No Place I'd Rather Be...

The dreaded third call came in to Detective Lassiter’s phone. Another body. “Another body, let’s go, people!” he exclaimed, much to his annoyance. Juliet O’Hara was right on his tail like always, as they bolted out of the field office, booked for them by the Chief, so they could be successful in solving this case!

So far it wasn’t working however.

****

Aaron had found the perfect place; the warehouse on Clydedale Avenue was; old, abandoned, and private. Perfect for him and his girlfriend Arielle to get together without her parents knowing. Now if only he could get Arielle to agree.

"This place is so gross!" Arielle argued, she truly hated it and it could be seen in the way she looked around.

The warehouse was empty, and in shambles it was completely hallow say for a few pillars, a couple ledges up in the rafters, and somewhere off in the back a dripping pipe could be heard.

Drip, drip, drip, drip,

"You can't tell me this place isn't gross." Arielle insisted. "Aaron I want to go home."

Aaron sighed. "Come on babe, its perfect. No one will ever know we come here – we can be alone all the time now, just like you wanted." Aaron leaned in to give his girl friend kiss.

"This is unsanitary." Arielle shook her head and dodged Aaron's lips.

"Seriously, can't we just get a motel room or something?"

"What?" Aaron said. "No, I have no money after I lost my job."

"A year ago." Arielle huffed. "You haven't been looking for a new one since." It was clearly an issue between the two, and immediately Aaron went on the defensive.

"I have been looking!" Aaron insisted "I have been I swear! It's just so hard in this economy, no one is hiring."

It was an all out brawl then, and the two lovers were yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. They were so caught up in their trivial argument that they didn't notice the sound of something shifting up in the rafters.

"You're lazy Aaron!"

"I'm looking for a damn job! Alright, I'm sorry it's not good enough for you but I am dammit!"

"You're such a liar!" Arielle went on. "A lazy LIAR!" Arielle screamed the last part of her accusation, and finally the shifting sound in the rafters grew louder.

A high pitched screeched sounded off followed by a loud SNAP, and something fell. Landing right on Aaron and knocking him over. Arielle's screamed words just turned into just a regular scream then – and she kept screaming.

Aaron saw stars – what the hell just fell on him? It was heavy, stiff, and wet. Aaron tried to push whatever it was off of him, but it was taking more effort than he thought it would and Arielle's screaming wasn't helping. "Stop!"

Aaron insisted "Arielle stop screaming!" Aaron gave a grunt, followed by a 'eeerrraarg' sound as he finally managed to lift the weight off of him.

Finally able to move, Aaron turned and finally saw what Arielle was seeing. The body was male, and covered in blood, blood that was still fresh, blood that was now stained into Aaron's clothing. Aaron realized this and like Arielle he screamed. The screaming eventually led into silent shock, and finally Aaron mustered enough common sense to call the police.

****

The Santa Barbara Police Department or SBPD were on scene immediately, led by the Head Detective of Carlton Lassiter. The warehouse was closed off with police tape, and uniforms were scattered. Some uniforms were collecting evidence, some were holding a perimeter forbidding civilians to try and take a peek…As for the body? It was where Aaron had left it and covered with a sheet, other than adding the sheet -the police were avoiding it like the plague. It was undeniable that a strange feel of uncertainty was in the air surrounding the scene.

"I don't understand why we were called to this...Chicago is a mess and it isn’t Santa Barbara, I feel lost," Detective Carlton Lassiter grumbled mostly to himself as he pulled up to the warehouse. His partner Juliet O'Hara was sitting beside him and could only offer a shrug.

"Why not?" Juliet insisted. "So much has been happening lately, something was bound to come up sooner or later. It’s not like this guy is gonna stop."

“True. I guess you were right after all, it is a Serial Killer, eh?” Lassiter didn't seem to agree, but none the less he grabbed the necessary tools and exited his cruiser with O'Hara close on his heels. "Clayton!" Lassiter called over the first officer he recognized. "What's the story?"

