Title: Mortuus Iterum
Author: Skinfull
Rating: NC 17
Classification: Case filefor VS 13...complete with all gory scenes
Spoilers: None...that I know of...
Feedback: Various Murders are occurring in the DC area with a hint of familiarity to them.
Mortuus Iterum (Dead Again)
By Skinfull
2/3
Quantico Autopsy LabDana Scully pulled the latex gloves off quickly and tossed it aside. Rushing over to the counter, she grabbed a notebook and pen and hurried back to the cold body on the slab. She pressed the record button on the recorder again and reached overhead to aim the light for a better view of the text then carefully she jotted it down it down.
"You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God!" she read aloud. "The text is clearly written in a soft text that appears was tattooed on with great care. No residual bleeding on the fresh wound either suggesting it was post mortem. " She turned to find her phone when it began ringing and smiled as she spotted his name on the ID display.
"Mulder, how do you do it?"
"Pure skill mixed with raw unadulterated manly talent," came the quick reply.
"I was just about to ring you." She said glancing down at the page in her hand.
"You found something?" She could hear he was driving; she hated talking on the phone with him while he was driving.
"Yes. On her belt buckle I found some calcium sulphate CaCo3.1/2H2O. According to the local police chief I spoke to a moment ago there were traces of it in her car too."
"And that would be?"
"Plaster of Paris."
"Did she have a broken bone?"
"Not according to her recent medical records."
"What else?" He asked knowing she was holding more.
"Another quote," she said, and then read it aloud for him.
"Ted Bundy," he came back immediately.
"Where are you going Mulder?" she asked finally, realising he was still driving.
"Back to the Hoover building. I need to get warrants to secure video footage from the university library. There is a young man coming to identify the body soon. Will she be ready?"
"Yes. I'm done here." Scully glanced sadly over at the body on the table and mentally calculated the time she'd need to make her ready for viewing.
"Okay I'll pick you up on the way to the library."
Georgetown UniversityThe students filed out quickly, racing through the corridors to make it to their next lecture. Michael Brown watched them silently making sure each student dropped their report on his desk as they filed by. Most of the girls cast hopeful smiles in his direction but he paid them no heed, watching the reports pile up instead.
"Professor?" turning slowly to his right he saw Aimee Traxler approaching his desk rather sheepishly. She clutched her folder to her chest and fixed her eyes on a point on his cheek, refusing to make eye contact with him. "Sir, I was wondering if I could get an extension."
"Extension?" He toyed with her, enjoying the way the muscles in her face scrunched up with nerves.
"I didn't get time to finish my report. I've been working so hard at the paper this month that everything got away from me." She knew she was babbling now and she tried to stop the flow of clumsy words that cascaded from her dry mouth but she couldn't help it.
"Is my class too difficult for you Aimee?"
"No sir, it's just the time-"
"You had no time put aside to do your report?"
"I had sir, but the paper kept calling me about the bodies they found in the city, they needed articles on it and its my job, I need the money to pay the rent." Aimee's cheeks burned hot under the curious gazes of her fellow students as they watched her squirm.
"The report was due today. You have until 3pm to have it on my desk. No later."
"Sir!" Aimee began but he had gathered up the pile of pages and turned to leave the room.
"3PM Aimee. No Later or you will fail my class. Now run along."
"Yes sir," came her soft defeated reply.
Michael Brown stepped through the corridor, his face clear of the thrill he was feeling. He loved his job, the constant interaction with students, and the mixture of emotions of fear, happiness, joy and confusion that emanated from the students on a daily basis.
He stepped into his office and locked the door behind him. Folding all the reports he held, he neatly fit them into the trashcan before sitting at his desk and reaching for the red folder from the bottom drawer.
Slowly he opened it and flicked through the pages towards the end. With an orange highlight marker he ruled lines across a name on the list -- Ted Bundy, then added yesterday's date and a computer filename after it.
Georgetown University LibraryScully climbed out of the car and took a deep breath of fresh air into her lungs. After being in the autopsy lab all morning she welcomed the stinging breeze that tickled her throat and wafted through her hair.
"This guy was on a major power trip this morning," Mulder said mockingly as he fiddled with the warrant in his hand and pulled his badge out of his pocket.
"He was within his right to demand a warrant Mulder."
"Maybe, but when its someone's life, its annoying as hell."
They walked through the main doors and Scully stood back a little as Mulder slapped the warrant purposefully on the reception desk and held his badge out to the baffled looking receptionist.
"Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. I'm here to collect the video footage from your CCTV cameras."
"You'll need to speak to Kip, let me call him." With trembling fingers she dialled through to the security office and spoke quickly. After replacing the receiver she looked up to Mulder and nodded. "He is on his way down."
Mulder turned to Scully and took a few steps closer.
Kip. He mouthed soundlessly in her direction, and then rolled his eyes.
"People in glass houses…Fox!" she replied and he grinned.
Just then a small door to the left of the entrance opened quickly and a small stout man with receding hairline and an expanding waistline marched over to them. Mulder held his badge out stiffly and handed him the warrant.
"We need to collect the footage immediately. Any hesitation on your part will result in immediate arrest."
"This way." Kip stiffly led them through the door and into the security hub where a bank of televisions covered one wall.
"Can we see the footage from last night?"
