New Fic:Brittle Part Two of Two
******
Saturday Morning, October 2nd
Cascade City Major Crimes Unit
Agent Scully's slide show of crime scene and autopsy photos neared its completion.
"......calcium was missing in the bone and teeth tissue of both victims. Assuming the deterioration was the cause of death either directly or by causing some other physical
failure, the calcium removal would have to have been before death. We've determined by doing a comparison of both hand shaped burns that they were caused by the same object, or at least the exact same sized object. The burns when measured and projected on a flat surface were perfectly matched. We believe that the burns were applied by some type of branding iron before death. The slimy substance was applied to the iron and then the iron was applied to the bodies for reasons unknown. The organisms and the origin of the slime remain unidentified at this time.
Mulder leaned and whispered into Scully's ear, "Good job."
Simon stood to give instructions, as the mayor was now very interested in closing the case. "Rafe, Brown, see if you can find out anything else about our John Doe's identity. Blair what did you find out about the chemical?"
Blair looked through the notes he compiled, "it's used in waste treatment by state governments...only five factories manufacture it in the states. Joel's headed over to the Public Works Department to see who has access to it in this area."
"Whoa, wait a minute... I remember one of my cases back in '84. We found a body in a trunk that was doused with some kind of chemical." Simon sat and thought for a second. "I'll pull the file and see if there are any similarities. Okay, any questions?"
Mulder spoke up, "it's possible that this chemical wasn't purchased recently. It could have been bought a hundred years ago or more before any records were kept."
Everyone in the room, including Scully, looked at him.
"Mulder, can I see you over here for a moment, please?" Scully guided him away by the elbow.
After an awkward moment of silence, Simon said, "okay people let's move."
*****
In the corner of the room Scully whispered, "Okay, I know you must have some kind of theory related to the previous X-files, so let's hear it."
"Scully, you saw the resemblance in the composite sketches between the suspect in the 1951 case and the current suspect."
"Mulder, that was over fifty years ago. What are you thinking, some kind of family relationship given the similarity?"
"Actually, I suspect that the murders were committed by the same individual."
Scully looked at him doubtfully. "Mulder, how? That's conjecture. There's no scientific evidence to suggest any relationship, and besides it's not possible."
"You didn't say that about Eugene Tooms. He came out of hibernation every thirty years for a liver dinner and he didn't look a day older."
Scully sighed. "That would mean that the murderer could have been doing this for possibly an infinite number of years, but why is it then that only a few bodies have been
found?"
"I think that they were mistakes...accidents. Obviously we wouldn't have a second victim if the calcium oxide had a few more hours to do its job. Scully, you yourself determined that the bones and teeth of the victims were missing calcium. Suppose the calcium has been removed by the murderer."
"Mulder, how and why? You're not suggesting that the calcium was extracted or ingested somehow by whoever is doing this?"
"I would say more like... digested." Mulder paused, letting his statement sink in. "Scully you remember the case about three years ago where the lonely guy was putting ads on the Internet to gets dates with heavy women. He subsequently killed them and sucked the fat from their bodies."
"Mulder, we never proved that."
"Scully, he attacked you...We've been concluding all along that the burn marks have been made by an instrument. What if the marks are actually handprints? The skin has been burned, which suggests some kind of energy release or transfer. The calcium could have been extracted by this energy or the micro-organisms causing death in that instant. Maybe the red head needs the calcium to survive. Her body digests it in some way,"
Mulder paused, "it gives new meaning to the phrase, 'you are what you eat'."
"Mulder, what I think is that you've seen too many old B zombie movies on tv."
"Scully, you as a scientist must agree that there are species that are parasitic that drain nutrients and other substances from their hosts."
"Yes Mulder, but not humans from other humans, or are you suggesting that the red head is actually a little green man in disguise?"
Mulder looked hurt, but confidently said, "Scully, I'm right on this and I'm going to prove it with or without your help."
******
Monday Afternoon, October 4th
Major Crimes Unit
"Anybody seen Mulder?" Jim yelled across the squad room to no one in particular. Brown passed in front of his desk balancing a few cups of coffee.
"I believe I saw the younger, thinner Elvis leave the building about an hour ago with the lovely Agent Scully. Why? What's up? Something new on your case?"
"Yeah, I just got a call on the ditched panel truck that was found last night. Forensics determined that the trace amount of blood in the back is a match for our John Doe."
"Fingerprints?" Brown asked, sitting one mug on Jim's desk.
"The truck was wiped down pretty clean...but the lab found a partial on the floor mat on the driver's side, and a couple on a gum wrapper that was thrown under the seat.
They're going to run them through the national system. Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe we'll get a hit." Jim sat back, digging through his desk for some change.
"Ah...the sweet smell of a lead. The bad guys mess up and we get to haul 'em in and be heroes. Makes me proud to be a police officer," H moved away to his own desk, dropping off one mug for Rafe and Joel on his way by.
