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Everyone had somewhere to be, something to do and until the little girl was found, no one at the station would rest. Officers and detectives moved to and fro, looking up records, making phone calls, dealing with the press, it was a nightmare of paperwork. But it was no more terrifying than the knowledge that Iris, the beloved daughter of their own police chief was missing.

Caught up with the memories of the little girl that occasionally visited the station with her father to see her mama at work, ice cream cone in hand and on dress flitted through the heads of every officer in the building and then some. It was motivation enough to find the girl who sometimes wandered their halls, chatting to anyone that would hear about the puppy that her daddy was going buy her (not that he had agreed to it). She was still trying to pick a name, indecisive as all children are, changing her mind every day and always open to hear a suggestion, even Lassiter’s idea to just call the puppy ‘Puppy’ and “stop dragging it out” had not stopped her from asking everyone in the station what they thought. 

And that had only been a few days ago, an era which felt like decades to the members of the Santa Barbara police department. With no leads found and no ransom yet called in, not a person in the building had slept more than an hour or two since the incident had been called in, the tension was palpable.

Karen Vick could be seen in her office through the barely blinded glass, running her hands through her hair and pacing, presumably rehashing the last two days and the first three minutes in which her daughter had been taken from her. Henry Spencer stood in the office, off to the side of the desk, left hand over his mouth and right arm crossing his chest and nestled in the crook of his left elbow. He had shown up an hour after Iris had been taken, called presumably by Chief Vick, and had yet to leave. Vick’s husband was at their house, waiting just in case the kidnapper called and in his absence Henry chose to be the calm presence she needed. Detectives Lassiter and O’Hara also stood in the office, listening to the chief’s overview, standing behind the chairs in front of the big wooden desk. Not a chair had been occupied since the beginning of this nightmare.

Also in the office stood Detective Morrison, eagerly adding his thoughts to the conversation, though from the expressions of the others in the room, they were unasked for. Morrison was relatively new to the station, having transferred just two months before from Sacramento. He had gotten off to a shaky start at the SBPD, having screwed up his first big case. He had allowed a witness to leave Santa Barbara after she had told him she no longer felt safe there and that perhaps it would be better for her to stay in a nearby town until the perpetrator in the case was caught, she would remain in contact, staying with her sister. Morrison had agreed only to later discover that the witness was an only child and in fact, the perpetrator he’d been looking for. Police had still not found her and Morrison gained a quick reputation of being a poor detective. In his eagerness to prove himself, he’d jumped at such an important case as the kidnapping of the daughter of a police chief. His excitement was out of place in the atmosphere of dread and anxiety that had filled the department.

The seemingly rehearsed to and fro motion of the officers moving from desk to desk was interrupted when an older man dressed in a dark blue, expensive looking suit brushed through the station, heading for the chief’s office. Behind him followed what seemed to be a myriad of assistants and interns, and a little behind them a calmer man in his early sixties, wearing a button up white shirt and jeans, he peered around the department house curiously but also with an air of nostalgia but never falling behind the group with which he had arrived.

The door the chief’s office burst open and the man in the expensive suit came to an abrupt halt, causing one of the following assistants to spill the coffee he was holding. The startled occupants of the office quickly recovered.

“Mr. Mayor? I didn’t expect you so soon.” Responded Karen Vick, her diplomacy a reflex and in contrast to her obvious distress.

“Chief Vick,” acknowledged the Mayor, nodding to the other detectives and Henry before turning back to Karen, “I’ve come to straighten a few things out before the investigation into your daughter’s disappearance continues.”

“Straighten things out?” Lassiter asked sharply, no in the mood for what he had no doubt the Mayor would say.

“Yes, given the proximity that this department has to this case, I’ve come to ensure that there will be no conflicts of interest in the investigation.”

“Conflicts of interest?” Juliet spoke up, confused.

“Yes I cannot allow those so familiar with the victim-“ at the mention of her daughter as a ‘victim’ Vick looked like she was going to be sick “-to remain on this case, so from this moment on, Karen you are to be pulled from duty, you’re needed at home anyways” the mayor finished.

“Not that I didn’t see this coming already, but I’d like to ask that you suspend that request until a further ti-“ she was interrupted by the mayor butting in.

“I’m sorry but I cannot have the press discover that I let the parent of a kidnapping victim be in charge of the case, especially when its practically common knowledge nowadays that the most likely suspects in these situations are family-“ everyone in the office took a step forward and opened their mouths to refute this when the mayor held up a hand and continued, “-I know, I know that you are not involved but given the knowledge that the general public seems to have these days I cannot afford the bad press. Now I know you all have a history of becoming involved in cases in which there is a conflict of interest for you” at this the Mayor glared over at Henry.

Two years ago when Shawn Spencer had been shot and kidnapped, Henry had insisted on helping to find him, luckily they had found Shawn before the mayor had intervened but they had been subjected to quite a dressing down by him on department policy, one that had ended abruptly with Henry Spencer telling him to stick it where the sun don’t shine and walking out of the office. Apparently the mayor had not forgotten that. “I must however insist that this time policy is adhered.”

“Don’t worry Chief, we’ll keep you in the loop on the investigation,” Juliet, ever the cool head, ensured her boss.

“You misunderstand me, Detective. This whole department has a conflict of interest with this case, none of you will be involved in the investigation.” Before anyone could protest the mayor continued again,

“I am therefore, appointing a temporary chief during the course of this investigation and Chief Vick’s absence,” he turned his head slightly and waited for the man in the white button up shirt who had arrived with him to come forward, as he stepped into the room, Henry spoke up,

“Ritch?” surprise colored his tone.

“You know him?” Juliet asked curiously.

“He was the Chief when I was on the force,” he stepped forward with his hand outstretched to greet the new arrival “good to see you again, Ritch. This is Detective O’hara, Detective Lassiter and you remember Karen Vick, everyone this is Richard Cherry” he introduced, Cherry shook everyone’s hands, even Morrison who had not been introduced, mostly because Henry had decided he didn’t like him and had therefore not bothered to learn his name.

“Richard will be the temporary acting chief until this mess is over with, all I need now from you Karen is a list of detectives in the department with little to know contact with you and your family, I can’t afford for you to pick someone you know well,” the mayor eyed O’Hara and Lassiter as if to say ‘don’t try and fool me.’

“I can do it!” Morrison spoke up, Lassiter rolled his eyes in response muttering an ‘of course you can’ under his breath. The mayor turned to the other detective.

“and who might you be?” he asked, dispassionately, looking the officer up and down in assessment.

“I’m Detective Zachery Morrison, Sir.” He held out his hand which the mayor reluctantly shook. “I only transferred here two months ago and therefore am the detective least involved in this case” he finished before adding “Sir.” Abruptly.

The Mayor sighed before deciding that this was probably his best option at the moment. Nodding he addressed Morrison, “Alright you are lead on this case, but I must remind you that you are not to share any information on this case with your fellow detectives or Chief Vick” at Morrison’s eager nod he continued, “I want you to set up in a headquarters in one of the unoccupied rooms in the station, I’ll be sending over some officers from another station house to assist you shortly, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Morrison looked positively vibrating with excitement, unknowingly irritating the other occupants in the room with his enthusiasm over such a serious case.

“That will be all, I expect to hear of your progress on the investigation as soon as possible, Detective. Turning to the newly appointed chief Cherry he nodded his head, “Chief,” turning to the others in the room he nodded goodbye and headed for the door. He hesitated just before he walked through it, turning back towards Vick and saying with only the tiniest hint of sincerity “And… I’m sorry about your daughter, Karen,” with that he walked out and was gone from sight.

