Kinesthesia by amy (spookey247) part 11

Kinesthesia

by Amy

PART ELEVEN

CENTRAL WYOMING FAIRGROUNDS 3:09 AM

The trailer sat under a security light, just a lonely metal box now, its windows dark, its external wiring and underpinnings stripped away. Scully slipped from the shadows and up the metal stairway, fumbled with the old man's keys. The door swung open. Inside, the air was stale and eerily silent. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves, muted her flashlight with her fingers.

Job one: evidence.

She unlocked the door of the back office and went to the file cabinet. Shoving her flashlight between her chin and shoulder, she located the file that contained copies of the old man's will.

The document was neither long nor complicated. Shelby Parker Peake's estate, including Peake Amusements, a house and acreage in New Mexico, and a considerable stock portfolio, was to be held in trust with the proceeds from a two million-dollar life insurance settlement. When Mr. Peake's heirs reached the age of 25, each would receive half of the assets, provided they maintained their employment within the family business.

Each? There was more than one heir?

She flipped thorough the pages that followed, reached the end of the document, stared.

The file contained a copy of a birth certificate and the results of not one, not two, but three separate paternity tests.

There could be no mistake. Shelby Peake was Gwen Frye's father.

Which made Robert Peake her brother.

"Wow," she heard herself say.

Scully read the documents again, shaking her head. How the hell had Shirley Price explained Gwen's extra digit to Frye? Tim clearly believed he was Gwen's father. Or did he? Was this why he'd tried so hard to keep Rob and Gwen apart?

Scully shone her flashlight on the old man's wall of photos, let the beam come to rest on one of Rob Peake's baby pictures. Right next to it was one of a pre-pubescent Gwen Frye. Two smiles, identically lopsided. The same twinkle in the same blue eyes.

But - why would the old man want to kill his children? If Shelby Peake was responsible for the bombings, what could his motive have been?

It didn't make any kind of sense.

She stared at the wall of photos, trying to puzzle it out. Who would benefit if all of Peake Senior's heirs were out of the picture? There were no other acknowledged heirs, no parents, no brothers or sisters, no widow, no -

Widow?

Something that had been niggling at the back of Scully's mind all day now leapt to the front of her consciousness. She sent her flashlight beam rippling across the wall. Finding a snapshot of the old man's former partner, she stared at the pinched woman on the big man's arm, the woman who'd seemed so familiar when she'd studied the photo that morning.

Yes. The resemblance was unmistakable.

Heart pounding, she stuffed the will back in the file drawer, grabbed the file on the legal battle with James Smith's widow. Pulling it free, she noticed the tip of a yellowed newspaper clipping tucked into some papers near the back of the folder. Loosening the fragile newsprint from the sheaf of documents, she focused her light and read:

'The victim was found by her eleven-year-old granddaughter when the child returned from school. Local authorities have ruled the death a suicide. A note left at the scene indicates the victim was despondent about the pending loss of her home through foreclosure...'

"Of course," Scully said. "James Smith's granddaughter."

"Smart lady." The voice came from somewhere behind her. "Now close the drawer and put your hands where I can see them."

3:16 AM

Mulder found the door of Shelby Peake's Country Coach unlocked. "Brenda?" He stepped up into the vehicle. "Hey, Brenda, it's me, Duke. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

At the hospital, Gwen had regained consciousness for a short time. Disoriented and in pain, she'd nevertheless insisted on talking to the police. Capocelli and a Wyoming State trooper had taken her statement, while Mulder had hovered beyond the curtain, eavesdropping.

Her dad had been working on Billy's truck. Rob had just helped her rig a part for The Bobsled. She was looking for a piece of tubing when she found the bomb. Yes, she'd known it was a bomb - she wasn't stupid. She'd been trying to warn the others when it exploded.

She'd passed out before she could be questioned further.

As far as Mulder was concerned, this let Gwen off the hook and further implicated Shelby Peake. Capocelli hadn't been so sure, but at least he'd agreed that it was a possibility that needed further investigation.

