Brendon downed his coffee like his life depended on it. It was eight am the next day, and he wanted to be on the road in enough time to get some interviews done at a reasonable hour.

He threw his paper cup into the waste bin by the hotel room's door before swiping his suit jacket into his hand. He double checked the pocket, feeling the fake badge he would need before sliding the jacket on. Suited up, already packed, and caffeinated.

He was ready to go.

He strolled out of his hotel room, shaking his fingers through his hair. His car was parked across the small parking lot from his room, waiting for him to hit the road. He smiled at the vehicle. It was a black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle with two white stripes that ran along the hood. It belonged to his parents before they died. They had never even considered an upgrade from it, and Brendon couldn't bring himself to let go of the memories the cars now held with an upgrade.

"Let's ride." He said to himself with a grin, running his hand along the hood of his car as he made his way to the driver's side of the car.

---

A few hours, and a coffee stop, later Brendon was rolling up on the Utah boarder. He pulled over to the side of the otherwise bare highway he was on to bring the case up on his phone again.

It seemed simple enough. Disturbed graves. Missing person files. Easy.

Brendon swiped through the attachments of the email. There were a few people he would need to talk to, but the first report came from someone named Douglas who worked near the cemetery where the grave disturbances were happening. Brendon copied the address to paste into his GPS. First witness got the first interview.

He set his phone on the seat beside him before reaching into his pocket to pull out his badge. He flicked it open with a grin. Andrew Sinatra. He took the first name from an old friend outside of the game and the last name from someone whose singing could take Brendon away from the monsters. It was the last name that made it his favorite out of the dozen or so false identification and badges he had stashed throughout his car.

"Your route has been calculated."

Brendon flipped the case in his hand closed and shoved it back in his pocket. He could reminisce later.

After another hour of driving, and an unhelpful police station visit, Brendon found himself driving alongside the cemetery from his case files. Brendon kept driving past it, scanning the boneyard for the signs he had read about.

It didn't take much searching.

Police tape surrounded several mounds of dirt that piled next to holes that could only be graves. He silently thanked the hunter method of putting loved ones at rest. A burned body couldn't be disturbed to come back or get used.

At least from Brendon's experience they couldn't.

He continued past the cemetery as the GPS guided him to where he would find the witness. He slowed to a stop, taking in the light blue building he had pulled up to. Dark red curtains were drawn, shielding the inside from the cemetery entrance across the road. A sign pounded into the green yard read Funeral Planning & Arrangements.

Brendon turned off his car and sat for a moment. Should he talk to the witness now or check the cemetery first? There wasn't another car parked around the blue building, and the curtains suggested the building might currently be empty.

Brendon picked his phone up from the passenger seat. He clicked out of the gps and back to the case file he was emailed. He had already been through it a few times, but another look through couldn't hurt.

As he reviewed the information, a black car drove past Brendon and pulled to a stop in front of him. Brendon watched, raising his brow as the figures in the front seats leaned towards each other before the passenger door swung open.

A woman climbed out of the car, brushing some of her long dark hair behind her ear. She smiled at the driver of the car, offering a small wave as the fingers of her other hand curved around the frame of the door.

Brendon watched her laugh before shutting the door and giving the driver a final wave. She then spun on her heel and began walking up to the small blue building. Brendon shut his phone off and opened his car door.

The car that had dropped the woman off was pulling away. She was unlocking the building's door, either not noticing or ignoring Brendon as he walked across the grass.

"Excuse me, miss?" Brendon called out as the woman pulled the door open.

She turned, seeming to notice him for the first time.

"Andrew Sinatra, FBI." Brendon continued, pulling his badge from his pocket and flipping it open. "Do you happen to know a Douglas that works here?"

The woman nodded. "I know her very well." She said before extending her hand, "Breezy Douglas. I believe I'm who you're looking for."

"Miss Douglas." Brendon nodded as he reached out to shake her hand, "Sorry to be bothering you so early."