"What time?"
"From 10 pm to 4 am," Scully butted in and leaned forward, resting her hands on the console to get a closer look.
The footage whizzed by and at precisely 11.24 the unmistakable figure of Janice Smith left the library and hurried to her car. Scully watched the monitor as the body she had been examining all morning was brought to life on the grainy black and white screen. She was seen unlocking her car getting in and driving off the scene towards the gateway.
"Nothing. You?" Mulder asked.
"No."
"Do you have anything from a different angle?"
"No sir, we cover the door and the grounds, but nothing else on the entrance."
"I need that tape."
Kip ejected the tape and passed it over to Mulder with a crooked smile.
"Sorry about earlier but we get a lot of crank call from the students."
Mulder grudgingly grunted his acceptance then left, Scully smiling in his wake before following him quickly. She found him leaning against the tall reception desk speaking softly with the librarian.
"She was in here last night with four students. Left at about 11.30. Do you recall her?"
"No, I'm afraid not." The librarian was visibly shaken and Scully appreciated the soft tones Mulder took with her, easing her through his questions. "Has something happened?"
"We're just tracing her whereabouts. So you don't remember her?"
"I'm afraid we get so many students in this time of year. With thesis studies and exams on…" her voice trailed off and Mulder slipped his card across the marble surface.
"Well if anything comes back to you, let me know."
"I will."
Mulder smiled and turned to walk out the large double doors. However instead of climbing into the car, Mulder walked away from the building towards the entrance at the road.
"Mulder?"
"If she made it to her car safely, then how did he get in her car?" he mused aloud to no one in particular. "The plaster was in her car so he must have been in it before the murder. If it was afterwards he would have driven the car further away."
Scully followed him and they both walked the short distance to the gateway. Across the road they spotted the bus stop and little else. The buildings were mainly residential with little or no security measures in place.
"You know Ted Bundy used to have a fake cast. He would put it on his leg and pretend to be injured to lure women into his car, under the guise of helping him."
"You think that's what he did?"
"We saw her get into her car. She made it. There was no delay when she got in that would indicate someone was waiting for her in the backseat." He watched the traffic for a break then raced over to the bus shelter, Scully in tow. "It's possible he was waiting here for her."
"Mulder maybe in the 70's you'd stop to help a stranger but not now a days."
"Maybe he was someone she knew. Maybe that's why she stopped." Stooping low on the ground he spotted two white marks that looked like chalk on the pavement "See this?"
Scully rubbed her fingers off them and brushed the tips of her fingers against each other. She glanced up at Mulder with a knowing look, then took a tissue from her pocket and brushed it roughly over the markings. As she slipped the tissue into a concealed evidence bag Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called for a crime scene unit.
FBI HeadquartersSitting in the meeting room, Mulder swivelled gently from side to side on his chair watching the door and waiting for Agent Larkin to make his entrance. Next to him Scully was reading over her autopsy report, knowing she would be asked to go over it aloud, dumbing it down for non-medically trained agents.
"Do you think this is for my benefit?" he asked softly, leaning towards her and resting his elbows and forearms on the table.
"Don't be so hedonistic," she said without looking up. "He is trying to make an entrance, assert his authority. But I don't think it is purely for your benefit."
"Maybe not," Mulder conceded, leaning back on is chair to swivel some more.
Just then the door swung open admitting AD Larkin's confident gait. He had shed his jacket and had rolled his sleeves up past his elbows but his tie remained securely fastened to his collar.
"Okay, what have we got? Autopsy, Agent Scully?" he said as he crossed the room to the top of the table, his eyes focusing on the sheets of paper in his hand. He offered no one a look and barely gave the impression he was listening.
"Janice Smith died of asphyxiation. She was strangled with a leather belt with a steel buckle. I found bruising on her torso and abrasions on her hands to suggest that she was restrained with her arms by her side. Possible he straddled her while choking her." Scully spoke loudly and clearly, looking straight at AD Larkin.
"Any text on her body?" Larkin asked glancing up at her over the rim of his glasses.
"Yes sir. A Ted Bundy quote. "'You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God."" Scully let her words sink in before continuing. "Also on her belt and in her car I found traces of calcium sulphate CaCo3.1/2H2O." She saw the bewildered looks on the agent's faces then added, "Plaster of Paris."
"Ted Bundy used fake leg casts," Agent Daly supplied.
"We obtained the security footage from the University Library this morning and confirmed Janice Smith left at 11.24pm. She got into her car and drove away from university property safely," Mulder spoke up.
"However across the street at a bus stop Agent Mulder found traces of calcium sulphate on the pavement. We called a CSI unit immediately."
"On the Scene?" AD Larkin looked over to Agent Jones who was heading up the CSI Unit.
"We found the calcium sulphate but little else. Cigarette buts and hair samples we took are being processed for prints and DNA but it was a public bus stop, so there is no guarantee they belong to our perp."
"We interviewed several drivers from different bus routes who would have been at the bus stop between 10.30 and 12 and some of them remember seeing a man on crutches." Agent Holwel added. He pulled from his folder a photofit picture and passed copies around the room.
"Approx. 6 foot 2. 120 pounds. Light brown hair well trimmed and well dressed. He had his left leg in a cast from hip to ankle and was carrying a backpack of books. He didn't get on or off any of the buses and was leaning against the wall."
