See part 1 for disclaimers. Opposite Poles Part 5 Rory D. Cottrell trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu rory@siena.earth.rochester.edu "Opposite Poles" Part 5 St. Angelos Shelter Thursday, 9:12 AM The shelter was located on the outskirts of town, in one of the older sections. In sharp contrast to the suburbia that she had seen yesterday when she visited Kathy, this place was a more used. It was not a hovel, yet no one could claim a lifestyle of the rich and famous. Humble was the word Scully muttered to herself as she turned down the Fifth street. St. Angelos was a large, sturdy house, easily three stories high, with dormer windows that made Scully think fondly of her mother's house. There was a bike rack in the driveway rather than cars, a tool shed in the back with a beaten track of dirtied snow leading from the side door of the house. Warmed air from a dryer vent billowed from boarded window to the basement. There were a number of young people hanging around the front yard, playing a rough and tumble game of flag football. Two others were shoveling out the front sidewalk. Others were engaged in building anatomically correct snow people. "Sex education in schools. Gotta love it," Brady commented. Scully turned a wry smile in reply, slowing to park. Scully pulled over on the opposite side of the road, and as she and Agent Brady stepped out of the car, it was as if all eyes were on them. The football game stopped mid-play, the shovellers stopped, and the snow sculptors hesitated in finishing off the left breast of their female addition to the snow man orgy surrounding them. One of the football players slowly approached. He was older than most of the rest, though he couldn't have been more than nineteen years old at most. His hair was sandy brown, spotted with flakes of dead leaves and snow from a recent tackle. A torn flannel shirt was wrapped around his waist, leaving only a thin sweatshirt as protection between his body and the elements. "You should put a few more layers on there, son," Brady said, friendly. "You'll catch your death of pneumonia." "Can I help you?" the boy said hostile, ignoring the advice. Scully took the initiative and reached for her ID with her left hand. "I'm Agent Scully. This is Agent Brady. We work for the FBI," she said with a no-nonsense attitude. "We're looking for a Mrs. Abigail Lorrah." Another one of the football players stood side by side with the leader of the pack, with all the attitude of a pit bull. "She ain't done nothing." "We're only here to follow up an investigation," Scully replied, undaunted. She had faced down serial killers and irate assistant directors. These kids were nothing. She did notice that Brady nonchalantly opened his trench coat a little wider, exposing the grip of his pistol. Mild intimidation tactic, she had used it once or twice herself. Lack of height did not mean lack of accuracy; Mulder had yet to beat her record at the firing range. "Did you know a Jennifer Aslen?" Brady asked, hands on hips now. Some of the younger ones in the crowd backed off when they noticed the gun, but Leader and Pit Bull kept their ground. Leader folded his arms across his chest. "She ain't been around here for about a month. What do you want with her?" "She's dead." Simply stated, it set the mood to a far less aggressive stance, and she wasn't in the mood to argue with a bunch of teenagers. She had not slept well the night before, or the one previous to that, something Mulder was going to give her hell over when she got back to DC. In retrospect, Scully thought she might have chosen her words a little more tactfully, irritability was no excuse to be rude, even if tact was not part of the young man's vocabulary anyway. Now that she looked at them "Ms. Abby's in her office," Leader said, pointing to the front stair. "First door on the right as you go in." "Thank you," Scully said, stepping around the flattened mounds of snow to get to the front walk. She was acutely aware of the looks both she and Brady were getting, though whether they were looks of distaste or awe or maybe a little of both, she couldn't tell. At a single glance of the house, she couldn't possible see how every one she had seen outside could possibly live inside the house. She had read a brief profile on the place before heading out: it had been established in 1978 by Abigail Lorrah, now 52, widowed mother of two. It was rumored that any teenager that made it through Abigail Lorrah's program would make good in society. After briefly meeting some of the woman's charges, Scully could see Abigail Lorrah had her work cut out for her. After stepping through the front door, she understood a little better about the living arrangements. The house looked more like a dormitory from the front hallway. There was a large, spacious activities room to her left, an even larger kitchen at the end of the house. A set of stairs wound up a narrow hallway to the second and third floors, and judging from the layout of the rooms on the first floor, there