XxXxX

Chapter Four

XxXxX


Detective Kazdin and Chief Purcell were drinking coffee and 
discussing a recent mugging when Mulder and I returned to the 
station.  "Well, did you arrest Fluffy?" Purcell asked with a 
grin.  "Maybe she left some catnip at the scene of the crime 
-- that would really nail her."

"We didn't get to speak to the initial complainant," Mulder 
said.  "Mary Centara died a few weeks ago."  He cocked his 
head at Purcell.  "But then again you already knew that, 
didn't you?  Mary was your grandmother."

Purcell halted in mid swig.  "I didn't realize it was Mary 
who had called about the fires.  But to answer your question, 
no.  She wasn't my grandmother.  She was Katherine's mother."

"Kat's mother," Mulder agreed, and Kazdin sputtered in his 
coffee cup.

"Kat?  The Kat?"  He recovered and cast a swift look at 
Purcell.  "Sorry there, Andy...it's just, well...shit.  You 
know."

Purcell frowned.  "I don't know.  Frankly, I don't see how 
this has anything to do with anything.  Mary was a sick 
woman, and my stepmother died many years ago."

"Is this her?" I handed over the picture from the nursing 
home, and Purcell nodded once before thrusting it back at me.

"Excuse me if I don't include it in the family album."

Mulder made himself at home on the corner of Kazdin's desk.  
"You and Katherine didn't get along?"

"We got along fine."  Purcell set his mug down and folded his 
arms over his chest, sizing Mulder up.  "You want to tell me 
why my family history is suddenly FBI business?"

"We talked to someone who said Katherine was involved in a 
fire setting incident when she was young," I said, and 
Purcell jerked his gaze to me.

"Katherine is dead," he said, narrowing his eyes. 

"But her daughter isn't."  I held up the photo again, and 
Purcell snatched it away.

"You leave Lee-Lee out of this.  It's got nothing do with 
her, and I will not have you bothering her with this 
horseshit, understand?"

"Easy, Andy."  Kazdin got up from his chair.  "They're not 
saying she did anything wrong."  He looked at us.  "Are you?"

"No, but we think she may have been at the fire on September 
twelfth," I said.

"And then Mary saw her on the news," Kazdin concluded.  "It's 
a possibility.  The fires always draw a pretty big crowd."

"So maybe she was there," Purcell said.  "So what.  Like John 
said, we get a hundred gawkers at every one of these things."

I glanced at Mulder to see what he thought of this argument, 
since Purcell did have a valid point.  Purcell caught our 
silent exchange and scowled.

"It's about her name, isn't it?  Kazdin here put a bug up 
your ass about witches, and now you're thinking Lee-Lee had 
something to do with those fires.  Look, Katherine was the 
one obsessed with that story, not Lee-Lee.  Lee-Lee's never 
had a dishonest day in her life, and she's paid a high price 
for what her mother did.  Now, you poke around the fire sites 
all you want, question folks up and down Main Street -- I 
don't care.  But you stay the hell away from Lee-Lee."

He stalked off in the direction of his office, and Mulder 
turned to Kazdin.  "What did he mean about Lee-Lee paying for 
her mother's actions?  Katherine went to prison, didn't she?"

"Murder one.  I was in high school at the time, but her trial 
was big news around here."  He craned his neck around to 
glance at Purcell, who was visible through the glass windows 
of his office.  "Come outside with me for a minute.  I could 
use a smoke."

He picked up a pack of Marlboros from his desk, and we 
followed him out the front door.  It took half a cigarette 
for him to talk again.

"The woman at the home...did she tell you why Kat got sent 
up?  I mean, did she tell you any details?"

"No," Mulder said, hunching against the wind.

Kazdin nodded and took another long drag.  "Thought as much.  
Folks don't talk about it anymore, especially now that Carson 
Purcell is the mayor."  

I hadn't considered the political aspect.  "It's hard to 
believe the town would elect a man whose wife was a 
murderer."

"Oh, no...that's just it.  Deep down I think folks felt sorry 
for him.  Sorry for the whole family, really.  Kat may have 
been a little crazy, but people understood why she did what 
she did.  I mean, imagine how you would act if you found out 
your brother was sleeping with your fifteen year-old 
daughter."

