This piece ignores anything that became canon after Je Souhaite, just in case anyone cares about these things anymore.

Author's note: Thanks to an odd lot of inspirational material: an old Helen Reddy song, Angie Baby; the annual Highway 127 Corridor Sale and an under-active muse who, little by little, started to remember what it was we used to do here at the old keyboard.

Special shout out to Phil and Marybeth. Put down the pointy sticks, ladies. *g*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Scully, listen to this," Mulder said.

Scully frowned at him. "Good morning, Mulder. Nice to see you, too."

Mulder glanced at her and absentmindedly pushed his glasses up a little higher on his nose. "Yeah, hi. Good morning. Whatever. Listen to this." He pulled a page out of the file and began to read.

"It starts off slow. A snide remark. An aside meant for someone else's ears, but overheard by the insulted. A direct verbal attack. A slap on the face. On the arm. On the ass. Nothing big. Nothing that isn't experienced by someone every day, then forgotten or shrugged off by nightfall. But sometimes, it starts with the wrong person. Age, gender, race, height, weight, hair color, none of these matter to the person whose sanity is walking that fine line between hello and goodbye. All are suspect. All are enemies. All are expendable to the greater cause; no exceptions."

Scully pulled a chair over to his desk and sat down to listen as he continued.

"You can't always tell who they are. They don't always look like the scary face on the evening news. It's not always "the quiet one" or "the troublemaker". They're not always white, not always male. And by the way, they don't always have three names. Popular culture would have you believe all of these things. Phaedra says, putting too much faith in popular culture can be hazardous to your health."

He put the paper down and looked at her. "What do you think?"

"It's interesting. What is it?"

"A confession from one Antonia James. No middle name. She's taking full responsibility for a series of unsolved murders along Highway 127, from 1974 to 2002."

"I don't recall any unsolved serial killings in that region, Mulder. Do you?"

"Twenty-nine murders along a four hundred-fifty mile stretch between Kentucky and Alabama over thirty years. All hit and run, all unsolved. When you spread those statistics over a three state area, Scully, there's really nothing to connect them to a single suspect." He handed her a few more pages from the file. "She has everything documented; date, time, mile marker, and the approximate age of each victim."

Scully read the first few before asking the obvious question. "Have you confirmed any of these?"

"Didn't have to, an Officer Boland of the Crossville police department in Tennessee forwarded this to me. They've confirmed the ten cases in their state, Kentucky has confirmed seven of their ten and Alabama six of their ten. Both states feel it's only a matter of time before they're able to wrap up the others."

"Mulder? Didn't you say that this woman was taking responsibility for twenty-nine murders?"

He nodded.

"But you just said Alabama and Kentucky had either confirmed or were in the process of confirming ten murders, while Tennessee had confirmed ten. That's thirty, not twenty-nine."

"I thought you might pick up on that, Scully," Mulder said, as he took off his glasses and put them on the desk. "Victim number thirty was Antonia James. Her body was found this morning, seventeen miles from her home in Crossville, on the exact spot where she'd been struck by a hit and run driver thirty years ago."

"Hit and run again?" she asked.

"Who says lightning never strikes twice in the same place?"

"As odd as that is, Mulder, it doesn't sound like an x-file."

"No, it doesn't." Mulder smiled and rifled through the papers once again. "Until you take a look at Ms. James." He handed her two photos, then leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk.

"This is Antonia James?"

"The one and only."

Scully stared at the picture in her hands. The first was a snapshot taken three years ago, showing a thirty-six year old Antonia James sitting in a wheelchair, sans right leg, left arm severely scarred and out of proportion with her right. The second, a crime scene photo attached to a copy of the report. Scully looked over at Mulder, wide-eyed, then turned her attention to the report.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Nee-ah, come on! We're gonna be late!"

