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last01standingTitle: Back to the Future Part... Murder (5/7?)
Disclaimer: Psych is not mine. It should also be noted that this is loosely inspired by Life on Mars which is also not mine.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While the SBPD tries to piece together a twenty year old cycle of murders, Shawn Spencer finds himself thrown back to 1989, as the killer surfaces for the first time.
Author's note: Probaly the most down to earth, reasonable, logically plotted story I have ever written.except for all the time travel
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
BACK TO THE FUTURE PART... MURDER
FIVE
“There was something off about that guy, Lassiter.”
Lassiter pushed himself back on his desk grabbing another pair of files to put in his briefcase. He was at the end of a double shift, circles under his eyes that signified he’d barely slept since this thing started.
Gus could relate.
“The only thing off about him was the fact that he managed to see the whole damn thing without seeing anything useful at all.”
“Shawn would...”
Lassiter slammed his desk drawer shut. “We’ll Shawn’s not here now is he?”
“I’ve got a feel about that guy,” Gus insisted.
“What you’re psychic now too?”
Gus bristled. “I know I wasn’t the only one who thought he was off. Seriously, what kind of guy in his forties get so drunk they need to go peeing in alleys?”
“Fine,” Lassiter snapped. “The guy was a jackass and he gave me the creeps. I would have arrested him in a heartbeat if I thought I could make it stick. But I unfortunately have to play by the rules. Now I’m going to go visit Juliet. You come with me or you can do whatever you want.”
He blew past Gus toward the exit, leaving Gus standing alone and silent before he realized, “Dude, he totally just gave me permission to go tail this guy on my own.”
He might have been imagining it but he could have sworn he heard Shawn’s voice whisper, “You know that’s right.”
But it could have just been an echo.
***
In the end, Shawn managed to keep Lassiter on his side for approximately fourteen hours while they followed the man Shawn had tagged as the witness. Shawn was impressed. The only other one who could stomach Shawn for that long was Gus but even he had to get away after double digit hours. It had been one of the miniature ‘I would like to sleep before class’ freakouts but Shawn could see the Lassiter he knew fighting to push his way out.
There was something wrong with the witness. He was a big guy who’d reportedly been in his car speeding past the site of a speed trap when he saw someone get out of a stopped car and deck a traffic cop.
How do you see that at 65 mph? This guy was a speed demon, Shawn knew that in his bones and people like that don’t look at scenery.
Which meant he was involved. Murderer, accomplice or something. Shawn just had to stay on his tail and wait for him to hang himself. There’d be something else. Shawn doubted he just wanted to injured a few cops. There was an endgame here and Shawn would see it if he stuck around long enough.
A stake-out. Proper police work like his dad always wanted. Contrary to popular belief, Shawn never encountered problems with persistence. He had an obsessive nature about the things that he wanted.
Quitting he reserved for things he didn’t like.
He wanted to catch this guy. This guy was a cop killer and if his gut was right, this guy had something to do with the stab wound.
For this guy, for Guy Pearsons (and Guy? Really?) he could be patient.
Besides, in a few hours Lassiter would skip out of his class, half furious with himself for returning to a stake out. Shawn would tease him, but it would totally make his night.
The more he concentrated on what was right in front about, the less he worried about how to get home.
***
Either Juliet was taking the news of her injury far better than Lassiter ever could have or she was using the case to deflect. She demanded more files more papers every day and she seemed razor sharp despite the painkillers. They’d bound the arm in a sling, trapping up against her chest so it was completely immobile. She moved deftly through the files with her other hand, her off hand. She held a pencil in her mouth, taking it out every few minutes to make slowly, painfully detailed notes.
“You don’t have to work so hard,” Lassiter said.
Juliet glared at him, tugging the pencil out from between her teeth. “We’re talking about Shawn, Carlton. He’d do it for us.”
Lassiter opened his mouth to protest but Juliet beat him to the punch. “You saw how hard he worked when you were under fire for murder and you saw him walk into a hostage situation to get Gus out, don’t you dare tell me he wouldn’t do the same for us.”
He fell silent for a moment, staring before finding his voice again. “How’s the arm, O’Hara?”
“I’ll let you know when I can feel something below the shoulder.”
“That bad, huh?”
Juliet finally put aside the files. “What do you think?”
“I think you should probably be about twice as stoned on painkillers.”
Silence, eyes widening in disbelief and then, laughter--the most welcome noise he’d heard since Spencer disappeared. The laughter sounded a little too harsh, a little ragged but it was Juliet, his partner, still there after everything she’d been through. “What do you remember about this case,” she asked when the laughter finally subsided. “I’m guessing it made a bit of a splash. You would have been what? Twenty at the time? You did college in Santa Barbara, right?”