"Brenda?" The bathroom was empty. Mulder snared a Kleenex from a box on the counter and used it to open the medicine chest: toothpaste, shaving cream, razors, Band-aids. Prescription bottles lined the second shelf - Prevacid, Zantac, Tagamet, Nexium, Biaxin and Amoxil, all of which appeared to be prescribed for an ulcer, Tylenol-3 with Codeine, and - ugh - Viagra. A triangle of pink residue marked the spot where a bottle or jar was missing - Pepto Bismol, probably.

He closed the cabinet. "Brenda?"

A small lamp burned on the dresser in the bedroom. Several boxes had been pulled out of the old man's closet and were sitting open by the side of the bed.

Mulder got an uneasy feeling, one that had nothing to do with the mess, both literal and metaphorical, that they'd made in this room just a few hours before.

Something was very wrong.

"Brenda? Yo, Brenda?"

The only answer he got was a growl.

"What the - " Mulder looked down. Teeth bared, Mike the Rottweiler stood glaring about three feet away.

"Shit," Mulder said. The dog took a step forward. "Good boy," he told it softly. "Good Mike."

He reached slowly inside his jacket, freed his weapon. "Remember me? I'm your buddy with the irresistible cajones - "

Mike lunged.

Mulder backed up fast, falling over one of the boxes and ripping his gun from its holster. He took aim as he hit the mattress, prepared to shoot if he had to, but instead of going for Mulder's throat, the dog stopped, crouched at Mulder's feet and began to whine.

Mulder frowned, rolled to sitting. "What's the problem, Mike? You need out? You need a walk?"

Mike nudged Mulder's leg, glanced toward the door, nudged again. It almost seemed like there was something the dog wanted him to know.

Yeah, right, Mulder thought as he stood and re- holstered his weapon. What is this, a very special episode of 'Lassie'?

His phone beeped.

"Scully?"

"Agent Mulder? It's Capocelli. Where are you?"

"Back at the fairgrounds, in Shelby Peake's RV. Someone's been going through his papers, but I wouldn't exactly say they tossed the place. More like they knew what they were looking for. Maybe Peake and his girlfriend doubled back - "

"Not likely. The agents we had following them called in - the old man and the girl had a layover in Salt Lake City. Peake collapsed, had to be rushed to hospital."

Mike started whining again in earnest, so Mulder moved out of the bedroom. Still whining, the dog followed.

"What happened? Heart attack?" Mulder tore a sheet of paper towel from a roll on the kitchen counter and began opening and closing cupboards.

"No. Agent Jensen said Peake started hacking up blood. Guess that lets your prime suspect off the hook."

Mike kept whining. "Not necessarily," Mulder answered, opening a drawer. Forks, knives, spoons, bottle opener - nothing unusual. "He has an ulcer, remember."

"So Agent Scully has said. They're running a tox screen, but - "

Mike yipped and began an agitated dance in front of the door. "Hang on, boy," Mulder told him. "I'll let you out in a minute."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Cap, I'm talking to this mutt." The yipping intensified into full-fledged barking. Mulder raised his voice. "What was that about a tox screen?"

"The doctor suggested some sort of poisoning."

"Poisoning?" The cupboard under the sink held dish soap, some bottles of cleaner, a box of b-Gon rat killer, and a new package of sponges. Mulder picked up the box of rat killer, shook it. Half-empty. "Huh."

"They're holding his girlfriend, April Raynes, for questioning. Nice name, huh? April Raynes."

"His girlfriend?" Mulder snorted. "Christ, Cap, from what I understand April's no rocket scientist - " He stared at the box in his hand with a puzzled frown. "Cap, can you think of any reason why someone living in an RV would need rat poison?"

"Why? What did you find?"

"B-Gon rat killer. And with a dog running around here - " Mulder flipped the box over, read the list of active ingredients. "Tell them to check the old man's blood for Warfarin."

"You got something?"

"Just a hunch."

"Okay, I'll mention it to Jensen. Have you spoken to Agent Scully?"

Mulder shut the cupboard. "No. She hasn't reported in?"

"I tried her before I called you. Left a message on her voice mail."

"She didn't pick up?" He did his best to keep the concern from his voice. That uneasy feeling had returned, full force.

"I'm sure she's fine, Mulder."

