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La Verite Nous Sauvera (The Truth Will Save Us) By Char Chaffin and Tess
Email: char@chaffin.com and Tnv099@aol.com
Category: Casefile, MSR
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: Not ours, instead belonging to that surfer dude with the blonde hair. However, once in a while we borrow them, make them do fun/naughty/dangerous things, then we return them, relatively unharmed (but smiling. A LOT)...
Spoilers: Early Season Six, after "The Beginning" and before "Two Fathers/One Son" -
NOTE: Because of the subject matter of this story, reader discretion is advised. Contains references to alternative religious beliefs, which some readers may find objectionable.
Please note that in attempting to insert storyline that has been translated into French, necessary accent marks over certain vowels have had to be removed so that posting to Ephemeral is not compromised. In other words, we really do know how to spell these words!! Honest!
THANKS: To Avalon, Wylfcynne, Ravenwald and Foxsong for their expert advice and guidance concerning spells, curses and all things magick! Special thanks to Toniann for her expertise in leading us through the confusing world of computer servers, networks and the like. Hey, just because we type on them doesn't mean we know them intimately!
Thanks to our wonderful betas, Carol and Sallie. Without them we'd have been lost!
And thanks as always, to Aly for maintaining Tess's wonderful web site.
Additional notes at the end -
This story will be posted in its entirety, over several chapters. It is NOT a WIP.SUMMARY: Three women are the victims of black magick and Scully may be next. This time the truth really will save her, because even the smallest white lie could end her life. Now she and Mulder race to unravel the mystery and break the spell before it's too late -
PROLOGUE
Ponchatoula, Louisiana
She first saw him in a crowded club. The room was dimly-lit, but his features were illuminated by the amber glow of the lights behind the bar against which he was leaning, sipping beer from a bottle and laughing with friends. The air was alive with the wail of a saxophone as the band switched from a lively Cajun reel to slow and plaintive jazz.
Odette Thibodeaux had fancied herself in love many times in her twenty-five years but the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew that this time would be the last time. That this was the man with whom she would share her life. She didn't know his name, but she had seen him in her dreams many times before. His dark hair fell over his brow and even as he shoved impatient fingers through it, she saw his green eyes sparkle with laughter at something one of his companions had said.
"Dieu! Zoe, who is that?" She leaned across the small table she was sharing and directed her friend's attention toward the young man near the bar.
"Who?" Zoe shifted and followed Odette's gaze across the room. A knowing smile curved her lips. "Ah. That's Guy Beaumont," she murmured. "You have good taste, chere."
Odette turned a quizzical gaze on her friend. "What do you know about him?"
Zoe took a sip of her drink and propped her chin in her palm. "His family owns the Beaumont Hotel." She nodded at Odette's wide-eyed gaze. The Beaumont was a four-star hotel noted for its luxurious accommodations and world-class spa.
"The Beaumonts were one of the original families to settle in the Ponchatoula area. Back in the days of the War, the property was one of the largest and richest cotton plantations in the area." Zoe selected a salted peanut from the bowl of bar mix on their table and continued. "Like most people, the family fell on hard times after the War, but they managed to hold onto the house and several acres of the land. In the early 1900's Guy's great-grand-pere decided to turn the house into a hotel." She picked through the bowl again and nibbled on another peanut.
"It was a fairly modest hotel in the beginning - more like a bed and breakfast than hotel," she explained. "But as tourism in the area grew, so did their business. Guy's grandparents were the ones who built it into a luxury hotel and Guy's mama was the one who suggested adding the spa."
Odette leaned against the back of her chair and contemplated the handsome man standing on the other side of the room. Like many people in the area, she was of Cajun descent. She and her older sister, Chantal, had been raised in a belief system that found them in Catholic Mass each Sunday morning, and learning about magick and the casting of spells from their maternal grandmother. Her eyes narrowed and she briefly considered casting a spell to make Guy fall madly in love with her, but quickly discarded the idea. She'd win him the old-fashioned way.
"Do you know him well enough to introduce us?" she asked with a hopeful smile.
"Non." Zoe grinned when her friend's face fell. "But I went to college with one of the guys he's talking with." She tossed back the rest of her drink and stood. "Come on."
Odette fished a compact from her tiny purse and discreetly checked her makeup, shaking her head so that her mass of dark curls artfully fell over her shoulders and down her back. She adopted a reserved expression and her manner was soft and hesitant when she was introduced to Guy. Her reticent ways were calculated to make a man want to find out more about the woman behind the shy smile and they worked like a... well, like a charm. Sometimes, she thought, a spell was overkill. Never underestimate the powers of good, old-fashioned womanly guiles.
Odette saw Guy often after that. She and Zoe would meet him and his friends every Saturday night at the club or for drinks after work in the middle of the week. Twice, she had managed to arrange things so that she and Guy were alone. He hadn't yet asked her out on an official date, but he was always courteous and attentive to her. She didn't want to push things. Her wise grand-mere had always told her and Chantal that the best romances often got their start in friendships and she was content to wait.
She was racing around the apartment that she shared with Chantal one Saturday evening, hurrying to get ready to go out. Claiming car trouble, she had called Guy to ask for a ride to the club. She had long ago given up on asking Chantal to join her and her girlfriends for a night out. In many ways, the two sisters were as different as night and day. Odette's dark-haired, dark-eyed sultriness contrasted with Chantal's cool blonde, blue-eyed beauty. Odette's idea of a good time was an evening of dancing and drinks with friends, while her older sister preferred sharing conversation over a glass of wine in a quiet restaurant.
"Bebe," Chantal drawled from the doorway to Odette's room. "Where's the fire? You're running around like a crazy person."
Odette whirled to face her sister. "Oh, Chantal! Could you help me fasten this?" She held out a thin gold chain bracelet to her sister. Chantal was bent over the tiny clasp when the doorbell rang. Odette's whole body twitched at the sound causing her sister to lose hold of the clasp.
"Depeche-toi!" Odette urged her sister. "Hurry!"
Chantal succeeded in latching the bracelet. "Fix your lipstick, 'tite soeur. I'll get the door."
Odette took a deep breath and pulled out a tube of lipstick. She took a moment to fuss with her hair and dab perfume on her pulse points. She was of the firm belief that it never hurt to keep a guy waiting.
A few moments later, she found out that she was wrong.
Odette had spent the rest of that summer struggling to mask the jealousy that consumed her every time she saw the man she loved with her sister. Guy had been instantly transfixed by Chantal's grace and beauty and had invited her to join them at the club that fateful evening. Chantal demurred at first, claiming that she wasn't dressed for an evening out, but Guy was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.
And he wanted Chantal.
"Come, ma belle," he entreated. "You look perfect." He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to the door. "Please, I want to get to know you better."
Staring into his laughing, green eyes, Chantal's resolve melted. "I'd like that, too."
From that moment on, Guy and Chantal had eyes only for each other. On the day they announced their engagement, something inside Odette snapped. Guy was hers! They were meant to be together. Chantal had bewitched him. There could be no other explanation.
Envy and rage ate away at her. At night she was plagued by dreams of her beloved in the arms of her sister; by day she plotted and discarded one scheme after another to get him back. Each Sunday, she lit candles and offered fervent prayers to the saintly images cast in marble on the altars. "Please," she begged each week, "bring him back to me."
But there was never an answer. Finally, Odette decided to take matters into her own hands.
Carrying a small cloth bag, Odette crept to the bayou. Mindful of the hazards that could befall the unwary, she stayed just inside the tree line. A storm blowing in obscured the moon from sight. The night was alive with the croaking sounds made by the bullfrogs, the distant rumble of an alligator and the chirping of cicadas. As the storm moved closer, a flash of lightning illuminated the Spanish moss dripping from the trees around her.
Odette cast her dark robe onto the ground. The cooling breeze stirred up by the approaching storm caressed her naked flesh. From her bag, she drew forth four candles, representative of North, South, East and West. She drove then into the ground and lit them; three black candles to summon the darkness and one purple candle for power. She cast a circle on the ground, using her ritual knife to connect the four candles. She pulled a photograph from the bag and tossed the empty pouch onto the ground. Her fingers tightened around the photograph as she stared down into the smiling and love struck images of Chantal and Guy.
Stretching her arms over her head, she raised her face to the sky and in a low voice began to chant,
"This happy twosome that I see
Their love is naught but a betrayal of me Separating them is the only way
Let love forsake them from this day
With this spell I'll see them part
With my power I'll win his heart
Thou love is cursed I promise thee
By my will, so mote it be!"Odette used her knife to slice the photograph in two and dropping to her knees, she burned the two pieces in the flames of the black candles. The air around her crackled with energy. No rain fell, but bolts of lightning streaked through the sky and a peal of thunder boomed overhead, silencing the natural sounds of the bayou's inhabitants. Rather than being frightened, she was energized by the power surrounding her. Arms spread wide, she absorbed that energy, breathing it in until it permeated her very soul. Finally exhausted, she wrapped her cloak around her and sank to the ground within the circle she had cast. And as the storm moved away, she slept.
The next morning, Odette wriggled into the clothes she had left discarded in her car the previous evening and left the bayou. She drove to Guy's home, confident of the power of her spell. She glanced up and down the street happy to see that Chantal's car was nowhere to be found. Today she would put into motion her plan to win Guy back. The plan was simple, she thought, as she parked. She would offer him a sympathetic shoulder and a loving embrace. Pulling down the sun visor, she flipped open the vanity mirror and practiced a series of compassionate and caring faces.
Smoothing her skirt over her hips, Odette climbed the steps that led to Guy's front door. The unlatched door fell open easily beneath the knocking hand she had raised. Curious, she pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer.
"Guy?" She closed the door behind her and moved down the hallway. She glanced into the living room and kitchen, but there was no sign of him.
"Guy?" she called again. A deep sense of foreboding rose in her throat as she laid a trembling hand on the bedroom door. Something was wrong...
Odette pushed open the bedroom door and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Guy curled up in bed alone. The sheets were pooled around his waist, exposing his strong back to her gaze; his dark hair spilled over the white pillows. She crawled onto the bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. His skin was so cold. Once again, the fear rose in her chest. Her hand trembled as she tugged on his shoulder.
Odette fell back, a silent scream welling in her throat as his body rolled toward her unresistingly. His eyes stared up at her, open and lifeless. The gold crucifix that had hung around his neck - a gift from Chantal upon their engagement - lay broken on his throat.
"No," she moaned. In his eyes, she was sure she read an accusation. "It's not my fault!" she wept. "This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen!"
Five years later
San Diego, California
Java Net Cafe
11:40 PMThe cafe was mostly deserted this late at night, and in the main terminal area only a few spots of lighting could be seen. A handful of people sat in front of the odd assortment of Dells, Macs and IBMs, finishing up their online minutes, mindful of the clock ticking on the wall. The cafe would close in twenty minutes.
Next to her, a young woman typed with flying fingers, determined to use up every last second of the allotted sixty-minute quota. It hadn't been her intention to peek at the young woman's fevered chat - but she was nosy by nature; besides, she couldn't finish up her own session until this involuntary computer-mate was gone, now could she? Some things were better left private...
With a few last staccato-like jabs of slender fingers, the young woman finished and shut down with only seconds to spare. She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, rose gracefully from her chair and walked away, lugging a heavy-looking backpack. Likewise an older man wearing a business suit finished up at the end of the row, and left.
Thankfully, alone at last... she glanced around, noticing there were fewer lights scattered around than before. She didn't have much time, but then, she really didn't need much, did she? It was almost a done deal. All that was left to do was make the payment, and she was using PayAnyWay online for that. She stifled a nervous butterfly twinge in her stomach and got online, downloading the desired link and logging into an email account that she'd set up specifically for this purpose. She checked her messages, knowing there shouldn't be any but feeling the need to be cautious, just the same - and seeing a clear inbox, she set herself to work.
A minute later she was in a chat room:
[InNeedOf: Are you there?]
[Hexagon: Yes. Have you made up your mind?]
[InNeedOf: Yes, I want to do it. You never told me how much it would cost.]
[Hexagon: Because I doubted you'd follow through. What you ask isn't going to be easy for you to live with, you know. I assume you can handle it?]
[InNeedOf: YES! I want this. I need to do this. I have to. Now, what's it going to cost me?]
[Hexagon: Probably more than you can afford. What I do, I don't take lightly. And I set great value on my talent.]
[InNeedOf: I understand. I'll pay whatever you ask. I want to know how you're going to do it.]
[Hexagon: It's better that you don't know. You will receive a confirming email when the task has been completed. Now, tell me again the crime, as you understand it.]
[InNeedOf: There's nothing TO understand. She lied to me. She lied to my face, the adulterous bitch. That's all I care to know, other than the fact that she's been fucking my husband. I asked her if she knew who it was and she lied to me.]
[Hexagon: Then shouldn't your husband also partake in the punishment?]
