I wasn't sure why I was so anxious to get this job finished with. Usually I was the one who took time to make sure everything was correct. Double checking all our stuff, being extra precatious, not rushing into a job. That was Dean. Constantly I told him not try and accomplish what he wanted on the spur of the moment, to think things through. But he never paid much attention to me, left that job for me.

I supposed he was the reason why I was running quickly through the samll shrubbery outside of the woods. Subconciously I believed that the sooner I finished this job, the sooner Dean and I would be reunited. Be able to work everything out.

The heat was miserable. Between the heat index and constantly jogging I was covered in sweat. It felt as if I had just came out of the shower. But I wasn't going to stop. Every minute or so I took a sip from a canteen I'd brought along.

At one point my foot tripped over a tree root, causing me to fall. My right side landed in dirt and dead leaves. Both stuck to my sweat like glue, dirtying me up even more. Breathing heavily I looked around. Why was I running? It was alittle past eleven. I still had plenty of daylight left. Even while I was shopping I was jumpy. Feeling as if the check out line was taking an eternity, when, really, there were only two people ahead of me. And numerous times catching my myself from snapping at friendly workers, who held me back by trying to have small talk.

I didn't want small talk. I wanted this goddamn hunt to be over. But, I had to remind myself, rushing would cause careless mistakes. Which could be fatel.

I'd been in the woods for about five minutes. From the old man I'd bought the matches and a lighter (just in case) from, Henry had taken Lacy out here about nine. He was seen walking home at midnight. About the time of Tommy's death.

I assumed Henry had taken Lacy into the woods, tried to take advantage of her, but when she held her ground, he beat her, bashing her head into a tree, probablly not even realizing she was dead until he stopped. When he saw her lifeless body, he panicked, and buried her. And all in three hours.

"C'mon," I coaked myself. My body was beginning to get a dull ache. Which wasn't surprising, seeings in the matter of two days, I'd been hit with a fist and a door. And now falling face first onto a forest floor.

I searched for a trail. Anna had mentioned a hang out place out here, and the bagger at the grocery store told me there used to be one, had been there for over twenty years. I figured Henry had taken it that fateful night.

Turning left, I peeked through a small patch of bushes and saw a clearing about three feet wide. It continued ahead, until eventually curving left. It seemed luck was with me that morning.

Just as I began to turn the corner, the sweat on my face subsiding gradually and my mind becoming more calm and focused, my cell phone rang. My heart lept. With shaking hands I reached into my pants pocket. It wasn't there. Checking my bag, I found it wasn't in there either. The ringtone sounded as if far off.

I groaned. It must have fell out when I tripped over the ground. Once again, I resumed running, hoping to catch Dean before he got my voicemail.

But by the time I reached the spot of my falling, the cell phone had stopped and I saw the picture stating I had a message. Picking the phone up frantically I listened, my breath seeming to have stopped. At least he had left a message this time.

"Sam, I'm sorry to bother you, I know your busy, but I need to talk to you. It's about Anna. I won't go into details right now, just please call immediatly as you can."

I closed the phone, angry. It wasn't Dean. It was Claire. What was I? Anna's baby-sitter? Sure, I enjoyed her company. But I had to get this thing done and interruptions were slowing me up.

I kicked the tree next to me. Then I kicked it again. Running a hand through my hair, I thought of the reasons Dean would leave me alone. He was still in town, I could feel that. And I was sure he listened to all my messages. Was he embarrased? He was the one who wanted me to read his journal, I didn't ask to.

All I knew was being stuck in unkown woods, not even positive I was going in the right direction, in search of a ghost, was not helping calm my nerves. Instead it was multiplying all my nerves and paranoya about a hundred times.

After composing myself, and leaving the tree with a considerable loss of bark, I continued back on the path, forgetting altogether about Claire's call, trying my best to focus.