XxXxX

Chapter Fourteen

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"Is this Steven Lynch?"  Mulder paced as far as the 
conference room phone cord would allow.

"Yes," said the man on the other end, his voice sleepy and 
annoyed.  "And it's four in the morning.  Who is this?"

"Mr. Lynch, my name is Fox Mulder.  I'm an agent at the FBI, 
and --"

"I told the man last week that I hadn't seen him."

Mulder halted his pacing.  "Excuse me?"

"Carl," said Lynch with impatience.  "When the man called 
yesterday to ask about him, I said I hadn't seen or spoken to 
Carl in over ten years.  I thought he was still in prison."

"Do you have any idea where he might be now?" Mulder asked.

"No, like I said, I moved away and haven't talked with him 
since."  A pause.  "The sick freak, attacking that woman like 
he did."

"Mr. Lynch, it is extremely important that we find Carl right 
away.  Can you think of anywhere he might have gone?  
Friends, other relatives, favorite places...anything."

There was a short silence on the other end.  "What did he do 
this time?"

"Mr. Lynch, please..."

"It's something bad, right?  He's killed a girl this time, I 
bet."

"He has my partner," Mulder snapped, running a hand through 
his hair.  He took a deep breath.  "He took her and we need 
to find them fast.  So please, think.  Where would he go?"

"I...I wish I knew.  He went someplace when he stayed with me 
-- sometimes he didn't come home for days.  When I asked him 
about it, he said he had a girlfriend."

"Any idea who that might have been?"

"No.  I never saw him with any woman, to be honest."

Mulder's heart clenched and fell, sweat breaking out on the 
back of his neck.  His one lead was dimming fast.  "Did your 
family have any other property in the area?  Somewhere else 
he might go?"

"We weren't like the Rockefellers, Agent Mulder.  That house 
I sold in Baltimore was the only one my family has ever owned 
up there."

Mulder said nothing.  He hurled the phone receiver at the 
wall, where it bounced off and fell to the floor, dragging 
the rest of the phone with it.  The air crackled but nobody 
moved; Grenier, Russell and Arkin stood stock-still, watching 
as he took several ragged breaths.

"What, um, what should we do now?" Russell asked at length.

Mulder walked to the door, not answering.  At the threshold, 
he paused without turning around.  "I don't know," he said, 
and left.

XxXxX

Vice-like, his fingers grabbed her chin.  "What did you just 
say?" His eyes flashed fever-bright, his breath warm and 
fetid as he leaned over her.

Scully quivered but held his gaze.  "The murder in the park," 
she said.  "It wasn't you."

"Heh."  He released his grip and stroked the side of her 
face.  "Not bad, FBI woman.  I'm impressed.  Russell and 
Grenier, I didn't expect them to get it, but Mulder..."  He 
trailed off.  "He's not what they said he was.  He's not the 
best, or he would have known it wasn't me."

"He knows your name," Scully said again, her breathing 
shallow.  The ropes bit into her wrists.  "It's only a matter 
of time before he finds you here."

Carl laughed, a harsh, humorless sound that grated all the 
way to her bones.  "Baby, Mulder had twelve fucking years to 
find this place.  I don't think he's gonna come sniffing 
around here now."  He leaned down, pressing his full weight 
on her, and put his lips right next to her ear.  "We're all 
alone."

Scully turned her head.  "Get off of me."

"Get off of me," Carl mimicked.  He pulled back and grinned.  
"I'll get off, all right, baby.  Yeah."

Scully swallowed, watching him rub the bulge in his pants.  
Fear tingled all the way to her toes.  "I'm the only one who 
knows," she said, struggling to sound strong.

"Shut up." He licked his lips and reached for the button on 
her jeans.  Her heart lurched.  Instinctively, she drew up 
her legs, twisting away from him.  He slammed her back into 
position with one swift motion.  "Do that again and I'll 
break your knees."

One hot tear leaked down her temple and into her hair.  She 
squeezed her eyes closed as he yanked down her pants.  "I'm 
the only one who knows it wasn't you," she repeated.  "I can 
tell them and set the record straight."

"That so."  He snorted as pulled off her boots and socks.  
They hit the floor with a thud, and he discarded her pants as 
well.  "I bet you'd have lots to tell them now, wouldn't you, 
baby?  Bet they'd love to hear all about it."

