Monster in the Mirror 8/12

[emebalia]

Chapter 8

The door burst open and then there was light blinding Victor and voices shouting.

"Down! Get down! Now!" and "Hands where I can see them!" and "Gun! He has a gun!"

And then Victor landed face first on the floor with several hands holding him down and handcuffs clicked too tight around his wrists. A knee hit him in the rips, totally accidentally he'd bet.

Craning his neck Victor saw way too many legs around him, clad in something which looked suspiciously like sheriff uniforms.

Letting his head fall back on the dirty carpet Victor thought: I'm so screwed.

Victor was forced up and lead out of the room while one of the deputies put his gun and the knives in little evidence bags and another one searched the room.

When they passed the Winchesters' room the curtains moved and for a split second he saw Sam's battered face peeking out. At least Sam knew what had happened but Victor wasn't sure what the others could do to help him. Let alone if they were willing to help him. The Winchesters were wanted as well and with Gerry he wasn't sure but it wouldn't surprise him if there was a warrant out for her too. They could drop him like a hot potato.

The ride to the department was short and Victor tried to ignore the hatred looks he got from the driver and the deputy in the passenger seat.

In a small town like this everybody knew everybody and the sheriff probably played poker with the owner of the gas station on Saturdays. Or their kids played in the same baseball team. Didn't matter what the connection was, they took the death of the three persons personal. And Victor was the one who did it. At least it looked that way and Victor knew there was nothing he could say or do to convince them otherwise.

At the station he was manhandled in an interrogation room, cuffed to the table and then left alone to stew for a bit.

Victor caught the irony of his situation. Not long ago he would have liked to have Dean sitting where he sat now, would have been sure that he had caught a real monster. And now he sat here, cuffed to the furniture and the only thought in his mind was: I'm so screwed.

They let him stew for nearly an hour before the door opened and the sheriff stepped in. A tall man around his fifties, football player type, with harsh lines on his face.

With a thud a thick file landed on the table. Victor appreciated the dramatic but he doubted that the real file of this case was that thick. Stuffed up with every piece of paper they had found to make it more impressive was his guess but it worked. Eying the closed file Victor licked his lips while the sheriff sat down.

"So, Agent Dennis DeYoung." Victor's fake FBI badge landed on top of the file. "Or should I say former Agent Victor Henriksen?"

Okay, they had done their homework. And in a very short time period as well. Victor would have been impressed if they wouldn't work against him.

Victor decided to keep his mouth shut and to glare at the sheriff instead.

"I've only one question, you sick bastard." The sheriff wanted to use way more colorful words and maybe his fists, that was clearly written on his face, but a side glance to the red light at the camera in the corner kept him in line.

Yeah, that little thing could be a real pain in the ass, Victor remembered not without amusement. He couldn't count how many times he just had wanted to punch the suspect in front of him. Now he was glad the camera was there and that the sheriff was professional enough to not screw the case up with brutality against a helpless suspect.

"Why?" With that one word the sheriff opened the file and threw reports with pictures attached to them on the table. Pictures from the scene, bright and colorful. What Victor had seen on TV was nothing compared to this.

With trembling hands Victor picked up one picture after the other, forced himself to look at them. He didn't do this, never wanted anybody to suffer, but this had been done to punish him. So in some way this was his fault.

"Getting a hard-on from this?" The sheriff spatted and ripped the pieces of paper out of Victor's hands. One picture fell loose but the sheriff was to far gone to notice the missing paperclip. "You couldn't just shoot them. You had to torture them. Can't get it up otherwise?"

He slammed his hands on the table, making Victor flinch.

Damn, Vic, he thought to himself. Get a grip.

He knew the tactics, had used them himself a thousand times, but seemingly he wasn't immune.

"I want to speak to my lawyer." Victor finally said and leaned back as far as his cuffed hands let him. God, he had hated those words but now he couldn't help but watching with satisfaction while the sheriff tried to get his emotions under control.

In one last attempt the sheriff leaned forward. "Just tell me why. What did those people do to deserve this?" He tapped the pile of papers. On top lay a close-up of the woman - the customer with bad timing - and Victor tried hard to not look at the bloody mess she had become under the knife of something wearing his face.

"Nothing." Was his whispered answer and he couldn't stand the hatred gaze any longer. Ashamed he lowered his eyes and just wished to be brought to his cell.

The sheriff opened his mouth to continue but was interrupted by a knock at the door and then a very young deputy stuck his head in.

"Sheriff Andrews?" He asked and looked unsure between the sheriff and his prisoner.

The sheriff sighed. "What is it, Tommy?"

"Ehm." He shifted and Victor wasn't sure if the boy was afraid of him or the sheriff. "We got a call. There's a shooting down the Miller's Road."

