“Shawn!”
“Vin Diesel!” Shawn returned from his slumped position on top of the hood of Lassiter’s car. He somehow managed to lift his uninjured arm to give his best friend a merry wave, as if the two friends had just run into each other after school at the playground.
Breaking all of his standard car-safety rules, Gus opened the door and unbuckled his seatbelt before the car came to a complete stop and sprinted towards Shawn, running faster than Juliet had ever seen, which was saying something as she had seen the man race to the frozen yogurt vendor that frequented outside the station.
As much as she wanted to follow, Juliet remained in the car and continued the speaking into the police scanner she had brought with her. “—about ten miles from the gas station. Suspect is in custody. We have a police department employee that has been shot, repeat a member of the police department has been shot, we need backup and an ambulance here ASAP—”
She knew that she was continuing to speak, almost robotically relaying all the necessary information, but she really had no idea what she was saying. Instead, she was watching Gus help Shawn sit down on the pavement and lean his back against the car. Even from here, Juliet could see the nauseated look on Gus’s face at the sight of Shawn’s bloody makeshift bandage, but for once, Gus controlled his stomach. He wouldn’t be running away, screaming like a little girl, this time.
Instead, he gently pressed his hand against Shawn’s injury—it probably had been re-aggravated thanks to Shawn’s harebrained escape scheme. Shawn struggled to contain a yelp and Juliet flinched in sympathy, knowing firsthand how painful applying pressure to a gunshot wound could be for the victim. Gus laid his other hand on Shawn’s good shoulder. Shawn immediately took hold of Gus’s wrist and squeezed for dear life, his eyes squished closed in hopes of warding off any more dizzying rushes of pain. Gus started practicing exaggerated Lamaze breathing for his friend’s benefit, urging Shawn to mimic his calming breathing pattern.
Unfortunately, Gus’s plan backfired as Shawn opened one eye and said something undoubtedly sarcastic and clever about his opinions on Lamaze. Gus retorted, producing a strangled laugh from Shawn, which caused Gus to smile for the first time in what felt like forever. Shawn returned it before begrudgingly following Gus’s advice about his breathing. Juliet smiled. Perhaps Gus’s plan had worked after all.
And for no reason at all, as she watched the two friends, Juliet suddenly felt very lonely.
“Detective O’Hara?”
“Sorry,” Juliet apologized briskly. “Where’s that ambulance? Over.”
“They’re en route. ETA is less than five minutes. Over.”
Juliet signed off, but abruptly found she couldn’t get out of the car just yet. She needed to sit still, her left hand clutching the steering wheel, her right smashed around her cell phone. All ten of her knuckles were so white and taut that she thought the bones might pierce through the skin at any moment. As always, once the life-threatening situation was over and the adrenalin began to wear off, everything she had been trying so hard to forget came crashing over her in one giant, overwhelming rush. Her eyes remained riveted on Shawn. What on earth was she supposed to do now?
Shawn seemed to have recovered for the moment. He leaned forward and squinted towards the Echo, and for a horrible moment, Juliet was certain Shawn could see her, but realistically, Juliet knew that she was safe from his observant eye, thanks to the afternoon sunlight. Of course, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t psychically sense her turmoil. Hopefully, the stress and trauma of the gunshot wound would throw his psychic senses off-kilter and he wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Juliet’s stomach contracted sharply. That was really a horrible thing to think. Shawn very easily could have never had a psychic vision ever again.
Shawn straightened up slightly and turned towards Lassiter and his father, who were still physically restraining the suspect on top of Lassiter’s car. Shawn said something to one of them—she couldn’t tell for certain who it was from this distance. It must have been to Lassiter, as the detective glanced over his shoulder towards the Echo. To her surprise, he looked worried. “O’Hara?” he called loudly.
Juliet took a deep breath and unbuckled her seatbelt. What on earth are you supposed to do now, she asked herself once again. Be a cop. She needed to be the best damn cop there ever was and wrap up this case so they never had to think about this horrible day ever again.
Juliet stepped out of the car so the men could see her. Shawn’s chin fell forward to rest exhaustedly against his chin, his eyes falling shut. Lassiter looked relieved as well and jerked his head towards the suspect. Juliet ran as fast as her heels would allow her to them. “Sorry, I was calling for backup. They’re on the way.” Juliet slipped between Lassiter and Mr. Spencer so she could place her hands firmly around the perpetrator’s arms, helping pin him to the roof of the car. He had been handcuffed long ago, but Lassiter didn’t seem to be taking any chances. “I’ve got him, Mr. Spencer,” she said gently.