"He was spotted at 10.20 by a bus driver named Damien Wright but wasn't there at 10.10 when Maggie Marks drove by."
Mulder stared down at the picture before him. There was nothing remarkable about this man. No distinguishable scars or marks on his face that would make him easily spottable. His eyes were open, wide and Mulder stared into them intensely wondering what made him do the things he did.
"So what's next?" AD Larkin asked the room.
"I'm meeting with Detective Brice in half an hour. He was interviewing her study partners," Mulder offered.
"We are waiting for results to come back on the prints and DNA."
"Okay then. Get to it." Larkin stood up and watched as the agents gathered their files and left the room. "Agent Mulder, a word."
Mulder cast Scully a wary glance before turning back to the table. He dropped his files on the table but refused to sit down. When the last Agent had left the room and closed the door behind him leaving them alone, AD Larkin slowly took his glasses off and folded them into his breast pocket.
"If you ever go over my head to authorise a warrant and a CS Unit again, I will have you busted down so quickly…." Larkin ground out angrily, his hands spread out on the table before him and his eyes boring into Mulder's.
"Sir?" Mulder faltered.
"You continuously try to undermine my authority and I won't have it. Once more Mulder…just try it again and you'll regret it."
Larkin stood stiffly and stalked from the room, leaving Mulder staring dumbfounded after him. He leaned back against the table and watched as Scully re-entered the room.
"What was all that about?"
"He just wanted to chew me a new one for getting a warrant for the video footage and calling the CS unit without his authorisation. A job he should have done but didn't. "
"What?" Scully said surprised leaning back next to him.
"He's just not going to let it go."
"Let what go Mulder. What did you do? Why does he hate you?"
Mulder looked over to her and knew it was time to tell her. Regardless of how embarrassing it would be.
"Okay. I'll tell you on the way to the precinct."
Mulder led the way silently to the car and pulled out into the midday traffic without uttering a word. Scully let him drive a couple more blocks before turning to face him.
"Well?"
"Huh?" he said in mock confusion glancing at her sideways.
"Tell me Mulder. Spill."
"Okay." He pulled up at a red traffic light and drummed his fingers rhythmlessly on the steering wheel. "It happened years ago."
"Yeah, yeah I heard this bit…second year in the bureau…what happened?" she teased, smiling at his obvious discomfort.
"It was at the Directors Christmas Ball. Back when I was still out to impress and attended those god awful events."
Scully laughed, knowing his disdain for those nights now.
"I attended with a friend of mine from the academy but she quickly hooked up and left me to fend for myself."
"Poor you."
"I know! Well I was at the bar, I started talking to a woman and she actually fell for my clumsy attempt at conversation. We laughed and talked for a while then I asked her to dance. I'm not sure why. It must have been the whiskey talking." Behind them a car beeped them to move with the traffic and Mulder slipped the car into gear and took off. He concentrated on driving for a while longer then continued talking.
"We pretty much danced for most of the night and as everything was rolling up to an end, I felt a finger tap my shoulder."
"AD Larkin?" Scully guessed.
"Agent Larkin at the time…wondering if he might spend some time with his date..."
Scully covered her mouth with her hand in mock shock.
"Right in the middle of the dance floor," Mulder said, "She started to explain how she had attended the ball with him only as a friend and now wanted me to escort her home."
"Oh Mulder!"
"Needless to say AD Larkin was livid. To his credit he didn't do anything further that night but ever since he has had it out for me."
"And you and this mystery heart breaker?" Scully inquired teasingly, "did you make it worth her while?"
"I never kiss and tell Scully!"
Scully laughed sensing there was more to that story than he was letting on. More to the mystery woman than he was willing to reveal but she didn't push, Mulder looked embarrassed enough. Even more surprising was the childish grudge of a grown man like Larkin.
Fort Totten ParkMichael Brown watched from the back of the crowds. His eyes scanned the room for the long silky blonde hair he craved. He could already feel the silky strands between his fingers and he felt himself hardening at the prospect of making it real. Thankful for the cover of darkness as he ambled through the park, he worked his way through the crowd that had gathered for the midnight concert by the local orchestra.
The music was soulful as it drifted through the still night air. Most people had brought blankets to sit on but some hovered near the back, content to listen to the sounds while standing. The carefully executed performance across the grand piano stalled even Michael's thoughts as he halted a moment to immerse himself in the haunting music.
Then he saw her.
She sat alone on a red and blue chequered blanket with tasselled endings. Spread out on it next to her was some music sheets and notebooks that she scribbled things down whenever the mood struck her.
Michael circled slowly around her in a wide perimeter to get a better view. From the front he could see the pale complexion of her beautifully clear skin. Her eyes he couldn't make out but decided to examine them closer when he got the chance. Her hands moved fluidly along the music sheets as she noted down the sounds that drifted over her, the riffs that touched her and the thoughts they provoked.
Perfect, Michael thought, wondering how he would sit next to her, strike up the conversation and get her alone. Then with a sinking heart he watched as another man approached her, with two glasses of wine in his hands he crouched beside her and proffered one glass towards her. He couldn't hear their words but from the surprised expression on her face it wasn't an expected intrusion. She declined his offer of the glass of wine and gestured towards the work she was doing, before smiling warmly at him as he turned and left.
