Author: Skinfull
Rating: NC 17
Classification: Case file for VS 13--complete with all gory scenes
Feedback : Not mine, no profit, no harm.
Summary: Various Murders are occurring in the DC area with a hint of familiarity to them.
Mortuus Iterum (Dead Again)
By Skinfull
1/3
Scarborough Apartments Washington.
After unpacking the TV and VCR, and pulling a few cushions from one of the cardboard boxes that the moving men had dropped on any flat surface they could find, Sandra settled down to watch a movie with her glass of wine. The story on the screen played out easily before her but her eyes wandered around the room, mentally decorating her new home and paying the movie no attention.
Until a knock on the door dragged her back to reality. She placed her glass on the windowsill and cautiously went to the door. This was her first night in her new apartment and she hadn't met any of her neighbors yet, so she wasn't expecting a visitor.
"Hello?" she called out, reminding herself to get the spy hole put in first thing in the morning. "Who is it?"
"I'm your neighbor. I live in apartment 7H. I saw you moving in earlier and I just wanted to welcome you to the building." The voice was pleasant and friendly enough and she felt a fool for hesitating to open the door, but something inside her wanted to keep it closed, savor her first night alone, and enjoy the peace she had been striving for. "I have a bottle of wine to welcome you--but I'll leave it out here."
She heard the sound of the bottle being placed on the floor against the door and the few steps of her new neighbor walking away. Feeling silly she shook away her misgivings and opened the door.
"Hi. I'm Sandra Carson." She extended her hand to his, which he returned with a crooked smile.
"Hi. Welcome to the neighborhood."
She let him in and he picked up the bottle of wine on his way. His smile seemed genuine as he passed by her in an aromatic wave of soap and mild aftershave.
"Let me get you a glass."
"Thanks." He opened the bottle of wine with the corkscrew that was by her own drink and was ready to pour by the time she rejoined him. "Did you have any trouble moving your stuff in?"
"No. There wasn't much to move anyway," she laughed self-consciously, scanning the room for open boxes that might be displaying her meagre belongings.
"You're not from DC are you? Is that a mid western accent I detect?" he queried, leaning on the sill as she perched on the corner of a wooden box that held her 'Pottery Barn' collection.
"Yeah. I grew up in Ohio. Moved out here for my post graduate degree."
"Georgetown University?" he asked and she noticed his dark brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled.
"Yes. The degree is in Microbiology but it's boring, you don't want to get me started on that." She laughed again then saw the bag of groceries on the counter that she forgot to put in the fridge. "I'll be right back."
In the kitchen she fumbled with the milk and eggs and shoved them quickly into the fridge. She turned the corner from the kitchen and stood in the doorway to the living room as he approached with her drink in his hand.
"It's a lovely apartment you have." He sipped at his wine and walked towards the hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Not at all."
When he was gone, she took the opportunity to make the room a little more presentable. She draped some throws over a pile of boxes and aligned the cushions on the sofa. After a few minutes passed and he didn't return she became suspicious. She listened for the sound of running faucets but heard nothing. Venturing down the hall, she was about to call out his name when she realised he hadn't told her what it was yet.
"Excuse me--are you okay?" she knocked lightly on the closed bathroom door but there was no response. "Hello?" the metal door handle was cold as she turned it to open the door, only to find the room empty. Startled, she backed out of the room into the hall where the only other door was the one to her bedroom.
She took two careful steps over to the door and slowly pushed it open. It was too dark to make anything out, but she needed to walk further into the room to reach the light switch. With her feet barely past the doorframe she stretched her hand along the wall and fumbled with the switch, blinking away the intrusion as the light covered the room.
He stood by the end of her bed, completely naked, his clothes puddled in a heap by the open window and he stood like he was in a trance, ready to jump.
"What the hell?" she mumbled as she backed away, her thoughts swimming in confusion. "What are you doing?" she yelled.
"I didn't want to get any blood on my clothes." He said simply as if it was the obvious explanation for him standing naked in her bedroom. He had taken her robe off the chair by the bed and was pulling the cotton belt free from it. After winding it around each hand in tight loops, leaving a foot length hanging loose between them, he walked towards her, snapping it soundlessly.
"Get the hell away from me!" she yelled, the power of her legs coming back as she tried to run away but he chased after her, grabbing hold of her around the neck with her robe belt and dragged her backwards into her bedroom. Her legs kicked and thrashed as she struggled to get a foothold but he was too strong and too tall. Her fingers scratched at her neck pulling at the taut skin to get hold of the ever tightening belt but it was no use.
When he reached the bed he tossed her onto the bare mattress and rolled her onto her back. She coughed and wheezed when the release of his grip brought a sudden surge of hot air into her lungs, but as he fumbled with the tie on her sweats, the horror of the situation came crashing down on her chest, crushing her lungs and her ability to breathe.
"No, no please no!" she fought as he pulled her sweats off over her knees and left them around her ankles, trapping her feet with them. She kicked her legs wildly, the instinct for survival still strong in her until his fist came down in a crashing blow to her face, stunning her into silence for a moment.
It was then that she noticed his face. It wasn't the face of the man she had let into her apartment. His eyes shimmered black and cold, suddenly emerging green instead of the chocolate brown she had noticed earlier. His cheeks seemed to shake and move, his skin tautening around his face and suddenly she was looking into a face she never saw before.
He held her still with one hand against her neck, pulling her against him, and the other cutting off her air supply. She soon became weak and surrounded by darkness. Her face flushed with warmth as the trapped blood flooded her cheeks. She invited the darkness in when her only other option was to see his face contort with rage.
The limpness of her lifeless body did nothing to distract him as he focused on his raging need. Replacing the cotton rope with his hands, he circled her neck and cried out pleasure as he slumped over her.