As he went to retrieve her spiked heels from his trophy 
shelf, Scully tugged hard on her restraints.  The knots 
rubbed her skin raw, and bars of the headboard rattled.  Carl 
didn't even bother to turn around.  "It's not worth the 
struggle, I promise you.  The others tried to get loose, too, 
but they only managed to work themselves into a sweat."

Her heart in her throat, Scully kept yanking.  The left bar 
was loose, wobbling back and forth with each frantic pull.  
Carl frowned as he approached the bed.

"Don't make me tie your feet, too.  I hate it when I have to 
do that."

Scully trembled, weak from fear and exhaustion.  She jerked 
at his touch on her leg.  "Listen, you're right.  Mulder has 
no idea.  He doesn't know where you are, he doesn't know 
about the girl in the park, he doesn't know anything about 
what you're really like."

"He knows what I'm like," Carl said calmly, as he slipped her 
left shoe on her foot.  He smiled at her.  "And soon you'll 
know, too."

"But don't you want him to know he was wrong?" she persisted. 
"He should have known it wasn't your work.  Look how quickly 
I figured it out.  Mulder is a coward, a fraud."

"Damn straight," Carl said.  His lips tightened into a grim 
line.  He moved to put on her other shoe, but Scully kept 
talking, trying to make him listen.

"We could...we could tell him," she said.  "We could show him 
how wrong he was."

Carl rubbed her foot, seeming distracted by the velvety 
contours.  "And how are we going to do that?"

Her heart thudded.  This was it.  The last shot.

"We could call him."

Carl's head snapped up, and he looked at her with narrowed 
eyes.  "You think I'm an idiot?  You think I don't know about 
traces?"

"The cell phone," she said quickly, the words tumbling out 
through her terror-numbed lips.  "They can't trace it except 
to a general area.  Here in the woods there'd be no time for 
them to figure it out."

He ran icy fingers up her calf, tracing the curve of her 
knee, and Scully willed herself not to shudder.  "You got him 
on speed dial, huh?  Yeah, I'll just bet you do."

She moved her foot to his lap, but her caress came out as 
more of a spasm.  He didn't seem to care.  "Just think about 
it," she said hoarsely.  "You've got me here, trapped.  Don't 
you want Mulder to know about it?  Don't you want him to know 
that you've won?"

He cupped her foot, stilling her movements.  "Maybe I'll let 
him listen to you scream.  Would you liked that?"

Scully flinched at his words, turning her head away.  The row 
of shoes loomed on the shelf to her right.  She stared at 
their pretty bows and sequins and wondered if she was going 
to die.

Carl shifted on the bed, his heavy hand lifting from her 
foot, and Scully dared to glance at him again.  He'd pulled 
out her phone.

"He was number one on your home phone," Carl said.  "I called 
him but I didn't leave a message."  He patted her calf.  
"What message should we give him now, do you think?"

Scully said nothing.  *Turn it on* she willed him.  *Just 
turn it on.*

Like magic, he did.  "Let's see, baby.  He might be too busy 
to come play with us now.  Maybe he's still jerking off in 
the park.  What do you think?"

Her pulse picked up, hammering in her throat as she saw him 
hit the first memory key.  He was actually going to dial.  
Oh, please, she thought, twisting again at her restraints.  
The ropes held fast.

"It's ringing," Carl told her with a gleeful grin, and Scully 
began to pray.

XxXxX

Mulder was in the hallway leaning against the wall when his 
cell phone gave a muffled chirp, deep within his pocket.  He 
had it out in nanoseconds.

"Mulder," he said, freezing in place even before he could 
hear an answer.  There was a loud crackle on the other end, 
but no one spoke.  His heart turned over.  "Scully?" 

Grenier and Russell ran out into the hall with Arkin hot on 
their heels.  Mulder turned away from their questioning 
looks. "Scully, is that you?"

"Guess again, Mulder."

"Quentin," Mulder said, whirling around and snapping at the 
other agents.  Grenier nodded and they scattered in three 
different directions, already on top of the trace.  "What's 
going on, Quentin?  What are you doing with Agent Scully?"