Michael wasn't sure if he was glad that she was still alone or worried now that he might get the same reaction. For a moment longer he watched the crowd, then as the couple that were sitting next to him rose to get some more wine from a vendor behind them an idea struck him.
Quickly he gathered up their blanket and walked away from the crowds. Back at his car, he took a notebook and a pencil from the glove box and folded the blanket carefully under his arm. Shedding his coat, he loosened his shirt collar and tie and made his way back to the park in a seemingly random route. When he approached her from behind, he avoided all contact with her and secured a spot on the grass to the left and just in front of her.
Laying the blanket out before him, he took the notebook out and started to line the pages with the five recognisable lines for music notation. When he had the page fully lined, he summoned up all the musical lessons he could remember and started to take note of the melodies that played around him.
He had filled the first page and was beginning to line the second page when her voice called out to him softly.
"Excuse me?" He ignored it the first time and concentrated on lining his page as best he could, delighting in her persistence. "Excuse me?"
"Me? Were you talking to me?" he half turned to her inquiringly.
"I see you are taking note of the music."
"Trying to. I forgot my music note book, so I'm trying to make do."
"I can give you some sheets if you'd like." He turned fully towards her with an easy smile and watched as she pulled out some pages of her notebook and handed them out to him.
"Thank you, that would be great."
"No problem. Nothing worse then the homemade music bars!"
"I'm Joe by the way." He took the pages and held out his hand.
"Stephanie."
Feeling he was near her limit of intrusion he smiled warmly at her and turned back to his work, hoping she wouldn't want to compare notes at the end.
When the orchestra had finished playing and the crowds began to slowly dissipate, Michael took his time gathering up his things. He couldn't help but notice that she was stalling too.
"Beautiful wasn't it?" he ventured as he folded his blanket clumsily.
"Yes. They played a lovely rendition of Brandenburg's concerto."
"Quite."
"Do you play?" she asked.
"I play piano and dabble in violin but I wouldn't say it is suitable for human consumption." He laughed and she smiled with him. "You? Do you play?"
"I used to play violin with the national orchestra in New York but not anymore."
Without realising it they began to walk away from the park towards the bank of cars near the entrance. Michael deliberately slowed their pace hoping the crowds would be lessened by the time they got there.
"Oh? Why not?"
"I was in a car accident a couple of years ago. Broke my hand and severed my nerves." Her voice was steady as she spoke but he caught the glint of regret in her eyes.
As they crossed the car park, she fumbled in her pocket for her keys and opened the driver's door.
"It was a pleasure talking with you, Joe."
"And you." He watched as she climbed in and buckled her seatbelt, then screamed inside with triumph as she rolled the window down.
"Is your car here?"
"No I'm staying in a hotel a couple of blocks away. The Plaza."
"Can I offer you a lift?"
"No, that's okay I couldn't impose."
"It's no problem. It's the least I can do for a fellow music lover."
He climbed in beside her and smiled as she drove off. She parked across the road from the hotel and accepted his offer of a nightcap in the hotel bar. They claimed two comfy seats near the back of the room and sat close sipping wine and talking softly. The bar staff topped up their drinks without being asked and soon Stephanie was surprised to see the creeping rays of daylight color the city streets outside.
"Oh my, it's late."
"Or early," Michael added, moving his hand from her knee, where it had rested most of the night, to her cheek.
"I better go," she said softly but made no move to do so.
"Stay," he whispered, kissing her cheek where his fingers had just stroked. "Stay with me."
One arm snaked around her shoulders pulling her closer and the other crept up her knee to her thigh and circled her waist. She slid easily onto his lap sitting sideways with her head on his shoulder. He bent slowly and kissed her warmly. His mouth was warm and wet against her lips and she sighed into the kiss, parting her lips for him and allowing him to kiss her deeper.
"Will you come upstairs to my room?" he asked in between the butterfly kisses trailing her neck as his lips covered as much of her skin as he dared in this semi public area.
"Yes," she panted.
He slid her off his lap onto her feet and followed her closely. Taking her hand, he led her through the empty bar and lobby to an elevator behind reception. Once the door closed, offering them more privacy than they had all night, he pressed her to the elevator wall and pushed his body against her.
She couldn't help the desire that coursed through her as he squeezed her breast through her blouse, nipped at her ear lobe and licked her neck in small teasing strokes. The elevator ride was all too short to the fifth floor. He all but pulled her out of the confines and along the hall to his room.
Once inside, all the resolve disappeared as they hungrily shed clothes. His shirt and tie fell next to her skirt and blouse. Her underwear came off so easily, the silky material slipping against her satin skin to the floor in a luxurious puddle.
"Joe," she breathed softly.
"Shhh," he urged as he dropped the rest of his clothes and peeled off his socks. "Don't say it. I'm not used to the passion you bring out in me. I've never done anything like this before."
"Me neither."
He knew they were he words she wanted to hear. The words she longed for of reassurance.
"Lets not ruin it!" he urged his smile crooked and hopeful as he let his finger trace an invisible line from her chin to her navel. She let her head fall back as he stepped closer and covered her body with his tongue. His hands stroked her back, cupping her buttocks and pulling her against him and his obvious desire.
