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12 February 2010 @ 06:52 pm
It's Always Raining Caterpillars From The Circular Fan  
Title: Absconditus Obligatus
Chapter Six: Nothing Up My Sleeve, The Left One Anyway
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Karen, Jules, Henry, Lassiter, Others
Warnings: Allusion to some not nice things, though probably not what you're thinking
Genre: Angst/Mystery/Suspense
Words: 19,257/4,945

Summary: The mother once warned, "My child the worst of monsters come out in the light." And the mother was never wrong.

Shawn is missing in action when a serial killer hits Santa Barbara. Somehow a cold case from so far away is relevant, and worse the killer is calling for their psychic by name. Where is Shawn? What went on in the Keystone State? And how the hell does a terrified eight year old factor in?

Prologue l Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three l Chapter Four l Chapter Five

A/N: This chapter is because of you guys. To all the reviewers and alerts and favorites, especially those who probably could guess I mean them. It’s been too long, and there isn’t a reason beyond writer’s block. So thank you to all those that read, all those that review and this chapter especially to MCS's new album because it provided just the right soundtrack.

Disclaimer: I don’t own what you recognize. But the sadistic bitch is all mine.

Warning: This is the first and hopefully the last chapter to have one. This chapter has no style, no flow, no elegance. It was eaten by the exposition fairy. It repeats dialogue that you’ve seen before; I did change almost all that surrounded the dialogue offering reactions and such but still. It’s also the longest chapter to date. So, warning, this chapter might just suck and I’m so incredibly sorry that after this long ass hiatus this is all you get.

Chapter Six: Nothing Up My Sleeve, The Left One Anyway (4.945)

If Juliet and Gus were responsible for finding the puzzle pieces they needed then Lassiter was the one that found the box. Or put them together or found the puzzle maker or whatever. Analogies didn’t matter. What did was that in only the twenty-four hours since they stumbled upon the string of articles Lassiter had managed to track down the lead federal agent on the Preteen Predator case, the lead detective on the Riley case and discover why the sociopath that was killing co-eds was asking for Spencer.

He’d be smug about it if there were anyone around to be smug to. There isn’t. He isn’t.

Instead he was listening to the Chief yell at FedEx for not having the files from PA and D.C. here, overnight, as the label so dubiously claimed they would be. Detective Reyes, a Hispanic officer of the law in her mid-thirties with soft features and shoulder length dark brown hair, leaned over to the head detective and asked in a whisper if she always fought this hard. He had to smirk.

“If the situation calls for it.” He replied quietly.

“I like ’er.” Reyes responded, arms crossed across her chest.

“She’s alright.” Carlton offered tightly. In turn the other officer snorted. He flicked his gaze from his CO to Reyes and back. What the other detective didn’t know is that the delivery company was lucky that it was Vick on the other end of the line and not him. He hadn’t slept decently in far too long and there hadn’t been a Spencer to draw his ire in just as much time. No, the Chief calling was much more pleasant for the couriers. He’d had have a mind to just go to the SB sorting center and pull his standard issue. It had been that kind of morning. For the last forty or so.

But Reyes didn’t know that.

Detective Sophia Reyes, lead investigator over ten years ago in the death of Riley, Emma – Riley, Robert and subsequent abduction therein of Riley, Jennifer. Detective Sophia Reyes that had booked a cross-continental flight before Lassiter had finished saying why he was calling. Detective Sophia Reyes whom had guessed the COD on all then three now four victims. Detective Sophia Reyes whom carries a picture in her wallet of Riley, Jennifer and Spencer, Shawn aged 8 and 19 respectively sitting on a motorcycle that was in his department’s impound.

The Pennsylvania-a-decade-ago connection had acted as a catalyst, answering more questions then they had previously thought to have. In lieu of official documents, which his commander was trying to hunt down now, he had read the entire series of articles published on the Riley case and then the Predator as a whole. They all had. It didn’t take long to figure out that the now four then two victims had been killed in the exact same fashion, so exact that there was no mistaking the identity of the bastard that had committed them. And then once he pulled his head out of his ass he realized the significance of their names. Jennifer, Jen, Jenna, J.J. or rather Jennifer James. Blonde, pretty, green-eyed, eighteen to twenty. It wasn’t a pattern until the third victim and by the fourth it was just mocking him.

No, after Guster ran in brandishing his postcards and O’Hara tried out her search engine capabilities it all started to make a sickening sort of sense.