Normally when asking the story, the explanation expected was formal. 'Victim was stabbed three times in the chest, male, 23, Caucasian. Blond hair and blue eyes' – That's the type of explanation Lassiter was going for, so when Officer Clayton fumbled on his words and sounded almost like he might cry, Lassiter and O'Hara exchanged confused looks. "Stabbed – throat, we don't know…." Those were the only words Clayton could mumble.

Lassiter decided then to seek out the body to see for himself. "Get it together Clayton! Let's get this over with." the Head Detective insisted.

Upon stepping into the warehouse, Lassiter immediately saw McNabb who was standing by. He wasn't standing too close and Lassiter could see why, McNabb was barely holding it together.

"McNabb?" Juliet's voice was soft when she went over to officer. "Oh god..." She looked more worried then. "Who – when?" Only McNabb couldn't answer her. This left Lassiter with the task of moving over to the body and lifting the white sheet off of it. Juliet turned to ask Lassiter who the victim was, she was expecting Lassiter to stand up and say Doyle, McLaren, or even Craveiro – none of these were the case.

Lassiter held the white sheet in his hand, and didn't notice that he was clutching onto it to the point his knuckles were white. Blood – there was so much blood….even the sheet was stained…Lassiter couldn't speak, he could only look down at...Shawn Spencer's lifeless form.

"No…." Lassiter didn't know what was happening to him, his chest was clenching and his heat rate slowed considerably. He could vaguely hear O'Hara come up behind him and share in her own despair.

"Oh god Shawn…." Juliet cried. “There’s a Serial Killer in Chicago and he got him.”

"Get the camera." Lassiter managed to get out. He dropped the sheet, but still shaking he finally stood. He turned to face Juliet who was still awestruck. "The camera!" He didn't mean to yell but that's how it came out, Juliet did not look pleased. Lassiter wasn't trying to sound insensitive and he was just trying to stay calm. It didn't help that he could feel all his logic start to chip away, and Lassiter was sloppily trying to put it back together.

Spencer was dead, that was it. No big deal. Spencer had a habit of getting into trouble, and Lassiter always knew that someday he wouldn't get out of it.

Well...knew or feared?

Lassiter didn't appreciate his conscience trying to argue with him, Spencer was careless – he was always careless. It was his own damn fault. Lassiter took a long breathe – yes he was calm now, he could do this. Detective Carlton Lassiter was more than capable of investigating the murder of Shawn Spencer.

To prove it to himself, Lassiter quickly took the camera out of O'Hara's shaking hands when she finally returned and stepping over to Spencer's body was the first to snap a picture. The flash illuminated Spencer's face and Lassiter could see that the psychic's eyes were still open. Open and scared.

Lassiter could see it clearly in his head then, Shawn – maybe running, or maybe cornered -looking up at his killer and about to plea just as the knife came down to his neck.

The image was so clear in the detective's mind that Lassiter lowered the camera, and promptly removed himself from the scene where he could become ill- violently. Another long breath and Lassiter had to blink back the tears that threatened to follow his regurgitation, god help him he couldn't do this. "O Hara!" He hollered, he had to try to regain some composure, "Take more pictures, I'll do the rest." By the rest he meant calling the family.

"Henry Spencer."

Henry answered his phone sounding distracted, and Lassiter could hear the faint sound of something sizzling in the background Henry was cooking.

"Detective Lassiter."

Lassiter said then, and he braced himself.

"Carlton." Henry greeted, "What's he done now? You know what don't tell me, just give him the phone and I'll be more than happy to yell at him for you."

"Uh…" Oh god Lassiter couldn't get the words out. "He hasn't done…anything…Mr. Spencer…"

"When have you ever called me Mr. Spencer?" Henry's tone changed and he knew something was wrong. "Carlton?" Henry's voice was stern. "Carlton what's happening – where's my son?"

