Nikki POV
"You sure you burned the right body?" Bobby asked for the tenth time. After I got the information from the park, I went back to Kory's apartment. Apparently, she had a job, so I had the place to myself.
"Yes." I groaned. "We burned the right body, Bobby."
"Can the sass, Witchy-Poo. I'm takin' the time to help you." Bobby snapped.
"It's not sass!" I defended myself. "It's frustration! This was supposed to be a simple salt 'n burn!"
"In huntin', nuthin's ever easy, Nik." Bobby growled. "What about family? That Max guy have any siblings who might've kept a class ring or somethin'?"
I paused, taking a drink of my water before answering. "Kory called the only living person related to the guy, pretended to be working with the guy writing the book. They said they took all of Sherman's stuff outside and burned it the night he was sentenced to death. Everything."
Bobby made a sort of 'Hm' sound. "You said sumthin' 'bout a book?"
I paused again and got the printed news article out from the pile of papers spread out on Kory's table. "Uh, well, Will Chamberlin, son of the arresting officer, is writing an in-depth exposé on the sick and twisted mind of Maxwell Sherman." I summarized. "Figured that was the trigger, you know? What brought Sherman back from the grave."
"Talk to the Chamberlin guy." Bobby suggested. "See if anything raises a red flag."
"Will do." I assured him, then took a deep breath. "So…You talked to either of the boys?" I asked.
"Yeah, called a few hours ago." Bobby answered me.
"What'd you say?" I asked, my voice somewhere between dread and hopeful.
"What'd'ya think I'm runnin' here?" Bobby snapped at me. "Dean is pissed, Sam is listening to sad music and looking out rainy windows, and they are both worried as Hell after you pulled that little vanishing act."
I waited a few seconds before speaking again. "You tell them where I am?" I asked cautiously.
"Yup." Bobby said simply.
"Bobby!" I half yelled into my phone.
"Don't yell at me, Witchy-Poo!" Bobby snapped. "They have at least two days left on their job, and a days drive to get to Cheyenne to whup your ass."
"Bobby-!" I started to protest.
"You got three days to clean up Cheyenne if you want to miss the Winchesters." Bobby added.
I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "…Thanks, I guess." I muttered.
"You want some advice?" Bobby asked unexpectedly.
"Yeah." I said, trying to hide the eagerness in my voice.
"Call the Sam and Dean." He said simply. I was about to say something when he cut me off. "Call them soon, before they start ripping each state apart for you." He said, a little harsher, before hanging up.
I let out a loud sigh and closed my phone. I knew I couldn't hide from them forever. I didn't want to either. But, if I did, no one could blame me.
I shook my head, clearing my head, before I grabbed my keys and headed out of my Mustang.
I took the last bite of my apple, leaning against my car and looking at the picture-perfect suburban house across the street. It reminded me of Greg and Olivia's house. I played with the pendants on Chris's necklace as I chewed.
I threw the apple core into a storm drain before walking across the street. I wiped my hands on my jeans before knocking on the door.
A man in his mid-forties opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked politely.
"I hope so." I said, moving my jacet to one side to show the badge clipped to my belt. "Detective Howard, Montana State Police."
"Montana?" the man, Will Chamberlin I'm assuming, asked.
"Yeah, I'm working with the Cheyenne police on the resent murders. There have been some similar killings in my jurisdiction." I explained. "Are you Will Chamberlin?"
"Yes, yes I am." Will nodded, opening the door wider and gesturing me to come in. I walked into the pale yellow foyer. "I'm glad to help, but I'm not sure how I can."
"You're writing a book on the original King Park killings. The resent string of murders has a…eerie, resemblance to them, and I wanted to speak on an expert." I said.
"Oh, well…" Will chuckled, shaking his head. "I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I'm more than willing to help the police."
He asked me to follow him to his study. The house looked like it was taken right from the pages of Pottery Barn. Right down to Will Chamberlin, who looked like he walked off the pages of J. Crew in his khakis and pale blue Polo.
"I'd offer you coffee, but we're out. My wife is at the grosery store now." Will told me, holding the pine door to his study open.
"It's fine." I shrugged dismissively, taking a seat across from the heavy oak desk. I eyed the picture of a slightly younger Will Chamberlin, a red-headed woman his age, and three strawberry blonde kids, all in their teens.
"So, what questions can I answer for you?" Will asked, sitting at his desk.
"In the original case, were movie tickets relevant in anyway?" I asked, taking out the small note book I'd been using.
Will's eyes lifted in surprise. "Yes, actually." He started.