Antonia ignored Phaedra's whiny plea, intent on snagging one last butterfly for her science report, due that morning. She'd spotted the monarch perched on a flower and was making her approach. When she was within range, she raised the net and quickly captured her prize. With one hand, Antonia secured the top of the net. With the other, she popped off the bottom of her bug jar. She put the jar on the ground, then transferred the butterfly from net to jar, before quickly securing the bottom of the bug jar.

"Gotcha," she whispered.

"Nee-ah!" Phaedra called again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Antonia ran back through the field to the side of the road, where Phaedra stood waiting. "See, that didn't take so long, did it?"

Phaedra shrugged her shoulders. "I guess not," she admitted. "It's just that we're not supposed to be out on the highway like this and if we're late, I don't want to get stuck having to figure out some way to explain why we're late." She kicked a rock on the ground. "Besides, you know I hate being alone."

"School doesn't start for almost an hour, Phae, so we were never gonna be late. And if you were scared, I was just in the field, you could've come with me."

"But there are snakes in the field," Phae said softly.

Antonia laughed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. And there are bees in the bushes and sharks in the ocean and bats in your belfry."

Phaedra glared at her. "I'm not crazy!"

Antonia rolled her eyes. "Sure Phae, whatever you say. It's perfectly normal to be afraid of everything that moves or breathes. Come on, we're nine years old today, don't you think it's time to stop being such a big fraidy cat?"

"Shut up, Nia."

"Fraidy cat, fraidy cat."

"Stop it!"

"Fraidy cat, fraidy cat."

Phaedra's face reddened and her eyes narrowed into little slits. "Stop it or I'll. . ."

"Or you'll what?"

"I. . .I'll get you somehow," Phaedra spat out.

"Oh wow, I'm sooo scared." Antonia laughed as she turned around to pick up her books and lunch box. "I'll be shaking in my boots all day. Matter of fact, I probably won't be able to eat any birthday ca. . ."

Phaedra screamed. Antonia tried to turn around, but was knocked to the ground by the impact of Phaedra's body against hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sheriff Langtrie scratched his head and looked confused. "Now, y'all say that Officer Boland sent you this file?"

"Yes, sir. As I explained a few minutes ago," Mulder paused to keep his irritation from becoming too obvious. "This file arrived in my office yesterday morning," he reached into his coat pocket, "along with a cover letter signed by Officer Eugene Boland."

"Thing is, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, Gene did work for me. Fine man, a good friend. But ya see, well, we lost him back in December. Doc says he had an aneurysm that just blew. One minute we were sittin' by the fire, havin' a beer, the next minute, he was gone."

Mulder and Scully exchanged puzzled looks.

"Tell you what," Langtrie said. "Why don'tcha tell me what's in this file and maybe we can figger out this mystery. Unless you think ol' Gene's still working undercover in the great beyond, that is," he added with a snicker.

Scully gave him a half-grin. "No sir, I'm sure there's an earthbound explanation."

"Well all right then," Langtrie said. "Now, what's this case about?"

"It has to do with a series of hit and run accidents. . ." Mulder began.

Langtrie grimaced, raised his right hand in the air and sighed. "Stop right there, Agent Mulder. You're talkin' 'bout Antonia, zat right?"

"Yes."

The sheriff stood and walked over to the door of his office. "Cassie!" he bellowed.

A mass of long red hair appeared from behind a file cabinet. "Yessir?"

"Girl, get your ass in here."

As the rest of her body emerged from behind the cabinet, Mulder could see that she was young, maybe eighteen or nineteen.

"Are you Agent Mulder?" she asked.

"Dammit, Cassie! What in the hell didja think you were doin'?"

"Uncle Martin, these people helped Gracie. I just thought," she trailed off under his withering glare.

"I know what you just thought," he snapped. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, I 'pologize for wastin' your time. My niece here has a bug up her butt about solvin' her daddy's death. I keep telling' her it wasn't nothin' more than a hit 'n run; just an accident, that's all."

"But, the dates. . . it can't just be coincidence," Cassie argued.

