Through the Looking Glass
by Lovesfox

Headers in Prologue


Part 6

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diary of Liza MacGregor
April 21, 1874

Rose has had a miscarriage.  

It was difficult to hide my elation and my satisfaction.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Front Lobby
8:50 AM


Mulder smiled winningly at Lisa, his chin propped on his 
hand as he leaned with his elbow on the counter.  Invading 
her space just a little.  He wasn't disinclined to using 
his masculine charms to garner information from time to 
time.

The young woman staffing the Inn's front desk didn't seem 
to mind.  Once they had exchanged names –- hers was Lisa 
Trenton -- and he had revealed that he was an author 
working on a new book, she had become quite friendly, and 
open.  

In mere minutes, he had learned that Lisa was eighteen, 
had worked for the Carringtons for the last three years 
on weekends and for the summers, although this was to be 
her first year staffing the front desk along with 
housekeeping duties, and that she planned on studying to 
become a teacher.  She had lived on Nantucket all her 
life, and seemed to be just a bit on the chatty side, as 
well as very partial to blushing and giggling.  And 
flirting.

It was flattering, and a little embarrassing, considering 
their age difference.

For the time being, Mulder had steered clear of anything 
to do with the disappearances.  There was no sense in 
alerting the Carringtons that he and Scully were interested 
in more than haunted houses.  

Lisa was fascinated by the knowledge that he was going to 
write a book about haunted houses, and had volunteered to 
ask her granny to tell him stories about the Island.  She 
then volunteered to be his personal tour guide with a 
blushing and bashful, yet hopeful smile.

Mulder had accepted the first invitation with thanks, and 
now gracefully declined the second.  He hoped.

A sound on the stairs had him looking up to see Scully 
descending, briefcase and file folder in hand, and a placid 
expression on her face.

As he watched her approach the counter, he could see the 
amusement in her eyes, the slightly raised eyebrow.  She 
had obviously overheard the second invitation.

He straightened up and put his hand on Scully's shoulder, 
to introduce his 'assistant' to Lisa.  "Lisa Trenton, this 
is my assistant, Dana Scully."

Lisa's eyes moved from Mulder's face to his hand on Scully's
shoulder to Scully's face, a tiny frown puckering her 
eyebrows.  "Oh," the young woman said, her voice sounding 
dismayed to Scully's ears.  "Um, hello, Miss Scully."  She 
shifted on her feet, her hands sliding along the edge of the 
counter nervously, now meeting neither of their gazes.  "I, 
um, hope you enjoy your stay here at Starbuck House."  

"Hello, Lisa," Scully replied quietly, no hint of amusement 
in her eyes or tone.  She empathized in fact, recalling the 
summer she was sixteen, and her enormous crush on Bill's 
best friend at the time, who hadn't even known she was alive.  
Though Mulder was far kinder than that 20-year old boy had 
been –- Bill's friend hadn't been worthy of the moniker 'man' 
yet.  "It's very nice to meet you, and thank-you."

Mulder's hand slid down to cup her elbow, and he drew her 
gently away from the desk.  "It was nice talking to you, 
Lisa," he said, looking back over his shoulder at the young 
woman.  "I hope we can talk more later."

"Bye, Mr. Mulder!" Lisa called out, her voice perky once 
more.

Scully held out the file she had fetched from his room once 
they had stepped outside and the door had closed behind them.  
Mulder accepted it with a muttered thanks, and as he tucked 
it into his portfolio, she shifted her briefcase to her other 
hand. 

They made their way along the path to the carport to their 
right, while she told him about what she had seen upstairs.  
"I found the file on your dresser, with some of the papers 
askew."  She paused, one eyebrow arching.  "After I found Mr. 
Carrington in your room, apparently supplying us with fresh 
towels."

"Apparently?" Mulder queried, walking around the car to the 
driver's side.  He had heard the slight emphasis his partner 
had put on the word.

"He seemed rather nervous for someone just delivering towels," 
she responded, and then waited as he climbed inside the car 
and leaned over to unlock her door.  Settling into her seat 
and pulling her seatbelt across her lap, she continued, "He 
was rather jumpy."

Mulder snapped his own seatbelt on and started the engine.  
"Jumpy," he said, once again repeating her.  "Is that your 
medical opinion, Dr. Scully?"

"His behavior was certainly...unusual," Scully remarked, 
frowning at him.

He flashed her a grin, mouthed 'unusual', and then proceeded 
to back the car down the long driveway and onto the quiet 
street.  Once headed towards downtown Nantucket, he said, 
"I think both the Carringtons bear watching."

Scully nodded in agreement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diary of Liza MacGregor
March 24, 1877

Though my need for revenge is still strong, the afflictions 
that have befallen Rose mollify me. 