"Can I…" he gestured to her hair that she still had tied back in a loose pony tail. "take your hair down?"
"Of course," she said breathlessly.
He moved around her back and let his hands cover her breasts as his lips found the sensitive spots on her neck. Slowly and teasingly he pulled on the loose tie that held it all in place and let her silky blonde hair cascade down her back. His fingers ran through it opulently and moved it over her shoulder so his lips could continue to kiss her.
"Oh Joe," she sighed trying to reach around to touch him but he evaded her finger light caress.
"No Stephanie, I won't be much use for very long if you do that," he said laughingly. Then taking her hand he led her over to the bed and pushed her back gently against the mattress. He rested over her, balancing his weight on his forearms as he started to kiss her heavily, urgently. Without volition from him, her legs parted and she wrapped them around him, pulling him closer, deeper.
He pushed himself off the mattress and angled his body for deeper penetration and she gasped in delight. Bracing his legs off the footboard he took the weight off his arms and roughly fondled her breasts. She arched her back to get closer, to push her breasts against his palms and pressed her head back into the mattress.
The position was perfect he decided. He could feel her muscles tensing and the rhythm of her hips accelerating and her breaths quickening. At that precise moment, his fingers clamped around her throat. When her mind and body were filled with ecstasy his grip tightened.
For a moment the sensation was numb to her as her body cascaded over the foreign falls. But as her breathing slowed she realised she couldn't take in any air. Her eyes flew open and with hazy vision she looked up into his cold dark eyes. The beautiful smile she had admired so much earlier, the soft lilting laugh that filled her with desire were all gone. In its place was the cold expression of concentration, of evil. Green eyes and a stranger's face stared back at her. She watched in horror as his face shimmered before her, his cheeks moving and his muscles contracting wildly like shifting sand.
Her body jerked against the mattress as he pushed into her furiously, His breathing became labored and the lighting in the room faltered before her oxygen starved brain. Her hands still tingling from her orgasm, grappled with his but it was no use. The darkness was enveloping her, pulling her down, heavily and quickly.
Michael watched as the light dimmed from her half closed eyes and finally her hands fell limply to her sides. His fingers that had pressed so hard were cramping now along with his body as he pushed against her one last time before falling flaccidly over her.
Plaza HotelDetective Brice paced the floor of the ornate lobby until he spotted Mulder and Scully walking in, he shook both their hands and gestured for them to follow him. They all took the elevator to the fifth floor where a smaller lobby greeted them. There was no receptionist at this one only a phone, a fire extinguisher and several shelves of towels and pillows for guests use. Also to the left of the elevator were two doors marked with the familiar male and female signs for restrooms.
"The body was found at 11.03am today, by another guest." He opened the door to the female restrooms and stood before the middle stall. The door had been removed off its hinges and was leaning against a different wall. The entrance was blocked off by yellow police tape.
From her pocket Scully pulled out a pair of latex gloves slipped them on easily. Mulder held up the tape for her to step under and she crouched low over the body.
The body was completely naked, twisted and contorted around the toilet. The ligature marks on her neck was unmistakable, so much that Scully could make out the individual finger marks.
"According to the night staff she arrived with a man, who had a room. Joseph Toucan at about 1am. They went into the resident's bar and stayed there till about 4. By that time they had gotten real pally, if ya know what I mean."
Mulder turned towards the opening door to see AD Larkin stride in.
"The receptionist has ID'd the photo fit as Joseph Toucan. But all research point to that as an alias." Larkin's words were loud and hurried, his anger at being so close, bubbling to the surface over the calm exterior of his FBI persona.
"Do we have an ID for her?" Mulder asked reaching to lift the tape for Scully to step out.
"Hotel surveillance has them walking in from across the street There is a car out there that they might have arrived in. We're running the plates right now."
"She died from asphyxiation. He placed his hands around her neck, both hands, strong and brutal. There are eight finger marks around the back of her neck and two thumbs on the front at her larynx. But she hasn't been dead that long. It couldn't be more then a couple of hours."
"Any text like the other victims?"
Scully looked carefully over the body again and on the inside of her thigh she found the small black lettering.
"For me a corpse has a beauty and dignity which a living body could never hold . . . there is a peace about death that soothes me" She read aloud.
Just then the cell that was clipped to Brice's belt crackled to life startling them all.
"Brice here, what is it?"
"We ran the plates and found the owner."
"Wait a sec…" Brice switched the phone over to speaker. "Okay go ahead."
"Stephanie Adams. The license picture is of a female, five foot eight. 120 lbs. Blonde, brown eyes."
Brice looked up to Scully who was nodding slowly in confirmation of the description.
"Lock up that car, don't let anyone get near it."
Mulder was already out the door; he skipped past the elevator and raced down the stairs. He had made it across the street and was already leaning into the car when Scully and Larkin crossed the road behind him.
"Mulder don't contaminate that scene. I have the CS unit on the way and I don't want to waste any time tracing DNA from your god damned hair!" Larkin yelled at him.
Mulder ignored him and continued to check the contents of the car, his trained eyes scanning quickly over the discarded letters and pages until they fell across the leaflet that rested on the dashboard.
