Strange Relations

Chapter 17

Dean tossed money on the table for the bill and stood. "All right, let's try talking to a few of the family members."

"What's that gonna accomplish?" Dale asked.

"I don't know, maybe we'll shake something loose." He turned away and walked to the door, as he pushed the door open and took a step out, a teenage girl came barreling in, bumping into him roughly. "Whoa, watch it there."

"Oh, so sorry!" she apologized quickly before moving inside the diner.

He shook his head and exited the diner, stopping to stand on the sidewalk outside. "Sammy, you and nerd boy find the locations of the victim's families?"

"My name is Wyatt, not nerd boy," Wyatt grumbled, just loud enough to be heard.

"Yes, Wyatt and I found them. Several are close by," Sam answered, putting a little extra emphasis on Wyatt's name.

"Good, let's go then." He began patting his pockets, his look extremely confused. "Did I give you the keys?" he asked Sam.

"No, you had them in your pocket, I saw you put them there."

Aramintha's gaze went to the Impala parked severals paces down from the diner as the tail lights lit up. "Um, Dean ..."

"Not now, I need my keys. Hey, wait a minute, where's my wallet?"

"Dean!" she shouted.

He looked up. "What?"

She pointed at the quickly retreating Impala. "I think that little hooligan that bumped into you stole your keys and wallet."

He spun around, staring at his baby as it sped down the street. "Son of a bitch!" He turned to glare at her. "Do something!"

"Me? Why do I have to fix your stupidity? The great Dean Winchester gets pick pocketed and it's suddenly my divine providence to fix it?"

"Mintha!" he snapped.

"Fine, fine, I'll fetch the little thief back." She vanished.

***

Laurel pulled the tape from the player and tossed it over her shoulder into the backseat, picked up another, glanced at it and then tossed it into the backseat with the rest.

"Ow, that certainly wasn't very nice."

Laurel swerved and screamed as she glanced in the mirror. "Who the hell are you and how did you get into my car?"

"Well, first of all, it isn't your car, and second ... my presence is a little difficult to explain."

"It is to my car." She flicked the keys dangling from the ignition. "See, keys and all."

The woman in the backseat sighed and flicked her fingers in the direction of the front of the car. The engine sputtered and shut down.

"Hey! What the hell?" She tried to start the car, pumped the gas, nothing. It was dead. The Impala rolled to a stop and she twisted around to look at the intruder. "Look, lady, I don't know how you got in here, but I suggest you leave before I call the cops."

"Oh, please do, then you explain why you stole an FBI agent's car." She flashed a badge.

"FBI? Bullshit, the FBI doesn't drive classic muscle cars, they drive nondescript beige sedans."

"Regardless of what you believe, this isn't your vehicle and if you don't vacate it immediately, I won't be responsible for the consequences when Dean catches up to you."