"You see, Maxwell Sherman claimed he was innocent until the day he died. He was a medic in Korea, and he claimed he was trying to save the last victim, Mary Kline, when he was arrested. His supposed alibi was that he was at the movies." Will explained.
"If he had an alibi, why was he arrested?" I asked.
"Well, aside from being found kneeling over Kline's body, covered in her blood, the movie alibi was never proven. It was opening night for Mister Roberts, and the theater was packed. The teller didn't remember selling him a ticket, and no one remembered seeing him.
"What about his ticket?" I asked.
"Never found." Will shrugged. I nodded slowly, still jotting down notes.
"Was there any effort to find the ticket?" I asked, thinking I already knew the answer.
Will's eyebrows shot up and his expression became a little insulted. "Of course there was a search effort!" he said. "My father was friends with Maxwell Sherman, he double checked every fact and searched the entire path from the theater to the park looking for that ticket."
I nodded, writing again.
"Though, that didn't stop Sherman from saying over and over that he was innocent. Even gave a ticket number." Will chuckled.
"Really?" I said in surprise. "You…You wouldn't happen to have the number, would you?" I asked hopefully.
"Yes, as a matter a fact…I do…" he trailed off, searching his drawers. He pulled out a moleskin notebook and turned a few pages. "Ah. Here it is. 82184."
I jotted the number down, then made a believable excuse to leave.
Back in my car, I rested my folded arms on the steering wheel as I stared at my phone on the dash.
Knowing I couldn't avoid it anymore, I picked it up, flipped it open, and scrolled through my missed calls. Picking a random one, I pressed play and held the phone to my ear.
"Hey Nik. It's Dean. Again…" There was a pause. "Look, he shouldn't have pushed that hard, ok? You have…way too many reasons to want 'ta take off on us, but…Just give us a call, let us know your alive."
I swallowed thickly, then picked a different message.
"-Sorry, I got cut off on my last message." This one was from Sam. "But, c'mon Nikki, we've been through so much in the past year and I know you know that I didn't mean anything I said! You're my best friend Nikki!...God…Do you know how stupid I feel right now? I mean, I want to talk to you about how I could begin to make this up to you…Jeez…Just-Just come back, ok? Come back. We need you, Nik. You're a part of our team now, are family. And-And I just have this feeling, Nik, that something's gonna hap-"
The message cut Sam off, and I shut my phone. I cleared my throat, getting rid of the tight, choking feeling in it, started my car and drove to the grave yard.
It was dusk, the best time for a ritual like this.
I pulled out a bowl and my herb bag from my trunk, and started measuring various powders and herbs into the bowl. When I was done, I stood up and lit a match.
"De terra viventium, terra mortuis. Eaque animi terrenis corporibus animas in terra viventium." I said in a loud, clear voice. I dropped the match into the bowl.
"Consurgetis de dormitione somni diceret."
I waited, looking around the dim grave yard.
Soon, I heard voices. I slowly reached behind me and took hold of the shotgun I had resting on the fence behind me. It was insurance that everyone behaved.
I swallowed as I saw dozens of glowing, half-transparent, pale bodies rise up from the dirt. They stretched and groaned, a few yawned, like they really had been asleep.
"Uh…Excuse me!" I called loudly, getting their attention. They all stared at me with their dark, sunken eyes. "Er…Sorry to…wake you, but I need your help." Their expressions changed a little, they were curious. "My name is Nikki," I started. "Now, no offence, but I'm here because I'm trying to kill a spirit." A few of them gasped or stumbled back.
"I'm not going to hurt any of you!" I said quickly. "I promise." I added. They looked at me skeptically.
"Do any of you remember the King Park Killings?" I asked. A few, dressed in some sixies/seventies garb nodded.
"Well, I need to know who really did it. I know Maxwell Sherman was innocent, but someone, a spirit like you, is killing people. And I need to know who the real killer is." I told them.
"Why…Why should we help you?" A gruff, scratchy voice asked. I turned towards the voice, and saw it came from an older man in a corduroy suit.
"Did you leave any children?" I asked him simply. He nodded. "They still live here?" Another nod. "Do you want someone going around killing people where your children live? Your grandchildren?" I turned to the rest of the spirits.
"Wilber Talbot." A high-pitched, oddly rough voice spoke up. I looked around a few people and saw a young girl, about five, sitting on her grave stone as she clutched a teddy bear.
"Kathrine." Another rough voice scolded. I saw a beautiful woman, well, I'm sure she was when she was alive, put a hand on her shoulder.
