One of the Good Ones

28. Nightshifter

Dean approached the two of them. "Yeah, of course they did." He waved Frannie's number at Sam and Juliette. "Don't worry, Jules, I intend for you to come."

STREET

They left the jewelry store and drove down a dark street and pulled up in front of a small house. Deanna was asleep in her car seat, her thumb in her mouth.

"Five, this is it," Sam said.

"Friggin' cops," Dean muttered.

"They're just doing their job, Dean."

"No, they're doing our job, only they don't know it, so they suck at it," Dean said. "Talk to us about this bank."

They got out of the car and approached the house.

"Uh, Milwaukee National Trust, it was hit about a month ago," Sam told them.

"Same M.O. as the jewelry store?" Dean asked.

"Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide."

Juliette glanced up at Sam. "This guy Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?"

"Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place."

"God," Dean said.

"Yeah." He knocked on the screen door. "Mr. Resnick? Ronald Resnick?"

A bright floodlight turned on, and they shielded their eyes.

"Son of a b-" Dean began.

A young man in his 20s came to the door warily.

"FBI, Mr. Resnick," Sam told him.

"Let me see the badge."

Sam, Dean and Juliette pulled out badges and slapped them against the screen door in unison. Juliette had to reach to do so.

Ronald squinted a them carefully. "I already gave my statement to the police."

"Yeah, listen Ronald, uh... just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on," Dean said.

"You read it?"

"Sure did," Dean and Juliette replied.

"And you want to listen to what I've got to say?"

Juliette tilted her head. "Well, that's why we're here."

"Well. Come on in."

Ronald opened the door and led them through a narrow hallway to a cluttered room; the walls were covered with alien photos and Conspiracy Theory paraphernalia.

"None of the cops ever called me back," Roger told them. "Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy. First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends, he used to come back to the bank on my night shifts and we'd play cards."

"So you let him into the bank that night, after hours," Sam said.

"The thing I let into the bank... wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, like, you know, like if a dealmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll."

"A Juan-doll?"

"Look. This wasn't the only time this happened. Okay?" He handed Sam a file folder. "There was the jewelry store, too. And the cops, and you guys, you just won't see it!" Sam looked at the folder; it looked like a hunter's profile of the jewelry case. "Both crimes were pulled by the same thing."