by pebble/scifipony
Fandom: Psych
Characters: Carlton Lassiter, Shawn Spencer
Secondary Characters: Juliet O'Hara, Burton Guster, Buzz McNab, Karen Vick, Henry Spencer
Tags: Adventure, Action, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship
Warnings: Graphic Violence
Chapter Warnings: None
Author's Notes:
Juliet stared at the cell phone in her hand for all of three seconds before police training firmly kicked her shocked mindset to the side. Springing from bed, she hurried to her dresser while dialing the station. She grabbed the first shirt and jeans her hand touched, not caring if they matched or how clean they might be.
“Santa Barbara Police Department,” came the voice of the desk sergeant.
“This is Detective Juliet O’Hara.” She shifted the phone to her other hand as she quickly changed clothes. By the time she finished rattling off Lassiter’s home address, she had finished and was grabbing for her gun and badge. “I need you to send some squad cars down there ASAP. Three known perps, armed and dangerous. Detective Lassiter and one civilian are on the scene already, so warn the officers to be careful when going in.”
Ramming her feet into her sneakers, Juliet threw her jacket on as she ran for the front door. Within minutes of having received Shawn’s call, she was in her car and heading for the scene of... well, whatever was happening at her partner’s apartment. She didn’t care about the fact that she was probably breaking more than a few traffic laws to get there.
Pulling off the freeway, Juliet forced herself to take a moment to breathe.
The situation had been reported. Officers had been dispatched. She was on her way as well. Everything was as under control as it could possibly be. So why wouldn’t her hands stop shaking on the steering wheel?
She couldn’t quite banish the memory of how panicked Shawn’s voice had been on the phone. He’d only managed to get out seven quick words. What had caused the call to abruptly cut off after that? The need to stay focused on her current task prevented Juliet from speculating on all the possible answers to that question.
The little green Volkswagen pulled up in front of Lassiter’s apartment building at the same time as a black-and-white. Buzz jumped out of the squad car, one hand resting on the handle of his sidearm as he used the other to radio in his arrival at the scene. Juliet sent him a nod of acknowledgement as she strapped on her own holster.
“I was already in the area when the call came in,” he explained when he joined her at the front door. “Backup will be here in two minutes.”
“I’m going in,” Juliet said. She knew they were outnumbered and would stand a better chance with that backup. She also didn’t care. Her partner and her boyfriend were in trouble and she wasn’t going to sit by while they were possibly murdered.
Buzz merely nodded his agreement and followed her into the building. They drew their weapons and carefully swept the hallway for possible threats. Reaching the end of the hall without mishap, they bypassed the elevator and chose the stairs. The stairwell was silent as they ascended one floor after another.
It wasn’t until they were nearing Lassiter’s apartment door that they saw their first signs of trouble. The door was wide open and the hall table across from it was overturned.
Juliet entered first with Buzz right behind and to the left. It took less than a minute for them to clear the apartment room by room. It wasn’t until they were sure the place was empty that they were finally able to focus on the current state of the apartment. Juliet almost wished they hadn’t. The sight that greeted them painted a grim picture of what must have happened.
“I’m going back down to meet the other squad cars,” Buzz said, his voice filled with sympathy. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t quite know what words could help in this situation. “They should be here by now.”
Juliet nodded wordlessly as she continued to survey the scene in front of her. Several bullet holes marked the walls and furniture, one having cracked the TV screen beyond repair. The couch, coffee table, and several dining room chairs were shoved out of their usual positions. Drag marks in the carpet led from Lassiter’s bedroom door to the front door. In the space between the couch and coffee table, she found a discarded Glock and Shawn’s cell phone... along with a small spatter of blood on the carpet.
Once again, her training tried to wrestle control of her brain away from the concerned girlfriend and partner. She needed to analyze this from an objective standpoint. The good news she could take away from this was that Shawn and Carlton were still alive when they were taken out of the apartment; there wasn’t nearly enough blood to account for fatal injuries, and the faint tang of anesthetic in the bedroom indicated a desire for non-lethal capture. That was the good news.
The bad news was that she had no idea where they were or how to find them.
~~~~~
The first thing he became aware of was that he felt sore and nauseated. That, and the fact that his eyelids felt like lead weights.
The next realization was that he was no longer in his bed. The floor under him was hard and uncomfortable. And moving.
Finally peeling his eyelids open a crack, Carlton peered out at his surroundings.
