Superstitions {Dean Winchester 2}

Chapter 22

Hi, everyone! I just wanted to pop in and say sorry for not posting yesterday. I had a lot to do and I didn't get much sleep the night before so I crashed halfway through WWE Royal Rumble so I didn't get to write yesterday, but here I am. So yay. Anyway, I have good and bad news. 

We'll start with the bad news. Bad news is I think I may be coming down with a cold or something, so fun. But good news is that gives me more time to write. 

I also have a second good news. For those of you aware of my dreams of publishing books and whatnot, I did indeed finish one of the novels I'm working on. So it's just editing left. I also have yet to decide what I want to do about the publishing process, but I am one step further than I was two days ago. I am so excited. I just wanted to share the news with you all because you are my friends and I wanted to bring you along with me in my journey. 

Thanks for...reading (?) my rambling and everything. Now onto the real reason you're here. 

The Usual Suspects 

"It's weird," I say, "being able to work without Dean interrupting me with his dorkishness."

"It's nice." Sam replied, not looking up from the papers he was reading through.

"A bit boring, though." I shrugged. 

A knock on the door made Sam and I share a look. He stood, moving toward it. He opened the door and Diana--one of the officers or detectives or whatever who was on our case--stood there. 

___

"These showed up after you saw it?" Sam asked as we looked at the bruises on Diana's wrist. It looked like ropes had been tied around them, leaving a blackish/blue color on her skin.

"Yeah, I guess." Diana nodded her head. 

"Alright, you're gonna have to tell me exactly what you saw." Sam tells her. 

"You know, I must be losing my mine." Diana sat down at the small table.

"Was the ghost doing the Irish jig or something because that's probably the only thing I count as insane." I say. 

"You're fugitives. I should be arresting you." Diana continued. 

"Alright, well, you know what? You can arrest us later. After you live through this." Sam stated. "But right now you gotta talk to me. Okay?"

Diana nodded her head.

Sam leaned against the dresser. "Okay, great. Now, this spirit, what did it look like?" 

"She was, um, really pale. And her throat was cut. And her eyes, they were like this deep dark red." Diana explained. "It appeared like she was trying to talk to me, but she couldn't. It was just a lot of blood." 

"Well, you know, her throat was slit." I shrugged. 

"You know what? Here. I've been researching every girl who's died or gone missing from Ashland Street." Sam sat down, grabbing the photos we had printed. 

"How'd you get those?" Diana asked. "Those are from crimes scenes and booking photos." 

"You have your job, I have mine." Sam replied.

"Both of which require these photos." I added. 

"Here. I need you to look through these, tell me if you recognize anyone." Sam held out the photos. 

Diana flipped through a few photos before looking up at us. She held it out. "This is her. I'm sure of it."

It was a mug shot of a blonde woman. "Claire Becker, 28 years old. Disappeared about eight or nine months ago." Sam reads.