TITLE: None So Blind (1/2) AUTHOR: bcfan FEEDBACK: bcfan@shaw.ca WEBSITE: www.geocities.com/bcfanfic RATING: strong NC-17 for disturbing content. Please heed the warning. SPOILERS: post-episode, Fallen Angel CATEGORY: X (casefile), M/S UST SUMMARY: Child sexual abuse cases leave Mulder and Scully struggling for resolution. NOTES at the end. *** Part One *** Mulder leaned back in his desk chair, scratched around his ace bandage and sighed, shoulders slumping. Looking at his watch, he began drumming his fingers on the nicked wooden surface. Where was Scully? He carefully stood, balanced, and hopped on one foot to the lights and doused them, ignoring the crutches leaning haphazardly against the wall. Just as he slid into his chair, Scully knocked and opened the door. "Do you want me to switch on the lights, Mulder?" "No, leave them." "Another slideshow?" "A video. I've got it set to the right spot. Could you turn it on?" The television lit to a large, sinister, singing bag other misshapen creatures called Oogie Boogie. Suddenly, a cascade of wriggling insects surged out when Oogie Boogie's seam was split. Mulder grinned at Scully's surprised face. "Gross, huh?" "Where did you get this? Isn't this the new Tim Burton film?" Mulder nodded. "I've got some friends doing research for me. I asked them to find out about boogymen, and this was in the package. Must have snuck a camcorder into the movie theatre." "You hang with a bad crowd, Mulder." Scully's teasing focused Mulder's attention away from his throbbing ankle and firmly on his partner. She looked rested and upbeat, he realized - a fizzy sparkle of champagne to his dull, flat beer. Would they ever be on the same page? Mulder shuffled through his papers as Scully watched the rest of the Oogie Boogie scene before switching off the t.v. She turned in her chair. "Okay, why are you researching boogymen?" "I've been doing some reading," he held up the National Enquirer and Scully softly moaned, "and there have been three disappearances in California in the last month. All children. And - this is the kicker - witnesses claim it was the boogyman who took them." "Witnesses?" "None in one case. In another, the sibling of the victim. And in the third, it was a neighbour girl who heard a noise and looked out the window." "Mulder, as sad as this is, children are hardly credible witnesses. Are you sure the missing children weren't runaways?" "None of the three are over six. The National City police couldn't find any evidence. I spoke to Captain Ortega yesterday, and he asked me to consult." An expression of disquiet seemed to flit across Scully's face, so quickly he wasn't sure he'd really seen it. He paused. "Something wrong?" Scully shrugged slightly. "National City, California?" He nodded. "I used to live in base housing near the San Diego Naval Station. National City is a bit further south." "Good, you're familiar with the area. You'll have to do the driving." Mulder snagged his crutches as he stood. "Our flight leaves in two hours." Scully appeared troubled. Mulder knew the feeling - missing children cases were always the worst. But the concern in her eyes didn't stop her questions. "I don't suppose it matters that you're supposed to be on desk duty," Scully asked, but began to gather Mulder's file folders and notes. "Nope. They need our help. Let's go catch us a boogyman." xXx Scully's first genuine smile of the day had been when he left the details of hotel booking up to her. Since she knew the area, it made sense to delegate, Mulder thought. He relaxed as Scully negotiated the route from San Diego airport to National City. As they passed the San Diego Naval Station, Scully spoke fondly of her childhood - hopscotch and skipping rope, tag after dark on a summer's night, swimming at the local beach. "I made friends there and I still see some of them from time to time. All the families moved a lot, so we tried to keep in touch. I had four pen pals by the time I finished high school." "I didn't know you were a Navy brat." Scully smiled. "Yes, and San Diego was one of my favourite places. National City is close by, but it always seemed like another world." Mulder understood what she meant. As he looked out the window, a public swimming pool and golf course were side by side with shabby apartments and run-down single homes. And car lots. Many, many car lots. "This isn't what you expect when you think of California," he murmured. "No," Scully agreed, "National City has urbanization and pollution problems without a strong median income. I know the unemployment rate is above the state average. If someone decided to victimize children in an area without fear of reprisal, this would be a place to start." "Not just someone, Scully. A boogyman." Scully's expression warred between exasperation and amusement. "Do you know where the phrase, 'Don't let the boogyman get you' was coined, Mulder? The tribal pirates of the south sea islands - whose commodities included kidnapped children - were called Boogymen. We're a long way from the south seas. Isn't it possible that we're looking for a human perpetrator?" In his delight over Scully's repartee, Mulder couldn't stop the admiring, "You're turning me on here." Scully ignored his comment. "My father's a naval captain. I've heard the stories - and their explanations." "I'm betting you were the kind of kid who always wanted an explanation." "You'd win that bet." Their car pulled to a stop in front of the National City Police Station. Mulder turned and hoisted his crutches out of the back seat. His lips tightened as he navigated the uneven sidewalk into the reception area. "Captain Ortega?" Mulder nodded, as a neatly groomed man came out to meet them. "I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Scully." "Come in and take a load off." Ortega stepped through the short hallway into his office, and Mulder sank gratefully into a chair. "I called you yesterday, sir," Mulder began, "regarding the disappearance of three local children." "Yes - and frankly, we're happy for the FBI's help. We've gotten nowhere with the cases, and we're not sure if they're even related." "Captain," Scully leaned forward. "We've read your report. Would we be able to talk to the families?" Ortega gave a helpless shrug. "Of course. All three families have been thoroughly investigated - there wasn't a hint of suspicion with any of them. However, I know the Parraz family has already moved on. They're migrant workers, and despite what happened, they gotta eat. I have a list of where they plan to be in case we find their son, Tomas. They're very upset." "And the others?" "Mrs. Findlay comes in every day. She just stands in the lobby and cries. She's a young widow and Jimmy is her only child. Mr. and Mrs. Andros live across town - they've got four kids, and little Richie was their youngest. This is a terrible tragedy for us, Agents. Like I said, anything we can do to help, just let us know." "Thank you, sir. We'll interview the parents, and see what we can find." Mulder rose, and smiled gratefully when Scully handed him his crutches. "You know, Agent Mulder, I'm kinda surprised the FBI sent you out here when you're obviously injured." "I have my own personal physician with me, Captain. Agent Scully is a medical doctor." "Mighty handy. Here's a copy of the case files then. Good luck to you both." Ortega turned back to his desk, and Mulder began to count silently. They made it to the sidewalk before Scully turned. "Mulder, Captain Ortega is right. How can you pursue an active investigation-" "57." "What?" "It took 57 seconds for you to bring it up again. Look, Scully, I just have a strong feeling we can help." He held out his foot and flexed it slightly. "My ankle's better already. You can have a look at it tonight - you'll see." Scully's lips thinned. "Fine. You call ahead to make sure someone's home." xXx A late-afternoon blue sky contrasted with dingy grey siding and a trash-strewn yard of the sagging rancher. Mulder stood behind Scully as she rapped on the door. The door opened - and Mulder looked down, curious, when Scully remained silent. Mulder stuck out his hand. "Mrs. Findlay? I'm Special Agent Mulder and this is my-" "Dana?" The woman sounded shocked. "Mary." Scully leaned in and gave her a quick hug, then turned to Mulder, her face flushed with surprise. "Mulder, this is one of my childhood friends, Mary Callahan. Are you Mary Findlay now?" "Yes, yes. Please come in. Are you - are you here about my Jimmy?" She clutched Scully's arm as they were led inside and sat around a dusty coffee table. Mulder peered at Mary with apologetic eyes, but it was Scully who spoke. "We don't know anything yet." Mary sagged, and Scully gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. "As Agent Mulder mentioned on the phone, we're FBI agents. We want to help you find out what happened to your son." Mary nodded, swallowed back tears. Her unkempt hair and careworn face made her look years older than Scully. This was what grief did. Mulder watched as Scully gently led Mary through a series of questions. Nothing new, and his attention wandered to a child's photo on the wall. He stood and used his crutches to maneuver as he carefully touched the edge of the frame. "That's my Jimmy. He was three when this was taken, but he's four now." He nodded, recognizing Jimmy from the police file. Mulder examined the picture with careful eyes, trying to understand why Jimmy had been chosen. Was there anything special or different? Jimmy looked like a thousand other towheaded preschoolers, but with a smile a little shyer than most, more tentative. "Do you mind if I have a look at Jimmy's bedroom? Is it this way?" At Mary's nod, Scully stood. "Let's go in the kitchen, Mary. I remember how much you liked ice tea." "Thank you, Dana." She trailed after Scully. Mulder went down the narrow hall into the child's room. He stopped short, catching his breath. The room echoed that long-ago feeling of a shrine which still had the power to haunt him. Jimmy's bed was neatly made, his toys aligned with military precision on the low shelf. Two picture books were waiting for their small owner on his nightstand. Mulder picked up the top one - Goodnight Moon. Happy sleep stories contrasted cruelly with the reality of abduction. Mulder examined the window ledge, even though the trail was a week old. He peered out, startled to see a small, solemn-eyed girl staring back from the next house. Mulder smiled, and the girl immediately disappeared. He was carefully maneuvering towards Mary Findlay's subdued voice when the conversation stopped him in his tracks. "Do you remember how we used to tease each other about the boogyman, Dana?" Mulder's pulse quickened. He leaned closer to hear Scully's reply. "We liked to scare ourselves silly, didn't we? I remember throwing rocks at a haunted house near the base, too." Mulder entered the kitchen. Scully and Mrs. Findlay sat next to each other, heads bent together over a photo album. "Did I hear something about a boogyman?" Scully shot him an even look. "We were talking about our childhood superstitions, Mulder, when we both lived in base housing." She stood. "I promise that we'll keep in touch, Mary, and let you know if we learn anything at all. Here's my card if you need to contact me." Mulder stood in the doorway. "One more thing, Mrs. Findlay. I was wondering if the little girl I just saw through Jimmy's window was the witness Captain Ortega mentioned?" Mrs. Findlay nodded. "I'd like to speak to her. Are you friendly with her family?" "Yes." She nodded again. "Would you mind calling next door and seeing if it's okay?" They said their goodbyes after the brief phone call. Mulder looked at Scully, curious, as they crossed the yard. "Why were you in such a hurry to leave?" Scully looked surprised. "I wasn't. There doesn't seem to be anything else we can learn from Mary at this point." "Odd that Mary should mention the boogyman." "Simply a coincidence," Scully replied as she knocked on the door. The door opened before Mulder could inform her that he really didn't believe in coincidences, but he swallowed his frustration. Moments later they were in a living room that was the mirror image of the Findlay home. Worry lines on the neighbour's face deepened at the mention of Jimmy's name. "Sarah, sweetie," her mom put calming hands on her daughter's shoulders, "tell these FBI agents what you saw." "Nuthin'." Mulder tried to see Sarah's eyes through a curtain of dark hair and failed. Sarah's mother gave her shoulders a small shake. "Speak up, Sarah. This is