WIP: The Hitchcock Variant
Part 1/?
Author: Wendia
Summary: MSR, casefile.
Spoliers: Everything up to and including the movie.
Authors notes:
I guess technically this is post movie fic, though that wasn't really intentional. None of season 8 or 9 have occured, no pregancies, abductions, Doggett etc. But hopefully a mytharc type of story of the old kind before everything got so complicated.
This started of as a work in progress about two months ago. I posted the first chapter to ephemeral then and I am hugely grateful to anyone who sent me feedback. Anyway having promised myself to add regular updates I promptly failed as the story spiralled out of control and became more and more complicated. I still haven't finished it and I am fairly sure that even the chapters that I am posting now will need revamping at some point but I'm a lot closer to the end than I ever was before.
Feedback: Like a said I still haven't quite finished this fic so any suggestions on the direction it should take would be hugely appreciated. In fact any comments at all would be wonderful. Hell, send me a message telling me what the weathers doing where you are I'd probably be happy.
Archive: Not yet, though if anyone wants to when its finished would be more than happy.
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The Hitchcock Variant.
Prologue.
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2 Novemeber 1514 hours, Richmond
--------------------------------
The man pressed down on the accelerator sending the car speeding along the highway. The afternoon sun was strong but swirls of black danced in front of his eyes obscuring the road.
/They will not win./
He had muttered that to himself when he left the complex. But since then it had become a mantra playing on repeat inside his head.
He had said it to the perplexed guard as he passed through the outer perimeter. He shouted it at a passing cow as the car moved out into the countryside. Now he used it to quieten the voices that pushed at the edge of his conscious.
He would not turn around.
They would not win.
He had made sure of that. He had destroyed it all.
The presence behind and in front of his eyes grew stronger but he blinked away the oily patterns. It would not defeat him, he was stronger than the others, stronger than that woman that Alex cared about. He understood it and therein lay his advantage. All he needed was a little more time.
The man's eyes were searching now. Hunting through the black spots for an appropriate target.
/Too far away./
/Not strong enough./
The car whizzed past crumbling stone walls and empty fields. Sappling trees stood swaying in the breeze. They would not do. The horizon moved closer and the man found what he was looking for.
He pressed harder on the accelerator. It was more of an effort now, the presence was stronger, seeping its way from his eyes to his brain, drifting along his motor neurones and urging his foot to ease up.
He gritted his teeth and kept his shoe to the floor.
/They will not win./
The horizon moved closer and he began to turn the wheel. His hands tremoured and resisted but he only needed to angle the car slightly. The wheels spun on dust and stones as the vehicle edged towards the side of the road. The speedometer hit 90mph and the tires screeched.
He could hardly see at all now, the black swirls were moving faster more frantically making it almost impossible to peer between them. But still he kept his hands locked in position.
When the car hit the tree his last thoughts were of a young woman and a silver locket.
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The Hitchcock Variant
Chapter 1.
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23 November 2003 hours, Washington DC
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"Where do you find these places?"
The neon sign above the door announced "Barney's" in fluorescent letters. Though the 'ey' was dimming and the 'a' had disappeared altogether,it appeared to be the only lighting in the entire place.
"I've a book. I'm working my way through, only up to B though."
She arched a auburn eyebrow. He grinned and added;
"The Rough Guide to America's seediest bar's."
In truth he wasn't sure what had made him bring her here. Except that he had looked across the office and just wanted to see her some place else. Somewhere other than buried under a pile of paper work or up to
her elbows in blood and guts.
/Have dinner with me, tonight./ He'd just said it, not really thinking about it, he just wanted to see her somewhere that wasn't work.
"Seriously Mulder, I'm interested in your selection criteria."
She continued her appraisal of his choice of venue.
"I dunno."
His eyes flicked along the near empty bar to the three beers they had on tap. Shrugging he continued,
"A fine choice of ales, an interesting and varied clientele, friendly yet buxom barstaff."
Scully glanced at the greying waitress. Her name tag announced Joy, though Scully very much doubted this was particularly applicable. The corners of her mouth turned, only briefly, but long enough for Mulder
to notice.
/Because I wanted to see her smile/ He thought.
"Not too far from the home and a large sports screen." He answered her earlier question. "Though really, if you don't mind eating in the dark the foods surprisingly good."
He motioned towards one of the many empty booth's and for a fleeting moment she felt his fingers brush against her back. They slid into the
seats opposite each other.
"Hey Scully, did you catch the Knicks game last night." He assumed she hadn't.
"Yes actually."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What have you done with my partner?"
"Really, though I thought they were robbed the refs decision in the 2nd quarter was atrocious."
He regarded her with a mixture of interest and amusement. Scully leant forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially;
"You know I played basketball for my college team." She wondered why she'd never had occasion to tell him that before.
Mulder laughed out loud. She picked up several packets of sugar and threw them at his chest.
"I thought you believed in extreme possibilities."
"Okay, okay, Ms Jordan." A flicker of a smile still played across his lips.
"I never said I was good." she countered amused by his response.
"Why basketball?" he questioned genuinely interested. "Its not.. immediately obvious."
"I had a good aim." She shrugged, "and I could never run fast enough to play anything else."
"How about you?"
With his height and interest in the sport she'd always assumed he'd played in college.
"I played in high school, but its not very popular in England."
Scully, grinned amused by the idea that she was quite possibly better than he.
"You know, I could probably beat you."
"Anytime Agent Scully, anytime."
Her memory sparked and she heard his voice in her head.
/Hips before hands, Scully. Hips before hands./
She could almost feel the pressure of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath in her ear.
She was suddenly grateful for the dark, he couldn't see the red flush that rose in her cheeks.
"I swam for the varsity team for a couple of years." He continued.
"Varsity team?"
"Yeah, Oxford versus Cambridge. The tradition dates back hundreds of years, only its less sport and more drinking nowadays."
She raised an eyebrow and was about to question him further when the waitress roughly deposited a candle on their table.
"You ready to order yet." She drawled. Scully realised they hadn't even looked at the menu.
"Two bottles of Budweiser, a glass of water, two t-bone steaks with fries and a side salad." Mulder answered with authority. The waitress wrote down his choices and walked off without a word. He turned back to
meet his partner's slightly irritated gaze.
"Trust me here." he grinned back at her. The smile reached his eyes.
She realised it had been a long time since they just had dinner. No alien abductions, no government conspiracies, just them. She was reminded of her last birthday. She thought he had forgotten, he usually did;
/Dog year's Mulder?/
"You do know its not my birthday for three months, don't you?"
He feigned indignity. Then leant in closer;
"I never said I was buying."
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Mulder was right the food was surprisingly good. Skewing a fry she stole a glance at her partner. The candlelight spared little illumination yet his skin seemed to glow darkened gold whilst his hair and eyes shone black. He never ceased to surprise her. Just when she thought she had him figured out he would do something like this. He would choose the most unlikely of bars and make her feel like she was dining at the Ritz. He would listen to her and laugh at her jokes, as if she was the only person in the world. In a few short sentences he could make her forget every time she'd ever been mad with him. He could make her wonder why they held themselves so far apart.