He was lying on his side in what appeared to be the back of a van. The windows were painted over, probably with the logo of whatever service company the van belonged to, but there was faint light filtering in from the front driver’s area. He could just make out the silhouette of a man in the driver seat. Another guy was in the passenger seat, talking on a cell phone. From his angle on the floor, he couldn’t see enough of the view outside the windshield to know where they were. Although he could tell from the lighting that it must be pre-dawn.
Muscles still too heavy to attempt moving yet, he instead shifted only his head, trying to get a better view of the back area of the van. There were two more guys back here with him. They were engaged in a hushed conversation with each other and seemed not to have noticed that Lassiter was now awake.
There were a few dark shapes that he couldn’t make out. He didn’t know if this was because of the dark or the pounding headache he was experiencing. One shape in particular stood out to him, though. Lying only a few feet away was Shawn.
Carlton instinctively attempted to reach out to him, to make sure he was merely unconscious. This maneuver was quickly halted when his arms refused to budge. With a grunt of frustration, he realized that his wrists were tied together behind his back. A quick glance confirmed that Shawn was also restrained the same way.
As he managed to shake off some of the mental haziness, memories gradually returned to him.
Marlowe traveling to her sick cousin... Shawn spending the night at his place... The sound that had awoken him... Reaching for his gun, only to be tackled from behind... The sharp sting of a needle followed by...
Nothing.
That’s where his knowledge of the situation ended.
It wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks, though. He and Shawn had been abducted for as yet unknown reasons. It couldn’t possibly be case-related. They’d only been focusing on the gas station homicide this past week, and they’d shut the files on that case yesterday morning. So what was this about?
The hazy feeling was receding quickly now. Apparently whatever drug these guys had injected him with wasn’t very potent. Other than the residual nausea and headache, he seemed to be fine. A visual scan didn’t reveal any obvious injuries on Shawn, either, apart from a small cut on his temple. There was some dried blood around the injury, but not enough to cause concern.
Carlton attempted to shift positions, hoping to get a better look at his captors, but his sore muscles protested this idea vehemently. His involuntary groan of pain didn’t go unnoticed.
“Hey, boss,” one of the guys called towards the front. “He’s awake.”
The man in the passenger seat stood and moved into the back of the van. “That was sooner than expected. The drug should have knocked you out for another few hours.”
He came to a stop in front of Lassiter and crouched down. The detective glared back silently.
“So, here’s the deal,” the thug said, grabbing Carlton’s arm to help him sit up. Once he was seated with his back against the van’s wall, the man continued, “We don’t want to kill you. In fact, we’d prefer not to. Killing cops is always a messy business. But, if you cause any problems, your usefulness will no longer outweigh the trouble of keeping you alive. In other words, the more you cooperate with us, the sooner you get to go home to your lovely wife.”
“You realize you idiots have kidnapped a police detective, right?” Carlton snarled back. “There’s no way the SBPD isn’t already tracking you down.”
The man actually laughed. “For your sake, Detective, you’d better hope they’re not.”
Without another word, he stood up and returned to his seat.
Carlton silently mulled over what the guy had told him. It was true that they hadn’t been harmed yet, but how long was that going to continue? He didn’t for a second believe that these people had any intention of letting them go; he’d now seen all their faces clearly enough to identify them. There was something else eating at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
It wasn’t until the first light of dawn began filtering into the van that it finally hit him.
The man had only promised not to kill Lassiter.
~~~~~
From her spot by the kitchen door, Juliet watched in silence as the forensic team moved about the crime scene. Every scrap of evidence was being meticulously gathered and documented.
It didn’t feel right thinking about Lassiter’s apartment — his home — as a crime scene. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been having dinner here with Carlton, Marlowe, and Shawn. Now she was watching as one CSU guy extracted a bullet from the wall and another dusted the doorknobs for prints.
If her partner were here, he’d be yelling at everyone for not moving fast enough. For wasting time while the kidnappers got farther away. Shawn would be annoying them all to no end, but he’d also be scanning for clues everyone else would miss. Possibly even finding that one vital clue that would help solve the whole case.
With a sigh, she pushed away from the doorway she’d been leaning against. She didn’t have time for moping. In the absence of both Carlton and Shawn, it fell on her shoulders to be the one keeping everyone moving and making sure no clues were overlooked.
If only there were some actual clues to find, she thought bitterly.
