The World You Thought You Live In 4/12
Chapter 4
"Who the hell is Dennis DeYoung?"
"According to this badge, you are." Dean answered with a smirk.
"Smartass."
Minutes later they stand in front of a house. Nothing special, just an ordinary house in an ordinary neighborhood. Victor however eyed it as if it was about to eat him alive.
He had done this before, a million times, but then he had a badge in his pocket which had his real name on it.
"Let's get this rolling." Dean patted his shoulder and rang the door bell. Victor had just enough time to plaster a professional smile on his face before the door opened.
"Yes?" A woman asked. She had hard lines of grief on her face and she clutched her cardigan with a trembling fist as if her life depended on it. She had lost her daughter not three weeks ago.
This part of the job Victor had hated even when he had been a real FBI agent. But questions had to be asked as long as the memory was still fresh. It put the poor people through hell but it was necessary.
Apparently Dean thought the same way and didn't let himself fell for the pity he might felt. He introduced them as FBI agents and a minute later they sat at the kitchen table while Mrs Guzman poured them some coffee. Not that they wanted coffee but the poor woman needed something to do with her hands.
"I don't know why we have to go over this again." She said wiping a tear from her eye. "The sheriff already questioned me and my husband. Shouldn't you be out there and find that bastard who took my baby away?"
"I'm sorry to put you through this again but new evidence has turned up and this is a case of the FBI now." Dean lied smoothly. Victor sat back and let Dean do the interview who went thorough through the w-questions. Now wonder he was so confident when he was the one in the interrogation room. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, he surely could get the information he needed from a much tougher suspect than Mrs Guzman. Who for one was a witness and not a suspect and second wanted to help in every way she could. Which wasn't much.
Her daughter Patricia went for a jog one morning and didn't come back. Two days later her body was found in the woods. Stabbed to death and eyes cut out. At that detail Mrs Guzman broke into tears.
Back outside Victor took a deep breath. "That was a tough one. Hate when they cry."
Dean loosened his tie. "It was necessary."
"I know. In case you forgot that part of the job isn't new for me." They got back in the car. "So what's next? The other victim?"
"Let me check in with Sam first." He gave Sam a call and passed the information they just got. It wasn't much anyway. "Okay, Sam is near the third victim's place so that's his job."
"And what will we do?" The way Dean smirked at him Victor wouldn't like the answer.
"We'll talk to the sheriff." With a growl the engine came to life and Metallica blasted out of the speakers.
"Are you nuts?" Victor shouted over the noise and got another grin. "You are a wanted criminal. Impersonating an FBI agent. We go in there we'll not coming back out."
"It's all about confidence. Relax and everything will be fine." Maybe Victor should punch him.
If he had been nervous before Victor nearly shit his pants when he followed Dean into the sheriff's office. This was suicidal but Dean didn't seem to care. So Victor did his best to at least look like he didn't wish to be somewhere else. If the sheriff noticed his sweaty palm he didn't show it.
"Why is the FBI poking around in my county?" The sheriff hooked his thumbs into the belt loops under his impressive belly. His hands were barely visibly but the intention of this posture was clear.
Dean spread his hand in an universal gesture of helplessness. "You have three women killed the same way like those back in the seventies."
"If you think it's the same guy, do the math." His belly wobbled while he snorted. "He has to be in a retirement home by now. This is a weirdo who is too engaged in local history. This is a local problem which we can handle ourselves. We don't need your help."
"Hey, you know that and we know that." Dean gestured between the three of them. "But my boss?" He clicked his tongue. "So why don't you give us copies of the current case and the files from the seventies? Then we'll be busy reading the next days while you can catch the killer."
Half an hour later Victor carried a pile of paper to the car while Dean pocketed the secretary's number she had given to him just in case he needed help with … anything. The life of a hunter had his moments, Victor had to admit.
"That wasn't so bad, wasn't it?"
"Only if you have a masochistic tendency and a pair of brass balls."
"Guilty as charged." Oh boy, Dean had actually fun taking the risk. "Let's see what Sam dug up."
They found Sam in the library occupied with newspaper articles. Victor took a seat next to him and started to go through the files they just got. They had to find a serial killer. Familiar territory for Victor, he could do that.
"Where's Dean?" After an hour reading Victor realized he hadn't seen the older Winchester in a while.
Sam didn't bother to look around. "With the gun magazines if he hasn't found a hot librarian by now." He pointed at the screen. "This part of the job bores him to death. He avoids it whenever he can."
"Found anything yet?" Victor asked and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.
"I'm not even sure if the string of murders back then has anything to do with what happens now. The victims are the same type - blond single females in their early twenties - but that's all they have in common." He stretched his arms. "Accept the way they died, of course."
Victor went through his notes, he could see what Sam meant. "Yeah, in the seventies the victims disappeared from several bars and were found near the river."
"Now we have Patricia Guzman who disappeared from a running trail, Lilly Whittaker who's car was found here." Sam pointed at a map on which he had marked relevant spots. "And her body here. And Cynthia Haley who was on her way to friend." He tapped at another mark.
"Do you know who owns this area?" Victor circled around the marks. It was a wide area mostly forest.
"An Anne Libbey. Nothing suspicious about her so far, ninety-three, lives in an retirement home in Florida. No violent death on her ground as far as I know." He ran his fingers through his bangs. Victor smiled in sympathy. He knew how frustrating it could be to stare at a file knowing that the answer was there right in front of his nose but he couldn't find it.
Then something rang a bell in his mind. "Did you say Libbey?"
"Yeah?"
Victor went back a few pages. "Libbey, Libbey. It was here somewhere." Finally he found the right page. "Donald B. Libbey. He was a good friend of the first victim. Interrogated once but they found nothing on him."
"That's a point to start." With this new angle Sam started to type furiously.
"Using the FBI data base this would be a lot easier." Victor said with a wistful sigh. Now he had to do the exact same work like he had been used to however with a lot more limited equipment. It sucked.
"We have to do it the old-fashioned way." And Sam did. It took him over an hour but he finally found what they were looking for.
"Donald B. Libbey." Sam read. "Born 1951, declared dead '85 after he vanished in the mid-seventies roundabout when the murders stopped. His house and property went to his aunt Anne." Sam shot Victor a grin. "Congratulations, looks like you found your first ghost."
Victor couldn't help it this compliment made him feel a little squishy inside. Just a little bit. He could do more than get beaten up, who knew?
They gathered their stuff.
"Now for the hard part." Sam let out a sigh. "Where the hell is that brother of mine?"
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