She has suffered three miscarriages in as many years. 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nantucket Police Station
20 South Water Street
Saturday, May 21, 2000
9:15 AM


After parking the rental car in the small parking lot adjacent 
to the Police Department, a quaint brown-bricked building, 
Mulder exited his door, closing it with a quiet slam.  
Stretching briefly, he adjusted his holster more comfortably, 
and then patted his inner jacket pocket to ensure his FBI badge 
was there, a habitual move. 

Scully stepped out, briefcase in hand, also shutting her door, 
and turned in a slow circle to look around.  The drive through 
downtown Nantucket had confirmed her supposition that it was 
a beautiful place, and she briefly longed for the opportunity 
to just wander around, to play tourist and sight see.  

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, a soft, wistful smile 
curving her lips.  "I love the sounds and the smell of the 
sea," she murmured.  While the wharves here in Nantucket were 
not nearly as busy as some of the naval stations her father 
had served at, the activity brought back fond memories of 
watching Ahab shipping out and returning home. 

"Scully?  You coming?"  

Mulder's voice interrupted her reverie, and she opened her 
eyes again, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming.  To see 
that he had already started across the parking lot and was 
half-turned looking back at her, one hand on his hip and the
expression on his face questioning and slightly impatient.

Nodding, Scully took one last deep breath and strode across 
the pavement to her waiting partner.  They walked the last 
few feet together; their steps in tandem, and at the door, 
Mulder pulled it open and guided her inside with his fingers 
lightly on her elbow.

Scully surveyed the large, rectangular room.  There was a 
small lobby with a few chairs, and across a tiled area a 
long, waist-high counter separating the room in two.  Beyond 
the counter she saw several desks, two of which were currently 
occupied by uniformed officers, both men.  

Behind the desks was a long wall, the back of the building, 
she thought, with a row of windows, their blinds all opened 
to let the sun shine in.  To the left of the 'bullpen' were 
two doors, both closed, presumably leading to offices or 
perhaps a storage room.  To the right was another door, 
partially opened and revealing that it was a corner office, 
and beside it, a long hallway, most likely leading to the 
holding area.

Another male officer, also uniformed, had been standing at 
the counter flipping through some paperwork when they entered.  
At the sound of the door opening, he had looked up, his eyes 
both friendly and assessing.

Definitely assessing his partner, Mulder thought, watching 
the officer scan Scully from head to toe and back again as 
they approached the counter, a smile appearing on the man's 
face.  His handsome face, Mulder supposed.  If she were into 
tall, tanned men with a perfect set of teeth.  

Straightening, his hand automatically came up to touch Scully 
lightly at the small of her back.  He let it remain there for 
a moment longer than necessary when they reached the counter, 
ignoring the questioning look Scully flicked his way.

Scully smiled pleasantly at the rather good-looking man 
staffing the counter.  She had watched his cop's eyes scan 
them both as they came in, and mused to herself about that 
natural law enforcement wariness that seemed to come with 
the territory, regardless of big city or small town locales.

"How can I help you folks?" the officer queried then, his 
smile wider.

Aimed entirely at Scully, Mulder noted sourly, his eyes 
flicking down to the officer's uniformed chest, reading the 
metal nametag pinned on one breast pocket.  MARSTON.  

Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled out his ID case, 
flipping it open to reveal his FBI badge, seeing Scully 
flash her own ID as well out of the corner of his eye.  

"Officer Marston?" he questioned, and at the officer's nod, 
continued. "I'm Agent Mulder, and this is my partner Agent 
Scully," he said brusquely, refusing to admit to himself 
that he had deliberately stressed the word 'my'.  "I spoke 
to a Lieutenant Gibson early yesterday evening about a case 
we are investigating and he offered us full use of your 
archived case files."

Marston nodded smartly.  "Yes, Agent Mulder...Agent Scully, 
Lieutenant Gibson has left a memo instructing me to be at 
your disposal," the officer replied, directing his answer 
more at Scully than to Mulder.

Or so Mulder thought, as he tucked his ID wallet back in 
his pocket and tightly smiled his thanks to the officer.

"We're staying at Starbuck House to investigate the 
disappearances, posing as a writer and his assistant," 
Mulder said next.  "Your Lieutenant said he'd have a file 
for us, with information about the Inn, and its current 
owners."

"Yes, I have it here, Agent Mulder."  Marston turned away 
from them to cross the room to one of the empty desks, 
lifting a manila folder from the blotter.  Returning to 
the counter, he handed the file over to Mulder, though his 
gaze was directed mostly at Scully.

