Hey Y'all, I'm back!
Hope you guys are doing great, and I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long. Thank you for all the support, and reviews.
For those of you who haven't read 'Of Candy Bars and Golden Retrievers,' I advise you go back and do so before you get into this one, so you have some explanation behind this AU insanity.
For the rest of you, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, and if you could answer in the comments that'd awesome.
1) What did I do right?
2) What did I do wrong?
3) What could I improve?
4) Was anyone too ooc?
5) Were there any plot holes you'd like me to explain?
6) And any additional thoughts.
Thank you, my lovelies! Now on with the story!
LL
Edit: For those of you who saw that little freak out the text did, I think I fixed it. Feel free to tell me otherwise, though!
ooOXxXOoo
It was nearing one in the morning. The apartment was dim, only light by the streetlamp outside. The room was large and well decorated. It looked alive, as if someone had just gotten up from the couch.
The eyes watched cautiously, and a bit resentfully. The one living here should not be able to afford it. Could not. The eyes had been watching for days and had never seen the tenant go to work, once.
It was a small matter though.
The door to the apartment swung open. A man stepped through, disheveled and exhausted, completely oblivious to the eyes watching his every move. He plodded to fridge and grabbed a beer as he began shuffling through the mail grasped in his hand.
He ripped open one of the letters and scanned it quickly before smiling and placing it back in the envelope. He through the others onto the counter and walked into the other room, unaware that he was being watched.
The eyes analyzed the man. Curious but wary, and with an edge of danger. Who was this man? Why was he here?
Didn't matter, the eyes decided in the end, he was here. He was awake, so he'd be dealt with.
The eyes moved forward, creeping through the living room from it's shadowed alcove, stopping only when it heard the footsteps draw near. It would be done tonight.
ooOXxXOoo
The man stood in the bathroom, peeling off the days dirty clothes. As each piece hit the floor his humming became louder.
He flicked on the shower. As he waited for the water to heat up, he walked back to the mirror and grabbed a towel from under the sink. He set it on the counter a stepped into the shower.
The heat of the water made him sigh as he turned his head up toward the spray.
"Well the dark~… shines around you liars." He sang into the bottle of shampoo. "I feel the pain~… of compromise, and when the dark~… shines around you liars~, I feel the pain… of compromise. It makes me want to explode~!"
He hears a noise, soft, and barely there. The man, suspicious and wary, steps out of the shower. He slides into his loose sweats and opens the door quietly.
On the bed is his partner, who is standing behind the door frame to the study. The man steps carefully behind the doorway to the living room and nods at his partner.
Quickly, both swing low through their respective door frames and carefully look around the next.
The man slides through the room, looking carefully around. He couldn't see anyone, but the counter was obstructing most of his view.
Inching he way around the island, he saw an indistinct shape crouched down. It appeared to be turned away.
The man, not wanted to lose the advantage, tackled the shape to the ground.
The shape, reacting faster than normal, tossed the man off and stood quickly. He launched a kick at the shape followed by a quick punch to the ribs. The man was satisfied to hear a crack and a muffled moan.
The shape, however, fought through the pain and launched it's own attack, shoving him backwards into the living room, and attempted to sweep his legs from under him followed by an elbow. The sweep doesn't connect, but the elbow cracks into his nose.
The man winced as blood begins running, but performed his own sweep and knocked the shape on it's back. He snatched his keys from the coffee table and flicks the pocket knife open, holding it against the shape's neck.
The light flicked on as the man's partner rushed into the room.
"Dean?"
"Heya, Sammy." The shape replied, a grin on his face even as he very carefully doesn't move.
"Wait a minute, you're Dean? Sam's brother?" The man asked a little nasally, retracting his blade.
"Yeah." Sam confirmed. "Though I don't know why he didn't just knock."
The man rolled his eyes at the two of them and offers Dean a hand. The older Winchester accepts it and is pulled to his feet with a hard yank.
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked. "And why didn't you call?"
"Would you have picked up if I had?" Dean asked raising an eyebrow.
"Probably." Sam replied quickly. The man couldn't help but notice that Dean seemed honestly surprised by that statement. But the brother let it rest for the moment.
"Anyway, I gotta borrow your roomie here, and talk about some private family business." Dean tried to signal Sam.
