Clear Shot (Psych Fanfiction)

Chapter Eight

Shawn grabbed his arm just to support it one last time before going into the station. It was eight fifty-seven, so he was only slightly early. He saw Gus already waiting in the Chief's office. He walked in the room and sat down next to him.

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, thank you for coming," Chief Vick closed the door and sat down at her desk. "As you know, Mr. Spencer, you will be going undercover later today. I didn't find a way to get you in, however, Mr. Guster, so I apologize but I don't think you'll be able to work with Mr. Spencer on this case much."

"It's fine," Gus said. "I tend to get distracted when I'm undercover anyway."

"Mr. Spencer, we got you the night shift, which will start at six o'clock at night and end at six o'clock in the morning," Chief Vick explained. "We felt like whatever the business is doing is more likely to happen when there are less or no customers around. You will be wearing a blue jumpsuit, which is the uniform at the business."

"Alright, is that all?" Shawn took the bag with the uniform that she handed him.

"I believe so," Chief Vick nodded. "Make sure you aren't late."

"Count on it," Shawn rolled his left shoulder. The knife wound was aching, and he needed to get away from everyone to take a look at it.

"Shawn, is your arm okay?" Gus walked out with him.

"Yeah, it's fine," Shawn lied. "I think I slept on it weird. Anyways, I'm gonna head home and get some sleep before I'm forced to stay up all night."

Gus accepted his lies, thankfully. Shawn really wished he didn't have to lie to anyone, especially his best friend, but now he had to lie to everyone for who knows how long. He didn't have much hope of getting out of it anymore. Rollins had no reason to let him live his life, he'd rather have Shawn keep doing the dirty work for him. He couldn't think of any reason why he'd be let go or how he could get out. A police ambush at one of their meetings wouldn't work, Rollins seemed to be always watching him. He'd get shot, most likely fatally, or somebody else would. And he couldn't take that chance.

Shawn sighed as he left the police station and went home.

He had been sleeping for about five hours when he heard something that woke him up. It was a small creak, probably from his couch. Did somebody get into his house? He looked at the crack in the door and saw a faint light, so he walked over quietly.

Shawn slowly opened the door and peeked around the corner tentatively. All he saw was the front door as it closed. He was about to go after whoever it was when he saw another note on his couch.

"I know you're going undercover tonight. If you give any information about the case to the police, you're dead."

Rollins. He had probably sent Longmore to put it there, seeing as he always had to do the smaller jobs. He now at least knew that Rollins knew the people in the business. But how would he keep information from the police? He knew he'd have an earpiece, and probably a camera. He'd just have to figure it out when the time came.

It was already three in the afternoon, and he knew that he'd have to get to the business early since he was a new hire. He, again, couldn't take his motorcycle, simply because it could be recognized. It was a pain to have to walk everywhere, but both the police and Rollins didn't want him to get caught by each other and others. He'd never been to the business, so he had to leave even earlier, although he knew that it was near the storage yard. He eventually just decided to leave by three forty-five.

He opened the bag that contained the jumpsuit uniform and got out some old brown boots he had. Chief Vick had told him that she could get him some, but he thankfully had his own. Who knows who had worn the ones at the police station?

Shawn took a microwave dinner out of the freezer and put it in the microwave for a few minutes. He took the chance to roll up his sleeve and took the bandage off of the injury he got from Rollins that morning.

Thankfully the cut was pretty clean, so it wasn't jagged. It wasn't too deep either, but it did go through his skin more than just a little. He supported his left arm with his right as he walked over to the cabinet in the bathroom. He opened it and put a fresh bandage on the wound.

After making sure the bandage was well applied, Shawn changed into the jumpsuit uniform and slipped on the brown boots. He then heard the beeping of the microwave.

Shawn took the meal out of the microwave and sat on his couch, turning the TV on. He still had more than half an hour of time to kill before he left.

It was five thirty. Shawn was about a block away from the business. For the past ten minutes, Lassiter had been giving the earpiece and camera to him and explaining what to do with the camera in particular. He was bored already, he understood how everything worked. The earpiece, well, it was an earpiece. The camera was hidden, the lens disguised as one of the buttons on his bag.

"Alright, Spencer, you ready?" Lassiter was done with his full-on essay of what Shawn was to do.

"I was born ready, Lassie," Shawn attempted to make a joke, but he was still nervous. He wasn't sure if the plan would even work, and, if it did, he wasn't sure how to follow Rollins' rules.

With that, he turned the corner and walked into Rhoda's Car Dealership.