I am so sorry it's been so long! I thought that I only had the epilogue left to post, but apparently not! I'll get it finished today, and hopefully I'll get a chance to upload the new one, Ananais, later on too. Anyway, onwards and upwards!
HOLIDAY INN MOTEL
OCTOBER 23rd, 1997
Mulder felt a thousand times better after a good night's sleep. His muscles had stopped aching and the fog clouding his mind had lifted. He fixed himself a coffee and stood at the window looking out on the sunrise. It looked like it was going to be a brighter day, and he welcomed the change. It should have made him feel better, but it didn't. It brought no feelings of renewal for him. If anything, it brought the beginning of the end.
He dressed in a clean navy suit and picked out a tie that Scully had only made fun of twice, then made his way to the hospital, stopping at a coffee shop for some breakfast and to pick up a couple of magazines for Scully.
She was still asleep when he arrived, and there was no way the doctor was going to allow him to wake her this time. So he left the magazines with the nurse, who promised to tell Scully he'd called, then headed back down to the station. It was the last place he wanted to go, but he needed to drop off a copy of Samuel's case file.
He told the desk sergeant that he was here for Detective Pryce, but was told that he hadn't arrived yet.
'He shouldn't be too long,' he said cheerfully. 'You can go through and wait in his office if you like. Help yourself to coffee.'
'Yeah, I will. Thanks.'
The station smelled of stale smoke and disinfectant from the newly polished floor, but nevertheless the sun through the windows brought a feeling of freshness and renewal that only the morning could bring. He took advantage of the opportunity to have a look over Callahan's desk.
His thoughts returned to Scully as he looked at the nameplate. She still didn't have one. It was a small thing to him, but it had obviously meant a lot to her. He supposed that he could understand why now, though at the time she had brought it up, he hadn't. If there was only one thing he did when he got back to Washington, it was going to be to rectify that. Well, the name plate at least. There wasn't exactly room for another desk. He'd once joked with her that they could get one if she really wanted. They could push them together then at least they could play Battleships. She hadn't seen the funny side, and now he knew why. She had been suffering, tortured, questioning her whole existence, and all he had done was make light of it.
Perhaps that was the reason she had sought some kind of comfort in the arms of Ed Jerse. Not that he had ever pressed her about what had happened between them, but he knew that it was something significant enough to have had a profound effect on her. Profound enough to leave her with a permanent reminder of him in the shape of a tattoo. He had misunderstood everything she had been going through then, he had disappointed her, and he wasn't sure that he would ever be able to forgive himself for it.
Not everything is always about you, Mulder.
Her words haunted him and brought his feelings close to the surface again, enough to make his eyes burn. He hadn't been there when she had needed him – he was never going to allow that to happen again.
There was a photograph of a young girl on Callahan's desk. She must have been about five or six when the shot was taken, already ill. She had long wavy brown hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose and beautiful hazel eyes. Her father's eyes. She wore a pale blue T-shirt and red dungarees, and sat on a picnic blanket in the center of a garden on a gloriously sunny day.
'That was taken a year and a half ago, after she was diagnosed, and she's still smiling. It breaks my heart when I think of everything she went through. She meant a lot to me too. Used to call me Uncle John,' he smiled. Mulder returned the picture to the desk as Pryce handed him a coffee. He hadn't even heard him come in. 'Beth and I were never able to have children of our own. I guess Marly came close to filling that space.'
'I am sorry. It must be hard, for both of you.'
He nodded as he took his seat behind the desk. 'How is Agent Scully?'
'Okay. We're hoping to be back in Washington by tomorrow.'
'Good,' he nodded. 'You got the notes I asked for?'
'I left them on your desk,' Mulder nodded towards the manila file in Pryce's in-tray.
'Great, I appreciate it.'
'Has Samuel been officially charged yet?'
'Yes. He's at county lock-up now. The bail hearing is this afternoon, but I reckon he'll be there a while. They'll set it pretty high, if they grant it at all, with his being a flight risk.'
