From: "Katherine Adams" Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2002 05:34:09 +0000 Subject: Starkweather: Frequency Modulation Source: direct Meanwhile Monica Reyes' apartment "John?" "Yeah Monica, what you've got goin' on over on your end?" Monica filled him in on everything she's discovered in the past few days, "... and I'm going to Judge Nelson this afternoon to get a search warrant. If we can get the real names, then we can do background checks and look for priors." "Good idea." "What about you?" Doggett filled her in, including Starkweather's 'vision.' "No wonder she was so insistant that there was supernatural forces," Reyes said wonderingly. "Ah, Reyes, not you too," Doggett moaned. "Between Mulder and Starkweather..." "Remember one thing," Reyes said, feeling a twinge of disloyalty to Mulder, then dismissing it, "Mulder, although he possesses a brilliant mind, also possesses a fanatical heart. He'll believe almost anything. Where as Starkweather is worse than the Doubting Thomas. Christ Himself could come down from Heaven and place her finger into His nail wounds and she would still ask for His ID." "True," Doggett said. "Sacrilegious, but true." "Sorry." "You really believe in this hocus-pocus crap?" "In this case John, yes I do. Especially if its STARKWEATHER making the claim she saw something, had a vision." "Why didn't I see anything then?" "That I can't answer." "So we're back to Square One." "No. We have a solid profile that the killer of the girls had been with the station since 1984. A profile created by hard facts, not by visions or vibrations or Bibbiti- bobbiti-boo." Doggett sighed. "I think... I think we should pull Starkweather from the case." "Why?!??!" "Not," Doggett said quickly, "because I think she's doing a bad job. I think having her undercover at the station it backfiring on us. I think she's being targeted. I'm... Monica, I'm afraid she's going to be next and if that happens, I can't live with myself." Reyes smiled as if her friend could see her. "Starkweather is a lot stronger than people realize." "I know she's a tough lady but-" "Not just physically John," Reyes pointed out. "Now... don't you start hemming and hawing, but when I met her briefly when we... um... surprised the Lone Gunmen... I was astounded at how bright her aura was." "Aw, for the love of Go-" Doggett started to protest. Reyes interrupted. "She'll be fine, John," she assured him. "Just keep doing what you've been doing for her." "I don't know..." Doggett ran his fingers through his fingers. "I don't like the feel I'm getting from this." "Then double up your surveillance but don't underestimate her strength either." "How can you be so sure?" Doggett demanded. "You haven't even met the lady for longer than five minutes in person yet." "Look at the marriage she's trapped in," Reyes pointed out gently. "If she can bear that, she can bear anything." The phone hummed the dial tone as Doggett stared at it. He sniffed and went to shower quickly. He still wanted to pull Starkweather off the case. He had a very bad feeling about the whole thing.... Later on that day... Red Lobster Sioux City, Iowa 12:14 PM, Central Standard Time The waitress had just brought the salads and refreshed their water glasses when Special Agent John Doggett got to the point. "We are getting closer to resolving the case with your station, Mr. Tiesdale." Ted Tiesdale, general manager for stations, helped himself to the cheesy garlic biscuits. As he lavished butter on his bread, he looked up at Doggett and said "Good news, I hope." "I believe it to be sir." "Can you divulge any details?" "Not at the moment, but I have two requests to make of your station." Always a salesman, Tiesdale smelled a deal in the making. "Sounds more like a sales pitch than a request, Mr. Doggett," he said evenly as he chomped into the bread. Tiesdale was a big eater. "No sales pitches," Doggett said lowly, below the elevator music and the clatter of silver on china. He picked up his salad fork and picked at his salad. He was never a big salad fan. "Two requests. Two requests made only once." "And if they're refused?" "Then they become demands and that's when the lawyers and judges get involved." Tiesdale, with a "Who luvs ya baby" twinkle in his eye, said jovially, "Still sounds like a sale pitch to me." "In my field, it's known as an offer." "That I can't refuse?" "You can refuse," Doggett said. "But it would serve the interests of justice plus the security of your station much better if you cooperated." Now Tiesdale's tone was a touch cooler. "I'll be the judge of what's best for my stations, Mr. Doggett. What are your offers?" "The first one is to release the payroll information along any other pertinent employee records to the FBI." "And we've already been through that one, Mr. Doggett," Tiesdale had already polished off his salad. "We have strong confidentiality issues concerning the employee records, ESPECIALLY the air personalities." "I don't think you understand sir-" "No sir, I don't think YOU understand." Tiesdale, still friendly enough, helped himself to more bread. Doggett pushed his salad away, leaned forward, just a little. "In case you haven't noticed, this city is a giant stink hole, okay? Small businesses are closing left and right. What little major corporations we've got in town are laying people off left and right. The colleges are suffering major declines in their student populations. The farmers would rather take their produce to Omaha or Sioux Falls. And people don't stay here to party on the weekends or to spend family time here. They go to again, Omaha or Sioux Falls, or some would rather drive the three, four hours it takes to get to Des Moines or Minneapolis. "The point of the matter is, somehow, we've managed to rise about the sludge. We have a solid format, an excellent product to sell and we're making a lot of money. People are desperate to have business come through their doors and they call us because KRRQ has been the number one radio station in this crappy little town for five years in a row. Yes, we're a small market. But we're making money and that's the point. Our revenue for last quarter was six thousand dollars over goal and three thousand over LY." "LY?" "Last Year," Tiesdale clarified. "Mr. Doggett, the reason why we're making money is because the music is good and the deejays are good. You need to understand. When Royal Channel Radio Group bought out KRRQ and its sister AM station ten years ago, they did their market research. This is the Bible Belt. This is the land of the farmers and the cowboys. Country music is going to do very well here. Plus, we are one of the few stations that depends heavily on it's deejay support. Many stations utilize voice-tracking and satellite feeds, but with the exceptions of our Sunday morning broadcasts, you will hear a live voice every time. "Because our deejays are so prolific, they're considered to be minor celebrities in this town and we protect their privacy rights viciously. This is no joke, Mr. Doggett. Taran Chandler, our promotions director and afternoon voice, was stalked for two years by a fan who was sadly mentally ill. This is when she used to do evenings. Mr. Doggett, he used to come to the station and wait for her to get off at nights. The cops were called several times. Ace, our overnight guy, has had his truck broken into on several occasions when he was doing personal appearances on behalf of the station. Reece, our pd, has received death threats. Just recently, our evenings man, Elliott, is having trouble with prank phone calls. At first, they were your run of the mill stupid calls. 'Is your refrigerator running' and the like. Now, they've become threatening." Now Tiesdale leaned forward. "Imagine what could happen if the public knew these people's real names. Their phone numbers. Their addresses." "I understand your concern," Doggett said gravely, "And I can assure you that this information would not be brought into the public domain." "I just don't understand why you need this information... unless you think one of my employees is guilty." "I can't comment on that, sir." "Then I can't release that information." "Then I can get a search warrant." "Then you best be doing that," Tiesdale snarfed down another biscuit. "First request settled. Second??" "I do not want that intern, Jeri O'Brien to step foot into your station until this investigation is resolved. We have new evidence and reason to believe she's being targeted." "Done," Tiesdale said affably. "There, Mr. Doggett, that was an easy enough sell, wasn't it? Ah, look, in time for the main course," he said cheerily as the waittress bore a huge tray filled with steaming King crab legs, hush puppies and baked potatoes. "This is the closest to sea food us inlanders get," he said with a wink. Doggett, who used to go crabbing as a small child off the coast of Georgia only nodded politely. He was too busy turning over the small bit of information that Tiesdale unwittingly bequeathed to him: <> <> And the truth slammed into Doggett like the proverbial lightening bolt. <> Later on that afternoon... The Sioux City Hilton 2:15 PM Central Standard Time Doggett had just finished pouring over the new finding that Reyes emailed him when his cell phone rang. "John Doggett." "Hey Puppy Man." As always, Doggett cringed at the unflattering nickname. "Mul-duh. What's going on?" "Well, I'm wondering if you heard from the Hurricane yet?" "I'm not expecting her to check in until later tonight." "Is she supposed to go to the station tonight?" "No." Doggett said. "In fact, I'm in the process of pulling her from the case." Mulder let out a long breath. "Woo... why?" "Because I believe her life is in jeopardy by working there. I believe she's being targeted." "What proof?" Doggett told him about the vision she experienced along with his theory about Reese and Tiesdale. "I don't know why the GM's covering for the PD. But I can't justify putting Starkweather in harms way." "Ah... but Doggett, you offered me theories and instincts. No evidence." "You WANT her at that station?" Doggett snapped. "You misunderstand me, Puppy-Man. I don't have much in the way of family anymore. Scully, the baby and god help me, Starkweather are pretty much all I have left. If I was in your shoes, I would have made the same call. I HAVE made the same call with Scully on several occasions when I was still with the Bureau. But here's the thing, Scully fought me every step of the way until I had physical non-refutable proof that her life was being endangered by the mission and even then at times, she wouldn't go. Starkweather has Scully's same steel, Doggett. If you tell her she's being yanked because you have a "bad feeling" she's going to fight you every step of the way." "I know that," Doggett said. "I also know that the girl just went through hell last month with the kidnapping of her husband. I also know that she's suffering from major sleep deprivation. The