I sit at the bar as my mind draws a blank. My fingers fumble into my pocket to retrieve my wallet. I press the bills flat onto the counter and numbly begin to walk out of the cafe. My jaw is slack as my brain races to comprehend what just happened. The wind whips against my cheek reminding me of where I am. I pull my lips into a sly smile and run my hands through my hair as I approach the car. Juliet sits in the driver's seat, the sunlight reflecting off of her golden hair. Her delicate fingers drum against the steering wheel. I smoothly swing myself into the car while flashing a smile.
She greets me with a forced tone of calmness. Her movements are gentle and light, but I notice the hesitation in the way that she moves, as if every movement is thought out and precise. She's still nervous. She's just too clever to admit it. She knows how to change her persona in a matter of moments. From fire to the wind in a split second, but she only appears changed, to the untrained eye. I notice what she's trying to hide, but what I can't notice is why, so I decide to leave it, and focus on the case.
"So, why weren't these disappearances investigated earlier? I mean there is a significant amount of these homeless people gone, Jules." I question while thumbing through each file.
"I guess they just weren't noticed. No complaint, no case. Nobody cared enough about them to report them. Without anybody to care, nobody noticed a pattern. It's sad but true" Jules adds.
"Wait, if nobody who was kidnapped was found, then who are we interviewing?" I inquire.
"I have a list of around Five people who said they witnessed it happen, it should be somewhere in that pile." Juliet explains. I sort through each paper, my eyes carefully scanning each one, until I find the witness list. It's brief, but one listing gives me pause. The last names on the list are titled , "The Doctor and Rose Tyler" there is a time and an address listed beside it, "The Starlight Hotel, Room 1010, @ 10:10 pm."
"Is this last one meant as a joke. I mean "The Doctor" seems pretty fake to me..." I ask in a mock tone.
"No, surprisingly, I actually asked the chief the same question and she said it was real."
"But how are we expected to show up at some random room at 10:10 PM? Just nock on the door says 'sorry to barge in on your special fun time, but can we talk about some dead people?'" Juliet giggles, turning to me.
"I'm sorry, but did you just say special fun time?" She mocks.
"Yes if you're with someone that late at night you should at least be getting some action, I mean, makes you think, what we're going to do when it's all over..." I finish before thinking. Suddenly, I can feel my face turning a dark shade of red. Before I have time to feel the embarrassment settle in, she nudges me in the shoulder while rolling her eyes.
"I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm going home... Alone" She replies with a tone of superiority in her voice.
The list of people other than "The Doctor" is short. The names on list all belong to homeless men and women at the shelter.
Within a matter of minutes, Juliet and I arrive at our destination. The air is tinged with a feeling of defeat. The paint along the welcome sign is peeled and illegible. Men and Women of all ages stand against the outer edges of the shelter with a distant look burned into their eyes. The entire atmosphere is riddled with mysery.
A wave of dread washes over my mind as I sit still, observing my surroundings. My eyes move across the scene and settle on food truck emerging from the back. The paint upon it appears a little bit too fresh. Bold letters stretch across it belonging to a company I've never heard of. I take note of the truck and begin to rise from the car.
I follow closely behind Juliet as we near the beaten building. We enter through the creaking front door and approach the members inside. Seeing no other options, we decide to call names from the list in hopes of finding a witness.
"Is a there a August Sheep here?... Eric Green?...Shahad Hilliard?...Anne Githell?..." I call while searching the room.
A woman and a man stand in the back corner, they shift forward and walk towards us. A worn look is engraved in their bones, their skin sags, hair askew a top fragile heads.Their clothes are ripped and tattered.
I motion them towards us with the wave of my hand and a small smile. Juliet straightens her back and steps in front of me to greet them.
"Hi, I'm Detective Juliet O'Hara, and this is psychic detective Shawn Spencer, and we would just like to ask you a few quick questions." She says in a perky voice.
She quickly shakes their hands as they begin to respond,
"Nobody cares what we saw, all they can spit is disbelief."
I jump in with,
"You have no idea what I'm will to believe, I'm psychic, it's my job explain the unexplainable." I finish with a sly smile on my face. They sigh and slump down into some rotting wooded chairs surrounding a weak table. Juliet whips out a pen and pad of paper while swooping in to take the final seat. I gingerly lean over her, my hand resting on the table. The table shutters, but holds up.
"First off, the basics, What are your names, and when did this occur?" Juliet inquires with a polite tone laced in her voice.
"I'm Shahad Hilliard, and this is August Sheep, I happened around a month ago" the women blandly replies. I can help but laugh out loud. Juliet give me a cold stare and then continues to jot notes.
"Great, now start from the beginning" Jules instructs.
My eyelids squeeze shut I picture the scene as they describe it. A cold and dark alley way lined with food trucks. One in particular stands out amongst the rest. A smell of freshly baked pastries wafts out one of the side doors. The truck is a bright color, and has opened before the rest. A singular sign stands out front.
"Bad Wolf Bakery"
"FREE SAMPLES"
Shahad and August sit idle by and watch as people round the truck and don't return. After precisely 1 hour the truck shuts down and leaves, none of the costumers in sight.
A simple kidnapping, is that all this is. No, there has to be more to it, something I'm not seeing. The motive, what exactly is the motive for kidnapping the homeless? It certainly isn't for money, most likely not labor, but then what does that leave? I toss the details back and fourth in my head while Juliet rattles off mandatory questions. I can't make sense of anything, the thought get jumbled in my head. I need more information, I need to have been there.
I stand and run my hands through my hair, trying to organize anything.
"Why, why them, nobody notices, but what do they benefit if nobody notices Jules?"
"look I don't know Shawn, but we've gotta get back to the station to do some paper work, I promised the chief that I would report back to her by four."
The last world escape her lips as she rises to leave. The floor clicks beneath her heals as she exits the shelter. I follow slowly behind.
The interview runs on repeat in my head, scanning for a lead. Once I reach the car, Juliet hands me her handwritten notes. I read over every last detail as she drives us back to the station. Her handwriting is minimal and delicate. The letters swoop across the page with short thoughts.
Everything seems to make sense, a strange but not too difficult, kidnapping case, but one thing still doesn't make sense,
Who the hell is The Doctor?
YOU ARE READING
Psychic Paper
FanfictionA Doctor Who and Psych crossover in which everything Psych is based on is put to the test when Shawn, Jules, and Gus take on a rather interesting case with a man in a blue box.
