AN: I know that after 'Skin' Dean might have a slight problem posing as a cop, being wanted for murder and all, but I'm choosing to overlook that fact. And I promise that things will make more sense in the chapters to come.
Chapter 2
"Are you sure that was all he said?"
After listening to their father's message, Dean had practically ordered Sam into the car and torn out of the car wash. He hadn't even wiped the remaining water spots from the Impala, so Sam knew that he was troubled.
"Do you want to listen for yourself?" Dean snapped and shoved his cell phone at his brother without taking his eyes off the road.
Sam hastily accepted the phone and glanced at Dean as an automated voice prompted him to "press one to listen". The older Winchester had his mouth set in a firm line and his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. He was mad, fighting mad, and for the first time since the brothers had reunited in search of their father, Sam wasn't the one ready to punch somebody in the face.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of John Winchester's voice in his ear.
"Dean, its me. You need to find a girl. That shouldn't be a problem for you. Her name is Emily. She's in Marietta. You have to find her, she's the key." He sounded cool and distant. Even the attempted joke about finding girls had fallen short. The words had been rushed, as if he didn't even have time to talk to his own son.
"Do you know her?" Sam asked quietly.
"Nope."
"So I guess we're going to Marietta."
"Yep."
They rode in silence for several minutes, both of them staring blankly through the windshield. Dean suddenly slapped the steering wheel hard with his palm, accidentally blowing the horn and alarming the driver in front of them.
"What the hell?" he growled. "How could he do this?"
Sam knew he was referring to their father, but couldn't think of anything to say that would be comforting. Instead, he just said ", Maybe this Emily is connected to the spirit."
"Yeah, maybe," Dean muttered half-heartedly and scrubbed a hand through his light brown hair.
"Maybe," Sam continued ", Dad's been watching the news for the past couple of weeks and he's come to the same conclusion that we have. Or who knows, he might be in Georgia, he might have talked to this girl."
"Or maybe she's hot and Dad thought I might like her," Dean said. "All I know is that I'm gonna turn this town upside-down until I find her, whoever she is."
Sam snorted a laugh through his nose.
"What?" Dean asked sharply.
"It's amazing the lengths you'll go to for a piece of tail."
"Shut up." But Dean's lips twitched into a reluctant smile.
It was ironic, Sam thought, it was usually Dean's role to joke his brooding brother out of a dark mood. He knew that what Dean felt towards their dad went way past frustration. John had practically abandoned his eldest son, leaving no clues to his whereabouts except for his prized journal and no choice but to turn to his baby brother for help. As much as Sam wanted to resent Dean for ripping him from his "normal" life, he couldn't. As much as he wanted to blame Dean for Jessica's death, he knew that it had been no one's fault, no one's but his own. If only he'd told Jess about his past, about his dreams…But it was too late now and he could never blame Dean for anything. His big bad brother, his rock, his protector and trainer had been scared and had turned to the only person in his life that he could trust; Sam.
Deciding that the mood in the car had brightened enough for some music, Sam leaned forward and flipped on the radio. He surfed through the channels until he found a local station that happened to be playing Metallica and settled back into his seat, hating the song but hoping it would appease Dean. As hoped, Dean was soon humming along with his favorite band, all traces of anger gone from his handsome face.
When the song ended, the DJ came on air in what Sam guessed was an unusually serious tone. "We pause now for an update from Channel Two Action News. Authorities have issued an amber alert for nineteen year old Cara Finch. She was last seen leaving her residence at Kennesaw State University shortly before her family was found dead in their Marietta home. Finch is five feet two inches, weighing approximately 130 pounds, and authorities have reason to believe she may have knowledge about her family's murder…" the DJ went on to describe the girl's car and then returned to normal programming.
Sam glanced at his brother who just shrugged. "Guess Emily will just have to wait."
-O-
With Dean behind the wheel, the boys reached the Marietta Square in little over an hour. It was a pretty town, Dean decided. The Square was essentially a miniature park full of flower beds, gazebos, and a locomotive inspired playground. An iron fountain stood in the center and clusters of people, some old, and some young, stood casting pennies into the pool at its base.
The streets that surrounded the square were lined with restaurants and antique shops. More happy locals strolled along the cobbled sidewalk, peeping in windows at items they had no intention of purchasing.
Must be nice Dean thought with envy as he watched a family cross in front of the car at a red light. The mother was carrying a shopping bag in one hand and grasped her son's hand with the other. The father had his daughter perched on his shoulders and she was smiling widely.