Then Reyes showed up and she explained it all rather quickly. Preteen Predator, brutal murder of at least ten young girls walked into a bookstore at the height of his spree and snapped his modus operandi into bitty pieces. Instead of abducting girls on the cusp of puberty that had no home or family to speak of and torturing them until reaching some precipice ending in their death he had orchestrated the orphaning of Jennifer Riley four years younger than his average victim and then kept her almost three times longer. It was hard to say how much longer she would have lasted, but according to Reyes, Spencer made sure they didn’t have to find out.

The detective explained what Guster had known in part; Spencer had worked for the Rileys for a few months but had left before the crash that ended their life. Jenny, the sole survivor, had later been abducted from the hospital where she was being treated. After hitting more than enough dead ends Reyes finally found Shawn, of course that was three weeks after Jenny had gone missing. At first he was meant to be a suspect, but according to Reyes he had turned her department inside out in his search for the girl. It took him nine days.

Nine days for Spencer to find a serial killer that had eluded the F.B.I. for months, one that six different local law enforcement departments had been trying to find. Nine days to find the missing Jenny Riley. After that the detective’s details were vague, Jenny was mostly unharmed and incredibly stable psychologically. The Predator was killed during the attempt to rescue the girl. The burning of his remains made it near impossible to identify him. They had Jenny work with a sketch artist but it never yielded any new information in regard to his identity.

So now they waited, waited for Chief Vick to finish berating a clerk at the delivery company, while Guster, Henry and O’Hara looked on grimly from the bullpen, as he and Reyes did the same from the door. What would Spencer say?

-------

Three hours later and one very sharply worded conversation and the files were being piled into the conference room. The Pennsylvania detective took it from there.

“This is about Jenny.” Reyes began, circling the conference room as she handed each in the room a copy of the files that they had finally received. She had packed up the paperwork herself, which Lassiter admired. “It has always been about Jenny.” She pulled a photo, a larger copy of the one that Lassiter had seen in her wallet when he brought her to the hotel this morning, and pinned it to the board. Next came a sketch of a man in his early thirties, followed by a wedding photograph. The couple was young, very young, and the bride was very pregnant. The detective pulled another board from behind and settled it to the side, one that she and O’Hara had organized before this briefing. It held shots of each of the Predators victims, before and…not.

“The profiler the Fed’s used swore up and down that the Predator didn’t take Jenny. She wasn’t the right age, she wasn’t from the right background.” Her dark eyes flicked to the image of the girl. “But Shawn, Spencer knew that she was wrong. He thought that Jenny might have reminded him of the person that started his weird fixation to begin with. Like the thing that made him go after these girls, this age, this background. Anyway, he was obsessed with her.” She reached into another box and pulled out a series of VHS tapes. As she sorted through them she continued. “The girls that are dying, if it’s him, if we were-“ Reyes cleared her throat. “It’s because he doesn’t know Jenny’s dead. He wants her back. It’s always been about Jenny.”

At that moment McNab entered the conference room, dragging a television on a rolling stand with him. “Our resources are sort of limited. So when Jenny’s parents died, Dr. Angela Carnegie, the profiler, anyway, she asked if she could work with Jenny. You know, through the tragedy and all that. When Jenny was rescued Shawn and I, we weren’t around after the event. So my partner at the time and the doctor took her statements.” Her tone took a hard edge. “We didn’t know about until…” She handed one of the videotapes to McNab. “You’ll see what I mean.”

The television flickered to life and McNab put in the videotape. It fizzled and cracked sharply before a pale, dark green wall came into focus. The camera was swung down and finally the subject came into view. Jenny, her blonde hair pulled back from her delicately featured face, green eyes accented by the redness of her lower lids.

“Jenny.” A soothing voice said from outside the frame, distinctly feminine. Lassiter assumed it to be the Dr. Carnegie Detective Reyes had mentioned. “I’m going to need to have you answer those questions we talked about now.” A pained expression crossed Jenny’s face and she fidgeted with her sweatshirt, one that obviously didn’t belong to her, he had a strange sensation as he recognized the style to be distinctly Spencer.

“Do we have to?” She pleaded.

“It’s very important Jenny.” Carnegie answered. The young blonde looked to the camera again and then back to where he assumed the speaker to be.

“I’d really like to go. I don’t-I don’t remember so much. And I’m really tired. I wanna go now. Please.”

“I know Jenny, but you can’t go just yet.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Now, I want you to tell me about the day you were taken.”

