Gift For: Maiden Jedi (Part 1/2)
Title: Closing the Case
Author: bugs
Rating: T
Genre: Casefile, MSR
Word Count: 11,000
Summary: Mulder's tucked away in the country and Scully is dedicated to her new career, but one last case calls for resolution.
~*~
October 12, 2004:
Dead woman reported on bike path running along east parking lot of Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital.
Detective Areti arrived at the same time as a pair of patrolmen. He'd been at Casey's Saloon when the call came through on his walkie-talkie. Popping a mint, he blundered into the dripping undergrowth, his palm resting on his weapon. Flashlight beams cut through the wet blackness, finding the narrow asphalt path, the looming trees, then red hair twined in glistening dark grass, a shock of white skin with a smear of mud on her earlobe. Dead, and from the still, unnatural position, murdered.
A little girl was hunched over the body, close enough to breathe on the clammy skin. Her lank hair was three shades lighter than the body's, glowing gold in their lights.
"Step back," Detective Areti ordered.
The girl raised her face, a pale sphere with a slash of red lips. "I'm a doctor," she insisted. She was not a child after all, but a slight woman, bundled in a heavy trenchcoat.
"But this lady's already dead," Sergeant Croft said, the senior patrolman.
"I just want to check something..." The woman did not touch the body, but examined the stark purple ligature marks on the wrinkled neck with her quick gaze. Then she inspected the hands, still wavering close, but never touching.
Areti said again: "Doctor, you can't--"
"This wasn't the location of her death," she mused. "Her body's been posed post-mortem. Please note that I did not move the body, or touch it beyond checking for a pulse."
"So you didn't try to revive her?" the detective said, his bushy eyebrows raised.
She finally looked up at him. "The moment I touched her wrist, I felt from the skin texture that she was deceased for hours." She stood, pushing her wet hair from her face.
The detective found it unsettling that she referred to this dead woman as a body, particularly when she added dispassionately, "It's Olivia Hampton. She volunteered in the hospital's pediatrics' department, fundraising, but had no meetings this week. I saw her last Tuesday but had not seen her since."
"So you're a doctor here at Our Lady of Sorrows?" the detective asked.
"I have a fellowship there, yes," she said carefully.
She looked around. "Olivia would ride her bicycle to the hospital along this path. I'd have your men search, but I doubt they're going to find it. It started raining this morning around six when I went outside the hospital for fresh air but it's dry under the body. I passed here at eight last night and she wasn't present then. With the rainy weather, it appears that no one has come along today to find her--"
"Why are you on this path, Doctor?" asked Areti, digging out his notebook. He gave some quick directives to the patrolmen as he awaited her answer.
She creased her brow. "I live in an apartment off Whipple." She waved her arm down the path. "I used this shortcut to get home."
"At this time of night?" Croft asked.
"Why not?"
"Women don't usually feel comfortable...Alone...At night in the dark..." The patrolman floundered under her level gaze.
"I'm not afraid of bogeymen," she said.
"Murders and rapists aren't bogeymen," Croft said, looming over her. "They're sons of bitches who just love little things like you."
She didn't back away, only tilted her head up to hold his gaze. Her upper lip slowly curled into a sneer. Turning on his heel, the patrolman stormed off without another word.
Areti broke the tension. "You were walking home. You found the body. Did you see anyone suspicious around?"
"I told you. She's been here for hours." Moving to stand at Mrs. Hampton's feet, she scanned the body again. "There's something familiar about this one--"
"You said that you knew the victim," pointed out Areti.
Croft returned with a bright tarp and a roll of caution tape. The patrolmen covered the body and the doctor stepped back.
"Somewhere else--" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's the husband."
"Excuse me?" said Areti.
The doctor tucked her hands in her coat pockets. "When Olivia chatted with me on Tuesday, she said that she believed her husband was going to kill her."
"And you didn't report it?"
The woman shrugged but her face was contrite. "I just took it for the ramblings of a woman with very little excitement in her terribly unhappy life."
"She's had some excitement now," Areti noted. "Your place is close?"
The doctor nodded.
"Let's get inside out of this rain," Areti said, "I'll need your full statement."
"Of course," she said, sounding exhausted. When she passed him, he heard a hitch in her breathing and knew that she had smelled the booze on him.
x
The apartment was only a studio, the sort of place interns and residents rented. A fold-out couch on one wall, and a microwave, a mini fridge, table and two chairs on the opposite, with a bathroom in a corner of the room. All that was needed for the few hours off shift.
But this place was so coldly impersonal, it made Areti's skin rise in goosebumps. There was no television, no pictures on the wall. The only bookshelf held nothing but medical text books. One hardback novel was on the side table; Lovely Bones.
The woman hung up her coat and sat on the couch. She did not offer refreshments. Before they could start, the doorbell rang again.
"My partner," Areti said and let Carl Tide in.
The doctor started her statement without being asked: "My name is Dana Katherine Scully. S-C-U-L-L-Y. Date of birth, 2, 23,64. This is my address. My phone number is 757-555-1231. I’m a physician in residency at Our Lady, doing a fellowship in pediatric neurology through De Paul University."
The detectives exchanged interested looks. She knew the drill.
"You're sure the victim was Olivia Hampton?" Areti asked. She nodded. "Do you have a phone number for her husband?"
Doctor Scully flipped opened her cell phone and scrolled through the names, then read a number off. "That's their house. I assume he can be reached there."