"Yeah, yeah...you're a hero." Jim stood, pulling his wallet out. "Blair, can you go get us some coffee from Stan's?" He shoved a few bills and coins into his partner's hands. "When you get back we're going to question a suspect...Charles Moorehouse. He's the owner of Vincent's Restaurant at the Inner Harbor."
"Hey...I think I ate there once with a good looking blonde and she paid the tab." Blair laughed. "I'm with you, and let's get some take out while we're there. I'm starvin'."
*****
Early Evening
Major Crimes Unit
Charles Moorehouse sat in the interrogation room at the Cascade Police Station. He had been left alone for over an hour and wondered if they were ever going to come back to question him. His eyes scanned the room once again, the nondescript gray cinder-block walls, broken up by a large mirrored window. The table was square, only two chairs. Overhead, matching hanging lamp.
I hope this doesn't take too long. I need to eat soon.
Whatever they have on that damn rental truck can't be traced back to me. The truck was obviously seen leaving the scene of the crime. Rebecca...what has you done now? Why would she take that truck without my knowledge? That crazy boyfriend probably put her up to it.
The longer he sat, the hotter he got. He began to sweat, feeling his skin stick to his dress shirt. He could feel the slime running down his back.
God, it's hot in here. Maybe I should have asked to have my lawyer present.
He waited another hour, hoping someone would come in soon so he could get this ordeal over with. He decided to remove his suit coat in an effort to keep from sweating.
Jim and Blair watched from the observation room. Simon entered, trailed by the FBI Agents.
"Do you think he has been in there long enough?" Simon asked.
"I think we should give it a little while longer. I think we should wait until he's more uncomfortable." Mulder piped up.
A short look to the agent and then Simon decided, "okay, another half hour, but that's it. We can't keep him here much longer or he'll walk."
Why is it so hot in here?
The back of Moorehouse's neck was damp. Now the slime started to ooze from around his hairline. He took out his handkerchief and patted at his forehead.
they don't come in soon, I'm leaving. I don't care how it looks.
Slime from his back poured down into the waistband of his slacks. His handkerchief was drenched with the ooze. He used the lining of his suit coat to wipe his face and neck.
Hopefully those damn detectives won't come in now and find me covered with sweat.
He folded his suit coat neatly and draped it over the back of his chair again. After a few minutes, he wiped the back of his neck with his hand, coating it with the sticky stuff; he flicked it to the floor under the table.
The door started to open. "Finally," he sighed.
"Whew, it's hot in here," Jim said. "Mr. Moorehouse, can I get you something? Uh...a soda maybe, or a glass of water? You look pretty soaked there."
"No thank you Detective Ellison."
Jim pulled the chair across from Moorehouse and laced his fingers together on the table, studying the man across from him. Blair leaned against the window, back against the cool glass.
"So," Jim began. "How is it that a truck you rented ended up leaving the scene of a murder a few days ago? We have evidence that the deceased was in the back of the truck."
"As I've already told you detective, I rented the truck for my delivery man to pick up supplies for my restaurant. By the evening it was too late to have the truck returned. It was parked in my lot. Someone must have stolen it overnight."
"Then why didn't you report it stolen the morning that you noticed it was gone? Why did you wait a couple of days?" Jim looked to Blair, shrugging his shoulder.
"I would have reported it if I had known that it was stolen. I assumed that my delivery man had returned the truck to the rental company the following morning. I had given him instructions to do so the night before. I didn't speak to him about it that morning because he was running errands. When I spoke to him yesterday he informed me that he hadn't returned the truck, and that he assumed that I had someone else do it. I was surprised to find that it had been stolen. That's when I reported it immediately. Surely there must be some evidence of that...a hot-wired ignition, a jimmied door, something," Moorehouse looked steadily at him, never breaking eye contact.
Deciding to try a different approach Jim asked, "Do you frequent any bars in town Chuck? Strip joints or like the kind in the district?"
"Certainly not," Moorehouse raised his voice, dropping his eyes to the table.
"Ever heard of a chemical called..." Jim looked to Blair.
"Calcium oxide?" His partner told him.
"Yeah, Calcium oxide. Is that used in the restaurant industry?"
"No...I can't say that I've ever heard of it." His eyes met Jim's again.
Jim dropped the composite drawings of the red headed suspect and her presumed boyfriend in front of Moorehouse. "Have you ever seen these two before? They are suspects in two murders, and may have been in the rental truck when it left the last crime scene."
Rebecca. Moorehouse tried not to look shocked or surprised when he saw his daughter's picture.
"Who's is she? The look on your face just told me you know her. Who is she, huh? Your girlfriend? We thought the rough looking character in the other picture might be the boyfriend, or didn't you know about him?" Jim pushed back his chair, the screech of the legs loud in the room.
Don't push me detective. I could kill you in an instant. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know this girl and I think I shall leave now." I have to get out here before I do something I may regret. I'm...starving.
Mulder and Scully viewed the interrogation through the two-way mirror. "They're going to have to let him go. He's right. We have nothing to hold him on," Mulder shifted away from the window. "He may be involved, but he didn't commit the murders."