Sam, however, rolled his eyes and strode over to the man and tilted his head up, looking at the bloodied and slightly crooked nose.
"I don't think it's broken." Sam told him as he winced. "But you're definitely gonna need to get it checked out."
"You're such a mom." The man complained, but accepted the dishtowel for his nose.
Sam rolled his eyes again and let his hand fall to his side, turning back to his brother.
Dean had a light in his eyes that said he had his suspicions but didn't have any proof. They could be best friends, for all he knew.
Sam didn't much feel like correcting him.
"I'm pretty sure I cracked your ribs, though." The man said, clutching the towel to his nose. "Maybe even broken."
Dean grimaced and nodded his agreement. "Who the Hell are you, anyway? Jackie Chan?"
"Gabe," he replied with a smirk. "Feel free to call me senpai, though."
Dean's eyes widened a bit at that statement and a almost imperceptible blush spread across his nose, he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to a bemused Sam.
"Seriously, though. I do need to talk to you privately." Dean said, changing the topic rather abruptly.
"Whatever you need to say, you can say it here." Sam decided, not budging from his position next to Gabe.
"Okay…" Dean breathed deeply. "So, dad hasn't been home in a few days."
"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift." Sam told him, rolling his eyes. "He'll stumble back sooner or later."
"Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days." Dean once again tried to signal Sam to get rid of Gabe.
This, strangely, failed.
"So, dad's missing, huh?" Sam sighed and pulled out a chair, sitting down. "What about the Amherst case? Or the on in Clifton? He was missing then, what makes this any different?"
Dean, a little puzzled by Sam's apparent acceptance, answers, "Not for this long. He's in trouble, I can feel it."
Sam looked at him carefully. "What was he hunting?"
"Uh," Dean reached into his pocket, wincing as he moved his ribs. He pulled out a piece of paper, an article. With a careful look at Gabe, who was watching him carefully, he read out a summary. "He was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," he handed Sam the article, "vanished. They found his car abandoned but he was gone. Completely MIA."
"Could've been kidnapped." Sam theorized quickly.
"Yeah…" Another careful look was thrown at Gabe, but he continued. "'Cept there were more. One in April, and one in December '04, '03, '98, '92. Ten in the past twenty years. All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road.
"It started happening more and more, so Dad went digging. That was three weeks ago. Haven't heard anything since, which is bad enough. But then I got this."
Sam accepted the phone Dean offered, the voicemail cued to play. Instead of pressing it to his ear like Dean wanted, though, he played it on speaker.
"Dean… something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may… Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger."
It was quiet for a moment.
"That's a lot of EVP." Gabe spoke up, pulling the towel away from his face.
Dean turned a startled face from Sam to Gabe then back again. "He's a hunter? You're a hunter?"
"Former." Gabe confirmed. Dean went to ask a question, but Sam interrupted.
"Did you pull out the EVP, though?"
"Uh…" Dean glanced once more at the newly revealed hunter, before pulling a tape recorder out of his pocket and hitting play.
A woman's voice rang out, quiet and seemingly in pain. "I can never go home…"
Dean hit the stop button.
"Never go home…" Sam repeated carefully as Gabe wandered over to him and picked up the article now sitting abandoned on the table.
"Hm." Was all he said.
"So." Dean began. "Will you come with me?"
Sam looked up at Gabe who, in turn, gave him a significant look that Dean couldn't decipher.
"I want you back by Monday, 8 o'clock in the morning. Understood?" Gabe said after a moment.
"What's 8 o'clock in the morning?" Dean asked, curiosity getting the best of him. In this case, though, he wasn't the only one curious. It seemed as if Sam was unaware of the significance of the day and time, as well.
Gabe turned and snatched up the letter Dean had seen him reading earlier. He slapped it down on the table next to Sam, with a proud grin stretched across his cheeks.
"174!" He declared.
"What, seriously?!" Sam exclaimed, full of excitement but with a note of panic. He ripped the letter out of it's envelope and read the letter quickly, his panic falling away.
He stood and swept Gabe up in searing kiss, disregarding a baffled Dean for the moment. They separated after a hot moment, Sam grinning like a loon and Gabe smiling a little dazedly.
"So… that happened." Dean said finally, unable to keep the confused smirk off his face.
Sam cleared his throat as Gabe shook his head to regain focus.