An awkward silence arose as Mulder tried to broach the subject of Callahan's daughter again. He wished Pryce hadn't changed the subject, though it would make little difference in the end. Pryce would soon know anyway, and Mulder didn't look forward to the reaction.
'Is Callahan in this morning?'
Pryce looked up, mildly surprised at the question. 'Um, no, he's taken the weekend off. He's taking his wife on vacation. You wanted to see him?'
'The healer that Callahan took his daughter to see, you don't remember his name?'
'Why would you want to know that?' Pryce asked, meeting Mulder's gaze. 'Is this about Agent Scully?'
'No. I mean…well, not exactly. I'm just curious about it and thought that maybe…might be worth a shot, you know?'
'Sure, I understand. Well, I wish I could help you, but I'm afraid I don't remember.'
'It couldn't have been Reverend Cork, perhaps?'
Pryce leaned closer to Mulder, and although he spoke quietly, the words came out through almost clenched teeth. 'Just what the hell are you after, exactly?'
'I'm not looking for anything, Detective. I'm just wondering if the Minister was Reverend Cork. It's nothing to get all bent out of shape over, is it?'
'Yeah, it could have been,' he spat. 'Could have been someone else too. I don't remember. Anyway, I don't see what this has to do with anything. Hundreds of people went to Cork's meetings.'
'That's kind of an odd thing to say.'
Pryce's anger turned to confusion. 'Excuse me?'
'Why would it matter how many people attended the meetings? Are you intimating something, Detective?'
Pryce's eyes narrowed. 'Don't take me for a fool, Agent Mulder. You're asking if Callahan went to Cork's meetings because you believe the killer is someone who went too, don't you?'
'Yes, I do, but I'm puzzled as to why you would think that anything I've said would apply to the murder. All I asked about was the healer Callahan took his daughter to.'
'You're trying to get something out of me, Agent Mulder. It won't work.'
Mulder smiled. 'I rather think it already did, Detective.'
'What?'
'Did you leave Callahan alone outside that room at any time that night?'
Pryce stood, his chair sliding back with a sound like fingernails on a blackboard. 'Get out! This is sick, do you know that? Sick. You're so desperate to get this kid who you don't even know all that well off the hook, you're blaming a police officer with almost fifteen years of experience!'
'I'm not blaming anyone for anything. I don't understand why you're so angry.'
Pryce took a long drink from what by now must have been cold coffee, sighed, and rubbed at his eyes.
'I'm not angry with you, I'm…I'm angry with myself, I guess. Shit…' He sighed again, cradling his head in his hands.
'How long did you leave him alone?'
He looked up, but his eyes were unfocused.
'Just a few minutes. I don't know exactly. I went to get us something to eat.'
'And you didn't tell us this before because you were protecting him?'
'No, I just didn't think that there was anything to protect him from. Of course I thought…when I heard that the Reverend was dead, it occurred to me that he might have… But then Hartley turned up. I never thought anything more of it. I still don't. He's my partner, for God's sake. We protect people, we don't hurt them.'
'We have to explore that avenue of enquiry, Detective. We need to speak to him now. Where is he?'
'He's probably at home. It's not far from here.' Pryce stood and took his jacket from the back of the chair. 'I'm driving.'
'Fine by me,' Mulder replied.
Callahan lived surprisingly close to the hospital. Mulder had unknowingly driven past it when visiting Scully several times. It was the kind of place he would have liked to live in himself had he chosen a different life. The neat, well-kept gardens were probably beautiful in the summer, but now appeared a dull mix of dark greens, bare trees, and thin bushes. Even so, the rain from the night before sparkled on leaves like gold.
Callahan's house stood on the left side of the street, facing the sunrise. Pryce parked up behind Callahan's oxidized burgundy Chevy on the driveway. Mulder got out of the car, expecting Pryce to follow him, but he stayed behind the wheel, staring up at the house.
'Detective Pryce? Are you coming?'
'Yeah… Yeah, I'm sorry.'
Mulder approached the mahogany-colored door with its rhombus glass window, and pressed the buzzer. He heard the car door slam and Pryce's footsteps crunching on the gravel drive as he came and stood beside him, straightening his jacket.
