Bobby's Daughter
I do not own anything you recognize…
Chapter Six
"No," I said, looking up from my computer to Dean, who was sitting on the desk. "Nothing suspicious."
We had retired to the office – a hunter green room with more books and a computer.
"Any local lure," he asked. "There's got to be something."
"Nothing." I clicked on another link.
"Move," he said, getting impatient. He practically shoved me out of the seat and took over.
"Ass," I muttered, standing up straight.
"Got it," he told me before reciting, "Serial killer caught in Hanscom County. Apparently, he was tortured as the method of killing."
"Tortured? What happened to not having cruel and unusual punishment?"
Dean shrugged. "Guess it's like Paris Hilton and that sex tape."
"What," I asked, bewildered. This guy was starting to scare me sometimes.
"She showed no decency. The punishers showed no leniency."
I rolled my eyes. "First off, that made no sense. Second, for a drifter, you really have a good knowledge of current day affairs."
He laughed. "Sweetheart, you dunno the half of it."
"That made no sense either."
"Come on," he said, getting up and grabbing my wrist with the good arm. "I wanna show you something."
He pulled me downstairs to the first floor and outside. "What are we doing," I asked with a smile. The sun was coming up on the horizon. Sometimes I woke up after I've worked all night, just to see this.
"If you're gonna help me, I wanna make sure you can cover my ass."
"What," I asked as he grabbed the gun from the back of his jeans. He set it on the ledge of the railing and went out into the yard. I had some targets lying out there from when Wyatt – the medic friend – came over and we would do some bow and arrow shooting. Dean set them up. "There's no way in hell that I'm helping you do this."
"Syd," he tried. "You gotta. Your dad would."
"Don't talk about my dad," I told him as he came back.
"Fine. But you gotta help me. Just this time, Miss Singer."
"That's it," I yelled. That was the good thing about owning so much land. No one would hear you scream. "I'm not helping you." I started to go inside.
He blocked my entry to the back door by putting his good arm in front of me. "Sydney, help me this once and I swear I won't come back."
I looked up to his eyes and they seemed to be begging. "Fine. Just this once so we can find Sammy."
He nodded, appreciatively. "Let's show you how to shoot."
Pop References:
One: Hanscom is an Air Force base in Massachusetts.
Two: Paris Hilton and the sex tape.