"Girl, if you got any sense left in that thick skull of yours, then you'd best shut your mouth right now." He turned to Mulder. "She's like a goddamned pit bull. Once she gets her teeth into somethin' there's no shakin' it loose."

Scully watched Cassie's eyes begin to water and felt sorry for the girl. "Sheriff Langtrie, since we're here, do you think it would be all right if we spoke with Cassie?"

"No offense, Agent Scully, but that'd just be addin' fuel to the fire."

"Sir, since your niece is working for you, this might be an educational opportunity," Mulder said.

"How so?"

"What if we take a little time to go over the file with Cassie and give her a crash course in investigative techniques? Perhaps once she sees evidence through our eyes, she'll understand what you've been trying to tell her."

Langtrie sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. His eyes darted from Cassie, to Scully, to Mulder, then back to Cassie. "Yeah, all right. Just don't let her be a bother, ya hear? And girl, don't think we won't be havin' a few choice words about this later on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie climbed out of her car and crossed the parking lot to meet Mulder and Scully at the door. "Look, I know you're only doing this to humor me, so why don't we just forget the whole thing?"

"What makes you think we're humoring you?" Mulder asked.

"All that stuff you said to my uncle," she answered. Cassie crossed her arms tightly against her chest, in a move that appeared both defiant and self-defensive. "I don't need a lesson in investigative techniques; I may be young, but I'm not some dumb little hick girl who doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. Maybe I don't have all the proof I need to make my suspicions look good on paper, but something's not right about Ms. James."

"I believe you, Cassie," Mulder said, as he pushed open the door. "If I didn't, we wouldn't be here right now."

Scully entered the tavern and walked over to a table. Mulder and Cassie were in a stalemate at the door.

"You believe me?'

He nodded.

"You're not just playin' me for a fool?"

"Nope."

"You buyin'?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"Nope," he answered, then pointed to Scully. "She is."

Cassie let out a small chuckle, then walked past Mulder into the tavern.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully dropped the file on the bed in front of her. "Cassie's evidence is shaky at best."

"Do I sense a 'but' in there?"

"But, something makes me want to pursue the investigation," she admitted.

Mulder grinned. "A feeling, Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder, a feeling. The dates bother me. If it was just one or two deaths taking place on the same date, I could write it off as coincidence, but all thirty taking place on May seventh? That's a little too weird to leave alone."

"You're right, Scully, it is too weird to leave alone." Mulder sat down on a chair and propped his feet up on the table. "What else?"

"Who is Phaedra? Antonia refers to this mystery person in her confession, but who is she?"

"Good question and one we probably should have asked Cassie," Mulder said. "First thing tomorrow morning, we'll check the public records."

Scully shook her head, then reached into the nightstand drawer for the phone book. "There's a quicker way." She opened to the yellow pages and skimmed until she found what she was looking for. "Here we go."

Mulder craned his neck to see what she was looking at. "What?"

She pointed to the listing. "Dr. Stuart Bishop. You want to know about a person in a small town, Mulder? Talk to the town physician."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Phaedra? Well there's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

"So she was a patient of yours?" Scully asked.

"Dr. Scully, up until about ten years ago there wasn't a person in this town that wasn't a patient of mine. What can I tell you about her?"

"Any information you can give us would be helpful."

Dr. Bishop leaned out the door and asked his receptionist to pull the Phaedra James file. At the mention of the last name, Mulder and Scully exchanged surprised glances.

"Excuse me," Mulder said. "Did you say Phaedra James?"

"That's right."

"Any relation to Antonia James?"

"You could say that. They were twins."

The receptionist appeared in the doorway with a file in hand. "Want me to pull the other one, too?"

"I guess you better, Mary. I have a feeling these folks are gonna want to hear the whole story of the James girls."

"Uh, Stu? Aren't these records supposed to be confidential? Shouldn't they have a warrant or something?"