Walking over to the couch again, she eyed the gun and phone on the floor. Both items were now accompanied by crime scene markers, still waiting for the forensic photographer to snap pictures of the evidence before it could be bagged and sent to the station. A sample of the blood had already been taken to be DNA tested. Not that it would do much good, since all evidence pointed to it being Shawn’s blood.
Whoever had done this was good. So far no fingerprints had turned up other than the ones belonging to Carlton, Shawn, and Marlowe. The security camera Carlton installed in the hallway had been disabled. Nothing belonging to the perps had been left behind in the altercation. There were no leads.
Rubbing a hand over her forehead, Juliet shook off her tiredness and tried to approach this from a different angle.
Okay, what do we know so far?
Her eyes scanned over the small living room. There was the furniture out of place, indicating where Shawn had taken cover behind the couch. So far, there wasn’t anything to indicate where the perps had been during the little shoot-out. The bullet hole in the wall showed where at least one shot had gone off target, but they would need ballistics to confirm whether the shot had been fired by Shawn or one of the intruders. Another hole decorated the back of the couch and a third bullet was currently lodged in the television…
Wait a minute…
Juliet tipped her head to the side slightly as she took a closer look at the television. The shatter pattern in the screen had stood out to her earlier as being odd, but now she had a guess as to why that was; the bullet had come at it from a lower angle.
Stepping around the couch, she looked again at the throw pillows resting on the piece of furniture — their haphazard placement presumably caused by the scuffle that had gone on nearby. She shoved the pillows aside and dropped to her knees for a closer look. Not that it was necessary. The bullet hole previously hidden was now highly visible.
Standing quickly, she hurried over to the television and stood with her head placed in front of the bullet hole. Turning back towards the couch, she traced an invisible line from the television to the hole in the couch, through the hole on the other side, and stopping at the welcome mat in front of the door.
Okay, I’ve got one perp’s location pegged. Now what?
Once again, her eyes tracked to the Glock on the floor. It was missing two bullets and had been fired recently. They were still waiting for the forensics team to confirm which bullet holes had been caused by those two shots. But now she had strong reason to believe that the gunmen had fired towards the living room from the entry area. So why weren’t there any bullet holes on that side of the room?
Because Shawn didn’t miss his shots.
The realization hit her unexpectedly. She’d only seen him shoot on a few rare occasions, but she knew he was good. What if he’d hit the intruders? Shouldn’t there be some blood spatter from those wounds? It didn’t seem likely that they’d had enough time for a thorough cleaning between Shawn’s phone call and her own arrival at the building.
Following her imaginary line back to the welcome mat, Juliet stalked over to hover above it. Her eyes narrowed at the decorative rug. Obviously picked out by Marlowe, it featured a tasteful pattern of burgundy and dark blue swirls. She crouched down for a better look.
And there it is.
Hidden amidst the other dark splotches was a patch of color that didn’t quite match the rest of the pattern.
“Hey, I’ve got something over here!” she called over her shoulder.
A man in a CSU windbreaker appeared a moment later. “What is it, Detective?”
She pointed out the blood on the rug, no explanation necessary. Leaving him to gather the evidence, Juliet stood and let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much. It might not even prove that helpful in the long run. But it was something.
Right now, with the chances of rescuing Lassiter and Shawn diminishing with each passing hour, she would take whatever they could get.
~~~~~
The red light of dawn was bleeding through the windshield, turning the shadows and silhouettes into definitive shapes. It’d been at least an hour since Carlton woke up. And yet, their abductors showed no signs of stopping the van anytime soon.
A tired groan from the floor indicated that Shawn was finally coming out of his drug-induced sleep. Still sitting against the van wall, Carlton watched as the pseudo-psychic slowly came back to awareness — or as close to awareness as the idiot ever seemed to be.
Hazel eyes cracked open and peered out in confusion. Recognition settled in when they landed on the detective.
“Lassie?” he croaked tiredly, trying to shift positions. “What’s—?”
He paused and looked thoroughly nauseated for a moment before closing his eyes again. Carlton winced in sympathy. The side effects of the drug had long since worn away for him, but he still vividly remembered how awful he'd felt when he first woke up.
“Might want to lie still for a minute,” he advised. For once, Shawn actually listened to him. While he waited for his companion to finish shaking off the effects of the drug, Carlton asked, “Do you remember anything of what happened last night?”
“Uh...” Shawn closed his eyes and concentrated for a minute. When he opened them again, he looked considerably more alarmed. “A bunch of gunmen broke into the apartment.” He shot a glance around the van’s interior. “I’m guessing we didn’t win, then?”
