T h e X - F i l e s
Bed Springs(2/4)
by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall
vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net

Part Six

-----

Orangeburg, South Carolina
12:00 noon

Finding Orangeburg had been easy. The town was right off
Interstate 26 going south from Columbia. Finding the police
station was another matter. It soon became apparent to Chloe
that Mickey would have difficulty finding his way out of a
paper bag.

"I suppose it would crush your male ego to stop at a gas
station and ask directions," she hinted, not really wanting to
upset him, but getting pretty upset herself. "We told the Chief
of Police we'd be there half an hour ago when I called him
from the airport."

Mickey shot her a glare. "I'm sure he'll wait. It's not like
we're keeping them from dinner or anything," he told her.
"Besides, these small towns all look alike to me. I can never
figure out where they hide the police station."

"You might try the building across from the post office and
next to the fire station," Chloe suggested helpfully. Sure
enough, the sign out front proclaimed the police station of
Orangeburg. She smiled innocently at him. He shook his head
in disgust.

"Okay, Agent Smartypants, next time, YOU drive in the
small towns," he grumbled. She smiled triumphantly.

"Don't worry, Mickey. I'm sure you do SOME things
VERY well," she teased and had to stifle a giggle at his
immediate blush. This was too much fun to be true.

The small police station was fairly typical. The dispatcher
sat at a desk in the corner, a receptionist sat at a desk in the
front. No bullet proof glass, no indication of high traffic in the
dregs of society. Just an office. Off to the back was a door
proclaiming "Chief". Mickey walked up to the receptionist, an
older heavy set black woman with warm eyes and a big smile,
and he introduced them.

"Hello, Ms. . ." he checked the nameplate on the desk. It
said 'Rosy'. "Ah, Rosy. We're Agents Callavelo and Grant,
with the FBI. We're here to see. . ."

Rosy cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Y' all here to
see Charlie. I'll git him." She turned in her chair and put a
hand to her mouth. "Char-LIE, the F B I is here," she
shouted. "Finally," she added, under her breath. Then she
looked up at Mickey and Chloe. "He'll be right with you," she
smiled.

The door in the back swung open and a tall black man in
his mid thirties came out with a scowl on his face. "Aunt
Rosy, when are you going to learn how to use that intercom I
got you for Christmas?" he grumbled. He only needed to take
a couple of strides to reach them. Eyeing them both, he held
out his hand. "I'm Charlie Russell, Chief of Police. You must
be Callavelo and Grant." He looked each agent in the eye as
he said their names. Chloe noticed that he got it right, the first
time. "C'mon into my office. Aunt Rosy, git us some of that
coffee you made me buy this morning. And this time, lay off
the chicory!"

Once seated in the office, Chief Russell pulled out a file
from the standing file on his desk. He sighed heavily and
handed it over to the agents. "I sent all this up to DC, but
here's the original. I gotta tell you, this is the first time I've
been up against a serial killer. I mean, I took that 6 weeks
course up in Virginia when I got this job, but I never thought
we'd have to deal with that in Orangeburg. I know a lot of
cops don't like having the FBI messing in their pastures, but
I'm damn glad to see you two and I intend to cooperate in any
way I can."

"All six of the children came from the area," Chloe noted.
She had read the files so many times she could quote them, but
she wanted a place to start. "Any idea if they are connected in
any way--aside from the. . ."

"The blood," Russell cut in. "Well, yeah, there is a
connection. Each of those kids came from a foster home. Not
the same foster home, mind you. They were all wards of the
state of South Carolina. Couple of them, the 13 year old,
Nancy Kohl, and the 10 year old, Jaime Porter, they were
orphans. The others were just. . .abandoned."

"Had they lived in Orangeburg all their lives?" Mickey
asked, taking notes.

"Nah. They come from Columbia, Greenville, Spartanburg,
Charleston. Most of them probably had druggies for mamas.
The state got 'em when they were little and never allowed 'em
to be adopted. Damned shame, too. Poor little guys were just
throw aways in the system. Never had a chance." He stared
off into space for a moment.

"Did the children 'interact' in anyway? Go to the same
school, perhaps?" Chloe asked.

"There's only one school in town, Agent Grant. It's got
Kindergarten to High School. But aside from being in the
same school, there wasn't any 'interaction' that I could find.
None of 'em were in any clubs, 4-H or the like. None of 'em
were that smart, though little Nancy was in the church choir.
She had a voice sweet as honey, that one. Other than that,
they went to school, some rode buses home, some walked.
No patterns that I could find. They didn't even follow the
same routes to school." He looked closely at Chloe. "You're
thinking it might be somebody at the school?"

"We have to look at all the possibilities, Chief. There is a
lot of documentation of cases where a school employee, a
janitor or such, has committed crimes against the children
there. I understand the last two victims are still at the morgue.
Do you think we could go over there and see them?" Chloe
asked.

Russell checked his watch. "Doc Marburg usually takes his
lunch about one. He's the coroner. Mebbe Aunt Rosy can
catch him." He reached over to his phone and punched a
button. "Aunt Rosy, git Doc on the phone. These folks want
to see the bodies."

Mickey and Chloe both had to suppress grins when the
shouted answer came back a few minutes later. "Meet him at
the clinic in 10 minutes, Charlie," Rosy hollered through the
closed door. Russell shook his head in disgust. "Can't teach
an old dog. . ." he muttered.

The ride to the coroner's office was short, just four blocks.
Chloe couldn't help but notice the look of apprehension on
Mickey's face. "You okay, there Mick?" she asked, not sure
what could be bothering him. "Is it the case?" she asked,
before he had the chance to answer the first questions.

Mickey squirmed in his seat. "Not exactly," he replied,
avoiding her eyes. He was silent for a minute before he spoke
again. "You might as well learn this now as later. I'm not
exactly, well, 'comfortable' around dead bodies," he admitted.

"What do you mean, 'comfortable'?" Chloe asked, a bit
concerned.

"I, ah, sort of, ah, lose things," he answered,
cryptically.

"Lose things? What sort of things?" Chloe asked again.

"Oh, you know, my cookies, consciousness, stuff like that,"
he said so softly she had to strain to hear him.

Chloe put her hand up to hide her giggles. "How on earth
did you make it through the Academy, then?"

"Well, the first class, I was carried out. The second class,
the teacher had to be carried out. Seems he was great with
dead bodies but had difficulty with stomach contents of the
living. After that, I sort of got excused," he nodded as the
memory replayed in his mind.

Chloe couldn't hold it any longer. Now she was laughing
out loud. "Which teacher?" she gasped between breaths.

"Raffle."

Her eyes lit up. "You mean *you* were the one they were
talking about. . ." and dissolved in giggles again.

"It's not like I'm proud of it or anything! And I was really
worried for a while. I thought it was the boot, you know. But
I found out later that I'm okay at crime scenes. I just can't
handle it when they, you know, weigh stuff and crack stuff and
poke around and rearrange. . ." he let his voice trail off and
was already turning pale at the thoughts running through his
mind.

Chloe finally caught her breath and reached out. "Hey, tell
you what. You talk to the coroner, go stand in the hall, do
what ever you need to, okay? I'll handle the open bodies." He
shot her a look that told her he wasn't fond of that idea. "Mick,
don't sweat it. I *like* this stuff. I wish I had gone to medical
school, like Scully, you know. I just didn't have the patience, I
guess. But I don't think it a good idea to *not* look at the
bodies they have, you understand?" He nodded in agreement
and looked relieved.

The morgue was in a small back room of the doctor's
office. It seemed fairly well equipped, for a town the size of
Orangeburg. Mickey leaned gracefully against the far wall
while Chloe and Dr. Marburg opened the door to the
refrigeration unit in the wall and pulled out the sliding metal
drawer that held the body. Even from that distance, Mickey
groaned inwardly. He had seen dead bodies, but this one was
so. . .small. It was the first time he had been this close to the
body of a child victim, and it was disturbing in its own right.

Chloe was disturbed, too, but on several levels. It bothered
her that the victim was a child. She had always considered
those to be the worst. But as she spoke with the doctor, other
things caught her eye. This child had been murdered, but she
hadn't been that well to begin with. She was painfully thin.
The ribs along her sides showed clearly through the thin layer
of skin. And her eyes were sunken, and not just from the
violent death. Chances were real good that this child might
not have made it to adulthood regardless of the senseless act
that terminated her life. Chloe's stomach made a leap to her
throat as she thought of that.

The cause of death was grotesquely apparent. The throat
was slit from one ear to the other. Beyond that, there were no
marks on the body, no sign of struggle, no sexual abuse.
Someone came up behind this little girl and slit her throat and
she probably never knew what happened. Chloe shut her eyes
for a moment in gratitude for this small measure of mercy.
When she opened her eyes, she realized Dr. Marburg was
speaking.

" . . .in a vial over here," he was saying, moving over to a
small refrigerator in the corner of the room and removing a
small test tube like vial. He handed it to Chloe, who held it up
to the light. "Every drop of blood in her body was like that.
At first, I thought the guy might have tried to embalm her. I
couldn't figure it out. Then, once I got into the autopsy, I
realized there was no indication of damage to the veins or
arteries. That substance, whatever it is, was there all along. I
sent a sample up to Columbia to the University for them to
analyze, but I haven't heard back yet."

