Lassie (and Shawn's) Great Adventure

1. Every Dog Has His Off Day

“Maybe you should try Jules again.”

“Maybe you should shut your chowder hole before Rogers hears us!”

Lassie made a good point, at least on paper. But, as usual, Shawn had the sad duty of informing the detective that he was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong in his buzzed hair wrong.

“Lassie, I'm sad to have to inform you that you're wrong.”

Shawn spat raindrops from his lips, only to have more take their place. His hair was drenched – saturated to the point that not even his Axe hair gel could hold up under the deluge. It made his neck feel sticky where the reside still clung.

“What in the hell are you jawing about?”

It was close enough to a 'What you talkin' bout, Willis' to make Shawn smile, but not close enough to let him drift off topic. At least not right now. There'd be plenty of time for that on the drive back to the station. Besides, Lassie had clearly asked for information that may or may not be pertinent to the investigation.

“I'm also sad to inform you that Mr. Rogers isn't in his neighborhood.” And yes, he'd been wanting to say something like that for the better part of evening.

The burst of lightening above couldn't have been better timed as Lassiter turned his eyes from scanning the trees to glaring at the bedraggled consultant. Somehow, though, he managed to keep his voice to a pleasant pitch; though the clenched teeth sorta ruined the effect. “What do you mean, Rogers isn't here?”

Behind them, Lassiter's sedan still ticked as the engine cooled from their drive through the forest. Mud squelched under their shoes and Shawn could totally understand Gus's refusal, complete with an elbow to the left chest, about joining them on their trek. Just because he'd once lost a pair of Pumas. Wussy.

“A little spirit told me.” Shawn pushed the flattened hair from his forehead as more water drizzled down his cheeks. A stream of chilly wet waterfalled down the back of his neck and under his shirt and he shuddered and squirmed as it traveled to far more personal territory.

The Glock in the detective's hands twitched as though it wanted to rise a little up and to the right of its current position. Shawn sidestepped left just to be safe.

“We just drove two hours out of the city for you to tell me the guy isn't even here!?”

Shawn squinted in thought. “It was only two hours? Seriously?” The Glock twitched again and he pocketed 'vague' in favor of specific. “You'll notice his car isn't here.”

Attention shifted to scan the area again. Lassiter lowered the gun to his side and clenched his hands.

“Dammit...”

The Shrrruuuhhh of falling water was the only sound for the next several moments as Lassiter squinted through the gray wall in front of them and Shawn wiped at the rain cascading down his face. Sure it was a pain in the ass, but Lassie would cheer up when they got onto the road again. Shawn had spotted a little pie shop on the way through the last town. A slice of caramel apple and a cup of coffee would put the charge back in his taser.

“Stay here!”

“Wait, what?” Shawn looked back towards the detective as Lassiter bent through the open door of the car and grabbed his radio. Enough of his voice filtered through the rain to make out the he was giving an update to dispatch. A second later the radio was pushed back into its holder and Lassie was reemerging – one hand pointing to the car.

“I said, stay here. I'm going to go check out the cabin, but I'm not dragging a civilian with just because your spirits think it's safe!”

Shawn scoffed but Lassiter was already brushing past him, once more pointing at the car.