Mulder flipped through the file briefly before handing it 
to Scully, who tucked it in her briefcase.  He turned back 
to the man behind the counter.  "Do you know anything about 
the disappearances, Officer Marston?"

"The whole department is aware of the disappearances, 
Agent Mulder," the officer replied somberly.  "We've all 
read the files and studied the investigations."  He shrugged 
slightly and added, "I've lived here my whole life, remember 
one of them from when I was a kid...and when I joined the 
department, I even thought maybe I'd be the one to solve 
them."

Both Scully and Mulder nodded their understanding, and then 
Mulder asked, "The last disappearance in April 1997 –- 
Suzanne Tyler -- were you involved with the investigation?"

"Not the investigation itself, no," Marston replied.  "But 
every officer in this department and the Sheriff's Office, 
not to mention hundreds of volunteers, searched for two 
solid days.  A massive storm front moved in and hampered 
the search efforts, and by the time the weather improved, 
it was deemed likely the trail would be stone cold.  The 
search was scaled back, lasting another two days but no 
trace of the woman was ever found."

Mulder next queried, "With the obvious connections to 
Starbuck House, were the Carringtons ever considered to be 
suspects?"  From years of experience, he had learned that 
sometimes it was too good to be true that the perpetrator 
was right before the investigator's very eyes, and sometimes 
it was just completely overlooked.

"The Carringtons were fully investigated at the time of the 
disappearance in 1997, Agent Mulder," Marston replied, a 
little tightly.  As if angered by the possible implication 
that the Police Department had not done its job.  "There 
was never any evidence that linked them to any of the 
disappearances or the missing women, other than the fact 
that the women had stayed at Starbuck House."

There was a moment of heavy silence, Marston perhaps waiting 
for further questions from Mulder, before the officer spoke 
again.  "If you'll come this way?" Marston asked, and walked 
along to one far end of the counter to point out a gated 
entrance there.  He opened it for them, his arm extended 
politely to show them in.

Scully felt Mulder's hand on her back again, nudging her 
through the gate, and they followed Officer Marston through 
the bullpen and down the hallway Scully had surmised led to 
the holding cells.  She couldn't help but notice the fine 
figure Marston cut in his uniform, and jerked her head up, 
away from the view of his backside.  Hoping Mulder had not 
noticed her wandering attention, and very embarrassed to 
have been gawking.

Part way down the surprisingly long hall, Officer Marston 
stopped before a closed door, with a metal doorplate that 
read FILE ROOM.  He pulled a ring of keys from his belt 
loop and flicked through until he found the correct one, 
quickly unlocking the door.

Pushing it open, he smiled ruefully.  "It's not much, I'm 
afraid," he told them, again seeming to be speaking to 
Scully rather than the both of them.  Stepping partially 
inside the stale and musty room, the officer then reached 
over on the wall to the left of the door.  Apparently for 
the light switch, for a second later there was a muted 
click and the room became a little brighter.

Mulder poked his head in and grimaced.  Not much, indeed.  
The room was perhaps 10X12, windowless, and the wall-to-
wall shelves were stacked floor to ceiling with storage 
boxes.  There was an old wooden desk in the middle of the 
room, complete with one plain wooden chair.

"I'll get you another chair," Marston said, and squeezed 
past Mulder, nearly bumping into Scully, who was also 
attempting to peek inside the room.  "My apologies, Agent 
Scully," he murmured, and after she waved off his apology, 
headed back the way they had come.

Mulder entered the room fully, eyes tracking the shelves 
slowly.  "I think we've got our work cut out for us, 
Scully."  

"I'll say," she replied, also taking in the numerous boxes 
that lined each and every shelf.  She moved closer to one 
of the shelves, leaning in to peer at a box.  "At least 
these boxes seem to be well cross-referenced," she added, 
reading the detailed label affixed to the end side.  
"They're filed by case type, name and year.  We can locate 
and pull all the missing persons cases."

Shrugging out of his jacket, Mulder hung it on the back of 
the wooden chair, pulling it away from the old desk.  The 
room was warm, and would probably only get warmer with the 
two of them there.  "Hopefully that will save some time.  
We still need to go to the library."

"Ahem."

Both she and Mulder turned to look at the doorway, where 
the sound had come from.  Officer Marston was there, 
holding a padded chair easily in both hands.  "Here you go, 
Agent Scully," he said cheerfully, and with a bit of 
maneuvering, brought the chair into the room and over to 
the desk, putting it down opposite what was now apparently 
Mulder's chair.

"Thank-you, Officer Marston," Scully replied.

"No problem at all, Agent Scully," the officer said, smiling 
in a way that highlighted those perfect teeth.  "It's Samuel, 
by the way, Agent Scully, and if you need anything all, I'm 
at your service."