Jenny looked down at her fingers and he heard her unlaced sneaker start tapping.

“Jenny.”

“He said it wasn’t being taken. He said it wasn’t stolen.”

“What did he call it Jenny?”

“He said…” her voice became slightly watery. “He said that when something didn’t have an owner anymore, he said, he said that,” she sniffed, and brought her head back up, eyes defiant. Good for her, because Lassiter was ready to jump through time to deck this bitch. “That it was garbage, and he collected people’s garbage.”

“What happened that day Jenny? The day he ‘collected’ you.” The head detective bit back a wave of nausea.

“I already told you.” The girl said quietly. “Can I please just go?” Jenny fiddled with the zipper of her sweatshirt again.

“No, Jenny. Officer Daniels and I have to record your statement. We need to do it now, while everything’s still fresh in your mind.”

“I might forget by tomorrow?”

“Jenny. I want you to tell me about that day.”

Jenny heaved a heavy sigh, her shoulders sinking, and buried her hands in her sweatshirt. The poor kid. This was just cruel and not procedure. “I answer and I can go?” Apparently the so-called ‘doctor’ gave confirmation because she continued. “They told me to get ready, they said you were picking me up so I could see…so we could go to my parents’…” The little girl shifted yet again. “A man came in to my room at the hospital. He said he was there to take me to you. But I knew he wasn’t. I told him…he got angry. He grabbed me and pushed the white stuff they use for bleeding, Nurse Mary said it was gauze; he made me breathe it in. It tasted sweet, like…That’s all I remember.”

“Good Jenny. Now can you tell me what happened next?”

“No.” The girl supplied simply.

“Jenny.”

“I wasn’t awake. I don’t know what happened next. Can I go now?” She pleaded again, her eyes flicking to her right and the camera’s left. Carlton smiled at the sarcasm, no wonder Spencer had been so attached to her.

“Jenny. I meant when you were awake. What happened then?” Jenny’s body tensed even more and she pulled the sweatshirt tighter.

“But I already told you.” She whispered, her voice shaking. For some reason his hand went for his sidearm.

“Jenny.”

“Please.”

“I need you to tell me what happened when you woke up Jenny.”

“I-I” she looked down to her hands that rested on the table. Her sleeves fell far past her fingertips. “I woke up in,” she picked at the table. “In a room in his house. Like a dollhouse. He left me alone for a really long time. I don’t know, I fell asleep a lot.” Her green eyes flicked towards the right again, maybe it was the door, her way out. “I woke up one time and he was there. He likes to watch people sleep. They don’t lie when they sleep.”

“That’s good Jenny. Very good. Keep going.” He heard scribbling in the background. The psychologist sounded…gleeful, and he felt his anger surge.

Jenny swallowed and wiped her cheeks. “He likes to talk. If you listen really quiet he doesn’t get so mad so much. He just told me lots of things. He brought me food sometimes, and talked more. He let me use the bathroom if I said please and thank you enough. He doesn’t like it when you forget.” She sniffed again. “He talked about how people don’t, don’t appreciate things, how they throw things away when they don’t have an owner. That’s why he collected them, so they wouldn’t be garbage anymore.”

“Is that why he ‘collected’ you Jenny?”

“He told me the night before, he said that, that my parents, they didn’t appreciate me. Like him. He saw, and he got angry. He said he wanted to take me away, but you can’t take something from someone who owns it, that’s stealing. So he, he” her chin shook and she breathed in deeply. “He made it so nobody owned me anymore.” Half of the room gasped, his partner bit her lip.

“I want you to tell me about before that night Jenny.”

“I just said.” The girl remarked, a pleading tone in her voice. “He liked to talk. He talks about things all the time. I got to eat in the morning; he said breakfast is the most important meal of the day. He gives you cereal sometimes, or pancakes, or toast with eggs. He doesn’t like bacon. Pigs aren’t right.” Jenny sucked in a shaky breath. She wasn’t the only one.

“What else Jenny?”

“He-he gets mad when you don’t remember. The other girls he saved, they didn’t listen. They would ask for things they shouldn’t want, bad things, things that liars like, like bacon. They weren’t thankful. They didn’t appreciate him. Just like everyone else. I tried to remember.” Jenny looked down at her lap. “He doesn’t get so mad when you remember.”

“What happened when you didn’t remember Jenny?”

This time the girl didn’t look up; she pulled her legs up onto her chair, tight against her chest, and folded her arms on top.