important." Mulder noticed that Sarah seemed to be edging away from him. He was a stranger to her - a strange man - after Sarah had already been exposed to the bad things a strange man could do. He asked quickly, "Do you mind if Agent Scully and I speak to Sarah in her room? I'd like to look through her window." "Sarah, would you like to show Fox and Dana your collection of ponies?" Mulder distanced himself behind Scully and Sarah's mom as the little girl led them down the hall. He turned toward the window, saw nothing unusual. Scully sat on the bed and smiled at the girl. Sarah threw open her toy chest lid and dropped her multicoloured pony collection next to her on the yellow quilt. "Here's Rainbow and Daisy and Buttercup and Gumdrop." Sarah solemnly pointed out each pony's name and Scully touched their manes. Mulder held out his crutches. "Want to see how these work?" After a quick glanced at her mom for reassurance, Sarah carefully held each one, stuck her arms through the hand grips, and began to swing her legs as she balanced. Her serious face relaxed into a smile. "This is fun." After a few minutes of play, Scully patted the spot on the bed next to her. "Sarah, can I talk to you?" Sarah nodded, dropped the crutches to the floor, and hopped up beside Scully. Mulder nodded to the mother, hoping for silence. Sarah's mom nodded back and crossed her arms. Scully bent low, spoke quietly. "Did you see someone when Jimmy was taken?" Sarah whispered conspiratorially, "It was the boogyman." Mulder watched their interchange, saw acceptance and empathy in Scully's face despite her doubts. Scully was good with kids, he realized. Something he hadn't known about her. "Why are you sure it was the boogyman, Sarah?" "When I seen him before, Rosa said it was the boogyman." Scully spoke calmly. "Where did you see him?" "At the park. He was staring and he wouldn't stop. We told Mrs. Nanny, but she said he wasn't a stranger, and that we should go play on the swings." Mulder looked at Sarah's mom and said, "Mrs. Nanny?" "Sarah attends a play group at the community centre three times a week. Jimmy Findlay is in her group. They take the kids to the park, and Mrs. Nanny is one of the volunteers." Scully continued. "Was Jimmy at the park that day?" Sarah's brow wrinkled. "I dunno." "Can you tell us what the boogeyman looks like, Sarah?" "I gots a picture." Mulder shared a surprised look with Scully and Sarah's mom. Sarah hopped off the bed stuck her head and arms inside her toy chest. She straightened, holding a wrinkled crayon drawing in her hand. Sarah passed it to Scully, who smoothed the picture on her knee. Mulder leaned forward. They stared at the black crayon scribble, which was roughly body-shaped. Two red slashes near the top were the only touch of colour on the page. Scully asked, "Can you tell me about this picture?" "That's the boogyman." Scully pointed to the red marks. "What's this?" "Those are his eyes." "He looks really scary." "He is." Scully nodded. "I'm going to sit still, and I want you to tell me everything that happened the night Jimmy was taken. Can you do that, Sarah?" Sarah's small face creased with worry, and Scully hesitated - then drew her badge out of her pocket. "Would you like to hold this when you tell us, Sarah?" A shy smile and nod and Sarah spoke so quietly it was almost to herself. "I'm not supposed to tell big people, but I can tell you cause you're police." Scully solemnly handed Sarah her badge. She nervously traced the metal with her fingers as she talked about a bad man who was "real big and black. All over." The same bad man whom she saw lifting Jimmy out of his window and away into the night. "I was scared, real scared." Sarah clutched the badge harder. "Mommy says to stay in bed, and I didn't. I looked. I ran back to bed and hid under the covers so the boogyman wouldn't see me." Mulder felt a hint of something close and had to ask, "Sarah, you said before that you're not supposed to tell big people about the boogyman. How come?" Sarah put her head down, began to swing her legs and kick the bed. Mulder tried again. "Who else knows about the boogyman?" "Everybody. We gots to be careful." "Sarah-" Her mother sounded exasperated, but it didn't stop her child's concern. "Are you gonna find Jimmy?" Mulder retrieved his crutches and stood as Scully pocketed her badge. "We hope so, Sarah. We're going to try as hard as we can." xXx Mulder scrubbed his hands over his face. Scully's grim silence as she drove to the Andros family interview revealed a woman who was shutting down her feelings. Mulder could almost hear the drawbridge clanging shut. The coincidence of Scully and her friend's shared boogyman memories niggled at his brain too. Mulder had just started to hope that Scully was the genuine article, not sent to spy on him, but to be a real partner. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if Scully refused to share information. Damn it, he thought, Scully has to pull with me on this. Mulder switched off the radio. He ignored Scully's glare. "It must have been quite a shock to see an old friend." "I'm fine." Scully's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He listened to the hum of wheels on pavement for a moment, thinking. "Look, Scully. I can't operate in the dark here. I need all the information you have about Jimmy's mother and this area, but you're not talking to me. You seem upset." "I admit it was - unexpected - to meet someone I used to know." "I thought it might be hitting a little too close to home. But this could also be to our advantage - we're not coming into this case cold. Anything you can remember could be useful." Scully shrugged. "I don't know how. Mary Callahan was in my fourth grade class, and we were friends until I moved away when I was twelve. She was always so happy and full of confidence. Mary told me her husband was killed in a car accident - and now to have this happen to her son." "Were you and Mary close?" "We lived next door to each other. Proximity makes friendships at that age. I spent a lot of time at her house, mainly to get away from my siblings." Scully smiled faintly. "I haven't seen Mary in more than fifteen years." "And your talk about the boogyman?" Scully's lips thinned. "That's all it was, Mulder - talk. Children externalize their fears. You're a psychologist so you know that better than anyone." Mulder made a non-committal noise, hoping she'd continue. She did. "We're here to catch a real kidnapper. Jimmy's disappearance is all too real." Her voice rose. "And if we're being honest, I thought it was inappropriate that you questioned Mary about childhood fantasies at all." Mulder held up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't exactly question her, Scully. And if we're being honest, you have to know that I'm just being me. Trying to find out as much as possible. Besides - there are no inappropriate questions in a crime scene investigation." Silence, and a brief nod of agreement. "We still have a forty minute drive, Mulder. Could you please turn on the radio?" "What would you like to hear? Some funkadellic boogy down music?" A slight smile, and Mulder was grateful for eased tension the rest of the trip. xXx Hours later, after a fruitless interview and a quick meal, they checked into their well-appointed motel. They hadn't learned anything new at the Andros house. Just another confused and hurting family, with nothing to hide, no answers, and not a single witness. Another exercise in futility. Mulder leaned against the headboard of the queen size bed, files strewn around him and ankle propped up on a pillow. Sweats and a t-shirt and he was good to go. He wasn't expecting the knock when it came. Scully had still seemed ill at ease during dinner, and had firmly stuck to small talk. Scully entered with her medical bag in one hand and a cane in the other. Mulder sat straighter, pleased. "Where'd you get that, Scully?" "You said your ankle was better today, so I arranged for delivery. I'll help you with your range of motion exercises, and then you can try it out." "Thanks." She smiled briefly, put her bag on the bed, and eased off the tensor ankle brace. "You're right, Mulder. This is looking better. Can you bend and straighten your ankle?" Mulder tried twice. It felt stiff and sore, but not as bad as yesterday. Not as much swelling and bruising, either. "How about rotating it?" Mulder showed what he could do. "What next?" "Three things. When you use the cane, try stepping straight down. Pushing steadily with your foot will prevent your ankle from moving too much at first. You'll know when you can put more weight on it. Second, continue the exercises you just did to loosen up your ankle." "Sounds good." "One more thing - your ankle should be massaged once a day to break down scar tissue, or you might have recurring problems." Mulder blinked, felt slightly queasy as feelings of dislike at being touched warred with feelings of confusion at his partner touching him. He clenched his jaw against flippant comments until he noticed Scully's discomfort. She's being a professional and a friend, he realized. What kind of asshole does that make me to take it the wrong way? He looked at her, serious. "Thanks, Scully." Scully shrugged. "No problem. I'll have to concentrate my effort at the direct point of injury, and use my thumbs to get in as deep as possible to break down the scar tissue. Let me know if it's too painful." "Okay." Mulder leaned back and closed his eyes, lacing his hands behind his head. Scully massaged his ankle using some kind of ointment with lighter, then firmer strokes. Scully gradually increased the pressure, and he was silent until he couldn't prevent a small grunt of pain. Scully straightened. "That's enough for tonight." She tapped his calf before moving away from him on the bed. Mulder grabbed a pillow and stuck it behind his head. "I have an idea about our case, Scully." "Oh?" "Sarah said she's not supposed to tell big people about the boogyman but that everyone knows about him. He's become a part of kid culture - and like any kid culture, no one's listening because interpreted from a adult's perspective, it's a fantasy." "Someone abducted those kids, Mulder. If there's an underground knowledge of what's going on that no one out of grade school wants to talk about, I suggested we go to where the children are." "Bingo." Mulder stood and tentatively began to pace the room, getting used to his cane. "Tomorrow we head to the community centre and the park - and I plan to ask Sarah to be our guide." *** Part Two *** Hiding in plain sight. Ramirez liked the sound of that. He purposely chose nondescript suburban homes for his base of operations, near a school if possible. That way, his own group of kids fit right in. He was whistling as he unlocked the front door of the burgundy house, its white trim and Victorian lines appealing to his sense of irony. Solid security bars from a previous owner covered the basement windows. He'd paid cash on the barrelhead the minute he'd laid eyes on it, and he didn't want to leave anytime soon. Not unless he had to. Ramirez ignored the shabbiness of the first floor, walked up the broad staircase, selected another key from the ring, and unlocked a double set of solid doors. They were the entryway to his own private world. Soundproof and secure. Ramirez hung his leather jacket on the antique coat rack, same with holster and gun. He toed off his shoes and stepped into a pair of corduroy slippers. Give me a smoke and a scotch and I'd be just like my old man, he reflected. Actually, a scotch wasn't a bad idea. "Hey Betty," he called. "What's for lunch?" His favourite broad appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in a low cut silk two-piece, hair and makeup in place. She looked like a million bucks - just the way he liked it. Ramirez grabbed her hourglass waist, wrapped his arms around her and began to claim her mouth, to rub against her skirt. "Maybe I'll have dessert first," he growled in Betty's ear. "Sure. But I - I got steaks on the broiler, we're having steak and eggs." He reluctantly loosened his hold, and Betty stepped quickly and deliberately away. He grabbed her upper arm and gave it a shake. "Later, then." "Of course, Paulo," Betty blinked at him, wide-eyed. Ramirez sat and Betty served him, the perfect hostess. She poured him a drink, and looked hungrily at the bottle as she did so. "No drinks. You gotta be sober to take care of business tonight." He ignored her pleading look and gestured for her to join him. He concentrated on his food for a