Carpe Diem, Baby
Chapter 3
Impala, Interstate 80, Eastern Iowa
Sam tried to hide his grin as he watched his brother squirm in the driver's seat of his beloved car. Dean had slept for ten hours straight. Half a tube of aloe vera gel had done wonders for his sunburn, and the handful of Advil he had choked down for breakfast had made the pain bearable, but halfway through their drive from South Dakota, the Advil had begun to wear off and now his older, tough-as-nails brother was fidgeting like a five year old who really needed to use the bathroom. The comparison struck a chord of amusement in Sam that he couldn't manage to keep from surfacing.
"Knock it off, Sam."
At Dean's growl, Sam forced the grin from his face, but his eyes couldn't disguise his less than sympathetic reaction to his brother's discomfort.
"What?"
Dean threw him a brief glare before returning his attention to the road. "Don't 'what' me, Coppertone."
Sam snorted in laughter and quickly held up a hand in apology. "I'm sorry, man. I really am. I know you're still in pain, but…"
The older man sighed, a grin teasing the edges of his lips. "Your sympathy is duly noted, dude." He nodded at the stack of papers on his brother's lap as he rolled his shoulders. He winced as the tight, raw skin pulled and repositioned his hands on the bottom of the steering wheel in a vain attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort across his shoulders. "So, what did you and Bobby dig up on this case?"
Sam gave his brother one last grin before turning his attention to the intel on their current job. "Zachary Sattler," Sam read from the printout. "According to the police report, he was found dead in the middle of a park around one a.m. Saturday night."
"Alone?"
"No. There were two other boys with him. His best friend Casey Rowan and his younger brother, Tommy."
Dean glanced at his brother. "His brother see what happened?"
Sam nodded but didn't look up.
"That sucks."
"Yeah." Sam cleared his throat and continued. "There were no wounds on the body. Although the other two boys swore that Zach was shot with an arrow."
"But there was no arrow on the body?" Dean confirmed as he guided the Impala around a minivan.
"Nope," Sam answered with a shake of his head. "There was nothing. No marks at all. The coroner listed the cause of death as unexplained."
"That's weird." Dean frowned. "How old was this kid And what the hell were they doing alone in a park that late at night?"
"Are you kidding? It's Iowa, Dean. Remember the angry spirit at that farm Dad took care of? Those people didn't even lock their doors." Sam shifted through the papers. "Um… here it is. Zach was thirteen. According to his friend, they were at the park to meet up with some girls from school."
Dean smiled sadly. "Boys will be boys."
The younger man nodded in agreement. "Both the other boys reported hearing a lot of barking dogs, and the younger brother said he saw a black clown come out of the trees with a bow and arrow."
"A black clown?" Dean repeated.
Sam shrugged. "That's what's in the report." He couldn't hide the shudder than ran down his spine at the mention of clowns.
Dean chuckled at his brother's reaction. "Don't worry, Sammy. I won't let the clown get you."
"Bite me." Sam tried to ignore his brother. "The cops believe Tommy's claims are trauma induced and they're writing it all off to childish imagination or some kind of coping mechanism for witnessing whatever happened to his brother."
"So let me guess. There's no APB out for Clarabelle and his merry hounds?"
"Nope."
"Friggin' idiots."
Sam grinned at his brother's normal disrespect for local law enforcement. "According to what Bobby and I dug up, this has happened twice before in the last ten years. Each time the initial victim dies without any outward sign of trauma, then the witnesses die of unusual circumstances that are written off as accidental deaths within a few weeks."
"And nobody ever put these all together?"
"None of the victims even remotely resembled each other, dude. An old man, a 40 year old waitress and now a thirteen year old kid." Sam looked up from the research, his eyes uneasy. "Dean, those two kids are the only witnesses. If this pattern holds true…"
"Yeah. They're next." Dean's lips pursed into a frown. "You and Bobby have any idea what we might be dealing with? Maybe another Rakshasa thing?""