Tide took it down. Areti told him, "The victim's purse wasn't around. Patrol is checking the bushes. We'll call Avery Hampton and see if he's noticed his wife is missing; take it from there."
He turned his attention back to the doctor. "You said that you believe her husband killed her?"
"I said that she believed that her husband was going to kill her--" she corrected him.
He repeated his earlier question: "And you didn't call the authorities?"
The doctor took a deep breath. "If you'd let me finish--I didn't believe that he was really going to kill her. It was the sort of unhappiness she exhibited. I didn't take it seriously."
"All right, she was unhappy. What does that mean, besides believing her husband wanted to kill her?"
"She was a gossip. Always poking and prodding into people's personal lives. She would snoop in police records online, search newspaper archives--it went beyond salacious gossip. When I first saw her dead and laid out as if sleeping, I thought she'd killed herself--"
"But it's not easy to manually strangle yourself."
She flexed her jaw but had no retort.
"And had Mrs. Hampton gossiped about you?"
The pale eyes flicked up; they'd been focused on her clenching hands. "She had a different interest in me."
"Oh?" said Tide silkily.
"She wanted to be my friend."
"And you didn't want her as a friend," Areti suggested.
Doctor Scully shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I don't need any, particularly someone like her."
"Was she annoying about it?"
"Yes. She didn't have personal boundaries. She found out some things about me and thought that would make me be her friend."
Areti leaned forward. "Blackmail?"
"She didn't seem to have the self-awareness to see it that way."
"But you felt threatened."
"I was concerned."
"What sort of threats did she make?"
"They weren't threats. She simply told me what she'd found out."
The older detective flipped to a fresh page on his palm-sized notebook. "Would you care to share these threats of hers?"
"It's not relevant to the case."
"We are probably the best judges of that."
She pursed her mouth; her bowed lips kept drawing Areti's gaze. "I feel my judgment is sound."
He waited.
Finally, she spoke grudgingly. "One thing you'll find out soon enough...I used to be an FBI agent. That's why I was checking the body...Old habit, I guess."
"Quite a career change," he commented.
"I was a forensic pathologist for the Bureau as well. I have simply changed specialties." She raised her chin, daring him to say something.
"This was your secret she was holding over you?"
"It's the past. It's not something that I want my coworkers to know." She looked from one detective to the other. "It tends to make people nervous." They shifted in their chairs.
Areti gave her his most endearing smile, showing all his tobacco-stained teeth. "As one professional to another, who do you think killed her?"
"As much as I hate to feel that I was disregarding a true threat because of my own discomfort with this woman's inappropriate behavior toward me, I assume it's her husband. Statistics bear that out; she was an upper-class white woman, found in her workplace. There's a very low crime rate in the area. The last stranger on stranger murder was over ten years ago. And the body was moved after she was killed; this was no random crime like a purse snatching gone wrong."
"Did she say why her husband would have wanted to kill her?"
She raised her eyebrows.
"I mean, besides the usual reasons why men kill their wives."
"She said it was for her money. If he divorced her, he would get nothing."
Detective Tide finally broke into the questioning. "Her husband is a hot shot defense attorney with Reese, Lester and Collins. He's not hurting for money."
The doctor nodded. "Yes, but Olivia has a great deal of money. Ten fold his income." She looked around her dumpy dwelling. "People become accustomed to a lifestyle and aren't willing to give it up."
Areti rose and his partner followed. "I think that's all for now. We'll probably be speaking to you again--"
Her face was grim. "I'm sure."
She followed them to the door and they heard the deadbolt shoot closed behind them. The detectives made their way down the stairs to the parking lot.
"Lesbians?" suggested Tide. "That would be hot news. They worked at a Catholic hospital after all."
"Dykes don't usually kill each other," said Areti. "To use her statistical measures," he added with a sneer.
"This old broad hits on our pretty doctor. Doctor pushes her off, she keeps coming, doctor strangles her, repulsed by her attentions. Then moves the body to the bike path--"
"You're thinking like a man," said Areti. "That's how a man would react if some dude squeezed his dick."
Tide shrugged. "I'm a man. What can I say."
Areti looked up at the drab apartment building. The light was off in Dana Scully's apartment already. "But there's definitely something not kosher about our good doctor."
X
Mulder slowly opened his eyes and looked up into Scully's disgruntled face. "When did you get home?" he rasped, rubbing his face.
"Just now. Glad to see your cat-like reflexes are on alert." She dumped her purse on the table and stripped off her coat. "There's trouble."
He was immediately awake. Swinging his legs off the couch, he jumped up.
"I found a body at work. Murder."
"Just can't get away from the business, Agent Scully." He headed to the kitchen to make coffee. He didn't like the depth of the dark circles under her eyes.
She trailed after him. "I think it's just going to turn out to be the husband."
"You know her?"
"It's Olivia Hampton; that woman that I told you about."
"Interesting." He leaned against the counter beside the burbling coffeemaker. "Are you the prime suspect?"
She poked him in the ribs with her elbow and got down two mugs from the cupboard.
"But the odd thing is...Her body was posed...And it seemed familiar, like an old case..." She passed a thin hand across her eyes. "My brain can only hold so much information and with the upload I've had to do during this peds residency, I seem to have overwritten some important data."
Sweeping aside her lank hair, he rubbed her neck, his strong thumbs finding the hard knots. "Describe it to me."
"She was flat on her back. Legs together and straight, toes pointed up. In fact, stones were used to keep her feet in position."