[InNeedOf: NO! I told you I don't want him hurt! What he did, I just know happened against his will. He's a weak man. She threw herself in his face. How could he resist? I don't blame him; I have forgiven his weak moment. If she's out of the picture I know he'll come back to me.]
[Hexagon: If that's what you wish to tell yourself then far be it for me to try dissuading you. So, an eye for an eye, right? That's what you want?]
[InNeedOf: Yes. I told you that the first time I contacted you. "Do onto others" - that's what I want.]
[Hexagon: All right. I'll take care of it. Don't ask me again what I do, is that understood? Just know that your liar will get her just desserts. Now, let's talk money.]
As the lights in the cafe winked out one by one, and the minutes drained from her pre-set limit, she swallowed a lump of panic and guilt all rolled up into one, squashed the horror of having to fork over an exorbitant amount of money, and repeated to herself several times that it would soon be over - and she'd have her Marv back.
She'd have him back - one way or another.
Chapter One
San Diego, California
Value-Save Rent-a-Car
Montgomery Field
Sunday, 11:30 a.m.Dana Scully stood in line and used one foot to nudge her suitcase forward as the person at the front of the line stepped up to one of the two Value-Save counter clerks. Waiting patiently, she indulged in a moment of sheer feminine pleasure as she admired the tips of the glossy black boots peeking out from beneath the cuffs of her jeans. Outrageously expensive, made of buttery-soft leather and lending a generous three inches to her height, they were at distinct odds with the well-worn jeans that encased her slim legs. Their purchase had, sadly, been one of the high points of her trip.
The funeral of Captain Thomas Quinn, retired from the Navy for fifteen years and an old Scully-family friend from the days when their father had been stationed at NAS Miramar, had been combined with a family visit. Two days into the visit and Scully had begun counting the moments until it was time to fly back home again. Bill's less than subtle digs at the apparently stagnant state of her career and marital status had been countered with Tara's relentlessly cheerful remarks on how wonderful her sister-in-law looked since their last visit a year prior.
On the other hand, one-year-old Matthew had been a delight. Toddling around the house on unsteady legs, he had charmed his way into his aunt's heart within seconds of the first wet and generous kiss he had pressed to her mouth. She had spent much of her visit on the receiving end of his flirtatious gap-toothed smiles and stickyhanded hugs, and he was the reason she would make a more concerted effort to visit her brother and his family in the future.
Scully swung a black leather tote from her shoulder and popped open the center snap. She dug out her cellphone as she inched closer to the counter, dialed and pressed it between her ear and shoulder. She listened distractedly to the ringing of the phone as she continued to dig through the oversized purse for her car rental contract and a slow smile spread over her face when a sleep-roughened voice greeted her.
"Did I catch you napping?" In her mind's eye, his long length was sprawled over his sofa, a gray T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest and strong, bare feet emerging from the frayed cuffs of his favorite jeans.
"S'okay." Mulder's sleepy response was accompanied by the squeaking of leather as he made himself more comfortable. "Where are you?"
She nudged her luggage forward another step. "I'm at the airport - returning my car."
Both clerks became free within seconds of each other as two customers stepped away from the counter and headed toward the doors and the shuttle van waiting to drive them to their terminals at the nearby airport. The woman ahead of Scully walked to the closest clerk and Scully carried her bag to the other. The clerk, whose nametag identified her as Brenda, held up one finger and leaned away from the counter to replace the toner cartridge in the printer between the two workstations.
"My flight is scheduled to leave on time," Scully said into the phone. A contented smile flirted with the corners of her mouth as she listened to him describe the myriad of ways he had planned to celebrate her return home. The smiled widened into a full grin when she realized that most of his plans revolved around divesting her of her clothes at the first possible moment.
Six years together as partners, the last three months of which had been spent in the blissful throes of a blossoming romance. God, she had missed this man!
Her cheeks flushed and her heart pounded when Mulder lowered his voice to whisper a particularly inventive suggestion into her ear. She choked back a moan and felt her cheeks heat again as the other customer and clerk both glanced her way with knowing smiles on their faces. Scully stammered a hasty goodbye into the phone and dropped it back into her bag. She let her hair swing forward to hide her face as she pretended to rifle through her purse for something. She watched Brenda kneel on the floor to wrestle with the printer and idly listened to the other clerk and customer exchange pleasantries.
"Our computers are terribly slow today, ma'am," the clerk apologized to the other customer. "Perhaps, you would like a piece of cake while you're waiting?" She nodded toward a gaily-frosted pound cake sitting on the counter. "It's my birthday," the clerk continued to chatter as she entered the woman's credit card data into the recalcitrant computer for a second time.
"Happy Birthday... Mary," the customer said with a discreet glance at the clerk's name tag. "Is the cake a gift from your co-workers?" she asked.
A self-satisfied smile crossed Mary's face and she lowered her voice. "There was no card," she said confidentially, "but I'm pretty sure that my boyfriend sent it." She nudged the cake closer to her customer. "Go on, take a small piece. You can't say no, it's my birthday!" Her grin widened to include Scully in the offer. Several pieces of cake were already missing, undoubtedly pressed upon Mary's customers throughout the morning.
"What a considerate man he must be," the other woman said. She handed a small piece of cake to Scully on a paper napkin and took a bite of her own slice. Brenda cursed softly under her breath and slapped a vicious hand against the printer, which immediately sprang to life.
Scully's phone rang and she popped a morsel of cake in her mouth as she fumbled for the phone. She grimaced as the cake melted over her taste buds and saw a similar expression cross the face of the other customer. There was an unpleasant, slightly bitter taste to the cake.
Mulder's voice filled her ear. "Hey, Scully, you hung up before I could ask if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight. I can make reservations for Milano's," he suggested the name of a casual neighborhood restaurant, "or we can just order in when we get home." Scully sidled toward the nearest trashcan to discreetly dispose of the rest of the cake while she mulled over Mulder's dinner plans.
"I love Milano's, but getting take out has a certain appeal of its own," she said. Mulder's husky laugh echoed hers. Ordering out would give them about thirty minutes to work up an appetite...
Mary set the invoice on the counter. "What do you think of the cake?" she asked as she handed the other woman a pen. "I just know he made it himself. It's been so busy around here that I've only been able to grab a bite here and a bite there!" The customer gamely made a show of taking another bite. She swallowed hard and wished for a cool glass of water to wash the taste of the cake from her mouth.
"It's delicious," she lied with a polite smile. The words were barely out of her mouth when she began to cough and gag. Her hands clawed at her throat and Scully turned her attention from Mulder to the commotion taking place a few feet from her as Mary let out a shrill scream.
"Mulder, I've got to go!" she said urgently. She was dimly aware of his shouted, "Scully!" as she disconnected the call and rushed to the woman's aid. She wrapped her arms around the woman and pulled her back against her body, locking her hands over the other woman's midsection to apply the Heimlich maneuver, but to no avail. The woman sagged unconscious in Scully's arms, and she lowered her to the floor.
"Call 911!" she shouted to Mary while she pried the woman's jaw open and swept her fingers into her mouth to clear it of any food before beginning mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Scully was dimly aware of the frightened murmurs from the staff and customers who stood impotently over the two women. She lifted her head, panting, and shook her head in frustration. It wasn't working. She tried tilting the woman's head back further to clear the airway. She leaned down again, and ran her fingers over the woman's swelling throat, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt the pulse growing fainter beneath the skin.
Scully looked up at the small crowd of people surrounding them. "Does anyone know CPR?" A young man nodded and she yanked him down onto the floor next to her.
"Her heart isn't beating," She settled his hands over the woman's chest. "You start compressions and I'll keep up the mouth-to-mouth. Okay?" He nodded again, locking frightened eyes on hers.
"Go!"
She waited as the young man counted under his breath with each chest compression.
"One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-five..." Scully took a deep breath and tried to force the air from her lungs into the dying woman's. After what felt like hours, she heard the wail of a siren and was shouldered aside to allow room for the EMTs to work. Scully sat down heavily on the floor, and watched in exhaustion as the medical technicians frantically tried to save the woman's life.
Long moments passed and Scully knew that they were wasting their time. Grim-faced, they finally acknowledged what she already knew to be true.
"She's gone."
A piercing shriek rent the air and Scully spun around to find Brenda staring in horror at the dead woman. Tears streamed down her face and her mouth worked soundlessly. Wildly, her gaze darted over the dead woman and the clutter of paper napkins on the counter. Confused, Scully watched Brenda whirl about and race toward the doors. She tripped over a piece of medical equipment and went sprawling across the floor. She scrambled to her feet just as a beefy-looking security guard ran over and moved to assist her; at the touch of his hand on her arm Brenda screamed and jerked away, bringing her loafer-shod foot up between his legs and catching him square in his crotch. The guard grunted in surprised pain and sank to his knees, clutching at himself. Brenda kicked at him again, this time connecting with his upper shoulder and forcing a groan of pain from the guard as he slipped to the floor.
Shaking, Brenda curled into a ball and wrapped her arms over her head. "It's not my fault!" she sobbed piteously. "This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen!"
Dimly, Scully became aware of the shrill ringing of her cell phone. She fumbled in her bag and pulled out the phone. Without looking at the display, she thumbed it on.
"Mulder... I'm not going to make my flight."
Chapter Two
San Diego, California
Days Inn
Balboa Park
Monday, 5:36 AMFox Mulder parked the rental car across two spaces, killed the engine and rubbed stiff fingers over his burning eyes. He was wiped out. Usually he could sleep on red eye flights, but not last night. Not on a damned twelve-hour airplane milk run he swore had hit every major airport from DC to Los Angeles, with a few po-dunk local runways in between. He'd changed planes at least three times. Well, that's what he got for trying to save the government a few bucks...
He leaned his head wearily against the back of his seat for a moment. He'd been tense the entire flight, worried as hell about Scully. Though he knew she was fine - she'd called him back and had explained as much as she knew of what had happened at the San Diego airport - the tone of her voice was enough to set him on edge. He hadn't been able to relax a bit. There had been something in her voice he couldn't readily decipher, and that nagged at him. After almost six years together, Mulder knew all of his partner's vocal inflections. That knowledge had only intensified since they'd become lovers.
He'd wasted no time in assuring her he was on his way. He'd contacted Skinner first, knowing their former AD would have little or no influence over AD Kersch in persuading him to allow them access to this case - but nevertheless hoping he might. He knew Kersch would likely dismiss the case as nothing the Feds should involve themselves with. But Mulder was getting - for want of a better word - vibes. As soon as he'd heard Scully's voice on the phone, he'd felt it. When he explained his gut feeling to Skinner, his old boss had merely nodded, as if that Mulder-ish awareness was nothing new to him. Which indeed, it wasn't. And Mulder never did find out precisely what Skinner said to Kersch; he was too busy whipping himself into action as soon as Skinner had called him.
"You're on, Mulder - and you'd better play this one by the book... you and Agent Scully."
So Mulder had lost no time getting a bag packed and high-tailing it over to Dulles. Unfortunately for him, the decent flights were packed and he was forced to take the damned red eye.
Mulder pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes again, released a huge yawn and opened his door, unfolding long legs clad in faded, worn jeans. He stretched as he walked to the trunk, popping it open and retrieving his bag. Scully had told him she was on the third floor; Mulder trudged over to the outside stairway and dragged himself up two flights. Knowing he'd be awakening Scully, maybe crawling into bed with her for a couple of hours before they had to take off for the Balboa Park police station, was the one thing that kept him climbing those stairs.
A few minutes later the partner of his dreams was opening the door to him, yawning in his face and offering a sleepy smile as Mulder dropped his bag and scooped her up into his arms, snuggling her close. He buried his nose in her neck; she smelled so good, like lotion and sleep and sweet skin. Her thin nightshirt was wrinkled with sleep and her hair stuck up on end; she had a dried smear of saliva on her cheek and she looked gorgeous. His partner. Now his lover...
Mulder kicked the door shut with a booted foot and carried her across the room, gently depositing her atop the rumpled sheets. Scully relaxed against a mound of pillows and watched with sleepy eyes as Mulder began shedding his clothes.
They hadn't exchanged more than a tired, "Hey, Baby," and a "Morning, Mulder." They'd talk later, he thought. Right now he wanted only to cuddle her under the covers - or on top of them, didn't matter - maybe kiss a little, catch an hour or so of sleep.
She moved over a little as he crawled in and pulled her to him, spooning against her, both sighing at the comforting feel of each other. Mulder kissed the back of her neck and his mumble stirred the fine hairs of her nape.
"How long have we got?"
Scully nestled back against him and sighed again as he nuzzled along her shoulder. "Two hours, less if you insist on taking a shower. Police station's only about a mile away." She let him get in one more nuzzle, then turned in his arms until she faced him, staring into his eyes in the dim light of the room. Mulder brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her cheek, then ran a series of small kisses over her chin, reaching her mouth and lingering there. She tasted as good as she smelled. He could feel himself becoming quite un-tired, in a hurry.