“What a-“

“Detective!” Vick cut off Lassiter’s surely volatile assessment of the mayor before he could finish. She took a deep breath before turning to Morrison.

“Detective,” she hesitated, looking unsure, “good luck.” And with that Morrison bounced out of the office. There was a silence in the room before Chief Cherry spoke up,

“Well, I best be getting to work and so should you,” he said pointedly at O’hara and Lassiter. With an air of defeat they all headed for the door before they were stopped by the voice of their new chief.

“And need I remind you that the mayor insists that none of you investigate this matter on your own time either,” the only motion was the slight slumping of shoulders even further.

“So make sure I don’t …. catch you investigating this matter,” he said with a stern look. No one missed his emphasis on ‘catch’. With a slight smile from all of them they hurried out the door. With the door slammed, a silence took over the office yet again. Sitting down at his new desk Richard Cherry sighed, ran his hands over his face and stared out into the bull pen at sight of Henry Spencer, Karen Vick, Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter huddled together talking in obviously hushed tones. With a grim look at the case file in front of him, he opened it and prepared for the worst.

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Juliet sighed in frustration, she wanted to be working on finding Iris but she was stuck having to work on a case that was, basically, a victimless crime. That is except for the mayor’s wife’s dog, Bumblebee, which was lost that morning. The mayor had made the case top priority for her and Lassiter specifically and she got the impression that it was his subtle way of making sure they weren’t working on Iris’ case. That and she got the impression his wife was giving him a hard time about it. It was smart however because it allowed him to call every hour to make sure they were taking it seriously and to check up on them. Juliet thought it was ridiculous, excuse or not, to put the welfare of some silly little dog before that of the beloved daughter of their chief. But then again she was always a cat person.

At least Henry wasn’t under the mayor’s watchful eye and could work secretly on the case with the chie- …. Karen. They were currently at the Vick house, waiting for a ransom call that might not come. Juliet sighed, wishing this had happened back in a time, years ago when the department would have had two troublesome yet effective private detectives who could circumvent the law quite easily and find the culprit surely before anyone else in this department. But so much had changed since then.

They had come under investigation because apparently their closure rate was ‘suspiciously impressive’ and some hot-head new IA guy felt like there was some crime there. He had even accused her and Lassiter of using Gus and Shawn to investigate for them without the pressure of procedure, accusing them of breaking into buildings and suspects’ homes without warrant to weed out any evidence and hand it to Lassiter and her. She had scoffed at the idea, encouraging him to go ahead and investigate because they had nothing to hide. She later remembered how uncomfortable that action had made Lassiter and realized that he probably knew what Internal Affairs would find, and despite his reluctance to admit it, was not keen for Shawn to be discovered as a fraud.

 It had happened though, and it had shocked her to the core. Despite some semblance of doubt that had always resided within her, Juliet had always, honestly believed that Shawn was psychic, maybe not the flapping-around-stage-show-psychic that Shawn had always enjoyed being but psychic none-the-less. Shawn had ensured the investigators that he had fooled everyone even his best friend and his dad, so the two hadn’t gotten into any trouble. Juliet had long suspected that this was a lie and later found out for sure from Gus during their weekly lunch dates. This didn’t however subtract from her feelings being hurt by the whole situation.

She had been so angry and so hurt that he hadn’t confided in her with this so important secret and, as she recalled screaming at Shawn afterwards, humiliated that she had believed something that was now so ridiculous. She wasn’t the only one to react this way, the chief, though Juliet suspected she had already known Shawn’s secret had also reacted in angry though it seemed as though she was angrier that Shawn had been caught, this intense anger was none-the-less also directed at Shawn.

Lassiter hadn’t really said much at the time, not really reacting much to the news, not even to mock Shawn at his outing. It didn’t seem as appealing since it had actually happened, not like Lassiter had always dreamed of it in his head, the real thing was a lot more … depressing.

Gus had received one heck of a lashing from his other job, they even talked about firing him. Luckily for Gus they had decided not to but Gus was so mad at Shawn he stopped speaking to him, though admittedly Gus was obviously only going to do so for a few days, the two never got the chance to reconcile.

Henry however was embarrassed that Shawn had humiliated him so much. It was all over the papers that Shawn was not psychic and Henry was having trouble dealing with his new reputation as an ex-cop with a criminal for a son, at least that’s what Gus thought. He had told Juliet that Shawn and Henry had gotten into a huge fight over it and that was when it happened. When Shawn did what he always did in tough situations, he ran.

That had been a year and a half ago and they had yet to hear from him since. No visits, no calls, not even a postcard like Shawn had always done to ensure the people back home that he was still alive. This anger had subsided and gradually turned to guilt in most of them. There was nothing they could do about it now however.

Now after all this time, Juliet saw Gus once or twice a week just to check in. She had taken it upon herself after Shawn had left and her anger had dwindled to a mere spark, to make sure that Gus was okay. He had taken his best friend’s departure particularly hard and had a hard time coping for a long time. She occasionally saw Mr. Spencer, who still had a few old buddies on the force and would on occasion stop in to say hi to her and Lassiter, who he still often went fishing with. Gus had told her that he went to Mr. Spencer’s house every week for dinner on Sundays just like Shawn used to do, just to make sure everything was alright and to catch up.

It seemed like so much had changed in such a short time, but oddly also like nothing had changed in what seemed like forever.

She didn’t realize that she’d been staring blankly into her coffee cup until Lassiter came running up and banged on the desk in front of her. She jumped a foot in the air and put a hand to her chest, Juliet opened her mouth to scold him for startling her when he interrupted.

“Spencer just called; the ransom call just came in.”

She was so caught up in the past that at the mention of ‘Spencer’ Juliet felt like she’d just gone back in time before remembering suddenly that Lassiter was talking about Henry. Without saying a word she grabbed her coat and followed him out the door. On the way out they ran into Morrison, who in taking his new assignment had become suddenly quite bossy, taking very seriously the mayor’s ruling that no one in the department but him be involved in the case. He had even set up his little headquarters with a guard outside the door to ensure maximum discretion. In short he was pissing everyone off.

“Where are you going, Detectives?” he called, folder in hand as if busy, but apparently he had not yet been told by his officers about the ransom call. He gave them an assessing look. Carlton and Juliet exchanged a look before turning back to him and in unison saying,

“Lunch.”

With that they were out the door and on their way to Vick’s.

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Sitting at the kitchen table, Juliet felt a little lost wishing for a moment that Gus was there. The two of them were the more sensitive of the group and in the presence of Lassiter and Henry’s calm and controlled manner, she realized how much easier it would be if Gus was there, panicking so that at the very least she wasn’t the most anxious in the room. But alas, Gus was at a Pharmaceutical conference in San Francisco for the next and probably didn’t even know about all of this.

“Okay so let’s go over it again, when you picked up the phone what was the first thing he said?” Lassiter asked from his pacing gait around the kitchen. Karen who was sitting at the kitchen table fiddling with her hands in a worried, anxious, so-not-the-chief-they-knew-way responded, casting glances at her husband who was too distraught to be in the room for this and had settled into the living room and could be seen sitting tensely on the sofa.

“He said he had Ir-“ Chief Vick paused before recovering, “he said he had my daughter and that if I wanted her back I had to give him three million dollars, he spoke with a some sort of distortion device…I don’t …. I don’t even know if it was a he,” she breathed out again and put her hands cupped over her mouth in defeat and frustration.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Henry spoke up from his position leaning against the kitchen counter, after speaking he pushed himself away from it and walked the room while continuing.

“The guy knows Karen’s enough to know which days she takes her daughter to the park and at what time…” he trailed off.

