Chapter Two
Troxlers' and Samuels' Residence, Hobbit Ave., Flagstaff, AZ
September 22nd, 2000, 5:45 p.m.
Skinner had no trouble finding the houses--the block was clustered by every type of police vehicle imaginable except a SWAT team truck. He pulled their Buick Le Sabre up behind a gigantic Ford Expedition and got out, followed by both Agents Doggett and Scully. "I'm surprised to see all this traffic still here a week after the incident," Skinner commented.
"The families were only found three days ago," a female voice declared and all three agents spun around to get their first look at her. She was about five five and dressed just as stylishly, if not more than Scully. Her almond hair was pulled back into a straight pony tail; her face made her appear to be not much more than the age of a high schooler, but Scully knew better. "Detective Janine Gardener, from Flagstaff Police Department," she told them.
Scully found Gardener to be just as brief in her introductions as she. The thought was mildly intriguing at first, but she pushed it away as Skinner introduced his agents. "My name is Assistant Director Skinner, and these are Special Agents Doggett and Scully from Washington, D.C."
"Not that I don't appreciate your presence on this case, but why is the FBI here?" Gardener asked. "I didn't phone the Phoenix or Tucson field offices."
"Our department specializes in the investigation of the paranormal and unexplained," Scully started.
"Hold on a second. We have two cases of homicide here, nothing else."
"I have reports here that state otherwise, according to what your medical examiner found." She opened her briefcase on top of the trunk and showed the papers to the skeptical detective.
"This evidence still sounds like murder to me," Gardener stated after spending a few moments skimming over the reports. "I'm afraid you're wasting your time by coming here, Agents. We've already got this homicide well underway."
"Who're your suspects?" Doggett finally spoke.
"I don't need to share that information with you."
Scully's temper was rising very quickly, and her tongue pressed itself firmly into the front corner of her mouth. Skinner noticed her body language and his insides tensed up. This was the dawn of her exasperation; he knew she could keep her professionalism for a few more minutes. But it wouldn't be too long before the explosion would occur between the two women if he didn't interfere. Mulder would have either blown up in her face or insulted her intelligence five minutes ago, he thought.
"Detective Gardener, your investigation coincides with one the Bureau opened up seven years ago. As a matter of fact, Agent Scully was one of the field agents involved. It might be a good idea to perhaps at least consult with her upon matters of your investigation, if not cooperate directly with us."
"We do have jurisdiction here. And please feel free to contact the office of the Attorney General in Washington should you have any further questions," Scully coldly added.
Just as the heated situation seemed like it was going to boil over into complete animosity, Gardener shrugged and glanced at Doggett. "No, we don't have any legitimate suspects. We questioned neighbors, family, friends. You name the question, we've asked it in the past seventy-two hours." She walked coolly to the Expedition, unlocked it, and took out a light rain coat. "What about you, Agent Scully, was it? You got anyone in mind?" She donned the jacket and tied the flaps around her waist snugly.
"We do, as a matter of fact. Theresa Samuels and Aaron Troxler."
"Oh. Why didn't I think of that?" Gardener snapped. She didn't wait for an answer. "I'd probably give you one iota of belief if we'd found a very important thing, namely, a smoking gun."
Doggett remembered how he felt as a police officer when he had to deal with the regional New York Bureau; every time he did, it felt like he was being slapped in the face or had an anvil dropped onto his toes. It was a common practice for rookies in the precincts to be the "Bureau escorts"--what it really meant was that you were the runner for coffee, lunch, dinner, or simple little errands that the special agents couldn't be bothered with. Then after he'd proven himself after a couple of years of hard work, the same special agents from the regional office still treated him like shit. This, no doubt, had been the same situation for a person like Detective Gardener, and he sympathized with her. But Agent Scully was not like them; she didn't seem to mind getting her hands dirty like other female agents he'd gone to Quantico with. Neither did she complain when their cases seemed to go nowhere, and hell, they'd been getting a lot of those recently. Maybe these homicides would give him a boost, and in no time, he would be out of the X-Files office and into an assistant director's chair.
"What did your crime scene investigators find, if I might ask?" Doggett inquired.
"Come this way. I'll show you." She led the way into the Troxler's house and tapped a man on the back that had the absolute most enticing pair of aquamarine eyes Scully had ever looked into. And they seemed to be boring right back into hers with a fierce intensity. His black nylon jacket had the white acronym of CSI stitched across the back and just below his left shoulder above the breast.
"Jerry Hester heads our department's crime scene investigation team. These are Special Agents Skinner, Doggett, and Scully," Gardener announced after demonstrating with her hands slightly towards each. "Please familiarize these people with what you've found out here so far. I've got to make a call to the Sheriff to let him know we now have assistance from the FBI." Her last statement was so acrimonious that even Skinner wanted to bite her head off, particularly since she addressed his rank incorrectly.
