----------------------------------------------------------
24 November 1412. Dursch Residence, Richmond.
--------------------------------------------
The house they faced looked as if it was in the final stages
of falling apart. Cracks ran almost the whole length of the
outside wall and there was no paint left to cover any of the
rotting wood. Scully checked the number on the file with the
one of the door, it matched.
"This is the place." She confirmed as they stepped from
the car and picked there way through the small cluttered
front garden.
"Do you think he subscribes to DIY times." Mulder
muttered, searching for a doorbell, giving up and knocking
instead.
There was no answer.
"Mr Dursch." He knocked again.
Scully peered in the front window. Through tatty lace
curtains she could make out piles of clothes and what looked
to be a hospital style bed.
"Mr Dursch." Mulder raised his voice.
A rattling noise sounded from the hallway and she rejoined
her partner as Frank Dursch answered the door.
Scully knew from the file that he was only sixty-four but
the man before looked at least eighty. He pulled an oxygen
cylinder with him and walked awkwardly with a frame.
"Mr Dursch, Agents Mulder and Scully, we'd like to ask you
some questions."
The man eyed Mulder with suspicion.
"I've done my time, I ain't got to talk to you." He
coughed and pulled the oxygen mask over his mouth. Scully
noted the nicotine stained fingers and the hypercapnic
palmer reddening.
"Billy John Sirus." Mulder continued, stating the name
then pausing for effect. "You knew his mother"
He casually leant his hand against the door prevent Dursch
from shutting it.
"Were you aware that he escaped from prison."
"That what you're here to tell me." Dursch tried to sneer
but he was left gasping the with effort.
"Are you worried?" Mulder asked casually, his tone
implying that he should be. "Sirus is a dangerous man."
Dursch coughed again and Scully eyed the blue tinge around
his lips.
"I have nothing to say."
"Have you seen him?" Mulder ignored the man's obvious
reluctance to talk.
"Has he been here?"
Dursch pulled the oxygen cylinder back and stumbled away
from the door.
"I'll need to see a search warrant." He struggled for
breath between each word.
/If there was one thing people learnt in prison,/ Mulder
mused. /it was their legal rights./
Scully glanced at her partner, acutely aware that a warrant
was one thing they didn't have.
"Mr Dursch if you think of anything you'd like to
share..."
With obvious effort the man slammed the door in their face.
"Nice guy." Scully muttered, she turned to Mulder. "We
don't have enough evidence to get a warrant."
He appeared distracted.
"He knows something." He leant towards her and spoke
quietly as they made their way back to the street.
"He wasn't worried, he raped Lauren Sirus then stabbed her
seventeen times. The woman's son is free, a known killer and
he doesn't even bat an eyelid."
Scully had watched Dursch carefully, however she'd drawn a
different conclusion.
"Mulder, he obviously has severe airways disease. He's
dying and I'm guessing he knows that." She turned to face
him, his yes were distant. "Besides you yourself said Sirus
is unlikely to be a danger."
He didn't respond.
"Mulder." she said, annoyed.
He took a couple of steps away from her.
"Are you listening to me?"
"There." He pointed towards the skyline.
"Mulder." Her eyes remained fixed on his.
"The church."
Sighing in exasperation Scully adjusted her glance to follow
his hand. A steeple was just visible beyond the trees.
"Its worth a look." His imploring gaze silenced her
protest before she voiced it.
Mulder saw the acquiescence in her eyes and didn't wait for
a verbal agreement. He turned and headed towards the
steeple, Scully followed him.
"Its not my case." She muttered to herself. It was his
consult and although the murder had dragged her into it,
ultimately she felt less than the usual amount of
responsibility. As such she was prepared to give him some
leeway.
They made their way through several overgrown alleyways to
emerge on a street much the same as before. The windows of
the church were boarded up and the building itself stood
behind sturdy iron gates.
Mulder shook the chain that bound them, the padlock rattled
against the gate but it didn't give. He turned to his
partner.
"Ladies first." He reached out to help her up. Scully
rolled her eyes and jammed her foot between the metal bars.
Silently thankful she had chosen pants over a skirt, she
ignored his offer and pulled herself up and over the gate.
His lips twitched in amusement.
"Hey Scully, is this still breaking and entry if no one
lives here."
He followed her over the rusted metal.
The church yard was badly overgrown, crumbling grave stones
hid beneath a blanket of weeds and branches barred their
path. Swiping back the offending trees Scully forced her way
towards the building. Mulder caught up with her as she
reached the door.
"Someone's been here." he leant close, speaking into her
ear. She saw the fresh scratches in the otherwise rotten
wood and nodded in agreement. Mulder reached for his gun and
she followed suit. Their eyes meet in silent agreement.
Slowly he pushed the door open. The boarded windows only let
in small shivers of light leaving almost everything in
shadow. Together they stepped inside the building.
Scully paused allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Something clattered in the roof beams making her jump.
Mulder felt her startle beside him.
"Pigeon." She whispered.
"Bat." He suggested, pulling his flashlight from his
pocket and shining it over the darkened pews. A thick sheath
of dust coated their surface.
"If someone was here, it wasn't to pray." He glanced at
his partner. She didn't appear to be listening.
He followed her gaze and heard a noise from a small arch way
to the left of the alter. Scully placed her hand gently on
his arm and nodded her head towards the sound.
"Rat." he murmured into her ear. The noise got louder.
"Big rat." she replied under her breath as they crossed
the stone floor.
He stopped at the entrance and let his eyes tell her he
would move first. She nodded.
"Freeze, FBI." In one fluid motion he swung round and
pointed his gun through the arch. Scully followed.
"Shit." A young voice replied.
Mulder let his gun arm drop with a sigh of exasperation. The
smell of hash was unmistakable.
He turned back to her and spoke in an exaggerated stage
whisper;
"I'm tempted to shoot anyway."
She remained expressionless but the three teenagers visibly
blanched.
"Shouldn't you be in school." Mulder didn't hide the
irritation in his voice.
"Hey, we ain't doing nothing wrong." A boy of about
seventeen replied. His companions, a girl and another boy of
a similar age starred up with glazed eyes.
"Yeah right, and when they revised the laws on cannabis
possession, they forgot to tell me." Mulder replied
sarcastically.
He turned back to Scully. "I'm going to keep looking
around." He moved past her made his way back through arch.
/Great./ she thought, /leave me to deal with this./
"You going to arrest us." With Mulder gone the boy
appeared to have regained some courage.
"I might." She replied in the best parental tone she could
muster. "Depends whether you help me out".
The boy eyed her with suspicion.
"We're looking for someone. He might of been here in the
last two days."
A spark of recognition flickered across the young man's
features.
"There were two men."
She hadn't expected that.
"They were looking around yesterday, here and a couple of
streets up. We saw them again today, about five minutes
before you got here."
"What did they look like?"
The boys lips twitched in amusement.
"Like him." He gestured towards arch through which Mulder
left.
"No-one else?" she asked slowly.
"No." The boy shook his head. Scully focused her gaze on
his companions who had remained quiet throughout the
exchange. She flexed her fingers, noticeably shifting her
gun. Immediately they shook they're heads in confirmation of
their friends words.
"Okay." She believed them.
Scully turned to leave.
"Next time." She paused for effect. "Don't get caught."
She found Mulder starring at a set of rickety looking steps.
He climbed onto the bottom rung testing their strength. She
peered up the makeshift stairway, it ended in a balcony
which lead on into the clock tower.
"They saw someone."
He stepped onto the next rung, it groaned loudly.
"Sirus?"
"No, two men in suits, they were here yesterday and again
today, not long ago." Mulder inched higher. Scully eyed the
rotting wood with consternation.
"That doesn't look safe."
"I've looked everywhere else." He continued upwards.
"I think they visited Dursch, the kid said he saw them in
that area."
The stairway made another set of protesting creaks and
groans. Mulder ignored them and climbed higher.
