Chapter 4

Warren Community Hospital
Autopsy Room #2
11:20 am

Scully sutured the incision and sent Jane Doe's body back to the morgue minus the usual tissue and fluid samples, stomach contents and fingernail scrapings. She had no expectation that any new information would be forthcoming. Serial killers usually maintained a specific pattern, but this one was obsessed with perfection, right down to the length of the facial lacerations. It told her he did not work in the dark, and that he took great pains to avoid revealing anything more about himself than that.

The only real difference among the victims had been the semen traces. Jane Doe was only the second victim to test positive. The rulings of sexual assault in the other victims had been based on physical trauma and the clothing that had been removed. This new sample would be compared to the first, but Scully expected no surprises.

No additional surprises, she corrected herself. Michael Hobart's amazing guess at the victim's time of death certainly qualified as one. If Mulder had quoted the woman correctly, she had accurately assessed-- by way of a cursory examination in the dark-- that Jane Doe was the first victim, and that her death had taken place approximately five weeks ago. That fact alone made Scully want to know more. A lot more.

"Dr. Scully?"

She was expecting the attendant with Marcy Brackston's body, but she turned to find a middle-aged man in street clothes leaning in the door. "Yes, can I help you?"

He grinned and came toward her, hand outstretched. "I'm Ellis McKenzie. Glad to see you started without me."

She shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I spent most of last night reading your notes. Excellent work, doctor." She meant it.

"Not what you expected from a simple country doctor, eh?" he teased. "Thanks. That's high praise, coming from the FBI."

The squeak of rubber wheels outside the door was followed by a discreet knock.

McKenzie turned back to the door and pulled it open. "Come on in, Jerry. We're ready for you."

So that was his name. He'd come and gone so quickly earlier that she hadn't had a chance to ask.

He met McKenzie's eyes with a wide smile. "I saw you come in, Doc. Did Michael ever get hold of you? She left messages all over the place." He wheeled the gurney into the room and over to the table.

McKenzie stepped to the opposite side and helped him lift the body onto the stainless steel surface. "Had breakfast with her."

"She's not coming down to assist?" Jerry's glance met Scully's finally, and the chill in his eyes surprised her.

The coroner shook his head. "Thanks, we'll take it from here."

Scully had the impression that he wanted to change the subject. Jerry evidently took the same hint.

"Sure thing. Just holler when you're done." He favored Scully with another icy glare on his way out. So, she mused, the coroner had breakfast with Hobart, and the morgue attendant thought she should be here instead of this FBI intruder. It answered some questions, and posed a few more.

"I assume you finished the Jane Doe? Anything noteworthy?" McKenzie pushed the gurney against the far wall, then crossed to the cabinet where the gowns and gloves were kept.

"She tested positive for semen. Other than that, there was nothing remarkable. Even the facial lacs are the same length."

He snapped on a pair of gloves and donned a gown. "And the predation?"

"Massive tissue loss. Gnaw marks on the long bones consistent with a large predator, probably a wolf or panther. Agent Mulder told me what Michael said about wolves in the area, so I would have to agree that wolves are the likely predator. I also agree with her estimate that death occurred approximately five weeks ago." She watched for his reaction. "Given the conditions under which she did her exam, I'm impressed that she could be so precise."

He removed the sheet from the body, exposing Marcy Brackston's ghastly smile. "She's an impressive woman. One of the finest minds I've had the pleasure to encounter. Insatiably curious about everything, too." He smiled to himself. "That's a pretty potent combination. I tell her all the time she should go on that TV game show, Jeopardy. They'd be hard pressed to come up with a category she didn't know enough about to blow everyone else away."

"You've known her for a long time, then?" She kept her tone casual, but Ellis McKenzie paused to give her a long look.

"She worked for me one semester as an intern."

Scully's eyebrows rose in unison. "Doing post mortems?"

He chuckled, and his guarded expression relaxed. "Assisting, yes. We don't allow college students to do autopsies, not even out here in the sticks." He selected a scalpel from the instrument tray. "Want to sit this one out? I don't expect anything new to turn up."

If he was patronizing her, she couldn't detect it. "If you're sure, I could use the time to get some interviews scheduled."

He waved expansively. "Go. Interview. I'll have the tape copied and sent to you this afternoon."

There was no hint of an agenda in his voice or his expression, she decided, and gave him a smile. "Thanks, Ellis."

He waved absently, already immersed in his work. She closed the door quietly behind her and pulled out her cell phone.

* * *

Warren County Sheriff
11:20 am

"I've heard of it," Mulder agreed. "Students from a university forensics program left pig carcasses outdoors and documented the various stages of insect development. The evidence has been validated in a number of court cases. You've done something similar with predation marks?"

Michael smiled. "In a way, but I included more than marks. Gnaw marks can be used to identify the type and number of predators involved. Once that's established, you can extrapolate the length of time the food source was utilized."

Mulder grimaced. "'Food source' meaning the body."

"Exactly."

"And you established your benchmarks the way the students did in the insect study? Putting pig carcasses in the woods and seeing how much was eaten over a period of time?" Mulder was reasonably certain his pork-eating days were over.

