Hey, this is RubyPen's sis: GenieLovesPineapple. I have decided to hijack her account so I may post my own stories *laughs evily*

*RubyPen walks in* Hey. What's goin' on in here? GENIE!

Genie: *hides under desk* Uh... hehe. Hey, Ruby. I thought your profile looked a little boring so I decided to post my own stories on here to spice it up.

Ruby: Don't you think that I should have some say in this since it's my profile?

Genie: PLEEEEEASE? You know that I've been wanting to post my story on here for ages. Besisdes, you know that it's an awesome story.

*Shawn walks in* It's true.

Ruby and Genie: What are you doing here?

Shawn: I'm Genie's muse. I belong here. *looks around* Hey, does anyone have any pineapples or churros?

Ruby: I'm out of here. You can post your story, but I'll be back to check on it. *walks out*

Genie: YAY! Onward with the story!

Disclaimer: let's get this over with. *clears throat* I DON'T OWN PSYCH!

Well, my day started out pretty normal. I went to work with my dad, eavesdropped on a private meeting, blackmailed a fake psychic and his partner (no, not that type of partner, ya weirdoes), became a witness in a crime, got involved in a high speed chase that involved a mexican drug cartel… and what am I missing… oh yeah! I've been shot and I'm bleeding out.

Life's a bitch, huh? Let me start at the beginning because I'm sure that I sound like a crazy person.

My insane adventure actually starts a couple of months ago, when I was brought in to the police department for questioning for some weird crap I didn't even know about.

I was driving myself insane searching around my apartment for my only pair of shoes because, yet again, me and my scatterbrained mind have lost them again. If I didn't find those shoes soon, I was going to get fired from the only semi decent job I've ever managed to hold down: a waitress at the Last Bite Diner just a few minutes down the street.

I skidded through the kitchen, barely managing to avoid colliding with the refrigerator. "C'mon! Where the hell could I have put them this time? It's not like this place is that big," I grumbled to myself, downing the last bit of my lukewarm coffee.

As I searched under the kitchen table, I spotted my faded red converse haphazardly strewn under the coffee table in the living room.

'Oh yeah, I fell asleep on the couch last night.'

As I slipped the first shoe on, someone started pounding on my front door. I shoved the second shoe on, not bothering to tie it very well, and snatched up my pocket knife off of the coffee table.

Just as I reached the door, a masculine voice bellowed out:

"S.B.P.D. Open up."

I shoved he knife in my pocket, and yanked open the door to reveal two very tall and muscular policemen standing in my doorway.

One was tall, but he had a cute babyish kind of face. His big brown eyes were kind and he had a slightly apologetic look on his face. The other was as stone cold and stoic as a marble statue. No emotion was visible on his face, and to be perfectly honest, it kinda weirded me out a little.

"Can I help you, Officer…?" I trailed off, looking at the friendly looking one.

"McNab. Buzz McNab. Are you Camille Jameson?" McNab asked.

"No, she doesn't live here, but I'm Brittany Jameson; her daughter. What's this about?" I asked warily.

"We're looking into the murder of Carlos Vendetti," said the other officer. "He was found dead just a mile and a half away,"

"Huh?" was my intelligent response. "I've never even heard of Carlos Vendetti,"

"We're still under orders to question anyone within the area. Please come with us, Miss Jameson." McNab said.

I nodded and was about to close the door, when I remembered my pocket knife.

"Uh...I need to put something away. Can you give me just a second?" I asked, still ignoring Officer Marble. McNab looked at me for a moment, then nodded.

I ran back inside, tossed my pocket knife on the couch, and ran back to the policemen before they could see what I had thrown.

Once the door was closed and locked, I followed McNab down the creaky steps of my apartment building. Officer Marble stayed silent and trailed behind me, but I barely paid either of them any attention because I was lost in thought.

'Who is Carlos Vandetti?' I thought. 'I've never even heard of a Carlos Vandetti before today.'

"Miss Jameson?" McNab called as he held open the back door of the police car. I hadn't even realized that I had walked from my apartment on the third floor down to the parking lot. I shook my head and climbed into the backseat. The seat was hard and it smelled strange, like sweat and something I didn't want to try to guess.

Officer Marble- I still hadn't learned his real name- climbed into the driver's seat and cranked the ignition while McNab buckled up in the passenger seat. I had a hard time seeing anything through the bars over the windows and the glass separating the back seat from the front. We rode in silence for several minutes until we reached the Santa Barbra Police Department. The officer driving stopped the vehicle in front of the steps leading up to the doors.

McNab got out first and opened my door. He led me up the steps and into the police department. Inside, the front part of the building had desks and chattering people occupying most of them. There were at least two dozen or more people.. My mouth watered slightly when the strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit it, but it was tainted with the smell of printer ink.

