The plane ride was smooth and it went off without a hitch, even though she was receiving odd looks at her choice of clothing. No one hassled her about it and even if they had, one flash of her badge would have sent them away without question. With a sigh, Scully clutched her carry-on, tightly. Inside was everything that she needed to complete her task, including the handgun. That had caused a bit of a hold up in the beginning but again, her badge saved her from further delay.
Outside in the parking terminal, she found a car waiting for her. She grimaced at how smoothly she pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, slid into the drivers side, without so much as a second thought. There was always a plain black sedan waiting, one with untraceable plates and unidentifiable markings. Everything about this trip would be untraceable. Even before they had touched down in Maryland, record of her being onboard the aircraft was erased. And she knew that the guard that had stopped her about the weapon was probably already being transferred to another airport, that is, if he didn't give them any hassle. If he did...Scully didn't want to think about it.
All too soon, the neighborhood of one Erik Sanders loomed before her. She parked at the end of the block, she grabbed her bag and exited the car without a sound.
The car would stay there until some other poor fool who was in over their head was sent to retrieve it. If she was lucky, another car would be waiting for her nearby but she didn't hold her breath. Dana was used to walking now. Or getting a ride from kind soul.
A sad escaped from her lips as she trotted up the sidewalk, careful to stay in the shadows. There was no need for her to stop to confirm the address because she had forced herself to memorize it.
Having time before her flight, she had taken it upon herself to do a little digging. Erik Sanders was a top Agent within the Maryland field office. His personal file had quoted him as a easy going guy on his way to the top. Everyone liked and admired him for one reason or another. He had a wife and three teenage sons who were all heading off to college in the fall. He didn't smoke or drink. But he had a curious side to him which got him in this mess to begin with. He had gone against orders to stay clear of a man, suspected of multiple murders. While arresting the suspect, who was more than willing to trade information for his freedom, he stumbled upon highly secretive information. He was foolish enough to present this information to his superior who not only suspended him but informed...others...of his knowledge.
Shaking her head, Scully hadn't been surprised that the suspect, Thomas Kincade, had been so willing to talk. He was like her. A mule of sorts. He carried out numerous 'clean-up' jobs for her superiors but had gotten sloppy. He knew his life was over the minute the local police had picked up on his trail and had asked the FBI for assistance in apprehending him. He had nothing to lose. At the end he wanted to strike a blow to the bastards that he worked for. It may have worked too, if Sanders hadn't been so quick to show and tell. She had met Thomas once. Back when she first starting to do little jobs here and there for the cancer man. He was good at what he did but at the same time he was a good man. A man who had committed 'suicide' the first night in lockup. That thought brought a humorless chuckle from her lips. 'They' really did hold your life within their hands. One phone call was all it took to end it.
She set her lips in a grim straight line as she stopped in front of a brick, two story home. This was it. Soon she could back at her apartment like nothing ever happened. Glancing around, she noted that there was no lights on except in what appeared to be the living room. A large screened tv bathed the area in a eery light. Swallowing, she sat her bag down and zipped it open. Closing her eyes, Dana reached inside and pulled out the handgun. Once she felt its weight in her hand, she had to fight the urge to throw up. It was just nerves, she told herself as she pushed the bag under a nearby shrub until she could retrieve it on her way out.
Cautiously she made her way through the yard. A dog began to bark a few houses down and she froze, listening and waiting. Once it quieted down, she continued towards her destination.
The front door wouldn't be locked, this was a late piece of information she had received as a cryptic text message on her phone. She had to assume that Sanders wife and kids weren't home by the calmness the house was portraying. Scully heard a soft click as the door knob turned and not a sound was made as it swung open. The smell of expensive cigars assaulted her nose and she had to bit back a sneeze. Slowly, she shut the door but not the whole way. Just enough not to draw attention by some late night passerby. Taking a deep breath, she moved towards the source of the light she saw outside, the living room.
The soft mummer of the television set could be heard. Her lips quirked just a bit as she heard the steady chants of 'Jerry, Jerry' and the unmistakable voice of Jerry Springer. So the man didn't have taste, it didn't surprise her. Most of America didn't have any taste when it came to watching drabble such as the Jerry Springer show.
She mentally slapped herself for being distracted. Those few precious seconds were lost and she was closer to being caught. Steading herself, she pulled the silencer out of her pocket and screwed it onto the end of the handgun. It was top of the art, another gift she had received with the car. And something she always carried on her body when out on one of these jobs.
A noise at the end of the hall made her jerk her eyes away from the gun and towards the sound. It sounded like a door being opened but no other sound followed. "Your hearing things, Dana." She whispered to herself as she took a deep breath and took the last few steps into the living room.
Confusion crossed her face as she found it empty. And soon her mind was screaming at her to get out of there, it was a set up. But she froze, gun dropping to her side as she let her eyes scan the surrounding area. It was clear that someone had been there. A can of open beer, a bag of potato chips and a open book lay on the coffee table. Nothing else seemed to grab her attention but now she had a choice to make.
Either search the house for her intended target or leave and come back the following night. Since her mind was still screaming set up, she decided on the second and moved back towards the door. She seemed to freeze again but this time because the door was completely closed.
Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear. This was her only known escape route. She'd have to take the chance. So with all the courage she had, Dana yanked the door open, gun at the ready. Nothing but the calm, breezy night greeted her. Taking time only to close the door, she broke into a jog, forgetting her discarded bag and having to go back and get it.
Half way down the street she stopped, the energy draining from her body. She had to lean against a nearby tree since her legs felt like jelly and she didn't trust them to hold her up. Scully was fighting to get air into her burning lungs and after several painful seconds, succeeded. All at once her thoughts turned towards Thomas Kincade and she could see herself in his shoes. Something had obviously gone very wrong tonight and it had nothing to do with her. But she was fairly certain that those she worked for wouldn't care about that small, minor, detail. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed the deserted street was no longer so.
A lone man was walking down the street. The sleeves of his white button down shirt was rolled up to his elbows and a gun rested against his hip. His brown hair was being tousled about by the breeze. His green eyes burned with emotion as he approached the figure by the tree. She jumped and let out a surprised yip when his hand came to rest on her arm, his grip firm yet gentle. He took some small satisfaction in her reaction. " Scully, what are you doing here?" His question was simple but direct. And the tone he used conveyed the emotions he was feeling. Hurt. Betrayal and something that even he couldn't identify.