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Scavenger
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Chapter Seven

Even after, she could still smell it, the sweat-soaked wood, the metallic scent of spilt blood, the 
close, heated scent of her own fear.  She locked it all in again and stooped to pick up the nearest 
nail.  Her muscles, sore from crouching, burned as she stretched to begin hammering the door 
shut.   Already there were bruises rising on her arms.   

She could feel Derek's eyes on her back, watching.  "Seems a waste of time, if you ask me," he 
said, and she heard the T-Shirt go over his head.

"I didn't ask."

"But you will again.  That's my point."

"I got your point, thank you."  She was waiting for him to leave so she could shower.   The 
straps of her tank top had slid down her shoulders, but the rest of it clung to her sticky skin.  
Hanks of hair matted against her neck.  The storm had rumbled on, leaving her farmhouse 
bedroom damp and humid as a rainforest. 

"Guess I'll just get going then."  Her bedsprings creaked under his weight as he sat to put on his 
boots.  She froze, willing him away.  The bed was hers and she didn't want him touching it.  Their 
relationship wasn't about bed.

"I think that would be best," she said, turning to face him at last.  "I've got to get back soon."

This was the real reason she'd asked him, this curt dismissal.  As much power as she gave away, 
she took back twice when they were finished.  He stared at her mute, a glint of challenge in his 
eye, but he stood to go.  "I've been thinking about the case a lot lately," he said, stopping in front 
of her.  "About Bea."

"What about her?"

"I think she's dead."

Eleanor held herself steady.  For three years, Derek had steadfastly refused to admit his girlfriend 
might have been murdered.  "What makes you say that?"

He gave a half-shrug.  "It's been too long.  Then the others have all gone missing.  I was thinking, 
what would he want with them if he still had Bea?"

Eleanor said nothing, because she believed the same thing.  Derek retrieved his leather jacket, still 
damp with rain, and put it on.  "It's funny how things turn out."  He looked at her.  "If Bea 
wasn't gone, we wouldn't have met."

He left her sore, silent, with his last words still stinging her ears.

XxXxXxX

On a drizzly, steamy New England afternoon the mob carried umbrellas rather than pitchforks 
but they nevertheless descended on the Sheriff's station with traditional gothic ferocity.  They 
pressed around Mulder the instant he left his car, a sea of twisted angry faces demanding answers 
he didn't have.   They grabbed at his suit coat and jostled him from all sides as he tried to make it 
to the door.   Roving reporters with their spotlight cameras spun around him.  In the absence of a 
real criminal, they'd take a confession from him instead.  

"Is there really a serial killer in Woodsbury?"   
"What happened to CiCi?"
"What about our children?"
"Is it true you found a woman's hand on the Common?"

Mulder put his arms up to deflect blows and questions as he pushed his way up the steps and 
into the station.  Uniformed cops at the door kept back the throngs, and Mulder paused on the 
other side to catch his breath.  People packed the tiny waiting area as well.  Deputy Tipton held 
court with a clipboard, weeding out potential witnesses from those who just wanted to ask 
questions.    The AC heaved doubletime to compensate for the crush of humanity, and the chill 
swept over Mulder's clamy skin.

"Is the Sheriff around?" he asked Tipton.  Already a dull throbbing had formed behind his tired 
eyes.  No sleep in nearly two days, and his body didn't keep up the way it used to do.  The 
thought of the task at hand just weighed him down more.

"Sheriff's in Room Two interviewing witnesses," Tipton reported.  "Why, you got something?"

Mulder considered the beer bottle outside Eleanor's house and the incriminating fingerprints.  
"Not especially.  I just need to talk to him."

He found Sam Parker in a windowless room with a tape recorder and a cup of coffee.  As he 
opened the door, a middle-aged woman with an round, owlish face was just leaving.  Parker 
looked up at Mulder.  "I've talked to almost fifty people so far, and not one of them remembers 
seeing CiCi at the fair last night.  I've got reports of a suspicious man near the west corner.  At 
least four people say they saw him hanging around with a long coat on."

Mulder closed the door behind him.  "It was hotter than hell last night."

"Exactly.  A flasher, maybe.  But no one agrees on the man's height or hair color or pretty much 
anything else about him other than he was white and wearing a long coat.  I was just about to 
check in with you and Scully and see if anything turned up in the evidence."

"Right," Mulder said, tapping his fingers lightly on the smooth table.  "The evidence."  He did 
not sit down.  Parker leaned back in his chair.