"How do you know that?" Scully followed him from the room and into an empty hallway.
"Because he's not a red headed woman, or at least as far as I can tell."
"What makes you so sure that the woman is the murderer?
"I think that they work in tandem. When we find the male suspect his DNA will match the semen sample, but he didn't kill Tony Miller either. The red head did...because the hand shaped burns found on both bodies were made by a small slender hand, a woman's hand, Scully."
******
Blair noticed Mulder putting on his overcoat and asked, "where you off to, leaving without your partner?"
"Well, I sent Scully to talk to Taggart to see if there's any new leads on the calcium oxide. He seemed to think that the chemical was a dead-end since anyone who worked for the Public Works Department couldn't have stolen a drum. I'm going to tail Moorehouse and see what he's up to. I know this guy's involved in the murders. He might lead us straight to the red head. He definitely recognized the composite."
"Okay, we'll go with you." Jim handed Blair his jacket and they follow Mulder to the elevator."
The radio in the rental car was tuned to the local station.
"...WUPN has learned that a suspect may be in custody for the two brutal murders of a thirty two year old man and an unidentified male. Inside sources stated that both murders were connected by an unusual mutilation of the bodies. WUPN will be trying to speak with an official of the Cascade City Police Department to confirm this report. This is Dawn Daniels reporting live outside the Cascade City Police Department. Back to you Denise...."
Blair leaned forward in his seat, "man, heads are gonna roll."
They saw the suspect leaving via the back entrance and Mulder followed at a discreet distance. The man looked fatigued and pale, stumbling as he hailed a cab on the corner.
A while later the cab pulled over in a seedier part of town. Mulder pulled to the curb on the opposite side of the intersection. They all watched as Moorehouse approached a heavy set brunette.
Moorehouse handed a wad of bills to the woman and they disappeared around the corner into an adjacent alley.
"Okay, let's go...carefully," Jim said, eyeing his partner.
They slipped out of the car quietly and crossed the intersection.
Blair whispered, "How do you think he's involved?"
"I don't know," Mulder told him. "I'm more interested in why."
Once at the entrance to the alley, Jim could see that the suspect was not in the alley.
They walked farther to the back, "where could they have gone?" Blair asked, standing close to Jim.
Looking into the darkness, Jim could see a little light coming from a half opened door. He signaled Mulder and Blair to follow him. They entered the building, drawing their guns and Jim pushed Blair slightly behind him.
The room was a storage area that was stacked from the floor to ceiling with pallets of boxes and crates, the light coming from a swinging bulb overhead. Jim could make out a small scuffling sound coming from the back of the room and motioned for Mulder to go to the left around some wooden crates.
Moving slowly, he clearly saw Moorehouse holding the woman by the neck against the brick wall with his left hand. She struggled wildly and kicked at him with her feet. Her mouth was open, but no noise came out.
Moving closer with his gun raised, he saw the look on the suspect's face, a look of sorrow as he touched her on the arm with his right hand and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Moorehouse's hand and her arm fuse together for an instant as the micro-organisms attach themselves to her skin. A brilliant flash of light blinded Jim for an instant and he dropped to the floor.
Blair kneeled next to him and in the distance he could hear the woman shutter and drop dead to the floor.
Jim heared Mulder whisper, "over here. She's dead."
"He's...here." Jim got out, looking up to Blair.
Movement along the far wall brought the FBI Agent from the shadows. Blair watched as the suspect lunged, arms out stretched.
Mulder tried to move, but Moorehouse had grabbed him around the neck and was easily lifting the agent into the air.
BANG!
Before Blair could comprehend what was happening, Moorehouse slumped to the floor, bleeding heavily from a shot to the chest.
"You okay, Chief? Jim moved toward the body, gun still aimed at the still figure.
The agent stood, patting at his neck.
"I don't see any marks, you're okay Mulder"
******
Late Evening, Monday, October 4th
Harbor Health Spa
She sat at her desk trying to finish a pile of paperwork, but couldn't concentrate. A little later, she hit the power button on the TV remote, the TV encased in the credenza on the far wall clicked to life and she switched to the evening news, wanting to see if rain would be in the forecast.
The announcer's voice filled the room. The volume was up too high. "We have breaking news on the third mutilation murder. The suspect in this case and two previous others has been shot and killed at the scene by a Cascade City detective. The suspect was shot by the officer when he attacked an unnamed FBI agent that has been working on the case. The suspect has been identified as Charles Moorehouse who was the owner of the trendy five star Vincent's Restaurant at the Inner Harbor."
She stared at the TV screen in disbelief.
There must be some mistake.
A photograph of her father was flashed on the screen behind the anchorwoman's head. Hot tears started to flow down her cheeks.
"No..."
A prerecorded scene ran, showing a covered gurney being pushed to a waiting ambulance...three men followed in the background.
"Cascade City Police celebrate tonight, putting an end to the vicious murders that have occurred over the last couple of weeks. WUPN will update this story throughout the broadcast as more information becomes available. In other news tonight..."
"No! No! It can't be," she screamed.
