Chapter 12

Warren County Sheriff
Thursday, Nov. 6th
9:00 am

"When I have something to tell you, I'll hold a press conference. And if you folks would let me do my job instead of talking about it, that might happen a whole lot sooner." Kessler hung up the phone as gently as his temper allowed, but he imagined there was still some wincing going on at the other end of the line.

He'd been on the damned phone with one reporter after another for over an hour now, and he was fed up with playing nice. It was better than having them here in the office, but not much. And he still had the Assistant Director of the FBI to look forward to. A horde of reporters would be easier to take, particularly if the absent Agent Mulder didn't make an appearance damned soon.

Will picked up the phone once more and dialed Linda's desk. He could hear it ringing through the door, but no one was answering.

A moment later, Linda opened the door and gave him a weary sigh. "Yes?"

"Did you find Agent Mulder? His boss is due here any minute."

"No."

"Christ, Linda, there's not that many places to look. What the hell have you been doing?"

She crossed her arms. "I know how much you hate the spotlight, but try to remember I'm on your side, okay?"

"Sorry," he offered, then took a deep breath. "Did you try his hotel?"

She acknowledged his apology with a faint nod. "No answer. I even had one of the guys take a drive past there to see if his car was in the parking lot. It isn't. And he's not answering his cell phone, either."

Will shook his head. "That makes no sense." The man's partner was in the hands of a serial killer, most likely already dead. Where the hell would he be?

Linda was pulling the door shut behind her when Will stood up, shoving his chair back with a bang.

"Call the hospital."

She turned around, frowning. "You think he's been in an accident?"

"No, no. He was trying to talk me into putting a guard on Michael last night. It just occurred to me that he might have decided to handle it himself. Call and see if he's hanging around her room, or maybe trying to get in and talk to her."

"He thinks Michael is involved?"

Will snorted. "Apparently, and now so does his boss." He shook his head, hands planted on hips. "I can't wait to hear the story Mulder must have handed him."

"Your wait seems to be over." She was looking past Will at something outside the window. He turned to follow her gaze.

Linda nodded at the imposing figure striding up the walk. "I'd say that looks like an Assistant Director of the FBI, wouldn't you?" She gave Will's shoulder a pat and headed for the door. "I'll hold him off while you assume the position."

"Very funny."

She smirked at him over her shoulder, then closed the door behind her.

* * *

A world turned to ice. Crystal blue above an unending field of blinding white.

The earth shudders. Trembles. Falls away.

Rising.

Falling.

"Scully!"

Her body jerked at the sound of his voice, arms clutching him close before she was even aware she was moving. It was so hard to think, but she knew enough to be stunned that he was awake.

"Mulder?"

She felt leaden and clumsy. Her body was curled around his, but she couldn't see his face.

"Mulder, can you hear me?" She turned his head as gently as possible. Moving him was dangerous. It was dangerous for both of them. Activity would push the icy blood toward the heart, cooling the core temperature even further.

She tried to straighten up a little. Mulder's body felt so cold. Heavy. "Mulder, can you look at me?" She could see his eyes now. They were open.

Wind drives a shower of ice dust into his eyes.

Look, Scully. You have to see this.

It fills the sky. Silent. Dark. Unreal.

Gone.

His lips barely moved. She leaned close and managed to catch the words when he tried again.

"Did you see it?"

"What, Mulder? Did I see what?"

He hears his name, but there's another sound that blots it out. Roaring. Rushing.

"Mulder!"

I'm sorry.

She watched his eyes close again. Felt hot tears turn icy on her cheeks. Looked up at the empty sky. Someone had to be looking for them by now.

"Please hurry."

* * *

"What do you mean, she's not there?" Surprise made the question come out a lot louder than Linda had intended. She glanced at Will's closed door and held her breath for a beat. "When did she leave?"

"She checked herself out AMA late last night, I don't know what time. Dr. Adams was not happy about it, I can tell you that." The woman's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Does this have something to do with that missing FBI agent? Is that why the sheriff is looking for her?"

Linda's thoughts were miles away from this nosey admitting clerk, focused on trying to catch the conversation going on in the room behind her. "No, not at all. Will's just worried about her, that's all. I'll call her at home."