He made a noise in the back of his throat, but let her keep talking.
"One hand was flat on the heart, but other hand upright, and the fingers folded to make the sign of blessing--"
"The Crucible Killer."
She leaned against him, tired to the depth of her bones. “Yes, that one." Then she shook her head. "It can't be. He was last working in the late nineties, had move up to New Jersey--"
"No, Scully. He's taken two victims within fifty miles of the hospital in the past six months."
"What?" She furrowed her brow. "Had you told me?"
He filled the coffee cups. "No."
"Why not?"
Handing her the steaming mug, he stared at his feet, rubbing his loose sock toe into the crack of the oak floor. "You've been working day and night with your fellowship. I want you to relax when you come home. Not think about the old job.”
"But you've been following the case."
He quirked a smile. "I had to have something to cut out and stick to my walls."
She touched his arm. "Mulder, we can't get involved--you can't get involved. Let the authorities do their job--"
He leaned against the counter. "You're going to let a killer keep roaming free--"
"It's not the Crucible Killer. It's the husband; I'm sure of it." She sipped her coffee, settling in for the old familiar discourse.
He rolled his head back in agitation right on cue.
"Mulder, you have this case in your head from the recent killings. I describe a scene to you and you're filling in the blanks. It's a straightforward case. Olivia was just one more woman who annoyed her husband one day too many. It happens all the time."
He smiled again. "Now who's projecting?"
She squinted at him, not ready to concede defeat. "Olivia doesn't fit the profile of the previous victims unless the new victims are different from the previous ones. She would be the oldest, significantly. She was wealthy; none of the other victims were so prominent--"
"But Scully, the bodies are posed in a very specific way--"
"Mulder, wouldn't you say the hardest crime to pull off is for a husband to murder his wife? He's the first suspect; the crime is usually done in the home which is notoriously difficult to clean.
Avery Hampton is a criminal defense lawyer. He's defended everyone from pro bono spree killers to drunk driving spoiled sons of friends. He’s seen all the mistakes; if anyone could plan the perfect crime, it’s him.”
Mulder just gaped at her, incredulous.
"He did it." She tossed out the dregs of her cup in the sink and washed it out. "I’ve had this creep back me into corners at parties. He’s an arrogant asshole who believes he’s exceptional, and I bet anything that includes getting away with murder."
"You're going off your gut? Your intuition?" He made a show of looking around the kitchen. "Laura Petrie, when did you take over for Dana Scully?"
"Shut up, Mulder." She folded her arms and glared up at him. "As a matter of fact, since I don't need to give a damn about writing this up in a report at the end of the day and I don't need supporting evidence...yeah-- I can go with my gut feeling. And it feels good." She gave a reflexive shimmy of her shoulders. She was no longer encased in her dark wool armor, nor was her head weighed down by the hard red helmet.
Mulder grinned at her as he if read her thoughts.
Wondering if he could sense her next one, she glanced at the clock on the stove. "I'm going to bed. I have twenty-one precious hours until I'm due for my next shift. I'd like to spend one hour in carnal indulgence before sleeping for the other twenty." She went to the stairs. "If you're interested..." she tossed over her shoulder.
Her voice was flat and bland, but he found that twice as arousing as any come-hither tone. He doused the kitchen lights and joined her at the foot of the stairs. Dawn leaked in around the closed curtains.
"You sure you weren't followed?" he asked.
"I waited a couple hours before driving out in case they were watching the apartment. And took the long way here."
He draped his arm around her waist and they mounted the stairs together. "You've still got it after all these years."
She laid her head on his shoulder, relaying her exhaustion. "I hope so. If not, just fake it for me."
He chuckled and turned off the last light before closing their bedroom door on the world.
X
Areti and Tide looked over the Feds who’d joined them in one of the station’s conference rooms. They were outnumbered. There was Tuttle, the lead investigator, Jackson and Reynolds, his tactical team, and some little blonde who was called a researcher, Harrison. Tuttle did the talking for all of them, but he let Areti make his report first.
"We've taken a close look at the woman who found the body, a Doctor Dana Scully. From the moment we talked to her, she's been throwing suspicion on the husband, which looks pretty shady in itself. She mentioned the victim had been snooping into her past and when we did some looking, we saw why."
Areti held up his hand before Tuttle could speak. "Sir, I understand she's one of your own, but she didn't exactly leave the Bureau with all flags flying, did she?"
Jackson glared at them, but the other federal agents remained impassive, even the young woman.
"And this Mrs. Hampton was obviously obsessed with Doctor Scully. On Tuesday, when the doctor reported they last saw each other, Mrs. Hampton had visited the same beauty parlor used by Scully. She requested and received the exact hair dye that the doctor normally got. Doctor Scully stormed into a different salon--" Areti consulted his notes. "--Michelle's Cuts, the next day, and had her hair colored a different shade."
"And this all means?" Tuttle asked, bored.
"Olivia Hampton was making Doctor Scully very uncomfortable."
"The husband? What's his recount of events?" Tuttle asked.
"He saw his wife at dinner on Wednesday. She seemed as usual. She retired before him; he had a case he's preparing for. He admitted the no longer share the marital bed; she uses one of those sleep apnea aides and he can't stand the sound. But when he walked by her bedroom at midnight, he heard it merrily churning away."
"The morning?"