"You've got something?"

"That bottle that Scully found in Deputy Kot's yard," Mulder said.  "It has your fingerprints on 
it."

Parker paled in a slow fade.  He righted his chair.  "So?"

"I could ask how it got there, but I think we already know the answer to that.  From Scully's 
description, it sounds like you must have sat in the field for some time watching Eleanor's 
house."

"You got all that from a beer bottle?"

"The beer bottle, the tire tracks."  He paused.  "Watching you with Eleanor.  She ran those prints 
so she must have known it was you.  What I want to know is why she lied about it."

Parker's shoulders seemed to droop a little and he looked past Mulder at the door.  "That 
locked?"

"Does it need to be?"

Paker sighed and rubbed his face with both hands.  "I love her," he said quietly a moment later.  "I 
mean, I'm crazy about her.  Which is probably why I do stupid shit like drive over there in the 
middle of the night and watch her house.  It's like -- the more she says no, the more I have to--"

"Have to what?"

Parker shut his mouth.  He shook his head and pushed aside his notes.  "I told Eleanor to bury 
the print results.  I knew it was my bottle so there was no point in logging it as real evidence."

"It was found at a crime scene.  That makes it real evidence."

"What crime?"

"Trespassing for one.  Peeping for another."

"Listen here, you don't know what you're talking about."

"She could prosecute you under the stalking laws if she wanted to.  Have you thought about 
that?"

Parker's jaw flexed.  "She won't prosecute."

"You seem awfully certain about that."

"I am.  I care about her.  I've looked out for her.  She knows that."

Mulder eyed the gold band on Parker's ring finger.  Parker caught him looking and ducked his 
hand under the table.  "What's your wife have to say about all of this?" Mulder wanted to know.

"I don't think my wife's opinion has any bearing on this conversation."

"Oh, I don't know.  You're claiming that you're not a stalker, that you and Eleanor have this deep, 
mutual connection, but you sneak out of your wife's house to go run surveillance on Eleanor's 
place.  You'll have to excuse me if I'm a little fuzzy on the details of your arrangement."

"My arrangement, as you call it, has nothing to do with you or this case."

"It does now.  You and Eleanor conspired to conceal evidence."

"Of no crime!"

Mulder walked around the table to where Parker sat.  "Whoever is kidnapping these people has 
fixated on Eleanor.  Surely that's hasn't escaped you."

"You're not thinking that I--"

"As Sheriff, you'd have had access to her history, if you'd wanted it.  A little digging and you 
could have turned up the whole story.  They kept her real name mostly hidden out of respect but 
anyone in the Chicago PD sixteen years ago would have known who she was.  You have any 
friends in Chicago, Sheriff?"

"No, and I resent the hell out the implication."  Parker shoved his chair back and stood.  He 
moved for the door but Mulder went around the other side of the table and blocked him.

"Well, I resent it when someone fucks up my investigations by tampering with the evidence!"

Parker's breath was low and labored, like a bull about to charge.  "It wasn't evidence," he said, 
enunciating each word as if to a dim-witted child.  "And this isn't your investigation."

Mulder stiffened.  "The hell it isn't."

"Eleanor called you here as a favor, and unless I miss my mark, no one in Washington assigned 
you this case."  Mulder's silence made him smile.  "You've been a lot of help, Agent Mulder.  But 
maybe it's time you and Scully went back to DC, hmm?  I can call in the boys from Boston if I 
need a hand."

"No."  Mulder put his palm against the door so Parker couldn't leave.  "You call Boston and there 
will be agents crawling all over the place within the hour."

"Yeah, and I'm starting to think that might be a good thing.  CiCi's been gone for almost twenty-
four hours, and the feds we brought in to help seem to be more interested in my love life than 
finding out what happened to her."  He pushed forward again and Mulder flattened his back to 
the door so they were face to face.

"Coben kept his victims alive for days.  He only switched MOs when he got spooked.  You bring 
in a bunch of highly visible officers and this guy could kill CiCi just to keep us from finding her."

"You don't know that."

"We haven't found any of the others," Mulder shot back.  "I'd say he's got a pretty damn good 
hiding spot for the bodies.  Are you really sure you want to test him on that?"

Parker looked hard at Mulder.  "You said him, not me."

Mulder returned the look and gave a tight shrug.  "Semantics.  Eleanor probably didn't tell you, 
but I'm a big talker.  You send me back to Washington and I'm liable to call up Boston myself and 
run on at the mouth about all sorts of things."

