Date: 28 May 1996 21:41:06 -0400 Subject: Ungrateful Spring 1/6 This stroy is in six short parts. If anyone's missing a portion e-mail me and let me know. Hey folks, let me know what you think of ie. I would really like to hear from any other Deadhead X-files who are out there. I'm working on a new story with no Dead content, an actual x-file with, hopefully lots of action and a conspiracy/x-file plot. Story summary: Mulder and Scully find themselves involved a routine case but learn that complacency in the face of the ordinary is not a good thing. No romance, not. Disclaimer- Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and Frohike are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, used here without permission. Song lyrics are the property of Robert Hunter and the late Jerry Garcia. The UFO convention and most of the locations in Little Rock are real. The other characters are the product of my imagination. ------------------------------------------------------- Ungrateful Spring (1/6) by J. Millington varmstro@zipcon.net Riverfront Park Little Rock, Arkansas Monday, March 18, 11:30 pm Soft waves lapped against the shore by the banks of the Arkansas River. It was dark under the bridge, hiding the car which had driven out onto the grass expanse. The driver of the car paused a few minutes atfer turning off the ignition. Slowly, he got out and moved to the trunk, opened it and stroked his hand gently across the bulky shape laying between the spare tire and the tool box. He bent down and eased the body out of the car, hefted her up on his shoulder and carried her down to the water's edge. Returning to the car he pulled out a plastic bag and brought it over to the sleeping form. He removed a tie-dyed t-shirt and pulled it over the woman's arms, gently pulling her head through the neck hole, taking great care as he eased the shirt past her face. Next he took a hair brush out of the bag and pulled it through her auburn hair. He laid her form down on the riverside, leaned over and lovingly kissed her. Then circling her throat with his hands, he choked until he could no longer see the soft rise and fall of her breath. He folded first her right arm and then her left over her breast, placing a red rose between her hands. Lastly, he took out a carefully written note and pinned it to the hem of the shirt. As he kissed her once again, a tear fell from his face to hers. 'Paradise waits on the crest of a wave her angels in flame She has no pain like a child she is pure she is not to blame' Police Department Little Rock Tuesday, 8 am Betty Mayhan strode into her office with a single-minded air of confidence built over years of hard work. But today this confident attitude was more habit than actual fact. After twenty years on the police force her keen investigative mind had yielded one the highest arrest records in the state, but this Geri Gold murder was really getting on her nerves. She stopped by the secretary's desk to pick up her messages. On top was a plain envelope with her name written in unfamiliar handwriting. She ripped it open without really thinking about it, her mind was on the upcoming day's work. As she pulled the note out and read it, however her expression darkened. Before she could show the note to her partner, the other woman came striding briskly into the room, "Hey, Betty. They found another one like Gold." "Don't tell me, this one was down by the river, 'on the crest of the wave'." "How did you know?" Betty handed the note to Rosemary Collins, who read it over with a grim look on her face. "But I haven't told you the worst part. The latest victim is Sarah Winslow. From the banking Winslows." "Oh, shit. Let's keep the press out of this as long as we can." "It may already be too late. Somehow the governor has already been notified. This family has been the backbone of the Democratic party in Arkansas for years. How long do you think it will take for the White House to get involved?" "Great. Just great. We don't need federal agents coming down here to mess up our investigation." FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C. Wednesdday, 9 a.m. Dana Scully looked up as she heard her partner's footsteps echoing reentering his basement office. He was looking over a file with a decidedly irritated look on his face. "New case?" "Well, Scully, this is proof positive that politics is alive and well in Washington. Pack your bags. We're heading for Arkansas." He tossed the file onto her desk. She picked it up and began to look it over. "What have we got?" She glanced throught the file. "Sarah Winslow, granddaughter of a prominent Arkansas banker, found strangled, dressed in a tie-dyed t-shirt clutching a red rose. A bit of poetry pinned to her shirt proved to bit a fragment of Grateful Dead song lyrics. Mulder, not only is this not and X-file-" "Unless she was strangled by the ghost of Jerry Garcia-" She ignored him and continued, "but this case is also out of our jurisdiction. Have there been any similar killings elsewhere? Is this a serial killer?" "There was one similar murder in Little Rock about two weeks ago. The