Shaking, she grabbed up the phone. After a few rings a voice answered. "I...I need to talk to you.
*****
The Following Evening, Tuesday, October 5th
Baltimore City Morgue
After they complete the autopsy on Charles Moorehouse, Dan helped Scully cover the body with a sheet. Mulder entered the examination room and nodded a greeting to Dr. Wolfe. Before he could say anything to his partner, his cell phone rang.
"Mulder. Yeah...okay...right," he returned his phone to his coat pocket. "That was Ellison. They finished the search of our friend's restaurant," he nodded to the form under the white sheet, "they found several drums of what appears to be a white powder in a basement storage room. The lab confirmed that it's calcium oxide."
His partner removed her safety goggles and gloves, thanking the ME before leading Mulder across the room. "Well, we know that Moorehouse didn't rape the first victim. It will be a while before the official results are returned, but I called the lab and the preliminary results suggest that Moorehouse's sample does not match our semen sample."
Mulder nodded and she continued, "the hand shaped burn on Moorehouse's victim also matches his hand print perfectly, although his hand print is inconsistent with the burn marks on the other two victims."
"And?" Mulder asked.
"And...I can't believe it, but the man has no digestive system Mulder. None at all. The mouth area at the back of the throat is a small pouch that joins the windpipe. There's no esophagus to speak of...no stomach, no intestines...no rec..."
"No number two," Mulder smirked. "Poor bastard. How about the hands, Scully?"
"As you requested we dissected both hands. We found nothing unusual in the left, but in the right palm we found what appears to be a small digestive organ," she handed him a glass jar of yellow fluid. Floating inside was a round, gray lump with dozens of tendrils hanging from its underside. It reminded Mulder of a jellyfish. "It contained digestive juices as you would expect to find in a normal stomach. The tendrils were connected to arteries in the right arm. As much as I hate to admit it Mulder, it looks like you were right. It appears that the victim's calcium was removed by an unknown process when Moorehouse's palm was applied to the skin. The calcium is probably absorbed through the palm and into the organ where it's presumably digested in some fashion. The calcium would appear to be sent directly into the bloodstream through the tendrils you see there. Your zombie theory seems to be on target."
Mulder shifted a bit farther away from the other people in the room. "Scully, this means that there are at least two of them. That stills leaves the red head and her rapist boyfriend unaccounted for."
*****
Wednesday Morning, October 6th
Jim and Blair sat around his desk, finishing the preliminary report on Moorehouse.
Rafe came from the hall, dropping a slip of paper on Jim's desk. "You got a call from research. They got a response from national on the prints from the truck. Three possible matches. They're emailing the files up now with the mug shots."
"Thanks, Rafe." Jim pulled up his email and opened the requested information. Blair slid his chair closer to see the profile shots of the suspects.
Jim scanned each convict's record before looking at the photos.
"Anything promising?" Blair asked.
"These guys are just petty cons. Mostly theft and robbery with short prison terms. Nothing heavy duty...Whoa....this guy was released from the State Penn three months ago after a seven year term for sexual assault on a minor. He's got some previous convictions for rape."
Blair pulled the composite sketch of the male suspect from the file. "Same coloring and build. He doesn't look much like the composite though."
"Composites have been known to be notoriously wrong before." Jim took the drawing and compared it to the photo on his computer, hitting the print button for the file. "His name is Leeland Duane Neff. He worked in a club on 8th Street as a bouncer before his arrest."
"No current address," Blair told him, picking up the papers as they printed, "and current whereabouts unknown."
"He's got to be our guy," Jim sat back, rubbing a hand over his face. "He fits. Recently out, sexual assault convictions, worked in the area where one of the victims was last seen alive. What else could we ask for?"
"The computer gives his prints a 92.3% chance of being the prints found in the truck. A direct match isn't possible because they were partials and smears." Blair handed Jim the papers. "Maybe he's hanging at his old digs. Old habits die hard."
"We gotta find him, Chief." Jim rose from his chair. "I got to talk to Simon about putting an APB out on this guy."
******
10:00 AM, Thursday, October 7th
Warehouse on Saratoga Street
Dead.
Daddy's dead.
I won't even be able to attend his funeral.
Rebecca reread the brief article in the Cascade Times about the police shooting which resulted in the death of the well-respected restaurant owner, Charles Moorehouse. In the article along side a photograph of her father's restaurant is a picture taken at the scene. A tall man in a long black coat...gotta be the FBI Agent, another tall man turned and talking to a short guy, long curly hair.
"Which one of you killed my father?
Storming from the loft, she grabbed up her cell phone.
"Lee...I need you to do something for me."
*****
The grocery store was crowded, but Blair doesn't mind. It was hard to believe that it had been over a week since he had been here. He fingered the card in his pocket, wondering if he should stop into the health club and talk to... “Constance.” He read the name on the business card.
He picked a few tomatoes up, smelling them before putting them in his cart. He was planning on making steak on the grill for dinner, grateful that he and Jim agreed on buying the George Foreman. It made grilling so much easier.
