Through the Looking Glass by Lovesfox Headers in Prologue Part 8 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor January 20, 1885 I celebrate, for Rose has been stricken with pneumonia. As each day passes, I watch with a masked delight as she grows frailer. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Nantucket Police Station 20 South Water Street Saturday, May 21, 2000 3:20 PM Officer Marston greeted them by name this time, still on-duty behind the counter. The officers that had been there earlier were not present and all the desks were empty. His tone was friendly as he asked them how their lunch had been, the question directed at Scully, and the smile that followed the words showed his teeth. Scully allowed her lips to curve just slightly in response. His attention was undisguised, and she did not want to encourage him into thinking the interest might be returned. "Lunch was very good, Officer Marston," she replied in an equally cordial tone. "Agent Mulder and I thank you again for the recommendation." The officer tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, his eyes warm. "Anything to help, Agent Scully," he returned smoothly. "Anything at all." Mulder was waiting for Officer Romeo to lean over and put his elbow on the counter, propping his chin in his palm to gaze at Scully, in an attempt to try and shmooze her. He was tempted to tell the guy he was wasting his time, or to back off, but it was not his place to do so. He tried not to think about the fact that he wished it were his place. Instead, he cleared his throat, and spoke brusquely. "We need to use the file room again, Officer Marston. If that's all right with you." Marston blinked in surprise, the smile sliding away, and nodded. "Yes, sir, Agent Mulder, right this way." Cupping his hand lightly under Scully's elbow, and ignoring the amused look she shot him, Mulder guided his partner along the counter to the gateway they had walked through earlier. His hand slid away as she moved through first, and he followed her and Marston down the hall back to the file room. The officer unlocked the door and pushed it open, bracing one arm across the wood surface. Holding it for Scully, another smile on his face. Tipping her head in a short nod of thanks, Scully passed Marston and walked over to the table, placing her briefcase on it. Marston remained there for a moment, his eyes on Scully, before he suddenly straightened and moved away from the door, only briefly glancing at Mulder. As the officer began to walk back to the front, Mulder recalled he had meant to ask him about the woods behind the Inn. "Say, Officer Marston?" he called, and watched the other man stop and turn around. "Yes, Agent Mulder?" "Is there any way of finding out about who owns a piece of property in Nantucket, without waiting until Monday when the Register's Office opens?" Marston pursed his lips, clearly in thought, and then said with a sudden assurance, "Yes, there is." He walked back towards Mulder, his hands resting easily on his Sam Brown belt. "I call one of the clerks in to open the office and find the information you need. It's a procedure already in place if the need ever arises." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the front office and said, "I'll place the call now, and it shouldn't be long. Town Building's just around the corner on Broad Street, and most everyone lives within twenty minutes of it." "Thank-you, Officer Marston," Mulder replied, his gratitude coloring the tone. "Let us know when you need us." "Will do," the officer replied, and headed down the hall. Mulder entered the file room to see Scully already busy. She was seated at the table, with the file from Marston opened before her, flipping through its pages. "What are you looking for?" he asked. Scully glanced up at her partner, and then resumed looking as she replied. "The information on Annabelle Esther Carrington, mother of John and Nancy Carrington. She committed suicide in 1970. I'd like to take a look at the police file." Mulder's lips pursed as he mulled that over. "Any particular reason?" "The note in the file Officer Marston supplied us with is very sketchy," she answered slowly, having located the paper in question. Holding it up, she met his eyes again and added, "I just want to see if the police file says anything more. I'm curious, and I don't know why." He'd had leaps of intuition and insight from nothing more than his curiosity on numerous occasions. Nodding his understanding, he moved towards the table. "I'm going to look up the files on the other two possible disappearances from those newspaper articles." Locating both files, he sat down and read them, jotting down the salient facts. As he was finishing up with the second file, Marston returned. The officer rapped lightly on the wood surface and stepped just inside, his eyes once again lingering on Scully. "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder?" the officer said. "Jessie Owens, one of the town clerks, is at the Town Building waiting for us." Mulder rose quickly, waving at Scully for her to remain seated. For some reason, he didn't like the thought of her going off with Officer Romeo without him there as a buffer. Or a deterrent for the amorously eager man. "I'll go with Marston here," he told her. "There's no point in both of us going." "Fine," Scully said, without rancor or emphasis, looking up at him, straight-faced. Managing to hold back the smile that was threatening to curve her lips, though she was