"Yeah," Mulder replied. Mike's barking had escalated into a constant stream of noise. He clapped a hand over his free ear and headed for the door. "Um, Agent Capocelli, I'm going to have to call you back."

"What's going on, Agent?"

"I'm not sure," Mulder answered. "If you don't hear from me or Scully in the next ten minutes, send backup, okay?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Sticking the phone in his jacket pocket, he reached past Mike and opened the door. Mike took off down the steps, but instead of disappearing into the night, he stopped, giving Mulder what must have been the Rottweiler version of a pointed look. Waiting to see what Mike would do next, Mulder slowly stepped out of the RV and onto the gravel.

All their suspects had turned into victims, it seemed. Who was left?

Maybe Mike knew.

The dog turned and ran off toward the empty midway. Feeling vaguely foolish, Mulder followed.

3:27 AM

You're a sucker, Scully told herself. Rob was right about you, after all.

"Left, 22. Circle right all the way once, then stop at 39. Back left to twelve."

It was dark in the office, and Scully was working in a tiny, unsteady pool of light. It took a couple of tries, but she finally got the lock on the floor safe to click open. "Okay. What now?"

Something thumped to the floor at her side. "There's three bank deposit bags in the safe. Put them in that bag."

Scully reached into the safe and found an oblong vinyl bag, fat with cash. She unzipped the gym bag at her side. "Seems like you're all packed to go," she noted, glancing over her shoulder at her captor. "Rob's dead, Shelby's out of town. That was a smart plan you had, Mandy."

"It's still a smart plan." Mandy gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Just gotta make sure I dot all my 'i's', if you know what I mean."

There was an edge in Mandy's voice that told Scully she should consider herself an un-dotted 'i'.

"Keep moving," Mandy snapped.

Heart pounding, Scully turned back to the safe, found a second bag.

"Nice of the old man to keep so much money around, don't you think?" Mandy sneered. "A little pre-tax bonus. One of his many bad habits. But I guess you read all about that while you were snooping around."

"You've got enough evidence on Shelby Peake to have the IRS on his ass for the rest of his life. Why didn't you just blow the whistle on him?"

"How's that help me?" The flashlight beam jumped. "You're missing the point, lady. Shelby Peake has hurt people. He has to pay."

Scully groped for the third deposit bag, latched on to it. "People like your grandmother, you mean?"

Mandy snorted. "Her and plenty of others."

Recalling her hostage negotiation training, Scully tried for a sympathetic tone. "That must have been horrible for you," she said. "Finding her the way you did."

For a moment, the only sound was Mandy's slow intake of breath. Then the hard edge returned to her voice. "He destroyed my family. I'm just returning the favor. Hurry up."

Stall, Scully told herself. She pushed the deposit bag in her hand as far back into the safe as she could. "That's it. It's empty."

"No it isn't. There's another one." The flashlight beam stretched across the wall behind the safe. Scully looked to her right. The shadow of Mandy's pistol crept toward her. "I put them there myself."

Scully reached into the safe. "There's nothing else in here, Mandy. Maybe Shelby took one when he left."

The shadow of the gun advanced, growing bulbous, distorted. Scully looked to her left. She could see the outline of Mandy's body, cast against the wall by the security light outside the window. She could see her own shadow, too, even judge the distance between the two of them.

"He's not that smart." Mandy was right behind her, leaning down. "That money's here somewhere. You need to - "

Suddenly Scully grabbed Mandy's right arm and yanked with all her might. Mandy cried out, fell forward. The flashlight hit the floor.

Scully scrambled away, fell over the gym bag, snatched it and hurled it up into Mandy's face. Objects clattered across the floor; Scully rolled to the desk, levered up, drove her heel into Mandy's belly, then charged and grabbed Mandy by the forearms, forcing the gun barrel toward the ceiling, twisting her wrist with all her strength.

Mandy yelped and cursed. Scully tightened her grip, pulled Mandy's arm behind her back. "DROP IT!" she shouted, twisting harder and giving Mandy's body a shake. "Drop it, Mandy! It's over! IT'S OVER!"

