Do not archive. 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Chapter Six

XxXxXxXxXxXxX


In the middle of the night everything is a dream, and 
Mulder's motel room had seen this particular one before.  
Gray flicker on the walls, rumpled covers, and Mulder lying 
breathless in the middle, cocked with unbearable need.  
Except now when he licked his lips he could taste her 
lipstick, closed his eyes and he could still smell her hair.    

The cracks around the bathroom door glowed and he heard water 
running on the other side.  She'd gone in before he'd 
finished his phone call, and when she emerged again he was 
going to have to figure out something to say.  Unfortunately, 
his brain was stuck throbbing with a single expletive.  

The door jerked open and Mulder sat up, blinking.  Scully 
froze with the glare streaming from behind her.  She said 
nothing.  Her gaze dropped to his gaping fly and he scrambled 
to get himself in order.  "Scully--"  She started for the 
front door, so he launched himself from the bed, got tangled 
in the sheets, and careened shoulder-first into the wall.  
Scully caught his arm and prevented a total flop.

"God, Mulder.  Be careful.  Are you okay?"

He steadied himself and looked down at her darkened eyes.  
Her skin was still flushed and he could see the rapid pulse 
beating at the base of her throat.  "Yeah," he breathed, his 
hand coming up to smooth down the side of her head.  "Are 
you?"

She looked at the floor.  "Mulder, I--"

"What?"  He raised her chin, stroked her cheek with his 
thumb.  She shivered.

"I can't think."

He grinned, relieved, and slid his hand around to the back of 
her neck.  With just a nudge, she came forward and pressed 
her face into his T-shirt.  He closed his eyes, breathing in 
her scent, and nuzzled the top of her head.  "Well, I can't 
walk, so we're even."

Her arms slipped around his waist, where she squeezed him 
hard.  His hips gave an involuntary lurch.  No sexual contact 
for over four years had made him just a little bit crazy.  
She bit his shirt and pulled away.  "We have to go."

"I know, I know."  He grabbed his phone from the bed as she 
gathered her things.  When she tried to pass him, he caught 
her wrist.  Current crackled across his fingers.

"Mulder, I can't do this now."

"But later," he said, daring her to contradict.

"Mulder."  She yanked free, and he sighed.  He snapped off 
the TV, plunging them into pitch black.  He followed the 
rustle of her steps across the room.  At the door, she halted 
and he bumped her from behind.  Every inch of her tensed at 
once.  "Scully?"  He braced his hands on the wood in front of 
her, caging her in.  "Scully, what--?"

She attacked him.  Her hot little mouth found his, her body 
straining towards him in the dark.  She touched tongues with 
him and left him spinning and breathless.  "Later," she said, 
and opened the door.

XxXxXxX


"You believe me now, right?" Eleanor said to Sam as they 
walked with flashlights around the common.  "I told you this 
was going to happen.  I told you."

"We don't know that anything has happened yet, Eleanor.  CiCi 
could still turn up just fine.  Maybe she met someone here 
tonight and gone home with them.  We just don't know."

"I know," she replied with disgust.  "And so do you."

Their beams crossed and diverged again.  "There's too much 
goddamn trash here," he muttered.  "No way of telling what's 
important and what isn't."
 
"Then we bag it all."  Eleanor marked a crumpled paper plate 
with an evidence flag.  "I don't remember seeing CiCi at all 
tonight.  Do you?"

"No."

She stopped and aimed her beam back in the direction of 
CiCi's abandoned car.  "Maybe she never even made it in."

"Maybe, maybe not.  There were thousands here tonight."  He 
trained his flashlight at her chest.  "Like you.  I don't 
remember seeing you around either."

"You shouldn't have been looking."

"Who said I was?"

She shot him a hard look and went back to searching the 
ground.  "Footprints all over the place.  Cigarette butts, 
plastic cups.  He couldn't have picked a better place to 
snatch her."

"Awfully public for an abduction, even with the trees."  Sam 
scanned the pines near the road.  "If someone did take her, 
we might get lucky with a witness."

"That would be a first.  He's gotten clean away every other 
time -- Bea disappeared between her driveway and her front 
door without even a trace."

"I know."  Sam sounded weary.  "But things have to go our way 
some time."