"Nice to meet you. I assure you, Agents, we've been combing this place for days now and haven't found a thing to incriminate anyone. You'd think with 8 liters of blood spilled all over the kitchen floor that there'd be at least one footprint somewhere," Hester lamented and began to scratch his left cheek.
"Excuse me, did you say eight liters of blood?" Doggett questioned him.
"Yeah, that's right. It took us an hour to vacuum it all up. Right now, it's being analyzed at the lab and separated--the mother's from the father's." He shook his head and moved out of the way as one of his colleagues brought a whole container of pens and pencils through the doorway. "And 16 liters total, if you count the Samuels' house, too."
"Are those going to be bagged and studied as well?" Scully motioned with her head towards the CSI that had just passed them, and Hester gave her his full attention. There was a familiar juvenile twinkle in his eye that Mulder gave her when she was in full lecture mode. At first it had annoyed her; but she found that in the last couple of years, the twinkle gave her shivers down her spine. Not that she'd admit it to him, of course. He really did enjoy listening to her usual differential hypotheses, she realized. That's why he gave her those excited looks. Here she thought that he did it to distract her and try to convert her thought processes to the dark side. "I studied the autopsy reports your county coroner made before we came here. She didn't expound upon what could have been used to puncture the jugular vein. I was kind of surprised that there were no theories made."
"Oh, she had theories all right. But she just didn't put them in the summary. We've been exploring every inch of these houses and collecting everything and anything that looks like it could be a stabbing weapon," Hester explained. "I've never heard of an FBI agent examining autopsy reports before. Is that a new requirement or something before you go out into the field?"
"Agent Scully is a pathologist. She likes to be prepared," Skinner replied and nodded.
"In that case, do you want to go over to see Dr. Fauci?" Gardener suddenly reappeared in the house and pocketed her cell phone. "I could drop you off on the way back to my office, if you'd like."
"I don't think it's necessary, thanks. I have all the details that I'll be needing," Scully answered.
"Oh, if you're so sure about that, then, why don't you just tell Jerry here what he'll be needing too, and maybe we'll have the case solved by midnight."
"You sure have an answer to everything, don't you?" Scully challenged her.
"Look, I, uh, for one, would like to go back to your office with you. Do you know where the kids are?" Doggett interrupted their spat.
"They're in the custody of the county now, under social services. You want to talk to them, huh? I suppose I could put in a call to their case worker. Where do you want to do this?"
"I'll leave the arrangements up to you, since you were so kind to offer your services. I appreciate your time, Detective." She nodded and stepped outside once more to make another phone call.
"Jerry, I'm almost out of fluorescein. Do we have anymore on the scene?" the African American woman tapped Hester on the shoulder from his side and showed him her empty spray bottle.
"Check next door, Doris. They might have an extra bottle. If not, someone's gonna have to make a run back to the lab for some more." He patted down his pockets for a fresh pair of latex gloves and once he found some, he discarded the others into his own tackle box. "Well, Dr. Scully, how about some ideas from you? I could certainly use the inspiration." There was a flicker of a grin that crossed his mouth, and it drove Scully crazy because it was so reminiscent of Mulder's.
"Well, what have you tried so far?" she wondered. "Besides knives, of course."
"Of course." There were some teeth involved in that one.
"Everything's all set, Agent Doggett. I'll drive you over to the house now," Gardener declared from the open screen door, and Doggett gave his companions brief goodbyes as he parted.
"Well, there were several letter openers around the house. None of those were used. Uh, we went through the yards of silverware the Troxlers and Samuels owned, too. Even checked the spoons," Hester continued. "We cleared out the tool chests and cabinets. I was thinking about writing utensils, next. That's why she went next door."
"I think I'll head over there, too. Maybe I'll be able to help them," Skinner said and left a very surprised Scully standing alone. He withdrew his own gloves and put them on before leaving.
"I surmise that your experiences with our field offices have been rather...rough," Scully insinuated and walked over with Hester to the testing station Doris had set up.
"Who, me? I've got nothing to complain about. You guys just usually leave us alone and inflict all the mortal pain on the homicide detectives. No offense intended, Dr. Scully," Hester told her.
"That's okay. My partner and I were out in Vegas last year with a very good team. They expressed a similar sentiment to our Vegas branch."
"I went to school with one of them, as a matter of fact. Does the name Nick Stokes ring a bell?"
"I met him," Scully agreed and flushed inwardly. She did just more than meet him. They had gone back to his house for a drink at the end of a frustrating X-File, but one thing had led to another. Scully had not had a one night stand since college and reacquainted herself with the odd feeling of emptiness as she left Stokes' house the next morning. As she had flown back to Washington, she told herself that she only slept with him to get back at Mulder for his inconsiderate remarks. But what good had that done? She never actually told him, and by the next time they met back in the office, silent apologies were made. And then New Year's Eve happened. Now he was gone.
