1.3 The Woman In White: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter IV: Local Legend

 They drove for a while longer until they reached Centennial Highway. Sam glanced up as they drove past a sign that read, "JERICHO 7".

But he barely acknowledged it. He was talking on the phone, beginning to feel slightly better and slightly worse about their situation because of the information he'd found. "Thank you," he said, snapping shut his cell phone.

"All right," he reported to Dean. "So there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess."

His brother just looked at him, and Sam couldn't gauge his expression. Dean returned his eyes to the road, directing Sam to do the same. On the road up ahead were a pair of cop cars and a cluster of officers bumbling about, investigating.

"Check it out." Dean murmured. Sam resisted the urge to say, I am and leaned forward for a closer look. Dean pulled over to the side of the road, where they sat lurking, watching, for at least five minutes before Dean leaned over and opened up the glove compartment. Sam watched with mounting dislike as he extracted a box of ID cards with his father's and his brother's faces. The first ones he could see were FBI and DEA. You're kidding, Sam thought to himself, staring in disbelief as Dean plucked one from the pile, grinning mischievously. They'd gone undercover before, but faking FBI? That was low.

"Let's go." He said, raising his eyebrows at Sam as he left the car.

Feeling immensely uncomfortable, Sam hurried after his brother. On the bridge, he could see half a dozen officers. One, who appeared to be a deputy, placed a hand on the railing and leaned slightly over. Sam followed his gaze to a pair of men in wetsuits who were trudging through the water, searching for evidence and clues.

"You guys find anything?" The deputy called out to them.

"No! Nothing!" One replied. The deputy turned back to the car on the bridge. From what Sam could see, there was another deputy poking around inside. He could only catch snatches of the conversation as he and Dean walked up.

"No sign of a struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean." The man was saying. Glancing at his brother, Sam felt a twinge of anxiety. Dean was striding up to these cops like he was one of them – and more. But it was almost too much.

"So this kid, Troy," the first deputy asked, "he's dating your daughter, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said the latter.

"How's Amy doing?"

"She's putting up missing posters downtown." Was all he replied. Dean chose that moment to cut in.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asked with surprising authority. Sam marveled at his condescending use of the word 'fellas'.

The deputy straightened up, his eyes travelling over Dean, unimpressed. "And who are you?"

"Federal marshals." He responded without missing a beat, brandishing his badge for the deputy to see.

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" The deputy said doubtfully.

"Thanks, that's awfully kind of you," Dean said with a brief, hearty laugh. He raised an eyebrow at the deputy before turning to examine the car.

"You did have another one just like this, correct?" He restated.

"Yeah, that's right." The deputy finally admitted. "About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam put in, rather shocked by how easily the words rolled off his tongue. Kind of like riding a bike...

"Town like this, everybody knows everybody." He confirmed with a nod of his head. They both looked to Dean, who was finishing circling the vehicle like a buzzard. He looked thoughtfully around.