The Winchester brothers' black Chevy Impala pulled up in front of Joe's Diner just as the dinner crowd was beginning to die down.

"I can't believe it took us so long to get here," Dean said with a scowl.

Sam laughed. "Even your driving is no match for Chicago traffic."

"Guess so, but making a hundred-mile trip in three and a half hours is just ridiculous." Dean shook his head. "What was that waitress's name again?"

"Jamie Price," Sam answered.

"Okay. Let's go inside and see if we can figure out what happened to Jamie."

The two of them got out of the car and stepped into the cheerful little restaurant. The diner's interior was bright and friendly, and oldies were playing from an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. A few customers still sat scattered throughout the brightly-colored booths that lined the walls, but, for the most part, the brothers had the place to themselves.

Sam and Dean approached an older man standing behind the register. "How can I help you boys?" he asked them.

"We'd like to speak to the manager," Sam said politely.

"That's me. I'm Joe Trevino." A concerned look came across the gray-haired man's features. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Not exactly," Dean answered, flashing a fake police badge. "I'm Officer Williams." He pointed his thumb at Sam. "And this is Officer… Palinowski. We're investigating the murder of Jamie Price."

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's terrible, just terrible, what happened to her. Jamie was such a nice girl…almost through with college. Had her whole life ahead of her."

Sam offered Joe a sympathetic look. "How long had you known Jamie?"

"About five years. She'd been working here since before she graduated from high school. She always was a bright girl." Joe shook his head sadly.

"Were you working the night she was killed?" Dean asked.

"I was. I shouldn't have let her walk home alone that night, but how was I to know?"

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary before she left? Anything that struck you as strange?" Sam queried.

Joe furrowed his brow slightly. "I've been asking myself that question since I first heard what happened. I just can't think of anything odd. Nobody strange hanging around. The only thing that stands out about that day was a big dog a couple of the busboys chased away from the dumpsters in the back alley. Mean-looking thing."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What did this dog look like?"

"I'd say it was either black or dark gray. Hard to tell, it was so dark. What does a stray dog have to do with Jamie anyway?"

"We're just trying to get a good idea of everything that happened that night," Sam said gently. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Trevino." He pulled out a piece of paper and, after scribbling his number on it, handed it to Joe. "Let us know if you think of anything else."

"I will."

The brothers turned and began heading toward the exit.

"I hope you catch the one who did this!" Joe called after them.

"So do I," Dean murmured. "So do I.

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"So, what do you make of that story about the big dog? Think it could have something to do with Jamie?" Dean asked his brother after they had gotten into the car.

"It definitely sounds suspicious. Do you think it was a black dog?"

"Well, black dogs are usually death portents, but I'm pretty sure they're only seen by the person who's about to die," Dean answered.

"Okay, so that's out. And it couldn't have been a werewolf," Sam added. "They usually tear their victims to pieces."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, they definitely don't strangle them. Of course, that dog Joe saw could have just been a stray…." He paused. "Who am I kidding? When was the last time we had a coincidence like that?"

"Remember the cat you thought was possessed when we were trying to get rid of that poltergeist in Ohio a few months back?" Sam asked, smirking.

Dean grimaced. "Don't remind me. I've still got the scratches from that stupid thing."

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Patricia Stephenson meandered down a darkened sidewalk, weaving back and forth slightly as she walked. She had to admit, she did enjoy parties, and tonight's festivities had been especially entertaining. The beer had been abundant, the music pleasant, and the men…. She smiled to herself. The men had been good-looking, to say the least. Or maybe that was just the beer talking. In any case, Patricia had already decided that when Jeremy threw a party again, she would have to attend.

She stopped to take a drink from her bottle of Miller Lite and took a look around her. She knew how dangerous the streets could be after dark, and she had heard there was a serial killer on the loose. "Any crazy psychos out there?" Patricia called with a drunken giggle. Nope. Nobody in sight. She raised a hand to her face and brushed her shaggy red hair out of her eyes, sighing. She really needed a haircut.

Patricia resumed her ambling walk. She stumbled, not really paying attention to where she was going, and cursed as she realized that she had broken one of her heels in the uneven sidewalk. Reaching down to take off her shoes, she lost her balance and would have fallen over if it hadn't been for a steadying hand on her arm.

Looking up slightly, Patricia caught sight of a handsome face near hers. "Hello, gorgeous," she slurred.

"Hello. Might I escort you home?" he asked.

Patricia grinned. "You'd do that for me?"

"Anything for you, my dear."

He helped Patricia to her feet, and she leaned heavily on his arm.

"Well, if you insist," Patricia said, giggling.