Grabbing a bag of tortilla chips, he headed for the check out. Paying for his purchase, he made his way to the Volvo, unlocking the door and tossing the bag onto the passenger seat.
The fine hairs on his neck stood on end and he turned to see a man standing under a streetlight a few cars away, the darkness of the night and the brightness of the light concealed his face.
Deciding to get while the getting was good, he started to sit, but stopped when a hand landed on his arm.
"Sorry pal," and then a meaty fist punched him hard in the gut. Blair doubled over clutching his aching stomach, looking around frantically for someone to help. The man yanked him out, still bent over; he brought down both fists on the back of Blair's neck, knocking him out.
Sometime later he startled awake surrounded by complete darkness. At first he didn't know what had happened or where he was. Motion, creaking sounds, and the smell of gasoline told him that he must be in a trunk of a car. He laid on his right side, wrists handcuffed in front of his body. Unable to move his feet, he reached down his pant leg to find that his ankles were bound together by thick rope.
The vehicle jerked to a sudden stop. He heard a door slam and the sound of heavy feet on pavement. Holding his breath, he waited for the trunk lid to pop open.
The man looming over him was the same man from the sketch.
He smirked down at Blair, "don't worry pal, you're gettin' out of this trunk..." He reached in, pulling Blair by the rope tied around his ankles. "And after you do, you and me are going to have some fun."
Jerked from the trunk feet first, with a sickening thud his head and shoulders hit the pavement. The man pulled him up, slinging Blair over his shoulder, squeezing his leg a little too hard. "Rebecca is going to be so happy."
After an elevator ride, he was dumped on a bed, White sheets covered the manufacturers plastic. His wrists were handcuffed around a vertical bar on the bed frame above and behind his head.
The man loomed in the corner of the room, rooting around in a drawer.
He came back across the room, something dangled in his hand. "You ready for a little fun?"
Blair shook his head, pulling at his wrists, drawing his bound feet up.
"None of that," the man sat on the bed, pulling the duct tape from Blair's mouth. "Now be quiet. The last thing you want is for Rebecca to come in here."
And then he leaned forward, running a hand down Blair's chest.
"Don't do this, man." Blair could feel tears pressing at the back of his eyes.
A fist mashed into his face, blood shot over the pillowcase.
"Don't think that pleading will help you." The man sneered. "I like it when they beg."
"Lee?" A woman came to the doorway, but Blair could hardly make her out. The man on top of him was blocking his view. "Take care of him."
And then she was gone.
Sometime later, Blair tried to turn over off his sore ribs. His throat was sore and dry, swallowing he tasted blood. Trying to breathe, he cleared his throat, spitting blood and mucus to the hard wood floor. His tongue told him that he had a loose tooth, maybe two.
He looked down at his body and realized that his legs weren't restrained, so he bent his knees and flexed his stiff ankles. His shirt was ripped down the front and bright red welts and bruises pepper his chest and belly. His ribs ached with every breath. "At least I'm still breathing."
He turned his head slowly to one side and looked around the room. It was still dark, but he could make out stains on the wall...scrape marks on the metal headboard.
He twisted and pulled on the handcuffs again, rubbing his raw wrists in a vain attempt to free himself by dislodging the headboard.
God, how many people have been beaten...how many have died here in this bed?
A trickle of cold sweet snaked down his back and he tried harder to get loose...he had to get away before the man returned, before something worse than a beating happened.
******
Friday Morning, October 8th
"Any word?" Jim paced the confines of his boss' office. He had been at the station for hours, searching the streets, manning the phones, anything he could think of to find his partner.
"Nope," Simon poured a mug of coffee and passed it to Jim. "Forensics just finished with his car. No prints were found, his groceries were sitting on the front seat, but we have no witnesses. Nobody even remembers seeing him at the store."
"Captain?" H stuck his head in the door. "A uniform just picked up Neff going into a club. They're on their way in."
Jim jumped up and headed for the door. "I'm the one talking to him."
"Okay," Simon joined him. "Just make sure you go by the book."
Leeland Duane Neff was ushered into the interrogation room. Jim stalked over and roughly pulled out a chair and pushed the man down. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison."
The man nodded, clearing his throat.
"You're under arrest for the suspected kidnapping of Blair Sandburg, the rape and murder of Tony Miller, and the murder of an unidentified black male."
"I didn't hurt anybody."
"Yeah, well the public defender is on the way, but in the mean time, let’s have a nice chat while we wait. You know, man-to-man. What we have here is an open and shut case as far as the DA is concerned. So you need to start talking right now because your implication and complicity in these murders are gonna lead you right to death row my friend. So talk. Where's Sandburg for starters?"
The man crossed his arms, sinking back into his chair. "I think I'll wait until my lawyer gets here."
*****
Simon opened the door to the interrogation room. "Jim, can I see you a minute?"
Jim walked stiffly to the door, shoulders straight and muscles tight. No matter what Jim threatened him with, Neff refused to give up any information. The public defender showed up a while ago and Neff hadn't said a word since. "What's up Simon?"