The net shifted before a very pretty woman with shoulder length brown hair and bright brown eyes opened the door and smiled warmly. 'John! Hi, come on in,' she stood aside for them. 'This is unexpected, Elliot never said you might be calling.'
'Well, he's not exactly expecting us, Helen,' he said, avoiding her eyes, smoothing his hair. 'This is Agent Mulder with the FBI. He's helping us with a case we're working on.'
'Oh, well, pleased to meet you, Agent Mulder,' she said, her smile dropping a little as she detected something was wrong. 'Well, Elliot is taking a shower right now. He told you we're going up to Atlanta to spend some time with his brother?'
'Yes, he did. We won't be long. We just need a quick word with him, that's all. Would you mind if we waited?'
Her smile was strained now. 'You could have called, if it was that urgent.'
'Well, Agent Mulder's partner is in the hospital, and we were on our way there, so we thought we'd call in person.'
'Sure, it's alright. Please, go through, sit down.'
Pryce knew his way around, so Mulder followed him into the lounge and sat down in the armchair by the window. It was a lovely, bright room decorated in blues and creams. A wooden fire surround was centered on the wall opposite the door with an arrangement of dried flowers in the hearth. Fresh flowers had been placed in several vases around the room on the windowsill, mahogany dresser, and matching coffee table. Books lined two shelves above the couch; travel journals, paperback romances, and military history.
Helen followed them in, pulling her hair back into a band and straightening her lilac top. She was a very attractive woman, but the loss of her child and the untold grief she carried had stolen something from her, staining her, reducing her forever to be incomplete.
'Can I get you something? Tea, coffee?'
'I could use a coffee, please.'
'Agent Mulder?'
'Coffee would be great. Thank you.'
Pryce waited for her to leave. 'God, I hate this,' he whispered. 'This is just awful, they've been through enough already.'
'Take it easy. I could be wrong.'
'Wrong about what?' said Callahan as he appeared in the doorway.
'How you doing, Elliot?' asked Pryce, deflecting the question.
'Fine. Be even better when we're on that plane. Look, I'm sorry, John, but you've caught us at kind of a bad time, you know? We're leaving in a couple of hours and we haven't finished packing yet.'
'Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, but this couldn't wait.'
Mulder stood and went over to the fireplace where there was a photograph in a silver frame, a copy of the same one on Callahan's desk.
'I was very sorry to hear about your daughter, Detective Callahan,' he said. 'I can't imagine how it must be to lose a child.'
'Thank you. Your life will never be the same again, is how it is,' he muttered. 'Can I ask what this is about?'
'I lost my sister when I was young. We never found out what happened to her, but I know how I felt about those who were responsible for taking her. I learned that anger is a very powerful emotion, but it can also lead you to do some stupid things.'
'Look, I really don't mean to be rude here, but this is a very bad time. Could we maybe save the male-bonding for when I get back?'
'Just take a seat a second, Elliott,' said Pryce.
'Her name was Marlena, wasn't it? Pryce told me. Not that he wanted to talk about her, but I was in the office and saw the photo. He told me you took her to see a healer.'
Callahan lowered himself onto the sofa, never taking his eyes from Mulder.
'I'm sorry,' Mulder continued, 'I know this must be painful for you. I was just wondering if maybe you knew of someone who might be able to help my partner.'
'Yes,' Callahan said carefully, 'we took her to see a healer. The doctors couldn't do anything else for her, we had nothing to lose.'
'What was his name?'
Callahan seemed confused, looking at Pryce, then back to Mulder. 'What's this about? Is there a point to this or do you enjoy raking up painful memories for people?'
'What was his name, Elliot?' asked Pryce.
Callahan rubbed at his face and sighed. 'Reverend Cork. We took her to a few of his meetings last year. So I'm afraid he won't be able to help your partner, Agent Mulder.'
'Why did you conceal this?' said Pryce. 'You didn't tell me that you knew him when we assigned the case, Elliot.'
'Why would I? I was one of hundreds of people who attended those meetings. I didn't know the Reverend personally.'