“I didn’t really pay much attention to stuff like that.”
“You’re kidding right?”
Lassiter regarded her seriously. “I entered college as an electrical engineer.”
Juliet snorted. “I... wow. I can’t picture you like that at all. What changed your mind?”
“A cop actually. Took an interest in me. Wound up enrolled in criminology.” He closed his eyes trying to picture his face but came up with nothing. “Spent some time in the hospital after getting mugged or something. It’s a little fuzzy, head wound and all but I came out and knew I had to be a cop.”
“You never told me that story before.”
“Never really told anyone. Didn’t seem important.”
Juliet shook hear head fondly, turning back to the papers. “Here’s what’s bothering me about this case. I’ve got one anomaly. His name is Shawn Savage. He disappears from Arizona, shows up in Santa Barbara sporting a stab wound. Disappears again. A body turns up in Arizona about the same time as Savage but it’s too maimed to get a proper identification. Investigating officer in Arizona said it fit Savage’s description.”
“But what about the guy in Santa Barbara?”
She gave a one shouldered shrug. “Nothing in the files. It seems like he was on mandated medical leave right up until he dropped off the face of the earth But I had the chief send other arrest records from the time around the case. I figure maybe we get luck and we can link someone from the first time around to someone this time around. Maybe we even find out who was playing Shawn Savage.”
“Not bad, O’Hara, I like the way you think.”
“Not much more I can find out from these,” she put the original files in a stack on the bed stand and motioned for the next box. Lassiter obliged, opening it and handing her the first five files off the tops.
Juliet moved quickly, already precise and efficient, even with her weaker hand, splaying the file out on her lap. She’d perfected a system. Arrest report on the left. Arresting officer’s notes in the middle, mug shot on the right.
Her hands froze over the mug shot. “Carlton,” she stammered, looking more than a little shaken. “Is it just the drugs kicking in again or is that—”
Lassiter looked at the mug shot, at the sharp angular features pinched in exasperation, a three day stubble dotting his chin. It was a face, however unwillingly, Lassiter knew as well as anyone’s. “Spencer,” he breathed.
The name on the arrest report was Shawn Savage. Picked up for harassment of someone named Guy Pearsons. Resisted arrest.
“I’m not seeing things then.” Juliet’s hand traced the yellowed files of the report, fingertips trembling. “This isn’t possible.”
It should never have been found in the first place. It was something only Juliet with her single-minded intensity and compulsive attention to paperwork would have thought to check. But here it was. Impossible, yes, but sometimes it seemed like everything Spencer represented was impossible. “Who was the arresting officer?” Lassiter asked.
Juliet’s fingers found the name. “Henry Spencer.”
***
“Out of the car,”
Shawn’s head jerked up off of the steering wheel and he wiped drool out off the side of his mouth. “What?” A flashlight shone in his face, shooting black spots streaking across his field of site.
“Out of the car.”
“What for?” Shawn pushed the door of the rental car open slowly, his eyes slowly adjusting to the glare.
His dad, twenty years too young stood in front of him, wearing his police blues and a perpetual scowl. “Savage?” he spat.
“Spencer,” Shawn corrected absently but his dad took it as an acknowledgement instead.
“We had a complaint about a guy in a retail car follow him for the past twenty-four hours.”
“Surveillance,” Shawn said.
“A stake out? You were asleep?”
“Nothing’s ever good enough,” Shawn mumbled.
“Why are you staking out a civilian?”
“Because I think he’s involved.”
“And you didn’t go to the police?”
Shawn snorted. “I’m pretty sure the police force would rather chase me out with pitchforks than actually listen to a word I have to say.”
“You’re a detective.”
“And I’m here doing my job.”
Henry folded his arms across his chest. “It’s an unsanctioned stakeout, I’m afraid that Mr. Pearsons is not under investigation for any criminal matter so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Shawn considered it for half a second. “No.”
“No?”
Shawn shook his head. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
The police scanner he’s stolen from his father’s care only a few nights before crackled from the front seat. Shawn winced. Henry’s eyes narrowed. “What is that?”
“Police scanner?”
Henry was approaching him now, the slow building anger he knew so well from childhood. He almost expected to see a finger wagging at him in disapproval. “Where did you get that police scanner?”
“Police scanner shop on the boardwalk?”
The handcuffs came out. Shawn dodged out of the way. “You can’t be seriously. This is like the mother of all deja vu.”
“You have the right to remain silent.”
“Bullshit, like I’ve ever been silent.”
