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What She Learned from Lassiter

“Where did he learn to shoot like that?” Juliet asked no one in particular.

Henry answered softly, “I trained him from when he was little...” A pause as the memories flowed by, “He had some real natural talent - Never saw anything like it.”

“You taught a child to shoot?  Why?” Slight incredulousness from Juliet, whose family had been more likely to feed and pet the deer than hunt, kill, and eat them. (Although she had to admit they were delicious)

Henry just looked at her – it wasn’t unusual to teach children about guns.  It made them safer – not less so, especially when there were guns in the house. 
Of course, like everything else he had taught Shawn, he’d taken it further than the average dad…

Lassiter joined the conversation, “I have a guess- Focus.”

Henry snorted.

Juliet looked back and forth between them. 

Gus just rolled his eyes – he’d known about the gun training sessions – but had never been allowed to participate.  His parents would have shot Henry Spencer themselves for letting him touch anything so deadly.

Lassie continued, “I would make a guess that Spencer was even more hyperactive as a child?”

Henry nodded slowly – clearly wishing for some of that activity from his son at the moment.

“Learning marksmanship –especially learning it to that level…” The head detective still couldn’t believe the amount of pure talent he had witnessed from the ‘psychic.’  He’d never even seen Spencer hold a weapon, and had fully expected him to grasp the pistol’s handle gingerly between thumb and forefinger and get rid of it as quickly as possible.  He certainly hadn’t expected to see him grab, check, load, and fire it multiple times without missing once – always moving as if the weapon was simply an extension of his body.  “It takes an incredible amount of focus.”  Lassiter wasn’t consciously doing it, but talking this way was a distraction – a comfort to the sad group.

“And he thought it was cool,” Henry added.

“So he was motivated to practice.” Lassiter nodded to himself, “I wasn’t all that different as a child.  Learning to control your breathing, even your heart rate… studying angles, wind… it’s physics, really.  And the more time you spend doing it, the better you get - and not just at hitting a target.”

“It was the first time I saw him voluntarily stay still for more than ten minutes.”

“He’s good, I’ll give him that.” Lassiter concluded begrudgingly, “Not as good as me, though.”

Henry looked at the detective out of the corner of his eye and smirked, “Are you sure about that?”  But then his smile faded as the next natural thought occurred: I hope you get the chance to test that theory…  He didn’t speak it; it was too depressing to say it out loud.

The look on the head detective’s face said he’d heard it all the same.



“Really, Lassie?” Shawn asked silently as he leaned lower on his bike, trying to urge just a bit more speed from the Norton, “Really?!?  You pick today?  This time?  This case??”

Shawn Spencer had worked with the SBPD for over five years now, and in that time he’d learned a few things.  He’d learned just how far you can push a Head Detective with a bunch of psychic nonsense before he actually takes a swing at you – or arrests you – or any of the things he’d threatened over the years.  He liked seeing just how close to that line he could walk.  He liked it very much.

He’d also learned how long it took them to actually do something about one of his tips.  He’d measured the proportions of how much urgency and clarity he gave, coupled with the degree of severity of the crime and weighed it against how long it took them to react.  He had it down to a pretty accurate system. 

(And people said he couldn’t do math…)

Except today. Today Lassiter – or maybe it was the Chief who had chosen this time to respond faster than expected.  Much to Shawn’s dismay…

In this particular case, he really should have had at least another thirty to forty-five minutes before Lassie and Jules arrived at the warehouse.  Gus was probably with them, since the last place Shawn had seen his buddy had been in their company.  He gritted his teeth as he tore around another corner.

If they went into the warehouse now, they would be walking into a deathtrap!

If they walked in forty-five minutes from now, Shawn would have had time to take care of a few things and it would have been a bad-guy-trap instead.  He’d seen so much in the last twelve hours; So much evidence that these guys were killers and needed to be stopped.  He had everything he needed to put them all away for life.  But he needed another thirty to forty-five minutes (at least) to put his plan in motion.

He wasn’t going to get it.


Chapter End Notes:
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