last time we spoke face to face, she could barely form full sentences. I'm concerned for not just her safety but for her health. Physical and mental. And least you forget, Mulder, I was partnered with Scully when you were missing. I know what kinda steel you're talkin' 'bout. When I found out she was still working in the field while she was pregnant, I could have choked her for her stubbornness. So, thanks for the warning, but I know what I'm getting into." "Did you tell her yet?" "No." "Well, then you have a few hours left to live." "Thanks. Is that why you called me?" "Nope," Mulder said cheerfully. "Just doin' a little homework for Starkweather and wanted to run it past you." <> Unlike Mulder, John Doggett kept most of his sarcasm to himself. Politely, out loud, he asked "What's that?" "Well, Starkweather asked me to look into Black Magick, which I did, but even though there are some specialized spells, love spells, voo doo and the like, what I keep coming across is that most people customize their spells to suit their needs." "And?" Doggett stifled a sigh of impatience. He hadn't had the years of experience with Mulder-theories as Scully and Skinner had. "Scully's over at Quantico right now, analyzing that sample you sent us-" "You got already??" Doggett was surprised. "Damn... anyway...." "Anyway, I did the legwork on the Elizabeth Cash-Melinda Widlowsky connection. Apparently they were cousins, their mothers were sisters. I made a few phone calls-" "Mulder," Doggett sounded a little peeved, as he well should be. "May I remind you, that as much as we appreciate your consultations and your assistance, you are no longer a part of the X-Files in any real official capacity and should not be making phone calls?" "Oh **I** didn't make any phone call," Mulder went on blithely. "**John Doggett** did." "WHAT!?!?!" Doggett squawked. "Mulder, why you slippery son of a-" "Anyway," Mulder continued as if Doggett was silently listening instead of loudly ranting "According to Elizabeth's mother, Glenda Cash, Elizabeth and Melinda were very very close. Melinda was a bastard child raised by her grandmother, Lacrissa Widlowsky. Both girls were close to Lacrissa. They loved to listen to her tales of the 'old' country, meaning Russia before Anastasia screamed in pain. Lacrissa was a first generation American who grew up speaking Russian before English and was told fairy tales about the gypsies and magicians that used to roam the frozen countryside before Marxism raised its ugly head." "That's nice." "Melinda was fascinated by tales of magic and began dabbling in the occult when she was thirteen or fourteen. She was a full-blown Wiccan when she was sixteen. Glenda told me that she thought her daughter was never involved with any of that quote "nonsense" unquote-" "Until the cattle mutilations here in Sioux City," Doggett finished for him. "Ding, ding, ding, Doggett. Glenda said she was mortified. That Elizabeth was always such a 'good girl.' Unfortunately, Elizabeth was a very shy girl as well. She couldn't handle the ostracizing she was receiving from school and the other two girls had broken away from their coven in fear. Plus she was ashamed to go home so she turned away from real life and into the fantasy life of drugs and her new boyfriend-" "Stuart McCoy." "Very good Doggett," Mulder said in his most patronizing. "Too bad I'm not awarding cash prizes for your right answers." "Get to the point." "When Elizabeth was found dead, Melinda was livid. The girls had been inseparable until Elizabeth came to Iowa to go to school. According to Glenda, Melinda acted very strangely at Elizabeth's funeral." "What did she do?" "During the procession, where the mourners can go up to the body for final visitation before the deceased is committed to the ground, Melinda took out a pair of silver shears and cut off a long lock of Elizabeth's hair." "What??" "At the funeral, Melinda also took flowers and greenery off of Elizabeth's casket. She also was seen taking dirt from Elizabeth's grave." "Weird." "Gets weirder." Mulder thumbed through his notes. "The girl stayed in Elizabeth's room at her mother's house all night. Glenda heard her chanting this phrase 'By the powers of three times three, let me see, let me see.'" "'By the powers of three times three...." Doggett mused. "'The Law of Three' Doggett. 'Any energy you send out...'" "'Will come back three-fold...'" Doggett finished. "She was using witchcraft-" "To find her cousin's killer." "But Elizabeth wasn't murdered." Doggett reminded him. "It was a drug overdose." "But whoever supplied Elizabeth with the drug was a killer in Melinda's eyes. That's what's important here," Mulder told him. "What Melinda sees." "Umm... okay..." "According to Glenda, Melinda came out of Elizabeth's room, very pale, almost ghostly, to use her words. Most disturbing was the lock of hair she took from her cousin, she had braided it into her own hair. It was still braided into her hair when they found her body. Melinda became more and more withdrawn. She couldn't keep a job to save her life, spent more and more time alone. Any money she had, she would spend at a local New Age store, buying books and candles. Glenda said she still has all of Melinda's things in storage. "Then almost a year later, Melinda took what little money she had left in savings and bought a bus ticket to Sioux City, Iowa. She never came home. See... here's the clincher. The link that we almost missed but Reyes caught." "Okay..." "As I said before, Melinda and Elizabeth were very close to Lacrissa, their grandmother. Lacrissa was not a wealthy money, but she did leave a few share of money and valuables to the girls. Elizabeth spent hers on school at first, then drug money. Melinda, on her religion. But Lacrissa also left the girls two pieces of jewelry, family heirlooms, jewelry that had been in the Widlowsky family for years, before they had come to the States. "Elizabeth had inherited a gold locket which had a marquise cut ruby on the front of the locket. The ruby was bordered by small diamond chips. Melinda inherited the matching ruby ring. The girls had never taken this jewelry off their person after their grandmother died. When Elizabeth's body was found... the necklace was missing." "And Melinda?" "When Melinda was found, the ring was missing." "But the girls could have easily lost the jewelry Mulder. From the sounds of it, neither one was really all there." "True, however, found in Melinda's motel, along with much witchcraft and occult paraphanalia, was a photograph of their grandmother, wearing the jewelry and a photograph of the girls a few years back. Elizabeth was wearing the necklace, Melinda the ring. The jewelry is very distinctive, Doggett. And would be damning if found." "The jewelry's probably already been pawned," Doggett theorized. "Maybe..." Mulder mused, "but I doubt it. The pieces are too unique. Plus, the police have already publicized the missing jewelry too much when the crime was first committed. Plus, it's too much of a coincidence that in both deaths, both girls were robbed of family heirlooms." "Maybe..." Now Doggett mused a bit. "This has been very interesting information, Mulder. What does that have to do with anything? You think we find the jewelry, we find the dealer who gave Elizabeth the bad dope." "Yes I do," Mulder said. Doggett crossed over to the sink and took out one of the complimentary glasses next to the sink. He turned the cold water tap on. "So where does Melinda factor into this?" "I think Melinda sold her soul to the devil." "Excuse me?" Doggett stopped filling his water glass. "Well, I mean that figuratively since the devil is part of the Christian-Judeo tradition and Wiccans really don't believe in that. I think, as mentioned before, how others in the more traditionally accepted religions have perverted their faith to serve their means. The Crusades, the Salem witch-hunts, Jijads, the conflict between Israel and Palestine, I believe Melinda perverted her Wiccan faith to serve her purpose, to feed her own hunger for vengence." "How?" Doggett then started to drink his water. "I think she purposely killed herself to gain all the powers of the other side to haunt the radio station until Elizabeth's killer is brought to justice." Doggett spit water all over and started coughing. "You okay, Puppy Man?" Doggett spluttered "Of all the ridiculous, idiotic, implausible, unproveable, far-fetched theories you could have ever come up with Mulder, this one takes the got- dammed cake." "It's a possibility." "A POSSIBILITY!!!!" Doggett now realized why Skinner was bald. Mulder made all of his hair fall out. "A girl suicides to get back at a killer who's not really a killer, just a two-bit dope dealer who couldn't keep his crack separate from his smack. Mulder, I really don't think so." A thought hit him. "You didn't tell Starkweather, did you?" "I just emailed her." Meanwhile.... The Computer lab Second Floor at the Library Rose Hill, College Starkweather had plugged in her little laptop to read her email in relative peace and air-conditioning. Barry, still humiliated from the other night, left her severely alone. She had just finished reading Mulder's email. "BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!" she put her head down on the table, laughing, pounding her fist against the table.... Meanwhile back at Doggett's hotel room "She's gonna think you're nuts," Doggett told him. Mulder said airily, "She already does, so how could this hurt?" Doggett sat down on the bed, "Well, add me to the list, Mulder, 'cause I don't think this one will fly." "Just keep an open mind on this one," Mulder droned on. "I mean, a small insignificant piece of hell could freeze over and I could be wrong about the witchcraft part, but one thing I am for sure about and Scully and Reyes agree with me too." "What's that?" "Find the jewelry, find the killer. The profile I created this morning based on the new information correlates with the profile Starkweather made earlier on. The killer is still at that station and has severe issues with right and wrong. He's terrified of being caught. Big problems with paranoia. He's not stupid, he knows the jewelry is incriminating and probably has it well hidden, or so he thinks." Doggett then heard a wail in the background. "Oops, Will's awake. I gotta go. This is my last day off before I have to go back to work." "Day off?" Doggett frowned. "Did you take a vacation?" "No, I, uh, wasn't feeling well." Mulder decided not to tell Doggett he had the chicken pox. If Doggett found out, then Starkweather would find out and then the ridicule would never stop. "Scully will want to talk to you later when she gets back from Quantico." "Alright, thanks Mulder." Mulder hung up. Doggett looked at the phone. "Weird..." he muttered. Meanwhile back at the college.... "...damn weird," Starkweather muttered after she recovered from her laughing fit and re-read Mulder's email. The crazy thing