XxXxX

Chapter Four

XxXxX

Scully paused on the low, flat steps of the precinct, her 
hair plastered against her cheek in the roaring wind.  The 
whistles and howls blocked out all other sound, but 
underneath she sensed a regular cadence, like a heartbeat.  
Or footsteps.  She clawed the hair from her eyes and turned 
to study the street behind her.  

No one was in sight. 

Leaves rattled along the sidewalk, tumbling over one another 
as a plastic bag danced in midair. The front door to the 
station banged open, startling her in her scrutiny, and two 
uniformed cops hurried down the steps.  As their voices 
faded, she listened again but heard nothing hidden under the 
rushing gales.  She turned and climbed the rest of the stone 
steps, leaving the wind pounding angrily on the door behind 
her.

Inside, the station smelled of warm, stale air that had been 
cranked through an ancient heating system.  There was a bench 
covered in scattered newspapers, and the faded green walls 
displayed posters of cartoon characters warning kids to stay 
away from drugs.  "Excuse me," Scully said to the man behind 
the front desk, "I'm looking for Detective Pearson."

"Straight back on the left."

Scully threaded her way through the maze of desks to find a 
large black man with graying temples hunched over a computer 
keyboard.  He pecked at it with two fingers.  "Detective 
Pearson?" Scully said, when he failed to look up.

He swiveled to face her.  "Agent Scully, I presume.  Thanks 
for coming."  He tilted his head, appraising her, then nodded 
at the computer.  "You know how anything about opening 
attachments?"

"Uh, sure."  She moved so she could see the screen.  "Trouble 
with a case file?"

"Naw."  He grinned.  "My son started college this fall, and 
it's either master this e-mail thing or lose contact until 
graduation.  This thing he sent today is supposed to be the 
latest standing in the football pool."

"Well," she said, leaning over to show him, "just enter your 
server name here, your password here...now click download, 
and there you go."

"Hey, thanks," he said as the list of names popped up.  He 
scanned them quickly, then chortled. "A four for the week! 
All his little computer models, and he'd do better flipping a 
coin." 

"I see Denver covered," Scully remarked.

"You know football?" 

She smiled.  "You work in law enforcement, and it's the water 
cooler chatter every Monday morning."

"Guess so," he agreed, rising to his feet.  He perched on the 
edge of his desk  "But speaking of chatter, we haven't been 
able to get word one out of your little friend.  You said you 
wanted her for serial murder?  She looks like a drowned 
kitten to me -- couldn't hurt a flea."

"We think she may be a witness to a murder that took place in 
Montrose park Sunday night," Scully explained.  "She reported 
seeing a man with a knife in the area at approximately the 
time of death."

Pearson let out a low whistle.  "That college girl killed in 
the park?  I heard about that.  But the papers said no one 
has officially connected her death to the girl found a couple 
of weeks ago.  Now you guys think it's the same guy?"

"There were a number of similarities between the two crimes," 
Scully answered.  "Right now we're exploring every angle.  
Would it be all right if I spoke with Vee for a few minutes?"

"Vee, huh?" He shook his head and sighed.  "Such a tough name 
for a little kitten.  Sure, sure you can see her -- she 
called you, after all.  Right this way."

Vee sat slouched at the table in an interrogation room, 
looking considerably more defeated than when Scully had seen 
her last.  She had pulled the metal ring from the top of her 
coke can and was sliding it down her fingers one at a time.  
At Pearson and Scully's entrance, she sat up straight.

"Seems you weren't lying about your connections, kid.  Agent 
Scully hurried down here in the middle of her day at your 
request.  I hope you'll show her the same courtesy."  He 
glanced at Scully.  "She's a minor, so I've got to stick 
around.  Hope that's okay."

"It's fine," Scully answered, her eyes on Vee.  "Detective 
Pearson told me about your trouble last night."

Vee shrugged but ducked her head.  "Yeah, they got me," she 
said.  "The big bad criminal."   She glared at Pearson.  "You 
must be so proud."

"I've got your mug shot on my fridge," he replied. 