For a few moments he didn't move, focusing on his breaths that came fast and shallow. With a sigh he rolled off her and stared up at the white peeling paint on the ceiling. The neglect and disdain for the room suddenly making him disgusted, and he jerked away from her body.
Standing back he looked down at her pale skin, a stark contrast to the dark mattress. Her body was slim but with the curves he had so admired when he spied her moving in, now exposed in full glory before him.
He felt the growing desire churn in his stomach again and he stepped closer to touch her, but decided against it. He dry washed his face, rubbing his hands gingerly over his cheeks, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes. He felt the discomfort of his skin moving again but shook it off. Crouching to his knees he fumbled through his clothes and searched the pockets of his jeans. With his fingers finally curling around what he was looking for he moved swiftly to the body and got to work.
FBI Headquarters Basement Office.
Dana Scully slowly ambled through the narrow hallway and entered the office with a curved, knowing smile. Friday at last, she thought with a sigh of satisfaction. It had been a long slow and monotonous week of paperwork and creative editing of Mulder's reports. His somewhat sketchy explanations of how the last bureau issue car had been totalled needed a few extra touches, and his receipts were all filed under miscellaneous.
But finally Friday had arrived. Although no fanfare greeted her this morning as she walked through the building, she felt like she was walking through a parade. Her heart beating excitedly at the prospect of a lazy weekend, her smile a little brighter than normal and then there was the small apple Danish she'd treated herself to when she bought her latte.
At her desk, she set the coffee down and next to it carefully she placed her treat. After shrugging her coat off and hanging it onto the stand by the door she sat at the desk and ripped open the deli paper bag. The bitter taste of the latte was perfect with the sweet apple from her Danish. She sighed contentedly with every bite, sitting a little deeper into her chair each time. There was only one bite left when Mulder walked in, his expression somewhat darker then her own. He'd been gone before she had woken for some reason, so she had anticipated his dark mood to greet her this morning.
His jacket had already been shed and the sleeves of his blue shirt rolled up past his elbows. Scully watched him cross the room and scramble through the files on his desk before finishing the Danish.
"Couldn't sleep last night?" she asked, commenting on the empty space he had left her to wake up to this morning.
"I was sleeping fine until the sirens started," he muttered, his bad mood infecting his sombre voice even more.
"Sirens?" She pushed herself away from her chair and walked over to where he still fumbled around his desk.
"There must have been a burglary in one of the houses on our block. The alarm woke me then with the sirens blaring and I couldn't get back to sleep."
"So you went for a run?" She had tripped over his sweats that had been carelessly discarded on the bathroom floor on her way to the shower.
"Yes but I was too riled up. So I came in to do some work." His voice was strained as he moved the heavy monitor to get it out of his way.
"You should have woken me Mulder." She reached out to rest a hand on his back and but he moved out of her reach. He pulled out a thick manila folder from under his pc monitor, leaving it lilting to the side. "What are you looking for?"
"This." He held it up and flicked through the pages until he came to what he was looking for. Through squinted dark eyes he glanced at his watch. "Skinner wants to see us by the way."
"A case?" her voice was an octave over her normal timbre as her lazy weekend dissipated before her. Goodbye Friday night bath, she mused, hello Saturday morning in the airport, or a crappy motel in Nevada, or the morgue.
"Maybe. Agent Daly asked me for consultation on a case file yesterday and I had a look--but it seems my services are not required--" his voice trailed off.
"What case?" He passed her the file folder as he rolled his sleeves back down and fastened the cuffs.
"A woman was raped and beaten in her apartment. She died during or prior to sexual assault and there were no signs of forced entry."
"Boyfriend, husband, ex?" Scully queried as she flipped the page of the file over and started at the grotesque picture of the victim. He guided her to the lift with a hand on her back as she quickly read over the file.
"She was single. Just moved into the city. Didn't know anyone. Lived in an apartment building on the northwest."
"There is something else Mulder. What is it? Why does Skinner want to give us this case?"
"On the body they found--a note."
"From the killer?"
"Of sorts--" He reached for the file and flicked through the pages until he reached the end. "A quote. It was carved into the victims forearm."
"Carved?" Scully held up the file photo and examined the picture more closely. "How?"
"It's not clear. The coroner thinks with a tattooing needle but it's too clean."
"'I did this not as a sex act . . . but out of hate for her," She read from the file, "It's signed by Albert De Salvo?"
"The Boston strangler," he answered her unspoken question. "Alleged Boston Strangler. Depending on who you ask."
"A copy cat killer? After all these years?" she doubted as she reread over the autopsy results preformed by the M.E. on the victim.
"Insanity has no time constraints," he replied tersely as he preceded her through the hall to Skinner's office.
AD Skinner sat behind his desk, his eyes fixed on the pages before him, without looking up to greet his two agents he gestured them towards the chairs before him. They sat silently and waited for him to speak. Slowly Skinner closed over the file he had been reading and looked up to face them fully. His fingers formed a temple before his lips and he rested his thumbs under his chin.
"I don't have time to ask the careful questions Mulder, so I want you to tell me straight." He pushed back on his chair and stood, letting his hands find a comfortable spot on his hips. "Why did Agent Daly send this file to you? Without speaking to AD Larkin or myself," he added tersely turning away from his agents to take a deep breath.
"He called me yesterday morning and asked me to look through it. Agent Scully was at the Coroners office filing reports and I was at a loose end so we met and discussed the case."
"Simple as that?" Skinner barked whipping his head around to face Mulder.
"Yes sir." Mulders voice was flat, his frown deep and his eyes glazed over in thought.
"I've spoken to AD Larkin and he is adamant that you have nothing to do with this case. Can you explain that?"
"No sir." Mulder shifted on his seat meeting his boss's eyes for the first time, but it wasn't enough to hide the discomfort he was feeling.
"Why did Agent Daly circumvent the usual channels to bring this case to you?"
"I don't think it was like that sir, it wasn't a conscious decision to bypass AD Larkin. He asked me to look at it and I did."