They'd been apart for over a week and he'd missed her terribly, though they'd spoken every night. He'd had a hell of a time sleeping in their bed without her and he was beyond exhausted from a week's lack of rest and now a long, crowded flight. But in his arms she felt like heaven and her soft, warm body was awakening him like nothing else. Mulder tamped it down firmly. Even in the dim room he could see the shadows under her blue eyes. Scully needed sleep as much as he did.
"I vote for sleep, Scully. You can fill me in later - and screw the showers. We'll just reek together."
She chuckled through another yawn, then pushed her face into his neck and managed to wind one leg around his thigh, anchoring him to her body. Mulder pulled the covers over their shoulders and they slept, falling asleep within seconds of each other.
San Diego
Central Division Police
Balboa Park
Monday, 8:10 AMAt eight in the morning, Central Division was surprisingly busy. Uniformed cops and plain-clothes officers bustled up and down the main corridors and the front reception area was swarming with activity. Mulder guided Scully through a gaggle of what appeared to be family members of assorted age, all berating the hapless officer who'd apparently had the audacity to arrest one of their relatives. They were all screeching in Spanish. Mulder grinned as he caught at least one 'Pendejo!', and a particularly nasty 'Mayate!' from an old woman who looked like somebody's sweet old grandmother.
Finally reaching the front reception, Mulder gave their names to a harried-looking middle-aged woman who nodded them toward a set of double doors across the corridor. It took them three tries before they could step out into it without getting trampled; joining the swarm migrating through the doors, they walked swiftly to a small office belonging to a Detective Damarco.
Knocking on the door, Mulder duly noted the stacks of untidy files littering the Sergeant's desk, finally turning his attention to the tiny woman who'd bellowed out a rasping "Come IN, already!", to his knock.
Detective Rosa Damarco was about four and a half feet tall and probably just as wide, looked to be in her mid-fifties and was dressed in a bright red suit that fit her squat little frame like a sausage casing. Her hair was a wild mass of gray-streaked black frizz, tumbling in her eyes from an untidy knot atop her head. At least three pencils and what appeared to be a coffee stirrer stuck out of what was left of the knot; with some amusement Mulder noted the stirrer was a dead-on color match with her suit.
Her face was smooth and round, thick eyebrows frowning at them over a pair of square-cut hot pink eyeglasses. Her lipstick was a shade of orange that clashed horribly with everything else on her person, and when she spoke again her voice took on the quality of grinding, broken glass.
"Who the hell are YOU two? You got an appointment?"
Mulder shook himself out of the instant and utter fascination this woman was holding for him and stuck out his hand, reaching for his badge with the other. "Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, FBI, Ma'am. We're here to talk with Brenda Jordan."
Detective Damarco examined their badges silently, then her dark eyes snapped up into Mulder's face, her head moving way back to see his face. She pointed to a couple of metal chairs in front of her desk, grumbling, "Oh, por Dios... sit down! You give me the neck pain, in case you didn't know, you're damned tall!"
Scully smothered a chuckle behind her hand as Mulder obediently sat, muttering, "So I've been told, Detective Damarco."
The minuscule detective grunted out an irate, "Call me Rosa, I don't answer to Damarco; it was my rotten ex-husband's name. I only keep it for the children. Now," she leaned against the desk and crossed her arms over her ample chest, "You taking this Brenda Jordan out of here? That woman belongs in a hospital under observation. Only reason she ended up here is because she did a real job on Mendoza, the guard she assaulted at the airport. Nobody hurts my officers like that and gets away with it, I don't care how screwed up they are. She also kept the guards up all night with her screaming and carrying-on."
Rosa straightened and gestured toward the door, adding, "Might as well go down and see her; maybe she'll scream some more and keep my day crew awake." She bustled toward the door and Mulder and Scully looked at each other in confusion, then shrugged and got to their feet, following the tiny red-suited Rosa.
One floor down the main jail and holding areas were interspersed with small interrogation rooms. Rosa unlocked a door and snapped on the light in one of the rooms. Inside there was a long table with several chairs, a fluorescent fixture overhead and a one-way mirror on the far wall. Rosa picked up a wall phone and punched a number, then barked into the receiver, "Bring the Jordan woman to Room two. Jordan, yes! The screamer, that one. Thanks." She hung up the phone and sat down in a vacant chair closest to Scully. While they waited, Rosa filled them in on Brenda Jordan's night in jail.
"I have never heard anyone scream like that, never. A real set of lungs on such a skinny woman. I bet she hasn't got a voice left. You the one that witnessed the deal at the airport?" She regarded Scully curiously and Scully nodded slowly.
"Yes, I was there. A woman customer choked to death, apparently on a piece of cake. I am scheduled to conduct an autopsy on her later on today - I'm a forensic pathologist as well as a Federal agent - and hopefully determine what killed her."
Rosa nodded. "Mendoza at the airport said as much. Said this woman choked and fell over, then the Jordan woman went ape-shit on everybody and tried to run. Oh, here she comes." Rosa met the guard at the door and took Brenda Jordan's other arm; they guided her to a chair across from Mulder and Scully, and sat her down. Mulder stared at her curiously.
Brenda appeared to be in her late thirties, slender, with mousy brown hair twisted into a sloppy ponytail and small, red-rimmed brown eyes. Her skin was white-pale and her thin fingers twisted nervously; she looked down and refused to meet anyone's stare.
Mulder nodded to Scully, and she cleared her throat. "Ms. Jordan, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully; I was at the airport yesterday. Do you recall seeing me there? Ms. Jordan?"
Brenda nodded jerkily, still refusing to meet their eyes. She opened cracked, dry lips and her voice was a mere thread of a rasp. "I saw you. You tried to help that woman." She suddenly raised her head and her eyes filled with fresh tears as she begged hoarsely, "I'm sorry! I swear I am! It wasn't supposed to happen!" She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook violently with sobs.
Mulder reached out a careful hand and touched her arm, feeling the wild tremors under her skin. "What are you sorry about, Brenda? Please, let us help you. Please tell us why you think any of this could be your fault." He kept his voice reassuring and calm, hoping to gain enough of Brenda Jordan's trust that she'd open up to him... but Brenda didn't seem able to control her emotions long enough to answer coherently.
She raised her head and thick tears poured down her pale cheeks. "I can't - I didn't - I don't want to talk anymore, please don't make me talk anymore!" With each word she uttered her panic grew and her voice increased in decibel level, until she was screaming again.
Scully resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears, but Rosa Damarco wasn't so polite. She covered her ears and her bellow of impatience was amply discernible over the screeching. "All right, ENOUGH ALREADY! Knock it off or I swear I'm gonna cold-cock you!" Something in her voice must have gotten through to Brenda, because her screams bubbled down into harsh sobs, her face again falling into her trembling hands.
As the distraught woman choked and shook, Rosa looked over at Mulder and Scully and shrugged, "I doubt you'll get anything out of her, Agents. Sorry. I'll have her taken back to her cell, and she'll stay there until I know whether or not Mendoza is gonna press charges." Rosa got to her feet and with a jerk of her chin indicated to the guard at the door to unlock it. Before she could approach Brenda however, Mulder put out a hand to stay her, rising to his feet as well and moving around the table, closer to Brenda's huddled frame.
It was a hunch, a feeling - but Mulder was a firm believer in hunches. "Brenda, listen to me, okay? I want you to answer one simple question, and we'll leave you be, for now." He paused and stared at Brenda Jordan, until she looked up into Mulder's eyes, her own red-rimmed and swollen with crying. There was a sheen of utter hopelessness in them.
Mulder held her gaze and kept his voice soft and unassuming. "Brenda, I need to ask you about what you meant when you said it wasn't supposed to happen." Brenda's already pale cheeks whitened even more, and she tried to look away, but Mulder wouldn't let her. Somehow it was of utmost importance that she not break eye contact with him.
Brenda's mouth started to tremble and a look of complete panic and fear crossed her features. Mulder's question should not be creating such a violent reaction; Scully, as well as Mulder, was stunned when her head snapped back and forth so violently that her hair came undone from its untidy ponytail. The whimper in her throat escalated to yet another screech and she jumped to her feet, tangling them in the legs of the chair as her shouts of denial echoed in the small room.
"NO! I don't know anything. Nothing, I don't know WHY that woman died!" As the last shrill word left her throat, Brenda Jordan stiffened and began to choke, her cheeks turning an alarming shade of red. Scully leapt to her feet and caught her as she collapsed, easing her down to the floor, yelling to Rosa to call 911. Mulder dropped to his knees beside Brenda's prone body, working with Scully as she started CPR, his strong hands beginning heart massage...
Their eyes met briefly as they worked to save Brenda Jordan, both of them knowing it was just as hopeless... both acknowledging silently that they were facing another mysterious and inexplicable death.
San Diego, California
Days Inn
Balboa Park
Monday, 6:51 PMMulder closed the door behind him and threw the deadbolt, then fastened the safety chain. Ahead of him Scully had already toed off her heels and fallen face-first onto the bed. He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the nearest chair, then moved to the bed and sat beside her, one hand rubbing gently over her neck and shoulders. He smiled at the huge sigh she released; when she suddenly flipped over onto her back his hand found itself stroking one soft breast. She sighed again and Mulder leaned in to press a nibbling kiss to her bottom lip.
Against her mouth he murmured, "Before I ask you just how tired you really are, Scully... I suppose we should talk over how we're going to handle this case." He delivered one final nibble, then swung his body up onto the bed until he was prone, slipped his mouth to her neck and felt her snuggle in closer.
Scully was quiet for a moment, trailing a slow index finger over his chest; her voice was decisive when she replied, "Well, I see a couple of autopsies in my immediate future, that's for sure. It's only been a little over twenty-four hours between deaths, so hopefully I'll find something interesting and helpful. My 'coincidence-o-meter' can't quite swallow this one, not completely."
Mulder nodded against her hair and ran a warm palm over her back, pressing her closer. "Well, I want to go back over to that rental place - what was it called, 'Value-Save', right? - and talk to anyone I can find who was working there on Sunday. While you're slicin' and dicin', I'll be probin' and profilin'..." He dropped a kiss on her temple and shifted her body around so that they lay face to face. Noting the shadows underneath her eyes had hung around all day, nevertheless he was determined to get their minds off work and on to more important matters... such as getting started on their overdue reunion.
Bringing a hand around to the front of her blouse, Mulder busied himself with unbuttoning the silky fabric, brushing it back to expose her lacy bra, eyes drinking in the soft skin that swelled against each cup. He buried his nose between them and inhaled her, loving the way she felt, the scent she carried there - the pureness of her, the utter good she always brought to him. He'd missed her like crazy; it had been a hell of a long and lonely week without her. And as Mulder eased her bra away and then slid an eager tongue along each tight peak he'd uncovered, as she purred deep in her throat and arched like a contented cat against his mouth... Mulder could only hope they'd get this damned case figured out, solved and be on their way back home, very quickly.
Between mouthfuls of her he mumbled, "You okay with this, baby? Not too tired?" Even as he gave her a handy out, Mulder was already working his way down her bared stomach, unsnapping the side fastening of her skirt, pushing at the material, baring more of her to his eager touch.
Above his head Scully chuckled weakly, fisted a hand in his hair and maneuvered his head until it was exactly where he knew she liked it best. Her answer started on that chuckle and ended on the high side of a raspy moan. "Oh, I'm more than okay, Mulder... not to mention truly awake as well, ohhh, Godddd..."
Chapter Three
San Diego, California
County Coroner's Office
Tuesday, 1:55 PMScully made the last two neat stitches that would close the ghastly wound of the trademark Y-incision used to examine the dead. Stripping the latex gloves from her hands, she dropped them onto the tray of soiled instruments near the examination table and pressed her fists against the small of her back in a futile effort to alleviate the strain of several hours bent over Brenda Jordan's body. The County Coroner's Office had been able to supply an autopsy bay and equipment, but understaffing had left Scully to perform these autopsies without assistance. She drew the sheet up to cover Brenda Jordan's nude body and a rueful smile briefly crossed her lips with the knowledge that it is the living who worry about things like modesty; the dead are beyond caring.
She crossed the room to the telephone mounted on the wall near the door. She consulted the laminated telephone directory tacked up next to the phone and punched in the appropriate numbers to request that a staff member come to collect the body and to notify the funeral home that the body of Brenda Jordan would soon be released into their care. A second telephone call revealed to her that lawful consent for an autopsy had been given by the next-of-kin of the first victim and that the body would be delivered to the examination room in short order.