certain her eyes were laughing. Sometimes her partner was so glaringly obvious, and other times his every mood was a complex exercise in subtlety. Pushing her chair back, Scully rose to her feet, aware that she was the focus of both men's attention. It was pleasing and embarrassing at the same time. Mulder's eyebrow lifted in a silent inquiry, and she answered him indirectly by saying, "Is there a computer I could use, Officer Marston?" "Of course, Agent Scully," Marston replied quickly, the look on his face evidence of his eagerness to be of assistance. "If you'll come with me, I can take you to one of our offices for some privacy." "That would be wonderful, Officer Marston, thank-you," Scully replied. Removing her notepad, pen and glasses case from her briefcase, she picked up the police file and exited the room, Mulder at her heels. The officer took her to his Lieutenant's office, unlocking the door and holding it open for Scully as he had the door to the file room earlier. In no time at all she was settled in front of the computer, glasses perched on the end of her nose. Mulder had closed the office door behind him on his way out, remarking that they would probably only be half an hour, maybe less. Officer Josh Grady, who had apparently been on his lunch break in the back of the station, was now staffing the front desk. Scully called up the case file on the death of Annabelle Carrington, and was soon engrossed in the coroner's report. With no signs of foul play, a hand-written suicide note found near the body, and the amounts of secobarbital and phenobarbital –- both powerful sedatives –- found in her system during autopsy, not to mention traces of alcohol, there had been no reason not to label the woman's death as anything but suicide by barbiturate overdose. Focused on the screen, Scully manipulated the mouse blindly with ease; printing out a copy of the report, and then after clicking on a few icons, she found the suicide note. She scanned it quickly; noting the woman's signature, just her first name, was messily scrawled at the bottom, and then read the note again, though there was not much to read. The last words of Annabelle Carrington were very brief, and explained little. 'I can't take it anymore. The guilt is too great. I'm sorry.' Guilt for what, Scully wondered. Had Annabelle been referring to the disappearances because the women had been staying at the Inn at the time? Or had there been something else, such as alcoholism or extra-marital affairs? There was no mention of the father of John and Nancy beyond his name and his last known address, which was off-island. Another curiosity. With a shrug, for there was nothing she could do at the moment, Scully made a notation in her notebook in regards to the mystery man, and perused the file one last time. The date of Annabelle Carrington's death –- August 25, 1970 -- caught her eye, and she stared at the screen for long moments before she realized the reason why. There had been a disappearance just a few weeks prior to Annabelle's suicide. After jotting this interesting factoid down as well, she logged off the computer. Gathering her things, she exited the office and returned to the file room to review the case files and await Mulder. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diary of Liza MacGregor January 4, 1888 Rose has sickened with pneumonia again, and is now bedridden. I sense her time is nearing. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Registry Office, Town Building 16 Broad Street Saturday, May 21, 2000 3:45 PM Mulder followed Marston out of the police station, and was not surprised in the least when the officer asked about Scully once they had reached the sidewalk. "Have you known Agent Scully long, Agent Mulder?" "We've been partners for seven years," Mulder replied, and offered nothing further. He was uncomfortable with where the subject seemed to be going, and had been the few times it had come up in the past. How could he quantify or qualify his relationship with Scully to others? Partners, yes. Yet so much more. "Long time," was Marston's witty observation. It didn't require a reply in Mulder's opinion, so in lieu, he shrugged, and continued walking in the direction Marston had pointed in as they had exited the police station. After a few moments of heavy silence, broken only by the sounds of their boot heels on the brick, Marston spoke again. "Um... is she seeing anyone? Or are you...are you guys an item or anything?" Would Scully kill him if he said yes, or would she be relieved when Romeo stopped with the calf-eyes and over-eagerness? Sighing inwardly, Mulder answered with his pat standby, his voice flat and without inflection. "Agent Scully and I are co-workers, her personal life is none of my business." Again he could not stop his wayward thought – he wanted it to be his business. Whether it was his monotone or the words themselves, Officer Marston subsided, though Mulder sensed the man had more to ask. They rounded a corner, and Marston cleared his throat, indicating they were there with a lift of his chin. "Here it is." Here was a rather non-descript two-storey, brown-bricked building, built in what Mulder thought was called the federal style. He followed Marston up the one low, flat step and through the unlocked, white double doors with an arched skylight window beneath its white lintel. A woman in her mid-thirties, casually dressed, was standing in the small lobby, apparently awaiting their arrival. "Afternoon, Officer Sam," the