"Have you prepared anything for the case?" Skinner asked abruptly.
"I was working on a profile," Mulder began feeling Scully's gaze burn into his cheek. "But I've only had the case for one night. I would need more time. I have nothing but conjecture."
"You have no more time. AD Larkin is on his way up here-"
Before Skinner could continue there was a light knock on the door and Kim entered softly, AD Larkin on her heels. He was one of the oldest Assistant Directors, somewhat jaded with too many crimes and killers under his belt.
With thinning grey hair and a portly stomach he strode across the room determinedly, his eyes locking on Mulder over the top of his half glasses. He was wearing a fashionable dark navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a plain black tie but it didn't hide the tiredness in his face or the anger in his eyes. As Kim closed the door after her, AD Skinner invited Larkin to sit down.
"No thanks. It's simple Mulder. Stay away."
Larkin held his hand out, palm open and facing the ceiling, gesturing for the file in Mulder's hand. With only a quick glance in Skinner's direction where he confirmed the slight nod, Mulder handed the file back.
"I have more then enough agents to handle this case," Larkin blurted out, flicking through the pages in the file as if he were checking to make sure it was full. "I don't need your people making the situation any more aggravated."
"We would only offer the assistance required, but if you feel like you don't need it then fine." Skinner's lips were pulled so thin Mulder could hardly see them as he crossed his arms across his thick chest. "But you know there are no better agents more qualified to tackle this case then Agent Mulder and Agent Scully."
"It's not a damn X file Skinner!" Larkin roared angrily, "You have no jurisdiction over this case."
"Agent Mulder was consulted on this case."
"Well consider him un-consulted." Larkin shoved the file under his arm and walked towards the door without offering them a further glance.
Whitley Guest House Washington.
Out of all the rooms Michael Wilson was asked to clean at the Whitley Guest House, the Basement was his favourite. The room had one bare bulb hanging from the low ceiling and only two small windows, whose light was blocked by overgrown ivy. But the task of sweeping and mopping the old stone floor could be stretched out to last most of the day.
If anyone had asked him, which they hadn't he grumbled, that if they wanted this house to look older by putting in the old stone flooring, they should add to the effect by not asking him to mop it out as often. But he preferred it to standing in the kitchen getting shouted at by the chef, and he damn well wasn't getting paid enough to deal with the public.
Down here with only his Ipod for company, he could imagine he was someplace else and not worry about mopping. So far this morning he had managed to stay down in the chilled basement for almost two hours before the heavy thud of the door startled him. Choosing to ignore the faint voice he could hear calling him though his earphones, Michael mopped vigorously at the stone floor.
His head rocked back and forth with the rhythm of the music, while his fingers danced over the handle of the mop as if across the fret board of his guitar. He daydreamed of the matt black Gibson he was saving up for and that image alone helped him push the mop around.
"Michael!" he heard, the voice getting closer and angrier, but he paid no attention but jumped back as the heavy hand slapped the back of his shoulder.
"What the hell!" Michael yelled as he tugged the earphones off his head and twirled around angrily. "Christ Jason, what ya do that for?"
"Kevin wants you up in the kitchen." Jason smiled at his visibly shaken friend.
"What for, I'm not finished mopping up down here." Michael argued indignantly as he swept his arm around the small basement.
"He says the wedding party is finished dinner and he needs a hand washing dishes."
"Alright," he replaced his earphones and grabbed his mop roughly. "I'll be up there as soon I drain this mop bucket."
His voice rose over the music and he turned to reach for the bucket. Jason thumped his back and raced back up the stairs. Stumbling from the friendly but exuberant thump, Michael tipped the bucket over and spilled its contents on to the cream tilled floor.
"Shit!" he exclaimed as he reached for it and pulled it back into place. The water spilled across the floor and he chased it with his mop as best he could. Without really caring, he banged the mop into a stack of chairs and jumped back as they suddenly toppled to the floor. "Crap," he muttered looking around to see if Kevin, the hotel manager had heard the clatter.
As quick as he could manage, he picked up the chairs and started to stack them again. He hurried to get them back into place before someone came looking for him again, and pushed them up against the wall but found their pathway blocked. Hunching down onto all fours, he held his face to the ground so he could look underneath, then he saw a bundle stuck between the legs of the chair and the wall.
With his arms outstretched and his chest flat on the cold floor he reached under and grabbed it. Pulling it out roughly, he kicked it aside and slid the chairs back into place. Grabbing his mop and bucket he turned to walk away, but stopped suddenly as he noticed the dark stains on his hands. The light was too dim to recognise it for what it was, but the wet feeling on his skin chilled him. He turned back to the chair and slowly walked over to the bundle he had kicked away so carelessly only moments ago.
It was brown cloth and coarse like a potato sack, tied several times around with blue twine. Looking closer, Michael noticed the same stains on the cloth as his hands as he reached out for it. It was heavy and uneven and there was a strong unrecognisable smell surrounding it, clinging to the rough cloth, so he dropped it quickly on an old discarded table that hugged the wall.
"Michael, you still down here?" Kevin yelled from the top of the stairs. "C'mon I need you up in the kitchen."
"Kevin!" Michael called without taking his eyes off the bundle. "You better get down here right away!"
"What's going on?"
"Come down!" Michael yelled out angrily and listened to the heavy thudding footsteps of his boss approaching. "I found something you should look at."
Kevin stood annoyed behind him, his hands on his hips and his brow furrowed angrily. "I have 45 guests out there waiting for dessert, this better be good," he muttered in a low impatient voice.
"I found this, hidden behind the chairs."
"What is it?"
"Dunno, but I think--I think it's covered in blood." Michael held up both his hands showing the dark staining on his skin. With careful, disgusted movements he pulled at the twine to loosen the package and pulled the sides apart.
