Chapter Five
Once the greeting was over, both men turned deadly serious.
Deacon Kaylor set a folder down on the table and opened it.
"I wish we could have this reunion under better circumstances," he muttered as he flipped through the sparse pages.
"Yeah," John mumbled and caught Dean's eye.
"How do you two know each other?" he asked. He wondered if this state detective was really a hunter in disguise, maybe he was working Sam's case because his brother had been taken by a monster.
"We were in Vietnam together," John answered, "Deke here saved my ass more than once."
The older man chuckled, "That's 'cause you always managed to get into trouble, Winchester."
Dean couldn't imagine his Dad needing to be saved by anyone. John was the knight, not the damsel in distress.
Clearing his throat, Deacon continued, "I heard about what happened to your wife; I'm sorry."
John nodded, "It was a long time ago."
Dean frowned. Sure, it was a long time ago, eighteen years to be exact but John didn't forget. Maybe this Deacon Kaylor wasn't a hunter after all.
"The Sheriff said that Sam's duffel bag was found in a dumpster?" Dean asked the state detective. Mary Winchester was gone, there was no hope for her but there was still hope for Sam.
Deacon nodded, "A local homeless man was going through the garbage and found the bag; he called it in because he thought it was weird that someone would just leave all their stuff like that. He thought he'd get a reward or something. He also said that it looked as if someone had put it in the dumpster on purpose. It was near the bottom of the bin; underneath a ton of garbage as if someone had been trying to hide it."
Dean looked at his father, wide-eyed. There was no way that Sam would say he was going off to school and then just ditch his duffel. Even if he had lied about Stanford he would still need the bag; all of his worldly possessions were in there.
"Your son's cell phone was also found in the bag, the battery was dead and his wallet with everything in it but the cash."
"Could someone have robbed Sam and dumped the bag?" John asked, not liking that possibility either but it was slightly better than the alternatives he could think of.
"I don't think robbery was the intent," Deacon shook his head; "If Sam was mugged he would have been found by now, taken to the nearest hospital and identified. Besides, only the money was missing, they weren't interested in credit cards or Sam's cell phone."
John took a deep breath, "So you're sure that Sam's been… been kidnapped?"
Deacon nodded, "All the evidence points that way."
Dean didn't want to sit anymore; he wanted to be out there looking for his brother. He stood up from his chair and ran a hand through his short hair.
"Does the Greyhound depot have surveillance?" he asked suddenly.
The state detective nodded, "I was getting to that, son. I have to play by the rules even if you don't."
Dean paused. So maybe this Deacon Kaylor knew about what his Dad did.
"Why didn't you say something before, Deke?" John asked and slapped a hand down on the tabletop.
"The station's got cameras only on the outside, facing the parking lot and the video we have doesn't help us out much," Deke said, "But I'd like you to take a look at it, all the same."
The three men left the quiet interview room and went through the police barracks to a second, much smaller room with a television sitting on a black metal stand in the far corner.
Dean, John and Deacon Kaylor crowded into the room and the detective closed the door tightly.
"Sorry about this," Deacon apologized, "This is only really meant for one or two people."
He went to a narrow shelf and pulled a video tape down. He slipped it into the VCR and turned the television on.
White snow covered the screen for a long moment before the picture changed to show a corner of the Greyhound bus depot parking lot. Dean could just make out the yellow lines of parking spaces illuminated by an exterior light shining in one corner of the frame.
The time on the corner of the video showed that it was ten thirty in the evening of August twenty-first.
Dean's eyes seemed glued to the screen as an elderly gentleman- grainy and cast in black and white from the camera- stepped into the frame five minutes later.
"That's Mr. Norman Grenview," Deacon informed the Winchesters, "He was the last person to see Sam."
Dean drew a quick breath at the thought: the last person to see Sam.
"He was interrogated but isn't a suspect," State Detective Kaylor continued, "He said Sam seemed pretty laid-back. He wasn't acting nervous or scared. He wasn't looking over his shoulder or anything that would arouse suspicion. He noticed Sam because he was so polite. 'Not like the kids you usually see nowadays' was what he said."