He looked up and abruptly she realised she was staring.
"Is this a date?" She meant to sound flippant but her words came out more seriously than she intended. His expression remained unchanged but his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She watched a brief flash of uncertainty flicker across his features.
"That depends, Agent Scully." He paused and her heart beat faster. "What are your selection criteria?"
/Tall? Dark? Handsome?/ He matched every one.
"Candlelight?." he lent towards her, almost whispering.
/I love his voice./ She couldn't help but think.
"Dinner?."
/Like honey over gravel./ Her mind offered.
"A friendly yet bux... ouch."
Her shoe connected with his shin and she laughed. Yet she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Humour was always his easy way out. He smiled back at her, really smiled.
The effect was magnetic, without thinking she reached for his hand.
"Mulder I.." She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say but it didn't matter. His expression changed and she caught his eyes and followed them in the direction of the television, the spell was broken.
'Billy John Sirus escaped from the Richmond state penitentiary at 4 o'clock this afternoon. He was charged on ten counts of...The news report continued.'
"You know him?" She asked quietly softly taking her hand away from his.
"Yes, I helped catch him."
His eyes sought out hers but it was too late, the moment passed. He shrugged.
"I'd just started profiling, I didn't do much really, it was a very public case, there was a large team working it."
"What did he do?"
Before he could answer his cellphone rang.
"Mulder." he turned from her and greeted the caller.
Scully's eyes flicked back to the news report.
'Sirus escaped when a prison van crashed into a truck.
The accident is not being treated as susipcious.'
"Yes I've heard." Mulder was saying.
'Police say the fugitive is armed and extremely dangerous.
You should not attempt to confront him.'
"Right, a seat on the 11 o'clock flight." He was
scribbling down the details.
Scully turned back to her partner, the playful grin faded
from his features, he looked tried.
"Two" she said on impulse. Surprised Mulder glanced up
at her. "Two seats" she added softly.
"Two seats" Mulder parroted into the phone.
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23 November 2330, Flight AA283
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"So tell me about Sirus." Scully questioned as they settled into their seats. Mulder nodded absently.
"William John Sirus was born into your typical dysfunctional family. Father left before he was born, mother drank away the family's income."
"Attachment disorder, emotionally immature. He blamed all his problems in life on women."
He smiled as if to display empathy with this particular theory.
"Probably would have ended as your average petty criminal except that his mother was murdered and not by him. That's unusual, most serial killers start with someone they know, a female relative or friend. He didn't, that's partly what made him so hard to catch."
He paused.
"His mothers death came as a blessing, he gets the trailer, doesn't have to put up with her drinking. But Billy John becomes obsessed by her murder, the guys clever, reads a lot, forensics, police method."
"His first kills were planned, well planned and all his victims resembled his mother in some way. The guy thought he was doing a community service by ridding the world of these women."
"But then like all sociopaths he decompensates quickly. I guess he got a taste for it. The women he kills become younger, more attractive. Killing off fifty year old drunks with more children than teeth is all very well, but these are not the women a man looks at in bars."
"He killed ten people before we caught him." She caught the soft lilt of anger tinged guilt in Mulder's voice.
"How did he do it?" she asked softly
"That's were it gets interesting. He'd kill them in their homes, more of a challenge that way. He got very good at breaking and entering. The first victims were strangled, the rest shot. He mutilated these women, but he never used a knife, not once in ten murders."
"His mother was stabbed." She guessed, he nodded looking pleased with her leap of deduction.
"How did they link all the murders to him?" Scully wondered aloud, Richmond was a big place, usually a serial killer kept his MO the same.
"A playing card." She arched an eyebrow. "All the victims had the ace of hearts planted with them."
"When we searched his trailer we found a number of crime books,
fiction and non-fiction. Sirus had underlined the important bits.
In one of the novels the murderer left the jack of spades as his
calling card."
The plane banked and Mulder watched his partner's grip tighten
on the arms of her chair.
"Hey," he said quietly "Its only a short flight."
She turned to face him nodding slightly in acknowledgement. She didn't point out it was the going up and coming down she hated, that didn't change no matter what the length of the flight.
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24 Novemeber 0100, Richmond
---------------------------
Her breathing told him that she was sleeping. He pulled the car up quietly and turned to wake her. She always found it difficult to stay up through the early hours. He wondered if she realised just how many of those hours he had spent watching her sleep.
"Scully." He whispered. "Hey, sleeping beauty."
She blinked wondering if she had heard him or her imagination.
"We're here."
The operation centre turned out to be significantly less formal than its title suggested. A number of rooms in a local police station had been acquisitioned for the purpose, files and personnel sat haphazardly around the desks.
Mulder took in the scene before purposely striding towards a tall black man. The man turned to greet him.
"Agent Mulder I presume." His voice had the tone of easy authority and Scully didn't have to hear his next sentence to know he was in charge.
"I'm Federal Marshall Samuel Peers."
"Fox Mulder." Mulder stated in unnecessary confirmation. "This is my partner Dana Scully."
"We've retrieved the old BSU files and the prison records." Peers began without preamble. "I want a new profile. I want to know everything. What he's thinking, where he's going, what he's planning. Hell the colour of his underwear. Everything. I may not be qualified to join the BSU, Agent Mulder, but even I can see that this guy has had nearly twelve years to fantasize about his previous kills and to plan his next. I intend to catch him before he can carry it out."
Mulder nodded, he remembered meeting Sirus and was inclined to agree with the Marshal's brief psychological summation. Still something bothered him, Sirus had evaded capture for the best part of 18 months, he had worked the case only for the final three weeks. He wondered if Peers realised this.
"Sir I wasn't a big part of the original investigation. I'm not very well acquainted with the case file."
"Your name appears on the reports Agent Mulder. Reacquaint yourself."
Peers nodded curtly and Mulder correctly interrupted the gesture as a sign of dismissal.
"Nice guy." Scully breathed quietly as they turned and searched for somewhere that wasn't covered in people and ringing telephones.
"He's not supposed to be" Mulder breathed back, leaning in close to her ear, "didn't you watch The Fugitive."
"Yeah." She answered quietly "But I doubt the man we're chasing is Harrison Ford."
They found a tiny side office and deposited the files on the desk.
"Some light reading." he quipped and handed her a thick folder which she recognised as the original case file.
Forty minutes and one cup of coffee later Scully could safely say for certain that Sirus had not evaded capture for so long due to a lax investigation. Mulder was right he had little input to the original case, however what he had failed to mention was that contribution which he made led directly to the arrest.
His profile had been tucked at the back of the folder, mostly it mirrored those of his colleagues but in one vital aspect it didn't. It was Mulder who had suggested that the UNSUB had a relative who had been a victim of a serious crime, most likely murder. He had postulated that the UNSUB would have shown excessive interest in the investigation, which would have been a success though not necessarily due to the UNSUB's input. He even suggested a range of dates between which this original murder would have been committed. He had been right on all accounts.