The smell seemed to explode into the room like rotting meat and his stomach lurched. The air in his mouth was stale and hard to swallow but he wasn't about to take a breath, the stench grew sharper still, making them both cover their mouths.
Kevin held his tie over his nose and mouth and gagged as Michael pulled his tee-shirt collar up to cover his own. Carefully reaching down with slow movements he removed the last piece of cloth to reveal two human feet; two hands and another unrecognisable piece of meat. The flesh and muscle were decaying and the bones at the joints were jagged where they had been sawn free of whoever the victim was. Blood stained the cloth on the inside and had leaked heavily though the material but it was obvious there was little of it left, although neither of them could tell how long this grim package had remained hidden where it had been there.
Michael turned away and managed to crouch over the mop bucket, before his stomach protested the smell and rejected the small breakfast he'd eaten earlier.
Looking down at his hands he suddenly realised what the dark stains were. His stomach lurched again as he turned to see Kevin examining the dismembered limbs closely. But as his boss turned to him, he saw a revulsion that matched his own and then he noticed not only the feet and the hands but also the size of them. They were so much smaller than his own.
He looked down to his blood stained hands and somehow, suddenly, his brain realised that the severed limbs belonged to a child.
FBI Headquarters Basement Office.
The remainder of the day at the office was muted with a tremendous silence that smothered the air and seemed to suffocate them both. She sat at her desk looking at him from the corner of her eyes, but could offer him no more comfort then he had already rejected.
Watching the clock flick past four o' clock Scully sat back in her chair and sighed. The idea of her bubble bath lingered in the back of her mind but the black mood that Mulder was permeating was stopping it from forming into a full notion.
"You want to know why Agent Larkin hates me?" he said suddenly, dropping his pencil onto his desk and dragging his fingers loosely through his hair as he revived the question she had brought up a moment ago.
"Yes," she replied bluntly, focusing her eyes back on her screen.
"It's nothing really. Just a decaying hatred he has built up for me over the years." He stood to rifle through his case files, but she saw the movement as his offering of the proverbial olive branch. "You'd think a man of his age would be trying to bury the hatchet instead of keeping it festering."
"Festering over what?" Turning on her chair she faced him fully, her interest peaked.
"It's stupid--it's nothing." He shrugged it off but his refusal to meet her eyes intrigued her. "He'll be retiring soon and I won't have to deal with it anymore!" he added.
"You make it sound like you stole his woman!" she said laughing but stopped suddenly at the look on his face. "Mulder?"
"There may have been a member of the fairer sex involved--but I had no idea she was--with him."
"I can't believe this!" She tried to cover her smile with her hand but it wasn't working. "When did this happen?"
"A long long time ago. My second year in the bureau." Mulder admitted with a slight blush. "He was a big man on campus back then."
"Was it his wife?"
"His wife? No Scully!" he laughed at the preposterousness of the conversation but his mirth was cut off by the shrill sound of the phone. He snapped it up from its cradle. "Mulder."
After a short one-sided conversation Mulder hung up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. "That was Skinner. They found a new body. Looks like they need us after all. Ready for an autopsy?" Scully stood with him and followed him out to the stairwell without a word.
At Quantico the Lab had already been set up and AD Larkin met them in the lobby. His tie was missing and the top two buttons from his shirt had been undone. His face was clammy with a tinge of green lurking behind the surface. Scully walked in first and he extended his hand. She shook it carefully, not missing the fact that he swiftly put it back into his pocket as Mulder approached.
"It's in here," he said tersely, walking ahead into the lab allowing the agents behind him to exchange curious glances.
"It?" Mulder queried as they approached the large metal table that had been draped with a blue tarp.
"Gender is indistinguishable at the moment."
Beneath the coarse blue material she saw two feet, hands and another piece of flesh she couldn't recognise. Turning the small delicate hand in her own, she was physically sickened by the size of it. Having worked on so many cases, so may bodies and corpses she was able to control the urge she suddenly felt to flee.
The tiny fingers that she imagined didn't have the strength to defend against attack; the small feet that she thought had kicked out in vain only to fight a loosing battle. She gently placed the hand back onto the table and carefully touched the small foot.
"The body, or rather dismembered limbs of the body were found in the basement of a local guest house," Larkin sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose to dispel the impending headache.
"Has the rest been located?" Mulder asked fearing the answer he was about to hear.
"Partially. The skull and scapula bones were found buried in a shallow grave behind the hotel." Flicking through more pages he kept his eyes on the jumble of words rather then the remains on the table.
"The body--" Scully couldn't from words to finish her sentence.
"It was fed to the wedding guests." Larkin said coolly, leaving Mulder and Scully speechless, their mouths agape.
"What?" Scully managed to choke out.
"It seems that a delivery of meat the hotel were expecting was cancelled unbeknownst to the chef, who arrived to work this morning to a fridge full of fresh meat." Larkin walked across the room to the stainless steel counter where he had placed the file. He pulled out the photos of the basement where the limbs had been found, from the back and reluctantly passed them to Mulder.
"Why would he bury the skull and save the feet and hands?" Scully queried, trying hard to tamp down her growing horror.
"Maybe he was saving them for another trip?" Larkin suggested chancing a glance at the table but looking away quickly.
"The chef accounts for 40lbs of meat that was ingested by the wedding party but even with the skull, scapula, feet and hands there is still a considerable a amount missing." Scully said mentally calculating it in her mind.
A hot uncontrollable wave of fury washed over her, boiling her blood and clouding her vision. Her trained fingers ran over the roughly jagged edges from where the foot had been severed when it caught her eye.
"There is something written here--"She reached overhead to fix the light and pulled it down closer to the smoother flesh of the remains. Across the flat, dismembered flesh, they tried to make out the small black text.
""He told me so often how good Human flesh was, I made up my mind to taste it."" She read aloud.
"Albert Fish," Mulder said by her left ear.