Scully pushed open the doors of the autopsy bay and wound her way through the halls until she came upon the lounge for female personnel. From her pocket, she dug out the key to the locker assigned to her for the day. Grabbing her wallet, she wandered over to the vending machines located outside of the locker room. Leaning against the machine, she contemplated her choices. Breakfast had been a hurried and miserly affair of yogurt and coffee. They had overslept and only had time for a quick stop at a convenience store. She had gulped down the small container of strawberry yogurt in the car before Mulder had dropped her off at the coroner's office with a quick kiss and a promise to check in with her throughout the day.
She was out of change and searched her wallet for a couple of crisp dollar bills as the machine adamantly refused to accept anything other than freshly minted currency. She ignored her normal choice of diet soda, instead going for the much needed sugar rush to be found in a 16-ounce bottle of Coke and a package of Oreos. Scully took her lunch back to the autopsy bay and settled into the chair behind the small desk in one corner. She briefly considered playing back the tape of the notes she made during the autopsy, but rejected the idea for a few moments devoted to the peaceful ingestion of empty calories. Munching on a cookie, she idly studied the plaque mounted on the wall next to the desk that proclaimed 'Hic locos est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae'.
"This is the place where death rejoices to teach those who live." She had seen the phrase hung in countless autopsy bays and coroner's offices throughout her career. Scully popped the last cookie into her mouth and drained the soda bottle as the distinctive squeak of the rolling wheels of a gurney drew ever closer. She was scrubbing her hands at the sink when the doors burst open to admit an orderly pushing a gurney bearing the covered body of Victoria Durkin, the woman who had died at the car rental office.
Scully initialed the form on the clipboard proffered by the orderly to accept custody of Victoria Durkin's body and scribbled her initials on a second form to release Brenda Johnson's body. She winced at the screeching sound made by the casters of the gurney as the orderly spun it sharply toward the doors before disappearing into the hallway. With a sigh, she popped a blank tape into the recorder.
Scully began her dictation by giving the date and time of the autopsy as she slipped her hands into a fresh pair of surgical gloves and tore open a package of sterilized instruments.
"Victim is Victoria Durkin, a forty-seven-year-old African American female." Scully took out a measuring tape. "Sixty-five and one half inches in height," she consulted the chart left behind by the orderly, "weighing one hundred and forty-two pounds. Next-of-kin reports no known diseases or recent illnesses, but I will contact the primary care physician for verification."
She began to walk around the table, examining the outside of the body. "Slight discoloration to the nail beds of the fingers..." She walked to the other end of the table to examine the victim's feet. "Same bruising beneath the nails of the toes on the right foot; not as noticeable on the left." Scully continued the external exam and noted no other abnormalities. She pried apart the dead woman's jaws and shone a small penlight into the mouth, making note of a slight swelling and redness to the tongue and gums.
Finished with the external exam, she chose a scalpel from the tray.
"I'll begin with the Y-incision." She continued the autopsy, removing the internal organs, weighing and measuring them, making notes on the visible health of each organ and taking small samples of each to be sent to the lab. She used a large bore hypodermic needle to collect blood from the heart and took a urine sample. She collected a small measure of fluid from the eyes to be sent to the lab as well and noted several burst blood vessels in the eyes. She continued to work, dictating the contents of the victim's last meal, taking a sample of the bile found in the stomach and forcing herself to merely dictate the evidence as presented to her without attempting to analyze. That would come later, when she was sitting in a quiet place, reviewing and typing her notes. For now, her job was to gather the data and document her findings so that she could eventually fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
San Diego, California
Value-Save Rent-a-Car
Montgomery Field
Tuesday, 2:01 PMThe first rush of afternoon rental customers had tapered off by the time Mulder walked up to the counter. It suited him just fine; he wanted some form of privacy.
Behind the counter a woman in her early forties had her ear pressed into a phone propped against her shoulder, leaving her hands free to flip through rental contracts. Mulder noted her name tag declared her to be Susan Moore. A discreet glance around verified she was the only Value-Save clerk on duty. Good - he didn't want to talk to Mary, the clerk who'd been on duty the day Victoria Durkin had died. At least, not yet.
Susan looked up from her call, noticing Mulder and sending him a harried little smile. It was obvious she was trying to get through her phone conversation quickly. Susan kept one eye on the handsome man in the dark suit standing quietly at her counter, mouthing affirmatives into the receiver and hoping her live customer wouldn't become tired of waiting and leave; it wasn't often she got to wait on such a good-looking man.
At last she managed to end the call, and set her phone down. She sent Mulder a brilliant smile, and stepped closer to the counter. "Good afternoon! Sorry for the delay. What can I do for you? Are you picking up or dropping off?" Goodness, what incredible hazel eyes...
Mulder smiled at her, the sudden glamour of it causing her own brown eyes to widen appreciatively. He fished out his badge and flipped it open, keeping his smile easy yet professional. "Actually, I'd like to ask you some questions. Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. I'm investigating the death of Victoria Durkin." He watched the smile slip from Susan's lips and her eyes dull a little as she realized she was to be questioned. He added quickly, "Were you here on Sunday, around eleven-thirty in the morning, when Ms. Durkin collapsed?"
Susan shook her head. "No, it was my day off. I have seniority and don't work the weekends unless someone's sick. Mary and Brenda were working that day. In fact, Mary was supposed to work this morning but she called in sick. Again." The irritation in Susan's voice was noticeable, and on a hunch Mulder took that irritation and ran with it.
"Mary. She was the one who had a birthday on Sunday, right? Is she often unreliable; calls in sick a lot?" He watched Susan carefully as he spoke. And saw another flash of irritation in her expression.
"Oh, often enough. Mary skips out early, comes in late. Calls in sick about once a week, in fact. Usually she's only gone half a day, but this is a small office. There's only the four of us - well, three of us, now that Brenda's gone. When someone doesn't show up it's a real hassle."
The phone rang just then, and with a muttered, "Excuse me", Susan turned to pick it up. While she was occupied Mulder leaned over the counter as unobtrusively as possible and glanced around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could tell. Stacks of rental agreements on a large desk that held several coffee mugs of varying colors and sizes. A sweater hanging off the desk chair, another hooked over the top of a coat tree. A pair of sneakers on the floor. It was obvious that more than one person used the area and the desk.
Susan finished the call and turned back to the counter. "I'm sorry for the interruption. It's going to start getting busy around here; usually does this time of day. Is there anything else you need to know?" There was impatience in her demeanor. Mulder eyed the desk again, then nodded decisively.
"Yes, in fact there is something more. I need to check out this desk, and its contents." He gestured with his hand and Susan frowned briefly at the odd request, then shrugged and unlocked the counter hinge, flipping it up and over so Mulder could walk through. Murmuring his thanks, Mulder walked around to the front of the desk and sat down in the chair.
An investigation of the center drawer yielded the usual collection of pencils and pens, rubber bands, metal clips and a metal-edged ruler. Mulder closed that drawer and was reaching for one of the side drawers when he noticed that each of them was labeled with the names of what had to be Value-Save staff: 'Susan'. 'Brenda'. 'Lucinda'. 'Mary.'
Bingo... He pulled open Mary's drawer and sorted through the contents.
A can of Hershey's hot cocoa mix. Several packages of Top Ramen soup and a rather grungy-looking water bottle with the word "Curves" emblazoned across it. A handful of quarters in a little ceramic dish that was decorated with a fat Garfield, face buried in a pan of lasagna. Some files. Some envelopes. A few cards, some without envelopes and one in an envelope, the top slit open, its contents thicker than the average card. Hmmmm... Mulder picked it up and pulled the card out, flipping it open. And a handful of photos fell into his hands.
A-ha. This must be Mary... Young and cute, no more than maybe twenty-five. Short blonde hair and green eyes, slim - and wrapped in the arms of a dark-haired man at least fifteen years her senior. Mulder was guessing this wasn't her daddy, either. He barely glanced at the card itself, recognizing it by its overload of pink and red hearts to be a Valentine's Day offering. The photos were much more interesting. Three in all, two of Mary and her fellow, and one of him all by himself, mugging into the camera, standing in the sun with his hands on his hips. Smiling. Mulder turned the photo over and read the words written in a masculine scrawl. 'Babe - love you. Need you. Just you!'
No name. Interesting... Mulder held the photo closer, noticing the wedding band on the guy's finger. Her husband?
He looked up and caught Susan's eye, standing at the counter watching him. "Um, Susan? Is your co-worker Mary married?"
Susan shook her head. "Nope. Never been married as far as I know, but she's seeing someone; I don't know who he is. He's never been around here, at least not when I'm working. She gets flowers from him sometimes."
Mulder slipped the photos into the card and the card back into the envelope, taking care to place it back exactly where he'd found it. He had one more question for Susan. "When is Mary scheduled to work again, Susan? And what's her last name, please?"
Susan's reply came out on a rather miffed-sounding snort. "Well, like I said, she was supposed work all day today, but I suspect I won't be seeing her until tomorrow. She's due in at eight. And her last name is Luden."
Mulder nodded and thanked her, letting himself out of the back area of the rental area. He walked slowly out the side door and across the parking lot to his car, thinking about Mary and her married boyfriend. Tomorrow's interview should be intriguing...
Then he remembered that Brenda Jordan's funeral was tomorrow, in the morning, and he and Scully had already decided to go to it, hoping to pick up some kind of clue.
Okay, then. Mary could wait - until after the funeral.
San Diego, California
Days Inn
Balboa Park
Tuesday, 10:25 PMScully absently lifted a now-tepid can of Coke to her lips, draining the last of the soda from the container. She had showered and changed into a pair of mint-green cotton pajama bottoms and a white tank top. Now, with her back propped up against a stack of pillows and her laptop resting on her legs, she sifted through the stack of scribbled notes she had written while waiting for Mulder to pick her up from the coroner's office earlier that evening. She had a set of headphones plugged into the handheld tape recorder as she listened to the playback of the dictation of the autopsies she had performed on the two victims.
Across the room, Mulder was sprawled in the armchair near the window, comfortably clad in a lightweight pair of sweatpants. In the short pauses from the sound of her own voice through the headphones, she could hear him humming softly as he poured over the scrawled notations of his own day's work. His head bobbed, keeping time with the song he was humming, pausing only long enough to scoop a handful of sunflower seeds from the opened bag lying on a nearby table. Scully watched him pop a seed into his mouth, intently studying the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked the salt from the shell before working the tiny seed free with his teeth. He must have sensed her stare, because he lifted his head and sent an absent grin her way. Scully returned his smile before lowering her gaze back to her work.
She instantly realized the distraction had caused her to miss several moments of dictation and she held down the rewind button on the tape player for a few seconds, listening to the high-pitched sound of the tape spinning backwards. Hitting the 'play' button again, she refocused her attention on her work and her fingers once again began to dance over the keyboard as she returned to the task of transcribing her audio notes into a typewritten report.
"Slight discoloration to the nail beds of the fingers..." came the tinny sound of her voice through the inexpensive headphones. "Same bruising beneath the nails of the toes on the right foot; not as noticeable on the left." She highlighted the text to indicate that the same traits had been found on both victims.
For the next twenty minutes, she continued typing, making notes of her observations throughout the autopsies including the weight and appearance of each of the victims' vital organs. She was nearing the end of the tape when she was startled from her task by the bouncing weight of Mulder as he settled onto the bed next to her.
"Find anything interesting to connect our two victims?" He stretched out onto his side and propped his head on one hand, craning his neck in an effort to see the screen of the laptop. Scully hit the 'stop' button on the tape player and dragged the headphones from her ears to rest around her neck. Over dinner, he had given her a brief preview of his own findings from the day, but she had chosen, as always, to wait until she'd had the time to briefly analyze the data she had collected before putting any of her thoughts into words.
"Quite a few things, actually." She quickly scrolled through her report, eyes searching for the highlighted text that indicated similar findings from both examinations. "I'm waiting for a number of reports back from the lab," she told him.
"Such as?"
She began ticking off the various reports she was waiting for. "Pathology reports on the tissue samples from the vital organs, as well as blood and urine tests."
"What do you expect - or rather - what are you hoping these tests will reveal?"
She shrugged. "Some kind of tangible, scientific link connecting the cause of death." She reached out and yanked some papers from beneath his hip, absently smoothing out the creases as she spoke.
"If I had to offer a hypothesis right now, I'd say that both women were poisoned." She tapped one of the arrow keys on the laptop to move through the document. "Blood and urine tests will tell us whether the victims were exposed to any foreign toxins, but just from my visual examination alone, I'd say that there is certainly enough evidence to support the theory."
"Like what?" Mulder scooted closer and tugged one of the pillows from behind her back, settling more comfortably onto the bed. His voice was alert and the look he gave her was filled with curiosity, even though his eyelids drooped sleepily.
She mentioned the discoloration beneath the nails on the hands and feet of both women, as well as the swelling and unnatural redness found in their gums and tongues.
Scully saved and closed the file, shut down the laptop and set it onto the bedside table along with the tape player and her collection of handwritten notes. She stretched out one arm to turn off the lamp and slid down in bed to rest her cheek on Mulder's shoulder. She absently traced her fingers over his collarbone as she continued.
