XxXxX

Chapter Fifteen

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There wasn't a path in front of him, only tangled bramble 
waiting to scratch his eyes out.  Mulder hacked his way 
through the woods with one arm, dodging the worst of the 
barbed branches as the flashlight in his left hand provided a 
slim beam of light to follow.  Behind him, Russell thrashed 
her own trail.  "I don't see either of them," she said.

Mulder paused, shining his light around in several 
directions.  The beam illuminated the slanting rain.  
"Scully!" he called.  "Scully, where are you?"

"Maybe he took her with him," Russell said.  "We could be 
losing time..."

"There were tracks into the woods," Mulder snapped.  He 
walked deeper into the darkness, twigs crackling under his 
feet.  "Scully," he yelled again.  "Scully!"

He heard a faint scuffling sound.  "Mulder?"

"Scully!"  He bounded through the woods in the direction of 
her voice.  "Scully, where are you?"

"Mulder!"

He flashed the light around wildly, trying to find her among 
the trees.  "Scully, talk to me.  Scully?"

"I'm here," she said, sounding desperate.  He ran faster, 
making zigzags through tall trees, slipping on the muddy 
leaves at his feet.

"Scully!"

"Over here!" Russell called, and Mulder abruptly changed 
course.  He pushed through a tall thicket and saw her at the 
bottom of a steep incline, trembling with cold and squinting 
under the glare of Russell's flashlight.  His heart stopped 
at the sight of the ropes still tied around her wrists.

"Jesus," he muttered from ten feet away.  He half ran, half 
slid down the hill towards her.  "Scully, are you okay?"

"I'm cold," she said as he reached her.  He took off his wool 
overcoat and put it on her, gathering her close.

"Are you okay?  Are you hurt anywhere?"

She pressed against him, still shaking.  Her teeth chattered. 
"My feet are cut.  I may have...may have sprained an ankle."

"Scully."  He hugged her tight.  "I'm so sorry."

Several more flashlights joined Russell's as another rescue 
team arrived.  Mulder turned away, instinctively blocking 
Scully from the glare and curious eyes.  She had not stopped 
trembling.

"Paramedics are on their way down," Russell called, and 
Mulder nodded.

"Come on," he murmured to Scully, "let's sit down.  Rest your 
feet."  

He tried to coax her down onto the forest floor with him, but 
her fingers dug into his shirt, protesting.  "He's in the 
woods, Mulder.  He followed me."

"Grenier's got every man looking for him right now," he told 
her, brushing back the hair that was stuck to her cheek.  
"It's okay, Scully.  It's going to be okay."

He gently tugged her down with him, and this time she 
relented, her slow, rigid movements telling of her lingering 
pain and fear.  She slumped against his shoulder, shivering 
as he used his own cold-numbed fingers to fumble with the wet 
knots at her wrists.  His struggle only chafed her further, 
and she winced, burrowing into his chest.  He kissed her 
temple.  "Sorry, sorry."

"Quentin didn't kill Beth Kinney," she told him. "He didn't 
have her shoes."

"I know," he replied as he tried to maneuver the coat so that 
it would cover her feet.  

She shuddered, her breathing still light and fast on his 
neck.  "How?"

He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head.  "Your 
autopsy findings.  I'll explain later."

"Hey, down this way!" Russell yelled, and a few moments later 
the paramedics appeared at the top of the hill.

"It's the cavalry," Mulder murmured.  "We're going to get you 
out of here, okay?"

She nodded but did not loosen her hold on him.  He stroked 
the back of her head and rocked them both in a gentle rhythm.  
She had stopped shaking, but he wasn't sure whether that was 
a good sign or a very bad one.

Two rain-slicked EMTs arrived carrying a stretcher, and the 
man knelt down next to Scully.  "Agent Scully, I'm Bob 
Eckland, and this is Eliza Bennett.  We're going to take care 
of you now, all right?  Tell me, are you hurt anywhere?"

Scully sat up from Mulder's embrace, and the loss of her 
weight caused a painful lance in his chest.  There was 
nothing more he could do.

"My ankle may be sprained," she said, her voice hoarse.  
Eckland cut the ropes from her wrists, and she flexed her 
fingers.  "Other than that, I'm okay, I think."

"All right, we're going to take you to the hospital and check 
you out, get you out of this rain."  He smiled at her.  "Try 
to relax.  We'll have you out of here ASAP."

Mulder climbed back up the hill with the stretcher, his 
fingers resting on the cold metal edge.  Scully pulled her 
arm out from beneath the blanket and clasped his hand.  
"Almost there," he said.  He gave her hand a reassuring 
squeeze and tried not to notice the angry red circles around 
her wrist.

As they neared the edge of the woods, Mulder saw more 
flashlights circling around in the darkness, men searching 
for Quentin.  Russell's walkie-talkie squawked periodically 
as Grenier updated their orders.  Quentin seemed to have 
vanished.

