XxXxXxXxXxX

Chapter Eight

XxXxXxXxXxX


The sharp knock on the door cracked his eyes open like eggs, 
liquid sleep vision making him stumble on his path to the 
door.  Behind it he found a man so large he nearly blocked 
out the light from the hall; he held a bucket of ice in his 
hands, and his face wore a worried crease.  Mulder squinted 
up at him.  "What is it?"

"Is Agent Scully with you, Sir?" the man asked.

Scully's guard.  He remembered now.  The man on 
the other side of the door when Scully had pressed her hot 
mouth to his and whispered that they had to be quiet.  Mulder 
ran his hand through his hair and tried not to be obvious 
about checking the bed behind him.   The blankets were 
rumpled in the dark, but his sense memory could still feel 
the warmth of her body against his skin.  "Uh, sure.  She's 
still here."

The officer visibly relaxed.  "Oh.  Okay, then.  I'm sorry to 
bother you, Sir."  He held out the bucket.  "I have the ice 
that Agent Scully requested, if she still wants it."

"Ice?"  Mulder did turn around now, frowning at the dim 
mountain range of blanket bumps.

"She asked me for it a few minutes ago.  When she didn't 
answer her door, I thought she was probably back here.  
Again, I'm sorry to--"

He stopped as Mulder walked away, the door still hanging 
open.  Mulder flicked the wall switch, and light flooded his 
room.

Gone.

His heartbeat seemed to slow and expand, stealing his breath 
and gluing his feet to the rug.  He scrunched his toes deep 
into the carpet.  "Dammit."

"Sir?"  The young officer hovered near the entryway.  

Mulder jerked, suddenly mobilized.  "When was the last time 
you saw her?" he asked as he began searching the room.  

"It must be about ten minutes now."

Mulder emptied his suit pockets on to the bed -- crumpled 
receipts, loose change, sunglasses -- "My car keys are 
missing."

"Grenier's going to have my hide.  I shouldn't have left her 
alone."

Mulder pawed through the papers on the table for his cell 
phone, barely listening as he fished it out and headed for 
his dresser. "No, you shouldn't have.  Fuck."  He pressed 
"1" and held the phone under his jaw while he searched his 
dresser with both hands. 

Answer, dammit.  Answer.

He yanked the drawer out and found his wad of ties, socks and 
boxers shoved aside.  She had taken his backup weapon, too.  
Why the hell hadn't he seen this coming?

"Agent Mulder?  I should contact Chief Waitkin and Agent 
Grenier...where do you think she could have gone?"

Mulder turned around in place slowly, taking in the chaos of 
his room.  A photo of Keri Ann Talbot's body came loose from 
the wall and fluttered to the ground, face up.  He stared 
into her empty eyes as the phone rang in his ear unanswered.

XxXxXxX 

Scully drove through the night unimpeded.  In the dark hour 
before dawn, the largest city in the U.S. resembled a 
futuristic ghost town, its long streets breezy and abandoned.  
Skyscrapers kept silent, looming watch.  

She clenched the wheel and nudged the needle up to fifty 
miles per hour.  By now, Jackson would have missed her and 
the hunt would be on.  Mulder would be furious.

Mulder.  She had to leave him behind.  He wouldn't have let 
her leave and there was no way he could have come.  Carl 
would emerge from hiding for her alone.  And if he was 
watching her, he wouldn't be with Amelia.  

If he was watching.

She kept one eye on the rearview mirror, dreading any sign of 
either a patrol car or the burning headlights of Carl 
Quentin.  Her wrists and knees felt loose and weak.  The 
press of her gun at her side kept her moving forward, but she 
had no direction.

Think, she commanded herself, trying to lasso her careening 
thoughts.  Think like him.  Where would he go?

But she wasn't Mulder, who could abracadabra his way into the 
criminal mind.  She had lain in Quentin's bed, had looked 
into his wild eyes and felt the madness in his touch, but she 
could not fathom the evil in his heart.  

