Do not archive.

XxXxXxXxX

Chapter Nine

XxXxXxXxX


He hung her on the jungle gym.  Mulder could see the body from a hundred 
feet away thanks to the cruisers' high-beams that illuminated the playground.  
CiCi's hands and feet were missing.  He crossed the soft woodchip-covered 
ground and joined the wall of men at the crime scene perimeter.  Agent 
Garvey gave him a slight frown but did not look surprised to see him.  "I 
called Scully," he said.

"She's on her way."  Mulder nodded at CiCi.  "Who called it in?"

"A pair of high school kids.  They like to come down here at night and drink 
on the swings, I guess.  The trees and bushes make it so you can't see this 
place from the street very well, so I gather the perp was after the same thing 
the kids were -- privacy."

"I don't know about that."  Mulder surveyed the chaos -- flashing lights, cops 
everywhere, fresh police tape being wound like streamer from the swings to 
the monkey bars -- until he saw a pair of frightened teenagers huddled near 
the back.  He sidestepped a beer bottle and wove his way towards the kids 
with Agent Garvey trailing after him.  "I'm Agent Mulder," he said, flashing 
his ID.  "You boys are the ones who found her?"

"Yeah," whispered the taller one, a skinny white kid with a Red Sox hat on.  
"We came here the same as always and she was just hanging there."

"You come here often, then?"

"Pretty much someone's always here -- either me and Kevin, or Alex and 
Steve and Chris.  We just come to chill, you know?  We don't wreck the 
place or anything."

"Okay, thanks," Mulder said, and began walking back to the body.  Garvey 
joined him.

"So you're thinking he wanted her found, is that it?"

"The killer is a local guy," Mulder answered.  "If he's local he's bound to 
know that the kids used this park as a hangout.  He wanted CiCi found, and 
he wanted her found quickly.  The question is why."

"Yes, and who.  We let Deputy Kot go hours ago.  She would have had 
plenty of time to place the body here and disappear again."

"Disappear?" Mulder asked.  "Have you tried to contact her?"

"Several times.  She's not answering her phone."

As they were talking, the breeze shifted, carrying the faint scent of decay 
downwind.  The ME had pronounced, and now the EMTs were trying to 
figure the best way of getting CiCi down from the gym.  Mulder blinked, felt 
sick inside.  "She's been dead a while."

"Full rigor."  He looked over at Mulder.  "That means she was dead no more 
than fifteen hours after she disappeared, not days.  Still think this is a Coben 
copycat?"

"I think it means we can be certain the others are dead, too."

"And the only link to all of them is still Eleanor Kot.  We'd better find her 
fast."

Mulder scanned the sea of faces for Scully.  She should have beaten him 
there, but he saw no trace of her.  He turned most of his attention back to 
Garvey.  "But Eleanor's not a link in the chain, that's the problem.  We can 
connect Bea Nelson to Shannon Blessing and Mark Roy to CiCi Lin.  I'm 
betting Shannon and Mark's paths must have crossed at some point too, 
probably on the day she disappeared.  I just haven't figured out how yet.  But 
none of them has connected to Eleanor."

"The cards --"

"Prove nothing."

Garvey scowled.  "Jesus, Mulder, the woman is mailing severed hands to 
herself trussed up like party packages."

"The hands weren't mailed," Mulder replied slowly, realizing the difference 
for the first time.  

"Meaning?"

"I'm not sure.  But the last card said the circle was closing.  That must meant 
Shannon and Mark are linked apart from Eleanor."

Garvey shook his head.  "Mulder," he said, "If Eleanor Kot's the one doing 
these killings, then the circle is already closed.  Every single one of them 
would trace back to her."

XxXxXxXxX

Scully awoke to the taste of blood in her mouth, hanging upside down by her 
seatbelt in the crushed Taurus.  She coughed and regretted it as searing pain 
radiated through her body.  The crumpled door had her pinned against the 
airbag.  Not dead, she decided, but it was a near thing.

"Ma'am?  Are you okay?" said a strong male voice.  "Hang on.  We're going 
to get you out of there."  A bright light shone through the missing window at 
her.  "Can you breathe all right?"

Yes, Scully thought, and then realized she had to say it out loud.  "Yes."