"Right, I need you back on Monday eight o'clock for your interview." The short man said, finally. "I wish I could go with you, but I've got work tomorrow."
"Alright." Sam agreed. "You heard the man. I'll go pack a bag."
Dean was thrown off by this strange amount of acceptance from the guy who said he never wanted to hunt again, but decided to ask once they were on their way. Instead, he just said, "I'll meet you in the car then?"
And Dean retreated out the door and Sam and Gabe were left alone.
Sam turned back to Gabe, pulling him close. "You're really okay with me going with Dean until Monday?"
"Yeah." Gabe replied, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. "I just wish I could help you guys out. Maybe meet your dad…?" He trailed off hopefully.
Sam laughed. "I'll ask him to come down here to meet you if you really want, but I'm making no promises."
Gabe smiled in return. "I'll take what I can get." He released Sam. "Now, don't we have some packing to do?"
ooOXxXOoo
It was seven in the morning. The older Winchester's dark car roared down the road, and into a gas station parking lot. The younger of the two had only just woken up, so the older one sent him inside for some snacks.
Dean stood leaning against his Impala while the tank began filling up. He was watching the occupant of a car two pumps away. She was a lovely petite brunette who was eyeing him and his jacket the way a lion would circling it's meal.
Dean was not objecting.
His staring contest with the hot girl was interrupted by a bag of chips hitting his face.
"Dude!" Sam just rolled his eyes.
"We're supposed to be finding Dad, not eye-fucking every hot girl you see."
"Oooh, Sammy's got some language. For shame." Dean mocked. He decided to keep that for later, though.
Sam gave him an exasperated look that said, 'Get in the fucking car.'
Dean got in the car.
Sam sat in the passenger seat digging through Dean music collection.
"Seriously do have anything other than the greatest hits of mullet-rock?" He complained, rifling through the cardboard box.
Dean snatched one of the tapes and shoved it in.
"You do know, there's these useful new things called CDs, right?" Sam was being particularly snarky that day, Dean decided.
"Shut up. And don't complain about my music."
"It's like you haven't heard anything past 1989. You're eternally stuck in the '80s."
"Oi! House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shut gun shuts his cake hole." He tossed the empty cassette case into the box and pulled out of the station lot.
"Well, you never let me drive, so…" But Sam pulled out the case file and began going over it, because he was an awesome little brother like that.
Or so Dean liked to think anyway.
About twenty miles or so later, though, he couldn't help himself. Sam was being far too quiet, concentrating on the file, and he had some pressing questions.
He turned down the music and Sam looked up.
"So, ah…" Dean began awkwardly. "You and him, huh?"
"Yeah." Sam blinked. "Me and Gabe? What about it?"
"I just… I don't know. I always thought you liked girls."
"I do."
"But you're with him?"
"Yeah." Sam was getting an increasingly amused look on his face, while Dean was looking more uncomfortable.
"…And that happened?"
"Yes, it did."
"…Ah." Sam chuckled.
"Dude. I think you're asking me if I fucked my boyfriend." Dean looked scandalized.
"No, no I didn't. Because you're my brother and I really don't need to know that about you. Like really."
Sam laughed again and said, "What do you really want to ask then?"
"… If I ask would you actually answer?"
"Depends on the question, I suppose."
"Okay…" Dean took a deep breath. "You're dating a dude. When did that happen?"
"About three months into my first year here. I was running in the quad – that's the grassy area in the middle – and my friend Brady was trying to set me up with another date. Gabe was sitting there people-watching, so I walked over to avoid Brady. He ended up asking me out and the rest is history I guess." Sam shrugged.
"But a hunter? I thought you were done with that."
"I didn't actually know he was a former hunter until a few months later."
"Former hunter? Like you?"
"No. Well, sort of, I guess. He did leave his family to go to school and get a semi-normal life, but for much better reasons than me." Dean's head snapped around to Sam who was back to reading the file.
"You sayin' you regret leaving?"
Sam considered that statement for a moment.
"No. Not exactly. If I'd never left, I'd have never met Gabe, but I do wish everyone'd parted on better terms. His family life makes ours look like the Bradys." At Dean's curiosity, Sam continued. "He's from a family of hunters. Youngest of four brothers: Mike, Luke, Raph, and Gabe."
"Hang on. Aren't Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel archangels, or something? And Luke's a prophet?"