Get out? she wondered.  Walk the street until she could hear 
his footsteps coming up behind her?  He had grabbed her in a 
park the last time.  Perhaps she should try that again.

She made a wide right turn onto another deserted street, 
heading out of town.  Mulder had guessed Quentin was in the 
mountains, but that was too much territory for her to cover 
alone.  She made another turn.  

I'm Carl, she thought, I would look...

...back where I left off.

Of course.  Her heart picked up speed.  They knew he had been 
watching the motel in Santa Ana, and it made sense that he 
would search at the scene of Amelia's abduction; he would be 
expecting her to be there.  

But I'm not.  What next?

She took the corner too quickly, fishtailing onto a wide 
boulevard.  Taillights winked in the distance in front of 
her. 

He's angry, she thought, warming to the pattern.  He gets 
nothing from the motel from far away and he doesn't dare to 
get any closer.  The morgue would have to be next.

The thought pricked her, trickled fear down her insides.  If 
she went there, would she find him waiting?  Or was he 
already watching, biding his time until she drove off the 
main road into darkness?

There was only one way to find out.

XxxXxXxX

At FBI headquarters, Grenier had two phones going at once; 
one at his ear and the other in his hand.  "License Q145VMX," 
he said.  "No, we don't fucking know where she's gone.  
That's the point of this notice."  He glanced up at Mulder. 
"It's silver, right?"

Mulder nodded.  "Hertz sticker on the back."  

The rest of the men and women in the room had stopped their 
tasks to watch Grenier's terse phone calls.  Despite the hum 
of the computers, the photos and maps tacked to the walls, 
and the ove- bright fluorescent lights, the room felt 
stagnant and defeated.  Russell had been missing for over 
twenty-four hours.

Chewing his thumbnail, Mulder stood in front of the 
largest map: the one that showed all of Orange and Los 
Angeles Counties in detail.  Miles of freeways crisscrossed 
and curley-qued across the paper.  She could be anywhere.

"You were right," Grenier said quietly from behind him.  "I 
should have locked her up when I had the chance."

"He'll come after her," Mulder answered.  "We've got to get 
there before he does."

"Your partner has fucked us both over, you know that, don't 
you?  How the hell am I suppose to look for her and Russell 
at the same time, let alone the fucking animal we're supposed 
to be chasing?"

"Give me some men.  Let me go after Scully."

Grenier snorted.  "I've got none to spare!  I've put out the 
APB to all of California, but that's all we can do right 
now."

"You can't be serious.  You know she's his real target."

"Hell of a lot of good that does me now!  She's run off like 
some goddamn teenager!"

"She'll try to draw him out," Mulder continued steadily.  "We 
can start with places we know he's been.  That's what Scully 
would do."

"One team.  Two men.  That's the most I can give you."

"It's not enough!"

"Fuck, Mulder, what do you want me to do?  Russell's the one 
in real trouble here!  As far as we know, Scully is just 
fine.  I can't pull men off our ongoing search to chase after 
her!"

"Get the LAPD.  Requisition more men from neighboring 
counties.  You can call Nesbith --"

"I have!  Every resource is tapped out.  The Director is 
about two seconds from pulling me off this case!"

"Fine, I'll go myself."  Mulder grabbed his jacket and 
stalked toward the door.

"Mulder!"

"Call Orange County!" Mulder yelled back.  "Tell them I'm on 
my way.  Tell them I want my two men standing in front of the 
motel.  We can start from there." 

XxXxXxX

At five years old, Carl had learned he could be invisible.
His father had passed out on the couch as usual with his 
whiskey bottle so Carl had dared to playe upstairs in Mommy's 
closet.  So entranced he had been by her tall, tall heels 
with the pink stripe and smooth toe that he had not heard his 
father's footsteps on the stairs.

"What the goddamn hell do you think you're doing?  Goddamn 
queer!"