"Good.  Can you feel your arms and legs?"

God, could she.  "Yes."

"Great.  My name is Bert, from the EMT service.  I've got Gail and Leo here 
with me, too, and we'll have you out in just a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay."  Her eyes slipped closed again, chasing away the dizzy flashing lights 
outside.  The smell of the airbag was making her sick.  Or maybe it was the 
burning pain from her left arm.

"What's your name?"  Bert's friendly voice yanked her back to reality.

"D-Dana Scully."

"Dana Scully is a pretty name.  It's good to meet you, Dana Scully.  I'm sorry 
it had to be under such rotten circumstances.  We saw this is a rented car.  
You're not from around here?"

Her head throbbed. "No," she said through gritted teeth. "Washington DC.  
FBI."  God, the crime scene.  CiCi's body.    There was no way she could 
make it out there now.

"FBI here in Woodsbury, well isn't that something," Bert said.  "Okay, Dana 
Scully, we're going to have to slice open the door to get you out, but that 
won't take more than a few minutes and it shouldn't hurt you at all, okay?"

She heard a saw start up and moments later the car door vibrated against her 
injured arm.  It hurt no more than it already did, but the noise made her head 
throb and renewed her nausea.  She concentrated on slow, even breathing so 
she wouldn't be sick.  A few minutes later, the buzzing stopped and the door 
popped off.  Bert turned out to be a good-looking Asian man with gentle 
hands.

"Hi," he said, kneeling beside her.  "How are you holding up?"

"Okay," she lied.   She felt upside down inside as well as out, and Bert's 
wasn't really the face she wanted looking back at her.  

"Where does it hurt?"

"Uh, my arm most of all.  My leg.  I think I hit the back of my head..."

"Can you wiggle your fingers for me?  Good.  Toes?"  She realized then that 
her shoes had come off in the fray.  "Excellent.  Okay, we're going to put this 
neck brace on just a precaution, all right?  Then we're going to get you out of 
there."

Finally, blessedly, she was free.  Bert checked her vitals while his buddies 
secured her to a stretcher.  "I think my arm is broken," she told him with her 
eyes closed.   

"I think you're probably right," he said.  "We'll get you to the hospital ASAP 
and have them give you a thorough checkup, though."

"Wallet lists Agent Fox Mulder as person to contact," said a woman's voice, 
and Scully's eyes shot open.

"Don't call him," she said as they wheeled her to the ambulance.  Behind 
them she could she tangled wreck that used to be her car.  She fumbled to 
find Bert's arm with her good hand.  "Please, don't call Mulder."

"Is he your partner?" Bert asked.

"In a way.  He's working a case here, we both were."  She swallowed 
carefully.  "We don't have much time left."  Thanks to her they had to be 
back in DC by morning.  The last thing Mulder needed was to waste their 
final eight hours sitting in a waiting room.

She winced as Bert cleaned the cut near her left eye, sucking in breath 
through clenched teeth.  "Sorry," he murmured.  "Almost done.  Won't 
Agent Mulder wonder where you are?"

"I'll call him when I'm through.  No point--"  She closed her eyes against 
another wave of nausea.  "No point in making him wait.  I'm fine."

"You suffered a head injury with a loss of consciousness, Agent Scully.  At 
the very least you've probably sustained a mild concussion."

"I know that.  I'm a doctor."  She eyed the female EMT who was checking 
her lower extremities for injuries.

"Well," Bert said, "then you also know they won't release you without 
someone to make sure you're okay."

She could sign out AMA; it certainly wouldn't be the first time.  "Just don't 
call Mulder."

"Not if you don't want me to," he promised.  "How's your arm doing?"

"It's been better."

"Let me give you something to take the edge off, okay?"  As he prepared a 
syringe, another face loomed over hers.  This one was a beat cop, a young 
female with thick hair threatening to burst free from under her hat.

"Agent Scully, did you see the person who hit you?"

She answered with a tiny shake of her head.  "All I saw were the headlights 
coming at me.  After that, I don't remember anything."

"You were in the intersection when the vehicle hit you?"

"Yes. The light was green when I approached and was still green when I 
started into the intersection.  The other driver must have been running the 
red."

