(Part II)
After knocking on the door, Dean turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. The voices abruptly stopped and a man stood up from his seat in the corner desk. A warm .smile appeared on his face to replace the nervous stare that focused on Dean especially. For some reason everyone thought Dean was always the threat. Why was that? He did look a little intimidating, he could admit to that, but Sam was just as dangerous as he was. There was no sense in the situation that frequently presented itself.
"Come in, please," the man standing chirped cheerfully, "How can we help you? Do you need directions to the highway or the nearest McDonalds?"
"No, actually, we're just here to talk to you about what happened with Mr. Eastman if you don't mind. We were in his Sociology class and, to be honest, are a little traumatized. My brother especially, he never could handle suicides," Dean grunted at another brotherly shove in his side before he continued, "Do you have a minute?"
"Of course, my room is open to anyone," a woman with dirty blond hair called from the door at the far end of the room. "Bring in those two boys, Garrett?"
Garrett, who must have been the balding man still standing awkwardly by his desk, sighed and scooted them towards the side room. A tall, gorgeous woman (by Dean's judgment) sat behind a small desk with an open file by her hand. Her nude painted nails rested in top of the paper-clipped files that no doubt had to do with Mr. Eastman. She smiled warmly and offered the Winchesters a seat across from her. Not once did she rise from her chair, which Dean found strange. It seemed like most people would have risen out of respect or something, he thought. He shrugged and took a seat, reaching his hand out to shake hers. She shook it firmly, and then repeated the process with Sam.
"So, I've had many students come in this week to talk about Professor Eastman's passing. It's very unfortunate, for all of us. He was a significant figure in our community. It was sad to see him go like that," the woman's voice faltered at her last words. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Kathy Garrison, head of the department."
"I'm Keith, and this is my pal, Keith," Dean chuckled, "Weird coincidence, but we've been the best of buds since we started Professor Eastman's class. Sort of like kismet, I guess you could say."
Kathy narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the two Keiths, but carried on with her regular routine of therapeutic questions.
"What would you boys like to discuss? Were you very close with the professor? I knew that he offered a lot of his time to his students. He was dedicated to his job, dedicated to you."
"Well, we were just shocked, like completely shocked. I, personally, didn't think that he was suffering enough to…to…" Sam's lip quivered and he leaned back in his seat, one hand covering his face. Dean silently applauded him. The kid was certainly upping his game since Dean had returned, but still…there was an unnatural gleam in Sam's eyes lately…
"I understand. Not many of us can even begin to comprehend the inner struggles that each of us deal with, which is why it's important to talk about how we feel. No matter how hard it is for you, or how bad you think life is. It always gets better, and committing suicide is only a permanent evasion from the problem. Right?" Kathy asked sternly.
"Of course, we understand. Loud and clear," Dean replied. He flashed a smile and thought of ways to dance around the guidance crap and get to the chase. He wanted to know exactly what sort of inner struggles Eastman had been dealing with. That's why they had sauntered into this mushy feelings parade.
"Did he ever come to you and talk? I mean, do the guidance counselors have heart-to-hearts with teachers as well as students?" queried the Keith with short, sandy brown hair.
"Sometimes they do, yes. Mr. Eastman never came to talk with me though, and even if he did I couldn't discuss it with you boys. That would cost me my job," she smiled and closed the file lying on her desk. She hadn't looked at it once, but the name EASTMAN, JON was clearly visible on the side tab. What was that all about? Putting it out in the open for Sam and Dean to see wasn't a casual gesture. It was like she wanted them to see the folder.
"Well, thank you, Mrs. Garrison. Thank you for your time and maybe Keith and I will visit again this week." Sam stood up and offered his hand again to the now weary-eyed counselor.
Kathy dropped her hands to her sides and pushed her chair back. She slowly made her way around her desk, but without lifting a foot. Dean sighed softly as he saw the black ballet flats resting on the footholds of a wheelchair. He instantly felt remorse for thinking badly about her greeting etiquette. He hoped the big man upstairs, and Cas, would forgive him for that.
"Sorry for not telling you two before. It's still a bit upsetting, only happened around a month ago. I guess these past few weeks have been tough for all of us," Kathy smiled sadly and shook Sam's hand, then Dean's.
After being shown the way out by Garrett, the Winchester brothers headed down the corridor. They snuck past the administrations' office, ducking when needed to avoid Mrs. Johnson's eyes, and slipped into the unlocked door available to staff only. Sam plopped down into the swivel chair that faced that small televisions connected to the security cameras scattered throughout campus.
"So what do we check? Should we start around a week ago? This mysterious girl could have come more than once," Sam mumbled as he flipped through various tapes that were stacked on the desk. There were at least thirty or forty tapes visible, and boxes beneath the shelves across the room. Dean hoped that the most recent ones were those passing through Sam's hands.
"Check last Friday night's tape. That was a few days before his death, Monday, and I'm sure he doesn't have office hours on the weekends. For his dirty little secret, on the weekends he might have had better ideas than a musty old office," Dean suggested.
Sam nodded in agreement and flipped through the plastic cases until he found one labeled Friday, May 10th, 2010. When the running noise of the ribbon grew in speed, dark images danced on the screen closest to Sam. They cleared after a few minutes, and the screen showed the main lobby. Several students passed in and out of the doors, indicating the time being late afternoon. Sam fast forwarded the time closer to when little Miss Sunshine would have showed up for her rendezvous with the professor. Dean leaned intently towards the monitor, looking for any signs of fuzzy shapes or figures walking in or out the front door.
"Stop, stop the tape," Dean suddenly demanded.
Sam whipped his fingers to the keys and paused the recording. A tall, slender figure clad in a tight mini skirt and those damn five inch heels was slightly visible in the shadows of the hallway. Dean grinned triumphantly at his quick catch. If he hadn't noticed her then, there was no chance of either of the hunters finding her in the tape at all. She had a gaunt, yet beautiful face that was framed with long, dark ringlets. There was a glimmer in her eyes that was evident in the outdated black and white video.
"That right there is our mystery woman."