"He rose later than she usually does and found her gone for the day. As Doctor Scully told us, she often takes her bicycle to get around, even if this rainy weather--it's one of those old ladies' sort, with the basket and no gears. It was gone from the garage when he went to work, so he assumed that she was out for coffee with friends; he says that she does that often. So the previous night's dinner was the last time he saw her alive and then he got our call to ID the body."
"House has been given the full forensic work up?"
"Yes, sir," gritted out Areti. "No forced entry. No signs of a struggle anywhere in the house. She appears to have risen and prepared for the day as usual. Pajamas hanging on the back of the bathroom door, bed made, and that bicycle is gone. We've yet to find it, by the way."
"So the death appears to have taken place away from the house." Tuttle didn't phrase it as a question.
"Correct, sir," replied Areti.
Tuttle stood. "Olivia Hampton's death and body follow the pattern of a serial killer called The Crucible Killer. The FBI will be taking over the case."
"What the hell?" burst out Areti, exchanging furious looks with Tide. "You let me go through all this--"
"I assumed you needed the practice. You don't get much society capital crime cases, do you?"
Areti breathed heavily through his nose, then held up his hand when he'd regained control. "Wait a damn minute. Doctor Scully is former FBI. She may know about this killer. She was a forensic pathologist. She'd know how to set up a murder scene to mimic the killer's work--"
Tuttle nodded his head at his fellow agents, signaling that it was time to leave. "Good day, detectives. Stay out of our way from now on."
They left the door ajar as they exited. Tide was the one to go slam it behind them.
X
October 14, 2004:
"Doctor Scully? Dana?"
Scully's head shot up from the pile of patient records that she'd been reviewing in her corner of the residents' office.
"Avery!" she stood, closing the top folder. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she said, unable to put any real emotion into the trite phrase.
There was a quality about Avery Hampton that reminded her of Alex Krycek and that could never be a good thing. The plastic sheen to his surface. The flat shark eyes. The pretty mouth.
Before she could dodge away, he hugged her. Olivia had kept touching her as well, making Scully's skin crawl. Perhaps being an investigator and pathologist, and touching so many bodies without the person's consent, had given her very strong personal boundaries. As a pediatrician, she considered it one of her strongest qualities that she always asked permission before beginning her examinations.
She stepped out of his arms. "What can I do for you, Avery?"
"They told me..." He took a deep breath. She waited. She'd watched many attorneys perform in court and he had all the familiar tics down. The catch in the voice. The meeting of her eyes with his steady gaze. "The police told me that you found poor Olivia."
She may have found him sincere if he hadn't tossed in the 'poor'.
"Yes, Avery."
"Did she...suffer?"
Scully wanted him to leave. She shifted toward the door, hoping to herd him in the direction. He sat in her chair.
Folding her arms, she gazed down at him. "They told you how she died."
"Strangled..." He put his face in his hands.
""I'm afraid it's no painless," she said dryly, feeling cruel even as she was certain of his guilt. Which meant she was alone in a room with a killer, but she had no fear.
"The police had a lot of questions for me." He looked up and his eyes were dry. "An unpleasant sensation to be on that side of the table."
"I'm sure," she murmured.
It was time to move him along. If she were going to investigate this crime, she would have pumped him for information, but the less she knew, the better. If he was covering up the evidence as poorly as he was performing now, the police would be making an arrest by the end of the week.
"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked. "Of course, the hospital will want to honor Olivia's in some way--"
He shot her a sharp look. He was probably assuming that she was shaking him down for a donation in his wife's name. That got him going.
"You're so kind," he said smarmily, moving in for another hug.
She managed to sidestep him and took his hand instead, squeezing it. The strength of the returning pressure was enough to snuff life from Olivia Hampton's waddled neck.
She closed the door firmly behind his well-tailored back.
X
October 15, 2004:
"Scully, come watch this."
She was shuffling around the kitchen, still in the grumpy first awakened state when Mulder knew to leave her alone. This must be important.
He was on couch, leaned forward to watch the television intently. A press conference was going on. She sat beside him.
"It's the Richmond FBI. They're in on your killing--"
"My killing?" she said.
"If the FBI's in on it, they're going to say it's the serial killer."
"I'm telling you, after talking to Avery Hampton, he definitely did it."
"Evidence points to Olivia Hampton being the latest victim of the Crucible Killer," said the square-headed man behind the podium.
Mulder smirked at her over his shoulder. "Am I ever wrong?"
Squishing the throw pillow into the proper shape to nestle her head, she worked pointedly at ignoring him. As she reclined, he snagged her feet and rubbed them between his palms.
"Wait, look at agent to the right. Isn't that Agent Harrison? Leyla Harrison."
Scully peered at the screen. Her glasses were in her purse. "I think you're right."
Behind the Violent Crimes section head for the Richmond field office, a short blonde woman stood, trying to keep the steely expression of her fellow agents.
"You should give her a call. Find out what's going on."
With a groan, she sat up. "Are you crazy, Mulder? And bring more attention to us?"
"Actually, I'm sure once the Fibbies review the original casefile and see your name in there, they'll be calling you."
"I've got to stay out of this, Mulder," she pointed out. "If they keep sniffing around me, eventually it leads back to you."
He pulled her easily into his lap and inhaled deeply. "You do still smell of me--"
She struggled free. "You've reminded me. I need to shower before heading back to the hospital."
"Scully--"
"No, Mulder," she tossed over her shoulder.
He opened his mouth to continue the argument, but her light footfall on the stairs gave her rebuke.