The woman's huff crackled across the line. "If you say so."

Linda thanked her and hung up quickly to ward off any further questions. She dialed Michael's home number and listened to ten rings before she gave up. Michael's cell phone went straight to voice mail.

Behind her, the voices rose again. She could pretty much picture what was going on, even without the preview she'd gotten when she had ushered the A.D. into Will's office. Take one high-powered Fed with an attitude and toss him in front of the very territorial Will Kessler, and you had to expect fireworks. And she was about to make matters a whole lot worse.

She got wearily to her feet and approached the door. Just as she was about to knock, a phone rang on the other side of it. She froze. That had to be Will's private line. It was the only one that didn't come through her switchboard.

Linda pressed her ear to the door and listened to Will's side of a very brief conversation.

"This is not a good time." Pause. "It better be." Long pause. Very long pause. "I don't care how you do it, just get your ass in here. NOW."

The receiver slammed back into its cradle, and Linda opened the door. Will looked angrier than she'd ever seen him. Suddenly, telling him her news seemed like an even worse idea than it had a moment ago. She started to back out of the room.

"What is it?" He was all but shouting. The A.D. turned in his seat to look at her, too.

"Excuse me, Will, I... I called the hospital and they said that... the patient you were asking about has left." She couldn't remember ever stammering in front of Will before.

"I know that." He glanced at the A.D.'s back and took a deep breath, then continued in a slightly calmer voice. "Deputy Kendall just called to tell me she stole his Jeep."

"What?"

Will waved her off. "Send a car out to pick him up. I've got some questions that need to be asked face to face." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "The whole damn town's gone crazy."

"Yes, sir." Linda backed out and closed the door.

Walter Skinner watched Sheriff Kessler make an obvious effort to get himself back under control. "I think an explanation is in order."

Kessler nodded. "I agree. I wish I had one for you."

Just before the phone call, Kessler had been hotly insisting that there was no way in hell Hobart could be involved, Jeremy Grissom's evidence notwithstanding. Skinner could see that hard line softening, but not fast enough. He needed to get off the damn dime and do something. "How fast can you get a helicopter in the air?"

"I've got the Park Service chopper searching the area where all the bodies have been found. They're coming up empty."

Skinner stood up. "But they don't know what to look for, and we do."

* * *

I won't let you do this.

Mulder's voice.

Scully raised her head and wrestled her eyes open.

She was lying on her side, curled against his back. "Mulder?"

You have to get up, Scully. Go back to the cabin and get warm.

"I'm not leaving you." She pushed herself up from the ice. She had to lean over to see his face. "Mulder?"

He wasn't speaking. He wasn't even conscious.

You can't see a ghost and expect to see her alive. Both things can't be true.

Amber Lynn LaPierre.

Did disembodied voices mean the same thing?

"Mulder, wake up!"

Her hands were so cold she couldn't have found his pulse, even if it were there.

She leaned down and whispered, her lips brushing his ear, "You're not going anywhere without me, so don't even think about it."

Nothing.

Moving him was bad, that much she knew. Victims of hypothermia had to be handled very gently. Tachycardia could result from the slightest bump. Even if she had the strength to do it, even if the ice were stable enough, she couldn't get him to the cabin. Safety was within sight, but hopelessly out of reach.

You can make it, Scully.

She looked down at his still face, stroking his cheek with leaden fingers. "You're not gonna win this argument, Mulder."

Of course, neither was she.

Sunlight streamed down through a break in the clouds. Scully lifted her face to the warmth and closed her eyes.

* * *

The terrain was heavily forested, but bare trees predominated. There were few evergreens, so they could see the ground, for the most part. Cabins dotted the edge of a river that threaded its way through rolling hills. A dam and its iced-over reservoir marked the beginning of the National Park. Beyond it, the hills were higher and the forest even more dense.

"We've covered the area twice now," Kessler's voice came through the headphones in stereo.

Skinner glanced over at the man leaning against the bulkhead next to the open doorway. He pulled his mic closer to his lips and shouted back, "Then we need to try another area. A place the killer could have taken Scully and known he wouldn't be found." He paused. "A place Michael Hobart would know about."