"We'd like to send some up to our labs, in DC, if you don't
mind," Mickey said, finally letting his growing curiosity
overcome his hesitation to get closer to the body. He walked
over to Chloe and she handed him the vial. In the sunlight
streaming in through the single high window, the substance
seemed to glow. Mickey stood, transfixed by the green liquid.
Chloe touched him lightly on the arm to bring him back.

"Well, I think I've seen enough here," she said to him. She
turned to the doctor, "Thank you, Dr. Marburg. We may be
calling on you again, if that's all right?"

"Any time, my dear, any time. I wish I knew what
happened here, what's been happening. This is a quiet little
town and these murders. . .well, they have folks pretty shook
up. I just want you to catch the person responsible and let us
get on with our lives."

The scene of the murder was some eight miles out of town,
on a hilly stretch of road not accessible by the main highway.
Mickey drove, as much to give himself something to do with
his hands as anything else. Chloe watched him, sensing that
something in his mind was sorting, trying to work with the
pieces of the puzzle they were being fed one at a time. Her
own mind kept trailing back to the body of that small girl, so
frail and sickly. There was no mention of abuse in the file, but
Chloe wasn't so sure that might not have been an oversight.
The girl looked like she was on the verge of malnutrition.

As they reached the sight that Chief Russell had described,
the yellow crime tape guided them to the exact spot. Mickey
was out of the car in a flash, pulling on rubber gloves as he
walked, determined, over the low undergrowth. All around
them towered old growth trees, majestic in their height and
power. Chloe took a quick minute to change shoes and then
hurried to catch up with her partner.

Mickey had taken on an entirely different persona. He
reminded Chloe of a bloodhound. He he seemed to be almost
sniffing out the evidence. Not a single leaf escaped his
examination. He carefully avoided the areas he knew had been
trampled by the local officials. He moved the yellow tape to
go beyond the cordoned-off area and try and reconstruct the
murder in his own mind.

Chloe watched him for five full minutes, then couldn't resist
the urge to giggle.

"Something funny, Agent Grant?" Mickey asked
sarcastically, without even looking up from the dirt he was
examining.

"I was just wondering when you were going to start
chewing on the tree bark, to see if it had been affected," she
shot back. "You aren't going to find anything, you know."

"Oh, I guess autopsy wasn't the only class I missed at the
Academy. There must have been one on reading crystal balls,
too?" he countered.

"No, I just don't think we're going to find anything out
here. It's been too long and there have been too many people
tramping on the evidence. If you find anything, it will be the
print off a good deputy's boot, by my guess," Chloe said
nonchalantly.

Mickey was still inspecting the base of a tree not ten feet
from where the body was found. He stubbed at something
with his toe, then bent over and picked it up. It was a button,
metal on plastic, with the US Navy insignia on it. It was fairly
new and still shone in the late afternoon sunlight. "Don't think
I've ever seen one of these on a boot," he commented, gingerly
picking up the button and placing it in an evidence bag. He
gave it to Chloe to examine. "But you're right, we might as
well go on back to the hotel," he added, making a bee line for
the car, leaving her to stare at his back in mild confusion.

-----

End Part Six
--

*Disclaimer: See Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Bed Springs
by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall
vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net

Part Seven

-----

Orangeburg, South Carolina
Queen's Motel
2:32 PM

Dana Scully stepped eagerly out of the rented sedan. She
had been sitting still for over an hour while Mulder tried to
navigate the small town's poorly laid out roads. It also didn't
help that they didn't have a road map. Mulder had forgotten to
get one in his haste to get there. However, they had finally
arrived and Scully was glad, she hated sitting in the car,
especially when Mulder insisted that he drive. She let out an
exasperated sigh, observing the motel before them.

The older building looked as though it would fall apart the
minute someone touched it. To begin with, it was just an old
house which had been converted into a motel for visitors that
would only be staying for short terms. The shingles on the
roof looked as though they needed to be replaced, the white
paint on the front of the house peeling and blistered probably
from the constant exposure to intense sunshine, even the door
looked about to fall off it's hinges.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," Mulder said with a
grin on his face, as he came around the car to join her. He
must've read the slight scowl on her face.

"Oh, I won't. Are you sure this is the place? It hardly
looked like this in the brochure," she said, teasing him about
his choice of lodging. Mulder shrugged and tugged on her
sleeve, causing her to follow him in.

Inside she was shocked. Everything looked brand new and
polished. The small reception area was set to the right of the
entrance. To the left was a lobby that seemed cozy, a fireplace
and bookshelf lining the wall. Scully was awed despite herself.
She followed Mulder as he stepped up to the reception desk,
pulling out his wallet.

The woman, whose gray hair and clouded blue eyes
reminded Scully of her grandmother, smiled up at them.

"Kin I git you two a special suite?" she asked, casually
mistaking their relationship. Mulder laughed, earning a stern
look from Scully. Scully shook her head vigorously and the
woman nodded. <Yep, you're obviously in denial,> she
thought to herself, then wondered where that thought had
come from. <Denial? Of what?> She didn't continue the line
of thought, but instead turned to Mulder, while speaking to the
woman.

"Actually we'd like two separate rooms, please," she said,
eyeing Mulder to see if she could catch a reaction. He only
nodded in agreement, keeping all expressions from crossing his
face.

"Okee, then. Here ya go. Will that be caysh or credit?"
the woman said and for the first time Scully noticed her
accent. She reached into her coat for her wallet, which
contained her VISA, but Mulder put a hand on her arm,
producing his first.

"Credit," he said, grinning and handed her his card. Scully
shrugged, hoping Mulder wasn't going to charge it to the FBI,
but then she remembered that he couldn't. They were here on
unofficial terms. After the woman got his signature, she
handed them both keys and smiled, a lopsided toothless smile.

"Third door to the right for the young lady and for you,
sir," she nodded down the hallway. "Fourth door to the right,"
she said, smiling. Scully almost had an odd feeling that the
woman was trying to set them up. She shook her head as she
walked behind Mulder, heading to their rooms.

-----

Orangeburg, South Carolina
Crime Scene
1:47 PM

"I'm driving," Chloe said, snatching the keys to the rental
car before Mickey could object. He didn't seem to care,
though. She smiled, thinking finally she wouldn't have to be
bored out of her skull. Mickey nodded absently as he turned
the button over and over in his hand. She shook her head,
wondering what he could be thinking. She waved a hand in
front of his face.

"Yeah, fine," he said.

Chloe shook her head, laughing. He looked up as she
unlocked the driver's side of the door and slipped in behind the
wheel.

When Mickey got into the car, she made a big show of
adjusting the seat to make due for their height differences.
Mickey looked at her, frowning at her unsuccessful attempt at
intimidation. She sighed, adjusting the mirror.

"Mick, talk to me. What's going on in that ole noggin' o'
yers?" she asked, tapping lightly on his forehead and using the
accent of the townspeople. He looked up at her again,
shrugging.

"It's what it looks like, a military button. But I wonder
what it has to do with anything. I suppose we'll have to check
it out, but for right now I need to get to the motel to relax.
It's been a hell of a trip and I'm sure we'll get a better start
after a bit of rest."

"You said it!" she said, starting the car and gently
putting it into drive. She didn't want to scare Mickey on his
first time witnessing her driving skill. She was actually a
cautious driver, which some of her friends had commented
didn't fit her personality. They'd always assumed that she
would be a reckless driver, however her slate was clear,her with
excellent insurance rates. Not that it mattered, the FBI covered
the costs anyway.

Mickey was silent for the better part of the drive, holding
the button as though it were the key to his heart. Chloe
sighed, wishing he was more of a conversationalist. Finally
she couldn't handle it any more.

"So, tell me a little about yourself," she said, affording a
quick glance sideways at his handsome face.

"There's not much to tell," he said, shrugging and finally
setting the button down on the dash. He put his head back
against the seat and took a deep breath. "I grew up in
Chicago. My dad was a cop for the Chicago PD, and an
Italian at that. My mother was Irish. It was pretty tough, I
mean, living as an Italian in the Irish part of Chicago wasn't
the worst of it, it was being a copper's son that was the
difficult part. I went to a Catholic school then moved up to
Loyola University for my bachelor's in sociology and a masters
in Social Work. After that, I entered the Mundelein Seminary--"
he stopped, she was laughing at him.

"The Seminary?" she asked between giggles.

"What's so funny?" His pride had been hurt. She
immediately stopped, feeling bad that she'd laughed. It wasn't
that she thought joining the Seminary was bad, it was just that
he didn't seem to be the type.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to--" she began.

"No matter, I didn't stick around for ordination. Joined the
FBI instead and here I am," he grumbled.

"I see," she said, growing totally somber. She nodded and
a dark red came to her cheeks. She'd managed to insult him
once again and for some reason she felt really bad.

"So, what's your story?" he asked, staring at her. He
seemed a little less bothered now. <Maybe he'll get the chance
to laugh at your life's story,> she thought, then smiled.

"I don't have a story."

"No story? Wow. Not as exciting of a person as I at first
had thought," he said, smiling. She looked at him again and
nodded. She deserved that.

"Fine. I'll tell you my *story*. I was born in Orlando,
Florida. I had an all American family. I was spoiled rotten and
I got away with a lot. Learned how to manipulate people so
that I'd always get my way," she said, glancing at him. She
found he was listening intently, his eyes partially closed. He
looked exhausted.

"So anyway," she continued. "I went to a normal All-
American public school, then moved on to attend Clemson
University, here in South Carolina, majoring in Computer
Studies and minoring in forensics. I felt that the FBI would be
a good way in order to use my capabilities to the fullest and I
joined right away," she said, pushing a hand through her blond
hair.

