Turn the Page -Sequel to More Than a Feeling

Chapter 4

Dean flipped through the last of the crime scene photos. A red-haired woman lay on the deck of a big, expensive boat. Blood had spilled from her mouth and feet, leaving small pools on the polished wood. Sam's article had gotten the details of her physical condition correct, but had failed to mention her clothing. She was dressed in a seashell bra, and her fused legs were only discovered after the shiny, green, costume mermaid tail was removed. Dean frowned down at the disturbing images. This was creepy, even for him.

"Bizarre, right?" Chief Kenwood said. "I gotta tell you, we're glad to have you in on this one, agents. We haven't had a murder in Reeds Spring in twenty years, let alone something like this." Kenwood stayed back near the door, looking sideways at the pictures, as though he preferred to keep as much distance from them as possible.

Sam tossed his stack of photos onto the desk and adjusted his tie. "Have you identified the victim?"

"Cara Young. She was a grad student at Mizzou. Here for the weekend with a couple friends. We're a very small town, but we get a lot of tourists here for the lake. The peace and quiet."

"Cause of death?" Sam asked.

Chief Kenwood turned his big, dark blue hat over in his hands. "That's the darnedest thing. Coroner says he can't find one. She lost some blood, but not near enough to kill her. Strong heart, healthy lungs, clean tox screen. She just...died." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I talked to every doc in town. Nobody's ever heard of anything that can make somebody's legs stick together like that. Or make your feet bleed for no apparent reason."

"How about her tongue being gone? Got an explanation for that?" Dean asked dryly.

The chief swallowed. "Well, yeah, somebody cut it out."

"What was she doing on the boat?" Dean asked. "Did they rent it or something?"

Chief Kenwood scratched his large, round stomach. "Nope. That's where it gets even weirder. She had no business on that boat. I've known the owners my whole life. They've been in Michigan since Tuesday, visiting their grandkids."

"We'll need to speak to her friends. Are they still in town?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, they're at the Bluebird Bed and Breakfast. Had a deputy talk to them this morning. They're real shook up. Did say one interesting thing: that her hair wasn't red before. Cara was a strawberry blonde. Nothing else very helpful, I'm afraid."

"We need to take a look at the crime scene, too," Dean said.

"Whatever you needs, agents. We want to catch this psycho right away. Whole town's spooked." Kenwood backed toward the door and opened it for them, leaving the photos on the desk.

Out in the fresh air, heading for the Impala, Sam spoke first. "I'll interview the friends; you check the boat for hex bags?"

Dean nodded, and they climbed in. He dropped Sam off at the bed and breakfast, then drove to the marina. The boat was even bigger and fancier than it had looked in the photos. He flashed his badge at an officer stationed on the dock, then stepped aboard. Two dried bloodstains on the deck just outside the cabin marked where Cara Young's life had ended. Dean stood over the spot for a moment, head bowed, mouth tight. Then he went to work.

Ten minutes of searching was all it took. He found the little pouch, a piece of brown cloth tied with string, tucked into the back of a drawer in the cabin. It rattled when he shook it. He grimaced his distaste, and stuffed the hex bag into his jacket pocket. It was a little late now, but they'd burn it later, just to be safe. "Freaking witches," he muttered.