Breezy shrugged. "I'm actually a bit late, so I'm the one who should be apologizing." She laughed before gesturing Brendon inside. "Please, come in."

Brendon nodded with a smile. He stepped into the building to find himself standing just outside of a cozy looking waiting room. Two sets of couches and chairs, back to back, sat facing their own television sets and different funeral displays.

"If you'd just take a seat for a moment, I have to check on a few arrangements."

"No problem." Brendon nodded. He walked into the room as he pocketed his badge. He wandered over to one side of the room. A bit off to the side of the funeral display, along the wall that opened into the entrance hall, was a collection of photos. There were a few with children laughing and playing. There was an elderly couple reaching for each other's hands. There were several others, but the one that caught Brendon's eye was a close up photo of Breezy. A flower covered the lower part of her face and slivers of her nose. What was striking, however, was her eyes. There was a black and white filter over the photo, but the gleam of the original photo was more than visible. She had a gaze that conveyed so many emotions to whoever was looking right back at her... Or, perhaps, the photographer?

"Sorry about that." Breezy hurried into the room, holding a mug that read "dead inside" in a font that looked like dripping blood. "Have some tricky orders this week."

Brendon followed Breezy over to one of the couches. "Not a problem. Hard to control when someone dies."

"Or the flowers." Breezy laughed. She brought her mug to her lips, sipping while turning her eyes to Brendon. "Although, I can assume you're not here about flowers." She said as she lowered the mug.

Brendon chuckled. "I'm sure it's a bit of a surprise to have an agent at your door."

"It's more common than you'd think." She shrugged with her response. "You're not my first and certainly not my last." She took another sip from her mug.

Brendon nodded, though that information made him a bit nervous. He had been in situations where he had been found as a fraud agent and nearly caught before. He didn't want this case to turn into one of those on the first witness interview; he really wanted to do a good job for the Winchester brothers.

"Then you won't be too weirded out by my grave robbing questions." Brendon flashed a smile, earning one in return from Breezy.

"Not at all. I do work right across from the scene of the crimes."

"Quite cozy for being so close to a cemetery." Brendon looked around the room again, as if he hadn't taken everything in just a few minutes before. "I dig it."

Breezy smiled before taking another sip from her mug.

"So, can I ask you about the grave robbings?"

She nodded. "I reported a majority of them. They're quite scattered, but I'm all over the land when I'm double checking availability and locations."

"Random patterning." Brendon noted, "Anything else odd about the sites?"

"Besides the fact that it's dead bodies being dug up?" Breezy asked with the quirk of a brow.

Brendon laughed, "Yea."

Breezy shrugged. "I don't get too close. I leave it to the police."

Brendon nodded. He wasn't getting much from Breezy, besides the fact that she seemed to love whatever was in her mug. Almost every break in the conversation had her lips against it.

"Would it be alright if I checked the land over there?"

"You're the investigator here, agent Sinatra."

Brendon flashed a smile, "It's best not to be rude. Even with a badge, manners are important."

Breezy giggled and looked down at her cup. Brendon held his grin, taking that as his queue to rise from his seat.

"We'll be in touch."

"Yes, sir." Breezy rose as well, using both of her hands to hold the mug in her hands. Brendon stole a glance at it, catching the glimpse of a dark liquid inside. Probably coffee.

"Is there a number I can use to contact you?" Breezy asked, bringing Brendon's attention back to her face.

He nodded. "Yes! Right here, Miss Douglas." He skillfully pulled a white card from his pocket. He passed it to her, not bothering to glance at the fake name and burner phone number that was printed onto it. "If there's any more grave disturbances, please let me know."

"Yes, sir." She winked and took another sip of her drink.

Brendon nodded with a smile. She was an attractive woman, but he had a case to focus on. Fun could wait. "I'll be in touch." He repeated before turning to walk out the front door.

---
A/N~ HEYO quick shoutout to the incredible @goldendaysdebonair for the SICK cover on this book you should follow her & check out her books because they're rad as heck as well I love her bye

~Skittles Out~