Cheap Motels and Vengeful Spirits
"Elizabeth?" Hearing her name being called, Elizabeth looked away from the window. "Honey, it's time to take some tests." The plump nurse smiled at her, holding a clipboard under her arm.
"What tests?" Elizabeth asked, huddling her knees against her chest.
"Just to make sure everything is alright. Nothing to worry about."
"Of course everything is alright." The nurse smiled apologetically.
"You hit your head when you fainted, dear, we need to make sure there's no damage."
"You think I'm crazy," Elizabeth surmised.
"That's not the word I would have used. Just a little…confused. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little therapy." Her sweet smile sickened Elizabeth.
"There's nothing wrong with me."
"Honey, you've been mumbling about ghosts in your sleep, and what you told the police, well, we just have to be sure."
"Can I make a call to my parents first?" Elizabeth asked, a plan forming in her mind. "I haven't had a chance to call them since the police just returned my belongings to me." She pulled her cell phone out of her purse.
"Of course. I'll wait outside."
Elizabeth waited until the nurse had left the room before jumping down from the windowsill. For two days she had sat in that room with the blank white walls and the scratchy blankets that smelled strongly of disinfectant. The quiet buzz of the hospital beyond the locked door would taunt her as she sat in her silent room, contemplating all that had happened. Sometimes she could almost imagine she heard whispering voices. Maybe she was crazy.
She grabbed a bag of her belongings and then returned to the window. She opened it noiselessly and then slipped through it. She was on the second story, but a tall tree stood right against the building. She grabbed a branch and pulled herself down, branch by branch until her feet met the hard ground. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen her, Elizabeth dashed across the lawn and toward the highway. Changing her clothes behind a bush, she stuffed the hospital clothes back in her bag. She would dispose of them later. The plastic band was still around her wrist, but she didn't have time to pull it off now. Checking to make sure she wasn't being followed, Elizabeth walked briskly down the empty highway. There were only two people in the world that believed her story. They were the only two people she would be safe with.
…
"Lucy Halfax?" Dean inquired as a petite blonde opened the door. Whoa, she has got to be half Riggle's age, Dean thought to himself.
"Yeah, that's me," she replied, sizing up Dean. He smiled disarmingly.
"We just wanted to ask you a few questions." He flashed his badge at her.
"Sure, come on in." She led the brothers into a sitting room, motioning for them to sit down. "What can I do for you?" she asked, looking at Dean.
"We were wondering if you could tell us about Jacob Riggle," Sam asked before Dean could speak.
Lucy let out a laugh. "Old Jacob."
"You used to work for him as his secretary," Sam prodded.
"Yeah, I did. And more. Do you think I bought this house with my measly paychecks?" she asked, laughing.
"Then you were having an affair with Jacob Riggle?"
"Well, I wouldn't really call it that. I gave him what he wanted and he gave me what I wanted in return," she replied, pulling on the pearl necklace she wore.
"So you were just using him for his money?"
"Honey, you make it sound criminal. He's the one who approached me."
"What do you know about his wife?" Sam asked. "Did she know about you two?"
"Oh, no, we kept it quiet."
"What can you tell us about the embezzlement scam? Was Jacob really stealing money from the company?" Sam asked.
"I'm not sure. He never let me in on his schemes. You may not believe me, but that's the truth. After the alleged scam, the newspaper dug up some rumors about the two of us. None of them could be proved, but it got Jacob fired. He stopped seeing me after that, but I had what I wanted."
"You don't think the wife killed herself because she believed the article, do you?" Sam asked.
"How should I know? I wouldn't put it past her. She always hated me. She'd show up at the office everyday, keeping an eye on Jacob like she was his mother." She cast an adoring glance in Dean's direction. "I do miss all those fun times we used to have," she murmured.
"Well, thank you for your time," Sam cut in, standing quickly and heading toward the door. Dean followed reluctantly.
"My pleasure."
…
"So now we know a motive for Daphne's suicide, if she did kill herself," Sam said when they were back in the Impala.
"Yeah, and we know why her spirit is vengeful."
"Why wouldn't she go after her husband or Lucy, though? Why innocent people who live in that house. There has to be something more to this, Dean, it just doesn't fit together."
"Well, I don't know about you, brain-boy, but I'm getting tired. Why don't we check into a hotel and pick this up tomorrow." Seeing a cheap motel up ahead, Dean pulled into the lot. He rented a room, using a Warren Smith's credit card, and flirting with the girl working at the desk.
"Dude, how many phone numbers do you have? When are you going to actually call all these girls?" Sam asked when Dean came back with the girl's number.
"You never know when they could come in handy." Dean grinned, dropping his bag on one of the queen beds.
"Whatever." Sam pulled out his laptop, Googling the Riggle house.
"Find anything new?" Dean asked, flopping down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
"No, nothing we don't already know."
"Dude, this bed is uncomfortable." Sitting up, Dean was about to switch on the TV when there was a knock at the door. He and Sam exchanged a cautious glance. Dean crossed the room over to the door and looked through the peephole. A girl stood outside, looking scared and holding a bag over her shoulder. Recognizing her, Dean opened the door.
"Elizabeth," Sam exclaimed, standing up and staring at the girl in surprise.
"Can I come in?" she asked timidly, looking around as if afraid someone would see her.
"Sure." Dean held the door open for her, shutting and locking it behind her.
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.
"How did you find us? We checked in like two minutes ago," Dean asked simultaneously.
"I was just lucky; I saw you pull in and check into a room. I've been looking for you all afternoon. I need help." She took a shaky step forward.
"Here, sit down." Sam grabbed her elbow and guided her to an armchair.
"Thanks." Elizabeth glanced up at the two men nervously. "I ran away from the hospital," she blurted out.