few minutes, then looked up and smiled. He dug into his pocket and flashed a roll of bills. "I won big at the track this morning, Betty." "That's great, Paulo." "Yeah, I'm thinking it's time for a new car. Lexus or Caddy, I'm just not sure. A Caddy's more traditional, but the Lexus is one fast mother. Waddya think?" "I don't know. I'm sure you'll make the right choice. You always do, Paulo." Ramirez nodded. She was right. "Anything new here?" Betty jumped up and grabbed her bright pink Hello Kitty notepad. "I wrote it down, Paulo, so I won't forget. Just like you told me to." She bent her head over the page, struggling to decipher the messages. "Um, so far five clients are coming tonight, for three girls and two boys. I fed the kids already, and later I'll get those five from the basement and clean them up. I got their clothes ready." "Anything else?" Ramirez drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. Betty was one spaced-out broad. Given her past history, he was also unsurprised to realize she could barely read and write. "No - oh! Oh yeah, the Boss called. He wants to meet with you tonight." "Fuck!" Ramirez slammed his fist on the table. "What did he want?" "He didn't tell me." Betty's grimace of distaste was quickly hidden. Ramirez shrugged, but a lick of uneasiness crawled up his spine. It was an iron-clad rule that the littlest products were kept for the Boss alone, but five hundred dollars had been impossible to resist. If the Boss realized that another client had used Richie - no. He'd made sure that Richie would be too scared to talk. Betty's voice was edged with fear. "That guy gives me the creeps, Paulo." "Yeah. Me too." *** Competing odors of floor polish and Lysol almost overpowered Scully as she opened the paint-chipped community centre door. "Watch your step," she murmured as Mulder negotiated the warped linoleum with head bowed, stepping carefully with his cane. Scully walked ahead to a glassed-in reception area and rapped on the window. "Hello," she called, and an older woman poked her head out a side door. "Welcome to Albright Community Centre," she said. "How can I help you?" Scully held up her badge. "My name is Agent Scully and this is my partner, Agent Mulder. We're with the FBI and we would like to speak to the centre director." "That would be me. I'm Miranda Kerry. Please come in." She ushered them into her inner office. Kerry waved them into the two straight-backed chairs before her desk, then placed half-glasses on her nose as she seated herself. Scully was reminded of her old principal, the one who would stare at students suspected of misbehaving until - seemingly of their own free will - confessions poured out of them. An excellent interview technique; one Scully tried to cultivate. "Now, what can I do for you?" "Thank you, Ms. Kerry, for taking the time to speak to us. Agent Mulder and I are here as part of the investigation into Jimmy Findlay's disappearance." "Yes, of course," Kerry answered. "The police were here a few times about Jimmy. Has there been any news?" "I'm afraid not," Mulder said. "But the investigation is still ongoing." "Of course," Kerry nodded. "This has been so hard on the staff. The day care workers were hit especially hard." "Understandably," Mulder said. "About your staff," Scully began, seeing the perfect opening. "We'd like to examine your staff records, the records of the children currently in your care. We'd also like permission to speak to them as a group and individually." "Again?" Kerry asked. "The police have already been here, gone through all the files. Everyone was cleared." "Things sometimes get missed in the course of an investigation," Mulder said. "For Jimmy's sake, we want to be sure that hasn't been the case." "Of course." Kerry nodded. She stood and unlocked a battered filing cabinet. She pulled out a stack of blue folders and a stack of red folders, piled them side by side on the edge of her desk. "All the current staff and volunteer files are in here-" pointing to the blue pile "-and the children currently in the program are in here-" pointing to the red. "I can't let you take any of these off the premises, though. I'm sure you understand there are privacy issues. The National City police department does have photocopies of this material." Mulder plucked a blue folder from the top of the pile. "Do you know off hand if Tomas Parraz or Richie Andros currently attend the child care program?" Kerry frowned. "Those names don't sound familiar," she said as she leafed quickly through the stack of red folders. "If they are older than seven, though, they'd be in the after-school program." She reached for a binder stacked on the lowboy behind her desk. "No," she shook her head. "I don't see either name here." Scully asked, "Ms. Kerry, how many people do you have working in the child care program?" "Four." She pulled four files from the blue pile, handed them to Scully. "Three paid staff and one volunteer." "Thank you." Scully accepted the folders and began flipping through them. "They've all had the standard police checks," Kerry assured her. "We're very particular about that." "Are they the only staff who would have contact with the children in the day care program?" Mulder asked. "I suppose all of the centre staff could have at one time or another," Kerry conceded. "But the police spoke with each member of the staff the day after Jimmy went missing, too." "I see the police check paperwork in these three files," Scully held out one folder to Mulder, "but not in this one." "What?" Ms. Kerry stood, obviously surprised. "Maria Nunez Ramirez," Mulder read the name off the flap. "Oh," Kerry sagged with apparent relief. "Mrs. Ramirez has been a volunteer since before I started working here." "Is she the woman the children call Mrs. Nanny?" Mulder asked. "Yes," Kerry nodded. She went to the cabinet and began searching through the other drawers before turning to Mulder and Scully. "Her police check probably got misfiled." Mulder glanced at Scully. He raised a brow. She raised her own in reply. "I need to apologize," Kerry said as she slid the last file shut. "I wasn't here during the initial police investigation-" "Oh?" Scully asked. "You were hospitalized at that time, I believe?" Mulder looked pointedly at Kerry. "Yes," Kerry nodded, "An emergency appendectomy. The police questioned me at home three days after my surgery." "Did you know about Jimmy's disappearance before you went in?" Kerry shook her head. "No, I didn't. It was quite a shock. I don't know all the day care children well, but when something like this happens it's hard not to imagine the worst." Scully nodded. It was difficult. Thinking the worst was becoming second nature. Kerry straightened her shoulders. "Well, it appears Mrs. Ramirez's information is not in place. I'll contact her and get this straightened out immediately." Mulder stood. "Do you know if she's volunteering here today?" "Probably. She helps out with the afternoon program most days." "We'll speak to her ourselves, then," Mulder answered. "Would it be possible to visit the child care centre now?" "Yes. I'll call downstairs, it's in the basement. Unfortunately," Kerry looked at her watch, "they'll only be in session for a few more minutes before lunch. It was a half-day at school today, so the workers will be going to the park for the afternoon with the younger play group and the after-school care children." xXx Mulder put his badge back in his pocket, and Scully almost smirked at the wide-eyed, adoring looks two very young, very blonde childcare workers were giving him. She was sure they would see a visit from a suave FBI agent as the highlight of their week, and fodder for endless phone chats between friends. "And so, ladies, Agent Scully and I will be at the park during the outdoor play period as part of an ongoing investigation." "Agent Mulder, is this about Jimmy Findlay?" "As you know, Tracy, we've spoken to Ms. Kerry, and we want to keep you informed of our presence," Mulder's voice was patient while his long fingers fiddled with his cane handle, "but the investigation is confidential." Scully glanced around the basement room. Unlike the rest of the building, bright colours and a wealth of toys served to create a welcoming and cheerful atmosphere. She smiled at a rainbow of artwork that lined one wall - until she noticed black blobs scattered among the colours. Scully walked closer for a better look. Intermixed with sunshine and tulips were a series of crayon scribbles and paintings so similar to Sarah's that it took her breath away. Here was childish record of a sinister presence. She called, "Mulder." He glanced around, and his eyebrows rose at Scully's discovery. Mulder stood next to Scully, pointed. "These pictures are interesting," he said, directing his comment to the childcare workers. "Oh, that's Boogy," Tracy answered. "The kids draw him all the time." "Have you ever asked them why?" "Actually, Agent Mulder," Tracy smiled brightly, "We learned in our courses that it's important for kids to deal with their fears. We're helping to empower them by encouraging their self-expression. Right, Britt?" "Right." Britt nodded. A feather-light touch on her knee and Scully looked down. Sarah grinned up at her. She marvelled at Sarah's trust in adults despite what she'd seen. She thought of Jimmy. It would take a lot to break a child's trust, Scully knew. But when it happened, the difficulty to restore it would be enormous. Scully leaned down, put her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Hi, Sarah. I'll see you later in the park." "Good." Sarah wandered over to a small green table and sat down, began a puzzle with a friend. "Why don't we take a lunch break, Mulder?" Mulder nodded. "Ladies, if you remember anything, please let us know." He handed Tracy his card. xXx "I know a place. Do you like seafood?" "I grew up in New England, Scully. Of course I do." Scully narrowly avoided a flame-licked Harley as she pulled into a glorified roadside shack. An open-air veranda was crowded with weathered bikers, college kids, and families, and a line snaked into the inside seating area. "Do you mind sitting outside?" "Not at all. I'm just surprised you picked a place with porta-potties for our California dining experience." Scully smiled. "As long as we stay away from the fried fish we should be okay." They made their way over to a live well bubbling with crabs and chose two. After paying at the cash register and collecting a plastic numbered placard, Mulder led the way to a scarred and sticky wooden table. He sighed in apparent relief as he propped his leg out in front of him on a spare bench. Scully sat across from Mulder, lost in thought. It was so odd to be here. She kept bumping into parts of her past. The childhood part of her wanted to say, 'yes I ate here when I rode with my neighbour on his motorbike, hugging him close against the wind. He was sixteen and treated me like a kid, but I was in love.' The adult part knew she should keep those feelings locked away, should play it nonchalant. Mulder seemed to echo her thoughts when he started tracing the carvings on their table with his fingers. "Look, Scully - primary source material. You could read a scrawled history of several decades' worth of love affairs and unspoken crushes if you just knew how to interpret the symbols." Scully was relieved to remember notebook doodles rather than roadside graffiti. Mulder had a sharp eye - and a 'DS heart GL' would have been mortifying. "Did you ever do a little carving, Mulder?" "No pocket knife, Scully." Mulder pulled a mournful face and Scully snickered. "I had to use a pencil to scratch out my flirty sonnets. Want to hear one?" "Do I?" "Roses are red, A chicken you pluck, I love you, my dear, Do you want -" A gangly teen in a butter-stained apron suddenly appeared, holding two paper plates with steamed crabs and fries. He gave them a bored look, set the plates down, and stuck the placard in his pocket. "You're reputation as a poet has been saved, Mulder, just in the nick of time." "There's more where that came from, Scully. Anytime - just let me know." She relaxed against the wooden bench and lifted her face to the sun, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the day and her lingering feelings of contentment. Mulder's light-hearted banter delighted her. The crab was delicious and seasoned by her happiness. But when Scully's cell phone suddenly rang, her happiness seemed to drain away. Back to work. "Dana?" Mary's voice was shaky and sounded clogged up, as if she'd been