"I don't take kindly to threats, Agent Mulder."

"Neither do I."

Parker worked his jaw again.  "I did some reading, you know, on the Coben case.  He took only 
young girls, and their bodies got found."

"Eventually.  What's your point?"

"Point is," Parker said, nudging up the brim of his hat, "you and I are sitting around here arguing, 
and CiCi might already be dead."

XxXxXxXxX

Wind tumbled the huge gray clouds around like a drum of cotton candy, and tiny raindrops put 
wet razor slices across Scully's windshield as she turned her car down Eleanor Kot's driveway.  
The gravel crunched beneath her tires and the grasses bowed around her under the force of the 
wind gusts.  Eleanor's farmhouse came into view at the end of the long drive, and Scully spotted 
her sitting hunched on the porch steps.  She stopped the car fifteen feet away and got out.  The 
wind lifted her hair from her neck and flapped at her jacket.  Distant thunder warned another 
storm was rolling in.  Scully slammed her door shut against the fierce stream of air and made her 
way to Eleanor's porch.  Eleanor, clad in jean shorts and a loose, sheer long-sleeved blouse, 
looked up at her approach.  "Storm's coming soon," she said.  "Bigger than the last."

Scully mounted the rickety wooden stairs until she was sheltered under the porch's overhang.  
"We looked for you at the station."

Eleanor nodded but didn't say anything.  She was focused on a pile of papers in her lap.

"As we were going through the evidence we collected from the fair, we rescanned the prints from 
the bottle you ran yesterday."  At this, Eleanor looked up.  "You lied to us, Eleanor.  Sam 
Parker's fingerprints were on that bottle."

"Yes."

"Why did you lie?"

Eleanor rubbed one side of her head, like a tired child.  "Does it even matter now?"

"I'd say it matters a lot.  You tampered with--"

"These came in the mail today."  She sat back and Scully could see the pile in her lap was a stack 
of mail.  On top was a plain white envelope, the size of a greeting card, with Eleanor's name and 
address spelled out in block printing.  "There are two this time.  He sent two."  She edged back 
top one by the very corner so Scully could see a second envelope underneath that seemed to be 
identical.  Scully crouched for a better look.  "I haven't opened them yet."

"They came with the rest of the mail?"

"Yes.  See the postmark?  It's from yesterday and it's local, the same as the others."

Scully, from her vantage point, was in the awkward position of looking down Eleanor's blouse.  
There were two dark bruises near her collarbone.  Eleanor shifted to look at her, forcing Scully to 
raise her gaze up again.  "Do you think I should open them?"

"Not here."  Scully stood.  "We should get them to the crime lab as soon as possible."

"Of course," Eleanor replied, rising also.  The rain had picked up, pelting fatter drops.  Scully 
looked out at the rolling sky.

"Do you have a plastic bag we can put them in?"

"Sure, just a second."  Eleanor turned to go inside and Scully followed without being invited.  
Eleanor halted in the entryway and looked back, as if to say something, but Scully made no move 
to leave.  She trailed Eleanor down the hall towards the kitchen, glancing in the living room as 
they passed.  The closet door remained shut and nothing looked any different.  Eleanor's kitchen 
smelled of smoke but the tin can ashtray was gone.  Instead a hammer and a box of nails sat on 
the table.  Scully, remembering the closet, stared openly.  Eleanor caught her looking and hurried 
to put the offending objects away.

"Just hanging a few pictures upstairs," she said.  She plucked out two large sandwich bags and 
slipped the cards in one at a time.  "I've never gotten two at a time before," she said as she sealed 
the bags.  The wind picked up, banging against the loose windowpanes.  Rain beat a machine-gun 
tatter on the roof.  

"What do you think it means?" Scully asked.  Eleanor moved for the door and she followed.

"I hope it means he's just forgetful."  She paused at the front door and met Scully's eyes in the 
dim light.  "But they're both postmarked at the same time.  The way I figure it, one has to be for 
CiCi."

"And the other?"

"I don't know."  Eleanor's face took on the same eerie, other-world look that Scully had seen in 
the photos from ten years ago.  "I think maybe it's for me," she said at last, and then pushed out 
into the storm.

