<![CDATA[*********************************
The Abyss Looks Back - Part 4 of 7 (4/7) continued
by Kronos
**********************************
Monday, 9:21 p.m.
Minneapolis, Third Prospective Crime Scene
Mulder had quickly eliminated the first two sites. Not officially, of course.
Hard to justify a feeling. They fit the profile but just didn't have the right
feel.
That was all there was to it. They were now at the third and last of the
possibilities that had been identified as the leading contenders in the first of
the
identified regions. They'd been sure to enter the location without being seen.
Had parked a block over and had lookouts up and down the street to give them
a heads up in the event of any activity. The last thing they needed was to
scare
of the killer when he was preparing his site. This one was promising.
Skinner watched his agent move to the inner room and crouch down in the
center, evidently studying the hard tile floor. Skinner looked around the outer
room of the Laundromat at the rows of washing machines and dryers, standing
at attention. One side of the room sparkled with newness, the other still
awaited
replacement of broken down and rusted machines. An odd dichotomy.
Skinner wandered back to the smaller room that contained folding tables, soda
machines, and chairs. Mulder was still crouched, elbows on knees, hands
hanging between his legs. He looked up at Skinner, then slowly stood.
"This might be it."
Skinner nodded in acknowledgment to his agent. He could catch part of what
Mulder was sensing and believed him to be right. Skinner turned abruptly,
heading to the police detective who'd been showing them the sites.
"Detective Rogers, I'd like you to focus your efforts on this one. I know we
still need to see the four in the other region, but this is definitely the most
likely
site here."
He watched Rogers head over to speak with one of his men, then make a call on
his cell phone. Skinner realized Mulder was at his side and looked over at the
younger man. His face was expressionless, frozen in typical Mulder fashion.
Skinner asked, "Are you ready to see the other sites?"
Mulder nodded to his boss and started moving forward, not exiting the door
until getting the signal from the lookouts. It was now well past nine, almost
ten, and he was starting to breathe a little easier. Mulder was pretty sure
they'd
gotten a reprieve. It wasn't going to happen today. He was almost positive it
would have already happened if it were going to. Only one of the children had
been taken from bed and that was around eight at night, right after he'd been
put
to sleep. Mulder sent up a silent prayer that parents everywhere were checking
on their children, keeping them safe. Of course, none of these children were
really safe anyway, living under the same roof with the parents who beat them
or ignored the fact it was happening.
Mulder cursed silently, reminded himself not to go down that path. It wasn't
productive right now. They could deal with that later.
**************************
Tuesday, 2:12 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
It had been a long day. The longest yet. Skinner had to pry both his agents
away from the Bureau. He'd had to send just about everyone home in fact, a
little after 2 a.m., including Dave Jenkins. Skinner had seen enough combat to
know the dangers of sleep deprivation. Slowed reactions and sloppy thinking
were the last thing they needed in the next couple days. He'd given them orders
not to return until 8 a.m. at the earliest. There was really nothing that
required
their physical presence at this time. Labs technicians were working round the
clock, police officers were searching records, computer simulations were
running continuously. Until they got results from some of these sources, the
team members themselves were essentially extraneous.
**************************
Tuesday, 5:18 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
The man was hurting his sister. She was crying and screaming for help, but the
man wouldn't stop. And he couldn't move. He was watching it, but he
couldn't help. It wasn't his place. The man had told him to stay in his room.
And she was the big sister. She looked out for him. But he'd left the door
cracked and he could see across the hall. The man kept hitting her and hitting
her. And she turned her head, blonde hair falling across her face, and yelled
for
him now, yelled out his name, beseechingly, begging for his help. And the
man turned to see where she was looking. And then the boy could see it wasn't
just a man. It was his father. And the girl's hair wasn't blonde any more, it
was brown. And she wasn't older than he, she was younger. And his sister
kept screaming, "Fox, help me."
Mulder sat gasping for breath, pulling the tangled sheets from around his body.
He was losing his mind. It was as clear as if it were memory, but he knew it
wasn't. He knew it couldn't be. He had to talk with Scully. He had to talk
with her now.
Mulder practically threw himself out of bed at the thought, not bothering to put
on clothes or even shoes. He was out the suite door in just his boxers and T-
shirt not even stopping to pick up his door key. He pounded on her door and
raggedly called out her name.
**************************
It seemed that Skinner had just closed his eyes when he heard it, the noise of a
door opening. Grabbing his glasses and gun, he was up and across the room in
a heartbeat. He saw Mulder's door open and instinctively looked to the front
door of the suite. The chain still swung slightly.
Skinner moved to the door quickly and reached for the handle but paused when
he heard Mulder's muffled voice and the knocking. Skinner put it together.
Mulder was knocking on his partner's door, calling her name softly. Skinner
rested his forehead against the closed door, silently praying Scully would wake
up and finally breathed easier when he heard a door open and her voice ask,
"Mulder, what is it? Are you all right?" Skinner waited until he heard the
door
close again and then turned back to his bedroom. His knew both agents would
be fine.
**************************
Scully took in her partner's shaking body and pale features and pulled him into
her room without another thought. She led him to the unused bed and forced
him to sit. Scully grabbed the blanket off her own bed and wrapped it around
him. He was soaked in sweat, hair plastered to his forehead. Scully moved to
the thermostat and quickly raised the temperature several degrees. The last
thing her partner needed was pneumonia. She put her robe on, tying it closed
and sat across from Mulder on her own bed. Placing both hands on his knees,
she squeezed slightly, letting him know she was there.
"Mulder, what is it? Was it a nightmare?"
She was disconcerted by his expression and harsh laughter. He finally focused
on her face. Scully couldn't follow the rapid play of emotions that crossed his
features.
"Scully." It was all he could manage right now. Mulder closed his eyes and
concentrated only on breathing, on forcing his body to stop shaking quite so
hard. His eyes wrenched open as the image found it's way to the forefront
again. Dad and Samantha. Dad standing over Samantha, an evil smile on his
face. God, he was going to be sick.
Scully followed him to the bathroom and turned on the light, then moved
behind her partner. She kneeled down on the floor next to him and rested one
hand on his back, moved the other to his forehead, stroking her fingers gently.
She moved closer so her entire body leaned lightly against his and she dropped
her head down on the back of his still shaking shoulders. She was there for
him, as he always was for her, and she hoped her physical presence would help
to enforce that fact. When he calmed somewhat, she stood and wet a
washcloth, grabbed a towel from the sink.
Mulder sat against the wall now, legs stretched in front of him, arms hanging
loosely at his side, looking just as pale, but somehow more in control. Scully
knelt in front of him and was surprised when he didn't object to her
ministrations. She was drying his face when she felt his hands grab her wrists.
Scully glanced down, as if to confirm that he had indeed grabbed her arms, then
looked directly into his eyes.
"Scully." He said her name now with such depth of feeling that she felt tears
well in her eyes.
"What is it, Mulder? Let me help. Tell me."
Her partner released her arms and leaned his head back against the wall, tilted
to
look at the ceiling. He nodded slowly, then struggled to stand.
Scully reached out to give her partner some support, helping him up. She left
him in the bathroom for a minute to freshen up and went back to her room to
turn on some lights. A look at the clock told her she probably wouldn't be
getting any more sleep tonight anyway. 5:34 a.m. At least she had managed
almost three hours.
Mulder came out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, feeling more like
himself. He stopped at the foot of the closest bed and wrapped arms around his
torso lightly, suddenly embarrassed by his lack of clothes. It wasn't as if his
partner hadn't seen him in far less. It was just that he didn't need yet
another
reminder of vulnerability right now.
Scully seemed to understand.
"Mulder, come sit down and wrap this blanket around you. I don't want you
getting chilled."
He smiled and grabbed the blanket from his partner, draped himself in it, then
sat down on the far bed, leaning against the headboard. Scully still sat on her
bed, patiently waiting until he was ready to talk.
"Yes, Scully, it was a nightmare ...... I think. But it almost seemed like a
memory. Or some concatenation - a memory of my imagination." He smiled at
his partner wryly, knowing before even looking that he'd find the upraised
eyebrow. They'd had discussions of False Memory Syndrome on many
occasions and she'd once used the expression 'memory of an imagination.'
He'd laughed at the term then, but now wondered if it wasn't an apt description
of what he'd dreamed. But what the hell part of the dream could possibly have
been true.
Scully saw her partner visibly pale again. "Tell me about it, Mulder."
She watched her partner swallow, then lick his lips nervously. His fingers
pulled at the blanket slightly, rapidly, without conscious direction. His eyes
now flicked around the room. All-in-all, he made the perfect picture of a man
wanting desperately to get away, while simultaneously knowing there was no
better place to go.
"Scully, I had a dream."
She nodded in encouragement, wondering why he felt the need to state the
obvious, but also recognizing it as an effective delaying tactic.
"It was similar to dreams I've been having all along on this case. But
different.
I saw, very clearly, a man. He stood over a little girl, who was crouched on
the
floor. She had blonde hair. She was wearing blue jeans and a green striped
shirt. She was ten or eleven maybe. She was trying to curl into a ball and she
had her hands and arms above her head, trying to protect her face. He was
slapping her and hitting her. Over and over and over. And she was crying and
screaming. She kept begging him to stop, pleading with him. And ...."
Mulder swallowed again against the dryness in his throat, tried licking parched
lips. He had been staring down at a spot on the comforter but now needed to
look at his partner. He needed to be sure she understood him and believed him
when he said this seemed like a memory, as impossible as that was.
"And she was my big sister. And I was in the room across the hall, looking
through a crack in the door. And she turned and saw me and started screaming
for help. Begging me to help. And she wasn't my big sister anymore. She
was Samantha and she was six or maybe seven. And I was ten or so, but I
didn't move. And the man turned when she started yelling for me and looked
through the door at me. And it was my father. Scully, I swear to God it was
my father."
He was shaking again and then Scully was there, next to him, arms wrapped
tightly around him. He tried to force himself to relax and dropped his head to
her shoulder, knowing he could trust her in his weakness and vulnerability as
he did with his life.