"Sounds like it was fun," he commented, rather
sarcastically.

"You bet it was," she said, nodding as she glanced at the
road. She'd been driving for a while now. She looked over
the road and sighed. "Uh, Mickey, did I miss the turn?" she
asked, glancing at him. Suddenly he sat up straight and
looked around.

"I think so," he said, shrugging. Then he added, "Trust a
woman to mess up the directions."

Chloe had been about to say something, but that was his
pay back for her comment about the Seminary. She snarled
playfully at him, then sighed.

"Alright, well I guess I better turn around," she grumbled,
gently turning the wheel and making a U-turn in the middle of
the deserted rural road. Pressing the gas, she felt the car surge
forward, then she eased up a bit. She heard the car rev again
and felt it gain speed. "What the hell!?" she gasped, causing
Mickey to look over at her worriedly. His eyes widened as he
watched the speedometer climb steadily. Chloe took her foot
of the gas completely, applying the brakes as she did so.

"What's going on?" Mickey asked, startled. He checked
his seat belt and frowned, grabbing the handle on the door.

"I'll be damned if I know. The only thing I know is that I
can't stop the car. We're picking up speed and I have no
brakes," she said, a little worried. She could feel the gravel of
the road pulling at the wheel as the car raced past the sixty
mark.

"Chloe!" Mickey screamed, his face contorted into a
grimace.

"Well, at least I know you won't be able to handle roller
coasters," she said, not taking her eyes off the road.

"This is no time to joke," he said through clenched teeth.
Chloe nodded in agreement, her head racing for a way out.

Suddenly the wheel yanked viciously to the right as they hit
a bit of loose gravel.

"Hang on!" she cried as the car headed for the ditch. Chloe
could honestly admit that she was definitely scared. The last thing
she noticed in the blur of the spinning car, was a large tree
looming before them.

-----

End Part Seven

--
*Disclaimer: See Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Bed Springs
by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall
vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net

Part Eight

-----

2:32 PM

Mickey Callavelo stirred out of the blackness. He felt
something snagged on his shirt and wondered what the hell
was going on. He groaned, attempting to open his eyes. They
were glued shut by a sticky substance. He wanted to cry out
but his throat was constricted in fear. He coughed, spitting
out a slight metallic taste. His lungs burned and his chest hurt.
As far as he could tell, nothing else was wrong.

He tried once more to pry open his eyes, this time ungluing
them with a sickening pop. He grimaced as the sunlight
assaulted his sensitive eyes. He blinked them a few times to
clear the remaining junk out, adjusting to the sunlight. He
moaned once more. Then the rest of the feeling came back to
his body and he cried out in pain. He moved his head a little
so he could see.

He was hanging upside down in the car, held in place by
the seat belt. He tried desperately to remember what had
happened and within a few seconds mostly all of it flooded
back into his clouded brain. Chloe had been driving... The car
wouldn't stop... He remembered now. Gingerly testing his
muscles, making sure nothing was broken, he was glad to
discover only a few bruised things. He glanced around a bit
more, while feeling for the seat belt release. It was awkward,
as he was hanging in an odd position. He found the release
and clicked it off, crying in anger as he instantly dropped.

Squirming around a bit, he managed to get himself into a
position to kick the battered door. He eased himself out
through the shattered window, trying not to lodge any of the
glass in his already tender skin. Once outside, he stumbled to
the ground, laying in the ditch face down. He fought with
waves of nausea, knowing that he needed to find out if Chloe
was alright. He groaned, pushing himself to his hands and
knees, his head aching tremendously.

Somehow, he found his way around to the driver's side
of the car. He was shocked to find that it was almost
completely flattened.

"Chloe?" he cried, fumbling in his jacket for his
cellular phone. He numbly dialed 911 with his bloody fingers,
holding the phone shakily to his ear. Finally the operator
answered.

"This is FBI Agent Mickey Callavelo, I've just been in a
serious car accident and I need assistance right away," he
managed calmly. He listened for a moment as the operator
asked him a question. "I'm sorry, I don't know where I am,
you're going to have to trace my cell phone," he said, then he
threw the phone down, inspecting the car for any signs of
Chloe. He needed to know if she was all right.

Before long, however, the blackness enshrouded him again,
causing him to sink into unconsciousness. He managed once
more to call her name before he succumbed completely.

------

Orangeburg, South Carolina
3:15 PM

Fox Mulder sat in the passenger seat, tapping his finger on
the arm rest beside him. He and Scully were on the way to the
crime scene and Scully had insisted that she drive. Mulder had
agreed, figuring she might hurt him if he didn't. He grinned as
she cast a confused look at him.

"Mulder, did I miss the turn?" she asked, glancing in the
rear view mirror. Mulder glanced down at the map the sheriff
had drawn, which was in his lap.

"Uh, I don't know," he said, picking it up. He couldn't tell
what was what.

"That's because it's upside down, idiot," she said, laughing.
Mulder smiled at her remark, turning it right side up.

"You should talk, idiot! You're the one who missed the
turn," he retorted, but Scully wasn't listening, her gaze was
transfixed on something in the distance. Mulder followed it
and discovered a bunch of vehicles-- police cars and
ambulances-- further up the dirt road.

"Wonder what's going on," she mumbled, as she sped up.
"Maybe we can help out."

"I doubt it. They look like they're doing a pretty good
job," he said, sighing. Scully shrugged, pulling the car to a
stop several feet away, to be sure they wouldn't be in the way.
Both of them stepped out, Scully instantly reached into her
coat for her badge as one of the officers came over.

"Good afternoon folks, I'm sorry but--" he began but Scully
smiled, holding her badge under his nose.

"FBI," she declared in a serious tone. "I'm Agent Scully
and this is Agent Mulder. I'm a doctor, can I offer any
assistance?" she asked, observing as the officer's jaw dropped
and he looked relieved.

"No ma'am. There's nothing you can help with, however
I'm glad you two are here," he said, nodding for them to
follow. Mulder deftly stepped around the car and followed the
officer and Scully to the sight. He looked it over. It looked
like a pretty bad crash had occurred. The car was flipped on
its roof, the entire driver's side crushed in. The front end was
also condensed, apparently having hit the huge tree before
them. He was wide eyed as he watched the police and
firemen working with large metal cutters to open the driver's
side door.

"What's going on?" Scully asked, concern written on her
face. Mulder thought that perhaps she felt the strange aura he
was feeling.

"Well, you two are FBI? Seems that we have two other
agents. A man by the name of Michael Callavelo and the
woman, trapped in there is Chloe Grant," the deputy said.

Scully gasped.

"Are they alright?" Mulder heard her ask in a
frightened tone.

"Mr. Callavelo is fine, a mild concussion and a few scrapes
and bruises. As for Ms. Grant, we couldn't tell you. You can
see we're still trying to get her out. She is alive however, she's
been talking deliriously on and off," the officer said, looking
sadly at the door.

"What happened?" Mulder asked, wondering how Grant
could have gotten into an accident. He knew it wasn't
impossible but FBI agents usually had pretty good control
over their vehicles.

"Mr. Callavelo says the car must've been sabotaged. We're
going to look into it as soon as Ms. Grant has been evacuated
and taken to the hospital," the officer shrugged.

"Can we see Mickey?" Scully asked, hoping she could talk
to him.

"He's already been taken to emergency just to be sure that
he'll be all right. Anyway, if you'd like to go to the hospital
that would be okay, because we have a lot of work to do here
and I don't mean any disrespect, but it'll be easier if you two
aren't getting in the way," he said, his tone sorrowful but
commanding. Mulder nodded, putting a hand on Scully's arm.
She was engrossed in watching the men working at getting the
car door off.

Mulder wondered why she seemed so worried about Grant,
but he guessed that she had just grown attached to her, even in
such a short time. He could understand, he'd felt the same
attachment to Scully when she first joined him with the X-Files
four years ago.

"Let's go see Mickey," he said softly. She nodded, turning
just as quickly and heading back to the car. She tossed Mulder
the keys and sank into the passenger's seat. Mulder mumbled
another thanks to the officer before getting in the car and
pulling away from the horrid scene.

-----

Orangeburg, South Carolina
County Hospital
8:12 PM

She was sitting on the bed, rubbing her hands together,
when he entered the room. A scowl on her face. She looked
up when she realized he was standing there looking at her.

"Mickey, how nice of you to come and see me," she said,
smiling. He nodded, looking over her. Her hair was still in
tangles, covered in dirt and sweat. She obviously hadn't had a
chance to do fix her appearance. Not that it mattered to him,
he was just her partner, concerned for her well being.

Mickey shrugged, stepping closer to the bed. "How're you
feeling?" he asked, standing beside the bed and gazing at her, a
thoughtful expression crossing his face.

"Like I've just driven a car into a huge tree," she said,
rubbing her head. Mickey smiled, amused that she was making
jokes. "Beside that, I think I've faired pretty well," she
mumbled, sliding off the bed to stand uneasily. Mickey lunged
forward, but she waved a hand, stopping him.

"I'd say so," he said, standing away again, trying to give her
some space. "So, you've just got a few bumps and bruises,
huh? I'm surprised."

"A few bumps and bruises? And a broken finger," she held
up the bandaged pinky finger, which he hadn't noticed. "And a
mild concussion. I hear you came out pretty close too, huh?"
she said, smiling. Even when she had been hurt, she was using
her humor to lighten the situation. Mickey was impressed. He
shrugged again.