could have been as many as six, maybe eight, rooms per floor, not counting the basement. A distinguished looking woman walked out of a side office. She had salt and pepper hair, pulled back in a severe, braided ponytail. Her clothes served both simple style and function, setting her apart from her teenage charges. Her face was kind, yet bore the semblance of a woman who would not be argued with. A set of reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose, a metallic chain around her neck dangled loosely from the ends of her glasses. She wasn't looking where she was walking, and almost ran into Scully. A little startled, the woman stepped back, looked over the top of her glasses at them. "May I help you?" Again, Scully showed her ID and introduced herself. "We'd like to ask you some questions about one of your residents, a Jennifer Aslen." "I'm sorry," Lorrah said, stepping into what Scully assumed was her office. "But our records are strictly confidential. It's for the protection of our residents. Some are here to escape abusive homes, gangs, whatnot." Brady produced an envelope from one of his suit pockets. "We do have a warrant, and we promise, everything will be kept in the strictest of confidences." Still wary, Lorrah sat behind her desk, hand outstretched to accept the piece of paper. Brady handed it over, and they watched as she read over every bit of the document. Wary, Lorrah set the warrant aside, leaned back in her chair. "All right. But I reserve the right not to answer your questions if I feel it will endanger the well-being of any of my kids here." "Understood," Scully said, taking a seat with Brady when Lorrah suggested they should. "When was the last time you saw Jennifer Aslen?" Lorrah's expression saddened. "She left here a little over a month ago. It's such a shame, though. She was making real progress. Had a steady job for once, she made a few friends here. Then she left, middle of the night, no rhyme or reason. I filed a missing persons report with the police, and I've told my kids to keep an eye out for her. May I ask why you're looking for her?" "Did she have a boyfriend to your knowledge, Mrs. Lorrah?" Brady asked instead. Brady's evasiveness was not lost on Lorrah, and she stared back with a steely glare. "Not that I know of. She was pregnant when she came here nearly seven months ago. Before that, she was in jail for prostitution, she didn't have adequate protection I suppose. When she decided to have the baby, I made sure she saw a doctor regularly while she was in my care. Now, I must ask again, why are you asking about her?" "Mrs. Lorrah," Scully began, "Jennifer Aslen was found dead 4 days ago. She was strangled after giving birth. We believe her death is connected to an ongoing FBI investigation, and we would like to find out everything we can about Jennifer's whereabouts prior to her death." "Oh my god," Lorrah said quietly to herself. "Oh my god. I didn't realize. Has someone contacted her family? I know she has family in the area. They will want to know." Scully nodded. "You said you made sure Jennifer saw a doctor after she decided to have the baby. Was there a chance that she was not going to keep it?" Lorrah frowned, whether it was a reflection of personal views or just the subject matter, Scully wasn't sure. "There's a women's health clinic, OB/GYN facility, in the city. They take care of a lot of cases like Jennifer's at minimal cost. I recommend it to a lot of my girls who don't know what they want to do, or are unsure of the consequences. There are counselors there that will give them the low down and help them make the decision that is right for them. I suppose Jennifer was on the fence for a while, trying to decide what she wanted to do. When she decided to go through with the pregnancy, I told her I would support her all the way." "Can you give us the name of the clinic?" Scully asked. Brady pulled out a notebook and a pen to jot down the answer. "The Stattler Clinic, on University and Park." Brady closed his notebook, nodding. "I know the place. My wife's sister works there." "Do you know if she went any place else for health care? Another clinic perhaps?" Scully added. She had to make sure. After talking with Mulder on the phone, she poured over the police reports for hours, only to find that the investigative officers could not pin down any one clinic in the DC area that each of the victims visited regularly. Lorrah shook her head. "As far as I know, the only clinic she went to was Stattler." "Do you have any idea why Jennifer might have left, where she might have gone?" Scully asked. "I'm sorry, I don't," Lorrah replied. "Mind if we talk to a few of her friends here? Maybe they know why she left." "You can ask," Lorrah said, "but I won't guarantee that they will talk with you. A lot of these kids come from back grounds where the police just stood in the background and watched while fathers beat on mothers and kids. They will cop an attitude. You may not like it, but we have an understanding." "Understood. One