"Dean, please..." I stand frozen, staring at the man I love.
His legs stride toward me, closing our distance in seconds. He hovers over my petite figure, his intimidation only making me feel smaller.
"This isn't you."
"THIS IS THE NEW ME!" He shout...
"Look, for the billionth time, we're just looking for some information, okay? We're not cops. I mean, do we look like cops?" The individuals look at each other, nodding and whispering 'yeses.' "Well, we're not cops. We just need to find a friend who's in it deep."
I glanced away from the group before us, trying to calm my rising frustration.
"Look, he might have been here the night that guy was killed. Were any of you here then?" asks Sam.
A man lurks out from behind the graffiti-littered concrete pillar and speaks up. "Maybe."
"Oh, okay." I glance at Sam before giving a physical description of Cas. "Uh, he's—he's got dark hair, blue eyes, a little out of it."
"He maybe called himself Clarence?" He asks, hoping it'll ring a bell.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Clarence, yeah." The stranger confirms with a smile.
"You two talk?"
"Not much."
"And...?" I trail off, leaving him space to fill in the blanks.
"I think he was on the run." He answers shortly.
"You see him with the Vic?" Sam inquiries before clarifying. "Uh, victim?"
"No."
"Okay." My hands impatiently gesture for him to continue.
"He went off to sleep in another part of the resort." The man says before walking away.
We turn and begin to follow him. "Where?"
"He's not there now." He answers, on his way towards the rusty pickup truck.
He tosses the plastic bag he held in his hand onto the bed as Sam asks, "Where'd he go?"
"I saw him running from under the bridge to the highway."
Long pause.
"You gonna pay us for all this teeth pulling? Where was he headed?" I ask, referring to the long and excruciating pain caused by his brief answers.
"He flagged a truck heading north. Detroit, probably."
Sam questions, "Why Detroit?"
"Truck was marked 'Motor City Meats.'"
Sam and I look at one another before thanking the 'man of few words.' As we head towards Baby, a cab pulls in before stopping near the underpass. The rear door opens, and Mari gets out. She reaches back into the cab and pulls out five boxes of pizza. I laugh, watching her struggle to carry the heavy boxes in her arms.
"I hope everyone likes pizza!" She calls to the men and women.
Like mosquitos to a flame, they swarm around her, taking the food from her hands. Returning to the taxi, she picks up several bags before shutting the door. She walks back to the group and reaches into one of the bags, passing out plates and napkins. She sets the other bag on the cooler nearby and opens the pack of disposable cups, asking everyone what beverage they wanted so she could pour them. We lean against the trunk of the Impala and watch as she talks, bringing smiles to their faces.