"Yeah. I'm just glad you're not hurt. By the way, Mulder
and Scully showed up," he said, his expression turning
puzzled. "You didn't ask them to come, did you?" he asked.
Chloe shook her head, then grimaced, waves of nausea flowing
through her body. She sat down on the edge of the bed again
and waited for them to pass.

"I didn't ask, but I knew Mulder would come. I am kind of
surprised to learn that Agent Scully came with him. . ." she said,
resting her head in her hands.

"You should rest. I'll come back later," he said, turning to
leave.

"Wait! You can't leave me here. I don't want to stay here,"
she whined. He turned to her and released a grin.

"Tough. This is one time in your life that you aren't going
to get what you want," he said, opening the door and exiting
into the quiet hallway beyond.

Chloe Grant sat on the bed, angrily wondering why Mickey
wouldn't let her go with him, but she supposed it wasn't up to
him. If he could have, he probably would have let her go back
to the motel. She sighed, swinging her feet up and resting
back against the pillow, wondering how long she'd have to
stay here. It wasn't as if she were dying or in critical
condition, it was just a few minor injuries.

She paused on that thought, wondering what had really
happened. The car had definitely been sabotaged, but she
couldn't-- no matter how hard she tried-- come up with a good
reason for it. It wasn't as if they had any solid leads, which
might turn up something, causing someone to want to kill
them. She groaned, pushing the thoughts out of her head.
She needed to get some rest. The pounding in her head
persisted, causing her to wish she'd never survived.

-----

End Part Eight
--

*Disclaimer: See Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Bed Springs
by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall
vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net

Part Nine

-----

Scully closed the door quietly behind her and almost
bumped directly into the tall figure standing in the hall.

"Mulder!" she hissed, annoyed. "You scared me half to
death! I thought you were on the phone to the mechanics."

"I was. I'm finished. How's Callavelo?" he asked, taking
her elbow and leading her down toward their rooms.

"Banged up, exhausted. Asleep, at the moment. I must
say, Mulder, he's a bit more resilient than others I could
name," she grinned at him. "He's got a nice sized knot on his
head and two bruised ribs. A mild concussion, but not enough
to keep him awake for the night. They wanted to keep him
but he talked them out of it. Unlike Chloe, he's been awake
and alert since the paramedics showed up. I gave him some
Tylenol and he crashed like baby. I should check on him later,
just to make sure he's okay."

"So, how much do we charge for baby-sitting these two,
Scully? A buck fifty and hour just doesn't seem sufficient,
somehow." Mulder unlocked his door and waved her in. She
walked into the room, identical to her own, and sat at the small
cherry desk by the window. The room was in line with the
lobby, cheery, nice decor, comfortable. All the money spent
on this hotel seemed to have gone toward the interior
decoration and certainly not the outside maintenance.

"So what did the mechanic say," she said, ignoring his
comments. "What happened to that car?"

"And what makes you think our young Agent Grant didn't
just fancy herself as Bobby Unser at Indy?" he asked
derisively. She gave him The Look and he nodded. "You're
right, of course. Accelerator was set to jam at 55 mph. The
brake lines had a trip mechanism that caused them to fail at
about the same time. Sort of like the bomb on 'Speed', if
you're into the romance of Hollywood. There was no way she
could have avoided a crack up. They're just lucky they made it
out alive."

"No prints, I presume," she added glumly, toying with the
notepad on the desk.

"Clean as a whistle. Not so much as a fiber, the good Chief
assured me. He's a little upset at the moment. First time he
calls out the Federal Hounds and they almost get killed in his
own backyard."

"So who did this, Mulder? I mean, this was a serial killing
they were investigating. I know the killer probably isn't too
keen on being discovered, but why kill the investigators,
especially when they don't have any leads? Wouldn't that lead
to possible exposure?"

"I don't know, Scully. It has me puzzled, too. It doesn't
seem to fit my profile. . ." he looked over at her and cringed.
He had walked right into that one.

"So, you got bored and decided to write your own profile,
huh, Mulder?" Scully asked, the accusation as sharp as the
daggers in her eyes.

"Scully, back off, huh? I just sort of. . .doodled my way
into a profile. . ."

"Already finished the Sunday Crossword puzzle, I suppose.
Honestly, Mulder, that is not your job, and you know it!" she
stormed.

He swallowed and sat on the edge of the bed. "OK, so
maybe it was out of line. But this one is really eating at me,
Scully. I don't know why, it just won't let me alone. I'm not
messing around in it officially. I just. . ."

"You just flew down here to check up on the agents of
record, wrote a profile separate from the official record, what's
next, Mulder? You going to run off and track the guy down
yourself, then bring him in, ALL BY YOURSELF? I ought to
pack you up and drag you back to DC by the seat of your
pants!" Scully huffed angrily.

"If you want, you can go back to DC. I won't try and stop
you," he said quietly, staring at the floor.

"No, Mulder, that is not what I want," she said, trying to be
patient. "I want you to tell me what is going on here," she
sighed. "One minute you are all hot to move up the Bureau
ladder, get us into new positions, promotions that neither of us
thought possible 6 months ago. Then suddenly, you want to
get back in the action. I feel like I'm at a tennis match, and I'm
the ball! Will you tell me what is going on in that pointed little
head of yours?" She got up from her chair and walked over to
sit next to him on the bed. "Do you hate your new job that
much?" she asked, absently rubbing his shoulders. He closed
his eyes, leaning into her touch. Suddenly, realizing that he
was enjoying this entirely too much, he sat up straighter and
looked at her.

"I don't hate it that much," he protested. "I just. . .Scully,
I just can't help it with this one. I have to be here. I don't
know how else to explain it. I'm not trying to be difficult,
really. I just. . .need to be in on this one. Do you
understand?" He was pleading with her and she couldn't
refuse.

She sat there next to him, not knowing what to say to him.
Finally, she gave him a smile. "I'm here, aren't I?" she
whispered. He reached up and touched her cheek, a gesture
that made her close her eyes for a second before opening them
to regard him.

<This is too much,> his mind was yelling at him. <Back
off, before you ruin everything,> it added. He dropped his
hand, but not before he noticed the smallest glint of
disappointment in her eyes. "Hey, I'm starved. There's a diner
a couple of blocks from here. My treat," he said lightly, trying
to move on as quickly as possible.

"Hmmm, let's see. Central South Carolina. Lots of grease,
salt, and cholesterol. Just your speed, Mulder. Sure, let's go,"
she laughed.

The diner was exactly as Scully had predicted, 'home
cooking' which meant bacon grease in everything, but even
Scully had to admit that it tasted pretty good. She ordered
ribs and salad, he had the 'Blue Plate Special' of meat loaf,
mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans with bacon and onions,
and a healthy slice of pecan pie.

"I've got my Pepto Bismol waiting for that to hit your
stomach, at about 2 this morning, probably," she said,
motioning to his overloaded plate with her fork.

"Cast iron, Scully. My stomach is cast iron. This is
nothing," he countered.

"Oh, yeah? Well, for your information, even cast iron has
been know to 'rust' with age, and you, Mulder, are not getting
younger," she teased.

"Nope, I'm just getting better," he teased in return. It felt
so good to be on the road with her again. Times like this,
during a case that was beyond befuddling, having a few
minutes to joke over dinner, that's what he missed about his
new job. That, and being able to look over at her at any time
of the day and just watch her at her desk, typing, writing, lost
in thought. <Yeah, but at least she's still alive to talk to, you
dope,> his inner self chided. <You can forgo all the little stuff
as long as she's safe.>

"Earth to planet Mulder," she was saying, waving a hand in
front of his face. "You still with me, here, Mulder?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, Scully. My mind was just
wandering," he said with a faint blush. <Thank God she
doesn't read minds.

"This case really has you by the throat, doesn't it?" she
asked. She sounded a little worried. She had seen him
preoccupied before, but this seemed different somehow. He
was hiding something from her and it was beginning to annoy
her. "Want to talk about it?"

"Okay," he said, grateful to get onto a topic he considered
safe, and shove some of the more dangerous thoughts out of
his mind. "What do you want to look at tomorrow? Want to
talk to the coroner?"

"I want to talk to Chloe, I hope she's up to it tomorrow.
Remember, Mulder, we are simply here to advise and consult,
not do their leg work for them. I think you ought to talk to
Mickey in the morning. Just see what he found out at the
crime scene. Be a 'mentor'--if you can handle all the
responsibility," she taunted.

He regarded her with a scowl. "I think I can handle that,"
he said dryly.

She reached across the table and patted his cheek. "I know

you can. I have complete confidence in you," she said sweetly
and then laughed when he tried to bite her hand.

The walk back to the hotel was not that far, but the
temperature had dropped when the sun went down and now
there was a fairly strong wind as well. Scully shivered in her
raincoat and Mulder put his arm around her protectively. He
half expected her to shrug out of the gesture, but she didn't.
He smiled to himself as they chatted about their new jobs and
the new people they were dealing with everyday. It was no
time at all until they were back at the hotel.

He walked her to her room and then stood for a moment at
her door. It was still early, at least for him, and he didn't want
to go back to his room and watch TV. He could do that at
home. He was shifting from one foot to the other, like a
teenager trying to work up the nerve to kiss his girl at her
doorstep. None of this was lost on Scully, but she
misinterpreted the data.