crying. "Any news?" Scully lifted a casual shoulder against Mulder's questioning look. "Hi, Mary. No, I'm sorry, I don't know anything more." "Oh, Dana." Mary was sobbing in earnest now. "I miss Jimmy so much." Scully blinked back shared tears. "I'm sure you do, Mary, and I'm sorry I don't have better news." Mary laughed, an edge of hysteria in her voice. "I've been thinking, Dana, how wrong I was to stay here. I should have moved far away after Jake died, and then Jimmy would have been safe. I just had trouble making decisions at first, and now this is what it's come to." Scully felt helpless in the face of her friend's hysteria. Mary's emotional storm passed finally, and she muttered in a raspy voice, "Do you remember, Dana, when we were thirteen, how Cassie's little brother went missing?" "No, I don't. I must have moved by then. What happened?" "One night he disappeared from his bedroom. Just like Jimmy. And," Mary swallowed, "they never found him or any of the other kids again." Scully's skin prickled with ice. Evil was a creature who preyed on young children, and she was getting another glimpse of his face. "Other kids, Mary? Which other kids?" Mulder leaned into her space as she wrote down the names Mary mentioned. Mary finally assured Scully she was fine and rang off. "What's up, Scully?" "You know how they say there's a pattern under the surface of every human interaction?" Scully held up her notebook. "Mary just mentioned several child disappearances from about fifteen years ago. There may be no connection." "Then again, this might be it. I'll call Captain Ortega and the field office and get them searching the records. If there is a link, we'll find it." xXx Sharing a park bench, waiting for Sarah's playgroup to arrive, Scully glanced at her partner. If it hadn't have been for the slight bounce of his legs, she would have thought Mulder was relaxing. But after her last few months on the X-Files, she wondered if he ever relaxed. She had to admit, though, his intensity was very attractive. Among other attractive things. The playgroup came swarming in. And 'swarming' was exactly the right word - it was huge. She spotted Sarah as the little girl ran to the climbing frame. "There's Sarah." Scully waved, and Sarah grinned and waved back. Tracy and Britt stood on the other side of the equipment, whispering and chewing gum. She was sure that Mulder was the topic of their conversation by the not-so-casual looks they shot his way. "Sarah likes you, Scully." Mulder fished a sunflower seed out of his bag. "Sarah likes you too, Mulder." "Not the same thing. Oh look," Mulder pointed with his chin, "this must be Mrs. Ramirez now." Scully watched as an elderly woman walked slowly to a bench on the other side of the play equipment. She sat and wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders, then took knitting out of her battered black bag. Scully muttered, "She looks like everybody's grandma," but then sat in silent amazement as a steady stream of even more children were dropped off or walked in on their own. Soon the playground was raucous and crowded, the sandpit was full, and Sarah was one face in a sea of little ones. "I'm surprised that parents are allowing their kids to play at the park, especially after what's happened." Scully nodded. "These parents are the working poor, Mulder. They're scraping to get by, and without subsidized childcare some of them couldn't afford to keep their jobs. But this - it's like the Pied Piper in reverse. Mrs. Ramirez must be very well established in this community for parents to feel this level of trust." "I've never seen anything like it. Should we talk to some kids first, Scully, or Mrs. Pied Piper?" Scully smiled to herself. Mulder was different. He actually seemed to seek out her opinion. "Let's talk to the woman first. The children seem to trust her, and they might talk to us more easily if they see we've been accepted by her." "Good plan." Scully slowed her pace to accommodate Mulder's cane. Odd, Scully thought as they approached, the woman hasn't looked at us once. She finally lifted her head when Scully and Mulder stood directly in front of her. The woman's sharp brown eyes contrasted with the kindly grandma impression Scully just formed. The woman blinked - and then the picture seemed to readjust itself. A gentle senior with arthritic hands and a vague expression sat on the bench, a half-knitted baby booty on her lap. "Hello, ma'am," Mulder began, "We're visiting the play group. Do you come here often?" The woman nodded. "My son Paulo was small, he played at this park. I volunteer to come here and watch the little ones." She opened her bag, and Scully saw bandaids and tissues and lollipops mixed in with her personal items. "The kiddies, they fall over, or they hungry, they come sit next to Mrs. Nanny. I take care of them." "Your son, Paulo. Was he part of the play group fifteen years ago, ma'am? Were you a volunteer back then?" Scully took a half-step back, shocked at the venomous look the woman gave Mulder. "Why you bother me? I come, I sit, I help when the kiddies need me. Who are you, cops?" "No ma'am, were not cops. Sorry to bother you." Mulder turned abruptly, and Scully followed him back to their bench. She felt dagger eyes on her back the entire way, and breathed a sigh of relief when she finally sat. "We're not cops, Mulder?" "Not technically, no. Besides, why not lie to a liar? I've got a bad feeling about her, Scully." "Me too." "Why, Scully, you're intuitive sense is developing." Scully loved his teasing mode. And teasing right back. "No, Mulder, I'm just observant. If looks could kill, we'd be dead right now." "Grannie's a suspect." "She's something, that's for sure." Scully caught Sarah's eye and motioned her over. "Sarah, can you please ask your friends if anyone would like to tell us what they know about the boogyman? We want to help Jimmy." "Okay." Sarah bounced back into the crowd. Scully watched with growing dismay as Sarah spoke to one child after another, receiving scared looks and shaking heads for an answer. No one seemed willing to talk. She was ready to get up and walk over herself when Sarah came through the playground holding an older girl's hand. "Hi. This is Rosa." Rosa smiled shyly. She was a young Hispanic girl with long dark braids and a missing front tooth. Scully held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Rosa. My name is Agent Scully and this is my partner, Agent Mulder." "Hi." Rosa said. "Agent Mulder and I are trying to find Jimmy, Rosa. If you have any idea what happened to him, or where he might be, it would be a big help if you told us." Rosa licked her lips and glanced at Sarah. Sarah whispered, "Tell them, Rosa. You're big. You know." Rosa straightened slightly at the compliment. "I - I think the boogyman took Jimmy. I seen him at the park. He's black and thick like no light can be in him and he smells bad." "Smells bad?" Mulder prompted. "Like after a fire," the girl replied. "Where did you see him in the park, Rosa?" Rosa pointed at the woods behind their bench. "There. But kids at my school know where he lives." Scully blinked. A boogyman with a street address? This was a new twist on what she believed was a shared fabrication. Scully glanced at Mulder and saw the spotlight of his attention focused on their small witness, was sure that only their agreement to let her question the children was stopping him from grilling Rosa. "Do you know the names of the kids who know where he lives, Rosa?" "No, they're big kids." Sarah piped up. "Bigger than you, Rosa?" "Yeah, they're in sixth grade." Mulder leaned in, touched Scully's shoulder. "It's Friday afternoon, Scully. We can't wait until Monday to interview the kids. Too long." Scully remembered how rumours flew around the school when she was a child. Fact was soon embellished into fiction - there was even a child's game that proved it was so. But giving up was out of the question - three young lives were at stake. "Did you hear them say anything about the boogyman's house?" Rosa wrinkled her nose and began to chew on a fingernail. "Um. I know. They said the boogyman lives in the big purple house near a school." Scully couldn't keep the edge of excitement from her voice. "Your school, Rosa?" Rosa shrugged her small shoulders. "No, a school with a bell tower." "A high school?" "I don't know." Mulder unhooked his cane from the back of the bench and stood. "Let's go see what we can find, Scully." They headed for the car. Scully felt a shiver of something behind her. But when she turned around, there was nothing. xXx Mulder unfolded the new map on his knee. Luckily, National City was small enough that its seventeen schools were listed along with other municipal buildings. Mulder took out his pen, crossed out Rosa's school. "Sixteen to go, Scully. Let's find that bell tower." Scully glanced over, noticed Mulder lifting his leg slightly, rubbing his ankle. Fine pain lines were etched around his eyes and his mouth was pinched at the edges. "Ankle bothering you, Mulder?" Mulder pulled his hand up and shrugged. "Only when I walk." "Do you want to go back to the crutches?" "Can't chase the bad guys on crutches, Scully." Scully stopped at the light. "You shouldn't be chasing the bad guys at all. If we do find something suspicious, we're going to need backup." Mulder nodded. "I know." The neighbourhoods changed steadily as they drove. After ninety minutes, they turned into an upscale avenue with middle class mid- century homes. There were well-kept rock gardens and groupings of palm trees. American flags fluttered from porches and windows. At the end of a cul de sac, they spotted a school. A small, mission-style bell tower topped the school's roof. "Got it." Mulder leaned forward eagerly. "See any purple houses, Scully?" Scully slowly drove down the main avenue, then side streets, when they both spotted the only possible match in the neighbourhood. "Is that house red or purple, Scully?" "Yes." Mulder shot her a look. "Burgundy. I can see how a child might call it purple, though." Scully pulled over to write down the address. As she bent to the task, Mulder touched her arm, whispered, "Look, Scully." A florid man in suit and tie stepped foot over the threshold. An older man parked and headed to the door while they watched. After ten minutes, yet another man stopped his car and went inside. "The boogyman must be a sociable guy," Mulder said. "Must be." Mulder spoke quietly. "This is starting to look like something else." "Such as?" "I'm not sure. A drug house?" Scully took out her portable binoculars and scanned the windows. Thick curtains prevented even the smallest glimpse of the interior. She scanned the neighbouring houses and street then stopped, blinking. "Look down at the end of the block." Scully handed the binoculars to Mulder. "Who do you think that is?" "Very interesting. I'm calling Ortega." "Good idea." "It's Agent Mulder, sir," Mulder spoke into his cell phone. "Has police surveillance been ordered for any house on Larkspur Road?" Scully listened in as Ortega explained, "1917 Larkspur? There's a joint INS/police raid planned for tonight. Ten p.m. They got a tip that the site houses illegal aliens working in an underground brothel. Why?" "Do you mind if Agent Scully and I tag along?" "Is this related to the missing kids?" "It could be," Mulder replied. Scully couldn't hear Ortega's answer, but saw Mulder nod and close the cell phone. "We're in, Scully. The INS and Ortega haven't connected this site with the kids' disappearances - they think it's a brothel - but I'd like to follow through on our lead from Rosa." Scully nodded. "Me too." She started the engine. "Where are we going?" "We're heading back to the motel. If anything happens before we can go in, we'll know about it." Scully expected argument. The fact that none was forthcoming made her realize just how rotten Mulder must be feeling. At the motel, Scully urged Mulder to lie down while she removed his tensor brace and carefully examined his ankle. No real change for the worse, she decided, but had to be in considerable pain from all the walking. Mulder smiled gratefully as she wrapped his ankle in a heating pad and set it on low. "Thanks, Scully." "Try to get some rest, Mulder. I'll be back in two hours." Scully turned off the lights and carefully closed the connecting door. I could kill for a coffee, she thought. Scully sat for long moments, trying to decide what to do. She felt numb with fatigue but was afraid to sleep, knowing how hard it would be to wake up again. Her appetite was