Just answer the damned question!

White Rock Stables

These stables have obviously been a part of the grounds for a long time. Built in an older style, stalls line either side of the center aisle. Most stalls hold horses that are being boarded or are used by the stables for taking visitors for rides around the lake. Windows allow sunlight to filter in, and hay is stored up above in the loft.

A tackroom at the back of the stables holds saddles and other horse paraphernalia that is waiting to be used or cleaned.

The smell of hay and manure linger in the air at most times, making a prolonged visit uncomfortable for some. During the winter, the stables are heated to allow greater comfort for the horses and anyone wishing to hide out in here.

The 14 acres also hold three riding arenas, an outdoor fenced in area for training, and outdoor shelters for the animals.

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The hour is still fairly early, the light has not yet grown fully dim. Though the dimness has been coming increasingly earlier these days, Doctor Bethany Brooks doesn't seem to mind.

The stables have been a place of solace lately. Avoidance has been necessary, though since it is still day she can easily come and go as she pleases. The issue at the moment is the fact that there is a very empty stall where a certain horse should be.

"Mr. Atwood! Where on earth is the horse I entrusted to your care?" Her normally calm demeanor seems entirely worried, and somewhat high-pitched.


Dr. Brooks periodic comings and going from the stables haven't gone unnoticed. A colleague, a neighbor or two… there are those who are aware of her periodic visits there. So, it didn't take Rachel all that long to track the hypnotherapist down. The profiler enters the stables in time to hear Brooks demand of the groom — or whoever the horse guy is. What does Rachel know about horses, really? New-York-er. City-bound, New Yorker. Not countrified. Not NJ suburbanite horse fanatic, either. Until moving to Dallas, in Rachel's life, horses were seen on tv, at the track, or in Thanksgiving Day parades. That's about it.

She doesn't really object to the smell of the animals; they smell a whole lot sweeter than her regular network of informants… and better than a highway full of diesel trucks. But, it's not a place she'd normally think to linger. Still, she waits just a moment, observing Mr. Atwood as he attends Dr. Brooks.


When Archer appears, he looks at Bethany, then away rather quickly. "They came and took him, Doctor Brooks."

"Who came to take him?"

"The vampires. Moved him out in the middle of the night." He keeps his eyes averted. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

Bethany's hands rub at her temples in a slightly irritable fashion. "Lovely. Not a one of them could inform me of the change." Though she does recall the old one stating that he would remove the reason for her being at the stable. "Jealousy is so very unbecoming," she mumbles under her breath.

Turning to walk out of the stables to go elsewhere to concentrate on this issue, she finds herself ace to face with Doctor McKendrick. "Good evening, doctor," she offers to the other with a courteous nod of her head.


"'Evening, Dr. Brooks," Rachel replies, offering a smile. Her head is canted curiously, though her tone remains fairly light and her expression has a sympathetic cast. "Problems?" She gestures lightly, hand flipping to encompass the stable. She watches the woman, to be sure, though Atwood remains in her peripheral vision. He's not supposed to be talking to Brooks? Interesting.



Bethany's demeanor shifts easily back to being calm, almost neutral. "Not as such. I had thought I misplaced a horse that was in my care, but it would seem that the owner has simply returned to claim it."

Moving to lean against the wall, she watches the other woman quietly. "I do have to admit at being surprised to find you here."


"Yeah," the New Yorker concedes, accent verging very nearly on stereotypical in that single word, though it smooths somewhat as she continues. "I'm not much of a horsewoman, it's true. But, I was told I'd likely find you here, and I wanted to chat with you." She glances about the stable. "The horse… Same one you were walking out by Medieval Times when I bumped into a couple of months ago?"


Bethany's eyes shine with a curious light. She nods to the agent, and motions that they should perhaps move to an area that is a little more private for a discussion.

Moving toward the far end of the stables, she waits until Rachel reaches the location.

"That would be the horse, indeed. How is it that I can help you, Doctor McKendrick?"


"That horse is owned by a vampire, right? The tall one with the blond hair we met that night. You and he, I think, knew each other, right?" Rachel's expression, while still friendly, has a somewhat more serious cast to it, now. "Can you tell me his name? Do you know him very well?" She glances down the length of stalls again. "I mean, I figure, if you're still taking care of his horse, you must know him to some extent."


