Thanks to all of my reviewers! And yes, just to clear up any confusion because of my pen name, I am a girl. The name relates to my favorite character from the movie Tremors…Anyway; I finally introduced Emily in this chapter, hope you like.
Chapter 4
October 25, 9:45 am. Hiram, Ga.
One, two, three…
Emily eased her hands up the black gelding's neck and rose in her stirrups. Traveler, named after Robert E. Lee's famous mount, propelled over the three-foot oxer, snapping up his knees and clearing the jump easily.
A small smile played across Emily's lips, the first one in days, as her horse landed neatly on the other side of the fence. She spurred him on towards the next jump, this one a roll-top covered with astro- turf.
One, two, three, she counted out the strides in her head, preparing for take-off. Just as before, Traveler soared over the fence and his rider took joy in the rush of the wind in her ears. Joy, an emotion she hadn't felt since before her best friend disappeared and the rest of the Finch's had been found dead. She still refused to believe that Cara could have been involved, but no one seemed to listen to her. The media just kept upping the alert levels in the search for her friend, her innocent friend.
One, two, three. This time the jump was a spread: blue-striped poles spaced about four feet apart and three and half high. Emily could feel Traveler's muscles bunch and release as he sprung upwards, neck arching forward. But the horse had misjudged the spread and his hind legs caught the rear pole on the landing. The pole came crashing down, thudding loudly in the sand of the arena and shaking Emily from her trance-like state. When she rode, it was if the whole world slipped away and she was just a girl on a horse, without troubles and strife.
"Boo! Let's see someone who can really ride!" a male voice floated from the rail.
Emily rolled her eyes and steered Traveler, who was huffing from exertion, over to the fence that surrounded the arena.
Her friend Sean, the only friend she had left, stood with his arms draped over the fence. He turned his boyishly cute face up to her and winked. "Just kiddin', you're the best there ever was," he teased.
"That's right, and you'd better not forget it," she said as she unbuckled her helmet and pulled it off. Yuck, helmet hair she thought. In a vain attempt to revive her dark brown locks, she began finger-combing her hair.
"How are you holding up?" Sean asked, donning a warmly concerned expression.
Emily gave a small smile and shrugged. "Fine. Everything's been going great," she lied.
Sean knitted his brows. "Whatever. Ems, it's me, you can tell me anything."
She sighed loudly as she swung her right leg over the saddle and dismounted gracefully. "It's been tough, you know? Cara and I were like sisters." She stroked Traveler's sleek shoulder absentmindedly and the gelding turned to nudge her. "Alright, we're going inside," she said to her impatient steed.
Sean reached over the fence and poked at the horse's nose, not really paying attention to his actions. "Hey, I wasn't exactly Cara's biggest fan, but you like her; therefore, I like her."
"Oh Sean, you're so sweet."
This time he rolled his eyes and turned to walk along the fence as Emily exited the arena. "I meant that you're a good judge of character, so there's gotta be some good inside that black heart of her's somewhere."
Emily grimaced. "You know, most people say the same thing about me. I guess we're just two bitches in a pod."
"Hey," Sean paused, forcing Emily to duck under Traveler's neck to look at him. "You are not a bitch. You just don't like to let people in. Lucky for me, you decided to open up to me and I can't imagine not having you as a friend."
She smiled, not a big smile, just a little close-lipped "thank you".
Sean returned the smile, then replaced it with his usual goofy grin. "I'm going for hot chocolate, you want?"
-O-
Dean yawned behind the wheel of the Impala; he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He and Sam had had a dinner of greasy, supreme pizza while they watched C.O.P.S. and speculated how they would definitely be the subjects of the most interesting episode to date. Thankfully, Sam hadn't mentioned Dean's temper tantrum because Dean had not intended to share anyway. He knew that he'd been irrational, but he thought that John might actually respond this time. When he'd heard some hostess answer…well, at least his Dad had enjoyed a good meal recently.
But Dean still hadn't been able to stop stewing over it and had slept fewer hours than Sam. "So, how much further?" he asked Sam who was hunched over a Georgia map.
"Not long, I don't reckon," Sam did his best redneck imitation. They were, after all, in Hiram.
Dean didn't respond and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"What?" Sam asked, folding up the map.
"I just hope this is it," Dean said lamely. "We've been all across this state the past two days."
"Actually, just two counties," Sam corrected.
"Oh, pardon me Christopher Columbus."
