Suspended in Webs: Deadly Secrets (3/5)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC
Beta: Pen37
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. I only dream.
Summary: The guys have stumbled upon a fellow hunter in St. Louis who is working an obscure case. There have been twenty deaths in the past twenty years on the same stretch of road. What is causing these deaths and why? And who is this mysterious woman hunter?
The brothers quickly headed back to their hotel, both deep in thought. After Dean ordered delivery from the Chinese restaurant Lily had directed them to, he sat down across from Sam at the small round table situated between the window and his bed. It was a tight squeeze, but judging by the size of the folder, he wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon anyway. Sam had already begun leafing through the folder.
“This girl knows her stuff,” Sam mused while looking over an autopsy report. “Obits, newspaper clippings, schematics… I mean, everything you could possibly want is in here.”
“Yeah, except a pattern,” Dean said irritably.
“Let’s go over the facts again,” Sam said, rubbing his eyes. “Twenty car crashes, one a year, all on December 21. The victims are male, female, different ages, different ethnicities, different social status.”
“And all we have so far is this legend about a woman who appears on Calvary. Or sometimes it’s a boy who appears on Calvary.”
“There are two cemeteries on that road, so it’s hard to narrow it down,” Sam admitted, then opened his laptop. “Let’s take a look at some of the websites that Lily has listed here”
Dean peered over Sam’s shoulder at the peach colored webpage, “Hitchhike Annie? Sounds like a woman in white to me.”
“Yeah, it would, except the crashes don’t fit the pattern of a woman in white. They’re not all men and all the bodies were retrieved.”
“Wait a second. It says here that people actually picked her up and took her as far as the entrance to Bellefontaine Cemetery before she disappeared. But they lived, so what’s making her go crazy all of a sudden?”
Sam gazed intensely at the screen. “Well, the legend died out sometime during the 1980s. Twenty years ago it would have been 1987, so that fits in that decade. Do you think that she could actually be mad that she’s not being remembered?”
“I’ve never heard of something like that, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Spirits aren’t exactly logical. I mean, maybe it was someone who didn’t get the kind of fame that they wanted in life,” Dean theorized.
“Or someone who was famous and then was forgotten.” The light bulb went off in Sam’s brain. His fingers flew over the keyboard, then he turned the screen to face Dean. “Johanna Ghettes. Starlett in the 1940s. She was born and raised in St. Louis, so she heard the rumors of the woman in white on Calvary. She went to Hollywood and made it big for forty years, but was suddenly dropped by her agent. She couldn’t get a job after that, so she moved back to St. Louis where she died on December 21, 1987- a car accident on Calvary.” Sam pulled an autopsy photograph from the folder. “Our very first Calvary road victim. She must have returned as this legend- her very last claim to fame- then realized that no one told the legend anymore.
“But that doesn’t explain the random victims,” Dean said, still a little confused.
Sam leafed through the file. “All of these victims are CEO’s, principals, even theater directors … all of them have the power to drop their workers.”
“And I’ll bet you that they did, too.” Dean stood up and paced the small room. “So now we need to salt and burn the bones.”
Sam glanced at the time. “Shit,” he muttered, grabbing his coat. “It’s eight o’clock. Lily’s already out there.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like Johanna’s going after her. Hunters and mythology professors aren’t exactly high on the corporate ladder.”
“Dean, she’s only been working this job for three months. She’s been involved in this kind of hunting for six years. Who knows what kind of positions she’s held?”
With that, Sam was out the door, Dean on his heels. “Always saving the damsel in distress. This is why we work alone, Sammy.”
Lily settled back in her red leather bucket seat. She had changed clothes since her meeting with the Winchesters. Dark stone-washed jeans, with a black t-shirt and an army green corduroy coat- an outfit much more conducive to hunting. Her hair was pulled up into a very messy ponytail and she still wore the sliver amulet from that morning.
She glanced over to the passenger side, checking for the hundredth time that the sawed-off was there and ready. She sighed, wishing that she could have figured out the case in time. She could save one person this year, but without salting and burning the bones, the spirit would be back next year to kill again. She had hoped that she would figure it out before more innocent people were put at risk. Besides that, the longer she stayed in one place the more likely it was that people would start befriending her, asking her questions about her past… her time spent at Oxford. Oxford- where she had never been at all.
Staying alert to her surroundings, she began to sink into her distorted memories. The day she found out her dad was missing, she had just walked out the front doors of the local theatre, coming from a rehearsal for her school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof. Funny, looking back on her miniscule theatre career, she would have never thought that her acting skills would be put to use fooling employers into believing that she had any manner of credentials- like an education past a tenth grade level.
Her step-mom had been sitting in her ’67 Camaro convertible, waiting on her. Her stupid toys. They broke Dad and drained her college fund. When Lily reached the car, she was told that her father was missing. The last words her stepmother ever said to her.
Lily laughed darkly. What a fucking fantastic Cinderella story. Except for the part when no fairy godmother sent her to a ball and no Prince Philip or Charming or whoever the hell he was supposed to be ever showed up.
She was abruptly pulled from her reverie by the sudden rev of her engine. She looked up and saw a ghostly woman with long dark hair and a white dress standing in the glow of her head lights. Lily reached over for her gun, but when she tried to open her door, she realized it was jammed. The Camaro shifted into drive and pulled onto Calvary drive.