"Who?" Larkin asked stepping back as Mulder pulled on some gloves and gingerly touched the writing. He watched as Mulder examined the text as if he could derive something of the writer from it.
"Albert Fish. He was a serial killer in the 1920's. The basis for the Hannibal Lector movies."
"1920's?" Larkin was clearly annoyed at Mulder's fractured thoughts.
"The last quote was from Albert De Salvo. He was active during the 1970's."
"These remains are fresh. Core temperature is still relatively high and decomposition has only just begun. I'd estimate it in the last 25 - 20 hours." Scully pulled off her jacket and reached for the lab coat that hung on the stand by the door.
"There are agents already going through recent reports of missing children." Larkin said stepping back to give her more room as she donned headgear and a fresh pair of gloves. "We're still trying to identify the--the child."
"This guy isn't thinking about the victims. I don't think the victim is important." Mulder's voice was low and Scully wasn't sure if he meant to say it aloud or not.
"Maybe not to you Mulder, but there's a parent out there who is missing her child-" Larkin said tersely almost eager to disagree with him. "But you wouldn't care about that," he added coldly and Scully instinctively knew that comment had nothing to do with this current case.
"It's not about the child, or the lady in the apartment. It's about the killers. Albert De Salvo, Albert Fish." Mulder walked around the table as if he hadn't heard Larkin, peering closer at the severed limbs. "Ted Bundy, Charles Manson--Jeffery Dahlmer--John Gacy--"
"Where the hell are you going with this Mulder?" Larkin asked angrily his face flush with the effort of remaining calm.
"It seems to me that he isn't interested in who he is killing but more how he is committing these acts."
"That doesn't help us discover his identity."
"No, not yet. But obviously he is trying to understand some of the most notorious killers in history. Get into their heads. Did you know that over 80 of all known serial killers were at some point employed for some sort of Law Enforcement?"
Scully tried to catch his eye. Tried to stop his diatribe but it was no use; he was no longer seeing the room, the autopsy lab or the other people with him. All he was focused on was the body, what was left of it. The decaying limbs, the severed foot, the plain black text.
"I think you were right about these." Mulder pointed to the limbs on the table. "They weren't buried with the skull because he was saving them."
"Saving them for what?" Larkin asked, not entirely interested in Mulder's reply.
"He said it himself here--He told me so often how good Human flesh was, I made up my mind to taste it."" Mulder stood up straight and fixed his eyes on Larkin's angry stare. "Maybe he was going to eat it."
Georgetown University Library Carpark
Janice Smith juggled the heavy literature books in one hand as she tried to locate her keys from her pocket with the other. Finally her fingers brushed against the cold metal of her car key and she tugged on it to free it from her jeans pocket. She winced at the scratching she could feel against her thigh as the jagged metal dragged across the inside of her pocket.
"Damn jeans, I knew they were too tight!" she muttered under her breath as she reached her car and dumped her books onto the roof. With both hands on the job now she pulled the keys out easily and quickly unlocked the door. She hurriedly placed her books onto the back seat and slipped out of her jacket and tossed it over them.
Glancing behind her, she dispersed the familiar chill down her spine that seemed to creep over her whenever she walked though the car lot alone. Only one other car sat in the lot and she knew it belonged to the Librarian. Jumping into her old Nissan she locked the door behind her and let out a little breath.
"Home James," she breathed aloud as she turned the key in the ignition and listened to her engine splutter to life. The small car shuddered in protest as she shoved the gear stick into reverse and pulled out of the space. She had parked right outside the doors to the library as usual, but it meant she had to travel the length of the car lot to get to the gate. With the sidewalks lined with trees and tall bushes, she always kept one eye on the road ahead and one eye on the pathway.
"Too many horror movies Janice!" she chastised herself as she reached the gate in safety. She settled into her seat and fumbled with the radio before checking the traffic and slipping the car into drive. Then she saw him.
Across the road with his leg in plaster up to his hip and a pile of books spilt out on the sidewalk before him, she recognised him from the library and had seen him there many times before. They had exchanged smiles and glances but no words had been uttered in the silent sanctuary of the library.
He had balanced one of his crutches against the wall as he tried to pick up his books, but even from across the road Janice could tell he was having terrible trouble. She glanced at her watch and saw it as nearing eleven thirty. Jack would be waiting, she argued with herself but she as watched his other crutch fall out from beneath him she sighed in resignation.
Driving quickly across the double lane road Janice Rolled her window down and smiled warmly.
"You look like you could do with a hand," she said unlocking the door and slipping off her seatbelt. Slowly he looked up and she saw his face red and sweaty with his efforts. He smiled in recognition and stood up fully.
"I'd prefer a foot but whatever you have to offer would be great,"
Janice jumped out of the car and quickly gathered his books. He passed her a backpack and she saw the broken zip through which they had fallen.
"Do you have another bag?" she asked.
"No, but it's okay. I'm getting the GUTS to Rosslyn station." He helped her bundle the books into the bag and tried to hold it closed as best he could
"Rosslyn Station? That's near Moore?"
"Yeah just around the corner."
"Let me give you a ride," Janice said suddenly much to her own surprise. "I'm going right by it."
"No I couldn't do that," he argued as he leaned back to reach for his crutch. "I couldn't impose."
"Please, I can't leave you struggling like this. It's only a few blocks."
"Are you sure?" he looked warily at her car.
"It's a tank!" she admitted sensing his concern about her car. "C'mon, get in."
She took his book bag from him and walked around to the passenger side. Dumping his bag onto the back seat, she held the door open for him and watched as he slowly made his way around to the seat. She'd pushed it back as far as it would go and he still had trouble fitting his cast in. But eventually, and with only a little pain he seemed settled.
Janice hurried around to her own seat and was soon buckled in next to him. She noticed immediately how his aftershave filled the car with that gorgeous masculine smell. Soap, aftershave and men, was there a better smell? She queried silently, casting him a sideways glance.