~end part one of two
Author: bugs
Rating: T
Genre: Casefile, MSR
Word Count: 11,000
Summary: Mulder's tucked away in the country and Scully is dedicated to her new career, but one last case calls for resolution.
~*~
October 12, 2004:
Dead woman reported on bike path running along east parking lot of Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital.
Detective Areti arrived at the same time as a pair of patrolmen. He'd been at Casey's Saloon when the call came through on his walkie-talkie. Popping a mint, he blundered into the dripping undergrowth, his palm resting on his weapon. Flashlight beams cut through the wet blackness, finding the narrow asphalt path, the looming trees, then red hair twined in glistening dark grass, a shock of white skin with a smear of mud on her earlobe. Dead, and from the still, unnatural position, murdered.
A little girl was hunched over the body, close enough to breathe on the clammy skin. Her lank hair was three shades lighter than the body's, glowing gold in their lights.
"Step back," Detective Areti ordered.
The girl raised her face, a pale sphere with a slash of red lips. "I'm a doctor," she insisted. She was not a child after all, but a slight woman, bundled in a heavy trenchcoat.
"But this lady's already dead," Sergeant Croft said, the senior patrolman.
"I just want to check something..." The woman did not touch the body, but examined the stark purple ligature marks on the wrinkled neck with her quick gaze. Then she inspected the hands, still wavering close, but never touching.
Areti said again: "Doctor, you can't--"
"This wasn't the location of her death," she mused. "Her body's been posed post-mortem. Please note that I did not move the body, or touch it beyond checking for a pulse."
"So you didn't try to revive her?" the detective said, his bushy eyebrows raised.
She finally looked up at him. "The moment I touched her wrist, I felt from the skin texture that she was deceased for hours." She stood, pushing her wet hair from her face.
The detective found it unsettling that she referred to this dead woman as a body, particularly when she added dispassionately, "It's Olivia Hampton. She volunteered in the hospital's pediatrics' department, fundraising, but had no meetings this week. I saw her last Tuesday but had not seen her since."
"So you're a doctor here at Our Lady of Sorrows?" the detective asked.
"I have a fellowship there, yes," she said carefully.
She looked around. "Olivia would ride her bicycle to the hospital along this path. I'd have your men search, but I doubt they're going to find it. It started raining this morning around six when I went outside the hospital for fresh air but it's dry under the body. I passed here at eight last night and she wasn't present then. With the rainy weather, it appears that no one has come along today to find her--"
"Why are you on this path, Doctor?" asked Areti, digging out his notebook. He gave some quick directives to the patrolmen as he awaited her answer.
She creased her brow. "I live in an apartment off Whipple." She waved her arm down the path. "I used this shortcut to get home."
"At this time of night?" Croft asked.
"Why not?"
"Women don't usually feel comfortable...Alone...At night in the dark..." The patrolman floundered under her level gaze.
"I'm not afraid of bogeymen," she said.
"Murders and rapists aren't bogeymen," Croft said, looming over her. "They're sons of bitches who just love little things like you."
She didn't back away, only tilted her head up to hold his gaze. Her upper lip slowly curled into a sneer. Turning on his heel, the patrolman stormed off without another word.
Areti broke the tension. "You were walking home. You found the body. Did you see anyone suspicious around?"
"I told you. She's been here for hours." Moving to stand at Mrs. Hampton's feet, she scanned the body again. "There's something familiar about this one--"
"You said that you knew the victim," pointed out Areti.
Croft returned with a bright tarp and a roll of caution tape. The patrolmen covered the body and the doctor stepped back.
"Somewhere else--" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's the husband."
"Excuse me?" said Areti.
The doctor tucked her hands in her coat pockets. "When Olivia chatted with me on Tuesday, she said that she believed her husband was going to kill her."
"And you didn't report it?"
The woman shrugged but her face was contrite. "I just took it for the ramblings of a woman with very little excitement in her terribly unhappy life."
"She's had some excitement now," Areti noted. "Your place is close?"
The doctor nodded.
"Let's get inside out of this rain," Areti said, "I'll need your full statement."
"Of course," she said, sounding exhausted. When she passed him, he heard a hitch in her breathing and knew that she had smelled the booze on him.
x
The apartment was only a studio, the sort of place interns and residents rented. A fold-out couch on one wall, and a microwave, a mini fridge, table and two chairs on the opposite, with a bathroom in a corner of the room. All that was needed for the few hours off shift.
But this place was so coldly impersonal, it made Areti's skin rise in goosebumps. There was no television, no pictures on the wall. The only bookshelf held nothing but medical text books. One hardback novel was on the side table; Lovely Bones.
The woman hung up her coat and sat on the couch. She did not offer refreshments. Before they could start, the doorbell rang again.
"My partner," Areti said and let Carl Tide in.
The doctor started her statement without being asked: "My name is Dana Katherine Scully. S-C-U-L-L-Y. Date of birth, 2, 23,64. This is my address. My phone number is 757-555-1231. I’m a physician in residency at Our Lady, doing a fellowship in pediatric neurology through De Paul University."
The detectives exchanged interested looks. She knew the drill.
"You're sure the victim was Olivia Hampton?" Areti asked. She nodded. "Do you have a phone number for her husband?"
Doctor Scully flipped opened her cell phone and scrolled through the names, then read a number off. "That's their house. I assume he can be reached there."
