Chapter 2

Chapman State Park
Clarendon, PA
8:40 pm

Marcy Brackston's last moments on earth had not been spent where her body was found. The huge quantity of blood that must have resulted from her wounds was shed elsewhere. Someone who didn't want his vehicle sullied with gore had wrapped her in a black plastic tarp and driven past scores of anonymous dump sites to leave her here, just inside the park's main entrance.

Shivering in the icy wind, Mulder and Michael Hobart continued the debate that had begun over dinner. Scully made a quick, but thorough, tour of the site and retreated to the warmth of Ms. Hobart's Jeep Cherokee to wait them out. The most recent victim's autopsy had yet to be performed, and Scully intended to handle it herself. Until then, there was little she could contribute to the discussion, especially when they seemed intent on holding it in the teeth of a thirty-knot gale.

She had actually considered joining them, if only to prove she wasn't sulking, but it made no sense to risk frostbite proving a point to someone who had no idea he'd done anything wrong.

Closing the door in her face at the sheriff's office had not been deliberate. He wasn't even aware she was behind him, just as he had no clue that Michael Hobart found more than his profile intriguing. Mulder's intensity could be blinding, and Scully almost felt sorry for the woman , knowing that she would soon discover its focus was the case rather than her.

Almost.

The not-so-subtle difference this time was that his single-mindedness seemed to have rendered Scully invisible as well, and that had never happened before.

She watched them through the windshield, the woman talking with her hands even more than Mulder. After a particularly animated exchange, he turned and walked back to the Jeep. The woman stood there for a moment, hands now stilled and planted on her hips, before she followed him.

Mulder hopped into the backseat and rolled his eyes. "And they call me obsessive."

Scully pressed her lips together around a smile. "You are. Having a difference of opinion with your consultant?"

"You could say that."

The driver's door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Michael smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to keep you two out so late. I lose all track of time when I'm involved in a case like this." She glanced at Mulder in the rear view mirror, adding a conspiratorial wink. "We'll be back at the office in twenty minutes. I know a short cut." She began to back out, then paused. "Or I could just drive you to the hotel. It would save some time, and I could pick you up in the morning."

"I have some tapes in the trunk that I need to look over tonight," Scully answered, "but thanks."

The woman glanced again in the mirror, perhaps expecting a different answer from the backseat. When none was forthcoming, she shrugged. "Sure. No problem."

Scully didn't know how 'short' it was, but the route they took back to the sheriff's office was certainly off the beaten path. Instead of leaving by the front entrance, the way they'd come, she took them deeper into the park, and out the other side.

"One of the few advantages of growing up out here. Plenty of experience with back roads." That prompted another exchange in the rear view mirror, but Michael seemed disappointed by the response. She spent the rest of the drive with her eyes exclusively on the road.

* * *

Holiday Inn
Warren, PA
9:48 pm

Their rental was icy cold, and the ten-minute drive to the hotel wasn't nearly enough to warm it up. It seemed that the environment was bent on keeping Scully on the brink of hypothermia with a permanently dripping nose. She didn't even bat an eye when Mulder volunteered to haul in their bags, the carton of videotapes and the VCR.

The first order of business was to turn up the heat in her room. The second was to call room service for a pot of coffee, timed to arrive at the door when she was finished with a long, hot shower.

Scully stood under the steaming but too-gentle spray until the shivers stopped and the mirror was dripping condensation, then dried off with a rough towel and climbed into flannel pajamas. When she came out of the bathroom, she found that Mulder had set up the VCR for her and cued up the first tape. He'd also let in the room service person and arranged her coffee and mug on the nightstand next to the VCR remote. She smiled at the connecting door and sat down on the bed.

It felt like the first time she'd been warm since they left D.C., and the sheer sleepy pleasure made the thought of viewing autopsy tapes a lot less appealing than curling up with a good book. A cup of coffee would help. She poured one, spiked it with sugar and took it out onto the small balcony overlooking the atrium pool. The scent of heated, over- chlorinated water drifted up to her second floor perch, strong enough to sting her nose, and she quickly retreated inside.

Mulder was standing in the connecting doorway, looking apologetic. "Scully, I just got a call from the sheriff. They found another body."

She set her coffee down on the dresser. "Where we just were?"