"The brains of both victims showed some minor contusions which could be an indication of sudden inter-cranial pressure," she told him. "There was some evidence of inflammation and swelling in their throats and an examination of the stomach contents indicated that they had both..."
Her voice trailed off and she stiffened against him. Mulder stroked his hand through her hair and let it glide down her back.
"What is it, Scully?" He lifted his head and squinted, trying to make out her face in the darkened room. He jostled her slightly, trying to draw her attention back to him.
"An examination of the stomach contents indicated that they both... what?" he prodded.
"Oh!" She was jarred back to the present when he tugged lightly on her hair. She blinked in the darkness. "I'm sorry. They both had eaten yellow pound cake shortly before dying."
Scully burrowed her face into Mulder's neck. "I'll know more when the tests are back from the lab," she said. She forced herself to regulate her breathing and allowed Mulder's warmth to seep into her suddenly cold limbs, relaxing her. She dismissed the unexpected clutch of fear as silly and unfounded.
But she fell asleep with the unpleasant and bitter taste of cake in her mouth.
San Diego, California
Balboa Memorial Center
Wednesday, 11:05 AMMulder shifted restlessly on the padded folding chair. He and Scully had slipped into the Center's spacious 'Memory Sanctuary' and had snagged a couple of chairs in the last row, wishing to remain as unobtrusive as possible. The first three rows of seating actually consisted of small, comfortable wing chairs and sofas, meant to encourage family members and friends to gather in small clumps and presumably chat about the deceased. Since any kind of funeral home gave him the creeps, Mulder was wishing he could be anywhere but here. He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, sending a grateful smile Scully's way when she laced her fingers through his and gave them a squeeze. She knew how much he hated this kind of atmosphere.
The sanctuary was about two-thirds full, most of the attendees seated in the comfy wing chairs and sofas. An elderly woman with thin white hair scraped back in a bun was keening loudly, rocking back and forth in the chair nearest to the open casket. An equallyelderly man awkwardly patted her shoulder and wiped at his own streaming eyes. Grandparents, obviously. The first row chairs and sofas were crowded with people in various stages of whispering, crying and the occasional giggle. Another side effect of grief; it made some people laugh. Yet another reason for Mulder to hate the whole memorial process.
Next to him Scully craned her neck to see past the heads directly in front of them. Since they'd first walked in they'd both looked to see if any of the staff from Value-Save would show up. So far she hadn't recognized anyone, and Susan, the woman Mulder had spoken to, had yet to make an appearance.
A small commotion near one of the side doors in front of the sanctuary drew their attention, and they both watched as a somberfaced man in his late thirties walked in, leaning on the supporting arm of...
"Mary, Mary... is that her? Because that's definitely the 'boyfriend' I saw in the photos I found in the desk at Value-Save." Mulder noted the way the petite blonde physically bolstered the grieving widower, leading him to the sofa directly in front of the casket. He sank down and she followed, sitting close to him and keeping her eyes locked on his profile.
Scully nodded, rising up a little from her chair to get a better look. "Yes, that's her. Quite solicitous, isn't she?" They both observed how close Mary sat to the man who had to be Marvin Jordan, how intently she watched him. "You're sure this is the guy you saw in those photos in her desk?"
Mulder nodded, his eyes locked on both of them. "Oh, yeah. It's him. Plenty of snuggling going on in those two photos. Romantic snuggling; our Marvin had his hands all over Mary's ass, in one of them. So," he turned to Scully and grinned, albeit grimly, "We have an adulterous situation, and we have a dead wife. We have, according to your early autopsy findings, a possibility of poisoning. We have Brenda Jordan sobbing in jail that 'it wasn't supposed to happen.' Now all we have to figure out, is..." He paused dramatically, holding his words until Scully frowned and pushed at his shoulder. Mulder chuckled and finished, "All we have to figure out, is the rest of it." Scully sighed loudly and he smirked at her.
A grumble under her breath had him chuckling anew. "You are an idiot. Now shut up and let's listen to this damned service."
The service itself was predictably somber and lengthy; the eulogy given by a tall, scrawny man Mulder presumed was the Center director. He was dressed in unrelenting black, and with his pale skin, hair and eyes looked like a cross between an anemic vampire and an albino. His voice was sonorous and his address delivered in a monotone that drove Mulder nuts. He could feel himself fidgeting and knew he must look like a typical, bored child. He forced himself to sit still.
At one point in the service, a long-winded description of Brenda Jordan's devotion to the ladies in her grandmother's canasta club brought forth not only a grief-laden wail from the elderly woman in the wing chair, but also an accompanying screech of pain from Marvin Jordan. As they watched in disbelief, he laid his head on Mary's conveniently handy shoulder, and bawled loudly and copiously. Scully snorted a soft and disgusted, "Oh, brother," and sat back in her uncomfortable chair, no doubt longing for their motel room as much as Mulder was.
He nodded and murmured softly, "Getting awfully thick in here. I may have to roll up my pants just to wade out. I say we pull Mary aside as soon as the service is over, before she can make her escape with ole Marvin."
"I agree."
The service finally over, the agents remained seated and kept an eye on the front of the sanctuary, waiting patiently for the stream of mourners who filed past the casket, peeked inside and then turned to shake Marvin Jordan's hand or give him a hug. He stood next to the casket, pale and sad-faced, outwardly the perfect example of a griefstricken husband. Mulder thought the pose was ruined somewhat by the clinging, young blonde-haired woman at his side who had a death grip on his arm. Mary was probably afraid one of the other female funeral attendees would make a play for him, right in front of his embalmed wife.
Shaking off the morbid humor, Mulder nudged Scully and stood quickly when it became apparent Mary and the Widower Jordan were about to exit out a side door. Scully scooped up her purse and hurried after Mulder who was already halfway up the aisle.
"Miss Luden, a moment of your time, please." Mulder caught up with Mary before she could slip out the door. The blonde woman turned and stared up at him, impatience etched in her expression. Mulder flipped out his badge and identified himself; she visibly stiffened at the sight of it in his hand. She let go of Jordan's arm and he looked back in confusion, his eyes settling briefly on both agents, then glancing down at the badge Mulder still held out. Frowning, he faced them and spoke before Mary could say anything.
"You're an FBI agent? What's this about? We're having a private family gathering, here, for God's sake. My wife..." His voice broke off on a choking sob and Mary immediately caught hold of his arm, supporting him again. She turned to Mulder and Scully and her eyes glittered with suppressed tears.
"Please... this isn't a good time. I have no idea why you need to talk to me, but we have to meet up with the rest of the family." She started to lead Marvin Jordan out the door as if he were an invalid, but her progress was halted by the hand Mulder slapped against the open frame.
His voice was polite yet firm. "I'm sorry for your loss. Both of you. But my partner and I need to speak with you, Ms. Luden. It's important. I am sure Mr. Jordan understands, and has other family members who can comfort him while we speak." His arm held fast across the door frame and his tone brooked no argument.
Marvin Jordan nodded jerkily and offered Mary a sad smile. "It's all right, Mary. Brenda's grandparents are in rough shape and I really need to be with them. I've been so wrapped up in my own misery..." He gestured with his free hand and she reluctantly let go of him. Mulder dropped his arm from the door frame as Jordan squeezed her shoulder and walked out to catch up to his family, waiting in the parking lot.
Mulder and Scully ushered Mary Luden into a small conference room that held a table, some chairs and a sofa. Leading her to the table, he seated her politely and asked if she wanted a glass of water. Mary shook her head, but accepted a tissue from the box Scully found on a side table. She dabbed at her eyes while the agents settled themselves in chairs across from her.
Scully folded her hands on the table and addressed Mary first. "Miss Luden, my name is Dana Scully and I'm Agent Mulder's partner. I was at the airport the day Victoria Durkin collapsed. Do you remember me? I was returning a rental car."
Mary nodded as she blew her nose. "Yes, I remember you. You were the one who tried to help her. You and another customer."
Scully smiled reassuringly at the distraught woman. "That's right. Agent Mulder and I want to do everything we can to help the local authorities piece together what happened, both to Ms. Durkin and now Brenda Jordan. We'd like to ask you a few questions. It won't take long." Her voice was calm and Mary visibly relaxed, leaning back in her chair and wiping at her eyes.
"Okay. I'll do the best I can."
Mulder smiled at her. "Good. Just a few initial things we need to establish... you and Brenda Jordan worked together at Value-Save. How long had you known her?"
Mary thought for a moment. "Oh, about two years, I guess. I got the job right out of college. I wanted to get into teaching but my final grade point average wasn't good enough. I had a real hard time with college and almost dropped out a couple of times. But I stuck it out and got my degree." There was pride in her voice and Mulder nodded encouragingly. Mary blushed a little and continued, "Anyhow, Brenda was the one who trained me, and we were friends right from the beginning. We were all really good friends. Brenda and Marvin have been so good to me." Tears re-formed in her eyes and Mary bravely blinked them away.
Mulder did his level best to make appropriate sympathetic noises, but it was really tough to do when all he wanted was to grasp her narrow shoulders, shake her until her teeth rattled, and call her a hypocrite to her face. He restrained himself, however, and was grateful when Scully somehow sensed his anger and took up the questioning.
"Mary, do you know if Brenda was sick? Did she have any health problems? Did she miss a lot of work because of taking sick leave?"
Mary shook her head firmly. "No, not at all! Brenda was always at work. Even when she got a cold she worked. Once she came to work with a high fever. She was very dedicated to her job."
Okay, the woman was a paragon in the work force. There had to be a reason Marvin strayed in the first place, other than the fact of Mary's youthful beauty versus Brenda's relatively plain-Jane appearance. Mulder tried again. "Mary, do you know whether or not Brenda was happily married?" Blunt and to the point. Scully shot a swift glance his way but didn't say anything.
Mary's jaw dropped a little. "Happily... how would I know? I don't know... yes, of course she was happy with Marvin! God, who wouldn't be? He's a wonderful man!" She twisted her tissue into little shreds. "She loved him, and he loved her! Why would you think Brenda wouldn't be happily married?"
Mulder eyed her carefully and decided to let her have it, hoping it might shake something loose. "Because Marvin Jordan was having an affair with someone. We have proof." As he uttered those words, Mulder watched Mary's face carefully, and saw the color drain right out of her pretty face, saw the way her eyes got huge with shock. Or was that guilt? He was about to find out.
"Wha... are you... how... proof?" Mary's voice was thin and high. Mulder reckoned it could be shock mixed with guilt. He and Scully both watched as Mary's fair complexion went from pasty to bright pink. Her fingers were mangling what tissue shreds she had left, and her pointed little chin wobbled a bit. Her eyes dropped to the table and she refused to raise them even when Scully addressed her directly.
"Mary, listen to me. Agent Mulder and I have a job to do here. We have two women who have died under inexplicable circumstances. We have been assigned to solve a puzzle, and we have to go at it from all angles. If you can tell us anything at all about the woman that Marvin Jordan was seeing, we'd really appreciate the help." She eyed Mary Luden closely, carefully.
And Mary flushed pink again; her forehead actually broke out in a light sweat. She gave the appearance of a woman caught in a maelstrom of guilt - and her reply was predictable and given without looking either agent in the eye.
"I don't know anything about Marvin having an affair. I don't know anything!"
Three seconds later Mary Luden was on the floor, gasping and choking while her throat swelled - and Scully and Mulder were trying again to save a life they both knew in their hearts was beyond their saving. And once again, as they worked over Mary Luden's prone and unresponsive frame, their eyes met - and in Scully's Mulder could detect something besides helpless frustration.
He could detect fear.
Chapter Four
San Diego, California
County Coroner's Office
Thursday, 3:36 PMFor the second time in two days, Scully stripped a pair of soiled latex gloves from her hands and tossed them onto the tray of instruments used during her examination of the victim's body. She took her time while washing her hands and splashed cold water on her face, beating down the niggling fear growing in her mind. Blotting her face with a paper towel, she took a deep breath and tried to school her features into placid lines. She balled her fingers around the paper towel and turned to face her partner.
Mulder was sitting at the small desk in the corner of the room. His feet were propped on top of the desk and his attention was focused on the file in his hands. Scully leaned one hip against the side of the desk and cleared her throat to gain his attention.
Mulder waved the file in his hands. "I have no idea what I'm reading," he confessed, "but at least it gave me something to look at while you were doing your thing over there." He tilted his head toward the sheet-covered body of Mary Luden.
Scully took the proffered folder from his hands and flipped it open. She scanned the contents of the three page typewritten report inside. "Well, the tests do not indicate the presence of any known toxins," she said. Her brow wrinkled in frustration. "Although the creatinine levels are elevated."
"Creatinine levels?" The perplexed look on Mulder's face prompted her to explain and she unconsciously fell into the kind of lecture mode she had used as an instructor at Quantico.