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC
Beta: Pen37
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. I only dream.
Summary: The guys have stumbled upon a fellow hunter in St. Louis who is working an obscure case. There have been twenty deaths in the past twenty years on the same stretch of road. What is causing these deaths and why? And who is this mysterious woman hunter?
The brothers quickly headed back to their hotel, both deep in thought. After Dean ordered delivery from the Chinese restaurant Lily had directed them to, he sat down across from Sam at the small round table situated between the window and his bed. It was a tight squeeze, but judging by the size of the folder, he wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon anyway. Sam had already begun leafing through the folder.
“This girl knows her stuff,” Sam mused while looking over an autopsy report. “Obits, newspaper clippings, schematics… I mean, everything you could possibly want is in here.”
“Yeah, except a pattern,” Dean said irritably.
“Let’s go over the facts again,” Sam said, rubbing his eyes. “Twenty car crashes, one a year, all on December 21. The victims are male, female, different ages, different ethnicities, different social status.”
“And all we have so far is this legend about a woman who appears on Calvary. Or sometimes it’s a boy who appears on Calvary.”
“There are two cemeteries on that road, so it’s hard to narrow it down,” Sam admitted, then opened his laptop. “Let’s take a look at some of the websites that Lily has listed here”
Dean peered over Sam’s shoulder at the peach colored webpage, “Hitchhike Annie? Sounds like a woman in white to me.”
“Yeah, it would, except the crashes don’t fit the pattern of a woman in white. They’re not all men and all the bodies were retrieved.”
“Wait a second. It says here that people actually picked her up and took her as far as the entrance to Bellefontaine Cemetery before she disappeared. But they lived, so what’s making her go crazy all of a sudden?”
Sam gazed intensely at the screen. “Well, the legend died out sometime during the 1980s. Twenty years ago it would have been 1987, so that fits in that decade. Do you think that she could actually be mad that she’s not being remembered?”
“I’ve never heard of something like that, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Spirits aren’t exactly logical. I mean, maybe it was someone who didn’t get the kind of fame that they wanted in life,” Dean theorized.
“Or someone who was famous and then was forgotten.” The light bulb went off in Sam’s brain. His fingers flew over the keyboard, then he turned the screen to face Dean. “Johanna Ghettes. Starlett in the 1940s. She was born and raised in St. Louis, so she heard the rumors of the woman in white on Calvary. She went to Hollywood and made it big for forty years, but was suddenly dropped by her agent. She couldn’t get a job after that, so she moved back to St. Louis where she died on December 21, 1987- a car accident on Calvary.” Sam pulled an autopsy photograph from the folder. “Our very first Calvary road victim. She must have returned as this legend- her very last claim to fame- then realized that no one told the legend anymore.
“But that doesn’t explain the random victims,” Dean said, still a little confused.
Sam leafed through the file. “All of these victims are CEO’s, principals, even theater directors … all of them have the power to drop their workers.”
“And I’ll bet you that they did, too.” Dean stood up and paced the small room. “So now we need to salt and burn the bones.”
Sam glanced at the time. “Shit,” he muttered, grabbing his coat. “It’s eight o’clock. Lily’s already out there.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like Johanna’s going after her. Hunters and mythology professors aren’t exactly high on the corporate ladder.”
“Dean, she’s only been working this job for three months. She’s been involved in this kind of hunting for six years. Who knows what kind of positions she’s held?”
With that, Sam was out the door, Dean on his heels. “Always saving the damsel in distress. This is why we work alone, Sammy.”
Lily settled back in her red leather bucket seat. She had changed clothes since her meeting with the Winchesters. Dark stone-washed jeans, with a black t-shirt and an army green corduroy coat- an outfit much more conducive to hunting. Her hair was pulled up into a very messy ponytail and she still wore the sliver amulet from that morning.
She glanced over to the passenger side, checking for the hundredth time that the sawed-off was there and ready. She sighed, wishing that she could have figured out the case in time. She could save one person this year, but without salting and burning the bones, the spirit would be back next year to kill again. She had hoped that she would figure it out before more innocent people were put at risk. Besides that, the longer she stayed in one place the more likely it was that people would start befriending her, asking her questions about her past… her time spent at Oxford. Oxford- where she had never been at all.
Staying alert to her surroundings, she began to sink into her distorted memories. The day she found out her dad was missing, she had just walked out the front doors of the local theatre, coming from a rehearsal for her school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof. Funny, looking back on her miniscule theatre career, she would have never thought that her acting skills would be put to use fooling employers into believing that she had any manner of credentials- like an education past a tenth grade level.
Her step-mom had been sitting in her ’67 Camaro convertible, waiting on her. Her stupid toys. They broke Dad and drained her college fund. When Lily reached the car, she was told that her father was missing. The last words her stepmother ever said to her.
Lily laughed darkly. What a fucking fantastic Cinderella story. Except for the part when no fairy godmother sent her to a ball and no Prince Philip or Charming or whoever the hell he was supposed to be ever showed up.
She was abruptly pulled from her reverie by the sudden rev of her engine. She looked up and saw a ghostly woman with long dark hair and a white dress standing in the glow of her head lights. Lily reached over for her gun, but when she tried to open her door, she realized it was jammed. The Camaro shifted into drive and pulled onto Calvary drive.