"What?"  I felt my stomach turn over.  Suddenly I understood 
why the young woman in the diner had looked like she wanted 
to disappear inside her clothes.

"Yeah, the whole mess came out at the trial.  Kat found some 
dirty pictures and figured out it was Abe who took them.  She 
shot the sonofabitch that night."  He shook his head.  "Poor 
Lee-Lee, she took it real hard.  Had some kind of a nervous 
breakdown.  She was in the hospital until a few months ago, 
which is probably why Andy doesn't want you talking to her." 

"She was in a mental hospital for fifteen years?" Mulder 
asked.

Kazdin shrugged.  "Like I said, she took it hard.  Seems okay 
now, though."

As Mulder had done the math in one direction, I was 
subtracting in the other.  "When was Lee-Lee released?"

"Let's see now..."  Kazdin scrunched his face as he thought.  
"I guess it was back in April.  Yeah, that's right.  Andy and 
me and some of the other guys went to opening day at Fenway, 
and Lee-Lee came along."  He grinned.  "The Sox trounced the 
Tigers, eight to two."

Seven months ago, I tallied.  Just weeks before the first 
fire.  From the grim set of Mulder's mouth, I could see he 
had made the connection as well.  Kazdin wasn't far behind.

"Shit."  He stomped out his cigarette on the ground, then 
shook his head.  "No, I can't believe it.  What's her 
motive?"

"I don't know," Mulder answered.  "But I think it's about 
time someone asked her."  He touched my elbow and drew me 
aside.  "Scully, I think you should be the one to go talk to 
her.  I'll go with Kazdin and check out the fire sites."

"You don't want to talk to her?"  This was Mulder's forte, 
drawing out stories from wounded women.  A few sympathetic 
questions and they would spin their life history for him.  
Maybe that was one reason I kept my own painful memories 
tucked away inside -- I wasn't ready to be just another 
victim, another medium he used to contact the unexplained.

"No, I definitely want to talk to her."  Mulder kept his 
voice low, his back to Kazdin.  "But if what he says is true, 
Lee-Lee might respond better to a woman.  Besides, she likes 
you better anyway."

"What?"

"You got the bigger muffin," he said.

So I went to the diner alone.

XxXxX

Lee-Lee's shift was over at the diner, but the manager 
directed me to her house. It turned out to be a pale blue 
Cape with white shutters and a neatly trimmed lawn.  A green 
Ford Explorer was parked in the drive.  Either Kit-n-Carl's 
had some impressive tippers or her family was helping with 
her living costs. 

I was about to ring the bell when I heard voices coming from 
the inside -- a man and a woman, and they were arguing. "What 
good would it do now?" said the man.

I did not catch her response, but the man was not pleased.

"That's shit, Lee-Lee, and you know it!" 

"Andy said..."

"Fuck Andy.  This isn't about Andy.  Look, you've just got 
to..."  He lowered his voice so I missed the rest of his 
instructions.  A few seconds later, I heard him mention 
"investigation" and "the FBI."  Must be my cue.

I rang the bell, and the door opened to reveal Lee-Lee 
Centara.  She was older than I'd thought originally, nearer 
my own age.  Her face was white and her eyes were tired, but 
there was no trace of the tears I had expected from the sound 
of the argument.  Perhaps she was tougher than she looked.  
"Can I help you?" she asked, wedging her body in the door so 
I could not see inside.

"Dana Scully," I said as I showed her my ID.  "I'd like to 
talk to you for a few minutes if that's okay."

"About the fires?" I nodded, and she bit her lip.   "I'm 
afraid I can't help you."

I raised my eyebrows a touch.  "Can't or won't?" 

"Can't," she replied with more fortitude, squaring her 
shoulders in the doorway.  "I don't know anything."

"Then it wouldn't hurt to hear my questions, would it?"

She hesitated a moment, then glanced behind her into the 
house.  "No...I guess not."

"Lee-Lee, who's at the door?" called the voice from inside.  
She didn't answer but moved so I could enter.  I stepped into 
the tiny entryway and found myself facing a slimmer, blonder 
version of Andy Purcell.  "Who are you?" he asked, frowning.