"Mary, both these girls are dead now and there's no family left to approve or disapprove. I say we let these agents get on with the business of doing their job, without giving them a bunch of crap about a technicality," he said sharply. "Besides, when have you ever given a second thought to confidentiality?"

Mary raised her hands in surrender. "Just doin' my job. Maybe I should clear your morning?"

"No, don't do that," Scully said. "We don't want to take you away from your patients."

"Who've I got comin' in?" Dr. Bishop asked.

Mary ran her finger down the appointment book. "Ella Price should be here any minute now. Her sinuses are acting up again and she thinks she might have strep."

"Ella always thinks she has strep," he sighed. "Who else?"

"Bobby Vaughn is supposed to get those stitches taken out at 10 and Linda Eddington is bringing Haley Mae in at 11 for a well-baby check."

"That's not too hateful. I don't mind a few interruptions here and there, if you don't," Dr. Bishop said. "While I'm dealing with Ella and Bobby, you two can read through the files. Might answer most of what you want to know anyway." He heard the main office door open and peered out to make sure that Mary was busy with Ella Price. "In the meantime," he whispered, "you could always ask Mary. There's not a person in this town who knows more about other people's dirty laundry. Best receptionist I ever had, but that woman does love a scandal." He crossed the room to his desk and picked up his stethoscope. "I'll be back directly," he said. "Just make yourself at home."

Mary came back seconds later, with both files in hand, and placed them on Dr. Bishop's desk. "Here you go."

Scully sat down in Dr. Bishop's chair. She opened Antonia's file and pushed Phaedra's over toward Mulder. They read in silence.

Mary poked her head into the room a short time later. "So why're y'all interested in Phaedra James?"

Mulder looked back at her. "We're following a lead. Did you know her?"

"Well, we weren't best friends or anything, but I knew her. Knew 'em both," Mary answered. "I could tell you some stuff that ain't in those files, too."

"Such as?" Scully asked.

Mary looked out toward the waiting room, then turned back to the agents. "Such as, the two of them were inseparable. I don't mean like the normal twin thing, I mean like Phaedra couldn't hardly use the toilet without having Antonia in the bathroom with her. That girl was afraid of anything that moved and Antonia used to pick on her all the time about it."

"What about Antonia? Was she also a fearful child?" Mulder asked.

"Nah, Nia was the exact opposite. She wasn't afraid of nothin'. That girl would plunge headlong into any situation and drag Phae right along with her. Poor Phae would always come out lookin' a little worse for wear, while Nia would look like she'd just conquered the world." She glanced back out when the office door opened. "Nia would say she was tryin' to make Phae stronger. Tell the truth though, I think Nia just got off on scaring her sister. Be right back."

Mulder thumbed through the file in his hand to the last page. ""Just two weeks before her death, Dr. Bishop wrote that Phaedra's extreme and irrational fear of being alone warranted counseling. He also noted that the guardian, Mrs. Whitesall, refused to consider seeking additional help for the child." He looked up at Scully. "Is there anything on the parents in Antonia's file?"

Scully flipped back to the first page and scanned down. "I don't see anything. Why don't you ask Mary?"

Mary appeared in the doorway. "Ask Mary what?"

"What happened to the parents?" Mulder asked. "There's mention of a guardian, but nothing about the mother or father."

Mary shrugged. "Well, that's because there isn't much to tell. Lisa James died in childbirth; bled out on the table, if I remember correctly. Seems like she popped an artery or something and they couldn't get it to stop. You'd have to ask Stu for the particulars."

"What about Mr. James?"

"Michael was in Vietnam when the girls were born. His helicopter was shot down two weeks before he was supposed to come home."

"Was Mrs. Whitesall a relative?" Scully asked.

"Yeah, she was Lisa's cousin. She was gettin' ready to divorce her husband, but she was afraid that the state wouldn't let her keep the girls, so she stayed with the bastard until the adoption was finalized. Old Travis didn't want anything to do with those babies, so he scooted on out of that marriage just as quick as you please after the adoption became legal. Candie passed right after Nia graduated from high school, poor thing. Ovarian cancer."