"Mulder, come down."
"Its okay." He shook the decaying handle making her
flinch. Under his breath he added; "Besides a hundred
thousand lemmings can't be wrong."
Scully was about to reply when the sound of screeching tires
drew her attention. Mulder meet her eyes and hastily slide
to ground level. Together they ran for the door.
He reached the rusted iron gate before her and just in time
to see a grey sedan leaving at speed.
"Did you get the licence plate." She asked as she caught
up with him.
"No, dammit."
Mulder turned back to face her and was suddenly distracted
by her appearance, dust covered both her legs and her right
sleeve. He realised she must have walked through a spider
web as wisps of silk thread clung to her hair. He reached to
pull them out.
"They saw Dursch?" he repeated her early words, absently
stroking the smooth auburn stands under his fingers.
"I'm just guessing." she said quietly. He let his hand
fall to his side.
"Then we should probably pay him another visit."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Mr Dursch." For the third time, Mulder's fist rattled the
wooden door. "Sir, its in your interest to talk to us."
"Do you think he went out?" Mulder glanced back at his
partner.
Scully recalled the oxygen attached to the man's face and
the frame he had used to walk.
"It would seem unlikely." she answered. Stepping forward
she called the mans name. Only silence answered them.
Mulder unclipped his weapon and pushed against the ancient
door handle. It creaked but didn't give.
"Stand back." he said quietly. Scully complied taking her
own gun into her hand. He gave the door a forcefully kick,
it immediately succumbed to the blow.
"Mr Dursch." Mulder called again, stepping cautiously into
the hallway.
The floorboards were visible through the thread bare carpet
and damp adorned the walls. Mulder made his way to the
sitting room.
Frank Dursch lay crumpled on the floor. Mulder reached for
his phone as his partner dropped to her knees by the body.
"Mr Dursch." She turned him to lay supine. There was no
response. She listened for his breathing and was surprised
to hear the rhythmic sound of inspiration and expiration.
Taking his wrist her fingers found his pulse.
"He's tachycardic, in AF, but pulse volume is good." she
muttered. Her hands moved to his neck and felt the carotids.
She searched the back of his head for obvious trauma, there
was none.
"JVP elevated, consistent with COPD and cor pulmonale."
She continued her observations. It wasn't until she raised
his eyelids to shine her flashlight into his eyes that she
made the diagnosis.
"What happened." Finished on the phone Mulder knelt by her
side.
"He's had a stroke." One pupil was massively dilated
whilst the other was the size of a pinprick.
"Great timing, think he did it to piss us off?"
Mulder watched his partner's hands move efficiently over the
man's body quickly assessing what neurological function he
had left. Judging from the look on her face, the answer was
not much.
The sound of sirens alerted them to the paramedics arrival.
Scully meet them at the door quickly recounting her
conclusions.
"I'm a doctor." She added by way of explanation.
"Are you family?" One of the EMT's asked as they lifted
Dursch onto a trolley.
"No." She briefly flashed her badge. "Which hospital are
you taking him to?" She followed them to the door.
"County Cook General. Do you want to come with us?" She
shook her head, Frank Dusrch was unlikely to wake up today,
in fact he was unlikely to wake up at all. The paramedic
nodded curtly and pulled the ambulance doors shut.
Scully sighed and turned expecting to find her partner
standing behind her. He was nowhere to be seen.
"Mulder."
"Up here." She followed the sound of his voice to a small
upstairs bedroom. Dust adorned the shabby furniture and the
floor creaked ominously as she made her way to Mulder's
side. He was kneeling over a pile of newspapers. The
headline caught her eyes.
SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN.
"Sirus." Mulder stated. The date on the paper read October
8th 1990. Scully fumbled in her pocket and found a pair of
latex gloves, she handed him one.
"If Dursch hadn't seen him, why was he reading newspaper
reports on the killings?" Mulder asked.
"He wasn't." Scully answered flatly. He looked up and
questioned her with his eyes.
"Frank Dursch had severe chronic obstructive pulmonary
disease. You saw the oxygen and the cot downstairs. Even
with a frame he was struggling to walk to the door. I doubt
he's been up here for months."
The dust stood testament to her statement.
"But these papers have been moved recently. I want them
tested for finger prints." He turned and meet her gaze. "Do
you think he'll wake up?"
"He might, but if he does I doubt he'll be able to talk to
us."
His phone rang, the sharp trill sounded eerily loud in the
bare room.
"Mulder." He answered. Scully watched his brow furrow as
he listened to the callers words.
"Yes, right away." He snapped the handset shut and turned
to face his partner.
"They've found another body." he said quietly.
"So soon? he nodded.
"The coroner estimated her time of death to be between
seven and nine last night." He took the other glove from her
grasp and gathered up the newspapers.
"I'll take you to the morgue before I drop these into
forensics."
"But that's so fast" She mumbled but he caught her words.
Two deaths so close together, serial killers rarely killed
twice in one night. He shrugged.
"Maybe he's convinced he'll be caught. He's already
sentenced to life. He's got nothing to lose, if the urge to
kill is strong enough.."
He trailed off.
"But your profile?" she remembered his words;
/Billy John Sirus is a born again Christian, the impulse
to kill is still there, he'll try and control it./
/We have two, maybe three days./
Suddenly acutely aware of their location she stopped and
touched his arm.
"Mulder, where was the body found?"
He meet her eyes.
"Hopewell."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Lewis Residence, Hopewell. 24 November 1634
--------------------------------------------
Murder scenes were easy to find, the blue lights always gave
away the their location long before the map did. He parked
the car awkwardly between a police van and an unmarked
vehicle.
/34 Crescent Street. Hopewell/ He had not expected to find
himself back here so soon.
A young uniformed officer approached him as he made his way
to the door.
"FBI" Mulder stated absently, flashing his badge. The
young man nodded and let him pass.
Claire Lewis had lived in a middle-class home. She had
designed her living space from the pages of an Ikea
catalogue. She had cooked in a kitchen complete with an
island and terrace doors. Last night she had come home and
made her way to her designer bedroom, she was shot as she
threw her bag on the bed.
Mulder picked his way through the crowd of people and made
his way up the stairs. White tape and blood stains told
testament to the events of the previous evening. His eyes
surveyed the area. Red splotches created a gruesome dot-to-
dot pattern along the walls and bedspread. Mulder mentally
joined the points together.
"She was shot in the back. Twice." A man dressed in
overalls was watching Mulder's appraisal of room.
"The killer was waiting for her." Mulder replied, glancing
back down the hallway. "He was already in the house."
The technician nodded.
"From the spray pattern and the trajectory of the first
bullet, we found it in the wall, I would estimate.." He
walked out the room and stopped about three metres from the
bedroom door. "He stood here."
Mulder nodded, he had made a similar assumption himself. He
joined the technician, noting that they stood about half a
metre from the bathroom door.
"You think he was in here?" Mulder pushed the door with a
gloved hand.
"Seems likely."
Mulder nodded again, then made his way back along the
hallway. Something akin to a movie scene played in his mind.
She came in, made her way up to the bedroom.
/Was he expecting her to do that?/
He paused at the bedroom door. A grey half length jacket
hung over a hook next to the frame.
/Was she wearing a coat?/ He pulled on another glove and
sifted through the pockets. There was a couple of coins but
it was two receipts which caught his attention.
Claire Lewis had taken a $100 from a cash machine at 18:23
the previous evening, twenty minutes later she purchased $20
of petrol.
He dropped the crumpled paper into an evidence bag and
continued his reconstruction of the woman's movements.
She reached the bedroom and hung her coat up.
He mimicked the action. Something struck him; She would have
turned round, the hook faced the bathroom, she would have
looked back along the hallway. Yet it wasn't until she
turned back to the bed to empty her bag that she was shot.
/He meant to shoot her in the back./
/He waited./
"Agent." The technician returned. "You might want to take
a look at these." He handed Mulder the crime scene photo'.