Henry Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, he was striding over to his son. “Move, Gus,” he ordered.
“What are you—Dad!” Shawn shouted as his father replaced Gus’s hand with his, jamming the heel of his hand into the wound, much more deeply than Gus had. Shawn squirmed and tried to escape, but knowing his father would never allow it, soon resigned himself to his fate and slammed his fist into the pavement with a muffled cry. “Diesel, could you tell Ted Levine to lay off? I’m trying to sleep here!”
Mr. Spencer didn’t even try to understand the reference his son had just made. “Sorry, kid, we’ve got to keep pressure on this. Duct tape and a Shammie aren’t going to cut it.” His sharp eyes rocketed up and down his son’s body, searching for other signs of injuries. “Detective O’Hara, how far away is that ambulance?”
“They should be here any minute,” Juliet replied.
With a grateful sigh, Shawn lifted his hand towards her as his eyes started to close again. “Thanks, Ju—“ His head fell back onto the car, but the moment the base of his skull connected with the metal for the first time, Shawn yanked his head forward with a loud pained hiss, causing all of them to jump with alarm. The jerky motion must have caused another burst of pain, as Shawn scrunched up his face with a moan. “Ow.”
Juliet exchanged a worried glance with her partner. They had been so focused on Shawn’s gunshot wound that they hadn’t even considered that he might have other injuries. “Shawn, what’s wrong with your head?” Mr. Spencer demanded
Shawn noticeably hesitated. Gus seized the opportunity to shift his position in order to peer at the back of his friend’s head. Gus promptly gulped and nodded to the others to confirm their suspicions: Shawn definitely had a serious head injury.
Mr. Spencer’s eyes rested on the handcuffed man sprawled out on the hood of Lassiter’s once-pristine car. “He hit you?” Mr. Spencer growled questioningly, although he already knew the answer. He continued to glare at the man who had done this to his son. If it were possible to be killed with just a look, the culprit just would have been tortured, killed, and resurrected only to be killed again twice as slowly and thrice as painfully.
“Yeah,” Shawn confessed. “That’s how they caught me after I got out of the trunk.” He tilted his head so the non-injured part of his skull could rest against the car. “Dad, it’s not a concussion, please—just let me sleep—”
Mr. Spencer shook his head. “Sorry, kid, you know the rules. You don’t sleep after a head injury. Not until a doctor takes a look at you.”
“Dad,” Shawn pleaded, giving Juliet a fast glimpse to what Shawn must have been like as a child, begging for another cookie or to be allowed to stay up for another half-hour so he could watch another CHiPs rerun. She honestly didn’t know how Henry Spencer ever had the power to deny Shawn anything when his voice cracked like that.
The expression on Shawn’s desperate face must have even tugged at Lassiter’s heartstrings, as he averted his face away from the three men to speak privately to his partner. “O’Hara, where the hell is that ambulance?”
“I don’t know,” Juliet murmured. She tilted her neck to get a look inside of Carlton’s car, knowing he had one of the police radios. Sensing her thoughts, Lassiter shifted and tightened his hold on the suspect so Juliet was free to step away from them and reach inside the vehicle. As she radioed the dispatch, her eyes narrowed suspiciously towards the silent and strangely compliant man they had captured. He wasn’t a physically imposing man, especially not with Lassiter smashing his face into the hood of the car, but Juliet could tell that the man was smart, which in her opinion was even more dangerous than the strongest of men. He kept very still, keenly observing Mr. Spencer and Gus talking to Shawn, doing whatever they could to keep Shawn conscious, in a manner that Juliet really, really didn’t like. It was as if he was memorizing every single thing that was happening around him so he could use it to his advantage.
Before she could suggest that they move the suspect farther away from Shawn, the dispatcher was back on the line. Turning her back on the scene, Juliet hastily confirmed that the ambulance was indeed on its way—they had been rather stupidly delayed at the construction site, but there were now on their way and would be here shortly.
Juliet hung up and returned her attention to the scene in time to hear Mr. Spencer scolding his son, “No, come on, Shawn. Tell me what this bastard hit you with.”