Dr. Bishop's voice in the hall sent Mary quickly back to her desk.

"So, find anything useful in the files?" Dr. Bishop asked.

"I noticed that you recommended counseling for Phaedra. Could you tell us why Mrs. Whitesall refused the referral?"

"Well now, what you've got to remember is that was, what, thirty years ago? People didn't cotton too much to the idea of counseling back then. See, if you needed counseling, then you must be crazy and Candie didn't want no one slapping a 'crazy' sticker on that child's head."

"How serious was her problem?" Mulder asked.

"Serious enough for this old country doctor to want send her to counseling, Agent Mulder," he answered. "But that's not very helpful now, is it?" Bishop sat down in the chair by the door. "Phaedra would panic if Antonia was asked to leave the examining room. If she went to the bathroom, Antonia would have to stand right outside the door and keep talking so Phaedra would know she was there. One time, Antonia tripped on a wet step outside the school. She split her knee open, no big deal, but it was deep enough to need a few stitches. The school nurse called Candie to come get her and tried to send Phaedra back to class. Well, Phaedra went half out of her mind, carrying on and wailing like she'd been shot. By the time Candie got to the school, Phaedra'd made herself sick. Candie had no choice but to take her home, too." He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "These weren't isolated incidents. This kind of thing happened on a daily basis."

"What made you finally decide to refer her for counseling?"

Dr. Bishop looked down at the floor and shook his head. "The three of them, Candie and the girls, were out shopping. Phaedra was tryin' on shoes, when Antonia got bored and wandered off. Phae looked up and saw that her sister was gone. At first, she just called out to her, but when Nia didn't answer, she started screaming for her. Candie tried to calm her down and help her get her shoes back on, but with each passing second, Phae got louder. When Candie tried to wrestle the shoes back on her feet, Phae became violent and lashed out at her. Scratched Candie's face somethin' fierce. Candie had to resort to physically restraining the child. By this time, the store manager had been summoned and when he saw the blood pouring down Candie's face and saw this little girl howling like a banshee, he called the police. She was still wailing when the police arrived."

Mulder looked puzzled. "Where was Antonia while all of this was going on?"

"A few aisles over, watching her sister act crazy. One of the officers saw her and brought her over. As soon as Phae caught sight of her, she calmed right down." Dr. Bishop sighed and stood back up. "Nia said she was just trying to make Phae tougher, but to be honest, that was downright cruel in my book."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully watched Mulder move french fries around on his plate. Head bowed, moving one fry with another, until the fry broke or he became bored and ate it.

"What is it, Mulder?"

"What?"

She pointed at his plate. "You're playing with your food. What are you thinking?"

He raised his head just enough to catch her eye. "You don't already know?"

"I have a pretty good idea," she said, as she put her fork down. "But tell me anyway."

"I think that Phaedra was haunting Antonia."

"That's what I thought you were thinking."

"Hear me out, Scully." Mulder dropped the french fry he'd been playing with and sat back in the seat. "We've heard two people describe Antonia as being cruel in her treatment of Phaedra's disorder. What if Phaedra had finally decided she'd had enough?"

"I'm listening."

"The police report stated that the girls were hit early in the morning, presumably on their way to school. Antonia said later that she had needed a butterfly for a school report. Phaedra hadn't wanted to be on Highway 127 in the first place; she'd only gone because Antonia had left her no option but to follow."

"So you're saying that Phaedra was so angry about being out on that road that she came back to haunt to her sister?"

Mulder shook his head. "Not just about that morning, Scully. Think about it. Months, maybe years, of Antonia's mean little tricks all building up into a huge stockpile of anger and resentment. A lot of energy goes into storing those emotions and it has to go somewhere. With their connection as twins being so strong, doesn't it seem natural that this energy would stay focused on the surviving twin?"

