"Shawn?"

The voice from above him was soft and distant.

At first, Shawn wasn't sure he really even heard it.

"Shawn."

This time, he was sure.

He slowly opened his eyes, but the world around him was blurry and unfocused and the blinding pain in his arm was growing worse by the second.

He didn't have to be able to see anything to know who was speaking, however.

"Jules?"

His voice was so weak that for a moment he wondered if had said anything at all…

Maybe he had just dreamed it…

"I'm here."

The world was slowly fading back into view. He could feel Juliet's fingers on his scalp, gently running through his hair.

"My dad…" he whispered, finally able to see her face above him.

"I don't know." She shook her head quietly. "He's still breathing…I radioed for an ambulance…but I don't know, Shawn."

He opened his mouth to ask what had happened…why she was there at all…why he was still alive…but he didn't have the strength.

And when he saw Felix's body on the floor a few feet away, a neat bullet hole between the eyes, he didn't have to ask, anyway.

He already knew.

He closed his eyes again and let his head fall into Juliet's lap as her fingers continued to run in soothing circles around his scalp.

"You'll be okay…" she murmured.

"Dad…"

"He'll be okay."

Shawn was unconscious again before the ambulance arrived.

He never heard the sirens, never saw the EMTs take Henry out on the stretcher, never heard them say it was probably too late…

The next sound he heard and was really aware of was Juliet voice, once again coming softly from above him.

"You awake?" It asked.

Shawn blinked into the harsh florescent lights of the hospital room, for a minute trying to remember what had happened.

"Yeah…" he nodded, his voice still sounding hoarse and gritty. "I'm awake."

"Good."

She smiled and perched on the edge of the bed. Shawn looked at her, the events of the last few hours slowly coming back to him.

"How's my dad?"

"I don't know. He's still in surgery…they won't know anything for at least a few more hours."

"Oh."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"You figured it out." Shawn said finally, wincing as he tried to sit up. Both arms were in slings and his shoulder ached with every breath he took.

"Yeah." She confirmed. "I did, but it took me a while. Longer than it should have."

She paused, running her fingers absently over the sheets.

"When you told me to call you back at the same number, I knew it meant something." She continued a moment later. "I ran a check on the number, but it was just a cell phone. A stolen cell phone, it turned out. But then I remembered you said you didn't know where you were and you didn't have your cell phone…and I realized you didn't want me to run a check on the number at all. Cell phones have built-in GPS. They're like tracking devices. As long as the phone is turned on, you can pinpoint its location to within three miles. Once I found out your dad was working on that case you wanted me to dig up and I saw the three mile radius was near his house, it didn't take me long to figure out where you were. I was on my way before I even called you back. I heard the gunshots over the phone after you dropped it…I got there just in time."

Shawn nodded.

"I couldn't tell you what was going on. Jaques…"

"I know. He had your dad, right?"

Shawn fell back into the pillow, staring blankly up at the white stucco ceiling.

"Yeah."

"What did he want?" Juliet asked, her hand resting on his ankle. "Why did you need to know about the case?"

"He said he didn't do it." Shawn mumbled, attempting to shrug. "He said he killed the others, but he didn't kill Natalie Goldsmith. He thought my dad set him up. He wanted me to prove he was innocent."

"He confessed to the other murders?" Juliet sounded confused. "Why?"

"Why not? He was going to kill us both, anyway. What difference did it make? We weren't going to tell anyone."

Juliet nodded thoughtfully, trying to absorb everything.

"I guess now we'll never know if he really killed Natalie Goldsmith."

"We know." Shawn snorted, looking over at her. "Of course we know."

"We do?" She blinked, surprised by his confident assertion.

"You said it yourself, Jules. His MO changed with that murder. He got sloppy and the victim wasn't a customer from the photo place like the others were. He had a personal connection to her. He didn't have a personal connection to the others. Besides, he was convinced my dad planted the gun, which means he didn't know the gun was at his house. Someone was setting him up, Jules. Someone who knew enough about the murders to commit a copy-cat murder."

"A copy-cat?" She repeated, not sounding convinced.

"A copy-cat who had access to Jaques' house and who wanted Natalie Goldsmith dead." Shawn nodded. "It was his brother, Jules. He had been dating Natalie. It must have gone south. The brother must have known Felix was being investigated for the other murders…he must have known he was guilty somehow. Maybe Felix told him. Maybe he kept some kind of souvenirs from the killings that his brother found…probably pictures. That's how his brother knew about the duct taped hands behind the back. Whatever it was, his brother figured it was the perfect chance to get rid of Natalie and blame the murder on someone else. Since he knew Felix did the others, it wasn't a big deal to pin one more on him…of course, he didn't know that would be the only one he'd get nailed for."

Juliet shook her head, once again awed.

"And you figured all that out while you were unconscious?"

Shawn shrugged.

"What else was I going to do?"

Two Weeks Later…

"I don't need you to drive me home from the hospital, Shawn." Henry grumbled, sulking in the passenger's seat of the truck.

"Yeah…okay." Shawn rolled his eyes. "You just shattered every bone in your right ankle. You can't even walk on it!"

"Well, you only have one arm!" Henry shot back, indicating the sling around Shawn's left arm. "And you only got use of your other one back a few days ago!"

"Okay…first of all, you're down an arm, too." Shawn pointed out, elbowing his father's own sling. "And, secondly, I only need one arm to drive. But you can't drive if you can't even move your right ankle."

"You need two hands to drive, Shawn." Henry informed him shortly. "Didn't you pay attention at all in that Driver's Ed class I shelled out 200 for? Hands at 10 and 2!"

"Don't you watch rap videos?" Shawn snorted. "12 and 0 is the new 10 and 2."

He perched his good hand at the top of the wheel and spun it like a top as he maneuvered around a sharp right turn. The tires squealed, leaving a sizable black streak across the pavement.

"Knock it off!" Henry snapped. "You're going to get us killed!"

"Hey! At least I don't invite gun-wielding psychos over for pajama parties!"

Henry's mouth clamped shut.

For a long moment, he didn't have a comeback.

"I told you to get the hell out, Kid." He said finally. "It's not my fault you didn't listen."

"I know."

Neither of them wanted to talk about that night.

Neither of them wanted to remember…though, of course, they would never be able to forget.

"I didn't set him up." Henry continued, knowing someone had to say something.

"I know."

"He did it. He confessed to the others. You heard him. The son of a bitch was guilty as hell, Shawn."

Shawn smiled to himself.

Though he would never admit it, Henry wasn't telling Shawn it wasn't his fault.

He wasn't telling Shawn he hadn't been wrong.

He was asking.

Hoping…

He can't be wrong… Shawn realized, glancing at his father out of the corner of his eye.

If he was wrong about the case, then it's his fault…

Henry was still talking, staring out the window so he wouldn't have to look at his son.

"I've missed things before." He was saying. "But not that time. Not that case. I didn't miss a damn thing."

"I know." Shawn agreed quietly. "You didn't miss anything. He was guilty as hell."