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Chapter 7 - Rebecca

The silence was horribly awkward. Cass wasn't used to feel uncomfortable because of the lack of chat, but with Sherlock sitting beside him in the cab, he just felt he had to say something, even if it felt stupid.

"Nice trench coat", he finally said, and before the last word, he felt stupider that he thought possible. He shouldn't even have opened his mouth. The look Sherlock gave him confirmed that, until the detective responded.

"Yours is nice too."

Then silence resumed, but this time it wasn't one of this awkward silences when no one knows what to say ; it was just a comfortable silence when no one needs to say anything.

The cab stopped abruptly, Sherlock threw money at the cabbie through the opening and headed towards the portal.

Cass followed slower, taking his time to examine the house before entering it. They were in the suburbs, nearly outside London, and the wealthiness was literally screamed at their face. The gigantic house stood about fifty meters behind the portal, which was the only opening in the high walls. Two lines of pines stood on both sides of the path made of well-adjusted beige stones. At the end of it, the door of he house was just as menacing as Not a leave, not a branch was in the way.

Sherlock pushed on a small button on the left of the portal and automatically, a camera turned to his face.

"Hi,", he said, "I'm Sherlock Holmes, I have a few questions about Rebecca." The answer was quick and surely not very polite, because Sherlock brusquely snorted and gave a long sigh.

The portal opened and Cass followed the detective along the path. Now that he was inside the place, he could see that the exterior of the property was nothing compared to what was hidden behind the walls. Large grass area were only interrupted by flower beds and oak groves. But if Cass loved parks (after all, they were a mix between two of the most beautiful of his Father's creations : human race, and nature), this one he didn't loved. Everything was just too well-kept, too obviously cut to fit only one person's desires. And that person, Cass didn't want to meet. It was obviously a man, used to the fear he inspired everyone. He was used to be immediately obeyed when he asked, no, demanded, something.

But Sherlock wasn't paying attention to the garden, or at least didn't seem to. He headed towards the door, not watching if Cass was following him.

The angel fastened his pace to keep up with the detective and they arrived together at the door, were a sort of butler invited them to enter the house.

"Mr. and Mrs. Eaton will receive you in the Yellow Room", the man said. He opened the door and then disappeared, leaving Sherlock to sit in the couch while Cass just waited in the middle of the room.

The Eatons arrived a few minutes later. The man was just like Cass had expected him to be ; small, with brown eyes and grey hair, looking as if he wanted to bite someone. His wife was more normal ; even smaller than her husband. Obviously, tears had just stopped streaking on her face.

"So." Mr. Eaton began. "What do you want ?" He was entirely turned to Sherlock, as if Cass didn't even exist.

"We are currently investigating on the disappearance of your daughter, young Rebecca, and we'd like to ask you a few questions. When did she first disappear ?"

Mrs. Eaton immediately began to weep, and her husband looked at her with slight disgust in his gaze. Cass sighed, then sat down beside the poor woman. He put a comforting hand on her arm. "We know it's a hard time for you, ma'am, and let's just pray to Jesus Christ that it will be over soon" he said in his most gentle voice. "But we need to know what happened to be more effective. So, please, answer the question."

"It was, uh, a few days ago... "She stopped and wiped her eyes with her arm. Her husband gave her a second disgusted look. She sniffed. "Wednesday, I think. Yeah, she first disappeared on wednesday. She left home to go to school, and the butler, I mean Nestor, he has to pick her up after school to drive her to her dance lessons. But she never arrived." Once more, she burst into tears, and this time even Cass' comforting touch couldn't counterbalance the concentrated look Sherlock gave her.

Her husband readjusted his costume jacket, obviously uncomfortable with his wife's emotions. Cass decided to let Sherlock ask the second question, because he had suddenly understood Mr. Eaton's dislike towards himself. The man wore a neatly ironed costume, with a tie and a vest, while himself still had Jimmy Novak's old costume, and on it his beige trench coat. His tie wasn't well adjusted and its backside was showing. So everything's just a question of appearance, he thought.

"When did she return ?" was Sherlock next move.

"The next day." This time it was Mr. Eaton who had spoken. "School called to say that she just showed up for classes. She came home with Nestor, my wife and myself are very occupied, you know, and we saw her in the evening. She seemed normal, but didn't answer any of our questions. The doctors said to let her some time to readjust herself, and to ask her more questions during the week-end. But..." He stopped.

"She disappeared again," Cass softly said.

Mrs. Eaton lifted her eyes to meet his blue ones. "Yes," she whispered. "The same story repeated on friday afternoon. Nestor went to school to pick her up, but she wasn't here."

The angel sighed. "And now it's wednesday again, and this time she hasn't showed up anywhere."

"Did you notice something strange ?" Sherlock asked, entirely concentrated on his own thoughts, unaware of the hurt glance Mrs. Eaton gave him. "No. She has always been a calm child, never disobeying, just reading or playing in her bedroom."

Cass didn't hear the rest of the conversation, lost in his thoughts. Did Rebecca run away on her own ? Did someone kidnap her ? What supernatural creature could be involved in her disappearance ? And then suddenly he couldn't stand Mr. Eaton's staring anymore. "Can we see it ? Her bedroom ?"

"Of course", Mrs. Eaton replied. "Nestor will lead you."

The butler appeared as if he had been ringed, and took Cass and Sherlock upstairs. He opened a pink door then let them alone.

Rebecca's bedroom was too neatly kept. That was Cass' first thought. No toys, no papers, no drawings. As if the little girl was already dead. Which was probably the case, but they weren't just going to give up so easily. The pink floor matched the pink bed, the pink wardrobe and the pink drapes.

Sherlock began to search in the desk drawers, while Cass attentively sniffed the air. "No sulfur," he announced. "No demon came here."

The search finally gave them nothing. The only interesting thing they found was a blood drop, lost in the (pink) bed sheets. Sherlock took a picture of it, then simply cut the stained part of the sheets to analyze it.

Nestor took them back to the front door, and the exited the house without seeing the Eatons again.

"I'd really like to know if the blood is hers", Cass said. "By the way, non of the Eatons was possessed, I checked. They didn't react when I mentioned the Christ. In fact, the Eatons were abnormally normal."

"I disagree," Sherlock said. "Her father is obviously not normal. It's like a not-upgraded version of my own brother, Mycroft. He wants to control everything and everyone. Seeing him, I'd say it's a fugue, but then why did she come back ? And she didn't take anything, so it can't be that. Anyway, I'd like to hear what her classmates think of her."

"We can see them tomorrow this afternoon", Cass said. "But we should first reunite with the other to see what they learned."

"Sure."

They were now about halfway trough the gardens, but Castiel could see something was bothering Sherlock.

"And the butler ? Was he... Human ?"

"Yes."

"I don't like him. I don't know what, but there something not logical in their story. I mean, why is Nestor picking her up after school, but not dropping her in the morning ? Why hasn't he spoken himself ? I asked a few questions directly to him, but Mr. or Mrs. Eaton always answered in his place. And then..."

Cass stopped listening when he noticed Sherlock was just thinking aloud. Someone was staring at him, of that he was sure. He had that tickling sensation in his neck that wouldn't fade, and concentrated in place of caring about Sherlock's rambling.

Then he suddenly had to pay attention to something even more pressing.

"... meet him. So what do you think of Nestor ?"

There was no answer to the brilliantly elaborated theory Sherlock was exposing. He sighed and turned back.

He was alone.

Next chapter will see what happens when Dean takes a cab :)