"You are totally wired, Mulder! I told you not to get
regular coffee so late. Want to come in for a minute or two?"

"You don't mind?" he asked, suddenly feeling very hesitant
at being alone with her in her hotel room.

"Stop being goofy and come in," she demanded, grabbing
his hand and pulling him inside. "Check out the movies on the
TV. I'll be right back." She walked into the small bathroom
and closed the door. In a moment, he heard a muffled voice
call out "And no SciFi, Mulder. Action is okay, but no SciFi,
got it?"

He grinned at the closed door and started flipping channels.
What had he been so afraid of in the hall? This was just like at
home, in their own apartments. Nothing strange, nothing
different . . .

Until Scully walked out of the bathroom wearing royal blue
silk pajamas that he could swear he had seen in the last
Victoria's Secret Catalog he had received in the mail. He took
a deep breath and suddenly got very interested in the remote
control for the television.

Scully sat down beside him on the bed, cross-legged. "Find
anything, yet?"

"A special on the Discovery Channel. Mayan sacrifices. I
don't think my stomach could handle that," he said, staring
intently at the 19 inch screen in front of them.

"I thought you said your stomach was cast iron," she
teased.

"Yeah, well, I've seen this special before and it's got some
really great tortures in it. Thorn rope through tongues and
'other things'," he shivered. "I'm not up for that right now."
Slowly, he let his gaze shift over so that he could see her out
of the corner of his eye. She had washed off her make up and
brushed her hair into a pony tail. She looked like the girl next
door, if the girl next door just happened to be the sexiest
woman on earth. He swallowed. The room was getting
warm, or was it him?

Scully was lost in the shifting scenes before her. "Oh, hey,
back up. I think I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark," she said,
grabbing the remote.

That was too much for Mulder. "Oh no you don't! We
watched that at your place Saturday and then we watched The
Fugitive. I've had enough Harrison Ford for one week," he
said, grabbing at the remote to stop her from changing the
channel back to the movie. She held her hand out to her side,
trying ineffectively to get the remote out of his reach. Of
course, his much longer arms made it easy for him to grab her
hand anyway, but she still refused to release her grip. She
stared at him with a devilish smile and a 'dare me' look in her
eyes.

"Okay, young lady, you asked for it," he growled and while
still struggling with his left hand to get the remote, he started
tickling her side with his right hand. She squealed, but held
her grip tight. He tickled harder. She squirmed and laughed
uncontrollably, but would not release the remote. He was
leaning over her so far at this point that she fell back onto the
bed and he pinned her down, still grabbing for the black piece
of plastic clutched possessively in her hand and still tickling
her ribs. And then, with one swift motion, he kissed her.

It is said that absolute zero is the temperature at which all
movement in the universe stops. So it was possible that the
room suddenly plunged into absolute zero. Nothing moved,
nothing existed, save her mouth, her lips, her tongue. Mulder's
mind stopped functioning and he was nothing but a receptor
for sensations. The struggle that had started over a cheap
piece of electronics now escalated to a much higher, and
extremely more personal, level.

He had no idea how long they had been lying like that.
Time seemed to have come to a complete standstill. He was
aware only of her, her smell, her taste, the feel of her lips, her
skin. He was quickly running out of oxygen, but a thought
crossed his mind that if he were to pass out right then, at least
he'd pass out happy. It was Scully who finally gave him a
gentle shove that broke their embrace.

"Sorry. You were breaking my arm," she apologized and
shifted her arm out from under his. He swallowed and started
to push himself up, but she stopped him and pulled him down
next to her, turning toward him as she did. "There, that's
much better," she sighed, wrapping her hands around the back
of his neck and pulling him toward her again. "Where were
we?" she purred in his ear.

Mulder froze. He hadn't expected this. He prayed for it,
dreamed of it, was willing to sell his soul for it, but he sure as
hell hadn't *expected* this. His partner <EX partner,
stupid!>, was actually responding to him in a. . .<oh, shit>.
He put his hand up to release her hold on his neck. "I don't
know, Scully. Is this such a good idea?" he asked, his breath
coming in little short gasps that revealed exactly how much of
a good idea *he* had thought it was.

"Mulder, what are you afraid of? We aren't 'partners'
anymore. This isn't forbidden anymore. I've been trying to
figure out why we went through all this promotion crap if you
hadn't thought about this. So what's the problem?" she asked,
getting an annoyed tone to her voice.

He pushed up again, this time she let him. He had a
confused look on his face, like he had just walked through the
looking glass. "You mean, you. . .you thought. . .I mean. .
.Scully. . ." he stammered.

She sat up next to him. "Mulder. Why did you kiss me?"
she demanded.

He looked even more perplexed. "It seemed like a good
thing to do at the time," he admitted, sheepishly.

She chewed on her inner cheek a moment. "It *seemed*
like a good idea, *at the time*," she said forcing the emphasis
on the words between her teeth. "It SEEMED like a good
idea AT THE TIME!" she concluded, getting a bright red flush
to her face. "You have not TOUCHED me in all the years
we've been together and tonight, while trying to get me to give
up a remote control, you kissed me like I have not been kissed
in YEARS because it seemed like a good idea at the time!" she
hissed. "YOU are HOPELESS, Mulder! Totally hopeless."

She was still seething, but she sat a while and just stared at
him. "Mulder, how do you really feel about me?" It wasn't a
question, it was a demand. And he felt completely unprepared
to respond to it.

He closed his eyes and dropped his chin, hoping she
wouldn't hear him. "I love you, Dana," he whispered. "I guess
I've always loved you. But I don't deserve you," he continued,
still not opening his eyes. "You deserve somebody who's sane
and stable and doesn't wake up at all hours of the night with
cold sweats and screams, someone who isn't obsessed with a
search that began over twenty years ago, someone who can
love you and keep you safe and not put you in danger for his
own agenda. That's why it was a good idea at the time, and I
will treasure every second, but it's also why I have to get the
hell back to my room as soon as possible or things are going to
get completely out of hand."

Two small, soft hands encircled his neck again and two
even softer lips gently grazed his. He opened his eyes to gaze
into eyes of the most breathtaking blue. "Too late, Mulder.
Things are completely out of hand already," she murmured,
pulling him down to the bed and this time, he didn't resist.

She pulled him down on bed again, this time moving
slowly, gently. He had a look in his eyes that reminded her of
rabbits in the forest when they realize they are trapped with no
escape. "Mulder, you never did answer me. *What* are you
afraid of?" she whispered. "I promise, I won't get mad. I want
you to tell me, what are you afraid of?"

She was gently caressing his cheek and looking at him with
those eyes that he had come to love and trust so much. He
had to tell her, but he wasn't sure of his reasons himself. "I
don't know, Scully. I'm afraid. . .well, now that we don't really
work together, I'm afraid if we went any further, you'd decide
I wasn't what you're looking for and then we'd drift apart, and.
. .and then I'd lose you." He said the words so softly that it
tore her heart.

"Well, you know, there is another possibility, here. We
could take our relationship a little further, since we're already
friends and we trust each other, and we could actually get
something neither of us have had much experience in," she said
while running her fingers through his hair.

He looked at her, confused. "Something neither of us have
had. . .such as?"

"A life, Mulder. We might just give each other a life," she
said with confidence and leaned over to kiss him. "I love you,
Mulder. And I've missed you. I'm used to seeing you 16 to 18
hours a day and I really miss that. I don't like being apart. If
we can't be together at the office, can't we at least be together
the REST of the time?" She kissed him again, a little deeper,
and it lasted a little longer than the last time. "You really don't
have to be alone, Fox. And neither do I. You just have to
believe."

And finally, like a dam breaking, Fox Mulder drew Dana
into his arms and sighed. "I believe. . ."

The morning broke with sunshine through the window,
making lazy patterns through the lace curtains that cast
shadows on the quilt. Mulder shifted, so he could look down
at the red haired woman sleeping in his arms. He closed his
eyes and sighed contentedly. She stirred and snuggled closer
into his embrace. "Hey, sleepyhead, you gonna wake up
soon?" he chuckled.

"I suppose I have to sometime, huh?" she yawned. "You
know, Mulder, after this case, do you think we could take a
REAL vacation? Someplace where there aren't FBI agents,
local cops, yellow crime tape. . ."

He reached up and ruffled her hair. "What, and miss all
that glamour and excitement? Come on, let's move it. We
have to wake up Callavelo and I need to stop by the front
desk."

"What for?" she asked, slowly extracting herself from his
arms and the covers.

"There is no way I'm paying for two rooms when one
seems to be all we need," he said, searching the covers for his
boxers.

She smiled all the way through her shower.

-----

End Part Nine
--

*Disclaimer: See Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Bed Springs
by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall
vmoseley@fgi.net @ drakkar@bconnex.net

Part Ten

-----

September 3, 1995
Queen's Motel
8:55 AM

Mickey Callavelo finally knotted his tie, after having
unsuccessfully tried six times. His head hurt a lot, but he was
bound and determined to get this investigation over with so he
could get himself back to Washington. He didn't like the fact
that someone out there had tried to kill his partner and himself.
He was just glad that Chloe wasn't dead, simply because he
was beginning to feel the tendrils of attachment creep around
his heart.