The man gave a soft laugh that sent a prickling ripple of 
fear down Mulder's back.  "Oh, come on, Mulder.  You know 
what I'm doing.  You've seen the pictures."

Mulder gripped the phone so hard that it threatened to snap 
in two.  "She's a federal agent, Carl.  You hurt her and it's 
an automatic death penalty."

"That's assuming you catch me.  Which, I have to say, doesn't 
seem too likely, now does it?"  He laughed again.  "You 
weren't even looking in the right place!"

"But I was," Mulder said.  "You were at the park."

"But not where you were looking!"  His sing-song sounded like 
a four year-old's.

"No, you were with Agent Scully." Mulder's stomach tightened; 
he closed his eyes.  "Tell me...is she all right?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now.  I have something 
else to talk about."

Russell reappeared.  "We've got the tower traced," she 
mouthed.  "But keep him talking."

Mulder tried to think, tried to put himself in Carl's place, 
but when he did he saw Scully, bruised and broken on the 
ground.  "No," he said.  "I won't listen.  Not until I talk 
to Scully."

Silence followed, and Russell looked alarmed.  "What the hell 
are you doing?" she hissed.  Mulder brushed her off.

"I'm going to hang up, Carl."  He waited another second.  
"I'm hanging up now..."

"Wait!"

Mulder waited, shaking as the seconds passed.  He heard 
rustling and Carl's murmur.  Then, "Mulder, it's me."

"Scully!"  Thank God.  Her voice was roughened, scared, but 
she was still alive. Tears stung his eyes.  "Scully, where 
are you?"

She did not answer.  He heard more scuffling, then Carl's 
voice on the line again.  Hard, angry.

"Now," he said, "you'll listen to me."

"Yes," Mulder said, walking a circle in the hallway.  "Yes, 
okay.  What is it?  Anything you want, it's okay.  We'll get 
it for you.  Just don't hurt her."

Quentin answered with a hacking cough.  "Like your partner, 
do you, Agent Mulder?  She's a pretty one.  Smart, too.  
Smarter than you, Mr. Hot Shit FBI."

"She's the best we have," Mulder agreed.  Russell gave him a 
questioning look, but he couldn't answer it.  Quentin was one 
step ahead of him in this conversation.

"She guessed my secret right off," Carl continued.  "She's 
the one who thought we should tell you, too."

"What?"  Mulder was losing patience, his nerves stretched 
razor-sharp.  "What do you want me to know?"

Carl's breathing grew deeper. "I want you to know I have your 
partner tied up.  I've got her in bed, Mulder.  And she's 
wearing those pretty shoes just for me."

Mulder swallowed, nearly gagging.  "You leave her alone, you 
bastard!  You leave her alone or--"

"Or you'll what?"

"This call is being traced," Mulder said desperately.  "You 
don't have time."

"I have plenty of time for what I need to do.  So go ahead 
and trace the phone, Agent Mulder.  I'm sure you'll find it 
eventually."  He paused.  "Here, I'll even give you a hint --  
it'll be right next to Agent Scully's body."

And the line went dead.

XxXxX

He snapped off the phone and gave her a gapped-tooth grin.  
"You were right," he said.  "That was fun."

Scully felt her insides begin to shred apart in fear as 
tossed the phone aside.  "But you didn't tell him.  He'll 
never know--"

"He doesn't fucking deserve to know!"  Carl's smile became an 
angry snarl.  "He's a fuckup, and we're not going to mention 
his name again, understand?"  Scully said nothing, and Carl 
grabbed her throat, squeezing until she gagged.  "I said, do 
you understand?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"Good."  He released her and patted her cheek.  "Then we'll 
get along just fine."

He moved from the bed, back toward his shelf, and Scully 
tracked him with her eyes as she yanked with all her might on 
the ropes holding her to the headboard.  The left side nearly 
slipped free.

*C'mon, c'mon* she begged silently as the ropes chafed more 
skin from her wrists.

Carl turned around from his shelf.  He had a pair of hedge 
clippers in his hand.  Scully couldn't suppress a choked 
sound of terror, and he blew her a kiss.  "For later," he 
said, holding them up so she could get a better look.

Not enough time, she thought wildly.  There's not enough time 
to find me.