was... as unrealistic as Mulder's theory was... it made total sense. Starkweather felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, pushed the hand away and wheeled around. Autumn smiled her spooky-Morticia Adam's smile at her. "Relax," she said. "It's me. I've figured out a way to help you." "Oh goody," Starkweather said in a not-so-delighted tone. Come with me," Autumn beckonned. Starkweather shut down her computer and followed Autumn into the blazing August sunshine. "How are you feeling?" Starkweather asked her once they were outside. "You were awful shook up this morning." "Better," Autumn said as they walked to the main classroom. "In fact, I think I may have experienced a moment of clarity." "Uh-huh," Starkweather said dispassionately. "I think I know what I'm meant to do," Autumn said, getting excited as they entered the school hall. They went down a short flight of steps and immediately hung a left through two huge double doors. It was pitch black until Autumn hit the lights. Starkweather saw they were now in a music recital hall. "You said you saw a vision while you were playing the violin last night at the radio station, did you not?" "I saw SOMETHING," Starkweather said. "But I was really sleep-deprived," she was talking to Autumn, but couldn't help eyeing the beautiful baby grand piano, standing there shining and black in the orchestra pit. "Do you feel weightless, untethered, free when you play music?" "Well... yeah... it's my release." Autumn took her by the hand and led her to the piano. "Then release yourself." "I- I don't get it." "Lose yourself into the music. Let your prejudices and reservations go and let your spiritual side open again." "Oh come on..." "Don't you believe in the possibility of another world beyond this one?" "Well... I don't know... I've never really- I'm not religious, Autumn," Starkweather confessed. "Religion and faith are two separate things," Autumn educated her. "Is there no one in your life who has passed on that you hope to see again when your earthbound body gives out?" And Starkweather suddenly remembered the conversation she had with Scully when they had finished power-shopping for this miserable undercover mission: "...This reminded me how much fun I used to have with my sister, Missy... I lost her a few years ago, some men killed her, thinking she was me... No, it's okay, it was a long time ago, I've come to grips with what happened, but I really miss the things we used to do...but tonight, just being out with you tonight... reminded me that nothing good ever really dies, does it?" Scully had said. And Starkweather had been hit with an overwhelming wave of sorrow, sympathy and empathy, to the point where she had uncharacteristically reached out and hugged Scully, feeling her pain and wishing she could share her own. But how could she burden Scully with her greatest sadness in the world, a sadness so great, if she thought of it even for just a second, it would hurt to continue breathing. But sometimes, confessing to a stranger is easier than confessing to a friend. So when Autumn asked "Is there no one in your life who has passed on that you hope to see again when your earthbound body gives out?" Starkweather blurted out: "Yes. My mother. She... she died when I was only sixteen. She had a very rare form of cancer. She never..." Starkweather stopped. "Go on." Autumn coaxed her gently. Starkweather shrugged. "I knew she loved me. Even if she wasn't my quote 'real mother' unquote. I was adopted. And she adored me. And I, her. But... she never knew me. As an adult. She never saw me graduate from high school or college or med school or Quantico. She never saw me get promoted to Senior Airman when I was in the Air Force. She never saw me get married. She'll never see my children if I ever have any..." Starkweather shook her head. "And I'll never get to know her as a woman. As a person. I... I had a falling out with my father, my adoptive father, so hearing any stories about her..." Starkweather stopped again. Autumn put her hand on her shoulder. "Jerilyn," she said softly. "Go summon your mother," she gently pushed down on her so she would sit down at the piano bench. Jerilyn stared at the piano keys..... "Oh, I don't wanna..." Starkweather balked. "Come on," Autumn coaxed her again. "It'll be alright." Starkweather dragged her fingers across the piano keys. "Any requests?" Autumn shook her head. Starkweather turned around. "Are you going to keep your hands on my shoulders the entire time?" "Yes." "Why?" "I... I just want to try something. But I won't if it makes you uncomfortable." "It... it doesn't," Starkweather lied. "But I move a lot when I play." "That's alright." Starkweather sighed and turned around. She closed her eyes and her pointer finger sought out middle C. The lone note resonated throughout the music hall. Autumn began whispering, chanting something under her breath. Starkweather started to play the Adagio from Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata.' She felt her mind blank out, felt her body turn into one giant instrument. All she heard was the lovely music, her mother's favorite piece... <> <> Autumn continued to chant but she opened her eyes. The room was filled with spirits. They all wore clothing from different eras, as far back as the 1800's even, with the stiff collars and ties for men and long skirts and puffed blouses for the women. There were the spirits of priests and nuns, vagabonds and mayors, whites, blacks and every color in between. The children glistened like starlight while the adults were as pale as the moon. They all hovered near the piano, listening, enraptured. One woman broke away from the ghostly crowd. She walked towards Autumn and Starkweather. Autumn moved away from Starkweather, still chanting under her breath. The woman, who had golden brown hair, creamy skin and big gray eyes put her hands on Starkweather's shoulders just where Autumn's had been. Starkweather's eyes were still closed. But she felt an incredible warmth course through her; energy she hadn't felt in years, since her childhood. And she heard a voice, a soft, husky feminine voice she hadn't heard since she was sixteen. "You know where the answers are. You know what the answers are. You just have to believe. You know what to do, Jerilyn. Go. Do it." Starkweather gasped and opened her eyes. She turned her head towards the sound of her mother's voice. But there was nothing there. There was no one there. Except for Autumn, smiling her strange little smile. Starkweather was drained of color. "What did you do to me?" she rasped. Autumn asked her, "Are you alright?" Starkweather bolted from the room. Her mother was right. She did have the answers. She got into her car and drove to the radio station.... En Route to the Radio Station... Starkweather, while trying to maneuver her crappy car through Sioux City traffic, whipped out her cell phone and hit the speed dial. "John Doggett." "Papa John, it's me." "Starkweather? What are you doing? Our surveillance guy just called me and told me you left campus like a bat out of hell." "I'm headed towards the station." "NO. Starkweather, I do NOT want you near that station. Hear me? That is an order." "I'm sorry, did you just tell me 'no'?" "God dammit Starkweather, you are a target." "Proof?" "That pink slimy shIt," Doggett got out of his chair and reached for his car keys and gun. "That same shIt that was there all the other times, with the exception of Cash and Widlowsky, those girls died. Whoever is killing those girls is targeting YOU. I don't want you risking yourself. Period." "Doggett, Reece Jackson IS Stuart McCoy." "How do you know?" "I just **know**, okay. I'm going to the station to verify it right now. Once I get verification, we'll have a springboard to leap into nailing his ass... legally. Once we have his butt, the killings will stop. I guarantee it." "Christ, you sound like Mulder." "This will be the only time I'll take that as a compliment." "At least wait until I get there," Doggett insisted. He was already out of his hotel suite and in the elevator. "Fine." Starkweather pulled over on a sidestreet and parked. "What makes you so sure?" "Haven't you ever just followed a hunch?" "Rarely." "Well... me too, but I don't know Doggett... something about Reece stinks. I believe wholeheartedly he's really Stuart McCoy and someone at that station does not want any of us to figure that out." "Someone... someone like maybe the GM?" "What?" "I had a interview with Tiesdale today. He was completely uncooperative. But he did let one thing slip." "What's that?" "His entire premise on why he won't release the personal records to the FBI is to protect the anonymity of the deejays. He told me that Reece has received death threats." "Now WHY would someone want to threatened the pd of a country radio station?" "Exactly." Doggett was to the parking lot. "Reece gave me his home number when he called this morning to bawl me out that I wasn't there to do the early morning shift. I gave it to the Gunmen to see if they can do a personal check on him. Get his real name, address, so on and so forth." "But you're pretty hellbent that it's Reece." Doggett stormed out of the elevator and through the lobby. "Yes." Doggett admitted. "Me too." He was already to the parking lot. "I'm on my way..." Doggett was a block away from the station when he called Starkweather back. "Starkweather, I'm five minutes away from the station." "Alright, I'm right behind you," Starkweather started the car. When she got to the station, she noted a very heated argument already in progress between Doggett and of all people, Reece Jackson and Ace. She got out of her crappy Chevette and walked towards them. "What's going on?" "I was just explaining to Agent Doggett," Reece said exasperated, "that it was totally cool for you not to come in anymore while he's here investigating." "And I told Reece," Ace was quietly fuming, "that I told him that you weren't suppose to come in. In fact, what the hell ARE you doing here?" All three men turned to Starkweather. Starkweather froze. Meanwhile.... The Lone Gunman's Lair "Hot damn, I got it!" Langly stood up at his terminal, pumping his fist in the air in triumph. "Big piece of Better than Sex Chocolate Cake comin' my way!" "That's the only 'piece' you're ever gonna get," Frohike grumbled. "What do you have, Langly?" Byers asked. "That number Starkweather gave us? Listed to one Stuart McCoy, 1812 Isabelle Street. And the boy's got a criminal record..." he said 'criminal record' in a sing-song voice. "What'd he do?" Frohike asked. "Criminal mischief and trespassing, plead no contest, got off with 30 days and community service. Sentence suspended." "When?" Frohike demanded. "1984." Byers read over Langly's shoulder. "The same time that Elizabeth Cash and her friends were implicated for the cattle mutilations." "Well, I was checking into the other girl, that Melinda Widlowsky chick," Frohike said, acting