CHAPTER 12

Will glanced around the motel room, which now he realized was a crime scene and his fingerprints were everywhere. "Shit," he mumbled. They'll think I did this. He felt lost as he tried to decide whether to sneak away toward Oregon and let the cleaning staff discover the scene, or if he should enlist the help of the local authorities. If they think I did this, I won't get anywhere. He knew he had to leave, letting the local police make their assumptions and come after him. If he left now, before the checkout time of noon, he would give himself some lead on the chase.

He knew the deep voiced man who had Cara must have had her phone too, since it was her number that appeared on his caller ID of the prepaid phone she had bought for him. He began shoving her clothes into her suitcase, his fingers lingering on a pair of her silky black underwear. He cursed at himself silently, knowing he was to blame for what she was going through at that moment, as well as what she had already endured and would come to endure. He had risked her life, her well-being, all for his desires. She was paying a price that wasn't hers to pay.

Will hadn't expected them - whoever they were - to be so close without some sort of hint or sign. As he continued to gather Cara's clothes, Will realized that the battle would be much harder than he expected, given the advantages a shift-shifting man … or alien … had over him. Was Will's brute strength enough? He had no idea. If the … thing … he was dealing with was anything like himself, bullets wouldn't work. Fire? A sword? Poison? He zipped up her suitcase, checking for anything of value to Cara as he considered the possible ways the thing might be defeated by.

"Magnetite," he whispered in sudden realization. "And lots of it."

Will glanced around the room one last time, his eyes falling on the bloodied sheet on the floor. It was only then that he saw the quick shimmer of something half under the bed. Curious, he peered down, his heart broken at the sight of the blood. It was Cara's knife, opened and unblemished with blood. Will's eyes narrowed, seeing the knife was resting in a gaping hole in the carpet underneath the bed. "Acid," he mumbled, realizing why the carpet had burned in such a way as it had. Picking up Cara's knife, he pushed it into his jean pocket, his mind racing back to the long conversation they had with Monica and Doggett days before. Acid … Acid … Blood … Their blood is acid. His eyes widened when he recalled the accompanying warning he heard in his mind in Doggett's voice:

"The acid they bleed kills humans."

Had Cara survived after she tried to defend herself? Was she ill? Dying? With renewed determination, Will picked up her suitcase and left her room, checking over his shoulder as he headed toward Cara's car. There was only one way to find out, and that was to find her.

12:49 PM MST

"What have we got here, Harry?"

The older county sheriff turned, looking at one of the local state police officers. The room that Cara had occupied was now swarming with police, photographs being shot of the destruction and fingerprints being dusted. "Looks like an abduction," the older sheriff replied, his arms crossed over his chest. "Jimmy, the owner, called me after his cleaning staff found it."

The state police offer peered at the room as he carefully stepped inside. "Signs of struggle." He looked at the bureau that was split cleanly on the side. "Damn," he mumbled.

"What's weirder is the glass," Harry said, gesturing to the picture above the bed. Shards of glass clung on to the frame, the rest the state police officer saw scattered on the bed below it.

"How in the hell …" The officer stepped closer, trying to find a sign of a bullet entry with his gloved hands. "Anybody see anything?" he asked Harry, still peering at the picture in amazement of the lack of blemish, other than the shattered glass.

"Manager said he saw the same man leave twice," Harry said with a frown. "Once with a woman and once by himself."

"Any sketches?"

Harry handed the officer a sketch that had been composed just before he arrived. "Looks young. Twenties. Caucasian male. About six foot. Built like a linebacker."

The officer stared at the sketch of Will's face. "And he left twice?"

"Yeah, once with the girl in one car, then another time in another car. The second time he seemed like he was in a real hurry. Headed west both times."

The officer nodded slowly, processing the information. "I'll fax this to the station in the motel office. See if he matches anyone."

"There's prints everywhere," Harry commented. "Two sets."

"Let's get those ID'ed as soon as possible," he instructed the forensics team members who were working on gathering evidence. "We might be able to catch this guy if we're quick enough." The officer paused, looking down at the bloody sheet. "Let's notify Salt Lake City, too. Get their people on it."

"Yes sir," came a reply from a nearby officer who scurried to carry out his orders.

As he turned to leave, the state police officer glanced back at the glass from the picture, shaking his head in amazement.

