Post by StoryGirl83 on Nov 3, 2015 19:11:45 GMT -5
Chapter Six - Association with Death
By the time they reached the motel they had checked out the sites where the five boys had allegedly committed suicide and found exactly nothing. It was dusk when they arrived in their rooms, take out bags in hand.
Dean grabbed the knob and tested it as he dug into his pocket for the room key. He froze when the knob turned easily. He removed his hand from the knob and walked quietly back to the Impala. He dug out a different key and opened up the trunk.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked with a quick glance toward their room.
"It's unlocked," was all Dean said as he grabbed a pistol and loaded it with salt.
Sam grabbed another pistol and loaded it. He held it down by his side as he headed toward the door a step behind his brother.
Dean pushed open the door and aimed the gun into the room.
"Eeep!" Dale squealed as he ducked behind the bed.
"Kid, do you want to get shot?" Dean demanded as he handed the gun to Sam and headed in. Dean was bending down and grabbing Dale by the collar in seconds. "Are you crazy?! How'd you get in here anyway?"
Dale cringed and scrunched his neck down, trying to avoid Dean as best he could. "I know the motel owner. I told him I needed to talk to you and he let me in."
"Great, just great," Dean growled, followed by swearing. "We could have hurt you. What were you thinking?"
Dale gulped as the door slammed shut.
Deciding that they didn't need onlookers, Sam slid into the room and plopped down on a chair.
"You said you're here to help," Dale gasped out. "I thought maybe whoever is behind this might take another try at Jaime and maybe you are his best shot at not getting killed. I thought I'd give you a chance despite the fake IDs and even faker jobs. I thought maybe you talked to Kyle and you talked to Kaitlyn and they told you stuff that they hadn't thought was important but you seemed to latch onto, so maybe I know something important and I just don't realize it. I thought my best friend is in the hospital and they don't know when he'll wake up and I'm scared."
"Okay, okay, Mickey Mouse," Dean interrupted, trying to stop Dale's tirade. "Don't get your panties all bunched up."
"Dale!" the boy protested with a growl. "Mickey's my last name. And I don't wear . . ."
"Whatever," Dean waved him off.
"Why don't you tell us what you know," Sam suggested. Looking at his brother, he said, "We'll leave off the insults."
Dale snorted. "Right. Who are you really? Most people don't enter their rooms baring guns."
"I'm Sam and he's Dean," Sam told Dale, again. "Let's just stick with that."
"Whatever," Dale replied with a shrug. He dug into his pocket causing Dean to take a step backward. Dale chuckled as he pulled out a cell phone. "It's just a phone." He tapped a button and swiped his finger across the screen. "Jaime called me that night. He got cut off. The police have analyzed and over analyzed it, but they've still got nothing. Then, they decided that their initial assessment was correct and they quit looking. Just because Jaime was alive didn't mean he hadn't been the one to try and end his life." He walked over to Sam, ignoring Dean completely, and handed the phone to him. "Just push play."
Sam tapped the play button and they all were quiet at they listened.
"It's me," Jaime's voice said over the phone's speaker. "I know I was a little late earlier, but I didn't mistake the time this time, did I? You did say SA park, right? It's ten-fifteen and you're not here. Look, I know you got there first, but I feel I have a right to be upset. I'm backing off, though. There's this girl. She's . . . sweet."
Sam frowned as he looked at Dale. "That's it?"
"I don't know," Dale said with a sigh. "Other than its timing I don't see anything important. I was supposed to meet him in the park, but I was running late. I got there at maybe ten-twenty, ten-twenty-five. He was swinging from a tree. I grabbed him, pushed him up and I started screaming for help. I carry a pocket knife with me when I'm not at school, but there was no way I could keep him up and cut the rope.
"So you're the one who found him," Sam commented surprised.
Dale nodded. "If I'd been there on time, it never would have happened."
"How do you know?" Sam asked. "You say he didn't do it, which means someone else did. Maybe instead of him being in the hospital and you being here maybe you'd both be in your graves. Ever think of that?"
Dale sighed. "I've thought of it. But we would have been gone before the attacker arrived, so I don't think so."
"What were you morons doing out in the park at ten o'clock at night anyway?" Dean demanded.
Dale made a face. "My sister's four. Earlier that day we took her to the park. She lost something and it got locked up. We were going to break in and get it. I was late, because I had some trouble getting the key." His eyes went wide as he realized what he'd said. "I can't believe I told you that."
"Did you tell the police?" Sam asked with a chuckle. "I can't imagine they didn't ask after hearing that recording."
Dale nodded reluctantly. "I was grounded for a week except for school and hospital visits. The police let me off with a warning as long as I returned the key and my apology was accepted." He sighed, again. "What else do you want to know about Jaime?"