She sighed a rubbed the bridge of her nose absently. Stealing a glance at her partner she saw he was intent on the documents he held. Several pages of spider scrawl sat crumpled under his right hand, pen poised ready to add any further thoughts. She realised she often forgot about his roots in profiling. He rarely talked about it and she had assumed that he did not look back fondly on his years with the BSU. Still the fact remained he had been good, very good. Her eyes flicked back to her own file. She stifled a sigh. Mulder may be a brilliant profiler she thought ruefully but, she however was not. In fact she wasn't even sure of her own motives in accompanying him here. For a reason she couldn't quite explain she just didn't want him to go alone.
"You know you don't need to be doing this." He looked up from the file and meet her eyes. For an instant she wondered if he had been reading her mind.
"I don't mind."
"Go" he said softly. "Find us a motel. Get some sleep."
Scully thought about arguing, but a brief glance at her watch changed her mind. She rested her hand atop of his and squeezed it gently.
"I'll give you a call to let you know where we staying."
She stood to leave but he caught her fingers back in his.
"Thanks." He looked up at her. "For being here."
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24 November 0730, Rainbow Inn, Richmond
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The Rainbow Inn had nothing to distinguish it from any of the other cheap motels Scully had stayed in whilst she and Mulder were on the road. However it did have clean sheets, hot water and two free rooms.
Despite the fact that she hadn't got to bed until past 3am her alarm woke her at 7. Forcing herself to leave the warmth of the blankets she rose and showered.
When Mulder knocked on the door at 7:30 she was fully dressed and sat busy brushing the waves out of her hair.
"Come in."
"Morning."
He offered her a polystyrene cup, she took it with a quick smile of thanks. He had shaved since the previous evening but the circles under his eyes remained. She didn't ask when, if indeed he had slept.
"I finished a preliminary profile last night." He handed her a photocopy of several handwritten sheets.
"Your opinion?" He perched opposite her on the end of the bed.
"The guy's a nut."
She just continued to stare at him.
"Going by the original profiles and interviews I'd say he'll adopt a similar pattern. Most probably he'll break into someone's house. In fact that's where I'd start to look, recent B and E's. He's got no money and nowhere to stay but a significant amount of practice in entering peoples homes."
"However.." Scully prompted judging from the tone of his
voice there was a but.. somewhere.
"However..." His lips twitched slightly at her ability
to read his so well. "After about 4 years of incarceration he
found Gawd." He put on a Southern accent. "Billy John is now
a devout born again Christian."
This caught her attention.
"So, what are you saying? He'll not kill?"
"No I'm saying that this makes him more dangerous."
"Being religious?"
She arched an eyebrow.
"Yes" He smiled.
"The impulse to kill is still there. He may think that he can control it but he can't. He'll try, we probably have two, three days, then the desire to murder will become too strong. This makes him unpredictable, he may not stick to his original pattern."
"So what do you suggest?" Scully asked quietly, slightly shaken
by the time limit Mulder had just imposed on their investigation.
"Widen the search to include places of religious significance. But he's not stupid, he's not going to walk into the local confession booth. We should start with graveyards, he may visit the graves of his previous victims. I'd also check out any local religious shelters. But I wouldn't rule out the B and E's."
He sighed and she could see the effort he had put into the pages she held.
"What about the Marshals team, any progress?"
"He still has the gun he took from a prison guard. He used it
to mug a guy. He stole his clothes and about 50 bucks. Since
then no-one has seen or heard a thing."
Scully nodded.
"What now?"
"Well, with Tommy Lee Jones's permission, I want to visit
the prison. He had a friend there, they.." he paused searching
for the right words, " shared a common interest."
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0900 Richmond State Penitentiary
--------------------------------
No matter how many times she had done it Scully would never get used to walking through the halls of a male prison. Outwardly she set her professional mask firmly in place and kept her stride steady, inwardly her heart beat too fast and she longed to run for sanctuary.
"Hey baby."
"Come hand cuff me."
Ignoring them she stole a glance at her partner. She'd never let him know but she felt stronger for his being their.
The warden lead them through two sets of locked doors to an interview room obviously set up for their purpose.
/Bob Cleaver./
She heard Mulders voice in her head.
/Age 47, murdered 14, strangled them, had a thing about electric cables, liked telephone wires too. He and Sirus swapped notes./
Cleaver looked like an aging insurance sales man. His balding head was covered with a few wisps of mousy brown hair and his body had long since given into a substantial middle age spread. He wore the traditional prison orange. But it was his eyes that stood out, cold,
hard, evil and starring right at her.
"What can I do for you fine people?" He drawled. She felt her stomach turn.
"Sirus." Mulder sat purposefully opposite the prisoner. Scully moved to the back of the room and lent against the window.
"Last I heard he got himself a new life." Cleaver answered, sounding almost bored.
"Tell me about him." Mulder's voice was hard and his face expressionless.
"A good man Billy John, found the lawd, he did." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. Mulder watched him carefully.
"Did you ever talk about what you'd do when you got out?"
"Yeah, you know, think we'd set us up a convent." Cleaver replied and Mulder realised the man had had time to consider this conversation, to decide how best to be unhelpful.
Textbook technique stated the subject should not lead the interview, any flippant remarks should be ignored and under no circumstances should the agent indulge in their fantasies.
"So you like nun's Cleaver?" Mulder quickly disregarded the guidlines.
The inmates pupils dilated and his gaze flicked to the floor and
back. Mulder noticed, he had learnt early on with the BSU the value of body language.
"Thou shalt not kill, Agent Mulder, you'll should know that." The innmate replied but the confidence in tone wavered.
"How about Sirus, does he likes nun's?"
"Angels of mercy Sir, doing the lawds work." This time Cleaver answered firmly, his eyes challenging Mulder to pursue the topic further. Mulder meet the inmates gaze and for a minute they were locked in a slient stand off. It was Cleaver who looked away first.
He leaned round to stared at Scully. She felt his eyes rake over her body and suppressed the urge to shudder. Mulder moved forcibly into his line of vision and abruptly changed the subject.
"Did he have any friends out there?"
Cleaver pretended to study Scully for a second longer then he leant his head to one side and replied casually.
"Now why would I tell you'll that."
"Oh, an honest god faring man like yourself, Bawb." Mulder exaggerated a Southern accent. "Would have thought you'd jump to the opportunity to help." Scully heard the soft lilt of amusement in her partner's voice and immediately knew what he thought of Cleaver's religous convictions.
Cleaver shrugged amd Mulder raised his eyebrows.
/Not sufficient incentive./ He thought though he had never imagined it would be.
"You help us, we help you." He said instead, he sounded almost fed up.
"Whatch you'll do for me. I ain't never getting out of here."
Mulder leaned closer and whispered one word.
"Privileges."
Both he and Scully knew how inmates valued that word. Cleaver apparently understood its importance too, he shifted in his chair.
"Sirus ain't got no family, no friends."
Mulder shook his head.