"We may have caught a break," Jim's friend walked down the corridor toward the bullpen. "Agent Mulder might have found something."
Agent Scully sat at his desk, typing something into her laptop
"Where's your partner?" Jim grabbed his jacket.
"He's on his way in." She told him, shutting down her computer.
Soon the agent walked in and right up to Jim. "It's just a hunch based on information provided by a witness I just interviewed, but I've got a good idea of where your partner is being held."
Scully joined them at the elevator. "What did you find out, Mulder?"
"I had a lengthy conversation with an ex-girlfriend of Neff's. She strips in the club where he used to work as a bouncer. She gave me his most recent and presumably current address. It's an apartment on Saratoga Street above an old closed up warehouse." Mulder left his rental car pulled up near the elevator in the garage.
"But how do you know it's not just another bogus address like the rest we found on Neff?" Jim buckled in, squeezing his legs behind the front seat.
"Because." Mulder took a left and headed over to the warehouse district. "The stripper was there previously. She described the interior for me and told me exactly where it is in the building, on the fifth floor. She's been there with him on more than one occasion to give him a 'private dance' so to speak," Mulder turned to look at Jim. "Until he got himself a new girlfriend from the club. A redhead. The stripper told me that Neff and the woman were shacking up and were presumably doing the horizontal tango at his place."
Gliding the car to a stop, they all jumped out and crossed the street. The entire section of the street was dark and deserted, full of dilapidated housing, old empty warehouses, and boarded up businesses.
The warehouse building they approached was red brick, but crumbling. The windows on the bottom floor were boarded up; the windows on higher floors that once enclosed office space were almost all broken. A rickety looking metal fire escape climbed the building to the left of the main entrance door. The building was completely dark except for the fifth floor, which was lit up like a parking lot. There seemed to be open windows around the exterior of the loft apartment.
"Neff may be in jail, but it certainly looks like somebody's home, Scully."
Jim kneeled close to the others, listening. "He's in there." He told them, then moved closer.
"How do you know that?" Mulder moved up by him, putting a hand on Jim's shoulder.
"I just do," Jim moved into the brush around the bottom of the building. "He's in a back room. You two find a way in, I'm going around back."
"That was odd." Scully scooter closer to her partner as a dark sedan pulled recklessly in front of the building. As the brakes screeched, Mulder grabbed Scully by the shoulder and pushed her flat against the building
Once they heard the car door slam Mulder carefully lifting his head to look, "it's our red head."
The woman unlocked the main entrance door with a key and flipped a light switch to illuminate the bottom floor of the building. She moved quickly to the intercom buzzer beside the elevator, the sound of the buzzer and elevator motor echoed through the building. Mulder and Scully could hear the noise from outside as the elevator slowly descended to the bottom floor.
*****
Rebecca angrily waited for her arrival in the fifth floor loft. Seated on a green sectional sofa facing the elevator, she waited for her quest to arrive.
A moan from the back room echoed through the nearly empty loft, but she ignored it, knowing that she would be taking care of that problem soon enough. Maybe her guest would like to stay and share in her meal.
*~*~*
Below, on the side of the building, both agents converged on the door that the red head had just entered. Mulder tried the knob. "It's locked."
He surveyed the exterior of the building noting that there were other doors, some latched by padlocks.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and one will be open," Scully moved to the next door. "Let's start trying them."
"You do that." Mulder moved away. "See if you can find another way up to that loft besides the elevator."
"What are you going to be doing?"
"I'm going up that fire escape. It may drop me close to an open window so I can get in."
Scully shook her head, "it may drop you five stories to the ground to your death by the way that thing looks."
Mulder ignored her comment and warned, "remember Scully if you run into the red head, don't let her get close enough to touch you." Then he disappeared into the shadows around the corner of the building.
Finding no other likely entrance Scully turned her attention to the rusty padlock on the nearest door. After several attempts at unsuccessfully trying to pick the lock, she returned to the door with a long piece of metal she found in a nearby dumpster. Forcing the metal between the hinge and the doorjamb she pulled dislodging the hinge.
Close by, Mulder scaled the fire escape as quickly and quietly as possible. By the time he reached the fifth floor he was sweating and breathing heavily. Leaning his back against the cold exterior of the brick building he heard shouts from a nearby open window.
The voices of two women quarreling filled the apartment. They often overlap each other making it difficult for Mulder to understand what was being said. At times the voices faded, as if the fight was being continued in another room.
Leaning over slowly he could see two women, similar looking, both with flame red hair.
"It's your fault that Father is dead, Rebecca. How could you have been so stupid as to use Father's truck to dispose of that body, or did your psycho boyfriend put you up to that? Where is he anyway, out on another drunken binge? If he were here, I'd kill him myself."
"Oh... excuse me...Daddy's favorite little girl...the sensible, responsible one. Ms. Society with her health club. Oh so...particular about what she eats, only healthy ones, and with such etiquette concerning body disposal. What happened to Daddy is not my fault, Constance. A certain detective is responsible for shooting Daddy, and when I'm done using Lee, I'll kill him myself... Thank you very much. And you know what else? At least my mother wasn't one of those ordinary people!" she shrieked, moving toward the back room.