Winslow case has been dumped in our laps because her grandfather was a close personal friend of the president's late mother and a long-time supporter of the Democratic party. The White House wnated an FBI medical forensics expert to help the Arkansas state police and a psychological profiler to help the police figure out who their suspect is. Officially we're to act as consultants only, not as investigators." ------ end part one =========================================================================== Ungrateful Spring (2/6) Police Headquarters Little Rock 4:30 p.m. Two dark-suited strangers approached the detectives and were greeted by icy stares. Both Collins and Mayhan resented having outside help forced upon them because of political games. Only in advisory capacity, or so they had been told. What it felt like was a slap in the face, an open statement that the women weren't capable of investigating a case with such serious political undertones. As the pair approached the man, sizing up the situation , decided to forgo the ritual of flashing his ID and held out his hand instead. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this Special Agent Dana Scully. Sorry to be forced on you like this, we'll try to help you if we can, and intrude on your investigation as little as possible." Mayhan still glared at the two FBI agents so Collins decided to step into the gap. She returned Mulder's smile, took his hand and replied, "Rosemary Collins. And this is Detective Betty Mayhan. We've been briefed on your specialties. Agent Scully, you're the forensic pathologist, right? And Agent Mulder, you're here to write the psychological profile?" The agents nodded. Scully added, "We've already gone over the file that was faxed to us in Washington, maybe you could fill us in on the most recent developments?" "We've been assigned to this Winslow case and to the Gold girl before this. There's not much new in the investigation, except for the note Betty found this morning." Mulder jumped in, "He's sending notes to you?" Mayhan finally spoke. "When I got into the office today and started going through my mail, I found this." She rummaged through the papers on her desk and picked up a plan piece on lined notebook paper with a few lines written in pencil. "The handwriting is the same as that left on the notes left with the victims." Looking over the envelope and the note inside, Mulder got a slightly puzzled look on his face. "This is post marked on the same day as the girl was killed. When a serial killer communicates with the police, he's usually playing games, kind of a catch me if you can. But feels different." "What do you mean," Collins was intrigued now. "I'm not sure yet." He looked distracted, but continued. "What do you have on the victims?" Mayhan picked up the ball, "Well other than the fact that they were both young white women with red hair, there aren't many similarities. Sarah Winslow, 19, was an honor student at the local university, member of the women's soccer team, worked part time at the campus bookstore and lived in an apartment with two other girls. No steady boyfriend." "Was she a fan of the Grateful Dead?" Scully interjected. "No, as a matter of a fact, and neither was Geri Gold. Gold was a twenty-six year old factory worker, single mother with two kids, lived with her mother and generally divided her time between work, her children and church. These two women had no common interests or social ties. Although they were both regular church goers, Gold was a Pentecostal and Winslow, Episcopalian. Totally different groups of friends and associates. Both victims were found in fairly public locations. Time of death for each one probably just a few hours before the bodies were discovered. Each girl was strangled, dressed in a T-shirt and the notes and roses placed with the bodies." Mulder listened intently and then looked down at the police files and photographs of the crime scenes. After a few minutes he looked up again. "He's looking for someone he lost," he proposed. When he didn't elaborate the two detectives gave each other a puzzled look. Mayhan looked up at her partner and rolled her eyes, as if to say 'what a flake'. Scully jumped in. "I'd like to see the autopsy reports as soon as possible." "Well, we've included those from Geri Gold in her file. But Winslow's hasn't been done yet. The State Crime Lab is horribly backlogged; there's been a chronic problem with understaffing. It's not scheduled until day after tomorrow." Mayhan apologized. "Let me talk to the state medical examiner. I'll do it myself if I have to, but If we're going to be any help to you at all, we need to compare these results to see what we're up against." "No problem, actually I bet they wouldn't mind the help. They're always understaffed and overworked. In the mean time, its almost five. I know you must have come straight here from the airport. Let's get you settled in your hotel and meet back around six for dinner." Mulder's Room Doubletree Hotel 11 p.m. Mulder sat on the bed with the contents of the files spread across the bedspread. Pictures taken of the