Lassiter, who oddly had paused his stride just as Henry had begun his, spoke up realizing where this was going,

“So if he does that kind of research on getting the girl then why doesn’t he know how much ransom money the Chief can afford? Three million dollars? You don’t make that kind of money being chief of police….maybe mayor..”

“And for that matter why three million dollars? Why not five? or one? or ten? Statistically speaking you ransom a kid you ask for one of those amounts, unless you know exactly how much money a person has in their bank account” Henry added, leaning back onto the counter.

“Which they obviously don’t know if they think the chief has three million dollars….” Juliet added, if only to feel useful in this conversation.

“Wait-“ Karen spoke up, as if just remembering something, “There’s something else … I didn’t even think but … the voice, it said nothing about police presence. Why wouldn’t they tell me not to involve the police?”

“Maybe with their Swiss cheese research of your routine they stumbled upon the fact you’re chief of police and thought it was pointless to request.” Lassiter spoke up, not realizing how rude he sounded, Juliet reminded him by stepping on his no-longer-pacing foot.

“Ow! O’Hara what the hell?!” he exclaimed, turning to her. Suddenly Buzz came into the room with an air of urgency.

“Detective Morrison just pulled up,” he warned before heading towards the front door to stall.

“God I hate that idiot Morrison,” huffed Lassiter.

“That’s because he wore the same time as you that one time,” Juliet remarked, amusedly.

“That and he’s an ass.”

“Come on, Carlton lets slip out the back,” Juliet stood, nodding to Henry and squeezing Vick’s hand as she walked past towards the back exit.  Lassiter turned to Henry as he followed her,

“Call if something comes in. Press conference is at one thirty, right?” At Henry’s nod he walked through the door and out of sight.

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Lassiter stood at the back of the room next to his partner. They leaned their backs up against the wall and looked over the sea of reporters and cameramen. This was the part of police work he hated, this bull crap, press release nonsense put in place for the sake of ‘politics’ and ‘free speech’. The public would lap this stuff up like it was some sort of daytime Spanish soap opera while good people suffered for their entertainment.

“Yea I hate this part too,” Henry Spencer had walked up beside him while he was deep in thought and surmised from his facial expression what he was thinking. Henry was good at stuff like that and that was one of the things Carlton liked about him. He nodded to the other man in acknowledgement before turning towards Karen Vick who had just arrived at the podium, make-up unmarred despite her somewhat delayed reaction to the ransom demands earlier.

“Hello I’m Karen Vick and, as you may know, chief of this department. You were informed a few days ago, during another press release, of my daughter Iris’ disappearance. She was taken while we were visiting the park three days ago..” she took a second to calm herself, “we received a ransom demand for her return this morning. I would like to send a message to the people who have my daughter to please… please don’t hurt her, she has done nothing to you, she’s only five years old and she has so much to do in her life-“ her voice broke, “Don’t take that away from her… we are working on your demands and if you’ll be patient we can get you what you want and we can all come out of this unharmed.”

She nodded her thank you to the cameras and turned to leave. She stopped however, left hand still on the podium and turned back to the crowd of reporters.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to send a message to someone else if you don’t mind,” she looked out at the reporters before turning to look into the camera in front of her and breathed deep.

“Shawn, if you’re watching this … I need your help, please … I know we weren’t exactly …. Understanding, but I need you here…my daughter …Needs. You. Here.” As she turned away again, one reporter stepped forward, mic pointed at Vick,

“Who is Shawn? Are you referring to Shawn Spencer the fraudulent psychic the worked for your department?” before Karen could answer, Morrison who had until then merely stood behind her stepped forward to the podium hurriedly.

“Shawn Spencer is no longer a member of this department. He was a fraud and any attempt by himself to hijack this investigation will not be condoned. He was ordered to remain in town after the Santa Barbara Police Department dropped the charges against him and he disobeyed that order. If he sets foot in Santa Barbara again, he will be arrested!” with that he stepped back again, ignoring the sudden reaction of shouted questions from the reporters. Karen looked crushed as she was ushered off stage.

Lassiter sighed. At the mention of Spencer he had felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, somehow knowing what had just been proposed by Vick was exactly what they needed. They needed Shawn. While he had not been entirely a fan of Spencer’s, he got results and he solved cases that even the most experienced detectives failed to solve.

Endlessly wondering exactly how the psychic had solved his cases as that had never truly been explained; it had been an agonizing curiosity for him after Spencer had been outed as fake psychic. Both the idea that he might actually have the chance to find out and the hope that some progress would be made in finding Iris caused an intense excitement within Lassiter which was then stamped out at Morrison’s veiled threat. Spencer would be arrested if he came back. If he was even in the country … If he had even seen the newscast.

Carlton looked towards Henry out of the corner of his eye and saw a mask of calm. Underneath it however he thought he saw a flicker of something else… hope?

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“Shawn, if you’re watching this … I need your help, please … I know we weren’t exactly …. Understanding, but I need you here…my daughter …Needs. You. Here.”

Gus stood in the lobby of the San Francisco Bay Hyatt Hotel, staring at the flat screen television set up next to a couple of leather couches and a coffee table, watching the newscast for the fourth time. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Chief Vick’s face. Chief Vick. Their Chief Vick. Whose daughter had just a week ago rejected his suggestion of calling her yet to be given new puppy “Stringfellow Hawke.”

He never thought for a moment he would be walking through the hotel he was staying at, heading towards one of the events of his Pharmaceutical conference only to glance up at the television as he walked by and see the image of a little girl that he recognized. He was then kept rooted to the spot by the mention of his best friend. This was all so surreal, this couldn’t be happening, it was like he was watching a movie or a soap opera. He stayed where he was as the newscast replayed the video, only vaguely aware of someone standing beside him, probably also riveted by the events on screen.

“…my daughter …Needs. You. Here.”

“Tough stuff.” Said the voice beside him, Gus nodded absently, not really paying attention. The part about Shawn had come up again and that other man was about to step up to the podium and threaten to arrest Gus’ best friend for the fifth time.

“…Shawn Spencer the fraudulent psychic…”

“So what do you say?” the voice was obviously speaking to him and the odd question caught Gus’ attention, mostly because it sounded familiar. So familiar. Gus barely heard the newscast now as his blood rushed to his ears at the realization he had just made.

“…sets foot in Santa Barbara again, he will be arrested!”

He turned his head to look towards the voice as it spoke again.

“We gonna go find her or what, Buddy?”

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Ch 2

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It was late at night when the blue echo drove past the sign that proclaimed it had just entered Santa Barbara. Despite the calm and quiet atmosphere outside the car, the inside was filled with banter.

Shawn had hijacked the driver’s seat after it became apparent that his best friend couldn’t keep his eyes on the road ahead of him. In Gus’ defense he had just been blindsided with the arrival of the best friend that he hadn’t heard from in 18 months and was having a hard time believing it. After Shawn had surprised him in the hotel the two had gone back to Gus’ room to discuss what to do. Oddly it was like they had never been apart, bouncing banter off each other like they had always done. Gus had attempted to bring up their last conversation before Shawn had left Santa Barbara to apologize but Shawn being Shawn had changed the subject and acted like it hadn’t happened.

“Dude, Stringfellow Hawke? Really? She’s five years old and she already knows that Airwolf was lame.” Gus had been catching Shawn up on the goings on in Santa Barbara over the last year or so.

“It’s not lame, Shawn, it was a good show, it was like the Knight Rider of the air,” Gus defended.

“Don’t compare anything that has Jan Michael Vincent in it to Knight Rider okay? You’re embarrassing yourself,” Shawn said as he looked through the darkness for the sign he’d been searching for.