"In the park, yes, but four miles into the woods. Near the southern perimeter. It looks like this victim may have been the first, just better hidden than the rest." He eyed her comfy attire. "There's no point in both of us going to the scene. You've got tapes to review for tomorrow. And I'm still dressed."

She was nodding before he finished the thought. "Make sure the sheriff knows that I'll be doing both autopsies in the morning. And find out where they'll be." She picked up her coffee and settled in on the bed, timing her parting shot to arrive when the door was nearly shut. "And tell Ms. Hobart I said hello."

* * *

Forestry service road #29
Clarendon, PA
10:50 pm

Michael Hobart had been waiting for him in front of the sheriff's department. "Will asked me to chauffer you up to the crime scene. It's a little remote."

Remote turned out to be an understatement. What little sense of direction Mulder possessed gave up after the third winding turn on the dirt trail that Michael referred to as Forestry Road #29.

"Who found the body, and what were they doing out here?"

Michael swerved to avoid a pothole that would have cost the Taurus an axle. "This road divides the park from private property. Mark Laskey owns it, and he was out looking for his best hunting dog. She's in heat and I guess she wandered off in search of romance."

"And he was afraid she might find it out here?"

Michael chuckled. "Wolves, Agent Mulder. Lots of them. She's a very expensive dog."

They rounded a curve and found emergency vehicles lining both sides of the road. Michael parked behind a fire department rescue squad rig with its rear door standing open.

"I'd say that's the crime scene." She indicated a cluster of flashlights off to the right, some twenty yards inside the woods. They got out and started walking. "This isn't the park side. It's Mark Laskey's property."

Mulder looked back at the dirt road, which had identical stands of trees on either side. "I don't see how the killer could have known he wasn't still in the park." He stopped and looked at Michael. "How do you?"

Michael tossed him a patient look but kept moving. "Before I switched to psychology, I was a forestry major. I worked out here. Now come on, before they remove the body. I'll tell you my life story over a drink when we're done."

Sheriff Kessler was crouching next to a covered form on the ground. He got to his feet as they approached, dusting his hands on his thighs.

"Not much left to look at." He bent down and picked up a corner of the black plastic sheet. "The local wildlife found her long before we did."

Mulder squatted next to the body and pushed the sheet back to the victim's waist, shining his flashlight on the denuded bone of the right arm and shoulder. "Gnaw marks?"

Michael crouched on the other side. "Looks like wolves." She touched the marks with gloved fingers, probing gingerly at the bits of flesh and muscle clinging to the joint. "It's been cold enough to slow decomposition, but I'd put the time of death at least a month ago."

Mulder shone his light on the victim's face. "I take it this isn't a local resident. There was no mention of a missing person."

The face had somehow avoided predation, but it definitely bore the characteristic slash at each corner of the mouth. The features would still be recognizable by anyone who knew her.

Michael shook her head. "She's not from around here. Will?"

The sheriff crouched next to Michael. "Nope. And her outfit's definitely not local. I'd say Jamestown, maybe even Pittsburgh. Looks like she was dressed up to go clubbing someplace a lot fancier than she'd find around here." He got wearily to his feet once more. "We were waiting for you, but I'd really like to get her taken care of. She's been out here long enough."

"I'll just need a few minutes," Mulder told him as he pulled the rest of the sheet away. Whatever had been feasting on the body seemed to have favored the long bones of the legs. As his stomach did a slow roll, he wished fervently that he hadn't talked Scully into staying at the hotel.

Two men with a gurney stood a few feet away looking wearily patient. Mulder gave them a thumbs-up and got to his feet. "All yours." He stepped back, directly into someone who grunted in disgust before Mulder could apologize.

"You people done with me, too? I'd like to get home sometime before the sun comes up."

Mulder turned to find himself eye to eye with a man holding the leash of a sleek spaniel dog. "You must be Mark Laskey." Mulder held out his hand, and the man shook it briefly and without the faintest hint of warmth.

"Yeah, and you must be the guy from the FBI."

"Lighten up, Mark. You called us out here, remember?" Michael Hobart stepped between the two men and crouched down to ruffle the dog's ears. The dog obviously loved it.

"I called the sheriff to let him know about the body. I didn't invite a full scale invasion." He waved at the assemblage of vehicles and personnel tromping this section of his land to a muddy mess.

