Chapter 11

"This is the place," John said, consulting his map of the campus. "Stanford University Student Apartments."

Dean tilted his head to indicate a charred edifice about fifty yards along the street. "The second floor of that building over there marks the spot, Dad. It's pretty well burned to ashes."

"Yeah," John agreed, raising his head to look out the car window at the charred upper floor. "The boyfriend has to have found someplace else to stay. I guess we better ask around. I'll take the apartments to the left, you the ones on the right. We need to find out exactly what happened and what he witnessed."

"How are we playing this, Dad, FBI, cops, old friends of… What's his name?"

"Luke Evans," John replied, consulting his notes. "An exchange student from the UK. He's been here for just over a year."

"I guess we go in as FBI then," Dean commented. "I doubt he's going to have any family, forgotten cousins, or old friends in the area that we can pass ourselves off as."

Pausing only to find a nearby motel to dump their bags and change into their FBI suits, the Winchesters were soon at work knocking on doors and flashing badges.

Most of the apartments were empty, the majority of students attending their morning courses.

However, the few at home were all too ready to talk about what had happened.

:

The entire student body had been horrified at the death of Jessica Moore. She'd been very popular, always willing to lend a hand where she could.

"Poor Luke is inconsolable," a tall brunette declared sadly to Dean after he introduced himself. "He and Jessica were the perfect couple. Now it seems he's going home to London. I guess he wants to try and forget what happened. I can't say I blame him."

Dean schooled his expression into one of empathy.

He and his dad had fallen into the role of bad cop-good cop when they spoke to witnesses together, and Dean was the one who played the empathic, understanding persona of the duo.

It had become second nature to him now.

"Poor guy," Dean said. "You wouldn't know where he's staying? We want a few words with him, just to clear up some loose ends."

"Oh, sure. His friend Brady insisted that he crash with him. He's in Block four, Apartment six. Turn right at the next corner and follow the numbers.

He might be at lessons right now though," she added.

:

Voicing a thanks, Dean took his leave of the young woman, and following her directions, easily found the place. He called his dad and waited for the older man to join him at the communal entrance.

"It seems Evans was offered hospitality by one of his fellow students," Dean explained. "Apartment six."

"Let's see if anyone's at home," John declared, pressing the buzzer. There was no answer. He tried again and this time a face appeared at the window before quickly pulling back.

"There's definitely someone inside," Dean pointed out. "Try again." John pressed the buzzer once more, and after a moment the face reappeared at the window and opened it.

:

A young guy leaned out, his face pale and strained. "Why can't you journalists leave me alone? I've told you all I know."

John held up his badge. "We're FBI. Are you Luke Evans? We need to clear up a few details about what happened to Miss Moore."

"Why would the FBI be interested in Jessica's death? It's not as if she stole any state secrets before she died," Luke retorted, his voice harsh and scornful.

" No, nothing like that," Dean replied smoothly, "but we need to dot the i's on a couple of things. We'll only take up a few minutes of your time."

:

After some hesitation, Luke closed the window and the click of the lock allowed the Winchesters entry into the stairway.

The young man who opened the door was dressed in rumpled jeans and a disheveled brown hoodie. His face was unshaven and his hair an uncombed tousled mass. It was obvious he hadn't been too preoccupied with his grooming.

The Winchesters exchanged a glance. Whatever had gone down with Jessica Moore, their gut told them this guy wasn't the perpetrator.

:

With a sympathetic glance, Dean spoke up. "We're sorry to disturb you but there are a few things we need to clear up, just minor details."

"There are no details, " Luke bit back. "Jessica was burned alive. If I'd been here, maybe I could have saved her. "

"So, you weren't here when the accident happened? We were told you witnessed the event," John frowned.

Luke's eyes teared up. "I had just arrived back from a lecture. I opened the door and heard the hiss of the shower. I thought that's where she was."

His voice broke into a sob. "She'd left out a plate of cookies for me. As soon as I took one, that's when the fire broke out. It was as if a fireball had exploded. I tried to reach her but the flames were everywhere. That's when my friend Brady arrived and pulled me out of the room. I struggled to go to Jessica but Brady held me back."

"Uh… That's not the story in the press, " Dean pointed out. "The articles stated that you told police Jessica was floating above you on the ceiling when she caught fire."

"Listen," Luke huffed. "Jessica is dead. That's the only thing that matters in the end. The police told me I was probably imagining what I saw."

"And what do you say? " John asked. "Do you believe it was a hallucination?"

"It has to be, " Luke replied almost in a whisper. "There's no other explanation. I'd like for you to leave now. I've nothing else to say. I want to put all this behind me and go home to London."

:

The Winchesters exchanged a glance, and John nodded.

"What if I was to tell you that what you…uh…think you saw has happened before?" Dean declared. "Another person died in the same way as your girlfriend. You're not imagining it, Luke."

"Happened before? How? What I saw was impossible."

"That's what I thought too," John broke in. "When I saw my wife Mary die in the same way."

:

Luke's hazel eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the seemingly hard-nosed FBI agent. "What are you saying? That something like this could actually be true?"

" I witnessed it too," Dean confirmed. "I was only a kid and Dad sent me out of the house as the fire roared, but I glimpsed my mom on the ceiling surrounded by flames. It's something I'll never forget."

"Did you ever find out the reason? " Luke asked. Somehow he believed the men. His gut was telling him that they were telling the truth. He could see the pain in both the FBI men's eyes.

:

He thought for a moment. "So... that would make you father and son. I thought the FBI didn't place family members together?"

"Well," Dean said, unleashing a wry grin. "We're not really agents, though we're definitely father and son."

Luke went to speak, but Dean held up a hand. "We've been trying to solve the mystery of my mom's death for years, and sometimes we need to… uh… resort to subterfuge to get people to talk to us, gather information."

"Like what you're doing with me?" Luke was getting annoyed now by these pretend FBI agents. " Even if what you're saying is true, it doesn't change anything. Jessica is dead, and if what happened to her was caused by some unexplained phenomenon, then I don't know what to do about it.

I don't think she would want me to spend the rest of my life searching for a reason."

:

"I'm sorry to hear that," John declared calmly. "But my son and I don't view it in the same way. Now, I think you should pack a few essentials because you'll be coming with us for a while."

Luke frowned, wondering if he'd heard correctly. "Pack a few things? I'm not going with you!"

The gun appeared in the older man's hand as if by magic and the serious expression on his face amply confirmed his words.

"The choice is yours, Evans, " John drawled. "It might be more comfortable for you if you pack a bag, but I'm fine with you coming as you are.

See, you're the only other person we know who's witnessed the same thing that happened to my wife. That can't be a coincidence. So, until I suss this out, I need to keep you nearby."

:

Not long after, Luke found himself in the back seat of a classic car, handcuffed to the right-hand door, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into!

TBC