"You asked to see me," Scully said, moving closer to the 
table.  "Why?"

"I want to make a deal."  Her chin stuck out, the bravado 
returned, but her eyes were still dark with fear.

"What kind of deal?"

"I can tell you stuff about that guy in the park, the one 
with the knife.  And if I do, you let me walk."

"I don't have the authority to make that kind of deal."

"But *he* does, right?  And he has to do what you say."

Scully and Pearson exchanged a glance.  "I'm afraid that's 
not the way it works," she said.  "The FBI has separate 
authority from the District of Columbia Police Department."

"The DA has discretionary power in these cases," Pearson 
said, pulling up a chair.  "And I might be willing to go to 
bat for you with the DA's office if you give me a good reason 
to."

Vee looked from Pearson to Scully and back.  "How much would 
I get?"

The Detective considered.  "Well, you're young, it's your 
first offense...we might be able to settle on some kind of 
probation."

When Vee still seemed to hesitate, Scully spoke up.  "This 
man chased you with a knife, Vee.  He's already killed at 
least one person and he knows what you look like.  I would 
think it would be in your best interest to help us catch 
him."

"Okay."  Vee sighed and leaned across the table.  "Okay, I'll 
do it on one condition -- my mom can't find out about any of 
this.  I'll tell you everything, I'll do the probation, 
whatever.  She just can't know about it."

Pearson shook his head.  "No dice.  You're under eighteen and 
we need a legal guardian to approve any kind of arrangement."

"Then fuck it."  Vee shoved her chair back and stood up.  

"What about your father?" Scully asked.  

"He's dead."  Vee turned away, hugging her waist with her 
arms.  "Go ahead and do whatever you want to me.  It doesn't 
matter anyway."

Scully walked around the table, moving to stand between Vee 
and Pearson's watchful gaze.  The girl's eyes remained glued 
to the ground, but Scully spoke softly to her.  "You think 
things will be better for your mother if she has to come down 
to the morgue and identify your body?  Is that what you 
want?"

Vee shrugged.  "He hasn't come after me yet."

"Yes, he has.  He chased you two night ago, and you have no 
reason to think he won't come back, not if he thinks you can 
identify him."

"But I can't," Vee whispered.  "I can't identify him."

"You must have seen something."

Vee was silent.

"Her name was Elizabeth Kinney, you know," Scully continued 
after a minute.  "She was twenty-one years old, a senior at 
George Washington University.  She brushed her teeth Sunday 
morning thinking it was just like any other day.  Twelve 
hours later she was dead.  How do you think her mother is 
feeling right now?"

"Stop, just stop."  Vee swiped at the tears on her cheeks 
with the cuff of her sweatshirt.  "Don't you get it?  I can't 
help you!  I never saw his face!"

"What did you see?" Scully pressed.  "Tell me."

Vee balked, taking a step backwards.  "Her arms...they were 
so white, like a ghost.  I saw him carry her into the 
bushes."

"What did he look like?"

Vee's eyes went blank and she stared at the wall, as if 
visualizing the scene projected before her.  "He was tall, 
over six feet, and dressed in dark clothing.  The jacket went 
all the way to his knees.  He wore a face mask that looked 
like Richard Nixon, but his hair stuck up around it."

At the word "mask," Scully felt her heart sink.  So much for 
a positive ID. "Is that it?" she asked  "Can you remember 
anything else about him?"

Vee thought for a minute.  "Um, he was strong.  He carried 
her like she weighed nothing at all.  Oh, and he was white.  
I know because I saw his neck from the side.  But that's it."

Pearson got up from the table with a sigh.  "Not exactly the 
ace you were hoping for, huh?" he said to Scully.

Vee hung her head.  "I told you I couldn't identify him."

Despite her frustration, Scully gave the girl's arm a light 
squeeze.  "It's all right.  We know more now that we did this 
morning, and that's something.  Would you mind sitting down 
with me and going over everything that happened that night?  
Maybe there is a detail we've overlooked."

