Having talked to reception and waited for a few минуты in the main entrance hall to the large police station, Sam and Dean were greeted by a woman in her early twenties who introduced herself as they got up to shake her hand. Dean noticed the odd stubborn curl in her long, dark blonde hair and a gleaming ожерелье with a jewel on the end that led down to what must have been at least a C cup...he blinked and brought his attention upwards again as he finished shaking her hand.
“Sheriff Emma Lees. What can I do for you?”
“Er, we’re here with the Chicago Inquirer. I rang Ты on Thursday to discuss various things you’ve had come in over the last couple of weeks?”
She clicked her fingers and nodded. “Got it. Ты want to come to my office?”
Sam and Dean exchanged looks and agreed, following her into a spacious office, with a few chairs, a стол письменный, стол and a large notice board filling up an entire wall. They sat down and Sam pulled out a notebook to not only look like a reporter who liked feeding on bad news, but also to take any important notes on what the sheriff said.
“So,” Dean started, “what happened? What did Miss Bennings say she saw, exactly?”
Emma Lees looked a little taken aback that they’d gotten straight down to business, but cleared her throat and began to tell them.
“Sophie сказал(-а) she saw...her son, I –”
“Sophie?”
Sheriff Lees nodded. “She’s been one of my closest Друзья for years. I couldn’t believe it when she rang me up, middle of the night. She sounded really scared.”
Dean nodded and pushed further.
“Was it the first time she’s seen her son?”
“Daniel,” the sheriff supplied, then hesitated. “Wait, what do Ты mean? She didn’t see her son either time, Daniel died over two years ago. She was seeing things, she got scared.”
“So she saw him еще than once in the days before she died?” Sam jumped in, ignoring the implied Вопрос directed to them.
The sheriff frowned slightly but nodded nonetheless. “Twice. Once last Tuesday and again three days ago. Why does it matter?”
Sam tucked his notepad back into his jeans pocket and leant forward. “Please could we have the coroner’s files for Sophie Bennings and Isabella Henley?”
Sam realised a секунда too late that he hadn’t thought about what he was saying. They were posing as reporters, not FBI agents или fellow police officers. Dean glared at his brother as he realised the same thing. Sam was quick and almost faultless to correct himself. He leaned in further and put his hands on the стол письменный, стол in front of them.
“What?? No, of course Ты can’t. What kind of Статья are Ты writing?”
“Well,” Sam said, “I’m sorry for not telling Ты over the phone. But we needed to be undercover, Ты know? To get genuine sides of the story from all the witnesses.”
Following this, he placed a hand in his куртка pocket and motioned subtly at his brother to do the same, that only he would catch. In unison, they let fake police badges emerge from their pockets and laid them onto the sheriff’s desk. The sheriff nodded in an understanding response.
“That won’t be a problem, officers.” She stood up from her стол письменный, стол and turned away from them to route through the filing cabinet behind, as Sam smirked at Dean’s surprised face. Sheriff Lees twisted round to face them again with a thick wodge of papers sticking untidily out of a creamy yellow folder, dog-eared around the edges.
“Thank you,” сказал(-а) Dean, gripping the folder and getting up as Sam followed him out the door.