on a request from Mulder earlier that day. "And check this out. She enrolled as a student at Rose Hill as a broadcast journalism student, just like her cousin. She applied for an internship, just like her cousin. The irony was, she was living at a hotel so obviously she wasn't planning on sticking around." "Interesting," Byers mumbled. "But nothing legal to pin on Stuart. Nothing that will help the agents secure even a search warrant." "This will," Langly said darkly. "They just might have to Al Capone him instead of sending his ass to jail for the crime that he really committed." "What?" Byers said. "I hacked into the IRS files on a whim..." "Brave man," Frohike said. "The IRS is getting ready to audit the radio station along with three personal wage histories." "Oh? Really," Now Frohike was interested. "Who?" "Well, I don't know who the Kayla Emmerstein would be, but they've got her listed, Stuart McCoy... and Ted Tiesdale. And check this out..." Langly clicked over to another application. "This is McCoy's college transcript. He never finished but check out his declared majors." "Broadcast journalism and..." Frohike looked up at Langly. "Accounting. I'll be damned." "And look where the cocksucker went to school..." Byers read aloud. "Rose Hill College... gentlemen, we've got him." Frohike pointed at Byers "You call Doggett. You," he said to Langly "call Reyes. I'll call Scully." "Why, do you think she changed out of the leather corset and crotchless panties?" Langly snickered. "Shut up," Frohike was beat red Meanwhile back at the radio station "Well..." Starkweather hesistated. Just then Doggett's cell phone rang. "Excuse me," Doggett growled as he saw on his caller ID who was calling. Reece came up to her. "It's cool, don't worry about it," he told her. "I'm handling this prick. I won't let him interfere with your education." Ace said softly "Reece, if the guy says it's dangerous for her to be here, then shouldn't we listen to him? He's with the FBI." <> Starkweather thought as she tried to discreetly watch Doggett's facial expressions as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone. She turned to Reece. "I don't want to be any trouble-" "You're not, you're not," Reece said. "I listened to you the other night. You sounded good, sounded good." Ace rolled his eyes, Reece didn't even notice. Starkweather didn't either. She was too busy watching Reece's face as he talked animatedly about how safe the station was and how the 'fibbie' was just freaking out. "I know," Dr. Starkweather said patiently. "Reece, are you feeling alright?" "Why?" "Well... you don't look very well..." <> "I'm fine, I'm fine, I just don't like this suit messing with my station, you know what I mean?" Reece apparently felt very threatened by Doggett's presence. "I mean, catch the killer already and go away." "Thank you," Doggett got off the phone and walked back to Reece, Starkweather and Ace, who was lighting a cigarette. He pointed at Starkweather. "I do not want her to set foot on this station until I say so." Doggett ordered brusquely. "There is no discussion about this matter," he said that for Starkweather's benefit as well as Reece's. Of course Reece and Starkweather were instantly up in arms. "Hey man, you don't come in here and interfere with my station!" Reece stuck his finger in Doggett's face. "Where do you get off???" Starkweather snapped at her partner. "Jeri," Ace put his hands on Starkweather's shoulders. "Relax." Doggett glared at Reece. "I just got confirmation on one of the personnel here at this station is a killer," Doggett took a step closer and got into Reece's face. Reece challenged him. "Oh yeah? Who?" "I think you know damn well who I'm talking about," Doggett put the squeeze on Reece. "And for your sake, that girl," he pointed at Starkweather, "better NOT be seen at this station, got that????" Starkweather glared at Doggett in full fury. "I am a big girl, you know," she tartly reminded her partner. "Do I not get a say in this decision, Agent Doggett, **sir**," she finished snidely. Doggett was in no mood for Starkweather's sarcasm, especially in light of the information he just received from Byers. "NO," He snapped at her. "Go back to school, Miss O'Brien." Ace put his arm around Starkweather's shoulders and started to lead her away. "Come on, Jeri," he pleaded. "Come on and I'll buy you a cup of coffee. Starkweather, after throwing Doggett one last angry look, allowed Ace to take her to his truck and drive her away. Doggett turned to Reece, contempt distorting his handsome, craggy face, his brilliant blue eyes frozen with rage. "I'm gonna nail your ass to the wall, Reece," Doggett promised him. A sly, weasally smile crossed Reece's swarmy face. "You have to prove it first," Reece cooed. "And I was out of town when Laura Light died." "Oh... I'm not talking 'bout Laura Light and you know that," Doggett said softly. "I'm talkin' 'bout obstruction of justice, interfering with a federal case." Doggett did not tip his hand, did not let Reece realize that he was on to him and his double-life, but he did let him know that he was being watched very very closely... feeding into his paranoia. "How am I interfering?" Reece demanded. "Just because I want my station to run business as usual?" "But it ain't business as usual," Doggett advanced another step. "You've got a pack of dead girls on your hands. And you're gettin' in my way for catching the killer and you're putting another girl at risk. You best either work with me, or I'm gonna put your ass in a sling. That's a promise," And Doggett walked away, leaving Reece wondering what the hell to do with the latest curve ball to his life. As Doggett got into his rental car, he called the Sioux City Police Department and informed them of the latest development in the case "And consider Reece Jackson aka Stuart McCoy a flight risk." "Duly noted Agent Doggett." Doggett hung up. And sighed. Now to track down Starkweather.... Meanwhile... Starkweather sat in the passenger side, elbow propped up on armrest, chin on fist, lips folded down in a wicked pout. She was one pissed off woman. Ace looked over at her, a little nervous and turned on the radio. Thankfully for Starkweather, it wasn't the country station, it was the local rock station, Sweet Sexy 96. The Bare Naked Ladies were playing: "Chickity China the Chinese chicken Have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin' Watchin' X-Files with no lights on We're dans la maison Hope the Smoking Man's in this one..." Starkweather jumped at the words 'X-Files.' "What the hell?!?!?! "What?" Ace asked, confused. "Did they just say 'X-FILES'?!?!?!?!" "Yeah.... haven't you heard this song before?" Starkweather, who listened to primarily Dvorak, Beethoven, Mozart, Kid Rock, Emimen and Drowning Pool, said, "NO..." Starkweather leaned back into her seat. Then burst out, "Did they really say 'X-FILES'???" "Yeah... it's a great show." "WHAT!??!?!?!" "Are you okay?" Starkweather looked at Ace. "No..." <> "Wanna talk about it?" Ace offered. For a wild minute, she seriously thought he wanted to talk about her career with the X-Files Division until he said "You seemed pretty upset at the radio station." "Oh..." Starkweather shrugged as he pulled into Perkin's parking lot. "Chalk it up to my unflattering Femi-Nazi stripes showing through." Ace got them a booth in the smoking section. "Smoking is bad for you," Starkweather said primly. "Does it bother you?" Ace instantly but not annoyingly so, asked. "No, my hus--uh... fiance smokes." "Fiance, huh? A shadow of disappointment crossed his face. "Figures. All the cute ones taken." A sly, half- flirtatious, half-joky smile crossed his big honest face. Starkweather smiled. She really liked Ace. "What about you?" "Oh, I have a girlfriend," he took out his wallet showed her a picture. "That's Brittany," he said pointing the the attractive young woman with long black hair and big brown eyes, "and her little girl, Angelina." "She's really pretty," Starkweather said politely, then quipping "and the girlfriend's not too shabby either," her eyes twinkled with mischief. He looked at her, saw the wicked glint in her hazel green eyes and laughed. "Yeah... she's alright. It's kind of tough to maintain a relationship with the hours I work but..." he shrugged. "We've been together for about... two years now?" "Is Angelina your daughter?" "No..." Ace looked sad. "I love her like my own. Sometimes I love the kid more than the mom but..." he shrugged again. "What about you? What's your man's name?" "Ben." "Ben... huh. And where's Ben at?" "Washington DC." "Washington??? Jesus, girl, what are you doing HERE??" Now Starkweather shrugged. "This is where I need to be to get my shit done." "And what the hell is he doing up in DC?" "Working at a lawfirm." "Wow... does he like it?" Starkweather hinged. "He likes the lawfirm... he hates DC." The waitress interrupted to give Ace an ashtray and both of them glasses of water. Starkweather ordered a coffee ("For now") and Ace ordered a large Coca-Cola. After the waitress left, he asked, "Where does he want to be?" "Minneapolis." "Why Minneapolis?" "It's his hometown. It's where he grew up, it's where all his family is." "Where you want to be?" "Washington DC." "Really...." Ace looked at her, a funny smile on his face. "You guys are kind of ass-backwards then. Why DC?" Starkweather tried to create an honest answer without blowing her cover. "I love the city. And... I have a brother and a nephew out there that are pretty important to me." Now Starkweather beamed. "I'm just crazy about his kid. He's the most precious little boy. Plus I'm really close to my brother's significant other." Ace arched an eyebrow. "Um.... is the significant other male or female?" Starkweather giggled. Okay maybe she was a little TOO ambigious. "Female. Fox is my brother, Dana is his girlfriend. Will is their son." Ace mulled the names over. "Fox and Dana..." he smirked, "now if you tell me their last names are Mulder and Scully, I'm going to crap my pants," he joked with her. Starkweather smiled wanly. "Yeah... we tease them about the X-Files all the time..." <> She should have made up names for Mulder and Scully but honestly didn't think Ace would connect 'Fox and Dana' with 'Mulder and Scully.' <> Starkweather wondered. But that was a mystery to be pondered over later. "But that's pretty much why I want to be there." <> "What about Ben? Does he want to stay out there?" Starkweather looked down into her coffee cup. "No. He's miserably homesick." "I'm sorry." "That's okay," she said, looking up. "It's not your fault. It's just something we'll work out. We'll figure out something..." <> she sighed inwardly. "You're pretty used to handling things on your own though, aren't you?" Ace asked. "Is it that obvious?" Starkweather leaned into her hand. "Well, I thought you were going to rip the FBI guy's head off," Ace said mildly. <> "It just annoyed me that he was making decisions without my input," she said honestly. "But he's an FBI agent," Ace reminded her gently. "That's his job." <> "Then why did he even allow me to be uprooted from my home to come here?" <> "That I can't answer," Ace said with a sigh. "But I really think the guy has your best interests at heart, Jeri." "Yeah, I know," she said dishearteningly. <> "What do you think is going on at that station?" "Me?!?!" Ace pointed to himself. "Fuck, I don't know. I mean, I started there about four years ago as a part-timer. Then I was promoted two years ago to full-time overnights. I heard the rumors about the station being haunted by a crack-whore who OD'ed in our parking lot, but," he took off his black baseball cap, ran his fingers through his long blond hair, (not blond and greasy and long like Langly's, but blond and silky and long, well-kept) and put his hat back on. "Sh*t, then this one intern died three years ago, then another one a year or so ago and now Laura Light. Jesus, it's just creepy. That's what I think anyway." "Have you... seen anything weird while working overnights??" "Weird? Well, sure you see lots of weird shit while working graveyard. One of my first nights there, it was around the Fourth of July... some of my buddies thought it would be funny to light a bunch of firecrackers outside the window to FM control. I about pissed myself. I fell to the floor. It sounded like a god damned gun. Another time, I'm alone, and this big dude taps on the window, wearing a black trenchcoat. I thought I was gonna die. He motions to...you know... open the window, so I do... and he asks if I can play a song for him. 