"Pigs, yes. And deer. Whenever one was killed in a highway accident, the rangers always gave me first dibs."

Mulder suppressed a shudder and added venison to the list. "You should publish your findings."

Michael's smile faded. "I tried, actually. No one was buying."

Mulder saw the anger in her eyes; heard the futility in her voice. "A prophet goes unrecognized in his own land."

"Or hers? That almost sounds like the voice of experience"

He shrugged. "Yes, and no. It's a little hard to explain." A masterpiece of understatement that he was suddenly sorry he'd brought up. "I've been reading lately about someone with similar issues."

"So, we have even more in common than I thought." Her eyes warmed as they locked with his. Or tried to. She reached across the table and gently took his hand.

Though she'd been touching him all along, there was something different this time. Dangerously different, if his instincts were finally reading the situation correctly. He cleared his throat and disengaged their hands. "Michael, I think we need to talk."

One eyebrow quirked up. "That certainly sounds dire." Her tone was teasing, her expression open and guileless.

Mulder felt slightly sick. "My, uh, personal life is a little complicated right now. What I'm trying to say is that it's not a good time to complicate it any further."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Spit it out, Mulder He took a breath. "I'm getting the sense that I may have given you the impression that I'm looking for a personal relationship." He leveled his gaze. "I don't want you to think that's the case."

For a moment, she just looked at him. Then she pressed her lips together in a thin line and looked down at her hands.

When her shoulders began to shake, he felt like an asshole. He was wracking his brain for something to say when she looked up at him again, and he realized with a jolt that it wasn't sobs she was suppressing. It was laughter.

She pressed one hand to her lips to muffle a peal of chuckles, but her eyes were alight with mirth. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mulder. Don't look so stricken. I promise you, I'm not having hysterics." After a moment, she pulled an exaggeratedly serious expression. "Or, maybe you would prefer Agent Mulder?"

Stunned silence for a moment. "Well, don't I just look like an egotistical jerk." He felt the heat in his cheeks.

"Please don't." She stopped chuckling, but the smile remained. "Five years in New York where it's rude to even meet a stranger's eyes, and I'm still riddled with small town schmooze." She stood up. "You have a couple of nervous deputies waiting to be interviewed, and I'm holding you up." Indulgent smile. "Forget the past few minutes ever happened. I already have." She breezed out the door before he could react.

His cell phone rang a moment later and he fished it out of his jacket pocket. "Mulder."

"Hey, Mulder. It's me."

Her voice made him smile. "Hey, Scully." He looked at his watch. "Finished already?"

"Yes. Would you like some help with the interviews?"

"Always. I'll come pick you up."

"No, I can walk. It's only a couple of blocks. See you in a few minutes." She hung up.

"Are you ready for me, sir?" A young deputy stood at the door, hat respectfully in hand.

Feeling inexplicably lighter, Mulder waved him in. "Have a seat, deputy. This won't take long."

* * *

Michael kept the smile firmly in place all the way to the front door. Linda Mercer's eyes followed her. She could feel them boring into her back.

"Michael, Will wanted to see you before you left."

Hold it together She pushed the door open but paused long enough to call over her shoulder, "Tell him I'll call him later. I'm late for an appointment." She let the door close on the woman's response and bolted for the car.

* * *

Sunlight bouncing off acres of snow cover blinded her for a moment. Scully paused in the shade of the ER entrance's canopy until her eyes adjusted, noting gratefully that the wind seemed finally to have quieted down.

The sidewalks in front of the hospital were clean and dry with a sprinkling of ice melt that crunched beneath her shoes. Boots would have been a nice, but she'd been too rushed to consult the weather channel for packing tips.

When she reached the bridge, things got a bit trickier, and she had to step carefully to keep her balance.

Rather an apt metaphor for her life these days, actually. Treacherous ground with a thin coat of safety that crumbled noisily with every step.

She wanted to go home. The autopsies were just something to keep her occupied. Whatever key the killer had left behind that would help them catch him wasn't in the bodies he'd savaged. Her real job here was to watch Mulder, and that was the last thing she wanted to be doing. It just hurt too damned much.

It wasn't that she seriously thought he was interested in Michael Hobart, though that certainly would have hurt. It was that she felt superfluous. Worse than that, conspicuously unnecessary.

Outside the Bureau, Mulder was in no danger of encountering someone he should know but didn't recognize. There was nothing wrong with his short-term memory. It was only the past that posed a threat. She'd been unable to convince Skinner of this, which was why she was here.

And now, it looked as if there would be nothing in the autopsies that any competent lab assistant couldn't handle.

He didn't even need her help with the profile, not with Michael persistently at his beck and call. Relentlessly at his beck and call.

Scully turned the corner and sighed. Speak of the devil...

Michael Hobart was coming briskly down the front steps of the Sheriff's office, head down and arms pumping. A woman in a hurry. Scully had to sidestep quickly to avoid a collision.

Michael's head came up with a surprised gasp. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't see you." She skidded to a stop inches from Scully. "I, uh, I'm late for an appointment. I can't stay."