"Basically, it's a chemical waste that is generated from muscle metabolism. It's produced from creatine, which is a molecule used for the production of energy in muscles. Roughly two percent of a body's creatine is converted into creatinine every day. It's carried by the bloodstream to the kidneys where most of it is filtered out and disposed of in the urine."
"And how does that relate to what's going on here?" Mulder unscrewed the cap from a plastic bottle of water and chugged several mouthfuls.
Scully tapped the folder against her palm and continued her lecture. "The normal level of creatinine in the blood of an adult female is 0.5 to 1.1 milligrams per deciliter. Obviously, adults with a larger muscle mass can have higher levels."
"And in Brenda Jordan and Victoria Durkin...?"
Scully referred back to the report. "I would not describe either of them as being muscular, yet the creatinine levels for both were close to 4.5 milligrams."
"Is that high enough to cause these violent deaths?"
Scully shook her head. "No. As a diagnostic tool, an elevated creatinine level is indicative of poor kidney function. If the kidneys are impaired and are not filtering out the creatinine, then the levels will rise." Scully set the folder onto the desk and reached out a hand for the water bottle.
"But even then, an adult would have to have a creatinine level of close to 10.0 milligrams to even warrant the possible need for dialysis to help remove wastes from the blood. Some drugs can sometimes cause the creatinine levels to rise, but as I said, these test results do not indicate the presence of any known toxins. Certainly an elevated creatinine level would not cause a person to collapse and die they way these women did."
Mulder gnawed on his bottom lip and considered everything she had just told him. "What about Mary?" he asked. "Did you find any similarities to your examinations of Victoria and Brenda?"
Scully boosted herself onto the desk and unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water. "Same swelling of the tongue and abnormal redness to the gums. Inflamed and swollen throat; discoloration beneath the nails. Examination of the brain showed similar contusions to those found in my examinations of the other women."
"Well, I know that too much time has passed for you to find traces of the pound cake that the other women ate, but since you told me that the cake was there for Mary's birthday, I'd have to say that chances are very high that she would have eaten some of the cake as well."
Scully took a quick drink from the water bottle in a futile attempt to wash away the gnawing taste of fear.
"I heard her tell Victoria Durkin that she had been nibbling on the cake throughout the morning."
Mulder planted his shoes on the edge of the desk and pushed the chair back, its wheels squealing loudly in protest. He leapt to his feet and began pacing around the room.
"Well, then that's got to be it," he murmured. "The cake is the one thing that ties all three women together. Did you notice how many pieces of cake were missing?"
"I... uh. Mulder..."
"Whaddya think? More than half of the cake? Less?" He glanced her direction as he began a second circuit around the desk.
"Less than half. Listen, Mulder, I-"
Mulder nodded. "Okay. I'm pretty sure that the lab tests from Mary's autopsy will show results to the others-"
"Mulder..."
"While we're waiting for the lab reports, we can head back to ValueSave. We need to pull the records of everyone who was in the office that morning. Employees, customers... God! She might have offered some of that cake to the clerks from the other car rental counters in the airport."
"Mulder!"
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. Scully dropped her eyes and began peeling the label from the plastic bottle in her hands - a nervous habit of hers that he had become acquainted with early in their partnership.
"Scully?" He felt a hard ball of worry forming in his stomach as he took a step closer to her. When she looked up with a frightened expression, he was sure he could actually feel the blood drain from his face. She hadn't said a word since sharply calling out his name, but he knew. And when she finally did speak, her words struck him with the force of a bullet.
"Mulder... I ate some of that cake too."
San Diego, California
Days Inn
Balboa Park
Thursday, 7:18 PMThe heavy drapes familiar to every hotel room across the country were drawn closed. A lamp turned to its lowest setting gilded the couple entwined on the bed with an amber glow.
The bedspread had been tossed to the floor to join the pile of their clothes. Mulder was stretched out over Scully, trapping her between the crisp coolness of cotton sheets and the hot heaviness of his body.
No words passed between them. Instead, serrated sighs and muffled moans stood proxy for declarations of love. Propped on his forearms, Mulder tunneled his fingers into the crimson hair spilled over the white pillowcase. She raised her face to meet his descending mouth; his lips tugged at hers with a desperate passion that belied the unhurried movements of their hips.
Scully bound him to her with legs loosely coiled around his waist. With every languid thrust of his body into hers, her fingertips skated up the sweat-dampened hollow of his spine and with every reluctant retreat, skimmed back down the same path to dip into the matching dimples at the small of his back.
They joined their bodies in a frantic bid to keep their fears at bay, mating in an ageless reaffirmation of life and love. And when their passions had been spent, Mulder wrapped strong arms around Scully as she buried her lips against the pulse beating steadily in his throat. And resting in their protective embrace on this night, their sleep was relatively untroubled.
Watery early-morning sunlight was leaking in through the slatted blinds when Mulder stirred awake. Face buried in his pillow, he first registered the sound of birdsong outside their hotel window, then slowly came to awareness. Flopping over on his back, he stretched and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, then glanced over at Scully's side of the bed, ready to smile and kiss her awake.
She wasn't there.
Frowning, Mulder sat up, looking around. He'd risen a few hours ago to get a glass of water, and she'd still been in bed, sound asleep. At least, she'd seemed that way to him. He'd slipped back under the covers and cuddled her close, falling asleep almost instantly.
He got out of bed, figuring he'd find her in the bathroom, since the door was partially open. Naked, he approached the door and rapped his knuckles lightly.
"Scully? You in there?"
A muffled "Yeah", floated back to him. Mulder pushed the door open all the way and walked in, his eyes focusing with difficulty in the dim little room.
She was sitting on the bath rug, her back resting against the tub. Cross-legged, wearing the wrinkled shirt he had on yesterday, her hair in tangles and her chin propped in her palm. Mulder sat down on the toilet seat and she glanced up at him with a small smile on her face. He reached out a hand to stroke her hair and Scully leaned into it like a small cat.
"Whatcha doing?" Even in the dimness Mulder could see the smudges under her eyes. She hadn't slept well at all. She shrugged and rubbed her cheek on the back of his hand as it curved over her shoulder.
"Nothing much. Sitting. Thinking. I couldn't sleep very well."
Mulder nodded, then opened his arms to her. Scully slowly got to her feet and moved closer, swinging a leg on either side of the seat and straddling his lap, face to face. Their eyes met, unsmiling and intent, both tired, both needing far more sleep than they'd gotten.
Mulder kissed her neck and felt tiny goosebumps form under her skin. "Thinking about recent developments and revelations? It's pretty much what kept me from getting into that deep REM."
She nodded and laid her cheek on his shoulder and her breath stirred the fine hairs behind his ear. "Yeah. It's hard not to. I woke up right after you came back to bed, and everything flooded my mind at once. I couldn't fall asleep again, so I came in here with the idea of taking a bath, and ended up on the rug, thinking." She hitched herself closer and Mulder stroked soothing hands up and down her back as she added, "Trying to piece all of this together has actually given me a headache. I took four aspirin and they're just now taking effect."
Mulder pressed his lips to her forehead. "Poor baby. It's frustrating. We need answers, and soon. We also need a plan. Is there anything else you remember about that day, something you haven't mentioned? Did you see anyone besides Victoria Durkin eating the cake? How much of it did you actually swallow, Scully?"
She thought for a moment. "I never saw anyone else eating it while I was standing there - other than Durkin. There were at least three pieces missing before she handed me a slice. And she gave the cake to me before she took any for herself. As I mentioned earlier, I heard Mary say she'd been nibbling here and there, so I assume she'd pulled a slice of the cake aside, probably first thing when she opened it up. I never saw Brenda eating, so she must have had a slice of it before I got up to the counter. That leaves one other slice unaccounted for." She frowned a little, forcing herself to recall minute details. "I ate one decent-sized bite. The cake tasted bitter - left an odd taste in my mouth. I swallowed it, Mulder - the entire bite I'd taken - and I dumped the rest of it in the nearest trash-can. I don't think anyone saw me do it. And just a few seconds after I threw it away, Victoria Durkin began choking."
Mulder nodded, relieved as hell that she'd only eaten a bite. Though Scully hadn't found evidence of any toxins, if they were dealing with some form of poison, thankfully she wouldn't have ingested much.
He sifted gentle fingers through Scully's tangled hair as she rested her head on his shoulder. In the silence of the small bathroom, a steady drip of the tub faucet blended with the chirp of a noisy lark in the tree outside their window. Sunlight slowly lightened the dim interior and without checking the watch he'd forgotten to remove last night, Mulder knew they had to get moving. They had a lot to do that day.
But he was loathe to move, didn't want to let go of the soft woman in his arms. He faced the knowledge that despite his efforts to remain calm, an insidious fear was escalating within him. His arms tightened around Scully's body and she cuddled even closer, her mouth now buried against his neck. Underneath his shirt she was bare and warm, her legs dangling on either side of his hips. His own body had responded to her damp warmth as soon as she'd sat in his lap - and for the time being he'd been content to feel her rubbing into his erection, the friction a comfort as well as an arousal.
But now... it seemed as if a potential time-bomb had found its way into their lives. It was just too incredible, the thought that a piece of cake could kill. No apparent cause, no trace of toxins. Elevated levels of chemical imbalance in the human body that could actually be the result of anything other than what each of these women ate prior to their deaths. It was easy to rationalize, that was true.
Easy... until it involved the woman he loved, adored, lived for. Easy - until the moment he admitted to himself that he was scared shitless.
She'd eaten a bite of cake, chewed and swallowed it. One bite. Maybe it wasn't enough to hurt her - and maybe it was. How the fuck could they know for sure? Three people were dead, and each of them had apparently eaten different amounts of the cake. Each had died at different times after ingestion.
It didn't add up.
And he was worried - hell, beyond worried. Scared shitless. It had to be repeated. He couldn't remember being this frightened even when Scully had been taken from him, even when he'd raced against time into that frozen Antarctic hell to save her from a fate he still struggled to comprehend. Time bomb.
Jesus...
His arms gripped her hard, panic and worry blending into an urgent and desperate need to connect with her, to feel her life force all around him. Mulder shoved one hand into Scully's hair and pulled back her head, barely registering her muffled squeak as he covered her mouth with his and kissed her, deeply. Demandingly. He stood up with her still in his arms, mouth locked to her lips, and carried her back to their bed. He deposited her on the twisted bed sheets, tugging off the shirt she still wore, following her down, draping his body over hers, their kisses now frantic as the force of his desire caught her alight.
She didn't ask why; she knew. Scully's arms and legs twined around him tightly; she met kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Mulder was marking her as his, as surely as any male animal marked his mate. She understood, he knew it... for she gasped as he pushed between her legs, pressed himself into her wet center, slipped inside and drove himself home. Her nails dug into his back, her teeth latched onto his bottom lip in a nipping kiss and she bit him as his hard thrusts raced them both to the edge.
And as they fell from that great height, for one perfect moment each were able to forget that anything at all threatened their love, and their world.
Chapter Five
San Diego, California
Value-Save Rent-a-Car
Montgomery Field
Friday, 8:15 AMWhen Susan Moore arrived at the satellite office to open up for the day, Mulder and Scully were waiting for her, standing next to Mulder's rental car. Both wore dark suits and somber, albeit polite expressions. Both were also exhausted, having never fallen back asleep after the second contact with their bed. They'd held each other close, silent, deeply into their respective thoughts, resting for another hour before finally rising and facing the day. By mutual agreement their first stop would be to the Value-Save, to scoop up anything they could find. Then they had a 'date' with Marvin Jordan... he just didn't know it yet.
Susan smiled at them as she approached their car, her gaze lingering appreciatively on Mulder. The smile slipped a bit when she noticed the way he seemed to be leaning into the personal space of the small, slender red-haired woman at his side - who sure didn't seem to mind. Susan sighed; some women had all the luck. She kept her smile in place as she reached their sides.
"Good morning. Back again, I see. What can I do for you, Agent... I'm sorry, I can't remember your name." It was a partial truth; she remembered his first name. God, who could forget a name like Fox? Especially when the man more than lived up to that name.
Mulder smiled easily, offering his hand. "It's Agent Fox Mulder. This is my partner, Agent Dana Scully. If you don't mind, we have just a few more questions concerning Mary Luden and Brenda Jordan."
Susan looked confused for a moment, then shrugged and unlocked the door, holding it open for them. She switched on the lights and pressed a small button below the window, illuminating an 'Open' sign. Mulder and Scully waited until she'd booted up her computer and performed a half-dozen other office tasks. While the coffeemaker sputtered and dripped, Susan pulled up a few extra chairs behind the counter and they all sat.
"I'm not sure what more I can tell you, Agent Mulder, but I'll be glad to help out in any way I can." Mulder smiled gratefully at her, and she blinked in reaction to the full force of it. Lord, the man was lethal...