"We just got given copies." Mulder nodded his thanks and
began to flick through the glossy pictures.
"Can I keep them." he asked as the man turned to leave.
"Sure."
He put them aside and returned his attention to the black
Gucci bag that lay upturned on the bed. The contents had
been displaced. Mulder glanced back at the photo's.
Apparently nobody had moved it yet.
He made a quick mental inventory of the items; lipstick,
tissues, wallet, chequebook, comb. He picked up the wallet
and thumbed through the contents. Claire Lewis had carried
nearly eighty dollars a few credit cards and a wrinkled
photo of her husband.
/He didn't take anything./
Snatching up the photo's Mulder made his way back downstairs.
He found the kitchen full of people.
"Has the fridge been dusted?" he demanded of the nearest
technician.
"No sir." The man looked surprised.
"I want it done, and the cupboards too."
He turned and pulled the refrigerator open. It was full,
Claire Lewis had been as meticulous with the inside of her
fridge as she had been with the rest of her house. Food sat
neatly portioned out into plastic bags, none of the seals
had been broken.
"Feeling peckish, Agent Mulder?"
Peers deep voice was instantly recognisable. He ignored the
question and made his way over to the bin. It was empty.
"Sirus killed twice in one night." The Marshal continued.
Mulder turned to and face him.
"I read your profile Agent." Peers went on. "He's not
sticking to it very well, is he?" his voice dripped with
sarcasm.
/Great./ Mulder thought, /this is just what I need right
now./
"Umm, very inconsiderate." He matched the man's tone.
Peers stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"I appreciate it has been a while since you worked with
the BSU." He paused and Mulder realised he was holding a
sheath of documents. "But this." he waved them in Mulder's
face. "Is bullshit."
A muscle in Mulder's jaw twitched but otherwise his
expression remained unchanged. Peers stuffed the file into
the kitchen bin.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Mulder replied. He
continued to keep his eyes fixed on Peers but his mind was
busy scrolling through a number of images.
/Claire Lewis's coat./
/Her wallet./
"Sirus is here, I don't care what your report says, my
evidence is in the morgue."
/A gunshot wound to the back of the head./
"I've reassigned 'your' agents. They're to work here, from
the local station."
That caught his attention.
"If you and your partner want to chase ghosts and dead men
through Richmond, fine."
Mulder grimaced, apparently the Marshal was aware of how
they had spent the afternoon.
"But, don't waste the time of my officers."
"I thought the bureau was working in partnership with the
US Marshall's service." He didn't bother to keep the
irritation out of his voice.
"While the fugitive is still at large I am in charge
here." He pronounced each word slowly. "Don't forget that."
Mulder glared at him but said nothing, the Marshal was
right, ultimately it was his case.
"You have one more chance. I want a more accurate report
by 9am tomorrow morning, or I'll be in contact your
superiors."
/Do that./ Mulder thought. /You'd get on well with
Skinner./
"I thought it was three stakes before your out." he
answered.
Peers eyes narrowed.
"Don't push me Agent, don't push me."
The marshal started to walk away. He took two steps before
stopping and throwing a plastic envelope towards Mulder.
It held a blood stained playing card.
"They found that under her body."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Richmond, 24 November 2034
---------------------------
The sun had long since set as he made his way back to the
small Richmond police station. Mulder found his partner in
the office they had made their own, her head on the desk and
eyes closed. Quietly he crouched beside her.
"Sleeping on the job, Agent Scully." he whispered in her
ear.
She jumped knocking a file onto the floor.
"Don't let Federal Marshall Peers find you." He slumped
into the chair opposite her. "He's not in the best of
moods."
Recomposing herself she arched an eyebrow.
"He thinks we're wasting our time. He's relocated the ops
centre to Hopewell and reassigned my agents."
"Can he do that?" she asked incredulous.
"Technically yes, he has the overriding jurisdiction
here." he paused, noticing the autopsy reports under her
hand.
"Did you find anything?"
She shook her head. Heeding her partner's doubts she'd been
thorough but her findings hardly reflected the meticulous
effort.
"Some pre-mortem bruising, two gunshots to the back. One
bullet penetrated the left atria then exited the body, the
other became embedded in her cervical spine. She would have
bleed to death in minutes. Like before there was a frenzied
post-mortem attack, mostly concentrated on the back of her
torso. There was also a significant post-mortem blow to the
head."
"He crushed her skull." She added quietly. "Oh and the tox
screen came back on Sarah Jenkins, it was clear."
He nodded and thumbed through his own notes. Scully realised
he looked tired, the shadows under his eyes had darkened. A
quick mental calculation told her he hadn't slept for at
least 36 hours.
"Something's not right."
He leant towards her, catching her gaze.
"Sirus just broke out of prison, he has fifty bucks and
only the clothes he's wearing. Yet he breaks into two
women's homes, kills them but doesn't steal a thing, doesn't
even pause to eat. Claire Lewis had money in her wallet, he
left it there."
Scully rubbed the bridge of her nose, soothing away a
tension headache.
"And, shooting them in the back." he continued. "Sirus was
never ashamed of killing, he wanted to see their face."
"Do you think these are copycat killings?" She asked. He
shook his head thoughtfully.
"The playing card, that detail was never released to the
press. Its Sirus." His eyes meet hers. "Or someone with
intimate access to the original case file." He rubbed his
hands over his face, he didn't want to think about that
possibility.
Scully sighed. Stretching she glanced over the room, her
eyes catching on a pile of photocopied sheets. She handed
them to Mulder.
"The prison faxed these over about an hour ago, they were
found in Sirus's cell."
"What are they?" He glanced at the first page a list of
times and numbers looked back up at him.
"Bus timetables and maps."
The word Hopewell caught his eye. Scully followed his gaze.
"Its not just Hopewell." She continued. "There's similar
information on a number of other local towns.
"Where did he get them?"
"The warden wasn't sure, but apparently the inmates are
allowed a certain amount of supervised Internet time, he
reckons Sirus could have looked these pages up then."
Something sparked across Mulder's features, he looked back
at his partner.
"If he was checking tourist information he knew he was
going to get out."
She nodded. Scully had drawn a similar conclusion.
"I re-read the accident reports, there's no indication
that it was staged, but I guess it could have been missed."
She pushed the papers towards him. He left them sitting on
the desk.
"The one-armed man." Mulder muttered.
"Krycek." He added, loathed to say the name aloud.
"We don't know that for certain" She reminded him gently.
His look told her that he held no such uncertainty.
Scully took a deep breath. No matter how many times she put
the facts together and took them apart again she still found
herself reaching the same name. Even considering speeding
sedans and men with prosthetic limbs everything pointed to
Sirus. Despite her partners obvious misgivings she was
inclined to believe the Marshal's team were looking in the
right place. She sighed, she would add two and two together
and get four, Mulder could do the same and get triangular.
Doing what she always did when he refused to take the simple
explanation, she fell back on logic;
"Okay, maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. What
about the victims, anything to connect them?"
Mulder lips twitched at the tone of her voice. He heard, I-
don't-agree-with-you-but-I'll-humour-you, as clearly as if
she had said it aloud.
"They lived about 4 miles apart, which in the sprawling
metropolis of Hopewell is about as far as you can get. They
had no mutual acquaintances. Claire Lewis worked part-time
in a grocers store, she lived with her husband. He was out
of town when it happened, found the body when he came back."
She flipped through the case file on Sarah Jenkins.
"Forensics found nothing." she stated her eyes skimming
the report.
"I doubt they tried particularly hard." He mumbled. She
was inclined to agree, theoretically the identity of the
killer was already known.
Mulder flicked through the files he had brought in with him.
A flash of red and white caught Scully's eyes.
"Mulder?"
She leaned over and took the folder. A familiar strip looked
back up at her. She glanced back at her partner.