more question, Mrs. Lorrah. Are there any other pregnant girls under your charge that may have gone to the Stattler Clinic at any time in the last six months?" A horrified expression descended on Lorrah's face. "Do you think that this murder is related to the clinic?" "We don't know," Scully assured her. "We're just looking for clues to this mystery." Nodding, Lorrah paused before she answered. "There was one girl. Stevie MacNichol. She lived here until four months ago. She's gone to live with her father in Allentown. I seem to recall that both she and Jennifer would ride the city bus downtown to the clinic." Brady wrote down the girl's name in his notebook. As he finished he said, "You mentioned that Jennifer left in the middle of the night. Do you have any of her belongings in your possession? Clothes, letters, medication, personal effects, that sort of thing." "Yes, yes I do. They would be in the storeroom. Let me find my mother, she handles that sort of thing for me. If you will follow me." They left the office and headed towards the stairwell. As they descended, Lorrah continued, "My mother and I share the downstairs apartment. Best cook you will find in these parts. When my father died, she came here to help out. Now that my own children are grown, she's adopted all of my charges as her grandchildren, and thankfully, they tolerate her old ways." "Kind of sounds like my own mother," Brady whispered to Scully. Scully had to agree with that analogy for her own mother. Not only had Margaret Scully adopted Mulder into their brood long before they were married, but she also saw fit to include both Jackie and Marty as well, and a whole host of others that she and Mulder were close to. The downstairs apartment was fully furnished, and despite the lack of windows, the rooms looked airy, homey. Large plants stood in every corner, some draped from eye hooks on the ceiling. Light paneled walls and accompanying carpet made the room seem larger than it should. An older woman, hair recently set, wearing a large Georgetown Hoyas sweatshirt, stepped out of an anteroom with a small bundle of clothes in her arms. Her face burst into a smile as she watched them enter the living room. "Visitors! Abby, why didn't you tell me? I would have had tea ready for everyone," the older woman said, bustling into yet another small room off the main one. Lorrah rolled her eyes, and then turned towards the agents. "Oblige her, and this will go faster, believe me." Within a minute, she returned with a tea pot and four cups. "Lucky for you, I had just started a pot boiling before you came down. Take no time at all." Lorrah patiently helped her mother prepare the tea, and made the introductions. "Ma, I want to introduce Agent Scully and Agent Brady. This is my mother, Geraldine Hart." "Geri, please," the woman said. "Don't start calling me Mrs. Hart or any other such nonsense. And if it makes you feel uncomfortable, you can call me Ms. Geri like the kids do. What are your given names, dears? I just hate formalities, don't you?" Geri extended her hand, her gaze intent, her eyes and smile warm. Brady was closer and fell victim first. "Art Brady," he replied, taking her hand. Smiling, Geri handed him a cup of tea. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it? The world be a much nicer place if we weren't so concerned with formality." She turned her attentions toward Scully. "Now, what about you, dear?" The overt friendliness was somewhat refreshing. "Dana, Dana Scully." Geri cocked an eyebrow quizzically, an odd expression on her face. Lorrah simply rolled her eyes again, and Scully had the feeling that this was not the first time her mother had done this sort of strange examination. Scully had seen her fair share of supposed psychics and whimsical, odd characters to take everything in stride. "He doesn't like his first name, does he? He didn't want to pass down his name, but you insisted." Bemused, Scully stared first at Brady, who only shrugged his shoulders, and then back to Geri. Geri simply smiled knowingly, and turned her head once more. "She's going to have your hair and his eyes," Geri added cryptically, just above a whisper so only she could hear. "Who?" Scully asked, intensely curious. Geri only grinned coyly and went back to pouring tea. "Don't mind her, Agent Scully," Lorrah said, accepting tea from her mother and passing it to Scully. "She likes to predict things. Birth dates, hair color, temperament." Scully had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud, putting two and two together. An older woman from her mother's church told her that William would be born under a full moon. Mulder thought it was appropriate, though their due date was supposed to be no where near the full moon. When William arrived nearly three weeks early, the premonition came true. "I'm not pregnant," Scully said, laughing, remembering her skepticism nearly two years previous and how strange it felt then to have the future so idly told like a prediction of the