"You're reaching, Mulder." Scully took a sip of her iced tea. "Besides, if she was angry at Antonia, why take it out on other people? Why wouldn't she direct her anger at her sister?"

"I think she was."

"How so?"

"By killing people Antonia knew and cared about on the most significant day of their lives, their birthday." He stared at her, seeing disbelieve in her expression. "No, I can't prove it right now, but I have a feeling that if we dig deeper into the victim's lives, we're going to find a link to the James girls."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe she's got ya'll seriously investigatin' this!" Sheriff Langtrie grumbled. "Big damn waste of time, if you ask me."

"Possibly," Mulder agreed. "But I don't think so and I'd like to be sure before we close the book on this case." He put the paper on the desk in front of the sheriff. "This is a list of all thirty victims. Other than Antonia, are there any names you recognize?"

The sheriff went slowly down the list. "Here's one I know. Clinton Massey. Hauled him in on drunk and disorderly a coupla times a month. Dumbass probably just stumbled in front of the car that hit him. Seems to me his blood/alcohol levels were pretty high that night, but hell, his levels were always high."

"Could he have known Antonia?" Scully asked.

"Prob'ly. They'd have been about the same age."

Scully put a check mark next to Clinton Massey's name.

Langtrie returned to the list, then raised his hands in defeat. "Look, some of these names might be familiar, but I can't be sure. Hell, maybe if I'da had kids of my own, I might be more useful here. Now Clinton was a troublemaker, so he was easy, but I'd be lyin' if I said I could be sure about any of these others." He pushed the paper away. "Look, why don't y'all go down to the high school and look through yearbooks or somethin'? I'm sure Miss Arnold would be more than happy to let you take a look at them, if I gave her a call and asked real nice."

"That would be most helpful, Sheriff Langtrie," Scully said.

He sniffed, then picked up the phone. Within minutes he'd gotten the go-ahead to send the agents over to the high school. "Josie says for you to scoot right on over there and she'll setcha up with what ya need."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miss Arnold pushed open the door to the back room of the library. "Now what years are you interested in?"

"1976 to 1984," Mulder answered.

She began pulling books off the shelf. "Here's 1976 through 1980." Miss Arnold smiled at Mulder, then asked the question that had been brewing since Sheriff Langtrie called. "So, what is it that you're investigating, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder handed the first stack of books to Scully. "We're doing a little background check on some hit and run victims; trying to establish some sort of common ground."

Miss Arnold's smile sagged. "Oh, Cassie must have sent you Antonia's letter."

"Yes, how did you know?" Scully asked.

"Cassie was a student here, Agent Scully. She tried more than a few times to get back into the yearbook archive and even though she graduated last year, she still comes around, asking questions. Martin asked me to discourage her, but that child is tenacious." She handed Mulder the last of the requested yearbooks. "I made the mistake of mentioning that I was friends with the James girls and that I still visited Antonia from time to time and oh boy, did that set her mind spinning. Cassie wanted me to introduce her to Antonia, but I told her absolutely not! Can you imagine what she might have said to Antonia? That poor woman has had enough trouble in her life; she didn't need a kid with an overactive imagination hounding her!"

A woman leaned into the room. "Josie? You in here?"

"Be right there, Caroline," Miss Arnold replied. She turned to the agents. "If you need anything, just poke your head around the corner," she said. "I have a class waiting, so I need to get back out there."

Scully smiled. "I'm sure we'll be fine, Miss Arnold."

"All right. You two just take your time."

Mulder sat down at the table and looked at the books in front of him. "You know what I like about small towns, Scully?"

Scully sat down across from him and took a book from the stack. "What's that Mulder?"

He held up one of the books, the spine facing her. "Thin yearbooks."

Scully chuckled and opened the first book.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How many does that make, Mulder?"

"Not counting Clinton Massey and Antonia, seventeen students or former students, two teachers," he answered. "Then there are the four who were killed before reaching high school age. What do you want to bet that they all attended the same elementary school?"