victims at the scene held his attention until he heard the knock at the door. He opened it to find Scully looking tired but thoughtful. "How'd it go." "Actually it was fairly uneventful. There was very little violence and no evidence of sexual assault. I won't know until I get the toxicology reports back, but I'm pretty sure she was unconscious at the time of death. Its almost as if he went out of his way to see that she didn't suffer." "That fits with what I've seen in the police reports. This guy is reenacting something, probably the death of a girlfriend or wife. He acts out of loss and love, not anger or revenge or any violent emotion. It's sad" "What's sad is that two young women are dead. Are you feeling sorry for this guy?" "He's just so lonely." Mulder turned back to the files. Scully knew he was thoroughly engrossed in the putting together the profile, there was no point in trying to talk to him any more tonight. She got up and said, "Night, Mulder, " to which he grunted a reply. Hotel Coffee Shop Thursday 8 a.m. Scully looked up from her coffee to see Mulder approaching her table looking surprisingly refreshed. Working up a profile of a serial killer, getting into his mind and understanding what drove a man to kill and kill again usually left Mulder drained, physically and emotionally. That's one of the main reasons he had needed to leave Violent Crimes. "You're looking good for someone who spent all night working." "Morning, Scully. Actually, I knocked off about two this morning and got some sleep. I don't think this guy is going to haunt me like some of the others I've worked on in the past. I don't believe he's as sick as some of the whose minds killers I've had the pleasure of crawling into." "No, Mulder, he's just your average boy-next-door serial killer" "That's not what I mean. It's just that he's not inherently evil or sadistic." "Well that's good. The last thing we need in Little Rock is an evil sadistic serial killer, the lost and lonely will do just fine." They both looked up to see Rosemary Collins coming to join them. "Betty will join us at the office later. Agent Scully, I really want to thank you for getting to that autopsy for us last night. It can be such a pain working with the Crime Lab. They seem to always take the attitude that, 'Hey the victim's dead already, so what's the big hurry'." "That's what they sent me here for. I was glad to do it, but this is pretty straightforward stuff. Kind of nice, actually, not to see the kind of mutilations and torture that some of these guys put their victims to." "As I was saying-" Mulder attempted to interject. Scully gave him a look and continued, "But why don't we wait until we meet Detective Mayhan and we can go over it all in detail. I will tell you this, the findings are almost identical to those for Geri Gold." Collins flagged down a waitress and ordered a cup of coffee. "Is there anything in particular we can help you with today?" Mulder thought it over and then asked, "Who exactly identified the song lyrics." "That was one of the paramedics who arrived on the scene after Gold's body was found. It was kind of strange. She was placed on the campus of the local university just outside the planetarium. The poem read, let me think a minute- 'Don't cry now Don't you cry Don't you cry anymore Sleep in the stars Don't you cry Dry your eyes on the wind' Anyway, the paramedic, Glen Gordon, read over them while waiting for the police to get there. He's also the one that first noticed the correlation between the lyric contents and the location of the body. We've been using him as a consultant on the Grateful Dead, we took the second bit of song lyrics to him to identify. Taken out of context he didn't recognize it at first, but he's got a database with all their lyrics on it and he found it for us. 'Bird Song' was the song used for Gold and the song for Winslow was called 'Help on the Way'." "I'd like to talk Gordon, could you arrange that for us?" "Sure, no problem." "Got an idea?" Scully was curious, it looked like her forensic services were not going to be needed anymore on this case and she looked forward to some basic investigation on a normal case for a change. "Just want to do a little exploring. If you're good maybe I'll buy you a tie-dyed shirt for a souvenir. I think I might be able to finish this up tomorrow." Later in Mayhan's office Scully went over her findings. "The cause of death for Sarah Winslow, as for Geri Gold, was strangulation. There was no sign of sexual assault on either victim. And I just got part of the toxicology report back; both women were heavily sedated with Demerol before they were killed, I doubt that they suffered at all. There are no signs of beating or physical abuse, just the marks left by the killers hands around her throat." Mayhan sighed and leaned on her desk, resting her chin on her hands she looked up from Scully to Mulder. "Well that seems pretty straightforward. Agent Mulder, do you think that this is going to be limited to just these two cases, or are we looking at a much more serious problem?" "Well given the randomness of the