"Yeah, okay."  Vee drew a shuddering breath and wiped her 
palms on her jeans.  "But first I want to call my mother."

XxXxX

He knew better than to follow her into the police station.  
He hadn't survived all those years in that hellhole prison 
just to fuck up and land himself back inside again.  Still, 
when the cab had dropped him off on the corner, when he'd 
seen her stop and look around, a tingle shot up his spine.  
None of the others had ever sensed him before, not until it 
was too late.

Her car was in the small visitor lot -- a blue Camry, and new 
if he was any judge.  Carl stroked the smooth hood, then 
pressed himself against the driver-side door, removing the 
slim piece of metal from his jacket.  As a cop walked past, 
smiling at him; he smiled back and popped the lock open with 
one quick motion.

He climbed inside, his knees pressed almost to his chest, and 
placed trembling hands on her steering wheel.  She was so 
small he barely fit in her place.  He closed his eyes, 
inhaling deeply as he imagined her tiny feet on the pedals.

After a few minutes he started going through her things:  
several pens, sixty-seven cents in spare change, tube of 
coral lipstick (which he opened and sniffed), 
tissues... nothing of real interest to him.  

Except.

He pulled open the glove box and withdrew sheaf of papers.
Registered to Dana Katherine Scully, it said, with her 
address plain as day. 

XxXxX

"This is our room," Sarah said as she opened the door for 
Mulder and Arkin.  "Beth had the right side."

Mulder took in the rumpled chenille bedspread, the armchair 
layered in sweaters and the desk piled high with papers and 
books.  "Looks like my office," he said to Sarah.

She answered with a small smile.  "Beth wasn't the most 
organized person on earth, but she was the smartest girl I 
ever knew.  Professors who swore they never gave out A pluses 
were always making exceptions for Beth."

"She was at a charity dinner Sunday night, is that right?" 
Arkin asked.

Sarah nodded.  "As part of her work on the Hatchet.  They 
were raising money for inner city kids to go to summer camp 
in the mountains."

Mulder wandered over to Beth's chaotic desk to examine her 
personal effects.  He passed over the chemistry textbook and 
collection of British poets anthology in favor of the framed 
black-and-white photographs that adorned her wall.  "Did Beth 
take these?" he asked

"Yes, she took a couple of photography classes last year and 
really fell in love with it."  Sarah paused as her voice 
cracked.  "I thought she was really good."

"I think so, too," Mulder answered as he studied the 
snapshots.  Sarah was in one, along with two other girls he 
didn't recognize.  They were standing under a street lamp at 
night, wearing short skirts and tiny clips in their hair, 
their eyes alight as they shared some sort of gleeful secret 
together.  Mulder thought that if he leaned close enough, he 
could hear the laughter bubbling right out of the scene.

Sarah materialized at his shoulder.  "This one was her 
favorite," she said, tapping the far right photograph.  "That 
was Ben on their first date."  

Mulder took it off the wall for a closer look, and he 
understood immediately why it had been Beth's favorite.  
Emotional connection aside, it was just *good*.  She had 
captured Ben in a three-fourths profile, an extreme close-up.  
He was smiling but his eyes were focused on the ground, as if 
she had just told him a joke that made him blush.  A man in 
love who wasn't ready to share it with the camera.  

"She, um, took his car that night."

"To the charity dinner?" Mulder asked as he replaced the 
photo.

"Yeah. His car was back in the garage, though, so..."

"She must have made it back to campus."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears, and she nodded.  "I'm sorry," 
she said, backing away.  "I don't think I can talk about this 
anymore right now."

"That's fine," Mulder assured her.  "We're almost done here, 
I promise."

She left the room, and Mulder returned to Beth's desk.  Arkin 
joined him.  "Find anything interesting?"

"Nothing new so far.  I mainly just wanted to get a sense of 
who she was."

Arkin sighed.  "A real good kid."

"Yeah."  Mulder picked up a book on photography and began 
flipping through it.  Several pages were dog-eared, including 
one near the back that caused Mulder to freeze in place.  