'But he did have several sessions of one-to-one healing with Marlena, didn't he?' said Mulder.
'I'm afraid you've been misinformed,' Callahan replied.
'Elliot, you told me you saw someone regularly who was helping Marlena. Someone who seemed to be making a difference.'
Callahan shot him a poisonous look, which took Pryce aback and silenced him. He was seeing a side to someone he thought he knew, and it shocked him. Mulder felt for him.
'No, I didn't. You must have misunderstood when I told you I was going to the meetings.'
'Elliot, please,' said Pryce, his pain and disappointment evident in every line on his face. 'You and I both know you're lying.'
'Did it ever occur to you I might have been lying before and now I'm telling the truth?' His eyes were burning with hate, but he spoke with such calmness it was unnerving. Mulder had seen it a hundred times during his time with the BSU. It never ended well.
'For God's sake.' Pryce stood and started towards the door. He nearly walked into Helen, who was carrying a tray of mugs.
'You're not leaving already?' she said.
Pryce turned away from her, hiding his face. 'I…er…I think it's for the best, yes.'
'What's going on? Is everything okay?' She put the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to her husband. He slipped his hand over her knee.
'Detective Callahan, were you in work two weeks ago, on Tuesday and Wednesday?' asked Mulder.
'No.' He glanced at his wife, who remained expressionless.
'So, where were you?'
'Not that it's any of your business, but I was in Atlanta with my cousins. I did tell my partner, but maybe I'm a liar about that, too. You just never know with me, although that I can prove if you're at all bothered about truth.'
'Atlanta? That's quite the coincidence, you know. The Reverend had been receiving letters postmarked from Atlanta.'
Helen's cup slipped from her grasp, spilling the coffee over the cream carpet. The sour-smelling brown liquid spread out like a flower under the table.
'Shit, I'm sorry, I'll get a cloth,' she leapt to her feet and ran from the room.
Callahan watched his wife leave, using the few seconds to think. 'You must be pretty desperate, Agent Mulder. And have an exceptionally low opinion of me. Do you really think I don't know where you're heading with this? Samuel Hartley has already been charged. Yes, I attended the Reverend's meetings before my daughter died, but there the connection ends. You think you've found something that will get this boy off the hook, but let me make it absolutely clear that you have not. There's absolutely no evidence, not to mention the fact that I'm a respected police officer and Samuel Hartley is a loud-mouthed dipshit. How dare you come into my home, upsetting my wife like this? Don't you think we've been through enough? And John, I'm very disappointed in you.'
'I understand,' said Mulder. 'The case is closed. I'm just checking on loose ends, that's all. I'm sure you have nothing to hide, so I'm sure you won't mind if we continue. You told me that neither of you left the hotel room all night. Is that right?'
'That's what I told you, and that's what happened.'
Pryce sighed and retook his seat, staring at Marlena's photograph.
'I left you for ten minutes, Elliot, to get something to eat. Ten whole minutes,' said Pryce, almost despondent now.
'You goddamned backstabbing bastard,' Callahan spat. 'Are you trying to get me fired? So fucking what? I was alone for ten minutes. If that.'
'Surely you know what that means though, Detective Callahan?' said Mulder. 'We only have your word for it that no-one else entered the room. More importantly, perhaps, it's highly likely that the man you were supposed to be protecting died suspiciously most likely within that time frame. That leaves you with motive and opportunity. Those questions need answering.'
'I have no reason to answer any of this complete bullshit.'
Helen Callahan chose that moment to reappear with a cloth, but the look on her husband's face made her forget the reason she had brought it. She sat down beside him.
'Mrs. Callahan,' Mulder continued, 'what is it you do for a living?'
'Me? I'm an auxiliary at the hospital. Elliot, what is going on?' Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were hard, all signs of welcome gone. He didn't have chance to reply.
'So it's fair to say then that you have access to medicines, patient records, that king of thing?'
Her face changed instantly to an expression of surprise and fear. She glanced at Callahan, who watched her with hawk-like eyes. 'Why on earth are you asking me that?'
