Chapter 7

Scarsdale, NY
Tuesday, Nov 4th
8:00 pm

"She had a car reserved at the Pittsburgh airport, but she never picked it up." Jeremy Grissom took a sip from his recently refilled glass, made a face, and set it back down on the table. "This tasted a lot better an hour ago." He eyed Scully's empty glass. "You didn't like it, either," he pronounced sadly.

"It was fine, Jeremy. One is my limit." It was one more than her limit, actually. "Did the police check with the cab companies?"

"No record of anyone picking her up." His eyes widened. "The killer took her from the airport?"

"Or she went with him willingly. It seems unlikely that she could have been forcibly taken from such a public place."

"Then, you think she knew him?"

This was sensitive ground. The list of suspects would naturally include Jeremy himself. "Yes."

He studied her face for a moment. "You'll need to eliminate everyone she knew, then. Including me."

"Yes," she said again. "Can you account for your whereabouts on the day she disappeared?" Scully had to work to find her interrogator's voice. The guilt from having brutalized his emotions with that photograph was still fresh.

"She flew into Pittsburgh on Labor Day weekend. I was here working on a plumbing leak that had everyone's water shut off for two days. My tenants will remember it, I'm certain of that."

Scully smiled. "I'm sure they will. You know I will have to verify that."

"I understand." He was silent for a moment. "I don't want you to waste any time chasing the wrong suspects. Anything I can do to help you find everyone you need to eliminate, just let me know."

The subject matter seemed to have sobered him up considerably. He took a deep breath. "Guess it's time to put away the alcohol and make some coffee." The illusion of sobriety lasted until he stood up-- too quickly, as it turned out.

Scully was on her feet and around the table in time to avert disaster. She held onto him while he found his balance, her right arm around his waist and her left hand gripping his forearm. It wasn't until she looked up into surprised blue eyes that she realized how intimate the contact must have seemed to him. She released him immediately. "I'll make that coffee for you."

While she was measuring and pouring, she could feel his gaze on her back.

"That looked like a reflex, Agent Scully." There was a teasing lilt in his voice, but with something beneath it that felt warm and dangerous. "You've had a lot of practice saving somebody's ass, I'd say. Your partner?"

Scully spent an inordinate amount of time wiping the counter before she turned around. He was watching her with a smile that matched the honey in his voice. Mulder was the last topic on earth she wanted to be discussing with this man. "I have to get back to work. And you need to get some sleep."

Jeremy's sigh was resigned and slightly amused. "I heard that. Loud and clear." He took an experimental step with his hands held out for balance. "I don't suppose you'd like to walk me to my door."

She smiled and shook her head.

"Well, good night, then. Thanks for the sympathetic shoulder. I mean that."

She smiled, nodding her thanks. "I'll have to speak with your tenants in the morning."

He shrugged. "They'll all be home. Retirees, except for Jackie and me." He said her name this time without the tremor in his voice. "If you want copies of anything from her computer, there are plenty of diskettes in the bottom right drawer."

"Thank you, Jeremy. I'll take a cab to the train station when I'm finished. I appreciate your cooperation." She waited for him to renew his insistence that he'd accompany her back to Warren, but it never came. She walked with him to the front door, then went back to the computer room.

Her cell phone's blank display stared up at her from the desk like a silent rebuke. She turned it back on, and felt disappointment edge out relief when the 'message waiting' icon failed to appear. If she called him now and got his voice mail, her imagination would take over, she knew. No, she would just leave the phone on. If he needed her, he would call.

She signed onto the Internet and typed in the Bureau's search engine URL. When the site came up, she entered Michael Hobart's name and waited.

* * *

Warren, PA
Wednesday, Nov. 5th.
11:00 am

Mulder tripped over his own feet getting to the phone and still caught it on the first ring. But it wasn't Scully's voice on the other end of the line.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Michael chirped in his ear. "You keep banker's hours, I see."

"I'm setting up interviews for this afternoon. It's quieter here. And warmer." And he wanted privacy when Scully called. "What's up?"

"If I said 'a suspect', would it take the gloom out of your voice?"

Evidently, a smile wasn't the only expression that could be heard in one's voice. "You're saying you have a suspect?"

"I'm saying I might. I'd like you to interview him with me, if you have time."

His first interview wasn't until 2:00. "Here in town?"

"I'm afraid not. He lives in Jamestown, not far from my office. It's about twenty miles, so maybe an hour there and back."