"There was a body found in an old warehouse here in Chicago. We were put on the case back in Santa Barbara when we discovered a victim, who had washed ashore. The man was from Chicago and case and point, we think, no believe, we are following a psychopathic Serial Killer here...and the body we just found...it's…it is Shawn." Lassiter spilled it out in one quick ramble, though it wasn't quick enough that he had to repeat himself. Henry heard him loud and clear.

"Shut up." Henry said.

"I – it's the truth." Lassiter insisted. "I wouldn't lie about this…"

"Shut up!" Henry cut him off. "Shut up and do your job! Find out who, find out why, and do it now!"

"There's not a chance you're willing to help is there?" Lassiter had no idea why he was asking, but luckily Henry's response was to promptly hang up on the detective. Lassiter sighed – well Henry was certainly taking 'the call' pretty damn well now wasn't he? Lassiter in turn fought down another bout of sickness and began to dial for Gus.

Maybe he had been with him or maybe he was unsure of the death himself. It was still the right thing to do and call him.

****

Gus was coincidentally in the hotel room, when his phone started ringing. He had just gotten back from the UC with Shawn. There was a strap over his shoulder and he was handling a plastic guitar like it was a real guitar, he was moving along with the music, getting really into it, and was hitting every colored button in perfect timing along with the song that was blaring from the office's television.

For some reason Gus had a long purple scarf tied around his head but he didn't seem to mind as he was too busy playing the game. The word's of The Fratellis' Chelsea Dagger being were being screeched out as they rolled across the top of the screen.

"CHELSEA CHELSEA I BELIEVE THAT WHEN YOURE DANCING SLOWLY SUCKING YOUR SLEEVE THE BOYS GET LONELY AFTER YOU LEAVE. ITS ONE FOR THE DAGGER AND ANOTHER FOR THE ONE YOU BELIEVE!!"

The game was paused and Gus was quick to answer his phone. "Detective Lassiter." Gus greeted immediately, and as it played out with Henry, Lassiter had trouble getting out the news. However Gus didn't respond the same way, instead Gus quirked a brow lowered the phone to his chest.

"Lassiter thinks you're dead."

"But I'm right here." Shawn Spencer looked to the cell phone clutched in Gus' hand and motioned for Gus to hand it to him. Gus obliged and Shawn dropped the game mic and held the phone to his ear.

"Lassie, are you screwing with us? Because I have to say if that's your idea of a practical joke I am greatly ashamed of you! What are you thinking? I mean you could've at least made sure I wasn't sitting right next to Gus before you called him. I demand to know who put you up to this? Who Lassie? Are you having lunch with Carrot Top again? What did I tell you about fraternizing with outdated comedians?"

"I…." Lassiter didn't sound too good. Shawn caught onto this but didn't think too much of it.

"No excuses." Shawn went on. "You're grounded Lassie. Now go to your room." Shawn kept a perfectly straight face, but the comedic effect was lost, when instead of retaliating with something snappy and cruel, Lassiter just hung up.

****

"It's not him!" Lassiter called out, after he put his phone away, and like magic the detective was back on top of his game. He turned to O'Hara who looked happy to hear that. "I just got him on the phone, he's fine now O'Hara hand me those gloves." The relief that Shawn wasn't dead had Lassiter feeling….he honestly didn't know...somewhat happy? Ecstatic? Ineffable was the word he ended on and decided to think about it later.

"Right away!" Juliet never sounded so happy to be examining a dead body. Lassiter wouldn't say anything on that matter because truthfully he was still a little uncomfortable, how could two people look so much alike? Lassiter shook his head and set to work. Shawn Spencer wasn't dead. Lassiter's world was back to normal.

Thank god!

****

"Huh…" Shawn passed the phone back to Gus. "He must've really thought I was a dead man – cool."

Of course it wasn't THAT cool, what could've possibly happened to have Lassiter think that? There was now also the issue of Lassiter being as good a cop as his reputation said he was, which gave Shawn no doubt his dad had been the first one called. It was an issue which that was hopefully easily fixed and ridden of.