“Jenny? What happened when you didn’t remember?”

She looked back at the speaker, her face solemn. “He gets really mad.”

“What did he do when he was mad?”

Jenny played with her shoes and a slightly aggravated sigh came from behind the camera. It was a damned good thing this guy was Reyes’ ex-partner, because Lassiter might have been compelled to shoot him had he come along.

“He makes sure you don’t want to forget ever again.” Jenny whispered.

“In the basement?” The girl didn’t answer. “Jenny. Tell me about the basement.”

The girl pulled her legs tighter into herself and buried her face in her arms. Carlton had never wanted to save someone quite so much. How much longer had this gone on? Why hadn’t someone stopped them?

“Jenny.”

She sighed and looked longingly towards what he was sure could only be the door, “You already made me show you when we were there. I want to go now. I told you everything else.” His fingers curled around the arms of his chair, knuckles white. She had already filled out a statement and they were still putting her through this?

“Jenny. I am not asking again. Tell me about the basement.” Carnegie’s tone was cold, demanding.

“Can’t I just call-“

“Jenny.” The doctor interrupted, it was obvious that she was pissed.

Apparently the frustration was enough to push the Jenny back from the edge because she put her legs down, and sat up straight. “I told you. I told you over and over. The basement is where you go when you forget. He takes you there on bad days. He takes you when you don’t listen.” She crossed her arms over her chest and kicked her heel against the leg of her chair. “But I told you that. And you wrote it down. I told you over and over and I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go see-“

“Jenny.” The woman cut her off, not bothering to contain her irritation any longer. “The officer and I need to officially record your statement. It’s extremely important. I do not think we need to explain this again. Now I want you to tell me more about the basement.”

Jenny set her jaw and it was obvious that her eyes were tearing, though she seemed to be unwilling to allow them to fall. She was a tough kid. He didn’t need a psychologist or Reyes to tell him that. Here she was, after being held captive for four weeks, after losing her parents, and she was still trying to be strong. He felt a visceral sort of rage that he knew only came when children were threatened, people who couldn’t protect themselves from sadistic predators like this. “I thought that paper you made me sign was my statement.” She answered quietly and defiant and he internally grinned in her favor. She had definitely spent time with Spencer.

“Jenny. I wasn’t asking. Now, tell me about the basement.” Carnegie ground out.

When the little girl continued she kept her stance rigid and her voice low, her eyes locked in front of her, right about where Lassiter was sure the doctor stood. “He takes you to the basement when you forget. When you don’t appreciate. When you lie. On the bad days. He takes you there and teaches you lessons. So that you won’t forget. You shouldn’t forget.” Her sneaker bounced off the steel leg in rhythm with her words. “And I told you when we were there. I told you over and over. I’m tired of talking. I want to go now. You took so many pictures. You asked me so many times. I just want to go see-“

“Jenny.”

The blonde heaved a heavy sigh and kept on her beat. “He helps you remember in lots of ways. I don’t remember most of it. There are special drinks he makes sometimes before. It makes it harder to remember. Sometimes he takes you to the chair; sometimes he leaves you in there. I think he forgets sometimes too.” Jenny pulled her sweatshirt back over her hands and then folded her arms again. “I think he forgets because sometimes I’d be there for really long and it wasn’t even for a really, really bad thing.” Next to him he thought he heard O’Hara stifle something akin to the disgust he felt himself.

“How long did he forget you for Jenny?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t have my watch. He broke it when he came to get me.” Score another for the eight-year-old, he thought, take that Nurse Ratchet.

“How long did it seem Jenny?”

“It seemed really, really long.” Jenny sniffed and continued to reflect her shoe off the chair. Adding another bite of wit.

“Jenny.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t like windows. The dollhouse didn’t have any. The basement doesn’t have any either. I know I would sleep a lot. I think it was for days though. That’s what he said one time. That he couldn’t keep, couldn’t ‘keep this up’. That he’d lose, he’d lose something if did it again, two days was too long. I think that’s what he said. Then he said he was sorry that he didn’t give me breakfast for so long and he put me back to sleep. That wasn’t so long ago, not before…” She trailed and cast her eyes to the table.

“Jenny, I’d like to talk about your parents now.”

If Carlton thought he felt for this little girl before, this brave little girl that was being so strong in the face of too many enemies he hadn’t realized the depth of which he could so. The flicker of raw pain, abrupt angst, complete and total agony that registered on her small features would have been enough for any man to wage war on her behalf. As it was he was seriously considering misappropriating department resources and tracking Dr. Angela Carnegie down for a little chat.