She gunned the engine, as a form of reassurance that it was still there and still needed, before pulling carefully out onto the road. Traffic around the university was light at this time of night and it wasn't long before she saw the bright lights of the metro station.
"That wasn't too hard now was it?" she said smiling as she pulled up near the entrance.
"It was a lot easier then I thought!" he admitted, shifting on his chair and facing her as much as his cast would allow.
"Do you need a hand up into the station?" She was looking out the window to the large entrance where a row of steps led to the ticket kiosk.
"No that's okay. I think I'll be staying here."
"Sorry?" she looked around to see him holding a small gun in his hand. It was nestled against his torso and out of view of passers by, but the barrel was unmistakably aimed at her head. "--What?"
"I want you to drive."
"Drive?" Her confusion was wild and she looked out to the metro station again. "Where?"
"Just start the car and drive. I'll let you know where to."
With shaking hands Janice pulled away from the curb and drove straight on Moore Street to Lynn Avenue, then continued north across the river back towards the university. It was all too soon that the familiar sights had disappeared; taking with them the small sense of hope she had been burgeoning since this nightmare began.
To her dismay they passed the university grounds and turned west onto Benton Street. He pointed towards the small garden park known as White Haven parkway and urged her to pull in silently. Janice killed the engine and kept her hands on the wheel. Her knuckles were white with tension as she turned slowly to see him. The hand holding the gun was lifted higher as he tugged on his cast and to her horror, she watched as it fell away from his leg.
"Get out of the car," he said tersely. Pushing open his own door he stepped out and quickly came around to meet her. "Move!"
He grabbed her elbow and dragged her towards the small park, pushing her through the broken hedge and following her with a sneer on his lips.
"What do you want?" Janice said suddenly finding the need to fight, the need to defend herself. "My boyfriend will be expecting me, he'll have called the police by now!"
"Yeah, sure." He pushed her further into the darkness and she looked up to the night sky. She could hear what little traffic there was on the surrounding roads but she doubted there was any hope that they would hear her. "Over there!"
He pushed her towards a group of willow trees and under the hanging branches. In the darkness he threw her to the ground and twisted her onto her back. She looked up to him with glistening eyes as he put the gun down and straddled her across her thighs. She wanted to buck him away but she was frozen in terror.
He smiled and ridiculously, she couldn't help but notice how nice and clean his even white teeth were. A dimple appeared on his left cheek and his eyes warmed, but as his hands fumbled at his belt she started to cry.
"No! Please! You have to let me go!" she wailed. "Please!"
She began beating her hands off his chest and twisting beneath him but he gripped her tightly with his knees and grabbed her hands. He held them up over her head stretching his torso along hers as he did. His nose brushed gently over her mouth, her cheek and across her eyes.
"Do you like it rough?" he whispered against her ear.
"Please--no," she whimpered, her tears flowing over her cheeks as she turned away from him.
He sat up again still holding her hands over her head and removed his belt. She screwed her eyes tightly shut as she prepared for his invasive touch but it never came. He released her hands and sat further up her torso, then lifted her head and slipped the coarse brown leather belt around her neck. He fed it through the buckle and tightened it around her neck forcing her to face forward.
She kept her eyes tightly shut to save herself from the horrible image, but as he tightened the belt they shot open wide with surprise. He forced her hands to rest alongside her body and pinned them there with his knees.
As she gasped for air and he tightened his belt she watched his smile deepen, darkening his chocolate brown eyes and lighting his whole face up. Then she watched dumbly as his eyes turned a light shade of blue and his cheeks puffed out. His skin ruffled then smoothed out to make a different face. Even his hair seemed to change colour to a sandy brown.
It all seemed so unreal until her lungs burned in pain and begged for release. Her legs kicked out fruitlessly and her mouth opened for the scream that would never come.
His eyes locked almost hypnotically with hers as he tightened the belt further, and one hand reached down to her abdomen to feel the rapid beating of her heart as her life fought the resistance.
Janice wanted to close her eyes, shut out the horror, but for some reason she couldn't. She held them open gasping for the air she so desperately wanted, until finally the darkness overcame her.
Mulder & Scully's Duplex
The sound of the phone was enough to wake her. It took a moment longer for her to roll towards the bedside table where the cordless set lay, but the ringing stopped before she could reach it. But it was too late. She was awake now and she knew she wouldn't get back to sleep. It was only then that she realised she'd woken to an empty bed again. Patting the pillow and the bedclothes she felt they were still warm.
Scully sat forward and pushed the duvet from her legs. She slowly got off the bed and padded around the room out to the hall, grabbing one of her partner's tee shirts from the chair and slipping it over her head. From the top of the stairs she could hear Mulder's muffled voice coming from the kitchen. Slowly she made her way downstairs and listened as his voice went quiet then heard him coming towards her.
Stopping two steps from the bottom, she placed her hands on each side of the stairs, watching as he approached. Delighted to see him wearing only his black boxers, she smiled at his ruffled bed-hair.
"Morning," he said standing at the bottom of the stairs and pulling her a step closer, his hands on her bare thighs. His fingers brushed the edges of her tee shirt and he was thrilled to see that she wasn't wearing any underwear. "What has you up so early Agent Scully?"
She circled his neck and leaned against him as his hands cupped her butt. "Early? What time is it?" she asked as he kissed the bottom of her neck.
"Quarter past five."
"Five?" She pulled away from him and looked out towards the window where the sun was leisurely making it's presence known. "Who was calling at five in the morning?"
"Skinner." His hands moved up her back pulling her against him tighter and he felt the tension intersect the muscles in her back across her shoulders.
"Skinner?"
"Yeah." Resigned to the fact that they had work to do, Mulder slapped her playfully then turned her round and followed her up the stairs. "AD Larkin called him and told him about another body."