Shawn grabbed for his own phone and dialed his dad's number – repeatedly. A good 4 tries and Shawn knew that his dad wasn't going to answer.

"Dammit." Shawn pouted.

A second later, his phone rang. It was his dad.

“Figures,” the psychic stated with a shrug. He answered the call.

"You're not dead." Henry sounded so SO happy on the other end. "Carlton was wrong…"

"Very wrong." Shawn happily added.

"Carlton was wrong! That son of a bitch called me before he got a proper I.D on his body! How the hell do you miss a step like that! ? If I was his superior I'd be firing his ass right now!"

Shawn, on behalf of Lassiter, who could not at that moment defend himself, just changed the subject. "Dead body?" Shawn repeated. "As in – dead in not a natural way? There's a case?" Shawn looked like he was getting excited and turned to Gus. "Gus there's a case...another dead body!"

"We weren't called." Gus said. "We're normally called, let's just skip this one – it doesn't sound like a fun one."

Honestly though, Gus put two and two together on his own, he wasn't exactly keen on looking at a dead body who looked like his friend. Not that Shawn really understood that. Shawn was too busy hopping up and down on one foot.

"Case – there's a case, aw man and we're sitting here wasting time with my dad's house. We suck Gus, we gotta go – like now." Shawn turned his attention back to his dad on the phone. "Dad we have to go."

Henry was still fuming at Lassiter's lack of protocol. "What? Go? You're leaving...after there was a good chance you were dead? Sounds like someone is out to get you!"

"Yeah – leaving. And don’t stop me!" Shawn piped. "To get us a case!" Shawn was halfway out the door and grabbing his belongings and stuff he’d need. "Gus, you coming?"

"I guess so." Gus digressed, he supposed if the body wasn't actually Shawn then he'd be okay and he again followed Shawn out the door. And in case there was someone out there after his friend, he’d need to be there for him.

"Bye dad!" Shawn quipped and hung up, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. But before he and Gus got too far from their temporary apartment in Chicago, Shawn turned around and eyed his best friend. "Hey Gus quick question-who's got two thumbs, and is totally not dead?" Shawn gave it a second before he gestured to himself with both of his thumbs. "This guy!"

****

‘Totally not dead’ was the answer Lassiter was truly happy about. What he wasn't happy about was the fact that he still had a dead body on his hands. And the 99% chance that there was a murderous Serial Killer on the loose going after any men with blond hair and blue eyes. And the scary part was that the SBPD’s favorite little annoying psychic fit the type.

So far nothing had had come up, the DNA swab was still looking for a name to match the face, and the entire neighborhood was being searched. Lassiter had uniformed police going door-to-door with a copy of the victim's picture asking citizens if they had any idea who the man was.

"How is it this difficult to find a positive I.D on a body?" Lassiter turned in his chair back to O'Hara, who had been stepping into the CPD station, there temporary “office”, carrying with her a folder.

"Give it time." She encouraged. "We'll figure it out." O'Hara then promptly dropped the folder on Lassiter's desk. "Enhanced photos of the crime scene and the victim, I think we should ask Shawn to take a look."

"No." Lassiter didn't make it debatable. "He wasn't called in, and I'm personally okay with that. Besides I think after seeing the victim he'd just say it was cool and make a parent trap reference. I really don't need the distraction."

"Not even a tiny look?" O'Hara said. "He doesn't have to be brought fully on, but truthfully I'm a little tired of continuously running into a brick wall. I also think it'd be better if the photos were looked over by someone who wasn't emotionally distracted by the victim's genetic makeup."

She had a valid point, but Lassiter still didn't want to budge. "We'll be okay, O'Hara – things will begin running smoother once we get an I.D on the victim. Then we can start retracing his steps."