"Jesus, Mulder, no wonder you were sick." She could feel his smile against
her collarbone. Scully gave him another tight hug before releasing him. She
ran one hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and cupped
his cheek gently for a moment before dropping her hand.
Mulder's smile widened slightly. God, Scully was incredible. She never
ceased to amaze him. Hard as ice and soft as cotton, all at once. And she
actually liked him. He knew she did. Actually liked the person he was. Could
there be a luckier person on earth?
"Mulder, you're a psychologist. You've been profiling both the killer and the
victims, getting into their thoughts and feelings. You know you're projecting."
Scully felt like she was treading on thin ice. She didn't know if she was up to
the discussion they were about to have. She had thought she'd have more time
to prepare. She wasn't a psychologist after all, and didn't want to do any more
damage. But she also knew her partner. Knew that he would never see a
counselor on his own. Ironically, he held many in the profession in disregard.
"I know, Scully, but there was something about it. There was something that
.... seemed real."
Scully considered carefully then asked, "Mulder, was it possible you had a
memory of your father punishing Samantha for something and your
subconscious used the event in your dream, absorbed it into what you see
happening with the killer and his victims?"
Mulder's forehead crinkled as he thought about the possibility. When he
spoke, it was hesitant, unsure.
"I suppose so, Scully." He shook his head slowly before adding, "But my
father never laid a hand on Samantha. Never would have, ever. I remember
my mother spanked her a couple times. But ... she was my Dad's little
princess."
Scully saw his smile and knew there was no animosity or jealousy in the
remark. He was evidently remembering the term of endearment with fondness.
Scully nodded to him, wondering whether to ask the next obvious question.
She decided there wouldn't likely be a better time to broach the subject.
"Mulder, did your father ever hit you, maybe, if you were bad, or something?"
It wasn't very eloquent. Scully's nervousness had caused the question to
become somewhat jumbled, but she waited almost breathlessly for his answer,
watching him closely.
Mulder opened his mouth, fully prepared to say 'no', but found he couldn't.
His jaw dropped slightly at the realization. He did have a vague recollection
of
being punished once or twice for something. And it was his Dad. He was
almost positive. How could he have forgotten? He was supposed to have an
eidetic memory for God's sake. Mulder felt the sweat start again at the
realization that there were things about his own life he'd evidently chosen to
forget. What else had he forgotten?
"Mulder?"
He jerked his gaze back to his partner, now feeling embarrassed for some
reason.
"Yeah, Scully. A couple times, maybe."
The sentence ended as if in question. Perhaps her partner really didn't
remember. Scully felt her breath quicken at the thought of what she was about
to do.
"Mulder, tell me what you remember about those times. Maybe there's
something there that's being incorporated in your dream."
She made sure to leave all blame or recrimination out of her voice. She
definitely didn't want him to feel the need to hide from her. Scully watched
her
partner pull the blanket tighter around himself, his fists now clenching the
edges. He seemed to be considering, or perhaps trying to remember the events
more clearly.
"I remember once I broke a window in the garage. I was playing basketball and
was trying for a rebound and missed. Got glass everywhere."
It was obvious to Scully that she wasn't going to get more without asking.
"So, Mulder, how old were you? Was Samantha or anyone else there?"
"Wha... huh? Oh, no I was playing alone. Samantha was still a baby. I was
six, I guess. Something like that."
Scully nodded to him, encouraging him to go on. Wasn't going to happen.
"So, what happened, Mulder?"
"Wha.... Oh, well, it was Sunday and Dad wanted some peace and quiet but I
sort of interrupted him I guess. And made an incredible mess. Got glass
everywhere."
Hadn't he already said that? Scully decided to ask more pointed questions.
"So, did you clean it up or what?"
"Yeah, yeah, he... I cleaned it all up, even made sure it was all out of the
fishing nets and the camping equipment."
Her partner was lost in his memory so Scully spoke softly, prodding his
answers, trying not to think about a man who would make a six year old pick
glass out of a fishing net.
"Then what?"
"Well, he was mad, of course. I'd made a real mess. He told me before to be
careful. He told me when he put the hoop up."
"And?"
"Well, he had to teach me a lesson so I wouldn't do it again."
Mulder's voice was so soft, she could barely hear him. It was as if he'd self-
hypnotized. She was straining to make out the words but wasn't about to
distract him by bringing it up.
"So he spanked you?"
"Well.... yeah, he hit me .... a little. He had to make sure I understood what
I'd done."
Yeah, right, as if he wouldn't have known any other way. Her partner was
defensive now, making excuses for the man. She'd caught the distinction --
Mulder hadn't said spanked he said hit.
Scully reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears, working hard to control her
trembling. She considered where to go next.
"Do you remember any other times?"
The silence stretched and she considered dropping it. What was the purpose
after all?
"Yeah. There was the time when Sammy was sick and I kept waking her up.
She needed to rest 'cause she was getting over the flu."
"How'd you wake her up?"
"I ... I was playing with Scout in the backyard. He was barking."
Huh, Mulder had a dog when he was a kid. It was hard to imagine.
"How old was Samantha?"
"Oh, she was four, I think."
Making him just eight. Scully gripped her hands tightly in her lap.
"So what were you and Scout doing?"
"Oh, I was practicing my pitching. He'd fetch the ball for me."
"And you woke Samantha up?"
"Yeah, she was getting over the flu."
Yeah, he'd already said that.
"And what was your Dad doing?"
"He was working in the study. It was starting to get dark."
"So what happened when Samantha woke up?"
"She started crying. Dad hated it when Sammy cried. It was my fault."
Yeah, and if the moon left it's orbit that would be his fault too.
"So what did your Dad do?"
Mulder looked confused by the question. It was obvious after all that he'd been
bad and had to be punished so of course that's what his Dad did, right?
"Well, he .... he'd told me to keep it down and I didn't."
"What happened?"
"He ... hit me, told me I was old enough to know better. Time I grew up and
took responsibility for my actions."
Her partner was so matter of fact in describing these words. Scully decided to
dig just a bit more before leaving it alone.
"Do you remember any earlier times?"
He was shifting gears, leaving one memory behind and searching for another.
"I remember when Mom was in the hospital having Sammy. I was supposed to
play quiet so Daddy could work. I kept interrupting him and he couldn't work.
He told me to be quiet."
"What happened?"
"He hit me."
Mulder said it such a way that Scully wondered if this had been the first time
he'd been struck by his father. Scully could just about picture a precocious
four
year old Fox suddenly betrayed by the man he idolized.
"I fell down the stairs. He didn't mean for that to happen. It was my fault.
He
read to me after and bought me a basketball. I was sick."
Scully knew this must have been the time he got a concussion. Could imagine
the little boy at the bottom of the stairs, trying not to cry, bruised, red mark
on
cheek from his father's hand, blood spilling from the gash on his forehead,
nauseous.
Scully felt sick herself and decided to stop this. She looked at the clock and
decided she might be able to get her partner to sleep for another couple hours.
She stood slowly and moved to his side.
"Mulder, it's time to sleep for awhile. Lay down here. Just sleep and don't
worry about anything. You need to sleep."
Scully was surprised at how easy it was. Her partner immediately lay down
and closed his eyes. She pulled the blanket tighter, then pulled half the
comforter over him as well. She checked him again, turned off the light by the
bed, then picked up her key and headed for the door. She needed to talk with
Skinner.
**************************
Tuesday, 6:17 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
She was surprised how fast he answered the door. Her boss was already
dressed for the day and held a paper in his free hand. He'd evidently been
reading.
"Scully, you look like shit." He opened the door wider and stepped back,
allowing her room to enter.
"Gee, thanks, sir. You really know how to make a girl feel good about
herself."
Skinner threw the paper on the table and put his hands on his hips. Scully was
very familiar with the stance. He wanted a report. She should have known
he'd been aware of Mulder leaving. Scully stood a little straighter, pulled her
belt robe a little tighter, then crossed her arms, hugging herself lightly.
"Sir, I just wanted to let you know that Agent Mulder and I will be a little
late
this morning. I know you called a meeting for 8 a.m., but I think ...."
Her voice broke slightly and she paused to get control again.
"How's Mulder?"
Scully closed her eyes and repeated the question to herself.
"Scully?"
She hadn't been aware that Skinner had moved closer until she felt his hands on
her shoulders. She looked at him and tried to answer honestly.
"He's sleeping, sir."
Skinner nodded, trying to better gage what was happening. His agent was
definitely reluctant to share it with him. He dropped his hands and took a step
back before continuing.
"Anything I can do, Dana?"
Damn, he'd done it to her again. Scully suddenly wanted her father. She'd
missed him so many times in the past few years, but never as much as right
now. But she trusted Skinner in much the same way she had her father. And
Skinner was here, now, in front of her.
She took a step forward, head bowed in an attempt to hide her distress, and felt
his arms encircle her shoulders. She let her own arms go around his waist,
feeling safe and not so lonely suddenly. Skinner spoke to her softly,
reassuringly. Scully was grateful, then, that her boss was a good man,
understanding and kind.
"It's okay, Dana. You're not alone. Mulder's not alone. I can help. You can
trust me. It's going to be okay. Ssshhh. It's okay."
Skinner had been shocked at Scully's appearance when she'd entered the room.
She had looked almost as haggard as she had in the hospital several months
ago. She was obviously exhausted, both physically and mentally, and the
strain of being strong for not only herself, but her partner as well, had
finally
gotten to her.
Skinner wanted to reach out to her immediately, but knew she preferred to
maintain a professional distance. It was almost a relief now to hold her, to be
able to tell her he was there and would help. He wanted to help his two agents.
In the last week, he'd come to recognize that friendship was a two-way street.
He needed them as much as they needed him.
Skinner loosened his grip and held Scully at arms length. He ducked his head
to be a little more even with her and said, "Let's sit down and talk for a
little,
okay?"
Scully nodded, the sudden relief flooding through her actually making her
weak. She sat where he led her and turned slightly so she could face him head
on.