Plus whatever time it took them to find and talk to the suspect, Mulder thought darkly. All of it in the company of the wrong woman. "How did you come up with this guy?"

"I'll tell you on the way. I promise, you won't be disappointed."

He was already disappointed. And skeptical. It would be an amazing coincidence if Michael had managed to turn up a viable suspect, mere hours after Mulder had all but thrown her out of his room. It felt too much like a counterstrike for comfort. On the other hand, he couldn't afford to ignore a potential break in the case, given his dismal lack of success.

"Where should I meet you?"

She chuckled. "I'm pulling up next to your car as we speak. And I've got some hot coffee for you, too."

"I'll be right out." He shut down his laptop, ran careless fingers through his hair, and grabbed his coat. He was pulling the door shut when he remembered his cell phone and had to go back for it. Michael was walking toward the building when he came out the back door.

"I thought maybe you changed your mind and decided to duck out the front." She said it teasingly, but her expression was pure relief as she turned and headed back to her car.

When he got in, she was holding a travel mug out to him. "Fresh and hot. Drink up and I'll tell you all about my hunch."

Mulder accepted the mug and took a careful sip. It was definitely hot, but tasted burned. Bitter. "You wouldn't happen to have cream, by any chance?"

She reached across his knees and popped the glove box latch. "Never leave home without it."

Juggling the open mug and the little travel packets of nondairy creamer took all of his concentration. When he looked up again, they were on the main road, heading north. His first sip of the lightened coffee was only slightly better than the original. "Who is your suspect?"

"I don't know why I didn't think to do it before, but last night, I went through my patient files looking for anyone who matched the killer's profile. I found Harold Coster, age 35, referred to me by the Jamestown Sheriff's department last January. I only saw him one time, and I'd forgotten all about him... until I read my case notes. He fits the profile so well, I might as well have written it with him in mind."

"Did you?" He asked because she seemed to be expecting a response. "Subconsciously, I mean."

Michael shrugged. "I guess it's possible. Either way, he fits both your profile and mine in several important areas." She looked over at him and smiled. "And the really interesting part is, he's both the stranger you suggested, and the local that I did."

Cryptic. Deliberately so, if he could count on his faltering intuition at all anymore. He took another distinctly unsatisfying sip of coffee and vowed silently not to rise to the bait. His phone chose that moment to ring, and he dug it out of his breast pocket with a grateful sigh.

"Mulder."

Silence for a moment. "Mulder, it's me."

A surprising pang of loneliness spread through his chest. "Hey, Scully. How's it going?"

"Better than I expected. I have a few leads to follow up, but I should make the 4:20 flight back to Pittsburgh. That would put me in Bradford around six o'clock tonight."

Just the thought of having her back made him smile. "I'll pick you up at six, then."

"Wait until I call. If something comes of the leads, I might still stay another night. I just wanted to give you a heads up." Pause. "How did you do with the interviews yesterday. I forgot to ask last night."

Yeah, because you hung up on me before I could say anything. Out loud, he said, "I'll tell you when you get here." Pause. Deep breath. "Hurry back, okay?"

He winced in the few seconds of silence that followed. Then her voice drifted across the miles, all the stiff formality melted away.

"I'll see you soon." There was another second or two of comfortable silence before she clicked off the call.

"So, she must be on her way back?"

Michael's voice disintegrated the mood and left him abruptly, unaccountably irritated. Mulder closed the phone and put it back in his pocket before he looked at her. "Yes, she thinks so."

Michael nodded at the windshield. "Is she having any luck, then?"

He took a long sip from his coffee, then addressed his response to the side window. "I won't know that until she gets back."

The scenery whizzing by outside his window was making him dizzy, so he shifted his gaze to the windshield. "How long until we get there?"

"About twenty minutes." She gave him a sidelong look. "You could catch a few winks, if you're sleepy. You look like you had a long night."

That was an understatement. "Too much caffeine." He gave the coffee mug a baleful look and closed the lid. "I think I've had enough."

Michael shrugged. "You should drink the stuff during the day, not at night."

Yeah, whatever. He set the mug on the floor and went back to watching the scenery. "If I nod off, just nudge me when we get there."

She gave him a fond look that made his skin crawl. "You know I will."

* * *

Upper East Side
Manhattan, New York City
Wednesday, Nov. 5th
11:20 am

Scully had spent most of the morning reviewing files on Jacqueline Acres' computer before finally deciding to take a copy of the whole hard drive back to Warren with her. There was just too much information for the time she had.