Scully rubbed her temples. "That leaves us with five unidentified and I have a feeling that at least one of those is a teacher, too," she sighed. "Probably Antonia's favorite teacher, if the pattern holds true. Looks like your theory might be panning out."

"Do elementary schools have yearbooks, Scully?"

"Some do now, but I doubt they did for the time period we're looking at. Class pictures were the norm back then."

Mulder yawned and stretched his back. "Ok, so tomorrow we'll go over to the elementary school and. . ."

Scully shook her head, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday, Mulder."

"Oh, right, no school on Saturday."

They walked into the library to thank Miss Arnold.

"Did you find what you needed?" she asked.

"Yes we did," Scully answered. "Thank you for assistance, Miss Arnold."

Miss Arnold smiled and waved as she wandered back to the room to put away the yearbooks.

They passed through the now quiet halls of the high school and out to the parking lot. Mulder's pace slowed. Suddenly he stopped and shook his head in disgust. "Scully, I'm an idiot."

"In general, Mulder, or are you referring to a specific instance?" she replied.

"That's cute," he smirked. "In her confession, Antonia gave specific details about each victim."

"And?"

"What if she had been keeping a journal?"

Scully's chin dropped to her chest. She rubbed her eyes as she chuckled. "You're right, Mulder, you are an idiot." She looked at his slightly hurt expression, then added, "and so am I for not thinking of it either." She reached for her cell phone. "Do you want to call Sheriff Langtrie or should I?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4243 Hopewell Drive
Former Residence of Antonia James

Scully swiped at the dust on the dining room table and marveled at the general grubbiness of the household. "This is sad, Mulder. You'd think she'd have had someone to help her keep the house in order. A visiting nurse or friend; someone."

Mulder nodded and scanned the living room. "I'll start out here, you take the bedroom."

Scully took one more look around, then headed toward the back of the house. The bedroom was small and cleaner than the rest of the house. In one corner sat an electronic recliner that faced the television, presumably so Antonia would be able to maneuver in and out of her wheelchair with some ease.

On the chair, right under the television remote, lay the journal. That was easy, she thought. Scully sat down on the bed and opened the journal.

Mulder appeared in the doorway ten minutes later. "You found it?"

"Yeah," she answered. "You were right about one thing, Mulder. Antonia believed she was being haunted by her sister's ghost, but I think we've got something far more sinister going on here than just a haunting." She handed Mulder the journal and sat back as he sank into the recliner and began to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Now I know y'all ain't serious about this," Sheriff Langtrie exclaimed. "That's just about the biggest pile of horseshit anyone's ever tried to dump on me!" He paced the room angrily. "Y'all are makin' Cassie's rantings look downright sensible!"

"It all adds up, Sheriff," Scully said. "We spent last night checking with Antonia's neighbors. We even spoke to Arletta Hines, the school nurse employed at the elementary school when the girls were there. She was able to confirm that the girls were indeed best friends and that there was some definite hostility after Phaedra's death."

"But how could. . .," Sheriff Langtrie stammered. "I mean, these people were all killed by hit and run."

"Farm children grow up fast, Sheriff, you should know that," Mulder said. "Especially children who have only one parent and are needed to help out in the fields. Her father says she's been driving a pickup since she was ten. He also said that she was real good about keeping the truck clean. He seemed extremely proud of that fact."

"She'd hafta be crazy to do this," the sheriff muttered.

"According to her father," Scully reached for her notebook and flipped to the right page, "Josie went a little peculiar after Phae's death. She's all right most of the time, but come the anniversary of the accident, she gets snappish and mean-spirited. I've just learned to leave her be."

Langtrie stopped pacing and stared at Mulder and Scully. "But why?"

"My theory is revenge," Mulder said. "Phaedra and Josie had a bond of friendship based on loss. Both girls had lost their mothers early in their lives and that made them different than the others. They. . ."

