Wayward Son

Chapter 7

Ruthie thought she'd prepared herself. But the sight of Monica simpering up at Dean, standing too close to him, sent hot blood coursing through her face like a fever. Ever since they were teenagers, she'd watched that look render one guy after another powerless, hopelessly under her spell. And it looked like Dean was no exception. At least saying Monica's name helped snap him out of it. His brows had jumped up, then lowered into a creased frown. He obviously hadn't known who he was talking to.

Monica looked at Ruthie for a moment, her expression unreadable, then she returned her attention to Dean. "I'm sorry, Agent; I never introduced myself. I'm Monica Nelson." She stuck out her hand. Dean hesitated a moment before shaking it, a frown on his face. Then she turned back to Ruthie, and her whole demeanor changed. Shoulders hunched, her eyes fell to the floor. She spoke in a soft, subdued voice, so unlike her usual sparkly tone. "I was starting to think I'd never see you again."

Ruthie definitely hadn't prepared herself for this contrite Monica. The anger surging through her system had nowhere to go with a greeting like that. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Sam stepped forward, God bless him. "I'm Dr. Ulrich," he said while he shook Monica's hand. "Nice to meet you." He didn't smile. He turned to Dean. "Agent Hetfield, are you ready to debrief with me and Ms. Trujillo?"

Dean took a half step back from Monica. "Uh, yeah. Let's debrief."

Ruthie gestured toward the exit. "This way, gentlemen." She sneaked one last look at Monica, who was still peeking up from a bowed head, the picture of repentance. But her green eyes lingered on Dean. Ruthie raised her chin and marched toward the door. Sam and Dean's footsteps followed her.

As soon as they were outside, Sam came alongside her. "You okay?" he asked in a low voice, while nodding to a passing doctor.

Limbs trembling, she nodded, but it was all she could do not to burst into furious tears. She thought the damage had scarred over, that Monica's betrayal couldn't hurt her anymore. But seeing her, especially looking at Dean that way, had ripped the scab away, revealing the still-raw wound just underneath. She whipped around to Dean. "What did she say to you?" Her voice lashed out like a sharpened blade.

Dean loosened his tie, eyes darting back toward the hospital entrance. "Not much. Uh, she did say the same as a lot of them, that he'd been tired. And he told her his wife started acting weird after the wedding."

Dean shifted his feet, still tugging at his collar. Ruthie realized her hands were balled into fists, her jaw clenched tight. If she looked half as angry as she felt, no wonder he was acting so uncomfortable. She told herself to pull it together. Hadn't she lectured Dean about staying professional? She took a deep breath and tried to relax her tense muscles. "Amy?" she asked. "Weird in what way?"

"Suspicious of him. Paranoid. Said he was worried about her."

The three of them exchanged a look.

"How well did you know Amy?" Sam asked.

"We were friendly, but not close. Monica knows her a lot better than I did." Saying that name left a bitter taste in Ruthie's mouth. She tried not to let it show. "They work together."

Dean patted his jacket, over the inner pocket. "I've got her number. We should pay her a visit."

Sam's phone chirped. He answered it, "This is Dr. Ulrich." He listened for a moment. "Yes, Dr. Connors, thank you so much for calling." Another pause. "Right now? Sure." He gave them a thumbs up. "Okay, see you soon."

Time to break the tension, to prove to the boys—and herself—that she could handle working this case. "Wow," Ruthie said as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Phyllis didn't waste any time." She gave him an exaggerated wink. "I bet you could get a date out of this."