Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK
Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.
Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle.
No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a
person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended.
Samantha Waters's Residence
Atlanta
Georgia
March 28th
02:00 a.m.
The day's investigation had yielded nothing for them. Samantha Waters was finding it hard to sleep. She couldn't get her mind away from the case. 'The Carver' should have already struck, and would be positioning another body on yet another bench. Right at that moment. Sometimes her job made her sick. Tormented by these people, who show no understanding of the sanctity of life. She had once been in a tight scrape where the killer used death to imitate art, imitating life by famous painters. And then there was Jack. She could think all night about Jack but she wouldn't allow herself to. Instead, she dragged herself out of bed and downstairs to watch some television.
Mulder was sprawled out on the sofa, staring at the screen, not really watching the black and white movie that danced across the screen. She knew he would be thinking of one of two things: the case; or, more likely, his partner. She was hoping it was the former. When she had first met him at the academy, she thought he needed to be institutionalised because he insisted on the existence of extraterrestrial life forms and such. Now she had heard of some of the cases that he had been assigned and how they turned out, she just felt sorry for him. He had to deal with demons far more torturous that her own.
"Hey Mulder, what'cha watching?"
"Huh? Oh, some old vampire film."
"Having problems sleeping?"
"Yeah. Did you really need to ask?"
Waters smiled and sat on the sofa beside him, where he had moved over. "I have some sleeping pills if you want some."
"No thanks. What're you doing up?"
"Same as you. Can't sleep 'cause I keep thinking about this case."
"Hmm."
VCTF Headquarters
Atlanta
Georgia
07:30 a.m.
"So, where is it this time, Bailey?" Waters asked.
"There isn't one, Sam."
"What? He didn't kill again last night?"
"Doesn't look like it."
"Maybe they just didn't find it yet."
"I doubt it. Where's Agent Mulder?"
"Chloe was being stubborn and wanted him to take her to school so I came straight here. He should be here in a few minutes."
Somewhere between Chloe's school and VCTF Headquarters
Atlanta
Georgia
7:40 a.m.
Mulder's mind was in overdrive. There was something nagging at him about what Waters had said to him the previous day. There was something in his eyes. He found it weird how until he had confessed (even if it was a lie), the man hadn't regarded him with hatred, but had channelled his disgusted looks at Waters. Not only that, but he also found that the man whom had been run down was not called Andrew Green, the name he had given in Washington DC. His real name was Andrew Maly. He didn't know the name of his brother, but he wasn't even sure that he wanted to.
VCTF Headquarters
Atlanta
Georgia
07:50 a.m.
The results of the hotel search were back. George Fraele had been awake all night conducting it, and while the team crowded around him, him head kept bobbing up and down as he made futile efforts to stay awake enough to explain what he had found. Establishing that Fraele could no longer for a coherent sentence, Malone pushed the screen towards Grant to take over.
In each killing period there were a few rooms rented out with internet connections. The only problem was that there wasn't the same name cropping up. Each name was different, except for the name Andrew Green had cropped up twice in the six locations but he had booked for the entire week in Maryland. The other, he had booked only for two nights, one either side of the killing. There were similar bookings across the states in questions, but in each there was only one booking for either side. They quickly decided that all the bookings either side had to be their man using aliases. Their next mission was to get a description of this man and maybe a sketch if possible.
Motel 1
Massachusetts
10:00 a.m.
The team had split up and Grant had been assigned the Massachusetts motel. The place was nicely furnished (if the reception reflected the rest of the motel, at least) and he could understand why it would be called Motel 1 - it was certainly the best looking Motel he had ever set foot in. He rang the bell on the front desk for attention and a short man, perhaps 4'7" and balding, came in with an obviously forced smile.
"Hi. What can I do you for?"
"Agent John Grant." He flashed his badge. "I'm looking for records of a man who rented a room here a week ago."
The short man looked sick.
"The dude on the bench, right?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm unable to let you have any information about the case at this point. Our suspect may have rented a room here from March fifteenth to March sixteenth. Both nights."
"Right, just let me check the records." He disappeared into the back room.
Grant glanced around the room again, hi eyes lingering on the leather sofa. He had wanted one for a while, but had never gotten around to actually buying one. He sat on it, and as he did so, he stared up at the ceiling. He noticed a small hole in the plaster rose around the main light, covered with a circular glass plate. A security camera. He rang the bell again for attention.
"Hang on a minute!" came a muffled shout.
He rang it again.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" The man was getting agitated. "Hold your horses. Here, I got 'em. Now, were you trying to annoy me or did you need something else?"
"The security camera."
"Yeah?"
"When do you re-record on the tapes."
"Every two weeks."
"Can I have a look at the tape for the day the guy checked in?"
"Uh, gimme a minute. I gotta go double-check it's still there - sometimes the tapes get mixed up with ones that are ready to be wiped."
"Thanks."
VCTF Headquarters
Atlanta
Georgia
19:04 pm.
The trips to each state had been quick, and mostly fruitless. The descriptions were less than helpful. Most of the team were back at headquarters, in fact all except for John Grant, who waltzed in thirty minutes after everyone else wearing a Cheshire Cat grin.
"Someone looks like they found something." Waters said.
"I have." He replied. He reached his hand deep inside the pocket of his coat and slowly pulled it out for suspense. "Security tape. I looked at it while I was up there and it looks like we got ourselves footage of him checking in."
"What kind of view do we have?" Malone asked.
"Full-on. The whole face."
Later, the team piled into a conference room and seated themselves around the oval table. Malone slid the tape into the VCR and watched the screen come into focus. They all sat for a few minutes watching people come and go in fast motion. Finally a man with thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail entered. Grant paused the tape.
"This is our guy. He looks up in a minute." He allowed the tape to move on a few frames. Sure enough, the man looked around just as Grant had done. If he noticed the camera, it didn't register on his face.
Grant re-winded it and played it again. He noticed both Waters and Mulder moving in closer, and so moved back. Waters took the remote and re-winded it again, pausing the instant the guy looked at the camera.
"Shit Mulder, have you seen him before?" She knew what his answer would be.
"I think we can narrow it down to two suspects, if that's what you mean."
"Andrew or Joseph Maly."
"Right." Mulder adressed Malone. "Bailey, this man is called either Andrew Maly or Joseph Maly. They're twins. They should be quite easy to locate - one is in St Catherine's Hospital. The other should be nearby."