Sam considered this. "On the message he mentions a girl. Do you know anything about her?"
Dale shook his head with a slight smile. "He wasn't dating anyone specific, never more than about three dates, so he was 'falling in love' every other week. Nothing strange about that."
Dean grinned. "Sounds like a great guy."
Sam shot his brother a look before turning his attention back to Dale. "Was it unusual that he would mention her?"
"Not really," Dale said with a shake of his head. "He liked girls. And he liked talking about girls. No big deal. Right?" He stopped and looked at them hesitantly. "You don't think she did this, do you?"
Dean and Sam shook their heads quickly and almost in one voice, "No. Of course not."
"Don't lie to me," Dale scowled at them, again, not believing a word of it. "I'm not some bright-eyed innocent little kid. I've seen a lot."
"I hope not," Sam mumbled, thinking of some of the things he'd seen.
"Hey, kid," Dean called, trying to change the subject. "Do you know anything at all about the other two boys?"
"Levi and Aaron," Sam supplied.
Dale was quick to shake his head. "We didn't talk. I was on the fringe. Nobody likes to associate with death."
Sam frowned. Of the three boys, Dale was the last one he would associate with death. Dale was alive. "Death?"
"My dad, Allen Dale," Dale said with a quick not. "I'm named after him. His psycho ex, the one who used to live in the house next door to us, killed him."
Dean froze and looked at Dale. "Wait. Your neighbor was a murderer?"
Dale shrugged. "She's gone. I don't know what happened to her. I don't even know her name. Mom says it's not important."
"Gone, as in dead?" Dean pushed.
Dale shrugged deeper. "I don't know. Like I said, Mom doesn't like to talk about it."
"Dean, a word," Sam called him over.
Dean came over and in a low voice asked, "What?"
"What was the name on that grave, the fifth one that was trashed?"
Dean strained to remember. "Michael Dale, I think. Think he's related to the kid's dad?"
Sam shook his head. "I think he was his dad. I'm pretty sure the guys middle name was Allen."
Dean's eyes widened and he glanced back at the scowling kid on the other side of the room. "You think this is about the kid?"
"Maybe," Sam acknowledged. "The other boys are all his age, his basic physical characteristics. What if it is him?"
"Then, where's the girl?" Dean demanded. "We know three of the boys mentioned a girl."
"Maybe it's a coincidence."
"In our line of work?" Dean scoffed. "Never happen."
"In our line of work anything can happen," Sam offered weakly, "including coincidence."
"This isn't one of them," Dean insisted.
"We need to warn him anyway," Sam said. "If he's in danger and we don't . . ."
"We don't know that."
"Not for sure, but it's pretty likely." Sam exhaled slowly. "And we need to find out about this ex of his dad's. She couldn't be the girl, but maybe her daughter?"
"That doesn't make sense though," Dean argued. "Why would her daughter care?"
"Bitter mom poison's daughter's mind?" Sam suggested.
"Against a dead guy?" Dean scoffed. "That's pushing it."
"If you hate something enough, I don't think it is."
"Good point," Dean relented. "You get rid of the kid. I'll see if I can learn where to find info on the death of Mr. Allen Dale. Maybe an old newspaper will have the name of his killer."
"Library's closed," Sam reminded him. "So's city hall. It's late. Maybe Dale's mom . . ."
"Mom won't talk to you," Dale's voice startled them from behind. "She won't talk to me. Why would she talk to you?" He chuckled at the gaping looks on their faces. "What? You're talking about me. You didn't expect me to stay put, did you?"
"Sam, this one's yours to field," Dean informed him as he grabbed his jacket off the bed and headed for the door. "I'm going to see if I can find anything."
Dale looked at Sam with a cocked eyebrow. "So what's the answer?"
"Yes, we kind of did expect you to stay put," Sam admitted. "Have you noticed that these other guys look like you, Dale?"
Dale snorted. "Darrin was six-four. Do I look like I'm six-four?"
"That's your only objection to that statement?"
"The statement's ridiculous," Dale informed him. "Where do I even begin? Sure all of them have brown hair, but Jason's was almost black and Levi's was bleached blond. Between the four of them, they had three different eye colors. Aaron's eyes were purple. Darrin's eyes were dark brown, almost black. Aaron was a football player with the muscles to prove it. Jason was a bean pole. Yeah, I'm in the same grade as all of them except Levi who was held back a year, another reason I don't really know him, but other than Jaime I didn't know any of them that well."
Sam sighed. "Is Allen your dad's first name?"
Dale shook his head. "No, but no one called him Michael. It's my grandfather's name."
"Did you know that someone trashed his grave recently?"
Dale frowned. "No. It was fine a month ago when Mom and I visited his grave. Since we moved here, we've visited his grave every year on the anniversary of his death. It's the closest mom comes to talking about him.