"We'll be out of here shortly, Mr. Laskey, but I'm afraid you'll have visitors in and out for a few more days, gathering evidence. If you have a few minutes, you can at least get my questions out of the way." Mulder offered.

"My dog found the body. I found the dog. I don't know the woman and I haven't been out to this part of my land since last spring. Anything else?"

Mulder eyed the man for a moment. He was roughly Mulder's height, weight and age, interestingly enough. With at attitude that could be righteous indignation, guilt-inspired bluster, or plain bad manners. "For a man whose land abuts the dumping site of a serial killer, you don't seem very concerned with seeing him caught." He was probing for a reaction, and he got one, but not from Laskey.

Michael Hobart chuckled and stood up, giving the dog a final scratch on the muzzle. "Agent Mulder, Mark Laskey is an officer of the court. He's our local prosecuting attorney."

The two men were toe to toe. "I can assure you, Agent Mulder, I'm extremely interested in seeing this man caught. My job depends on it, actually, so I wish you'd direct your focus where it belongs." He turned to Michael. "You know where to find me." He turned and walked straight into the woods with his dog at his heel.

Mulder gave Michael a narrow look. "You might have shared that bit of information a little earlier."

She was still chuckling. "You didn't warn me that you were going to accuse the county prosecutor of serial murder on his own land."

Mulder waved toward the woods where Laskey had disappeared. "Where is he going?"

"His house is about half a mile from here, on the other side of that stand of trees. I'd say he's going home."

Will Kessler came back from following the body to the van, and Mulder remembered the question Scully wanted him to ask. "Agent Scully would like to perform the autopsies on the two most recent victims. Where will they be?"

"Warren County Hospital, just across the river from downtown. You can't miss it. There's a helicopter landing pad right out front." Kessler yawned widely. "We're gonna clear out now. You two can hang here as long as you like, but the lights are going with us." He headed back to the road.

Mulder looked around and realized that most of the crowd had dissipated. And he was slowly freezing where he stood. "I'm ready any time you are," he said to Michael Hobart.

She hooked her elbow around his. "You look like a man who could use a drink, and I know just the place."

"I could use a drink, but the only place I'm going is back to the hotel." He didn't pull his arm away, though the urge to do so nearly overcame good manners.

"No problem. I understand they have a bar, too."

* * *

11:34 am

Scully hit the button on the final tape and finished her notes as it rewound. Overall, the medical examiner's work was impeccable, and she intended to ask him to assist with the autopsies she would be performing in the morning. He could provide valuable insight, but Scully had experience on her side, particularly with the type of mutilation the victims all exhibited.

The Mostow case had been on her mind from the first time she'd seen the facial cuts, and it was a memory she was glad Mulder didn't share. His approach to profiling was much less personal now, and it was better for her sanity as well as his.

The tapes had provided one surprise, and that was in a particular type of marking each victim had somewhere on her body. The cuts that made them were more like scratches. A spider web design, finely drawn with the tip of a thin bladed knife, or possibly a scalpel, and not deep enough to bleed for more than a moment or two. The medical examiner had mentioned them and had taken close up videos of each one, but only in passing. Scully devoted an entire page of notes to what they might signify, but she needed more information. The pattern was familiar somehow, but she couldn't place it.

The tape stopped humming and the machine shut off automatically, ejecting the tape. Scully closed her laptop and got up from the bed, feeling the fatigue in her bones. She extracted the tape and added it to the box along with the case notes, glancing at the clock as she did.

Mulder should have been back by now. She was sure she would have heard him come in, but walked over to knock on the connecting door, just in case. There was no response, and she picked up her cell phone before good sense made her put it down. Instead, she picked up the coffee carafe and jiggled it. There was enough left for a nightcap. She unscrewed the cap and poured it into her cup, then took it out onto the balcony and settled into the plastic chair.

With the lights out in the atrium, and the chlorine smell somewhat dissipated, it was actually quite restful . Water circulating in the pool pumps had an oddly familiar, comforting sound that it took her a few moments to place.

Mulder's aquarium. That's what it reminded her of. The watery green glow from the underwater light of the atrium pool added to the pleasing illusion, and it made her smile.