XxXxXxXxX

Scully stopped at the station first to check in with Mulder, where the blinding rain had driven 
away the worst of the crowd.  She and Eleanor ran through the downpour, drops sheeting so fast 
they actually bounced back up from the pavement for a second whack at you.  They arrived rain-
spattered and breathless inside the station.  Eleanor, still in her civilian clothes, looked like a 
Playboy pinup, and Deputy Tipton ogled her as such.  "It's really coming down out there, isn't 
it?" he asked.

"Is Agent Mulder here?" Scully asked, drawing his attention away from the younger woman.

"Uh, yeah.  He was in the back with the Sheriff."

At that moment, Scully saw Mulder poke his head out of one of the interrogation rooms and flag 
her down.  "Scully, over here!"  She started across the room with Eleanor close behind her.  The 
look on his face changed at her purposeful approach.  "What you got?"

"Cards, from the looks of it.  Two of them.  Eleanor got them in the mail today."

Eleanor held them out and Mulder looked at each one in turn.  "Writing looks the same.  You 
haven't opened them?"

"I think we need to get them to the lab ASAP," Scully said.  "And I'm thinking we should use our 
resources this time."

Mulder didn't seem to be listening.  He was walking away from her toward the Sheriff's office.  
"Gloves?" he said as Sam Parker appeared.  "I need latex gloves."

"Mulder, what--"

"Time's running out for CiCi, Scully.  If there's anything in here that might help us find her, we 
need to know immediately.  Then they can go to the lab."

Scully felt Parker and Eleanor watching the display, so she didn't argue further despite her 
opinion that any forensic evidence from the cards would be better served by opening them in a 
controlled environment.  Mulder snapped on the latex gloves and they gathered in Parker's office 
for the unveiling.  Scully hovered around the evidence like a nervous wife.  "Open it from the 
side," she reminded him.

"I know, Scully."  He slit one end and carefully removed the card inside.  The familiar garish 
clown face grinned up at them.  Eleanor's lips thinned and she swayed a little.  "Looks the same 
so far," Mulder remarked as he opened it to the greeting.  

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELEANOR!

"It's the same," Eleanor whispered.  There was no other writing on the card.  Mulder replaced it 
in the envelope with the same care and began work on the second.  They were all so quiet that 
Scully could hear Parker's wall clock ticking.  She forced herself to stay still as Mulder pulled out 
the second card.

"It's the same damn thing," Parker said, disappointed by the usual picture.  "Why the hell did he 
send two?"

Mulder opened the card.  "Look," he said, holding it out for them.  "The birthday party's over."  
The second card did not contain the typical greeting.  Instead, it read:

SOON THE CIRCLE WILL BE COMPLETE.

"What the H?"  Parker rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

"Someone's been watching too much Darth Vader," Mulder muttered.

"I don't understand," Eleanor said.  "What does it mean?"

"Don't know," Mulder said.  "But it's different from the rest of the cards, so it means something."  
He bagged it up again and handed them both to Scully.  "They're all yours."

Scully looked down at the envelopes now in her grasp.  Somehow her role in this case had so far 
had amounted to running evidence back and forth to the lab.  "Mulder, can I talk to you for a 
second?"

"Sure."  He followed her out of the office and to the nearest corner.  "What's up?"

"Did you ask Parker about the beer bottle?" she asked in a low voice.

He looked back towards the office.  "Yeah, it's nothing."

"Nothing?  How can you say that?"

"Well, Parker's an asshole, but I don't think he's a killer.  They're having an affair.  Eleanor didn't 
tell you?"

She shifted uncomfortably.  "No, we got distracted by the cards, but she admitted she lied about 
the prints on the bottle.  She didn't even bat an eyelash when she said it, Mulder."

"She has been under a lot of stress.  Parker said he ordered her to lie."

Scully stared at him, waiting for more reaction.  His expression was placid.  "And that doesn't 
bother you?"

"I think it was royally stupid, but two people covering up an extramarital mattress mambo is not 
that surprising, Scully.  Eleanor didn't tamper with any other of the items we collected, did she?"

"Not that I know of."

"Drop the cards off personally," he said.  "Then we'll just be sure."  His eyes went to the clock 
over her head and she began to feel like she was keeping him.  "Was there anything else you 
wanted to talk about?"

"I think we should use the FBI lab on this one," she said.  

"No."

"No?"  She tried to keep her jaw from falling open at the order.

"You send that to Boston and they're going to start asking questions."

"Well, maybe it's time they did," she replied, anger rising.  "We're not exactly getting anywhere 
on our own."

