A/N
Alright, I totally missed the part where the posts weren't working. So I've been slow and I thought this chapter was up. Here it is, enjoy. I'm leaving tomorrow, but I promised I'd finish the story before I left… so two more chapters? This is short, and they are going to be short. Sorry guys. Review please though!
Chapter Six
It was easy to track Hilf. Hilf wasn't a very common name, so they had found the address of any residing Hilf's easily. Sam walked up to the door first, and knocked. Unlike Patty Waltz, the woman at the door was clearly torn. She was a short woman, looking to be about 5'4", and little pudgy around the sides. She looked like she had yet to take a shower in two weeks.
"Mrs. Hilf?" Sam asked in his most polite voice.
"Who's asking?" the woman was quick, and sharp. Her voice was edgy and rough, much different than Patty Waltz.
"Mrs. Hilf, I'm a private investigator. Ian Willison," Sam noted. It was better if they used the same fake ID names in small towns. He turned his shoulder to motion towards Dean. "And this is my partner Andrew Louis. We're investigating the deaths at Mission San Carlos de Borromeo, and we'd like to have a word with you."
The door swung open as the woman walked away motioning for the boys to follow her. The house was disastrous, quite the opposite of the pristine look Patty Waltz held in her little house.
"How long have you been living in this area Mrs. Hilf?" Sam was in no moods for small talk.
"About four months. Why? I presume you're here to ask me if we had any involvement?" Mrs. Hilf huffed. "You people, always think the people with the worst living are doing the worst crimes."
"Actually, we've come to ask you about a James Hilf," Dean cut in. At the mention of his name, the woman stiffened.
"Why?"
"What was your relation to James Hilf?" Sam inquired.
"Stepson. Why?"
"What happened to James?" Sam pressed on.
"James died in a freak accident, nothing more to it." She was getting tense, and Dean was quick to notice.
"Can you explain the accident to us, Mrs. Hilf?" Sam kept pressing. She looked at them reluctantly and Sam almost thought he wouldn't get an answer.
"He died at that mission."
"How so?"
"They think he killed himself." Alright, so not so much freak accident.
"And why would he do that, Mrs. Hilf?" Dean could not believe the intensity that Sam's voice held. He was shocked that the kid had killed himself, and yet Sam seemed unfazed. "Mrs. Hilf, I need you to answer my question."
"Because he had no friends, his mother died. His father left and took his sister with him. And James was left with me."
……….
"People are starting to make me sick," was the first thing Dean said to break the silence. They were once again at the motel, and Sam was once again tapping away on the laptop.
"Alright here it is. James Hilf, a young sixteen year old boy died. It says he killed himself with self-inflicted poison."
"I repeat, people are starting to make me sick."
"But the people at the mission died of infected mosquito bites."
"Sam, 'mosquito bites' could be something else. If they got infected, that's another way to say there was poison in the blood right?"
"Good point, but why would they mistaken it for mosquito bites?"
"Because they didn't look into it. I already told you, they do crack police work."
"But Dean-"
"No but's Sam. Look up the ages of all the other victims will you?" Sam gave Dean a confused look, but did so anyways.
"13, 13, 14, and 15."
"Jack pot baby."