"You said it yourself, this isn't our case."
"I know." He had the grace to look sheepish. "I haven't
filled out the 301, I doubt Skinner would approve it
anyway." Mulder shrugged. "I just started making some notes,
that's all."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Intuition and experience
told her never to believe Mulder when he waved a candy-
striped folder and innocently pronounced, 'that's all'.
"Look, I know there are some things that don't add up
here." She spoke slowly as if adding measure to her words
could go some way to making him listen.
"But there is still an overwhelming amount of evidence
that points to Sirus. This isn't an X-file, don't rule out
the obvious because your looking too hard for the
unexplained."
He smiled, he'd heard this speech before.
"Think horses not zebra's" he muttered.
"Something like that." She meet his eyes and handed him
back the folder, willing to drop the matter for now.
"What do want to do next?" She asked
His eyes flicked to the police breaking and entry reports.
They were now stacked two piles high."
"You should get some rest." he said softly.
She pushed the phone in his direction.
"Chicken chow mein, beef in oyster sauce and egg fried rice."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Richmond 25 November 0034
---------------------------
Scully threw the last police report on the top of a
precariously balanced stack. It wobbled but remained
standing. She sighed and began to search a foil container
for the last traces of cold chow mein.
Three of the reports had fitted what Mulder regarded as the
correct criteria. Three, out of over eighty. She recalled
his words;
/He won't have taken anything of real value. Its unlikely
he would have trashed the place, or in fact caused any mess
at all. I'd look for the theft of particular items, clothes,
cash, food./
She'd followed his directions closely but it seemed the
majority of burglars stole laptops, videos, TV's and could
thus be ruled out of their search.
Mulder watched his partner scoop the remains of Chinese out
of the container.
"Still Hungry?" he raised an eyebrow.
Scully looked up in amusement.
/Is that what I look like when I do that?/ she wondered.
"I didn't eat much earlier, two autopsies in one day don't
do much for your appetite."
He pushed the half empty box of fried rice in her direction
then slumped back in his chair.
"Find anything." she asked between mouthfuls. He shook his
head.
"I want to talk to the officers who filed these reports."
he motioned to the three they had kept aside. "But I guess
that will have to wait to morning." She glanced at the clock
and nodded in agreement.
"Its Friday night, what are we doing here?" She mumbled as
she stretched, stiff from sitting for so long.
"Scully, this is what we do every Friday night." He
replied quietly. "And its Saturday morning, anyway."
"Besides." He continued, the soft lilt of amusement
evident in his voice. "What else would you be doing?"
"I have a life." she answered defensively, then added
quieter. "I had a life."
Mulder rubbed his eyes.
"Dating's overrated." He pushed the desk light so it
pointed towards the floor. The room fell into shadow.
"It is?" she replied a mixture of interest and amusement
in her tone.
"Yeah, awkward silences, ridiculously expensive wine,
difficult questions about your career choices, impossible
questions about your video collection..."
Scully had long ago learnt that she would compare any man
she dated to Mulder. She couldn't help herself. Before she
realised what she was doing she was sitting across the table
thinking that the guy's eyes were the wrong shade of green
or that when he whispered his voice was too high-pitched.
Angrily she'd banish the thoughts from her mind but always
as the evening progressed they'd creep back in. Often so
much so that when they stood to leave and her date placed
his hand on the middle of her back she had to bite her lip
to keep from telling him that his fingers were in the wrong
place.
She looked at her partner and couldn't help but wonder if he
did the same thing. But then she remembered the women in his
life, tall, curvaceous and mostly brunette.
"Well, maybe the last two just apply to me."
She smiled then surprised herself by answering honestly.
"Maybe the only the last one, it can be hard to explain to
a guy that you've spent your day in the morgue."
Abruptly her mind conjured an image of a tattoo pallor and a
dark bar. Ed was the last man she'd been on a date with,
she'd not told him what she did.
"Try telling someone you've been chasing aliens. I've seen
the effect it has on you, and you know me." He answered
softy noticing the shadow that had passed over her eyes.
/Which wound did I prod then./
Mulder pulled his chair closer to hers but stopped within
inches of touching her.
"Try telling someone you've been chasing aliens. I've seen
the effect it has on you and you know me."
"I've never called you crazy." she said quietly, her eyes
meeting his. The intensity in his gaze was startling, nearly
overwhelmed she stole his defence mechanisms and fell back
on humour.
"Paranoid, arrogant, overbearing, irresponsible,
insensitive..."
"Enough." he grinned, but his mind still painted a picture
of her in a posh restaurant, drinking fine wine. Some Friday
nights made him wonder if that was where she would rather
be.
"Do you ever wish you could have done things differently?"
Scully reached out and curled her fingers around his. This
question she was familiar with.
"Some things" she answered honestly. "But having spent
more of my free time socialising isn't particularly high on
the list."
He squeezed her hand gently, holding her gaze. Even sitting
he still found himself looking down at her. He realised he
could feel her pulse fluttering against fingers.
/What's my next line./ he wondered. /Where do we go from
here./ She was looking back at him, her eyes asking the same
question.
"Are you always this philosophical at one in the morning."
It was Scully who broke the silence.
He couldn't recall the number of conversations they had had
at one in the morning, but he realised she was offering him
the way out.
He took it.
"Only when I've not slept for nearly three days."
Something bleeped. It took Scully a minute to work out it
was her laptop.
"The batteries are running down." she murmured, taking her
hand from his and pulling the computer in front of her.
Mulder's memory supplied him with an image, he saw Claire
Lewis's study and realised for the first time that there had
been stacks of computer magazines lining the shelves.
"Is that connected to the Internet?"
"Yes, it can be." Scully answered, trying not to notice
the abrupt change in conversation. She rose and fiddled with
the wires, plugging in the power supply and the modem cable.
The machine made a familiar whistling noise.
Breathing deeply she returned to her partners side. He
reached across and typed 'Claire Lewis Hopewell' into the
search engine. She looked at him in surprise.
The search engine returned a number of options, the first
reading freelance web design'. He followed the link.
"I thought you said she worked in a grocers." She
questioned.
"She did, but there were a number of computer magazines
and manuals in her home, it just occurred to me that maybe
she had her own site." He looked back at the screen, it
confirmed his suspicion.
"Apparently green-grocery wasn't part of her long term
plans."
Scully skim read the text. The words curriculum vitae caught
her attention.
"Mulder." She pointed at the screen and he followed her
direction.
After high school Claire Lewis had taken a number of
computer courses. She'd worked in a string of menial
positions before getting her first jobs as an IT support
technician.. at Cipher Pharmaceuticals.
"June 1991 to September 1993." Scully read aloud. "When
did Sarah Jenkins work there?"
Mulder flicked through his notes.
"She started in, December 1991."
"So they could have known each other." He nodded. "What do
we know about Cipher Pharmaceuticals?" She questioned.
"Aside from the fact that they are a major employer in
South West Virginia, not a lot."
He taped the keys again, this time looking for information
on the pharmaceutical company. A few seconds later they were
staring at a paragraphs of text.
"Mostly they developed antivirals." Scully summarised for
her partner. She had noticed his eyes flicking back and
forth between the medical terminology. "But they also had a
major interest in autoimmune disease."
"Where the body creates antibodies against itself, right."
She nodded, continuing to read the screen.
Mulder pulled out his cellphone and began dialling.
From the corner of her eye she noticed his fingers move over
the keypad and realised she could still feel the heat of his
hands over hers, her skin tingled where he touched her.
"I need you to look up some information for me." He said
by way of a greeting. She assumed he was talking to a lone
gun man.
"Cipher pharmaceuticals. Virginia."
Giving up the pretence of reading she turned and watched his
eyes, following the flecks of gold that danced in the
otherwise hazel orbs.
"Thanks." He hung up and turned back to face her, abruptly
she realised she was staring.
"Its late." he said. "We should get going."