"Jeff, please."  A hint of color crept across Lee-Lee's face.

"Dana Scully, FBI," I answered.  "Who are you?"

"Jeff Purcell.  I'm her stepbrother.  Does Andy know you're 
here?"

"Yes," I lied, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"What do you want with Lee-Lee?"  

"I just want to ask her a few questions."

"About the fires," Lee-Lee added, and he turned his gaze on 
her.  "I told her I didn't know anything."

"Of course you don't.  But then what's with the questions?  
Lee-Lee, you know you don't have to talk to her.  She's got 
no legal right to be in here, and you don't have to answer 
anything you don't want to."

It seemed to me that he was the one who didn't want to answer 
the questions.  Lee-Lee must have sensed my curiosity rising 
because she began herding him towards the door.  "It's fine, 
Jeff.  If I don't do this now, she'll just come back another 
time."

Jeff balked in the door as she handed him his coat.  "I don't 
like this, Lee-Lee.  You should have someone here with you.  
You should call Andy or Dad and..."

"It's just a few questions," she insisted.  "Let me handle 
this, okay?"

He sent me a cutting glare and turned so she was hidden 
behind his back.  "This is the big time, Lee-Lee," he said in 
a fierce whisper.  "The Feds don't mess around.  You should 
have someone here to protect your interests."

"I know what my interests are," she replied clearly, making 
no effort to match his hushed tone.  "I promise I'll be 
fine."

There was a tense moment of silence, then Jeff stepped around 
her to the door.  "I'll call you later," he said, and to me 
it sounded like a warning.  

Lee-Lee seemed relieved to have him gone. "Sorry about that," 
she said.  "He and Andy have been pretty protective of me 
ever since..."

"Ever since you got out of the hospital?" I finished gently.

She hesitated and then gave a quick nod.  "I guess I don't 
blame them, but it's frustrating sometimes.  I feel like I 
just got my life back, and now it should be up to me what to 
do with it, you know?"

I did know.  I remembered the breathless seconds that 
followed my doctor's announcement, how it felt to live a 
miracle.  "What do you want to do?" I asked as I followed her 
to the sofa.

She shrugged and ducked her head.  "I don't know.  When I was 
young I wanted to travel.  There were pictures in our 
geography book of India, China...places that seemed so 
different from here.  I used to imagine what it might be like 
to live somewhere else."

I thought of the trial and the allegations of incest.  No 
wonder she had wanted to get away.  "Perhaps now you can find 
out," I said.

"No."  Her face became shadowed.  "No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."  She drew her legs up under her and sucked 
her hands into her sweater sleeves.  "So what did you want to 
ask me?  I told you I don't really know anything."

"Yes, I know what you said, but you also didn't seem very 
surprised to have me show up here this afternoon." 

"Wouldn't you expect it?  You're not the first one to wonder 
about my name.  Jeff said you would probably be coming 
around."

"You think I'm here because of your name?"

"Aren't you?"  She looked confused.  "Haven't you heard the 
story about her?"

"Yes, I've heard the story.  I think it's very sad."

Lee-Lee nodded and turned to look out the window toward the 
setting sun.  The light turned her eyes almost black.  "My 
mother believed it, you know.  She believed Elysian was a 
witch and that she would come back one day to burn the town.  
That's why she named me after her, so that I might escape the 
fire."

"So far it seems to be working."

She jerked her gaze back to me.  "I'm not setting those 
fires."

"I didn't say you were.  But you were there when they 
happened."

"Afterward, yes.  Everyone was there."  She twisted her hands 
in her lap.  

"The fires started just a few weeks after you came back to 
live here.  Doesn't that seem odd?"

Her eyes filled with tears.  "I'm well now," she said 
miserably.  "Everyone said so.  It wasn't supposed to be like 
this."

She sniffled and I searched my pocket for a tissue.  I found 
several with deep creases from where they had been wedged 
aside, suddenly and wonderfully useless. 

"You think your illness has some connection to the fires?"  I 
asked as she wiped her eyes, and I made a mental note to talk 
to her doctors about her stay in the mental hospital.  Maybe 
it hadn't been just a nervous breakdown after all.

