A Fatal Frame of Mind

Table of Contents

 

 

“Professor, I understand how long you’ve wanted to see this painting, but this is not the time,” Gus said. “After we clear your name, you’ll be able to study it as much as you want. But now we’ve got to go.”

“That’s the problem,” Shawn said. “That painting is the only way to clear his name.”

Kitteredge looked at Shawn as if revising an earlier opinion of him. “The painting is the reason Filkins was killed,” Kitteredge said. “I’m convinced it contains essential clues to the identity and purpose of this global conspiracy. . . . They knew I would be able to decipher its secret message. They had to shut me up, so they killed poor Clay and framed me for it.”

“The picture’s a hundred and fifty years old,” Gus said. “Even if it does have all those clues in it, how is it going to help you identify the actual murderers?”

“I’ll know when I have a chance to study it,” Kitteredge said. . . .

OBSIDIAN

Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

First Printing, August 2010

Copyright © NBC Universal Inc., 2010.
Psych
is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. All rights reserved

eISBN : 978-1-101-45880-8

 

OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

PUBLIS HER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

 

 

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

 

T
here had to be a way out of this. Shawn was only eleven years old. His life couldn’t be over already. There was so much he hadn’t done yet. He hadn’t even kissed a girl. Not that he felt any sense of loss over that particular nonexperience, but it was only one of a million things he’d been told he’d get to do “when he got older.”

That was back in a more innocent time, when he could peer into the future and see something other than four blank walls and a barred door.

Shawn rolled off his bed and went to the window. Cracking open the blinds, he peered out.

The man in the gray suit was still standing in front of the house. His government-issued sedan was still parked across the street. His jacket still bulged with the outline of his gun. There was no way Shawn could get past him.

And now Shawn’s life was about to get even worse. Because his father’s truck had just turned the corner and was pulling into the garage. In a couple of seconds Henry Spencer would walk to his front steps, and he would stop to talk to the man in the gray suit. If he had been a kind father, a considerate father, a loving father, he would have simply ignored the fact that a federal agent was standing guard over their house until Shawn had had a chance to explain. But Henry was a cop long before he was a dad, and Shawn knew that the law enforcement officer part of him would always take over in moments of crisis.

Shawn watched in mounting horror as Henry walked up to the man in gray, then looked up at his window. Shawn ducked behind his blinds, but not before he saw a look of panic flash over his father’s face.

Shawn stared around the room, praying that a trapdoor or a secret panel or a transporter chamber had materialized since he’d gone to school this morning. But there was no escape route, and he could already hear Henry’s heavy steps pounding up the stairs to his bedroom.

Before Shawn could begin to formulate a plan, his door blasted open and Henry was in the room. But this was a Henry he’d never seen before. Shawn expected his father to be angry. Or furious. Or so filled with rage that his skin was turning green and his muscles bursting out of his clothes.

But this was worse than anything Shawn had ever seen. Henry Spencer looked scared.

“Are you all right, son?” he asked, getting down on one knee and hugging Shawn close.

“I’m fine,” Shawn said, wishing desperately there was some way to ease his father’s fear. “This is really all a big misunderstanding.”

“That’s not how Calderone is going to see it,” Henry said. He gave Shawn one more squeeze, then marched to the closet and pulled out his suitcase.

“I’m just a kid,” Shawn said. “Calderone isn’t going to do anything to me.”

“You’re damn right he’s not,” Henry said. He tossed the suitcase on the bed and started pulling clothes out of Shawn’s dresser. “Because he’s never going to find you.”

“He’s not even looking for me,” Shawn said.

Henry crammed clothes into the suitcase. “As soon as word gets out, he will be,” he said. “And I’ve seen what Calderone does to informants. I’m never going to let that happen to you.”

“Dad, it’s really not a big deal,” Shawn said.

Henry forced the suitcase shut, then got back down on one knee so he could look Shawn in the eye. “I wish that was true, son,” he said. “But you overheard two of Calderone’s lieutenants describing a deal that’s about to do down. That makes you a threat to the biggest drug kingpin in the Northern Hemisphere.”

“I’m not that big a threat,” Shawn said.

“You could take down his whole operation,” Henry said. “And he’ll stop at nothing to make sure you never have the chance. Which is why you have to go with Agent Wenzel.”

Henry took the suitcase off the bed and handed it to Shawn. Then he went to the window and waved at the man in the gray suit, who nodded back at him and headed into the house.

“Go where?” Shawn said.

“I can’t know,” Henry said. “I can never know. Because that way, when Calderone’s men come looking for you, I won’t be able to tell them. No matter what they do to me.”

There was a rap on the door. Henry opened it to reveal the man in the gray suit standing there. “Is he ready?” Agent Wenzel said. “Jet’s waiting.”

“Jet?” Shawn said.

“To take you to your new home,” Henry said, and then his voice cracked. “To your new family. I’m sure they’ll love you every bit as much as I do.”

Henry turned away to hide his tears. Agent Wenzel came into the room and grabbed Shawn’s arm. “Hope you packed for the snow, kid,” he said. “Gets mighty cold where you’re going.”

Agent Wenzel started to drag Shawn out of the room. “Wait!” Shawn shouted. “This is all a mistake!”

Henry couldn’t bring himself to look at his son. “If only it were,” he said. “If only you hadn’t overheard that conversation.”

“I didn’t overhear anything!” Shawn said. “I made it all up!”

There was a moment of silence in the room. Then Shawn felt Wenzel’s grip tighten on his arm. At the same moment, Henry turned back to him, a gleam in his eye.