"Sir, Mulder had a .... dream that caused him some distress. He thought
perhaps there was some part of it that was a ... memory. He came over to my
room this morning to talk about it."
Skinner understood that most of the details were being sanitized. It was fine.
He really did understand. Scully continued, expression intent.
"He'd evidently forgotten some events from his childhood."
Skinner nodded once again and decided they could be a little more frank.
"He remembered his father beating him?"
Scully took a ragged breath before replying.
"Yes, sir."
"And he hadn't before. I mean, he really hadn't remembered."
Scully shook her head from side to side slowly. "No way, sir."
Skinner was actually relieved. He'd been concerned that the man had
knowingly lied. Omission, commission, no real difference in the big scheme of
things. He thought he knew Mulder better than that and was gratified to
discover he was right.
"So, how is he? And how are you?"
"I'm not sure about him, sir. He went straight to sleep. I don't know what's
going to happen when he wakes up. He has an amazing capacity to forget
things for a man with an eidetic memory. He may forget our conversation. He
did seem half asleep. As for me, I'm just.... I'm tired, sir. I'm tired of men
who take advantage of the innocent. I'm tired of being unable to do anything
about it. I'm tired of having to watch it affect the people I ...."
Skinner knew how the sentence was supposed to end -- 'the people I love.' He
reached over and squeezed her shoulder again, took her hand in his.
"I know, Scully. Look, it's about 6:30. Why don't you try to catch another
couple hours sleep. I'll hold down the fort until you and Mulder come in.
There's nothing happening that absolutely needs your presence or his."
Scully nodded, relieved to have someone else giving the orders, just for awhile.
She got up and started for the door.
"And Scully...."
She turned and looked again at her boss.
"Scully, if you need me - for anything - just call."
She smiled at him, nodded and turned again. She knew it. And she was glad
of it.
After his agent left, Skinner again picked up the folded newspaper he'd been
reading. He opened it to the front page and looked once more at the photo of
Mulder coming out of the local Bureau office. The caption read, "FBI sends
crack profiler, Fox Mulder, from DC for Twin Cities Strangler case".
Damn, it was going to be another long day.
**************************
End Part 4 of 7
*********************************
The Abyss Looks Back - Part 5 of 7 (5/7)
by Kronos
**********************************
Tuesday, 8:47 a.m.
Minneapolis Hotel
Mulder heard the beeping but couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It
was damned annoying. He finally dragged his eyelids open minutely. They
opened wider when he failed to recognize his surroundings. Where the hell
was he? He sat up, looked around the room, finally stopped his searching as
his eyes rested on his partner. Scully was fast asleep in the bed next to him,
despite the alarm going off within a foot of her ear.
He reached over and fumbled with the alarm, trying to be quiet. Not exactly
how he pictured waking up next to Scully, but as close as he was ever likely to
get.
Mulder looked at the time and felt a shock. 8:47 a.m. Didn't they have a
meeting at 8? And just what was he doing here?
Mulder sat on the edge of the bed, realizing he hadn't actually been under the
covers, had, in fact, just been lying on top with what appeared to be Scully's
blanket wrapped around him. He looked back at his partner and was reassured
that she didn't seem to be cold.
He propped his arms on his knees and rubbed his face vigorously, trying to
wake up and clear his mind. He was fuzzy. That was the only way he could
think of it. He was used to being able to think clearly and sharply, to
remember
with definition and clarity. His thoughts had distinct, detailed edges.
Recognizable stops and starts. But this morning he was fuzzy. Mulder shook
his head from side to side, then smiled at himself when he realized he'd been
trying to physically shake out the cobwebs. It was kind of a juvenile thing to
do, after all.
He breathed in deeply, closed his eyes, and consciously started working his
recollections forward from the moment he went to bed last night. He inhaled
sharply when it all finally fell in place. His eyes flew to his partner's face
to
discover she was watching him, had been watching him for a bit. He froze,
eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
"Morning, Mulder. Do you think we could call in sick?"
Scully was smiling at him. Same old Scully smile. Same old Scully humor.
Same old Scully voice. Same old Scully-Mulder relationship. Nothing had
changed. She wouldn't let that happen. Thank God for Scully.
"Hey, Scully. No, actually, I think we need to get a move on."
She ignored the slight shakiness in his reply, groaned at his words, and sat up
finally.
"Fine, but do you think we can get some coffee delivered? I don't think I can
wait until we get to the Bureau."
Mulder sat up straight with increased confidence and reached for the phone.
He'd do better than that and order an entire breakfast.
"Okay, Scully, but you better get moving. You know you always take longer
than I do."
Scully shot her partner a look of pure venom, meaning every ounce of it at that
moment in time. She dragged herself from under the covers and rolled to the
far side of the bed, then stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door soundly.
She could hear her partner's voice requesting room service ASAP.
Scully sighed to herself as she stepped into the shower, slightly disappointed
at
the parts they were forced to play. In a different universe, they'd be able to
comfort each other through the night. To call in sick and find a way to rejoice
in the little things that made life worthwhile. But they had a job that didn't
understand excuses of the body, didn't appreciate bad moods or the shock of
retrieving long-lost memories. The job had to come first, at least for now.
**************************
Tuesday, 9:36 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Conference Room
Skinner was pleased to see his agents arrive just after 9:30, both looking
refreshed and ready for the day. Mulder and Scully were halfway across the
room when Skinner heard Crowley's unmistakable drawl. "Here he is, the
Bureau's crack profiler." At least the man hadn't spoken with spite.
Both Mulder and Scully paused, looking confused. Crowley tossed the folded
paper across the several feet separating them and Scully plucked it out of the
air.
She opened it wide, immediately grimacing at the sight of Mulder on page one.
Skinner could hear Mulder's more vocal complaint, complete with descriptive
profanity, from across the room. Scully folded the paper again, handed it over
her shoulder to her partner and said, "Here you go, Mulder. Another keeper for
your album."
Agents around the room smiled in appreciation of the light-hearted humor.
They were relieved to see that Mulder wasn't a publicity hound.
Skinner's cell phone rang just as his agents stopped in front of him. He put
one
hand up to keep them there and answered.
"Skinner."
Mulder knew immediately. Not from anything his boss said, but by the way he
looked at both Mulder and Scully, eyes narrowing slightly, brow furrowed.
"We'll be right there."
Mulder spoke while Skinner was still disconnecting.
"Who?"
"Robby Andrews, age 12, never made it to school. They found his bike lying
by the side of the road a few blocks away."
Mulder had dropped his head and stood with shoulders slumped and eyes
closed. Skinner gripped his forearm for a moment, empathizing. He got the
impression Mulder wasn't really prepared for this, even though he'd been the
one to insist it would happen earlier than they all had originally expected.
The room had gone silent as, one by one, agents realized that something critical
was happening. Skinner looked around the room, prepared to brief them when
Dave Jenkins burst in, several pages of a fax in hand. Evidently, he'd also
been notified.
He focused on the three DC agents and walked over quickly. "You heard?"
Skinner nodded and decided it was time to fill everyone in.
"Agents, we've just heard from the St. Paul police. A twelve year old boy,
Robert Harrison Andrews, was taken this morning on his way to school."
Skinner looked around the room at the stricken faces, all fighting for
composure.
"This isn't the end by any means. You've all made remarkable progress this
past week and now you'll make more. We most likely have a day at the
minimum and, hopefully, much longer. We've got an excellent chance at
getting this guy. ASAC Jenkins will be giving you assignments."
Skinner nodded to Jenkins as the man handed him the faxes, then turned back
to his agents, speaking softly.
"Let's head out. They're holding the scene for us. Janice and her team as well
as the profile team will be out right behind us. I'll arrange for a driver."
While Skinner headed towards Patty Sachs to request her services once again,
he glanced down at the fax and stumbled a step at the face of the boy staring
back at him. Fuck, it could have been Mulder at that age. He shook his head
slightly, rearranged the pages so the picture wasn't so visible, and continued
towards Agent Sachs. He'd deal with the fax later.
Scully moved closer to her partner. She looked up into his face for the first
time. It was unreadable. Mulder wore his stoic face. She knew what would
come after their visit to the kidnapping scene. Then would come the interview
of the parents. And her partner would insist on doing it himself.
"Mulder, Vickers could go straight to the parents while we go to the scene."
Scully knew he wouldn't go for it, but she thought ... maybe.
"No, Scully. No."
Skinner was gesturing for them to follow. Patty Sachs didn't seem too
distressed to have become their personal driver to the crime scenes. Besides,
she was the resident expert on all the crime scenes so had to view this one as
well. She smiled tightly at them in greeting, obviously not pleased at the
circumstances which necessitated her involvement this morning.
Skinner led the way followed by his two agents, with Patty bringing up the
rear. This time they were more prepared as they exited the building. Except
the
crowd of reporters had grown. Someone must have found out about Robby
Andrews. Skinner was practically overwhelmed as he forced his way through
the crowd, trying to clear a path for the agents behind him. Once they reached
the car and he saw Mulder and Scully safely inside, he turned to the reporters
and cameras. It looked like the television stations had finally taken notice,
too.
One reporter's voice suddenly cut through all the others.
"Sir, sir. Are you Assistant Director Walter Skinner from the Washington DC
FBI office?"
Well, that was an easy one. And relatively safe.
"That's right. Now ladies and gentlemen, if you'll excuse us, we're needed
elsewhere."
As he entered the car, the questions could be heard clearly.
"AD Skinner, is it true another child was taken this morning?"
"Sir, has Agent Mulder made any progress in finding the killer?"
"What's the name of the child taken this morning? Is it a boy or a girl?"
Their questions went unanswered, but Skinner knew he'd have to talk with
them soon. He pulled out his cell phone and called Dave Jenkins, asking him to
arrange a press conference for late afternoon. He was surprised to hear Mulder
interrupt him from the back seat.
"What? Hang on a second, Dave. What was that Mulder?"
"Sir, if you schedule it for early afternoon, the print media will be able to
run
the story in the evening edition."
Skinner was confused. He knew Mulder wasn't looking for publicity. It
wasn't his style. Skinner looked at the man questioningly, waiting for an
explanation.
