Shawn was relaxing on her couch, watching the news and drinking a beer, when she noticed the store manager's nervous twitch. She picked up the phone and called the tip hotline.

"Santa Barbara Police Department, how may I help you?" A voice said.

"Hello, yes, it was the store manager." Shawn said.

"Pardon me?"

"The stereo robberies. The guy is on Channel 8 News, right now. The nervous twitches, with his hands, dead give away. Anyone with a good set of eyes can see that." Shawn explained.

"Okay, and your name?"

"My name? My name is Shawn, Spencer." Shawn replied with a sigh.

"Okay, and is there anything else?" The operator asked.

"That's going to do it." Then Shawn noticed something else on the television. "Actually the tags on the news van license plate are expired, but that's completely unrelated."

Shawn thought that would be the end of it, so when she received a call the next day asking her to come down to the police station, she just assumed it would be to collect a check. She hopped off her motorcycle and pulled off her helmet. She always had her hair in a ponytail and pinned to her head to keep it out of her way. But she always threw a hat on to cover up the messy look, and it helped to keep all her hair in one place. She hadn't cut her hair since she was 21, and that had been out of necessity for a job.

She walked up the steps, making sure her hat was on securely, and entered the station. She spotted the front desk officer, tried to get her attention, only to be rudely pointed to a bench where a rather large man was sitting. Being bored, she observed everything around her, trying to pick things up in case she needed it later. She even tried to help the guy next to her get rid of some evidence, but of course that didn't work out properly. Eventually, the officer she had observed dancing, probably practicing for his wedding, came to get her. She just assumed she was needed somewhere to sign for the check.

So when she was put into an interrogation room with a pretty blonde and guy who look slightly constipated, she was surprised.

"What's going on?" She asked. The constipated guy smiled, Shawn could only assume for the first time in a while, and motioned her over to the table.

"Why don't you tell us?" He asked.

"Well I was just dragged down here, I don't even know why I'm here, or who you are for that matter." Shawn stated.

"It doesn't matter, what matters is what we know about you Mr. Spencer." The guy said, opening up a file.

"Mr. Spencer is my father. It's Shawn, or I'm gone." Shawn said sternly. She realized something and smirked. "Hey that rhymed! And anyways I'm not even-"

"Shut up Mr. Spencer." The male detective ordered. Shawn opened her mouth to correct him again, but he just continued talking. "I'm Head Detective Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police Department. We just have a couple questions for you."

"Like what?" Shawn asked, relaxing in her chair.

"Like where were you the night of the robbery?" The female detective answered. Lassiter had walked around the table and was standing behind the detective, and Shawn observed him touching her hair.

"I was robbing the store." Shawn said with a serious face and voice. Lassiter perked up at this, and almost had a smile on his face. The half smile was forced and it was kind of scary.

"Perfect! Could you just write out your confession and we can get through this before dinner." Lassiter said.

"I was kidding. I was at work, getting fired, and I thought you guys already got the guy? The store manager, right?" Shawn wanted to make sure that these guys weren't completely incompetent.

"We arrested him, but he had a partner." Lassiter said.

"What you want me to find him to?" Shawn was starting to get pissed off. What happened to the efficient police station that was run when her father was around? "I'm confused, when do you start chipping in?"

"See your information was so good, too good, in fact, for you to be innocent." Lassiter said with his scary smirk again.

"Look I've called in dozens of tips."

"I've checked those. You claim to figure all these things out by watching the Channel 8 News?" Lassiter questioned.

"Correction, sometimes I watch Channel 5 News. Channel 8 just has a hotter broadcast team." Shawn said with a smirk, thinking about the really hot new guy they just brought on.

"Right…" Lassiter trailed on.

"Look, you can't keep me here. I know my rights." Shawn said, getting up. She made it to the door before the detective with a stick shoved up his butt spoke again.

"Good, then you know you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law." Lassiter began to say.

'Shit.' Shawn thought as she opened the door to see the dancing officer outside it. The last time she had been read her rights, it was by her father. This brought back darker memories.

"You have a right to an attorney, if you can not afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights that have been read to you?" Lassiter finished up.

"What, guys come on?" Shawn protested.

"Just give us a reason Mr. Spencer." The lady detective said.

"Alright for the last time its not-"

"No! It is too late for that!" Lassiter ordered. "Officer Donovan, book him."

Shawn turned to see the woman that had ignored her in favor of her phone call coming to grab her with a determined look on her face. She glanced at the holding cell that was just outside of the interrogation room. Considering these idiot officers never bothered to check her true gender, she would be put with the scary men in said cell. She couldn't let that happen, she was scrawny, didn't have anything on her chest area. She wouldn't be able to last in there, so she thought quickly.

"Alright I confess!" Shawn said loudly, pulling her hands up. She glanced at the officer that was about to put cuffs on her, and a memory popped into her head. The officer had said something about seeing people who could speak to the dead. Shawn had her idea.

"I am a psychic."