Days Like These, Chapter One
: : CHAPTER ONE : :
September 24, 2010… Alexandria, Virginia
Dean cracked an eye open. His flat phone skittered across the nightstand, its shrill ring drilling a hole into his sleep hazed brain. Blanket swathed arms reached for the offending instrument finally stopping it from screaming at him.
“YEAH!” He winced as his own voice reverberated in his skull. “Whoever you are you better be bleedin’!”
“Winchester! Get your ass up!” The voice groused in his ear. It took a full three seconds before Dean jack-knifed to a sitting position.
“Rufus?”
“You’re on the clock. We’ve got a case.” Dean heard his boss, Unit Chief Rufus Turner, let out a sigh, “I hate to pull you off your weekend, but you gotta get yourself to the airstrip. Wheels up in an hour.”
“Yessir,” Dean nodded clapping his hand to his throbbing head, “I’m good. I’ll be there.”
A quick shower and shave, and he was out the door. Thirty minutes later he whipped into the offices of a special branch of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. It always made him chuckle a little that the FBI had special units inside other special units.
Dean grabbed a coffee from the ever-present machine. It was already his second cup of what he liked to call the elixir of life. Looking around noted that the entire team was assembling. His eyes looked for his tall shaggy haired partner and lover. It wasn’t his weekend off, so he’d been there when Rufus called.
“Hey,” Sam came up behind him, “looking for me?”
Dean smirked, “I don’t know, am I?”
Sam shook his head with a playful snort, “Here’s the file I told you about.”
“When?” Rufus looked over at the two, “when did you tell ‘im?”
Sam Wesson took his seat at the long table, “When he was driving in.” Dean took the seat next to him and looked over at Rufus, “Why are we getting called into this?” He looked at the file, “It’s one body.”
“Actually, it’s not,” Rufus leaned back into the plush seat and looked around at the other members of the Adolescent Victims Unit’s team, Gabe Milton, Charlie Bradbury, Kevin Tran, and Garth Fitzgerald. In FBI parlance it was referred to as the AVU. Sam Wesson was the newest member but so far he’d worked out to be a near perfect partner for Winchester. He gave Kevin a nod.
Kevin nodded to Charlie who with a couple clicks on her keyboard brought up a slide with several bodies. Kevin looked over at Dean who was the most senior on the team, “In a new process initiated by the Behavioral Analysis Unit all homicides involving children are being cataloged in a specific database. Someone noticed a base pattern to these,” he pointed to the screen, “and so, now it’s in our laps.” He nodded toward the screen, “there’ve been several homicides over several states, bodies in varying degrees of deterioration,” he looked at his teammates, “but all seem to be in the same age range, eight to ten and all boys.”
Dean let out a small groan.
“Okay, people,” Rufus stood, “more on the plane. Let’s get the lead out!”
The team scrambled to collect their belongings and made for the door.
In the air, Rufus took the seat across from Dean who was buried in one of the files Kevin and Charlie had handed to each agent. He cleared his throat to get the man’s attention.
Dean held up a finger as he finished reading. “Yeah.”
Rufus looked out the window for a moment, “I think you should know that Benny’s going to be meeting us.”
Dean nodded with a frown, “I figured.”
“You and he are a great team,” Rufus sighed, “always were.”
“Mmm,” Dean leafed back through the folder. “This body,” he looked up at his chief, “the one in Omaha? That was the tipping point to bring us in?”
His chief nodded, “Yeah.” His brow furrowed in thought, “Why?”
Dean shrugged, “Just asking.” He looked out the window at the clouds for a moment, “I was just wondering why now? What isn’t the BAU telling us? Why wait for the count to be twelve, four wasn’t enough? Five?”
Rufus looked closely at his lead agent. He knew how hard these cases hit Dean. These cases hit all of them hard. Harder when it was children. But they seem to hit Dean even harder sometimes. And he was worried that Dean was sliding down that slippery slope again. He remembered the first time he had to pull Dean out of a bottle.
When Bobby Singer sent his protégé who was almost a son to him his way he wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d heard about the kid when he was coming up and he had problems. But he trusted Bobby. And the kid was an expert in religious doctrines and icons. Top of his class in undergrad and grad school. Good pedigree, Doctorate in Forensic Psych and Crim. And he knew Dean lost his younger brother when he was eleven. Bobby said Dean really wanted to work the kid cases, as he called them.
