BRRRINNGG.

Dean paused in his perusal of the supermarket's salt selection to dig the phone out of his pocket. He didn't recognize the number.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Uh … Dean?" the woman on the end stuttered

"Who is this?"

"It's Jessica – Sam's girl–"

"Jess?" Dean interrupted. "What's wrong? Where's Sam?"

"That's why I'm calling. He's … I don't know … "

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"He was helping a friend of ours, and he was supposed to call but he hasn't and I'm … I'm … worried."

"Helping a friend? Helping a friend with what?"

"A guy we know, Zack. He, uh, he was arrested for murder last weekend. And his sister, Becky, she said he didn't do it, that she was with him at the time. So Sam said, you know, since he's worked with you and your dad before, that he could help. And he went out there to look around and now I can't get him or Becky on the phone. I mean – maybe it's nothing, but … I'm worried."

Dean's mind was racing. Why in the world would Sam get involved with this? Murders weren't their thing. Who knows what he'd gotten mixed up in.

"Have you called the police, Jessica? Are they there?"

"No. I mean – I wasn't sure who to … Zack and Becky were in St. Louis, where they're from, when it happened, so Sam went there. He flew out yesterday. I know he got there OK – I talked to him and Becky last night. He said they were going to go to the crime scene today, but …"

"Right. St. Louis ... Shit."

Dean was in Bisbee, Ariz. St. Louis was a good 1,500 miles away. It would take a solid day of driving to get there, if he was lucky.

He swallowed hard and came to a difficult decision.

"OK, Jessica. Here's what I'm going to do. I'm in Arizona right now, so I'm going to have to get a flight out to St. Louis. While I'm doing that, you keep trying to call Sam. If you get him, call me right away. Or tell him to call me. And round up directions for me to this girl Becky's house. I'll head there as soon as I get in."

"Yeah, OK, I can do that. Should I meet you there?"

Dean thought about that. It'd be helpful to have someone who knew the people they were looking for on hand. But if Sam didn't want Jess to come, he must have had some reason. He decided not to take a chance.

"No. Not yet. I'll call if I think I need you, OK?"

"OK. Uh – what about the police? Should I call and tell them you're coming? Is there a badge number I can give them?"

Huh? Badge – Oh. Right. The whole CIA thing. But … the police? Normally there's no way, but this didn't sound supernatural.

"Jess, what happened? What did Becky tell you about the case? Why did Sam believe it wasn't her brother?"

"Um. OK, let me think. She said … that Zack's fiancée, Emily, was murdered Friday night. That Zack got home and she wasn't breathing and he called an ambulance and … And they arrested him. Said they had his finger prints on the murder weapon and his blood and stuff. And a video tape of him going in. But Becky said it must have been faked somehow because Emily was killed at around 10:30 and Becky was with Zack until after midnight."

Dean frowned. 'Well, yeah,' he thought. 'Of course she would cover for her brother. Shit. What if they were both involved in it and now Becky had Sam?'

"Jess, how well do y'all know these people? I mean – are you sure Zack didn't kill his girlfriend?"

"No, no way. We've known both Becky and Zack for three years. They're good friends. Zack supposed to be one of Sam's groomsmen. I just … I just can't believe … "

Dean bit back a growl of frustration. That's what people always said. Still. Sam must have thought there was something weird about it, right? Surely he wouldn't head out there on his own to look for a flesh-and-bones murderer. Shouldn't have gone out on his own period, but he'd talk to Sam about that later.

Anyway. It all boiled down to not getting the Five-O involved just yet.

"Jess, don't call the police, all right? Not yet. Let me get down there and look around, and I'll decide then whether it would help."

"But … What do you mean? Why wouldn't it help?"

"Uh … You know. Interagency rivalry stuff. They might not let me help. Just … trust me."

"Oh. All right."

"OK, I'm heading to the airport now. Call me if you hear from Sam, OK?"

"Yeah, OK. And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Just …" she trailed off.

"I know. Don't worry. He'll be fine."

And he meant it.