"They'd better go our way fast, or this guy goes back 
underground for another year.  Dammit!"  She kicked the 
grass.  "I didn't want to be right, Sam.  Not with CiCi.  If 
anything happens to her..."

Sam scratched the back of his head, the flashlight hanging 
limp from one hand.  "You think maybe he took her to send us 
a message?"

"I don't know what to think.  None of it makes any sense."  
She looked over at the street, where a rented Taurus glided 
to a stop near CiCi's old Toyota.  "Mulder and Scully are 
here."

"So much for calling in the cavalry.  FBI didn't make a damn 
bit of difference, did it?"

"Not yet."  She glanced at him and started across the lawn 
towards the agents.  They met her partway, looking as formal 
as ever even in T-shirts and jeans.  Scully's level gaze 
tracked her as she drew near, and Eleanor stopped by Mulder's 
side.  "Thanks for coming out.  I know it's late."

"Any word on CiCi?" he asked.

"Not yet.  We've got her daughter Janet down at the station 
helping make calls to anyone who might know where CiCi is, 
but it doesn't look good.  Janet said CiCi always calls or 
leaves a note if she's not going to be home as promised."

"Where was Janet this evening?" Scully wanted to know.

"With friends at the beach all day long.  She's seventeen.  
Her friends dropped her off around midnight, and CiCi was 
supposed to be home by then.  Janet called her grandmother in 
Pittsfield, but she said she didn't know anything.  Around 
one thirty, Janet called us.  A black and white drove by and 
found CiCi's car parked over there by those trees.  The hood 
was cold."

Sam caught up with them.  "Evening, Agent Mulder.  Agent 
Scully."

"Sheriff," Mulder said.  "Eleanor says you've got another 
kidnapping."

"Nothing's been confirmed, but yes, I'd say it looks that 
way.  It's not like CiCi to run off without telling Janet."

Eleanor cleared her throat.  "Sam was suggesting that he 
might have taken CiCi to send us a message.  Maybe he knows 
we've stepped up the investigation?"

"I don't doubt he knows."  Mulder began walking towards 
CiCi's car, and Eleanor fell into step beside him.  Scully 
hurried along behind them while Sam followed with a languid 
lope.  "But I don't think CiCi's abduction was any sort of 
recent message," Mulder continued.  "Taking her from here out 
in the open was an extremely high-risk proposition.  He would 
have needed to time it down to the minute, which means she 
was not an impulse grab.  He had this planned a long time 
ago."

"The fair happens the same time every year, and everyone 
goes.  He could have guessed she would have been here."

"This guy doesn't guess."  Mulder stopped near the car, where 
a pair of uniformed cops guarded the scene.  Crouching down, 
he held out a hand for her flashlight.  "No obvious tracks," 
he said as he scanned the ground.  "No sign of a struggle."

"That's what I said," Eleanor replied.  "Maybe she knew him."

"Could be."  Mulder stood up and looked through the park at 
the deserted bandstand.  "If he took her from here he would 
have needed his own car."

Scully pushed between him and Eleanor.  "Can I see that a 
minute?" she asked of the flashlight.  He handed it over.

"What you got?"

"Well, we know this guy likes to watch.  If he'd been 
tracking CiCi, he would have known she'd be late -- just 
like we were.  This was the only parking left, remember?"  
She walked around the edge of the crime scene perimeter with 
Mulder at her heels.  Eleanor followed too. 

"You're thinking he would have been waiting for he to show up 
here," Mulder said.

"If I were watching this area, I'd be right--"  She ducked 
into a cluster of thick pines.  "Here."  The edge of her 
flashlight beam caught a beer bottle.  She turned and raised 
an eyebrow at Mulder.  "Standing around in the heat waiting 
can make a person thirsty."

"Nice," Mulder said.  Scully asked for and received a pair of 
latex gloves, which she used to bag the bottle.

"Same kind as we pulled from your house today," she said to 
Eleanor.  Mulder frowned.

"Those prints were a bust."

"It's a common enough brand," Eleanor said as she took the 
bag from Scully.  "I'll have someone run it for prints ASAP 
just in case."

"You take it to the lab personally," Sam ordered. "I don't 
care who you have to roust out of bed.  I want those results 
on my desk within the hour."