"It's a bad idea, Scully.  We're not officially assigned to this case, and the minute Boston takes 
over, Kersh'll have us yanked back to DC.  Plus, I still think that bringing in a whole ton of 
people could spook this guy into killing CiCi or grabbing someone else.  He's used to this rhythm 
so far; he feels in control.  We've got to use that against him, not make him lose it entirely."

Scully held up the bagged envelopes.  "Two cards, Mulder.  He may already have someone else."

He looked down as if really seeing her for the first time.  "God, do you think?"

"I don't know, Mulder, and that's the point.  We don't know enough about this guy to be able to 
predict his moves so closely.  We can't even be sure he's copying Coben."  He chewed his bottom 
lip, lost in his own thoughts, so she touched his arm.  "I know you don't want to repeat your 
mistakes, but I think we're over our heads here."

"This isn't just about last time," he insisted.  "I can't explain it.  I just feel like slow and steady 
wins the race with this guy.  He's got these kidnappings planned out probably months in 
advance.  I know in my gut that if we make any sudden moves, anything he's not expecting, he 
would react with equal chaos."

"That might be a good thing."

Mulder gave a vehement shake.  "Not this time, Scully.  You have to trust me."

She looked at him silently for a long minute.  "Okay," she sighed.  "I'll use the State Crime Lab."

"Great.  Call me if you get anything."  He started off.

"Mulder, wait.  Where will you be?"

"Crafts Store," he said, turning back to face her but still drifting towards the door.

"Crafts Store?"

"Bea Nelson and Shannon Blessing were together at the Gas Station before Bea disappeared.  
CiCi was with Mark Roy right before he vanished, and now she's missing.  If I can connect 
Shannon and Mark, then all the victims would be linked.  So I'm going to find out if Mark Roy 
had a passion for knitting."

XxXxXxX

Scully kept the cards with her even though Eleanor insisted on accompanying her to Sudbury, 
where the State Crime Lab was.  "They came addressed to me," she'd said.  "I have a right to 
know."  Scully didn't argue but neither did she let Eleanor touch the evidence again.  They had a 
mostly silent drive to Sudbury, the sound of the rain drumming the roof their only company.

"I'm sorry about lying to you," Eleanor said when they were nearly there.  "That was stupid."

"And illegal."

Eleanor bowed her head.  "It won't happen again."

She didn't say anything further, so Scully cleared her throat.  "Mulder said you and Sheriff Parker 
are involved?"

"Stupid again, right?  To sleep with someone you work with."  

Scully didn't answer for a minute.  "I guess it depends on who it is and why you're doing it," she 
replied eventually.  "But if it involves tampering with federal evidence, that's usually a not a good 
sign."

"Speaking from experience?"  Eleanor waited through Scully's silence.  "Yeah, I thought not."

Scully pulled into the crime lab parking lot and grabbed a spot close to the door.  Eleanor tried her 
door and found it locked.  She shifted to look at Scully, who had not pulled the key from the 
ignition.  "Shouldn't we go in?"

"I just want to be sure," Scully said, "that you're not withholding anything else from us about 
this case."

Eleanor's hand froze on the handle.  "Like what?"

Which, Scully noted, was not a denial. "Like anything."

"I gave you all the information I had in my files.  That's all there is.  Believe me, if there was 
anything else I knew of that could help you, I would give it to you."

Scully hesitated a minute longer, then clicked open the locks and they got out again into the rain.  
Armed with umbrellas this time, they hurried to the door and into the building.  They met up 
with the technicians who would be analyzing the envelopes.  "You can wait while we print them, 
if you'd like," said the Indian man in charge, Dr. Vikas.  "Though if we get a hit it may take some 
time to run through the various databases."

Exhausted, Scully looked at her watch.  Almost five pm.  Traffic would be nasty anyway, so 
waiting seemed like the best option.  At least she could sit down for a few minutes.  She went 
into the hallway to keep out of the way, and Eleanor tagged along.  They found a bench near the 
end of the hall.  Scully sat and stretched her legs out in front of her, her feet throbbing in relief, 
and leaned her head back against the cold concrete wall.  Eyes closed, she felt Eleanor take a seat 
next to her.

"It's amazing anyone gets away with anything these days," Eleanor said.  "Just look at this 
place."

Scully opened one eye and looked to her left.  "Whoever is behind the kidnappings hasn't gotten 
away with it," she said.  "Not yet."