Tide took it down. Areti told him, "The victim's purse wasn't around. Patrol is checking the bushes. We'll call Avery Hampton and see if he's noticed his wife is missing; take it from there."
He turned his attention back to the doctor. "You said that you believe her husband killed her?"
"I said that she believed that her husband was going to kill her--" she corrected him.
He repeated his earlier question: "And you didn't call the authorities?"
The doctor took a deep breath. "If you'd let me finish--I didn't believe that he was really going to kill her. It was the sort of unhappiness she exhibited. I didn't take it seriously."
"All right, she was unhappy. What does that mean, besides believing her husband wanted to kill her?"
"She was a gossip. Always poking and prodding into people's personal lives. She would snoop in police records online, search newspaper archives--it went beyond salacious gossip. When I first saw her dead and laid out as if sleeping, I thought she'd killed herself--"
"But it's not easy to manually strangle yourself."
She flexed her jaw but had no retort.
"And had Mrs. Hampton gossiped about you?"
The pale eyes flicked up; they'd been focused on her clenching hands. "She had a different interest in me."
"Oh?" said Tide silkily.
"She wanted to be my friend."
"And you didn't want her as a friend," Areti suggested.
Doctor Scully shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I don't need any, particularly someone like her."
"Was she annoying about it?"
"Yes. She didn't have personal boundaries. She found out some things about me and thought that would make me be her friend."
Areti leaned forward. "Blackmail?"
"She didn't seem to have the self-awareness to see it that way."
"But you felt threatened."
"I was concerned."
"What sort of threats did she make?"
"They weren't threats. She simply told me what she'd found out."
The older detective flipped to a fresh page on his palm-sized notebook. "Would you care to share these threats of hers?"
"It's not relevant to the case."
"We are probably the best judges of that."
She pursed her mouth; her bowed lips kept drawing Areti's gaze. "I feel my judgment is sound."
He waited.
Finally, she spoke grudgingly. "One thing you'll find out soon enough...I used to be an FBI agent. That's why I was checking the body...Old habit, I guess."
"Quite a career change," he commented.
"I was a forensic pathologist for the Bureau as well. I have simply changed specialties." She raised her chin, daring him to say something.
"This was your secret she was holding over you?"
"It's the past. It's not something that I want my coworkers to know." She looked from one detective to the other. "It tends to make people nervous." They shifted in their chairs.
Areti gave her his most endearing smile, showing all his tobacco-stained teeth. "As one professional to another, who do you think killed her?"
"As much as I hate to feel that I was disregarding a true threat because of my own discomfort with this woman's inappropriate behavior toward me, I assume it's her husband. Statistics bear that out; she was an upper-class white woman, found in her workplace. There's a very low crime rate in the area. The last stranger on stranger murder was over ten years ago. And the body was moved after she was killed; this was no random crime like a purse snatching gone wrong."
"Did she say why her husband would have wanted to kill her?"
She raised her eyebrows.
"I mean, besides the usual reasons why men kill their wives."
"She said it was for her money. If he divorced her, he would get nothing."
Detective Tide finally broke into the questioning. "Her husband is a hot shot defense attorney with Reese, Lester and Collins. He's not hurting for money."
The doctor nodded. "Yes, but Olivia has a great deal of money. Ten fold his income." She looked around her dumpy dwelling. "People become accustomed to a lifestyle and aren't willing to give it up."
Areti rose and his partner followed. "I think that's all for now. We'll probably be speaking to you again--"
Her face was grim. "I'm sure."
She followed them to the door and they heard the deadbolt shoot closed behind them. The detectives made their way down the stairs to the parking lot.
"Lesbians?" suggested Tide. "That would be hot news. They worked at a Catholic hospital after all."
"Dykes don't usually kill each other," said Areti. "To use her statistical measures," he added with a sneer.
"This old broad hits on our pretty doctor. Doctor pushes her off, she keeps coming, doctor strangles her, repulsed by her attentions. Then moves the body to the bike path--"
"You're thinking like a man," said Areti. "That's how a man would react if some dude squeezed his dick."
Tide shrugged. "I'm a man. What can I say."
Areti looked up at the drab apartment building. The light was off in Dana Scully's apartment already. "But there's definitely something not kosher about our good doctor."
X
Mulder slowly opened his eyes and looked up into Scully's disgruntled face. "When did you get home?" he rasped, rubbing his face.
"Just now. Glad to see your cat-like reflexes are on alert." She dumped her purse on the table and stripped off her coat. "There's trouble."
He was immediately awake. Swinging his legs off the couch, he jumped up.
"I found a body at work. Murder."
"Just can't get away from the business, Agent Scully." He headed to the kitchen to make coffee. He didn't like the depth of the dark circles under her eyes.
She trailed after him. "I think it's just going to turn out to be the husband."
"You know her?"
"It's Olivia Hampton; that woman that I told you about."
"Interesting." He leaned against the counter beside the burbling coffeemaker. "Are you the prime suspect?"
She poked him in the ribs with her elbow and got down two mugs from the cupboard.
"But the odd thing is...Her body was posed...And it seemed familiar, like an old case..." She passed a thin hand across her eyes. "My brain can only hold so much information and with the upload I've had to do during this peds residency, I seem to have overwritten some important data."
Sweeping aside her lank hair, he rubbed her neck, his strong thumbs finding the hard knots. "Describe it to me."
"She was flat on her back. Legs together and straight, toes pointed up. In fact, stones were used to keep her feet in position."