"Yeah. Apparently their Dad was a super religious hunter. Anyway, a few years ago, Luke went crazy and started killing humans as well as monsters."
"Shit…"
"Yeah. So Luke gets arrested, then escapes, and Mike says that he needs to hunt him down and kill him. Raph follows Mike, but Gabe wants no part in it. Says he doesn't even know if they're still alive."
"Where's their dad in all this?"
"Vanished. Maybe didn't want to deal, maybe dead. Gabe said he didn't know."
"…You're right. His family does make ours look like the Bradys." He paused. "What about those scars?" He gestured to his jaw. "Those don't look like they're caused by a monster."
"Car wreck." Sam replied, with a wince. "Drunk driver. Not a good memory."
There was a pause.
"Huh… You're different than I expected." Sam graced him with an honestly confused expression.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you ignore my calls, you've never tried to call back, ever." Sam's face twisted in more confusion.
"I never got any calls. And I don't have your new number."
"New number?"
"Yeah, I called the one you had when I left a few time, but some guy in Omaha answered. You and Dad could've been dead for all I knew."
"…That's weird 'cause I didn't change it." The brothers exchanged a significant look.
"Something to look into after we find Dad." Sam said slowly. Dean's eyebrows scrunched together.
"And if it's supernatural in origin?" Sam gave him a look.
"You know it probably is. And I'm the one suggesting it."
"..huh. You'd willing to jump right back into the hunter life?"
"Not completely. I still want my degree." Sam specified. "I can be a lawyer and a hunter. And it would provide a legit cover for bailing you out of jail."
"So you want to hunt on your off time?" Dean stared.
"More like a legal route for hunters in a tight spot." He added, "Bobby still has that hunter tree right?"
"I, uh, haven't really talked to Bobby lately." Sam rolled his eyes.
"Have you at least talked to Pastor Jim or Dad's friend – what's his name – Cael or something?" He asked exasperatedly.
"You mean Caleb?" Dean guessed, resisting the urge to rub his neck sheepishly. "No, not for a while. He's Dad's friend, not mine. I did stay at Pastor Jim's for a couple of weeks, though. I worked on a case with him in the area."
"That's something, I guess." Sam muttered shaking his head.
"But that's your plan, then? Become someone hunters call when they need legal help?" Dean was curious as to how long he'd actually been thinking about this.
"Not my plan, exactly." Sam admitted. "Gabe and I talked about it. He originally went to med school the become a hunter/doctor."
"Like a mob-doctor?" Dean squinted.
Sam laughed. "Kind of, but better trained."
"So why didn't he?"
"The whole thing with his brothers happened."
"Ah. But you guys'd team up as a legal and medical knowledge contact kinda thing?"
"Yeah."
"… That's actually pretty cool."
Sam smirked. "Does that mean I get to pick the music now."
"Not a chance."
ooOXxXOoo
"Dr. Coellum! Dr. Coellum!" Macy shouted down the hallway. The doctor in question paused in the middle waving for Dr. Faraday to continue walking. Macy panted slightly as she caught up with the mildly bemused doctor. "Dr. Coellum…"
"What can I do for you Macy? And why couldn't you just page me?" He asked the breathless nurse.
"You pager isn't working, sir." She panted, holding a new pager up for him.
"Thanks… but that can't be all you wanted to tell me." She shook her head, as she regained her breath.
"Mr. Attwood, Mr. Jones, and Ms. Mattison all died twenty minutes ago." Gabe's eyes widened and he began walking briskly towards the elevator.
"Mr. Attwood was in surgery, so I could understand complications," he began as the nurse struggled to keep up. "Mr. Jones came in last night with stomach pain, possibly ulcerative colitis, but Ms. Mattison was about to leave. She had a fractured femur. Has the coroner done an autopsy yet?"
"No, he was asking for you, though." Gabe stepped into the elevator.
"Thank you, Macy. Hold all my calls, and pass all new cases until I get this figured out." The nurse nodded and he saw her rush back to the center desk and the doors closed.
When they opened again, he was in the basement suite. The chilly air of the morgue greeted him as he stepped out and headed towards the coroner's office.
"Dr. Svadilfari, have you done the autopsy, yet?" Gabe asked the bespectacled man.