"If they stopped now, they would.  We don't have a single good lead."

Scully thought of Mulder and the crafts store but kept it to herself.  Sitting up straighter, she 
shifted to face Eleanor.  "You said you think the second card is meant for you.  What makes you 
think that?"

"It's pretty clear this guy knows about Coben and what happened to me.  MaybeŠ maybe he 
wants to finish what Coben started."

"Completing the circle?" Scully asked, and Eleanor nodded slowly.  Scully considered the 
possibility.  In a way, it made sense.  If the kidnapper wanted to grab Eleanor, maybe even kill 
her, then she wouldn't be there to receive the card afterward.  He would have to send it in 
advance.  But something about that solution didn't feel right to Scully.  She pinched the bridge of 
her nose and leaned back against the wall again, thinking.

"You don't think that's it?" Eleanor asked, her voice just shy of a quiver.

Scully opened her eyes.  "The thing is," she said, "the cards were all for you.  Why bring you into 
the circle before your time, if that's what he was trying to do?"

"I hadn't thought about it that way."

Scully rested some more, arms folded over her chest.  She heard Eleanor get up and pace around.  
"I'm going to get something to drink.  You want a soda or something?" she asked at length.  Scully 
sighed and leaned forward so she could reach her pockets for some change.  Eleanor waved away 
her efforts.  "My treat.  Diet Coke again?"

Scully nodded and returned to semi-snoozing as Eleanor's footsteps faded down the hall.  What 
seemed like a moment later, she felt someone standing over her.  She opened her eyes to see 
Eleanor's outstretched hand with a glistening can of Coke in it.  Scully stared.   Eleanor's loose 
sleeve had ridden up, exposing four dark fingerprint-shaped bruises above her wrist.  "Uh, 
thanks," Scully said, accepting the can. Eleanor walked off and slouched against a wall to drink 
her soda in silence.

A few minutes later, Dr. Vikas emerged and asked them to come back down to the lab.  Eleanor 
tossed her empty can.  Scully hadn't yet popped hers so she stuck it in her bag.  "We've lifted 
several dozen prints," Dr. Vikas said, "and we're running them now."

"Mine are on there for sure," Eleanor supplied.

"We already have yours on record for comparison," Vikas said.  "The rest is just going to take 
time.  We've also taken samples from the mouth of the envelope for a possible DNA comparison 
in the future."

"We should be so lucky," Scully said, and Eleanor fidgeted.

"How long will it take to run all the prints?"

"We should have them all done by tonight, tomorrow at the latest."

"We can't wait here that long," Eleanor said to Scully, and Scully agreed.  She left her contact 
information with Vikas.  As she was digging through her pockets for a pen, she also took out her 
cell phone and left it on the counter.  A few minutes later, almost out the door with Eleanor, she 
"remembered" it.  

"Wait here for just a minute," she said at the main entrance.  "I'll be right back."

On her return to the lab, she stopped to fish Eleanor's Coke can carefully out of the trash.  "Dr. 
Vikas?" she said, and he turned from his computer.

"Back so soon?"

"That DNA sample you talked about.  Could you run it against the sample on this can?"

He looked mildly surprised but pulled out some gloves to accept the can.  "Of course.  I'll give it 
the highest priority.  You have a suspect in mind, then?"

"Yes," Scully answered.  "Actually, I do."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Passed out cold with her clothes still on, Scully jerked on top of her bedspread when her cell 
phone rang.  She felt around in the direction of the ringing until she fingers made contact.  
Mulder's number glowed back at her.  "'Lo?"

"Scully, it's me.  I'm driving your way and I have a pizza."

God, she had never loved him more.  "What time is it?"

"Going on ten.  Did you get anything from the cards at the lab?"

Yawning into her sleeve, she sat up.  "Maybe.  It's too soon to tell.  What about you?  Did you 
have any luck at the crafts store?"

"If Mark Roy was in that day, or any other day, you can't prove it by me.  I tracked down all the 
employees working there at the time and no one remembers ever seeing him."

"There goes that theory."

"I haven't given up.  There are a few other local businesses right near the crafts place.   It's 
possible Roy was in one of them when Shannon stopped by for her yarn."

"Mmm-hmm."  She rubbed the stubborn sleep from her eyes.

"Listen, I'm coming to the motel exit now, so I'll give you the rest of the story when I see you."