"Drunks," muttered the young woman.  "We get 'em especially bad this time 
of year."

Scully hummed a reply, her eyes slipping shut again as the drugs began to 
exert their effects.  The shooting pain in her arm receded as her head grew 
fuzzy and dense.  She forced herself to pay attention again as they reached 
the hospital and unloaded her from the ambulance.  Bert rattled off her 
injuries and what they'd done to help her so far.  

"We'll take it from here," an efficient voice said.  Scully turned one bleary eye 
towards the voice and saw a heavy-set, middle-aged woman with blonde hair 
and many freckles.  "I'm Eileen Burbridge from the ER," she told Scully 
kindly. "We're just going to check you over for internal injuries before 
sending you on to X-ray, okay?"

"CAT scan?" Scully mumbled, just so they would know who they were 
dealing with.  Drugs or not, she intended to stay on top of her own care.

"That's likely, yes.  We'll have the doctor over soon to decide.  I understand 
you don't want us calling your emergency contact."

"No," Scully breathed as Burbridge pressed on her tender ribs.  "Don't call 
Mulder.  He's working."

"Is there someone else we should call for you?"

They opened her tattered blouse to make sure she had no surface lacerations, 
leaving her half-naked for probing eyes.  "No," she said, turning her head to 
the side, "there's no one."  Her mother would just fret needlessly, and Scully 
didn't want to inflict any more pain on her mother than she already had.  

The ER team didn't ask her any more questions as they worked.

Scully was aware, dimly, how small her life must sound to the people in the 
room, with no one else but Mulder to come to her aid.  It wasn't the first time 
someone had looked at her existence and wondered, "Is that all there is?"  
She let them wonder.  Mulder's world had shadow people and ghostly 
elephants and six impossible things before breakfast every day, down the 
rabbit hole into a place most people never knew existed, with the dark man 
who made her light inside.   "And this is all?" people wondered.  Yes, she 
wanted to tell them.  It's everything.

XxXxXxX

Marching back across the grass, Mulder hung up the cell phone as her voice 
mail began.  Scully had said she was on her way, but it's not like they'd been 
seeing eye to eye on the case so far.  Maybe something else had come up.  
He slipped the phone back in his pocket.

"Where are you going now?" Garvey wanted to know.

"Evidence room.  I want to see everything on the Blessing case."

"Still looking for your connection?  I'm telling you it's Eleanor."

"Maybe, maybe not.  Even if Eleanor's our killer, these victims were chosen 
for a reason.  I'd like to---"  He stopped, distracted by the Sheriff's car pulling 
up, lights flashing.  Parker got out and looked at Mulder with a grim 
expression.

"Agent Mulder, can I speak with you a minute?"

"Sure," Mulder replied, ambling over.  Parker removed his hat.  "I'd like to 
talk to you, too, actually.  I need you to round up Henry Blessing for me, and 
I need to get a look at-- what?"

Parker rubbed his chin.  "We responded to a hit and run tonight," he said.  
"Down just off the interstate."

Mulder's stomach dropped to his shoes and he knew instantly what was 
coming next.  "No," he said, as if he could stop the words.

"I heard it over the radio, and my boys just confirmed.  It was Agent Scully's 
car.

"Where is she?" Mulder demanded.  "Is she all right?"

"She was taken to St. Elizabeth's hospital," Parker said.  "That's all I know."

Mulder fisted his keys, already stumbling down the hill towards his car.  "And 
where is that?" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Not far.  Take the highway two exits north.  You'll see signs."

He yanked open the door too hard, catching his finger in a painful pinch.  
Cursing he leaned down and had the car started before he was fully behind 
the wheel.  He pointed the car in the direction of the interstate and sped off, 
adrenaline making the blood pound in his ears.  Even without lights or a 
siren, he tore through intersections as fast as he dared.  

At the last one he stopped.

Glass littered the street.  Two cruisers sat parked with lazy, spinning lights 
dancing through the dark.  There by the side of the road was Scully's silver 
Taurus, upside down and crushed like a tin can.  He stared, horrified, until 
one of the uniform blues waved him on.

"You can't stay here, sir.  Accident investigation."

His tires squealed as he drove away.

