Author's Note: Another different POV for my avid readers! I just wanted to thank those of you who have stuck with this story for almost a year, those who have just recently begun to read, and those who haven't started reading yet! You all will be excited to know that the pieces are finally coming together. I have actually had the climax written up for several months, and now I'm working on one more segue chapter and the ending. :) I'm psyched!
Song...: .com/watch?v=RAU4qVUKPG8 Here It Goes Again by OK Go (more of a joke than anything)
Enjoy!
29. FBI Headquarters, Washignton D.C.
Assisant FBI Director Walter Skinner entered his office to find the phone on his desk blinking. Again. It seemed like every time he stepped out for coffee, some frantic agent left a message on his machine. Years of experience and hours of training apparently flew out the window whenever a special agent ran into a crisis. Was calling him the first thing they did every time a case didn't go according to plan?
With a sigh akin to that of an irritated parent, Skinner set his coffee down and hit the 'play' button on his answering machine. The voice that rattled out of the cheap speaker made the assistant director straighten just a little. "Director Skinner," said the voice of Fox Mulder, rushed and breathless as it usually was, "I don't have much time, but I want you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
Okay, easily done. Skinner picked up his mug and took a draft of coffee as a series of scuffles and taps issued out of the machine. It sounded like Mulder was running, slamming a car door, maybe? Whatever he was up to, it didn't sound too serious...yet. Of course, with Mulder, nearly everything turned serious pretty quickly.
"Director Skinner, Agent Scully and I have found some shocking evidence here in Forks. I don't have time to explain it all, but I would like you to pay close attention to what I'm saying."
"Get on with it, Mulder," muttered Skinner, slurping his coffee.
A thousand miles away, Mulder seemed to comply to Skinner's wish. "If I don't call you back in two hour's time to tell you I'm fine, assume I am dead. Assume Agent Scully is dead. Assume we've both been killed."
What, now? "Mulder..." Skinner's ear was glued to the answering machine, his coffee long forgotten on the desk. Mouth slightly ajar, he didn't even bother to explain when a secretary gave him a peculiar look as she passed by.
Mulder was still talking. "If it's been two hours and I'm dead, I want you to put Sam Uley and Doctor Carlisle Cullen under arrest. Sam Uley, Carlisle Cullen," he said, repeating the names carefully, and Skinner nodded even though Mulder couldn't see him. "Take them in for questioning about our murders and the murders of three women."
Skinner wished Mulder had called his personal phone, not his desk set. If this case in Washington was as bizarre as it was beginning to sound, he didn't want anyone who might be listening in to stop him from carrying out Mulder's request. Skinner knew his line had been bugged for years. He could only hope Mulder knew this and wasn't going to give one of his quack explanations along with his dramatic statement.
"The proof you need for their involvement in this case is inside the air conditioning unit in my hotel room in Forks," Mulder said, his breath coming faster now. "There's case files and a video tape. There's also another person involved, and his name is Graeson Hughes. He was a pathologist and now he's gone missing."
Pathologist, Cullen, Uley, AC unit, Washington, Skinner recited in his head, committing the facts to memory. Forks. Hotel. Murders, multiple.
Sometimes Mulder disturbed Skinner with his theories about alien hybrids (more true than not, he'd eventually realized) and his gun-waving tendencies. But past experience with his old friend Gut Feelings was telling him to believe Mulder on this one. Once the message stopped playing, Skinner played it again twice more. He erased it as soon as he knew it was stored in his mind, put on his coat, locked his office, and strode away.
A ticket to Washington would be kind of pricey. He would wait in the airport for the two hours, and then he would move. Acting on information was in his nature, and Skinner was sure Mulder would not want this case relegated to a lesser person than the Assistant Director himself.
Skinner pulled his car keys out of his pocket and frowned up at the sky. He sure hoped Mulder would give him that call in a couple hours.
Plane tickets weren't cheap these days.