Sam shook his head as he stowed the papers under his seat. "I don't think so. The pattern's not right. We need to get some more information, maybe check out the park and see if there's any EMF."
Dean nodded. "Okay, so what first? You wanna check out the scene or talk to the kids?"
"Park," Sam decided after a moment of thought. "We can check for any EMF first. That way we'll know if we're dealing with an actual spirit or some other kind of evil."
The fact that evil came in all sorts of packages – sometimes even human ones – remained unsaid.
Dean tilted his head toward the glove compartment as he pulled off the interstate onto an exit ramp for Cedar Rapids. "Okay. Park it is. Better dig out some I.D.'s in case the local cops are still stumbling around."
Morgan Creek Park, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Morgan Creek Park was nestled on the west edge of the small city of Cedar Rapids. The narrow, asphalt road wound its way through the tall trees and thick foliage, coming to a stop near a large clearing. The gravel parking area was dotted with squad cars and official vehicles as Dean pulled the Impala to a stop behind a black and white and cut the engine. He held out a hand as Sam dropped an ID into it, quickly checking his current alias before nodding to his brother and stepping out of the car.
They approached a uniformed officer on the edge of the clearing and flashed their federal ID's.
"Morning, Officer. Can you tell me who's in charge here?"
The young patrolman's eyes widened at the sight of the federal badges. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat before pointing toward a small group of people near the center of the clearing. "That'd be Detective Gamble, sir."
Dean smiled at the respect in the officer's voice, playing his own part to the hilt. "Thank you, son." Although the cop wasn't much younger than him – probably Sam's age – the authority in Dean's voice carried enough of an illusion of superiority to convince the officer of their credibility. He glanced at Sam, throwing him a glare as the younger brother tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement at Dean's act. Luckily, the officer didn't notice and Dean nodded his head sharply, silently instructing Sam to follow.
As they made their way around the forensics markers on the ground, Sam casually pulled out the EMF detector and attempted to get a reading. The lights flashed briefly before going dark and he gave Dean a small shake of his head in answer to his brother's unasked question.
Dean simply shrugged and they made their way over to the small group gathered in the center of the clearing.
"Excuse me," Dean spoke up, his voice low and confident. "Which one of you is Detective Gamble?"
A petite, dark haired woman in a navy pant suit stepped forward. "That would be me," she responded with a frown. Despite the suspicious look on her face, she was an attractive woman. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail and her brown blue eyes glanced from one brother to the other as her eyebrows rose in curiosity. "And who are you?"
Dean smiled appraisingly, his own eyes crinkling in appreciation of the woman before him. She had to be around 40, if the slight expression lines on her face were any indication, but she was still striking for an older woman and Dean could respect what it must have taken for a woman with her physical attributes to be taken seriously and rise in the ranks of the testosterone laden police department.
He held up his ID and let his respect and admiration shine through his eyes. "Special Agent Hetfield." He motioned toward Sam who stood a few steps behind him. "This is my partner, Agent Ulrich."
Gamble glanced at the ID and Sam before turning her attention back to Dean. "And just why would the FBI be interested in the death of a 13 year old kid?"
Dean shrugged. "We're investigating a string of deaths with similar circumstances," Dean lied easily. "When this case flashed across the board, we decided we might as well come check it out."
Gamble pursed her lips and studied him for a moment and Dean readied himself for the brush off that they usually were handed when using their federal agent act. Apparently, she wasn't as territorial as most of the local cops they'd run across.
"To tell you the truth, Agent Hetfield," she sighed and brushed her bangs back from her forehead. "I could use all the help I can get." She motioned toward two older men who were kneeling near a brown patch of ground a few yards to their right. "Let me introduce you to my forensics chief and he can run down what we have so far."
She turned away and started across the distance as Dean turned to his brother. Sam threw him a look of surprise at the unexpected cooperation and Dean simply shrugged in return. With a grin he turned to follow the detective.
"Awesome."
TBC