He made a noise in the back of his throat, but let her keep talking.
"One hand was flat on the heart, but other hand upright, and the fingers folded to make the sign of blessing--"
"The Crucible Killer."
She leaned against him, tired to the depth of her bones. “Yes, that one." Then she shook her head. "It can't be. He was last working in the late nineties, had move up to New Jersey--"
"No, Scully. He's taken two victims within fifty miles of the hospital in the past six months."
"What?" She furrowed her brow. "Had you told me?"
He filled the coffee cups. "No."
"Why not?"
Handing her the steaming mug, he stared at his feet, rubbing his loose sock toe into the crack of the oak floor. "You've been working day and night with your fellowship. I want you to relax when you come home. Not think about the old job.”
"But you've been following the case."
He quirked a smile. "I had to have something to cut out and stick to my walls."
She touched his arm. "Mulder, we can't get involved--you can't get involved. Let the authorities do their job--"
He leaned against the counter. "You're going to let a killer keep roaming free--"
"It's not the Crucible Killer. It's the husband; I'm sure of it." She sipped her coffee, settling in for the old familiar discourse.
He rolled his head back in agitation right on cue.
"Mulder, you have this case in your head from the recent killings. I describe a scene to you and you're filling in the blanks. It's a straightforward case. Olivia was just one more woman who annoyed her husband one day too many. It happens all the time."
He smiled again. "Now who's projecting?"
She squinted at him, not ready to concede defeat. "Olivia doesn't fit the profile of the previous victims unless the new victims are different from the previous ones. She would be the oldest, significantly. She was wealthy; none of the other victims were so prominent--"
"But Scully, the bodies are posed in a very specific way--"
"Mulder, wouldn't you say the hardest crime to pull off is for a husband to murder his wife? He's the first suspect; the crime is usually done in the home which is notoriously difficult to clean.
Avery Hampton is a criminal defense lawyer. He's defended everyone from pro bono spree killers to drunk driving spoiled sons of friends. He’s seen all the mistakes; if anyone could plan the perfect crime, it’s him.”
Mulder just gaped at her, incredulous.
"He did it." She tossed out the dregs of her cup in the sink and washed it out. "I’ve had this creep back me into corners at parties. He’s an arrogant asshole who believes he’s exceptional, and I bet anything that includes getting away with murder."
"You're going off your gut? Your intuition?" He made a show of looking around the kitchen. "Laura Petrie, when did you take over for Dana Scully?"
"Shut up, Mulder." She folded her arms and glared up at him. "As a matter of fact, since I don't need to give a damn about writing this up in a report at the end of the day and I don't need supporting evidence...yeah-- I can go with my gut feeling. And it feels good." She gave a reflexive shimmy of her shoulders. She was no longer encased in her dark wool armor, nor was her head weighed down by the hard red helmet.
Mulder grinned at her as he if read her thoughts.
Wondering if he could sense her next one, she glanced at the clock on the stove. "I'm going to bed. I have twenty-one precious hours until I'm due for my next shift. I'd like to spend one hour in carnal indulgence before sleeping for the other twenty." She went to the stairs. "If you're interested..." she tossed over her shoulder.
Her voice was flat and bland, but he found that twice as arousing as any come-hither tone. He doused the kitchen lights and joined her at the foot of the stairs. Dawn leaked in around the closed curtains.
"You sure you weren't followed?" he asked.
"I waited a couple hours before driving out in case they were watching the apartment. And took the long way here."
He draped his arm around her waist and they mounted the stairs together. "You've still got it after all these years."
She laid her head on his shoulder, relaying her exhaustion. "I hope so. If not, just fake it for me."
He chuckled and turned off the last light before closing their bedroom door on the world.
X
Areti and Tide looked over the Feds who’d joined them in one of the station’s conference rooms. They were outnumbered. There was Tuttle, the lead investigator, Jackson and Reynolds, his tactical team, and some little blonde who was called a researcher, Harrison. Tuttle did the talking for all of them, but he let Areti make his report first.
"We've taken a close look at the woman who found the body, a Doctor Dana Scully. From the moment we talked to her, she's been throwing suspicion on the husband, which looks pretty shady in itself. She mentioned the victim had been snooping into her past and when we did some looking, we saw why."
Areti held up his hand before Tuttle could speak. "Sir, I understand she's one of your own, but she didn't exactly leave the Bureau with all flags flying, did she?"
Jackson glared at them, but the other federal agents remained impassive, even the young woman.
"And this Mrs. Hampton was obviously obsessed with Doctor Scully. On Tuesday, when the doctor reported they last saw each other, Mrs. Hampton had visited the same beauty parlor used by Scully. She requested and received the exact hair dye that the doctor normally got. Doctor Scully stormed into a different salon--" Areti consulted his notes. "--Michelle's Cuts, the next day, and had her hair colored a different shade."
"And this all means?" Tuttle asked, bored.
"Olivia Hampton was making Doctor Scully very uncomfortable."
"The husband? What's his recount of events?" Tuttle asked.
"He saw his wife at dinner on Wednesday. She seemed as usual. She retired before him; he had a case he's preparing for. He admitted the no longer share the marital bed; she uses one of those sleep apnea aides and he can't stand the sound. But when he walked by her bedroom at midnight, he heard it merrily churning away."
"The morning?"