"On Mr. Attwood, yes. On the other two, no." He pointed to the two occupied tables next to the one he was sowing up. "The preliminary report on him is on the table near the cooler. I'm guessing you want to do the autopsies yourself?"
"If you'll allow it."
The coroner snorted. "I just got here, in case you didn't hear the gossip. I have mountains of paperwork to go through from my predecessor."
"Well, I hope you fair better than Dr. Cordem." Gabe winced.
Dr. Svadilfari gave him a sour look. "Low bar, isn't it? He died of, what? Upper respiratory arrest – from inhaling too many chemicals, mind you –while he was driving his car? Killed four other people."
"Ah…" Gabe didn't really know how to respond to that, so he stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then, the coroner sighed and left the room, most likely to make a dent in the paperwork he mentioned.
Gabe didn't envy him, but turning back to the three laid out bodies and the report, he couldn't help but wish he were anywhere else.
He began with the autopsy report.
Flipping past the physical description and identification numbers, his eyes rested immediately on the cause of death and the general summary.
"Jeffery Allen Attwood. 42 years of age. In the hospital for a new kidney. Cause of death… poisoning." That couldn't be right. Attwood was on the operating table, doped up with anesthesia, sure, but surely the anesthesiologist wouldn't have messed up so badly? Scanning down to the summary, he was… mildly disturbed at what he found. "Mr. Attwood suffered for the introduction of sulfuric acid into his bloodstream, turning his blood to ash… The introduction sight has not been identified…"
He looked at the body of Mr. Attwood next to him. He set down the report and slipped on a pair of gloves.
He did nothing more than go over the body, checking for any injection sights or nicks of any kind. Rechecking the new coroner's work took a good ten minutes, but was fruitless. There were no open wounds or needle marks other than the ones left by the IV and the operating team. Perhaps it was introduced by one of them?
Gabe shook his head and moved on to the next body. Flipping on the tape recorder nearby and slipping on some new gloves, he began his examination.
"Alec Henry Jones. 54 years of age. In the hospital for severe diarrhea, stomach pain, and anemia. Suspected Ulcerative Colitis. Skin shows no open wounds or marks, though… it does have a slight waxy feel to it." Gabriel frowned as he rubbed the area around the man's lips. "Not a topical application. Continuing on, his eyes are bloodshot and greying and the cornea is milky… could be caused by Keratitis.
"Scalp shows signs of hair loss, possibly from anemia. The scalp also has an unusual rough texture to it. Could be nothing…"
And so it continued for two and a half hours. He opened both Alec Henry Jones, 54, and Mary Corrinne Mattison, 22, and it was conclusive. They had all died from the same thing.
Sulfuric acid poisoning. No marks to explain how it had gotten there, but it had boiled the blood and several internal organs into ash.
Gabe sighed as he handed the written up reports to Dr. Svadilfari and began his journey upstairs.
To his utter surprise, the police were in the administrators office when he arrived.
"I can come back later, if you're busy, sir?" Gabe offered to the man at the desk.
"Dr. Coellum, no sit down." His tone was serious as he gestured to the chair, far cry from it's usual cheery sarcasm. Gabe took a seat next to one of the officers, a blonde woman who had a striking resemblance to Jessica Moore, Sam's friend. She was accompanied by a stern-looking man with a thick mustache rivaling Stalin's when he was alive. "This discussion involves you, I'm afraid."
"Did I do something wrong?" Gabe frowned.
"Your hospital issued pager." The woman responded turning to him. "A nurse Macy Addams turned it in for repair, who then found it sabotaged."
"And then three of our patients died, because of that sabotage." The administrator added grimly.
"This makes then responsible for manslaughter." The woman agreed.
"Um… I think they knew that people would die. That they intended for it, actually." Gabe told them, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"What makes you say that?" Mustache asked leaning forward.
"I have the autopsy results for all three deaths." He handed over the report duplicates, one to each of the office occupants. "All three were poisoned."
"With what?" The woman asked, flipping through the report on Attwood.
"Sulfuric acid." All three pairs of eyes shot to him.
"Acid? In their blood?" She flipped her report back open and read something, shuddering at the end. "It turned their blood to ash?"
Gabe nodded.
"Why would someone want to kill these three patients?" The administrator asked, a little desperately. Mustache gave Gabe a considering look.
"It might be to frame you, get you disbarred or something." He said finally.