"What is it?" Arkin asked, leaning over.

"It's Tanzini's photo, the one that was found on her body."

"You're fucking me."

"No, look.  There are a couple of Tanzini specials in here, 
all taken during the first series of murders eleven years 
ago."

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Akrin said.  "Considering that 
series won the Pulitzer and all."

Mulder stared down at the book, which also had hand-writing 
in the margins.  Beth had drawn an exclamation point next to 
one of the photographs -- a street crowd circled by police 
tape as they watched one of the bodies being taken away -- 
and the message "call Irene."

"You knew her friends," Mulder said.  "Who's Irene?"

"Never heard of her.  But it's not like I knew all her 
friends.  Could be anyone.  Why?  You think it's important?"

"I think that it's interesting that one thing that 
differentiates this murder from all the rest is that 
photograph, and that the *same* photograph turns up among the 
victim's possessions."

Arkin flipped through the book.  "That one and about a 
hundred others.  She's got marks on a bunch of these."

"True.  I think I'll hang on to it anyway."

As they left, they passed Sarah and several of her friends, 
where they were talking quietly in the living room.  "We're 
finished for now," Mulder said.  He held up the book.  "Is it 
okay if I take this?"

Sarah nodded as she stood.  "Sure, fine.  Anything that 
helps."

"Did Beth know anyone named Irene?"

"Irene?"  The girl's brow furrowed in thought, but then she 
shook her head.  "No, I don't think so.  She never mentioned 
her, anyway."

"Okay, thank you."  Mulder handed her his card.  "If you 
remember hearing about an Irene, or you think of anything 
else you think we should know, please call me."

"I will."

Arkin ruffled her hair.  "Take care of yourself, okay?"

They left the apartment in silence, Arkin more subdued than 
when they had arrived, Mulder lost in thought with the book 
tucked under one arm.  It was lunch break at GW, so students 
were streaming through the doors as the agents tried to exit.  
Outside, there was one man standing motionless amid all the 
activity.  Mulder recognized him immediately.

"Tanzini," he murmured, and Arkin followed his gaze across 
the campus to where a large man in an overcoat was leaning 
against a bike rack.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Mulder felt the old anger flash hot and quick inside him.  
"Scavenging," he replied, walking off the path and over 
toward the photographer.

"Mulder," Tanzini said at his approach.  "They say that time 
heals all wounds.  What do you think?"

"I think you better leave these kids alone, or I'll hold my 
own press conference and let everyone know what a snake you 
really are."

Tanzini chuckled.  "My superiors are well aware, I promise.  
Why do you think they pay me the big bucks?"

"It's about money, then?"  Mulder yanked his wallet out of 
his pocket and tossed a pair of twenties at Tanzini's feet. 
"Here, take these.  Take a couple more.  Whatever it takes to 
get you the hell out of here."

"Agent Mulder, relax.  I'm unarmed, see?"  He opened his coat 
to demonstrate his lack of a camera, then stooped to pick up 
Mulder's money.  Folding it carefully, he handed it back.  "I 
just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"How did you know I was here?"

If lizards could smile, Mulder thought, they would look like 
Gary Tanzini.  The other man put his hands in his pockets and 
rocked back on his heels.  "You know a newsman never reveals 
a source.  But my sources do tell me interesting things these 
days.  Word on the street is that he's back."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mulder replied 
tightly, and Arkin looked at the ground.

"Oh, come on," Tanzini said.  "Grace Johnson, Elizabeth 
Kinney -- both of them strangled with their little toes cut 
off.  It's got to be the same guy."

"No comment."

Tanzini held his gaze for another moment, then shook his 
head.  "Sure, okay.  We both know I'm right."

"Stay out of this, Tanzini.  I'm warning you."

"That was always your problem, Mulder.  You didn't see that 
we're on the same side."

"I know where I stand," Mulder answered.  "And it sure as 
hell isn't next to you."