"That's too easy, gotta earn your keep Bob. He ever get any letters, write to anyone?" Now his tone was casual almost sing-song.
"He wrote to the lawd." Cleaver replied.
"Is he going to kill."
The question was so abrupt that not even Scully was expecting it. Cleaver too looked thrown, he took a minute before he answered. He struggled, then repeated his earlier words.
"Thou shalt not kill, Agent Mulder, weren't you'll listening to me."
Mulder raised an eyebrow then changed tack again.
"He ever tell you about his fantasy's"
He leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. Cleaver's eyes strayed again and this time Mulder didn't stop him. Scully steeled herself and meet the inmates gaze.
"Bet you had some good stories to swap."
"Wouldn't be fit for a ladies ears."
He smiled but Scully didn't let her expression change.
"Is he going to kill?"
Mulder repeated the question but Cleaver had his answer now. The inmate leant back and raised his voice theartically.
"The lawd shall have his vengeance on the unpure."
Scully was always captivated when she watched Mulder interview. The questions never quite went where she expected them to. He would chop and change. Ask one thing one minute and another the next. Carefully using his choice of words and tone of voice to extract information that often the interviewee never knew they gave. He seemed to be able to gauge a person and know exactly what to say and how. Sometimes it was down right spooky.
But with Cleaver she realised it was not going to be enough.
/He's playing with us./ She thought.
"Well, thank you for your time. Mr Cleaver."
Apparently Mulder thought the same thing. He stood to leave, Scully
followed him to the door but something about Cleaver was troubling. She realised her partner thought that his religion was just a farce, a conveintnet way to avoid the questions whilst proclaiming his own redemption, but their was an edge of awe in the man's voice that bothered her.
Turning she looked Cleaver in the eyes. Her mind quickly searched through the scriptures looking for a appropraite quote.
"Not everyone saying unto me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter into
the kingdom of paradise, but the one doing the will of my
Father in the heavens will."
It wasn't ideal but her words seemed to elicit a reaction. Cleaver stared back at her and breathed deeply. His eyes fell to her blouse and for a second she was conscious that he was staring at her chest but then she realised his gaze was on the gold cross.
"He had a visitor." He said slowly.
"A visitor?"
Scully walked back around to the table. She sat down slowly and this time Mulder stood behind her.
"Yeah, first one in twelve long years."
"Tell me about him." She said evenly.
"Didn't meet him myself." He answered sarcastically. Not prepared to give him any leighway Scully stood to leave. Seeing her Cleaver quickly spoke again.
"Weirdest thing, he only had one arm."
Scully's eyes flicked to Mulder's. She found him looking back at her.
"What did they talk about?"
"Billy John wouldn't say, got him all shook up though."
Scully nodded.
"Thank you."
"Anytime baby girl, anytime." He flashed a sickly grin, but now she could see it was just for show.
Mulder banged on the door, the warden opened it promptly and Scully didn't hesitate to follow him out. She felt his hand on her shoulder as she pulled the door closed. He leaned towards her, speaking quietly so only she would hear.
"Why did we not know about this. Its not in the prison records."
"It could just be a coincidence." Scully said softly.
"It could be." He agreed slowly.
/But you don't think it is./
"Mulder.." She was interrupted by the ring of his cell
phone.
"Mulder." He answered curtly.
Scully glanced back to the interview room. Cleaver had his head bent and his hands clasped in prayer. She watched his eyes. There was something about a murder's stare, something cold, dead, not human.
"There's been a murder." Mulder's voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned back to face her partner.
"Sirus?" She said incredulous.
"It looks like it."
He handed her the car keys.
"Peers would like you to do the autopsy."
Scully doubted the Federal Marshal had phrased the question quite that politely but refrained from saying so. She accepted the keys and nodded.
"Where are you going?"
"Hopewell." He answered absently, turning to leave.
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Novemeber 24 1300 hours County Morgue
-------------------------------------
Scully snapped the latex from her hands. Sarah Jenkins had been
shot, that much had been easy to ascertain. She'd died quickly,
which was a mercy as the discolouration and scratch marks on her
skin told testament to the frenzied attack her body had then
endured.
She was surprised when Mulder walked into the autopsy bay.
"He shot her in the back of the head." She said by
way of greeting. Mulder nooded, this much apparently he had
known. He looked at the body his brows furrowing.
"She wasn't..um..he didn't damage her much." Scully caught
his meaning, she had seen the photographs of the previous crime
scenes.
"He did attack her. But the shot to the head was immediately
fatal, her heart stopped. Without a cardiac output bruises
don't appear, not in the usual sense. But look here, and here."
He followed her fingers. "There extensive blows to the body, all inflicted post mortem. She had six broken ribs, both arms broken."
"They found this," he said holding out a plastic bag containing
a single playing card. "He broke in through the back window,
she'd left it ajar."
"What did you make the time of death?" his eyes flicked
back to the body.
"Between two and four this morning." she answered.
"Mulder, where's Hopewell?" he looked slightly surprised. Scully
smiled, she didn't think he realised, but he made a habit of
giving her non-informative answers and then walking off. Like
this morning.
"Its a small town about fifteen minutes east of Richmond."
"You think Sirus is still there?" He shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Tell me about Sarah Jenkins." she asked quietly.
"Not much to tell really, 27, not married, no partner, lived
alone, family live in Richmond. She worked for a company called
Cipher Pharmaceuticals as some sort of technician. Her neighbours
describe her as pleasant but not particularly outgoing." He
shrugged again. "She had a cat."
"How did they find her?"
"She didn't turn up for work this morning." He looked back at
the body, starring at it, as if it would tell him something.
"Mulder what is it?" Scully said impatiently, there was obviously
something bothering him. He shifted his gaze back to her.
"Something doesn't fit."
"What?"
"I don't know." He paused. "Why go to Hopewell?"
"Does he know someone there." She wondered aloud.
"I've got them looking into that."
"Them?"
"Oh, the case is now joint juristiction, federal marshalls
and FBI, we've been assigned four more agents, two of whom
are following that lead." She nodded mildly, given Mulder's
apparent lack of people skills it always surprised her how
sometimes he could just take charge without realising it.
"What are the others doing?"
"Ones briefing the local PD and the other is looking
through about ninety reports of breaking and entry." Mulder
grinned. Sometimes it was nice not to have to do all your
own dirty work.
"What about how he got there he must have left Richmond
somehow?"
"Peers seems to have that angle convered." Mulder replied,
last time he had seen the marshal he had been barking orders
to interview every bus driver in the district.
"What do you want to do."
"Frank Dursch," it took Scully a second to work out he was
talking about the man you murdered Lauren Sirus. "He was
released from jail last year, I think Sirus might visit him."
"Why?"
"Sirus has Dursch to thank for riding him of his alcoholic
mother. Sirus still sees himself as some sort of angel of
mercy, I think he sees Dursch the same way. I'm guessing he
thinks Dursch will help him." He paused looking round.
"Are you finished here?" She nodded.
"Give me five minutes to change."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Part 1/?