-----------------------------------------------------------
24 November 1412. Dursch Residence, Richmond.
--------------------------------------------
The house they faced looked as if it was in the final stages
of falling apart. Cracks ran almost the whole length of the
outside wall and there was no paint left to cover any of the
rotting wood. Scully checked the number on the file with the
one of the door, it matched.
"This is the place." She confirmed as they stepped from
the car and picked there way through the small cluttered
front garden.
"Do you think he subscribes to DIY times." Mulder
muttered, searching for a doorbell, giving up and knocking
instead.
There was no answer.
"Mr Dursch." He knocked again.
Scully peered in the front window. Through tatty lace
curtains she could make out piles of clothes and what looked
to be a hospital style bed.
"Mr Dursch." Mulder raised his voice.
A rattling noise sounded from the hallway and she rejoined
her partner as Frank Dursch answered the door.
Scully knew from the file that he was only sixty-four but
the man before looked at least eighty. He pulled an oxygen
cylinder with him and walked awkwardly with a frame.
"Mr Dursch, Agents Mulder and Scully, we'd like to ask you
some questions."
The man eyed Mulder with suspicion.
"I've done my time, I ain't got to talk to you." He
coughed and pulled the oxygen mask over his mouth. Scully
noted the nicotine stained fingers and the hypercapnic
palmer reddening.
"Billy John Sirus." Mulder continued, stating the name
then pausing for effect. "You knew his mother"
He casually leant his hand against the door prevent Dursch
from shutting it.
"Were you aware that he escaped from prison."
"That what you're here to tell me." Dursch tried to sneer
but he was left gasping the with effort.
"Are you worried?" Mulder asked casually, his tone
implying that he should be. "Sirus is a dangerous man."
Dursch coughed again and Scully eyed the blue tinge around
his lips.
"I have nothing to say."
"Have you seen him?" Mulder ignored the man's obvious
reluctance to talk.
"Has he been here?"
Dursch pulled the oxygen cylinder back and stumbled away
from the door.
"I'll need to see a search warrant." He struggled for
breath between each word.
/If there was one thing people learnt in prison,/ Mulder
mused. /it was their legal rights./
Scully glanced at her partner, acutely aware that a warrant
was one thing they didn't have.
"Mr Dursch if you think of anything you'd like to
share..."
With obvious effort the man slammed the door in their face.
"Nice guy." Scully muttered, she turned to Mulder. "We
don't have enough evidence to get a warrant."
He appeared distracted.
"He knows something." He leant towards her and spoke
quietly as they made their way back to the street.
"He wasn't worried, he raped Lauren Sirus then stabbed her
seventeen times. The woman's son is free, a known killer and
he doesn't even bat an eyelid."
Scully had watched Dursch carefully, however she'd drawn a
different conclusion.
"Mulder, he obviously has severe airways disease. He's
dying and I'm guessing he knows that." She turned to face
him, his yes were distant. "Besides you yourself said Sirus
is unlikely to be a danger."
He didn't respond.
"Mulder." she said, annoyed.
He took a couple of steps away from her.
"Are you listening to me?"
"There." He pointed towards the skyline.
"Mulder." Her eyes remained fixed on his.
"The church."
Sighing in exasperation Scully adjusted her glance to follow
his hand. A steeple was just visible beyond the trees.
"Its worth a look." His imploring gaze silenced her
protest before she voiced it.
Mulder saw the acquiescence in her eyes and didn't wait for
a verbal agreement. He turned and headed towards the
steeple, Scully followed him.
"Its not my case." She muttered to herself. It was his
consult and although the murder had dragged her into it,
ultimately she felt less than the usual amount of
responsibility. As such she was prepared to give him some
leeway.
They made their way through several overgrown alleyways to
emerge on a street much the same as before. The windows of
the church were boarded up and the building itself stood
behind sturdy iron gates.
Mulder shook the chain that bound them, the padlock rattled
against the gate but it didn't give. He turned to his
partner.
"Ladies first." He reached out to help her up. Scully
rolled her eyes and jammed her foot between the metal bars.
Silently thankful she had chosen pants over a skirt, she
ignored his offer and pulled herself up and over the gate.
His lips twitched in amusement.
"Hey Scully, is this still breaking and entry if no one
lives here."
He followed her over the rusted metal.
The church yard was badly overgrown, crumbling grave stones
hid beneath a blanket of weeds and branches barred their
path. Swiping back the offending trees Scully forced her way
towards the building. Mulder caught up with her as she
reached the door.
"Someone's been here." he leant close, speaking into her
ear. She saw the fresh scratches in the otherwise rotten
wood and nodded in agreement. Mulder reached for his gun and
she followed suit. Their eyes meet in silent agreement.
Slowly he pushed the door open. The boarded windows only let
in small shivers of light leaving almost everything in
shadow. Together they stepped inside the building.
Scully paused allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Something clattered in the roof beams making her jump.
Mulder felt her startle beside him.
"Pigeon." She whispered.
"Bat." He suggested, pulling his flashlight from his
pocket and shining it over the darkened pews. A thick sheath
of dust coated their surface.
"If someone was here, it wasn't to pray." He glanced at
his partner. She didn't appear to be listening.
He followed her gaze and heard a noise from a small arch way
to the left of the alter. Scully placed her hand gently on
his arm and nodded her head towards the sound.
"Rat." he murmured into her ear. The noise got louder.
"Big rat." she replied under her breath as they crossed
the stone floor.
He stopped at the entrance and let his eyes tell her he
would move first. She nodded.
"Freeze, FBI." In one fluid motion he swung round and
pointed his gun through the arch. Scully followed.
"Shit." A young voice replied.
Mulder let his gun arm drop with a sigh of exasperation. The
smell of hash was unmistakable.
He turned back to her and spoke in an exaggerated stage
whisper;
"I'm tempted to shoot anyway."
She remained expressionless but the three teenagers visibly
blanched.
"Shouldn't you be in school." Mulder didn't hide the
irritation in his voice.
"Hey, we ain't doing nothing wrong." A boy of about
seventeen replied. His companions, a girl and another boy of
a similar age starred up with glazed eyes.
"Yeah right, and when they revised the laws on cannabis
possession, they forgot to tell me." Mulder replied
sarcastically.
He turned back to Scully. "I'm going to keep looking
around." He moved past her made his way back through arch.
/Great./ she thought, /leave me to deal with this./
"You going to arrest us." With Mulder gone the boy
appeared to have regained some courage.
"I might." She replied in the best parental tone she could
muster. "Depends whether you help me out".
The boy eyed her with suspicion.
"We're looking for someone. He might of been here in the
last two days."
A spark of recognition flickered across the young man's
features.
"There were two men."
She hadn't expected that.
"They were looking around yesterday, here and a couple of
streets up. We saw them again today, about five minutes
before you got here."
"What did they look like?"
The boys lips twitched in amusement.
"Like him." He gestured towards arch through which Mulder
left.
"No-one else?" she asked slowly.
"No." The boy shook his head. Scully focused her gaze on
his companions who had remained quiet throughout the
exchange. She flexed her fingers, noticeably shifting her
gun. Immediately they shook they're heads in confirmation of
their friends words.
"Okay." She believed them.
Scully turned to leave.
"Next time." She paused for effect. "Don't get caught."
She found Mulder starring at a set of rickety looking steps.
He climbed onto the bottom rung testing their strength. She
peered up the makeshift stairway, it ended in a balcony
which lead on into the clock tower.
"They saw someone."
He stepped onto the next rung, it groaned loudly.
"Sirus?"
"No, two men in suits, they were here yesterday and again
today, not long ago." Mulder inched higher. Scully eyed the
rotting wood with consternation.
"That doesn't look safe."
"I've looked everywhere else." He continued upwards.
"I think they visited Dursch, the kid said he saw them in
that area."
The stairway made another set of protesting creaks and
groans. Mulder ignored them and climbed higher.