"Sir, by then we'll have visited the crime scene, spoken with the parents, and
possibly run preliminary cross-matches. It's likely we'll be able to narrow our
search parameters significantly. We might be prepared to release some
information to the media by then. To get citizen involvement, sir."
Skinner nodded, chiding himself at not doing the math earlier. Even if they
weren't prepared to solicit their help in early afternoon, they could release
whatever information they had that was appropriate. They could always release
more details at a later time, if necessary. They would plan for the best as
well
as the worst. Skinner nodded again and returned to his call.
"Yeah, Dave, I'm back. Make that early afternoon. Around 2 p.m. We'll
definitely be back by then." Skinner was silent for a moment, listening to the
other end of the conversation. "Yeah, I'll tell him...... Okay, bye."
Skinner turned in his seat once again. "Mulder, Jenkins wanted you to know
that Vickers is heading straight to the parent's house just to do the general
preliminary questioning. He won't do anything else until you get there. He's
sending a couple of his team members to the site in his stead."
Mulder nodded in understanding and went back to looking out the window. It
was such a nice day. The sun was as bright as he'd seen it in weeks. The
flowers were in bloom and everything looked so colorful and hopeful. It was
ironic. Actually, it was more than ironic. It was a sham, a travesty. There
should be a rule that the sun couldn't shine so brightly on days when a child
had been kidnapped. He turned to Scully and said quietly, "It should be
raining."
Scully didn't have to wonder what he meant. Her own thoughts had been
following very similar lines. Skinner also heard the comment. Understanding
did not come so quickly for him, but it didn't really matter.
**************************
Tuesday, 10:19 a.m.
St. Paul, Crime Scene
Even more reporters awaited them at the crime scene. Scully didn't even
wonder how they found out. Between police scanners and cell phone
interceptors, word spread fast. So fast, the reporters already knew who the two
men in the car were. Scully didn't feel jealous. After all, her partner had
been
somewhat famous in his own right when he was in the VCS and Skinner was
an AD
They waited until the cop had cleared their car through the mass of people and
pulled behind an unmarked police car. Mulder was the last to exit and stood
looking at the surroundings for a while before moving to join the three other
agents. It was the perfect road for a kidnapping. Quiet. Two lanes. Nothing
but trees on either side for at least a mile. No major roads intersecting it
anywhere in the vicinity.
Mulder stood with hands in his pants pockets, kicking lightly at the dirt under
feet, his suit jacket and overcoat open and pushed back behind his arms. He
looked down and saw his footprint in the soil beside the road. Perhaps their
killer had been sloppy and had left some evidence for them this time.
Mulder searched for a familiar face, and finally saw a flash of auburn hair. He
moved towards his partner, knowing she'd be in the thick of it. He walked past
Skinner who stood speaking with a St. Paul police detective, one hand on hip,
the other gesturing towards the cordoned off zone to the left. Mulder noticed
Patty Sachs, notebook in hand, speaking with two uniformed officers --
evidently the officers who first reported the kidnapping. Scully stood by
herself, abutting the yellow tape protecting the crime scene. Mulder stopped
next to his partner and looked around the zone created by flapping yellow police
tape.
Janice Anderson and her team were just arriving and Mulder motioned them to
hold for a minute. He turned to his partner and raised the tape slightly so she
could slip under more easily. He then followed her under, stopping again to
look where they stood. Both agents pulled on latex gloves before moving
further. He trusted Scully to tell him where they could walk to avoid
contaminating the scene. He wasn't about to screw up the evidence, but he had
to see it for himself before anything was touched or moved.
Mulder followed his partner gingerly, completely aware not only of his
footfalls, but also the scene in general. They stopped next to the discarded
bicycle. It was a Huffy mountain bike, 15 speed, K-Mart special, green and
black swirled paint, green water bottle, black saddle bag under the seat. It
was
a couple years old at least and had obviously been used extensively. It showed
the wear common for an active boy. There was also a small amount of blood
on the cross bar, in a pool in the dirt next to the bike, and a drop on the
seat.
The soft dirt clearly showed evidence of the struggle that Robby must have put
up.
Skinner had handed Mulder a recent photo of the boy on the way over. It was a
basketball team photo from the just completed season, slightly blurry because it
had been faxed. The boy was obviously in that gangly youth stage, but showed
promise of the man he'd be. Would maybe be. Mulder had handed the photo
to his partner silently. He could guess what was going through her mind.
Robby could have been Mulder's little brother, they looked so similar. This
was hitting way the hell too close to home.
Mulder touched nothing, merely looked from bicycle to the surrounding area,
then down the road in one direction, then the other. He finally turned and
walked back, making sure to step in the same prints as before. He jerked off
the gloves when he left the cordoned off area, dropping them on the ground
without a thought. He shoved his way through the numbers of bodies standing
around and made his way quickly back to the car. He heard Skinner calling for
him, but couldn't talk right then. Scully would talk with him.
Skinner had been keeping a close eye on his agents. When Dave Jenkins
handed him the faxed photo of the boy just before leaving the Bureau that
morning, he'd almost had heart failure. Robby Andrews looked remarkably
similar to the young Fox Mulder in the photo found in Cancerman's apartment -
- the young boy who stood grinning with his little sister in front of a tree
some
twenty plus years ago. And in a basketball jersey. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This had
to be a coincidence. It was only a coincidence. Skinner had continued to tell
himself that all morning.
Skinner watched Mulder and Scully stand in silence for some five minutes,
viewing the abandoned bike and surrounding area. Then Mulder turned and
walked decisively back, heading toward the car.
"Mulder. Mulder, hold up."
Skinner was pretty sure his agent had heard him. He chose not to be too
irritated when the man walked on past. Scully came over to stand in front of
him, arms crossed protectively across her chest.
"Scully. Anything?"
"There was a definite struggle, sir. Whatever he'd done in the past to pacify
his
victims evidently took awhile to kick in here, or didn't work at all. There's
blood trace. Most likely the victim's. It had to have taken several minutes.
I'm
surprised no one saw anything, regardless of how deserted this stretch of road
is."
"The St. Paul police are canvassing the area now, hoping to find someone who
might have seen something that will help us. We were lucky this morning.
Normally we wouldn't have even heard about this until late this afternoon, but
the two officers were alert. When they saw the abandoned bike and got close
enough to see the blood, they immediately backed off and called it in. They
were able to narrow it to Robby almost immediately because he'd been racing a
friend to school. Each of them took a different route to see who'd get there
first. When Robby didn't make it, the friend immediately told his teacher, who
in turn called the police. They were able to get a description of the bike from
the friend, so knew almost immediately who was taken."
Scully was nodding as various of her questions were answered. It had seemed
strange that they'd been able to identify the victim so soon. She looked back
up
at her boss, when he'd finished.
"Sir, I believe Agent Mulder and I are going straight to the parent's house now.
Would you like to accompany us?"
"No, Scully. I'm here for the next couple hours at least. Please keep me
informed of any important developments."
Scully understood what he didn't say. 'Call me if you need any help with
Mulder.'
She nodded again and made her way to the car. She saw her partner, standing
silently, with his back to the crime scene. He was staring down the road,
unaware that he was presenting a perfect photo op for the horde of reporters
some thirty or forty feet away. He definitely wasn't seeing them, though. His
eyes were unfocused, his face lacking in expression.
"Mulder, Skinner said they're canvassing for witnesses. Robby's friend
reported him missing this morning and a couple cops saw the bike on the side
of the road at almost the same time. They put everything together quickly,
which is how they were able to determine who the victim was so fast."
Mulder tore himself away from his reverie and focused on his partner, noting
her concern beneath the professional words, loving her all the more for it.
"Let's go, Scully. There's nothing more we can do here."
Scully nodded in acknowledgment and started looking around for Agent Sachs.
Patty was already walking towards them, a uniformed officer in tow.
"Sir, ma'am." Patty nodded to both agents. "I'll be here for a few hours yet.
This is Officer Bredlow. He's volunteered to drive you to the boy's house."
Mulder merely nodded politely, then slipped in the back seat. Scully decided to
leave him alone with his thoughts and claimed the front passenger seat.
"Excellent, let's go."
**************************
Tuesday, 11:43 a.m.
St. Paul, Andrews' Residence
Mulder was in agony. He'd been talking with this idiot for going on an hour
and he wanted nothing more than to put his fist through the man's face.
Howard 'Howie to his friends' Andrews was an asshole. That was all there
was to it. Mulder had found nothing of redeeming value in the man's attitude,
words, or overall demeanor. Mulder had caught sight of the mother off and on.
She was still tightly gripping her 7 year old daughter, as if in fear that if
she let
go, she'd lose yet another child. The father had picked Kerry up from school
on his way to the house.
Scully sat with the mother and little girl, occasionally asking a question or
encouraging discussion. She had been trying to get Kerry out of the room so
she could question the mother more openly, but was having little success. She
finally gestured to a female officer and whispered in her ear, then turned to
Judy
Andrews.
"Ma'am, this is Officer Chase. She'll sit with Kerry in her room while we talk
for a little bit. Okay?"
Mrs. Andrew's eyes grew wide and her grip tightened, causing the little girl to
whimper slightly and squirm in her hold.
"Mrs. Andrews, I must speak with you and I think it would be better for Kerry
to be elsewhere."
Scully gestured for the officer to take the little girl and was relieved to see
Judy
Andrews loosen her grip finally. The Officer was speaking kindly to Kerry,
asking if she would show her room. Scully and Mrs. Andrews followed the
two with their eyes until they were lost from sight. Scully then turned back to
the woman.
"Mrs. Andrews, we are positive that this man who took Robby either knew him
personally, knew you or your husband personally, or at least knew of your
family. He knew Robby's age, he knew where you lived, he knew ... personal
information about your family."
At this, the woman's face blanched slightly and she looked away from Scully to
stare at her tightly gripped hands.
Scully decided to steer clear of anything to do with possible abuse and limit
her
questions to the woman's knowledge and interaction with professional
businessmen.