"Ms. Moore," Scully addressed her and Susan's attention shifted reluctantly, "I was here at the rental counter last Sunday when the customer Victoria Durkin died. Agent Mulder and I are trying to piece together not only what happened to her, but also to Brenda Jordan and to Mary Luden. We know you weren't working that day, but if you can think of anything that might help us..." She broke off, eyeing the woman closely. Susan Moore may not have been at work, but she might have heard something from another employee and filed it away in her memory.
Susan shook her head sadly. "No, I'm sorry. I haven't really heard anything other than normal shock. I mean, two co-workers, dead! I really liked Brenda. She was a sweetie. Mary, well - she was nice, too. But I knew Brenda better. I worked with her the longest."
The coffeemaker chose that moment to shut off and Susan jumped up to grab a cup, asking the agents if they wanted any. Both refused, and Susan busied herself with pouring a cup and adding a large spoonful of sugar before sitting back down again. She gulped half the cup before she continued talking. "I wanted to go to Brenda's funeral, but I just couldn't. I'm really bad with death, and funerals give me nightmares. Now I wish I'd gone."
Mulder watched her drain the cup, noticing the slight shake of her hand. Deliberately using her first name, he inquired, "Susan - the day that Brenda and Victoria Durkin died, there was a cake sitting on the counter. It was Mary's birthday that day, and she'd cut some of the cake and had given pieces of it to several people. We know that Brenda had a piece, and Mary ate some of it off and on throughout the morning. Do you know what happened to the cake after Sunday?"
Susan thought for a moment. "Well, I remember tossing the cake in the garbage on Monday morning when I came in. It was all dried out. Nobody had thought to cover it, I guess."
Mulder smiled encouragingly at her. "Can you remember how many pieces were missing from the cake you threw away?"
If Susan thought the question odd, she hid it well. "Not really. I mean, there were pieces gone, there were crumbs on the desk we all use. I just tossed it." She was very curious now, and it showed as she asked, "Why do you ask? Is there something about the cake that - " Her eyes widened as she put the deaths alongside the fact both her co-workers had eaten the cake; she exclaimed, "You think the cake made them sick, or something? You think the cake hurt them?"
Mulder and Scully locked eyes momentarily; Mulder gave her a tiny nod. Scully turned to Susan Moore and asked, "Ms. Moore... you didn't eat any of that cake, did you?"
"No, I didn't - oh, my God! I could have eaten it! I mean, I don't like cake but I crave sugar something terrible, especially with my morning coffee! And I sure eyed it a bit; it had lots of icing and looked pretty good to me even though I usually never eat the stuff. Oh, God... I could have eaten it! Please... did that cake kill Brenda and Mary? Was it... poisoned?" Susan was white-faced with panic.
Scully put on her most reassuring smile. "No, Ms. Moore. We don't think the cake contained poison. But there is a possibility it was tainted in some way. That's part of our investigation. We have to trace back to anyone besides Brenda and Mary - and Ms. Durkin - who may have eaten some of the cake. That's why we're asking you if you'd be willing to turn over your customer files to us - the ones from last Sunday. If we could pinpoint your Sunday customers, it would help a great deal."
Susan nodded, still shaky. "Sure. You can take them, as long as I have them back by the end of the week so I can Fed Ex them to the main office. We have to do it every Saturday, close of business. Well," she rubbed her fingers across her eyes, "I guess I should say 'I', not 'we'... seeing as I seem to be the only Value-Save employee left in the office since Lucinda quit and the others - well, since they... left..." Her voice broke a little. She rubbed at her face again, then rose and walked over to a beat-up lateral file, opening it up and pulling out a thick folder. "Here's everything from that Sunday. It looks like a lot but it really isn't. We staple all the contracts and assorted paperwork together so we don't lose anything."
She handed the folder to Mulder, who murmured his thanks. "We'll make sure to get this back to you in plenty of time for sending out. Now I think we should get out of your hair so you can start your day. Oh, one other thing - would you mind if we looked through the desk one last time? I know I went through Mary's drawer, but now I'm thinking we might want to also look through Brenda's as well - just in case something was missed."
Susan waved her hand toward the desk. "Be my guest."
While Scully flipped through the contents of the folder, Mulder searched through Brenda Jordan's drawer. It yielded even less than Mary Luden's had. A few dog-eared paperback novels. A purple coffee mug heavily stained on the inside, with the words, 'Who Loves Ya, Baby!' emblazoned on each side in neon pink. A hairbrush. A handful of cough drops and an unopened package of 'Thank You' cards.
Nothing. Mulder sighed in frustration, closed the drawer and then once more opened Mary's, determined to find something he overlooked before.
He flipped through the items again, carefully, this time opening the files he'd bypassed the first time, when he'd been more zeroed in on the photos he'd found. One file appeared to be nothing more than the usual employee-type items: health care reimbursement forms, compensation forms, paycheck stubs.
The second file appeared to be a little more personal; a few letters addressed to Mary from a 'Lydia Luden' - mother, or possibly sister? Mulder set them aside and kept looking.
A few seconds later, he found it... a receipt from a company called 'The Delivery Guys', for delivery of "One Cake, addressed to Mary Luden, care of Value-Save Rental Satellite Office, Montgomery Field".
Bingo.
The receipt had an address imprinted for the delivery company. Mulder pocketed the receipt plus the letters he'd found, then turned to Scully, catching her eye. She nodded and tucked the folder under her arm. Together they thanked Susan Moore for her help and assured her they'd bring the folder back to her on Saturday morning. They left the rental car office.
Out in the sunshine Scully glanced up at Mulder, squinting against the brightness of the day. "Okay. Now what? I saw you stuff something in your pocket. What did you find, Mulder?"
He pulled out the receipt and waved it under her nose. "Delivery receipt. For the cake. Paydirt, Scully - I hope. I say we go there first, then pay Marvin Jordan a little visit. He's lost two women in just a few days; I'd bet he's probably feeling really down. Maybe he'll talk. And if not, maybe we can... persuade... him to talk."
Scully sighed as she opened the passenger side door and slipped into her seat. "I have a feeling this is going to be one damned long day."
San Diego, California
Crowder and Jordan CPA Offices
Friday 9:45 AMMulder swung into the parking lot and nabbed the last spot he could find and killed the engine. Leaning back in his seat, he rubbed his fingers into his dry, gritty eyes.
The delivery place had been a waste of time; it was only open on the weekend, just a small struggling business. They'd have to come back on Saturday. He rubbed at his eyes again, and without a word, Scully rummaged through her bag, coming up with a bottle of Natural Tears. She handed it to Mulder, who smiled his thanks to her and tipped his head back, shooting several drops into both eyes. He gave the bottle back to her, wiped the excess from underneath his eyes, and commented, "I must be drying up from the inside, or something. I can't keep any moisture under my lids."
Scully patted his shoulder in mock-sympathy. "I'll peel an onion and wave it around in your face, Mulder. That ought to be good for a few crocodile tears." She flipped a grin his way, then opened her door, Mulder copying her movements. He sent her a rude look across the top of the car.
"Smart-ass. Okay, let's see if ole Marv is home."
They walked up flagstone steps, entering the office through thick glass double doors that opened into a spacious lobby tastefully decorated in muted shades of gray and soft blue. Low, soothing canned music was meant to please, as was the bubbling fountain in one corner of the waiting area. The low sofas and glossy magazines scattered over polished tables invited the visitor to relax - and perhaps forget they were about to head into an accountant's office and maybe hear something distressing about their finances.
The overall effect of Crowder and Jordan was understated, elegant - and expensive-looking. It was obvious Marvin Jordan was doing quite well in the accounting business.
They gave their names to an efficient-looking woman in her late fifties sitting at a wide, neat-as-a-pin reception desk; her nameplate identified her as 'Mavis Flynn'. She looked down her nose at them from behind a pair of steel-rimmed half-glasses; she barely glanced at their proffered badges.
"Mr. Jordan is unavailable." Low voice, cold as the North wind and just as blunt. Great, Mulder thought; a barracuda. Truly the last thing they needed right about now.
He tried a smile. It dried up in the desert chill of Mavis Flynn's polite glare. "I know we don't have an appointment. But it's very important that we speak with Mr. Jordan. Now." Mulder's smile stayed steady but his voice was firm, brooking no argument.
Mavis Flynn was not swayed in the least. "And I repeat: Mr. Jordan is not available." She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes gaining another inch of frost to match the icicles dripping from her tongue. Idly, Mulder wondered if she'd ever gotten herself laid. Her panties were probably three sizes too tight...
He shook off the grossly unprofessional and vaguely disturbing thought and leaned forward as well, stating, "Madam, I suggest you make him available. We're here on official FBI business. And our time is every bit as valuable as Mr. Jordan's -"
The unflappable Flynn interrupted him quite rudely. "Somehow I doubt that. However, I would be happy to reserve approximately seven minutes of Mr. Jordan's time, for your usage. I believe I can fit you in at four-forty-two, on Monday." With that, she opened her appointment book, chose with great care a black lacquered fountain pen, and poised her writing hand over Monday's page. One gray eyebrow ascended in their direction as she awaited their decision.
Mulder stared at her for several seconds, then turned to Scully, meeting her own raised eyebrows and silent exasperation. Wordlessly, he stepped back from the reception desk, glanced in three different directions - and suddenly made a beeline for a closed door at one end of the spacious room. Scully grinned and followed; Ms. Flynn squawked aloud, sputtering, "Here, now! You cannot go bursting in on Mr. Jordan!"
Mulder tossed back a cheery, "Sure I can, Ms. Flynn - Marv and I are old memorial-service buddies." He and Scully reached the door, Mulder jerked it open and they stepped inside, almost slamming it on Mavis Flynn's pointed, stuck-up nose.
Inside an office even more luxurious than the main reception area, Marvin Jordan looked up in shock from the high gleam of his polished desk, and exclaimed, "How the hell did you get - oh, it's you. The FBI agents from the other day. Listen, this is a hell of a time to be trying to talk to me. Jesus, haven't you people got any empathy? I've just lost my wife, and now my best friend..." The man's face was pale and his eyes were rimmed in dark circles. Obviously he'd been grieving - but for whom? The million-dollar question, Mulder thought.
He and Scully flipped out their badges again, as per regulation, then Scully spoke first, keeping her voice even and low. "Mr. Jordan, Agent Mulder and I understand you've been through some difficult days, lately. And as we said before, we're sorry for your loss of Brenda and your friend Mary. But you have to understand that we're conducting an investigation. We need your cooperation and your help. It can't wait, so we request that you bear with us and allow us to ask you the questions we deem necessary."
Jordan stared hard at both agents, before shrugging and leaning back in his chair, the picture of abject misery. "Go ahead, but please keep it brief. My head is pounding and this is the last thing my blood pressure needs."
Mulder nodded. "We'll keep it as brief as possible. Now, Mr. Jordan... please, tell us: how well did you know Mary Luden? Was your association with her through your wife or had you known her before she started her job at Value-Save?"
"Well, I didn't meet Mary until a Christmas party at the rental office. I suppose she'd been working for them maybe four months. Brenda had taken Mary under her wing, like a mentor, I guess. Mary was like a little sister to me." Marvin looked appropriately mistyeyed. Scully choked back a silent gag, and Mulder had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from saying something he'd surely later regret.
"Okay. So you and Brenda befriended Mary. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her? Did she have any enemies? Anyone who might have been jealous of her?" Mulder watched the other man's eyes very closely.
Jordan looked bewildered. "Enemies? Mary? God, no! She was sweet and kind, full of life. She loved everybody. Who'd ever want to harm Mary? And, jealous? You mean, other women? Hell, I don't know - I don't think so. She was a pretty little thing but just as nice as can be. No, Mary didn't have any enemies that I'd know of."
Mulder nodded, "Okay. Were you aware, Mr. Jordan, that Mary Luden was having an affair with a married man? And would it have been possible that the wife of that married man might have gotten in the way of their combined happiness, as scorned wives sometimes do?" He waited for the explosion of denial...
He didn't have to wait long. "WHAT? Mary, having an affair? I don't believe... NO! She wasn't like that! She wouldn't do that!"
The shock in his voice and in his demeanor was very convincing, Mulder had to admit. And he was lying through his teeth, as well. Interesting and frustrating... Mulder chose to let that line of questioning rest for a bit, glancing over at Scully as he nodded to her.
Reaching into the pocket of her suit coat, Scully brought out the pictures of Mary and Marvin, snuggling together; silently she handed them to the distraught accountant. "Mr. Jordan, would you care to take a stab at explaining these photos? We found them in Mary's desk at work."
The color drained from Marvin Jordan's face as he looked down at the photos Scully had thrust into his hands, staring in disbelief at the sight of him and Mary cuddled in a loverlike spooning pose. His mouth opened a few times but nothing came out. Finally, clearing his throat, he attempted a feeble, "Well... I think I know when this one was taken. We had a dinner at our house and you know, we were all such great friends... I think Brenda took this photo - and you see, Mary and I were just goofing around..."