When Bobby called tonight he had no idea that the loss of his kid brother was still a raw spot for Dean. Or that he would react so badly when their case fell apart. But the kid was good. Really good and he didn’t want to lose him. And especially not at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon.
He gave the bartender the ‘hi’ sign as he strode the length of the bar. Dean was there, right where Bobby said he would be. This was one of Dean’s favorite watering holes. They knew him here and he felt safe.
“Dean.” Rufus took the stool next to him and moved the glass out of his reach. There were four empty ones sitting in front of him. Bobby said he usually kept count.
The twenty-eight year old turned to him with eyes struggling to focus, “Sir?”
“I know losing this guy is killing you. It kills all of us.” He called the bartender over. “Coffee?” The man nodded and walked toward the back.
“You’re good at this, Dean,” Rufus continued. “Now, I’m not going to blow sunshine up your ass everytime we hit a rough patch, but I’m also not going to let you destroy yourself. Or punish yourself. We have a team. We win and lose together.”
“Sir, I can’t …”
“No,” Rufus stopped him. “WE need you on this team.”
“You gonna be okay?”
Dean nodded, “I’ll be fine. I just wanta get this sonuvabitch. I want to get them all.” Rufus heard that note of desperation in Dean’s voice that made him one of the best. It was also a key to what made him suffer in this job, too. He looked over Dean’s head to the seats behind him and across the aisle. He caught Sam’s eye.
Rufus wasn’t surprised to see the minute shake of Sam’s head. He’d only been partnered with Dean for two years, but the kid knew his older partner, and knew him well.
The two and half hour trip from Virginia to Omaha sped by as the team immersed themselves in the few facts of the case that they had on board. Charlie was furiously compiling as much data from the original crime scene files as she could. This was the first scene they’d be able to investigate first hand. The other files would, more or less, have to be treated as cold cases.
Disembarking from the plane, Sam fell into step beside Dean. He looked over at the tenseness around Dean’s mouth, the hard glint in his eye and knew that his partner was already geared up to do battle. Sam grinned to himself thinking about how much Dean reminded him of the superheroes he worshipped as a kid. The kind that took a beating and still kept getting back up to fight. That was Dean.
“This is going to be bad,” Sam said quietly as they slid into the one of the waiting SUVs.
“Captain Obvious, I presume,” Dean snarked as he buckled into his seatbelt.
Sam shook his head and buckled in as well, “Ooh, snarky much? You didn’t get enough coffee yet, huh?”
Dean slid him a don’t-mess-with-me glance.
“Seriously, Dean,” Sam leaned over toward his partner on the job and in life, “I want you to be okay. This has all the earmarks of being really nasty.”
Dean reared back to look at his partner, “And when, Sam, is murder not nasty?”
“You know what I mean!” Sam allowed himself a huff of indignation.
Dean let out a small sigh as he looked past Sam and out the window. After a moment he locked his gaze on Sam’s. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be fine.”
“Fine?”
“Dry, okay,” Dean retorted hotly and tried not to be pissed, “I won’t drink.”
“Benny’s coming, too,” Sam reminded him.
Dean shrugged. As if he needed reminding that the partner that left him after six years on the job together was now going to be working a case with him again.
“Dean?”
“I know! Sam,” Dean grit his teeth keeping the surge of anger at bay, “I know about Benny coming! Rufus told me. And just because my ex-partner is coming doesn’t mean I’m going to drink myself into sad oblivion!”
“Mmmookay.” Sam shifted to look at Dean, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sam!” Dean mashed his hands through his hair, but took a deep breath. “I’m a big boy, Sam. And you’re not my mommy and not my keeper. I won’t drink too much. Now,” he forced himself to relax against the window sill, “tell me what you know, so far.”
Sam let out a sigh of exasperation and with a small head shake started to go through the meager information that they had on the murders so far. Unfortunately, Sam’s profile was mostly non-existent. “We should have more in about an hour when Charlie finishes culling all the info she can get her hands on.”
It was only fifteen minutes later when the three AVU vehicles stopped outside the massive stone façade of the City of Omaha Police Department. Their arrival was expected and, hopefully, welcomed. Most local law enforcement resented their presence since it was seen as losing control over a crime committed in the home territory. But, in reality, the AVU team was there to help.