Chloe Grant was the type of woman that wormed her way
into anyone's heart. She was deeply admirable and very
interesting, despite how much he'd tried to deny it. He was
just glad that he hadn't ended up with a total flake as a partner
and he knew he could count on Chloe if he ever got into a
serious crunch. She'd be there for him and he had decided that
no matter what, he'd be there for her too, despite the
arguments they seemed to be having.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair, checking his tie
once more to be sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him and
then walked to the door, picking up his wallet from the table
as he passed. He clipped his gun into its shoulder holster and
took the jacket from the closet. He opened the door and was
startled to find Agent Scully standing there, her fist raised and
ready to knock.

"Oops, sorry," she said. Mickey instantly noticed a strange
grin that was plastered to her face. He would have thought
that if anything, her face would have shown fatigue, but it
didn't. It looked as though she'd slept incredibly well. He
sighed, wishing he could say the same.

"Hey, no problem. I was just coming to wake you two up
anyway. I think I'm going to go over to see if they'll let me
have Grant back. I know she's suffering miserably in there,"
he said, stepping out into the hallway beside her and allowing
the door to close and automatically lock. She nodded, then
smiled again.

"Okay. Well, I think Mulder and I have some things to
take care of. How about we meet you at the hospital in a half
an hour?"

"Good idea. See you then."

-----

County Hospital

"Hey," he said as he walked into the hospital room. He
noticed that Chloe Grant's appearance had changed completely
since yesterday. She'd showered and had gotten all the dirt
out of her hair. He was glad, because now she looked pretty
normal except for a small cut that ran down the side of her
cheek.

"It's about time, homey!" she said, standing up and
smiling at him. He was surprised at the amount of energy she
appeared to have.

"Have they got you on some sort of wonder drug?"

"Nah, the pain is still there. I'm just trying to appear as
though it's not bothering me," she said, smiling. "Besides, I
had to fool the doctors into letting me out of here. So, let's
get out of here before they decide they want to keep me!"

"Not so fast. Mulder and Scully are coming here in about
twenty minutes. I guess they want to talk to you, find out
what's going on."

"Okay, but at least take me to the cafe so I can get some
food into me," she said, patting her stomach and making
grumbling noises with her mouth.

"They didn't feed you? You poor girl," Mickey teased,
holding open the door as she strode out.

The cafe of the hospital was rather empty, being so early in
the morning. Chloe ordered toast and orange juice while
Mickey decided he'd just have a cup of coffee. He wasn't
feeling much like eating food. He sat across the table from
her, watching her chew thoughtfully on the toast, wondering
what she was thinking. Of course, he knew that when he was
supposed to know, she'd tell him. Sure enough, he'd been
right. She noticed the look on his face and set down her toast.

"All right. I have a plan of action for today," she said and
watched as he nodded for her to continue. "Let's check out the
foster homes where these children were taken from and
possibly the schools, see if we can find any sense of connection
at all. Anything that might help at least get us started. I'm not
sure what that button means but--"

"The button! Oh man! I didn't get the button back. I
wonder if Charlie has it..."

"You'd better hope he does. It's the only thing we have
that might be of some use," she said, glancing around the cafe.
"By the way, what did the police say about the accident?"

"Well, I'm not sure. You'd have to ask Agent Mulder when
he gets here. I think he was calling the mechanic when I fell
asleep last night."

"Agent Mulder..." she said thoughtfully, pulling on her
bottom lip. He could tell that her line of thinking was slowly
changing. "Listen, Mickey, I want to ask you something but I
don't want you to get upset at me, okay?" He nodded, his
stomach sinking slightly.

"Go ahead," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

"Agent Mulder is here because of what I mentioned on the
plane. I think he has a specific interest in this case. I think
we're going to have to share it with them. I want to know if
that's okay with you. I suspect they're here on unofficial
terms, but this case means something to him. What do you
say?" she asked, her eyes dancing with a strange light. He
wished he knew what she was thinking all the time, but Chloe
thought in strange ways. He thought about it for a moment,
then decided that they would probably be better off if they had
the help of the two older agents.

"That's fine by me. I'm just glad that we'll be able to call
upon their expertise," he finally said. She nodded and sipped
at the orange juice.

"Good."

Mickey noticed as her eyes drifted to the entrance
of the cafe where both Agents Mulder and Scully had just
appeared. He smiled. <Right on cue,> he thought, waving at
them.

"How're you feeling, Agent Grant?" Scully asked as she
pulled up a chair beside the blond haired woman.

"It's Chloe. And I'm fine thanks."

"Glad to hear it. I was afraid you'd be worse off than you
were, considering the condition of the car when they pulled
you out," Scully said, nodding. "Anyway, I guess you're both
wondering what we're doing here, considering we haven't had
much time to explain," Scully began, then looked at Mulder.

"Well, you see, Agent Scully and I were on vacation and
we just happened to be driving down the road and noticed--"
Mulder began, a huge grin on his face but immediately stopped
when Scully's elbow connected with his ribcage. "Ugh!
Scully, you're gonna pay for that," he mumbled. Chloe raised
an eyebrow and looked at the two of them. She tossed a
lopsided grin at Mickey, then turned her attention back to the
two agents.

"Actually," Mulder continued, "to tell you the truth, we
thought you'd might like some help, so we flew out here to
offer our services."

"We'd be glad to accept," Chloe said, smiling. She looked
from Mulder to Scully then at Mickey. All three seemed to be
content. Mulder nodded, almost as though he were relieved;
Scully smiled faintly and Mickey just stared straight ahead.
She could tell he wasn't really that impressed with the idea, but
knew that he was stumped and wouldn't refuse some good
help when he got it.

They discussed a quick plan for the day, Mulder and
Mickey deciding that they would go over to the police station
to see what was going on about the accident and to see if they
had recovered the button. Scully and Chloe were going to
head over to one of the foster homes to speak to the foster
parents.

The men left the table and Chloe chewed on the last bit of
toast, while Scully waited.

"Agent Scully, you look a little... Uhm, happy," Grant
noted, knowing exactly what had happened the night before.
She was very perceptive when it came to those things. She
grinned as Scully immediately blushed.

"What?" she asked, trying to see if she could get away
with false ignorance.

"Don't play that game. Don't even go there. I can see it,
it's written all over your face," Chloe said, a smile turning up
the corner of her lips. She could tell that Scully was hoping
that no one had noticed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Mickey.
Heaven knows that his opinion of you isn't that great to start
with."

"Just what is his opinion of me, anyway?" Scully asked,
quickly changing the subject.

"I couldn't tell you for sure, but I'm pretty sure he's not
used to women in the work force, even though he knows
damned well we've been here for a long time," Chloe said,
biting her lip and trying to think of an easy way to explain the
behavior she'd observed in her partner. "He, uh, thinks that
we're supposed to do dishes and things like that. I'm not sure
where he could have gotten that sort of opinion, but I guess it
was just part of his Italian upbringing."

"So in other words, I'm supposed to be at home making
dinner and having children?" Scully said, laughing. Chloe was
just glad that Scully was as understanding as she'd hoped she'd
be.

"Yeah, pretty much. And you know, for all my
perceptiveness, I still can't figure out exactly what he thinks of
me."

"I think I know. He likes you. I can see it in the way he
looks at you. He's already thinking about the future, hoping
that your partnership is good enough. I think he's hoping you
won't transfer," Scully said with a smile.

Chloe nodded. That's what she had thought, but Mickey
seemed so strange that she never could tell.

They were silent for a few minutes, and Chloe felt an urge
to create mischief again. She turned to Scully and smiled.

"So, what's he like, Agent Scully?" Scully looked at her
curiously for a moment, wondering where the question had
popped up from. A smile crept across her features.

"Excellent," she whispered, deciding that she could trust
Grant not to spread anything like a wild-fire.

"Wouldn't surprise me. He kind of reminds me of an old
boyfriend of mine," Chloe said, then winced. Scully looked at
her for a moment.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Yep, no physical pain. Just mental rehabilitation," Chloe
said, knowing she shouldn't have brought up the subject.
<Oops, too late now. You can't dangle the worm in front of
the fish...> Scully shrugged, letting it go. Grant was glad, she
didn't feel like explaining her terrible relationship at the
moment.

"Shall we blow this joint?" Scully asked. Chloe nodded
and pushed back her seat.

"The toast is lousy," she said, pointing at the tiny crumbs
that were left on the plate.

She laughed as Scully nodded and said, "I bet."

Together the two women walked out of the cafeteria and
out of the hospital.

-----

Fox Mulder walked into the police station with Mickey
trailing silently behind. He smiled at the woman behind the
desk, who now looked past him and grinned at Callavelo.

"Charlie! Those F-B-I's are back," she hollered. Within a
few seconds Mulder heard the reply.

"Send 'em in."

"You can go on in there. Would you like some tea?" she
asked, indicating a pot in the corner. Both agents shook their
heads.

"No thank you. We're only going to be here for a few
minutes," Mickey replied politely. Mulder nodded. Together
they walked to the door of the Chief's office and entered
quietly.

"Agent Callavelo. Agent Mulder. Have a seat," the chief
said, smiling at the two agents. "What can I help ya with?"

"Well sir, it seems we might have misplaced a bit of
evidence that we had in the car at the time of the accident. We
were wondering if you had found an evidence bag containing a
small button?"

"I don't think so. Not off hand. But I can get one of the
officers to check for you," he said, looking out the window.
He honestly appeared to have no idea. "By the way, how's
that partner of yours? She's all right, I hope."

"Yes, she's fine. Thanks for asking. If you could check on
the button for us, we'd appreciate it," Mickey said, patiently
waiting as the chief picked up the telephone and dialed.

