Ya Had a Bad Day (3/12)

[moogsthewriter]

Title: Ya Had a Bad Day
Rating: T
Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Family, Romance, Suspense
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Notes: This was a response to a challenge over at Psychfic. It won the Silver Pineapple for Best Whump (the Boo Boo Award) in the 2008 Psychfic Awards. Also cross-posted at FanFiction.net. (Although I have cleaned it up slightly... mainly just correcting grammatical errors. Nothing too earth-shattering.) Does contain Shules (Shawn/Juliet).

Summary: Shawn's having a really bad day. And it keeps getting worse.

( Part 1 ) | ( Part 2 )

 

“Stupid Lassie, stupid coffee, stupid day!” Shawn ranted as he made his way over to his bike. He glanced up as a rumble echoed overhead. A moment later, the cloudy sky gave way to a torrential rainfall, and within thirty seconds, Shawn was soaked to the bone. He stared up at the sky, fat raindrops splashing in his eyes and into his mouth as he screamed, “Does the world just hate me today?”

Suddenly something collided with him, causing his body to rotate around. His eyes jerked back down slightly and he found himself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes. Shawn had to work hard not to quail away from the giant of a man. His dark hair hung in strands over his face, plastered down by the rain, and his white, rain-soaked t-shirt revealed a very beefy upper torso. His lips were pulled back in a sneer, revealing two gold-capped teeth. “Can I help you?” Shawn asked, just barely keeping a quiver out of his voice.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Chief Vick’s cry of, “Mr. Spencer!”

“Yeah, Chief?” Shawn replied, turning to face the blonde woman. His face suddenly scrunched up in pain as the beefy man grabbed his right wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. “Hey, what-?” Shawn’s pain-filled protests were effectively silenced when he felt cool metal rest against his throat. In front of him, Vick froze, a look of horror on her face when she saw the large man holding a gleaming switchblade to Shawn’s throat.

“Don’t even think about making a sound, or I’ll slit him open,” the man called warningly.

Vick held up her hands. “Take it easy, Mr.-”

“O'Riley. Vince O'Riley.”

“O'Riley? Like the one that’s on trial today?” Shawn couldn’t help but exclaim. His cry fell silent when the felt the edge of the knife dig in a little.

“You’d do best to keep your mouth shut,” O'Riley growled. “And yeah, that’s my brother you’ve got over in your courthouse.”

“What do you want?” Vick demanded, pushing her rain-soaked hair out of her eyes.

O'Riley laughed once. “I want you to release my brother, Chief.” He spat the last word with contempt. “Or I’m gonna kill psychic-boy here.”

“Well, this day just keeps getting better and better,” Shawn groused.

Vick shot him a sharp look before saying, “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. Your brother is already at the courthouse. I can’t call in to have him released.”

“You’d better figure out a way to get him out, then, lady,” O'Riley sneered. He didn’t turn around as a dark green compact car came roaring up behind him. “Otherwise, you can say goodbye to pretty-boy,” the crook added as the car screeched to a stop. “Don't follow us.” The trunk and one of the doors suddenly flew open and before Vick could even move, O'Riley had shoved Shawn headfirst into the trunk, slammed the lid shut, and leapt into the open door. As the car pulled away, Vick rushed forward, hoping to at least catch the license plate. Her heart sank - the plate was practically covered in mud. She could only make out the letter X in the middle of the plate.

Immediately the chief whirled, rushing back up the steps and bursting into the police station. “Alright, people, we’ve got a situation here!”

Lassiter was immediately on his feet. “What’s the problem?” he demanded as Vick strode up forcefully to him.

"Get O'Hara on the phone - tell her she needs to move Lance O'Riley into holding for a while," Vick ordered, shrugging off her sopping wet suit jacket.

Lassiter’s face was filled with surprise. “Why?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Because Vince O’Riley and some accomplice of his are probably on their way over as we speak, and they’ve got Mr. Spencer shoved in their trunk. They want to bust O'Riley out,” Vick snapped, her eyes flashing. “But since I can’t afford to let an accused triple-murderer back on the streets, we need to get him out of there and figure out someway to get Spencer out of that damn trunk. Understood?”

Lassiter nodded, suppressing the extreme desire to salute. “Yes, ma- I mean, got it, Chief,” he stammered, nearly using the dreaded “m” word.

Vick’s eyes narrowed slightly, not missing the near-slip. She chose to ignore it, turning slightly and barking, “McNab!”

Buzz rushed over immediately. “Yes, Chief?”

“Pull all the security footage from the station parking lot, and tell the techs to look for a front license plate on the green Audi that currently contains our psychic. The back plate was too caked with mud for me to be able to read it. Let me know as soon as you got something. Oh, and while you’re waiting, pull everything we have on a Vince O’Riley and any known accomplices who have worked with him or his brother - someone was driving that car, and I wanna know who. Got it?”

“On it, Chief!” Buzz exclaimed, already heading off to carry out his work.