                There was a pause in the conversation as Gus brought up a subject that he felt needed to be taken seriously.

                “Shawn, they’ll arrest you if they catch you here, you heard that guy on the newscast,” Shawn had continuously brushed this fact off.

                “Come on, Gus. That guy can’t arrest me,”

                “Technically he can. You did leave town when you were asked not to.”

                “key word: asked. Besides that guy has horrible hair.”

                “That won’t stop him from throwing your butt in the slammer.”

                “The slammer? Really? This is Santa Barbara not the Bronx, I hear that Santa Barbara prisons have tanning beds,” Shawn quipped back.

                “That’s what it’s called, Shawn. And why would Santa Barbara prisons have tanning beds it’s always sunny,” Gus defended his word use.

                “Not always, there was that one time when it rained,” Shawn feebly defended the increasingly ridiculous opinion.

                “Whatever Shawn I’m right,” Gus felt he should be the bigger person in this conversation,

                “So what’s the plan?” he asked his friend who seemed to have all this figured out.

                “Gus, we’re going to do what we always do. We’re going to grab a smoothie and get to work.”

                “It’s one o’clock in the morning, Shawn, there are no smoothie places open,”

                “I’ve heard it both ways.” Shawn responded, still looking at the road.

                “That didn’t even make sense and besides, how are we going to get to work when the moment you’re seen the police will arrest you? How are we going to get into the station with that?” Gus folded his arms across his chest and looked smugly at his best friend. His best friend that was sitting in a car with him. Beside him. In Santa Barbara.

                “Don’t worry, Gus I have a plan on how to get around that,”

                “Oh really? And how is that?”

                “Firstly, its one o’clock in the morning the station’s almost empty and secondly you need to stop underestimating me,” they were almost at the station now and Shawn pulled over to the side of the road a block before it and put the car into park.

                “Oh I underestimate you do I? and how do you plan on getting in to the station?” arms still crossed, smug look still in place.

                “Gus, you know me, I have friends in high places,” Shawn grinned and reached for the door handle.

                “Was that a pun, Shawn? You know how I feel about puns!”

                “Of course it wasn’t, just because I put an emphasis on the word ‘high’ doesn’t mean that I happen to know an incredibly gigantic police officer that’s always eager to help a friend in need,” with that he opened the door and out into the night. Gus sat for a moment, giving himself one last chance to not break the law, but the image of that little girl flitted through his mind again and he made his decision. Solving unsolvable cases, breaking into government buildings, it was going to be just like old times.

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It was the day after the press conference and a heavy weight had settled over the SBPD. It was only 9:30 and everyone could tell it was going to be a long day. With little to no progress made in the case and the ransom drop details not yet given, there was an air of gloom over everyone. Vick was with Henry in her old office talking to Chief Cherry. Lassiter and Juliet sat at their desks casting glances through the windows of the office and sighing through the paperwork for old, closed cases. The newscast from yesterday was constantly run over almost every channel. The mention of Shawn Spencer had given everyone at the station a moment of excitement and hope before it was dashed at Morrison’s announcement of the consequences of Shawn coming to Santa Barbara. Every time the news repeated the segment, it was like twisting a knife that was already buried so deep in the gut of the department.

Lassiter and Juliet had hurriedly researched Morrison’s statement only to find that the new detective did indeed have cause to arrest Shawn if he showed up. So much for that idea. The rushed feel of the department had dwindled to a hushed meandering, no one really doing anything important and without permission to work on the Iris Vick case the frustration was growing increasingly apparent.

Lassiter pulled his gaze away from the windows of the office to see Detective Morrison arrive with his coffee in hand and head towards his assignment headquarters at the back of the station. None of them were allowed to enter this headquarters and Morrison seemed to enjoy his privilege to do so by loudly announcing every time he felt he needed to return to it.

Gone was the annoyingly eager detective they had come to know over the last two months. Devastatingly embarrassing failure aside, he wasn’t too bad a detective. Maybe a little eager to prove himself but what newly instated detective wasn’t. Though Carlton had enough experience to know that if that eagerness continued too long it could have serious repercussions. The new attitude though was driving everyone in the department crazy and sooner or later Carlton knew someone was going to act on their frustration. He hoped it was him.

                Mostly it was the knowledge that Morrison had taken away the idea of Spencer helping. Not that it had ever been written in stone or anything but a little hope was a good thing in an investigation like this and the department seemed to resent Morrison for taking this hope away.

                Lassiter was pulled out of his thoughts by Henry and Vick’s arrival at his desk. Karen looked pale and distraught, a far cry from the chief they were familiar with but holding her own none-the-less. Juliet spoke up at their arrival,

“Anything?” The two detectives knew that Chief Cherry had called Vick down to the station to give her an update on her daughter’s case. Not necessarily for the sake of reassurance but to provide her, Henry Spencer and the two detectives with as much information as possible.

“No,” Henry spoke up, “It seems that Detective Morrison has been very secretive in his investigation, not even Ritch knows all the details.”

“You think he knows that Cherry has been providing us with information?” Carlton asked, curiously.

“It seems that way,” spoke Karen in a low voice.

                They were interrupted when Morrison came flying down the halls of the station, face angry and huffing his breath out to show this anger. Right arm behind his back and left swinging by his side.

“WHO WAS IN MY TEAM’S OFFICE?!” Morrison had begun to call the group of officers under his command his ‘team’ probably to sound more important.

Chief Cherry stepped out of his office just as the rest of the department had froze where they stood, turning towards the fuming detective with both curiosity and glee at his frustration.

“Detective? What makes you think someone was in your office?” spoke up the new chief, curiously, trying not to look towards Lassiter and Juliet’s desks. When Morrison turned away to address the department as a whole, Cherry looked to Lassiter who shook his head in confusion, then to Henry who shrugged in response.

“I know it was one of you!” he called to the surrounding crowd, right arm still held behind his back and left now flailing through the air to emphasize his anger.

“Is there something out of place in the office or something?” Cherry spoke up, trying to calmly diffuse this situation. Morrison seemed only to get angrier at this question,

“No everything was exactly where I left it, but someone was there!” he shouted, scanning the crowd and settling on the group near the head detective’s desk.

“Was something missing?” Juliet spoke up to take the attention off of her partner and Henry Spencer. Generally people found it more difficult to yell at her because of the blond hair and the look of innocence that she had perfected over the years to suit this very situation. Morrison turned towards her, still fuming.

“No, Detective O’Hara. Nothing is missing,” Morrison seemed to be even more frustrated that no one seemed to understand where he was going with this.

“Well then, how do you know someone was in your office?” Cherry still held his voice in that calm, negotiator manner.

“Because I left at 11:30 last night!” Morrison yelled even louder than he had been, “I was the last to leave!”

His chest heaved with the anger he felt. Someone was tampering with his investigation, going around him, trying to take his case from him. His case. His voice lowered just a bit but his tone still held the ire he felt.

“I was the last to leave,” he repeated, “And I think I would have remembered if I left this behind!”

With that his right arm came out from behind his back and held out to the crowded room a small, golden pineapple.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

CHAPTER THREE:

“So tell me about this Morrison guy, what’s Van like?” Shawn asked as he lay across Gus’ sofa throwing a nerf ball up and catching it while Gus went over the case information that Shawn had copied from memory into a notebook.

                “His first name isn’t Van, Shawn,” Gus spoke, looking up from the notebook for the first time in an hour.

                “Jim?” Shawn suggested.

                “That’s the lead singer from the Doors,”

                “Matthew?”

