The floorboard creaked as his blue sneaker tentatively placed a step onto it. Thankfully, the noise it made was quite small. After pausing for a short while and hearing no acknowledgement of the sound from any other living thing, he continued his stealthy entrance into the house.
Shawn hadn't brought Gus in on this one. Usually he would, seeing as it was just like him to try to see his friend's expression when he saw the creepy house. But, after he had done his route for Gus so that his best friend could accompany him on his work for their last case, the pharmaceutical salesman had insisted on revisiting every doctor to do things personally. And, after seeing how the man's diligence had cause him to get behind on his other work, Shawn had decided to leave him alone for the time being.
That wasn't his only reason, however. The case seemed like any other. The client was a young woman named Cynthia Rose Tyler, an aspiring biologist. Though her interests weren't the point. She had come to the police because of her neighbor. Apparently there were suspicious noises coming from the man's house. Human, she had said, but certainly not normal. They had sounded desperate, somehow, but she hadn't a clue what to do.
Shawn left while she was still being interviewed by Lassiter. He wanted to stay to gather more information, learn more so that he could have a vision later, but the first thing he did when he saw the neighbor's file was look up the name and address, seeing as Juliet had kept the papers right in front of her, away from prying eyes.
His plan when he went onto Lassiter's computer was to, again, learn more, but what he found stopped him. Quintin Shatilla had an impressively clean record, which was the first thing he noticed. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he had run the facial recognition program on the picture. And that was how he found Julien Kodack. And, lo and behold, the actual man had a pretty long rap sheet. Armed robbery, assault, breaking and entering...those were all there, with multiple accounts of each, but the last one made his blood run cold.
The final one on the list was torture. A life sentence, of course, although the man was already nearing fifty, but not one he served. Paid off guards with the only man on the inside organizing the prison transport, an escape was inevitable. It had been three years since the event, which was a mere five months from the time that Quintin Shatilla had made an appearance in Santa Barbara. Let the heat die down, then use an alias...he was definitely a seasoned criminal.
And of course he was the one to escape from his charges when he most deserved them.
Shawn knew he probably shouldn't have come alone. He knew that he should have faked a vision so that Lassiter and Juliet could handle it. They'd be able to make the connection with his guidance. But he also knew that they were a part of the police department, a part of the law. They would have to get a warrant, and that took an indeterminable amount of time. He knew that the fact that there were suspicious noises meant that someone, or multiple someones, didn't have that time.
That was why he went alone. And, as he reached the door, he felt an unquiet feeling rush over him. He hadn't even discovered anything yet, but he already felt himself start to submit to his brain's ideas. What if something horrible was going on? What if he was just going to get himself implicated?
Of course something nefarious was happening. Of course he was getting himself implicated. It was his job, was it not? That was all he could hope as he immersed himself in the near silence the environment provided.
The door was locked, he noticed, but the windows weren't. The slight sway of the curtains as the breeze trickled in through a crack that you wouldn't see unless you were looking for it gave it away. A slight smirk made its way onto his face. Maybe Kodack wasn't so smart after all. Or he was careless enough to think that someone wanting to get into his house would only be the law, who would only try the door if they actually wanted to reach him.
Shawn slipped his hand through the crack, which was thankfully just the right size for his hand to fit. He then turned his palm up and lifted it, sighing in relief as it raised without a sound. A creak on the porch wasn't ideal, but a squeaky window would give him away for sure. If anybody was home.
He ducked inside the building, giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lighting. All the curtains were drawn, and no lights were on, leaving the only light coming from the spots that made their way past the cloth blocking the windows.
The living room was fairly plain. It looked just like a regular citizen's home, not a criminal's. He had to remind himself that it had to look normal. Shatilla was a dish washer, so the fact that all the furniture was extremely nice was off. Judging from the lack of photos and imprints on the couch, except for one spot, Kodack had made sure that no social calls were required for his alias's life and that no questions would be asked about how he got his income.
The kitchen was the same. Granite counters and state of the art appliances certainly didn't add up with his salary. As he looked through the rest of the first floor, he saw more of this pattern. Flat screen TVs (two of them, on the same floor!), a nice laptop, an expensive-looking tile in the bathroom...Kodack seemed to be counting on the fact that he was good at hiding so that he could have a luxurious lifestyle. The sheer size of the house didn't even fit. Then again, he probably didn't think that any attention would be called to him. Though he had had a couple years to build everything up, Shawn knew from the file that Shatilla had been nearly broke when he had come to Santa Barbara. There was no way that someone like that could have a completely furnished home that had a bar along with the really nice furniture.