Author: Wendia
Summary: MSR, casefile.
Spoliers: Everything up to and including the movie.
Authors notes:
I guess technically this is post movie fic, though that wasn't really intentional. None of season 8 or 9 have occured, no pregancies, abductions, Doggett etc. But hopefully a mytharc type of story of the old kind before everything got so complicated.
This started of as a work in progress about two months ago. I posted the first chapter to ephemeral then and I am hugely grateful to anyone who sent me feedback. Anyway having promised myself to add regular updates I promptly failed as the story spiralled out of control and became more and more complicated. I still haven't finished it and I am fairly sure that even the chapters that I am posting now will need revamping at some point but I'm a lot closer to the end than I ever was before.
Feedback: Like a said I still haven't quite finished this fic so any suggestions on the direction it should take would be hugely appreciated. In fact any comments at all would be wonderful. Hell, send me a message telling me what the weathers doing where you are I'd probably be happy.
Archive: Not yet, though if anyone wants to when its finished would be more than happy.
***********************************************************************
The Hitchcock Variant.
Prologue.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
2 Novemeber 1514 hours, Richmond
--------------------------------
The man pressed down on the accelerator sending the car speeding along the highway. The afternoon sun was strong but swirls of black danced in front of his eyes obscuring the road.
/They will not win./
He had muttered that to himself when he left the complex. But since then it had become a mantra playing on repeat inside his head.
He had said it to the perplexed guard as he passed through the outer perimeter. He shouted it at a passing cow as the car moved out into the countryside. Now he used it to quieten the voices that pushed at the edge of his conscious.
He would not turn around.
They would not win.
He had made sure of that. He had destroyed it all.
The presence behind and in front of his eyes grew stronger but he blinked away the oily patterns. It would not defeat him, he was stronger than the others, stronger than that woman that Alex cared about. He understood it and therein lay his advantage. All he needed was a little more time.
The man's eyes were searching now. Hunting through the black spots for an appropriate target.
/Too far away./
/Not strong enough./
The car whizzed past crumbling stone walls and empty fields. Sappling trees stood swaying in the breeze. They would not do. The horizon moved closer and the man found what he was looking for.
He pressed harder on the accelerator. It was more of an effort now, the presence was stronger, seeping its way from his eyes to his brain, drifting along his motor neurones and urging his foot to ease up.
He gritted his teeth and kept his shoe to the floor.
/They will not win./
The horizon moved closer and he began to turn the wheel. His hands tremoured and resisted but he only needed to angle the car slightly. The wheels spun on dust and stones as the vehicle edged towards the side of the road. The speedometer hit 90mph and the tires screeched.
He could hardly see at all now, the black swirls were moving faster more frantically making it almost impossible to peer between them. But still he kept his hands locked in position.
When the car hit the tree his last thoughts were of a young woman and a silver locket.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Hitchcock Variant
Chapter 1.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
23 November 2003 hours, Washington DC
--------------------------------------
"Where do you find these places?"
The neon sign above the door announced "Barney's" in fluorescent letters. Though the 'ey' was dimming and the 'a' had disappeared altogether,it appeared to be the only lighting in the entire place.
"I've a book. I'm working my way through, only up to B though."
She arched a auburn eyebrow. He grinned and added;
"The Rough Guide to America's seediest bar's."
In truth he wasn't sure what had made him bring her here. Except that he had looked across the office and just wanted to see her some place else. Somewhere other than buried under a pile of paper work or up to
her elbows in blood and guts.
/Have dinner with me, tonight./ He'd just said it, not really thinking about it, he just wanted to see her somewhere that wasn't work.
"Seriously Mulder, I'm interested in your selection criteria."
She continued her appraisal of his choice of venue.
"I dunno."
His eyes flicked along the near empty bar to the three beers they had on tap. Shrugging he continued,
"A fine choice of ales, an interesting and varied clientele, friendly yet buxom barstaff."
Scully glanced at the greying waitress. Her name tag announced Joy, though Scully very much doubted this was particularly applicable. The corners of her mouth turned, only briefly, but long enough for Mulder
to notice.
/Because I wanted to see her smile/ He thought.
"Not too far from the home and a large sports screen." He answered her earlier question. "Though really, if you don't mind eating in the dark the foods surprisingly good."
He motioned towards one of the many empty booth's and for a fleeting moment she felt his fingers brush against her back. They slid into the
seats opposite each other.
"Hey Scully, did you catch the Knicks game last night." He assumed she hadn't.
"Yes actually."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What have you done with my partner?"
"Really, though I thought they were robbed the refs decision in the 2nd quarter was atrocious."
He regarded her with a mixture of interest and amusement. Scully leant forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially;
"You know I played basketball for my college team." She wondered why she'd never had occasion to tell him that before.
Mulder laughed out loud. She picked up several packets of sugar and threw them at his chest.
"I thought you believed in extreme possibilities."
"Okay, okay, Ms Jordan." A flicker of a smile still played across his lips.
"I never said I was good." she countered amused by his response.
"Why basketball?" he questioned genuinely interested. "Its not.. immediately obvious."
"I had a good aim." She shrugged, "and I could never run fast enough to play anything else."
"How about you?"
With his height and interest in the sport she'd always assumed he'd played in college.
"I played in high school, but its not very popular in England."
Scully, grinned amused by the idea that she was quite possibly better than he.
"You know, I could probably beat you."
"Anytime Agent Scully, anytime."
Her memory sparked and she heard his voice in her head.
/Hips before hands, Scully. Hips before hands./
She could almost feel the pressure of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath in her ear.
She was suddenly grateful for the dark, he couldn't see the red flush that rose in her cheeks.
"I swam for the varsity team for a couple of years." He continued.
"Varsity team?"
"Yeah, Oxford versus Cambridge. The tradition dates back hundreds of years, only its less sport and more drinking nowadays."
She raised an eyebrow and was about to question him further when the waitress roughly deposited a candle on their table.
"You ready to order yet." She drawled. Scully realised they hadn't even looked at the menu.
"Two bottles of Budweiser, a glass of water, two t-bone steaks with fries and a side salad." Mulder answered with authority. The waitress wrote down his choices and walked off without a word. He turned back to
meet his partner's slightly irritated gaze.
"Trust me here." he grinned back at her. The smile reached his eyes.
She realised it had been a long time since they just had dinner. No alien abductions, no government conspiracies, just them. She was reminded of her last birthday. She thought he had forgotten, he usually did;
/Dog year's Mulder?/
"You do know its not my birthday for three months, don't you?"
He feigned indignity. Then leant in closer;
"I never said I was buying."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder was right the food was surprisingly good. Skewing a fry she stole a glance at her partner. The candlelight spared little illumination yet his skin seemed to glow darkened gold whilst his hair and eyes shone black. He never ceased to surprise her. Just when she thought she had him figured out he would do something like this. He would choose the most unlikely of bars and make her feel like she was dining at the Ritz. He would listen to her and laugh at her jokes, as if she was the only person in the world. In a few short sentences he could make her forget every time she'd ever been mad with him. He could make her wonder why they held themselves so far apart.
