Dawson's Daughter | {BOOK 1}

39|The Detective

Sam had managed to get away and he and I were back at the motel, going through files. He explained that Dean had figured out danashulps was an anagram and it was actually a street name: Ashland. There was a knock at the door, and Sam went to answer it. One of the detectives was standing there, and he hesitated. She shrugged, pushing inside. She showed us her wrists, which were bruised, similar to a rope burn.

"These showed up after you saw it?" Sam asked her.

"Yeah, I guess," she nodded, eyeing me.

"Alright, you're going to have to tell us exactly what you saw," I said.

"You know, I must be losing my mind," the detective muttered. "You're a fugitive and she's an accomplice. I should be arresting you."

"Alright, well, you know what? You can arrest us later, alright? After you live through this. But right now, you gotta talk to us. Okay?" 

She nodded and Sam continued.

"Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?"

"She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood."

"You know what, here. Sam and I have been researching every girl that's ever died or gone missing from Ashland Street," I said.

I went over to the table and picked up a stack of crime scene photos and brought them back over to her.

"How'd you get those?" she demanded. "Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos."

"You have your job, we have ours," I stated simply. "Here. Have a look through these, tell us if you recognize anyone."

She took the photos, looking through them carefully. Sam and I exchanged a look before turning back to her. She had paused on a booking photo of the third woman in the stack.

"This is her. I'm sure of it."

Sam took the photo back from her, examining it.

"Claire Becker? Twenty-eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago."

"But I don't even know her," the detective insisted. "I mean, why would she come after me?"

I took the picture from Sam, also looking it over.

"Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?"

"Yeah, Pete and I did," she nodded. "Before homicide."

"You ever bust her?" Sam asked.

"Not that I remember."

"It says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street," I read off. "Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body."

"What?" the officer's eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones," Sam explained. "It's the only way to put her to rest."

"Of course it is," she mumbled.

⁘

We entered the warehouse where Claire was last seen in.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" the detective asked us.

"We'll let you know when we find it," I told her.

We split up, Sam going to the upper level and the detective going to the lower while I stayed on the main floor. I had barely started to look around when the officer called up to Sam and I.