“Whu-why do you want to talk about… why?” Jenny asked, it was clear she had no idea why her questioner, no interrogator that was much more accurate, was being so cruel, her small voice shook. She finally lost the battle she had waged through to whole of the interview and quick tears leaked from her eyes.

“It’s important Jenny.” Angela responded simply, her tone was even, almost light.

“Please.” The little girl whispered. “I can’t-I-I.” A small sob shook her frame. “I’m so tired, please.” She wiped furiously at the onslaught of tears. “I just want to go see Shawn. I promised.”

“I’d like you tell me about the day they died Jenny.” Carnegie continued, completely unaffected by the girl’s pleas.

Jenny’s whole body trembled, tears poured down her cheeks. “I promised I would be there when he woke up. I promised.” Carlton would never admit as much to any living being but he couldn’t help the prickling he felt at the bridge of his nose. “Please,” her watery voice plied, “I truh-I tried to answer all-all your questions. But I-I,” she whimpered. “I just want to go see Shawn. I can’t-I can’t anymore. Please. Can’t I just go see Shawn?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary Jenny.” Carnegie replied, the psychologist sounded as if her spirits were as high as ever.

Jenny quivered from head to foot, her pale face burning where the tears had streaked by to her chin. She was obviously fighting with all she had left to keep from completely breaking down. “Please.” She tried again, voice and visage begging with all she could muster. “Please.” She whispered.

Suddenly, enough so that everyone in the room except Reyes jumped, the door was visible on screen, someone having thrown in open in great haste. A much younger Reyes appeared in frame, her dark hair was shorter then, cropped closely, and she was sporting a decent looking gash along the length of her hairline as well as a sling and heavily bandaged right arm.

“What the hell are you doing?!” The detective cried, she quickly kneeled at Jenny’s side, rubbing the crushed blonde’s back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing doctor?” She spit out as Jenny buried her face in her knees again. “And you Daniels!” Reyes continued, her gaze shifting to behind the camera. “You son of bitch how could you!” Next to her Jenny was silent but still shaking. “I’ll have you badge you sadistic bastard. And you,” Reyes rounded on the doctor who was still out of the shot. “You won’t be able to work as bartender by the time I’m done with you. Shut that damn thing off Daniels!”

The screen flickered before virtual snow was the only thing left.

“After that,” the elder female detective began, her voice low, “Daniels got put out on his ass and I have no idea what they did to that… doctor but I know it wasn’t pretty.” Her smile was humorless. “My chief promised that much.”

“What happened to the little girl?” He was surprised to hear Henry’s gravelly voice. The retired officer seemed as shaken as he felt.

“Spenc-Shawn was granted temporary custody while he recovered.”

“Recovered?” It was O’Hara that interjected.

“He was a little…banged up after, everything that went down.” Reyes answered. “Jenny was placed into a foster home after that. I think they were friends from college, of her parents.” The woman shifted her weight. “I heard from Shawn now and then, he’d give me updates on her and everything. He sent postcards from…” a small smile played on her lips. “Everywhere.” She cleared her throat again. “I didn’t see Jenny again until I got the call about the accident.” Her gaze was far off as she spoke. “It was ruled a suicide, same stretch of road, same turn off as her…I guess after everything she went through.” Reyes shrugged.

“So, are we assuming this Predator guy is still alive and whoever you had ten years ago…” The youngest detective started.

“Was a decoy.” Reyes concluded, her eyes on Lassiter, as were his partner’s. He looked to his chief. It didn’t take many nonverbal communications for them to realize they were in agreement.

“I’m not ready to release a statement saying too much detectives.” Vick responded. “I am however, preparing a statement advising that all girls that fit the profile start taking extra precautions. The universities should be able to take it from there.” She stood, taking the file with her. “Detective Reyes, I understand that this was your case ten years ago,”

“But you want you people on point because it’s your man that’s missing and we don’t have hard evidence that it’s might perp that did it.”

Karen’s lips quirked. “Exactly.” She paused. “That doesn’t mean that they couldn’t use your help if you’re willing to provide it.”

Reyes cast her eyes downward. “Actually Chief, I couldn’t do much more good here.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It was my case.” Reyes began, “On paper.”

“I’m not sure I understand detective.”