woman said, coming forward, and then looking and smiling politely at Mulder. "I went to school with Samuel," she explained. "My daughter Katie always calls him Officer Sam." "Afternoon, Jessie," Marston replied, tipping his head, his right hand coming up to touch the brim of his hat, which he had put on before exiting the police station. "I'm real sorry I had to call you in on a Saturday." His sincerity was clear. Turning slightly, he gestured towards Mulder. "Jessie Owens, this is Mr. Mulder. He's writing a book and is interested in some properties here on the Island. The Chief's promised him full cooperation." Jessie extended her hand, and shook Mulder's with exuberance. "Hello, Mr. Mulder," she said warmly. "It's very nice to meet you." She flicked a glance at Marston and leaned in closer. Her other hand came up to cover Mulder's, so that she now clasped it between hers, and her voice dropped a little with her next words. "I have to tell you I think it's very exciting that you're writing a book, particularly if Nantucket is featured." Mulder had returned the handshake, plastering a polite smile on his face. "I'm pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Owens –" Still holding his hand, she interrupted him with an energetic squeeze and, "Oh, please call me Jessie!" "Jessie," he acquiesced, returning an equal pressure to her hand, and hoping she would release his. "I appreciate your assistance today, Jessie." "Not a problem at all," she said breezily, and finally let go of his hand. "I'm honored I could be of help." She then gestured down the hallway in the direction he assumed would lead to the Registry Office. "If you'll come this way?" Mulder followed Jessie, with Marston bringing up the rear. He watched as the woman opened one of several doors in the hallway, revealing a well-lit office, and entered behind her. "I've already booted up the computer," Jessie explained, moving to take a seat at one of the desks and typing at the keyboard as she continued to speak. "So if you'll give me the address of the properties in question, I'll secure the map and parcel numbers. Then I look up the owners of record." That said, she looked up at Mulder expectantly. In order not to throw attention or suspicion on Starbuck House or the Carringtons, Mulder had decided to have Jessie check on other properties as well. During his run of the previous night he had noted a few –- one vacant lot and some rather stately homes with large parcels of land. With his memory, the addresses came easily. Jessie clicked away, stopping every so often to write the information down. After the vacant lot, she murmured, "Is that all of them?" "Just one more," Mulder said, and told her he was interested in the stand of woods behind Starbuck House. Her head came up and for a second, an expression –- part curiosity, part unease –- flashed over her face, and then was gone, although a tightness remained about her eyes and mouth. Nodding, Jessie resumed typing. This time, instead of writing on the paper she had noted the other information on, she grabbed a small piece of paper from a note cube and jotted a number down. Mulder mused to himself about how the mention of Starbuck House elicited a reaction from many he and Scully had come in contact with already. It was to be expected he supposed; the residents of small towns were usually well aware of everyone's business. The disappearances and the connection to Starbuck House could not have gone unnoticed, and had to be ripe for gossip and speculation. He remained silent and watched as Jessie pushed back her chair and got to her feet, coming around the desk, paper and pen in hand. She explained that she needed to go into the file storage room to look up the owners of record for the land behind Starbuck House, and asked him if he'd like to have a seat while he waited. With a nod, he sat down in the chair Jessie had indicated. Marston had remained standing just inside the opened door, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest. Jessie returned roughly ten minutes later and came over to Mulder as he was rising to his feet. "Here you go, Mr. Mulder," she said, and held out the paper upon which she had written the owners of records for the properties he had inquired about. "Once again, I appreciate your time, Jessie," he told her as he took the paper with his left hand, extending his right out once more. "Not a problem," she reiterated her words from earlier as they shook hands. "Hope this information helps." He hadn't glanced at the paper yet, but he smiled and said, "It certainly will, thank-you." Folding the white sheet up, he tucked it into his pocket for the time being. "Thanks, Jessie," Marston put in next, having straightened from his slouch against the door. He started to turn to exit, and stopped, asking, "You want me to wait while you lock up?" Jessie smiled and shook her head. "You go on, Samuel. Since I'm here, there were one or two things I didn't get to yesterday, I might as well finish them and save myself the work on Monday. I won't be long." "Okay then, Jessie. You take care now." "Thanks, Samuel. I will," Jessie told the officer, and then looked at Mulder. "Afternoon, Mr. Mulder." Another nod of his head, and then he was leaving the office, following Marston. They walked silently down the hallway and out through the double doors, into a slightly cooler temperature than when they had gone in. The air felt damp as well, heavy with the rain that was obviously on its way. "Going to rain," Marston commented as they moved along the sidewalk, eying the gathering dark clouds. "Looks like," Mulder agreed, for lack of anything else to say. He knew what was coming –- the rest of the conversation they had begun on the way to the Registry Office. Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, he braced himself for the onslaught. Marston coughed and then cleared his throat before speaking again. "Do you think Agent Scully would mind if I asked her out to dinner tonight?" This one was easy. And he didn't even have to make something up. "Actually, Marston," Mulder replied, "We've got dinner reservations." Which Scully didn't know about yet, he reminded himself silently. Whether Marston took his reply as a silent hint to back off or he was unsure of how to continue, the officer said nothing further for the remainder of the short walk back to the police station. Officer Grady nodded a brief hello as they entered through the front door, and as the two of them crossed to the gated entrance, he told Mulder that Scully was back in the file room. Thanking the officer, Mulder headed down the hall and into their small, temporary 'office'. Scully was indeed there, sitting at the table, making notes. The boxes had been returned to their proper places, with all the files apparently re-filed. "We all set?" he asked his partner, when she had looked up at his entrance and smiled a greeting. "I think so," she replied, capping her pen and putting it down on her notepad. She rose to her feet and started packing up her briefcase. "We can always return if we feel we've missed anything." While she did that, he retrieved the paper with the information he had requested of Jessie Owens from his pocket. Ignoring the 'red herring' locations, he focused on the sole reason for his request. The Carringtons did indeed own the land behind the Inn. The family had owned the entire property since 1820, when the house itself had been built. For some reason, he felt that the fact they owned the woods could be vitally important, though he did not yet know why. Scully cleared her throat softly, catching his attention, as he knew she had intended. Holding the paper up briefly, he told her, "The Carringtons own the woods behind the Inn." Briefcase closed and in hand, she nodded briefly and then walked out into the hall. Mulder folded the paper back up and returned it to his pocket, before moving over to flick off the light. Shutting the door behind him, he followed her back to the bullpen area. Marston was talking quietly with Grady, half-sitting on the edge of a desk. He got to his feet as they approached. "Is there anything else you need, Agents?" "There's nothing we can think of right now, Officer Marston," Scully replied courteously. "We would like to thank you for your assistance today, though." She held out her right hand towards the officer. Smiling widely, the officer tipped his now hatless head and stepped forward to shake hands with her, and then Mulder. "I was glad to be of service, Agent Scully, Agent Mulder. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to call the station. Or I can be reached at home." A business card appeared in one hand, which he held out to Scully. "My number is here, uh, if you have any inquires that can't wait, of course." Mulder turned his snort into a cough as his partner accepted the card and tucked it into a side pocket of her briefcase, and then thanked the officer again, for both of them. It was as they were exiting the counter-gate, he thought of something to ask Marston. Turning back, he called out to the officer, "Say, Marston? Are there any retired officers still living in Nantucket, who might remember some of the older disappearances?" Officer Grady spoke up, getting to his feet and looking at Marston. He started snapping his fingers, perhaps to jog his own memory, and then asked the other officer, "What about old Dave Collingsworth?" The name jolted Mulder's memory. It had been on the police reports for two of the disappearances –- in May 1955 and July 1962. He definitely wanted to talk to the man. "Yeah, old Dave," Marston agreed, nodding his head at Grady. Turning back to Mulder and Scully, he told them, "Dave Collingsworth was an officer from the late 1940's, I think, until he retired back in 1990. I'm sure he'd be more than willing to talk to you." Going over to the desk he had been leaning on, he jotted something down on a piece of paper. He handed the paper to Mulder, saying, "Here's his address and directions on how to get there. I'll give him a call, let him know you'll be coming by to see him...Is tomorrow good?" "Yes, early tomorrow afternoon would be good," Mulder replied, folding the paper in half and slipping it inside his portfolio. "If there's a problem, please let us know," he said next, while pulling one of his own business cards from the inner pocket of his jacket. He jotted his cell phone number down on the back of the card and held it out to Marston. "My cell phone number is on the back." "Will do, Agent Mulder," Marston replied, holding the little card up in a salute of sorts. "Afternoon, Agents." Scully smiled, and Mulder half-waved, and then they were heading outside and to their rental car. Once on the road, heading back to the Inn, Mulder glanced at Scully and casually remarked, "Hope you brought something nice to wear." Scully turned to him with a look of bemusement. "Was there any particular reason you wanted to know?" "I have dinner reservations for us tonight." *** End Part 8