The early morning Nevada sun broke through the motel room window far too soon for Dean Winchester's liking. He'd had yet another night of fitful sleep due to his brother's constant nightmares, and his neck was stiff from the lump under his pillow- the hilt of a large hunting knife he kept handy just in case of an unwanted visitor.

"Want some coffee?" Sam's quiet voice asked as Dean swung his legs over the side of his bed.

Dean brushed a hand through his hair and yawned. "I thought you'd never ask. Just tell me it's later than 5.30…"

Sam smiled a little and passed his brother a mug of coffee. "Barely," he admitted. "But I wanted to get an early start and catch up with this Pete Garland. I think if anyone can help us solve this puzzle, he can."

Dean exhaled. "I hope you're right, because I really don't like spooks that drive my car…"

"Sammy didn't drive, she just hitched a ride."

Dean pulled a face. "Yeah, well the woman in white started out that way, and look where my car ended up!" He took down the hot coffee he'd been handed in one gulp and headed for their room's small shower compartment. "I sure hope you know what you're getting us into…" The elder brother's voice trailed as he turned on the hot water and his words were drowned out from the spray.

An hour later, the pair were waiting outside the local garage for Pete Garland to turn into work. Dean tapped at his Chevy's steering wheel impatiently as he glanced down the lonely desert road. When his drumming fingers failed to alleviate the boredom, he flicked on the car's stereo system and turned up the volume.

Sam scowled, but knew it was no use telling his brother to turn off the Metallica track now bursting his eardrums. "Why do you think the killings stopped?" He almost shouted above the blasting guitar solo playing from all four speakers.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe our killer hasn't found another girl suited to his tastes lately. Maybe he or it has moved on."

"No, if the killer was gone, Sammy wouldn't have appeared to us. She either wants her murderer found, or she wants to stop it happening again." Sam noted a red Dodge pickup ambling along the road and nodded towards it. "Looks like someone's here. Let's go see if it's our guy." He climbed from the Impala and gently closed the door behind him.

Dean followed and deftly locked the car before letting his brother take the lead.

"Hi, we're with the Yuma Police Department. We're looking for a Peter Garland." Sam flashed a fake I.D. from one of many that Dean had manufactured. "I'm officer King and this is my partner officer Carpenter…"

The man in his late twenties let his cab door click closed and eyed the two before him with a frown. "I'm Pete Garland, but what would two Arizona cops want with me?" He looked slightly puzzled, but jerked a thumb back towards the garage. "Let me open up and we can talk inside over a can of coke if you like?"

Dean nodded. "That would be great." As they bobbed under the workshop shutter he mouthed to Sam, "King and Carpenter? Are you nuts?" Sam grinned back. The daring charm of his elder brother was obviously rubbing off somewhat and Dean had noticed.

Ahead, Garland had paused at a battered vending machine and flicked in a few coins. Seconds later he tossed both brothers an ice-cold drink. "So, like I said, what do you guys want with me? I mean, no disrespect but you don't even have jurisdiction in this state."

Sam nodded. "That's right, we don't. We just want to ask you a few questions about your girl friend Sammy and the day she died." He watched for a reaction from the blonde mechanic, but saw none. Pete was either genuine, or very good at hiding his emotions.

"Sammy's been dead months. Why have you showed up now?" Garland took a sip from his own can and swallowed slowly.

"We just had a similar killing over in Yuma and your local boys thought there might be a connection. They told us we should speak to you. You were the last one to see Sammy alive, right?" Dean put down his drink and walked closer to Garland. The move somehow seemed to intimidate the garage worker and he stiffened.

"I found Sammy out on the highway. Not that there was much left to find. She'd pretty much been eviscerated." He paused, staring from the grimy shutter glass out into the desert. "Still, at least I found her. Some of the others were never found…only where they'd been killed…"

"Where?" Dean raised a brow and then instantly realized his mistake.

"Yeah, the altars, Man…but then if you were really cops you'd already know about that." Garland's tone changed from wary to extremely suspicious. "Where'd you say you're from again?"

"Yuma Police department," Dean asserted, "And I didn't mean where they'd been killed as in the altars, I meant where were the altars located. Can you show us?" He quickly covered.

Garland looked pained and glanced away again as if he needed to think before answering. "I loved Sammy…she didn't deserve to go that way. I'll do anything I can to help you find what monster did this." He sniffled a little, and pulled a cloth from his overall pocket as if he were about to break down. Somehow, he composed himself enough to continue, "I have a callout to tend. Car broken down the other side of town, but I'll gladly meet you out on the highway afterwards." He took a small notepad and jotted down some directions. "Meet me here in thirty minutes and I'll show you everything I can."

Sam took the piece of paper he was handed and nodded. "We appreciate this."

Back outside the garage, Dean paused before unlocking the Impala. "Do you believe that guy?" he raised a brow.

Sam thought about it. "Something seemed off just like it did the night we picked Sammy up. I'm not sure whether he's out and out lying, or if he still can't get over what he saw…" Sadness came into his eyes and he looked down to his sand-dusted boots. Memories of Jess, his own girlfriend's death flooded his subconscious and he turned cold.

Dean wasn't so sympathetic with Garland. "Can't get over it my ass. He was too suspicious, as if he had something to hide…like maybe seven other girls dead bodies…" Without saying more, he hopped behind the wheel and cranked up more rock music.

Sam hopped in next to his brother and the Impala sped off as Pete Garland watched cagily from the still open garage shutter doors.

Tbc...