4

Elizabeth Peabody sat in her hospital bed, flipping through her Bible one page at a time, sometimes pausing to read a verse, sometimes looking very closely at one of the beautiful paintings of angels reproduced in her copy. A soft knock at the door made her look up. Dr. Fisher entered, smiling. "Good morning, Elizabeth. These two young men wish to speak with you."

Elizabeth looked up as two tall, handsome, dark-haired young men in cheap suits followed Dr. Fisher into her room. They weren't doctors, so they were probably cops or something. There'd been a lot of police officers coming to see her lately. She used sign language to ask Dr. Fisher a question.

"Yes," the taller of the two men answered her. "We do have some questions about your parents."

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and nodded.

The other young man was giving the tall one a funny look. He apparently had had no idea that his partner could speak sign language. After a moment, he turned to Dr. Fisher and asked, "Could we talk to Elizabeth in private?"

Dr. Fisher glanced at Elizabeth. The girl nodded. Dr. Fisher looked back at the two young men and said, "If you need anything, let me know." And she left them alone.

The two men pulled out their FBI badges and handed them to her, introducing themselves as they did so. The tall one was Sam Jones, and the other one was Dean Smith. Elizabeth thought their names sounded strange, even fake, but their badges looked authentic. She handed Dean's card back to him after a quick glance, but she held Sam's card for a few seconds longer, looking at his picture. Both young men were very nice to look at, but Sam was somewhat more appealing to Elizabeth. He struck her as being sweeter and more sensitive. Elizabeth handed his card back to him.

Sam took his card and smiled at Elizabeth as he pulled up a chair to sit beside her bed. Dean did the same on the other side. "Now, Miss Peabody," he began.

She signed quickly.

"Elizabeth," Sam translated.

"Elizabeth," Dean corrected himself. "Can I call you Liz?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

Sam smiled a little at Dean's annoyed frown, small dimples forming in Sam's round cheeks. "Elizabeth," he said softly, "first of all, I know how hard this has been for you, so if you think we're prying too much, let us know and we'll stop."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

"You didn't see or hear anything, right?" asked Dean, plunging into the interrogation.

Elizabeth nodded.

"How did you know it happened?"

Elizabeth began signing. Sam watched her hands as he translated, "I knew something was wrong, because I was dreaming about my family. I only dream when something bad happens. I woke up feeling very scared and ran into their room, and-"

She stopped, her face pale, and dropped her hands back in her lap, lowering her eyes. Sam reached out and squeezed her hand encouragingly. Elizabeth met his gaze. Her heart had managed to leap into her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"You didn't see anyone?" Dean continued cautiously, not wanting to upset her. "No signs of entry or exit?"

Elizabeth looked at him curiously. "No, and neither did the police. Didn't you read the report?"

Sam's and Dean's faces tightened perceptibly. "Of course," Dean said, obviously lying. "We just want your perspective."

Elizabeth knew he was lying, but something about the two men told her they could be trusted to help her. She folded her hands and waited for the next question, which came from Sam. "What happened next?"

Elizabeth signed, and Sam translated, "I must have fainted, because I woke up suddenly and saw that an hour had gone by. I ran next door. Our neighbors understood sign language. I managed somehow to explain the matter to them through my hysterics, and they called the police.

"The police at first thought I was a suspect. I was there, they couldn't find any signs that anyone else had been there, so I was a major suspect."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Why didn't they arrest you, then?"

"Dr. Fisher. She explained to them that, because of my condition, there is no way I could hide something like that. They used a lie detector on me, and got no response. According to Dr. Fisher, that proves me not guilty."

Dean looked suspicious. "And the fact that you were a suspect in your own parents' murder didn't bother you?"

Elizabeth shook her head and signed, "No, it was perfectly logical. Because of my illness, it's impossible for my judgment to be clouded by feelings and emotions."

Dean looked across her bed at Sam. Sam looked quite thoughtful, but Dean was still very skeptical. Dean tilted his head as a signal for him and Sam to leave, and they both rose to their feet. "Well, I think that just about covers it," Dean said. "We'll get out of your hair." He offered Elizabeth his hand. She shook his hand, and then Sam's.

As the boys started to leave, Elizabeth picked up her Bible and began looking for her place. Sam glanced over his shoulder, saw what she was reading, and turned around. He asked, seemingly as an afterthought, "One last question: Do you believe in angels?" He waited for Elizabeth's reply, to which he responded, "Yeah, we did read the policeman's interview."

Elizabeth flipped to one of the paintings in her Bible, this one showing the angels singing over Bethlehem. She pointed at a lovely, female angel with long, curly, dark hair. She handed the Bible to Sam and signed a comment to him. Sam raised his eyebrows and handed the Bible back to her. "Thank you," he said, smiling out of politeness rather than cheerfulness.

Elizabeth nodded.

As Sam turned away, Elizabeth heard Dean whisper to him, "What'd she say?"

Sam whispered back, "The angel in the picture looked just like her mother."

Dean raised his eyebrows, stunned. "Oh, is that all?"

As they left, Elizabeth couldn't help watching Sam, even craning her neck to see through the crack in the door until it closed.

Elizabeth realized suddenly what she was feeling, and she bit her lip lightly, smiling.