right now (and Gus knows how ridiculous he sounds right now), he continues. "How else would he know we're detectives? We could have just been friends of Felipe, or his neighbors. And when you said you were psychic? Agent Hanson wouldn't look at him. He wouldn't look at anyone!" Gus gestures. "Look, right now! He's avoiding eye contact."
Shawn looks. And it's true, Parkman isn't looking at anyone, even as he walks past Lassiter and Hanson. Shawn hums in the back of his throat. "Interesting," he says. Then, slapping Gus on the back: "Well, Gus, all your crazy theories have been right so far this case! Maybe you'll pull through yet again."
When Parkman goes outside "for some air," Shawn follows. Gus stays when Lasster leaves for the station, telling Agent Hanson about his suspicions. When he asks about the killer, she gets a dark look in her eye.
"He's a sick son of a bitch," she says at last. "We were going after him for kidnapping the daughter of the last set of victims when he found your guy. How he managed to track him down while hiding from us, I'll never know." She sighs. "But we're getting close. He's been heading west this whole time, and now he's about as far west as he can go."
"I hope you find him before he kills again."
She runs a hand through her hair, and it occurs to Gus how very tired she looks. "So do I."
With that, she leaves, calling Parkman after her. Gus walks out quickly enough when he realizes that it's just him and what's left of Felipe in the apartment.
He finds Shawn leaning against the rail, staring blankly at nothing.
"Shawn?"
Shawn blinks and turns to look at Gus. Gus looks at him expectantly, and Shawn frowns.
"What?"
"I should say something, but I can't remember what." He scratches his head. "Something about Horace's philosophy, maybe?"
Gus frowns. "Shawn, you better not be trying to quote Hamlet to me. I took two courses on Shakespearean literature in college."
Shawn smiles. "I know. It's just... appropriate." He glances down at the parking lot below, where Parkman is climbing into the passenger side of a nondescript car. The engine rumbles, and Gus joins him in watching them drive away.
"So," Gus says. "They'll be able to catch this guy, right?"
"Yeah," Shawn says. "Yeah, I think they will."
-END-
Prompts:
-conspiracy theory
-Audrey/any of: Shawn, Gus or Lassiter (gen)