"Sam," Eleanor began, but didn't get to finish.  A uniformed 
man came trotting over, calling her name.  Eleanor turned and 
shaded her eyes from the blazing headlights used to 
illuminate the crime scene.  "What is it, Jimmy?"

"Someday I'll get that kid to pay attention to who's in 
charge around here," Sam muttered.

"We've finished all the calls," Jimmy said, panting as he 
drew to a halt in front of her.  "No one has seen or heard 
from CiCi since this afternoon."

No one said anything as that bit of news sunk in.  Eleanor 
swallowed the lump in her throat.  "Then it's important we 
figure out who saw her last," Eleanor told Jimmy.  "We're 
going to need to interview that person as soon as possible."

"Well, that's going to be real easy," Tipton replied, looking 
around at all their faces.  "Near as we can tell, you want to 
talk to Agent Scully."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Chris Cullen played his silent movie in slow motion.  It had 
been easy enough to talk to the cops into making him a copy 
of the security tape; he just pointed out how he could study 
it at home for any other faces that looked familiar.  But 
instead he replayed the same two minutes and six seconds over 
and over again.  His brain teased out what might have been a 
memory:

"Caffeine and sugar," he'd said as he rung up her purchases.  
"My two favorite food groups."

The girl smiled.  You could see that on the tape.  She'd 
thought he was funny.  

He gave her the change and she started to move off the 
screen, her hair all up in braids and her tight top hugging 
every curve.  Slowly, slowly, she advanced until he hit 
"pause" just at the door.  

She'd turned around to give him one last look.  Maybe she had 
even said "bye." 

He set the tape in motion again.  The door opened.

And she was gone.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Scully took a mountain of physical evidence with her to the 
labs, where she met Eleanor making a hasty retreat.  "No 
prints on the bottle you found," Eleanor said.  "Gavin says 
it's fresh, though -- the inside still had a bit of beer at 
the bottom.  Who knows?  If the guy was waiting to grab CiCi, 
he might have been wearing gloves already."  She nodded at 
the bags of evidence Scully held in both hands.  "Is that the 
rest of the stuff?"

"At least the first round.  Your people are still collecting 
at the scene."

"Gavin will help you run it.  He's the tall guy in the back 
with the goatee.  You can't miss him."

"And where will you be?"

Eleanor shifted.  "This lab stuff isn't my forte.  I'm much 
better at reading people than I am at reading fiber samples, 
so I think I'm going to go help Mulder with the interviews.  
Unless you need me here?"

"No, I think I can manage."

"Great."  Eleanor jogged towards the door.  "Call us if you 
get anything."

Scully sighed and trudged into the lab, where she set the 
large bags on the counter.  At the rear office, a tall man 
eating a Hostess cupcake turned to look at her.  "You must be 
Gavin," she said.

"Gavin Forth, at your service."  He dusted the chocolate 
crumbs from his hands.  "Just point me at the items you need 
processed, and I'll get right on it."

Scully pulled out the first few pieces of possible evidence.  
"Trade you," she said, "for that other cupcake."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Dawn streaked watercolor clouds across the sky as Mulder 
tried CiCi Lin's front door.  It opened and he let himself 
into her shadowed living room.  The couch felt a bit 
threadbare under the sweep of his hand, but the cushions were 
neat and fluffed.  Mulder crossed to the far wall where CiCi 
had hung an array of photographs.  He switched on the nearest 
floor lamp and studied the black and white images up close.  
Family photos, he noted, most of Janet.  He smiled at the one 
of her hanging upside down from the jungle gym, her pigtails 
tickling the ground.  

A few of the pictures showed an older Chinese man with 
twinkling eyes and a mole on his left cheek.  Mulder guessed 
this was Janet's grandfather.  In none of the photos could he 
see anyone who might be her father.

He moved to the kitchen, which featured more casual snapshots 
tacked to the refrigerator.  Janet's report card hung there 
as well, though it looked like she'd tried to mask it with a 
half-dozen large magnets.  Mulder shifted the grinning 
ladybugs and saw that Janet was a straight-A student.

The scent of orange lingered in the air, and Mulder found the 
remnants of a peel in the garbage.  Half a glass of water sat 
by the sink.  On the table was a large unmarked envelope.  He 
withdrew the photos inside and saw they were from the meadow 
outside Eleanor's home.  "So she made it back here after the 
studio," Mulder murmured as he studied the pictures.