"Mulder, come down."
"Its okay." He shook the decaying handle making her
flinch. Under his breath he added; "Besides a hundred
thousand lemmings can't be wrong."
Scully was about to reply when the sound of screeching tires
drew her attention. Mulder meet her eyes and hastily slide
to ground level. Together they ran for the door.
He reached the rusted iron gate before her and just in time
to see a grey sedan leaving at speed.
"Did you get the licence plate." She asked as she caught
up with him.
"No, dammit."
Mulder turned back to face her and was suddenly distracted
by her appearance, dust covered both her legs and her right
sleeve. He realised she must have walked through a spider
web as wisps of silk thread clung to her hair. He reached to
pull them out.
"They saw Dursch?" he repeated her early words, absently
stroking the smooth auburn stands under his fingers.
"I'm just guessing." she said quietly. He let his hand
fall to his side.
"Then we should probably pay him another visit."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Mr Dursch." For the third time, Mulder's fist rattled the
wooden door. "Sir, its in your interest to talk to us."
"Do you think he went out?" Mulder glanced back at his
partner.
Scully recalled the oxygen attached to the man's face and
the frame he had used to walk.
"It would seem unlikely." she answered. Stepping forward
she called the mans name. Only silence answered them.
Mulder unclipped his weapon and pushed against the ancient
door handle. It creaked but didn't give.
"Stand back." he said quietly. Scully complied taking her
own gun into her hand. He gave the door a forcefully kick,
it immediately succumbed to the blow.
"Mr Dursch." Mulder called again, stepping cautiously into
the hallway.
The floorboards were visible through the thread bare carpet
and damp adorned the walls. Mulder made his way to the
sitting room.
Frank Dursch lay crumpled on the floor. Mulder reached for
his phone as his partner dropped to her knees by the body.
"Mr Dursch." She turned him to lay supine. There was no
response. She listened for his breathing and was surprised
to hear the rhythmic sound of inspiration and expiration.
Taking his wrist her fingers found his pulse.
"He's tachycardic, in AF, but pulse volume is good." she
muttered. Her hands moved to his neck and felt the carotids.
She searched the back of his head for obvious trauma, there
was none.
"JVP elevated, consistent with COPD and cor pulmonale."
She continued her observations. It wasn't until she raised
his eyelids to shine her flashlight into his eyes that she
made the diagnosis.
"What happened." Finished on the phone Mulder knelt by her
side.
"He's had a stroke." One pupil was massively dilated
whilst the other was the size of a pinprick.
"Great timing, think he did it to piss us off?"
Mulder watched his partner's hands move efficiently over the
man's body quickly assessing what neurological function he
had left. Judging from the look on her face, the answer was
not much.
The sound of sirens alerted them to the paramedics arrival.
Scully meet them at the door quickly recounting her
conclusions.
"I'm a doctor." She added by way of explanation.
"Are you family?" One of the EMT's asked as they lifted
Dursch onto a trolley.
"No." She briefly flashed her badge. "Which hospital are
you taking him to?" She followed them to the door.
"County Cook General. Do you want to come with us?" She
shook her head, Frank Dusrch was unlikely to wake up today,
in fact he was unlikely to wake up at all. The paramedic
nodded curtly and pulled the ambulance doors shut.
Scully sighed and turned expecting to find her partner
standing behind her. He was nowhere to be seen.
"Mulder."
"Up here." She followed the sound of his voice to a small
upstairs bedroom. Dust adorned the shabby furniture and the
floor creaked ominously as she made her way to Mulder's
side. He was kneeling over a pile of newspapers. The
headline caught her eyes.
SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN.
"Sirus." Mulder stated. The date on the paper read October
8th 1990. Scully fumbled in her pocket and found a pair of
latex gloves, she handed him one.
"If Dursch hadn't seen him, why was he reading newspaper
reports on the killings?" Mulder asked.
"He wasn't." Scully answered flatly. He looked up and
questioned her with his eyes.
"Frank Dursch had severe chronic obstructive pulmonary
disease. You saw the oxygen and the cot downstairs. Even
with a frame he was struggling to walk to the door. I doubt
he's been up here for months."
The dust stood testament to her statement.
"But these papers have been moved recently. I want them
tested for finger prints." He turned and meet her gaze. "Do
you think he'll wake up?"
"He might, but if he does I doubt he'll be able to talk to
us."
His phone rang, the sharp trill sounded eerily loud in the
bare room.
"Mulder." He answered. Scully watched his brow furrow as
he listened to the callers words.
"Yes, right away." He snapped the handset shut and turned
to face his partner.
"They've found another body." he said quietly.
"So soon? he nodded.
"The coroner estimated her time of death to be between
seven and nine last night." He took the other glove from her
grasp and gathered up the newspapers.
"I'll take you to the morgue before I drop these into
forensics."
"But that's so fast" She mumbled but he caught her words.
Two deaths so close together, serial killers rarely killed
twice in one night. He shrugged.
"Maybe he's convinced he'll be caught. He's already
sentenced to life. He's got nothing to lose, if the urge to
kill is strong enough.."
He trailed off.
"But your profile?" she remembered his words;
/Billy John Sirus is a born again Christian, the impulse
to kill is still there, he'll try and control it./
/We have two, maybe three days./
Suddenly acutely aware of their location she stopped and
touched his arm.
"Mulder, where was the body found?"
He meet her eyes.
"Hopewell."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Lewis Residence, Hopewell. 24 November 1634
--------------------------------------------
Murder scenes were easy to find, the blue lights always gave
away the their location long before the map did. He parked
the car awkwardly between a police van and an unmarked
vehicle.
/34 Crescent Street. Hopewell/ He had not expected to find
himself back here so soon.
A young uniformed officer approached him as he made his way
to the door.
"FBI" Mulder stated absently, flashing his badge. The
young man nodded and let him pass.
Claire Lewis had lived in a middle-class home. She had
designed her living space from the pages of an Ikea
catalogue. She had cooked in a kitchen complete with an
island and terrace doors. Last night she had come home and
made her way to her designer bedroom, she was shot as she
threw her bag on the bed.
Mulder picked his way through the crowd of people and made
his way up the stairs. White tape and blood stains told
testament to the events of the previous evening. His eyes
surveyed the area. Red splotches created a gruesome dot-to-
dot pattern along the walls and bedspread. Mulder mentally
joined the points together.
"She was shot in the back. Twice." A man dressed in
overalls was watching Mulder's appraisal of room.
"The killer was waiting for her." Mulder replied, glancing
back down the hallway. "He was already in the house."
The technician nodded.
"From the spray pattern and the trajectory of the first
bullet, we found it in the wall, I would estimate.." He
walked out the room and stopped about three metres from the
bedroom door. "He stood here."
Mulder nodded, he had made a similar assumption himself. He
joined the technician, noting that they stood about half a
metre from the bathroom door.
"You think he was in here?" Mulder pushed the door with a
gloved hand.
"Seems likely."
Mulder nodded again, then made his way back along the
hallway. Something akin to a movie scene played in his mind.
She came in, made her way up to the bedroom.
/Was he expecting her to do that?/
He paused at the bedroom door. A grey half length jacket
hung over a hook next to the frame.
/Was she wearing a coat?/ He pulled on another glove and
sifted through the pockets. There was a couple of coins but
it was two receipts which caught his attention.
Claire Lewis had taken a $100 from a cash machine at 18:23
the previous evening, twenty minutes later she purchased $20
of petrol.
He dropped the crumpled paper into an evidence bag and
continued his reconstruction of the woman's movements.
She reached the bedroom and hung her coat up.
He mimicked the action. Something struck him; She would have
turned round, the hook faced the bathroom, she would have
looked back along the hallway. Yet it wasn't until she
turned back to the bed to empty her bag that she was shot.
/He meant to shoot her in the back./
/He waited./
"Agent." The technician returned. "You might want to take
a look at these." He handed Mulder the crime scene photo'.