His cabin loomed in front of them as they emerged from the 
clearing.  Lit up like a Christmas tree, it shone under the 
bright searchlights and swirling red patterns created by the 
crush of cop cars that surrounded it.  Scully's hand 
tightened around his, and Mulder felt the squeeze all the way 
to his heart.  He had seen the inside with its bloody sheets, 
thick rope, and garden shears.

"You traced the cell phone?" Scully asked as they paused 
while the EMTS opened the back of the ambulance.

"Yeah," he said, running one finger down her cheek.  "Thanks 
to you.  Quentin's cousin helped us narrow the search area; 
seems they used to go hiking around this area years ago."

"Okay, we're ready to go," said Eckland.  "We'll just --"

He was cut off by a flash of blinding white light.  "What the 
hell?" Russell said from behind them, shielding her eyes.  

Mulder blinked rapidly.  As his vision cleared, he spotted 
Tanzini standing twenty feet away.  "That sonofabitch."

"Mulder..." Russell said, but he was already moving.  

Tanzini grinned when he saw him coming. "Tough choice, isn't 
it, Mulder?  Go with the lady or stay and catch the man who 
got away the last time.  What's it going to be?"

Mulder grabbed for the camera, but Tanzini ducked out of 
reach.  "You're under arrest, Tanzini.  For interfering with 
a federal investigation."

"I'm not interfering.  I'm just standing here."  He snapped 
another picture, the flash exploding in Mulder's face.

"You goddamn sonofa..."  Mulder lunged at him, intent on 
strangling the man with his own camera, but a hand bit into 
his shoulder and held him back.

"Arrest this idiot," Grenier growled, and two other agents 
stepped forward to take Tanzini into custody.  "And the 
camera stays with us."  He glared at the photographer.  "You 
may have pulled this shit on Patterson's turf, but you stay 
the hell away from my investigations, you go it?"

"You don't own this property, Grenier."  Tanzini struggled 
but the two agents held him fast.  "You'll be hearing from my 
attorney, and the paper's attorney, you can count on that!"

"Get him out of here," Grenier said with disgust.  He turned 
to Mulder.  "How's she doing?  Is she okay?"

Mulder glanced to where the ambulance waited.  "Yeah, I think 
so."  He looked back at Grenier.   "Get Quentin, okay?  I'll 
be at the hospital."

XxXxX

Scully lay under the hospital blanket and watched the 
raindrops slide down the window outside.  Her feet had been 
cleaned and bandaged, her wrists were wrapped, and her ankle 
was not even sprained.  The finger-mark shaped bruises on her 
neck would heal quickly, she knew.  In a few days, no one 
would be able to tell what had happened to her.  No one would 
know that she had lain on a bed where nine women had died.  
No one would know that she still had fear dripping down her 
insides, sticking to all the soft places and making it hard 
to breathe.

"Can I get you anything?  A soda, something to eat?"  Mulder 
sat with her, prodding her to speak at regular intervals and 
then lapsing into awkward silence as he chewed on his 
thumbnail.

"No, thank you."  It was the third time he had offered, and 
she almost accepted just so he would leave her alone.  She 
felt raw and vulnerable, split open and on display, as if he 
were waiting for the moment she would break.  He was stuck in 
the drab little room because of her pain, and for some 
reason, she resented it.  She rolled away from him on the 
bed.  

He hadn't been terrified in the trunk or tied to the bed or 
choked or cut or found half-naked in the woods.  Her cheeks 
burned at the memory.  "I want to go home," she whispered.  

She felt his touch on her back.  "I know."  He paused, 
apparently choosing his words carefully.  "But we need to get 
a forensic team in there first, just in case..."

"In case for some reason we can't convict him of nine 
murders," she said angrily.  "I know.  It's always nice to 
have breaking and entering as a back up plan."

Mulder said nothing for a long moment.  Then, "You can always 
stay with me tonight."

His words, light and unsure, caused tears to clog her throat.  
He was trying so hard, so why wasn't it enough?  "Thanks," 
she said with a sniff.  "That would be nice."

"'kay."  He gave her another careful pat.  "We can...we can 
order Chinese.  Or pizza."

She squeezed back the hot tears.  "All right," she murmured.  
She tried not to think of her tub and her soft sheets.  She 
tried not to think of yet one more invasion of her home, when 
the fingerprint team would dust every inch with black powder.  
Instead, she thought suddenly of another person who couldn't 
go home.  "Vee," she said, sitting up.  

"What about her?" 

"Where is she?  She's still in danger, Mulder.  Whoever 
killed Beth Kinney is out there somewhere and presumably 
still wants Vee murdered."

Mulder frowned.  "I'm not sure what happened to her," he 
said.  "Last I saw her was with you, when she picked Carl out 
of the lineup."

"You've got to find out," she said.  He looked hesitant, 
reluctant to leave her.  "Please.  We have to know that she's 
protected."

He took a deep breath and nodded.  "Okay.  I'll go see what I 
can find out."

"Thank you," she said, settling back against the pillows.  
"I'm just afraid that someone may have thought the threat was 
over and sent her home."