The gun fell to the floor just as the door of the office banged open. "Freeze, I'm armed!" a familiar voice growled. There was a sudden, blinding flash from the high-intensity security lamp outside, but Scully held on tight. "Whoever the hell you are," the voice said, "I've got a .35 on you. Don't move."

"Rob?" Mandy gasped, after a moment.

"Mandy!?"

"Jesus Christ. Rob baby, oh god, you're alive!"

"What the hell? Of course I'm alive - me and Tim went into town and when we got back there was all this crazy shit going - Christ, what the fuck?"

"Brenda tried - " Mandy began, trying to twist away from Scully.

"I'm a federal officer - " Scully said at the same time, maintaining her grip.

"Both of you shut up!" Peake ordered. "Brenda? What the hell is going on?"

"She came in here trying to rip us off, baby," Mandy said. "She has a gun. She was - "

"She's lying, Rob," Scully countered. "She's trying to - "

Peake picked up the fallen flashlight and shone it on them both like a spotlight. "Let go of her, Brenda."

"No," Scully answered, squinting against the glare. "I'm a Federal officer. She's - "

"Oh right," Mandy laughed. "Our girl Brenda's a Fed. All hundred and two pounds dripping wet of her. She's trying take the money - ow!"

Scully pulled tighter. Mandy broke off with a hiss.

"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully. Rob, Mandy tried to kill you tonight. She's responsible for the bombings - "

"Bombings? Now I know you're lying. Let her go, now."

"She's Smitty's granddaughter. It's all been an act. She wants to punish your father. She tried to kill you."

"She made me open the safe," Mandy pleaded desperately. "She said she'd killed you and she'd kill me, too. I thought you were dead, baby - god, I was so scared."

Scully heard the unmistakable click-click of a gun safety being released and the hammer being pulled back. "Let go of her, Brenda."

She was in a no-win situation, and she knew it. She turned Mandy, using her as a human shield, trying to buy some time. "Mandy has my service revolver in her hip pocket, Rob. If I let go of her, she'll kill us both. You have to believe me."

"That's crazy," Mandy wheedled. "I'd never hurt you, baby. You know that."

Scully jerked Mandy's arm again. "Gwen Frye is in the hospital in Casper. Mandy was trying to kill you and pin it on Gwen so *she'd* be the only one left to inherit."

"Inherit? Inherit what?"

"The show, Rob. Your father's money. You and Gwen are his only beneficiaries."

"Bullshit. Why would Gwen be in Pops' will?"

"Because she's your half-sister."

His voice dropped low. "My *what*?"

"Look in your father's files, Rob. There were paternity tests. There's a birth certificate."

"It's a scam," Mandy hissed. "Take her down, baby. Now!"

A flashlight beam cut through the darkness.

"Federal Agent! I'm armed! Drop it!" Mulder was standing in the door.

Peake turned his head. "Duke?"

"Drop it, Rob. Now."

"He's no cop," Mandy cried. "They're working together!"

"My name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI." Mulder stepped forward, leveling his weapon. "And I said drop it."

"Mandy, what the fuck?" Peake cried.

"Just do something!" she shrilled back at him. "Why the fuck are you just standing there?"

"Drop the gun!" Mulder shouted.

"Rob wasn't involved," Scully said quickly. "He doesn't know what's going on. Rob, listen to Agent Mulder."

His gun still pointed toward Scully, Peake looked wildly around the room, shining his flashlight from person to person. "Mandy," he murmured in complete bewilderment. "Baby. What the fuck?"

"You gutless fucking piece of shit!" Mandy was writhing in Scully's arms. "Shoot her, goddammit! SHOOT HER!"

Before Scully knew what was happening, Mandy had brought her heel down sharply on her instep and was twisting away, a gun glinting in her hand.

"MULDER, LOOK OUT!" Scully dropped to the floor. A shot rang out. "MULDER!!"

She heard something clatter to the floor. A flashlight rolled toward the wall. There was a brief moment of total silence, then Mulder's voice drifted toward her. "Scully?"

"I'm okay."

Mulder recovered his light. "Drop the gun, Rob."