* * *
Holiday Inn
Tootsie's Bar & Grill
12:14 am Tuesday

Tootsie's was situated just off the lobby of the Holiday Inn, behind a grandiose padded red vinyl door decorated with brass studs. Mulder decided that the door must be left over from a previous decor since the interior was pure country and western, right down to the longhorn steer head on the wall above the bar. There was a pool table at one end, wooden booths along three walls, and a small dance floor in front of the jukebox.

The bar was empty except for an older couple sitting in a corner booth. Mulder and Michael Hobart sat at the bar, sipping cinnamon brandy the bartender was pushing. It would chase the chill, he promised. It did.

At first, they talked about the case. Michael was eager to resume the debate they'd started at the first crime scene. Mulder said that the latest body found outside the park proved that they needed to look at a larger pool of potential suspects, including residents of larger towns nearby or anyone passing through on a regular basis, like truck drivers or traveling salesmen.

Michael was just as certain that they would be wasting valuable time if they didn't focus on local people. Much as it pained her, she said, all evidence pointed to someone these women trusted implicitly. That in itself presented some frightening possibilities, not the least of which was that it might be someone in law enforcement, or the clergy.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Mulder told her. "I'm just saying that you can't safely omit strangers from the pool of potential suspects." He was frankly tired of the subject and way past ready to move on.

Michael must have heard the irritation in his voice. She offered a rueful smile. "Will tells me I've got all the subtlety of a chain saw. You have to tell me when I start to get on your nerves."

"The sheriff seems to think quite a lot of you." Mulder took another long sip of the cinnamon-y brandy and felt the warmth spread to his fingertips. He had agreed to one drink. This was number three, and he was feeling generous and sleepy.

Michael's eyes turned soft at the mention of Will Kessler. "He was my father's best friend for thirty years. I guess I'm sort of the daughter he never had." She sipped her own drink. Number four, if Mulder's count was accurate. "The feeling is mutual."

Mulder noted the past tense. "Your father has passed away?"

She nodded. "He had a stroke last spring. I moved back here to take care of him. He died June 12th, and I stayed on to handle his estate. That's when Will offered me the consulting position with the department. He also recommended me to the Jamestown Police. I'm part time there, too. The pay isn't great, but I don't really need the money."

"Was your father with the sheriff's department?"

"Thirty-two years. He was the sheriff himself for ten of them." She smiled at the memory. "I was the typical sheriff's kid in school, always the first to get in trouble, trying to prove I was like everyone else. It was usually Will who bailed me out, sometimes literally. Probably to keep my dad from skinning me alive."

Mulder could feel the buzz from his drinks. "And despite your best efforts, you wound up working for the good guys."

Michael chuckled and drained her glass. "So it would seem." She squinted at her watch. "We have an early start tomorrow. I should let you get to bed."

"One more question."

Michael turned her stool to look at him. "Fire away."

"If this last body was really the first victim, it means the other victims' connection to one another is really a matter of coincidence."

She considered that for a moment. "Or it could mean that the first victim was practice. Or she has a connection we don't know about."

Mulder gave her an appraising look, and an appreciative smile. "You sound like my partner."

Michael gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll take that as a compliment." She stood up and pulled on her coat. "Do you need a hand getting back to your room? I get the impression that you don't normally drink."

Mulder got to his feet and swayed a bit before he found his balance. "No on both counts, but thanks for the offer. Will you be attending the autopsies tomorrow?"

She shuddered visibly. "Poking at the bodies is one thing. Watching them dismantled is quite another. No, I'll get my information from the notes." She hooked their arms together for the second time. "Come on, I'll walk you to the elevator."

* * *

Scully finished her coffee, feeling relaxed and sleepy and ready for bed. She stood up and had her hand on the sliding door handle when she heard Mulder's voice. It took her a moment to place the source.

She approached the railing and looked down.

Mulder was walking toward the bank of elevators with Michael Hobart's arm hooked through his. Scully recognized the slightly loopy smile on his face and knew immediately that he'd been drinking, though he certainly didn't appear to require Ms. Hobart's steadying hand.

She watched them walk to the elevator and saw Mulder push the button, too stunned to think that they might look up and see her standing there. After a moment, the elevator dinged its arrival, and Michael Hobart resumed her walk to the exit. Mulder held the door for a moment, watching her go. Then he walked into the car and let the door close behind him.

Scully watched until the woman opened the exit and left the building before she went back into her room.

* * *
Continued in Chapter 3