"'Kay," she agreed, and hung up as she rolled off the bed.  She paused to turn on the lamp on the 
nightstand, squinting as yellow light flooded the room.  Her clothes were all rumpled and her 
brain still felt foggy from too little sleep.  A grumble from her stomach reminded her that she 
hadn't eaten in hours, so she made an effort to get ready for Mulder and the pizza.  She had her 
pants off before she remembered the last time they had been alone together, and what she had 
said to him.

Later.

Well, it was later and now he was on his way to her motel room.  "Oh God," she murmured, 
staggering half-naked to the mirror.  Her hair, having soaked and dried throughout the day, now 
approximated the old flock of seagulls 'do that she'd had the sense not to try even when it was 
fashionable.  There was a pillow corner imprint on her cheek and her eyes looked vaguely stoned.   
She needed to sleep for about six straight days and then everything would be fine again.

But Mulder was coming with the pizza *now*.

She was the one who had started everything.  She was the one who had said later.  Now what if 
he thought she wantedŠ.

"Scully?"  He knocked at her door.  She looked down at her naked legs.

"Just a minute," she called, stumbling around as she tried to walk to the door and put on her 
pants at the same time.  Breathless, uncertain, she flung open the door and nearly lost her 
balance.  "Hey!"

"Hey, Scully."

One look at him and her heart stopped knocking around her chest in terror and settled down to a 
soft squeeze of affection.  No way either of them was having sex that night, with each other or 
anyone else.  Mulder looked as beat as she felt, his shoulders sagging and his hair sticking up like 
a burr.  Fatigue lined his eyes and his tie hung loose around his neck.   Handing her the pizza box, 
he entered her room and flopped on the bed with his feet hanging over the end.

"Long day?" she asked, shutting out the rain behind him.

"Has it only been a day?" he asked her ceiling with his eyes closed.

Scully popped the lid on the pizza, setting loose a heady mix of melted cheese and spicy tomato 
sauce into the air, and saw that he'd been thoughtful enough to order half veggie.  She extricated 
her unopened can of (still cool, if not cold) Diet Coke and poured equal amounts into disposable 
cups.  Mulder sat up to accept his.

"Tomorrow," he said as they dug in, "I'm going to track down that other guy on the tape from 
when Bea disappeared.  He left just after she did, and there's a chance he could have seen 
something in the parking lot."

"Chris Cullen said he worked at one of the local motels.  I guess we take his picture over there 
and start asking around."

And by mutual non-discussion, that was all that was said about the case.  They ate most of the 
pizza and watched a "Jeopardy" rerun, during which Mulder impressed her with his arcane 
knowledge of silent cinema.  Scully closed her eyes for a commercial break and she was back in 
the dream again.  "I'm leaving," she told him.  Leaving before he could leave her.  This was how 
she always stayed in control, by making the first move, but instead she felt loose and lost inside.  
"I'm leaving," she said.  "It's already set."  She couldn't bear to hear his answer.

Then his hallway started to wobble the way it always did, like it would swallow her up, and she 
felt him trying to hold her back.  "Too late," she mumbled.   She couldn't feel her legs.

"Scully, wake up.  Scully!"

She sat up with a gasp, shaking and desperate for air.  "Mulder?"

"You all right?"  His hand sloped over her back.  She nodded, not trusting her voice.  The TV was 
off but the light was still on.  Outside, rain provided the only sound.  She sat frozen under 
Mulder's warm touch, icy dream fingers melting slowly.  He tugged and she fell against him, nose 
to his breastbone as she shivered out of the rest of the dream like a snake shedding skin. Her eyes 
were closed again.  Mulder stroked her spine and said something she didn't quite catch. The 
dream or not?  She opened her eyes to be sure and studied the buttons on his shirt.  He smelled 
like cotton dried from the rain, like warm Mulder, a scent familiar to her from years of dark 
stakeouts in close cars.  His voice murmured in her ear, "Chasing monsters is supposed to be a 
day job, Scully."

She tensed.  "I was just overtired," she said, trying to pull away.  "I'm sorry."

He let her sit up but followed close behind, leaning into her.  If she laid her head back two inches, 
it would have been resting on his shoulder.  She kept her gaze on the blue paisley bedspread.  "Is 
it the case?" he asked, too gently.  Eleanor was not the only woman he'd rescued from a serial 
killer's closet; she was doing her best not to focus on that fact and needed him to do the same. 

"I'm fine, Mulder.  Really.  It was just a dream."

"'Kay," he said, not sounding convinced.  She could feel him still looking at her.