He looked up and abruptly she realised she was staring.
"Is this a date?" She meant to sound flippant but her words came out more seriously than she intended. His expression remained unchanged but his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She watched a brief flash of uncertainty flicker across his features.
"That depends, Agent Scully." He paused and her heart beat faster. "What are your selection criteria?"
/Tall? Dark? Handsome?/ He matched every one.
"Candlelight?." he lent towards her, almost whispering.
/I love his voice./ She couldn't help but think.
"Dinner?."
/Like honey over gravel./ Her mind offered.
"A friendly yet bux... ouch."
Her shoe connected with his shin and she laughed. Yet she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Humour was always his easy way out. He smiled back at her, really smiled.
The effect was magnetic, without thinking she reached for his hand.
"Mulder I.." She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say but it didn't matter. His expression changed and she caught his eyes and followed them in the direction of the television, the spell was broken.
'Billy John Sirus escaped from the Richmond state penitentiary at 4 o'clock this afternoon. He was charged on ten counts of...The news report continued.'
"You know him?" She asked quietly softly taking her hand away from his.
"Yes, I helped catch him."
His eyes sought out hers but it was too late, the moment passed. He shrugged.
"I'd just started profiling, I didn't do much really, it was a very public case, there was a large team working it."
"What did he do?"
Before he could answer his cellphone rang.
"Mulder." he turned from her and greeted the caller.
Scully's eyes flicked back to the news report.
'Sirus escaped when a prison van crashed into a truck.
The accident is not being treated as susipcious.'
"Yes I've heard." Mulder was saying.
'Police say the fugitive is armed and extremely dangerous.
You should not attempt to confront him.'
"Right, a seat on the 11 o'clock flight." He was
scribbling down the details.
Scully turned back to her partner, the playful grin faded
from his features, he looked tried.
"Two" she said on impulse. Surprised Mulder glanced up
at her. "Two seats" she added softly.
"Two seats" Mulder parroted into the phone.
------------------------------------------------------------
23 November 2330, Flight AA283
------------------------------
"So tell me about Sirus." Scully questioned as they settled into their seats. Mulder nodded absently.
"William John Sirus was born into your typical dysfunctional family. Father left before he was born, mother drank away the family's income."
"Attachment disorder, emotionally immature. He blamed all his problems in life on women."
He smiled as if to display empathy with this particular theory.
"Probably would have ended as your average petty criminal except that his mother was murdered and not by him. That's unusual, most serial killers start with someone they know, a female relative or friend. He didn't, that's partly what made him so hard to catch."
He paused.
"His mothers death came as a blessing, he gets the trailer, doesn't have to put up with her drinking. But Billy John becomes obsessed by her murder, the guys clever, reads a lot, forensics, police method."
"His first kills were planned, well planned and all his victims resembled his mother in some way. The guy thought he was doing a community service by ridding the world of these women."
"But then like all sociopaths he decompensates quickly. I guess he got a taste for it. The women he kills become younger, more attractive. Killing off fifty year old drunks with more children than teeth is all very well, but these are not the women a man looks at in bars."
"He killed ten people before we caught him." She caught the soft lilt of anger tinged guilt in Mulder's voice.
"How did he do it?" she asked softly
"That's were it gets interesting. He'd kill them in their homes, more of a challenge that way. He got very good at breaking and entering. The first victims were strangled, the rest shot. He mutilated these women, but he never used a knife, not once in ten murders."
"His mother was stabbed." She guessed, he nodded looking pleased with her leap of deduction.
"How did they link all the murders to him?" Scully wondered aloud, Richmond was a big place, usually a serial killer kept his MO the same.
"A playing card." She arched an eyebrow. "All the victims had the ace of hearts planted with them."
"When we searched his trailer we found a number of crime books,
fiction and non-fiction. Sirus had underlined the important bits.
In one of the novels the murderer left the jack of spades as his
calling card."
The plane banked and Mulder watched his partner's grip tighten
on the arms of her chair.
"Hey," he said quietly "Its only a short flight."
She turned to face him nodding slightly in acknowledgement. She didn't point out it was the going up and coming down she hated, that didn't change no matter what the length of the flight.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
24 Novemeber 0100, Richmond
---------------------------
Her breathing told him that she was sleeping. He pulled the car up quietly and turned to wake her. She always found it difficult to stay up through the early hours. He wondered if she realised just how many of those hours he had spent watching her sleep.
"Scully." He whispered. "Hey, sleeping beauty."
She blinked wondering if she had heard him or her imagination.
"We're here."
The operation centre turned out to be significantly less formal than its title suggested. A number of rooms in a local police station had been acquisitioned for the purpose, files and personnel sat haphazardly around the desks.
Mulder took in the scene before purposely striding towards a tall black man. The man turned to greet him.
"Agent Mulder I presume." His voice had the tone of easy authority and Scully didn't have to hear his next sentence to know he was in charge.
"I'm Federal Marshall Samuel Peers."
"Fox Mulder." Mulder stated in unnecessary confirmation. "This is my partner Dana Scully."
"We've retrieved the old BSU files and the prison records." Peers began without preamble. "I want a new profile. I want to know everything. What he's thinking, where he's going, what he's planning. Hell the colour of his underwear. Everything. I may not be qualified to join the BSU, Agent Mulder, but even I can see that this guy has had nearly twelve years to fantasize about his previous kills and to plan his next. I intend to catch him before he can carry it out."
Mulder nodded, he remembered meeting Sirus and was inclined to agree with the Marshal's brief psychological summation. Still something bothered him, Sirus had evaded capture for the best part of 18 months, he had worked the case only for the final three weeks. He wondered if Peers realised this.
"Sir I wasn't a big part of the original investigation. I'm not very well acquainted with the case file."
"Your name appears on the reports Agent Mulder. Reacquaint yourself."
Peers nodded curtly and Mulder correctly interrupted the gesture as a sign of dismissal.
"Nice guy." Scully breathed quietly as they turned and searched for somewhere that wasn't covered in people and ringing telephones.
"He's not supposed to be" Mulder breathed back, leaning in close to her ear, "didn't you watch The Fugitive."
"Yeah." She answered quietly "But I doubt the man we're chasing is Harrison Ford."
They found a tiny side office and deposited the files on the desk.
"Some light reading." he quipped and handed her a thick folder which she recognised as the original case file.
Forty minutes and one cup of coffee later Scully could safely say for certain that Sirus had not evaded capture for so long due to a lax investigation. Mulder was right he had little input to the original case, however what he had failed to mention was that contribution which he made led directly to the arrest.
His profile had been tucked at the back of the folder, mostly it mirrored those of his colleagues but in one vital aspect it didn't. It was Mulder who had suggested that the UNSUB had a relative who had been a victim of a serious crime, most likely murder. He had postulated that the UNSUB would have shown excessive interest in the investigation, which would have been a success though not necessarily due to the UNSUB's input. He even suggested a range of dates between which this original murder would have been committed. He had been right on all accounts.