Sam just shook his head. Being a Winchester meant you could never catch a break, even over something as stupid as geography. Then he suddenly caught sight of a white, four-board fence ahead. "Slow down, this must be the farm Catherine told us about."
Dean slowed the Impala to a crawl while they examined the expansive piece of property before them. The fence ran along the road for five hundred or so feet and then turned up a driveway flanked by a brick sign. The sign read "Rosewood" in flowing, gold script and was landscaped fittingly with rose bushes. The boys could see a low, brown building some distance up the drive surrounded by acres and acres of rolling, green grass.
"Yep, Rosewood," Sam affirmed. "That would mean that the next driveway is the Russell home."
The next driveway was long and ran parallel to Rosewood's white fence. The house was a rectangular ranch, yellow with green shutters and a rocking chair front porch that spanned the entire front. There were two cars parked outside of the garage: a Taurus and a Yukon.
Dean parked behind the Taurus and opened his door, wincing at the squeak of the hinges. One of these days I'll finally oil that he thought as Sam climbed out as well. They walked down the sidewalk and climbed the three stairs up onto the porch. The Porch was even larger than it had appeared from the road. There was a swing off to the right and a row of three rocking chairs off to the left, the picture of southern hospitality.
Dean knocked twice and waited, popping his knuckles uneasily.
"Nervous?" Sam asked.
Dean looked at his brother who had his hands dropped calmly at his sides and followed suit. Was he really nervous? The unshakeable Dean Winchester? No, just eager to get on with the case, he reasoned.
They heard the deadbolt click and the door opened about six inches, revealing half of a man's face. He wasn't extremely tall, and hid bright green eyes behind rimless glasses. From what Dean could see, he guessed the man to be about fifty.
"Can I help you with something?" the man asked, his voice immediately suspicious.
"Are you James Russell?" Dean asked, levering a cop's authority into his voice.
"Yes, I'm James," the man answered, narrowing his eyes.
"Sir, I'm Detective Hagan, this is my partner, Stevens," he flashed the fake badge and Russell had to open the door wider to look at it. "We need to speak with your daughter, Emily."
Russell folded his arms across his chest in the now open doorway. "What's this about."
"Sir, she's not in any trouble. We have a few questions about her friend, Cara Finch." Dean shrugged, trying to look casual.
"Emily's already talked to the police."
Damn you Dean thought. Why can't you cooperate? "The case has been reassigned and it would be very helpful if we could obtain a fresh statement." He threw in an easy grin, hoping it might have a better effect on Russell than it had on the MPD secretary.
Russell sighed and looked side to side, working things over in his mind. Finally he said ", Emily's not home now."
Dean couldn't stifle the frustrated sigh that seeped out from between his teeth.
"But," Russell continued ", you might catch her next door. She went riding this morning."
"Oh, that's great. Thanks Mr. Russell," Dean tried to regain his professionalism after his little sigh slip-up, and succeeded.
"Thank you for your time, Sir," Sam chimed in as they turned from Emily's father and began their descent of the porch steps. He could feel Russell's eyes on them the whole way back to the car.
-O-
Dean pulled up to the low, brown building, that proved to be a barn, next to the only other vehicle in the small lot. He eyed the red, regular cab Silverado Z71 appreciatively. Sure, it wasn't exactly his style, what with its slight lift and knobby, off-road tires, but it was still a pretty piece of machinery, and he figured it purred quite nicely judging by the dual tailpipes.
"I've never known a girl to drive something like that," Sam commented, gesturing at the truck.
"Somehow I've got the feeling we're not dealing with your average girl," Dean said as they strode around the front of the building.
It was a beautiful barn. The stalls were constructed of tongue and groove paneling and each one was hung with a matching blue and burgundy blanket. There were three wash stalls in the front with rubber-matted floors and crossties to secure a horse. A beautiful black horse was standing in the middle wash stall, striking the ground impatiently with a front hoof.
All of this was completely lost on Dean who stood transfixed by the girl attending to the horse. She wasn't tall, probably only 5'1", and sported a curvaceous figure. Legs that were long for someone her height and a round backside was made obvious by her skin-tight, black riding pants. Her waist was tiny, but breasts definitely were not. She was tying back her long, dark hair into a ponytail as she scolded the horse. "Stop it Trav!" she commanded, and the horse suddenly stopped, swiveling its head toward where the boys stood in the doorway.
"What is it, Buddy?" she asked, turning to glance in the same direction as her mount. She froze when she caught sight of the two men standing there, then quickly finished off her ponytail and tugged down the hem of her sweater. "Can I help you?" she asked, still looking startled.