“When you’re done looking through all the files I sent, you’ll understand what I mean ma’am.” The brunette continued. “We were-are-a small town. Surrounded by more small towns, spread pretty far apart.” Her tone was sheepish, but resolved. “The girls didn’t get much news coverage, not really, not until the F.B.I. got involved and by then…No one knew how big it was, not until someone from one of the other stations called mine asking if we’d noticed the connection. We didn’t have the resources or…then the Feds came and it just got a hell of a lot worse.” She sighed heavily. “The Riley case was mine on paper. Everything I can tell you is in those files though. It was Sha-Spencer’s case. He did what they couldn’t do, what we couldn’t do. He and Jenny were the only people that knew what happened. And now, he’s it.”

“A green detective in a small town that deals with stolen bicycles, not dead teenagers.” Henry supplied.

“Sir.” Reyes acknowledged.

“I see.” Vick said quietly.

“Why come at all then detective?” Guster asked. It was the first time Lassiter had personally heard him speak since his show and the day before.

Reyes looked at a loss for what to say next. “I guess I thought…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I thought.” A pause. “I just didn’t want this story to be told by the file. It’s too… I don’t know. But Shawn, he was always so far ahead of the rest of us. Like he’d read the book twice and we’d just seen the movie trailer.” She pulled at her jacket. “Maybe it’s that way with you guys too it just-“

“Exactly!” Lassiter interrupted, slamming a hand on the conference room table. The whole room jumped. “Guster,” Carlton continued undeterred, rounding on the salesman. “Didn’t you say that Spencer was acting strange, even for Spencer, the last time you talked to him?”

“Uh, yeah sort of, I mean it was like…” Gus trailed.

“Like he knew something was going to happen.” Lassiter offered. “Like he always knows something’s going to happen.” The detective grabbed a pen and the nearest blank legal pad, throwing both to psychic’s best friend. “Write down everything you can remember.” He grabbed another, this time he tossed to his partner. “O’Hara, you too.”

“What are thinking Lassiter?” Vick asked.

“He thinks Shawn left clues so they’d still be able to figure this out if something happened to him.” Henry supplied, it was the first time anyone had seen anything akin to hope on his face in over a month.

Somewhere in there Reyes slipped out. It was supposed to be for a cup of coffee.

--------

Lassiter was a genius. Or at least a genius in the sense that he was smart enough to realize that Shawn was smart enough to realize that he might be taken out of commission. After they spent two hours trying to remember every detail of the last conversations each had had with the missing consultant they finally made some headway. This time however it was Henry that made the find.

He took one look at the scribbling on each pad and after taking the pen from Juliet’s hand he started circling. “He would have said things that you wouldn’t forget. Even if they didn’t seem important, they’d be strange enough for even you to remember.”

Gus was the only one that knew exactly what Mr. Spencer meant. He wondered if it would matter, if they’d have to mention that Shawn wasn’t psychic, he was just better than everyone else and had some crazy memory mojo. Then again if, when he got back Shawn would be pissed he’d blown his cover.

“Yeah, but how do we know what it all means. I get it, the thing about Seattle Life magazine, the Russian painter Aimee,” Lassiter turned his head to decipher Juliet’s script, “whatever and the big case he was going to work on with Guster.” He sighed. “But we don’t know what it means.”

Henry was already across the room, pulling the top off of one of the file boxes Reyes had brought. “So we start digging Lassiter and we find what Shawn was trying tell us.” He slid the box down the conference room table; the head detective stopped it short of the edge.

“I guess we could do that.”

-------

A/N: I know that's it's been a not so much hyperbolic forever since I updated. No excuses I just couldn't find it. In fact I'm still not sure I have it. This chapter is not what I would want to give you guys after a year and change. The next one hopefully will be. I'm not going to jinx this and say when it will be up but I will say that Shawn will be in nearly the entire thing. In the present this time. A preview you ask? Well, alright...

He skipped over the shock of seeing his own face for the first time and focused instead on his newest unsettling discovery.

Humble thanks and lots of cookies,

seren_mercury


 
 
Listening:: My Dinosaur Life - Motion City Soundtrack
 
 
 
Mad Maudlinginzai on January 24th, 2011 09:39 pm (UTC)
This is a really cool story! Nicely eerie and Jenny is endearing. I'm really curious about what happened ten years ago and definitely want to know what's going on with Shawn now. You've got a great build up of suspense here; I know it's been a while since you last updated, but I hope your muses lead you back to this piece. I'd love to know what happens next!