John smiled at that last bit and he saw Dean bite his lower lip.
Nothing happened again until seven minutes after eleven when a pale-coloured panel van parked in the camera's range, only its front end visible in the frame.
Dean's heart sped up and he found himself leaning closer to the screen as though that might help him see better. John laid a hand on his eldest son's shoulder as they watched a rotund man squeeze out from the passenger side of the van and waddle toward the bus station off-screen.
Deacon rewound the video and paused it for the Winchesters.
"Do either of you recognize this man?"
Dean didn't know. He looked like just another overweight guy to him. Even with the grainy texture of the film, Dean was sure he'd never seen the man in his life.
John scrutinized the man with a more critical eye. Although the man didn't seem familiar to him that meant almost nothing. He checked for an eye-flare or any other indication that the man was not a man but a supernatural being.
Finally, John shook his head sadly, "No."
Deacon let the video play. The fat man was gone for only a dozen minutes when a second man exited the van, this time from the driver's side.
"Have you ever seen him before?" Deacon asked.
This man was a fair bit younger than the first one, closer to Dean's own age if he had to guess, but was as unfamiliar as the chubby fellow.
Dean and John watched the screen, seeing nothing until both men reappeared at front end of the van and got back inside. They watched as the vehicle peeled out of the parking lot and out of the frame. The time on the bottom of the screen read eleven thirty.
"Do you think they grabbed Sam?" Dean asked; his throat thick and dry with fear.
Detective Kaylor nodded, "The FBI has warned a handful of state police to be on the lookout for strange disappearances over the past eight years and your brother's abduction seems to fit the bill."
John frowned, "What do you mean by 'strange' disappearances? People go missing all the time."
"The Bureau is keeping track of abductions of young people who were traveling alone. These victims usually go missing from bus or train stations and are always either teenagers or in their twenties. All of the missing kids were not considered runaways: they all had places to go, families and were expected to return," Deacon said, telling John and Dean more than he should.
The two Winchesters turned to each other.
"What do you think? Vampires?" Dean asked his father.
John nodded, "Could be. But there's also-"
Deacon interrupted, looking horrified at the topic, "Vampires? No, the Feds think this is the work of someone or a group of people harvesting organs for the black market."
Both Dean and John stared at the state detective for a moment.
"I think I like the idea of vampires better," Dean whispered, turning pale.
"What do you mean, Deke?" John asked and the older man sighed, running a hand through his brown hair.
"The FBI is almost certain that kids are being kidnapped to have their organs stolen," he repeated, "There's been no bodies found but with this amount of young people- young healthy people- going missing it can't be a coincidence."
"Well, why are the Feds doing anything about this? Why are they just keeping tabs?" Dean asked angrily.
"These people are keeping themselves well-hidden," Deke answered, "Even for the professionals it's not easy to find these guys."
If the FBI can't find Sam then how in the world are we going to be able to? Dean thought helplessly and turned to his father.
"An agent infiltrated these guys a couple of years back," Deacon said, trying to give the Winchesters at least some hope, "She didn't get very much information before they found out she was a rat and she had to bail but what she did manage to get has been useful."
John looked to his old friend impatiently, "What do you know?"
"They cater to a high-end clientele, rich folks, and display their uh, products online," Deacon told the Winchesters.
"At the time they were infiltrated they were using a private school as their point of operations," he continued, "The place was already so full of kids that no one would notice if there were a few extra."
Dean's mouth dropped open. He'd often heard that black market guys were sly but, damn, if no one noticed kids getting chopped up like so much meat in a freakin' school then their chances of finding Sam were steadily declining.
"After that they disappeared, they could be anywhere now," Deke said in a subdued tone. That was the bad news about all this. The sons of bitches could be anywhere, hell they could be operating outside of the States, orchestrating the kidnappings from an international location and having the poor kids trafficked across borders.