XxXxXxXxX

"Dana Scully," he said impatiently to the ER admitting nurse.  "She was in a 
car accident and they brought her here more than an hour ago."

"Yes, I heard you, and if you'll just have a seat, I can--"

"I don't want to have a seat!  I want to know what happened to her!"

"And I'll find out for you as soon as I can. Please take a seat over there and 
I'll go check on Ms. Scully, okay?"

"Is she back there?"  Mulder asked, prepared to round the desk into the main 
ER rooms.  She stepped out and blocked him.

"Sir, I'm going to have to insist you wait here.  I will find out about your 
partner and let you know what's going on."

"I told you what's going on!  She was in a car accident and they brought her 
here for treatment!"

"Sir, please, calm down."

"I am calm!  I am exceedingly calm.  I just want to see Scully."  He pushed 
forward again, and again the nurse blocked his path.

Mulder figured he could take her, but the beefy ER security came over and 
grabbed his elbow.  "Sir, you need to sit down now or you need to leave."

"Okay, okay."  He shook off the man's grip and walked over to a chair.  He 
hovered in it more than sat, his gaze fixed on the nurse as she disappeared 
into the inner recesses of the ER.  The security guard kept him company until 
the woman returned.

"Your partner is doing fine," she said.  "They have her up for X-rays now, 
but she's going to be okay."

Mulder went weak with relief.  "Wonderful," he murmured, scrubbing his 
face.  He stood.  "When can I see her?"

The nurse hesitated.  "I don't know."

"Are they going to release her?  How badly was she hurt?"

"You'd have to talk to the doctor about that."

"Scully is a doctor," Mulder said.  "Just let me see her.  I'll wait if I have to."

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."  The nurse held his gaze.  "Ms. 
Scully does not want to talk to you."

XxXxXxXxX

They had scanned her from all angles and pronounced her very lucky to have 
survived such a fierce accident with only a broken arm, a cracked rib, and a 
mild concussion, so Scully couldn't figure out what the conference in the hall 
was about.  Dr. Yandell and someone else with a white coat -- she could see 
the elbow sticking out -- had been talking ten minutes in lowered voices.  
Dizzy and exhausted, she struggled to push herself upright on only one arm 
in an effort to hear what they were saying.

"I'll talk to her," Yandell murmured.  "I agree it's a concern."

Despite the heavy pull of the drugs, Scully's heartbeat accelerated.  The last 
time doctors had been concerned over her test results, she'd ended up in a 
cancer ward.  She fell back against the pillows, room whirling, and closed her 
eyes to stop the sway.  Please no, she thought.  Anything but that.

Dr. Yandell entered the room a moment later and pulled up a chair.  She 
smiled at Scully and Scully noticed most of her lipstick had been eaten away.  
"How are you feeling, Dana?  Any better?"

"I'm all right."  Again, Scully wriggled herself higher so they were more face 
to face.  "What's going on?  Is something wrong?"

"Oh, you're fine," Dr. Yandell assured her quickly.  "Just like we said before.  
We'd like to keep an eye on you tonight because of the concussion, but 
tomorrow you'll be free to go."

Scully drew up her thin cotton blanket.  "Okay.  What did you want to talk 
about then?"

Dr. Yandell bit her lip again.  "In DC," she said, "you live alone?"

"Yes."

"Boyfriend?"

Scully felt her ears turn warm.  "No, why?" 

"Well, the nurses and I were looking at your X-rays, Dana, and we're a little 
concerned."

"About?"  Her heart picked up.  

"We see a number of old injuries that seem to have been sustained at varying 
times.  Your collarbone was broken.  Your right arm too?"

Scully's fingers bit into her blanket.  Falling down the stairs with Pfaster.  
Blinding pain mixed with terrible fear.  "That's from an old case."

"Your ribs have been broken before as well," Dr. Yandell continued mildly.  
"On the right side?  And those fractures look quite recent.  You also have 
burn scars on both hands."

Scully sucked her free hand under the blanket.  Antarctica, she thought, and 
Ruskin Dam.  "More cases," she explained.  Dr. Yandell nodded as though 
humoring her.

"I've treated law enforcement officers a lot through the years, Dana.  I've 
never seen injuries quite this extensive."