A few people stopped and looked at me as I passed. Seriously, didn't they see people coming in and out of here on a daily basis? Why was everyone gawking at me? I decided to try my best to ignore them as McNab led me down a very small flight of stairs and stopped in front of a large gray door. He opened the door and ushered me inside. It was a plain, blue and gray interrogation room. All that was in there were two chairs, a table, and a mirror. I knew that it was a one-way mirror and that people on the other side would be able to see me, but not the other way around.

I took one of the two chairs and waited for someone to come in and explain to me why I was here. Man, I was bored.

After having played with every available setting and ringtone on my phone, twice, I heard the door finally open. A tall, man who looked like he was in his early forties walked in, paying more attention to the stack of folders in his hand than me. He had salt and pepper hair that was graying around the temples, icy blue eyes which were very similar to mine, and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

The man pulled out the chair opposite of me and sat down.

"I am Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. Please state your name, age, and birthday." Detective Lassiter rattled off the instructions quickly.

"Brittany Jameson. Sixteen years old. June 17, 1996." I watched him as he wrote my answers down on a notepad that he brought in.

"Where were you on the night of Wednesday the fourth Miss Jameson?" he asked without looking up from his pen and notepad.

"I was over at my old house getting the last of my things to bring into my new apartment," I said with a note of anger at the thought of my mother.

"Have you been anywhere close the gas station off of 59th within the last week?" he asked.

"Gas n' Go Away? Yeah, I was there about four days ago." I answered.

"Why?"

"My bike had a flat. I needed to repair it and that was just the nearest place to pull off of the road."I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table.

"While you were there did you see anything suspicious? Did you see any shady looking people or vehicles there?" Lassiter glanced briefly at me.

I thought back, trying to think of anything. "No, nothing... well..."

Detective Lassiter looked up at me with a small spark of interest. "Did you see something?" He repeated.

"I did see a guy only an inch or two taller than me standing close to the shadows. He kept fidgeting and looking over his shoulder."

Detective Lassiter reached into a folder and pulled out a picture of a Hispanic man, sliding it across to me. "Was this the man?"

I stared at the picture for a second, but eventually I shook my head. "No, the guy I saw was white and he had light brown hair. He was also very skinny,"

Lassiter looked down at his notepad and began scribbling out several notes. Halfway through a sentence, he looked back up at me.

"You said that you're only sixteen. Why would you move out of your parent's home? You do know it's illegal for a minor to live on their own, right?" his sky blue eyes gazed into mine, daring me to lie.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't care. I hate my mother." I stated bluntly. "She's almost never home and when she is she's overbearing, insulting, and she usually acts like she doesn't give a damn as to whether or not I die."

The detective frowned and I thought I heard him mumble something like "Sounds a bit like my ex-wife," Lassiter looked back down and continued writing.

"And what about your father?" he asked.

"Don't know. He and my mother divorced not too long before she realized that she was pregnant with me. She never got remarried, never had any long lasting relationships afterwards either," I often wondered what my father would be like. What he would look like. Was he even alive? Did he know I existed?

"What is your mother's name?"

"Camille Lynn Jameson,."

Carlton Lassiter's head shot up and he froze in place, his blue eyes wide in surprise and disbelief. Not a single muscle moved. His mouth hung open slightly and his pen clattered to the floor. Then his mouth moved in shapes like he was mouthing something, but I couldn't decipher what exactly.

Lassiter remained semi-frozen like that for five minutes. I know because I kept looking at my wristwatch to see how long it'd take for him to snap out of it. I got tired of him sitting like a statue so I snapped my fingers in front of his face a few times and called his name.

"Detective Lassiter, are you in there? Helloooooo?" Finally, he snapped out of it. Good grief.

"I'm sorry. What did you say her name was?" his voice was thick like he had something stuck in his throat or like he had been crying, which I knew he hadn't.

"Camille…Lynn… Jameson." I repeated slowly to avoid any confusion as to what her name is then I furrowed my eyebrows. "Detective, I fail to see how my family life affects your homicide case." I crossed my arms and leaned back slightly in my squeaky chair. Why did he care so much about who my mom was?

He had no response.

"Do you have any questions for me that don't regard my home life?"

Lassiter shook his head, his eyes were still widened in shock, and stood up. He motioned towards the mirror and a few seconds later a younger blonde woman walked in. Detective Carlton Lassiter walked out of the room almost as if he were in a trance.

I wondered why on earth he would have that kind of reaction when I told him my mother's name. It's not like she leaves any impression on anyone other than extreme disgust.

The newcomer sat down and introduced herself as Detective Juliet O'Hara. I noticed that she had a worried look in her eyes and she kept glancing at the door every few seconds. My guess was that she was his partner.

After ten more minutes of questioning, she let me go. "Don't leave town. We may have a few more questions for you." O'Hara said.

I walked blindly out of the police station because, for at least the second time today, my mind was lost deep in thought. I was halfway down the stairs outside when I heard a voice calling my name. It was Buzz McNab asking me if I needed a ride home; I happily accepted. I didn't want to walk the entire way.