Knowing that should she refuse to answer, the groom will answer later, Bethany exhales a sigh. "The horse is indeed owned by a vampire." That was obvious likely the first time the horse was seen. "Actually I did not know him at the time." Which begs the question as to why she offered to walk the horse to its home.

"May I ask as to the curiosity of the man in question?"


"Can you tell me his name?" Rachel repeats, reaching around to her back pocket, now, and fishing out her flip wallet. "I think he may have some information that can help me." She shows Brooks her badge, now, something she's not done before. "I work for the FBI, doctor." There, in black and white, her Special Agent status is written clearly. Not just a psychologist. "He's not a suspect in the case I'm working on, but I think he can help me, so I need to know how to track him down. If you could help me with that," she smiles again, "it'd really help." A beat. She lets out a rueful sigh, smile lopsided. "Not to sound melodramatic or over-the-top, but it could save lives."


Bethany eyes the badge for a good long while, attempting to determine it's veracity. "To be honest, Agent McKendrick, it may be better for all involved if I contacted him, rather than gave you information on how to locate him." No one has erased Bethany's memory as of yet to the location of the house but she did make a promise to keep everything involving that evening to herself.

She slowly reaches into her purse and extracts a cellular phone. She holds it up so Rachel can see that it is just a phone and not a device which she can use to attack the woman. A text message is entered and sent.

"Beyond which, in my brief dealings with the old ones, they are generally not very forthcoming as to their usual whereabouts. They do not like us to know the locations which they call home."

She still has not provided a name. Though it does not seem as though she is protecting the vampire, so much as trying to keep the other woman safe, Special Agent status or no.


And, were she not who she is, Rachel might appreciate the protective gesture. The problem is, she sees it as her job to be the protector. More than that, she hates having to repeat herself. It tries her patience… especially when it's such a simple question — information she can very likely get off the groom, if Brooks ends up being completely intransigent. "In my experience, vampires are never forthcoming about their whereabouts, doctor, unless they have something to gain by it. This isn't the first time I've met one. And, hey, if I were in their position, I'd probably feel the same way." She's trying to sound reasonable, simply because the other woman isn't being openly hostile. Yet. "But, I really need his name, right now." She meets Bethany's gaze, all hint of her smile gone — replaced by direct, even blunt seriousness. She won't remain reasonable indefinitely. "And I would really appreciate it if you'd simply give it to me. I appreciate your offer to act as a go-between, but I don't really think it's necessary."


"Agent McKendrick, while I would really love to provide you with the information you seek, it falls under the province of doctor patient confidentiality." There is a sudden stubborn streak in the woman, although it would appear she is not lying. She carries none of the tells.

"You say that he is not part of an active investigation, and while I am certain he is able to help you in this mission to save lives, I cannot in good faith allow you to seek him out without further information."

It could be she is fishing to ensure the woman is not part of some supernatural special forces. Now it would seem she is attempting to protect the man in question.


"I didn't say he wasn't part of an active investigation," Rachel replies, shoulders squaring, back straightening. "I said he wasn't a suspect. And he isn't. But he is quite definitely a 'person of interest' in my current investigation." If he wasn't before, he sure as hell is now. Between the lingering headache from her late night trip to the cathedral last night and the vision that caused it, Rachel's running a lot shorter-tempered than usual. In the back of her mind sits the familiar feeling of pressure that comes when her visions escalate and she knows time is running out. Maddeningly, however, she doesn't yet know just what happens when the countdown hits zero. "And," she adds, being a psychologist, herself, "last I checked, doctor-patient confidentiality doesn't pertain to his name. Only your appointments with him."

She glances now to the cellphone and makes a mental note to have the boys in Houston track it down for her when she gets back to the office. After she's spoken to the groom. "Will you at least tell me what you texted him?"


"That depends on the patient," Bethany answers in a slightly mysterious manner. She does generally keep the names of those she regresses to herself only, in order to protect their identities both past and present.

"You are irritable and short-tempered," she muses mostly to herself. The cellular phone is produced, however, flipped around so that the Special Agent can see the text, though her finger very carefully covers the number. Undoubtedly it will be tracked which will cause issues.