"Hello?" a voice called from the other room, and a moment 
later, Eleanor appeared at the kitchen doorway.  "There you 
are."

"Hey.  I thought you were working with Scully."

"She's got the lab situation pretty well covered.  I'd just 
be in the way.  What can I do to help here?"

He tossed the photos back down on the table.  "Not much.  I'm 
just having a look around."

"For anything in particular?"

"Well, as Scully put it earlier, this guy likes to watch.  
Apparently he liked to watch CiCi, and I want to know what it 
was he saw."  He walked down the narrow hall to the master 
bedroom.  Eleanor followed.  "Do you know if CiCi had a 
boyfriend?"

"Uh, not that I knew, but we weren't especially close."

He stopped rifling through the dresser to look at her.  "No?"

"Don't get me wrong -- she was nice enough.  We just didn't 
have much in common."

"Uh-huh.  What kind of things didn't you have in common?"

"She had a daughter, for one.  When the guys and I would go 
out after work, you know for a beer or something, CiCi always 
had to be home for Janet."  She sagged against the wall.  
"Oh, God."

"What?"

"I just thought -- that poor kid.  What if we don't find 
CiCi?"

Mulder sat on the bed and opened the nightstand drawer.  "We 
can't think about that now."

"How can I not think about it?  It's all my fault."

"It's not."  Mulder turned and saw her cover her face with 
her hands.  "Hey."  He got up and went to her.  "None of this 
is your fault," he said softly.  She wouldn't look at him.

"I don't see anyone else getting personal notes," she said 
through her hands.  "I should go.  I should just leave town 
and go live under a rock somewhere."

"That wouldn't catch this guy."

"No, but it might stop him from killing."  She dropped her 
and looked at him with the same misery he'd seen on her face 
ten years ago, when he'd opened that terrible door.  "It's me 
he wants," she whispered.

"You don't know that."

"I do.  So do you."  She watched him wrestle with an answer.  
When he said nothing, she gave a tiny nod.  "That's what I 
thought."

"Listen to me."  Mulder grabbed her gently by the arms.  "It 
doesn't matter what he wants, because we're not going to let 
that happen."

Bottomless eyes bored into his.  "I don't see how you can 
stop it."

"You're going to be okay, Eleanor.  I promise."

She gave a half-smile.  "You said that before."

"And was I wrong?"

"I don't know," she replied.  "Maybe you were."  She shifted 
and he released her.  She walked to the bed and traced the 
paisley pattern on CiCi's bedspread.  "I'm so tired," she 
murmured after a minute.  "I don't think I've ever been this 
tired."

"Go home and get some rest," he suggested.  "It's been a long 
night for everyone."

Her shoulders hitched.  "We have too many interviews to do."

"I've been thinking about that."  He walked to her and 
touched her arm.  "It doesn't make sense to bring in ten 
thousand people for questioning on the slight chance one of 
them might have seen something.  Let's make them come to us.  
Put the news out that CiCi is missing and see if anyone comes 
forward as a witness."

"I could still make the morning broadcast."

"Perfect.  That's the best thing you can do right now.  And 
after that, get some rest."

"What about you?"

"I'm about done here.  After this, I'll check in with Scully 
and then I may take my own advice."

"You'll call me if you get a hit on the evidence?"

"I'll call."

She looked pained.  "We've got to find her, Agent Mulder."

"We'll find her."  He was willing to say whatever it took to 
get her to go home and get some sleep.  Strung out and 
exhausted, she was a liability rather than an asset.  He 
walked her to the door and waited until she was safely on her 
way before returning to CiCi's bedroom.

If the kidnapper was really copycatting Coben, they had a 
chance.  Coben had kept his victims alive for several days 
after he abducted them.

Mulder glanced around at the cream walls, the sheer curtains 
and the racks of jewelry lined up neatly on the dresser.  
"There was a reason he picked you," he said to the room.  "He 
looked at you and saw -- what?"  

Bedside reading showed CiCi favored Oprah books and the Holy 
Bible.  She kept her reading glasses in a soft red case and 
her tissues covered with a decorative box.  No condoms near 
the bed nor sign of birth control pills in the bathroom.  
Mulder raided the closet next and discovered CiCi's second 
passion:  clothes.  She liked brightly-colored blouses and 
had skirts of every conceivable length.  A shoe rack hung 
from the door with all slots filled but one.  Mulder 
stretched up and brought down two hatboxes from the shelves.