XxXxX

"Figures we couldn't catch a break," Grenier muttered as he 
returned with the read-outs on the phone trace.  "Widest 
search area possible.  A half dozen towns in the foothills 
and a bunch of the mountains, too."  He glanced at Mulder.  
"I've already got teams headed out there.  We can leave right 
away."

Mulder was already moving.  "Get me the cousin again," he 
called back down the hall. "I want to talk to the cousin."

XxXxX

He sat on the bed, the springs squeaking under his weight, 
and pulled her left foot into his lap.  "Oh yeah," he 
murmured, bringing it to his crotch.  

Scully closed her eyes.  Notyetnotyet.

He leaned down to put the garden shears on the floor; her 
heart pounded faster and faster, almost pushing through her 
chest.

"Okay," he said, rising up again.  "Now for --"

She kicked him hard in the face, catching his right eye with 
the point of her heel.  He howled in pain and doubled over at 
the waist.  Scully pulled harder at her restraints, kicking 
him again even as she tugged.  The bar holding her left arm 
broke loose.

"Bitch!" he screamed, clutching his eye and swinging at her 
with his free hand.  She rolled away.  "You fucking bitch!"

With her left hand, she ripped the right bar out from the 
headboard.  He lunged at her just as she slipped off the bed.  
Shaking, she ran for the door.

"Oh, no you don't!"  Carl caught her by the hair, hard enough 
to bring tears to her eyes, but she didn't stop struggling. 
She brought her heel down on top of his foot.  With a gasp of 
pain, he released her.  "God dammit!"

She stumbled, crying out in pain as her left foot turned over 
at the ankle when she caught it on a loose floorboard.  Her 
shoe fell off.  

He grabbed her again by the left arm, but she scooped the 
shears from the floor with her right and bashed them against 
the injured side of his head.  He contracted in pain.  
Yanking free from his grasp, she scrambled again towards the 
door, her lopsided gait now slowing her down.  She kicked the 
other shoe off as Carl moaned behind her.  

"Open, open," she pleaded with the door, not daring to look 
over her shoulder.  It rattled in its frame, the lock stuck, 
and she could hear Carl getting up from the floor.  
"Please..."  Finally, the lock slid clear, and she ran out 
into the cold, black night.

Which way, which way?

She went into the woods, away from the path, picking her way 
though the sharp branches and slippery leaves.  Her own 
breathing was harsh in her ears; she didn't stop to listen 
for him following her.  

The clouds obscured the moon, making it impossible to see 
where she was going.  She ran blindly through the trees, her 
wounded ankle throbbing with each step.  The bars from the 
headboard still dangled from her wrists by the rope, but she 
couldn't stop long enough to undo the knots.  Sticks and 
rocks scraped against the tender bottoms of her feet, and 
whip-slender branches lashed across her bare legs.  Her tears 
flowed freely now, but she kept going.

At last, shaking with cold and adrenaline, she stopped in a 
small clearing.  Drizzle had started to leak from the sky, 
plinking small drops on her goose-pimpled skin.  Around her, 
there was only the whispering sound of the rain on the leaves 
and the occasional gust of wind.  No cars, no road.  She had 
no idea if she was five hundred or five thousand feet from 
Carl's cabin.  In the dark woods, she might have been running 
in circles.

The crack of a branch snapping made her jump.  She turned 
around in a tight circle, trying to see in every direction at 
once, but the ink-blot night cloaked the woods in secrecy.  
He could be anywhere, she thought with a shudder.  Keep 
going.

So she ignored the night chill and the cuts on her feet and 
pushed into the dense thicket of trees once more.  She had 
not walked for more than fifteen minutes when she saw a light 
flash in the distance.  She froze, hugging herself against 
the rain and cold.  The beam of light crisscrossed through 
the darkness, and she heard the crunch of footsteps.

Oh, God, she thought.  It's him.

She scrambled back the way she had come.  Down a steep hill, 
through the thicket, she reached the bottom and paused for 
breath against a rocky ledge.  The footsteps were closer than 
before, and this time she heard voices.  Voices!

"Scully?  Scully, are you out here?"

"Yes," she said, barely recognizing the rasp masquerading as 
her voice.  The footsteps began to move away.

XxXxX

End Chapter Fourteen.  Continued in Chapter Fifteen.

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