A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They're very much appreciated. This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but it seemed like a good place to leave it. Hope you enjoy!
I do not own Supernatural.
Now convinced that this photo was somehow at the center of what was happening, MJ and Sam worked feverishly to piece it all together. Both had their laptops out. Sam was sitting at the desk and MJ on the floor, both surrounded by the files they had compiled at Bobby's. Dean sat on the bed, against the headboard, one hand resting against his stomach. Scotty was still perched on the small counter in the kitchenette, working on his third beer. He also had his computer open. As engrossed as she was in her research, MJ noticed Scotty's eyes were on her more than they weren't. She tried her best to ignore him.
"I'm not finding any connection between Sean Burke and the senator." Sam said. They had found the photo in Sean's meager personal belongings. Sam had recognized the victims and knew Sean was connected to the deaths. He pulled up a photo of Sean from Mount Hope's patient database. It was definitely the guy that attacked them in the parking lot.
"There's no obit, no death records, nothing for this Sean Burke. It's like he never existed." Scotty said. He looked up at Dean. "We can't burn what we can't find."
Dean picked up the copy of the photo. "We need to assume one of these other people is the next victim. And," he gestured toward his mid-section, "since it's now glaringly obvious the spirit is not confined to the facility, we gotta shag ass. These people are in danger. I say we warn them now and figure out the connection later."
"Senator Morrison has a home in Lake Placid. The wife and son live there pretty much full time." MJ read. "Whether the senator's there or in Albany is anybody's guess."
"Lake Placid is about 30 minutes east of here." Scotty said, hopping up and draining his beer.
"Let's get a move on." Dean said as he started to stand, wincing as he moved.
MJ stood, grabbing up the scattered files. "Nice try, Dean. You're not going anywhere."
Dean swung his feet over the side of the bed. "I'm not sitting here with my thumb up my ass."
"Seriously, Dean. You're not coming along so I can restitch that in the middle of fighting an angry spirit."
Scotty walked over and cuffed Dean on the shoulder. "Just lie back and relax. Sammy and I got this."
Dean grumbled something about being treated like a kid, but swung his legs back onto the bed and lied back.
Sam put his hand out to MJ who was holding all the files in a neat stack. "Thanks," he said taking them.
"Hang on. You don't think I'm staying behind, too, do you?" MJ asked.
"MJ, we've been over this-"
Dean's argument was cut off by what could best be described as a snarl from MJ.
"No!" she shouted, actually stomping her foot. "Just, no! You need help and Dean can't go, so you're taking me! What if they're not all in the same place and you need to split up? How are you going to keep all of them safe? What if we actually catch a break and the body is buried somewhere nearby? How are you going to burn the bones and babysit the Morrisons? I can not sit here and wonder how it's going for the next God knows how many hours! I won't. So just get over it, because you'll have to drag me, kicking and screaming from the Impala to get me to stay behind." With that she made her way quickly across the room and left, slamming the door behind her.
Sam looked to Dean, knowing they didn't have time to argue, but not willing to be the one to give the final okay.
Dean looked from the door to Sam, clearly frustrated. "Just don't let her out of your sight."
"Okay, so Sean Burke was admitted to Mount Hope seventeen years ago when he was seven-years-old." Sam was speeding down the highway, Scotty riding shotgun. MJ was in the back, the files they had compiled while at Bobby's about the recently deceased patients spread across the seat. She had a flashlight poised in front of her, scouring the documents. "He was born in Philedelphia. His diagnosis was severe mental retardation when he was admitted. Strange, though, the staff commented on his being relatively high functioning. He wasn't violent. He didn't require much care." She shook her head. "Over and over again the doctors and nurses made note of how capable he was. Weird."
"Yeah, we read his file at Bobby's. So how did he die again?" Scotty asked from the front seat.
MJ flipped through the records. "Oh." She said softly. "He was pushed down a flight of stairs by another patient. He broke his hip and had to have surgery. He went into cardiac arrest while he was under."
"Well, whatever is motivating him, he seemed really...focused when he attacked Dean." Sam said, hitting the accelerator a little harder.
"Why were you guys able to see him? The witnesses of the other attacks didn't see anyone or anything near the victims."
"I don't know." Sam said distractedly. "Maybe he's getting stronger. Maybe that's why he can leave now." His focus was clearly on getting them to Lake Placid as quickly as possible.
"He had a knife?" MJ asked.
Scotty turned to her, the smirk firmly in place. "He stole it off Dean. Your brother never saw it coming until it was too late. He was good and pissed, eh."
"Do you find this funny? He could've been killed." MJ shot back, glaring at him.
Scotty put his hands up in surrender, before turning back around in his seat. MJ didn't miss that his grin widened at her outburst.
"Can I help you?" The middle aged woman peaked around the partially opened front door, a polite smile plastered on her clearly annoyed, suspicious face. She swept a strand of her dark blonde hair away from her face as she took in the three of them, standing side by side on her porch.
"Patricia Morrison?" MJ asked.
"Yes."
"Mrs. Morrison, I'm Sam Bennett. This is Scott Thompson and Mary Palmer. We-"
"We need to know how you know Sean Burke and why he wants to kill you." Scotty interrupted Sam, staring Patricia straight in the eye. His usual smirk had been replaced by a cold, stony stare.
Patricia's smile disappeared and the color drained from her face. She stood silent and wide eyed for a moment, clutching the doorframe.
"What are you talking about? Who are you people?" Red blotches appeared on her cheekbones.
"Listen, Mrs. Morrison, I'm sure you're aware of the deaths at Mount Hope Institute. We're private investigators who were hired to look into them. We think you and your family might be in danger." Patricia considered him for a few moments, apparently torn between curiosity and fear. Sam looked her directly in the eye. "Please. Just let us explain. We're here to help you."
Patricia reluctantly stepped back to let them in.
She led them to a formal sitting room. MJ looked around, gaping at the clearly expensive furniture and decorum in the room. The crystal vase alone, in it's rightful place on the polished, handcrafted oak end table, probably cost more than she paid for a month's rent at the boarding house. She must have been gawking, becuase Sam gave her a meaningful look and placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her to the couch.
Once they were all seated, Sam wasted no time. He pulled out the photo and flattened it out before handing it to Patricia.
"Mrs. Morrison, can you tell us why Sean Burke would want to harm the people in this photograph?"
Patricia held the photo and stared at it, her eyes glistening with tears. "Oh, God." She said just above a whisper.
"Look, Mrs. Morrison we're running out of time. How did you know Sean Burke and why does he want your family dead?" Scotty asked.
She fixed Scotty with a teary glare. "Who do you think you are? You don't know the first thing about me."
"I know you're wasting time. And if you don't pony up the truth you'll be responsible for more people dying."
"Scotty, that's enough." Sam said.
"What makes you think I know anything about this?" Patricia demanded, her hands trembling as she cltched the photo.
"Mom?" They all turned to the boy in his late teens who was standing in the doorway, looking back and forth between Patricia and Scotty. MJ recognized him from the photo. Nathan Morrison, Patricia's younger son. "What's wrong?" He asked coming into the room and standing beside Patricia's chair. "Who are these people?"
"Mrs. Morrison." MJ said, knowing that they had no time to explain anything further. "We need you to answer our questions and help us figure this out so we can keep your son safe." Patricia considered MJ, reaching out for her son's hand. "We're running out of time."
Patricia took a deep breath. "I gave him this picture when I visited him." She placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a sob.
"How did you know Sean?" Sam asked, leaning toward Patricia.
She looked up at Sam, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"His name wasn't Sean." She said her voice breaking. "It was Joshua. He was my son."