"I don't wanna see my family die like we did, momma." The ghost girl, Kathrine, said, looking up at her mother with her big, child-eyes, ringed with large, dark circles. The woman looked from her daughter, then to me, before her hand left the girls shoulder.
She hopped off her stone and walked towards me, the material of her gingham dress, dusted with dirt, poofed out when she walked. She walked up to me and held out her hand. I hesitated, my grip on the shotgun tightened briefly, before I took a deep breath and took her hand. It was odd. She wasn't a solid apparition, but my hand didn't go right through hers either. It was like I was holding onto Jell-o.
Kathrine led me to a grave stone in the back of the cemetery, holding my hand in one of hers, and the arm of her teddy in the other. The other spirits followed a few feet behind us.
"He scares me." Kathrine said, her gray lips pouting. "When he died, he said the most horrible things. We all heard it before he went to the other place."
"Other place?" I asked cautiously.
"Uh-huh." Kathrine nodded, looking up at me. "Me and my momma are in the pretty place. It's real far away, up there." She lifted her teddy arm to point towards the sky. "It looks like our house, but it isn't our house, not really.
"Mr. Wilber didn't go to the pretty place." Kathrine told me.
"Well, where'd he go?" I asked.
"My momma told me he went to the other place." She tugged my hand so I leaned down a little. "The bad place, down there." She said in a loud whisper, pointing her teddy at the ground. I nodded. Hell. Wilber was in Hell.
"He's over here." Kathrine pulled me to the left, and stopped in front of a headstone that simply read 'Wilber Talbot 1924-66'
"Are you gonna make him go away?" Kathrine asked.
"Yeah, I'm gonna try." I told her.
"And he's not gonna hurt nobody else?" She asked again.
"No, he isn't." I assured her.
She nodded, then looked back at her mother. "Can you take us back to the pretty place?" Kathrine asked innocently.
"Yeah, yeah I can." I let go of her hand and went back to the bowl still burning on the ground. I tipped it out and stomped out the flames. I ripped out a handful of the grass within the fence of the graveyard, and put it in the bowl. I lit another match. "De terra viventium, et mortuus est in. Mitto, hi ad requiem." I said, then dropped the match into the bowl.
"Somnus, animae mortuorum." I added.
I watched in awe as the shadowy spirits slowly started to float towards the sky. Kathrine was smiling, kicking her feet around in the air as she got higher and higher. She was holding her mother's hand tightly, and was using the hand clutching her teddy to wave at me.
I laughed once, and waved back slightly.
I waited until they were completely gone, then took the shovel, salt and lighter fluid out of the trunk of my car.
I was leaning on Wilber Talbot's headstone, watching the fire steadily burn.
I needed to call Sam and Dean.
I flipped my phone open and pressed speed dial three. It rang four times before it was answered.
I heard a deep sigh. "Nikki." He sighed in relief. It was followed by an irritated groan. "Aren't you gonna ask if you woke me up and say sorry?"
"Were you sleeping?" I asked doubtfully.
Silence. "No." Dean finally mumbled. "You know, you really had us worried." He said, his tone was almost scolding, but a little worried.
"Sorry." I said simply, shrugging. "But you know where I am now." I pointed out, a little annoyed.
"Yeah-and are you gonna stay there?" Dean asked.
"No, probably not." I told him. "Have to for at least another day. Make sure the pain in the ass spirit Kory and I have been hunting is good and dead."
"Kory? The mute girl?" Dean questioned.
"She's not mute anymore." I mumbled, frowning a little.
"Sorry, sorry…" Dean trailed off, chuckling a little.
We both stayed silent for a little while.
"I listened to some of your messages." I finally said.
"Some?"
"Well, there were a lot." I reasoned. "So…How's Sam?"
"He lost the girl he thought he saved, and you, in the same day-same hour." Dean said. "How do you think he's doing?"
I shut my eyes and let out a breath. "I screwed up, didn't I?" I finally asked.
"Nah." Dean sighed. "Both of us have done worse. You just have sucky timing."
I almost laughed; the corner of my mouth twitched up. I looked down at the flames in the open grave.
"So...when you comin' back?" Dean asked flat out.
I paused, feeling almost sick. "I don't know." I finally said.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Dean asked.
"I mean I don't know!" I snapped. "And I'm pretty sure pressing the damn issue isn't gonna make me make a decision any faster!"
"Jee, sorry." Dean finally said, sounding a little stunned.
The fire was almost out. "I have to go." I finally said to Dean.
"Sure, sure…Hey, keep in touch, 'kay?" Dean asked quickly.
"I'll try." I said before I snapped my phone shut.