Hours later, Gus was sitting in his chair at the Psych office, eating popcorn and watching a still picture on the TV screen.  Shawn had paused the movie to get something to drink.

“Hurry up!  The longer the movie stays on pause, the shorter the amount of time before the screen is ruined,” Gus said, looking over at Shawn.

He stopped eating immediately.  Shawn was downright distraught; which was an instant red flag for his best friend.

“Shawn?  What is it?” Gus asked.

The faux psychic turned away from Gus, as if embarrassed.  He shook his head, but didn’t speak.

Gus wasn’t going to give up.  He turned off the TV, dropped the remote on the chair and stood by his best buddy.

“What’s wrong?  Is this about Juan?” Gus prodded.

He heard Shawn take a deep breath and let it out slow, “Not completely.  It’s part of it, but there’s something else.  It’s nothing you need to worry about, buddy.  Look, I’m going to head over to Dad’s for a few minutes.  He wanted me to come over anyway.  Probably to clean out something or grab one of my old boxes.  I’ll be back in a while, okay?”

“How?  You don’t have your bike anymore?” Gus asked with a sly grin.

Shawn matched the grin with his own, “I don’t suppose I can borrow the Blueberry?”

Gus dangled the keys, “Not unless I drive.”

“Oh, come on!  I told you I have to go alone.  You know how my dad is when he gets upset with me,” Shawn whined.

“No way, Shawn.  Last time you drove, I had to pay to get the pineapple juice out of the seat,” Gus answered.

“I couldn’t help it!  I told you, I dropped it when someone swerved in front of me.  If I hadn’t dropped my juice, the Blueberry would be in pieces.  In essence, I saved the car by dropping the juice!”

Gus tsked, “Man, come on!  I’ll drive!”

Shawn sighed, knowing he was defeated, for now.  He had to get away from Gus soon, but he figured he might as well humor him for now. 

‘I just have to figure out what Juan was doing here.  He’d been deported years ago and banned from the U.S.’ Shawn thought as he climbed into the passenger side of the Blueberry.

The silence was deafening to Gus on the way to Henry’s house.  Shawn was quiet; too quiet.  Gus did not like Brooding Shawn.  Usually, when he made an appearance, the day dragged by.

“Shawn, how did you know Juan?” Gus asked as they stopped at a red light.

Shawn felt a little surprised at the question.  He wasn’t expecting Gus to push any further.  Then he mentally smacked himself. 

‘Of course he’d keep pushing.  I would,’ Shawn thought.

“I met him while I was traveling,” Shawn answered.

“So, you did know him a long time?” Gus asked.

“Yep.  I…I lived with his family for a while in,” he paused, then figured Gus wouldn’t stop until he got an answer, “Mexico.”

“Wait, you never mentioned you were in Mexico before that little trip we took not too long ago,” Gus stated, recalling the crazy border case with Juliet’s step-father and Shawn’s dad.

“Well, there are a few places I ended up that you and Dad didn’t know about.  But, that’s not important right now.  What’s important is why Juan was here?” Shawn questioned.

“Visiting?” Gus suggested.

Shawn shook his head, “No.  Juan was deported about fifteen years ago because of some criminal activity.  Drugs.  He was banned from the U.S.  He wouldn’t have come back unless he was in trouble.”

“Maybe he got back into the drugs?” Gus offered. 

“I don’t know.  Head to the station.  Let’s go talk to Woody.  He could tell us if Juan had any drugs in his system,” Shawn said.

Gus complied and turned the wheel toward the SBPD.  “You think he’s got the tests back by now?”

“Knowing Woody, he won’t need tests,” Shawn said with a grin.

When they arrived, the duo snuck into the building, crossing fingers they wouldn’t run into Lassie or Jules; at least until they had some answers from the coroner.

They made it to the morgue without so much as a tie flashing around; which somewhat surprised them. 

“Woody!  Think you can do us a favor and keep it from…” Shawn called. 

The detectives stopped suddenly.  Lassie and Juliet were already in there, talking to Woody over Juan’s body.

“Hello, Spencer.  Nice of you to finally join us,” Lassie chided.

Shawn took a deep breath, “Lassie-face, shouldn’t you be home snuggling with your wife?”

Woody jumped in, “I used to snuggle with my wife.  Until I realized I was snuggling with a teddy bear with both eyes missing and a smell of a strong aftershave.”

Four blank looks were all Woody got in response, so he went back to the body, “Juan Muses.  Age of forty-five.  Killed by five shots from the gun you brought in, Detective Lassiter.”

