Chapter 28 : I'll Drive

      "Can I get another coffee, please?" I asked the waitress as she set my burger down on the table. I stared down at the heaping mess of grease and smiled as she poured what I thought was probably the beginning of the second or third full pot of coffee.

      I had been sitting in the back booth of the diner for hours. It was quiet and quaint, everything you would imagine a small-town diner would be, and that was exactly what I needed right now as I tried to figure out this case.

     The table was covered in stacks of papers, and on top lied my journal. It had been a fresh page this morning, but it was already well into the afternoon, and it was full of shaky scribbles that even I had a hard time reading.

      I pushed it all away to eat. I stared down at the mound of greasy meat and smiled, though it was short-lived as the bells on the door jingled, and I watched Dean and Cassie walk through the doors together. They didn't see me at first. I was tucked back away from the small crowd, and I was quick to put the menu up in front of my face. I didn't care if they thought I didn't want them to see me because I was in hustle mode and wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

      Though it was short-lived, and even though I did my best to stay busy as I shoveled fries into my mouth, the menu came down as Dean slid into the seat across from me. I half expected him to make a witty comment or smile because he knew he was interrupting me, but he just stared as I chewed.

     "I'm working, Dean," I said.

     He snatched a french fry from my plate and glanced around the diner. I assumed he was searching for Cassie, who had disappeared, and rolled my eyes before I started scribbling curse words along the margins of my journal. I just wanted him to go away.

     "I didn't think you were coming?"

     "I said I was."

     "Two days ago."

     I set the paper down on the table and sighed before looking up at him. His green eyes were tired and narrowed, and he watched my every move. I knew he wasn't going to leave me alone anytime soon, so I piled up my papers and pulled my plate away from him.

       "I had things to do, Dean. Is that okay? Or do I need permission? I thought we were over this whole babysitting bit?" I groaned, wishing Sam would come back already.

     "I called you."

     "Okay?"

     "Some guy answered it."

     "Okay?" I stared at him, unsure what he was getting at until his muted expression grew frustrated. "I tossed it in a dumpster outside Duluth. It was probably some homeless dude. Why does it matter? I told you I was coming."

      My stomach turned. Even though I had already devoured half of my burger, I was left feeling empty, and I had a feeling it had something to do with lying to him or making him feel like a fool. I never had any intentions of coming back, and even after John demanded I go back to them, I still wasn't sure I was going to.

     "Why were you in Duluth?" I thought you were going to Bobby's. That's almost a day's drive out of the way."

     "Hence why I'm late to the party," I said, picking up the stack of papers. "And I need to get back to work. So, if you don't mind, can you and your girlfriend eat at another table?"

      "She's not my girlfriend."

      His defensiveness caught me off guard, and I chuckled. "Dean, I don't care who or what she is. I'm busy."

     "Maybe I can help."

     "I don't need your help."

     "It looks like you do."

     I shook my head. My aggravation levels had quickly begun to grow, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. "Dean, you had two days to figure this shit out, but you found something more important to do. Or should I say, someone?  So, if you want to help, as I said, go away."

     "I thought you said you didn't care?"

     My fists hit the table, and he jumped slightly as I pulled my hands to my face. I groaned into my palms and tried to calm myself down as he chuckled, obviously getting the reaction he had wanted. I glared at him through my fingertips, but before I could say anything, the door chimed again, and Sam finally entered, holding two white cups.

     "Thank God," I exclaimed, not meaning to say it out loud. Dean looked over his shoulder and gave his brother a nod before turning back to me with a pensive look on his face. His hands drew over his mouth as he tried to fight the words he wanted to say, and I raised a brow at him, unaware of his issue.

     By the time Sam had joined us at the table, Cassie was also making her way out of the restrooms. She held two coffee cups in her hands and slid into the booth next to Dean with a broad smile on her face, carrying confidence very few women often did. They were cute but not as cute as the monstrous milkshake that Sam handed me as he slid in next to me. 

      "Ughhh, thank you!" I exclaimed, snatching it from his hand like a rabid animal. He had made the mistake of telling me where he was when I called him earlier, and I told him he wasn't allowed to come back without bringing me one.

      "No problem," he chuckled. "I hope you like chocolate espresso. You said you hadn't slept, so I had them add an extra energy boost so we could get through this." I smiled and thanked him quickly before sipping it down. "What are you doing now?"

      "I'm trying to find a link between the murders you told me about back in the sixties and what's going on now, but there's nothing in the town archives. It's like the newspaper only covered fish tournaments and festivals."

      "That's not surprising," Cassie sighed. I looked up at her, and she shook her head as she set her coffee cup down. "Probably minimal police work too. Back then, equal justice under the law wasn't too literal around here."

      I nodded. "That explains a lot."

      I handed Sam the pile of police reports, and he shook his head. To think that all these men were murdered and not one person of the law sought justice because of their skin color made my skin crawl.

     "Oh, I got those papers you wanted."

     "Great." I took them from him and started shuffling, ignoring the sour look that Dean had been giving us until it was just too much to handle. "Something wrong?"

     "I just want to know what's going on?"

     I handed him the papers, but a part of me knew that's not what he had meant. I watched him closely as he read them over. His expressive eyes throughout so many mixed reactions that I was finding myself on the edge of my seat, wondering if he had found something worth looking into.