"Detective Lassiter!"

Carlton turned, expecting to see Shawn Spencer tagging along with his friend, but it was only Gus.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, I hope so," Gus answered, licking his lips nervously. "Have you seen Shawn? He was supposed to meet me here an hour ago."

Shaking his head, Lassiter took a drink of coffee and picked a file off his desk. "You know, I would love to help you track Spencer down, but I have actual police work to do."

Gus hurried after the detective as he strode down the hall. "Look, Lassiter, Shawn has never been late with something like this."

Carlton scoffed. "When is Spencer ever on time?"

"When he's about to crack a case. He had me come down because he solved the Milton murders!"

That stopped Lassiter in his tracks.

The Milton murders were a very puzzling case. There was no suspect, no identified murder weapon, no motive. Just seven random people, nothing in common, killed on the same street-Milton Street. The coroner had said the weapon had been long and thin, made of some type of metal. The case had been open for three months. "You're trying to tell me-oh, forget it. Why am I even surprised anymore?" He looked up at the ceiling, wondering why. Why he hadn't solved the case himself. Why Shawn Spencer was constantly on his nerves. Why the ceiling was never painted.

"Detective Lassiter?"

With a sigh, Carlton returned his attention to Gus. "Have you tried calling him?"

"Yes," Gus answered, a little offended. "Every five minutes on the dot. No answer."

Lassiter returned to his desk and pulled up the GPS tracker to trace Shawn's mobile. Its final location was...

"Some shack in the middle of nowhere?" Lassiter frowned. Something wasn't right about this... He slipped an extra gun into his ankle holster and stood. Gus followed him out to his car.

"Did Spencer tell you who he suspected?"

"Not really, but he seemed to think it was a guy named Homer Jones."

"Where does he live?" Gus gave him the address, which Carlton quickly mapped in his head. No more than three miles from the shed. The feeling of dread grew in the pit of his stomach. "And Spencer said he was coming directly to the station?"

"Yeah," Gus confirmed. "He was on his way when he called me earlier. He sounded pretty freaked out."

"That's what I was afraid of," Lassiter muttered, switching on the sirens.