weather for the next day or two. Geri only sipped her tea, not confirming or denying, almost reveling in the slight shift of decorum in the room. Lorrah shot a disparaging look at the mother, Scully avoided a blush as best as possible, and Brady politely ignored the topic of conversation, much to Scully's relief. "But you did not come here to discuss such matters," Geri said, leaning forward in her chair. Scully followed suit, forearms on knees in a subconscious imitation of the gentle woman. "Your daughter said you know where Jennifer Aslen's possessions are. We'd like to take a look at them, if it's possible." Sorrow and concern flooded Geri's face, and Scully had a feeling that she would not need to tell her that Jennifer was dead. "She's passed on, hasn't she? I had a feeling this might happen. Reckless, I tell you. I told her not to trust that man." "What man?" Scully asked without pause. "Oh, Jennifer came to me for some advice. She said there was a doctor at some clinic that offered to help her with an adoption. But I didn't trust him, not one bit. Sounded like a two-bit hoodlum, he did." "You've met this man?" Brady asked. "Can you describe him?" Geri shook her head. "No, never met him myself. But he sounded evil. I did not trust him, and I told her so. She didn't listen to me, though. She said she trusted him." "Sounds like our man," Brady said quietly to Scully. She only nodded. "Can we have a look at her things, Ms. Geri? We think this man you've mentioned may have had something to do with her disappearance." Standing, Geri shuffled away from the couch. Ten minutes later she returned with a box brimming mostly with clothes. She placed it on the table before agents. "She took most of her clothes, I'm afraid. But she left these, and a few letters, books." Brady rifled through the clothes, all pockets. Scully meticulously searched through the books and letters. "These were sent to a post office box," Scully noted, holding up the letters. Lorrah looked over the address, and handed them back. "A lot of the kids have post office boxes. It's sort of a measure of security, I suppose. Many are trying to get their lives back on track, applying to colleges, trade schools. They can't very well have their mail sent here." Brady produced a thin slip of paper from a shirt pocket. "Unfilled prescription for prenatal vitamins. Dated one month ago." Scully took the paper and studied the signature. "We need to call this one in. I think I saw this name on one of the DC police reports." "I'll do it. We'll want to send a couple of agents to see Stevie MacNichol as well." Brady took out a cellular phone. Scully turned towards Lorrah. "Can I ask some of your kids a few questions? There may be a chance that one of them might know who this man is your mother spoke of." "I'll go find her friends for you now. And I'll ask them to cooperate." Lorrah left the room. Scully pulled out her own cell phone and hit the speed dial. It was answered on the second ring. "Mulder." "Hi, it's me. Run a name for me, will you? He's a doctor, last name Hutchison. Don't have a first name, I can't read it. He issued pre-natal vitamins for Jennifer Aslen one month ago, just before she disappeared. I think the name Hutchison appeared on one of the police reports from the DC murders and I don't have them handy. And can you do a search on the Stattler Clinic for me as well?" "I'll run a check for you right now. You've got your cell phone, right?" "Yeah." "I'll call you back. Listen, Jenkins has been combing every possible lead for the last two victims here in the DC area. He may have found a lead. One of the girls had a bus ticket stub for Philadelphia. As far as he can tell, she didn't have any family in Philly." "Then maybe we're finally barking up the right tree. If I don't hear from you, I'll call you tonight from the hotel, okay?" "Talk to you later." Scully hit the END button and pocketed the phone. She studied the prescription slip again. There was probably no chance of lifting a fingerprint off it anyway, so she didn't bother digging out a pair of latex gloves. It was a generic prescription pad note. She had one just like it in her medical bag, had made a regular practice of having it around after she started working with Mulder, since he often refused to see a doctor, even if she only prescribed ibuprofen. Some pads had the office or practice name on the top. That would have been handy, but too much to ask for. Brady took her elbow, and steered her towards the first floor. "Boothby is sending a couple of agents to the Stattler Clinic, and a few phone calls to Allentown to track down Stevie MacNichol." Generic prescription pad. Generic. Prescription. Pad. "We should check all local clinics for commonality of doctors, maybe a doctor/nurse pair. Compare that list against a similar list from Baltimore and DC. That's our link, someone who devotes a couple hours a week to a clinic, community service, that sort of thing. Jennifer may have thoughts of abortion, and this guy talked her out of it