Scully caught a whiff of expensive perfume and felt her jaw tighten. "Something to do with the case?"

The woman shook her head, eyes downcast. "No, not really. I...I'll see you later." She fled to her car and pulled away from the curb fast enough to squeal the tires.

Scully went inside, shaking her head.

She found Mulder in the conference room talking with a uniformed man whose back was to the door. His eyes warmed when he saw her, and the man he was interviewing turned in his seat to follow his gaze.

"Deputy Kendall, this is my partner, Agent Scully." Both men stood. The deputy held out his hand.

"I'm Jesse Kendall, ma'am. It's nice to meet you." He smiled, shook her hand, and sneezed. "Sorry," he sniffled.

"That's okay." She retrieved her hand and tried not to inhale.

"We'll be in touch if we have any more questions. Thank you for coming in," Mulder told him, resuming his seat.

"No problem." Deputy Kendall nodded to Scully. "Ma'am."

Scully waited until he closed the door, then took the seat he'd just vacated. "Isn't he the one who pulled us over yesterday?"

Mulder was making notes on the legal pad in front of him. He nodded absently. "Yeah. He was the last deputy on my list. I still have to talk with the sheriff." He put down the pen and looked at her. "So, how were the autopsies?"

"Autopsy. Singular. I bailed after the first one."

That raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? What happened?"

"The coroner finally showed up, and he offered to take over. There's nothing remarkable about any of the bodies, Mulder, except for the fact that they're not remarkable."

He tipped his head to the side and crossed his arms. "Meaning...?"

"Meaning that the wounds and markings are so similar that they could have been done on an assembly line."

"Yeah, Michael's profile said the same thing. I meant to ask her about it." He bent over his notepad and jotted something down.

"Did she explain how she came up with her time- of-death estimate?"

"The wolf-tooth equivalent of tool marks gave her the number of predators. She estimated how much that number of predators would consume in a given period while the flesh was still edible." He frowned. "But it occurs to me that counting tooth marks in the dark seems a little implausible."

"I was just going to say the same thing."

He made another note. "I'll ask her, if she comes back."

"*If* she comes back?"

He leaned back and scrubbed at his face with both hands. "Yeah, I, uh, made an ass of myself. She took it well, but I got the impression that working with the great FBI profiler has lost some of its charm."

She quirked a questioning eyebrow. Mulder sighed.

"I thought she was coming on to me, and I told her I wasn't interested. Nicely. She laughed in my face."

That hardly fit the impression she'd gotten just a few minutes earlier. "She laughed?"

He gave her a narrow look. "Sure, rub it in."

Scully shook her head. "I didn't mean it that way. I saw her on my way in, Mulder, and she was not amused. Actually, she looked like she was about to cry. I was going to ask you what happened."

He looked at her blankly for a moment. Then, recognition seemed to dawn. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, elbows propped on the table. "So, have I always been this dense?"

She smiled at the top of his head. "I assume that's a rhetorical question."

He peered at her over the tips of his fingers. "She faked me out, and I bought it."

"It happens to the best of us." She patted his arm, ridiculously relieved. "She'll get over it, Mulder. Just act vaguely uncomfortable when she's around. Her dignity will be safe, and so will you."

"That should be easy. I'm uncomfortable now just thinking about working with her."

"And you'll get over it, too. Do we have some interviews set up this afternoon?"

Mulder flipped back the page he'd been writing on and handed her the legal pad. A list of names and times was printed in a feminine hand. He shook his head at the question in her eyes. "Linda wrote it."

A quick rap on the door made them both turn. Sheriff Kessler strode into the room holding a sheet of paper in the air. "We got a hit on Jane Doe." He handed the paper to Scully who angled it so Mulder could see the faxed photograph. "Jacqueline Acres, age 34. A psychologist from Scarsdale, New York."

The photograph did resemble the woman Scully had worked on this morning. "Did they send you dental charts?"

Kessler smiled. "Fingerprints. She worked for the State. I sent them over to Ellis McKenzie. He'll have an answer for us within the hour."

Mulder looked up. "Your medical examiner is also a fingerprint expert?"

"We wear a lot of hats around here. It's a small town." He headed for the door. "Now, I gotta make flight reservations and go talk to her next of kin."

The multi-talented Michael Hobart was from New York, Scully recalled, and Scarsdale was a suburb of New York. She smiled. "Sheriff, I'll take care of that for you."

Mulder objected immediately. "I need you here."

The sheriff hesitated in the doorway. "I'd sure appreciate it, Agents, but not if it's going to hamper the investigation here."

Mulder opened his mouth to respond, but Scully cut him off. "Michael can help," she said reasonably, noting Mulder's gloom from the corner of her eye. "And you're needed here, as is Agent Mulder. That leaves me."

Her logic was irrefutable. Mulder nodded, and the sheriff smiled broadly.

"And I may be able to shed some light on matters when I get back." That those 'matters' included Michael Hobart, she would keep to herself.

For now.

* * * Continued in Chapter 5