No hats.

He pulled out old birthday cards and newspaper clippings.  
There was a program from a school play and a shell necklace.  
Inside the second one, he found three leather bound books 
filled with neat script.  Gold lettering on the front of each 
read "Journal."  Mulder returned to the bed and sat down to 
read.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Don't piss in the pot you cook in, my father used to say, and 
I've heeded those words well.  It takes money that I don't 
really have to keep this place separate from my home but in 
the end, it's worth it.  I can't store the bodies here, of 
course; the smell alone would get the neighbors running.  But 
it serves as a beautiful intermediary while I do my work.

I learned early that there's no point in keeping them alive 
past the first day.  That delicious moment, when they know 
they are going to die, it comes only once and you can't 
manufacture that by opening the closet door over and over 
with a cleaver in hand.  I tried.

By the third day Bea just looked up at me, desolate, dead 
inside already.  She knew her fate and accepted it.  The 
thrill was gone.  I like to think I ended her cleanly, that 
her going was peaceful.  

The FBI agents have messed up the timing of everything.  
Already they've broken the circle and it's up to me to repair 
it before the whole plan goes to hell.  

CiCi is scratching like a dog in the closet but the gag keeps 
her otherwise silent.   I'll get to her soon enough.  First I 
have some writing to do.  July 16 is just around the corner 
and I wouldn't want the birthday girl to think I've neglected 
her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Eleanor awoke uncertain where she was.  She curled in her bed 
as the room came into focus.  Curtains billowed out at her, 
and outside she could see the gathering storm.  The sky 
pressed down like a stone, dead air heavy on her skin.  She 
went to the window and looked past the quivering grasses to 
the trees on the other side.  No one seemed to be looking 
back at her.

She picked up her phone and dialed.  "Mama," she said when 
the voice came on the other line.  "It's me."

"Ellie!  It's been ages since you called."

"I know," she said, suddenly shamed.  "How are you?  How's 
Daddy?"

"We're both getting along okay.  This heat has been tortuous 
on your father, though.  He has a rash we can't seem to clear 
up."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"How is everything with you, dear?  Are you eating?"

Eleanor gave an ironic smile her mother couldn't see.  "Yes, 
I'm eating."

"I worry about that.  When you were little we had to work so 
hard to get food into you, and then you'd just pop outside 
and run it off again."

Eleanor stroked her flat stomach and leaned against the wall, 
still watching the meadow.  "I promise I'm eating fine, 
Mama."

"Good.  A man likes a woman with a little meat on her bones, 
you know?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Yes, you know?  You have someone special?"  The hopeful tone 
in her mother's voice made Eleanor wince.  She hid her face 
in the curtain.

"No, there's no one special."

"Oh, that's such a shame.  Soon, I'm sure.  You're such a 
pretty girl, Ellie.  What man wouldn't want to be with you?"

"Things are really busy at work right now, Mama.  I don't 
really have time.  We--we have this case..."  Her heart 
picked up at the thought of mentioning Coben's name.

"You know who is getting married?  Timothy Adler.  Remember 
him?  He was Scottie's best friend in school.  I met him in 
the grocery the other day with his fiancée."

"I remember Timothy."

"I can't believe he's old enough to be getting married.  
Seems like yesterday he and Scottie were swinging from the 
trees in the park."

Tears welled up, burning her eyes, and she held her head back 
to keep them from falling.  "It was fifteen years ago, Mama.  
Timmy's all grown up now."

"Yes."  Her mother sounded wistful.  "Of course he is."

"Mom?"  She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.  "I've 
got to go.  I've got to get back to work."

"So soon?  We've hardly talked."

"I'll call again."

"You always say that." 

"I know.  I always mean to."

"But your work is so important," her mother sighed.  "Go 
then.  I'll tell your father you called."

"Bye," Eleanor whispered.  She clicked off the phone and 
crawled back onto her bed.  With her back against the 
headboard, she buried her head on her knees.  She didn't move 
for a long time.  At last she picked up the phone again and 
dialed a number she knew by heart.