"I'm just lucky I guess," Scully replied.

"Tell me about Agent Mulder," Dr. Yandell said after a moment.

"What about him?"  She was so tired, and the questions just made her head 
ache deepen.

"Have you worked with him long?"

"About six years now."

Dr. Yandell nodded again, and Scully tried to maintain focus.  She felt as if 
she were sinking into the pillows.  "We just want to be sure that no one is 
hurting you," Dr. Yandell said.  It took a moment for the words to register, 
but when they did, Scully lurched upwards again.

"What?"

"Donna, our admitting nurse, says Agent Mulder has quite a temper.  Would 
you say that's true?"

Scully blinked, her head throbbing.  "Mulder's here?"

"Apparently he found out about the accident somehow.  Don't worry, we 
have him out in the waiting room.  Everything's fine."

Scully gaped as Dr. Yandell's intent dawned on her.  "Wait you think Mulder 
is hurting me?  He-- he's my partner.  He's my friend."

"It's rare but I've seen it before," Dr. Yandell said quietly.  "And your pattern 
of injuries..."

"I was in a car accident," Scully interrupted.  "You don't think Mulder's 
responsible for that too, do you?"

"Of course not.  We just want to make sure--"

"I want to see him."

"Dana, please."  

"Where is he?"  Scully tried to make her legs cooperate enough to get out of 
the bed.  "I want to talk to Mulder.  You people are ridiculous.  What have 
you done to him?"

"Okay," Dr. Yandell soothed.  "Easy.  You stay here and I'll get Mulder.  I 
promise."

"You're wrong," Scully said as Dr. Yandell helped her back into the bed.  
"Call my doctor, get my records.  They're all work-related injuries.  Mulder 
would never do anything to hurt me.  No one is hurting me."
She sounded desperate and strung-out to her own ears, but she had to make 
them believe.

"All right.  It's okay.  I didn't mean to upset you.  I'll go get Mulder right 
now."

Scully laid back, pulse erratic from adrenaline and pain medication, and 
quivered under her blanket.  A few minutes later, Mulder stuck his head 
around the door.  "Scully?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

"Mulder!"  She managed a wobbly smile and stretched out her one good 
arm. "Are you okay?  What did they do to you?"

"I think those are my lines," he said, giving her his hand.  Tears pricked her 
eyes and she tugged until she was able to wrap her arm around him.  She 
buried her nose in warmth of his hair.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Scully," he crooned, his word an endearment against her neck.  "It's okay.  
What happened?  Are you all right?"

"I'm okay."

They held each other for a minute, hot tears drying on her spiky lashes as he 
tentatively stroked her side.  "They said you didn't want to see me," he 
murmured at last.  She clutched him tighter.

"No, I didn't want you to have to come down here and wait.  I told them not 
to call."

"They didn't," he said, pulling back a bit.  "Parker told me when it came 
across his radio."

"I'm sorry," she said again.  He leaned his forehead against hers.

"I'm just glad you're all right."  His hand traveled over her, glancing touches 
of her face, her shoulder, her knee, as if assuring himself of his words.  She 
scooted closer so she could tuck her head under his chin, her cast trapped 
awkwardly between them.  He stroked her back.  "I saw the car, Scully.  It's 
about the size of a sardine can now."

A shudder passed through her at the vivid description.  "I know," she said, 
squeezing her eyes shut.  She could still see the headlights bearing down on 
her.  "I was the sardine."

He kissed her head and rocked her gently.  "It's all right," he whispered.  She 
nodded and burrowed as close as her injuries would allow, her good arm 
wrapped around his solid bulk.  Her heart slowed again and she closed her 
eyes.

"What happened with CiCi?" she murmured after a bit.

His hand swept up her back.  "Dead for a while.  Garvey still likes Eleanor 
for the murder."

She drew back and looked at him.  "But you don't?"

"I don't know what to think at the moment.  No one can seem to locate 
Eleanor."

Dr. Yandell appeared in the doorway, and Scully frowned at her, grabbing 
Mulder's hand protectively.  He gave her a curious look.  "Everything okay?" 
Dr. Yandell asked.

"Everything's fine," Scully answered, daring her to contradict.