Shawn shook his head the best he could. “I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do, Shawn. You saw it.”
Shawn’s annoyed sigh rasped deep in his throat. “Sorry, Dad. I was a little too focused on not getting shot again to count the hats in the room—”
“Shawn, you saw it,” Henry Spencer stated fiercely. “I know you did.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“It does to me,” Mr. Spencer insisted. He waited impatiently as Shawn remained silent, not even trying to search his hazy memory. The two men’s jaws were clenched in the exact same stubborn way. “Come on, kid.” He paused. “Are you psychic or not?”
Shawn looked directly at his father, and for a long moment, something passed between them that Juliet couldn’t understand. Finally, Shawn half-closed his eyes. His right hand twitched upwards out of habit, attempting to hover on the side of his head in order to channel the spirits, as he called them, but it was too painful to complete the motion. He kept the hand floating uselessly in the air and Juliet found herself staring at it in utter fascination. She wanted nothing more than to fit her hand in his and squeeze his fingers in undying support, to let him know that she was here and just like Gus and his dad, she was never leaving. Not as long as he wanted her.
But then again, he had already made it pretty clear that he didn’t—
“Phone,” Shawn said in a soft, but confident voice that silenced any more of those dark, unhelpful thoughts. This really wasn’t the time to dwell on what might have been between her and Shawn Spencer. “He hit me with the phone.”
Henry swallowed hard, casting another vengeful glance at the perpetrator. “Where did it come from?”
Shawn’s hand rose a few more inches to point slightly to his left. “Left of the door—my left,” he clarified. “He stood in the doorway. I was on the step—he wasn’t letting me in. I was asking him to call Lassie. I thought he was calling so I looked for Garth—that’s why I didn’t see it coming.”
There was just a tinge of self-deprecation in Shawn’s last statement, but Mr. Spencer didn’t comment on it. He just kept going. “What kind of a phone? A wall unit?”
“No,” Shawn answered instantly. His voice was becoming sharper and stronger with every answer. Shawn may hate his dad’s plan to keep him conscious, but he couldn’t deny that it was working. “On a shelving unit next to the door. It was black. Old rotary model. Really long cord.”
“Good, kid,” Mr. Spencer praised. “So there was a shelving unit? What else was on it?”
Immediately, Shawn dropped the raised hand and moved his arms closer to his sides, as if he was tied up in the chair again. He moved his head slightly to the left so he could psychically see the room again and promptly began to rattle off every single thing on top of the set of shelves. Then, without even being asked, he proceeded to list all the tools, bottles, rags, articles of clothing, photographs, and other assorted items stored in the gas station, complete with a brief physical description of the object and where the objects were located. As always, Juliet couldn’t help being impressed with her friend’s natural gift, although she was starting to have a feeling that even if Shawn wasn’t a psychic, he still would have made one hell of a detective. You couldn’t not be a good cop after living with Henry Spencer.
“—and there was one hat,” Shawn finished with half-hearted flourish. His left arm rose upwards to point behind him. “Hung on the back wall. Gray. Grease stain on the front.” His connection with the spirits must have exhausted him even more as he looked quite unable to keep his eyes open, even if he wanted to. His breathing was becoming much more labored. “Dad, please—” he implored, his voice starting to slur and shake.
Mr. Spencer opened his mouth, about to refuse yet again, but Gus suddenly spoke up in a much louder voice than he normally used. “I think you should be the sister instead of Paul Walker.”
As expected, Shawn’s eyes popped open and a gasp of disbelief burst out of his throat. He looked as alert as ever. “What?”
“You know, Vin Diesel’s sister,” Gus explained. “Mia.”
“I know who she is, Gus, we’ve only seen that movie forty-seven times, I just can’t believe you think I would want to be the sister!”
“What’s wrong with her?” Gus protested. “We would get to be related.”
“If you really want us to be related, Gus, you should have let me keep dating Joy—”
Gus scowled. “Not funny, Shawn.”
Shawn ignored the comment and continued to whine, “Really, dude, the sister? I let you be Vin Diesel and you want me to be the girl?”
“What do you mean you let me be Vin Diesel? Clearly, I am Vin Diesel!”
“If Jules is Michelle Rodriguez, I should be Vin Diesel!”
“And then who would I be?”
“You can be the sister.”