He saw the sheriff's jaw tighten, but the expected tirade didn't materialize. Instead, the man nodded and shouted into his own mic. "Captain, take us west. We're gonna check out Iktomi Lake."

The helicopter banked to the left. "We'll be there in two minutes," the pilot shouted back.

Skinner sat next to the open door on the left side of the chopper. Sheriff Kessler moved over next to him and pointed. "That's Iktomi Lake."

From this distance, it wasn't much more than an opening in the trees. There was a snow-covered road directly beneath them. Skinner followed its path into the trees and found what he was looking for. He jabbed his elbow into Kessler's arm and pointed. "Down there. Mulder's car."

"I'll be damned," Kessler breathed. Then, to the pilot, "Head up to the clearing and land on the lake. We'll walk back to the car."

The chopper descended to almost treetop level. It shot out over the edge of the clearing, then hovered as the pilot looked for a safe place to set down.

"Holy shit, there they are!" One of the medics riding up front was pointing off to the right. "Two people on the ice!"

The helicopter rotated, and Skinner saw where the man was pointing. Two figures huddled together in the middle of an ice field. Neither was moving, but he knew it was them. Scully's red hair was like a beacon in all that barren white.

A moment later, they were hovering over the spot, the downdraft from the whirling blades ripping at the clothing of the two still forms.

"I can't set down here. The ice isn't safe."

There was a large hole in the ice a short distance from Scully and Mulder, with fissures running out from it in all directions.

"They were trapped," Kessler observed. "They couldn't get to the cabin."

He was pointing at something, but Skinner's focus was elsewhere. "Put this thing down somewhere NOW!"

The pilot's voice fired back, "We can't get to them across the ice. We'll have to send down the basket."

The two medics were already moving to the back of the chopper. There were four yellow body-sized metal baskets fastened to the bulkheads. The men quickly detached one and hauled it to the open door. "You'll have to move back," one of them shouted, waving Kessler and Skinner out of the way.

There was nothing to do but wait. Skinner stood back and watched them lower the basket over the side with the larger of the two medics right behind it. The medic who stayed behind guided the thick nylon cable as it unreeled, leaning out the door to keep his partner in view. The two men communicated mostly by hand signals, rarely resorting to shouted commands through their mics. Skinner wondered if they were doing it to keep the rest of them from overhearing.

They brought Mulder up first. Skinner got a look at his colorless, still face as he was hauled to the rear, and his heart lurched.

The men snapped the basket into its brackets on the bulkhead with Mulder securely strapped inside. He was covered from neck to toes in blue plastic packs over a thick blanket. An IV bag the medic had been holding was suspended from a hook above Mulder. The two men grabbed another basket and headed back for Scully.

Skinner snagged the smaller man's arm as he dashed past. "Is he all right?"

The medic shook his head and kept moving.

A few minutes later, the basket rose into view once more, this time bearing a conscious and very agitated Dana Scully. Her voice wasn't strong enough to carry over the rotor noise, but Skinner didn't need to hear the words to know what she was saying.

As they carried her toward the back, she spotted Skinner and finally managed to work one hand free. She fumbled at his coat, trying to pull him along.

He followed, standing aside while they fastened Scully's basket to the bulkhead. The medics each took one patient, checking vitals and tending to IV's. Scully kept craning her head back, trying to get a look at Mulder.

"How is he? Why won't somebody tell me?"

"Miss, you've got to lie still!" The medic was struggling to get an IV started. "You can't help him, but you're going to do serious damage to yourself if you don't stop!"

Skinner stepped in, and her wild eyes snapped into focus on his face. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Scully, he's alive," Skinner said, not sure if he was telling her the truth or not. "You can see him when we get to the hospital." That much, at least, he could promise.

She studied his face for a long moment, then sank back and closed her eyes. Her expression went slack and her limbs relaxed so quickly that Skinner wondered if she'd passed out. But then she reached one shaky hand toward him without opening her eyes.

Skinner took it in both of his and held on tight.

* * *

Continued in Chapter 13