"I swiped their last bottle. Oh, Robertson was pissed," Doris called as she re-entered the house and triumphantly set it down in front of them. "So I told him that I'd get tonight's dinner. Seemed to simmer him down to just a violent glare."
"Doris, this is Special Agent Scully from the Washington branch of the FBI. She's going to help us find what killed these poor folks," Hester declared.
"I hope," Scully muttered. She put on her own gloves and started to sort the pens and pencils into separate piles. The other woman eyed her carefully for a moment but then poured some solution into a petri dish while Hester looked on with amusement.
"I'll just look around to see if I can locate some more," he said as he meandered away.
"So those two guys are your partners, huh?" Doris queried to start the conversation.
"Just the one that left with Detective Gardener. The other man is my supervisor. She actually made a mistake when she introduced him. He's an assistant director."
"What's it like?"
"Beg pardon?" Doris pulled a box of Q-tips from her crime scene kit and dipped one into the fluorescein then picked an individual from the pile of pens Scully had made.
"What's it like to work for the main branch of the FBI? We already know about all of the pricks out here in the western field offices, but I bet they don't tolerate too much crap from anyone in the east."
You'd be surprised.
"There's not that much of a difference between coasts, actually. There are some people that I've met that I'd rather not associate with again if I had the choice. But that doesn't often happen."
"Yeah, it isn't easy being a woman in our line of work, that's for sure. Speaking of women, don't mind Detective Gardener. Now if you want to talk about somebody's who's tolerated a lot of shit, she's the epitome of strength on our force. She grew up in San Francisco but moved here to get out of the big city. Mind you, Flagstaff's not a small town, though. Anyhow, rumor is that she got sexually harassed by someone in San Francisco and filed a suit. So they fired her. Can you believe it?"
"I can," Scully replied glumly.
"When she got to Flagstaff, she had been a sergeant on the force in Frisco by the way, they just brushed off all of her past experience and started her off as a rookie here. That really upsets me. But anyhow, the Sheriff that did that to her got fired. She's been on the force here for six years now. Not too many people have tried anything because they hear about how good of a case solve rate she has and know how fast they could end up in the ground without a headstone," she chuckled.
"Really? What kind of percentage does she have?"
"Out of 120 homicide cases, she's solved 101."
"That's almost eighty-five percent," Scully marveled. She could probably work at the Bureau if she wanted to as a profiler. Mulder's percentage was only five more.
"Yeah, she's one smart cookie."
"What's the diagnosis on our pens?"
"I got nothing so far. Are you done sorting them yet?"
"Just about. I really doubt a permanent marker could be used as a weapon."
"I got plenty of abuse on my body due to those," Doris laughed. As Scully gave her a questioning look, the woman rolled up a part of her left glove and showed her the remains of a smiley face. "I have a five year old son with a mind of his own. I fell asleep one night on the couch in front of the TV, and he went to town on me. Got any kids, Agent Scully?"
"No." At least not yet, she mused.
A flapping noise startled the both of them that came through the kitchen. Both women went for their weapons, but remained still. Ever so slowly, a beagle trudged into the living room and started to whine. His howl was soft at first but it grew louder. In fact, it was so loud that Hester came all the way from the attic to see what all the commotion was about.
Seconds later, the reason became very clear to everyone why the dog was so upset, and it ended up all over the living room carpet. "Oh no," Hester complained and stamped his foot onto one of the stairs he'd just scaled and descended.
"Jerry, I'll clean it up, don't worry about it," Doris mumbled and grunted.
"Then who's going to finish the writing utensils? I'll do it, Doris." As the two of them were quarreling, Scully secured her weapon, and went through the back door to the yard.
Sure enough, all of the garbage cans had been overturned and trash lay scattered everywhere in the backyard. Nobody had bothered to look for an animal, much less feed it, so logically, the poor dog was scavenging for food. As she sorted through the refuse, she found exactly what she had hoped to find: a ray of hope. A pair of latex gloves turned inside out lay on top of a white kitchen sized plastic bag, and the familiar green color of digitalis was smeared all over them. "I'll be damned."
As she came back into the house, Scully couldn't help but feel relieved. It was evident to Hester that something was different about her gait; she seemed taller somehow. "What've you got?" he asked.
"The smoking gun," Scully's mouth formulated a tiny smile. "Do you have any evidence bags?"
"Is the Pope Catholic?" Hester chortled and brought one over to her.
"Never thought I'd be bagging these kind of gloves."
"The world's changed. Killers of the eighties and nineties used to wear leather. Now they sport latex. Spooky, isn't it? I could start my own business on the side." When both women gave him "the look", he shrugged innocently. Now Scully knew she had found the perfect friend for Mulder, if she could ever get him back. "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me. Is there blood on those?"