Gus stubbornly shook his head. “Juliet and I were in the same car. That means I’m Diesel and she’s Rodriguez. You’re the idiot who thought it was a good idea to jump on top of a speeding car, which makes you Walker, but I’m willing to let you be the sister instead out of the goodness of my heart.”
Shawn continued to sputter in disbelief. “The sister?”
“She’s better than Walker!”
Shawn considered for a moment. “That’s fair.” He rolled his head to the side. “Rodriguez? What d’you think?”
Juliet almost dropped the police radio, shocked to have been included in the best friends’ banter. Usually, it was a private affair. “What do I think about what?”
“Should I be Paul Walker or Punky Brewster?”
Gus rolled his eyes, knowing what he was setting himself up for. “Jordana Brewster.”
“I’ve heard it both ways.” Gus shook his head, but opted not to respond. Shawn lifted his head so he could turn towards Juliet and give her the damned grin that had a nasty habit of stopping her heart at inopportune moments. He lifted one eyebrow expectantly.
Suddenly remembering she had a question to answer, Juliet said the first thing that popped into her head. “Walker has better hair.”
Shawn nodded once. “Walker it is.” His eyes drifted behind her and Juliet turned to see what he was looking at. To her surprise, the ambulance and five black and whites were speeding towards them; Juliet hadn’t even heard them approaching. “Oh, look,” Shawn commented serenely, as if he were bird watching with his father, “Backup.”
The ambulance screeched to a halt first. Gus stood to flag down the two paramedics while Mr. Spencer remained crouched next to his son. His strong hand never left Shawn’s wound. He said something to Shawn that Juliet didn’t catch and Shawn just nodded, suddenly pale and exhausted once again. The burst of strength he had recovered a few minutes ago must have passed for now. Juliet chewed on the corner of her lips, very grateful that the ambulance had finally arrived. Shawn’s energy was normally boundless and never-ending, but after what he had been through, not even he could last much longer. He needed medical attention now.
The paramedics raced past her with a stretcher and began to examine their patient. One of the paramedics was a rather pretty brunette, which seemed to have perked Shawn’s interest for the moment. A sharp stab of an emotion Juliet really didn’t care for assaulted her stomach, but she ignored it best she could and turned her focus on the officers that were climbing out of their vehicles, ready and willing to take any order given to them. Lassiter looked over his shoulder at the approaching uniforms and immediately began shouting orders in his gruffest, most commanding voice.
“McNab!” Lassiter grabbed their perpetrator by the collar and flung him towards Buzz. The larger man caught him rather easily, despite his surprise at having a grown man thrown at him. The kidnapper almost lost his balance, but quickly recovered, glaring at Lassiter with smoldering fury. He however still didn’t say a word. “Get this scum out of here,” Lassiter ordered.
Buzz looked rather pleased to be the one to not so nicely escort the suspect back to his squad car. Not even Buzz McNab would be kind to this man. As Buzz pushed him forward, the suspect gave Juliet a long lingering look. She held his gaze unflinchingly. The slightest wisp of a smile passed across the man’s face. With one final, last glance at Shawn, the culprit disappeared into the back of the squad car. Buzz slammed the door and hastened to the front seat to take their suspect back to the station.
As Buzz and his partner pulled away, sirens blaring, Lassiter pointed at the next pair of police officers. “You—escort the ambulance to St. Thomas of the Apostle.”
The male paramedic couldn’t help speaking up, as he had nothing to do since Shawn insisted that only pretty women were allowed to check his vitals. “That’s not necessary, sir. The patient is fairly stable—there’s no need—”
“Apparently, there is a need, as it took you ten minutes longer to get here than your projected ETA,” Lassiter snapped. The man flushed and inched away from the irate detective. “I want Spencer in a polyester gown, in a bed, watching infomercials, and eating a pudding cup in twenty minutes.” He spun back to the two officers he had signaled out. “Make that happen,” he demanded in a voice that insinuated that there would be dire consequences if they failed.
The two men nodded hastily. Lassiter then raised his voice to address the remaining officers. “The rest of you, lock this scene down. I want everything ready when forensics gets here—O’Hara, how far out is forensics?”
Juliet immediately dove towards the police radio again. “Don’t know.”
