Some time later, Zoë is uncomfortably sitting in the back of the ambulance. The police has also arrived; several cars are parked on the sidewalk and police officers, even forensics are examinating the crime scene for evidence, which of course, they will never find. The paramedics took care of her head wound and several other injuries she suffered. Her face feels like Mohammed Ali himself threw a few punches at her and to top it all, officer Devoir is standing right in front of her for the third time this day.
"Are you sure you didn't see anything?", Devoir checks after he wrote something down in his notebook.
"A hundred percent. It attacked me from behind and knocked me unconscious", she lies without flinching.
"It?", the officer looks up at her, a bit indignant by her choice of words.
"You know, he, she, whatever", Zoë mumbles looking away.
Devoir watches her for a moment and puts away his notebook.
"Off the record", he starts. "Do we need to put a lot of effort in this case or can I tell my sheriff that the FBI is taking over?"
A little surprised by the sudden question she looks back up into his eyes, then she chuckles. He has a point, right now they are busy questioning each other instead of actually solving the case. They are working on the same terrain here and neither of them is helped by that matter.
"I'll spare you some trouble. We'll take over", Zoë states.
He nods as a sign of agreement, realizing that this is probably for the best. They have no clue what so ever about this case and every lead they've got, runs directly at a dead end. Maybe the FBI has more experience with abnormal cases like this one.
"I hope you'll catch our killer, this town can't effort more crimes like these", the officer sighs.
"Neither can I", Zoë comments with a sigh as she wipes some blood from her chin.
"Good luck", he wishes her. "We'll keep in touch".
Zo watches him head back for his car as he gestures his partner Turner to follow him, who was asking Dean some questions. After all, he did demolish a motel room window with a shotgun, but it seems like he's getting some slack. Good for him, because even though she doesn't like the idea, he did save her ass. The eldest of the Winchester boys remains standing on the sidewalk. He takes a moment as he looks around. The PPD starts to gather their stuff and the first police car leaves the scene. Sam is in the room, looking for some leads. Then he spots Zoë inside the ambulance and walks over.
"Hate those damn interrogations", he grumbles as he leans against the left door of the van.
"Right there with ya, but they won't bother us anymore", she states.
"Good riddance", he comments as he watches the cars leave.
Then he turns to Zoë, observing her for a moment.
"How do you feel?", he asks.
"I got my ass kicked by a ten year old, how do you think I feel?", she bounces back.
Dean nods agreeing with a smile.
"At least you didn't get killed", he comments.
"True enough", Zoë agrees and a silence follows.
She looks sideways at the young guy, who at this point is watching Sam through the broken window. Zoë isn't the person who apologizes, but she does realize that his quick reaction saved her life. Strangely enough, that never happened to her before. She never needed to be saved, she was always able to take care of herself. Well, sort of…
"Hey Dean…", she starts of hesitating.
He turns back to her, waiting for what she was about to say.
"I just wanna say, well…", she speaks with difficulty. "You kinda saved my ass out there, so…"
"Don't mention it", he responds before she finishes her sentence.
Dean watches her and grins as she looks down. Seems like she might start to realize that she can't always make it on her own. Yet he saves her from the confronting words, he knows it's difficult to say them out loud. Besides, she's having a hard time as it is. Again she puts her arm around her side and closes her eyes for a moment.
"Sure you can hunt like this?", Dean tries to make eye contact.
"Of course I can! I had worse", she snipes fierce.
"Just askin'", Dean shows his hands in innocence.
At that moment Sam walks up to them, hopefully with some new information. His identification hangs from his neck, so that the police still left on the scene know who he pretends to be without asking.
"Smart move, Zo", he compliments, crumbling salt between his finger and thumb.
"Where did you find that?", Dean asks curious.
"In the cill. I salted the window in order for you to get in", Zoë explains before Sam can.
"I was wondering how that slug got through", the eldest thinks out loud.
"What did you find?", Zoë turns to Sam and looks up at him.
"Not much", he tells. "Same situation as the other three incidents, only you survived".
"Did she say anything?", Dean wonders.
Laura did say something, something Zoë won't forget any time soon. Ghosts have the ability to see right through people, to know what they are really about. The deepest secrets aren't safe when the afterlife sets in. It scares her that Laura knows about her, about the demon, about John.
"She mentioned something", she brings up, leaving the personal stuff out. "She kept saying 'they didn't stop it' and talked about hate and blame and all that stuff".
"I heard her say that too", Sam admits.
"In your vision?", Dean checks.
Sam confirms with a nod and turns back to Zoë.
"Anything else you saw?", Sam questions.
She looks away while she starts to ponder, what else could be relative? By replaying the moment in her head, she tries to remember anything particular.
"Her hair was wet", she recalls with closed eyes. "Water was dripping on the floor. She was wet through".
Both boys think that through as Dean rubs his chin.
"Now that doesn't make any sense", Dean comments. "You see ghosts appear wet through when they drowned or something, not when they got killed by abuse. Water had nothing to do with her death, she broke her neck".
"Great, another clue of which we have no idea of what the hell it means", Zoë sighs.
"Maybe we do…", Sam stares at nothing, apparently an idea starts to evolve in his head. "Laura broke her neck, did you actually saw a fracture on her ghost?"
"Yeah, and believe me, it wasn't pretty", Zoë gags while thinking of the exposed fracture.