Tanzini sighed.  "Look, despite what you think, I don't take 
any personal pleasure from photographing these crimes.  I'm 
just there to tell the story, to let people know what's going 
on.  And the more people that know about it, the more likely 
it is that one of them will come forward with information to 
help your case."

Mulder was silent for a moment.  "You let us worry about the 
case," he said finally.  He turned to Arkin.  "We're done 
here."

As they turned to leave, Tanzini called after them.  "What 
makes you think you can catch him this time, Mulder?  He's 
already killed two girls right under your nose, and you're 
stuck poking around a dorm room for clues."

Mulder froze for a fraction of a second, but kept moving 
without turning around.  Arkin fell back.  "Mr. Tanzini," he 
said.  "You know anyone named Irene?"

At this, Mulder did turn around.  The photographer looked 
confused.  "Irene?" he said.  "Can't say that I do.  Why?"

Arkin exchanged a look with Mulder, who shrugged.  "Might be 
a clue," he said, and both agents walked away.

XxXxX

Scully pinched the bridge of her nose as she stepped out of 
the interrogation room into the hallway; two hours of 
questions and Vee's story hadn't changed.  She had seen the 
aftermath of the murder but not the murder itself, and there 
was no way she could identify the man's face.  Scully wished 
she could be sure the killer knew it, too.

She pulled out her phone to call Mulder when she noticed a 
tall woman standing ramrod straight at the other end of the 
hallway and staring through the tinted window into the 
interrogation room.  It wasn't until she wiped the tears from 
her face, an exact mimic of the silent gesture Scully had 
seen Vee make, that Scully realized who she was.  "Mrs. 
Kroener?"

The woman jerked at the sound of her name, as if noticing 
Scully for the first time.  "Yes."

"I'm Dana Scully and I work at the FBI.  I've been talking to 
your daughter for the past few hours."

"Virginia is in trouble with the FBI, too?"  Mrs. Kroener 
sounded desolate.

"No," Scully said gently.  "She was a witness to a murder the 
other night in Montrose Park.  We wanted to ask her some 
questions about what she saw."

Mrs. Kroener's mouth twisted, and she swallowed several times 
in quick succession.  "Ginny saw someone killed?  Oh, my 
God."

"She didn't see the actual killing, no."

"Oh, God."  The woman turned back to the window, where inside 
Vee had laid her head down on her arms.  "I don't understand.  
I don't understand how this happened."

"Mrs. Kroener..." Scully hesitated.  "There is a slight 
possibility that Virginia could be in danger if this man 
thinks he can identify him.  Detective Pearson has agreed to 
step up the police patrol on your street, but you might 
consider having her stay out of town with a friend or 
relative just to be safe."

The other woman nodded, her eyes still on her daughter.  "I 
have a sister in Baltimore.  But I don't know if Ginny will 
stay there."

Scully said nothing. 

"When she was four," Mrs. Kroener continued after another 
moment, "we went to a picnic sponsored by our temple.  There 
was a clown there for the children, handing out balloons.  
One little boy let his go by accident, and he started crying 
inconsolably.  Ginny took one look at him and marched right 
over with her balloon.  'Don't be sad,' she said.  'We can 
share.' I thought to myself then that I would never have to 
worry about her.  That she...she had a good heart."

"I'm sorry," Scully whispered, and Mrs. Kroener nodded.

"I should go talk to her.  Please excuse me."

Alone in the hallway, Scully once again pulled out her phone.  
It rang in her hand.  "Scully," she said, expecting to hear 
Mulder on the other end.

"Agent Scully, this is William Beasley from the pathology lab 
at Quantico.  Do you remember me?"

"Yes, of course.  What can I do for you?"

"I've completed the post-mortem exam on Elizabeth Kinney.  
There were some abnormalities in the brain tissue, markings 
that I've never seen before.  Word around here is that you're 
something of an expert in the unexplained, so I thought you 
might like to come take a look."

"What kind of markings?" 

Beasley hesitated.  "I can't do them justice over the phone.  
It's best you see for yourself." 

"I'm on my way."

XxXxX

End Chapter Four.  Continued in Chapter Five.

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