"Why?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. He sat on the edge of the bed across from her.
"They were going to have my head examined. They thought I was crazy. After you left, the police came back to question me again. I-I told them about the lady. They didn't believe me…." She looked down at the floor. Her dark blonde hair was tangled and her shoes and pants were dusty. Sam wondered if she had walked all the way from the hospital. "I had to get away. I'm not crazy." She looked up at Sam and then Dean, seeking reassurance.
"No, you're not," Dean replied. "What you saw was real."
"I'm sorry that you have to learn about this, but it's true," Sam added, gazing sympathetically at Elizabeth. He noticed that she was shaking slightly, her bright blue eyes wide with fright. The plastic band from the hospital was still around her wrist.
"Why was Rae murdered?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes filling up with tears. "Why her?"
"We're not sure yet. We know that she wasn't the first," Sam replied. He told her about the other murders and about Riggle's affair with his secretary. "We just know it's a vengeful spirit, but we don't know why it's killing the people who rent the house."
"Or why it didn't kill you," Dean added.
"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked suddenly.
"Well, what we told you before is sort of true," Sam explained. "We're sort of private investigators except we investigate supernatural things, crimes the police can't solve…."
"You hunt ghosts?" Elizabeth surmised.
"Uh, yeah, pretty much," Sam said with a smile.
Elizabeth nodded. "Two days ago I would have thought you were crazy, but today I don't. Listen, I'm sure I'm in a lot of trouble. The police probably think I killed Rae now. Can you help me?" she asked, looking pleadingly at Sam.
"Of course. Unfortunately, there's no way we can convince the police a ghost murdered your friend, but we'll try to figure something out."
"Thank you."
"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Sam asked.
"No, I don't," she answered.
"Why don't you check into a room next door? That way we can keep an eye on you, and you can come to us for help if you need," Sam suggested. "It's probably best if you stay out of sight while you're in town."
"Alright." Elizabeth went to check in, smiling at Sam and Dean as she left the room.
Dean grinned. "Well, another damsel in distress."
"Dean, don't start. She's still really shaken up about her friend's death, and she just found out ghosts are real," Sam said moodily.
"She's cute, but she seems more like your type. Bookworm, walking dictionary…."
"Dude, shut up." Dean smirked at his younger brother.
"You're not seriously saying you're not a bit interested in her?" he asked.
"Honestly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Sam said exasperatedly. "I've been thinking more about how to kill this spirit."
"Salt and burn the bones, come on Sammy, you're getting rusty," Dean teased.
"That's not what I mean. We don't even know that it's her spirit that's murdering these people."
"Always asking questions first and shooting later…." Dean muttered.
…
Sunshine Retirement Home looked even drabber than the day before. Dean parked the Impala on the street, and the two brothers entered the reception room, walking past the desk and the uninterested secretary and up the stairs toward room 29. They knocked, but after two minutes, there was no answer. Dean looked at Sam and then shrugged, opening the door. The pungent smell of burning food overwhelmed them as they stepped into the apartment room. Furniture was overturned and beer bottles littered the floor. The old TV set buzzed, its screen a blur of fuzzy black and white. Sam and Dean pulled out the guns they had stowed in their jackets, Sam taking the kitchen and Dean taking the living room.
The smell grew stronger as Sam entered the kitchen. He quickly turned off the stovetop, holding his breath as he looked into the pot filled with charred beans. He circled into the living room where he found Dean. "No one here. Let's try the bedroom." They walked quickly and silently toward the small bedroom at the back of the apartment. Pushing open the door, the two brothers darted into the room, guns held out in front of them. They found Riggle on the floor, his hand clamped against his side, blood soaking his dirty shirt. His wheel chair was sitting overturned nearby.
"What happened?" Sam asked, kneeling on the floor next to the wounded man.
"I killed her!" Riggle cried out. "Heaven forgive me, I killed Daphne!" He looked at Sam with wild eyes. "She was going to leave me. She found out about Lucy, and she was going to leave me. I couldn't let anyone else have her, not Lucy, my sweet Lucy. I made sure that no one else could have her. But now I can't live with the truth any longer. I have to die like Daphne," he yelled hysterically.
Before Sam or Dean could react, the old man took a gun from behind his back, pointed it at his throat and shot. Sam fell back, his face splattered with blood. He looked up at Dean, a look of shock on his face.
…
"Well, I guess we know why the spirit is angry; she was murdered by her own husband," Dean said as they walked back to their car, Sam wiping his face off with a wet towel they had taken from Riggle's apartment.
"Yeah, the spirit was trapped in the house, so she took out her anger on the only people she could reach – the families who rented the house," Sam agreed.
"So we salt and burn the bones," Dean said, starting the engine and pulling away from the curb. "Do we know where she's buried?"
"Wood County Cemetery. It's just past town."
"There's one more thing I don't understand," Dean said, "why didn't the spirit kill Elizabeth?" He looked over at Sam.
"Did you happen to notice that Elizabeth wore a cross pendant?" Sam asked.
"No, I wasn't really looking at her necklace…."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, she was. It was really unusual. I didn't get a close look, but it looked like protective symbols on it, protection against spirits. It acted as a sort of protective charm, so the spirit couldn't touch her."
"Nothing gets past those radar eyes, huh, Sammy?"
"Look, can we quit with the whole 'Sammy's a geek' thing? It's getting old."
"What? It's the truth." Dean grinned. "It's not a bad thing, repels the chicks, but maybe you'll find a nice encyclopedia someday…."
"Funny, Dean." Sam glared at his brother.
"So, bonfire tonight at the cemetery?"
"Yeah, before someone else moves into the Riggle house."