She sighed a rubbed the bridge of her nose absently. Stealing a glance at her partner she saw he was intent on the documents he held. Several pages of spider scrawl sat crumpled under his right hand, pen poised ready to add any further thoughts. She realised she often forgot about his roots in profiling. He rarely talked about it and she had assumed that he did not look back fondly on his years with the BSU. Still the fact remained he had been good, very good. Her eyes flicked back to her own file. She stifled a sigh. Mulder may be a brilliant profiler she thought ruefully but, she however was not. In fact she wasn't even sure of her own motives in accompanying him here. For a reason she couldn't quite explain she just didn't want him to go alone.
"You know you don't need to be doing this." He looked up from the file and meet her eyes. For an instant she wondered if he had been reading her mind.
"I don't mind."
"Go" he said softly. "Find us a motel. Get some sleep."
Scully thought about arguing, but a brief glance at her watch changed her mind. She rested her hand atop of his and squeezed it gently.
"I'll give you a call to let you know where we staying."
She stood to leave but he caught her fingers back in his.
"Thanks." He looked up at her. "For being here."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
24 November 0730, Rainbow Inn, Richmond
---------------------------------------
The Rainbow Inn had nothing to distinguish it from any of the other cheap motels Scully had stayed in whilst she and Mulder were on the road. However it did have clean sheets, hot water and two free rooms.
Despite the fact that she hadn't got to bed until past 3am her alarm woke her at 7. Forcing herself to leave the warmth of the blankets she rose and showered.
When Mulder knocked on the door at 7:30 she was fully dressed and sat busy brushing the waves out of her hair.
"Come in."
"Morning."
He offered her a polystyrene cup, she took it with a quick smile of thanks. He had shaved since the previous evening but the circles under his eyes remained. She didn't ask when, if indeed he had slept.
"I finished a preliminary profile last night." He handed her a photocopy of several handwritten sheets.
"Your opinion?" He perched opposite her on the end of the bed.
"The guy's a nut."
She just continued to stare at him.
"Going by the original profiles and interviews I'd say he'll adopt a similar pattern. Most probably he'll break into someone's house. In fact that's where I'd start to look, recent B and E's. He's got no money and nowhere to stay but a significant amount of practice in entering peoples homes."
"However.." Scully prompted judging from the tone of his
voice there was a but.. somewhere.
"However..." His lips twitched slightly at her ability
to read his so well. "After about 4 years of incarceration he
found Gawd." He put on a Southern accent. "Billy John is now
a devout born again Christian."
This caught her attention.
"So, what are you saying? He'll not kill?"
"No I'm saying that this makes him more dangerous."
"Being religious?"
She arched an eyebrow.
"Yes" He smiled.
"The impulse to kill is still there. He may think that he can control it but he can't. He'll try, we probably have two, three days, then the desire to murder will become too strong. This makes him unpredictable, he may not stick to his original pattern."
"So what do you suggest?" Scully asked quietly, slightly shaken
by the time limit Mulder had just imposed on their investigation.
"Widen the search to include places of religious significance. But he's not stupid, he's not going to walk into the local confession booth. We should start with graveyards, he may visit the graves of his previous victims. I'd also check out any local religious shelters. But I wouldn't rule out the B and E's."
He sighed and she could see the effort he had put into the pages she held.
"What about the Marshals team, any progress?"
"He still has the gun he took from a prison guard. He used it
to mug a guy. He stole his clothes and about 50 bucks. Since
then no-one has seen or heard a thing."
Scully nodded.
"What now?"
"Well, with Tommy Lee Jones's permission, I want to visit
the prison. He had a friend there, they.." he paused searching
for the right words, " shared a common interest."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
0900 Richmond State Penitentiary
--------------------------------
No matter how many times she had done it Scully would never get used to walking through the halls of a male prison. Outwardly she set her professional mask firmly in place and kept her stride steady, inwardly her heart beat too fast and she longed to run for sanctuary.
"Hey baby."
"Come hand cuff me."
Ignoring them she stole a glance at her partner. She'd never let him know but she felt stronger for his being their.
The warden lead them through two sets of locked doors to an interview room obviously set up for their purpose.
/Bob Cleaver./
She heard Mulders voice in her head.
/Age 47, murdered 14, strangled them, had a thing about electric cables, liked telephone wires too. He and Sirus swapped notes./
Cleaver looked like an aging insurance sales man. His balding head was covered with a few wisps of mousy brown hair and his body had long since given into a substantial middle age spread. He wore the traditional prison orange. But it was his eyes that stood out, cold,
hard, evil and starring right at her.
"What can I do for you fine people?" He drawled. She felt her stomach turn.
"Sirus." Mulder sat purposefully opposite the prisoner. Scully moved to the back of the room and lent against the window.
"Last I heard he got himself a new life." Cleaver answered, sounding almost bored.
"Tell me about him." Mulder's voice was hard and his face expressionless.
"A good man Billy John, found the lawd, he did." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. Mulder watched him carefully.
"Did you ever talk about what you'd do when you got out?"
"Yeah, you know, think we'd set us up a convent." Cleaver replied and Mulder realised the man had had time to consider this conversation, to decide how best to be unhelpful.
Textbook technique stated the subject should not lead the interview, any flippant remarks should be ignored and under no circumstances should the agent indulge in their fantasies.
"So you like nun's Cleaver?" Mulder quickly disregarded the guidlines.
The inmates pupils dilated and his gaze flicked to the floor and
back. Mulder noticed, he had learnt early on with the BSU the value of body language.
"Thou shalt not kill, Agent Mulder, you'll should know that." The innmate replied but the confidence in tone wavered.
"How about Sirus, does he likes nun's?"
"Angels of mercy Sir, doing the lawds work." This time Cleaver answered firmly, his eyes challenging Mulder to pursue the topic further. Mulder meet the inmates gaze and for a minute they were locked in a slient stand off. It was Cleaver who looked away first.
He leaned round to stared at Scully. She felt his eyes rake over her body and suppressed the urge to shudder. Mulder moved forcibly into his line of vision and abruptly changed the subject.
"Did he have any friends out there?"
Cleaver pretended to study Scully for a second longer then he leant his head to one side and replied casually.
"Now why would I tell you'll that."
"Oh, an honest god faring man like yourself, Bawb." Mulder exaggerated a Southern accent. "Would have thought you'd jump to the opportunity to help." Scully heard the soft lilt of amusement in her partner's voice and immediately knew what he thought of Cleaver's religous convictions.
Cleaver shrugged amd Mulder raised his eyebrows.
/Not sufficient incentive./ He thought though he had never imagined it would be.
"You help us, we help you." He said instead, he sounded almost fed up.
"Whatch you'll do for me. I ain't never getting out of here."
Mulder leaned closer and whispered one word.
"Privileges."
Both he and Scully knew how inmates valued that word. Cleaver apparently understood its importance too, he shifted in his chair.
"Sirus ain't got no family, no friends."
Mulder shook his head.