non-existent. She finally opted for tea and toast from the coffee shop next door, then a long soak in the tub until it was time to wake her partner. Mulder was still an enigma to her, she realized. He seemed to deliberately raise his own personal barriers while at the same time persistently broaching hers. He was challenging, whip-smart, impatient. Compassionate, funny, and the only person at the FBI to date who treated her with true equality. Appealing qualities - and there was no denying how attractive Mulder was in the looks department. Lanky, with sensuous lips and expressive eyes. She remembered her friend's high school acronym for unrequited attraction - SWAG, "Sigh, what a guy." The bath water grew cool, and Scully reminded herself for the thousandth time to guard her heart. As far as she could tell, Mulder never thought of her at all outside the office, while she spent more and more time thinking of him. Dressed and ready to leave for the evening, Scully entered Mulder's room as quietly as she could. Mulder was stretched out on the bed, one arm flung across his eyes. Even breathing told Scully he was asleep. She stepped to the edge of the bed. "Mulder, it's time to wake up." She touched his shoulder and he pulled down his arm, blinked sleepily. "I'm going to massage your ankle with arnica ointment and then help you put on your tensor brace. We need to get ready." "Mmm. Okay." Scully began carefully, with even strokes where the ligaments had been injured. She began to firmly massage under his ankle, pausing when she heard a catch in Mulder's breath. "Sorry, Mulder." "S'okay, Scully. I don't think I could do it myself." Mulder sat up and stretched. A smattering of chest hair peeked through his unbuttoned shirt collar. "I'll take care of the ankle brace, Scully. Let's get this show on the road." *** END None So Blind (1/2) *** TITLE: None So Blind (2/2) AUTHOR: bcfan FEEDBACK: bcfan@shaw.ca *** Part Three *** Ramirez waited in his office at the back of the house. He heard a hum from the private elevator the Boss had insisted he install, and stood and paced nervously. Fuck this, he thought. My family's been in the business for generations, and our partnership with the Boss and his kin has never been a problem. That easy five hundred? A big fat nothing, and anyway, Ramirez was sure he had it covered. The Boss would never know. Ramirez knew exactly why he had a chill the size of a glacier in his gut whenever he had to deal with the Boss, though. He'd seen that shark-like look directed at him once when he was little and had immediately pissed his pants. He could still remember his father's words. "He doesn't touch us or ours. That's the bargain, and the Boss is a man of his word." "Ramirez." The Boss stepped into the room, his voice as deep as the rumble of thunder before a bad rain. Black man, black trenchcoat and gloves, black hat, black sunglasses. Black smell, like tar pits in hell. Ramirez didn't offer his hand. You didn't touch the Boss. "Please, have a seat." The Boss sat, hands on knees, staring at Ramirez until he looked away. "I need product." Blunt demand. "New product, not used. Was Richie used, Ramirez?" His poker face had never been more important. Ramirez stared straight into the black depths of the Boss's sunglasses. "No. You know we'd never break your rule." "Don't lie to me, Ramirez." "No, boss, I swear on my family." A dark rumble of humour. "Your family. I'll remember that." Ramirez picked up a paperweight to hide his shaking hands, began to toy with it as he casually asked, "It's only been a week since I saw you last. Can I help you with anything?" "Richie didn't last as long as I expected." Shit. First the Parraz brat, now this. The little ones were so hard to get ready, too. Teaching them not to gag, pushing things into them so they opened up better. It was a lot of work and took a lot of personal time. And time was money. Even if they couldn't be used, the product was a good hook for customers. Ramirez prided himself on his business smarts - he was in it for the cash, plain and simple. Maybe he could work out a compromise. "We're, ah, a little short of product in your age group, Boss. Could we give you something a little older, keep the one we got for another week or two?" "No. I'll be leaving soon, giving this area a rest. Bring me the one you've got now. I'll wait here." "Yes, Boss." Fucking bastard. Ramirez wanted some return on the dollars and time he'd spent, and now he would never see the product again. *** Mulder walked with Scully into the stakeout from a block away. He moved more easily with his cane this evening - Scully's treatment had really helped. He spared a moment to reflect on the woman by his side. It was getting harder and harder to think of Scully as a spy. Every instinct told him that Scully was the real deal; every past experience warned him to not trust his instincts. Scully tugged at his heart, and in matters of the heart he'd been wrong before. Captain Ortega consulted with a man in a dark suit and tie, then waved them over and spoke into the walkie-talkie. "We're all here. Five suspects have entered the house in the last twenty minutes. On the count of three, men." Scully put her hand on his arm and Mulder nodded. He was here for one reason only - to try and find out what had happened to those kids, and determine if the occupants of this house were connected to their disappearances. The task force could - and would - handle whatever else was going on. Mulder leaned against a patrol car to ease the pressure on his ankle, heard the familiar shouted warnings from Ortega and the INS suits, and watched their choreographed group surround the building. They entered, grim efficiency written on every face. Then uneasy silence. He straightened when a single gunshot shattered the calm. It sounded from the upstairs window, and Mulder's hand jumped to his weapon. He tensed, feeling the press of Scully's shoulder as she stepped to his side. The other agents and officers quickly framed the front door, waiting for the all-clear. When it came, Mulder wiped his palm on his trousers as he and Scully walked into the house. "Everything okay, Captain?" Mulder asked. "We got 'em. We have our own guardian angel on this one - it appears someone cut the wires on their alarm system. It's pretty ugly, though." "Any kids, sir?" Ortega looked disgusted and nodded. "Where are they now?" "The oldest girl asked if they could go down in the basement to join a group of half a dozen other kids. We've got an emergency phone call in for a Social Worker." Mulder looked around. The atmosphere was closed and stuffy, and the sharp tang of sex was strong in the air. Bedrooms were furnished in the kind of maple sets he remembered from his childhood, lending a perverted veneer of comfortable respectability. The bathroom door was missing. Nothing was private in this house. "Careful, Rob," Captain Ortega warned, as an officer shoved one of the handcuffed men his group was leading through the door. "We're going to treat this scum nice and gentle - we don't want them complaining about violating their rights when we nail their asses. Sex with a minor - Jesus." Mulder nodded. "And the people running this?" "One bitch was playing hostess. She's with an old lady upstairs, waiting for transport. Granny fired a shot at us." Ortega sounded shocked. "What looks like the main perp was caught fleeing from the back. Some kind of outside elevator. Right, Steve?" An olive-skinned officer stepped over. "Mike and I nabbed him, but it was the damnedest thing. We just finished cuffing the perp, when the elevator opened again. It was empty, but so dark it was freaky." Mulder stepped forward. "What do you mean, freaky?" "Dark, but kind of shimmery. And there was a burning smell." Steve scratched his head. "I joked 'let's adjust the set' to Mike, but then it was gone. Never seen anything like it." Mulder chewed his lip, then shook his head. A problem for later. He glanced at Scully. Her face was bloodless, expressionless, lips pressed in a thin line. She spoke quietly. "Captain, did you recognize any of the children you found?" "Sorry, Agent Scully. They were too old to match your missing victims." "Do you mind if we go into the basement to question them?" Ortega shrugged. "No problem. The basement's been secured. Would you like an officer-?" Ortega glanced at Mulder's cane. "Agent Scully and I will be fine, Captain." He headed for the basement door and Scully followed. Mulder stopped as he opened the door, stepped back. He pointed to the stairs. "You first." Scully nodded. Mulder carefully manoeuvred one step at a time. The first thing he noticed was the walls. Unpainted plasterboard was covered in childish scrawls. Stick figures, teddy bears. A house with sunshine. Next, the oppressive bars framing high, narrow windows. This would be bad. Scully paced ahead, and he carefully stepped through the maze of sleep mats laid haphazardly on the floor. Scully turned the corner. "Mulder." Mulder caught up - and spotted a group of pale, malnourished kids, huddled together against the back wall. A dozen sets of frightened faces stared up at him. A young girl began to whimper, and was immediately hushed by a pre-teen. None of the children were young enough to be the victims they were seeking, but they were victims, none the less. Mulder holstered his gun, touched Scully's rigid back with his palm, leaned close, and whispered, "Are you okay?" She tried to smile at him. "Yes. I'm fine. Do you have the photos?" Mulder handed her snapshots from the victims' files. Scully held them up. "My name is Dana and this is Fox. You're safe now. We are looking for these boys. Their names are Richie, Jimmy, and Tomas. Have you seen them?" A low buzz of Spanish, then a thin boy in filthy cut-offs and overlarge t-shirt was elbowed to the front of the crowd. He stood and pointed. "The one boy, gone a long time. The other, a little bit of time. But this one," he pointed to Jimmy's photo, "he was taken upstairs just tonight. He didn't come back." Scully sounded faint. "Mulder?" "I'll double check." Mulder clenched his jaw, could feel the muscle twitch. They had missed Jimmy by an hour. xXx Jimmy wasn't in the house, and Mulder was sure that the shimmering blackness described by the young officer was the reason why. Thinking back on their conversation with the kids, his heart broke a little more for their plight. He and Scully had offered to lead them upstairs and into the fresh air to wait for transport to Children's Services but, as a group, they shrank back. The image burned into his retina was of prisoners of war, savaged for so long they were afraid to come into the light. Mulder's nails bit into his fists when he realized that the young ones trapped inside would be able to listen through the windows as neighbourhood children played outside. Emotionally, they would slowly dissolve. He deliberately slowed his breathing to get himself under control. He would need all he could muster. They walked by small groups of gawkers on the way back to their rental and the police station. Mulder ignored a shouted question of "What's going on?" and shrugged in frustration. Scully echoed Mulder's feelings. "This is a nice neighbourhood. Why didn't anyone question what was happening on their own block?" "People only see what they want to see, Scully. And you know what they say." "What do they say?" "'There are none so blind as those who would not see.'" xXx Mulder opened his laptop while waiting for the prisoners to finish being processed and interrogated by the INS. He rubbed his chin as a message came up, and scanned avidly before turning to Scully, a bubble of hope lodged under his breastbone. "Danny came through for us, Scully. Five children mysteriously disappeared from this area fifteen years ago, and fifteen years before that. That's as far as the records go - for now." He forwarded the message to the Gunmen, and began to scan the names. "You're right about a connection, Mulder, but it's not necessarily a connection of the supernatural kind. This could be a human crime ring with a long history." Mulder nodded absently, then gently elbowed Scully as he pointed at a name. "Elizabeth Landow?" Scully looked puzzled. "Yeah. I think she's- " His thought was interrupted by an INS officer calling them. He snapped the laptop shut and headed for the interrogation room. Mulder glanced at his partner as she seated herself and they waited for the suspect. The harsh light of the interrogation room accented Scully's grim face and icy glare. "Scully, can you lose