(no subject)
Title: Saving Shawn
Rating: PG (will go up)
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or Psych
Warnings: Hints of Shassie and Moreid
Summary: A serial killer targeting Psychics and the like shows up and Gus calls in the BAU when Shawn disappears
Chapter 2
“What the hell is going on?” Henry Spencer stormed into the SBPD with a scowl on his face. He was a bulky man in khaki shorts, flip-flops, and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. The hustle and bustle of the station didn’t die down at his outburst, though a few officers did jump at the exclamation, so he headed towards Vic’s office.
Hotchner stopped him before he could reach the door. “Mr. Spencer?”
Henry turned and assessed the man with quick, experienced eyes. “FBI?”
“Yes. I’m Agent Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Analyst Unit.” The two traded firm handshakes.
“Don’t tell me, Karen’s got that idiot son of mine here helping you with a case and I’m here to assure you of his credibility. I don’t blame you, all that flailing around he does is a little…”
“No, Mr. Spencer, actually we’re not working with Shawn.” Reid butted in carefully, stepping up beside Hotchner. “I’m Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid.”
“Then what the hell am I doing here?”
“I’ve got it, Hotch.” Reid nodded his thanks at the other profiler. He gave him a look that said ‘are you sure?’ in Hotch-speak and when Reid nodded again Hotchner patted him lightly on the shoulder before turning away. “This way please, Mr. Spencer.” He led the man into one of the interrogation rooms and sat, composing himself as the older man glanced around the room suspiciously before sitting down across from him.
“What’s going on?”
“Mr. Spencer, Shawn has been kidnapped. He disappeared earlier this week…”
“Shawn disappears all the time, it’s what he does.” Henry grumbled.
“With all due respect, you’re wrong. Shawn’s apartment is untouched, his bike is still here in Santa Barbara, and he’s not answering his phone for Gus.” Reid understood Shawn’s complaining now, Henry Spencer was very intimidating. “Gus came to me when Shawn disappeared because he knew the BAU could catch this guy, and we will. Shawn isn’t the first victim; the Unsub is targeting palm readers, charlatans, and psychics.”
“How many?” He was all business now.
“Thirteen victims, three bodies so far.”
“How bad is it?”
“Severe torture.” Reid answered, knowing exactly what the man meant.
Henry was quiet for a few moments, arms crossed over his chest in an intimidating way. “How do you know my kid?”
The moment of truth. “I met Shawn a few years ago when he was traveling the country. We bonded over the fact that we both have an eidetic memory; we later learned that we were related. Our mothers are sisters.”
Henry was quiet a moment, studying him with an ounce of surprise registering on his face. “You’re Diana’s son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you have an eidetic memory?”
“Yes, my IQ is one-eighty-seven. We figured out Shawn’s IQ is one-seventy-seven.”
Henry hummed and leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was going to say more before the door was thrown open.
“Mr. Spencer, Shawn’s in danger, you can quiz Reid later.” Gus’s voice was high and slightly hysterical. Reid’s head snapped up at the glimmer of unshed tears in Gus’ eyes.
Henry slowly stood from his chair.
“Gus, are you OK?” Reid stood and approached him.
“They found another body.” The quiver in his voice was obvious to anyone, profiler or not.
“Is it Shawn?” Henry asked.
Gus didn’t answer, just turned and left the room, pausing only to make sure the other two were following.
They entered the conference room where they had crime scene photos and pictures of each of the victims hanging on a corkboard; inside the conference room was away from prying eyes and some of the less seasoned and more squeamish officers. Reid hated how his eyes always zeroed in on Shawn’s picture on the board whenever he entered the room.
Henry followed them in at a distance, standing back by the door once inside.
“We have an ID.” Lassiter entered after Henry, a file in hand with Prentiss following close behind him. “The third victim, Charlotte Canaan.” He handed the autopsy report off to Morgan, as he was standing closest to the board. “The coroner says that as near as he can tell this guy is just torturing his victims until their bodies give out and they pass on, then he dumps the bodies at his convenience.”
“How is he able to transport so many live victims at once while traveling?” O’Hara asked.
“We believe the Unsub drives an eighteen wheeler or another large transport truck for a living, it would be easy to transport several victims and still have room for cargo.” David Rossi told her.
“But wouldn’t there be blood spatter on his cargo?” O’Hara chirped again.
“He’s too careful for that.” Reid answered. “It’s most likely that he would have covered his cargo with something.”
“Do we have any idea why he’s pinpointing psychics?” Vic asked, eyes darting around between the profilers.