“Good. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another phone call to make,” Vick said, a sigh in her voice.

Lassiter raised an eyebrow as he pulled out his cell. “Who?”

“Henry Spencer,” Vick replied before closing her door. Lassiter winced in sympathy as he sent a number to O’Hara’s pager. Her phone was more than likely off, since she was in a courtroom.

“You’d better not ignore that,” he muttered angrily, glaring daggers at his phone, the beginnings of a headache pulsing at the back of his head. Only Spencer would make concern manifest itself in a headache, he thought ruefully. He sighed and rubbed his temples. How was it that even on a slow day - when the psychic wasn’t even in the building - Shawn Spencer was able to aggravate him?
 

*****

Juliet O’Hara sighed again as O’Riley’s lawyer raised another objection, which was once again shot down by the judge. She glanced at her watch and rolled her eyes in annoyance. It should not be taking this long to interview a model, she thought, staring at the drop-jaw gorgeous, and slightly brain-dead, red-head model on the stand. There were still another two witnesses to go before she was scheduled to be called, and if this bumbling public defender didn’t step it up a little bit, this case was likely to go on until she married Shawn (which, she thought, will never happen… not that a girl can’t dream once in a while).

She was jerked from her stupor by a vibrating sensation coming from her right hip. She automatically plucked her beeper up off her belt, her forehead creasing slightly. Everyone knows I’m at court today - who’d be paging me? The lines in her forehead deepened slightly when she saw Lassiter’s number followed by one word - NOW.

She immediately pulled out her cell phone and texted her superior. What? I’m supposed to testify soon!

She hit “SEND” and waited nervously for a moment, the model’s annoyingly high-pitched voice hitting her ears like nails on a chalkboard. She chewed her lip nervously - if Lassiter was contacting her in the middle of a trial, something was seriously wrong.

The light on her phone lit up, giving her a silent alert to a text. She flipped the phone back open, faintly wondering when Lassiter had learned to text so fast, and read the message with wide eyes. Defendant’s brother on way. Has S.S. as hostage. K.V. says get def. out - NOW.

Juliet’s head shot up just as the attorney declared, “No further questions, your honor.”

“Your honor!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet. Everyone around her started murmuring and whispering, creating the effect of a faint breeze.

The elderly judge stared at her severely. “Detective, I’m not above throwing you out of this room until it is your turn to testify,” he said sternly.

“Sir!” Juliet pleaded, making her way to the bench. She leapt over the wooden barricade, ignoring the protests of both the defense and the prosecution. She dropped her voice to a hiss so no one could overhear. “O’Riley’s brother is on his way to get him out of here. He’s got a hostage - a consultant for the police department. The chief wants O’Riley moved immediately before his brother can get here.”

The judge’s eyes widened in surprised. He banged his gavel a few times, loudly calling, “Court is adjourned for the moment. Bailiff, take the defendant to the lower holding room until further notice. Trust me, gentlemen, everything will be explained in due time,” he added, holding up a hand and effectively cutting off questions from both the defense and the prosecution.

“Thank you,” Juliet said gratefully, pulling out her phone and pressing a speed dial. She turned away as the other line began ringing, ignoring the commotion around her.

“Lassiter,” her partner said sharply after the first ring.

“Carlton, I got the judge to suspend the trial for the moment, and O’Riley is being placed in a holding room. What is going on?”

“Apparently Vince O’Riley came into the station parking lot with an accomplice, shoved Spencer into the trunk of his car, told the Chief that if his brother wasn’t released, he’d kill Spencer, and then sped off,” Lassiter replied tersely.

“He kidnapped Shawn in the SBPD parking lot?” Juliet asked incredulously. "In front of the Chief?"

“O’Hara,” Lassiter growled warningly.

“Sorry, sorry,” the blonde hastily amended. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, keep watch from a secure position for a green Audi with the plates -” He paused for a moment, his voice muffled as he addressed someone else, then returned and continued, “26X 12J. Got that?”

“Twenty-six x’s before twelve j’s,” Juliet recited.

“Yeah, yeah, good,” Lassiter replied distractedly. Juliet cocked an eyebrow when she heard a sudden intake of breath. “He had to have been breaking every traffic law ever written to get here by now,” Lassiter muttered angrily.

Juliet could hear someone cursing faintly in the background. “What’s going on, Carlton?”

“Spencer, Sr. just pulled in, and he’s spitting fire,” the detective answered. “Listen, O’Hara, you stick around the courthouse and make sure Lance O’Riley stays in police custody. Don’t approach the vehicle if you see it - Vince O’Riley is armed, not to mention he’s got Spencer in his trunk. Call it in immediately. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll inform the officers right away,” Juliet replied sharply, working hard to suppress her fear.

“Good. Bye,” Lassiter said hurriedly. He hung up before Juliet could reply.

Juliet sighed as she flipped her phone shut, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment, psyching herself up to get into action. Oh, Shawn, how do you always get into these situations?

( Part 4 )