Carlton rolled his eyes. “Brilliant deduction. Did any of them indicate what this might be about?”
Shawn once again attempted to shift into a more comfortable position, grunting in frustration as his restrained hands made movement difficult. Giving up, he responded, “You know, between the shooting and drugging, it completely escaped my mind to question them on their itinerary. How rude of me.”
If his hands weren’t tied behind him, Carlton was pretty sure he would have hit him. “All I’ve been able to figure out so far is that these guys are professionals. And the ringleader up there isn’t the one really calling the shots. My guess is we’re being taken to the head thug right now.”
Shawn nodded, absorbing that information before responding. “Any idea how long we’ve been driving?”
“No,” Lassiter admitted. He was mildly surprised that Shawn had even thought to ask for that detail; if they knew how long they'd been on the road, it would have at least given them a vague idea of how far they were from their starting point. “I was unconscious for the first part of the drive. At least an hour since I woke up, though. And it's already morning. We’re well outside of Santa Barbara by now.”
Silence settled between them. There wasn’t much else to say. They had no idea who had taken them, or where they were going. Even more concerning, they had no way of knowing what to expect when they got there.
~~~~~
The station really needed to invest in more comfortable chairs. Or maybe just some padded seats for the wooden monstrosities they were currently afflicted with.
Shifting slightly, trying to find any position that wouldn’t cause both legs to fall asleep simultaneously, Juliet forced her thoughts back on the matter at hand. Draining the last of the coffee from her cup, she continued reading the case report. There wasn’t very much to it. They were still waiting for several tests to come back from the lab, and the forensics team hadn’t had a chance to print the crime scene photos yet. The meager folder in her lap only contained the preliminary reports from the officers at the scene — including her own statement regarding the phone call that had started this whole thing.
Across the desk, Chief Vick sounded like she was finally wrapping up her phone call. As much as Juliet was sure the captain of the vice division wouldn’t have called unless he had important information to relay to the chief, she couldn’t help feeling a bit of annoyance at the interruption. She didn’t care about some drug sting at the harbor. She only cared about getting Carlton and Shawn back before something happened to them. Still, as unfair as it felt, she knew the chief had to divide her attention among all their current priority cases. Other crimes didn’t stop simply because her two closest friends were kidnapped.
“Okay, thank you for the update, Captain. Let me know as soon as they bring the suspects in for questioning.” Juliet straightened her shoulders as the chief hung up and turned to address her. “Okay, Detective, explain to me what you have so far.”
“I’m afraid it’s not much, Chief,” Juliet said with a sigh. “I got the call from Shawn at 1:32 AM. All he managed to get out was that he was at Lassiter’s apartment, there were three gunmen present, and they needed backup. I called it in and proceeded directly to the crime scene. McNab arrived at the same time and we went inside. The place was already empty on our arrival.”
She pulled out the preliminary forensics report before continuing. “Evidence at the scene suggests the attackers entered through Detective Lassiter’s bedroom window, drugged him, and then dragged him to the front door. We can’t be sure of Shawn’s involvement in all of this, or why he was there in the first place, but his phone was found in the living room next to a discharged Glock belonging to Carlton. Several bullets were found at the scene, none of them are a match for the Glock. Two samples of blood were also recovered from the scene; we’re still waiting on DNA results, but we’re assuming for now that one sample belongs to Shawn while the other is from one of the attackers.”
“How soon before the lab can process the fingerprints and DNA samples?” Karen asked, her voice impressively calm given the circumstances.
“Not until this afternoon at least. They’re swamped right now with that drug sting the vice squad has been running. The initial fingerprint results weren’t very helpful, though. It looks like the perps knew what they were doing.”
The chief nodded, tapping her fingers lightly on her desktop. “It’s not a lot to go on. What leads do you have?”
“The building had one security camera over the front door and one in the back alley. We also found a camera at a gas station a block away. I’ve got McNab and Dobson looking at the footage from the time of the kidnapping. With luck, we’ll be able to identify the vehicle they used to get away.”
“Good work, O’Hara.” Karen nodded her approval before a faint smile slipped onto her face. “I want you to take the lead on this investigation.”
Juliet glanced at her superior in surprise. She’d been fully prepared to fight tooth and nail for that position, assuming the chief would have protested her personal attachment to both the victims involved. Recovering quickly from her shock, she gave the chief a grateful nod.