'It's just something that we need to look into, Mrs. Callahan. We have a few things outstanding on the case your husband has been working on.'
'Elliot? But why has that got anything to do with me?'
'Please, Mrs. Callahan. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner I can be out of your hair, ok?' said Mulder. 'Would you have access to medicines, patient records - '
'No, I wouldn't. I clean, I change beds, I help move patients. Pharmacy items are locked away, as they are in every hospital.'
'Keys or coded locks?'
'Coded for the most part.'
'Would you know the codes, Mrs. Callahan?'
'Only the doctors and nurses, approved staff, are supposed to have it.'
'That's not what I asked.'
Helen Callahan thought there was something about Agent Mulder she didn't like as soon as he stepped through the door. Now, she knew she positively despised him. He wasn't bothered. Being disliked wasn't exactly a new experience for him.
'Yes, I have the code. I'm on the approved list. I have to get in there to clean.'
'So you do have access to medicines?'
'No!' she yelled, then took a breath as her husband placed his hand on her arm. 'Well…yes, I have access to them, but I have never touched them. Look, I think we've been polite here for long enough. I'd like you to leave now, please.'
'Would you mind if I had a look around?'
'Yes, we damn well would!' yelled Callahan, rising from his chair. 'Get the hell out of here, both of you. How dare you come into our home and subject us to this interrogation!'
'I think the time for game playing has passed here, ok? We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,' said Mulder. 'You both know why we're here, and why I'm asking these questions. Now, I can go see the judge to get your flights suspended and a search warrant, or we can keep this civilized and co-operative.'
'You go get your goddamned warrant,' Callahan fumed. 'The judge will laugh in your face.'
'Maybe, maybe not. We'll soon see. While we're at it, we'll check with the hospital. They keep logs of entry to secure rooms, don't they? I wonder if they've missed any drugs lately?'
'I wouldn't know,' said Helen weakly, her hands trembling.
'You know, I couldn't help but notice that you have a drug reference book in the cabinet over there,' said Mulder as he crossed the room and took it.
'How dare you!'
Mulder ignored her. 'Looks well-thumbed, too. Is this an interest of yours? Pharmacopeia?'
'Actually, yes. I wanted to see what the effects were of the drugs they were giving my daughter.'
'Right. I understand. "Cyclimorph",' he read, '"injection, indicated in all medical conditions where cyclizine is needed in addition to morphine, minimises nausea and vomiting. Naloxone, given intramuscularly or subcutaneously effectively antagonises the toxic effects of morphine. Overdosage - symptoms, respiratory depression, hypertension, circulatory failure. Sounds like dangerous stuff in the wrong hands. And the page is dog-eared.' Mulder looked at Callahan. 'Was your daughter given Cyclimorph?'
'Amongst other things,' he said.
'And she took it at home?'
'Sometimes. The doctors administered it.' Helen's voice was still weak. Her eyes were distant, shimmering in the wan sunlight through the window.
'The hospital's stock won't be missing any Cyclimorph or Naloxone will it?'
Her gaze shifted back to Mulder, something unreadable in her eyes, a mix of fear and resignation as she sighed. Pryce muttered something inaudible as he watched his friendship, possibly even his career fall apart.
'The only reason I ask is because I recall traces of both these drugs being found in the Reverend's blood. He wasn't prescribed either of them.'
'I wouldn't know,' she muttered.
That was odd. Did Callahan tell his wife about the Reverend's death? She had never even asked who the Reverend was, or why this FBI man was now here asking questions about it.
'Can I ask, do either of you have a heart condition?'
'No, we don't,' Callahan replied.
'Do you know what the drug Apsolol is prescribed for?'
'Never heard of it.'
'It's for the treatment of several conditions including hypertension, angina, cardiac dysrythmias, that kind of thing,' Mulder informed them. He saw Pryce from the corner of his eye, shaking his head sadly and staring at the floor. 'You or your wife don't take it?'
'I told you I never heard of it.'
'Marlena would never have been given it either?'
'How many times would you like me to say it?' spat Callahan.
'This book is yours, isn't it?'
