Gus tried to focus enough to read the headline on the newspaper. No matter how many times he squeezed his eyes shut, every time he opened them he saw the same words: “Veronica Mason Innocent.” Of course that would be the lead-in story in any afternoon paper. But Santa Barbara didn’t have an afternoon paper.

Gus snatched the newspaper out of Tara’s hand and felt lightning bolts of pain shoot up him arm. He squinted through the tears of pain clouding his eyes and tried to make out the date above the headlines. “Shawn, this is tomorrow’s paper.”

Tara let out an excited gasp. “You get newspapers from the future?”

“Ever since a man named Lucius Snow saved my life as a child,” Shawn said. “He gave me the gift… and the great responsibility that comes with it.”

“That’s amazing,” Tara said.

“That’s not you,” Gus said. “It’s Kyle Chandler in Early Edition .”

“Next you’re going to tell me I don’t coach high school football in small-town Texas, either,” Shawn said. “That poor Jason Street. What’s he going to do with his life now that he’s in a wheelchair?”

“Shawn! This newspaper is from Wednesday. The trial was on Tuesday.”

“And on Thursday, it’s dollar day at BurgerZone.”

“What I’m trying to say, Shawn, is how long was I unconscious?”

“Not that long,” Shawn said.

“How long?”

“Remember Titanic?”

“Sure.”

“About that long.”

“That was only four hours,” Gus said. “She hit me before lunch.”

“Sorry,” Shawn said. “How long it felt.”

“Oh, my God.”

Tara kneeled down next to the couch and took Gus’ free hand. “It was a long, long night, and a longer morning,” she said. “But Shawn was with you every minute of that time.”

“And now we’re going to get the guy who did this to you,” Shawn said.

“The impound attendant?”

“Exactly. He’s hiding something, and he thought he could scare us away by waving his shotgun at us.”