The OPD Community Liaison Officer was usually the person who met them, but this time it was the Chief of Detectives, Logan Ginty, waiting for them. Dean eyed up the lean weathered face of the man under a nice looking Stetson. He looked more like a seasoned rancher than he did a detective, but all looks could be deceiving. He knew that better than most.
AVU Chief Turner made quick introductions as his team was lead into a conference room set aside for their use. It was a relief to have the Medical Examiner waiting for them. Charlie didn’t miss a beat in getting up and running again. Gabriel, Communication Liaison was already riding point with the rest of the police department and getting geared up for any media needs. Rufus brought Dean over to meet with the ME and the detective that was leading the case, Daniel Tappscot.
“When can we see the site,” Dean asked losing no time in the getting-to-know-you niceties.
Tappscot looked mildly taken aback but quickly recovered, “As soon as you’re ready, sir.”
“Dean,” the older agent looked carefully at the blond-haired detective, “just Dean. You new? You’re kind of young to be a detective.”
Tappscot smirked, “Not as young as you think, damn, baby face,” he snickered at himself, “thirty, if that makes you feel any better.”
Dean nodded at the detective and his eyes actually had a glint of mirth in them, “Good to know.” He took the paper Charlie handed him. “And, yeah,” he looked up at Tappscot again, “it makes me feel better.” He followed the younger detective’s gaze as Benny Lafitte and his new partner, Gary Roddam, strode into the room.
“Let’s get started,” Rufus rapped on the table to get everyone’s attention. “Charlie,” he nodded to the red-head, “it’s your show.”
“I’m not sure if we might be wasting our time,” she clicked a few keys and twelve photos lit up the screen, “or if we’ve got the entire picture.”
The entire team leaned toward the screen as each photo took its place. The photos were all prepubescent boys. The entire team was silent as the faces of the innocent stared down at them.
“Other than that they’re all white,” Roddam broke the silence, “I’m not seeing a connection.”
Sam watched his partner studying the photos. He wasn’t as experienced as Dean and had more than a little to learn. His partner was a great teacher. He looked over and saw Benny watching Dean with the same intensity. He gave the man a small smile. This wasn’t the first time they’d worked together, but it was the first time since he and Dean embarked on a personal relationship.
“Charlie,” Dean asked without peeling his eyes from the screen, “the three black and white photos, you have a description? Their eyes blue?”
Dean didn’t see the Omaha Chief lean into his chief. “Your guy’s a bit intense there isn’t he?”
Chief Turner nodded as he kept his eyes on his Senior Agent, “He’s the best we got. No one’s beat his closure rate.”
“Bit driven, huh?” The Omaha Chief shifted and locked his eyes on Winchester as well, “What’s he seeing?”
Turner shrugged, “Damned if I know. But whatever it is you can bet there’s a reason.” He looked over at his colleague, “Dean doesn’t do anything frivolous on cases.” His eyes rested on Dean again, “He’s all business.”
Sam looked closer at the photos Dean was questioning and saw that the eyes were light colored.
“Yeah,” Charlie confirmed.
Dean’s eyes narrowed and Sam tried to see what he was seeing.
“All the eyes are light,” Dean said thoughtfully, “even the dark headed ones.” He turned back to Charlie, “Dates?” With a few more clicks of her keyboard she uploaded the dates each boy was found.
“I’m loading the crime scene photos, now,” Kevin added, “let me know when you’re ready for them.”
Dean shook his head, “No, Charlie.” He looked back at the woman, for the first time taking his eyes from the photos, “I need the TOD.”
“I’ve got those,” Kevin piped up from behind him. “Give me a sec.” After a couple clicks the Estimated Time of Death was loaded under each photo.
Dean’s eyes darted among the dates as did Sam’s, Benny’s, and the rest of the team’s.
“This is interesting,” Kevin loaded another batch of photos to a second screen to the right of the main one. “This was found with seven of the bodies.”
A picture of a small silver rectangle was emblazoned on the screen to the left. It had a cross on it.
Dean rose from his chair and going to the screen peered closely at the photo. Sam joined him on his right and Benny on his left.
“What’re ya seein’, cher?”
“Not sure,” Dean answered as he studied. He turned back to Kevin, “Is this the only photo?” Kevin and Charlie nodded in tandem. “Wait,” Charlie interrupted their nod, “there are seven of them, one from each of the victims.” She turned to her partner, “Put’em up.”
Seven photos of the silver tab came up side-by-side. They were carbon copies of each other.