the cane for me? I'm afraid I might hit someone with it." "I'd be tempted to let you." Mulder blinked, surprised. When she slipped back into the room, he spoke quietly. "Are you ready for this?" She nodded. "I just keep thinking of the victims. Especially Mary's son." "I know." Mulder quickly caressed the back of her hand with his fingers. "Ortega and another detective are outside, ready to start a round of bad cop, worse cop. I'm going to play it a little differently. Follow my lead." At Mulder's request, Betty was escorted through the door first. Mascara lines marked exaggerated tear tracks down her face. Her nose was running, and she ineffectually daubed a wadded tissue up to it. As she sat, she started crying again. "I didn't do nothin'. Paulo was in charge!" Mulder kept his voice as even as he could, biting back sarcasm. No adult was innocent in that house. "Betty, my name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully. We're with the FBI. We want to talk to you about some specific children, and see what you know about them. Okay?" Betty nodded, her eyes showing their whites like a spooked racehorse. He was sure Captain Ortega already realized that she would be the one to bring down the entire operation. She had the backbone of a jellyfish. Mulder placed the first photo on the table. Tomas Parraz stood grinning, the soccer ball in his arms dwarfing his small frame. "Betty, what can you tell us about Tomas?" Betty started shaking her head. "No. No no." Mulder glanced at Scully. "We're trying to find three missing children, and if you know where they are, and can help us, it would look good for you." Betty wrung her hands and began to slowly rock. "Can I ask Paulo if it's okay?" Mulder soothed, "We'll talk to Paulo later. Why don't you tell us what you know, and then Paulo can back you up." "The Boss. The Boss took him. And the other two. He took the three littlest kids." Mulder gripped the edge of the table, cleared the harshness from his voice. "You mean Richie," he slapped down two photos, "and Jimmy were taken by the boss too?" "Yeah. I'm sorry, I don't know where they are. The Boss took them. Can I go now?" Betty twirled her hair, batted her eyes. God, Mulder thought, she's trying to be coquettish. "Can you describe the boss to me, Betty?" "I only seen him once. He's big, with really black skin. He was wearing sunglasses and gloves. And he smelled funny." "Funny?" Betty appeared lost in thought, and Mulder wondered if he'd have to snap his fingers under her nose. She's not all there, he realized. "Like when I'm using a curling iron on my hair and burns it a little bit. He - he gives me the creeps." Time to confirm what he already suspected. "Are you Elizabeth Landow? Is that your real name? Are your parents Miriam and Phillip Landow?" Betty's face went grey. She wrapped shaking arms around herself and began to rock, appearing to regress before his eyes. Little girl voice, so soft Mulder had to lean across the table. "Can't tell. Can't never tell. Can't." Words slurred into nonsense. "Mulder?" He braced his arms against the table and shoved back, sliding his chair. "Take her away," he spoke quietly to the one way mirror, "and bring us Ramirez." As soon as they were alone Scully spoke again. "How did you know?" "She has the look and attitude of someone who's been numbed to all experience. And it's part of the pattern - victims are totally cut off from their past, isolated, abused, trained to victimize others." Scully shook her head. "This case is more disturbing by the minute." "It certainly is." Five minutes later Ramirez was led into the room, guards holding each of his arms. Ramirez snarled as they shoved him into a chair, his handcuffs scraping the table. "Mr. Ramirez. I'm with the FBI, as is my partner. We're looking for these three boys. Do you know where they are?" Ramirez shot a bored glance at the row of photos. "Never seen 'em." Mulder held up Jimmy's picture. "Witnesses say he was at the house today. Where is he now?" "How the hell do I know. I can't keep track of everybody. I live upstairs, mind my own business." Mulder stood and fanned the pictures out like a deck of cards. He spoke quietly, pinning Ramirez with his eyes. Ramirez shifted, looked away. "We are going to hunt until we find the boys - or their bodies. If you think they're dead, better speak up, because unless you can point us in the right direction, you'll be considered, at best, an accomplice. Or you'll be charged with murder. Do you want that?" Ramirez's bravado suddenly crumpled like a spent balloon. "Look, I don't know nothing, but if those kids have croaked you can't pin it on me. Last I saw, they were healthy. After the Boss takes them, I'm not responsible, am I?" Mulder took a small tape recorder out of his pocket, placed it carefully in the centre of the table and switched it on. He sat back down, nudged Scully with his foot, and closed his eyes against the walking scum across from him. Scully began. "Mr. Ramirez, any testimony you give tonight to help us will lend credence to your claim of innocence during future investigation as to the whereabouts of three missing children - Tomas Parraz, Richie Andros and Jimmy Findlay. Mr. Ramirez, do you understand that this issue is separate from all other charges being laid against you?" "Yeah, yeah." "Please tell us what you know." "Okay. This is the deal. I'm giving you the straight up, because that fucker must have been the one to cut the alarm wires. The Boss is the only one been in my office besides me, the bastard." Mulder blinked, glanced at Scully. She caught his question. "Why do you think the boss would do that, Ramirez?" Ramirez eyes shifted and he shrugged. "I dunno. I been on the up and up. The Boss was around since before I was a kid. He's, like, connected to family interests around the world. He ain't been in this area for ten or fifteen years, and he said he was leaving soon. I don't know where he lives and I don't know what he does." "Go on." "All I know is he comes, he wants a choice of the finished product from what he brought us, we give it to him. Always the lowest age range. What happens after that - he ain't saying and I ain't asking. It's out of my hands." Mulder barely heard Scully's whispered, "Product?" but he could imagine the horrors racing through her mind. Mulder's measured, "Get him out of here," immediately brought in the guards. It was easy to ignore the sudden pain in his ankle as he stood. Scully stepped away and turned her back. Her shoulders were hunched and her fists were clenched to her sides. "I think Ramirez made a pact with the devil, Scully. For whatever reason, the devil decided to bite him on the ass." He looked away, giving Scully time to compose herself. "You know," he began, "it's one a.m. I'm tired and hungry. Let's grab something to eat and head back, get a fresh start in the morning." Scully's face was flushed, her eyes puffy. She nodded. He ran a tired hand through his hair, then held it out for the car keys. "I'm driving." "But-" Softly. "I'm driving, Scully. Don't worry." Scully was asleep, listing against him in her seatbelt, before he'd driven a mile. xXx Mulder pulled up outside the motel room. He was grateful they were on the ground floor as he manoeuvred the fast food bags, room keys, and laptop while guiding Scully inside. She didn't seem to notice as he pulled down the covers, helped her with her jacket, and slipped off her shoes. She immediately curled up in the bed. Regret washed over him as he pulled the cover over her shoulders and set the bagged salad on her nightstand. Scully's connection with the victim's mother was making a bad case even worse for her, and Mulder wished with all his heart that he'd come to National City on his own. "Good night, Scully," he whispered, and switched off her light. He limped through the connecting doors to his room. He'd forgotten his cane at the police station, but his ankle wasn't too bad. Proper care by his own personal doctor, he reflected, seemed to help. Mulder stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and ate a drive-through burger and fries while firing up his laptop. Something was niggling at the back of his brain, something Ramirez said. Something about family interests. He sifted through his files and searched through hundreds of possible on-topic sites. A search for Mafia-like family connections didn't wash, but the picture emerging was even worse. Ramirez was probably talking about Los Lenones - tightly organized associations of pimps based on family hierarchies. The missing kids from fifteen years ago were a perfect fit. Jimmy and the other young kids were only the latest in a chain of victims that went back generations. His eyes felt sandy from the grit of lost sleep. He dug a city map out of the pile and marked the homes of the three victims, the park, and the Ramirez place. Mulder swallowed cold coffee as the considered the pattern's implications. Two of the young boys lived within six blocks of the park - and the one that didn't was on a direct route from the park to the Ramirez' house. Ramirez called him the Boss; the kids called him the boogyman. Either way, someone or something with a fifteen year cycle of activity in the area was attracted to young children in the park. He must have a base in the vicinity, Mulder reasoned. A place close to the park - or maybe in the park? Someplace private. Besides a playground and ball fields, Mulder had seen two outbuildings in the park itself, and several boarded-up buildings on nearby streets. A sudden noise, and Mulder sat straighter. Again, this time a whimper. Mulder pulled on his pants, grabbed his gun, and slowly opened the connecting door. He swept the room before lowering his weapon. Scully was whimpering in her sleep. Mulder froze, then walked to her side and began to stroke her shoulder. Scully's legs stopped twitching and she gasped, suddenly awake. "Mulder?" "Shhh, it's okay." Mulder backed off and turned on the tap for a few seconds, handed her a half-full glass of water. Scully's cheeks were red and she was biting her lip. "Wanna talk about it?" She shrugged, looked away. "I'm fine." "Sometimes this work gets to me too." Scully nodded, seemed relieved, but said nothing in reply. He smiled and rubbed his bristly cheek. "Breakfast?" "Sure, I won't be able to go back to sleep anyway." She stifled a yawn. "What time is it?" "Six o'clock." She eyed him up and down. "Did you sleep?" "Not much," he lied. "But I do have some more information we need to sit down and go through." "Yeah?" "I think we're both right about this case, Scully. Human beings ran the sex ring, but the entity that has Jimmy is not quite human." "But Mulder-" Scully began. "How about we meet in twenty? I need to shave and change." He left the room before she could reply. *** Part Four *** Boss unlocked the door. The windows were boarded up, but he didn't need light to savour his prey. His newest - Jimmy - was a lump hidden under an old throw, curled up tight on an old mattress. Boss smiled to himself. They always tried to hide, as if that could stop him. Foolish babies. He slowly pulled back the blanket, enjoying the frisson of feeling as the boy's flesh was revealed, inch by bruised inch. Life was strong in this one, and Boss licked his lips for more pleasure to come. A freshly minted body to explore - Boss's eyes caressed Jimmy's face and torso. Two rosebuds waiting for his pleasure, both red and attractively swollen. Small hands which fluttered like butterflies when he was taken. Silken hair to grip. Soft. So soft. Boss nodded approvingly. This one was well-trained, too. No screaming to bring unwanted attention, and fear made him pliant rather than rigid like the last two. He wanted more. Boss felt the eternal hunger of need in the power of the new to ignite the old. He reached down and roughly caressed the boy's genitals. Jimmy gasped awake and began to softly chant, "Nonono." *** Scully noticed the slight limp. "Are you wearing your ankle brace?" Mulder pulled up the cuff of his suit pants. "Yes, mom," he drawled. "My ankle is officially on the mend." "That's good, because we've got some walking to do today." She led the way down a driveway to the caretaker's cottage at the back of the park. Scully felt refreshed after her shower and breakfast, eager to find Mary's son. To restore justice. Mulder had a search plan and, whether they were looking for man or even boogyman, she felt success was within reach. Scully stopped at the front steps and turned. "I only have one question, Mulder. If this boogyman