"No, not like you think.  I just..."  She broke off with a 
sniffle.

"Just what?"

"Sometimes...sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't have come 
back here.  Maybe it's too late."

Jeff had been saying something along those lines when I 
arrived, but I still didn't understand the reference. "Too 
late for what?"

She shook her head.  "I'm sorry.  I wish I could help you, 
really I do.  No one wants this to stop more than me."

"Then help us catch the killer.  Anything you've seen or 
heard that might help, no matter how small it seems, please 
tell me."

"I don't know anything."  For the first time since the 
conversation had started, I felt sure she was lying to me.  
But I had no proof, no leverage with which to push her.  She 
got up from the couch and went to stand near the door.  "I 
think you should go now."

I searched for some way to keep the conversation going but 
found none, so I stood to leave.  As I reached the door, I 
handed her my card with the hotel number scribbled on the 
back.  "If you think of anything, please call me."

She studied the FBI logo for a long moment.  "I heard you 
investigate impossible things," she said.

"In a way, yes.  But I would say the cases are surprising, 
not impossible."

She looked at the card again and then back up at me.  "Do you 
think if you believe in something hard enough you can make it 
true?"

"I believe you should be careful what you wish for."

She shut the door behind me without a reply, but I could feel 
her watching as I drove away.

XxXxX

Back at Cathleen Duncan's house, I decided to go for a run 
before Mulder returned.  It was an activity I'd embraced with 
gusto since my recovery.  No longer fatigued or nauseated, I 
relished the feel of the pavement pounding against my feet as 
my legs carried me swiftly along.   With each step I was 
making friends with my body again, believing in its strength 
and sweating out the sense of betrayal.   

I did six miles and met Mulder in the hall on my way to the 
shower.  Dressed only in sweatpants, he was leaving the 
bathroom as I was heading in.  I tried not to watch the 
errant droplets sliding along his collarbone.  "Hey," he 
greeted me as he rubbed his head with a towel.  "How did it 
go with Lee-Lee?"

"It was interesting.  I got to meet stepbrother number two."

"Oh, yeah?"

"They were arguing when I got there but hushed it up quickly 
after that.  He was not thrilled when he found out the 
purpose of my visit."

"Did he let you talk to her?"

"Yes, she kicked him out, and I think it's a safe bet he ran 
to Chief Purcell with the whole story.  I'll tell you all 
about it after I shower, okay?"

He nodded.  "Should be a good conversation.  I've got my own 
two cents to add."

I took over the bathroom and stripped out of my robe.  As I 
stepped into the tub, my nipples hardened, kissed by Mulder's 
steam.  My body warmed to the wet embrace, and when I turned 
the slippery handle I groaned with the pipes as the hot spray 
came to life over my head. 

The shower lasted a little longer than usual.




When I returned to my room he was sprawled on top of my bed, 
but at least he had added a tee-shirt to his attire.  "Hot 
shower?" he asked, and I was glad the water had already 
pinkened my skin.  

"I have to get dressed, Mulder."

"Who's stopping you?"

"Mulder."

"Okay, okay."  He got up and pulled a stack of print outs 
from my bedside table.  "I just wanted to show you these."

As he handed me the images, he stood so close I could smell 
the traces of soap on his skin. "What am I looking at here?"

"These are crowd scenes printed from news footage from each 
of the fires.  Kazdin slipped them to me after our tour of 
the crime scenes."

I searched the grainy faces for Lee-Lee. "Any luck?"

"Yup, right there."  He tapped the paper in my hand.  "And 
here..." He pulled out another page.  "And here...all in all, 
Lee-Lee Centara shows up at seven of the ten fires."

"She denied setting them," I said as I studied the images, 
"and right now I don't think --"

"Hello?"  There was a knock at the partially-opened door, and 
Cathleen Duncan poked her head in.  "Oh, excuse me," she said 
when she caught sight of us.  Mulder stepped back, and I 
smoothed my robe self-consciously.

"No, it's fine," I said as she started to back away.  "What 
can we do for you?"

She halted awkwardly in the door.  "Oh, I was just wondering 
if you would like to join me for dinner.  I've got more 
vegetable soup and biscuits than I know what to do with."