Through out the whole thing Mulder hadn't said a word.
Mickey wondered if he were doing it purposely. Perhaps
testing his skills. Maybe he was just going to guide them
along after all. Mickey couldn't be sure. He sighed inwardly
and hoped he was right by allowing Mulder and Scully to help
out with the investigation. He had a feeling if the Bureau ever
found out that they'd all be into loads of trouble. One more
glance at Mulder confirmed that he wouldn't be saying
anything. The man was lost in his own world.

"Okay, the officer says that they didn't find anything at all at
the scene. I can send someone out there to look for you, if
you'd like," the man said, hoping he'd be able to help.

"Oh, no. That's allright. Agent Mulder and I will check it
out for ourselves," Mickey said, as he got up. He gently
tapped Mulder's shoulder and he snapped into life. "Thanks
for your time," he said, waiting for Mulder to reach the door.

"Hey, what the heck is your problem? You come here to
help and all you do is sit in the chair with a nutty grin on your
face!" Mickey asked Mulder Mulder looked at the younger
agent and decided not to say a word about the night before.
He also knew that if he didn't put it out of his mind, Mickey
would eventually figure it out for himself. Mulder collected
himself and put the thoughts of Scully out of his head. <Come
on, it shouldn't be that hard. You've done it for years.>
Mulder thought, and then frowned. He would do it now, but
if everything worked out he wouldn't have to do it any longer.

"Uh, nothing. I'm just thinking about... The case," he
mumbled. For some reason, he thought Mickey was going to
laugh, but the younger man just smiled and slipped into the
drivers seat of the car.

-----

Dana Scully looked at the five children seated around
the large table happily eating breakfast. She and Chloe had
come to the foster home where the latest victim had resided.
All of children seemed to be in good shape and most all of
them were chatting across the table. Scully wondered why
anyone would want to hurt a bunch of innocent children. Her
heart went out to them, and she frowned.

Scully turned her attention back to the woman who was
now answering one of Chloe's preliminary questions. She was
a short woman approximately in her twenties. She had
brunette hair and gray eyes. Her voice was calm and cool her
tone seemed to reflect that she worked with kids, using proper
English and grammar. Scully was also surprised to note that
she didn't have the accent that most of the people seemed to
have.

"Well, I think Arthur Grimsby was her best friend. I'll ask
him to come over when you're done with me, if you'd like."

"That's OK. I'm not sure what I'd want to ask him. But
I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Emily
Davidson. Was she a quiet child? Did she have any medical
history?" Chloe asked. Scully remained silent, sure that Chloe
was asking all that she should be.

"That's one thing I noticed about Emily, she never ever got
sick. She never complained about being sore or tired. She
never cut herself. She was a strange child, actually. She
wasn't quiet per se, but she did tend to keep to herself a lot.
She had a great sense of humour. It's such a shame..."

"We're going to get to the bottom of this, I promise,"
Chloe said absently, lost in thought. Scully looked over
at the agent. Grant seemed to have hit a dead end. She frowned,
lines creasing her forehead. Dana felt sorry for her.
It was her first case and she was having a bitch of a time.

"I really hope you find who's been doing this. These are
innocent kids being murdered," the woman said, then pushed
back her chair. "Uhm, if you'll excuse me I have to get these
kids going. I'll be happy to answer any further questions later,
if you like," she said, excusing herself and walking slowly
away.

Scully looked at Chloe and shrugged. "Well, I guess that's
that. Now what?" she asked.

"I don't know. I really don't know. I'm stuck. I can't get
anywhere and I can't think of anything else to ask." Chloe
shook her head sadly.

"How about if we go and see the school nurse, perhaps she
had the chance to do a blood test on Emily."

"Sounds like a plan."

-----

End Part Ten
--

*Disclaimer: See Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Bed Springs
by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall
vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net

Part Eleven

-----

"It shouldn't be that hard to locate, Callavelo!
I mean, my god, we should be seeing skid marks, crime tape. .
." Mulder was trying not to get exasperated.

"Look. I know it's here, but I can't find it!
Besides, you were there, too," Mickey said pointedly. "Have
_you_ seen any skid marks, crime tape or anything?" They had
been up and down the county road almost 5 times.

Mulder stared out the window intently, then closed his
eyes. He tried to envision the trees, the underbrush, the
mile markers, anything that might lead them to the scene of
the accident. Then he opened his eyes. "Stop the car!" he
commanded.

Mickey pulled over to the side of the road. He, too,
stared at the area and then slowly opened the car door.
Taking his time, he examined the ground at the side of the
road. Then, he joined Mulder, who was looking intently at
the bark on a tree, flaking it off in large pieces to reveal
a scar underneath.

"Impressive job," Mulder muttered, almost to himself.

"Who would have done this?" Mickey demanded, not quite
willing to believe what his eyes were telling him. The scene
of the accident, that was less then 24 hours old at this
point, looked perfectly undamaged. The tree where the car
had been wrapped around was even 'patched' to appear
unharmed.

Mulder was quiet for a moment. Mickey stared at him,
waiting for an answer. Finally, Mulder straightened up and
starting marking off the distance to the road. "Well,
Callavelo, I could tell you that, but then I'd have to kill
you," he teased. Mickey kicked a rotting log in disgust.
"You know, Callavelo, it's possible that we've, er, you've
stumbled on to something that someone in authority doesn't
want to be stumbled on."

"Ah, Mulder! Don't give me that government conspiracy
crap! I don't buy it. I know this looks. . ." he was at a
total loss for words. "Okay, it's a professional job. . .but
still. . ."

Mulder sighed deeply and crossed his arms, looking like
a headmaster about to expel a particularly difficult student.
"Callavelo, how many serial killers have you tracked?"

Mickey looked at the older agent defiantly. "Just
because I'm not the VCS poster boy doesn't mean I don't have
a background here, Mulder," he growled.

"Okay, so how many serial killers that you've had
'background' in would one, do a professional job on your
brakes so that you would almost certainly not survive the
crash, and two, clean up the accident scene after the police
have already searched the area?" Mulder's tone was
challenging.

Mickey stood in stunned silence. "Why bother to clean
it up if the police have already been here?" he asked, more
of the air, than of Mulder.

"My point precisely," Mulder exclaimed triumphantly.
"Your killer couldn't care less. Any clues leading to him
would have been uncovered by the police. Unless, of course,
this killer happens to be experienced in police procedures,
or was trying to avoid any further investigation. Most
serial killers I know are mentally deranged individuals who
get their jollies committing untold atrocities or in just
plain killing people. They usually don't get involved in
'cloak and dagger' stuff. It's not a part of the game. It
doesn't get them off. He hasn't played 'James Bond' at any
of the other sites, so why do it now?"

"It doesn't fit the profile," Mickey whispered.

"And if it don't fit, you must acquit?" Mulder grinned
mischievously. Mickey shot him a dirty look and Mulder's
grin only grew. "Okay, Callavelo. You don't have to believe
me. I can't give you hard evidence that this 'accident' was
planned, implemented and 'cleaned up' by a group in any way
connected with our government. It could have been a
Reticulan operation, for all I know," he said, and watched in
delight as Mickey threw up his hands in disgust. "BUT, you
have to admit, it was not done by the killer. Am I right on
this one?"

Mickey chewed on his lip for a moment before answering.
"Yeah, you're right, on that ONE item," he added guardedly.

"So what are the chances that the 'group that wants you
dead' might have found the button that you were holding?"
Mulder asked quietly.

"Too darn good for my liking," Mickey answered in
disgust.

"My thoughts exactly," Mulder agreed. "C'mon.
Scully and Chloe are supposed to meet us for lunch. And
maybe one of Charlie's men located the button by now. At
this point, I'm afraid it's our only hope of finding it."

-----

Orangeburg Diner

Scully and Chloe had just sat down at the booth when
Mulder and Mickey walked in. Neither of the men looked
entirely happy, and the women didn't seem too enthusiastic at
the results of the morning, either.

Scully got up to wave them over to the booth. She
caught Mulder's arm before he sat down. "You okay?" she
asked, concerned at the scowl on his face.

He forced himself to smile, nodding almost
imperceptibly. "Just peachy," he said, hoping she would
understand that it was something he wanted to discuss in
private. She did.

"So, guys, did you find the button?" Chloe asked,
searching Mickey's face for some sign that he wasn't mad at
her in particular.

"The place had been swept clean," Mickey muttered,
almost too quietly for the other agent to make it out.

"What do you mean 'swept clean'?" Chloe asked, now
scowling almost as much as Mulder had been previously.

"Swept clean! As in 'no sign of an accident'," Mickey
growled. Sensing her hurt and confused expression, he
softened. "They scrubbed the tire marks, they swept the soft
ground at the side of the road so no tracks remained, they
even went so far as to cover the scar on the tree with fake
bark. Somebody did not want that place to be looked at
again. And we didn't find the button," he added in disgust.

"Shit," Chloe muttered.

Scully made a point of exchanging a questioning glance
at Mulder. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes that
she not ask those questions at the moment. She understood
and sat quietly.

"Did you find out anything on the Davidson girl?"
Mulder asked, hoping to guide the conversation off the topic
of the accident scene.

"She was quiet, had a couple of friends among the foster
children, but none really close and she's not been sick in
the 9 months she's been in Orangeburg," Scully sighed,
closing her notebook.

"And since she's never been sick, and it wasn't the
scheduled school year for physicals, there has been no blood
drawn on her since her arrival, either," Chloe added.

