Chapter 13

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Dean's eyes briefly opened, catching you in the corner of his vision. He quickly pushed Allison, the Suicide Girl, off him, their swollen lips a testament to what had just transpired.

"Hey! ummm..." Dean stalled rubbing the back of his head "we were just..."

"I got what we need. Time to go." you cut him off.

"Have a nice day." Suicide Allison waved after Dean, a shit eating grin across her face.

You trudged down the freshly rain slicked sidewalk.

"Hey, wait up!" Dean called after you.

For obvious reasons, you did not wait, but he caught up to you all the same. Damn, those bowlegs were fast. You whipped out your phone.

"What are we doing?" Dean asked, slightly out of breath.

"Well, I'm getting an Uber so I can check out the next suspect on our list. You, well, you're 'thoroughly investigating' the witnesses." you airquoted.

"Hey, I'm sorry! She started getting flirty and grabby and I couldn't get her off me." Dean tried to defend himself.

"Yeah, I can tell from your battle scars you really put up a fight." you said gesturing to his lips which still carried a bit of Allison's lipstick. Dean wiped his mouth and frowned at the shade of red streaked across the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry!" he contested.

"Dude, I don't even give a fuck anymore. It's none of my business who you catch the herp from. Just focus up, man. No personal business on company pond" you chastised.

"What?"Dean asked.

"Nothing, it's a quote from...nevermind." you conceded sighing.

When your Uber arrived you rode shotgun with the driver, while Dean was banished to the back seat. You rode in silence. Your driver, if he sensed the tension, wisely kept it to himself.

Standing in front of Elliot Crandall's house Dean asked "So where are we?"

"Dead guy's friend. Also a coin collector. I'm guessing he stole the coins to begin with."

"So if this is where the coins were, why are we here?" Dean asked.

"Oh, I don't know, to make sure he isn't stashing anything that might sneak up and kill a whole bunch of other people once we think this whole thing is over. Or you know to make sure, he himself hasn't turned into a homicidal maniac. Seriously, do I have to exposition everything for you, Dean?"

"Well, fuck you, too." Dean mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" you said, frighteningly pissed off.

"Nothing." Dean excused.

You stared at him, your eyes burning a hole in his face.

That's when Mr. Crandall decided to answer the door.

Without tearing your gaze away from Dean's you held up your badge to Elliott's face.

"Agents Quinzel and Todd of the FBI. We have some questions for you regarding your friend's super weird death and maybe some missing coins. Can we come in?" you rattled off in one long breath.

Dean sighed and flopped out his own badge. "We just want to talk." Dean offered as a salve to your brusque attitude toward Elliot Crandall.

Mr. Crandall led you inside and offered you a seat, but you refused.

"Mr. Crandall, this will just take a minute. Your friend died by having a power tool shoved into his brain pan. Did you actually kill him?" you asked point blank, no longer in the mood for talking to lying assholes that day.

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