Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

Chapter 4: Deciphering the Demon

Repeated calls yielded no more results for Henry than they had for Gus. Straight to voicemail each time. Shawn had been AWOL for twenty six hours. The last person to speak to him had been Gus, at around seven thirty the previous evening. A walk through his apartment had shown the place unchanged from when Gus had stopped by earlier that day.

After a check at the Psych office and a handful of known haunts, Shawn had officially been declared a missing person.

Regardless of the fact that he actually carried a measure of rank at the station now – an unspecified title hovering somewhere between rookie and detective – Henry hadn't been able to get a BOLO issued for his son without some strong arming. Whatever the officers thought of Shawn, however used to his tactics they thought they were, the fact that they'd been so reticent in believing something was wrong proved to Henry that they didn't know his son at all.

And maybe Henry wouldn't have been so take charge on the issue had he been in this place a year ago. But two serial killer stalkers and a kidnapping slash near death experience had altered his perceptions. The cop instincts that had never left him felt sharper, it was true; but it was the marrow deep terror of a father, knowing his child was in danger, that drove him to manhandle the door to the Chief's office without permission granted.

Vick had treated him as a fellow officer from his first day back in the station as one of the rank and file. Her command was something he never had to question. This was her station and he would follow the rules as she laid them down.

He wore his jacket with unspoken complaint – prepared reports and went through the proper channels regarding chain of command when turning them in. He didn't invite Karen over for coffee any longer. He didn't even address her as Karen. It was Chief Vick – no “ma'am” thank you very much, and he was Mr. Spencer; “Henry” only on the occasions when both he and his son occupied the same space.

The history of friendship between them had been stowed away in order to create the required professionalism. She was his supervisor, he the subordinate, and he had treated it as such.

But now, with Shawn in the wind and the jagged shards of frozen blood cutting through the deeper parts of his flesh, it was that friendship that Henry called upon in desperation. It was a one time deal, he knew. He couldn't expect to pull that card to bully his agenda ever again.

However, if Shawn was found safe and whole, he wouldn't need to.

At two forty-five in the morning, while much of Santa Barbara was still asleep, the search began.

~-~-~

The pain in his shoulder had taken on a whole other world of torment. He shoved against the earth with his right leg and curled on his side. His breathing hitched and jerked and there was no stopping the wet that squeezed out and tracked down through the whisper of beard on his cheeks. Panic roared back as the alpha emotion, raw and wild as trapped animal, when the shape of his captor knelt beside him and grasped the waist of his jeans.