"He rose later than she usually does and found her gone for the day. As Doctor Scully told us, she often takes her bicycle to get around, even if this rainy weather--it's one of those old ladies' sort, with the basket and no gears. It was gone from the garage when he went to work, so he assumed that she was out for coffee with friends; he says that she does that often. So the previous night's dinner was the last time he saw her alive and then he got our call to ID the body."
"House has been given the full forensic work up?"
"Yes, sir," gritted out Areti. "No forced entry. No signs of a struggle anywhere in the house. She appears to have risen and prepared for the day as usual. Pajamas hanging on the back of the bathroom door, bed made, and that bicycle is gone. We've yet to find it, by the way."
"So the death appears to have taken place away from the house." Tuttle didn't phrase it as a question.
"Correct, sir," replied Areti.
Tuttle stood. "Olivia Hampton's death and body follow the pattern of a serial killer called The Crucible Killer. The FBI will be taking over the case."
"What the hell?" burst out Areti, exchanging furious looks with Tide. "You let me go through all this--"
"I assumed you needed the practice. You don't get much society capital crime cases, do you?"
Areti breathed heavily through his nose, then held up his hand when he'd regained control. "Wait a damn minute. Doctor Scully is former FBI. She may know about this killer. She was a forensic pathologist. She'd know how to set up a murder scene to mimic the killer's work--"
Tuttle nodded his head at his fellow agents, signaling that it was time to leave. "Good day, detectives. Stay out of our way from now on."
They left the door ajar as they exited. Tide was the one to go slam it behind them.
X
October 14, 2004:
"Doctor Scully? Dana?"
Scully's head shot up from the pile of patient records that she'd been reviewing in her corner of the residents' office.
"Avery!" she stood, closing the top folder. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she said, unable to put any real emotion into the trite phrase.
There was a quality about Avery Hampton that reminded her of Alex Krycek and that could never be a good thing. The plastic sheen to his surface. The flat shark eyes. The pretty mouth.
Before she could dodge away, he hugged her. Olivia had kept touching her as well, making Scully's skin crawl. Perhaps being an investigator and pathologist, and touching so many bodies without the person's consent, had given her very strong personal boundaries. As a pediatrician, she considered it one of her strongest qualities that she always asked permission before beginning her examinations.
She stepped out of his arms. "What can I do for you, Avery?"
"They told me..." He took a deep breath. She waited. She'd watched many attorneys perform in court and he had all the familiar tics down. The catch in the voice. The meeting of her eyes with his steady gaze. "The police told me that you found poor Olivia."
She may have found him sincere if he hadn't tossed in the 'poor'.
"Yes, Avery."
"Did she...suffer?"
Scully wanted him to leave. She shifted toward the door, hoping to herd him in the direction. He sat in her chair.
Folding her arms, she gazed down at him. "They told you how she died."
"Strangled..." He put his face in his hands.
""I'm afraid it's no painless," she said dryly, feeling cruel even as she was certain of his guilt. Which meant she was alone in a room with a killer, but she had no fear.
"The police had a lot of questions for me." He looked up and his eyes were dry. "An unpleasant sensation to be on that side of the table."
"I'm sure," she murmured.
It was time to move him along. If she were going to investigate this crime, she would have pumped him for information, but the less she knew, the better. If he was covering up the evidence as poorly as he was performing now, the police would be making an arrest by the end of the week.
"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked. "Of course, the hospital will want to honor Olivia's in some way--"
He shot her a sharp look. He was probably assuming that she was shaking him down for a donation in his wife's name. That got him going.
"You're so kind," he said smarmily, moving in for another hug.
She managed to sidestep him and took his hand instead, squeezing it. The strength of the returning pressure was enough to snuff life from Olivia Hampton's waddled neck.
She closed the door firmly behind his well-tailored back.
X
October 15, 2004:
"Scully, come watch this."
She was shuffling around the kitchen, still in the grumpy first awakened state when Mulder knew to leave her alone. This must be important.
He was on couch, leaned forward to watch the television intently. A press conference was going on. She sat beside him.
"It's the Richmond FBI. They're in on your killing--"
"My killing?" she said.
"If the FBI's in on it, they're going to say it's the serial killer."
"I'm telling you, after talking to Avery Hampton, he definitely did it."
"Evidence points to Olivia Hampton being the latest victim of the Crucible Killer," said the square-headed man behind the podium.
Mulder smirked at her over his shoulder. "Am I ever wrong?"
Squishing the throw pillow into the proper shape to nestle her head, she worked pointedly at ignoring him. As she reclined, he snagged her feet and rubbed them between his palms.
"Wait, look at agent to the right. Isn't that Agent Harrison? Leyla Harrison."
Scully peered at the screen. Her glasses were in her purse. "I think you're right."
Behind the Violent Crimes section head for the Richmond field office, a short blonde woman stood, trying to keep the steely expression of her fellow agents.
"You should give her a call. Find out what's going on."
With a groan, she sat up. "Are you crazy, Mulder? And bring more attention to us?"
"Actually, I'm sure once the Fibbies review the original casefile and see your name in there, they'll be calling you."
"I've got to stay out of this, Mulder," she pointed out. "If they keep sniffing around me, eventually it leads back to you."
He pulled her easily into his lap and inhaled deeply. "You do still smell of me--"
She struggled free. "You've reminded me. I need to shower before heading back to the hospital."
"Scully--"
"No, Mulder," she tossed over her shoulder.
He opened his mouth to continue the argument, but her light footfall on the stairs gave her rebuke.
~end part one of two