detectives.”
“I can’t do that,” she said, taking his arm.
Despite the apparent fact that his neck had lost the ability to swivel, Gus scanned the road in both directions, making sure there was no car within a quarter of a mile before he headed toward the impound lot.
“Sure, you can. I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out here.”
Tara looked puzzled. “You didn’t drag me here. Shawn did.”
He felt like the Tin Woodsman-his muscles seemed to be rusted solid, but once he started moving they eased up considerably. “It was really both of us who-”
“No.” There was an edge of steel in her voice that Gus hadn’t heard before. He didn’t understand where it was coming from. “Shawn dragged me here. That’s why I was here to see you fall. I was answering his call.”
“How could he call you? His phone was in my car, and my car was impounded,” Gus said.
Her ice blue eyes bored into his. “Shawn doesn’t need a phone to call me. He’s a psychic. He beams his thoughts directly into my mind.”
Gus stopped dead in the middle of the street. He would have, anyway, if his body hadn’t been experiencing a sense memory of his last journey over this particular stretch of road and propelling his legs forward without any input from his brain. “He does?”
“No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”
Gus realized he had made it to the other end of the street. So why did it feel like he had just stepped into quicksand? “Does Shawn know about this?”
“He’s the one beaming me his thoughts,” she said in a tone that suggested Gus had just come out of a short yellow bus, not a red Mercedes.
“But have you discussed this with him?”
“Did you talk to your feet before you sent them the mental order to cross the street?” she said.
Actually, today he had. But he knew what she meant. He needed to talk to Shawn about this right away.
“Are you getting any beams from Shawn right now?”
She thought it over, cocking her head like a puppy to aid her reception. “Nothing.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Gus said. “All those police radios are interfering with the signals.”
“I didn’t know they could do that,” Tara said. “It’s never been a problem before.”
“It’s a new invention,” Gus said. “With all the bandwidth going to cell carriers, the cops have switched to psychic frequencies for their radios.”
“I’d better get closer to him then.”
“No!” Gus said. “I mean, he’s asked me to relay a request-an order-to you.”
“I didn’t hear him do that.”
“Exactly,” Gus said. “That’s why I have to tell you that Shawn wants you to-Shawn orders you-to wait by the car.”
He waited for a moment for her to process this. Then she smiled and went back across the street. Forcing his legs to go faster, Gus walked over to the shack’s front door, where seven of the police were still standing frozen as the crime scene tech finally managed to get up off his knees.
“Good to see your new cologne’s going over as well as the old one, Lassie,” Shawn said.
“I thought he was responding to one of your jokes,” Lassiter said. “It’s how they make me feel.”
Gus stepped up before Shawn could respond. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Not just yet, Gus,” Shawn said. “Detective Lassiter was just going to demonstrate what makes him Santa Barbara’s finest.”
“You really think I won’t go in that shack?” Lassiter said.
“I will if you will,” Shawn said.
“You most certainly will not,” Lassiter said.
“Shawn,” Gus whispered fiercely, “there’s something you need to know. Now.”
“The Santa Barbara Police Department doesn’t need your help on this one,” Lassiter said. “Which you might have been able to figure out by the simple fact that nobody asked for it.”
The other police detective pulled the handkerchief away from her face, revealing the bright eyes and easy smile of Juliet O’Hara. Except that right now her eyes were slightly dimmed by tears, and her smile was anything but easy-the stench was proving stronger even than her own fierce will. And her will rarely lost a test of strength. The youngest detective on the squad, O’Hara was almost always underestimated by men who saw her pretty face and assumed she was soft. It annoyed her, but she’d learned how to use their assumptions against them. “Yes, Carlton, somebody did.” She turned to Shawn. “You could have returned one of my calls.”
“Sorry. I’ve been away from my phones.”
“Then how did you know to come here?” she said.
“Jules, Jules, Jules,” Shawn said, “do you really need to ask?”
Lassiter looked at her as if she’d gotten up before she’d finished her time in the naughty spot. “You called him?”
“I did.”
“You don’t have the authority to authorize an unauthorized consultant. You need to have that cleared by Chief Vick.”
“Her exact words were, ‘Do whatever you want as long as you don’t make me come to that hellhole,’” O’Hara said.
“And what is it you want to do, Juliet?” Shawn said. “I mean, deep down.”
“I want to clear this case so I never have to smell this smell again,” she said.
“You heard the lady, Lassie,” Shawn said. “Let’s solve us a murder. What do we hear from the CSI boys?”
District Attorney Bert Coules stepped out from around the side of the shack. “Mostly retching,” Coules said. “Occasional vomiting. A lot of moans.”
Shawn listened for a moment. “Yes, I see what you mean. But before they lost focus, what were they saying?”
Gus pulled Shawn aside. Or he tried to. He couldn’t quite get up the strength to actually exert a force, but Shawn noticed him brushing at his shirtsleeve.
“There’s something you need to know,” Gus said.
“And I’m about to learn it from the lovely detective.”
“I sure hope not,” Gus said, as Shawn stepped away from him.
“It’s a mess in there,” Coules said.
“You’re not looking so good yourself,” Shawn said. “Got a little spot on your suit there.”
Actually, there were several spots on the DA’s suit. His knee was stained with grease. His jacket was flecked with a goo whose origin Gus hoped he’d never learn.
“Metal building, hot sun, dead body, check,” Coules said. “You investigate a crime scene, you’re going to get dirty. You stay much cleaner if you just make up your facts.”
“And this place was a mess before the guy was dead,” O’Hara said. “Apparently, it hadn’t even been swept in the last decade. Which means every fingerprint that’s ever been left is still there.”
“That’s not going to stop us from finding the killer,” Lassiter said.
“Not when the victim works for the City of Santa Barbara,” Coules said. “That’s why I’m here now, and why I won’t let this case drop until it’s solved and the perpetrator is behind bars. At the district attorney’s office, we believe that anyone who’s willing to harm a member of our local government is targeting democracy itself. And I will not let that stand. Do you understand, Detectives?”
“We’ll take the prints and run every single one of them, even if it’s the entire population of Santa Barbara,” Lassiter said.
Gus felt Coules’ eyes boring into him. He tried to remember how many fingerprints he and Shawn might have left in the shack. Including the ones he must have left on the barrel of the shotgun. Not that he and Shawn had done anything wrong. They were the victims. But would that stop Coules from coming after them?
“And I bet it is,” Gus said. “Every single citizen. We’ll be amazed at the prints that are in there. Probably even people who have never been in the area. Just thought about stopping by.”