Mulder left, and a few minutes later there was a knock at the 
door.  Russell poked her head inside the room.  "Is it okay 
if I come in?"

Scully sat up again, drawing her knees to her chest.  "Did 
Mulder send you down here to baby sit me?"

Russell entered and held out a cup of coffee.  "No, I just 
wanted to make sure you were okay.  I also thought maybe you 
could use one of these."

"Thanks," Scully said, accepting the paper cup.  "Any word 
from Grenier about the search?"

"Nothing so far," Russell replied as she sat in Mulder's 
chair.  "They're still looking the last I heard.  Should be 
easier now that it's daylight."

"He has my gun." 

"Yes, we heard.  His car was still in front of the cabin, 
though, so we're hoping that he couldn't have gotten very 
far."

Scully sipped the hot coffee, then shifted uncomfortably when 
she saw Russell staring at her wrists.  Russell, she 
remembered, was one of the people to witness the aftermath in 
the woods, when Scully had been terrified and trembling in 
her underwear.  She set aside her coffee and slipped her 
hands beneath the blanket.  "You really don't have to stay. 
I'm all right. I think they're releasing me shortly, anyhow."

"I'm glad," Russell said.  "And I'll get going soon so you 
can rest."  She bit her lip, then leaned forward in her 
chair.  "I just...I just wanted to tell you something."

Scully's pulse picked up, and she tensed as she imagined a 
dozen terrible things.  Whatever this woman wanted to say, 
she was sure she didn't want to hear it.  No forced attempts 
at reassurance, no tidbits about Mulder from the past.  
Somehow she knew that smallest word could collapse her 
tenuous control into shards of glass.

"I, uh, I never said this to anyone before," Russell 
continued, her eyes on the floor, and Scully dared to take a 
breath.  This was not the opening she had expected.

"What is it?"

"I knew one of these guys once.  When I was little.  My mom 
owned a little grocery store in this town outside of 
Portland, and I used to like to play there while she worked.  
There was this guy who came in all the time.  He'd talk to 
her and make her laugh, and he always bought one of the 
nickel lollipops for me.  I remember he wore cowboy boots and 
smelled like sandalwood.  Mr. Sugarman.  He liked to say he 
was as sweet as his name.  Sometimes..."  She swallowed hard.  
"Sometimes I would sit on his lap in the back of the store 
and read books with him.  I pretended he was my father."

Scully listened in silence, sensing where the story was going 
but needing to hear the awful conclusion all the same.

"Anyway," Russell continued.  "One day, my mom opens the 
morning paper and runs to throw up.  I looked and saw Mr. 
Sugarman on the front, but she wouldn't tell me what had 
happened.  Two days later I was playing behind the counter 
when I heard a couple of women talking.  Turns out that 
Sugarman had been arrested for the murder of five little 
girls.  He strangled them and buried them right in his 
backyard."

"That's horrible," Scully whispered.

"Yeah." Russell raised her eyes and looked at Scully.  "I was 
alone with him so many times, when Mom went to check 
something in stock.  He could have...it would have been so 
easy for him to..."  She shook her head.  "I don't know why 
he didn't."

Can't even say the words aloud, Scully thought.  I 
understand.  "I'm glad he didn't," she said to Russell.  "I'm 
glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Russell answered.  "I can say the same for you."

Scully ducked her head, considering.  "Yeah," she said at 
last, "I guess you can." 

Mulder returned then, surprised to see Russell had taken over 
his chair.  "Did they get him?" he asked quickly.

"Not yet," Russell replied as she stood to leave.  "But we 
will.  If there's one thing that Adam knows how to do, it's 
conduct a search."  She touched his arm, then glanced at 
Scully.  "I'll let you know the moment I hear something, 
okay?"

"What about Vee?" Scully asked.  "Is she okay?"

Russell squeezed her eyes shut and ran a hand through her 
hair.  "Damn, I totally forgot about her."

"She fine," Mulder said.  "They've still got her and her 
mother down at the Hoover building.  I told them not to send 
them home under any circumstances."

Scully let out a long breath.  "Good."

"Jesus, with everything that happened, I'd forgotten about 
the other guy."  Russell gave Mulder a questioning look.  
"You're still positive we've got a copycat?"

"It's true," Scully answered.  "Quentin said so himself.  
Plus, he didn't have Beth's shoes.  Someone else murdered 
her, and that's the person Vee saw in the park."

Russell sighed.  "Any suggestions on where to start looking?"

Mulder sank into the chair and scrubbed his face with his 
hands.  "I would pull photos on anyone involved in the 1988 
investigation.  Have Vee look through them for a familiar 
face."

"I can imagine the shit storm if it turns out to be one of 
our own," Russell said.  She gave a half-hearted attempt at a 
smile.  "I guess we're all off the hook, huh?  She's met us 
and I don't remember hearing any accusations of murder."

The words caused a chill to run through Scully as she 
mentally rewound the past few days.  "Not Arkin," she 
murmured as last.  "Vee has never met Arkin."

XxXxX

End chapter fifteen.  Continued in chapter sixteen.

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