“Meanwhile,” Karen said, all traces of her smile vanishing, “I have a few phone calls to make.”
Wincing in sympathy, Juliet was glad that she didn’t have that task. Informing a person that their loved ones are in danger is difficult enough when there are only strangers involved. Having to call Henry, Gus, and Marlowe with this news would be heartbreaking. Still, they needed any information those three could provide on what happened.
As Karen once again picked up her phone’s handset, Juliet closed the folder and slipped out of the office. She paused for a moment once outside. Activity was still relatively quiet in the station as the morning shift was starting to come on duty. The smell of a fresh pot of coffee immediately drew her attention.
She decided her first stop would be to get a much-needed refill of caffeine. Then, she could check in with McNab and Dobson to see what progress they were making with the security footage.
A quick glance at her watch as she prepared her sugary beverage informed her that she’d been working this case for almost exactly six hours. With the sun now fully risen, they were officially entering the first day of investigating her best friends’ abduction. A sharp pain settled in her stomach as she was overcome with the feeling that this was going to be most difficult investigation of her life. This wasn't a simple case of trying to pursue justice and stop a criminal. The lives of two people she loved dearly could be depending on her ability to solve this.
~~~~~
Several more hours crawled by before the van turned sharply and began driving on a bumpy gravel road. Shawn grit his teeth against the pain as the jarring motion caused his headache to spike. He was beginning to understand why his dad had always warned against doing drugs. The hangover was a killer.
He glanced up at his fellow abductee to find him still intently watching their captors. The rough ride didn’t seem to be bothering Lassiter as much. Shawn wished he could sit against the wall, too. Lying on his restrained arms had long since moved past uncomfortable and into agonizing. He’d attempted to complain about it a couple times before accepting the fact that their kidnappers simply didn’t care. Actually, for the most part, he and Lassiter were being completely ignored so far. He couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.
About a half hour after hitting the gravel road, the van finally began to slow. Judging by the way the four men were reacting, they must have reached their destination.
The man in the passenger seat approached them calmly. Shawn immediately recognized him as the ringleader from the apartment shootout the night before. The man crouched down in front of Lassiter and pulled a cloth out of his pocket.
“Sorry, detective, we’re going to have to blindfold you until we get inside,” he said. He tied the cloth across Lassiter’s eyes, knotting it behind his head. When that was done, he pulled out a knife and cut the detective’s hands free. Throwing open the back doors of the van, the man climbed out first before guiding Lassiter outside. “Okay,” he said, “stand here a minute. Don’t try anything if you don’t want things to get unpleasant.”
It was on the tip of Shawn’s tongue to point out how cliche of a line that was, but he wisely withheld the remark. He blamed Gus’s influence for that prudent decision.
One of the other thugs approached Shawn. Judging from the bandage applied to his upper arm, this was the guy Shawn had winged last night. And he certainly didn’t look like the forgiving type. His expression was anything but friendly as he reached down and hauled Shawn out of the van door. The psychic only barely managed to get his feet under him without face-planting. He couldn’t help noticing that his hands were left tied, and he wasn’t given a blindfold like Lassiter.
While they waited for the other two men to get out of the vehicle, Shawn took a quick scan of the area. They were parked in a gravel driveway. A large house stood before them with a three car garage on one side and a sweeping lawn on the other. The lawn was well kept and still green despite the late season. Judging from the thick forest on all sides and the significantly cooler temperatures, they were somewhere in a mountain region. Seeing as how Santa Barbara was surrounded by mountains, that didn’t really narrow down their location.
The head henchman led the way up the front walk, keeping a hand on Lassiter’s arm to guide him in the correct direction. The other three kidnappers followed with Shawn.
The house was even larger up close. Two stories with a sprawling layout and large glass windows located sporadically across the front of it. The exterior walls were made to look like a log cabin, even though the architecture was far from rustic in design. Whoever lived here, they had money. A lot of money.
“Watch your step,” the ringleader warned Lassiter as he led the detective through the front door. The others followed a moment later.
Once inside, they were joined by two more men.
“Nick, Marcus, go get yourselves patched up,” the leader ordered his injured men. The two newcomers took over for them as the group moved through the house towards the kitchen. “John, is the boss on his way here?” the man asked one of the new guys. He received a nod in response.
As they walked, Shawn covertly scanned every inch of the house they passed. Taking in and analyzing each detail, desperately trying to figure out any possible reason for them being brought here.