Mulder had decided fifteen minutes back that he'd get nothing from the father.
When he saw the police officer take the little girl up the stairs, he leaned
over to
Vickers and told him to take over, then excused himself politely.
Mulder headed for the stairs. He wanted to talk with the sister. Only two
other
victims had siblings. In one case, an older brother by five years and in
another,
a younger sister by two years. This little girl was five years younger than her
brother. Still, even though the likelihood that she would know anything was
small, Mulder felt a pressing need to speak with her.
Kerry was sitting on her bed, gripping a doll, legs hanging over the side. She
was in a yellow dress with a white ruffled collar and puffy sleeves. She wore
white tights and tennis shoes with flowers.
The female officer sat a couple feet from Kerry towards the end of the bed,
holding another doll. The woman was speaking to the little girl so softly that
Mulder couldn't make out the words. He watched them for a moment more
before knocking lightly.
Mulder adopted his most relaxed posture and smile before walking closer to the
two. He nodded to the officer, then squatted down in front of Kerry.
"Hi, Kerry, my name is Fox Mulder."
Kerry ducked her head and squeezed her doll more tightly. Mulder wasn't sure
if it was shyness, the stress of the situation, or the fact that he was male.
He
caught the officer's eyes and gestured for her to stay where she was.
"That's a pretty doll. What's her name?"
Mulder still wasn't bothered by the nonresponsiveness. It was pretty typical
behavior given the circumstances.
"I bet her name is.... Doodles. No, wait, I think she looks more like a
Quigley.
Or maybe a Cheekerbee."
Kerry giggled softly and looked at Mulder from under her bangs. He was
starting to make progress.
"No? I didn't guess right? Well, you're going to have to tell me then. What's
her name?"
"Angel."
"That's a pretty name for a pretty doll. I bet she's a good friend."
Kerry nodded to him slightly, looking up at him once again, this time raising
her head slightly to do it.
"Does she go to school with you? Does she go outside with you when you
play?"
Kerry giggled again and shook her head.
"What do you like to play, Kerry? What's your favorite thing?"
"House."
Mulder smiled at her broadly and sat down on the floor, spreading his legs in
front of him, with a groan. Kerry giggled again and Mulder decided she was
going to be a heartbreaker in a few more years.
"I'm getting old, Kerry. It's hard to move anymore."
Kerry laughed out loud at his funny expression.
"I used to play house with my little sister. Her name was Samantha. But we
always used to fight over who was going to do the cooking."
Mulder and the police officer both smiled at Kerry's response.
"Does Robby ever play house with you, Kerry? I bet he trades you one game
of house for one game of GI Joe."
"Robby doesn't like to play but he does for me. He's the daddy when we
play."
"And I bet you're the mommy. Is Angel the baby?"
"Uh huh. And Robby never drops her."
"Well, that's a good thing."
Mulder paused a moment, glanced at the police officer to gage her reaction, then
decided to continue along the same track.
"Robby's a pretty good brother to play house with you. I bet he loves you a
lot."
Kerry scrunched up her nose and said, "Yeah, but he calls me a pest
sometimes."
Mulder genuinely laughed, thinking about the twelve year old brother being
badgered by his seven year old sister to play house. Not exactly the way
Mulder wanted to spend his afternoons at that age.
"And I bet you called him something back, right? But it doesn't mean you
don't love him."
Kerry looked shy again and nodded in agreement.
"Kerry, did you ever go places with Robby? You know, like to the store or to
the movies, anyplace with just you two?"
Kerry seemed to be concentrating hard, before responding.
"We get ice cream at the drug store. And Mommy drops us off at the movies.
And sometimes we go to the park. And ...." Kerry was again searching her
memory for anything they did alone. "And sometimes Robby takes me to
watch him practice basketball." Kerry smiled at Mulder, obviously proud for
remembering so many times.
"That's great, Kerry. I bet you have lots of fun when you go places with
Robby."
The little girl nodded to him again.
"Kerry, do you remember ever going anyplace with Robby, and maybe even
your Mommy or your Daddy were there, too, where there was someone
dressed sort of like me? In a suit with a tie?"
Mulder gestured at his outfit with one hand, still leaning back on the other.
Kerry again thought hard, one hand moving up to twirl her hair around a finger.
Mulder watched, fascinated, wondering if this was an instinctive gesture for all
little girls or whether there was a hair-twirling training school somewhere.
"Well, the doctor wear's a suit. And our principal at Open House. And the
dentist, sometimes. And the man in the clothes store where Mommy made
Robby get his suit that he didn't want."
Kerry took a deep breath, still obviously thinking hard. She was looking at
Mulder intently, studying how he was dressed, trying to remember any other
times she'd seen someone looking this way. Mulder didn't want to interrupt the
little girl. She was doing great.
"Mommy had to take us both to get certified for sports. That man wore a really
nice suit. He wasn't our doctor but he acted like a doctor. Mommy said he was
special just for sports. I play soccer and Robby plays basketball and baseball.
Mommy promised I can take ballet next year."
Mulder felt his stomach flip. He had to fight from jumping up and racing out of
the room. He forced a smile and said, "I bet you're going to be the greatest
ballerina ever, Kerry."
He started moving then, standing slowly so as not to startle the little girl.
He
bent over and held out his hand then, saying, "It was very nice to meet you,
Kerry. I had fun talking with you."
Kerry shook his hand and smiled up at him. It was the first time an adult had
ever shook her hand this way.
"Pleased to meet you, too."
She was obviously proud of her well-mannered response and Mulder smiled in
earnest when he dropped her hand. Nodding to the officer, he turned and left
the room. He had to speak with the mother immediately.
Mulder nodded to Vickers as he passed through the living room and headed
straight for Scully and Judy Andrews.
Scully caught her partner's face as he headed towards them. He was on to
something. The forcefulness of his presence stopped her in the middle of a
sentence. She quickly turned back to Mrs. Andrews again and gestured to her
partner, who had come to a stop to her left.
"Mrs. Andrews, this is my partner, Fox Mulder."
Judy Andrews was slightly confused and once more on the defensive. Scully
looked up at her partner, trying to send a silent message. Whether he got it or
not, he at least relaxed somewhat and pulled out a chair so he wouldn't tower
over the two women. When he spoke, Scully was relieved he'd adopted a
gentle tone.
"Hello, Mrs. Andrews. I'm very sorry this has happened to you and your
family. We're going to do everything we can to get Robby back to you,
quickly and safely."
Judy Andrews was reassured by his words and seemed to relax once again.
"Mrs. Andrews, I know Robby played basketball. He was on a team, right?"
"Yes, he played for in the city league this past year. They just finished their
season. His team placed third. Robby was the center."
"That's great, Mrs. Andrews. It sounds like he's only going to get better next
year."
Mulder tried to reinforce the idea that Robby would be back safe and sound,
once again doing all the things he would normally do.
"Mrs. Andrews, did Robby have to pass a physical to play for the team?"
"Yes, he had to get a sports certificate. Kerry, too. She plays soccer."
"Did you get the certificate from their doctor?"
"No, they'd already had their yearly physicals and I didn't want to pay for a
doctor's visit. A friend recommended a doctor who specializes in sports
injuries and has a discounted rate for sports certificates."
Mulder was nodding now, consciously telling himself to breathe slowly and
evenly. He flicked his eyes to his partner's face, recognizing that she knew
what was happening, had quickly reviewed past cases and remembered all the
children had participated in some sort of organized sports program.
"Mrs. Andrews, as part of our investigation we're trying to get information on
just about every adult the children might have come in contact with. It's very
important that we're thorough. Could we get this doctor's name, perhaps?
And the address of the clinic you went to?"
"Well, yes, of course. I don't have his name. I don't really remember it.
It's
been a while. But I set up the appointment through the Women's and
Children's Health Clinic on Roosevelt. They might have a record. And I
suppose it would say on the certificates, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, Mrs. Andrews. Thank you. You've been very helpful." Mulder again
fought the urge to race out of the room. He knew how important it was to
maintain good relations with the parents at this point. After they got Robby
back, then social services could intervene. Right now, he needed them on his
side.
Mulder stood and held out his hand to the woman, again speaking gently.
"Mrs. Andrews, good bye for now. We'll inform you of any developments
immediately."
He left the room and headed for Vickers, knowing Scully would be along as
soon as she made her farewells. Mulder caught Vickers' eye and nodded
towards the door. Vickers wrapped up his conversation with the father and
stood to join Mulder and Scully at the front door. He could see from their
expressions that something had happened. They got something.
Safely outside, Vickers looked around to make sure no one could hear and
asked, "What've you got, Mulder?"
"Last fall, the boy was seen by a doctor at a clinic for a sports certification
so he
could play basketball. All the kids played on various teams. We never thought
it was important because they were all different sports and had different
doctors. But what if they all went to this guy for a special sports
certification?"
Vickers was already moving to his car, phone at his ear. He turned back
slightly to the two agents to say, "Meet you back at the Bureau." He collected
the other agent who'd come with him, leaving instructions for the other to stay
with the family in case of a phone call. They all knew there would be no call,
but procedures still had to be covered.
Mulder and Scully nodded to the police officer who'd originally driven them
there from the crime scene and asked him to bring them back to the Minneapolis
Bureau. Both agents headed for the back seat, knowing they needed to flesh
out the ramifications of their hypothesis.
Scully pulled out her phone and dialed a number, whispering 'Skinner' at her
partner's questioning look.
"Hello, sir, this is Scully. I thought you should know we're heading back. We
might have a lead. Vickers has his team checking into in now. We'll fill you
in
as soon as we get there...... Yes, sir..... Okay, sir."
Scully turned in her seat to face her partner as she closed her phone and
returned it to her purse.
"Mulder, Skinner says they've processed the crime scene. The blood belonged
to Robby. Nothing obvious right now that might have belonged to the
kidnapper."
Mulder acknowledged the news and slouched down in the seat, splayed knees
knocking into the front seat. He put his head back and closed his eyes,
thinking
about whether a doctor who specialized in sports certifications fit the profile.