"Okay, I'll be back in a bit then.  You should try to get some rest, Dana."

Scully ignored her.  Yandell closed the door as she left, and Scully sagged 
against Mulder again.   "What was that about?" he asked.

"Just... nothing."  She squeezed him as best she could. 

"You should get some rest," he told her, and she hummed an answer into his 
neck.  Her eyes drifted shut to the sound of his heart beating steady and 
strong.  He shifted, and she heard his low voice above her.  "You should lie 
down, Scully.  I'll--I'll stay right here."

"Mulder, no."  She pulled back and gingerly settled down against the pillows, 
grimacing as the pressure of the mattress made contact with her ribs.  Mulder 
slid forward, his hips even with hers, and looked pained.  She reached up with 
one arm and drew him down to her in a makeshift hug.  "You can't stay," she 
murmured against his ear, and his whole body stiffened in silent protest.  
Then he wilted.

"I can't stay," he repeated, resigned.  She walked sleepy fingers across his 
shoulders and into his hair, and he replied with a nuzzle near her temple.  
"Scully... you going to be all right?"

She nodded, eyes squeezed shut, preparing for the moment when she would 
have to let go.  He gentled her again with murmured words and slow strokes 
over her hip.  She fingered the silky strands of his hair, letting her hand slide 
down over his stubbly cheek.  "You should go."

He muttered an agreement but didn't move.  "I'll be back here in the 
morning, okay?"

DC, she remembered. Kersh.  "We won't be back at the Bureau in time."

Mulder sighed and sat up enough to look at her.  "Well, Kersh can hardly 
blame us now, can he?"

"I guess not."

He gave her a tired smile.  "This was a hell of a way to buy us an extension, 
Scully."

"Mmm.  Not my first choice, believe me."

"Get some sleep," he said, and kissed her free hand.  Her eyes were already 
closed again.

"You too."  As she drifted off, she heard his cell phone ring.  Mulder's voice 
floated into her dream.  "You got it?  Great.  I'll be right there."

XxXxXxXxX

They left him alone in an interrogation room with all the photographs and 
notes collected from Shannon Blessing's disappearance.  Mulder spread it out 
on the table -- pictures of each room of her house, her car, her yard -- and 
loosened his shirt cuffs.  With a giant yawn, he sat down to begin searching 
through it.  He started with the statements from the last people known to 
have seen or talked to Shannon, her ex-husband Henry and the woman 
running the crafts store.

At 8:30 in the morning, Shannon had talked to Henry on the phone about the 
kids.  At nine, she had dropped them off at camp.  Presumably she had 
returned home to work on her knitting -- officers investigating her 
disappearance had reported finding a half-finished sweater in the living room, 
the yarn and needles still out.  Around noon, Shannon had gone to fetch 
more blue yarn at the crafts store.  That was the last anyone had seen of her.

Mulder sipped his coffee and pushed aside the notes.  The photographs 
showed a spacious yard that was well maintained without being overly 
manicured.  No suspicious footprints had been reported.  Her home showed 
no sign of struggle.

"Whoever it was," Mulder murmured as he flipped through the glossy 
images, "you must have let them in."

Or maybe, he thought, you never made it back into the house.  Like Bea.

He picked up the photos of Shannon's car, which had been found parked as 
usual in her driveway.  The investigative report said only Shannon's prints 
were on the wheel, but they found several unidentified prints on the outside 
of the car:  a palm print near the left back wheel and four finger marks on the 
trunk.  No match on the prints through NCIC.

"Huh," Mulder said, shifting in his chair.  He messed around in the 
photographs until he found one that showed the left side of Shannon's car.  
With a magnifying glass, he studied the tire.  He picked up the photograph 
and pushed back his chair.  Outside, he located a map on the precinct wall 
and double-checked his hunch.  Then he approached Jimmy Tipton, who was 
looking haggard at the front desk.  "Did you work the Blessing case?" he 
asked.

Tipton shook his head.  "No, I'd just joined on then.  Why?"

"The prints on her car -- I need to know if they've been checked against all 
available data bases, or just NCIC."

"Should be in the notes," Tipton said, walking back with him towards the 
interrogation room.

"I couldn't find anything that said it'd been done."

