Debunked

Chapter 9

The new suspect, Alfred Cox, is slumped over in his chair behind the interrogation table, his head ducked. Though they can't hear him through the wall, it's obvious from the rapid rising and falling of his chest that he's sobbing. Castiel may not be an expert at murderer personality types, but it seems safe to assume that most people who murder their partners in cold blood don't burst into tears as soon as the deed is done.

"What happened?" James asks the sheriff.

"He called 911 a few minutes ago, said he just found his wife and kids lying dead on their kitchen floor," he explains. "They found the wife with a knife in her chest. The only fingerprints that came through were his and hers."

"Well, it's his knife," Emma remarks. "I would hope he didn't make his wife do all the cutting."

"Did he confess?" James asks, ignoring her sarcastic comment.

"He says he didn't do it," the sheriff says. "But he doesn't have any type of alibi. It looks like he was home when it happened, and he got out just fine."

"Did you ask what he was doing?" James asks.

"He said he doesn't know," he says. "He says he woke up on the kitchen floor next to her. Thinks he might have been drugged. We're running blood tests now, but I don't buy it."

"So he's basically saying the same thing as the other guy," James points out.

"Well, we have proof that Frederick Jones killed his wife," the sheriff reminds him. "I can pull the video out if you don't believe me. Unless there's a case of murderous amnesia going around, I don't see this being the same type of thing."

James nods slowly. "Fair point."

"Do you think you could pull the video out?" Castiel asks. It's probably safe to assume he wouldn't be able to recognize a demon's face through a shitty security camera, but if nothing else, they can hopefully catch a flare of the eyes.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be back in a second."

The three hunters wait in silence until the sheriff leaves the room, but the moment the door closes behind him, they start talking, unwilling to waste a moment of their alone time.

"This definitely sounds like a demon," Emma says.

"I told you it was a case," James mutters.

Emma smacks him on the shoulder. "Because that's what's important."

"Why would a demon stay after their first kill?" Castiel asks. "It doesn't make sense."

"Well, what else could be doing it?" James asks.

Castiel is silent. He doesn't know how this could be anything but a demon, but it doesn't sound like one. It definitely isn't acting like one. This doesn't make any sense.

The door opens, and the sheriff's returns with an old laptop in his hands, open and ready to go. He puts it down and turns it to face the hunters, then taps the spacebar to play the video. It's pretty much what one would expect at first — he stabs his family, and they all die. Emma winces at the sight and looks away, and Castiel feels a pang of sympathy. But then the killer looks at the camera, and it cuts out.

"Woah, where's the rest of it?" James asks. "What happens next?"

The sheriff shrugs. "Old cameras. It just chose the wrong time to break down." With a distasteful glance at the screen, he adds, "or the right time, more like. I don't know how you can bring yourself to watch things like that."

"Neither do I," Emma mutters.

Castiel wants to try to comfort her, but that's never been his strong suit. So, instead, he just looks to the sheriff and says, "Thank you. I think that's all for now."

"Dude —" James hisses, but Castiel cuts him off.

"You were right," he says, trying to be as vague as possible with the sheriff here. "We know what we're dealing with. Now let's go deal with it."