'Forty Hour Week' by Alabama. Turns out, he's a cab driver who works overnights too. Now he just comes downstairs and we hang out until he gets a call to bring some drunk home from the bars. And he always wants to hear 'Forty Hour Week.'" But like ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night," Ace shook his head. "Nah... personally I think all that talk about ghosts and stuff was horsesh*t," he was thoughtful for a moment. "Laura believed it though." "Really?" "Well... I shouldn't say BELIEVE-believe. But she was definitely convinced that there was something wrong with the station. I'd come in late at night like I always do, and she'd be white as a sheet because... oh... she'd hear a strange noise or she thought she hear voices down the hall. Personally I think someone was fucking around with her, trying to scare her." Ace became very quiet. "Maybe I should have taken her seriously." "Well..." Starkweather said. "How were you to know?" "Yeah... but I **do** know now... and that's why I wanted to talk to you a little bit Jeri. I mean... yeah, what's going on sucks, but Jesus, a girl freakin' died in FM control and nobody knows why. Or sayin' why. But if that FBI guy says to stay away, he's got to have a good reason." "True..." Starkweather said. <> Just then her cell phone rang. Starkweather answered. "Hello... oh hey Ben," she said. "I'm sorry," she said to Ace," I have to take this." "It's cool, want me to order for you if the waitress comes while you're gone?" "Um... yes... I want a cheeseburger with the works. Fries. A small garden salad and a piece of apple pie." "Damn..." Ace eyed her small frame. "Don't they feed you?" Starkweather smiled and went outside. Once alone in the parking lot, she hissed "Doggett, I could kick your teeth in!!!" "Well," Doggett said mildly "before I order a set of dentures then, let me tell you what Byers just told me." "What's that?" "We have confirmation that Reece is dirty. Legal, can-get- a-search- warrant-throw-his-ass-in-jail-toss-the-key, confirmation." "Hot damn. Tell me." After Doggett gave her the low down, Starkweather cursed. "Dammit, I don't want him to go to jail for tax evasion, I want him to pay for what he did to those girls." "So do I Starkweather, but we have no legally gained proof of that. Just a lot of hoo-doo, voo-doo, hocus-pocus shit you, Reyes and Mulder came up with." "I know all of that sounds like a crock. And you KNOW how I feel about the supernatural." "And yet YOU are considering it to be a possibility." "Doggett, what does your gut say? Is he or is he not guilty of peddling bad dope to Elizabeth Cash, causing her untimely demise, sparking a chain-reaction with Melinda's suicide to these other girls' suspicious deaths, be it they died through natural, unnatural or supernatural causes?" "I think Reece is guilty as hell." "Then work with me on this," Starkweather pleaded. "Papa John, I know you're scared for me and I appreciate that, but what good can I do hiding?? We are so close to the station, I can almost taste it. I can't figure out what the missing link is if I just hide out at the college." When Doggett didn't answer, Starkweather pressed on. "Come on, Doggett! I've been in worse situations before. The warehouse where they took Ben. That whole mess in Scotland on my first case with you guys. And don't forget, I was with the narcotics squad when I was in the field office in the Twin Cities. I've got my gun on me at all times and with you watching my back, how can anything go wrong?" "This is totally against my better judgement." "Doggett, everything will be fine. I promise. If I even thought there was a chance I'd bite the big one... but it's gonna be all good, I swear." "'It's gonna be all good'?" Doggett quoted her. "You've been hanging out with those college girls too much." "Then I'm coming to the station for my airshift tomorrow." Starkweather said. "And I'll be there," Doggett said. "I finally get to talk to Alice Meecham tomorrow morning." "Alright," Starkweather said. "I gotta go, Ace will start worrying." "Ace???" There was a trace of teasing in Doggett's voice. "Enough," Starkweather said and hung up.... MUCH later that night... Rose Hill College When Ace finally brought her home from their impromptu dinner at Perkins, Starkweather was bone-tired. Her very bones ached from lack of sleep. All she had on her mind, to be perfectly honest, was her bed and her pillow... So it was to her great dismay that Tori and her gaggle of squally friends were all in their dorm room in front of the TV. They were all sobbing hysterically. "What's the matter?" Starkweather asked wearily. <> Tori mopped her face with a Kleenex. "We're watching 'Return to Me.' We're at the big cry scene." "'Return to Me'?" "Oh my God, do you live under a rock??" Tori said, seizing the remote control from Jennifer. "It's a totally awesome movie with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny." She rewound the tape. "This scene just TOTALLY kills me. Omigod, it's so sad." And Starkweather got her first taste of David Duchovny's acting. She probably would have enjoyed it more if the three girls hadn't completely dissolved into noisy tears when Duchovny's character whimpered to the giant dog "She's not coming home." Mandi grabbed handfulls of Kleenex "Omigod, doncha just wanna **hug** him??" she sobbed. "Poor baby," Jennifer whimpered. "I wish I could make it better for him." She too took more Kleenex. "Rewind it one more time." Tori did. "She's not coming home, boy... she's not coming home..." "WAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" All three girls howled. Starkweather grabbed her pillow and left the room unnoticed. She padded down the hallway to Autumn's door. She knocked. "Jerilyn?" "Can I crash here?" Starkweather begged. "I've got the David Duchovny Estrogen Brigade in my room." "Oh lord, is the Barbie Posse having another Duchovny marathon night?" Autumn groaned as she let Starkweather in. "Mandi used to live next door to me. She and her nitwit friends used to keep me up at night whenever they had their movie nights." She sighed. "At least they have good taste. He is a sexy bitch," she snorted. "Too bad they're all too chicken to watch the X-Files." "Okay, since when has the X-Files been a TV show?!?!?!" Autumn stared at her, open-mouthed. "Since forever... it started as a spin-off TV show based on that god awful movie staring Gary Shandling and Tea Leoni. It was the kind of the same phenomenon as 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.' The orignal movie sucked, but when they made the TV show, they made the plotlines scarier and gorier and they cast unknowns in the leads, making them into huge stars. But Duchovny's leaving the show, so who knows what's going to happen. Maybe they'll dream up a new partner for Scully... why are you staring at me??" "What if I told you the X-Files was a real FBI division and that's were I'm assigned to??" Autumn's face lit up. "I'd fall to my knees, kiss your ass and beg for a placement when I graduate from the Academy." Starkweather groaned. "I'm going to bed...." August 9, 2001 The next day 0305 Morningside Drive 4:05 PM Central Standard Time Special Agent John Doggett pulled into the driveway of a modest, two-story house. A Golden Retriever bounded off the porch to approach the strange. "Down Skye, down, girl," the dog's owner, Jack Meecham ordered the dog. Skye instantly heeled. Doggett got out of the truck. "Are you the fed Alice's been talkin' 'bout?" "That's right," Doggett stretched out his hand. "I'm Special Agent John Doggett. I heard congradulations are in order?" "Yeah, yeah," Jack Meecham, a big burly man who looked like an ex-biker with his thick beard and earring in his right ear, preened like a peacock. "Little girl. Named her Beverlee, after her grandmother. Tough little tyke. We had a rough time, as you may have heard." "I did," Doggett said seriously as he was lead inside the house. "And I 'preciate you taking the time to talk with me. Hopefully this won't take long." "I'll go get her," Jack said affably. He left Doggett in their fairly spacious living room. Doggett put his hands in his pockets, whistled a tune to himself, looking around. His eyes fell on a photograph. And his eyes widened in surprise. Alice Meecham entered the room, still walking a little stiffly after the rough delivery she just suffered only a little while ago. "Are you the agent?" she asked, a shy smile crossing her face. She looked like Donna Reed. Doggett looked at the photograph, looked at her. All the questions he had about her previous involvement with the occult flew from his head. "Mrs. Meecham," he said gravely. "My name is Special Agent John Doggett. I need to ask you some questions about your brother, Stuart McCoy." Alice McCoy Meecham's face crumpled as she began to weep. "I knew it," she sniffled, "I knew that this was going to be about him." She slowly crossed the room to him and clutched the lapel of his jacket. "Please don't say anything to my parents. It would kill them." "I can't promise that ma'am," Doggett said stonily. "But I can promise to keep this as confidential as possible." "Is Stuart going to go to jail?" "I can't answer that right now." "Maybe," she wiped her eyes. "maybe he needs to go. Maybe that would be the wake-up call he needs. He's destroying his life, Mr. Doggett." "I