looked—?”
“Any security camera footage available?” Dean interrupted. He’d been scanning the exterior of the shops while Castiel brought up the broken lights. Sam saw no cameras in evidence.
“No such luck,” Cordero said. “Some of the shops have interior cameras, some face the front entrance, but nothing back here.”
Sam noticed Aidan’s cell phone nearby, pulled on a pair of latex gloves and picked it up. “Several unanswered calls from the same number,” he said. “Chloe Sikes.”
“She’s one of my daughter’s classmates,” Cordero said. “Chloe obviously knows the victim. They both attend Braden Heights High School. Seniors. Possibly dating.”
“Let’s find out,” Sam said, and pressed the button to dial Chloe’s number. He switched the phone to speaker mode. She picked up on the third ring.
“Aidan, what the hell—?” a young woman’s voice yelled over the crackling connection. “I can’t believe—do you have any idea how long I’ve been calling you? What I’ve been going through?”
“Chlo—?” Sam managed a single syllable before she cut him off.
“No more excuses! You said I could count on you! Or was that another lie? Well, good thing this was a false alarm or I’d really be pissed at—Aidan? You there?”
“Chloe Sikes?”
“Yes—wait, who is this? Why do you have Aidan’s phone? Is this some kind of joke? Jay, is that you? Did Aidan put you up to this? I swear, I’ll—!”
“Chloe, this is Special Agent Rutherford, with the FBI,” Sam said. “Where are you? We need to talk about Aidan.”
“What? FBI? Oh, God! What the hell has Aidan gotten himself into this time?”
“Just tell me where you are,” Sam said. “I’ll explain everything.”
“Okay,” Chloe said. Over the phone speaker, they heard her take a deep calming breath. “I’m at Lovering Maternity Center.”
ELEVEN
The entrance to Lovering Maternity Center passed through the ongoing construction around the adjacent and much smaller Stanton Fertility Clinic. Bulldozers and excavators transformed the open space bordering the clinic into an expanded parking lot. They drove past a schizophrenic medley of signs, some apologizing for the inconvenience, while others touted the benefits of the project. Every P ARDON O UR D UST and U NDER C ONSTRUCTION : P LEASE E XCUSE T HE I NCONVENIENCE alternated with a W ATCH U S G ROW or W ORKING T ODAY F OR A B ETTER T OMORROW .
With Cordero leaving the crime scene to notify Aidan’s parents about his death in person, the Winchesters, along with Castiel, had the task of breaking the bad news to his apparent—and apparently expecting—girlfriend without a police presence.
An unprepossessing red-brick building with discreet signage nearly obscured by a framework of shrubs, the Stanton Fertility Clinic could have been mistaken for a generic office complex. In stark contrast, Lovering Maternity Center displayed a modern aesthetic, with a central circular tower encased in dark reflective glass flanked by shorter twin rectangular outbuildings of red brick. A circular driveway passed through a porte cochère bearing the large cursive letters LMC, where expectant mothers could be safely dropped off.
Dean bypassed the driveway entrance and parked the Impala in the visitor lot. Castiel parked in the nearest available slot. Sam twisted around to look out the back window.
“At some point we should carpool.”
“If Cass is finished snipe hunting.”
“Cain will turn up, Dean.”
“Not in Braden Heights.”
Sam couldn’t argue with that and saw no sense poking holes in Dean’s arguments with a logic stick. Castiel cared about what happened to them. And the feeling was mutual. They all had history together. Nobody was giving up on Dean. But repeated failures had a way of undermining confidence. Meanwhile, Sam worried about Dean, and Cass worried about Dean, and Dean… well, maybe Dean was beginning to see himself as a lost cause and worried
“Any security camera footage available?” Dean interrupted. He’d been scanning the exterior of the shops while Castiel brought up the broken lights. Sam saw no cameras in evidence.
“No such luck,” Cordero said. “Some of the shops have interior cameras, some face the front entrance, but nothing back here.”
Sam noticed Aidan’s cell phone nearby, pulled on a pair of latex gloves and picked it up. “Several unanswered calls from the same number,” he said. “Chloe Sikes.”
“She’s one of my daughter’s classmates,” Cordero said. “Chloe obviously knows the victim. They both attend Braden Heights High School. Seniors. Possibly dating.”
“Let’s find out,” Sam said, and pressed the button to dial Chloe’s number. He switched the phone to speaker mode. She picked up on the third ring.
“Aidan, what the hell—?” a young woman’s voice yelled over the crackling connection. “I can’t believe—do you have any idea how long I’ve been calling you? What I’ve been going through?”
“Chlo—?” Sam managed a single syllable before she cut him off.
“No more excuses! You said I could count on you! Or was that another lie? Well, good thing this was a false alarm or I’d really be pissed at—Aidan? You there?”
“Chloe Sikes?”
“Yes—wait, who is this? Why do you have Aidan’s phone? Is this some kind of joke? Jay, is that you? Did Aidan put you up to this? I swear, I’ll—!”
“Chloe, this is Special Agent Rutherford, with the FBI,” Sam said. “Where are you? We need to talk about Aidan.”
“What? FBI? Oh, God! What the hell has Aidan gotten himself into this time?”
“Just tell me where you are,” Sam said. “I’ll explain everything.”
“Okay,” Chloe said. Over the phone speaker, they heard her take a deep calming breath. “I’m at Lovering Maternity Center.”
ELEVEN
The entrance to Lovering Maternity Center passed through the ongoing construction around the adjacent and much smaller Stanton Fertility Clinic. Bulldozers and excavators transformed the open space bordering the clinic into an expanded parking lot. They drove past a schizophrenic medley of signs, some apologizing for the inconvenience, while others touted the benefits of the project. Every P ARDON O UR D UST and U NDER C ONSTRUCTION : P LEASE E XCUSE T HE I NCONVENIENCE alternated with a W ATCH U S G ROW or W ORKING T ODAY F OR A B ETTER T OMORROW .
With Cordero leaving the crime scene to notify Aidan’s parents about his death in person, the Winchesters, along with Castiel, had the task of breaking the bad news to his apparent—and apparently expecting—girlfriend without a police presence.
An unprepossessing red-brick building with discreet signage nearly obscured by a framework of shrubs, the Stanton Fertility Clinic could have been mistaken for a generic office complex. In stark contrast, Lovering Maternity Center displayed a modern aesthetic, with a central circular tower encased in dark reflective glass flanked by shorter twin rectangular outbuildings of red brick. A circular driveway passed through a porte cochère bearing the large cursive letters LMC, where expectant mothers could be safely dropped off.
Dean bypassed the driveway entrance and parked the Impala in the visitor lot. Castiel parked in the nearest available slot. Sam twisted around to look out the back window.
“At some point we should carpool.”
“If Cass is finished snipe hunting.”
“Cain will turn up, Dean.”
“Not in Braden Heights.”
Sam couldn’t argue with that and saw no sense poking holes in Dean’s arguments with a logic stick. Castiel cared about what happened to them. And the feeling was mutual. They all had history together. Nobody was giving up on Dean. But repeated failures had a way of undermining confidence. Meanwhile, Sam worried about Dean, and Cass worried about Dean, and Dean… well, maybe Dean was beginning to see himself as a lost cause and worried
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