Turn the Page -Sequel to More Than a Feeling

Chapter 5

 The setting sun did its best to blind Sam as they drove west out of town. A hand-painted wooden sign for Lonely Grove Cabins guided them down a long dirt road through the forest. Soon, they reached a tiny parking lot where three police cruisers, lights flashing, were parked haphazardly. One log cabin faced the lot. Another hand-painted sign above the porch read "Sales Office." A blonde, middle-aged woman in a flowery skirt huddled on the front steps, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

A chorus of cicadas greeted them as they got out and headed toward her. Sam noticed several trails leading off from the parking lot into the woods. But before they reached her, she stretched out a trembling arm, pointing to their left. "That way," she said in a hollow voice.

Fair enough. They could interview her later.

He and Dean followed her pointing finger onto the far left trail. The well-worn dirt path took them into the woods and around a gentle curve. Voices drifted through the humid air from up ahead. As the trail straightened out, Sam spotted a tiny cabin about twenty yards ahead. Lights shone through the two front windows, illuminating two crime scene techs moving around, bending down, shooting photos. Two people stood on the front stoop: a police officer in a dark blue uniform, and a ponytailed woman in a black blazer and fitted trousers. They appeared deep in conversation. As he and Dean got closer, Sam noticed the officer seemed to be having trouble maintaining eye contact with the woman. His gaze kept sliding down her, then snapping back to her face.

He and Dean were almost on top of them by the time the officer seemed to notice. He lifted his square-jawed face to them, eyed the badges they held out, and said, "Here they are."

Ruthie turned toward them and beamed. "Officer Dixon, these are my colleagues, Agent Plant and Agent Page," she said, nodding at Dean and Sam respectively. She gestured at the cop and told them, "Officer Dixon was kind enough to give me a ride after our mixup with the car."

Officer Dixon gave Ruthie a honeyed smile. "Please, Agent Griffin, I've told you to call me Dan." Then he turned to Sam and Dean and wagged a finger at them. "Tsk, tsk, agents. Leaving your lovely partner behind, and with her badge in your car, too? I almost didn't bring her to the scene. I thought the feds were supposed to be professionals."

Dean's face went thunderous. Sam spoke up before he could lash out at the guy. "Yes, that was our mistake. Sorry about that, Agent Griffin."

Ruthie shot a nervous glance at Dean. "No harm done. Officer Dixon, these are excellent field agents, and your department is lucky to have them in on this investigation."

The man gave her a deep nod of his sandy blond head. "Yes, ma'am." He swept an arm behind him, at the cabin. "Shall we?"

He led the way, and Ruthie stood aside to let Sam and Dean go first. But Dean held out his arm toward the door and gave her a forced smile. "Oh, no. After you, Agent Griffin."

Ruthie glanced up at Sam. He shrugged and nodded her toward the door. Either Dean had taken his rant to heart, or he was just playing along while there were witnesses.

The inside of the cabin was a single room with only a double bed in the middle and two chairs on one wall. The crime scene drove the Dean-vs-Ruthie drama from his mind. A pale young woman lay on her right side on the floor near the foot of the bed. She wore a dress with a blue bodice and long, yellow skirt. It had blue and red puffed sleeves, and a high white collar around the back. A headband with a bow stood out blood red against her short, jet black hair. Her left arm draped over her hip. Her right arm lay on the floor, her hand several inches from her face, fingers curved in a graceful fan. Near her hand lay a vivid, perfect red apple with one white bite taken out.