Devil in the Detail

They don't belong to me, I've just borrowed them, please don't sue.


Dean moved quietly across the dirty floor. His shoes sliding slightly in the dust. Tiny particles swirled around in the air drifting up onto his clothes, into his hair, settling in the fine hairs filtering the breath entering his lungs through his nose. The light from the high window caught each tiny mote, as it danced on subtle currents in the room.

“Sammy?” His face screwed slightly, eyes sliding across the room. “Sam, you in here?”

There was no response. He edged forward carefully and drew his gun from behind his back. Heavy boots moving forward as soft and elegant as a gazelle, each foot placed with precision. There was no sign that Sam had ever been here, just a large empty warehouse. Dean’s brow furrowed as he thought over the past eight hours, something had been nagging at the back of his mind, something that didn’t quite pan, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He scanned the empty open space for clues, but there was nothing doing, not even the flutter of obligatory pigeons across the roofspace.

The place was empty and had been for a long time. He slipped the gun back into his waistband and turned to head back to the car. Only to realise that the doorway was blocked. The silhouette of the sheriff unmistakable because of his hat.

“Shit,” Dean cursed to himself. He stepped further back into the shadows as quietly as he could, squatting down behind an old forklift.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.”

The phrase was so incongruous that Dean blinked hard. What the fuck!

“I know you’re in here, boy. And I know this door is the only way out. The river runs behind this place and it’s a forty foot drop from the loading gantry.” Dean thought quickly, killing a cop was not an option. The guy was definitely human, no matter what kind of appalling human. He stashed the gun in the forklift and stood up slowly thinking to bluff his way out. They had nothing on him and he was too new in town to be in the frame for Malcolm Arnold’s disappearance. A bit of questioning and maybe some rough stuff and then they would run him out of town.

He moved quietly away from the forklift and rounded the corner into the light. Sheriff Handel grunted in satisfaction. “What we have here is a failure to communicate. Walk forward with your arms up where I can see ‘em.”

This guy was too much, Dean sniggered, walking forward arms half heartedly in the air.

“I thought I told your brother to drop this. We don’t need you interfering with the investigation.”

Dean lifted his head, momentarily caught off guard. How did the cop know they were brothers? They’d introduced themselves using different ID’s.

The sheriff sneered at him. ”Turn around with your arms on the back of your head, ‘Dean’ and maybe I’ll take you to find Sammy. Maybe not.”

“You must be mistaking me for someone else. My name’s Robert Carmichael.”

The first cuff was wrapped around Dean’s wrist, he felt the sheriff hesitate, just for a split second and Dean seized his chance, extending his leg and sweeping low he knocked the man off his feet and cuff trailing from his wrist he ran for the car, only to fall to the floor himself as Sheriff Handel grabbed his ankle and legged him over. Dean kicked hard and heard with satisfaction the dull thud as his boot made contact. He scrambled to his feet, only to find his way blocked by the deputy, who was holding his gun with shaking hands.

Dean froze on the spot and raised his hands, with more purpose this time. He could hear the sheriff behind him staggering to his feet coughing and wheezing. Both wrists were yanked back harshly and the cuffs applied with extra vigour, Dean winced as the metal dug into his flesh.

“Willis, put the gun down now. You’re as likely to shoot me as you are the suspect. It’s under control,” Handel was panting.

Willis swallowed nervously and fumblingly put it into the holster. “Shall I radio in boss.”

“No, we’ll just drive back nice and slow. If you catch my meaning”

Dean stood quietly, shifting his arms in a bid to ease the pain in his hands. Willis disappeared from the doorway. “Little tight for you are they, Dean. Don’t worry that’ll be the least of your worries shortly, you little shit.” The punch to his lower back wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it still sank him to his knees. The pain radiating through his kidneys took his breath away. “On your face,” Handel pushed him down. “So what were you stashing back behind that fork lift?” he asked, still wheezing slightly from the fight.

He grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair and yanked his head back. “Cat got your tongue?” Dean shot him a look of pure malice, but didn’t answer the question. “You know a man of your age and ‘stature’ should be careful taking exercise.” The sheriff slammed his head into the dirt floor and stomped away.

Dean rolled onto his side and watched the Sheriff walking back into the corner where he had been hiding. He reappeared seconds later carrying the gun. “So resourceful and so accommodating,” he said raising the weapon and checking the barrel. “Loaded, too.” His face changed and he started shouting, “Willis, Willis, help me he’s trying to escape.”

The deputy appeared in the doorway at the double, then stopped, staring open mouthed at Dean, who was shouting a warning to him. The escapee was sitting on the floor, still cuffed and incapacitated. The look of confusion melded into one of comprehension as he took a step back from the double impact, arm clutched to his chest, shirt flushing with crimson, before he fell in elegant slow mo to the ground.

The sound echoed and amplified around the warehouse concussing Dean’s ears. He tried to scrabble to his feet, figuring he was next, until Handel dragged him to his feet by one arm and shoved him forward towards the door. Wiping the gun he threw it back through the doorway and pushed Dean towards the Ford parked next to the squad car, opening the boot.

“No way man, I am not riding in the trunk of your car. I’d rather you shot me now.”

“Get in the boot, or I shoot your kneecaps and put you in there anyway.”

Shaking inwardly, Dean pulled a facial shrug, “well seeing as you asked so nicely…”