"Midnight Concert by Washington Orchestra at Fort Totten Park," he read aloud, pulling himself out of the car and standing up straight next to Scully. "This was last night. If she didn't arrive at this hotel until after one then maybe she met him here."
"That's about 9 blocks away," Scully said, already pulling the keys out of her pocket and backing away.
"Lets go," Mulder walked away and stopped only when Larkin grabbed his arm.
Silence bristled between them as the tension crackled, but Larkin nodded slowly and released him.
Fort Totten ParkThe park was deserted with only a few remnants that the concert ever happened. Scattered flyers advertising the concert, discarded food wrappers and other detritus with two park rangers cleaning it all up.
The car lot was empty and Mulder ran across the grass to the nearest ranger to speak to him. He produced his badge and held it up.
"Fox Mulder, FBI." From the inside his jacket he retrieved a folded copy of the photo fit sketch and a grainy photo from a security camera and passed it to the ranger. "Did you see this man here this morning?"
"Yes I did!" He watched as Scully joined them and flashed her badge.
"Where?"
"He came in through the north gate and got into a car over there. Then he drove off…looked to be in a real hurry too."
"You're sure it was him?" Scully asked.
"Yes. I noticed the car when I got in this morning, only one here. He looked kind of odd too, troubled. I like to people watch. Interesting hobby, that's why I remembered."
"What time was that?"
"About eight thirty. We like to get this park real clean before anyone else gets here. And with the concert on last night we knew the place would be a mess. His car really caught my eye, ya know. It was a vintage."
"What make?" Scully asked opening her notebook.
"1967 Ford Mustang, midnight blue."
"Did you get the license?"
"Yes." He watched both agents as Scully jotted the license plate down and smiled her gratitude. They exchanged glances and seemed to have a whole conversation without uttering a word. "What's all this about?"
"Thank you for your time." Scully cut in as they backed away and raced over to their Taurus. Mulder was already running the engine and spinning out of the park while she dialled Larkin's number. She quickly relayed all the information they had and waited on the line as he barked orders in the background at the crew who stood around him. She heard him shout at two agents to locate the owner of the Mustang and bring him into the local precinct, then he came back to her to tell her the body of Stephanie Adams was en route to Quantico.
14 Thomas StreetMichael Brown latched the door behind him and rested back against it. His breathing was heavy and labored as he moved through the room and raced into the bathroom. In the mirror he watched as his face contorted back to his own familiar features and laughed. A deep throaty laugh that gurgled up from the pit of his stomach and shook his shoulders.
He could still feel the pressure of her neck, the thrill beating of her pulse beneath his fingers and he stared down at them in astonishment, unclenching them from the fists they had been during his transformation. Crossing the room to where he kept his PC, he booted it up and began typing.
'John Reginald Halliday Christie was a typical "repressed" lust killer who could achieve satisfaction only through rape, murder, and probably necrophilia.
Christie's motives were sexual; he admitted strangling one of his victims during intercourse. He related how he had invited women to the house and having got them partly drunk, sat them in a deck chair, where he rendered them unconscious with domestic coal gas. He then strangled and raped them.'
Michel leaned back on his chair as he typed, reliving the moment over and over in his mind, then slowly the Cheshire grin spread across his lips like a slash from a blade.
"For me a corpse has a beauty and dignity which a living body could never hold . . . there is a peace about death that soothes me."
He interlocked his fingers at the back of his head and sighed satisfactorily. The words flew out of him in a way he had never experienced. Never before had the passages for his writing been so succinct, and accurate. Never before had he felt the rejuvenation of life course through his body like a river.
Ever mindful of his work he saved it and closed the file. As the sensations began to fade he went over to the fridge and selected the bag of meat he'd was saving. Saving for moments like these, moments when he needed to feel it and maintain that precious high for a little longer, a littler stronger.
The pan was already on the stove, greased and dirty from the last use. He thought of cleaning up a bit but decided against it. When the oil was at boiling point he dropped the meat into the pan and stood back as it splashed up hot sparks of fat.
He knew it wouldn't be long now. He knew he'd been sloppy and careless, but that was the way it had been done. Bundy, Christie and Fish, they all left hair, DNA, semen and other evidence behind. His dissertation wouldn't be valid if he had cut corners, changed the routines.
He grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. Flicking through the various channels until he found the news, he waited. Waited for the report he knew was coming.
His meat feast was almost done when the newsflash appeared. The picture of the muted newscaster suddenly changed to the onsite reporter who stood across from the Plaza hotel. Michael turned up the volume and waited in anticipation for the bulletin.
"The body was found in the public restrooms on the fifth floor. Police have yet to release any information on the victim until next of kin can be contacted but we have Special Agent Mulder from the FBI with us."
The camera panned to the left where Mulder stood, a grim expression on his face. In his hands he held a small file and Michael stared at it, the smile on his face widening. Absently he stirred the meat in the pan and inhaled the delicious aroma of cooked flesh.
"We have gathered considerable evidence today." Mulder admitted vaguely as the newscaster asked more questions.
Michael turned back to the stove and forked the meat onto a plate. Moving across the room he perched himself on the edge of the couch and took a bite of his meal. It was medium rare, and he loved the pattern the blood had left on the plate, mesmerising him as though an ethereal message was held within the gruesome image.