The sheriff interrupted. "Yeah, but what about Nia?"

"I was getting to that," Mulder said patiently. "They also shared a resentment of Antonia's teasing. It seems that Phaedra was able to be apart from Antonia for brief periods of time, but only if Josie was with her. Mrs. Hines says that Antonia was merciless at times, picking on both girls for any number of minor things."

"But that still don't explain why she'd do it."

Mulder shrugged. "Like you said, Sheriff; she'd have to be crazy."

Langtrie sighed. "Y'all are really sure about this?"

"I'm afraid so," Scully answered.

The sheriff reached up and grabbed his weapon. He stood and strapped it on, then reached into the drawer for his keys. "Well, let's go pick her up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sheriff Langtrie knocked on the front door and waited. When no immediate answer came, he knocked again. Mulder started to make his way to the back of the house, when the porch light came on.

They saw the curtains draw back a bit, then heard the latch click on the door.

"Martin? Do you know what time it is? I was just getting ready to go up to bed." She looked from Langtrie to Mulder and Scully. "What's going on?"

"This ain't no social call, Josie. Seems you've been busy the last thirty years."

Josie looked confused. "What are you talkin' about?"

Mulder stepped closer. "He's talking about thirty hit and run murders, Miss Arnold. Thirty murders for which we believe you are responsible."

Josie laughed. "That's ridiculous. Now if you'll excuse me," she said, as she tried to turn back into the house.

Langtrie put his hand on her arm and stopped her. "Nope, don't think so, Josie. See, we got a journal down at the station that makes you look pretty damned guilty."

Josie turned back slowly. "A journal?"

"Yeah. Seems that Nia kept a little record of your visits. Kinda strange that everyone y'all talked about ended up dead on the roadside, don't ya think?"

Josie rolled her eyes. "Oh for cryin' out loud, Martin! Come on! Some of those deaths happened before I was old enough to drive."

Scully stepped up on the porch. "Actually Miss Arnold, those deaths started the very year you learned to drive. Seems you were driving as soon as your feet were able to reach the pedals."

Josie's expression changed from slight bemusement to fear. "How do you know that?"

"We spoke to your father."

Mulder took the handcuffs from Langtrie's belt and put them on Josie.

Sheriff Langtrie shook his head. "Why'dya do it, Josie?"

She let her head drop for a moment, then looked him square in the face. "She had to pay." Josie eyed Scully and Mulder. "She took away my best friend, the only person who understood what it was like to be alone and scared."

"Why kill all those people? Why not take it out on Antonia?"

"Oh no, Agent Scully, that would have been too easy. She took away the one person I cared about more than anything in the world; she had to learn what it felt like."

Sheriff Langtrie followed as Mulder walked Josie to the car. "But damn, Josie. Twenty-nine?"

"She kept making friends," Josie hissed. "I kept takin' away people she cared about and she just kept replacin' them, like they didn't matter in the least. She wouldn't learn. Every year I'd go over and chat about old times and every year she'd talk about some new best friend in her life, without ever talkin' about those she'd lost. She was a cold bitch!"

Mulder opened the car door. He put his hand on her head so she wouldn't hit it as she was put into the sheriff's car. "What made you decide to kill Antonia?"

Josie looked up at him and smiled a wide smile. "She finally ran out of friends."

Mulder closed the car door. He and Scully watched as the sheriff drove off.

"Well, you didn't get your ghost story, Mulder."

"Nope, not this time, Scully. Not this time." He motioned toward the car. "Come on, let's go see if we can grab a late dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phaedra watched as the agents drove off. It was done now; the seeds of violence she'd planted in Josie had provided a full and faithful crop over the years. Revenge had been delivered; her sister was dead. The ties keeping her bound to this world were now broken. The vessel, through which she had been vindicated, disposed of.

It was shame really; Josie had served her well and probably deserved better. Oh well, as she'd told Antonia, all were expendable to the greater cause. No exceptions.