"Nope. Just a little digitalis, though. That's enough to get you going, right?" Scully questioned him.
"You bet. Guess what tonight's theme song is going to be back at the lab, Doris?"
"Ah, I can only guess," she answered.
"AC/DC's 'You Shook Me All Night Long'. These puppies are going off right now!"
"Speaking of dogs..." Doris began.
"Buy some food while you're out getting dinner, please."
"I knew it..." she rolled her eyes and took his proffered car keys along with the evidence bag.
"Actually," Scully stopped her before she could go out the front door, "I'd like to take this in myself to show Detective Gardener. Don't worry, I'll make sure it gets to your chemist."
"Suit yourself. What do you want, Jerry?"
"Where're you going tonight?"
"Burger King, I guess."
"Whopper combo #2 with a Dr. Pepper. Agent Scully?"
"No thanks. AD Skinner and I will probably grab something on the way to the station."
"Are you sure? Doris is buying."
"Positive. I'm not hungry." The last thing she wanted to think about was greasy, fried food at the moment.
"I've heard that from a woman before. Okay, how about picking up a garden salad for Agent Scully?"
"Don't push your luck, Jerry. If the woman says she doesn't want anything, she doesn't want anything. Women only lie about their appetites in front of men they are interested in."
"Thanks a lot," Hester groaned.
"The mood's certainly lighter over on this piece of property," Skinner observed as he watched Doris climb into an SUV and pull away. Scully folded the seal over her prized evidence bag and lifted it up for him to see as they walked down the pathway back to their rental. "Where'd you find those?"
"Strangely enough with the help of a beagle." She set her briefcase into the back seat and readjusted the passenger seat to accommodate her height. "I haven't had to do this for a while."
"What'd he do, sniff 'em out for you?"
"No. He came in through the pet door in the kitchen and um...-"
"Shit on the carpet?"
"No, thankfully, although the smell might be a little more tolerable. The dog regurgitated his lunch all over it instead. Well, I suppose, it could be argued as dinner now," she glanced at her watch. "But anyway, I got a feeling to go outside, and just as I thought, the animal had been foraging in the rubbish."
"Go on." Skinner ignited the engine and turned the a/c on at full blast.
"There's a bit of the right index finger chewed off here, and I postulate that both the combination of latex and digitalis caused the dog to get sick, therefore...-"
"Caused him to puke on the carpet?"
"Right."
"Good work, Agent Scully. The reason why I wanted to come with you, to tell you the truth, is not because I didn't believe you, but rather because I wanted to see how you and Agent Doggett were getting along in the field together."
"We're fine, sir. You could've just asked."
"I meant that I wanted to see how you were performing without...without..."
"Without Mulder?"
"Correct."
"I'm..." she thought carefully over her words, "...managing."
He stopped at a red light and gazed over at how quickly forlorn her face had become. "Probably shouldn't have brought that up. Sorry, Agent."
"I was thinking about him a lot today."
"You were?" Skinner's face was a complete mask of innocent surprise, but deep down, he was doubting that it was just 'today' that Scully thought of Mulder. He knew how much Mulder cared for her, but this was the first time that he got the same inclination from Scully of Mulder. He also was very much aware of how far past their care for one another went beyond the call of the FBI partnership duties. She did not just take the news of his disappearance like many other female agents with male partners would have. Well, it just went back to the cliche of you never know how much you're going to miss someone until they're gone. Damnit, Mulder's not gone, he's just gone missing. Stop thinking like that!
"Someone I met today reminded me a lot of Mulder."
"Who was that?"
"That uh...Jerry Hester guy. He approaches a crime scene just like Mulder does with an X-File."
I'm glad she's still using the present tense to speak about him.
"You're right, he was kind of quirky. But that's good. Helps energize everyone else. While some others like to drag the rest down," his grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"If you're referring to Detective Gardener, I may have found out the reason why she behaves that way."
"Those wonderful field office agents paved the streets gold again for us, haven't they?"
"Maybe. I got the impression that she's been at war with the boys' club just like a lot of other women. But surprisingly enough through it all, she's remained consistently strong at work. 85 solve rate of homicides alone."
"Wow. She could probably do some profiling for the VCS if she wanted."
"I know. Mulder's solve rate was 90. But he was so unhappy--he got worked just like a field hand over there by that idiot Patterson." She glanced down at her hands and realized that they were still covered with latex gloves. She had them off in moments and stared out the window. "I miss him. I miss his 'hunches' and those infamous 'leaps of logic'."
"I think he's stamped himself onto a lot more people than he gave himself credit. For me, it was his persistence and the intensity. He threw himself into his work. For you, I see a more open mind. When you two were first working together, I could tell that he annoyed the hell out of you, and you'd do practically anything to try to disprove him or either shut him up. Look where one of his hunches got you today," he pointed to the evidence bag sitting in her lap. "Mulder would be proud."