"Alright." Juliet gave in."You're right, I'm sorry." She then turned to grab her bag and leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Carlton it's after 10, I need sleep. I will be back here first thing in the morning." Juliet smiled and this time actually left. She was halfway across the parking lot before she was on her phone dialing for Shawn.

"He doesn't want you on the case." She sounded apologetic – but also nonchalant. "Are you surprised?"

"Course not." Shawn quipped. "Though I have to ask – the body really looks that much like me?"

"It's scary." Juliet admitted. "We actually thought…that you…oh it wasn't fun at all...let me just leave it at that." There was a long pause of silence as Juliet grabbed for her keys to unlock her car. "You're smiling right now aren't you?"

"So very much so." Shawn admitted, and he swore he could hear Juliet rolling her eyes. "Okay." Shawn moved on. "So Gus and I are technically 'not' on the case."

"Nope." Juliet confirmed. "If you think you can change Carlton's mind, be my guest. I however am going home."

"You're still at the station?" Shawn asked.

"Yeah, Carlton's in full work mode – almost made me feel guilty to leave. It's unsurprising that he'll probably be in the same shirt and tie when I head in tomorrow."

"Awesome, so just Lassie and I, one-on-one tonight – this is beautiful." Shawn sounded delighted.

"Shawn where are you?" Juliet stopped and started looking around the parking lot cautiously.

"On my way over there." Shawn answered. “Gus is with me.”

They hung up and Juliet was on route to her apartment to get some sleep, just as Shawn was coming up the Chicago police station's steps and slipping in through the main doors.

Lassiter was still at his desk, only he wasn't going over paper work, he was getting ready to go home to. An all nighter had been his initial plan but upon opening the folder to view the pictures, and Lassiter felt ill again. The first photo was of the victim's face.

Screw it, too tired.

Lassiter was calling it a day, slipping into his jacket and grabbing his brief case. He was just heading out the door. Only stopping when he bumped into Shawn and Gus, who were on their way in. Arguing as usual.

"No cases today Spencer, I'm going home now."

Shawn raised a confused brow. "No cases – really? Not even since the body earlier?"

"You're not on this one anymore Spencer, let it go. I can’t have you getting killed for real. That would be incredibly irresponsible of me." Again Lassiter was glad about that; it was bad enough the victim was practically the psychic's clone.

"Yeah okay I'm not on it – but I'd like to be." Shawn insisted. "Jules gave me the guy's description and with all due respect – I think it's kind of cool. I want to see!"

Lassiter shook his head. "Spencer – no, absolutely not." He winced when he looked at Shawn then, because it wasn't Shawn he was looking at suddenly – it was a dead body that could be Shawn's. Lifeless eyes, limp arms, mouth agape, and a stab wound right in the middle of his neck.

"Lassie – Lassie?" It took a couple tries, but Shawn's voice brought Lassiter back down to earth, and he lowered his head.

"I have to go Spencer." Lassiter pushed pass Shawn quickly, unable to breathe in that exact moment. Shawn watched him leave, the 'psychic' feeling almost sad that the detective was ditching him. Shawn looked to Gus, who had been watching from nearby and shaking his head.

"What do you think that was about?" Shawn asked, and the black man could only offer a small shrug. Shawn refusing to give up then turned and went after the detective.

"Lassie!" Shawn stopped him before he reached his car. "Can I at least see the photos?"

"No!" Lassiter put his foot down. "For goodness sake Spencer just go back to your apartment with Gus." Go to where I don't have to look at you.

"Alright." Shawn gave up. "I'm going."

“We’re going,” Gus corrected, slapping his friend in the arm.

They started to walk away.

“But just so you know...you’ve got a serial killer in Chicago!” Shawn added on.

Notes

Oh man, the Psych idea for this, was a good idea, right? Come on, it's awesome! Okay, so things are about to get even more dreary and dicey.
There's a Serial Killer running about in Chicago! Everyone run! Kaner, run!! (You're the type Kanerboo!!)


Next up: Poor, poor blond Russian...Kick his ass Jamie! Screw you Tyler!