                “I knew you watched that show and no its-“ Gus was cut off again.

                “Brenden?”

                “who is Brenden Morrison?”

                “He’s a Canuck.” Shawn supplied, throwing the ball up again.

                “Since when do you like hockey?”

                “I was on a team, remember? We were good.” Gus got up and snatched the ball out of the air as Shawn threw it.

                “That was in 3rd grade, Shawn and you were terrible,”

                “That’s a matter of opinion. I still say in some countries they let you throw the puck.”

                “Which countr- you know what no, I’m not doing this,” Gus huffed, heading back to his chair.

                “His name is Zachery Morrison, Shawn, and I only met him once or twice I don’t really know him,” he opened the notebook again,

                “Well I know a lot about him,” Shawn supplied, sitting up on the sofa.

                “Like what?” said Gus, curiously.

                “He was in a band, I think it was called ‘Zack Attack.’”

                “Shawn that was Zach Morris.”

                “I’ve heard it both ways,” Shawn mumbled though his mind seemed to be elsewhere, “you know what’s weird about that Morris guy’s investigation?”

                “Morrison,” Gus supplied.

                “He didn’t even do a search for recent parolees, you know, just got out nothing but the clothes on their backs and a rap sheet. It’s practically the first thing you’re supposed to look for, police detectivery 101.”

                “Detectivery is not a word, Shawn. But that’s true, although from what Juliet and Lassiter told me he’s kind of an idiot, apparently he really screwed up on a big case that he was lead on and let a criminal go,”

                “hmmmm…” Shawn rubbed his chin in thought, “Guess we’ll have to do it for him then, to the laptop!” Gus rolled his eyes, laptop already in hand and search engine open.

                “How exactly are we gonna do this?”

                “Don’t sweat it, buddy, we’ll use the police database, Buzz gave me his password,” Shawn now stood behind Gus leaning towards the computer.

                “Does Buzz know he gave you his password?”

                “Subconsciously I’m sure he does.”

                It took a little over an hour to discover that in the last three weeks, three inmates were released on parole from the Santa Barbara prison system.

                “So how do we know which of these guys it was?” Gus spoke up, looking at the three pictures on the screen.

                “It’s him,” Shawn jabbed a finger at the screen causing Gus to slap it away.

                “And how do you know that?”

                “Well the first guy lost his mom while he was inside, all the money was left to him. Why would you risk going back to prison over money you don’t need?”

                “Fair point. And the other guy?”

                “His hair is terrible,”

                “Shawn!”

                “Okay okay, he just received full custody of his two kids,”

                “So?” questioned Gus, “Wouldn’t that mean he’d need the money more?”

                “It would but he’s now the only parent for two kids under ten. Do you really think that he’d have the time to kidnap another kid just for a bit more cash?”

                “hmmm…” Gus acknowledged the logic of that statement, “guess our prime suspect is number three, Brady O’neill.”

                “You got an address?”

                “Just within Santa Barbara city limits,” Gus copied down the information despite knowing Shawn would remember the address.

                “To the Psychmobile!”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The station was positively buzzing with the news that Shawn Spencer had returned to Santa Barbara. It was like a weight had been lifted and, though Iris Vick had not yet been found, it felt like she soon would be.

Detective Morrison had been baffled by the reaction to his reveal that a pineapple had been left in his team’s office. He had expected some bewilderment, perhaps and amused smile from the perpetrator. He was not then prepared for the eruption of glee that filled the faces of the SBPD. Even Lassiter had grinned at the sight and Henry Spencer looked like he’d been punched in the stomach, this whole act had lead to suspicion which was then verified as he overheard a conversation between two officers proclaiming Shawn Spencer’s return to Santa Barbara.

Well he would have none of it. This was his case, his chance to right his wrong. He would find the girl and he would be the hero. That fraud was not going to take away the credit that would surely be Morrison’s. So he stormed through the halls of the station and worked more furiously than ever. This case was his and he would solve it. Morrison grabbed his keys and jacket and stormed out of the station, a man on a mission.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Shawn and Gus pulled up in the blue echo outside the brown two story house. It was surrounded by an overgrown garden, not quite in the city but by no means removed from society.

Shawn looked to the driveway, no car. Maybe the Brady was out? Shawn walked up the path to the front door, Gus at his heels. He pause a minute before knocking loudly and looking through the window for a response.

“Are you nuts? What are you gonna say when he opens the door? ‘Sorry, but do you have a little girl stashed somewhere nearby?’” Gus whispered urgently in his ear.

“Firstly: say it don’t spray it, secondly: I don’t think he’s home,” Shawn, upon seeing no one in the window and hearing nothing inside the house, pulled out his Swiss army knife and proceded to pick the lock.

“I did not spray it, Shawn, and stop with the ‘firstly’’secondly’ stuff,” Gus looked around in an exaggerated and obviously suspicious manner to see if someone was watching them. Luckily the block seemed empty.

“firstly: no, secondly: ….. no,” with that Shawn opened the door and walked cautiously inside. Gus followed if only so he didn’t have to stay on the porch alone.

The house was old and creaky, their shoes making the floorboards squeak wherever they stepped. It was also incredibly silent. Shawn looked up the stair case, seeing cobwebs all the way down the rail, no one had been upstairs in a long time, perfect.

“Gus, why don’t you check upstairs for clues,” he suggested, making his way down the hall, he stopped when a flailing hand grabbed him.

“What?! He could be up there!” Gus whispered loudly, Shawn was going to have to talk with him about his indoor voice when this was all over.

“Dude, here take this,” Shawn handed Gus a fire poker that was leaning against a nearby wall.

“Shawn, this thing’s like a hundred years old, it’ll break the moment I hit him with it!”

“He’s not Lou Ferrigno, dude! Just go, he could be back soon,” Shawn ordered, walking towards the kitchen as he listened to Gus hesitantly make his way up the stairs.

The kitchen door swung open with an ease that Shawn didn’t expect from this rickety old house. He glanced around the kitchen, it had been used relatively recently. At least they knew that Brady was living here since he got out, whether or not he was their guy was another question entirely. He made to leave the kitchen and move into the living room when a noise caught his attention. He glanced up where Gus’ footsteps could be heard clearly, whimpering almost audible. But no, the noise hadn’t come from upstairs. It came from downstairs.

Shawn looked to the door at the far side of the kitchen, he’d bet anything that it lead to the basement judging from the lock on it. He quickly closed the distance between him and the door, knife already in hand and moving towards the lock. This one was a bit more difficult. It was newer unlike the ancient lock on the front door. A question burned inside him, if you are going to buy a new lock, why put it on the door of the basement and not the door of your house?

With a click the lock was open. Shawn thought about calling to Gus but decided to let his friend conquer his fears alone. He made his way down the creaky stairs. They were so old that he’d be lucky if they didn’t break beneath him. Yet oddly, unlike the rest of the house the stairs didn’t make a sound as he stepped making it almost more ominous in the resounding silence.

The room was filled with boxes and trunks against the walls, leaving the middle of the room glaringly open. Shawn reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around. He could see surprisingly clearly as the sun came through the gaps of a window high above him and filled the room with dusty light.

Shawn turned in a circle, scanning the room for movement. Rats maybe? He wouldn’t be surprised, this house was filthy. From behind him came a whimper and Shawn whipped around. There, in the space between dirty boxes, huddled against the wall, was Iris Vick.

Shawn slowly crouched down to seem less imposing to the frightened girl.