choice of victims, who apparently have nothing in common other than being short, young and red-headed, I'm afraid that this is just the tip of the iceberg. What I don't entirely understand is what set him off at this time. Its probably related to a death of someone close to him at this time of year." "We thought of that already and looked for any unsolved homicides in central Arkansas involving young red haired women, especially at this time of year. Didn't find anything." "I don't think you would. First you've got to understand that the Deadhead community was fairly transient in nature. She could have died out of state. But I really don't think it was a homicide. The lack of violence at the crime scene and the extreme care he takes with the victims, I don't know, I think he just didn't get a chance to say good-bye." -------------- end part two =========================================================================== Ungrateful Spring (3/6) Metropolitan Emergency Medical Services parking lot Little Rock Scully drove their rental car into a parking lot ringed with pick-ups, and cars ringed and filled with ambulances waiting for service. A tall clean cut young man dressed in the uniform of a paramedic, noticing their arrival, strolled out to meet. He smiled broadly and held out his hand as the agents exited the car. "Hi, I'm Glen Gordon. Detective Mayhan said ya'all were comin" out to talk to me about those ladies that were murdered." Mulder shook his hand, "I have to admit that you are the most unlikely looking hippie I've seen in a while." Gordon chuckled and replied, "That's where most people make a mistake about deadheads. Tour rats in tie-dyes and VW vans are really only one part of then scene. There are plenty of people with regular jobs and families who just loved the music and the peaceful feeling of being with family." The agents allowed the young man to ramble on for a while outlining the subculture that had surrounded the band for nearly thirty years. Finally Mulder asked, "Can you think of anything in particular that happened within the past couple of weeks that would be significant, something that could of set this guy off?" After mulling it over Gordon replied, "Well, it may not be anything, as a matter of fact, its not so much something that happened as much as something that didn't." "Which is-?" Scully prompted. "Spring tour. The Dead always toured three times a year. Spring tour always started in February and continued into April. Sure they missed the fall tour as well, but everyone kind of hoped they would pull something together for the spring. Didn't announce that band was definitely over until this winter. I know folks who've made a real tradition of hitting as many shows as possible during the spring, myself included. Guess I'll just have to find something else to do. Going to miss my buddies, though. There's just a whole lot of friends that I only used to see on tour." Something clicked in Mulder's mind. "Did they play in specific cities during the spring?" "Sure, mostly back east. Tell you what, I've got a database with a complete list of all the shows they've ever played. If you can wait until I get off, we can go print up a list of every spring tour for as far back as you like." Police headquarters Friday 9 am "After talking to Glen Gordon, reviewing the case files and autopsy reports I've been able to put together the following profile." Mulder looked up from the papers he held in in hand and reached for the cup of coffee Mayhan had just placed in front of him. He looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes giving testament to the long night he'd put in. He handed copies of his report to Mayhan, Collins and Scully. "The killer is a white male, age 30-45. Intelligent and quiet, he probably has the respect of his colleagues and is employed as a professional. I believe that the excerpts from the song lyrics have more to do with the location of the body than anyting else. He is now sending letters to Detective Mayhan to assure that the bodies are found quickly. The victim represents someone he cared a great deal about, so he doesn't want the bodies to be desecrated in any way. The first body was placed by the planetarium where she could 'sleep in the stars'. The second was found 'on the crest of the wave' by the river. If he kills again, and I'm sure that he will, the lyrics will be tied to the placement of the body. "There was no sign of a struggle at either of the victim's homes, so they were willing to let him in. This indicates that the he is most likely a pleasant and fairly average in appearance, not a ragged aging hippie, despite his fanaticism with the band. Because of the great care with which the victims were treated I believe that he is reenacting some personal trauma in his life. My best guess is that a wife or long-time girl friend died, most likely from accidental strangulation during the period of time when the Grateful Dead made their annual spring tour. The killer and his lost loved one made a habit of attending at least a portion of these concerts, but this particular year, I believe