a thousand mistakes // psych

Chapter 3

Gus's POV

Lassiter led us out of the station. Shawn's face was pale and fearful, and Lassie's calculating expression barely masked his anxiety. I shook at the thought of sweet, tough, full-of-life Juliet O'Hara... gone.

"Okay," Lassiter said. "What do we know?"

"Nothing," Shawn whispered. "We don't have anything. I'm just- I'm a fraud, it's not as if I would know anything. Gus warned me. Someday someone will die, and I won't be able to do anything about it."

I turned to him. "Don't say that, Shawn. You might not be.. what you always said you were, but you are one thing, and that's Juliet's hyper-observant husband. If anyone will find her, it'll be you."

"Gus, don't be Miranda Cosgrove's character in School of Rock!" Shawn exclaimed, his voice cracking. "I'm a coward! I'm a liar and a fraud and a coward and I'm too weak to even help Jules because I don't know anything and I didn't notice anything! I'm worthless!"

Lassiter grabbed his arm. "Spencer, I want you to listen to me, because I don't do this very often and I'm probably never going to do it again but I'm telling you right now that I believe in you." He shakily pulled his hand away. "Or something."

I stared at him. Fear and emptiness encroached upon his hardened face. He was broken down, as crippled as if he had lost a limb. Even though Lassiter hadn't worked side by side with Juliet in ages, the loss still runs deep. I can tell. I've worn that same expression.

Shawn was an emotional wreck, but he managed to take control and utilize his famed skill set. With a touch of his fingers to his temple, he assumed his typical fake psychic position that was familiarly annoying and comforting. The clock ticked in the background, slowly marking the seconds Lassiter and I spent staring into Shawn's blank face, hoping and praying for any sign, even the faintest hint of a clue.

Slowly, Shawn raised his eyes towards us, removing his fingers from the end of his eyebrow. We waited anxiously, enthralled, as he opened his mouth to speak.

"There wasn't much. I didn't think of anything extremely helpful, no huge clue or anything. But- there was one thing."

Shawn's POV

Lassie and Gus scrambled to open Safari on their phones as I combed through my 'psychic' vision. I pictured the moment clearly, as if I was watching it on a grainy television.

I saw a table covered in letters, envelopes unopened. All from three senders, a Dunder, a Scott, and a Malone. I saw a set of keys, our car key, our house key, the key for the other car, gym locker key, etc. And then I noticed the other key, the one I didn't recognize. Slightly rusted, a darker color than the others. Where does that lead?

I mentally made my way through the hallway to the kitchen. Clean, spotless countertops. Pantry door ajar. Calendar on the wall. One date circled- the twenty fourth. Was that someone's birthday or something? I couldn't remember. But I did know that today was the seventeenth. So whatever was to happen in seven days might be a clue.

I resurfaced.

"Anything?" Lassiter questioned, hearing my theatrical sigh as I exited my little dream world. I shook my head defeatedly. Gus groaned.

"Come on, Shawn! I can't remember the last time you didn't have anything to contribute. Think harder."

I sighed again, this time out of exasperation, and listed my findings. Lassie thought hard and turned to Gus.

"Dunder, Scott, and Malone. Anything there? The key would make sense if he and O'Hara ever kept anything from each other."

I didn't mention the fact that we had been keeping things from each other lately. She wouldn't meet my eyes when she talked about work, and I took on a day job without letting her know. I didn't tell Gus, either, but he found out. If my detective wife who knew everything about me before I did (minus the psychic thing) didn't know, she was obviously preoccupied with something. And the fact that I, the "psychic," don't know what it is- well, that's worrying.

Gus interrupted my frantic thought process. "What about the calendar, though?"

"Hmm, good point, Guster. If Spencer doesn't know what that means, I'm inclined to believe that it isn't a birthday or a dentist appointment. I'll call O'Har- I'll call Brannigan. She would know."

One glance at Gus told me that I'm not the only one who noticed his slip up. This case hit too close to home for all of us. "You know what? I think we all need a break. Waffles?"

"Waffles," Gus agreed. We walked slowly towards the parking lot, all three of us deep in thought, no one daring to say a word. I looked back, only for a second, but I regret it. Chief Karen Vick stared out the window, and the hollow look in her eyes hurts as if a knife was tearing through me. She had seemed so strong, so put together in the meeting. Juliet meant - no, means - a lot to her. I know that. In my own little bubble of pain, I hadn't thought to consider how awful this was for everyone else. I'm not even close to being the only one who cares about Jules. Practically everyone who meets her loves her. I just can't imagine her... gone.

Gus turned to me, as if reading my mind. "I know, Shawn."

We got in the car and drove in the direction of waffles.