"That's too easy, gotta earn your keep Bob. He ever get any letters, write to anyone?" Now his tone was casual almost sing-song.
"He wrote to the lawd." Cleaver replied.
"Is he going to kill."
The question was so abrupt that not even Scully was expecting it. Cleaver too looked thrown, he took a minute before he answered. He struggled, then repeated his earlier words.
"Thou shalt not kill, Agent Mulder, weren't you'll listening to me."
Mulder raised an eyebrow then changed tack again.
"He ever tell you about his fantasy's"
He leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. Cleaver's eyes strayed again and this time Mulder didn't stop him. Scully steeled herself and meet the inmates gaze.
"Bet you had some good stories to swap."
"Wouldn't be fit for a ladies ears."
He smiled but Scully didn't let her expression change.
"Is he going to kill?"
Mulder repeated the question but Cleaver had his answer now. The inmate leant back and raised his voice theartically.
"The lawd shall have his vengeance on the unpure."
Scully was always captivated when she watched Mulder interview. The questions never quite went where she expected them to. He would chop and change. Ask one thing one minute and another the next. Carefully using his choice of words and tone of voice to extract information that often the interviewee never knew they gave. He seemed to be able to gauge a person and know exactly what to say and how. Sometimes it was down right spooky.
But with Cleaver she realised it was not going to be enough.
/He's playing with us./ She thought.
"Well, thank you for your time. Mr Cleaver."
Apparently Mulder thought the same thing. He stood to leave, Scully
followed him to the door but something about Cleaver was troubling. She realised her partner thought that his religion was just a farce, a conveintnet way to avoid the questions whilst proclaiming his own redemption, but their was an edge of awe in the man's voice that bothered her.
Turning she looked Cleaver in the eyes. Her mind quickly searched through the scriptures looking for a appropraite quote.
"Not everyone saying unto me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter into
the kingdom of paradise, but the one doing the will of my
Father in the heavens will."
It wasn't ideal but her words seemed to elicit a reaction. Cleaver stared back at her and breathed deeply. His eyes fell to her blouse and for a second she was conscious that he was staring at her chest but then she realised his gaze was on the gold cross.
"He had a visitor." He said slowly.
"A visitor?"
Scully walked back around to the table. She sat down slowly and this time Mulder stood behind her.
"Yeah, first one in twelve long years."
"Tell me about him." She said evenly.
"Didn't meet him myself." He answered sarcastically. Not prepared to give him any leighway Scully stood to leave. Seeing her Cleaver quickly spoke again.
"Weirdest thing, he only had one arm."
Scully's eyes flicked to Mulder's. She found him looking back at her.
"What did they talk about?"
"Billy John wouldn't say, got him all shook up though."
Scully nodded.
"Thank you."
"Anytime baby girl, anytime." He flashed a sickly grin, but now she could see it was just for show.
Mulder banged on the door, the warden opened it promptly and Scully didn't hesitate to follow him out. She felt his hand on her shoulder as she pulled the door closed. He leaned towards her, speaking quietly so only she would hear.
"Why did we not know about this. Its not in the prison records."
"It could just be a coincidence." Scully said softly.
"It could be." He agreed slowly.
/But you don't think it is./
"Mulder.." She was interrupted by the ring of his cell
phone.
"Mulder." He answered curtly.
Scully glanced back to the interview room. Cleaver had his head bent and his hands clasped in prayer. She watched his eyes. There was something about a murder's stare, something cold, dead, not human.
"There's been a murder." Mulder's voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned back to face her partner.
"Sirus?" She said incredulous.
"It looks like it."
He handed her the car keys.
"Peers would like you to do the autopsy."
Scully doubted the Federal Marshal had phrased the question quite that politely but refrained from saying so. She accepted the keys and nodded.
"Where are you going?"
"Hopewell." He answered absently, turning to leave.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Novemeber 24 1300 hours County Morgue
-------------------------------------
Scully snapped the latex from her hands. Sarah Jenkins had been
shot, that much had been easy to ascertain. She'd died quickly,
which was a mercy as the discolouration and scratch marks on her
skin told testament to the frenzied attack her body had then
endured.
She was surprised when Mulder walked into the autopsy bay.
"He shot her in the back of the head." She said by
way of greeting. Mulder nooded, this much apparently he had
known. He looked at the body his brows furrowing.
"She wasn't..um..he didn't damage her much." Scully caught
his meaning, she had seen the photographs of the previous crime
scenes.
"He did attack her. But the shot to the head was immediately
fatal, her heart stopped. Without a cardiac output bruises
don't appear, not in the usual sense. But look here, and here."
He followed her fingers. "There extensive blows to the body, all inflicted post mortem. She had six broken ribs, both arms broken."
"They found this," he said holding out a plastic bag containing
a single playing card. "He broke in through the back window,
she'd left it ajar."
"What did you make the time of death?" his eyes flicked
back to the body.
"Between two and four this morning." she answered.
"Mulder, where's Hopewell?" he looked slightly surprised. Scully
smiled, she didn't think he realised, but he made a habit of
giving her non-informative answers and then walking off. Like
this morning.
"Its a small town about fifteen minutes east of Richmond."
"You think Sirus is still there?" He shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Tell me about Sarah Jenkins." she asked quietly.
"Not much to tell really, 27, not married, no partner, lived
alone, family live in Richmond. She worked for a company called
Cipher Pharmaceuticals as some sort of technician. Her neighbours
describe her as pleasant but not particularly outgoing." He
shrugged again. "She had a cat."
"How did they find her?"
"She didn't turn up for work this morning." He looked back at
the body, starring at it, as if it would tell him something.
"Mulder what is it?" Scully said impatiently, there was obviously
something bothering him. He shifted his gaze back to her.
"Something doesn't fit."
"What?"
"I don't know." He paused. "Why go to Hopewell?"
"Does he know someone there." She wondered aloud.
"I've got them looking into that."
"Them?"
"Oh, the case is now joint juristiction, federal marshalls
and FBI, we've been assigned four more agents, two of whom
are following that lead." She nodded mildly, given Mulder's
apparent lack of people skills it always surprised her how
sometimes he could just take charge without realising it.
"What are the others doing?"
"Ones briefing the local PD and the other is looking
through about ninety reports of breaking and entry." Mulder
grinned. Sometimes it was nice not to have to do all your
own dirty work.
"What about how he got there he must have left Richmond
somehow?"
"Peers seems to have that angle convered." Mulder replied,
last time he had seen the marshal he had been barking orders
to interview every bus driver in the district.
"What do you want to do."
"Frank Dursch," it took Scully a second to work out he was
talking about the man you murdered Lauren Sirus. "He was
released from jail last year, I think Sirus might visit him."
"Why?"
"Sirus has Dursch to thank for riding him of his alcoholic
mother. Sirus still sees himself as some sort of angel of
mercy, I think he sees Dursch the same way. I'm guessing he
thinks Dursch will help him." He paused looking round.
"Are you finished here?" She nodded.
"Give me five minutes to change."
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