he must have been apart, possibly called away for business or professional reasons. There is a high probabability that he was unable to attend the funeral and has never resolved his grief over the incident. He has no family or social contacts outside of work. The curtailment of spring concerts has in effect cut him off from the subculture which followed the band and served as a surrogate family for the killer. He may be a college professor or perhaps a graduate student, since the annual spring break coincides with the timing of the concert tours, and many of the attendants of these particular concerts had university ties." Collins cut in, "So if we look for a red-headed woman who died from accidental strangulation sometime during the spring over the thirty years this band was in business we'll find a killer. Can't you narrow it down just a bit?" "Sure. I think her death probably took place within the past five years. I have a list of the cities they played in during that time. First, look at the cities where concerts were held during the traditional spring break period. If that doesn't work out, look at the other spring tour cities. And if you still have no success, look at the line of travel from one concert site to another. Maybe she died en route." "Do you have any idea how big that search is and how short staffed we are?" Mayhan sounded thoroughly exasperated. Mulder ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a weary look that said that he knew exactly how daunting a task this was. Scully spoke up, "We could rebook our flight for tomorrow instead of this afternoon and give you a hand, if you like. I know we weren't supposed to interfere in your investigation, but there are an awful lot of phone calls to make." "Be my guest," replied Mayhan. Then she began to plot out a strategy for carrying out the investigation. By noon all four of them were ready to take a break. The detectives ordered pizza delivered to their office. Mulder went to return a message taken while he was out The women had just started enjoying lunch when the phone rang. "Mayhan." The older detective listened almost without comment, but her expression changed progressively from attentive to irritated to outright anger. She said little besides an occasional "Yes, sir" or "Of course' I understand, sir." After she hung up she glared at the phone a minute before finally uttering a disgusted, "God damn politicians." Before she could explain Mulder rejoined them muttering, "I don't see what the hell politics has got to do with law enforcement. Scully, that was Skinner. As soon as you finish your forensic testing we're off the case. As a matter of fact I've been informed that with my profile completed my services are no longer needed." Scully and Collins simultaneously exclaimed, "What?" Mayhan explained. "It seems that the mayor has been pressured into asking the police chief to call off your help. It's not really within federal jurisdiction and several victims rights groups have cried favoritism because of the connection between the White House and the Winslow family. I guess I can understand, I mean out of the fifty murders in the city last year, many of the victims were poor or black. A fairly large number of those crimes are still unsolved but no one sent special federal investigators to help out with them. And with a reelection campaign coming up and the Whitewater prosecuter breathing down his neck it seems that Clinton has rethought his position on the issue and doesn't want to seen as showing special favoritism to the wealthy white friends of the family." "Well I won't be finished until tomorrow. Some of the special tests I ordered have been delayed until then and I can't get the paperwork finished up until I check them out. I don't suppose Skinner can complain too much about that. Are you headed back today, Mulder?" Scully asked. He thought it over a minute and then said, "No, actually I think I might take the weekend off and drive up to Eureka Springs. Its what, about two hours from here?" "A little more like three, but whatever for?" Collins asked. "They've got some UFO convention going on up there this weekend and the town's going to be full of nuts from all over the country." She noticed at the dirty look Scully threw her partner and started to chuckle. "Hey," Mulder defended himself. "A guy's got to have a hobby." "You are weird, you know that don't you?" ----------------------- end part three =========================================================================== Ungrateful Spring (4/6) Riverfront Park Little Rock Friday 4 p.m. It was exactly the kind of spring afternoon which brought winter-weary souls out of the house to enjoy the warm and lazy sunshine. Near one of the park pavilions an impromptu gathering brought an amazing variety of percussion instruments and percussionists. Young and old and in between, they assembled one by one and randomly added their rhythmic contributions. Congas, bongos, maracas, tambourines, bodhrans and rattles were occasionally accompanied by a flute or harmonica. Most of joggers, dog-walkers and families which