"Zoë, the body you burned didn't have a broken neck", Sam recalls.
Stunned Zoë stares into his eyes and goes back to that night at the Linwood Cemetery. Sam is right, the spinal cord of the body in the coffin was intact. No scars, no nothing. She rolls her eyes as she realizes what is going on; she burned the wrong body!
"I'll be damned", she huffs.
"Sure you didn't start digging at the wrong tombstone?", Dean checks smartly.
"I can read", she glares at him.
She doesn't doubt herself for one second, she's sure she dug up the girl who was in Laura Shire's grave.
"Someone switched bodies", Zoë concludes.
"Why? Why would Shire do that? He had a false death report", Dean brings to mind.
"Maybe he got scared. People knew and he was probably aware of that. Suppose that this came out in the open, police would have started digging. They would have found out", she figures.
"He wanted to secure his alibi and traded Laura's remains for someone else's", Sam fills in.
"That's all mighty fine, but where the hell is Laura then?", Dean asks out loud.
Zoë sighs, that's a damn good question. As she looks away, sirens sound in the distance, but she doesn't immediately notice them.
"Dr. Judigtsteyn is probably into it, why don't we have a little chat with him", Sam suggests.
Before Zoë and Dean can agree on that, one of the two paramedics interrupts. They all shut up instantly, not wanting to talk about the supernatural when normal people are around.
"Mrs. Evans. I'm afraid we have to take you to the St. Bernards Medical Center in Jonesboro", he tells her.
"What? Why? The AMMC is right around the corner?", Sam jumps in before Zoë refuses to go to any hospital at all.
"The ER has been closed down, Sir", the paramedic answers politely.
"For what?", Dean likes to know.
Then two police cars rush by. A bit startled Zoë glances around the van to see what's going on, as another car following stops. She's surprised to see that Officer Devoir rolls down his window.
"Federal agents", he greets them with a nod. "We have another one at the Medical Center".
Their eyes widen and Zoë's jaw drops. Another one? How did that happen so fast? Dean is the first to recover from the unexpected news.
"We'll be right there", he states.
Devoir rolls up his window and exhilarates. Sirens scream through the street as they drive down the road. All three of them watch them take off, still a little flabbergasted. They don't need a name, they already know who Laura killed.
"Judigtsteyn", Dean knows.
"Yep", Zoë sighs and gets on her feet.
"Mrs. Evans", the paramedic objects.
"I don't need to go to hospital. I'm fine, thank you", Zoë ensures.
"We'll take care of her", Dean backs her up.
Sam gives him an unpleasantly surprised glare, how could he agree with that? She almost got killed by a ghost, broke several bones and now she doesn't even want to be checked out?
"I'm sure, thank you for your help", Zoë insists fierce but polite.
She shuffles to the parking lot of the Sunset Moteland gets support from Dean when he detects she's still feels dizzy.
"You're nuts, you know that?", Sam whispers as he walks next to them.
"Yep, completely aware", she answers cynical.
Dean grins by her smart comment.
"You're not alright, Zo", Sam states.
"You're talking like I'm half way dead!", she cries out.
"Well you came pretty damn close!", he snipes.
"Hey dude, chill. I know you're worried about your little girlfriend here, but she has to stay with us", Dean brings to mind as they reach his Chevy.
"I'm not little and I'm not his girlfriend", Zoë turns to him insulted.
Before he can respond, Sam also objects.
"Why does she have to stay with us?", he questions.
"Because if she doesn't, she'll be alone and Laura will attack her again. We're not leaving her out of sight", Dean decides.
He opens the door to the back seat of his precious Impala and makes a gesture to Zoë.
"Get in", he orders.
"What, in that?", Zoë chuckles as she glares at Dean's baby inferiorly. "No thanks, I'll take the Dave".
"You're not getting on a bike", Dean makes clear as she intends to head over to her black road runner, irritated by her tone.
"It's not a bike, it's a Harley Davidson Road King", she corrects annoyed. "If I ride, I ride my Dave, no way you'll get me in that car".
"It's not a car, it's a Chevrolet Impala '67!", he bounces back insulted.
Zoë pretends that he's not even there and walks on, while Sam laughs silently as Dean grinds his teeth and watches her.
"Wipe that smile off your face and get in", the eldest orders.
Sam doesn't stop smiling, but he does get into the oldtimer as Dean settles in the drivers seat. Frustrated Dean starts the engine and roughly drives up to Zoë, then he brings it to a stop between her and her motorcycle. By this time he has already rolled down his window and now stares up into Zoë's dark eyes.
"You know just as well as I that you are not capable of riding your precious shiny suicide bike. Now quit being so damn stubborn and get in the damn car!", he commands.
She stares into his eyes as their gazes seem to battle; who's gonna look away first? This time it's Zoë, who lets out a sigh. Of course she knows it's not gonna be an easy ride and sitting in the back of a car seems far more responsible than driving down herself, bike or car. But it's admitting to Dean that she hates. Her hand grabs the door-latch, but she's not willing to give in without a little fight."I thought you said it wasn't a car", she recalls smartly as she sits down in the back seat.
Dean rolls his eyes, ignores her comment and puts his hand on the wheel. As she slams the door, he accelerates. As he leaves the parking lot of the Sunset Motel, he realizes how badly he wants this case to be over. Because right now, he could break her little neck himself.