He dropped me off at my apartment complex with a gentle smile and a friendly wave once he made sure I was safe and sound at home.

Currently, I was relaxing in my apartment, flopped over on my soft couch and enjoying my accidental day off. The trip over to the police station caused me to miss most of my shift, so I just decided to stay home for once. I needed a break for once.

'I wonder why I was brought in for questioning. Do they think that I'm a suspect or did they just think that I might have known something?'I mused. 'And what was with that detective? Why did he go all crazy when I told him who my mother was. Obviously he knows her, but how?'

I was snapped out of my musings by a sharp knock at my door. I ignored it, hoping that the person would just go away. I've had enough visitors for one day.

But, as luck would have it, they didn't. Instead, they knocked even more insistently. I sighed and rolled out of my comfy spot on the couch.

'Why can't people just leave me the hell alone? I want to be by myself for a change!' I mentally grumbled as I reached the door.

I opened it, prepared to see either some Girl Scout or possibly my landlord, but what I got was an even larger surprise.

It was Detective Carlton Lassiter.

Except, he looked different; his hair was messy like he had run his fingers through it numerous times, his blue eyes looked tired and still slightly in a daze even though a few hours ago he looked fine, and he had the look of a desperate man that had something important to say.

"Can I help you, Detective Lassiter?"

"May I come in please?" He fidgeted a bit, changing the subject.

'That was odd.' I thought, but I held the door a bit wider and motioned for him to come inside.

He took a few cautious steps in and looked around. And I closed the door behind us. I was very thankful that I had cleaned my apartment the day before when I normally would've said, "I'll do it later."

"Can I get you something? Coffee or water..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Uh, water's fine," He answered in a slightly distance voice. Okay, what was with this guy?

I quickly poured a glass of water for him and me then returned to the living room.

He hadn't moved very much since I left. All Detective Lassiter did was walk around to the front of the couch and stare at an old picture of me back when I was a little girl. It was my fifth birthday and I had just blown out the candles on my cake after wishing for my father to be there. But then again, I wished for that every year.

"Detective? I have your water," He didn't even blink at the sound of my voice.

"Detective Lassiter?" I tried again with the same results.

"Detective Lassiter, are you alright?" I asked louder. He was beginning to make me nervous. Why was he acting this way?

I finally got his attention after the third try. He managed to look away from the picture to me. I sat down on the couch and held out his water to him. Carlton Lassiter accepted the drink, then sat down heavily on the couch beside me.

We sat there in an awkward silence for a long time, not really doing anything except fidgeting and shifting slightly every once in a while. Maybe a few sips of water in between.

Eventually, I had a gut full of the silence.

"Detective Lassiter, if you don't mind me being blunt, why are you here?" I asked looking at him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, earlier today down at the station when I was interrogating you, you said something that surprised me," He said slowly.

'Okay, now I'm confused.'

"What exactly did I say?"

"How's your mother?" he asked suddenly. What the hell?

I know I looked completely confused, because that's how I felt. "She's fine… as far as I know. Detective, what does that have to deal with what we are talking about here?"

I could've sworn I heard him mumble, "Everything."

"Detective, why did you come here and why do you care about my mother when she doesn't even mean anything to you?" I was getting irritated. He was skirting around my questions.

"Yes, she does." Lassiter growled out frustrated. "She meant everything to me for a long time."

I raised my eyebrow at this. "How?" I asked suddenly curious, but no longer miffed from earlier.

He was quiet for a long while then he took a couple of deep, steadying breaths.

"I was her husband."

My eyes widened slightly. 'There's no way he was married to her!'

"I don't believe you. There's no way you could've been her husband!" I shook my head in denial.

"You want proof? I know every little detail about her," Lassiter said, looking me dead in the eye. I felt like a deer in headlights. "She hates the color orange, she always watches bad crime dramas late at night, she loves lavender bubble bath, and she studied for five years to become a professional dancer, but her career was ended when she broke her left ankle when she was in her early teens,"

I sat in front of Detective Lassiter with nothing but heartbreaking disbelief on my face. My mouth refused to close, so I sat there like a gaping fish.

'There is no way on this earth that he could've known that if he wasn't close to her. She never told anyone anything about herself if she didn't truly care about them and if she didn't truly trust them. If she trusted him that much then that means…'

As he sat across from me, Carlton Lassiter looked me in straight in the eye and said in a clear firm voice:

"Brittany, I'm your father."

Genie: Weeeeeeell, what did you think?

Shawn: ...

Genie: Shawn, are you ok?

Shawn: OH MY GOSH! SHE'S LASSIE'S DAUGHTER?

Genie: *laughs* YUP!

*Gus walks in* Who has a daughter?

Shawn: LASSIE! Lassie has a daughter!

Gus: ...

*Brittany pokes head in*That would be me. Reviews are like hugs.

Genie: So send us some hugs!

Shawn: And we'll send you a pineapple!

Gus: No, we won't Shawn.

Genie: Send me some reviews!