passed by eyed the group with amusement or, occasionally, annoyance. No one noticed the figure at the fringe of the circle, sitting in the shadow of a tree watching the passing crowds as if searching for someone in particular. He was a regular if passive participant at the drum circles. The kind of presence which is accepted without being acknowledged. No longer particularly young, but still sporting a neatly trimmed beard and long hair, casual jeans and polo shirt made him appear to be just one of the crowd. Oblivious to the crowd around her, a petite women jogged past, her red hair streaming out behind her. She slowed just past the drummers to enjoy the music. After fifteen minutes, she turned and made her way to her car in the nearby parking lot. She never noticed the bearded man who followed her to the lot or the plain sedan which lingered behind her as she drove down the street to her hotel. The car proceeded slowly past the hotel, then continued on. The driver pulled down the sun visor in front of the his seat and checked the address written on a scrap of paper there. Putting a tape in the tape deck, he drove down the street and waited until dark. Undercover of night he eased his car up to the mailbox at the address, placed the letter inside and flipped the little red flag up. Doubletree Hotel Friday evening Scully lounged on the bed holding her laptop and composing her thoughts in order to write the case report. A sharp knock on the door drew her attention. Opening it up, she found Betty Mayhan standing there with a tall, heavyset man. "Dana, this is my husband, John. We wanted to invite you to come to dinner with us." "I wouldn't want to be a nuisance." "Don't be ridiculous. The kids are staying with my folks this weekend and it would be great to have adult company for a change." John added, "As a matter of fact, the guest room's empty. Why don't you stay with us this evening. I've got some homemade wine I've been dying to show off." Scully hesitated. A long boring evening of cable tv, room service and not even her partner to keep her company began to sound less than appealing. She smiled and said, "This is really nice of you. Just give a minute to grab some things." Out in the parking lot the driver of a nondescript sedan watched with alarm as the red head got into the detective's car and drove off. No. No. Not only was she not going to be available tonight, she was a friend of that police woman. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. Tomorrow. He would watch her and tomorrow evening he could relieve the loneliness and grief. Mayhan's house Saturday, 7:30 am As John Mayhan had pulled into the driveway the night before, he'd noticed the flag was up on the mailbox. While that seemed odd, his attention had been drawn back to the conversation between his wife and their guest and he forgot to check the box until he went out to get the morning paper. Inside the mailbox was an envelope with Betty's name on it. As soon as she saw the handwriting on the envelope, she ripped it open. Her fears were soon confirmed. Scully came into the kitchen while Mayhan was still on the phone to the office. "Betty, what's up? Has there been another murder?" "No, at least not that we know of. But I did get another letter, this time delivered to the house. I had Rosemary call Glen Gordon who confirmed that this is a fragment to a song. 'Reach out your hand if your cup be empty, If your cup is full may it be again, let it be known there is a fountain, that was not made by the hands of men.' If Mulder was right this should tell us where to find a body. But I don't really know where he's talking about and so far no new victim has been found." "Tell you what. Let me give Mulder a call and see if he can come up with any ideas," Scully offered. She went to retrieve her cellular phone. "Mulder," he answered. "The situation has changed down here." "What do you mean, Scully?" "Betty got another note, this time deposited in her mailbox at home. But there has been no body found yet, as far as we know." "What were the song lyrics?" Mulder was curious. It appeared that the killer was escalating his attacks. Scully asked for the note, which was lying on the kitchen table. After she read it to Mulder he pondered over it for a minute and stated the first thing which came to mind. "'A fountain that was not made by the hands of man.' He could be talking about a natural landscape feature, like a spring. Or maybe fountain is the key word." Betty had switched the call to the speakerphone so she could listen to what Mulder had to say. "Well, there aren't any natural springs that I know of within the city limits, and so far he's always left the victim in the city. I'll get someone to bring up a list of all the fountains in town and check them out." She left to grab her cell phone and call the office. "Do you need me to come back?" Mulder asked. "No," Scully replied. "You know Skinner wanted us to back off. I think the police should handle it from here." "Okay. By the way, I've got a message for you. Frohike's here at the convention and he wanted me to give his regards