“Iris?” the girl looked up at her name. Shawn had never, by any means, been good with kids. Kids always messed with his hair with their sticky little fingers and never understood any of his 80s references. This was different though. This was not one of those snotty little kids that tugged on his jeans when he worked as a gardener for an elementary school that one time. This was a little girl who was taken from her mother and scared out of her mind. Despite his lack of real skills when it came to children, Shawn instinctually knew he needed to coax this girl from her hiding place amongst the boxes.

“Hi Iris, I’m Shawn,” he paused, thinking through his next words, “I am a friend of your mummy, and I’m here to take you home, okay?” the little girl’s eyes lit up but for a moment she remained wary of him.

“Really?” she spoke up, hopeful.

“Really.” Apparently that was all the reassurance she needed because she flung herself into Shawn’s arms. He hugged her for a moment before picking her up and turning back towards the stairs.

Despite his earlier indication that it was a welcome change, the lack of creakiness the basement stairs displayed seemed to suddenly have become a really bad thing. Standing in front of Shawn was the owner of the house, Brady O’Neill and, despite Shawn’s earlier remark to Gus, looked very much like Lou Ferrigno.

“Hey there,” he began, unsure, “you’re home early.” Brady did not look pleased to find a stranger in his house, holding the little girl that he had obviously kidnapped, he took a step forward….and collapsed to the ground with a CRACK!

Gus stood above the now unconscious kidnapper holding the fire poker Shawn had given him. The stairs were officially back in Shawn’s good graces. He sighed with relief,

“Told you it wouldn’t break, Buddy, now let’s get out of here,”

They made their way back up the stairs, deciding that the basement was the best place to keep Brady until the cops got there so they locked the door behind them and made their way out of the creepy, old house. As they walked out the front door however, a car pulled up into the driveway.

Shawn and Gus hesitated a moment, afraid that Brady had had an accomplice before relaxing when they recognized the man that came out of the driver’s side door. They had seen him countless times from the newscast coverage that was constantly repeated on every channel.

“Detective Morrison,” Gus greeted as a black and white police car pulled up behind Brady, revealing a young officer he had never seen before.

“Where’s O’Neill?” Morrison said abruptly.

“In the basement, unconscious,” Gus answered, trying to stall time before the attention landed on his best friend.

“Davidson!” Morrison called over his shoulder to the uniformed officer and nodded for him to go and collect the suspect.

“Detective we found Iris, she’s fine, we were just taking her back to Chief Vick,” Gus explained, hoping the detective would be so grateful for their help in the investigation that he would just let them go. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that grateful.

“Hand the girl to Mr. Guster, Spencer you’re under arrest for disobeying a police order, turn around,” Morrison pulled out his handcuffs as Shawn held Iris out to Gus.

“But he found her! He saved Iris you can’t arrest him for saving a little girl!” Gus exclaimed, before accepting Iris from Shawn, who had begun to turn around, a resigned look on his face.

“It’s okay, Buddy, I knew this was coming,” Morrison walked the now cuffed Shawn towards his car and placed him in the back seat. Davidson exited the house with the now conscious Brady O’Neill cuffed in front of him and headed for his own car. Morrison shut the car door behind Shawn and reached to take Iris from Gus, who pulled back.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed in surprise.

“You, Mr. Guster are riding with Davidson, the girl is coming with me,” Despite Gus’ protests, Morrison took the now crying little girl from Gus’ grasp and made his way to the passenger side of the car to place her inside. Gus turned to look at his friend in the backseat, Shawn gave him a look of reassurance and after a moment, Gus turned and made his way to the other car.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Karen Vick was a ball of anxiety as she paced the halls of the police station. They had just gotten a call from Detective Morrison who had revealed that he had found Iris and apprehended the kidnapper and was now on his way back to the station. Despite the assurance that Iris had been rescued, Karen would not relax until she held her daughter in her arms and saw for herself.

As she turned midstride for the umpteenth time her pace was broken by a voice she had longed so much to hear.

“Mummy!” Iris Vick dashed through the station towards her mother and father arms wide and ready for an embrace. When she reached them the entire SBPD stopped and watched the reunion with relief. Vick and her husband kneeled on the floor of the bullpen with their daughter in their arms.

Detective Morrison sidled into the station with a look of pride on his face and stopped ten feet from the exchange, waiting for acknowledgement. Vick looked towards him, despite what she thought of him, he had saved her daughter and she owned Morrison everything.

“Thank you,” she looked him in the eye, “Thank you for saving my daughter,” her sincerity was obvious. Before Morrison could respond with what would surely be some sort of speech, he was interrupted by Iris,

“He didn’t save me, Shawn did.” The little girl’s voice caused a uproar of whispering in the crowd.

“and Gus, he saved me too,” Iris exclaimed proudly.

Vick looked back towards Morrison, whose expression was now unreadable.

“Where’s Shawn?” Iris as well had now turned towards the detective and, oblivious to the tension in the room, was curious as to where her hero had gone.

“Yeah, Detective, where is Shawn?” Henry Spencer’s voice held a barely restrained anger. Morrison opened his mouth to explain when Davidson and O’Neill entered the station with Gus trailing behind. Vick looked to O’Neill.

“He’s the one that took my daughter?” Jumping at the change of subject Morrison spoke,

“That’s him,” Davidson led the prisoner down towards the cells and Gus rushed up to the group.

“You can’t do this!” he said to Morrison, arms flailing above his head, “Shawn saved a little girl and you’re going to arrest him for it?!”

“He broke the law.” Morrison defended.

“It’s not really a law, the department doesn’t have to charge him with it,” O’Hara piped up from her position next to Lassiter.

“Where is Spencer?” Lassiter asked, though it sounded more like an order. It was directed at Morrison but Gus answered,

“He’s cuffed in Morrison’s car outside,” Morrison held up a hand as everyone moved forwards.

“He can be charged if I choose to charge him, I’m going to take him to another department for processing, obviously you people can’t be trusted with the upholding of the law in your own station.”

Henry started forward angrily, but instead of stopping in front of Morrison, he continued past him towards the entrance to the station. Lassiter was close behind as was Gus, Juliet, Vick and the rest of the station. Morrison ran to the front of the mob and grabbed Henry’s arm only to have it pulled from his grasp,

“You can’t do this, he broke the law and he’s going to pay for it,” the doors to the station burst open and the group pushed through them, at the bottom of the steps they stopped abruptly at the sight of Morrison’s car which was parked just in front of them,

Back door ajar, cuffs lying open in the back seat, and no one in sight.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

CHAPTER FOUR:

                Detective Carlton Lassiter was deep in thought as he drove his Crown Vic towards his Santa Barbara home that night. The station had been in an uproar at Spencer’s return and subsequent departure. Everyone was both relieved that Shawn had escaped Morrison and disappointment that now that Iris was home Spencer was likely gone as well. Not that Carlton Lassiter would admit to feeling either of those things.

                There was something nagging him though, something both him and Henry had yet to forget. It was the request of three million dollars. Why would this guy ask someone on a police chief’s salary for three million dollars? Maybe if Karen’s husband had a high paying job but he was just a primary school teacher. It was also apparent to Lassiter in the ten minutes in which he had snuck down to the holding cells that this guy, O’Neill was not smart enough to go through with this kind of planned out crime. His rap sheet showed that every crime he’d ever been arrested for was one of opportunity, he’d never planned anything a day in his life. Carlton huffed out a frustrated sigh as he turned a right at the next light.

                The worst part of the day was Henry Spencer. Though he agreed with Lassiter’s suspicions that there was a second kidnapper, his mind was elsewhere. Carlton didn’t blame him, remembering how Henry leaned forward ever so slightly to better hear Gus telling Juliet everything that had happened with Shawn the night before. Lassiter had felt bad and invited him over for a beer at his house. Henry wanted to make a quick trip to check on the Vicks before he would meet the head detective at his home.