When the light changed, Dean punched the accelerator harder than intended and the car lurched into the intersection.
"Perhaps you'd like to add 'hit and run' to your list of offenses," Sam offered humorlessly.
"Perhaps," Dean answered and drove out of the square towards a small shopping center.
Thankfully, he found Kinko's without even trying, and after a quick stop to print up some fake IDs, Dean located the police station and whipped the Impala into a parking spot near the back. He pulled two leather badge wallets from the glove compartment and slipped in his and Sam's new MPD cards.
"Okay," Dean said as he stepped from the car and straightened his worn leather jacket. "I want to get the case files for this Cara Finch girl, then hit the library and compare this case to the other two."
Hit the library? Sam wondered. Since when was Dean Mr. Research? But he didn't have time to ponder his brother's urge to hit the books as he was forced to lengthen his stride to keep up with him. Sam might have longer legs, but Dean had that 'man on a mission' walk.
They entered the double glass doors and headed straight for the 'Employees Only' door that would lead to the detectives' bullpen.
"Excuse me, Sirs?" Dean cursed under his breath at the sound of the secretary's voice that floated from the front desk. But he smoothed his expression and calmly swung over to the desk.
The matronly secretary eyed Dean and Sam suspiciously through the two-inch bulletproof glass. "Can I help you gentlemen with something?"
Dean broke into one of his easygoing smiles that he knew most women found irresistible and flashed his fake badge. "I'm Detective Hagan, this is my partner; Stevens. We've just been called about the Finch case, Ma'am."
Sam held up his own badge for inspection, but withheld the smile since Dean's seemed to have no effect on the woman who pursed her painted lips doubtfully.
"You see," Dean went on ", we're from LaFayette and this Finch case looks too much like one we're working back home. We need to compare notes with the Marietta boys, rule out any possible coincidences."
Finally, she sighed and waved her plump hand towards the door. "Fine, come on in," she ordered and cast them a look that said I'm watching you.
"Oh, beg your pardon Ma'am, but which detectives have already been assigned to the case?" Dean asked, maintaining his smile. Sam had to admire his brother's superior brown-nosing skills.
"Williams and Davis."
After giving the secretary a nod of thanks, they hustled into the bullpen. It was a cluster of beat-up, metal desks, all littered with folders and post-its. One wall was host to a bulletin board with pin-ups of suspects and victims for all of the MPD's current cases. Against another wall were several file cabinets and a cheap table that held a coffeepot and some no doubt stale donuts. There were two detectives standing at the bulletin board, holding Styrofoam cups of joe.
"See if you can't find something," Dean whispered and ambled over towards the two real detectives.
While Dean stalled, Sam managed to locate the Finch case file on Detective Davis' desk. There was a copy machine in one corner of the cramped space and Sam made copies of everything in the manila folder, from interviews to crime scene photos.
"Well, thanks again fellas," Sam heard Dean announce loudly and knew that it was his cue to hurry it up. He quickly stuffed all of the papers back into their folder and slapped it on Davis' desk. Dean met him at the door and they tried to look casual as they passed the secretary once more.
Sam let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as soon as he was seated in the Impala. He knew that with every scam they pulled, they were closer to being caught. But he tried to remind himself that it was all for the greater good as his brother pulled out into Marietta's surprisingly gridlocked rush hour traffic.
"So, anything interesting Detective Stevens?" Dean asked lightly, steering in between a minivan and a school bus.
Sam ignored the joke and flipped through the grainy copies he'd made of the photos. Despite the poor resolution, the dark bruising was obvious around the victims' throats. "Look at this," he held up the picture for Dean to see.
"They were strangled, I already knew that, Genius," Dean glanced quickly at the picture before returning his eyes to the busy road.
Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I mean look at how heavy the bruising is. No way a girl Cara's size was strong enough to strangle her father to death."
"So she was obviously possessed."
Sam nodded and continued thumbing through the papers in his lap. "Same thing goes for the woman in Knoxville, so it must be the same spirit," he reasoned aloud. Suddenly he froze as his eyes fell upon a sheet with interview notes. "Listen to this! The cops went to the college, since she was last seen at her dorm, and they talked to her roommate, Emily Russell."
Dean's eyebrows nearly climbed up into hairline and he narrowly avoided rear-ending the car in front of them. "No frickin' way!" Then he added quietly ", Thanks Dad."