He opened his eyes, rolled his head slightly, said, "It fits, Scully. It's
him."
Scully was nodding in agreement, but wasn't prepared to completely trust the
theory without proof.
"We'll find out for sure pretty soon, Mulder, but I think you're right. It
would
certainly fit the profile. He would have had access to all the right records,
as
well as to information regarding the abuse. Vickers will probably know
something by the time we get there."
**************************
Tuesday, 1:26 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau
Mulder was out of the car and up the steps before Scully had time to thank the
police officer. He flew through the reporters so fast they didn't have time to
even ask him anything. Scully ran after him, not willing to miss out on
Vickers' report. Her partner was waiting for her just inside the doors, looking
slightly sheepish at ditching her yet again, even if it was only for a minute.
They were unaware of the fact that the young police officer had been swamped
with reporters on the way to the door. He'd only been on the force for a few
months and had been assigned to play gopher for the past two days. Driving
these agents around had been the most exciting thing that had happened to him
yet on the force. Being swamped by reporters had even topped that. They'd all
been briefed on the case. He knew not to talk. But some of the questions were
harmless. What difference did it make if he answered a couple of the easy
ones? Officer Bredlow wasn't aware at that moment that he'd just ended his
career with the St. Paul police force. It took a couple hours for complete
comprehension to set in. Long before then, the damage had been done.
The excitement was hard to resist and Mulder and Scully found themselves
jogging to the command center. As they burst in the outer conference room,
they were met by a cacophony created by the frenetic agents working
throughout the room. They'd obviously gotten the word. Vickers converged
on them at the door, a broad smile on his face.
"You were right, Mulder. We've confirmed with five of the mothers so far."
Mulder was almost afraid to ask.
"A name? You got a name?"
"Not yet, but soon. Don't worry, we'll have it soon."
Mulder realized Skinner was at his side, with Dave Jenkins.
"Mulder, we've got the press conference in an hour. What do you recommend
we give out?"
"Not a word of this, sir. It might scare him off." Mulder turned to Vickers
and
asked, "Will we have it by then?"
Vickers nodded, said merely, "Definitely. An hour at the outside."
Mulder nodded again, taking the information in and planning what the next
move should be. He took a deep breath and turned to Skinner and Jenkins.
"Sirs, we need to meet with as many of the team leaders as we can gather and
plan out various strategies depending on what Vickers' team comes up with.
We need to be ready to move in the next hour at least."
Dave Jenkins was already moving to gather the right people. Mulder, Scully
and Skinner headed towards the command center.
**************************
Tuesday, 2:11 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
"We got it!"
Salvatore crashed into the command center, quickly tossing sheets of paper on
the table to be passed around. He handed a few directly to Mulder who passed
the extras to Scully. Skinner and Jenkins had left for the press conference
just
fifteen minutes before. Mulder had been officially put in charge in their
absence.
Mulder quickly surveyed the sheet in front of him, stood and said, "Get your
teams together ASAP. We'll be going with Plan C."
Mulder turned to Salvatore and gestured him nearer.
"Have you found another property?"
"No, sir, not yet. Agent Vickers told me to tell you he expects they'll have
reviewed all records in the next fifteen minutes. He's anticipating they'll
turn
something up."
Mulder nodded in dismissal and turned back to Scully, a frown clearly evident.
"What do you think, Scully?"
"I don't know. There's no way he's got Robby at his house unless the wife's
involved and she doesn't seem the type from what it says here. I can see her
oblivious, but not really murderous."
Mulder continued looking at her intently, waiting for the rest.
"I agree that there has to be another property where he keeps them while he's
testing them. He doesn't have his own office, only the shared clinic, so we
know that's not an option. His house is out, for now at least. There has to be
an apartment or house somewhere that he's had access to for the past seven
months at least."
Mulder's eyes narrowed in concentration. Something Scully had said provoked
a stray thought. They still hadn't figured out what even had triggered the
killer's behavior. Maybe the other property was related to the event.
Mulder pulled out his cell phone and raised a finger to Scully, gesturing to her
to hold a minute.
"Vickers, where are you?" Mulder turned and headed out of the command
center, waving Scully to follow. "Scully and I are on our way. Stay there."
Mulder picked up the pace and said over his shoulder, "What if a parent or
sibling died and left it to him? It would fit, right?"
Scully was practically jogging and had to stop quickly as they reached the
office
Vickers had claimed as his own command center.
"Find out whether he had a parent or sibling die seven to eight months ago then
find out whether he was left any property."
Mulder could barely stand still but the room was too small to accommodate any
pacing. Mulder stood instead with arms tightly gripping his torso, fingers
white from the strain. Scully stood equally strained beside him, watching as
Vickers flipped through papers in front of him.
"Bingo. You're battin' a thousand Mulder. Brother died eight months ago. He
committed suicide. Left a house in the Deerwood region. That's fuckin' it.
It's gotta be."
Mulder nodded, recognizing the feeling of surety within himself. He looked
down at his partner who smiled at him. Scully was sure too.
"Okay, let's get AD Skinner and ASAC Jenkins involved in this immediately.
If they're still in the press conference, interrupt them. They can find a
reasonable excuse. We need them."
Mulder turned back to Scully and nodded towards the doorway. They headed
back to the large conference room at a slower pace than they had left it a few
minutes ago. They discovered that the team members had been gathered.
Everyone quieted when they entered. Mulder quickly walked towards the head
of the room and addressed them.
"We've identified the suspect and the location where we believe he has Robby
Andrews. I've got a team quietly scoping out the house and another trying to
track down the suspect's present location. AD Skinner and ASAC Jenkins are
on their way. As soon as we receive word from the investigative teams, we'll
be moving on Plan C, on which you've already been briefed. Start preparing
for departure within the half hour."
Mulder had just finished his briefing when a young agent came into the room,
coloring slightly as all attention turned on him. He quickly crossed the room
to
Mulder and Scully.
"Sir, ma'am. I think you better turn on Channel 4 immediately."
Mulder frowned at the man for a heartbeat, not sure what could be important
enough to interrupt them, but then moved immediately to the television set.
Turning it on to the right station, he increased the volume and stepped back.
"...once again, we have confirmed reports that the FBI have narrowed their
search in the Twin Cities Strangler case, and have possibly identified a
suspect.
Reportedly, Agent Fox Mulder, the FBI profiler who arrived last week from
Washington, DC, with partner Dana Scully, identified the connection between
the victims this afternoon."
Tape of Mulder standing by the car at the crime scene staring down the road
flashed on the screen followed by another of him and Scully racing up the steps
of the local Bureau office.
Mulder was speechless, then furious. He turned violently, searching the faces
around the room.
"What the fuck is this? Where did they get this from?"
Skinner and Jenkins had caught the tail end of the report, but were slightly
more
prepared for it. They'd been asked direct questions at the press conference
that
made it evident there was a leak somewhere. Skinner's voice was cold, not
matching at all the look of hot fury radiating from him.
"If someone here made a hasty comment the press picked up on, we need to
know .... now."
Skinner panned his gaze around the room and only saw agents in shock, upset
by the possibility of losing the suspect this close to the end. He was pretty
damned sure none of these agents had anything to do with the leak. Evidently
Mulder had arrived at the same conclusion because he had backed off. He
stood staring at the now blank screen, hands on his hips, head hanging to his
chest.
Scully took a step closer to him, put one hand on his arm, and asked, "How
does this change things, Mulder?"
Her partner took a deep breath and raised his head, stretching his neck one way,
then the other, before looking over to her.
"I'm not really sure. I think we have to move on the house immediately. We
can't wait to locate the suspect. If we do, something might happen to the boy."
Mulder looked to Jenkins and Skinner for confirmation. They understood what
he was saying. If they moved on the house without knowing the suspect's
location, they could scare him off and might never find him. If they waited,
something could happen to the boy. There really was no choice. They had to
get to Robby Andrews as soon as possible.
Skinner looked to Mulder and Scully and said, "Then let's do it."
Mulder turned to the group of agents and said, "We're going. Five minutes - in
the garage."
He turned to his partner and raised his eyebrows slightly. "You ready, Scully?"
"For anything, Mulder."
Scully strode past the three men and headed for the door.
Mulder grinned at her retreating back and then waved to Jenkins and Skinner as
he turned to go after her.
"See you soon, sirs. Wish us luck."
**************************
Tuesday, 3:28 p.m.
Minneapolis, Deerwood Region
The team was ready, everyone wore their vests and were in place, waiting for
the signal from Mulder. There had been no movement in or out for the past half
hour, at least. There was no evidence that the killer was there. Interviews
with
neighbors suggested he had left the house that morning around 10:30 a.m. It
was fast approaching 3:30 p.m. now. Mulder reviewed last minute instructions
and nodded to Scully. They were going in the front door. All other doors were
covered, with agents prepared to enter. Mulder gave the signal.
Agents simultaneously burst through the four doors in the house, yelling
'Federal Agents.' But there was no one visible to hear them. Mulder and
Scully headed for the stairs, Mulder climbing first, Scully just behind. In the
background they heard, "First floor clear."
Mulder gestured to Scully that he'd go left and she nodded understanding,
preparing to go right. They reached the top of the stairs and Mulder counted a
silent 1, 2, 3. They burst onto the landing, each kneeling, guns aimed straight
in front of them.
There was complete silence for a good thirty seconds as they froze, listening
for
any sound. Scully heard it finally, down the hall to the right. It was a soft
sound, quiet, intermittent. She signaled Mulder and they moved slowly down
the hallway. The door at the end of the hall was closed. Mulder grabbed the
knob lightly, attempting to turn it, but it was locked. He signaled Scully to
stand to the side, and kicked once, twice, and then the door jamb shattered,
allowing the door to fly inwards. Scully rolled into the room under her
partner's gun, then quickly pointed her own gun up towards the ceiling to avoid
any possibility of hurting the little boy lying against the far wall.
Both Mulder and Scully moved forward after confirming the room to be clear.