Talking with Jeremy Grissom's tenants had told her exactly what she'd expected. He was a nice guy who kept the property in wonderful shape, and he had spent Labor Day weekend working on the plumbing. And of course, his rent was too high.

Jeremy did ask again if he could come back to Warren with her, but he'd seemed to know the answer before she gave it to him. She asked him to go through Jackie's papers over the next few days and contact her if he found anything at all unusual. He agreed, and then drove her to the train station.

She debated the wisdom of her next move all the way to Grand Central Station. Even now, standing in front of Michael Hobart's last known address, she was warring with herself.

Mulder would understand this investigation even less than he had her probe into Diana Fowley's checkered past, and that was saying a lot. And it wasn't as if she even knew what she expected to find. There was just something about the woman that invited suspicion, and not all of it had to do with Mulder.

She would talk to a few neighbors, purely as a background investigator. If nothing turned up, that would be the end of it.

She started with the doorman who had been watching her pace back and forth in front of the building. When she approached him displaying her badge, he raised an eyebrow.

"I might have pegged you as a stalker, but not a member of law enforcement. Appearances can be deceiving, can't they?" He had the bearing and tone of a snooty maitre d'.

"Do you remember a tenant by the name of Michael Hobart?"

The man's superior expression changed to mild concern. "Of course. Is she in any trouble?"

"That's an odd question, Mister...?"

"Masterson. John Masterson."

"Mr. Masterson, why would you think Michael is in trouble?"

He shrugged, the supercilious eyebrow back in place. "You're with law enforcement. What else could it be?"

"Just a simple background check, Mr. Masterson. Nothing sinister. What can you tell me about Ms. Hobart?"

Masterson shifted his attention to a smartly dressed woman approaching the door. Smiling, he touched two gloved fingers to the brim of his hat and opened the door with a flourish. "Good morning, Mrs. Templeton."

"Good morning, John." She cast a suspicious eye at Scully and entered the lobby.

The man's smile vanished instantly. "Do you have a warrant?"

Scully smiled thinly. "This is not a criminal investigation, Mr. Masterson. I'm just asking if you can tell me anything about a former tenant."

"Then, I'd prefer not to answer."

Knowing the likely response, she asked, "Would you allow me into the building so I can speak with her neighbors?"

He snorted. "Hardly."

The door opened behind them and a tall man exited the lobby. He stopped in front of the doorman. "I just saw Maggie Templeton in the elevator. She says there's a woman out here asking about Michael Hobart." He turned to Scully. "Would that be you, by any chance?"

Scully held up her badge and introduced herself. "And you are...?"

"Mike Castle."

"Did you know Michael Hobart?"

The tall man chuckled. "You could say that. We lived together for four years. How does that concern the F.B.I.?"

"It's just a background check. May I speak with you for a few minutes?"

"I was just on my way out. You can walk with me, if you like." He glanced at the doorman. "I can guarantee that John here won't let you past the door. I'm going to be your only option."

They started walking.

"What has she done to merit this kind of attention?"

"Ms. Hobart is assisting me and my partner on a murder investigation in Warren. Since she's not a Bureau employee, it's a normal procedure to verify some facts." It was a lie, but a small one.

Castle looked impressed. "Well, that ought to have her on cloud nine."

"What do you mean?"

"Her father was the center of her universe, and all she ever wanted to do was make him proud. I gotta believe working with the F.B.I. ranks right up there for a cop's kid."

They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. "Is there anything you can tell me about Michael that would be cause for concern in a murder investigation?"

"Not unless there's a prize for first place. I never knew a more competitive person in my life, and I've worked with the biggest sharks on Wall Street. They're no match for Michael. She could have made a fortune if she'd gone into finance."

Scully shrugged one shoulder. "I wouldn't call that a character flaw, exactly."

The light changed, and they crossed the street. "I didn't say it was, but Michael tends to take things to the extreme. If you've worked with her at all, then you should know what I'm talking about. Once something catches her interest, she's like a pit bull on speed." He stopped. "I'm turning here. Where are you headed?"

"LaGuardia."

"Let me get a cab for you." He stepped to the curb and whistled at an approaching cluster of yellow cabs. One screeched to a stop at his side, and he opened the door for her. "Tell Michael I said hello." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Scully gave the driver her destination and leaned back in the seat. The only way she could tell Michael hello for him would be to admit what she'd been up to, and that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.

She tried Mulder's cell standing in line at security, then again while she waited for her flight to be called. Both times, she got his voice mail.