need you to tell me everything you know about him and Elizabeth Cash." "I don't know a lot..." but she was white as snow. "Mrs. Meecham, we want this matter settled as quickly and quietly as possible. And, unless we discover that you aided and abetted him in a crime, nothin' is gonna happen to you or your family." "I NEVER helped him with his filthy drugs," she snapped angrily. "When I was still a Wiccan, me and the other girls were so against it. I'm still against it. Stuart and I got into a huge fight about it one night because me and the other girls in the coven found out that Lizzie was using. That was the last time we ever spoke to each other. It breaks Mom and Dad's heart that we don't get along, but I could never tell them why." She slowly sank down on a footstool, sobbing. "If your parents are to be notified about any wrongdoings done by Stuart, I will take the burden from you and tell them myself," Doggett promised. "But I need to know everything..." "Alright," the new mother sniffled. "alright..." She got up. "But let's go to the kitchen. I need a glass of water. Can I offer you anything?" Doggett shook his head and followed her to the kitchen. Meanwhile... back at Rose Hill College Starkweather and Autumn were watching television in the lounge room, the only room on the floor with air- conditioning. To be more accurate, Starkweather was at the table, reading her emails from the Lone Gunmen, Reyes and Mulder. Autumn was working on her book of spells or "Book of Shadows" as she preferred to call it. The television set just happened to be on. White noise, more or less. "It's not like that crappy movie 'Blair Witch II, Book of Shadows', is it?" Starkweather had asked. Autumn had cringed. "Oh goddess no. That movie sucked. And totally slandered on witchcraft. If you thought the devout bible thumping Christians were pissed about 'The Last Temptation of Christ'..." But for the most part, the young women worked in silence. Until Sandy bounced in. "Hey Jeri, 'sup?" "Not much," Starkweather clicked on her screensaver. "Just doing some research." "Man, don't you ever relax?" "No," she said truthfully. "What are you doin' tonight?" He pulled up a chair and sat by her. "Well... I going to be on the air from six to midnight tonight..." When she saw Sandy's face cloud over in disapproval, she held up a hand. "I'm not going to be alone, there's a fed that's going to be there and they just told me (or actually Doggett emailed her earlier that morning) that the cops are going to be driving by the station twice an hour so it's cool." "Okay..." Sandy said in a tone of voice that totally implied that it was NOT okay. "What time do you get off?" "Midnight." "Cool, wanna come party with us?" "Where?" Starkweather really wanted to go straight to bed afterwards, but she had to 'keep up appearances.' "Me and a bunch of people are going to 'Deuces are Wild'." "What's that? A strip club?" Sandy chuckled. "No, no. It's a dance club... well... okay, I'm going to be straight with you, no pun intended." "Huh?" "It's a gay bar, but it's the only decent dance club here in town. A few of us are going. And no," Sandy said laughing. "I'm don't play for both teams, it's just a real cool place to hang out. Good music. Good times, y'know? Wanna come?" He was asking a Naval brat and a retired Airman if she wanted to go to a gay bar. Starkweather knew it was not cool to discriminate on any basis, but her upbringing and training had conditioned her to feel uneasy. She was a full supporter of the military's decree of "Don't ask, don't tell." But she was also looking at Autumn, who was sneaking peeks at Sandy over her spell-book. When she saw that Starkweather was watching, she hid behind the giant book and tried to melt into the couch. <> Starkweather realized. And so, feeling a bit mischievous , she said yes to something she usually would have responded to with a resounding NO. "Autumn, you wanna come with?" Starkweather asked casually. Sandy turned around to regard the pale girl with the black dyed hair. "Hi," he said. "You're a criminal justice major too, right?" Autumn, looking like she was about to spontaneously combust, nodded. "And I think you were in my history class last semester too." Autumn squirmed. "Um... yeah, I sat three seats behind you in History 231." "I remember your presentation on Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen," he said. "That was really good." "Thanks," Autumn was completely tongue-tied. <> Starkweather thought. "Alright, well, do you want to meet here at the school?" Sandy asked them. "Sure," Starkweather said. Autumn only nodded. "Cool. Later," Sandy smiled at both of them and left the room. The minute he was gone, Starkweather turned to Autumn. "You LIKE him, don't you???" "Oh shut up," Autumn tried to bury herself into her book again. "Concocting little lurve-spells there?" "Wiccans believe that it is unethical to put an unwilling subject under a love spell." "Unwilling?" "He doesn't like me." "Doesn't like you?" Starkweather sat besides her. "I hate to break it to you, but he just doesn't know who you are." "I'm no good with boys. I mean... I perfected the raging whore routine with I was still strung out on drugs but the whole boyfriend-girlfriend dating thing... I suck at that." "You chicken," Starkweather teased her. "Well, MRS. Starkweather," she whispered. "Some of us just aren't good with men." "Hey, do you know how many idiots I had to go through before I found Ben," then Starkweather sighed. "And sometimes you wonder if Ben's the right one." Starkweather shrugged. "Well, if he's not, it's too late now. 'For better or worse.' You know." Autumn smiled. "It's never too late, Jerilyn." "That's right," Starkweather beamed. "And that's why when I come get you tonight, you are going to look cute and huggable and you're going to introduce yourself to Sandy and see if there's chemistry or not. And if there's not," Starkweather shrugged. "Well, then move on to the next idiot." "Sounds encouraging," Autumn said tartly. Later that night The radio station 7:58 PM Central Time Starkweather checked her watch nervously and looked out the window. Where the hell was Doggett? She had tried to raise him on his cell phone. Nothing. Starkweather took a deep breath. <> she told herself as she nibbled on a fingernail. <> Starkweather wasn't really worried about herself, she was concerned for Doggett. Just then, her cell rang. The number on the caller ID was from the police station. "Starkweather?" Sargeant Van Der Diem knew her cell was a secure line. "This is Sargeant Van Der Diem at the SCPD. I'm just relaying a message from your partner. He was in an auto wreck-" Starkweather immediately bolted up from her chair. "What?!?!?!" she squawked while keeping an eye on the time. She had five minutes before she had to go on the air to segue the two songs. "Relax, he's not hurt. He just came from the hospital a few minutes ago. He's fine. His car got hit when he was leaving the Meechams. Some dumb broad ran a stoplight at an intersection. Totaled the rental car, but he's fine. He's with some Bureau folk that just came in from Omaha a few minutes ago. He's got to do some paperwork, fill out an expense report, a damage report. We've got a squad car on the way to take Doggett's place until he can get there, plus we've got the radio tuned to the country station. If we don't hear your voice, we'll know something's wrong..." "Everyone is listening..." Starkweather said dully... "You're covered, Starkweather, okay? We've all got your back." "Great." Starkweather hung up on him and sat back down. "My God..." she never thought in a million years that **Doggett** could get hurt on this case, or any case. To her, he seemed almost invincible. The idea that he was in an accident made her feel ill. The song was drawing to an end... "Don't lets talk about Lisa Don't even start Don't lets talk about Lisa, please sir Lisa broke my heart... Lisa, she's off limits man Lisa broke my heart Ooh.. that'll leave a mark... You can talk about Hansen or Marilyn Manson And do you think they'll ever have a show down in Branson... Talk about desire Sosa or McGuire And is we in the fryin' pan or is we in the fire? Talk about what's real and what you really feel And how's about those mini-skirts On Ally McBeal Talk about the X-Files Macaroons and mistrials..." Starkweather's mouth fell open. "My God..." she said before she opened up the mike. "The X-Files... they're everywhere..." Despite the initial shock of hearing about her partner's accident, not to mention something she assumed was kind of a secret, mentioned in another song, she still had the presence of mind to go on the air and sound professional. Or, at least, try and sound professional: "That... um... was Lonestar with 'Don't Lets Talk about Lisa.' Um... next up... is Deana Carter (she mispronounced her first name, saying De-Anna, instead of Dean-na) and her hit... Absence of the Heart... on the Big Dawg, KRRQ..." Meanwhile, At the police station Two of the officers listening her on the radio, chuckled. "Man, she sucks," one said. "Yeah, she is not good," the other agreed with her. Back at the station... Starkweather slumped back into her seat. "God, I suck," she berated herself. She noticed that the beginning of 'Absence of the Heart' had a beautiful guitar intro. Then the lyrics made her want to cry: "I write you letters, but I don't send them I just can't figure out how to end them I try to reach you, you're right beside me There's something missin' and we can't deny that... We live together separately We don't want to fall apart But every time we kiss There's an emptiness An absence of the heart How did we lose it, why did this happen? When did we take it all for granted? We sit in silence, inside we're cryin' How can we keep our love from dyin'? We live together separately We don't want to fall apart But every time we kiss There's an emptiness An absence of the heart... I write you letters.... But I don't send them..." And against her will, the memory of her last fight with Ben was summoned... August 2, 2001 The day before Starkweather and Doggett left for Sioux City Ben and Jeri's apartment Washington DC 10:13 PM Eastern Standard Time Jerilyn was angrily ironing a wrinkled white t-shirt as she snapped "I can not believe you're telling me this now." The ironing board was set up in the living room. While Jerilyn was pressing the shirt that she planned on wearing on her flight to Omaha tomorrow. Ben was sitting on the couch, legal papers spread out all over on the coffee table. He was chain-smoking furiously. "You asked," he countered. Jerilyn slammed the iron on the ironing board with a thud. "This is not something you need to be telling me in August the night before I'm supposed to leave for an undercover case. This was something you should have told me in April before I accepted the job offer from Skinner to join the X- Files." "What," he lit another cigarette with the