4:03 PM
Near Ontario, OR

Will had been flying down Interstate 84 for hours now, somewhere around five he figured, clearing out of Wyoming, through a portion of Utah and across Idaho. He had just crossed the state lines into Oregon, breathing a little sigh of relief at the "Welcome to Oregon" sign he encountered. Six more hours, he thought, glancing at his gas tank meter. He grumbled, knowing he'd have to stop soon. He just hoped and prayed he could get in and out fast enough and get back on the road. Luckily, he still had Cara's debit card from earlier that day, as well as a half eaten bagel that he discarded onto the passenger's seat, too sick over the thought of Cara to eat anymore of it.

Minutes ticked by with little sign of life on the road in the form of a rest stop. Finally, he came to one that, thankfully, wasn't too crowded. As he pulled up to the pump, he tried to keep a low profile, unsuccessfully willing the gas to flow faster than normal as he inserted the pump.

He slid Cara's card through the machine, waiting to be prompted when he saw a message flashing furiously:

UNAUTHORIZED TRANSACTION

"Son of a bitch," Will muttered, realizing they had stopped her card in an attempt to choke him out. He had thought they would track him through its usage, but figured the authorities still were able to do so without any money being spent. Will switched on his police mentality, realizing that the authorities were now notified of his location. A chase would soon begin. His only choice to continue was to steal a vehicle.

He knew he would need a distraction. He saw a younger woman waiting by a small economy car, and headed toward her. He flashed a smile her way, hoping he was charming and convincing enough to distract her. "Hi," he said. "I'm actually from New Jersey … I hate to admit this, but I don't know how to pump gas. Could you help me out?"

The young woman smiled, her cheeks turning pink at the prospect. "Um, sure. Here, let me just finish mine." She finished withdrawing the pump, smiling as she crossed over to Will's car. "Okay, you just have to slide your card-"

"Listen," Will said, his voice low and cutting her off. "I don't want you to get hurt. So please, please take about ten steps in that direction."

The woman's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to scream, but Will shook his head. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to go that way. I'm going the opposite way. Please."

Scared, the woman tried to return back to her car. "No, no, no!" Will said, grabbing her arm. "Please-"

"HELP ME!" she screamed. "HELP!"

Will's eyes widened when he saw three men coming after him. He released the woman's arm quickly, his eyes sympathetic as he whispered "Sorry" to her, pushing her into the side of Cara's car and bolting away toward hers.

The three men rushed toward Will, who instinctively held his hands up to block himself. His invisible force knocked them twenty feet backward. Will could hear the woman still screaming, and he yanked open the car door, jumping inside. He quickly checked for pets or children, thanking his lucky stars there weren't any to deal with. Will turned the ignition, wildly cutting the car out onto the highway and speeding off after he threw the woman's purse out of the window.

5:01 PM PST

"And in breaking news, Oregon State Police are searching for a suspected car thief who was last seen heading west on Interstate 84 near Ontario. The suspect, Officer William Van De Kamp of the Hoboken, New Jersey Police, is believed to be armed and dangerous, having debilitated three men in the process of stealing Hannah Montgomery's Toyota Yaris."

Scully's eyes widened as she took in the five o'clock news, seeing a sketch of William appear on the television screen. The news segment continued, cutting to feed of Hannah Montgomery. "He said he was from New Jersey, and didn't know how to pump gas. So I went to help him. That's when he went nuts … and he just … blew back those three guys. Like in a movie!"

The news anchor reappeared on the screen. "Van De Kamp is a suspect of an earlier abduction of his partner, Officer Cara English, in Evanston, Wyoming. Please contact local authorities if you have any information at the hotline on your screen."

"Mulder!" Scully yelled. "He's in Oregon!"

"I know," Mulder replied, stepping into the living room. "I just saw that online." He chewed his bottom lip, glancing down at Scully. "If he makes it here, we have to hide him."

"Mulder, he will make it," Scully said, her emphasis on the "will" an attempt to soothe her own doubts. "Why do they think he abducted Cara?" she asked.

"I don't know," Mulder replied softly. "Nor do I know why he stole a car."

"Maybe he had no choice."

"Maybe."

8:59 PM PST

"We've got him!" a police officer announced gleefully as he slammed his phone on the receiver on his desk. The Wyoming State Police officer who had first investigated Cara's abduction glanced up at the rookie officer approaching him. "We traced the Yaris' plates to Dalles, Oregon when he passed through a highway camera speeding."

"Excellent," the senior officer said. "Get the Dalles PD on his ass immediately!"

"Yes, sir," the rookie replied.

"You're mine, you son of a bitch," the senior officer murmured, looking at the sketch of Will with a small smile.