"A few more dead ends and I'm gonna start thinking I'm
in a cemetery," Mickey muttered. Chloe kicked him softly
under the table and gave him a 'chin up' smile.

Mulder had been quiet for some time, lost in thought.
"There's still the school. It's possible that someone
connected with the school is involved. I have a suggestion.
How about you two going over to the school and see what you
can find out? You can take our rental car."

"And what are you going to be doing?" Mickey asked,
somewhat suspiciously.

"We're going back to the hotel and check our e-mail,"
Mulder dismissed him. Chloe couldn't help the knowing smile
that played on her lips and Scully saw it. Silently, she
pleaded with her for forbearance. Chloe winked and said
nothing.

Mickey had missed the interchange between the women, but
was willing to accept Mulder's explanation. "Sounds like a
plan," he said, and picked up the check.

"Okay, Mulder, what are you thinking?" Scully asked as
they made their way to her room.

"How beautiful you look when you're stumped?" he
retorted. She playfully kicked his shin. "Ow, hey not so
rough! What makes you think I'm thinking?" he continued.

"Something is whirling around in that little space you
have between your ears, Mulder. I can hear the hamster
wheels squeaking," she teased. He tried to look offended,
but failed.

"It was something you said, Scully. Emily has only been
in Orangeburg for 9 months. She's in foster placement from
another city, a big city, if what Chief Russell told Mickey
and Chloe is correct. So, has anybody run a missing person's
on these kids?"

"Mulder, they're in foster care. They had abusive
parents. They aren't foundlings. What are you thinking?"
Scully asked.

"All 6 of these kids are from other places. We know
that at least the last one came here within the last year.
Before that, we know almost nothing about her, except for her
considerable involvement with the State of South Carolina's
child welfare system. But we don't know her parents, her
_real_ parents. That information was not in the files. We'd
need a court order to get it, Scully. I'm saying, what safer
place to hide a kid than in the child welfare system? They
just disappear off the face of the earth. Kids are always
slipping through the cracks! It's the perfect hiding place."

"Hiding place for whom, Mulder? Who would want to hide
these kids?" Scully asked, still trying to figure out what
leap of logic Mulder had taken.

"Someone who wanted to take previously 'abducted'
children and re-enter them into society, Scully," he said and
was not at all surprised at the look of exasperation on her
face. "Scully, think about it! These kids had 'green goo'
instead of blood. They weren't your normal, run of the mill,
foster kids. And they hadn't been in any place for more than
a year for the last couple of years, I'd wager. So let's
pretend that I'm not totally insane, here. Let's pretend
that someone, or something, abducted these kids, turned them
from normal to abnormal, like those bodies you saw at the
Hanson's Disease Research Facility, and then decided to
return them to society. They couldn't very well give them
back to their parents, now, could they? Parents are going to
demand physicals. Parents are going to ask questions.
Parents are going to notice if their child happens to bleed
green instead of red! So, the kids end up in a child welfare
system, away from their homes. We already know that mind
wiping is not just for science fiction anymore," he added
pointedly. "And then, somebody has decided, for whatever
reason, to do a clean up operation. Is that so implausible?"

Scully closed her eyes and said nothing for a moment.

"Either you are trying desperately to come up with a
solid reason to put down on my commitment papers, or you're
actually beginning to see where I might be on to something,"
Mulder said with a grin.

Scully licked her lips and Mulder couldn't help but
notice how that simple gesture had a very profound affect on
his heart rate. <Down, boy! This is business!> he chided
himself. Finally, Scully looked down at her hands, breaking
their gaze.

"Mulder," she began quietly. "At some other point in
time, I would have gone to the local pharmacy and prescribed
the thorazine myself. But after what I saw in West Virginia.
. ." her voice trailed off. She got up and walked over to
the window. "I don't think we could ever convince Callavelo
of this line of inquiry," she said quietly.

"So? We do a little side investigating. It's mostly
computer stuff, anyway. It's not like we'd be stepping on
toes. We don't even have to tell him until we have some
proof." Mulder got up and walked over to stand behind her,
wrapping his arms around her waist. "We don't say anything
until we have hard evidence.
Does that make you feel better?"

She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"A little," she said with a shy smile.

"So what was that little silent exchange between you and
Chloe when I said we would come back to the hotel?" he asked,
kissing her forehead.
Scully was too busy enjoying the feel of his lips on her
skin to want to answer, but knew better than to remain quiet.

"Well, she sort of, ah, guessed," she said in a husky
whisper.

He continued to trail kisses over her closed eyelids.
"Guessed? Guessed what?" he murmured.

Scully was no longer satisfied with just receiving his
attentions, so she had started giving his chin some attention
of its own. "Guessed about us," she murmured.

Mulder pulled back and looked at her with dismay.
"Guessed about _us_? As in, what we did last night?
How!? How the hell could she. . ."

Scully laughed softly at his reaction. "It's okay.
She's not going to tell anybody. I guess she noticed that we
were both smiling a little too much this morning. Hey, she
was the one to bring it up and she was also the one to
promise not to tell Mickey. She doesn't think it would
improve his opinion of me if he thought I'd slept with you.
Or maybe, it would improve his opinion of you, I don't know.
But don't worry, she's keeping it to herself."

Mulder moved over to the bed and sat down. Scully
looked at him, concerned. "What's the big deal? It's not
like we're violating Bureau policy anymore. Hell, Mulder,
there is nothing to stop us. We discussed this last night,
remember?" she asked, annoyed at the obvious backtracking he
was doing.

Mulder looked up at her, a little stricken. "It's not
that. I just, I don't know. I'm not ready to tell the
world, yet. I want to make sure it's safe, you know?"

"My little paranoid sweetheart," she sighed
affectionately. "Look, remember Aubrey, Missouri? You
couldn't figure out how I knew that BJ Morrow and Lt.
Tillman were having an affair? It's a woman's thing, Mulder.
For some reason, we just have radar in this area. Chloe knew
it, at least she was honest enough to confront me for
verification. And I know, just as surely, that she would
never betray my confidence."

"Not even to her partner?" Mulder asked pointedly.

"Not even to her partner," Scully assured him.
"Look, I mentioned the incident in Aubrey to you because it
was related to the case. I've noticed lots of little
'trysts' at the Bureau that I've _never_ mentioned to you.
It's not that I don't trust you, or that I would lie if you
asked me to confirm your suspicions. I just don't divulge
all of my knowledge of other people's personal lives." She
straddled him, with her hands on his shoulders. "We aren't
going to have to go through a repeat of last night, are we?
Where I have to practically force myself on you to get you to
believe that you're worthy of my affections?" she teased.

With one quick twist, he had her flipped onto her back
and pinned beneath him. "No, I think we settled that one
last night. I just don't want to take out any billboards
just yet. I enjoy keeping you all to myself, right now," he
growled and slowly began unbuttoning her blouse.

"My lips are sealed," she murmured as he leaned down and
made sure of her promise.

Orangeburg Elementary School
2:15 pm

The principal of Orangeburg's only elementary school was
a slight woman of approximately 40 years of age. But the
look in her eyes showed a strength and determination that
reminded Chloe of several veteran agents she had worked with
at the Bureau. She stood up from behind her desk and removed
her glasses before holding out her hand to the two agents.
<She looks like a clone of AD Skinner, with a bad perm,>
Chloe mused as she shook the woman's hand and accepted the
proffered seat. She noticed Mickey's respectful and
attentive manner. He looked like an eighth grader, she
thought for a brief moment. One that had been caught smoking
in the boys room. She bit her lip to keep the smile off her
face.

"Mrs. Chaney, we were wondering if we could get a copy
of the employment records for the school. We are looking for
recent employees, perhaps people who have come on board in
the last school year," Mickey said.

"Would you like teachers only, or all staff?" Mrs.
Chaney asked.

"All staff, actually. We don't overlook anyone.
There have been several cases where a janitor or even a
cafeteria worker has been involved in pedophilia, kidnapping.
. ." Mickey trailed off.

"I can assure you, Agent Callavelo, we check our people
out closely. South Carolina may not be the richest state in
education, but we have child protection laws. Our employees,
everyone who regularly works with the children, has to
undergo a fingerprint analysis, which I believe is conducted
through your data bases at the FBI," Mrs. Chaney bristled,
somewhat offended at the accusation that had been made.

"Mrs. Chaney, that data base contains only people who
have been arrested for one of the child endangerment crimes
and have been indicted," Mickey said pointedly. "There are
still many loopholes in the system. And there are new people
on those files everyday. Now, I'm sure you are as interested
in bringing the person who killed these children to justice
as anyone. Believe me, we aren't here on a witch hunt. We
simply want to check ever angle." He gave her his best
smile. She relaxed a little.

"I'll have Ms. Black make you a copy of our staff
listing. Is there anything else?"

"We are probably going to interview the Emily's
teachers, just to see if any of them might have noticed
someone new in her group of friends. And, of course, any one
who appears to fit the profile of the killer that we're
working from. But we'd like to keep this as quiet as
possible," Chloe added.

"We have a conference room off the library. It's quiet
and not many students go in there. Feel free to use it to
talk to anyone in the school. I'll have Ms. Black show you
the way," Mrs. Chaney added, flipping the intercom on her
desk and summoning her secretary.

As soon as the agents were settled in the conference
room, Mrs. Chaney placed a long distance phone call to
Washington, DC.

-----

End Part Eleven
--