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?"  He swept a piece of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.  Still she wouldn't 
let him see her eyes.  It was the only way she could ask him.

"Why did you bring me on this case?"

He went still.  "Did you not want me to?"

"I want you to answer the question."

"Um, we found the hand.  I needed a forensic pathologist and you're the best one I know."

"I'm the only one you know."

"Not true.  There's Bob Whathisname, the guy who looks like Drew Carey."

"I rest my case."

"Scully."  He waited but she didn't look at him.  He sighed.  "I know we're out on a limb here 
with Kersh, and if you want to go back--"

"I didn't say that."  She shifted to meet his eyes.  He searched her face.

"Then what are you saying?"

"Any other Agent would have called Boston by now," she said at last.  He frowned and pulled 
back.

"I've told you why--"

"I know," she said, cutting him off.  "You've explained your reasoning several times."  She wasn't 
entirely comfortable with it, but profiling was not her arena, and he'd been right so many times 
before.  When she'd been wrong.

"So what," Mulder said after a moment,  "you think I drag you along because you'll keep quiet 
and let me have my way?  Believe me, Scully, if it's mindless cooperation I'd wanted we wouldn't 
have lasted a week together."

He had a point.  What was her point again?  Oh, yes.  They weren't really together anymore, not 
really.  She drew up her knees and leaned her head on them, eyes closed.  So tired.  Fatigue had 
her stretched to threads.  The bed bounced a bit as Mulder got up.  She watched him retrieve his 
shoes.   He stopped in his tracks and they stared at each other for a minute.  He seemed to relent, 
his posture relaxing, and he walked over and cupped the side of her face.  "Get some sleep," he 
said.  "We can argue some more in the morning.  Everyone knows that's why I keep you around 
anyway."  She smiled a little and covered his hand with her own briefly before he moved away.  

Better mean it, she thought as she lay down again and he shut the door behind him.  In the 
morning she would tell him her suspicions about Eleanor.

XxXxXxXxX

Sunlight split the dark drapes like a blade, landing square across her face, and Scully rolled away.  
She blinked herself awake and stretched for her travel alarm clock.  It read quarter to eight.  She 
decided to shower and change before calling Mulder.  When she did call, he answered on the third 
ring and it sounded like he was in a car.  "Mulder?  Where are you?"  She went to the window, 
and sure enough, his car was gone from the parking lot.

"I'm heading to Beckett, Scully.  Eleanor did some leg work last night and ID'd our boy from the 
tape.  His name is Daniel Vaughn and he used to work at the Sleep and Save down the road from 
the gas station where Bea Nelson disappeared.  We're heading to talk to him right now."

"We?"

"Yeah, Eleanor's with me.  She knows the area."

"Give me the directions," Scully said, heading for her car.  "I'll met you."

"No need.  This is probably a dead-end anyway but we've got to at least check it out.  Parker has 
a fresh group of people piling in at the station to interview.  Maybe you could help him out?"

Scully leaned on her car door.  "Yeah, okay.  Mulder..."

"What?"

"When will you be back?"

"Lunchtime at the latest.  Talk to you then."  He clicked off and Scully looked at her phone for a 
minute before putting it back in her pocket.  

With a sigh, she climbed into the car and started off for the station.  She kept one eye on her 
watch through the morning but Mulder didn't call back.  When her phone finally rang at quarter to 
twelve, she snatched it up.  "Hello?"

"Dr. Scully, this is Dr. Vikas at the State Crime Lab.  I have a mixed bag of news for you.  None 
of the prints we collected was a match to any in our data bases, but the preliminary results are 
back on your DNA samples."

"And?"

"Initially, at least, they match.  We'll have the full panel of results in a few days but I thought 
that quick and dirty might be useful to you now, given the urgency of the situation."

"It's extremely helpful," Scully said, standing up. "Can you have someone send those results 
here?"

"Certainly.  Just call if you have any questions."

Scully hung up and immediately dialed Mulder's cell.  "C'mon, c'mon," she murmured, pacing as it 
rang.  His voice mail message came through the line and she withheld a curse.  "Mulder, it's me.  
Call me the minute you get this.  We got the DNA results back from the cards.  Eleanor has been 
sending them to herself."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Continued in chapter eight.

The next bits are planned out.  It's a matter of finding the time to write them.

Feedback always welcome.  Comments, questions, etc. to syn_tax6@yahoo.com