dying embers of the cigarette he had just finished "could you have done if you not an FBI agent? If you didn't accept the offer from Skinner, your old supervisor was going to find a way to 86 you out of the Bureau and you know that." "I could do lots of things," Jerilyn said stubbornly. "I... I could have gone back and finished my rotations and clinicals and get my license to privately practice medicine. I could have re-enlisted in the Air Force. I could have gone on to get my masters. I could have become a classical pianist. There's lots of stuff I could have done if that SOB gotten his way and fired my ass." "None of it would have made you happy." "You- you- you-" she spluttered. "You think THIS is making me happy? Seeing you absolutely miserable? Having you get fucked up because of an X-File?" she demanded, referring to when Ben was kidnapped by members of the Syndicate when he started to poke and prod the case where Doggett and Mulder investigated a suspicious oil rig, the final case Mulder worked for the FBI in an official capacity. "That does not make me happy." "Well then," Ben said, leaning into the couch, "then this discussion is at a moot point." "If we're at a moot point," Jerilyn said dangerously, "why did you tell me you are miserable in DC?" "You asked." "I asked what was wrong." "THAT is what's wrong," Ben fired back. "Jesus, what do I have to do to get it through to you that I hate this fucking city? That I hate being so fucking far away from my family? That I hate your fucking job? That I hate MY fucking job?" "Then why in the hell did you agree to this???" Jerilyn raised her hands in the air, indicating the enormity of it all. She then pointed at Ben. "I **asked** you, Benjamin Starkweather. I laid it out on the line. I ASKED you if you thought I should join the X-Files and would you be willing to leave Minneapolis for DC and YOU said - quote - "I think you soon go for it. I think WE should go for it." - unquote." "I made a mistake," Ben was standing now. "I was wrong. We should have stayed." "Oh, so now you're going to make me guilty and miserable for the rest of my life because you made a mistake and you weren't honest with me with your reservations when I asked you in April?" "And if I would have said no, you would have made ME guilty and miserable for holding you back!" Jerilyn glared at him. "Nobody," she challenged him. "Can hold me back." Ben went around the coffee table to get in her face. "Are you implying that you would have left for this hellhole if I would have said I didn't want to go?" Jerilyn held her ground. "Seeing how much of an ass you're acting now, maybe I should have." Ben's fists clenched tighter. "Goddamn it Jerilyn," he hissed, "I am tired of being the bad guy. I am tired of being the villain husband who is trying to shackle his noble law-enforcing wife to the kitchen. What in the fuck has the X-Files done for you? What is so god damned important in that dungeon at J. Edgar that you're sacrificing our marriage for?" "Well... excuse me all the way to hell, but I was under the assumption that a marriage was a two-person kind of deal. That BOTH of us had to work at it. And I'm sorry, but ever since you've gotten out of the hospital, you've been buried up to your eyeballs in legal crap from Carter, Spangle and Adams. This is the first night that YOU'VE been home before eight o'clock. And what are we doing? We're fighting. Shock and surprise." Ben ran his fingers through his hair. He dropped his hands. Looked at her, hopelessness darkening his already deep brown velvet eyes. "We're not going to make it, are we Jerilyn?" he asked, like a sad little boy who was told that Santa Claus wasn't real. Jerilyn slumped down onto the footstool. Their giant cantankerous tabby cat, Caesar, leaped into her lap, purring. Absently, she petted the enormous feline as she looked up at her husband, shaking her head. "Not the way that we've been going, baby," she said softly. "And I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to fix it. And I can't quit the X-Files. Not now. I'm in too deep." "You make it sound like the Mafia." "Ben, I couldn't get out now even if I wanted to. Like it or not, you and I have big bull's eyes on our asses because I have the supreme luck of being Fox Mulder's fucking little half-sister." Ben knelt beside her. "This is killing our marriage, Jeri." Jerilyn laughed without mirth. "That's a news flash?" She pushed the cat off of her and buried her face in her hands. "I can't... Jerilyn... I really hate DC. I really hate the X-Files." Jerilyn looked at him, pleading. "Ben, let me handle this case in Iowa, okay? Just let me do my thing, I'm only gonna be there for two weeks, max, maybe I'll even be home sooner. And when I get back, we'll figure something out." "Like what?" "I don't know. Maybe find a marriage counselor, I can go through EPA at work, maybe you can talk to a priest, something. I just... Ben," she said in total honesty and seriousness. "I can't... I just can't sit here and let us fall apart like this. Whether we like it or not... even if I quit... the X-Files is a part of our lives now and we've GOT to find a way to deal. Until they can figure out a way to go back in time and fix what once went wrong," Jerilyn shook her head, "Baby, I'm sorry you're miserable, but I can't leave. Not now. Not after everything that's happened these past few months. So short of you leaving me to go back to Minneapolis... " she held her breath. Ben looked at her evenly. "Maybe me going back to Minneapolis is an option we might have to consider," he said painfully, slowly. Jerilyn closed her eyes. "So much for 'For better or for worse.'" Ben caressed her long, pretty hair, worn down that night, shielding her face like a veil. "I'll try and find a councilor or something while you're gone. I'm not going to let you go without a fight Jerilyn, but..." he gulped. "We might have to be adults and face the fact that we might have irreconcilable differences." Jerilyn felt like she was punched. "Because of a city?" she asked in a small voice. "Because you don't like DC?" "Not just that," Ben said. Every word he spoke hurt him terribly, but he couldn't deny it anymore. It had to come out. "Because... because I don't trust you anymore, Jerilyn." Jerilyn's head jerked up. Her hazel eyes sought him out, the hurt radiating nakedly from her face. <> the unasked question screamed from her but they both knew why. They both knew the mistrust was unjustified, but it was a real issue, one more needle thrust into the voodoo doll of their wedding vows. John Doggett. Despite everything, Ben could not let go of his jealousy for Doggett. Or would not. And that was more likely to be the nail sealing the coffin to their marriage rather than little gray men, a smoking man or other things that go bump in the night. Back at the station, present time... "Jeri?" Starkweather jumped at the sound of Ace's voice. "Yeah?" "You let the song run out..." "Huh... oh crap!" Starkweather had been so lost in her thoughts, she had forgotten to cue up the computer to play the next song. Quickly she fixed her error and "the music of pain" twanged and wailed through the airwaves again. "Dammit," she muttered. "Are you alright?" Ace asked. "Sure." "Liar," he said not unkindly. "What's wrong?" When Starkweather didn't respond, he answered for her. "The boyfriend, right?" Starkweather moved her head around to crack her neck. "Is it that obvious?" she snorted. "Well... it sounds like a tough situation, you being here and him being all the way out there." Starkweather shrugged. "Well... really... there's not much I can do about that..." Ace against the counter, folded his arms across his chest. "Well, then what's wrong?" he asked. "If it's not the distance thing?" "Well..." Starkweather hesitated again, not wanting to lie to him, but then again, had to be very very careful about her cover. "He hates my job." That was the truth. "He doesn't like my side of the family very much." Also true. Ben barely tolerated Mulder and had no love for the Admiral after he learned of Jerilyn's adoptive father's part in his kidnapping. "And??" Ace prodded. "He's got big issues with jealousy," she muttered. A big truth right there. "Ah, damn, girl..." Ace said sympathetically as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "How bad?" "Bad? His jealousy?" Ace nodded. Starkweather contemplated the size of the green monster on Ben's shoulder. "Well... I mean... he doesn't go around beating the crap out of every guy that looks at me... and he never had... I... I don't how to explain it fully. I mean, I've never had to deal with a jealous boyfriend... or anything before. I don't know if this is a new thing with Ben or a side of him that was always there and I just never noticed until now." "When did you notice this?" Starkweather paused, again to figure out how to tap-dance around his question. She realized how badly she needed to talk about this problem of hers and until now, didn't really know who to turn to. She didn't think Mulder would take her seriously and quite honestly, didn't want him to know anyway. She barely knew who Reyes was. She really hadn't felt very close to Scully until their impromptu- shopping spree a few days ago. Now she could have spilled her soul to her, but Scully wasn't here. Doggett, of course, had more in-depth information about her martial woes, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him a big chunk of their problems was that Ben was irrationally jealous of him. Besides, he had probably already figured it out anyway, since Ben almost always lapsed into a childish sullen sulk whenever he was around. So all that really left her with was this nice disc jockey with the crystalline blue eyes. Sometimes it was easier to unburden oneself to a stranger than a friend. The odd thing was Starkweather realized as she started talking, that she felt like she knew him forever. "I... well... Ben and I... see... I have this friend... John. And he is like my best friend in the world. I mean, I trust my life with him," <> she thought "and he's... he's just... he's very dependable. He's... I don't know... he doesn't jerk you around, he very respectable, he's a tough son-of-a-bitch when he's got to be, but he's fair. And he's nice. And Do- John and I have always gotten along from Day One. But NOT LIKE THAT," she emphasized. "I'm committed to Ben. I am with Ben. Period, the end." "Ben doesn't get that." "No, Ben doesn't get that. Which is what I don't understand because I've had male friends before and he so didn't act like this." "Are you attracted to John?" "Excuse me?" Ace held up a hand as if to offset an attack. "Relax, relax. Just answer the question. Do you find John attractive?" Starkweather squirmed. "Even if I did," she finally said. "What does that have anything to do with it?" "Lemme ask you this," Ace said. "What's Ben like?" "What?" "You told me about John. What's Ben like?" "Like?? Well... he's