to the lovely Ms. Scully." His partner groaned. "Bye, Mulder." For the rest of the day Scully felt rather like a voyeur. While she had time to kill waiting on the final test results, she would have liked to help the Little Rock police in their investigation. But Skinner had made it perfectly clear that was out of the question. Nevertheless, it was inevitable that she should get caught up in the excitement around the station when they found a possible suspect. Collins was elated when she ran into the office she shared with Mayhan. "Look at this. It's a pretty close match to Mulder's profile. Two years ago a Georgeanne Harris, 29 years old with auburn hair, tripped and fell over a railing at a concert hall in Boston while attending a Grateful Dead concert. She became entangled in an electrical cord and was accidently strangled. Paramedics were unable to revive her. She had lived for a number of years with a history professor, a Dr. Peter Hess. Normally the pair of them made a habit of attending about a week's worth of these concerts in the spring. At the time of Harris' death, however, Hess was in Germany on a research grant. There was apparently some animosity between Hess and the woman's parents, who failed to notify him of the funeral. He didn't find out about her death until two weeks after she had been cremated and the ashes scattered. The couple originally lived back east in Pittsburgh, but last fall Hess accepted a teaching position at the university here in Little Rock." Mayhan was already out of her chair and heading for the door. "It looks like we need to have a little talk with Dr. Hess. See you later, Dana." ---------------- end part four =========================================================================== Ungrateful Spring (5/6) As Collins and Mayhan exited the office, they left Scully sitting in the corner of the room feeling a bit unnecessary. Sure, she had performed the autopsy on the second victim, but there had been nothing truly unusual that the State Crime Lab wouldn't have discovered on its own. She would have been glad to help with the third victim, but that body hadn't been found yet. Mulder had at least given them a valid profile and a direction in which to search. And to top it off, he got to spend his weekend engaged in his favorite activity, the pursuit of the paranormal, while she was bored out of her skull hanging around the police station all day. The afternoon was still young. She decided to take advantage of the day and go back to her hotel room. Maybe she could get in a run on one of the scenic jogging trails along the river. Stopping to make sure the secretaries had her cell phone number, she left. Parking Lot, Doubletree Hotel Peter Hess had checked to make sure that the lovely woman, the one who so looked like his Georgeanne, had not checked out. If he could just see her, touch her, say good-bye to her, maybe the loss and loneliness in his heart would ease. He sat in his car and watched the front door of the hotel. And there she was. The gleam of the sunlight on her coppery hair filled him with an aching sense of loss. Why had she left him? Here he was in a strange city. No friends. No family. No Georgeanne. Not even a temporary respite in the company of those friends he had seen spring for years. If he could just see her tonight, surely it would help. Scully changed into her favorite sweats. She tucked her cell phone in the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled her hair back. The lazy Arkansas River flowed just outside the hotel. She ran for a while and stopped under a pavilion to watch the small paddlewheel boat gliding down the river. Really, she felt a little guilty for the ease with which she and Mulder were wrapping up their involvement in this case. Her partner always hated to be manipulated by politicians and FBI involvement in these murders had been political from beginning to end. Mayhan and Collins were competent, hardworking and had a strong lead on a likely suspect. She smiled to herself at the thought of Mulder actually getting in a little 'vacation' time. Scully's thoughts were already drifting back to D.C and her plans for next week as she ran back toward the hotel. She didn't see the figure which detached itself from the shadows under the bridge until he was on top of her. He tripped her and she fell hard onto the grassy slope. Just as she felt the beginning prick of the hypodermic needle she rolled over and tried to kick out at her assailant. He jumped back pulling the syringe out of her arm and spilling some its contents on the ground. But enough of the sedative was already starting to work, and she felt the world falling away into darkness. --------- end part six =========================================================================== Ungrateful Spring (6/6) Eureka Springs Convention Center 5 p.m. Mulder frowned as he listened to Scully's phone ring for the tenth time. She should have answered by now. It just wasn't like her to leave her phone behind. He tried to connect with her hotel room, but got no answer there either. Next he tried Betty Mayhan's