The nearest motel to Junction, Illinois was fourteen miles away. Talk about your hole in the wall. The nearest sheriff's department was only five miles away, making it the first stop on the job. They thought they had seen some small town sheriffs before but this took the cake. This guy had good-ol' boy written all over him.

Sheriff Richard Duncan leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. "Why do you wanna know about the Crenshaw House?"

Kayla answered enthusiastically. "We're part of the Friends of the Old Slave House and I'm doing research on…"

"Ah Christ." The man groaned. "You're always doing research and writing those damn articles. The state has no interest in that horror show."

"The state doesn't, but I know a private investor that does. Big time horror show buff."

"And think of all the revenue it would bring in if they opened the place back up. In the 1940s they already hit a record three hundred visitors in one day." Sam added; he couldn't believe Dean made him go in on this one. They should have played rock paper scissors. "Now people from all over the country know about it and have better means of getting there."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"The county could use the money." Kayla noted with a quick glance around the "office".

Sheriff Duncan caught her hint and gave them a long frown. "So what exactly do you need?"

"We'd like to get inside the house. The investor is very adamant about photos of the attic."

He looked Kayla over and then looked at Sam. "No one's been inside that house except the caretaker in ten years."

"Can we speak with the caretaker? Does he live at the house or just do the upkeep?" She ignored the fact he seemed to be done with her.

Sam paused. "Why don't you go call him and find out how much he's willing to pay for the property?"

She sighed quietly and got up; this guy was going to be more comfortable making deals with Sam. If you flirt with him you might get a private tour.

Shut up.

"I heard that!" She spun around at the door, surprised. Then she remembered where she was. "I heard that…John Crenshaw actually bred his own slaves. Is that true?"

"That's what they say. Rumor has it one slave alone, a stud he called him, put out three hundred kids."

"Damn. Well, I'll go make that phone call."