"It's me," she said when he answered.  "Can you come over?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully rotated her neck right then left and leaned back in 
her chair.  Her left eye was beginning to twitch from fatigue 
and she'd only printed half of the evidence they had 
collected from the town common.  Gavin, who was working the 
ancient computer in the back room, appeared with an update.

"We got some hits," he said as he handed her a printout.  
"One of the soda cans belongs to a guy named Jack Mercer.  He 
did five years for sexual assault and was paroled from 
Walpole this spring.  Also, Ellis Burke.  He's been busted 
twice for peeping."

"This is great, thanks.  I'll have another batch ready for 
you in a few minutes."  Scully scanned the results as Gavin 
turned to go back to work.  "Wait," she said.  "I thought 
there were no prints on the beer bottle."

"One of them," he replied.  "The other one came back as Sam 
Parker."  He grinned.  "Should we bust the Sheriff for 
littering?"

"We only picked up one beer bottle in this load," Scully said 
as she rose from her chair.

"I just ran all the cards in front of me."  He pulled them 
out and showed them to her.

"These are the prints from this morning, from Eleanor's 
house."  Scully looked at him.  "She told me there was no 
match."

"Maybe she made a mistake?"

Scully tapped the card against her palm.  "Yes.  A big one."  
She fished out her phone and called Mulder.

"Hey, I was just going to call you, Scully."

"We have a big problem, Mulder."

"What's that?"

"Eleanor tampered with the evidence."

"She what?"

"The bottle we found outside her house had Sheriff Parker's 
prints on it.  She lied to us."

"If Sheriff Parker is the one stalking Eleanor, I'd say we 
have bigger problems than Eleanor's lies."

"You're excusing her?"

"Of course not.  We have to figure out why she lied."

Scully closed her eyes.  "It's time to call Boston," she 
said.  "Kersh is probably having a fit by now, and this case 
has gotten too big for just us and the local Sheriff's 
Department."

"Scully, wait."

"No, I won't wait.  We have a woman missing, Mulder, and 
about ten thousand people to interview as possible witnesses.  
Not to mention the fact that the Sheriff is looking like our 
prime suspect."

"Just a few more hours."

"Mulder--"

"Listen, this guy seems to be modeling Coben, right?  Coben 
kept his victims alive for days.  If we flood the place with 
agents, we could spook this guy into cutting that time 
short."

"But with more people looking, we have a better chance of 
finding her.  We're getting nowhere, Mulder, and she's 
already been missing for at least twelve hours."

"CiCi was having an affair with Mark Roy."

"What?"

"It's all in her diary.  In fact, they were together the day 
he disappeared."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Thunder rolled in just as he did.  He arrived wet on her 
porch, beaded drops dripping from his leather jacket.  She 
came out from behind the screen door and they stared at each 
other as the rain sheeted around them.  "You wanted to see 
me?"

"I--I need you."  Her heart thudded in fear, in anticipation.

Derek cocked his head.  "You're sure this time?"

"Yes.  I want to do this."

He nodded at her to go inside, and soon his heavy boots were 
clonking across her hardwood floors.  She felt light-headed 
as he removed his jacket and then his shirt.  "Did you do 
this kind of thing with her?"

He stopped in the middle of unbuckling his belt and walked 
over to her.  She flinched as he pressed two fingers to her 
lips.  "This is not about her, Eleanor.  It's about you.  If 
you mention her again, we can't go through with this.  Do you 
understand?"

She nodded.

"No, I want to hear you say it."

"I understand."

He searched her face for another second but she held his 
gaze.  At last he crossed to the closet, where he stroked the 
nails that held it shut.  "You want to use this one?"

"N-no.  Upstairs."  She swallowed.

"Gonna need a hammer to get the nails out."

"I have one."

He took off his belt.  "Then let's go."  

Eleanor's mouth went dry, her feet planted to the floor.  
Derek cracked his belt hard against the wooden chair, and 
Eleanor jumped.

"I said, let's go!"

She went.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

End Chapter Six.  Continued in Chapter Seven.

Life = hell.  Slows the story some. *g*  Fortunately I get 
some breathing room after the first week in November.  Maybe 
by then I'll be healthy again, too! 

Hey, a slug killer can dream, can't she?

Thanks for bearing with me.

Waving pom-poms, rotten tomatoes, bizarre theories about the 
killer:  direct them to syn_tax6@yahoo.com