“Well, find out—I want everything we can get on this guy. Let’s move, people!” he bellowed. Everyone scrambled to carry out his or her assignments. Like Lassiter, they all wanted to do this by the book; that way, there was no possibility of this creep getting off on a technicality. They needed every bit of evidence they could get in order to insure that this man would never hurt Shawn Spencer ever again.
After Juliet finished radioing the forensic team and confirming they were one minute away, she returned to report their status to her partner. But before she could reach Lassiter, she became distracted yet again by Shawn Spencer. He was being loaded into the ambulance, wincing as the stretcher jostled from side to side. Juliet couldn’t seem to stop herself from wandering closer to the vehicle so she could see what was happening inside of the ambulance. She really didn’t want him to leave without saying something to him. She didn’t know precisely what on earth she was going to say, but she had to say something.
The female paramedic continued to tend to Shawn while the man turned to Gus and Mr. Spencer, who had followed the stretcher as closely as possible. “Would one of you like to go with him?”
“Yes,” Gus and Mr. Spencer both said as one. Simultaneously, they placed their left foot on the step to climb into the vehicle, but ending up bumping shoulders with such force that both men stumbled backwards.
Shawn snorted and muttered something. His eyes were glassy and unfocused; they must have given him some sort of medication to make him more comfortable. From the way Shawn was grinning, whatever they gave him must have worked instantly. “I’m very popular,” Shawn informed the paramedic somberly.
The woman masked a smile. “Sorry,” she apologized the two men. “There’s only room for one.”
Gus opened his mouth to plead his case, but Mr. Spencer had already hoisted himself back into the ambulance. “Sorry, Gus, I’m going to pull the Dad card,” Mr. Spencer said, not sounding apologetic in the least.
Gus’s face fell as Shawn blithely replied with honest curiosity, “You have an actual Dad card? Do you have it in your wallet? Was it laminated by elves? Let me see it—”
“Shawn!” Mr. Spencer snapped as Shawn started to reach towards his father with his injured arm. He quickly grabbed Shawn’s wrist and pushed back down onto the stretcher. He rolled his eyes. “Idiot,” he muttered as he used his other hand to ruffle his son’s hair.
Shawn looked at Gus, who was still standing outside the ambulance, looking as though he was six-years-old again and lost all of his comic books. Shawn’s face softened. “Can’t he come too?” Shawn begged to the female paramedic. “Gus is deceptively tiny. He has the waist of a ballerina. He can fit in a corner just fine.”
“Sorry, honey,” the woman said as she finished hooking up the IV. She spun her finger at her partner to indicate that they were ready to move. “No can do.”
“It’s all right, Shawn,” Gus said bracingly, stepping back to allow the male paramedic to exit the back of the vehicle and return to the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you at the hospital.”
“Gus—” Shawn said weakly. Juliet felt her heart pinch at the tremor in his voice. As much as he loved his father—and Juliet knew for certain that he absolutely did, no matter how much he would try to deny it—Shawn needed his partner right now. She knew if she was the one who was kidnapped, shot, and assaulted, she would only not only want Lassiter to accompany her, she would need him to stay with her. There was no one else who could get her though it. Well, perhaps there was one other person who she would want by her side, but that was beside the point.
Struck with inspiration, Juliet strode over to the ambulance so she could stop the last door from closing completely. “Gus, I’ll drive you to first crime scene. You can take Mr. Spencer’s truck to the hospital and meet Shawn there.” She held out her hand. “Mr. Spencer, your keys?”
There was a long silence in which Juliet knew her gamble had paid off. Mr. Spencer, like her own father, didn’t like anyone to drive his precious car. Torn, he squirmed for a moment before peering suspiciously at his son’s best friend. “Guster, how are you with a stick?”
Shawn squawked with laughter, undoubtedly thinking of several vulgar answers to that question. Gus, picking up on Juliet’s plan, shrugged noncommittally. “Fine. Shawn taught me.”
“Shawn taught—” Mr. Spencer blew out an exasperated breath. That was hardly a satisfactory answer. He stared at Gus for a long moment, then at Juliet, and finally at his son. His eyes flicked back to Juliet for a moment and she instinctively braced herself. She had no doubts that he knew precisely what she was up to, but instead of calling her on it, Mr. Spencer swallowed his pride and motioned for Gus to take his place. “Get in here. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” He jumped out of the ambulance as Gus scrambled inside before he could change his mind. Mr. Spencer pointed a stern finger at Juliet. “I better get there before he does.”