One hard slap to the head had knocked Carl out of the shoes 
and onto the thin carpet.

"No, please.  I was just trying..."

"You don't sass me, boy."  Carl's father was taking off his 
belt.  "Goddamn queer in my house."

Carl scrambled away, crawled out the door with his father 
lurching after him.  "Don't you run from me!  I'm your 
father!"

Carl wedged behind a door, barely breathing as his father 
walked past with the belt dragging on the floor behind him.  
The last time he had felt the fiery whip on his skin, Carl 
had not been able to sit properly for a week afterwards.  He 
could smell the alcohol as his father patrolled the hall.  "I 
know you're hiding here somewhere, boy."

He would see soon, Carl knew.  The door stuck out from the 
wall just a little too far.  Now or never.

Holding his breath, Carl fell into step behind his father, 
ghosting down the hallway in his shadow until they reached 
the stairs.  His feet seemed to float above the floor.  At 
the 
stairs, his father paused, looked around, but Carl 
disappeared onto the landing.  Invisible.  

His new hiding place, thirty-odd years later, was not the 
best.  He had only a partial view, but it was as close as he 
dared to get.  In the daylight he would have to retreat into 
the mountains again.  He didn't plan to leave without her.

So he waited.  Still in the shadows.  Ever silent.  

Invisible.

XxXxXxX

She nearly threw up twice.  It took several minutes of lying 
stock still and careful breathing to hold down the heaves.  
The gag chafed in her mouth, and pain radiated through her 
whole body.

The rope bit into her wrists at the slightest movement; she 
had long since lost the feeling in her hands.  Sweat and 
tears plastered hair against her face, and she had no method 
of wiping it away.

But her feet were the worst.

In the dim light of the one bulb, she could see the blood 
dripping down the sides of each of them.  She had managed 
several long cuts on the left one, but the right suffered 
much worse.  Her little toe drooped, half-amputated.  She had 
sliced right through the tendon.

A risk, a chance, a sliver or hope.  Possibly her doom.

Either he would cast her aside, unable to complete his 
ritual, or he would kill her immediately in a fit of rage.  
He had never killed outside of his pattern, she knew, but 
clearly he was capable of it.

I tried, she thought, exhausted.  I did what I could.

If he killed her now, at least they would know she had 
fought.  Grenier would see she had not given up on the baby.  
He would know she battled with everything she could to come 
out alive.

Dizzy and throbbing, she drew up her legs onto the sheets, 
trailing blood as she did so.  She closed her eyes and 
waited.

XxXxX

How to hide in plain sight, that was her problem.  Scully was 
careful not to go anywhere near the motel, knowing that there 
would be extra security still at the scene.  On her first 
pass by the Orange County morgue, she checked for 
surveillance 
vehicles but did not see any obvious unmarked vans or cars 
watching the entrance.  Still, she decided to park a few 
blocks away and walk back towards the building.

It was dark, the street lamps still on, but the first hint of 
blue light on the horizon signaled that dawn was not far 
away.  Scully kept a brisk pace as she walked, her heels the 
only sound in the early morning quiet.  She left her jacket 
unbuttoned to maintain easy access to her gun.

As she reached the main road occasional cars rushed past, 
their headlights blinding her as she pressed into some nearby 
bushes.  Her fingertips tingled, and cold drops of sweat 
dripped between her shoulder blades.

I escaped last time because of luck, she had told Mulder. 

But it wasn't an escape, not really, because her she was 
again in the dark waiting for him to come and try to kill 
her. She took a deep breath and continued towards the morgue.

The front door would be visible to any passing patrol car, so 
she opted for the back entrance -- a plain brown door right 
at street level.  Scully stood next to it and pressed her 
back to the wall.  He would not be coming up behind her this 
time, his rough hand clamping over her mouth.  

A humid wind rustled the trees; Scully scanned the small 
parking lot for any sign of life.  One lone dark car sat in 
the corner, but she did not see anyone inside.  She narrowed 
her eyes.