and into adoption." - - 12:15 PM "I want to thank you for helping us," Scully said, smiling at Pit Bull, otherwise known as Randy Jacobs. He displayed none of the hostility he had shown that morning. Randy shrugged out of his chair at the community dining table, brushing unruly bangs out of his face with a dirtied hand. "So you think it was that doctor dude that did this to her? I only saw him for a minute or two when I went downtown with her that one day." "We don't know. But we'll have a sketch artist over here this afternoon. Anything you can remember will help us a lot." "Okay." He briefly looked about the room, his gaze falling on the other pairs in the room. Brady and another agent were conducting similar interviews with other residents. Most were home from school because of winter break, which made their job a lot easier. As far as she knew, only Randy knew of the man they were looking for, and even named him, Ed Hutchison. Her cell phone started ringing, and Randy politely excused himself so he could shower. She activated her phone on the second ring. "Scully." "Hi, it's me." Mulder. "I've got a name for you. Edward Hutchison." "Yeah, we know. One of the kids mentioned the name to me just a few minutes ago. We're having a sketch artist come by later this afternoon." "Well, he's an OB/GYN. He's had his medical license since 1975, practices mostly on the east coast. He's been in the private sector for most of his career, a little research into cervical and uterine cancer. He's done quite a bit of publishing of late on some of his studies. Nothing spectacular, if my contact is right about these things. There's some interesting newsprint on him. A local pro-life group put up a stink about this man about ten years ago for his work in an alleged abortion clinic in Bethesda. His record is a little on the shady side, restricted information. The Boys are looking in on it for me." "What did you find out about the Stattler Clinic?" "Founded in 1968 to provide for the health needs of women in the Philadelphia area. In the 1980's it was a nice hot spot for bomb scares. There was a rash of about 15 reports in a three month period in 1986 after word was leaked out that abortions were performed there. Since it is privately funded, no one could argue how the money was spent." "Any civil suits against the clinic?" "None where doctors were named." "It was worth a shot, anyway." Scully looked around, spotting Lorrah walking from the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches in her hands. "Hold on a second, Mulder." She covered the mouthpiece and called to Lorrah. "Excuse me, do you have a fax machine?" Lorrah placed the plate down for the agents and kids, wiping her hands as she walked towards Scully. "There's an internal fax/modem on my computer." "Could I have a picture of our suspect sent here?" "Of course, let me just set up the program. The number is 555-4815." Scully turned back to the phone. "Mulder, do you have a picture of Edward Hutchison that you could fax here?" "Yeah, sure, Scully. Just give me the number." "555-4815. You know the area code?" "Yeah, have it right here. Expect it in a few minutes." She could hear him moving around, probably winding his way around a stack of files piled three feet off the floor, in order to get to the fax machine. "And, oh, by the way, we found Hutchison's name on another prescription, this time a bottle of prenatal vitamins in Jeanette Talbert's belongings. Luckily the landlord in the slum she was living in never bothered to clean out her apartment. Forensics is looking for anything else that could tie her to Hutchison." "The prescription bottle is enough to us a warrant of his patient records. Two dead girls under his care. We should be able to convince a judge with a positive ID and the prescriptions." "Let me send this photo to you guys, and I'll talk to you if we find anything else down here." Mulder hung up first. After checking on Brady, who was on his cell phone with the Philadelphia office, Scully walked over to Lorrah's office, collecting Randy on the way. Lorrah was seated in front of her computer, one hand propped under her chin, the other manipulating the mouse. The tell-tale sounds of a fax transmission were emanating from the computer's speakers. "It's coming in now." Scully and Randy stood behind Lorrah's desk chair as they waited for the transmission to finish. A picture slowly resolved itself on the screen. It was a grainy photograph, probably taken from a newspaper clipping. "That's him," Randy said, pointing to the man on the screen. "That's the guy. I dropped Jennifer off at the clinic, and walked over to a deli for lunch, and as I walked back to the bus stop, I saw Jennifer getting into a car with that man, right there." "Did she tell you where she went afterwards?" Scully asked. Randy shook his head. "Nah. Just said it was business with the baby." Brady had stepped in at that moment, and leaned against the door jamb. "Now, what would a doctor have to do with adoption business? He's