Robby lay against the wall, dressed in a baggy coverall and socks. He seemed
unable to sit, barely able to move, but he was still struggling, as if trying to
get
away from them. Scully squatted down beside him, speaking softly, trying to
calm him.
"It's okay, now, Robby. My name is Dana Scully and I'm a police officer.
You're going to be fine now. We're going to get you out of here in just a few
minutes."
Mulder was in the hall, instructing the agents to secure the scene and bring in
the paramedics. He returned to Scully's side, kneeling down to avoid
frightening the boy any more.
"Hi, Robby. I'm Agent Mulder. We're going to take you to the hospital to
make sure you're okay. Your Mom and Dad will meet you there, okay?"
He was relieved to see the boy nod slightly, evidently able to follow the
conversation. Mulder reached out to squeeze his arm gently, still worried about
scaring him, then moved away, leaving Scully to care for him. He headed out
of the house and pulled out his cell phone to call Skinner. Now all they had to
do was locate this son of a bitch and they could finally go home.
**************************
Scully squeezed Robby's hand once more before the paramedics took him from
the room. Suddenly, she was hit by a wave of dizziness that caused her to rest
one hand on the wall for support. The adrenaline rush had long since passed,
leaving her weak and shaky. She realized that Mulder wasn't the only one
being affected by sleep deprivation and lack of food. And if she was hit this
bad, he was probably worse. Scully decided to head outside to see how her
partner was doing.
He was sitting on the steps, leaning against a hand rail, evidently trying hard
to
ignore the police officers and federal agents around him. Scully pushed her
way through the bodies and sank down beside him, turning her head to get a
good look. Yep, she'd guessed right. Mulder looked like he was going to keel
over at any second.
"Hey, partner."
"Hey, Scully. How's the boy?"
"He'll be okay. He was drugged. We'll know more when they run the tox
screen. It'll be something that dissipates with no trace after 24 hours and was
probably ingested or inhaled. We know that much already."
Scully leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees, resting her head on
top. "Maybe chloroform." She could hear her words dragging. She sounded
exhausted even to her own ears.
"Scully, you sound tired. Why don't you head back to the hotel for a bit?"
Scully grinned wryly, once again lifting her head to look at her partner.
"Yeah, Mulder. If you will, too. I might sound tired, but you look terrible."
Mulder hadn't moved. Didn't really have the energy. He knew she was right,
but they still had work to do. But damn, it was hard to even think about
moving.
Skinner found them there ten minutes later. He took in their washed out
appearances, the fact that neither moved when he approached, and recognized
imminent collapse.
" Scully, Mulder, good work. The boy's fine. His parents are already on the
way to the hospital."
Skinner cleared his throat and rocked from one foot to the other. Mulder sensed
something was up. Their boss was afraid to tell them something. Mulder
dragged his head up, tilting it to look at Skinner.
"What? What's happened?"
"Nothing, Mulder. Tresky and Vickers are handling the search for Brandon.
They'll call as soon as anything breaks."
Scully was looking up at Skinner now as well, having sensed the same thing as
her partner had.
"Sir? What aren't you telling us?"
Skinner looked sheepish, turned away for a second, then looked back at his
agents.
"The press is here in force. I want you to talk with them for a minute. Play
nice."
He had to finish the words over his agent's joint groans.
"It's important, Agents. We're also ready to release information on Brandon. I
want his picture plastered everywhere. After the interview, we're heading back
to the hotel for a few hours. You both look like you're about to drop."
Skinner was observing his agents with honest concern, now.
"Seriously, do you think you can talk with them for just a minute?"
Mulder glanced over at his partner, raising his eyebrows.
"Come on, Scully. Get prettied up for the cameras. You need to lose the vest,
brush you hair, put on some more make .....Ouch, that hurt, Scully."
Mulder dragged himself up, rubbing his left arm, and then reached down to
give his partner a hand up, grin on his face.
"We'll be fine, sir. Let's go, Scully."
Mulder and Scully both started towards the street, shedding FBI jackets and
vests as they went. Skinner gestured to a young cop who retrieved them and
headed off.
Skinner was slightly amused at the sight of Mulder and Scully simultaneously
straightening suits, refastening buttons, and running hands through hair. Still
walking, Mulder turned to his partner and gestured down at himself. Not
breaking stride, Scully leaned towards him, reached up and pulled at the knot of
his tie, then nodded to him. He pushed a stray strand of hair from one side of
her head to the other, then said, "You look good, Scully." He was rewarded
with a smile that went far to brighten up his day.
**************************
Tuesday, 5:51 p.m.
Minneapolis, En Route to Center Hotel
Skinner thought the impromptu press conference went well. Mulder and Scully
looked like pros in front of the cameras. They knew just what to say, how to
say it, and looked good doing it. Right now, Elijah Brandon's photo was being
broadcast on every channel in the Twin Cities area as well as on the national
news. Mulder and Scully were heroes, with kudos going to the St. Paul and
Minneapolis police forces, as well as the local bureau and all the agents
working
on the case.
He looked back at his agents, both of whom were again fast asleep in the back
seat of the car. He'd instructed the driver to take them back to the hotel.
Skinner knew the case was far from over with Brandon still on the run, but his
agents needed sleep and food.
The young agent who'd been lucky enough to pull driver duty pulled in front of
the hotel and cleared his throat nervously. "Here we are, sir."
Skinner got out of the car slowly and opened the back door, making sure no
body parts fell out as he did so. Mulder's body started spilling through the
opening, forcing Skinner to grab at his knee and shoulder.
"Mulder, wake up. We're at the hotel."
Mulder pulled his knees and arms in close, turning to the left in the car's
seat,
still fast asleep.
"Come on, Mulder. Mulder."
Skinner was a little more forceful in shaking his agent's shoulder.
"Wha..?? Whazzit??"
"We're at the hotel. Wake up. And wake up Scully, too. Come on."
Mulder could barely move. He groggily looked up at his boss through sleep
clouded eyes, wondering why the man couldn't just go away and leave him
alone. It finally sunk in. They were in a car. They were in front of the
hotel.
Hotel equaled bed. Bed equaled sleep. Sleep equaled possibility of feeling
human once again in the near future. He forced himself to sit straighter, then
turned to his partner, rubbing her arm lightly.
"Hey, Scully, rise and shine. We're at the hotel. Come on, Scully, wake up so
we can go to sleep."
Well, it made sense to him. And it made Scully smile. She dragged one eye
open and squinted at him with it.
"Come on, AD Skinner's waiting for us."
"Okay, okay, Mulder. Let me scoot out."
Mulder finally dragged himself out of the car, keeping one hand on the car's
door frame for support. He leaned down and into the open door and offered his
partner his other hand. Spots danced in front of his eyes as he stood straight
once again.
For her part, Scully was happy for the help. She wasn't sure she'd be able to
make it out of the car without it.
Skinner was becoming more concerned by the second. He knew they were
exhausted, but this was really stretching it. His agents seemed unable to
perform the most simple tasks. Maybe they needed to be checked out by a
doctor. He decided to make sure they ate some of the dinner he'd ordered
before letting them sleep again.
Skinner had to laugh at himself. If anyone had told him a month ago that he'd
be playing mother hen to Fox Mulder , he'd have laughed himself silly. Yet
here he was, playing surrogate parent to both Mulder and Scully. But damned
if they didn't need someone taking care of them. And it wasn't such a stretch,
after all. They trusted him, he knew that. He was pretty sure they respected
him - most of the time.
"Mulder, Scully, let's go to the suite. I called in an order for food. It
should be
there already."
Both his agents grimaced at the thought, but said nothing.
"Consider it an order. You haven't had anything since breakfast and I'd prefer
you not pass out on me. We're still going to have a full night ahead of us."
They were at the suite door. Mulder leaned against the wall and Scully leaned
against him. Neither seemed shy at the fact that their boss stood with them.
Skinner finally got the door open and was relieved to see a cart with several
trays sitting on it. He held the door open and physically guided Scully and
then
Mulder through it and over to the dining room table.
They were basically on auto-pilot, following his instructions, going where he
directed them. Skinner put a plate in front of each of them and said, "Eat,"
then
pulled over a plate for himself. He passed beverages around the table and was
relieved to see both his agents eating without argument.
No one spoke, too exhausted to waste the energy on such an unnecessary
function. After some ten minutes, Skinner noticed that Mulder hadn't moved in
awhile. The younger man had his right arm propped on the table, loaded fork
held about three or four inches from his face. His left elbow was also on the
table, his head propped on raised fist. Mulder's eyes were closed and his
mouth was open slightly. Skinner was pretty sure he was fast asleep. It was
the damnedest thing he'd ever seen. Skinner turned to Scully and saw that
she'd done the more expedient thing. She'd pushed her plate back slightly and
had laid her head on the table. A few stray auburn strands lay in uneaten
mashed potato. He looked back and forth between the two of them, a small
smile on his face.
Skinner took a last bite of his dinner, swallowed down the rest of his water,
then pushed himself away from the table carefully. He stood and surveyed the
situation for a heartbeat before deciding to take care of Mulder first. He
leaned
over his agent slightly, removed the fork from his right hand, took his arm and
said, "Mulder, stand up. We need to get you into your bedroom."
Some small part of the younger man's brain must have still been processing
input because he made it to his feet, still never opening his eyes. Skinner
half
carried, half led his sleeping agent to his room, and sat him down on the bed.
After removing the man's jacket, gun and tie, unfastening several shirt buttons,
and taking off his shoes, Skinner pushed Mulder down flat, raised his legs to
the bed, and pulled a blanket up over his shoulders. Skinner stood and looked
down at his sleeping agent for a moment, making sure he lay comfortably, then
returned to the front room.
Scully was a different matter. Skinner wasn't quite so confident about
manhandling her. He knelt down beside her, a hand on her arm, and spoke
softly.
"Agent Scully. Dana. Let me help you across the hall to your room."
Scully jerked upright, was immediately alert and aware of her surroundings.
"Sorry, sir. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you. Where's Mulder?"
"I already put him to bed, Scully. Now it's your turn."
