Toledo Ohio – The Park
Sam began to walk toward the four people on the bench. Dean was next to Charlie, talking to her quietly. Alex and Faith were standing by a tree, whispering to each other and shooting odd glances at Sam as he got closer. Faith seemed the more private type and Sam had learnt on many occasions that it was best not to pry with people like her.
"So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver." Sam was reading from a small notepad he had in his hand. He was standing behind Dean and Charlie, looking down at them both from his great height. Faith moved forward.
"Give you all three guesses who that was..." She whispered to herself. Charlie looked down slightly, eyes wide in shock. They all looked at her, though Faith merely feigned interest.
"Oh my God." Charlie breathed softly and continued her vacant stare.
"What?" Sam spoke just as softly, trying to match her tone. He leant forward, easing his posture to show how his relaxation around them all.
"Jill drove that car." Charlie put her head in her hands and sighed softly, admitting the truth inside herself. Dean moved closer slightly, softening his appearance to match the mood. His voice was soft when he spoke, but he still exorcised a level of authority over the situation.
No shit Sherlock, Faith grinned as the thought passed her mind.
"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house." Dean looked at her incredulously and began to stand.
* * *
Sam held the flashlight up and kept it moving down the back of the mirror swiftly. A glowing handprint seeped out of the hardwood and began to disappear as the light passed it. The glowing shape of a letter began to appear, rising out of the darkness. 'L'. The light moved on, spelling out the rest of the name.
"Linda Shoemaker," Sam read aloud. Because obviously we're blind and can't read for ourselves, Faith remarked coldly.
* * *
"Why are you asking me this?" Donna was calm, but the anger was building. Who were they, to come into my home, days after he died and ask this? She waited, tensing her fingers to control the rising tide of rage.
"Look, we're sorry, but it's important." Sam tried to remain compassionate but there was a sense of urgency in his voice. They need to get out of here quickly and sort this out before more people died.
"Yeah. Linda's my mum, okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it." Donna flared her voice angry and panicked. She wanted to get out of that situation. Losing one parent was bad enough, losing two was worse. Why can't people just leave me alone to grieve? "I think you should leave," the calm had returned.
"Now Donna, just listen." Dean tried to reason with her, but it was like throwing tooth picks at a charging elephant.
"Get out of my house!" Donna turned, screaming at them and darted up the stairs. She was out of the situation and breathed deeply as she began to feel momentarily better.
"Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mum?" Charlie couldn't connect the dots theway the others had, needed every step broken down for her. Faith rolled her eyes again, it seemed to become a habit around these people. Wasn't it obvious to them, the way it was to her?
"Maybe," Sam was thinking, deeply. They all looked at him for a moment, waiting for some major revelation or epiphany. Nothing.
"I think I should stick around." Charlie volunteered. Alex and Faith exchanged nervous glances then looked at the number of mirrors on the walls. Hardly the safest place to be.
"All right. Whatever you do, don't--" Dean didn't get a chance to speak as Chalire interjected.
"Believe me, I won't say it." Charlie gave them a stern look.
* * *
"So what are we dealing with here, a ghost?" Alex was pacing the room, trying to brainstorm. Faith was on one of the beds and she was trying to focus her mind on the people they were trying to help.
"If it is mary, she should have died in the town." Sam argued. He knew that couldn't be the case, but he had to point it out before they tried to follow such a flawed assumption.
"I'm telling you man, there's nothing local. I checked." Dean was by the laptop tapping on the keyboard. He had a look of extreme concentration on his face, with a hint of annoyance sprinkled along his brow.
"What if it isn't local?" Alex spoke, looking at the floor as the thought dawned. Looking up he registered the confusion on everyone's faces and tried to explain. "She didn't die here, we know that. So maybe her ghost is here because of something else."
"Because of a person, or an object maybe?" Faith added. She seemed to follow Alex's train of thought perfectly.
"Ok guys, got a hit on a Mary who died with a mirror." Dean held his hand up slightly as he spoke, trying to draw attention to himself. "One, Mary Worthington Fort Wayne, Indiana. And look at this picture guys." He spun the laptop around and the black and white image of a bloody handprint came into view.