Silently, Scully reached out and flipped the photo over, allowing him to read the back inscription, which proclaimed: 'Me and My Marvy at the cabin'.
If possible, Jordan's face paled even more upon reading the words written there, in the childishly round script of a young woman who'd foolishly thought herself in love with a man years older than her - and married, as well.
In the silence of Jordan's now-visible panic, Scully took the photos from his hands and shuffled through them until she found the shot of him standing alone in the sun. She showed it to him, then turned it over so he could read the inscription, 'Babe - love you. Need you. Just you!' Written in a masculine hand, it didn't take a genius to see that the bold scrawl on the photo matched the handwriting visible on a yellow legal pad that lay on Jordan's desk.
Mulder coughed softly. "Mr. Jordan, Agent Scully and I have had a very long week. Between the two of us, we have witnessed the deaths of three women. And if we have to take up residence in San Diego, we're going to get to the bottom of their deaths. Now, I suggest we just cut to the chase. I strongly recommend you quit lying to us and tell the truth, for once in your life. Were you having an affair with Mary Luden?"
Jordan heaved a great sigh, hanging his head. His arms hung limply at his sides and his hands trembled as he finally nodded. When he raised his face his eyes glittered with tears. "Yes. Okay? Yes, goddamn it! Mary and I were in love. I was going to ask Brenda for a divorce. I had every intention of marrying Mary! Jesus... I adored her. We wanted children! Brenda... she hated kids. She never wanted any with me, and when I found out how she really felt about babies, it was the beginning of the end, for us. Our marriage was really shaky long before I met Mary. I swear it."
The tears overflowed down his face and he swiped at them impatiently. "Brenda... she never wanted to go anywhere, do anything. I worked my ass off every day and all she wanted to do when I got home was watch television. For hours. Or, she'd be on the damned computer all fucking night. It wasn't a marriage. Not for a long time." His eyes swam with more tears as he pleaded for their understanding. "Brenda and I shouldn't have gotten married, I see that now. We never wanted the same things. And when Mary came along, it was as if everything in the world I ever desired was right there in one sweet woman."
The agents had heard this line of defense before, in the six years they'd been partnered together. Mulder was immune to the whole 'crime of passion' routine - and he knew Scully was, as well. "Look, Mr. Jordan... personally it matters nothing to me whether or not you found yourself stuck in a loveless marriage. If you were unhappy and went elsewhere for that happiness, it's also no skin off my big toe. But if you in any manner combined that unhappiness with the thought of doing away with one woman, in order to have the other, free and clear..." He purposely let his words dangle. And watched the other man's face very carefully.
Utter shock wreathed Marvin Jordan's face. "You think I killed my wife? I don't... you think I KILLED Brenda so I could have Mary! Jesus Christ!" The shock was too real. Mulder could see it for himself. Marvin Jordan was actually rather lousy at concealing the truth - and it was obvious he was in deep distress about Mary Luden.
Scully caught his eye briefly, and Mulder nodded slightly. She placed the photos on the corner of Jordan's desk, and faced the pale and trembling accountant. "Mr. Jordan, it's our belief that Brenda's and Mary's deaths are highly suspicious. You've already more or less figured that out for yourself, otherwise you wouldn't have reacted so strongly to Agent Mulder's remark. We still need your help. Is there anything you can remember about that Sunday; Mary's birthday? Anything at all? Did you buy her a present, or flowers, have anything sent to her at work? Did you buy her a birthday cake?"
Jordan wiped at his eyes and stared at Scully in confusion. "A cake? No... in fact, I suck the big one when it comes to birthdays. I never remember them until the day after. It used to piss Brenda off all the time. I could remember every other special day, except a birthday. I had forgotten about Mary's, until the next morning. She called me and told me about that woman who collapsed at the counter; poor baby was so shook up about it. I remember she gave me grief about forgetting her birthday card, but thanking me..." Jordan broke off, eyes widening a little as he pulled from his memory. "Now that you mention it, Mary did say something about cake. She thanked me for sending her a cake. But I never did that; personally, I don't eat sweets at all. I'd never think about giving anyone a birthday cake."
They had known that, of course. The receipt for the delivery of the cake had been found in Mary Luden's desk drawer. Her lover's genuine confusion sealed the deal. Mulder planted his hands on the edge of Jordan's desk. "We're going to need copies of your wife's credit card bills."
"Okay. This is what we know so far." Mulder was counting down, as he and Scully sat in the idling car outside Crowder and Jordan's offices. Inside, an upset, no doubt grieving Marvin Jordan had been told not to leave town and to call them immediately if he thought of anything else. Now, it was left to the agents to string together what they'd learned.
"Three women die within a variable time frame, all having eaten cake that may or may not be toxic in some way. It may or may not be murder. It may or may not be anything more than an accident. Mary Luden thought her boyfriend sent her the cake, and a receipt from the delivery place - found in the rental office desk - shows us nothing except Luden's name as the recipient of the cake. Mary Luden was having an affair with Brenda Jordan's husband, and Brenda herself may or may not have known about it. For that matter, she might not have understood the trouble her own marriage was in. Right so far?" He glanced over at Scully and she nodded, busy jotting down notes on a pad of paper.
"Yes, so far. And we have more or less established the three deaths as being a result of consuming the cake. What we need to figure out is how, and why. I think how would be the more important of the mysteries."
Mulder curled a palm over her free hand, twining their fingers together. He squeezed her hand gently and she returned the squeeze, then continued, "We need to find the trigger. For every action there is a reaction, right? Basic physics. Something about that cake has got to be toxic; I just haven't discovered it yet. That doesn't mean it's not there."
Mulder nodded, suddenly drained to the bone and fighting back feelings of helplessness. "It's there, Scully. Probably as obvious as hell. Hiding right out in the open. We just need to let it find us." He gave her hand another squeeze. "I know you probably already told me... but humor me, okay? Tell me the very last thing you remember hearing Victoria Durkin say, right before she died."
Scully pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead, thinking. "Well, let's see. She was eating the cake. I remember thinking mine tasted really bad, surprised because it looked so professionally decorated. Durkin ate all of her piece, I'm sure; I didn't see her toss any of it away. Mary asked her how the cake was, and Durkin said it was delicious. Then she started choking."
Mulder nodded encouragingly. "Good. Now, Brenda Jordan. She was upset, frightened. She'd been screaming most of the night, according to that Detective, Rosa Damarco. I asked her what she'd meant when she'd yelled about 'not supposed to happen that way'... remember? She got even more hysterical, said she didn't know why Durkin died. Then she started choking."
Scully picked up the narrative from there. "Right. And then, Mary Luden. She was nervous, had difficulty looking us in the eye. Guilty as hell, that's for sure... but about having an affair, although she disavowed it, as I recall. Loudly. Then she choked, and collapsed."
As she spoke those last words, Scully's eyes locked with Mulder's - both of them acknowledging the same epiphany - that three women had all choked to death immediately after answering a question.
A question... there had to be some kind of connection, Mulder was thinking. Question - response. Death.
What the fuck could it be?
And then he heard it all again, in his mind; let it flow through him again, like a rerun:
'How's the cake? Delicious...'
'What did you mean? Nothing, I don't know why she died...'
'An affair. I don't know anything about it...'
And there it was, all of a sudden. Right there, so plain and so simple it could have easily passed him over. Simple answers often were the most deceiving. Simple. Deadly simple, apparently...
A lie. They'd all told a lie. Right before death, each of them had lied. It hit him, rolled over him and lodged inside him, icy-hot and stabbing, a bolt of certainty that sank in his gut and bit him hard. Mulder grabbed at Scully's arms and held on like a lifeline. He could feel the heat actually drain out of his body.
"Scully, they lied. All three of them lied, seconds before they died. I don't know how in hell it could have happened that way, but somehow that cake killed them because they ate it and then told a lie."
Chapter Six
San Diego, California
Java Net Cafe
Friday 2:18 PMScully pushed the passenger door closed and walked around the car to join Mulder on the sidewalk. She squinted against the sun and surreptitiously rubbed her fingers against her forehead.
"How's the headache?" he asked as they walked. She opened her mouth to brush off his concerns but stopped when he abruptly wrapped a bruising hand around her arm.
"Ow! Mulder!" She looked up to see both panic and caution in his eyes. She blew out a frustrated breath. She couldn't think of any science to back up Mulder's theory that the telling of a lie was the trigger in the deaths, but she had promised him that she would be careful. Until today, she'd had no idea how many tiny, seemingly insignificant fibs or half-truths tripped off her tongue with ease every day.
"I'll be happy to get back to our room and collapse into bed," she admitted. It wasn't really a direct answer to his question, but it wasn't a lie, either. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face in acknowledgment of her deft handling of his question. The faint smudges beneath her eyes were proof of her claim of tiredness as well as an answer to whether or not her headache had abated. His grip lightened and his hand slid down to clasp hers briefly before holding the door open for her to precede him into the Java Net Cafe.
"In my day," Mulder leaned over Scully's shoulder and spoke directly into her ear, "the kids used to hang out in video arcades, playing Pac-Man and swilling sodas."
Scully huffed out a quiet laugh and looked around the busy cafe. One end of the shop housed a coffee bar. Three clerks bustled behind the bar pouring exotically named coffees into paper and plastic cups bearing the green and yellow Java Net logo. The hissing of steaming milk warred with the whirring sounds made as a clerk ground fresh coffee beans for a waiting customer. Mouth-watering baked goods in gleaming glass display cases tempted all to abandon their diets. Overstuffed furniture was scattered about to create a cozy and inviting environment for customers who were engaged in quiet conversations or catching up on their reading.
The other side of the cafe was an entirely different world. Dozens of computer monitors stood on gleaming metal workstations. Two preteen girls giggled as they swapped instant messages with unseen friends. Several college-aged students had apparently abandoned their dorms and personal computers, choosing instead to do their research in a more communal setting. A harried looking mother glanced at her watch, tapped her young son on his shoulder and held up three fingers to remind him that he only had a few minutes left to devote to the game he was playing.
Scully watched two teenagers battling alien invaders for supremacy of the earth on a monitor near the windows that were tinted against the sun. When a blinding flash of light exploded on the screen, the two young men howled and threw themselves against the backs of their chairs, tossing down their game controls. Apparently round one went to the alien forces.
Scully tilted her head back to look up at Mulder. "They're still playing video games," she murmured. Her eyes followed one of the teenagers as he worked his way across the store to the coffee bar for a refill. "They just prefer their caffeine without the carbonation."
Mulder followed her gaze, briefly wondering how the kid's jeans riding so low on his hips managed to defy the laws of gravity and not plummet to the floor. He knew he sounded like an old man, but watching the teen saunter across the room with his boxers proudly on display to anyone who cared to look...
"Takes the expression 'be sure to wear clean underwear' to a whole new level, huh?"
Scully laughed again. "They're expensive, Mulder," she chided, eyeing the familiar logo of a high-end designer on the waistband of the youth's boxers. "You don't want to just cover them up."
Mulder arched one brow. "In that case, I'm gonna run out tomorrow and buy you half a dozen designer bras." He aimed a discreet glance at Scully's breasts and heaved a lusty sigh.
Scully stifled the retort that sprang to mind and settled for a classic eye roll. She tugged her lightweight jacket over her hips and followed the kid in the low-riders toward the counter. Mulder waited a beat or two before following her across the room, thoroughly enjoying the way the three-inch heels of her new boots lent a distinctive sway to her hips beneath the soft knit of her trousers. A slow smile curved his lips and he made a mental note to buy that designer lingerie, content with the knowledge that he would be the only one invited to the fashion show.
By the time they reached the counter, he had schooled his features into the more serious and much practiced persona of a government agent.
"What can I get you?" The freckle-faced blonde behind the counter looked up at them with an expectant smile on her face.
"We'd like to speak with the manager," Scully requested politely. The girl shrugged and looked toward the far end of the counter.
"That's him, there," she pointed. She raised her voice. "Warren, these people want to speak with you." The young black man working the cash register glanced up and nodded.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he promised before turning back to the customers he was helping. He handed one woman several bills in change while her companion scribbled something into a book lying open on the counter. Warren signaled for one of the clerks to take over at the register and walked to meet Mulder and Scully.
"What can I do for you folks?" His expansive smile dimmed when they discreetly laid their badges onto the countertop.
"I'm Agent Fox Mulder. This is my partner, Agent Dana Scully of the FBI. Do you have an office or someplace we can speak privately?" Mulder asked in a low voice. Warren looked up and his brown eyes reflected the confusion and worry that even the most innocent of people feels when confronted with silver badges in faux leather wallets.
Scully's smile was soft and encouraging. "Everything is okay," she assured him. "We just need to ask you a few questions." Warren warily beckoned them to follow as he led the way to a grouping of comfortable chairs tucked int