or Boss does turn out to be supernatural, how are we going to catch him?" Mulder smirked. "Better hope the boogyman isn't bulletproof." Scully nodded. "We'll pick you up some garlic before we search the rest of the area. And I've already got my cross." "Nice that you're thinking of me, Scully. The smell will drive him away." Scully lifted her hand to knock, then noticed the neat, hand-printed sign - Please ring bell. She pressed the button twice before an elderly gentleman came to the screen door. Wispy white hair circled a bald pate, and he muttered, "Just a minute," as he fiddled with something in his hand. Hearing aids, Scully realized, as he put them into place He blinked owlishly. "How can I help you?" Scully held up her badge. "I'm Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder. Are you Vincent Dearson?" "Yes, I'm Vince Dearson." "May we come in, sir? We have some questions about recent activities in the park." "Of course, come in." He waved them inside. Scully and Mulder sat, knees touching, on a worn sofa. Dearson smiled from his armchair. "I don't believe I've met any FBI agents before. Must be important business." Mulder leaned forward. "It is, sir. Three children are missing, and we have reason to believe that the person who took them has visited the park, maybe even stayed in the area." Dearson shook his head. "That's terrible. So many kids come here, have fun, I never heard about this. Of course," he touched his hearing aids, "I can't hear much." Scully looked up, noticed the bare light bulb over the door. It must be connected to the doorbell, she realized. Mulder faced Dearson and spoke clearly. "Have you noticed a man dressed all in black, sir?" "No, can't say as I have. I've noticed some other strange things, though. I thought it was tramps, but it might be who you're looking for." "What do you mean?" "It's my job to clean the toilets every day, and to call maintenance if anything's been vandalized. In the last month the tool shed's been broken into, and somebody stole a shovel. I think someone used it to dig a couple of places I found at the back of my garden." Scully looked at Mulder and he solemnly gazed back. Her stomach knotted. She was sure she knew why two holes had been dug. Mulder continued. "Anything else, sir?" Dearson scowled in thought. "Yeah, there is. I can't hear good but I can smell all right. I went into a room behind the outdoor stage because I thought I smelled something smouldering. When I got there, there was a peculiar singed odor, but there wasn't any fire." Scully stood. "Please show us where your garden's been disturbed." Scully and Mulder followed the caretaker, walking slowly to the back of his garden. Two small mounds of disturbed earth edged the plot. Scully turned and gave Mr. Dearson her card. "If something happens or you think of anything else, please let us know." Dearson solemnly shook each of their hands. "I will." Mulder pulled out his phone as soon as Dearson was out of sight. He called in and described the crime scene, requested a forensics team. "Scully, when the team arrives we should head back to the station and talk to Captain Ortega. We need to concentrate on finding Jimmy, and we're going to need some manpower for our search." Scully nodded. "Good idea. And Mulder - I'll drive." xXx Mulder unfolded his map, smoothed it down on Ortega's desk. "We've got to start a serious search because, according to Ramirez, the Boss was talking about leaving National City soon." Ortega nodded, pointed a blunt finger at the pattern Mulder had drawn. "What are you thinking?" "He's either in the park or somewhere close by. The caretaker found evidence that suggests he was one of the outbuildings in the recent past." Ortega nodded again. "All right. I don't have a lot of people here right now, but I'll call some in. Everyone knows what we found during last night's bust and, believe me, they'll want to help. Give me half an hour." Mulder led Scully into the lunchroom and sat, propping his leg up on an extra chair. Scully chewed on a vending machine sandwich and drank bad coffee while dreaming of Caesar salad and lattes. Why didn't they ever investigate five star restaurants, she wondered, and laughed quietly to herself. Mulder yawned, and began rotating his shoulders until he slumped back. Scully studied his weary face and shadowed eyes, and couldn't keep the concern out of her voice. "How much sleep *did* you get last night, Mulder?" Mulder shifted in his chair and looked away. Scully frowned. One minute Mulder seemed to welcome her attention, and the next it felt like a barrier was being hastily constructed in front of her eyes. She shrugged it off. "Should we interview Ramirez's mother while we're here?" "No. Judging from our last meeting she's the toughest of the bunch. The INS guys didn't get much out of her, and I don't think we'd get anywhere." Scully pinned Mulder with her eyes. "I've never heard of a mother and son prostitution ring, especially one that deals with children. I'd like to know more." Mulder shook his head, muttered, "No, you wouldn't." "What do you mean?" Mulder shrugged, seemed to be dismissing her questions - but began to shift uncomfortably under her glare. Good, she thought. "Mulder, I'm your partner. That means I need to know what's going on." "What are you talking about, Scully? Everything's under control." "I mean it, Mulder. This better not be some 'protect the little woman' crap. I've got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it." "I know that." Mulder sighed. "You're right, Scully. It's just that - well, it's just that I wish I didn't know some of this myself." "Look, Mulder, I'm grateful for how you helped me last night, but we've got to keep our lines of communication open. How else can we watch each others backs?" "Okay, Scully. You're right. Here." He took a sheaf of papers out of his inside pocket. "My notes." Scully read Mulder's difficult writing, which got smaller and smaller with each detail of the Los Lenones organization. The calculated inhumanity of their group sickened her. Pimps based on family hierarchies. Childhood sexual slavery. Brutal lessons passed down from father to son. She handed the papers back without a word. A knock on the open door, and Ortega poked his head in. "We're meeting in the bullpen, Agents." They followed Ortega, and more than a dozen people turned towards them as they walked to the front of the room. Scully watched as Mulder taped his map to the wall. Using a black felt pen, he drew a teardrop shape around the park with the point at the Ramirez place. Captain Ortega began. "I've just been informed by the forensic team that two bodies were found in the park, young males, and very likely two of our missing boys." A hushed murmur went up, and Ortega raised his voice slightly to be heard. "The third, Jimmy Findlay, is still unaccounted for. We have reason to believe he is still alive at this time. Agent Mulder-" Mulder stood. "Thank you, Captain. Okay, this map shows the victims' homes and information from the park caretaker. Our best bet is to search the park and any abandoned houses or buildings in this target area. The man Ramirez fingered as the Boss is on the move. The sooner we find Jimmy -" held up an 8 x 10 of the boy "-the better. Captain Ortega has gridded the target area and will divide it among the teams." As officers began to talk quietly, one called out, "Agent Mulder, do we have a better description of the prep yet?" Scully spoke up before Mulder had a chance to confuse the crowd. "We believe he's a black male, age 20 to 35, 175 lbs., and at least six feet tall. He dresses in black - gloves, hat, trench coat, sunglasses - and has been described to us being able to disappear into the night. A number of witnesses have also mentioned that he has a peculiar burning odour, perhaps from time spent near locations such as a junkyard or industrial incinerator." It was quiet for a moment, then Captain Ortega began reading off assignments. Two pairs of plainclothes officers paired with Scully and Mulder and discussed ways to search the southern - and wooded - half of the park. xXx They met at the park's perimeter. Within five minutes, they were poking through the trees in pairs. Scully spotted a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, and raised her gun. "Careful of the squirrels, Scully," Mulder whispered. Scully felt her face heat, but ignored Mulder's jibe. Every shadow reminded her of their quarry, and she bit her lip in concentration. They swept their area, moving on silent feet for another ten minutes. Scully noticed her hand shaking slightly, and eased her grip around the strain of a gun at the ready. Suddenly, she heard a slight rustle in the brush - and smelled smoke. Scully raised her left hand and Mulder nodded. They stepped apart slightly and came in high and low. Scully spotted the edge of a boot when Mulder shouted, "FBI. Come out slowly with your hands up!" Two stained and weather beaten hands shot up in the air, and Scully immediately relaxed after catching sight of his tattered, faded clothes. Not the Boss. As the stranger lumbered to his feet, she was surprised at his sheer bulk - and by the layer of grime that seemed to cover him, head to foot. Two bloodshot eyes peered out from behind a tangle of greasy hair. He spoke, and Scully could see gaps where teeth used to be. His voice combined bravado and nervousness. "Make it quick, mister, my arms are getting tired." Mulder gestured and the vagrant lowered his arms, folded them defensively. A plaintive complaint, "Can't a man get any privacy around here?" Mulder pulled out his badge. "FBI. I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Scully. We're looking for someone." "Partner, huh?" the man sneered, and Scully swallowed frustration when Mulder moved part way between her and the vagrant. She stepped to Mulder's side. "We're looking for a black man with black clothing and sunglasses who's been spotted recently in the park. Have you seen him?" "I've seen him. I call him Blackie." He wheezed at his own joke. "Where?" Mulder demanded. "He's been hanging around, enjoying nature's finest, same as me. Don't think he ever set up camp, though. Mostly just walking on that trail to the playground." "Did you ever talk to him?" "This ain't a social club." Mulder spoke. "Did this man see you?" "Sure, we spotted each other. But I don't have what he wants. Blackie's got a hungry vibe, but not for me." "What do you mean?" The vagrant shrugged, sat back on the ground and kicked at the ashes from an evening's campfire. "Just a feeling. He's not nice like me." He wiped the top of a battered plastic container with his fist and offered it to Scully. "Water?" "No, thank you," she murmured. Mulder holstered his weapon. "One more question. When did you see him last?" "A couple of days ago. Over there." He pointed. Scully led the way through the brush and into a clearing before Mulder spoke. "You've got an admirer." "On a par with your Jersey beast woman, I'd say." Mulder smirked. They didn't see anything or anyone else on their search. It was early evening by the time Mulder and Scully reached the edge of the woods. They sat for a moment on the same playground bench they'd occupied the previous day. The park looked forlorn. A few kids were hanging by the swings, which were shadowed by the dusk. A knot of skateboarders stood whispering, and they finally sidled closer. The tallest boy spoke. "You're FBI, aren't you?" "That's right," Mulder replied easily. "How did you know?" "Heard stuff." The boy hitched his board under his arm. "You can help us," Mulder said. "Do you boys know anything about a person kids around here call the boogyman?" The boy looked at his companions, then shrugged. "Nope." Another, slighter boy spoke up. "My little sister's afraid of the boogyman. I told her it was a bunch of shit." "Don't be so -" Mulder began. Scully's phone rang. "Ortega?" Mulder asked. Scully shrugged, opened the phone. "Agent Scully here." Mary was sobbing hysterically on the other end of the line. "Dana - he's gone, he's gone, he's gone!" "Mary, take a breath. What's-" "He's gone, Jimmy's gone, Jimmy!" Mary's litany dissolved into broken screams, and Scully rose to her feet with the phone still grasped tightly in her hand. "Mary, calm down. I'm in the neighbourhood. I'll be right there." "Scully?" Mulder asked. "Mary. She's hysterical. I'd better get over to her place. She sounds pretty bad." Mulder nodded. "Okay. Take the car. I'll catch a ride with Captain Ortega." "Mulder - don't go solo on