"We just got given copies." Mulder nodded his thanks and
began to flick through the glossy pictures.
"Can I keep them." he asked as the man turned to leave.
"Sure."
He put them aside and returned his attention to the black
Gucci bag that lay upturned on the bed. The contents had
been displaced. Mulder glanced back at the photo's.
Apparently nobody had moved it yet.
He made a quick mental inventory of the items; lipstick,
tissues, wallet, chequebook, comb. He picked up the wallet
and thumbed through the contents. Claire Lewis had carried
nearly eighty dollars a few credit cards and a wrinkled
photo of her husband.
/He didn't take anything./
Snatching up the photo's Mulder made his way back downstairs.
He found the kitchen full of people.
"Has the fridge been dusted?" he demanded of the nearest
technician.
"No sir." The man looked surprised.
"I want it done, and the cupboards too."
He turned and pulled the refrigerator open. It was full,
Claire Lewis had been as meticulous with the inside of her
fridge as she had been with the rest of her house. Food sat
neatly portioned out into plastic bags, none of the seals
had been broken.
"Feeling peckish, Agent Mulder?"
Peers deep voice was instantly recognisable. He ignored the
question and made his way over to the bin. It was empty.
"Sirus killed twice in one night." The Marshal continued.
Mulder turned to and face him.
"I read your profile Agent." Peers went on. "He's not
sticking to it very well, is he?" his voice dripped with
sarcasm.
/Great./ Mulder thought, /this is just what I need right
now./
"Umm, very inconsiderate." He matched the man's tone.
Peers stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"I appreciate it has been a while since you worked with
the BSU." He paused and Mulder realised he was holding a
sheath of documents. "But this." he waved them in Mulder's
face. "Is bullshit."
A muscle in Mulder's jaw twitched but otherwise his
expression remained unchanged. Peers stuffed the file into
the kitchen bin.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Mulder replied. He
continued to keep his eyes fixed on Peers but his mind was
busy scrolling through a number of images.
/Claire Lewis's coat./
/Her wallet./
"Sirus is here, I don't care what your report says, my
evidence is in the morgue."
/A gunshot wound to the back of the head./
"I've reassigned 'your' agents. They're to work here, from
the local station."
That caught his attention.
"If you and your partner want to chase ghosts and dead men
through Richmond, fine."
Mulder grimaced, apparently the Marshal was aware of how
they had spent the afternoon.
"But, don't waste the time of my officers."
"I thought the bureau was working in partnership with the
US Marshall's service." He didn't bother to keep the
irritation out of his voice.
"While the fugitive is still at large I am in charge
here." He pronounced each word slowly. "Don't forget that."
Mulder glared at him but said nothing, the Marshal was
right, ultimately it was his case.
"You have one more chance. I want a more accurate report
by 9am tomorrow morning, or I'll be in contact your
superiors."
/Do that./ Mulder thought. /You'd get on well with
Skinner./
"I thought it was three stakes before your out." he
answered.
Peers eyes narrowed.
"Don't push me Agent, don't push me."
The marshal started to walk away. He took two steps before
stopping and throwing a plastic envelope towards Mulder.
It held a blood stained playing card.
"They found that under her body."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Richmond, 24 November 2034
---------------------------
The sun had long since set as he made his way back to the
small Richmond police station. Mulder found his partner in
the office they had made their own, her head on the desk and
eyes closed. Quietly he crouched beside her.
"Sleeping on the job, Agent Scully." he whispered in her
ear.
She jumped knocking a file onto the floor.
"Don't let Federal Marshall Peers find you." He slumped
into the chair opposite her. "He's not in the best of
moods."
Recomposing herself she arched an eyebrow.
"He thinks we're wasting our time. He's relocated the ops
centre to Hopewell and reassigned my agents."
"Can he do that?" she asked incredulous.
"Technically yes, he has the overriding jurisdiction
here." he paused, noticing the autopsy reports under her
hand.
"Did you find anything?"
She shook her head. Heeding her partner's doubts she'd been
thorough but her findings hardly reflected the meticulous
effort.
"Some pre-mortem bruising, two gunshots to the back. One
bullet penetrated the left atria then exited the body, the
other became embedded in her cervical spine. She would have
bleed to death in minutes. Like before there was a frenzied
post-mortem attack, mostly concentrated on the back of her
torso. There was also a significant post-mortem blow to the
head."
"He crushed her skull." She added quietly. "Oh and the tox
screen came back on Sarah Jenkins, it was clear."
He nodded and thumbed through his own notes. Scully realised
he looked tired, the shadows under his eyes had darkened. A
quick mental calculation told her he hadn't slept for at
least 36 hours.
"Something's not right."
He leant towards her, catching her gaze.
"Sirus just broke out of prison, he has fifty bucks and
only the clothes he's wearing. Yet he breaks into two
women's homes, kills them but doesn't steal a thing, doesn't
even pause to eat. Claire Lewis had money in her wallet, he
left it there."
Scully rubbed the bridge of her nose, soothing away a
tension headache.
"And, shooting them in the back." he continued. "Sirus was
never ashamed of killing, he wanted to see their face."
"Do you think these are copycat killings?" She asked. He
shook his head thoughtfully.
"The playing card, that detail was never released to the
press. Its Sirus." His eyes meet hers. "Or someone with
intimate access to the original case file." He rubbed his
hands over his face, he didn't want to think about that
possibility.
Scully sighed. Stretching she glanced over the room, her
eyes catching on a pile of photocopied sheets. She handed
them to Mulder.
"The prison faxed these over about an hour ago, they were
found in Sirus's cell."
"What are they?" He glanced at the first page a list of
times and numbers looked back up at him.
"Bus timetables and maps."
The word Hopewell caught his eye. Scully followed his gaze.
"Its not just Hopewell." She continued. "There's similar
information on a number of other local towns.
"Where did he get them?"
"The warden wasn't sure, but apparently the inmates are
allowed a certain amount of supervised Internet time, he
reckons Sirus could have looked these pages up then."
Something sparked across Mulder's features, he looked back
at his partner.
"If he was checking tourist information he knew he was
going to get out."
She nodded. Scully had drawn a similar conclusion.
"I re-read the accident reports, there's no indication
that it was staged, but I guess it could have been missed."
She pushed the papers towards him. He left them sitting on
the desk.
"The one-armed man." Mulder muttered.
"Krycek." He added, loathed to say the name aloud.
"We don't know that for certain" She reminded him gently.
His look told her that he held no such uncertainty.
Scully took a deep breath. No matter how many times she put
the facts together and took them apart again she still found
herself reaching the same name. Even considering speeding
sedans and men with prosthetic limbs everything pointed to
Sirus. Despite her partners obvious misgivings she was
inclined to believe the Marshal's team were looking in the
right place. She sighed, she would add two and two together
and get four, Mulder could do the same and get triangular.
Doing what she always did when he refused to take the simple
explanation, she fell back on logic;
"Okay, maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. What
about the victims, anything to connect them?"
Mulder lips twitched at the tone of her voice. He heard, I-
don't-agree-with-you-but-I'll-humour-you, as clearly as if
she had said it aloud.
"They lived about 4 miles apart, which in the sprawling
metropolis of Hopewell is about as far as you can get. They
had no mutual acquaintances. Claire Lewis worked part-time
in a grocers store, she lived with her husband. He was out
of town when it happened, found the body when he came back."
She flipped through the case file on Sarah Jenkins.
"Forensics found nothing." she stated her eyes skimming
the report.
"I doubt they tried particularly hard." He mumbled. She
was inclined to agree, theoretically the identity of the
killer was already known.
Mulder flicked through the files he had brought in with him.
A flash of red and white caught Scully's eyes.
"Mulder?"
She leaned over and took the folder. A familiar strip looked
back up at her. She glanced back at her partner.