The woman closer to the window was quiet for a moment and she then spoke in a softer voice, "your stupidity led the police right to father. You can't deny that, and your stupidity is going to lead the police right to you".
"Give me a little credit for being smarter than that. After all...I have the last laugh anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"I have a special guest in the bedroom Constance. Lee grabbed him for me and I'm going to kill him when I please to avenge our father. Go see for yourself."
Mulder watched as the two moved away from the window, but he strained to hear what they were saying.
"Maybe you'll want to take part yourself. It may help you to release some of that anger."
"Rebecca, now what have you done?"
*****
Scully was just entering the building when her phone rang.
"Scully," Mulder whispered. "I'm on the fire escape. They're arguing. There are two of them, Scully."
"Two what...suspects?" she moved farther into the building, looking for a stair well.
"Call for backup. I'm coming down," Mulder whispered. With his last sentence, his cell phone slipped from his sweaty hand and clanged down the fire escape stairs.
*****
Jim waited just behind the bedroom door. He was able to break a lock and enter the building from the rear, climbing the stairwell and entering the loft by a rear door.
Someone had been arguing since he had arrived, but that didn't stop him from checking on his partner. A low moan escaped Blair's torn lips as Jim patted his face. "I'll have you out of here in a minute, Chief."
He slipped behind the door when footsteps approached the bedroom.
"Rebecca, you idiot," one woman yelled. "I know this man. I met him in the health food store. He can identify me. I even gave him my business card for Christ's sake."
A pinging sound from outside the window drew them away. "There's someone on the fire escape."
"Unlikely Rebecca since we're five floors up and that fire escape couldn't hold its breath, let alone any weight."
"It sounded like something falling." Slowly, they moved to the living area, leaving Jim to uncuff his partner.
******
Mulder saw one woman approaching the open window and stuck his head and upper body through, drawing his gun he yelled, "freeze, FBI. Don't move an inch or I will shoot you. Call the other one out from the backroom. Call her now!"
Not saying a word, she moved a fraction closer.
Mulder yelled again, "you in the backroom come out with your hands in plain sight above your head."
No one exited the back room. Fairly certain that he was now in control of the situation; he began to enter the window...halfway in, his pant leg caught on a nail, sticking up from the sill. Stumbling into the room, the woman saw his moment of vulnerability. She hesitated for an instant than ran at full speed toward him, one hand outstretched, palms forward.
BANG!
A bullet tears through her heart, her body slammed hard into the floor. A growing red stain spread on the front of her blouse. She was dead even before her body hit the floor. Her blue eyes, pupils fixed and dilated, stared up at the metal beams that support the loft's ceiling.
"Thank you…again." Mulder told Jim as the detective holstered his gun. Stepping fully into the room, he allowed Jim to steady him. "Did you get Sandburg?"
"Yeah, ambulance is on the way."
He followed the detective back to the bed. Sandburg was bloody and appeared to be unconscious. The other suspect was gone; there was another exit door in the hall near the bedroom.
*****
BANG!
It was definitely a gunshot and Scully hurried through the empty building. There was an elevator shaft in the middle of the room, but the elevator wasn't on the floor.
An enclosed metal staircase sat to the left of the elevator, turning on her flashlight, she quickly ran up the stairs to the fifth floor door. She jiggled the locked handle. "Mulder... Mulder."
With a swift kick from a very high heel, the door burst open into the loft. Spotting the dead woman by the window she called again for her partner.
Mulder came out from a back room, looking from Scully to the splintered doorjamb. "I came up the stairs when I heard the gunshot."
Shaking his head, he moved closer to the body, carefully picking up the dead woman's hand. "We have Sandburg. Detective Ellison made it in a back entrance. Ambulance is own the way."
"Better call in the coroner." Scully told him.
"Umm... can you? I seemed to have dropped my phone down all five flights of the fire escape."
She made the call and then checked in on Ellison and Sandburg. "He's beat up pretty badly, I don’t think he was…I ah think he's going to be all right." Blair started moaning so Jim turned back to him, patting his arm.
"How about the second suspect?" Scully turned back to her own partner.
"She's gone...down the elevator right before you made your grand entrance."
"Are you absolutely certain that there were two? Did you actually see her? There is no evidence that suggests so. Isn't it possible that she may have been mentally disturbed, or was suffering from a clinical multiple personality disorder? She may have been arguing with another personality instead of another person, Mulder."
"There were two distinct voices. They were arguing and, although I can't be certain of all that was said, the voices overlapped on top of each other. Even a ventriloquist can't do that. Besides someone went down in the elevator. They were sisters, Scully. Moorehouse was their father. One of them... I think the one who's lying in there on the floor, kidnapped Sandburg to avenge their father's death."
"There were two." Jim joined them in the living area. "He's out again."
Moving closer to the body, he bent down as Scully kneeled.