this." "Me?" Mulder faked innocence. "Have I ever?" Scully headed towards the rental. Mary needed her, but she was Mulder's partner, and past cases had proven they were usually better off together. She couldn't fend off the slightest of concerns. Halfway down the path she turned. "Promise me you'll get backup." "I will, I promise. Now go." She wanted to believe. xXx She knew something was terribly wrong the second that she got to Mary's house. The screen door was open, and the living room had been trashed. A hole had been punched into one wall, and shards of glass covered the floor. Scully drew her gun. "Mary, it's Dana. Where are you?" She heard a wail. "Oh god! Oh god oh god oh god!" Scully made her way carefully to the kitchen. Mary was sitting on the floor, still clutching the phone in her hand. Scully's card lay at her feet. "Mary?" Scully crouched next to her friend. "Mary, it's Dana Scully." She began to rub Mary's back in soothing circles. "I'm here, Mary. How can I help?" Mary looked around wildly, her face streaked with tears and snot. "He's not here, Dana. Jimmy's not here. I've looked everywhere. I went into his room to read him a bedtime story and he's gone!" Scully's stomach flipped, and she impulsively hugged her friend. "I know, Mary. I know. I'm going to help you now." "He's gone! He's gone!" Mary sobbed over and over. Scully righted a chair and guided Mary into it, went to the bathroom and came back with a wet cloth. Scully gently washed Mary's face as she sat, mute and shivering. Scully took the phone from Mary's unresisting hand and called 911. xXx Scully's head throbbed, and she was grateful to find a tiny bottle of aspirin in the gift shop. She'd been forced to rush Mary, who had gone from hysterical to unresponsive, to the local hospital. She walked back into a corner of the lobby, sat wearily in a rigid plastic chair, and phoned Mulder. He answered on the first ring. "That you, Scully?" He sounded worried. "Yes. Sorry. I'm at the hospital. Mary needed to be sedated, and they're keeping her overnight. I think Mary's having a breakdown." "I'm sorry to hear that." "Me too." Scully swallowed. She could hear a hum of voices in the background. "How's the investigation?" "We're at an abandoned apartment block at Chesterfield and Fifty- seventh," came Mulder's quiet reply. "On the east side of the park. Witnesses place the Boss here over the last few days. How soon can-" Scully stood. "I'm on my way." *** Part Five *** Catastrophe hovered in the air around the decrepit apartment building. Fully two-thirds of the windows were boarded up, and a private property sign across the front doors nailed them shut. A siren shouted in the distance. Mulder imagined a black hole sucking life from the crushed neighbourhood. A patrolman had found the first clue. Alerted by a strong burning odour, he'd shoved aside a stack of dilapidated cardboard boxes and found a broken window. With a patrol car guarding the front and an INS team in place, a circle of officers surrounded Ortega and Mulder in the alleyway. Mulder stood silent as Ortega gave directions for the search. His brain was firing overtime and an intuition he hated to rely on told him exactly where to look. He glanced at his watch. Scully would be there soon, but he couldn't risk the wait. "Captain Ortega, I want to go in with the basement team." Ortega nodded. "Mike, start your team at the top. Harris, Rachel, Jaspreet, Agent Mulder, basement. Careful, everyone. There's no power and the place is a condemned shithouse, so no one has a legal right to be in there. Slow and thorough. We'll have a crew stationed outside to handle anyone you flush out. Keep in contact." Mulder grabbed a two-way radio from the supply box as one of the men used a crowbar to snap the lock. "Agent Mulder," Harris said, "it's our bust. We'll go first." He gestured to Mulder's bad ankle. Mulder's jaw clenched as he bit back an argument. He knew they were right - on both counts - but the drive to find Jimmy seemed to be pulling him into the building. He nodded once, sharply, and followed the others. They filed through the splintered door and down the stairs into a level of hell. Spray paint obscenities bled into ragged holes in the walls, and glass littered the floor. The fetid tear-down was filled with trash. A rat darted boldly between Mulder's legs. All four switched on their flashlights and Harris gave a hand signal to split them into pairs. Harris and Rachel went east. Mulder looked at Jaspreet. "Ready?" At Jaspreet's nod, they approached the first abandoned apartment in their wing. The door was partly open, so Mulder pushed until they had a clear view. They stepped inside and searched the other rooms. Empty. The ominous odour of scorched garbage hovered in the air but its source was impossible to pinpoint. We'll have to do this one room at a time, Mulder realized. That would take time, and time was not something they had to spare. Next apartment, then the next, and the next. Nothing. Mulder tried another door. A surge of adrenaline followed noise in a back room. Mulder and Jaspreet assumed firing stance, waiting to see if the sound would come again. When it wasn't repeated, Mulder used his left arm to shove a rotten mattress blocking the way. A shriek - and an angry ball of cat shot into the next room. Mulder licked his lips. "This doesn't look like the Pussy Cat Lounge." He glanced over and noticed a fine sheen of sweat on Jaspreet's face. Mulder felt it too. Hot weather and Kevlar was only part of the reason. They silently continued their search, Mulder's eyes straining in the gloom. He pressed his lips in a thin line to keep the frustration inside. This was their last hope, he thought as yet another apartment revealed nothing. If they didn't find Jimmy in this building, Mulder's theory would be dead wrong. Dead wrong probably meant dead Jimmy. Three apartments left. Mulder reached for the door, but some change in the air told him to turn. The burning stench, always strong, was suddenly stronger, and it choked the air from his lungs. A dark form roared toward him, missed his head by a fraction, and Mulder crouched low, his back pressed against a wall. "What the hell?" Jaspreet gasped just as the black form swept him to the ground. Mulder looked up. The shadow was taking shape, solidifying before his eyes. A black grin leered down at him. The Boss pulled off his sunglasses. Mulder looked into the monster's eyes and his mind was instantly overwhelmed. Blood, death, hunger, power - a demonic dance filled his head as he gasped for air. Fighting the urge to curl in on himself, Mulder lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, again and again, emptying his weapon, but to no effect. The creature loomed over him, as if preparing to strike. Then, with a shrug, the Boss grabbed Mulder by the lapels and hoisted him effortlessly into the air. A suddenly clatter of footfalls came from the stairwell, distracting his captor. Mulder sagged in the creature's grip. "Next time," the creature sneered, exhaling brimstone. The Boss tossed Mulder to the floor like yesterday's garbage. He replaced his glasses and the shards of pain behind Mulder's eyes slowly retreated. The Boss turned and glided to the far exit, seeming to dematerialize as he travelled. Within seconds, Mulder was squinting at an amorphous shimmer. Mulder struggled to his feet, head throbbing, and shouted, "Officer down!" into the two-way. "Our perp entered the west stairway, probably heading for ground level." Harris and Rachel crouched by Jaspreet's body. "He okay?" Mulder asked. "Unconscious. I've called for an ambulance," Harris replied. "What the hell happened?" "It attacked him." "It?" Rachel asked. "Our perp," Mulder replied as he changed the clip in his gun. An open door as the end of the hallway called to him. The Boss had probably come from there. And maybe - He had to know. Mulder stepped carefully around fast food wrappers, toilet paper and discarded condoms. As his eyes adjusted to the twilight, he switched off his flashlight. The next room. No - the next one. There. A soft little naked body huddled in the corner, all arms and legs and a preschooler's tummy. Mulder walked in and slowly reached out a hand, then stopped in midair. Alive. The boy was alive. Mulder spread his feet, crouching low to make his frame as small as possible. "Hi." The boy stared with frightened eyes. "My name is Fox. I'm with the police. Are you Jimmy Findlay?" A slow blink in a tear-streaked face. "Are you hurt, Jimmy?" "Uh huh." The boy sniffled. "I want my mommy!" Mulder swallowed, struggled to maintain a calm face. The boy's genitals were inflamed. He eased off his coat and sat cross-legged on the ground. "Are you cold?" Jimmy whimpered, "Mommy." "Jimmy, I'm going to put my coat on the ground. You can put it on." Mulder placed his cell phone, badge, and two-way radio next to his thigh. He stretched his jacket in front of him. The tot pulled on a sleeve and wrapped himself up, covering everything but his eyes. Mulder reached for his weapon - then stopped - at the sound of familiar footsteps. "Mulder?" "Hi, Scully," Mulder whispered. "Let me introduce you to Jimmy Findlay." Scully dropped to her knees next to Mulder and smiled as she spoke. "Hi Jimmy, I'm Dana. I'm a friend of your mommy's. I'm so glad we've found you. She misses you so much, Jimmy." Jimmy shuddered, and huge tears ran down his face. Scully sat next to the tot and, after a hair's breadth of hesitation, he leaned against her. "Mommy." Mulder's muscles sagged as he rubbed an aching spot on his forehead. There wasn't going to be another unhappy ending. xXx "I heard from Mary Findlay last night, Mulder." "Yeah?" Mulder looked up from his desk. "What did she have to say?" "She called to thank us again, and to say that she and Jimmy are doing better. They're both in therapy and it's helping." Mulder sucked in his lip, worried it. "Jimmy's got a lot to deal with." Scully nodded. "I've got my mom on it, Mulder. She was already flying out to San Diego to visit my brother, so she's going to contact some friends, see what they can do to help." He gazed into her serious eyes. A caring woman, he thought absently. "Navy connections?" Scully smiled. "And the church." "Sounds like the Findlays are going to be tag teamed." Scully nodded. "I just wish-" "What?" "I just wish we could have caught the perp." Mulder shrugged. "You know what Ortega said, Scully. A shimmery darkness and a strong stench of burning garbage, but nothing solid. Besides-" "Yes?" "You can't catch the boogyman." Scully frowned. "So it would appear." "Are you humouring me, Agent Scully?" "Not at all." Scully wrinkled her nose, closed the file she was reading and handed it to Mulder. "These are the kinds of cases I'm learning to expect in our partnership." Partnership. Mulder heard unspoken promise in the word, an affinity he'd yet to experience and thought to never have. Mulder stood. As he walked easily to the projector he felt energized, pain-free after almost a month and ready to start the next fascinating case. "In that case, partner," he lit the screen with his first slide, "there's been a series of mysterious fires outside of San Francisco. Here-" click "-here-" click "-here-" click "-and here." "And?" Scully asked. "Have you ever heard of a bonnacon?" "A what?" "A bonnacon. It's a Chinese ox-like creature with harmlessly curled horns. It's reputed to be able to defend itself by passing gas so strong that it starts fires." Scully snorted. "You mean a Chinese ox-like *mythical* creature, right? A powerfully farting fictional creature? Wouldn't that be kind of hard to hide - even in San Francisco?" "None so blind, Scully." *** END None So Blind (2/2) *** Notes: This story is dedicated to MaybeAmanda. All thanks go to her. MaybeAmanda not only held my hand during the entire writing process, but provided invaluable instruction on how to construct a casefile (something I probably wouldn't have attempted if I'd known how difficult it was - and never would have finished without Amanda's help). Sadly, Amanda didn't provide a Manda-to-bc brain transplant along with her help, so any mistakes in this story are due solely to my own leaps of illogic. I have never been to National City, California. All National City locations and people mentioned in my story are the purest fiction. Finally, I was dismayed to learn while doing research that Los Lenones is an actual, real worldwide association of pimps, routinely locating their underage brothels in neighbourhoods like the one described in this story. ***