'Yes,' replied Helen.
Mulder raised his eyebrows and turned to the front of the book. 'It's stamped "Property of Kenwood Mercy Hospital".'
Helen flushed. 'It's an old copy. There's a new edition now. They sell off the old ones to raise funds for the children's unit.'
'I see. Was this Post-It on the page dealing with Apsolol when you bought the book?'
Helen looked desperately at her husband, who answered. 'How should we know? Never noticed it before.'
'So we won't find either of your prints on it then, will we? You know, it's funny though, because Reverend Cork was prescribed this. And with those other two drugs too, it's…well, it's almost as if someone was researching what this combination of drugs could do, isn't it? You know they could cause a heart attack?'
Neither of them replied, but Helen took a packet of cigarettes from her jeans pocket and lit one with shaking hands.
'Alright, well it's clear this isn't going anywhere,' said Mulder with a sigh. 'I think maybe we should get that warrant and have a word with the hospital, and proceed from there. Detective Pryce, shall we go?'
'You don't need to go to that trouble, Agent Mulder,' Helen said, taking a long drag from the cigarette and exhaling slowly. 'I don't suppose we'll be getting on that flight today, will we?'
Mulder shook his head sadly then lowered his eyes.
She nodded, finished the cigarette, and stubbed it out on an ashtray on the mantel.
'You don't need the search warrant, Agent Mulder. You'll find the medication taped behind the bathroom sink.'
'Good God, Helen! What the hell - ' Callahan started.
'Stop it, Elliot,' she hissed, tears breaking in her eyes. 'I can't live with this my whole life. Marly's gone. What does anything matter now?' She lit another cigarette and closed her eyes as she inhaled. 'It's over,' she repeated quietly, then paused and opened her eyes. 'You've never lost a child have you? So you'll never understand.'
Neither of the men replied, they were both stunned into silence at the suddenness of her confession, and deeply saddened by the chain of events that had led them here.
'Life has no color anymore. Every day is a trial to be endured, each night sleepless. You talk to people without hearing them, without caring, because you're empty. Empty of everything except the pain. You don't feel a part of anything anymore. Like part of you has died too. I've seen so many people getting saved by these ministries, but not Marly. Not a young girl with her whole life in front of her. God chose to help all those others, but not her. That's a very hard thing to try and understand. Every time I looked into her eyes, smiling even through her pain, I wanted to kill the Reverend. I wanted to make him suffer for what he did. And you know, I'm glad he's dead. He let her die, and it wasn't fair that I had to bury my daughter while he went on, pretending to be something he wasn't.'
Mulder sat down. 'What happened?'
'You know what happened,' said Callahan. 'I killed him. And if I had the choice, I'd do it again.'
'But, John, I only left you for a few minutes,' said Pryce.
Callahan shrugged. 'It took seconds. He was very weak. He died much more quickly than I'd anticipated. I thought I'd done a pretty good job of hiding the puncture mark, but obviously not.'
'And you obtained the drugs for him, Helen?'
She nodded. 'That's why you won't need any warrants. They know about the missing supplies. They've already started an internal investigation, it was only a matter of time before you found that out. Doesn't seem much point in hiding it anymore.'
'Where did you hide the needle?' asked Pryce.
'It was in my pocket the whole time, believe it or not. I dumped it into the storm drain when we finished that night. It's long gone now.'
'Shit, Elliot. You've thrown away everything. I've known you for years, how the hell could you do something like this? Reverend Cork didn't kill your daughter, he tried to help her. God only knows I understand your pain, and how much you wanted someone to blame, but that wasn't the Reverend. There are some people who just can't be helped. It's no-one's fault, it's just the way things happen sometimes.'
Callahan laughed a cold, humorless laugh as he stood. 'I've thrown away nothing, and I regret nothing. My life was over when I buried my daughter. So you know what you can do with your philosophical bullshit.'
'I'm sorry, Detective,' said Mulder sincerely as he cuffed him while Pryce secured his wife. 'I really am.'
'Yeah,' said Callahan darkly. 'So am I.'