"Why are you bothering me with this?" The sheriff snapped and Tommy ducked his head. "Send Ann and Chris to have a look." He ordered as if that was obvious and the young deputy was just too stupid to make this decision himself.

With a hasty "Yessir" Tommy shut the door.

The interruption seemed to have calmed the sheriff down a bit. He sat with his elbows rested on the table, hands folded in front of him and just watched Victor for a long minute.

"For a former FBI agent this was very sloppy." Sheriff Andrews finally said with a gesture over the file. "We don't need your confession. We have you on camera, we have your fingerprints and as soon as we get the samples back from the lab we'll have your DNA as well. We found you with the gun and the knives and I bet we'll get a match with the murder weapons."

Victor had serious doubt about the last part but that wouldn't help him. He could have thrown away the real murder weapons. They didn't need the weapons to proof that he was guilty, the shifter had made sure of that. Even if the shifter couldn't copy his DNA and the samples came back without a match it wouldn't help Victor. In his time with the FBI he had wet dreams about a case as tight as this one. There was no way wiggling out of it. His only chance was to escape.

Between his sweaty fingers Victor felt the paperclip - way too hot and heavy for such a tiny piece of wire - and he expected that the sheriff would call him on it any second now.

"Which brings us back to the why." The sheriff continued and leaned forward looking Victor in the eye. "You could have avoided all this, you could have killed them more … discreetly." He struggled visibly with his emotions but he managed to keep his voice calm and professional.

Sheriff Andrews would have made an excellent agent, Victor thought.

"Loosing it like this." He tapped the file with his finger. "It's personal. So tell me why. Who pissed you off that badly that you killed the other two just because they were there? Tell me!" With the last words he slammed his hand flat on the table.

Victor jumped in his seat but kept silent. There was nothing he had to say. He didn't even know those people.

Another knock at the door saved him from the hatred glare the sheriff shot him.

"What?" Sheriff Andrews barked.

Tommy nearly hit himself in the face with the door. "Sir, we got another call."

"What now?" He made an impatient gesture for Tommy to continue.

"There was an accident near Redwater Bridge." Tommy stammered and duck his head.

The sheriff sighed. "Is David still here?"

Tommy nodded.

"Okay, send him and call Becky to meet him there." Calculating his manpower the sheriff made the decision and Tommy shut the door.

A little station like this, Victor doubted they had more deputies available except the sheriff himself and Tommy. And the secretary he had seen when they had brought him in.

"Busy day." Victor said.

"Looks like." The sheriff's attention was now once again focused on his suspect. "Your friends causing trouble?"

"Don't have any friends." Victor shrugged but wondered. Maybe this was a distraction but with the sheriff still right in his face it didn't do him any good.

"Oh, you have a girlfriend." The sheriff countered. "And we have a witness confirming that you are here with two other friends."

Victor's mind raced. Did Sheriff Andrews know about the Winchesters?

"Yeah, a girlfriend. And we sleep in different beds, sure." He tried to play it casual. "Look, those people don't know shit about me. They picked up a hitchhiker and offered a bed for the night, that's it." With a shrug he brushed it off. "Actually they might be lucky that you caught me." Victor added with a smug grin - or as smug as he could manage right now - and let the sheriff drew his own conclusions. No way Victor would drag the others down with him.

"Are you confessing that you've planned to kill those people?"

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer."

And there they were again. Danced around a full circle without getting anywhere. Victor hoped for the sheriff it was as frustrating as he remembered from his own time with the FBI.

Once again they were interrupted by Tommy.

"Ehm, Sheriff Andrews?" He didn't dare to look him in they eye.

"For Christ's sake, Tommy. What is it now?"

"Mrs. Morse called. Somebody drunk is in her front yard and she fears for gladioluses." He stumbled over the name of the plants and blushed a little. Sheriff Andrews let out a groan.

"Is everybody in this town going nuts?" The sheriff muttered and fished a key out of his pocket. "I'll check this out myself."

Because there is nobody you can send except for little Tommy here, Victor guessed. And he wasn't sure if Tommy was old enough to drive yet.

"No sudden movements." Sheriff Andrews warned and then opened the cuffs just to close them behind Victor's back a second later. Without resistance Victor let them escorted him out of the interrogation room to the back of the building where they had three holding cells. All empty right now and probably only used as drunk tanks on weekends.

They pushed Victor in the nearest cell and didn't bother to undo the cuffs holding his hands on his back.

As soon as he was alone Victor leaned against the bars and tried to see through the little window in the door separating the cells from the office. From this angle he could only see a part of the ceiling but he could hear Sheriff Andrews instructing Tommy.

"Don't get near the prisoner."

"Don't talk to him."

"And most important, don't open the cell door."

Tommy answered every instruction with a "Yessir!" and the sheriff left with the promise that one of the other deputies out there would be back soon.

That was Victor's signal to move his ass.

continue to chapter 9
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