"Why did he call Skinner?" she asked as an after thought as she went into the bathroom and flipped on the shower, before pulling towels from the hotpress.
"He may have accepted our help on this case but I don't think he's ready yet to ask for it outright." Scully stepped into the shower and quickly washed herself down, lathering her hair with shampoo. With her eyes closed and her fingers knotted into her hair she didn't see Mulder stepping in behind her and only realised he was there when his fingers replaced hers in her hair.
"You never did explain to me why he hates you so much." She teased, tilting her head back so he could reach her better.
"Didn't I?" He brought her head under the warm spray and rinsed it off and she realised he was stalling.
"So? Aren't you going to tell?" she asked as they swapped positions and he stood under the water.
"There is nothing to tell really." He tilted his head back and let the warm water caress his face.
"I'll find out sooner or later Mulder so you may as well tell me now!" Stepping out of the shower Scully draped a warm towel around herself against the chill and watched as he pretended he hadn't heard her. He lathered his hair with closed eyes as she sat on the closed toilet and waited.
"You still here?" he jibed playfully when he turned off the shower and stepped out to grab his own towel.
"C'mon Mulder!" her eyes sparkled as his cheeks flushed and he knew it was a loosing battle. "Sharing is caring!"
He laughed out loud, a raw chortle at her angelic expression as he soaped his face up with shaving cream. Standing in front of the mirror he could see her watching him from the other side of the small bathroom, a determined smile embracing her lips and lighting her eyes.
It had been too long since he had seen her like that. Too long since he had put that expression on her face and as he turned his own smile faded.
"I love you Scully," he said suddenly serious, causing her smile to falter for a second, then it returned if somewhat faded.
"Don't try to weasel out of this one Mulder," she chuckled glancing at her watch as she stood and walked towards the door. "Don't make me go Special Agent on you!" she added over her shoulder as she went to their room to dress.
By the time Mulder had finished shaving he heard Scully pottering in the kitchen. No doubt making toast and coffee that she'd force him to have. He smiled, wondering how he would explain that he had been up for ages and had already eaten three of the bagels she was saving for lunch.
Looping his tie around his neck he raced downstairs and snatched a slice of buttered wheat toast off her plate before she could offer it.
"We have twenty minutes to get to Quantico," he informed her around a mouthful of breakfast.
"We?" she queried finishing off her last slice and putting the plate into the sink.
"Well I'll drop you at Quantico." He fixed his tie as they walked through the kitchen and took the coat she handed out.
"And you?"
"I'm going out to the precinct to meet Detective Brice who called in the murder."
14 Thomas Street
The dull grey of the computer screen was the only illumination in the room. With the heavy curtains drawn and all the windows shut, the air was warm and stale with the smell of rotting meat permeating every crevice. But he didn't even notice it anymore. It was part of him. Part of what he had created. The smell of victory, he decided chuckling to himself as he raised the cold glass of milk to his lips.
He had been staring at the computer screen for so long that the words had become jumbled, insincere. After arriving home on such a high last night he got immediately to writing, but that had been over eight hours ago and the adrenaline rush had worn off. He typed the last sentence over and over again, until the words held no meaning and he knew his train of thought could not be recaptured. He templed his fingers before him and concentrated on the text he'd written in an urge to encapsulate the feeling he had lost. Then started to type again.
He was a handsome, charming, urbane and extrovert graduate, who did charity work and campaigned for the Republican Party in the USA - Ted Bundy did not fit the bill as a serial killer. And that was his great advantage.
"You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God."
God? Through the creation of life we can ourselves feel godly but with death will it be the same? Do I take the role of the almighty deity?
He read aloud what he had just typed and smiled.
Saving the word file, he pushed the chair away and stood up with curling limbs as he stretched the aches away. He lifted the now empty glass from the desk and brought it out to the sink where he rinsed and left it on the sideboard to dry. Checking the clock over the stove he noticed he still had another hour before classes began so he strolled to the bathroom and started the shower. Undressing in the total darkness of his bedroom he grabbed a towel from the press and stepped into the steam filled room.
After thoroughly washing himself down he wrapped the towel around his waist and stood before the mirror to shave. Slowly and with well-practised ease he pulled the straight razor across his cheeks until it was as smooth as he desired. He splashed warm water over his face and rubbed in the moisturiser.
He took his time choosing his shirt and tie and finally decided on the white shirt with dark red tie. It contrasted wonderfully with the black Jacket and trousers, he thought as he carried his shoes downstairs. In the kitchen he glanced at the kettle as he tied his laces and decided against coffee. Wanting a latte instead, he thought he'd grab one on the way. Opening the fridge he tried to ignore the rotten smell as he took a swig of milk from the carton before grabbing his keys and sauntering down the steps of his front door. The sun was high and bright today as he walked through the morning pedestrian traffic.
On the corner of the block was the coffee shop he frequented so often. He no longer had to ask for his order. As soon as the waitress spotted him walking in she prepared his latte and wrapped up a slice of marble cake. He winked at her as he handed over a few bills and told her, as usual, to keep the change.
"Can I offer you a lift sir?" He'd just stepped outside into the light and was blinded for a moment by the brilliance of the sun. The words, the simple gesture of kindness caused his heart to beat a rapid rhythm in his chest. He held up his hand to shade his eyes from the sun and spotted Carrie Goldman in a sporty red car by the curb. She watched him with a flirty smile as her hair cascaded around her face." Professor Brown?" she purred when he didn't reply.
"Carrie, good morning," he managed to say as he deliberately slowed his breathing and tried to ignore his heart's lurch into his stomach.
"I'm just on my way to the university. Can I offer you a lift Professor?"
"No that's ok. It's only a couple of blocks. I'll enjoy the walk."
"Your parents told you not to take lifts from strangers?" she said laughing as she started the engine smoothly and slipped on a pair of sunglasses; not noticing that he didn't laugh with her as she pulled away from the curb.