That spot is not visible from the road, she thought, watching 
as the breeze chased shadow puppets over the windshield.  Was 
that movement inside as well?

Hesitating just a second, Scully withdrew her weapon and 
walked along the side of the building toward the car.  She 
ventured out into the lot, approaching it from the rear.  
California plates and tinted windows.  She noted the large 
trunk and worn tires.  Heart pounding, she took several slow 
steps up toward the driver's side window.

No one inside.

"Jesus," she murmured, turning and sagging against the door.  
Just then another car engine roared to life across the 
street, its headlights blazing.  Scully jumped back and 
shielded her eyes, but the car simply turned onto the main 
boulevard and drove away.  

She leaned back against the car again, her gun hanging low in 
her hand.  The sound of her harsh breathing echoed in her 
ears.  She almost called it off right then; how many parked 
cars could she reasonably check by herself?  Morning was 
coming.  The sky brightened overhead, a slow spreading of day 
that would likely chase him back into hiding.

Except she could still feel him out there like the trees, 
blocking the wind and waiting to make his move.

You wanted me, she thought, scanning the empty street once 
more.  Come get me.

A car pulled into the lot.  Its lights were off.

Scully tightened her hold on the SIG, keeping it hidden 
behind her leg, and poised to attack.  But a small woman with 
a long, thick braid and olive skin got out of the driver's 
side.  She eyed Scully with a suspicious look as she fished 
into her bag.

"Can I help you?" she asked, pulling out a ring of keys. 

It was then Scully noted her uniform with the nametag.  
Cleaning staff, she realized.  A sudden thought occurred to 
her.  "FBI," she said, showing the woman her badge.  "From 
Washington.  Can you let me into the building?"

"Yes, I can do.  This way."

Scully glanced over her shoulder as they walked toward the 
back door.  "Thanks," she said, distracted.  No one else was 
around.

How many chances had she given him?  It didn't seem like he 
would have waited this long to make his move.  Her stomach 
clenched at the thought of him back in the cabin with Amelia.

I'll find you yet, you sonofabitch. 

Inside the building she took out her cell phone, then 
hesitated.  If she turned it on, it would likely ring with 
Mulder on the other end.  She was willing to bet he would 
have already set up a trace.

"You need upstairs?" the cleaning woman asked as she started 
up the steps.  

"No, thank you.  I'll just be down here."

The woman nodded and disappeared out of sight.  Scully 
decided not to turn on her phone and continued down the hall 
to the main offices, trying doors as she went.  The last one 
opened, and she was able to get into the central lab through 
a back door.  Everything was still and silent as a grave.  
She picked her way across the room in the dark, finding a 
light near the side counter.   The list she was seeking was 
by the phone.

"C'mon, c'mon...," she murmured, flipping through it.  "Yes."  
She dialed the number for the FBI lab in Los Angeles.

"Forensic Science Lab, Gertram speaking."

She did not recognize the voice.  "Uh, yes.  This is Dana 
Scully.  I was wondering if the seeds from the Kraus and 
Russell cases has been identified yet?"

"Let me check.  Hold please?"

"Fine."  Scully stood, twirling the long phone cord around 
her finger as she waited.  She could hear the big wall clock 
ticking overhead.

"I've been waiting for you."

Scully gasped as a blade pressed against her neck.  A second 
later she could smell him -- steeped in alcohol and sour 
sweat.  Her throat closed off.

"Hang up the phone," he breathed.

"Agent Scully, we have identified those samples.  The first 
one is --"

She placed the receiver on the hook as Quentin removed her 
gun from its holster.

"Very good.  Now let's walk slowly towards the door.  I have 
a little place in the mountains I just know you're going to 
love."

XxXxXxX

End chapter eight.  Continued in chapter nine.

Many thanks to Alicia and bugs for their help with this 
chapter; I do appreciate the polish. :-)

Feedback is always welcome at syn_tax6@yahoo.com