Dean's mouth fell open but he just couldn't seem to find words. He was staring at her face. She had slightly rounded cheeks set off with just a touch of blush, and her eyes, wow, her eyes. They glittered like twin hazel fires, full of so many emotions. Mousy? Where did that Catherine girl get off?
Sam quickly noticed his brother's incapacitated state and took the lead. "Yeah, we're looking for Emily Russell. You wouldn't happen to know her, would you?" he asked with the charm of a boy -scout. He always seemed to have a way of putting people at ease.
Apparently, Emily was not one of those people. "I'm Emily Russell," she said, eyeing them warily. "Are you Sean's friends?"
Dean suddenly seemed to have remembered how to use his vocal cords and entered the conversation, well, if you could call it that. "No Ma'am, we're detectives. I'm Hagan, and this is Stevens. We were wondering if we might be able to ask you a few questions." He gave her a hopeful grin.
"I already talked to Detective Williams and Davis yesterday," she said, and folded her arms across her chest.
"I know," Dean widened his smile. "But we just got assigned this morning and need to obtain an additional statement."
She cocked her head and raised a single eyebrow. "That wouldn't be a problem, if you guys were real detectives."
Dean's face fell slack as if the girl had just slapped him. He thought he'd pulled off the cop thing pretty well, it had worked on Mr. Russell. He recalled what he'd said to Sam moments ago ", Not your average girl," no kidding.
"But," Emily continued ", I know that you're just jerking me around. So you can go home and tell all your fraternity brothers to…"
"Whoa! Sorry, it's okay, you caught us," Dean held up his hands in defeat. "We're not cops, but we're not frat boys either. I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam, we're freelance journalists."
"Journalists?" Emily eyed his ratty jeans and T-shirt skeptically.
"Yeah," Sam added. "We've been writing a piece on the LaFayette murder and when we heard about the Finch case, we decided to incorporate it into our research."
"Well, how did you find out about me?"
This girl wasn't falling for anything. "We're not exactly on best terms with the cops, so we had to do a little digging," Dean felt his smile return. "You know, the illegal kind."
Her hardened expression finally softened, finding it hard to stare down Dean's charm. "Well, I guess that would be okay."
"We've read the statement you gave the police, and we think you're probably right about Cara," Dean figured she might open up a little more easily if she thought he was on her side.
"But," Emily continued.
Dean knew that "but" was never good.
"I've gotta get to class in an hour…"
The sudden roar of an engine drowned out the rest of her sentence. Dean glanced out of the window over his shoulder to see a truck that could have been the evil twin of Emily's truck pull up beside his Impala. Twin because it was a red, regular cab Silverado, and evil because it was wicked. Where Emily's truck was designed for off-roading, this one was made for the street. It had deeply tinted windows, chrome door handles, twenty-inch wheels and low profile tires. A young man he guessed to be about Sam's age climbed from the cab and walked around to the front of the barn.
"Hey Ems, I got you a large," the man called as he entered the barn, a steaming cup in each hand. He paused when he saw Sam and Dean. "Oh, uh, hey there," he offered.
"Sean, this is Dean, and that's Sam; they're journalists," Emily quickly introduced. "Dean, Sam, meet my friend Sean."
"So you must be the boyfriend of this lovely young lady," Dean said with a nod towards the newcomer.
"Um…no," Sean's cheeks blossomed with an obvious blush and Dean noticed Emily shifting her feet a little uncomfortably.
"Sorry, I'm always puttin' my foot in my mouth," Dean quickly tried to recover the situation and was relieved when Sean just shrugged it off.
"Back to what I was saying," Emily said, pulling the attention away from her now embarrassed friend. "I've gotta get to class and I can't give you an interview right now."
"Maybe tomorrow?" Dean asked hopefully, he just couldn't let her slip away so easily.
She frowned slightly. "Maybe when I get back from the car show."
"Hey," Sean spoke up. "Do you guys want to come with us tomorrow?"
Emily shot Sean a deadly glance, but Dean ignored it. "You're going to a car show?" he asked innocently.
"Yeah, just right up the road here," Sean said. "You could talk to Ems and while you're at it, you might as well enter that car of yours. That is one sweet ride, man."
Dean beamed at the praise of his baby and shot Sam a glance. Sam just gave a shrug with his mouth as if to say oh, what the hell. Dean could see Emily scowling out of the corner of his eye as he asked ", What time should we be here?"