not a lawyer, and I have a hard time believing that this guy would have the time to take the girl around to perspective parents, not with his busy schedule." "What did you find?" Brady stepped into the room and leaned against the edge of the desk. "Oh, that he is quite the humanitarian. He donates five hours a week to each of three different clinics in Philadelphia alone. A nurse that we've tied to him can be placed at a number of clinics in the DC area as of 4 months ago, as well as a number of clinics here as well. That hunch of yours paid off. Apparently, the IRS has been looking in on him for tax fraud, so there happens to be a file on him about three inches thick." More to herself than anyone else, Scully muttered, "I wonder how Mulder missed that." Brady must have heard her, because the next thing she heard him say did not register until Randy said aloud, "You mean the mob?!" "What?" Scully said, needing to catch the end of the conversation again. "I doubt Mulder would have seen anything on that part of the case unless he checked with organized crime section," Brady explained. "It occurred to me this morning when you mentioned the Stattler Clinic. I did a little work for the Organized Crime unit a few years back. We traced some of the funds belonging to a Jimmy Donatello, an up and coming in the Genovese mafia family branch down here, to a couple of private hospitals and clinics. The Stattler Clinic wasn't named specifically, but some of the major money rollers for the clinic were connected to Donatello." "Black market medical equipment and technology, and now babies." Scully shook her head, a little disgusted at the prospect. "And they killed the only ones who could ever possibly turn them in." "We can get a warrant as soon as we take Mr. Jacobs' statement," Brady said. "We've tracked down a possible base of operations. There's some stuff the OC unit can give us to back up the prescriptions, we get the warrant at 4:30, issued at 5:05 and avoid an injunction by Donatello's lawyers." "All right." Scully turned to Randy. "Can I ask you to come into town with us to make a statement, Randy? We'll even buy you lunch." "Yeah, sure. Let me get my coat." Randy jogged off towards the stairwell. "We'll have an agent bring him back afterwards, Mrs. Lorrah," Brady assured her. Lorrah nodded. "Thank you. If I had known that this might happen..." "There's no way you could have known, Mrs. Lorrah," Scully placated. "There's no way any of us could have known." * * * * * Enroute to Allandale Center 4:54 PM It was strange how what appeared to be a simple, cut and dried homicide investigation turned into one of the largest operations,- - well, legal, non-conspiracy related operations--, she had ever been involved with during her career with the FBI. Scully turned towards the passenger side mirror to see the trail of lights behind their car. What was even more amazing about it was the speed at which everything was happening. The Organized Crime Unit got wind of the case as soon as Brady called in Hutchison's name, and had more than enough collaborative evidence to warrant a search of the premises. The prescription bottle found in the apartment of Jeanette Talbert was traced to an in-house pharmacy of a private clinic under observation by DC Organized Crime. The lot numbers on the prenatal vitamins were among those listed on a manifest of stolen medical supplies. The partial serial number found on the necklace was linked to a small shop in Brooklyn, also under surveillance for illegal mob activities. On top of that was the positive identification of the alleged suspect, Edward Hutchison, by Stephanie MacNichol. The agents picked up their fax transmission of Edward Hutchison's picture from the Allentown field office before talking with the young woman. Her testimony alluded to conversations between herself, Jennifer Aslen and Hutchison pertaining to adoption possibilities and health care ensurances if they opted for his plan of action. An even stranger development was the affidavit of one Paul D'Atola, currently serving a twenty year term for money laundering and extortion, that stated that Jamie Giodello, right hand man to Jimmy Donatello, desperately wanted a baby. His wife was rumored to be infertile, and her OB/GYN was listed as one Edward Hutchison. The judge didn't argue with the coincidences, and handed them the warrant. Now, there were twelve agents and twice as many Philly PD on their way to the Allandale Center to serve the warrant and question Edward Hutchison and Nurse Roxanne Austin about the disappearances and deaths of eight teenage girls in the last six months. It was rather surreal. Sure, the official Violent Crimes she and Mulder were called on to help with were often mobilized quickly, but they were called in late stage when most of the ground work had already been laid. Not that this was any different, but it was nice to be involved with a case that did not stretch the imagination. Brady was driving this time, one of the official Bureau cars. There