Dean let out a huff, “No one photo’d the back.”
“What do you think is there,” Sam asked. “How do you know it’s not just blank?”
“I don’t,” Dean answered as he lowered himself into the chair behind him. His eyes never left the screens.
Garth who’d been quiet finally spoke up, “Hey, Char, which one of the boys had the silver tab?”
Dean shot his young teammate a smile as Charlie did as Garth asked. The photos were rearranged to show the ones with and without the silver tab. The entire team studied the pictures in silence. Charlie and Kevin busily keyed in more and more information, delving into more and more crime scene information.
After a few moments, Kevin broke the studied silence, “Take a look at this, guys.” Four more photos went up on the screen. Four of the intact bodies were shown wearing some kind of white garment, remnants of a garment clung to the remains of three others.
“And this is very strange,” Charlie added as she keyed up five more pictures. “What do you think it means?”
Dean looked at the display with increasing interest. His eyes darted amongst the varied photos. Sam and Benny were right by his side as they studied the pictorial essay before them.
“What kind of bug is that?” He moved closer to the picture, “It looks like a bee.”
“It is,” Dean sighed. “I wonder if it’s what I think it is, though,” his voice trailed off as he thought and studied.
“This body,” Rufus addressed Ginty, “when can we see it?”
Chief Ginty stood from his seat, “We can take you out to the scene now.” The coroner, Eric Hopstead, stood as well, “The boy is on the table downstairs.”
Dean looked at the fifty something doctor, “You have a Time of Death yet, Doc?”
“When I came up here, it wasn’t conclusive. The labs I ordered should be complete by now.” He ticked his head, “Follow me?”
“Sure thing,” Dean turned to follow him and Sam fell into step beside him. “What’re you thinking,” Sam whispered as they followed the ME.
“I’m thinking what’s with the bee. I’m thinking why the hell someone didn’t take a picture of the back of that silver thing,” Dean retorted as he kept up with the doctor. “And I’m thinking is it real silver? How real point nine nine nine real or jewelry real?”
Sam furrowed his brow as they got into the elevator that led to the morgue, “Why does that matter.”
Dean frowned, “It matters.”
Dean walked into the Forensic Anthropologists office without his usual swagger. They were after a killer that buried his vics alive and listened and waited while they died. He would do anything to get this guy, but he felt like a bit of a rube coming into the Smithsonian with a leaf.
“Hey,” he stopped one of the techs, “I’m here to see Mara Winbeck.”
The guy grinned, “Oh, she’s in a mood today.” He pointed to the upper level glass offices, “Up there, top of the stairs. Knock first, that’s her lab.”
Getting to the door, he knocked gently. She was bent over a lighted table and he didn’t want to startle her.
“Come.” She didn’t look up.
He went to the end of the long table and leaned over it without touching anything, “I’m Dean Winchester. I called you about an hour ago.”
“Yes,” she looked up. Her eyes were deep brown behind rectangle glasses, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, “let me see it.”
He handed over the small plastic evidence bag, “I’m sure it’s not important, but it looked different from the other stuff at the scene. It was on the kid’s jacket.”
She frowned slightly as she looked at it and then held it to the light, “I’ll have to do some tests.” Where’s the body? Whose jurisdiction?” She looked at him sharply, “And don’t ever think a piece of something that might be evidence is unimportant. It’s all important.”
And that little leaf led them to the home base of the unsub. That little leaf helped solve their case. So, everything is important.
Sam followed Dean as he trailed the doc through the stainless doors that were the entry to morgues the world over. He listened to the story of the leaf that helped the AVU solve one of their cases. “So, you see, Sam, that’s when I learned that every little thing can be important.”
“I can see that.”
This coroner’s operating theater was the same as so many others. In a way the familiarity was comforting.
Except for the small slight body covered by the operating room green sheet preserving what’s left of the boy’s modesty. Sam saw his partner tense as he approached the boy. He’d learned the hard way not to call it ‘the body’ and he was sure the ME was about to learn that same lesson.
“This is Jacob Milner, age ten. His parents are on their way.” Dr. Hopstead gently pulled back the sheet but only to the boy’s waist. “There’s been very little deterioration,” he looked up at the two agents, “apparently he was found quickly, lucky for him and for us.”
“Cause, Doc,” Dean’s eyes roved over the almost unmarred skin of the boy. “There doesn’t seem to be any outward signs of the COD.”
Chapter Two