Scully rose to her knees. Peake was motionless, clutching his pistol in one outstretched hand, Scully's flashlight still trembling in the other. Mandy swayed in the circle of light, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. A bright red stain was spreading slowly across her blouse.

"DROP IT!" Mulder ordered.

His face a horrified blank, Peake lowered the pistol and let it fall. Mandy sank to her knees before him.

"You shot - " she gasped, looking up at him with a pleading expression. "Baby, how could - " Her expression hardened, then, turned into something ugly and chilling. Staring at her husband's silhouette, she slumped slowly to the floor.

"Oh god," Peake rasped. "She came at me. I - Oh Jesus." He sank into the chair behind the desk and covered his face with his hands. "Oh god."

"Mulder, call 911." Scully scrambled across the floor. Mandy lay very still, her eyes wide, her breathing labored. The smell of blood wafted up, humid, pungent.

Mulder barked orders to the emergency dispatcher.

Scully snatched up some items of clothing that had fallen from Mandy's gym bag and tried to staunch the flow of blood. The bullet had entered Mandy's upper chest; sucking sounds told her a lung had been punctured.

"Bren - " Mandy wheezed. She grasped the sleeve of Scully's jacket.

Scully shook her head. "Don't talk. We're going to get you to the hospital."

"Agent Mulder?! Agent Scully?!" Someone was shouting outside. Scully recognized Capocelli's voice.

"In here!" Mulder shouted back.

Scully heard a siren in the distance.

Mandy's breathing was growing more labored by the second. "Brenda," she choked. "It's a flat store, girl. All of it. Everythi - " Blood gurgled in her throat, the noise like a rusty hinge swinging closed. A moment later her grip on Scully's sleeve went slack.

Two uniformed men appeared in the doorway. "Put the light over there," one said. There was a metallic thud. A bright light filled the room.

"Step back, ma'am," someone said. "We need to get at the patient."

Scully looked up. The EMTs had arrived. Easing away from Mandy, she got to her feet.

Mulder was standing by the desk. Peake was still curled up in the chair behind it. Scully squinted down at her hands. They were crimson.

She took a deep breath. Be fine, she told herself.

Mulder gave her a questioning look. She shook her head. No, she didn't think Mandy was going to make it.

Mulder nodded.

He took Peake by the shoulder. "Come on, Rob," he said gently. "The police are going to want to ask you some questions."

Peake took his hands away from his face and stared at the uniformed men bending over his wife. "Oh my god," he murmured, as if he'd just realized what was happening. Suddenly he rose from the chair and started toward them. "Mandy - "

Mulder stopped him. "They're doing all they can," he said. "It's over, Rob. Come with us."

4:03 AM

"I told Agent Capocelli we'd give our statements first thing in the morning," Mulder said.

Scully watched a state trooper lead Rob Peake to a waiting police vehicle. "Rob and Tim ran out to Walmart," she said. "Turns out Billy's truck needed a battery."

Mulder nodded. He'd just finished briefing Capocelli on the situation. "They've already sent someone to the hospital to question Frye. I get the impression he was involved with Mandy at some point in the past."

"Tim had nothing to do with this." Scully's mouth was dry. Her head was pounding. The wave of adrenaline she'd been riding all night had crested; now exhaustion was overtaking her.

"You okay?"

"I'm worried about Rob," she muttered. "He said some things when they were questioning him that made me think he might try to hurt himself. Where's Capocelli? They need to keep an eye on him - "

"That's not what I mean," Mulder interrupted.

"And Mike," she continued. "There's no one to look after him. We should - "

"I'm not talking about Mike. I'm talking about you."

She looked up into Mulder's face and saw real worry etched there. The lump in her throat tightened.

"I - " she began, then stopped. She looked down at the rust-colored stains on her hands. "I - I need to wash up..."

Mulder laid his hand in the small of her back. "You need food. You need sleep. I'm taking you out of here."

"But Mulder, there are so many things left to do - "

His tone was gentle, but firm. "Someone else can take care of them. You've done enough."

She closed her eyes for a moment, let the warmth of his touch steady her. He was right, of course. She had the answers she'd been sent to find.

Now it was time to leave the fairgrounds behind.

End 11/12