Pittsburgh was an hour and a half away. She would try again from there.

* * *

Chautauqua County Jail
Jamestown, NY
4:00 pm

"Thank you, Mr. Conner. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll see you tomorrow at 2 o'clock." Mulder clicked off the call and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Six calls in a row had his ear heated up, right along with his temper.

Michael looked up from her magazine. "I know what a pain it is to reschedule, but I have a really good feeling about this."

Mulder looked at the clock. "You're sure he hasn't been locked up for any of the murders?"

She gave him a patient look. "You don't think I would have verified that before I dragged you out here?"

He huffed noncommittally and folded his arms. "If we can't get clearance soon, I'm leaving. Scully will be coming into the airport in two hours." Five freakin' hours waiting for Coster's attorney was about four and a half hours more than he'd wanted to spend.

"We're closer to Bradford here than we were in Warren." Her expression brightened. "I could pick Scully up and bring her here. That way, if you get to see Coster sooner, we won't have wasted all this time."

He considered it for a moment. "How soon would you have to leave?"

"Well, if her plane is coming in at six, I wouldn't have to leave for another hour or so."

Mulder nodded. "Good. Maybe we'll be through by then."

They weren't. A guard came to get them at twenty minutes past five o'clock, just as Michael was heading for the door. "I should be back with Scully by seven, and we can all go to dinner."

Oh, yeah. Scully's gonna love that. Mulder forced a nod. "That's up to Scully." He turned and followed the guard without waiting for a response.

* * *

Bradford Regional Airport
Wednesday, Nov. 5
6:10 pm

Scully had tried Mulder's cell phone twice more and gotten his voice mail both times, so she fully expected to be taking a cab back to the hotel. That was until she spotted Michael Hobart smiling and waving the moment she stepped into the terminal building.

"How was your flight?"

"It was fine, thanks." She quickly scanned the small crowd. "Is Mulder here with you?"

Michael's smile was apologetic. "I hope you don't mind, but he asked me to come pick you up. He's going to be tied up for awhile and didn't want you to have to take a cab."

"Where is he?" They walked toward the parking lot, Michael in the lead.

"Jamestown, interviewing a suspect at the county lock up. We're going to pick him up."

Scully stopped, and waited for Michael to turn around. "A suspect? Who?"

"A former patient of mine. I'll tell you about it on the way." She started walking again, and Scully followed.

Michael's Jeep was parked right out front. She unlocked the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side. Scully tossed her bag into the backseat and got in. The seat was pushed back all the way which told her Mulder had probably been the last passenger. It made her smile.

"I need to take a short detour, if you don't mind. There's someone I need to see for just a minute or two," Michael said, her hand resting on the key in the ignition as if waiting for permission to start the car.

Scully suppressed a weary sigh. "I'm sure Mulder won't mind waiting another few minutes."

Michael nodded happily and turned the key. "I hoped you'd feel that way. Thanks."

"No problem." Scully leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.

* * *

Jamestown, NY
8:14 pm

Coster was a headcase of the first order, but unless Mulder had completely lost all touch with his profiling ability, the man was no serial killer. It was true that he wasn't able to account for his whereabouts on the critical dates, but even his attorney was unconcerned. Five minutes into the interview, he had taken a phone call and left them alone.

Seven hours, wasted.

And where the hell was Scully?

Mulder tried her cell phone and got voice mail immediately. Again. He'd called the sheriff a half hour ago to get Michael's cell number, tried that, and got the same results.

"Hills block the signal. You might as well save the battery," came a weary voice from the reception desk.

Mulder looked up. "Excuse me?"

The middle-aged woman at the desk gave him a patient smile. "The hills block cell signals. I don't know why anybody bothers to carry those things around here." She waved dismissively at the phone in Mulder's hand, then went back to her paperwork.

He was slipping it back into his pocket when it rang. "Mulder," he announced with a triumphant glance at the receptionist.

It wasn't Scully. "Agent Mulder, it's Will Kessler. I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

A rush of adrenaline sent his heart hammering and drove him to his feet. Scully. "What is it?"

"We found Michael Hobart's Jeep in a ditch off Route 62 a few minutes ago. Michael was barely conscious, but we got that somebody ran them off the road."

Mulder ran his tongue over lips that were suddenly parchment dry. "Is Scully all right?"

"She's not there, Agent Mulder. Michael said that when she came to, your partner was gone."

* * *

Continued in chapter 8