"When you do the autopsy you should find that this woman has the same anatomical anomalies and biology as Moorehouse." Mulder said.
"Or at least I really hope so since I shot her at point blank range and she doesn't have a weapon." Jim added.
"I think we'll also find that her hand print matches the burns in the Miller and John Doe cases." Scully told them, looking closer at the woman's face...something was off...a tuff of dark brown hair was sticking out around her forehead. "Mulder, I think the suspect may be wearing a wig."
"Huh...?"
With a gloved hand Scully removed the red wig from around the head and face of the dead woman. Underneath was a head of thick, dark brown hair, cut very short. Then she ran a gloved hand over the woman's face. A piece of silicone around her nose came loose.
"Mulder...it's the ME's assistant....Wolfe's assistant...Vicky Moorer."
Scully looked up and met Mulder's eyes. They looked at each other with perplexed expressions, not quite comprehending how the pieces fit together yet. Police sirens approached the building.
******
Sunday Evening, October 10th
Cascade General
Get well cards were taped to the wall opposite the single window that overlooked the parking lot. Flower arrangements covered the top of the credenza under the window. Jim and Simon sat in chairs around the hospital bed, reading magazines.
Blair sat propped in the bed with his back against several pillows. His right arm was in a cast and his forehead was covered with a large bandage that protected the stitched cut on his head. He had a black eye and a yellowing bruise near his jaw line, his gown covering a multitude of other bruised flesh. His IV's had just been removed and he had been eating and going to the bathroom on his own today.
Jim looked up and saw that Blair was looking at him through swollen and blackened eyes. "Hey Chief. Feeling better?"
A small nod and then the eyes closed again.
"I'm going to go get a coffee. Want anything Jim?"
"No, I'm good."
Once Simon was gone, his partner's eyes opened again. "The doc said you could go home in a couple of days. They just want to keep an eye on your noggin." Jim stood and adjusted a pillow under the cast arm.
FBI Agents Mulder and Scully entered the room. Dana approached the bed, smiling down at Blair. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, thanks." Blair shifted a little on the bed, wincing a time or two. "What's happening with the case?"
Jim stayed close. This was the first time Blair had asked about what was happening.
"Well," Mulder began. "We have the case from 1951 and 1984 that are going to remain unsolved in the books. The recent cases are going to be filed inconclusive, considering the evidence degenerated."
"What?" Jim looked up from his friend.
"All the bodies," Scully told them. "Even Moorehouse and Moorer. There is nothing left but dust and ashes. Dr. Wolfe’s tested to see if they were related but the results were inconclusive and it appears Moorer moved into town around the time of the first killing. There are some similar unsolved cases in Baltimore were she had lived and worked as a tech for the Baltimore Forensics Department."
"Umm...how about Neff?" Blair wouldn't even meet their eyes and Jim had to wonder again if something happened that Blair hadn’t told him about. Despite his protests, the doctor checked for sexual assault, since that was apart of Neff's MO, but there was no evidence. Blair had numerous other injuries, but thankfully that wasn't one of them.
"Neff's going to jail for a long time, Chief." Jim assured him. "He confessed to the Miller rape and your kidnapping and assault. He still insists he didn't kill anybody, but given the bizarre nature of the cases and the circumstantial evidence against him, the jury probably won't buy it."
Blair carefully nodded his head, resting back into his pillows. "What about the second woman I heard everyone taking about?"
"She's no where to be found. Probably never will be found unless she leaves a body." Mulder shrugged. "We don't even know who she is. But then there's no evidence that she killed anyone either."
Once the agent's said their goodbyes and left, Jim sat back down, holding onto Blair's hand. He wondered if he should approach the subject again. The last time he said anything, Blair got very upset, but was adamant that nothing happened besides the beating.
******
Epilogue
Tahiti, October 30th
She sat in a plastic lounge chair on a beautiful white-sanded beach, wearing a bright yellow bikini. She was petite but shapely; her short blonde hair shined in the bright sun, her blues eyes sparkled with all the possibilities.
It felt so good to get away from it all.
The beach was covered with ordinary people. They were all slim, deeply tanned and athletic. Some sunbathed. Some jogged along the shore. Some swam...others played volleyball.
In the hot midday sun she began to sweat, but it isn't sweat. It was a mucous-like slime that oozes from her pores dampening the towel that covered the lounge chair. As she wiped the back of her neck with her hand, a few drops sank into to the sand.
A man approached, jogging along the beach. He was bare chested and buff, and moving in her direction...probably returning to the exclusive resort behind her. A large Retriever trotted beside him anticipating a ball toss.
Very handsome...muscular.
As he lofted a long throw down the shoreline, she bolted impulsively from her lounge chair and jogged the short distance down the beach to meet him. "Hi, my name is...um, Connie Mooregate. I don't normally do this kind of thing and I don't mean to embarrass you or myself, but I want you to know that I think you're attractive. If you're free, would you have dinner with me tonight?"
He smiled back and as she waited for his reply, she eyed him from head to toe.
He'll do just fine.
*****
The End