Washington DC Police Dept Idaho Ave
"Suspect?" Mulder queried, his voice high with surprise as they entered the exam room next to an occupied interview room.
"No. He called us last night to report his girlfriend missing." Mulder looked through the interview window to the young man who was nervously sipping luke-warm water from a plastic cup. "We told him to come by this morning and file a report."
"He hasn't officially identified the body?" Mulder asked looking through the pictures in his hand of the crime scene that was discovered early this morning.
"No but as he was waiting at the reception area, Detective Pearson was carrying the evidence bag from the murder scene and he recognised her belongings." Mulder closed his eyes and bit off a curse.
"Do you mind if I talk to him?" Mulder asked, remembering to ask before barging in and taking control of their investigation. He smiled inwardly with the knowledge of Scully's influence and slipped the photos back into the file folder on the table.
"Not at all."
Mulder nodded at Detective Brice and slipped out of the room. He paused a moment by the interview room door and took a breath. As he opened the door the young man looked up, his eyes red raw from the unshed tears and his arms hugged tightly to his body as if racked with a chill.
"Mr Jack Douglas?" Mulder extended his hand and waited for him to shake it. He took a seat across from him and leaned forward, interlocking his fingers before him. "I am special Agent Fox Mulder from the FBI."
"FBI? What the hell? FBI? Where is she? Why won't they tell me anything?" His speech was slurred and rapid, quivering with the emotion he was experiencing.
"When did you last see your girlfriend?" Mulder asked allowing him to take a breath before answering.
"Last night." Jack wrang his hands together then wiped his palms on his jeans. His eyes darted from Mulder to the large mirror that was on the wall. "I got in from work at seven and we chatted for five minutes before she left."
"Where did she go?"
"She always goes to the university library on Friday nights. A study group." He gulped down the last of his drink.
"She attends one of the local universities?"
"Georgetown. She's just finishing her degree in Chemistry."
"Do you know who is in that group with her?" Mulder pulled a notepad from his breast pocket and prepared to take the names down.
"Three of her class mates. Jerry Conway, Matt Wilson and Kate Young."
"What time does she usually return home?" Mulder walked over to the dispenser and poured himself and Jack more water.
"Usually around eleven but she has stayed as late as 1am, usually only if she has an exam coming up. She was supposed to be home last night though."
"Why do you say that?"
"We had booked theatre tickets. For the late show. The AMC were showing the Star Wars triple bill starting at midnight."
"When did you call the precinct?"
"A little after midnight. At first I was just mad at her for forgetting, but I called Matt's place and he said they all left just before eleven and that she was speaking with the librarian."
"So you began to worry?" Mulder inferred urging him to continue to speak.
"I tried calling her cell but it kept going to that damn message minder." He sipped his drink and Mulder sympathetically watched as more tears welled up. "I thought maybe she had car trouble but I figured she would have phoned or texted. So I called the police. They said I had to wait 24 hours before I made a report." He sneered and rolled his eyes looking at the mirror with contempt.
"So you came down first thing this morning?" Mulder prompted.
"Yeah. I couldn't sleep much so I was down here by five this morning. They made me wait a couple of hours and as I was waiting I saw a cop carrying in Janice's backpack."
"You are sure it was hers?"
"Yes. I made it. I'm a graphic designer," he added at Mulder's quirked eyebrow. "It has a design of a dragon on the back of it and some Chinese writing on the side."
Mulder looked at the mirror and nodded. Within ten seconds there was a light rap on the door and it was immediately opened. Zip locked in a large evidence bag was a navy blue backpack; the dragon design just as Jack had described on the back. He pulled the bag closer and began to open the evidence bag.
"I'm afraid we can't let you do that. It is still being processed," Mulder said kindly, placing his hand over Jack's to stop him tearing open the plastic barrier.
"Processed?" the expression of confusion on Jack's face was so innocent that Mulder had to look away. He removed the bag from the table and passed it back to the officer who carried it in, swallowing hard.
"This morning at four fifteen there was a female body discovered at Whitehaven Parkway."
"A body?" Jack barely whispered as he slumped back in his chair and Mulder watched as the color physically drained from his face.
"The physical description matches that of Janice Smith. Her car was found a few blocks away."
"Can-- can I see her?" Jack's tears fell loosely about his face, streaming across his cheeks and blurring his vision. His voice cracked as he sat up and tried to regain control of his emotions but Mulder could see he was fighting a loosing battle.
"Of course." He patted his arm sympathetically, " I'll arrange everything."
The scraping sound of the chair disguised Jack's sobs as Mulder pushed away from the table and left the room. Detective Brice was waving at him to join him from across the room.
"Agent Mulder, we might need your help with this one!" Detective Brice said as he held his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and lowered it from his angry face.
"What's that?" Mulder asked as he crossed the bullpen towards him.
"Library security won't release footage till we get a warrant." Brice handed him the phone and Mulder took it with a grimace, wishing immediately that Scully was here to smooth out this stuff.
"Hello?"
"You need a warrant to get it, I don't care," Came the terse reply from the other end of the phone.
"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI."
"I don't care if you are the godammed Pope. Call me when you get your warrant." To Mulder's surprise the phone suddenly went dead. With a bewildered smile he passed the receiver back to Brice who was shaking his head slowly.
"He said we should call back, with a warrant."
"And with a few more choice words too I'm sure! What an asshole." Brice rolled his eyes heavenwards.
"I'll sort out the warrant and collect the footage. I want to see if maybe librarian will remember Janice. Can you get someone to call these three? Apparently she was studying with them last night." He ripped out the page of his notebook and handed it to Detective Brice.
"Sure. I'll take Douglas to the morgue to officially identify the body."
"Okay. Will you call Agent Scully first to make sure she's ready for viewing?"
"No problem."
1/3