His eyes zeroed in on the single door he hadn't tried yet. Located on the base of the stairs, he assumed that it led to either a closet or a basement. And, if Kodack followed the usual stereotypes, all the evidence pointing to the noises would be found there.
Shawn slowly made his way to the white door. Freshly painted, he saw. Definitely brighter than the other doors in the house. Why he made that connection, he didn't know, but he didn't delve further. An uneasy feeling sank into his stomach. If the evidence was there, then Kodack could be, too. That wasn't a nice thing to think about when you were about to enter the place after already jumping a little.
Shawn shook his head and rid himself of the thoughts. If he was right about coming there before notifying the cops, then he was right about the fact that any possible victims didn't have the time to wait for a warrant. He had to go in, or else his whole trip would be for nothing. He'd have delayed the request for a warrant.
He then reached out and opened the door. Darkness swallowed the opening, but the slight light from the rest of the house showed him a few steps. He had been right, a basement was there. He gulped before grabbing the railing and making his way down.
While he was descending, it got to a point of pitch darkness. Was this a good idea? He'd already reminded himself why he was doing it, but what about the way he was doing it? If he used a light, he'd be caught by anyone down there, but, if he didn't, he'd be leaving himself to chance to try getting out.
Nevertheless, he got to the bottom. Luckily, a few rays of natural light shined through a grate that was near the ceiling. It must have been at the bottom of the outside area of the house.
Then he realized that the light wasn't so lucky for him. Because what he saw definitely didn't make him feel good. There was a victim. A young woman who Shawn remembered from a missing persons case a week ago, Tessa Cooper. She was thirty three years old, same as Shawn, and she had the same color of hair and eyes. This unsettled him a little. It was uncanny how similar she was to him. But this didn't distract him from the knife in her gut. She was dead, she must have bled out. But why was she still here? If he was a murderer, he'd clean up the body as soon as possible. So why...
A whack to his head paused his train of thought. As he fell to the ground, he realized that Kodack was smart enough to wipe evidence of a crime immediately. He would know that a body would start to smell. Which left only one explanation. Tessa had only just been killed.
Shawn turned and saw Kodack wielding a pipe and a knife. The look on the man's face was not looking good.
"And who might you be?" Kodack snarled. Before Shawn could answer, the man continued. "Well, you do look rather like Ms. Cooper here. Are you her brother?"
Shawn just nodded. He couldn't tell the man that he worked for the police, and he didn't have another reason for breaking into the house. Well, technically he didn't break in, he only entered. So well timed call to the police wouldn't have any bad effects. He silently called 911 on his phone while it was still in his back pocket.
"Then nobody should have any problem with me killing you either. I killed your parents when Mr. Cooper refused to pay the ransom," Kodack took a step forward with the knife.
Shawn gulped. He was against the wall. There was no way the police would get there in time.
The knife plunged into his stomach and he sank to the floor.
Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't brought Gus after all.
Story Notes:
I don't own Psych. You know that if I did, some of my stories would be canon. Although not all of them could, like two of them have things that happen after STaSitD, so those couldn't both happen. And you'll see why this one wouldn't be possible.
Author's Chapter Notes:
For dreathirium's "Word of the Day" challenge.
Word of the Day (June 14th, 2015):
Unquiet
adjective
1.
agitated; restless; disordered; turbulent:
unquiet times.
2.
mentally or emotionally disturbed; vexed or perturbed; uneasy:
He felt unquiet and alone.
noun
3.
a state of agitation, turbulence, disturbance, etc.:
Unquiet spread throughout the land.
Hope this goes well.
Word of the Day (June 14th, 2015):
Unquiet
adjective
1.
agitated; restless; disordered; turbulent:
unquiet times.
2.
mentally or emotionally disturbed; vexed or perturbed; uneasy:
He felt unquiet and alone.
noun
3.
a state of agitation, turbulence, disturbance, etc.:
Unquiet spread throughout the land.
Hope this goes well.
Chapter End Notes:
Well, that went just as I imagined. I hoped you enjoyed this little response to dreathirium's challenge!
I actually rushed to write that because I didn't find the challenge until like 8:45 PM and I wanted to post it tonight. Plus I wanted to type it on my laptop, and my parents would kill me if they found me on it later than 10:30. Which it is already past. Whoops.
I actually rushed to write that because I didn't find the challenge until like 8:45 PM and I wanted to post it tonight. Plus I wanted to type it on my laptop, and my parents would kill me if they found me on it later than 10:30. Which it is already past. Whoops.
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