“We’ll leave right now,” Juliet promised. She raised her voice and lifted her hand in the air. “Lassiter! Keys!”
Carlton, who had been showing the forensic team the bullets they needed to extract from Gus’s Echo, turned towards her with a frown. “Why?” he demanded suspiciously.
“I’m taking Mr. Spencer to get his truck. I’ll be right back,” Juliet called. Lassiter could handle the crime scene on his own for a little while.
“O’Hara, you can’t drive my car!”
Juliet ground her teeth and raised herself to her full height. “Carlton!” she insisted in her most ferocious voice that she normally only used on the troublesome offenders or when her brothers were being particularly annoying.
It worked. Lassiter sighed and pitched her the keys. She caught them easily. “Thank you.” She motioned to Mr. Spencer. “Let’s go.”
Before she could make a quick exit, she heard Shawn whisper in a not-so-quiet voice, “Dude, I know you don’t go for blondes,” he said to Gus, “but you can’t tell me that wasn’t one of the sexiest things ever.”
She stopped and rolled her eyes. “Shawn,” she chided warningly, using all of her willpower not to crack a smile. It had been a long time since he outwardly flirted with her—as well he shouldn’t as he was in a serious committed relationship. Juliet knew that he was only acting like this now thanks to the drugs pumping through his bloodstream, but nevertheless she couldn’t help the rush of blood to her cheeks at the sound of it. It really wasn’t fair that he could have such an effect on her while he never seemed to be swayed by her in the slightest.
She started to say something that hopefully could rival Shawn’s wit and cleverness, but of course that was the moment that their eyes really connected for the first time since he had been rescued. This time, the rush of blood didn’t just attack her fair cheeks. It assaulted her entire body with such force that she was in real danger of losing her balance. It was at that precise moment that Juliet knew for certain that if Shawn had allowed her to finish the sentence she had started to say, she really would have said it. And she would have meant it too, with all of her heart.
But there was no way she could say it now. Not now. Not ever. Since that was the only thing she really wanted to say, Juliet knew it was time to leave. Hopefully, in a few hours, she would be in a better state to face him. Resolutely, she turned her back on Shawn. “Let’s go,” she repeated to Mr. Spencer, who looked as though he might kill someone if they didn’t start moving.
Shawn blinked in alarm as he realized she was really leaving. “Jules, wait,” he murmured so quietly that only Gus heard him. He held out his good arm to stop the paramedic from closing the ambulance doors so he could watch Juliet walk away. “You’re going to come visit me, right?” Shawn yelled eagerly after her. He couldn’t stop himself from adding with a wide smirk, “Preferably in that roller derby uniform?”
“Good-bye, Shawn!” Juliet returned, not bothering to turn around, almost relieved by the inappropriate flirting. She at least knew how to deal with that.
“How about that skirt you wore when you were Mary Lou?” Shawn continued without missing a beat. “Ooo! Wait! That blue thing you wore at the Holi festival! Do you still have that?”
She just kept walking.
“Never mind,” Shawn said loudly. It was amazing that he could shout at that volume in his present condition. “You’re right! The roller derby uniform is the much better choice!” He straightened up with Gus’s help so he could continue to watch Juliet. “So you’re coming, right?”
Mr. Spencer muttered something about his jackass of a son as he climbed into the passenger seat of Lassiter’s battered car, but Juliet didn’t get into the car straightaway. Instead, she stood still, eyes on the pavement, tilting her head slightly to shield her unconscious smile. Wait for it…
“Yes, Shawn,” Shawn’s high-pitched eight-grade Jules voice echoed across the stretch of pavement that separated them, “I will most certainly visit you and give you a sponge bath.”
There it was.
Juliet lifted her head to give Shawn a small nod to confirm that she would be there as soon as she could. The sponge bath, of course, was out of the question, but they both already knew that. Shawn leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes as the paramedics finally closed the ambulance doors. Her smile grew rather melancholic as she finally got into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.
Shawn was going to be just fine.
Juliet O’Hara, on the other hand, may not be so lucky.
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Major Spoilers for Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark. Very Minor Spoilers for Christmas Joy, Talk Derby to Me, Scary Sherry: Bianca's Toast, and Bollywood Homicide.
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Chapter End Notes:
This is my first Psychfic so thanks already for getting this far!