He observed Mulder as he spoke with clear confident tones, the agent avoiding eye contact with the camera, instead addressing the interviewer. More questions were fired at him but Mulder offered little or no information, opting instead to excuse himself from the interview.
The reporter continued speaking into the camera but Michael's eyes moved with Mulder who had moved with large strides into the background to converse with a small red headed woman who he assumed was another agent. Michael smiled, chewing on his next odious mouthful.
She's perfect. It won't be long now, he thought.
The Plaza
The garage of the plaza was strewn with SWAT members and CSI Agents. AD Larkin was standing over the table upon which a map of DC was spread out. Scully stood with Detective Brice at the doorway and turned as Mulder approached, offering him a sympathetic smile.
"What have you got?" Mulder asked Brice, nodding at the pages he was showing Scully.
"We've run the plates and turned up a name and address. Michael Brown 14 Thomas Street."
"Professor Michael Brown? Professor in psychology at Georgetown University?" Scully said then added, "SWAT Team is ready, and AD Larkin wants to speak with you," Scully told her partner as she fixed on her bullet proof vest, slipping her suit jacket over it.
Mulder accepted the vest she handed him and carried it with him as he crossed the room to where Larkin was barking out last minute orders to the SWAT members standing around waiting.
"This has to go smoothly, quickly and without any screwups." Mulder cringed at the stereotypical moral boost but made no comment. The desired effect seemed to be working as the SWAT members fanned out to their various units.
"Sir?" Mulder said as he pulled off his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair. "Agent Scully said you wanted to speak with me?"
"Yes, I need you to go back to the Hoover building and copy this warrant." Larkin held out the folded page and waited for Mulder to take it.
"Sir?" Mulders fingers stalled over the Velcro strap he was fastening.
"Judge Waterman failed to provide us with enough copies." Larkin sneered smugly, watching the battle of reactions play out on Mulders face.
"But sir the-"
"Agent Mulder, are you disobeying my direct order?" Larkin stood up a bit straighter and spoke loud enough to be sure to be overheard by other agents.
"No Sir," Mulder said firmly after a moment's hesitation. He took the warrant with a tight smile and walked back to Scully, angrily tugging his vest off on the way.
"Mulder you have to put the vest on."
"No I don't." he dropped it onto the chair beside them. "I'm not going on the raid."
"What?"
"AD Larkin wants me to go back to the Hoover building to sort out this warrant."
Before Scully could ask any more questions, Larkin called for attention from the entire room. He barked out the orders to each team leader and stressed the importance of this raid. Mulder stood at the back of the room watching with growing anger. When the time came the men and woman all poured into the waiting vans. Scully followed Brice to the police car and shot a look back at Mulder. His eyes were sad, underlying worry making them bright. She nodded her assertion to his silent plea to keep safe then shut the door and buckled up.
The garage cleared so quickly that Mulder found himself standing in the swirl of dust the vans kicked up in their wake, his feet glued to the floor and his anger palpable.
14 Thomas StreetMichael stripped down to his boxer shorts and raced through the hall to the fire escape. He hurried down the metal stairs and ignored the sharp pains in his bare feet as he pushed on to the floor below him. The fire door was stuck and he roughly shoved his shoulder against it. Finally on the third attempt he managed to swing it open, bashing it against the wall inside.
Moving quietly through the hall he counted the doors down to Apartment 7. He took a moment to smooth out his hair and slow his breathing before knocking carefully on the door.
"Who is it?" came the frail reply.
"Mrs Leeson? It's me, Professor Brown. I seem to have locked myself out of my apartment. I know you have the set of skeleton keys."
"Michael? Is that you?"
He waited as the shuffling footfalls came closer to the door. The latch on the door rattled as she released the chain. Michael braced himself for the push and watched as the door handle moved. With all the force he could muster he pushed himself off the opposite wall and rammed into the door.
With a scream Mrs Leeson fell back from the door, smashing her head against the wall behind her and falling to the floor. Michael rushed in after her and slammed the door shut behind him. He dragged her dazed body to the bedroom and laid her out on the bed. She struggled to come too for a moment but then passed out.
Michael went back to the door and waited.
Outside the unmarked vans screeched to a halt on the curb and all the agents poured out. Scully followed the lead team into the building as the others secured the surrounding area. The vest she was wearing constricted her breathing but it offered her the comfort she needed to continue. She followed the orders of the team leader and hugged the wall to the elevator. With her gun outstretched she covered the hallway as the other agents got into place.
They raced up to the first floor in a well-trained fluid execution and held position at the bottom of the stairway to the second floor. They had all studied the layout of the building on the way over here so everyone tensed as they started the ascension towards Brown's apartment.
Scully covered the stairway again as the various agents silently stepped up into position. She waited for her signal to go and moved swiftly and silently when it was her turn. Radio silence was kept throughout the manoeuvre, the team relying solely on hand gestures and trained instinct.
As they curled around the apartment Agent Smith stood to the side and gestured for the battering ram to be readied. He slammed his fist against the peeling paint and called out.
"FBI, open up."
After a few seconds when no reply came Smith stood aside and watched as two agents rammed the door open and let the SWAT team barge in. The room swam in pandemonium as the agents cleared out the small apartment.
"Living room, Clear!"
"Bedroom, Clear!"