"What?!" The Administrator let out a startled yelp, but Gabe gave it some consideration.
"Why?"
"Who knows?" The woman shrugged. "Could be the family member of a patient who's died, a scorned lover, a delusional grudge, a real grudge. But we're here to find out."
Gabe nodded then he paused.
"…I probably shouldn't go to work for awhile, then, huh? So this doesn't happen again."
"That'd be advisable." Mustache nodded to the administrator who frowned.
Finally, though, he nodded his agreement.
"Where do you normally store your pager off work?" The woman asked suddenly.
"Bedside table at my apartment."
"May we search your apartment for any clues?"
"Sure. I'm heading home now, anyway."
"Let me walk you to your car." The woman jumped up, but her partner stayed seated. "Don't worry." She told him, noticing his attention. "Jacobs finds it less uncomfortable to ask someone's boss about them when they're not in the room."
Gabe nodded in understanding.
The two walked down the stairs, instead of taking the elevator, likely so the woman could ask him a few more questions in relative privacy.
His suspicions were confirmed when they had descended a floor.
"So… Your nose. Do you mind if I ask what happened?" She began with the obvious. The black and blue across the bridge of his nose made him look more like a boxer than a doctor, but it wasn't broken, so sliver lining.
"I had a scuffle with an unexpected house guest last night." He admitted.
"A burglar?" Gabe shook his head.
"My boyfriend's brother decided doors were for losers and gave us both a good scare, and I'm pretty sure I cracked one or two of his ribs."
"Was he attempting to steal anything?" She asked intently, but Gabe shook his head again.
"Unless you count a cold beer and his brother for a family trip." She nodded and wrote that down.
"And who has access to your apartment?"
"Um, Sam – my boyfriend –, Jessica Moore, Tyson Brady, the super, and the neighbors, the Thompsons."
After a few floors of silence, she finally said something.
"Mr. Coellum, have you considered the possibility that this might be a hate crime?" That gave him pause, and he froze for a moment on the stairs, frowning.
"I hadn't, actually." He admitted. He resumed their walk. "Everyone who knows has been really cool about it."
She just nodded and let them walk in resumed silence.
ooOXxXOoo
After letting the detectives into his apartment for some sleuthing, he gave them his number and that he was going out.
In truth he was going to do some sleuthing of his own.
He knew from the patient history, that all three patients had been seen around the same area before they died, so it was a simple matter of figuring out if it was some weird new drug or an environmental factor rather than murder, though facts were a little stacked against him.
Either way, it wouldn't hurt to look around.
The trek to his car, though, was interrupted rather abruptly by a girl, barely older than eighteen who was frowning at him with worry.
"Can I help you?" He asked, eyebrow raised at the girl that stood in his path.
"You don't remember me?" She asked in astonishment. He shook his head. "Oh, right, he said you wouldn't… Um… Right, I'm supposed to give you this. He said you'll need it." She said handing him a small box. He frowned down at the box, unsure where this was going. "Well? Aren't you gonna open it?"
He looked down at the box. Nondescript with blue wrapping, it looked almost like a book, but it was far too small. He hesitantly ripped off the paper and opened it. His face went blank.
"Ah… it's a necklace." He said flatly. The girl peered in and confirmed with a shrug.
"I'm just doing what the guy told me to. He said you'll need that in the future and that I should deliver it as thanks."
"Thanks for what?"
"For not killing me." She said it so blithely that Gabe couldn't help but believe her, even if he couldn't remember a 'not killing her' moment.
He shrugged and pulled the necklace out. It was a gorgeously wrought piece of silver and blue colored crystal in the shape of a Celtic cross. It was strung on a simple silver chain and couldn't have been more than two inches long.
"Thanks…?" He said, but when he looked up, the girl was gone.
Unsure of what to do with it, he stuck it in his coat pocket. He heads to his car and sits in the front seat. He sat still for a moment before pulling out his cell.
It rings and then the voicemail message plays. Gabe frowned in disappointment, but left his message.
"Hey, Sam. I know it's only been a day, but I'm a little worried about you. I'm having my own issues here, though. Turns out three of my patients were poisoned with acid and someone might be trying to get me disbarred. Either way, I'm off work for the next few days so I might head up there and help you guys out if you need it. Love ya. Bye."