Henry made a move to cuff him, Shawn pushed his arms back, contemplating a punch. But Henry had taught him all of his tricks and in a second he was bent over the hood of his rented car with the sneaking suspicion that he was the only one in Santa Barbara history to be arrested twice by his own father.
| 6 |
Disclaimer: Psych is not mine. It should also be noted that this is loosely inspired by Life on Mars which is also not mine.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While the SBPD tries to piece together a twenty year old cycle of murders, Shawn Spencer finds himself thrown back to 1989, as the killer surfaces for the first time.
Author's note: Probaly the most down to earth, reasonable, logically plotted story I have ever written.
FIVE
“There was something off about that guy, Lassiter.”
Lassiter pushed himself back on his desk grabbing another pair of files to put in his briefcase. He was at the end of a double shift, circles under his eyes that signified he’d barely slept since this thing started.
Gus could relate.
“The only thing off about him was the fact that he managed to see the whole damn thing without seeing anything useful at all.”
“Shawn would...”
Lassiter slammed his desk drawer shut. “We’ll Shawn’s not here now is he?”
“I’ve got a feel about that guy,” Gus insisted.
“What you’re psychic now too?”
Gus bristled. “I know I wasn’t the only one who thought he was off. Seriously, what kind of guy in his forties get so drunk they need to go peeing in alleys?”
“Fine,” Lassiter snapped. “The guy was a jackass and he gave me the creeps. I would have arrested him in a heartbeat if I thought I could make it stick. But I unfortunately have to play by the rules. Now I’m going to go visit Juliet. You come with me or you can do whatever you want.”
He blew past Gus toward the exit, leaving Gus standing alone and silent before he realized, “Dude, he totally just gave me permission to go tail this guy on my own.”
He might have been imagining it but he could have sworn he heard Shawn’s voice whisper, “You know that’s right.”
But it could have just been an echo.
In the end, Shawn managed to keep Lassiter on his side for approximately fourteen hours while they followed the man Shawn had tagged as the witness. Shawn was impressed. The only other one who could stomach Shawn for that long was Gus but even he had to get away after double digit hours. It had been one of the miniature ‘I would like to sleep before class’ freakouts but Shawn could see the Lassiter he knew fighting to push his way out.
There was something wrong with the witness. He was a big guy who’d reportedly been in his car speeding past the site of a speed trap when he saw someone get out of a stopped car and deck a traffic cop.
How do you see that at 65 mph? This guy was a speed demon, Shawn knew that in his bones and people like that don’t look at scenery.
Which meant he was involved. Murderer, accomplice or something. Shawn just had to stay on his tail and wait for him to hang himself. There’d be something else. Shawn doubted he just wanted to injured a few cops. There was an endgame here and Shawn would see it if he stuck around long enough.
A stake-out. Proper police work like his dad always wanted. Contrary to popular belief, Shawn never encountered problems with persistence. He had an obsessive nature about the things that he wanted.
Quitting he reserved for things he didn’t like.
He wanted to catch this guy. This guy was a cop killer and if his gut was right, this guy had something to do with the stab wound.
For this guy, for Guy Pearsons (and Guy? Really?) he could be patient.
Besides, in a few hours Lassiter would skip out of his class, half furious with himself for returning to a stake out. Shawn would tease him, but it would totally make his night.
The more he concentrated on what was right in front about, the less he worried about how to get home.
Either Juliet was taking the news of her injury far better than Lassiter ever could have or she was using the case to deflect. She demanded more files more papers every day and she seemed razor sharp despite the painkillers. They’d bound the arm in a sling, trapping up against her chest so it was completely immobile. She moved deftly through the files with her other hand, her off hand. She held a pencil in her mouth, taking it out every few minutes to make slowly, painfully detailed notes.
“You don’t have to work so hard,” Lassiter said.
Juliet glared at him, tugging the pencil out from between her teeth. “We’re talking about Shawn, Carlton. He’d do it for us.”
Lassiter opened his mouth to protest but Juliet beat him to the punch. “You saw how hard he worked when you were under fire for murder and you saw him walk into a hostage situation to get Gus out, don’t you dare tell me he wouldn’t do the same for us.”
He fell silent for a moment, staring before finding his voice again. “How’s the arm, O’Hara?”
“I’ll let you know when I can feel something below the shoulder.”
“That bad, huh?”
Juliet finally put aside the files. “What do you think?”
“I think you should probably be about twice as stoned on painkillers.”
Silence, eyes widening in disbelief and then, laughter--the most welcome noise he’d heard since Spencer disappeared. The laughter sounded a little too harsh, a little ragged but it was Juliet, his partner, still there after everything she’d been through. “What do you remember about this case,” she asked when the laughter finally subsided. “I’m guessing it made a bit of a splash. You would have been what? Twenty at the time? You did college in Santa Barbara, right?”
“I didn’t really pay much attention to stuff like that.”