The message is fairly simple:

A friend of mine
wishes to speak
with you. 

Please call.

Each word spelled out in full, rather than in text-speak.

"His name is Marius Schlachter, but that is all I can tell you. I know that you will now likely track his number and try to triangulate his location. I have watched plenty of documentaries on how the investigations work. Still, I do hope that you do not do so. I doubt that he would like it all that much."


"I'm trying to save lives," Rachel replies unapologetically. "You know… just like on tv?" Documentaries? Is she serious? Still. At least, Rachel finally got a name. Marius Schlachter. It's a start. And, of course, the woman's right. She will certainly track down the numbers — both Brooks' and Schlachter's. She could very well end up triangulating the vampire's cell phone, though that's not her immediate plan. A little research is her immediate plan… again, into both Brooks and Schlachter.


Her lips press together. She lets out a short breath. "Look, Dr. Brooks: Believe it or not, I don't actually like being a hardass. But, I like it even less, though, when people won't answer simple questions. So, yes. I'm a little irritable. I'll try not to be when I meet Mr. Schlachter again."

Yes. She said 'again'. And, there's probably an unintentional hint in her tone that suggests she's not talking about the night in front of MT all those weeks ago.

"Thank you very much for your time, Doctor. If there's anything further I need from you, I'll be in touch."


Bethany is rarely ever not serious when she speaks. "Documentaries, Doctor McKendrick. Not buddy-cop television serials." It is a rare occurrence for the woman to roll her eyes, but she does.

"You do say that, but I fail to see how it is that an old one will enable you to do your job more efficiently." Beyond which, Bethany well knows that Rachel is a psychologist and not one of those that wanders around taking down criminal masterminds all of the time.

"To be honest, Doctor McKendrick, if you go at him filled with rage and irritability, you may not like the results." There is no threat or malice in her words, though there is a bit of concern. "I will be unreachable for a while. Should you need to be in touch with me, please leave a message at the office with my receptionist. She will ensure that I receive the messages."


"Unreachable?" Rachel's head cants. A brow lifts. "Where're you going?" No. Brooks isn't 'a person of interest'. But, her relationship to Schlachter is interesting. Tending to the horse isn't exactly the province of a 'shrink'. Or a regressionist. Whatever the woman is. But, a 'Renfield', on the other hand… Renfields do all sorts of stuff like that. "Vacation?"

She largely ignores the rest of what Brooks says, aside from picking out what information from it she can. After all, Brooks really has no idea what Rachel does as a matter of course. Documentaries or no.

"How long?"


Brow raising, Bethany shakes her head. "Am I now being added to your list of people of interest?" In this she is not being stubborn at all, merely curious.

"I am going to New Orleans, to take care of and aid my mother in cleaning up the remnants of her house. The stay will be no longer than necessary, though I do not yet have a date of return. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"


"Yes," Rachel says bluntly — an answer to the last question, not the first, though she doesn't clarify. "Thank you." See how easy that was? A simple, direct answer. And the agent is even (reasonably) polite, as a result. She even offers a smile — and it's not even sarcastic. Tight, yes. Sarcastic, sardonic, or otherwise surly? No.

She straightens again. "Frankly, doctor, I think getting out of town is a good idea. And, now, if I need you, I know how to find you. I appreciate it. Do enjoy your trip — as well as you can. I hope your mother's well."

And, really, she does. There's genuine sincerity there. The aftermath of Katrina isn't lost on her. Especially not on her, actually, given that she saw it… well, first hand… after a fashion.


"I do not consider it a vacation. As such it is doubtful it will be enjoyable." Bethany's manner appears calm, at least outwardly.

"She will be well enough, though it means rebuilding both her business and her home." The cellular phone is dropped back into her purse and a glance at her watch tells her that the hour is growing later. "Was there anything else, Agent McKendrick? If not, there is a community meeting I must get to in regards to instituting a curfew for Halloween."


Rachel pegged Brooks as 'an odd duck' when she first met her. That sure hasn't changed, any.

She nods to the regressionist. "By all means, Doctor. I have most of what I came for." She wanted more information on Schlachter, really. But his name is a good place to start. And there's still always the groom. "Thank you for your cooperation."


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