                Pulling in to his driveway, Lassiter got out of his car and locked it behind him. He headed towards the front door, put the key in the lock and walked inside. He turned to throw his keys onto the kitchen island while with the other hand turning on the light, when he jumped back in surprise. He was not alone.

                “Jesus, Spencer!” he exclaimed at the man sitting at his kitchen island eating cereal.

                “Actually I think its Jesus Christ,” Spencer pointed out around a mouthful of cheerios.

                There was a silence while Lassiter rubbed his temple; suddenly the headache he hadn’t felt in a year and a half was back. He was stopped from making what was sure to be an extremely scathing response when he heard car doors slamming and voices outside. He moved to the window only to see not just Henry Spencer, climbing out of his truck but Morrison, who had pulled up at the same time. The two were exchanging words and they didn’t seem to be pleasant as they both walked towards the house. Lassiter turned around, panicked only to find the source of his panic strangely absent. The bowl of cereal sat atop the kitchen island but Spencer was nowhere in sight. A knock sounded before Lassiter could see where Shawn had gone to. He hesitantly moved to the door and opened it only to be brushed back as the two men entered.

                “This is ridiculous!” Henry Spencer exclaimed. Lassiter opened his mouth to ask but was interrupted.

                “This idiot is trying to find Shawn by looking through our houses! He’s not here, he’s gone!” the last part was directed at Morrison who was scanning the room with his eyes.

                “What do you mean looking through our houses?” Carlton questioned Henry.

                 “He already checked mine, Gus’ and detective O’Hara’s, now he seems to think Shawn is here.” Henry seemed past frustration and moving towards anger, never a good sign.

                Lassiter held out a hand at Morrison, who was heading towards the bedrooms of the house.

                “Hold it, I didn’t give you permission to go through my house and you don’t have a warrant.” He pointed out, Henry jumped in and helped him out unknowingly,

                “Besides you think of all places that Shawn’s gonna come here? Shawn and Carlton never got along, why would they start now?”

                For a moment, Carlton felt oddly affronted like he wanted to correct Henry that Shawn had come to his house but he brushed that thought aside quickly. Morrison looked at the two of them suspiciously and looked again down the hallway before shaking his head.

                “Fine, whatever,” with that he strode out the open front door and back to his car.

                Lassiter moved to close the door but peeked out to make sure Morrison was leaving. When the car disappeared from sight he sighed in relief and closed the door. Henry was already at the fridge grabbing two beers out, when he moved to close the fridge Carlton stopped him.

                “One more.”

                Henry looked confused for a moment before realization dawned, but Lassiter was already heading down the hall,

                “Spencer!” he stopped in the mid-way down and listened. Suddenly the bathroom door to his left burst open and Shawn Spencer stood in the doorway holding a bottle of something and reading the label.

                “For men past their prime,” he read out, Lassiter snatched the bottle out of his hands,

                “It does not say that!” but upon reading the label it appeared that it did, well he was never buying this stuff again.

                “Shawn,” Henry had come up behind him and after a beat of silence, Carlton decided to leave the two men alone for a moment and walked back towards the kitchen for his beer.

                While he was opening his beer another knock sounded at the door. Lassiter froze and from the sudden cease of murmuring voices so had Shawn and Henry. Carlton looked through the peep hole before sighing again in relief.

                “It’s Guster!” he called before opening the door and letting the other man inside.

                “He call you?” Carlton guessed, holding out a beer for Gus to take.

                “Yeah, he’s still here?” it was like Guster was expecting Shawn to disappear into thin air if he wasn’t within sight of him but rather than give a sarcastic response Carlton nodded and gestured to the hallway where voices could be heard again.

                “He’s with Henry,” while Gus had taken a step forward at the gesture, he had froze at these words, giving a slightly frightened look towards the hallway before quickly sitting down at the kitchen island.

                “I think I’ll just-“ he gestured to the table in front of him.

                “Good idea.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

                When Lassiter left to return to the kitchen there was a moment of silence. Shawn was fiddling with the bottle he was holding and Henry was staring at his son. He never thought that after he had gotten Shawn back into his life the last time that he would walk out of it again. Despite his beliefs that Shawn had to have known what was to come, psychic or not, the fallout of his lies was worse than Henry had expected it to be.

                He remembered feeling so humiliated when the papers hit and his son, his son was proclaimed a fraud for all to hear. It had slowly diminished though and the more Henry thought about it, the more he resented the department, most of whom he suspected had never really believed Shawn was psychic anyways. Perhaps that was just his own guilt talking. The night before Shawn had left, he had come over to Henry’s for dinner. Henry remembered everything he had said to his son and most of it he wasn’t too proud of.

                He had come to realize that he had been more angry at his own embarrassment then at Shawn. This only served to make him feel worse and he had had 18 months to dwell on this feeling, never actually planning what he would say when he son was finally in front of him again.

                Shawn was peeling at the label on the bottle in his hand, eyes down and for once in his life not really sure what to say.

                “Shawn…” Henry trailed off, neither of them were that good at these talks, mostly they ended up screaming at each other. In this case however it was difficult enough getting a word out. Shawn looked up at the sound of his name and looked Henry in the eye for the first time in a year and a half.

                “Shawn … I’m sorry,” Henry was proud that his voice hadn’t broken as he felt like it would, he was feeling incredibly overwhelmed and unsure of himself which was new to him. Shawn nodded in response to the statement.

                “It’s okay, Dad, I’m sorry too.” This was one for the record books, not only had Henry Spencer actually apologized for something but so had Shawn. If Gus could hear them he’d put it on a plaque. Deciding to forego anymore emotions till much much further in the future, Shawn brought up what he had been eager to discuss with Lassie before Morrison had shown up and halted any discussion.

                “There’s an accomplice.” Despite being startled at the change of subject, Henry was also relived.

                “I agree. Me and Lassiter were thinking the same thing. This guy…” Henry paused, realizing how much he missed this before continuing, knowing how important this conversation was, “he’s not smart enough to do this kind of organized kidnapping, not really the type.”

                Just then there was a knock at the door and they both froze. Had Morrison come back? Shawn retreated a foot or so into the bathroom before they heard Lassiter’s reassurance from the front door,

                “It’s Guster!”

                Shawn stepped forward again in relief.

                “I was thinking the same thing, something about this isn’t right,” Shawn continued, hands running through his hair. Henry told him a little bit more about the ransom call and the other reasons behind his and Lassiter’s suspicions before the two of them made their way back to the kitchen. When they walked in Lassiter was snapping his phone shut, a thoughtful look on his face,

                “Lassie? What’s up?” Shawn spoke up, Gus also had turned around curiously from his position at the kitchen sink where he was washing Shawn’s cereal bowl.

                “O’Hara just called, she spoke to O’Neill and he claims to have been called by an anonymous guy the day after he got out. This guy told him everything he needed to know about Karen’s routine, leaving out the fact that she was the Chief of Police. O’Neill was told she was a rich housewife and that the husband would give millions to get the kid back,” Lassiter explained.

                “So he has no idea who this anonymous caller is?” Gus spoke up.

                “Dude, he’s anonymous.” Shawn responded.

                Having no response to defend his question, Gus remained silent and stuck out his tongue at Shawn who responded in kind, receiving a smack to the back of his head from Henry.

                “So the caller obviously knew who Karen was and lied to O’Neill. So what was his reasoning for kidnapping Iris?” Lassiter said.

                “Well why does anyone commit a crime?” Henry said aloud, as if teaching a class.

                “Money,” Gus suggested.