“You’re kidding right?”
Lassiter regarded her seriously. “I entered college as an electrical engineer.”
Juliet snorted. “I... wow. I can’t picture you like that at all. What changed your mind?”
“A cop actually. Took an interest in me. Wound up enrolled in criminology.” He closed his eyes trying to picture his face but came up with nothing. “Spent some time in the hospital after getting mugged or something. It’s a little fuzzy, head wound and all but I came out and knew I had to be a cop.”
“You never told me that story before.”
“Never really told anyone. Didn’t seem important.”
Juliet shook hear head fondly, turning back to the papers. “Here’s what’s bothering me about this case. I’ve got one anomaly. His name is Shawn Savage. He disappears from Arizona, shows up in Santa Barbara sporting a stab wound. Disappears again. A body turns up in Arizona about the same time as Savage but it’s too maimed to get a proper identification. Investigating officer in Arizona said it fit Savage’s description.”
“But what about the guy in Santa Barbara?”
She gave a one shouldered shrug. “Nothing in the files. It seems like he was on mandated medical leave right up until he dropped off the face of the earth But I had the chief send other arrest records from the time around the case. I figure maybe we get luck and we can link someone from the first time around to someone this time around. Maybe we even find out who was playing Shawn Savage.”
“Not bad, O’Hara, I like the way you think.”
“Not much more I can find out from these,” she put the original files in a stack on the bed stand and motioned for the next box. Lassiter obliged, opening it and handing her the first five files off the tops.
Juliet moved quickly, already precise and efficient, even with her weaker hand, splaying the file out on her lap. She’d perfected a system. Arrest report on the left. Arresting officer’s notes in the middle, mug shot on the right.
Her hands froze over the mug shot. “Carlton,” she stammered, looking more than a little shaken. “Is it just the drugs kicking in again or is that—”
Lassiter looked at the mug shot, at the sharp angular features pinched in exasperation, a three day stubble dotting his chin. It was a face, however unwillingly, Lassiter knew as well as anyone’s. “Spencer,” he breathed.
The name on the arrest report was Shawn Savage. Picked up for harassment of someone named Guy Pearsons. Resisted arrest.
“I’m not seeing things then.” Juliet’s hand traced the yellowed files of the report, fingertips trembling. “This isn’t possible.”
It should never have been found in the first place. It was something only Juliet with her single-minded intensity and compulsive attention to paperwork would have thought to check. But here it was. Impossible, yes, but sometimes it seemed like everything Spencer represented was impossible. “Who was the arresting officer?” Lassiter asked.
Juliet’s fingers found the name. “Henry Spencer.”
“Out of the car,”
Shawn’s head jerked up off of the steering wheel and he wiped drool out off the side of his mouth. “What?” A flashlight shone in his face, shooting black spots streaking across his field of site.
“Out of the car.”
“What for?” Shawn pushed the door of the rental car open slowly, his eyes slowly adjusting to the glare.
His dad, twenty years too young stood in front of him, wearing his police blues and a perpetual scowl. “Savage?” he spat.
“Spencer,” Shawn corrected absently but his dad took it as an acknowledgement instead.
“We had a complaint about a guy in a retail car follow him for the past twenty-four hours.”
“Surveillance,” Shawn said.
“A stake out? You were asleep?”
“Nothing’s ever good enough,” Shawn mumbled.
“Why are you staking out a civilian?”
“Because I think he’s involved.”
“And you didn’t go to the police?”
Shawn snorted. “I’m pretty sure the police force would rather chase me out with pitchforks than actually listen to a word I have to say.”
“You’re a detective.”
“And I’m here doing my job.”
Henry folded his arms across his chest. “It’s an unsanctioned stakeout, I’m afraid that Mr. Pearsons is not under investigation for any criminal matter so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Shawn considered it for half a second. “No.”
“No?”
Shawn shook his head. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
The police scanner he’s stolen from his father’s care only a few nights before crackled from the front seat. Shawn winced. Henry’s eyes narrowed. “What is that?”
“Police scanner?”
Henry was approaching him now, the slow building anger he knew so well from childhood. He almost expected to see a finger wagging at him in disapproval. “Where did you get that police scanner?”
“Police scanner shop on the boardwalk?”
The handcuffs came out. Shawn dodged out of the way. “You can’t be seriously. This is like the mother of all deja vu.”
“You have the right to remain silent.”
“Bullshit, like I’ve ever been silent.”
Henry made a move to cuff him, Shawn pushed his arms back, contemplating a punch. But Henry had taught him all of his tricks and in a second he was bent over the hood of his rented car with the sneaking suspicion that he was the only one in Santa Barbara history to be arrested twice by his own father.
| 6 |