It was the best offer we'd had all day, so Mulder followed 
her to the kitchen while I threw on some clothes.  When I 
joined them a few minutes later, Mulder was chopping parsley 
as Cathleen set the table.  "Can I help?" I asked, but she 
waved me aside.

"Sit, sit.  Everything is about done, anyway."  She set out 
the glasses.  "I don't know what I can offer to drink -- 
there's only juice, milk and water around here."

"Water is fine, thank you.  It smells absolutely amazing in 
here."

Cathleen grinned.  "These big old kitchens are just made for 
day-long cooking.  I'm happy to have the chance to do it 
again."  She put down her crutches and sat next to me as 
Mulder ladled out generous portions of soup.  I leaned over 
to inhale the rising scent of herbs and vegetables.

Mulder shoveled in several mouthfuls before proclaiming the 
soup magnificent.  It was the first time in weeks that he 
seemed more focused on his own plate than how much I was 
eating.  Perhaps we were both finally healing.

"How is the case coming?" Cathleen wanted to know.  "Have you 
found Elysian yet?"

"Actually, yes," Mulder answered.  "She works at the diner 
downtown."

Cathleen's eyes widened.  "Oh my goodness, I'd forgotten all 
about Lee-Lee.  No one in school ever called her by her given 
name."

"You went to school with her?" I asked, breaking apart a 
fluffy biscuit.

"She was a year ahead of me, but yes, I knew her.  No one 
could believe what happened."

"So it's true about her uncle, then?" Mulder said.

"Well, I guess it was.  That's what came out at the trial, in 
any case.  I was always a little surprised that they charged 
Katherine with first degree murder given the extenuating 
circumstances.  If you ask me, her attorney should have been 
able to negotiate a better deal."  She sighed.  "But no one 
ever said Stan Garber was the sharpest knife in the drawer."

Mulder coughed on his water.  "Stanley Garber was Katherine's 
attorney?"

"Yes, why?" Cathleen asked. 

"He was one of the people who burned to death in the fires."  
He sat up in his seat, leaning eagerly toward Cathleen.  
"What about Regina Tuttlesworth or Joe Bowman?  Any 
connection there?"

Cathleen gave a helpless shrug.  "Not that I know of, but I 
was fourteen at the time of the trial.  I don't remember all 
the details."

"Mulder, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking revenge might have been the motive all along, 
Scully.  Maybe we've just been working the wrong century."

XxXxX

That night, an explosion rocked my sleep.  I awoke with a 
jolt, sitting straight up in bed, but there was no noise.  No 
screams, no crashes, not even a whisper.  A ghostly silence 
swallowed all sound, leaving me with only the pounding of my 
heart.  A dream?

I waited, tense and expectant.

After a few seconds, strange light flickered through my room.  
I tangled myself in the covers, dragging the sheet with me in 
my race to the window.  Mulder's footsteps sounded in the 
hall.

"Scully?"

"Fire!" I shouted to him, not turning around.  The flames 
danced just out of my range of sight, so I couldn't identify 
the source of the blaze.  "Find Cathleen and call 911!"

I opened the window and shivered in the blast of icy wind.  
The smell of burning gas and melting rubber wafted toward me 
in clouds of black smoke, and I coughed as I recognized the 
frame of our rented Taurus between the roaring flames.

Someone had set fire to our car.
Someone who might still be outside.

"Mulder."  I grabbed my gun from its holster, searching the 
floor for my shoes.  I was almost out the door when the phone 
rang, its jangling blending with the wail of the oncoming sirens.  
Hesitating, I snatched up the receiver.  "Hello?"

"Get out of Tiburton."  The voice was low and raspy, 
punctuated with shallow breaths.  

"Who is this?" 

"You've been warned," it said again, and the line went dead.

XxXxX

End Chapter Four.  Continued in Chapter Five.

Thanks to my wonderful beta readers --  Alicia, Jerry, 
Jintian and Gwen -- who have generously taken time away from 
their own writing to help me with mine.  I am *most* 
grateful. :-)

Thanks also to the kind souls who have written to say that 
they are reading along with me.  Nancy, I'm still working on 
the missing chromosomes. ;-)

All feedback is welcome at syn_tax6@yahoo.com