Chapter Ten

It was only a few hours later when Dean woke up, and he felt more tired than he did before. It was morning though. He caught a glimpse of Polly in the kitchen, making coffee and breakfast. Sam was seated at the counter with his computer. Slowly, Dean stretched and stood up. "Hey. So Polly was saying you might have figured it out," Sam told him in an impressed tone.

"Yeah. Kellie Warren was the last girl to go missing, she's in Steller's perv-logs. Her dad suspected Steller, although he never used his name, and then he died in a car accident," Dean explained, accepting a cup of coffee from Polly.

"I was looking through the information about Ted Warren's accident," Sam began, showing Dean his computer screen. "The thing is, it really does look like an accident in this case. It looked like he just lost control of his car."

"Maybe," Dean muttered, looking through the pictures more closely. The car had been pretty badly smashed though, the front end squashed into half its usual size, the engine pushed back into the cab of the car. There wasn't much evidence to go on, one way or the other, except for the fact that the damage to the car was indeed consistent with a single car accident.

"Someone could have tampered with it," Polly said, leaning up against the counter. She had managed to climb off the couch, rather awkwardly, without waking up Dean that morning before Sam got up. She showered, dressed, and came downstairs just a few minutes before the brothers woke up.

"Cut brake line?" Sammy wondered.

Dean shook his head. "That would be obvious, something they would check, but it might be something else. Can you find out if it's still in impound?"

000000000000

"FBI. We're here to pick up a car. Uh, lot number 27, stock number 27849," Sammy announced, dressed in his suit, flashing his badge. With a little help from Polly, they had actually managed to make a convincing warrant too, because removing cars from impound wasn't a usual request. Sam and Dean had argued for a few minutes about what their lie should be, but Polly came up with an alternative solution. "We don't even have to hire a tow company," she told them with a grin. Now they stood in the impound lot, Sam and Dean dressed as FBI agents, and Polly dressed in jeans and a greasy old shirt, waiting in the background, leaning up against her truck, a 1973 F150—personalized with lifted suspension.

The security officer raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Most times, wrecked cars don't ever get picked up by the FBI," he stated, grabbing his keys and baseball cap.

Dean nodded. "New evidence, the accident may have been involved in some other cases. We just want to take it to our facility to have our guy give it a good going over," he said in his official tone. The warrant was still in his pocket as a last resort. More and more, he understood John's association with Polly. She had a talent for this thing: arrest warrants, hacking computers, a useful skillset in this lifestyle.

The man nodded, although Sam swore it was with a touch of sarcasm. "You boys want to follow me out there, there ain't room in my truck."

Dean chose to ride with Polly, handing Sammy the keys to his Impala. They followed the security officer through a maze of towed cars until they came to a stop in front of a 2005 Chrysler, crushed to holy hell, but it was definitely the car they were looking for. Polly took the time to turn around and back up to the car, expertly maneuvering the huge truck. Then she jumped out and immediately began to hitch up the car, working quickly to finish as soon as possible before any more suspicion could arise inside the officer. A few minutes later, she was done and turned to the FBI agents. "It really should only take about an hour for Greg to give it the once-over," she told them with a smile.

"Thanks," Sam said—simultaneously to Polly and the officer.

Within an hour, the brothers had changed out of their suits and back into their regular clothes. Polly had arrived just minutes before them, backed the car into the garage, unhitched it, and set out the tools she had. Dean hitched up the front end carefully, shoved the pins into the jack stands. As a precaution alone, he checked the brake lines, then moved onto the suspension and steering. As he worked, without him asking, Polly would pass him the tools he needed, one by one, or pass ideas on what to check next. "You got a light?" Dean asked.

"Found something?" Polly questioned, passing him the flashlight.

"Can't tell just yet." He had made it through the most obvious ways to tamper with a car. The problem was that most of the car was crushed, making it more difficult to pinpoint anything suspicious. Carefully, he followed the wiring, one by one, tracking where they went, because he could swear they had been screwed with. That, or some butch mechanic got his hands on it. At last, he climbed out from under the car. "It's hard to tell, but it looks like somebody changed the wiring, could have done any number of things to the computer systems."

Sammy grinned, glad they were finally going somewhere this goddamn case. "How much you want to bet Steller's car had been tampered with too?"

Dean shrugged, turning to Polly. "We need to hire your tow service again if possible," he announced with a crooked smile.