smart. Really smart. But, well, this may sound weird, but he's so smart, he has no common sense. Sometimes he just will not listen to reason. At all. But he's got a good heart and he always means well..." <> she couldn't help but think, "He's fun... or he used to be." "Used to be?" "Well... before all of this, we used to go out and do stuff. Nothing huge, just hang-out type of stuff. Go have drinks at a bar, see a movie, rent videos. Nothing thrilling or ooh-la-la." "What happened?" "I have no idea." Starkweather looked at her hands, at her left hand to be more specific, which usually bore her wedding ring, "But he seems to blame John for most of our problems, which isn't fair. He has nothing to do with anything. John is just Ben's convenient scapegoat," she finished bitterly. "I have to do the weather quick," she said, noting the time. "Go ahead." After Starkweather blundered through the forecast and was off the air, Ace asked her pointblank. "Was Ben a nerd?" "WHAT??" "Seriously. Was Ben a nerd? A geek? Not good with girls?" Starkweather had to think, really think hard. "God... well... he's not a nerd or a geek. He's..." she rolled her eyes. "Don't puke, but he's really cute...." "Oh gawd, here we go..." Ace said rolling his eyes. "Shut up, man! You asked." "I asked if he was a nerd." "I'm getting to that. He never acted, dressed or did anything geekish or nerdy. He was one of those who were unlucky in love, I guess? I don't know. He didn't have very many serious relationships before me. And..." she paused. "And???" Ace prodded. "I forgot about Courtney." "Courtney??" "Courtney Holy, Ben's high school sweetheart," she said slowly. "He told me bits and pieces about her, but I don't think I know the whole story..." "She cheated on him, didn't she?" Starkweather nodded. "Big time. They started dating when he was a senior, she a junior. I don't know if they talked about house, kids, picket fence, puppies and kittens or anything like that, but I know Ben was wild about her. Anyway, when he went off to college... Courtney started to play around. Broke his heart... but he waited for her. He even dated another girl for about six months... or was it a year... I can't remember... but they got back together for a little while and then she led him off on a merry chase again..." "Then what happened?" "She died." "WHAT?!?!?" "She died," Starkweather, at a loss for words, shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "She was in a car accident and she died. That's all that Ben told me. I don't know what else to say." "When did THAT happen?" "Right before Ben started his senior year of college." "Wow..." Ace said. "Wow..." he repeated himself. "Jesus. And you FORGOT about that?" Defensively, she said "It's not like I really FORGOT about it," <> "it's just that Ben doesn't talk about Courtney very often so it's easy not to think about her." "Yeah, but it sounds like it was pretty recent..." Starkweather opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Ace thought Courtney's death was recent. Ace thought Ben had just finished law school and Starkweather was a senior in college. Ace thought Ben to be at least twenty-four or twenty-five and Starkweather to be twenty-one or twenty- two. Ben had finished law school almost two years ago, right before they had gotten married. He had only started practicing law NOW because he had flubbed the bar exam the first time he took it because he was so nervous. Not because he didn't know his stuff. Plus it took he almost a year to get up the confidence to re-take it. Ben was going to be thirty next May and Starkweather was going to be twenty-nine this upcoming August. Courtney was killed when Ben was only twenty-two. It had been eight years. "Still..." Starkweather said but didn't finish the thought. Ace wasn't going to understand unless she told him the whole story and she COULDN'T tell him the whole story. ("By the way, I'm really not a college student, I'm a federal agent trying to figure out what the fuck's going on here and oh yeah, by the way, the jealous asshole I was talking about? Married him. Two years ago. He's talking divorce. I'm talking divorce. Neither one of us really has the guts to go through with it so we're just... well... fuck... living together with "an absence of the heart." Oh and one last thing? My "friend"?? John?? He's actually my partner, he's the "empty suit" sitting out in that hot car, sweating his ass off to make sure that I'm okay. Am I attracted to him?? Does it matter?? I'm married. Plus he's my partner. I'm no Scully and he's sure as hell no Mulder. History will not be repeating itself, no matter how much I reassure my husband. And that's what's fucking killing me. He doesn't trust me and I don't know what I did to deserve that.") And Starkweather realized she couldn't confide in Ace after all and so once again she would have to struggle with the anger and the hurt created from her faltering marriage along with its by-products of loneliness and disillusionment by herself once more. "It sounds like that Ben really hasn't recovered from the lost of Courtney and he's gonna compare every situation to Courtney, no matter how innocent it is," Ace reasoned as Starkweather's mind whirled out of control. "I dunno... You don't sound very happy." "I'm not," Starkweather said bluntly. "But there's nothing I can do about it for the time being." "Well... look on the bright side. At least you aren't married to him yet. You can still get out of this." Starkweather smiled gamely at him and wanted to cry. She opened her mouth to say something else when all the lights flickered in the studio. The computer bleeped frantically and died. Starkweather and Ace were plunged into darkness. "What the fuck???" Ace said, bolting up. "I can't see a damn thing." Starkweather was slowly bending down, pulling up her pants leg. She unsnapped the holster on her ankle. Her hand wrapped around the cool butt of her Beretta. "What the hell is going on?" "Must be a short somewhere." CRASH. BANG. Both Ace and Starkweather jumped. The lights flickered back on and the computers blared into life. Alan Jackson's hit "Midnight in Montgomery" wailed through the speakers. "Where these the kinds of noises Laura Light was talking to you about?" Starkweather asked, trying to control her shaking voice. Just then, the policeman who was watching her in lieu of Doggett came barreling down the stairs and into FM control. "Everything ok?" he asked, huffing and puffing. "I don't know..." Starkweather said. "We heard a crash. From the back." "It sounded like it was from the production studio," Ace added. "Stay here," the officer said, unholstering his gun. Officer Ned Piltz carefully made his way down the hallway. He checked out each room. When he got to the production room, he froze, stock-still. He lifted his radio off his belt "I need backup..." he said, voice shaking. Ace was nervous that a lone cop was roaming the station alone. "Stay here," he told her. "Like hell," she fired back and got up when he got up. Ace and Starkweather stepped out of FM control and both instantly shivered. "It's freezing in here!" Starkweather complained, wrapping her arms around herself. Ace went up to the cop who was still standing transfixed in the doorway of the production room. "You okay sir?" Ace asked him. Piltz turned to Ace. "Who was the last one to use this room?" "Well... I was... I was in there about twenty minutes ago." "Did... did it look like that?" Piltz pointed. Ace and Starkweather peered into the room. Starkweather gasped. Ace said "Oh my Gawd..." Normally the production room was cluttered with papers and reels. Two computer screens sat side by side on a shelf above a massive soundboard. To one side of the soundboard was a digital recorder, a CD burner and a CD player. To the other side of the board, on its own little cart was a reel- to-reel machine, the last of the dinosaurs in the station as almost everything was created with an intricate software program. One of the computer screens had been knocked over. It landed face down on the soundboard. Papers were still fluttering down, as if someone had just thrown them a little while ago. All the equipment was plastered in an iridescent pink ooze. "I was JUST fucking in here!" Ace exclaimed. "I cut a few spots about fifteen, twenty minutes ago." Starkweather was beyond words. But she did back away from the room and slowly made her way back to FM control, watching her back and shutting doors standing open, FBI style. She bit back the urge to scream. She peered into FM control. Everything looked normal. Almost... Starkweather looked at the computer screen. It was always dusty. Someone had wiped the dust away. To be more accurate, someone had WRITTEN in the dust in the short time they had been gone: YOU'RE NEXT LITTLE GIRL Now Starkweather didn't fight the compulsion to scream. "ACE!!!!! OFFICER!!!!! COME QUICK!!!!" She backed out of the room. Piltz and Ace ran towards the sound of her voice. Piltz was the first one to see the computer screen. "Jesus God." He turned to Ace, "Was-" Ace finished his sentence. "No sir, that WAS not there when we left!" Ace put his arm around Starkweather protectively. She was shaking. Sirens were in the distance. Piltz took Starkweather from Ace. "Everybody out," he said, guiding Starkweather up the stairs. Ace ran into FM control quick enough to grab Starkweather's backpack then he followed the cop. When the other cops stepped out of their squad car, he thrust Starkweather at them. "Take her out of her," he ordered. He then turned to Ace. "Can you stick around? We've got some questions for you." "Sure," Ace said, but his eyes were seeking out Starkweather. He watched her as she sat down in the backseat of the squad car. He watched as they pulled away. Once safely on the road and away from the scene, Officer Kranzberg turned to her. "You okay, Agent Starkweather?" "NO." She took a deep breath. "Take me to Agent Doggett." "I wish I could, Agent Starkweather, but we don't know where he is." "WHAT?? What do you mean you don't know?!?!" "We're trying to get a hold of him. After he finished the paperwork for the feds and the doc gave him the okay, he hit the road running. We haven't been able to get in touch with him." "That's not like him," Starkweather snapped. "Find him." "Agent, we're doin' the best we can." "The credo of the mediocre," she snarled. "Find him. NOW." "We're on it, Agent," Kranzberg snapped back, not liking that he was being ordered around by some whisp of a girl. "Now, what do we do with you?" Starkweather took a deep breath. And took a chance. "Take me back to Rose Hill. Until I hear otherwise, I'm going to continue the cover. I'm supposed to meet the brother of the deceased to," she grimaced. "'Hang out.' Who's my tail?" "I am." "Goody. Get your dancin' shoes on..." Starkweather leaned into the back of the seat and took out her cell phone and dialled Doggett's number. "God dammit Doggett, where are you????"