"Kitchen, Clear!" Came the quick replies as they swept through the apartment. Scully stepped aside as they went through the quick process and followed them through at the end. The first thing that hit was the foul stench that clung to the air. She coughed and covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she stepped further into the apartment.
"No one here," Smith relayed to her. He pulled the radio from his pocket and called to the other teams to report in.
Scully checked slowly through the room; trying desperately to ignore the disgusting odour, she switched her trained eyes on her surroundings. She noticed the PC with the empty shell where his hard drive should be, the plate of half eaten food on the floor beside the couch. With her latex gloves in place she bent closer to it and touched it. It still felt warm.
Her mind reeled in horror as her eyes studied the meat. The curved bite marks, the sharp rips where his teeth had cut into the flesh and the pink colour of the half cooked meat.
It wasn't meat, she realised suddenly, it was human flesh.
Fighting revulsion as she put it back down she stepped back and found herself in the small kitchenette. The smell was stronger now as Scully forced her legs to step further into the room. It seemed to be permeating outwards from the fridge.
With her mind screaming in protest Scully pulled the fridge open and swallowed back the taste of bile that exploded into her throat. Each shelf was packed full with bags and bags of unrecognisable meat. The bags were tied loosely and Scully could make out the rotting flesh from the groundswell of smell they were creating, infested with maggots and lying in pools of congealed blood.
She slammed the fridge door shut and stepped out of the kitchen. In the living room Agent Smith was rearranging the other teams to start a search of the building. They all seemed to be oblivious to the stench. No one made a comment about it or covered their mouths. Smith asked Scully to team with Agent Bryson and told them to start on the first floor.
The relative fresh air in the hallway was a welcome relief. She took a few lungfuls as they descended the stairs to the first floor. She noticed that Bryson looked a little green around the edges too and smiled.
As they approached the first door Scully pulled her gun free from it's holster and held it rigidly by her side. Bryson crossed the door and nodded to her that he was ready.
He lifted a fist to the door and knocked on it heavily. "FBI OPEN UP!" he called out. It opened partially and Scully glanced to see a small elderly man peering fearfully through the gap.
"Sir, can we come in?" she asked, showing him her badge. With trembling fingers he opened the door and stepped aside as the two agents swept through his small apartment. They spoke quietly as they walked carefully through the apartment, then left when they were satisfied it was secure.
"Thank you sir. Lock the door after us," Bryson said as they stepped back into the hallway. "One down eleven to go."
Michael Brown watched the distorted figures of the two agents as they entered the apartment across the hall. Through the peephole he could make out more then just the periphery. His body tensed as they came back into the hall and stepped over to the door. Scully seemed to glare through the peephole and stare right at him but he knew that was impossible. With the kitchen knife held firmly in his hand he stepped back from the door and braced himself against the wall.
The heavy thumping of the agents at the door startled him even though he was expecting it. Blood roared through his head and made his hands tremble. He forced them to still as the agents knocked again.
Mentally he counted to three then took in a deep breath. He held it in, burning his lungs and causing his eyes to water as he waited for them to burst through the door. As if on cue, Agent Bryson smashed through the door and held it open for Scully to race in. She held her gun up and walked trough the hallway into the living room. She checked the kitchen and bathroom and then stepped into the bedroom.
Spying the elderly woman on the bed, she raced over to check her pulse. It was weak and thready. The blood stained the pillow behind her head and her breathing was shallow. Scully took the cell phone out of her pocket and called Detective Brice.
"Brice," he said answering the call on the first ring.
"Brice, this is Agent Scully. I'm in a first floor apartment with Agent Bryson. I have a woman hurt and needs medical attention."
"Which number?"
"Apt 7""Okay, they are on the way."
As she hung up the phone she could hear him calling out orders to the medical squad that were standing by.
"Bryson! Get in here!" she called out as she noticed the woman's breathing was faltering. "Bryson!" Scully called out then looked up as the bedroom door opened slowly. Instead of Bryson standing in the doorway it was another SWAT member.
"Get over here! Where is Bryson?" Scully shouted out pulling him down beside her where she knelt at the bed. "Hold this!" Scully pressed his hands onto the cloth that was pressed against the lady's head wound. "Keep pressure on it."
"Bryson's gone back."
"Do you have a radio on you? Call Agent Smith." Scully pressed her fingers against the woman's neck to feel for a pulse but there was nothing.
"No I don't."
"Shit, I'm loosing her," Scully pressed her ear to the lady's chest and listened to the faint breaths.
Mrs Leeson stirred on the bed rolling away from the intrusive hands that tried to help her. Her eyes flittered open and she spotted him.
Michael Brown leaning over her. His smile was curved and cold as it spread across his face.
"No…nnnoo," she murmured trying to get away. Two strong hands held her down by her shoulders as she turned to see a small red haired woman standing over her. The stranger's voice was soft and gentle as she spoke but the fear she felt building inside stole the comforting words from her as she spotted her evil tenant rising.
"We're here to help. Can you tell me what happened?" Scully asked trying to draw the elderly woman's attention.
"No!" Mrs Leeson called out, staring wildly at something over Scully's shoulder. She flinched as Michael lifted his gun over his head. Scully turned to see what was scaring her and came face to face with the butt of the gun as it smashed into her temple.
Den den dehhhhhhhh...