“Were there any drugs in his system?” Shawn asked quickly.

Woody looked a little taken aback at the boldness of the psychic, but complied as he looked at the file. 

“There were a few traces of cocaine in his system.  A few days old, at least,” Woody read from the file.

The others in the room couldn’t help but notice the pained look on Shawn’s face.  Lassiter, in a rare move, put his hand on Shawn’s shoulder, “Looks like your friend needed a hit badly.”

“Never were very good with tact, were you Detective?” Karen asked as she walked in.  Behind her was Henry.

“Dad?  What are you doing here?” Shawn asked.

“Karen called me in, after reading the statement that said you knew this guy.  How could you know him?” Henry pointed at the body.

“Dad, it’s rude to point at a body!” Shawn joked. 

Inside his head, Shawn ran through the last couple of days he’d spent with Juan.

Juan sat down in a wooden chair, opposite Shawn and Juan’s wife, Maria.  He’d just gotten out of rehab after two months.  He looked at Shawn and nodded.

“It’s over, amigo.  No more cocaine.  I will never touch the stuff again,” Juan crossed his heart.

Shawn smiled, “I know you’ll be true to your word, Juan.  No need for The Red Shadow to apprehend you.”

Juan chuckled, “No, no need for that, El Sombra Rojo.”

Maria stood up and walked over to her husband, looking at Shawn after hugging her beloved, “Thank you, Shawn, for what you’ve been doing for all of us here in San Felipe.”

“Until El Burro is in custody, El Sombra Rojo will continue on,” Shawn said.

“I did hear something today when they released me.  El Burro is on the move.  Tonight is a huge shipment of cocaine.  Marcos plans on flooding the border with it by tomorrow,” Juan offered.

“Not if The Red Shadow has any say in it,” Shawn said as he picked up the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Maria asked.

“Lt. Rodriguez.  I’m going to give him an anonymous tip about the shipment,” Shawn replied as he dialed the phone number to the San Felipe Police Department.

“Shawn?  Shawn, are you all right?” Juliet asked, breaking him out of his daydream.

He blinked and looked at his girlfriend (was it still okay to call her that?) and nodded, “Yeah, Jules, I’m fine.  Just remembering the last time I saw Juan alive.  Woody, could the cocaine been forced on him?”

Woody looked at his file, “Yes.  There were abrasions in his throat and under his nose.  Either that or he ate something really sharp.”

“I doubt that, Woodster, but Juan told me, after two months in rehab, he’d never touch the stuff again.  He was a man of his word,” Shawn stated seriously.

“Drug addicts promise they’ll straighten up all the time, then they fall right back into old habits, Spencer,” Lassiter said matter-of-factly.

Shawn pounded his fist on the countertop beside him, “NO!  Juan wasn’t like that!  He stayed true to his word!”

With that, Shawn bolted out of the morgue, breathing heavy and full of anger.

Lassiter raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think, in all the years we’ve known him, I’ve ever seen him get that angry.”

“Shawn has been angry before, Lassiter,” Henry said, “He just usually has a different way of showing it.  I’ll be back.”

Henry walked out after his son, wondering what was going on with the younger Spencer.  It wasn’t like he’d never seen Shawn get so ticked that he would walk off.  But now, with all that they’ve been through, Henry didn’t want to see his son suffer. 

Through some doors and down some stairs, Henry stopped and watched.  Shawn took aim and fired a shot.  Then another and another.

When he was changing clips, Henry took the opportunity.  He walked into the firing range and watched his son reload.

“Shawn?  Is there something you want to talk about?” he asked.

“Not really, Dad,” Shawn said shortly.

Shawn picked up the gun and pointed it at the new target.  Henry watched; impressed that his son, no matter how hard he’d fought the teachings, had learned how to stand and hold a gun. 

Firing ten rounds, Shawn dropped the gun and looked at his dad.  His eyes were wide, but clear.  He pushed the button and brought the target to the front.

Henry looked and saw the holes all in a circle; perfectly centered on the target.  Looking closer, he saw that Shawn had made a smiley face on the target’s head.  He shook his head and chuckled.

“You always have to make a joke, don’t you?” he asked with a laugh.

“You know me, Dad.  It’s how I roll,” Shawn replied, smiling.

Inside, Shawn was saddened by the death of his friend and, really, only other person who knew about his double life back in Mexico.  He had never even shared his vigilante days with Gus, with whom he shared everything with.

‘I’ll find out who killed you, Juan, and I’ll make sure they pay,’ Shawn promised.