“Violent crimes that involve torture and mutilation like these are generally revenge based. It could be any number of things that triggered these attacks.” Morgan said.
“The rape and sodomy lead us to believe it may be a type of hate crime though.” Rossi continued. Reid saw Henry flinch slightly but otherwise the man was blending in well with the wall. “Sexually based attacks aren’t usually about sex.”
“Any ideas on how we’re supposed to find this guy?” Lassiter grumbled, he was staring intently at the board of victims, Reid had an inkling that the man was staring at one picture in specific.
“We’ve got Garcia checking trucking business routes that follow where he’s been already.” Morgan answered.
“You think he’s stupid enough to pick up victims on his route? Don’t you think if he’s smart enough not to get caught so far, he’d be smart enough to stray from his route to pick up victims?” Lassiter snapped.
“Shut up, Lassiter!” Gus screamed, quieting the room. “You are so annoying. Shawn’s not here for you to bounce your crappy day off of so you just bottle up your feelings, get angry, scream at everyone, and make everyone else miserable. I’ve got news for you, you’re not the only one pissed off and worried about Shawn. How about instead of snapping at everyone, you calm the hell down and focus your attention on finding this sick bastard so we can save Shawn.”
The room silently stared at the aggravated drug-rep for several long moments.
Gus nodded at no one in particular, shrugging his shoulders and tugging at the lapels of his jacket before turning towards the huddle of FBI agents. “You were saying? How are we going to catch this guy?”
Morgan, the closest to Gus, smiled and patted him on the back. “Even if he does stray from his route, he won’t stray far. Most truckers have a schedule to keep and he’s not going to risk damaging his credibility with his boss by loosing time to go off route for victims.” Morgan’s phone rang then and he flipped it open on speaker. “You’re on speaker phone, what you got for us Baby Girl?”
“Hello gorgeous.” Garcia’s chipper voice chirped over the line. “I have ten different companies and seventeen different trucks that follow that route closely. Unfortunately I also went back like Rossi asked me to, and I found more victims and more bodies; same M.O.” Her voice got more serious and a little sad. “I’m so sorry, Reid.”
“What companies, Garcia?” Rossi asked.
The click-clack of keys being hit could be heard through the speaker. “I’ve sent you guys all the info and I’ll keep looking and cross-checking.”
“Thank you, sweet-thing.” Morgan smirked.
“I’ll be in touch, Sugar.” The line clicked and the voice was gone.
“So professional.” Henry muttered quietly.
“Mr. Spencer I think you should go home.” There was an edge of sternness in his voice; it was truly daring for Guster’s cowardly nature.
“What about you?” Henry raised a challenging eyebrow at him.
“I am Shawn’s business partner; I am helping in the investigation. I got on a plane and talked to the FBI in person, and I have communed with police officers all over the country for reports and information about this bastard. Go home, Mr. Spencer.”
“Gus, you may not believe me but I am just as worried about Shawn as you are.”
Gus’ temper rose, an interesting and rare site. “Really? Is that why you didn’t tell him when you’d moved back to Santa Barbara? Is that why you made him take you off his emergency contact list? Is that why you cared so much when he got into an accident on his bike and had to wear a knee brace? Did you really care that someone tried to kill him? Newsflash! You didn’t bat an eye then; you’re not going to now!”
Henry took on a menacing stance, stepping forward into Gus’ personal space. “Burton Guster, I am Shawn’s father and…”
“You proved that well in raising him, Officer Spencer.” Gus returned snidely, surprising even himself.
Henry glowered at him. “Burton,” he barked.
“Henry,” Vic interrupted, forcibly pulling the two apart. “Mr. Guster is right. There isn’t anything you can do here so go home. We’ll keep you informed.”
Henry huffed and reluctantly turned towards the door.
“Someone should tell Mrs. Spencer what’s going on.” Gus murmured at his back as he opened the door.
Henry paused. “I’ll call Madeleine.” He answered without turning. He then continued on his way, slamming the door behind him.
Gus grabbed the sides of his head as if tugging on non-existent hair, eyes widening in panic. “Oh God! I’m turning into Shawn! I just stood up to Henry Spencer! Ex-police officer Henry Spencer; a man who will most likely shoot me in my sleep later, or at least tell my mom I talked back to him!”
“Gus, calm down.” Reid patted him on the back.
“Gus, let’s go get something to drink. Calm your nerves.” O’Hara hooked her arm around Gus’ and forcibly led him from the room.