"Can't the Feds find out what their website is or something?" Dean asked, "I thought the Feds were supposed to be the best at that kind of thing."
Deke shook his head, "Like I said, these assholes keep themselves well-hidden."
John, who had grown quiet, looked to his old friend and his eldest son.
"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you get your son back," Deacon told the hunter.
John smiled and put a friendly hand on Deke's shoulder, "You've done more than enough to help us."
The state detective frowned, "What are you thinking, Winchester?"
"I don't want you to get involved in this, it could be dangerous," John said and Deacon spluttered indignantly.
"Dangerous? Of course it's dangerous! Whatever you've got planned, let me help," the older man insisted.
"Dad, I think Detective Kaylor is right," Dean agreed, "We could really use some official help, at least to keep the authorities out of our way for a while."
Dean didn't know what his father was thinking but he knew the look on John's face well enough to know he had something in mind.
"But John, think about it for a minute, will you?" Deacon pleaded, "If the Feds can't find these people, what makes you think you can?"
Still smiling grimly, John said, "I'm not going to find them… but I know someone who can help."
W
Dean tossed his duffel bag tiredly onto the motel bed and sat down on the mattress. After leaving the police station they had scoured the Greyhound depot were Sam had been taken, looking for sulfur, testing for EMF, anything that would rule out monsters and Dean was exhausted. He was worried and ready for all of this to be over. All Dean wanted was to know his little brother was safe and secure.
John sat in the room's small table, his cell phone pressed against his ear and an unnaturally nervous look on his face.
Dean didn't ask who his father was calling. He guessed he'd find out sooner or later anyway. Instead he picked up Sam's duffel- Deacon had returned it to them before they left the station- and hugged it to his chest, missing his brother and hoping that he was alright.
John didn't seem to notice his eldest son's actions- or if he did he didn't comment- and furrowed his eyebrows as he waited for the phone to be answered.
"Hello?" a stern, feminine voice asked and John suddenly wasn't quite sure what he was going to say.
"Ellen Harvelle?" He asked, a little huskily.
"Yeah, who is this?" she returned in a no-nonsense tone that made all the saliva in John's mouth dry up. He didn't think it would be this hard to speak to her.
"It's John… John Winchester. Wait! Before you hang up, let me explain why I'm calling!"
John breathed a sigh of relief when Ellen didn't slam the receiver back down or start screaming at him.
"What do you want?" She asked, her voice hard as ice now.
"My son, Sam, he's been kidnapped and I need your help. Please, Ellen. He's only eighteen," John whispered, not realizing he was doing so.
There was no reply from the other end.
"Ellen? Please. Help me, I'm begging you. I don't care if you still hate me but do this for my boy," John's voice began to grow more and more quiet until he was barely audible.
"Fine," she answered and John could almost see her lips forming into a thin, tight line and her knuckles turn white around the phone, "I guess I should expect you in the next few hours?.
"Thank yo-" John began but the phone had gone dead. He closed his cell phone to see Dean watching him.
Clearing his throat, John stood and fished the Impala's keys from his pocket.
"We're leaving, Dean," he said and grabbed his duffel bag from the second motel bed.
Dean looked surprised, "We only just checked in."
John slipped the strap of his duffel over his shoulder, "And now I say we're leaving."
Dean didn't argue, he still clung onto his brother's duffel and scooped his own back up and followed his father into the parking lot.
"Were you calling someone who can help us find Sammy?" Dean asked quietly as he put his duffel into the trunk with his father's- he refused to give up his brother's- and went to the front passenger's seat.
John didn't answer until they were pulling out of the parking lot- not even stopping to check out- and then nodded to his son, "I hope so."
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to AshleyMarie84, mandancie, reannablue, Samstruck, cold kagome, SPN Mum, murphy9202, L.A.H.H, SamDeanLover28, Priya723, fixusi, RainbowBetty, pottyandweezlbe89, lanteaddicted, sarah, DianaLadris802, BranchSuper, MysteryMadchen, Souless666, and judyann for reviewing.
2. Reviews = Love!