Skinner colored a deep red when he realized what he'd said. Scully laughed
softly, understanding the intent of his words, and stood slowly, stretching out
stiff muscles as she did so.
"It's okay, sir, I think I can make it on my own."
"Ummm, Agent Scully?"
Scully turned to look at him, curious as to why he seemed so uneasy. He had a
napkin in his hand that he kept gesturing with, awkwardly. "Yes, sir?"
Skinner couldn't take it any more. The mashed potatoes and gravy in Scully's
hair were driving him crazy. He finally just took a step forward, raised the
napkin to her hair and mumbled, "You fell asleep in your mashed potatoes,
Scully."
Scully couldn't help laughing as he evidently got the last of it out. She was
pretty sure she'd never fallen asleep in food before. She gripped his arm in
silent thanks and pulled her key out of her pocket. "Thank you, sir. I'll see
you in a few hours."
"Sleep well, Scully. I'll wake you both up when you're needed back at the
Bureau."
Scully nodded to her boss and headed to her room, thoughts of warm water,
clean hair, crisp sheets and soft beds filling her thoughts.
**************************
Tuesday, 9:09 p.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
The phone was ringing. It wouldn't stop, no matter how much he ignored it.
Mulder opened an eye and glared at it. It still wouldn't stop. He reached out
a
hand and grabbed it off the hook, holding it to his ear. "Ya?"
"Mulder, it's Vickers. We're gonna need you pretty soon over here. We're
trying to figure out where this character might have gone and we're striking
out.
We could use you, buddy."
"Okay, give me a half hour...or so."
Mulder tossed the phone onto the table, not even bothering to hang it up, and
looked around. He was lying on top of the covers (again) with a blanket draped
over him. His shoes were by the side of the bed, his tie was laid out on the
table next to his gun, his suit jacket was draped carefully over a chair. Huh.
Not his style. Too neat.
Mulder sat up, stretched out protesting muscles carefully, and looked blearily
at
the clock. 9:12 p.m. He must have slept for two hours or so. It seemed like
moments. He must have really been tired. Mulder dragged himself off the bed
and headed into the bathroom to freshen up.
**************************
The outer room was empty, as was Skinner's room. Mulder figured his boss
was at the Bureau already. He picked up the phone and dialed Scully's room,
then wondered if perhaps she was also at the Bureau when she hadn't answered
after twenty rings. Maybe she was in the shower. Mulder was just about ready
to head out when the door opened and his boss walked in.
Skinner smiled slightly on seeing his agent up and functioning, and said,
"Agent Mulder, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, sir. Still a little tired, but at least I can stand straight."
Skinner had bent down to pick up a package that had been slipped under the
door. Mulder's name was on it. He held it out to his agent, and said, "This is
for you, Mulder."
Mulder had been distracted and hadn't really noticed what Skinner was doing.
He was again trying to get Scully in her room and was still having no luck.
As Mulder walked across the room to retrieve whatever Skinner had for him he
asked, "Sir, is Scully already at the Bureau?"
Skinner immediately frowned at the question, then looked confused. "No,
she's still in her room."
Mulder's hand was inches from the package when Skinner's words hit him.
Something was wrong. He looked down at the large envelope being held out to
him and noticed his name - Agent Fox Mulder - written in a messy cursive
scrawl. Mulder felt his stomach clench and his insides flip.
"Sir, could you place it on the table, please?"
Skinner was confused. He sensed that something was wrong, that Mulder had
tensed, but wasn't sure why and what the envelope could have to do with it.
He placed the package carefully on the table.
"What, Mulder? What's wrong?"
Mulder shook his head, wondering to himself whether he was being overly
paranoid.
"Sir, will you please check on Scully? If she doesn't answer the door, have
management open it. But make sure you don't touch anything without gloves."
Skinner was now even more disturbed at these instructions. Just what did
Mulder suspect?
Mulder removed latex gloves from his briefcase and sat at the table, pausing
before touching the large envelope. He prayed he was again being overly
paranoid, then slowly undid the clasp, opened the flap and looked inside. He
gingerly took one corner of the paper inside and slipped it out, careful not to
smudge any prints that might be on it. When he saw the note, he knew he
wasn't being paranoid at all.
Mulder sank back in the chair, stunned. In the background he heard Skinner
entering the suite, a babble of voices coming from the hall. The man had his
cell phone to his ear and was speaking intently as he approached Mulder.
He flipped the phone closed and looked from Mulder's face to the table where
the note sat on top of the open envelope. In the same cursive script as was on
the envelope was written,
Agent Mulder,
You had no right to take Robby from me. I want him
back. He belongs with me, not with those people he
calls his parents. They can't love him like I can.
When you give me Robby, I'll give you your partner.
Elijah
Mulder sat unmoving, stunned, absolutely white, face drained of all blood.
Skinner gripped his shoulder tightly, trying to let the younger man know he
was there, he understood what this meant, and he'd do everything in his power
to make it right. Skinner cleared his throat, not sure whether his voice would
be steady or not.
"Mulder, Janice is bringing a team over immediately to canvass the scene. I've
got the manager pulling out all video surveillance tapes from the last 24 hours,
starting backwards from now. Tresky and Vickers are sending teams to review
them and interview staff and guests. We'll get her back, Mulder, don't worry."
Skinner's heart skipped a beat at the wretched expression Mulder now wore.
The younger man looked up at him, partly in confusion, partly in anguish, eyes
blurry with unshed tears. Probably wondering when it would all end.
"Mulder, I'm sorry. I should have thought, I should have ...."
"No, sir. How could you have guessed this would happen? I'm supposed to
be the behavioral specialist and it never occurred to me."
Skinner was relieved that Mulder wasn't blaming himself. At least not yet. He
sighed deeply and sank into the chair next to Mulder, resting his arms on the
table in front of him, but making sure not to touch the envelope and letter.
"Okay, Mulder, what's next?"
Mulder pushed the chair back away from the table, put both hands up to his face
and scrubbed almost violently, trying to clear his thoughts. He had to be sharp
- he had to be sharp for Scully.
"I need to get to the bureau office. He'll go somewhere. Somewhere he
knows, where he feels safe. He'll take Scully there. I had the computer
analysts checking on something for me earlier. It might help now."
Mulder looked over at his boss, weariness seeping away as he turned his
attention to the issues at hand.
"Sir, I'd like you to stay here to run things, if that's okay. It has to be
done
right."
Skinner nodded to his agent, feeling oddly gratified that Mulder had placed such
trust in him.
"I'll meet you at the command center as soon as we're done here. Call me if
you need anything or find out anything."
Agents were coming in the open door, quietly and reserved, appreciating the
blow of Scully's abduction on the two men sitting at the table. Crowley and
Salvatore stood to one side of the door, waiting to be noticed, a couple of more
junior agents standing behind them.
Mulder looked over at them, then back at his boss, stood and moved to put on
his overcoat. He pulled out his gun, checking to make sure it was loaded -- a
totally unnecessary action, but one that reassured him in some way -- then
pushed it securely back in its holster.
Skinner had no doubts what was going through the man's mind.
Mulder looked at his boss and said, "I'll call, sir. And I'll look forward to
hearing what you find here."
Mulder nodded to his boss and the agents at the door as he breezed past, once
again inscrutable.
**************************
Tuesday, 10:28 p.m.
Unknown location
It was cold and dark. Scully felt sick. She tried to remember what had
happened, where she was. The last thing she could recall was leaving the suite
to go to her room. Then this.
Scully tried to sit and was immediately sorry. She fought to avoid being sick
and finally felt her stomach settle slightly. She tried to adjust her eyes to
the
darkness, hoping to eventually make out something of her surroundings.
Gradually, she was able to make out undefined shapes, boxes, shelves. She
decided she was in a basement or a cellar. No windows were apparent, but the
soft light was coming from somewhere.
Scully pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Resting her head lightly on her knees, she tried to gather her scattered
thoughts.
It was all confused. She knew she must have been drugged in some way.
Then, a flash of a hand in front of her face, cloth in palm, intruded in her
thoughts. She was starting to remember. It had to be Elijah Brandon. It was
his MO She had just confirmed that he used chloroform to subdue Robby and
now she was a victim of it herself.
Scully attempted to reason out what her partner and AD Skinner would be
doing. It was most likely three or so hours since she'd been taken. By now
they would have discovered her missing. Would they put it together? Would
they figure out it was Brandon?
Scully couldn't count on their making that leap. She would have to get herself
out of this mess. She lifted her head from her knees and looked around at her
surroundings more carefully. She tried to envision what this place could be.
After all, the house where Robby had been kept and Brandon's own home were
no longer in play. Where could this be?
Scully decided she was strong enough to stand so she released her knees, put
one hand on the floor and tried to move herself upright. She eventually
managed the feat, grabbing a shelf to help maintain her balance. She decided
the first order of business was to determine where the faint light was coming
from, since that might actually provide an avenue of exit from her dungeon.
Even better, she decided to look for a light switch.
Scully started feeling her way around her prison, gradually identifying what
was what. The entire room felt old. She couldn't really explain it. There was
a
smell of mustiness, of disuse. The shelves were, for the most part, barren.
The boxes were mostly empty and what they did contain was of no worth and
provided no clues as to where she was. There was an eclectic mix of old sports
equipment, books, clothing, and toys. She established that there was no
electricity after flipping numerous switches around the room on and off. Scully
found the door, but no knob. There was no obvious way to open it. After
spending about five minutes trying, she decided to come back to it, once she'd
completed her circuit.
After an hour of searching the room, trying the door, feeling for alternate
exits,
Scully was exhausted and discouraged. She needed to rest for just a little
while. She lay back down on the floor, curled on her side and drifted to sleep.
Her last thought before finally falling asleep was that she missed her partner.
Scully wasn't aware, an hour later, of the man who entered the basement and
then moved to stand over her, motionless for several minutes. He finally turned
and walked away, his right hand carrying Scully's gun. He decided he liked
the way it felt in his hand, the smoothness, the texture, the weight. There was
an elegance to it. It seemed so natural, he wondered why he'd never gotten a
gun before.
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