Tipton picked up the piles of papers and started scanning through them.  "I 
guess it hasn't been done, then.  Why, did you have a particular database in 
mind?"

"No, just a single person," Mulder replied.  "Mark Roy."

Tipton lowered the reports and regarded him with some surprise.  "You think 
Mark Roy's prints are on Shannon Blessing's car?"

"I think he helped her change a tire."  Mulder showed him the picture.  "The 
left rear one is a different brand, see?  And Mark Roy's mail route, near 
CiCi's house, was between the crafts store and Shannon's home.  I think 
Shannon got a flat on her way back and that Mark must have helped her 
change it."

"Wow," said Tipton, blowing out a breath.  "We can sure run the prints and 
see.  Let me make the call right now."

As he was leaving, Mulder's phone rang again, and this time it was Sam 
Parker on the other end.  "Mulder," Mulder said wearily as he sat back down.  
The clock on the wall read after 2 am.

"Mulder, it's Parker.  I'm out at Eleanor's place.  She's not answering her 
doorbell but her car's in the drive, so I thought I'd take a look around."

"And?"

"And I think you better get down here quick."

Once again, Mulder found himself tearing through dark, unfamiliar roads.  He 
followed Tipton, who had his cruiser's lights on, taillights rising and sinking 
over hill and vale.  When they reached Eleanor's, they found Sam Parker 
waiting for them in the driveway.  "What's up?" Mulder demanded, a little 
breathless.  Around them the terrible night quiet swallowed every sound.  
Parker looked ill.

"I was checking around back," he said, starting in the direction he indicated.  
"There's an old garage there, so I peeked inside."

They crossed the dewy grass to a dilapidated wooden structure that had 
probably once housed a horse and buggy.  Parker swung back the door and 
Tipton shone a flashlight into the darkness.  Inside was a black Chevy 
Suburban with a smashed front end.  

"I ran the plates," Parker said grimly.  "It's registered to a couple back in 
town.  They probably don't even know it's missing yet."

Mulder walked alongside the hulking car until he reached the shattered front 
end.  The crash echoed in his head as he knelt to examine the damage.  
"There's silver paint on it," he announced as he swept his pocket light over 
the crumpled metal.  "This has to be the car that hit Scully."

"I didn't want to believe it," Parker said.

Mulder stood up, knees cracking.  He swayed a little on his feet.  "We need to 
find Eleanor."

Tipton's cell phone rang, and he put aside the light to answer it.  "Yeah?  
Okay.  Okay, thanks."  He picked up the light again and shone it at Mulder.  
"You were right.  Those were Mark Roy's prints on Shannon's car."

"Scully," Mulder said, breaking into a run.  "CiCi's body was a trap!"

Parker started after him.  "Mulder, wait!  Where are you going?"

Mulder turned around, slowing his run to a jog, but he did not stop moving.  
"It's the last witness," he said.  "That's the link.  Shannon was the last to see 
Bea alive, Mark was the last to see Shannon, CiCi was the last to see Mark.  
By that pattern, Scully would be next.  Eleanor's already taken one run at her 
tonight."

"Go," Parker ordered.  "We'll check the house for Eleanor."

XxXxXxXxX

I realize I don't have much time left.  Scully is a complication I can't afford to 
deal with at the moment, and Mulder's the one I need anyway.  

I do a cursory check of the bathroom and the spare bedroom just for show.  
Eleanor's bed is still in disarray from her sleep.  I pick up the sheet that has 
fallen to the floor and put it back on the mattress.  Walking to the closet, I 
creak open the door.

She stares back at me, wild-eyed and silent from the rag I stuffed in her 
mouth.  Just like I remember. 

Shhh.  I smile at her and raise my finger to my lips.  Don't tell.   I never will.

"Tipton?"  Parker's voice calls from downstairs, startling me.

"All clear!" I yell back.  "She's not here!"  

And I close the door once more.
 
XxXxXXxXxXxX


End Chapter Nine.  Continued in Chapter Ten.

Wrists:  bad
Work:  bad
Story:  still fun

Thanks to Amanda for the quick read-through.

Thanks for reading with me.  
Comments, etc to syn_tax6@yahoo.com