number at police headquarters. "No, Mulder, I haven't seen her. She should be back at the hotel. Listen we're up to our necks in an investigation here, and we still haven't found that third victim or Dr. Hess, so if you just called to chat-" "No, you listen to me. It's not like her to not stay near a phone when she's on the job, especially if she's waiting for lab results to come back. I'm heading back down there right now." He hung up abruptly, leaving the detective to mutter under her breath about overprotective men in law enforcement. After another hour had gone by Mayhan was also starting to worry. The forensics lab had been trying to get in touch with Agent Scully since four that afternoon with no luck. A maid at the hotel remembered seeing her leave her room late in the afternoon, dressed as if she was going for a run along the river, but no one had seen her return and the room was empty. To top it all off, Peter Hess had not been seen at his home or anywhere on campus since the day before. Hess had been expecting to grab his next victim the night before. A red-headed victim. By the time Mulder came storming into his office, the detectives could tell by the look on his face that he had also pieced together the parts of the puzzle. He paced her office and suddenly slammed his fist against the filing cabinet. "How could I have been so stupid, so sloppy. And I actually felt sorry for the sad son-of-a-bitch." He stopped pacing and stared out the window absorbed in his own thoughts. At least they had the clue to the site where the victim would be taken. By ten that night there had been police stake outs around every fountain in town for hours but there was no sign of Hess. Mulder looked unnaturally calm, detached from the hectic pace of the police station. Collins had almost forgotten that he was sitting in the corner behind her when he suddenly jerked up, his long legs nearly kicking her chair out from under her. He lunged for the phone book on the corner of the desk and began to flip frantically through the pages. Finally he found what he was looking for and jabbed his finger on the page, saying, "Its not a fountain. You have to look at then last line of the verse 'Let it be known there is a fountain That was not made by the hands of man.' Not made by the hands of man. Here. Come on. Let's go!" He grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, impatiently beckoning to the women behind him. They looked at the spot on the page. Not made by man, made by God. A church. The Fountain of Life Baptist Church. They ran for the door. Fountain of Life Baptist Church 10 p.m. The gray sedan pulled up to the alley entrance of the darkened church. The driver got out, walked around to the trunk and with great care lifted out a limp form. He paused for a moment and then hoisted the body over his shoulder and carried it over to the back steps of the church. Returning to the car he rummaged around for a plastic bag. Nothing was going right this evening. He'd had to act quicker than he liked to and earlier in the day. And he wasn't sure, but maybe he hadn't given as much of the sedative as he normally would. That really bothered him because she shouldn't suffer. It shouldn't hurt, Georgeanne had been hurt enough already, when he was away and couldn't say good-bye. Kneeling beside her he brought out the t-shirt and paused beside her. Tears fell onto her face, her chest, her hair. He straightened up and heaved a deep sigh wiping his eyes with back of his hand. As he bent back down his lips brushed hers. Scully felt him lift her out of the car. She knew that she should be worried, something wasn't right. As she felt herself being set down on the cold concrete steps, the realization that she was in danger began to grow. She tried to will her limbs into action. The touch of this strangers lips brought back the realization of the situation to her mind and forced her body into action. She reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt and thrust him sharply to the side, down to the ground. Dazed, he stared blankly at her. What was she doing? Didn't she know he loved her? Frozen in place, he made no move to fend of her foot as she brought it crashing down onto his head. Moments later a dark sedan came screaming into the alley behind the church closely followed by an amazing number of police cars, blue lights flashing and sirens wailing. The sedan hadn't even come to a complete stop before a familiar figure flung open the passenger door and ran up to the church, gun drawn and ready. And stopped dead at the scene before him. "Really, Mulder, you ought to put that gun up before you shoot yourself." Scully grinned at her partner. She was sitting on top of Hess, looking a little worse for wear, but definitely in control of the situation. "You know, Scully, when the knight in shining armor comes rushing in, it really helps to have a damsel in distress." He reached down and gave her a hand up. His arm reached around her shoulder, as if she needed his support. She sighed and let him pretend that to be the hero. ---------------The end---------------------