Mulder rolled his eyes, unseen by both Marston...*Samuel*...
or Scully, and called out, "Appreciate it, Samuel."

"Thank-you again, Samuel," Scully said, and once the officer 
had left the room, turned back to the desk, shrugging out of 
her blazer.  She hung it neatly on the back of her chair and 
put her hands on her hips, once again surveying the shelves.  
"Where to start."

"Wellll..." Mulder drawled half-teasingly.  "You could always 
ask *Samuel* for help.  He *is* at your service, Scully."

Scully did not dignify his comment with a response, verbal 
or otherwise, though Mulder did hear a quiet huff that could 
have been humor or irritation.  "Wonder what kind of service 
he meant, huh Scully?" he needled.

This time she turned her head to look at his grinning 
countenance, feeling her eyebrow rising.  "Do the names Nancy 
and Lisa ring any bells, Mulder?" she inquired, with just a 
hint of bite in her words.

"Touché!" he drawled, and then held his hands up in surrender.  
"I give," he told her.  "I won't tease you about Officer Romeo 
if you leave out the friendly Innkeeper and the 
schoolgirl."

"Deal," she returned with a nod and a tiny smile, and got to 
work.

Not quite three hours later, they had pulled the files on the 
three most recent disappearances, dating back to mid-1980, and 
the files of the other three women whom Mulder had researched 
via the Internet.  Those cases dated back to the 1940's.  

They had also gone through every missing person's case dating 
as far back as 1900, after deciding that was a good cut-off 
period.  Most had been rejected, but there had been a few that 
had definite similarities to the others.  Of course, the much 
older case files were not as complete as those after the 1950's, 
they were mostly one page reports containing the victim's name, 
age and description, and very little information 
investigation-wise.  Basically what had been seen or heard 
around the time of the disappearances, such as in one instance, 
a report from one of the victim's employers stating that the 
young woman had just not shown up one day.   

But two of those older cases had listed Starbuck House as the 
victim's lodging at the time of their disappearance.

Scully slumped against the padded back of her chair with a 
weary sigh, gently turning her head from side to side, rotating 
her neck.  She was achy, hot, tired and very hungry. 
 
"Mulderrrrr..." she started, and stopped, hating the whine in 
her voice.  Clearing her throat, she spoke again, more firmly.  
"Mulder, it's time to break for lunch.  We've been here for 
three hours, and I've forgotten what natural light looks like."

Mulder lifted his head from the file he was reading, tilting 
it back to stare at the bare light bulb directly above their 
desk.  Snorting, he straightened, flipped the file closed and 
said, "I hear ya, Scully.  Though just barely, over the 
grumbling of my stomach."  Lifting one hand, he began to rub 
the back of his neck.

A frown crossed his face as he regarded the files still to be 
read, and Scully knew he was bemoaning the time necessary to 
finish going through them all.  "Mulder," she said softly.  
"Let's go get something to eat and then visit the library.  
The files will still be here later, or tomorrow."

"You're right, Scully," Mulder agreed, pushing his chair back 
with a noisy scrape.  He stood, putting his hands on his hips 
and twisting slowly, feeling the muscles of his back and neck 
pop and stretch with his motions.  Closing his portfolio, he 
tucked it under his arm and grabbed his jacket.  Holding it 
with one hand while walking toward her, his other hand slid 
into place at the small of her back to lead her out the door.

Officer Marston met them at the end of the hallway, just 
inside the bullpen.  He wore a smile upon his face that Scully 
thought of as being friendly, while Mulder interpreted it to 
be a predatory one.  "Um, Agent Scully, would you be 
interested in getting a bite to eat?" the officer asked.  
"Oh, and you too, of course, Agent Mulder."

Scully felt Mulder's fingers press a little harder into her 
back, and she could just imagine him leaning in to croon some 
sarcastic comment about Officer Romeo into her ear.  "Actual
ly, Officer Marston, Agent Mulder and I already have lunch 
plans."  She paused, smiling gently, and added, "We do 
appreciate the offer."

Mulder inwardly smirked at the brief crestfallen expression 
on Marston's face when Scully expertly and politely shot him 
down.  He had to give the officer bonus points though, for 
coming back so quickly, shrugging off the turndown with tact 
and diplomacy.

"I certainly understand, Agent Scully," Marston said, a smile 
once again curving his lips and showing off his teeth.  
"Perhaps another time?"  His eyes flicked from her to Mulder, 
and then he added, "I can recommend some great places to eat, 
if you'd like."

"Appreciate it, Marston," Mulder interjected.

"Not a problem," the officer said.  "Call it my civic duty."

***

End Part 6