As they passed through one hallway towards the back of the house, Shawn found his attention drawn to the numerous photos framed on the walls. The most frequently recurring face in them was probably of the owner of the house, but he didn't recognize the man at all. Most of the photos featured him on the decks of different boats with various friends or relatives, fishing off the side of boats, posing on a dock with the ocean behind, and similarly nautical themed images. In his quick scan as he was hurriedly marched down the hall, Shawn was positive he'd spotted six different boats, all painted with the same color scheme. He knew some rich people tended to be frivolous with their money, but if this guy was so obsessed with the ocean, why not a fancy yacht? What kind of a millionaire invested in six rather plain-looking fishing boats?
Someone who needs a small fleet of boats that aren't going to draw a lot of attention, the answer wasn't hard to guess. And, judging by the hired thugs and the secluded location of his mansion, those boats weren't being used for entirely legal means.
The group reached a small room off the back of the kitchen before finally coming to a stop. There, they opened a door and began descending a wooden staircase. The apparent leader of the kidnappers kept a hand on Lassiter as he helped him navigate the stairs. Shawn couldn’t help noticing that none of the men offered him similar assistance; with his arms still tied behind him, it was a struggle not to pitch headfirst down the staircase.
Downstairs, they proceeded through a thick metal door into a small concrete room. It was barely a dozen feet across, and not much wider. At one end of the room was a cot, table, and chair. The other end of the room had a metal toilet and sink. A single bulb was recessed into the ceiling, casting the room in an uncomfortable orangish light.
One of the men closed the door while another pulled Lassiter’s blindfold off. The detective blinked in the sudden light, eyes narrowing as he took in their surroundings. Shawn had to agree with the obvious unease on his face; this definitely didn’t bode well.
“Now,” the ringleader said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “I’m sure you’re very curious about the reason for all of this.”
Shawn and Lassiter exchanged a brief glance, neither of them sure if they should respond.
The man continued anyway. “Let’s start with the basics. My name is Miller.”
Unable to let that slide, Shawn jumped in, “Really, dude? Miller? What kind of evil henchman name is that? If you’re going to abduct people and hold them in your slasher-film-esque cellar, you should at least use a more intimidating name than Miller.”
The man barely spared him a glance before refocusing his attention on Lassiter. “None of your friends at the SPBD know where you are, or have any way of figuring out our location. We’re also quite a distance from the nearest payphone, so I’d put any ideas of escape out of your head right now.”
“What is it you want?” Lassiter demanded, his tone icy but controlled.
“That’s simple,” Miller said. “My boss would like to have a conversation with you, Detective. If you’re agreeable, you can be home in time to have dinner with your wife.”
“What’s the catch?” Lassiter asked. “What does your boss want me to agree to?”
Smile still eerily calm, the man shook his head. “For now, let’s just say that he needs your assistance on a little business transaction. If you want more details than that, you’ll have to talk to him about it.”
“No thanks,” Lassiter said, crossing his arms. “I can guess what sort of ‘business transaction’ this is going to be. I’m not interested.”
Miller shrugged. “Very well. Let’s see if we can convince you to reconsider.”
He motioned to one of the henchmen — the one Miller had referred to as John — to fetch the chair from the table. John brought the chair into the center of the room and set it down. Shawn wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was willing to bet it wasn’t going to be pleasant. He’d already picked up on a detail that he was pretty sure Lassiter hadn’t noticed yet. And every part of him hoped he was wrong about the possible implications.
Lassiter scoffed. “So, what now? You’re going to torture me into submission? If you’d done your research, you’d know that’s not going to work.”
Miller smiled again and Shawn’s stomach sank. He knew his guess had been correct.
“I wasn’t lying to you earlier, Detective,” Miller said. “We really want to avoid hurting you if possible. More importantly, you won’t be of any use to us injured. But a stroke of unexpected luck landed us with one spare prisoner.”
The confidence dimmed in Lassiter’s expression as he glanced at the psychic. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.
One of the thugs grabbed Shawn’s shoulders and roughly pushed him onto the chair. Cutting his hands loose, the guy pulled them around the back of the chair before tying them again. Shawn opened his mouth to make a comment — any comment, as long as it helped ease the cold feeling in his gut — but nothing came out. There was nothing in this situation that even he could joke about.
“Now,” Miller said, his predatory gaze never leaving Lassiter’s face. “Let’s see if we can convince you to change your answer.”
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