                “Which we know it’s not about,” Lassiter shot down.

                “Revenge?” Henry spoke up,

                “It’s possible, she is Chief of Police,” Lassiter said thoughtfully, before shaking his head, “but this doesn’t feel like revenge, they didn’t hurt the girl. Unless they were doing this to watch Karen agonize over it, but how would they do that she was always surrounded by cops.”

                “Alright what else? Why else would someone commit a crime like this?” Henry had begun to pace, not noticing that Shawn had suddenly gone very still and quiet, deep in thought.

                Lassiter was about to speak up and suggest another reason when he was interrupted.

                “Reputation.” Shawn breathed out. Henry stopped pacing and turned to his son.

                “What like to prove to his criminal friends that he could do it?” Gus asked.

                “Close, Buddy, but you’re thinking Professor Moriarty when you should be thinking-“

                “Sherlock Holmes!” Lassiter exclaimed, he looked over to Henry who had the same look of realization on his face. Gus spoke up after having his own epiphany,

                “Shawn, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

                “He is,” assured Henry, “Which means we need to get down to the station NOW!”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

                Back at the station house, Karen Vick was finishing up a few last minute details on her paperwork. She sighed, she wanted to get home to her husband. She had taken Iris back to the station to get a statement from her and this was the first time since her daughter was kidnapped that Karen had let her out of her sight. Since Karen had a few things she needed to do, Buzz McNabb had volunteered to take Iris downstairs to get fingerprinted which Iris seemed abnormally thrilled about. It was an activity that the department often provided to children from visiting schools. She had never really understood the excitement that children seemed to find with it.

O’Hara was nearby at her desk, earlier Juliet had informed her of Lassiter and Henry’s suspicions about the accomplice. Normally after such information she wouldn’t let her daughter out of her sight but Karen was comfortable with the knowledge that her daughter was with what was quite possibly the tallest police officer in history. She trusted Buzz with the safety of her daughter, especially since they were in the station after all.

Suddenly Henry Spencer and Carlton Lassiter came rushing into the bullpen.

“Karen!” Henry shouted at the same time Lassiter yelled “Chief!”

The two ran right up to the desk she was sitting at and O’Hara, upon hearing the commotion, came over too as had Chief Cherry, who still had a few days on his job.

“Karen we know who the accomplice is!” Henry announced much to the annoyance of her head detective who jumped in before Vick could respond

“It’s Morrison!”

“Wait, what?!” Juliet exclaimed in confusion.     

“He called O’Neill, he convinced him to kidnap Iris!” Henry explained.    

“But why?!” Karen was astounded at this accusation.

“To save her!” Lassiter cried out in excitement,

“He wanted the credit of finding her,” Henry explained, “We already spoke to Officer Davidson who told us that out of the blue, with no evidence for it, Morrison just drove towards O’Neill’s house to get Iris!”

“Oh my god,” O’Hara whispered hand to her mouth.

“That still doesn’t mean …” Karen had trailed off, standing in the middle of the hall was Detective Zachery Morrison and he was staring right at them. And he looked panicked. The others followed her gaze and froze.

Suddenly time seemed to slow down as a shout came from down the hall behind Morrison,

“Mummy! Mummy look!”

Iris Vick was running towards her mother, not realizing that in between them stood the man that had orchestrated her kidnapping. Karen realized it though, as did Henry and Lassiter who had bolted forward.

Morrison had turned towards the little girl running towards him and, in a move brought out of desperation, started towards her. It was like slow motion for Karen as she moved forwards, Henry just in front of her, Lassiter in front of him, but they were too far away, Morrison would reach Iris before they could reach him.

                Morrison was no more than three feet away from the running girl when all of a sudden, out of nowhere Shawn Spencer scooped the little girl up and leapt sideways smacking his left shoulder into the nearby wall just as Lassiter tackled Morrison. The two struggling detectives landed just where Iris had been a moment before.

There was a moment of pause before the whole station moved. Karen rushed past Lassiter and Henry who were now cuffing Morrison to Shawn who was holding Iris, unharmed in his arms. She took the little girl into her own embrace and for the second time in so many days breathed a welcome sigh of relief with her daughter safe in her arms. She looked to Shawn who, along with her and Iris, was still on the ground, rubbing his shoulder and leaning against the wall. Gus’ voice came from the right as he took in the scene in front of him,        

“Whoa, I did not see that coming.” Shawn smiled at him, held a hand to his head and said,

“I did, Buddy.” At this he got multiple identical glares,

“I mean I figured he would try something…come on, it’s not like I’m psychic,” at the silent response, he continued.

                “…too soon?”

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CHAPTER FIVE: EPILOGUE

                Shawn walked through the halls of the SBPD. It had been so long since he’d been there, he felt odd as he looked around and casually noticed the differences to the station, the new faces. He had never thought he would be back here let alone welcome. But here he was, receiving pats on the backs, a kiss on the cheek from Jules, even a handshake from Lassie.

                Iris Vick was coping well, better than anyone else for that matter. That seemed to stem mostly from the presence of her new puppy. Karen and her husband decided that if she ever deserved that puppy it was now. The tiny labradoodle (the breed had been insisted on by Shawn and Gus) was always in the little girls arms and Pineapple (Shawn had suggested that one) seemed to enjoy the attention as well as the police station.

                “Shawn!” Gus called as he ran up, “The chief wants us in her office,” confused and surprised, Shawn followed before noticing from a distance that his dad and Ritch Cherry (who had remembered him fondly from all the chaos he’d caused at the station when he was younger) were also in the office, so were Lassie and Jules. He stopped short, he suddenly didn’t want to enter the office. Gus noticed and looked questioningly at him before grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the office.

                When they entered the office, Karen Vick motioned for them to sit in the two chairs in front of the desk. Shawn looked around for some indication as to what this was about and for once found nothing.

                “Mr. Spencer…Shawn, I’d like to thank you again for saving Iris, you too, Gus,” Karen began, gratefully. She paused before continuing again,

                “Look Shawn, I don’t know what your plans are.. I mean, if you’re even going to stick around Santa Barbara,” at this Gus, Henry and Juliet tensed, they hadn’t thought about that.

                “But I would like to ask you to stay,” Vick continued, “We don’t get too many consultants like the two of you and I was hoping you would come work for us again,”

                Shawn opened his mouth in confusion but Karen held up her hand and stopped him,

                “Don’t get me wrong, there would be a few conditions, firstly you need to obtain a proper private detective license for your work,”

                Shawn looked to Gus, who didn’t look surprised at all of this before nodding.

                “and secondly, you can jump, wiggle, flip, flail, leap, seize, anything you need to solve your cases, but if you break anything you’re paying for it.”

                Shawn didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t expected to be welcome when he returned and if he stayed he had expected it to be in the Santa Barbara prison system. He opened his mouth again only to pause when a key was dangled in front of his face, he looked up at his dad while taking the key from him.

                “What’s this?”

                “That is a key to some office space down by the beach, great location, it’s odd that they haven’t sold it yet, it’s been on the market almost 18 months.”

                Shawn barked out a laugh, before looking at the key in wonder.

                “Well, Shawn, do you accept my conditions?” the chief asked. Shawn paused in thought before voicing what he felt was a pertinent question,

                “What’s your policy on thrashing?” at the responding eyeroll he continued,        

                “Whirling?”

                “Prancing? Can I get away with prancing?”

                “Shawn-“ Henry was ignored.

                “-and are these rules just for me or are they for the whole department because I don’t think it’s fair to stop Lassie from demonstrating the music that is so clearly inside him.”

                “SPENCER!”

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THE END.