"You said it yourself, this isn't our case."
"I know." He had the grace to look sheepish. "I haven't
filled out the 301, I doubt Skinner would approve it
anyway." Mulder shrugged. "I just started making some notes,
that's all."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Intuition and experience
told her never to believe Mulder when he waved a candy-
striped folder and innocently pronounced, 'that's all'.
"Look, I know there are some things that don't add up
here." She spoke slowly as if adding measure to her words
could go some way to making him listen.
"But there is still an overwhelming amount of evidence
that points to Sirus. This isn't an X-file, don't rule out
the obvious because your looking too hard for the
unexplained."
He smiled, he'd heard this speech before.
"Think horses not zebra's" he muttered.
"Something like that." She meet his eyes and handed him
back the folder, willing to drop the matter for now.
"What do want to do next?" She asked
His eyes flicked to the police breaking and entry reports.
They were now stacked two piles high."
"You should get some rest." he said softly.
She pushed the phone in his direction.
"Chicken chow mein, beef in oyster sauce and egg fried rice."
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Richmond 25 November 0034
---------------------------
Scully threw the last police report on the top of a
precariously balanced stack. It wobbled but remained
standing. She sighed and began to search a foil container
for the last traces of cold chow mein.
Three of the reports had fitted what Mulder regarded as the
correct criteria. Three, out of over eighty. She recalled
his words;
/He won't have taken anything of real value. Its unlikely
he would have trashed the place, or in fact caused any mess
at all. I'd look for the theft of particular items, clothes,
cash, food./
She'd followed his directions closely but it seemed the
majority of burglars stole laptops, videos, TV's and could
thus be ruled out of their search.
Mulder watched his partner scoop the remains of Chinese out
of the container.
"Still Hungry?" he raised an eyebrow.
Scully looked up in amusement.
/Is that what I look like when I do that?/ she wondered.
"I didn't eat much earlier, two autopsies in one day don't
do much for your appetite."
He pushed the half empty box of fried rice in her direction
then slumped back in his chair.
"Find anything." she asked between mouthfuls. He shook his
head.
"I want to talk to the officers who filed these reports."
he motioned to the three they had kept aside. "But I guess
that will have to wait to morning." She glanced at the clock
and nodded in agreement.
"Its Friday night, what are we doing here?" She mumbled as
she stretched, stiff from sitting for so long.
"Scully, this is what we do every Friday night." He
replied quietly. "And its Saturday morning, anyway."
"Besides." He continued, the soft lilt of amusement
evident in his voice. "What else would you be doing?"
"I have a life." she answered defensively, then added
quieter. "I had a life."
Mulder rubbed his eyes.
"Dating's overrated." He pushed the desk light so it
pointed towards the floor. The room fell into shadow.
"It is?" she replied a mixture of interest and amusement
in her tone.
"Yeah, awkward silences, ridiculously expensive wine,
difficult questions about your career choices, impossible
questions about your video collection..."
Scully had long ago learnt that she would compare any man
she dated to Mulder. She couldn't help herself. Before she
realised what she was doing she was sitting across the table
thinking that the guy's eyes were the wrong shade of green
or that when he whispered his voice was too high-pitched.
Angrily she'd banish the thoughts from her mind but always
as the evening progressed they'd creep back in. Often so
much so that when they stood to leave and her date placed
his hand on the middle of her back she had to bite her lip
to keep from telling him that his fingers were in the wrong
place.
She looked at her partner and couldn't help but wonder if he
did the same thing. But then she remembered the women in his
life, tall, curvaceous and mostly brunette.
"Well, maybe the last two just apply to me."
She smiled then surprised herself by answering honestly.
"Maybe the only the last one, it can be hard to explain to
a guy that you've spent your day in the morgue."
Abruptly her mind conjured an image of a tattoo pallor and a
dark bar. Ed was the last man she'd been on a date with,
she'd not told him what she did.
"Try telling someone you've been chasing aliens. I've seen
the effect it has on you, and you know me." He answered
softy noticing the shadow that had passed over her eyes.
/Which wound did I prod then./
Mulder pulled his chair closer to hers but stopped within
inches of touching her.
"Try telling someone you've been chasing aliens. I've seen
the effect it has on you and you know me."
"I've never called you crazy." she said quietly, her eyes
meeting his. The intensity in his gaze was startling, nearly
overwhelmed she stole his defence mechanisms and fell back
on humour.
"Paranoid, arrogant, overbearing, irresponsible,
insensitive..."
"Enough." he grinned, but his mind still painted a picture
of her in a posh restaurant, drinking fine wine. Some Friday
nights made him wonder if that was where she would rather
be.
"Do you ever wish you could have done things differently?"
Scully reached out and curled her fingers around his. This
question she was familiar with.
"Some things" she answered honestly. "But having spent
more of my free time socialising isn't particularly high on
the list."
He squeezed her hand gently, holding her gaze. Even sitting
he still found himself looking down at her. He realised he
could feel her pulse fluttering against fingers.
/What's my next line./ he wondered. /Where do we go from
here./ She was looking back at him, her eyes asking the same
question.
"Are you always this philosophical at one in the morning."
It was Scully who broke the silence.
He couldn't recall the number of conversations they had had
at one in the morning, but he realised she was offering him
the way out.
He took it.
"Only when I've not slept for nearly three days."
Something bleeped. It took Scully a minute to work out it
was her laptop.
"The batteries are running down." she murmured, taking her
hand from his and pulling the computer in front of her.
Mulder's memory supplied him with an image, he saw Claire
Lewis's study and realised for the first time that there had
been stacks of computer magazines lining the shelves.
"Is that connected to the Internet?"
"Yes, it can be." Scully answered, trying not to notice
the abrupt change in conversation. She rose and fiddled with
the wires, plugging in the power supply and the modem cable.
The machine made a familiar whistling noise.
Breathing deeply she returned to her partners side. He
reached across and typed 'Claire Lewis Hopewell' into the
search engine. She looked at him in surprise.
The search engine returned a number of options, the first
reading freelance web design'. He followed the link.
"I thought you said she worked in a grocers." She
questioned.
"She did, but there were a number of computer magazines
and manuals in her home, it just occurred to me that maybe
she had her own site." He looked back at the screen, it
confirmed his suspicion.
"Apparently green-grocery wasn't part of her long term
plans."
Scully skim read the text. The words curriculum vitae caught
her attention.
"Mulder." She pointed at the screen and he followed her
direction.
After high school Claire Lewis had taken a number of
computer courses. She'd worked in a string of menial
positions before getting her first jobs as an IT support
technician.. at Cipher Pharmaceuticals.
"June 1991 to September 1993." Scully read aloud. "When
did Sarah Jenkins work there?"
Mulder flicked through his notes.
"She started in, December 1991."
"So they could have known each other." He nodded. "What do
we know about Cipher Pharmaceuticals?" She questioned.
"Aside from the fact that they are a major employer in
South West Virginia, not a lot."
He taped the keys again, this time looking for information
on the pharmaceutical company. A few seconds later they were
staring at a paragraphs of text.
"Mostly they developed antivirals." Scully summarised for
her partner. She had noticed his eyes flicking back and
forth between the medical terminology. "But they also had a
major interest in autoimmune disease."
"Where the body creates antibodies against itself, right."
She nodded, continuing to read the screen.
Mulder pulled out his cellphone and began dialling.
From the corner of her eye she noticed his fingers move over
the keypad and realised she could still feel the heat of his
hands over hers, her skin tingled where he touched her.
"I need you to look up some information for me." He said
by way of a greeting. She assumed he was talking to a lone
gun man.
"Cipher pharmaceuticals. Virginia."
Giving up the pretence of reading she turned and watched his
eyes, following the flecks of gold that danced in the
otherwise hazel orbs.
"Thanks." He hung up and turned back to face her, abruptly
she realised she was staring.
"Its late." he said. "We should get going."
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