was always the possibility of an arrest, and the Bureau provided cars where the back door could not be opened from the inside. The walkie talkies were alive with chatter between the cars. Though the ASAC from Organized Crime was nominally in charge of the investigation, with seniority and all, Scully was the agent of record, and would handle the questioning of the suspects with Jenkins when he arrived. The Violent Crimes end would examine patient records to connect the clinic to the murders. The agents of Organized Crime had a list of serial numbers, lot numbers and requisitions from medical facilities in the tri-state area that were missing said equipment and supplies. The attack would be on two fronts. The car ahead of them was pulling off the main road, and Brady followed suit. Ahead along both sides of the road were large office complexes. To the right was the Allandale Center, looking all the more like a factory than a supposed sanctuary for cancer patients and other long term hospital care recipients. Five government issue cars and half a dozen cop cars pulled up in front of a set of large glass doors. Jerry Gergen, the ASAC with Organized Crime, waited for Scully and Brady in front of the glass doors. Warrant in hand, he held the door open for Scully then led the charge past the reception area. A rather irate administrative assistant at the main desk tried to intercept them at a connecting door. "I'm sorry, you can't go back there." Gergen flipped the warrant in front of her eyes, not hesitating his stride. "This is my hall pass. Kindly get out of our way." He brushed past the secretary with a mumbled 'excuse me', then made a bee-line for the main offices. Scully had the feeling that Gergen had been there before. Another man, this time wearing a lab coat and stethoscope and built like a line-backer, stood in the middle of the hallway. "Who are you? What's your business here? This is a private clinic. You can't just barge in here--" "Yes, sir, we can," Scully said, taking the warrant from Gergen's hand. "Who is your supervisor? We are here to execute a search warrant." She spotted another man, older, three-piece suit and executive looking, down the hall behind Linebacker. Pointing towards the man, she said, "Is that him?" and moved to bypass Linebacker. Linebacker tried to block her path, and though he didn't physically touch her, the thought that he was trying to use his extra height, weight and bulk to intimidate her only made her more determined to get by him. "This is an obstruction of justice. Please step out of the way." The little distraction left enough room for the other agents to slip by Linebacker. Scully soon followed, and walking up to the Suit, she said, "Sir, are you the administrator of this facility?" Suit didn't answer, but it was obvious how he bristled at the question that he was the administrator. "Sir, we have a warrant to search the premises and question you and your associates in connection with a homicide investigation." She slapped the warrant in his hand . "Very clever of you, waiting until after five o'clock to serve the warrant," the Administrator said, "or else our lawyers would have seen to it that you did not get past the front desk. What do you want here?" "For starters, I want to speak with Dr. Edward Hutchison. Now, you can cooperate, and tell me where he is, or you can stand there, do nothing, and risk arrest for obstruction of justice," Scully threatened. The Administrator crossed his arms across his chest. Scully took that as defiance, walked past and said aloud, "Search the offices. No one is allowed to leave the building." She heard one of the police officers order his unit to block all entrances, and Gergen demanding to see all financial records and patient files for the last three years. Brady and two other agents followed her down a side hallway of office space. There had been a wall map in the front lobby that she had briefly glanced at while they walked in, she had a vague recollection of where Hutchison's office was on this floor. An elevator door opened down the hall, another man in a lab coat walked through, carrying a clip board and several folders. His face was downcast, looking at whatever was in the folders rather than where he was walking. Scully recognized his profile, though, from the fax transmission that Mulder had sent them earlier that day. "Edward Hutchison!" Hutchison looked up casually, then after noticing who had called, dropped everything and bolted. Scully wasted no time in following; if they hadn't suspected him before they had reason to now. Innocent men don't run. Brady followed her and the other two agents took off back where they came from to possibly head him off at the pass. Pulling the walkie talkie from her trenchcoat pocket, Scully reported, "Suspect on the run, northwest corridor, first floor. We need back-up now." Brady passed her, gun at the ready. He waited at the end of the corridor, peeking around the corner. "He's headed for the stairwell!" he said, taking off again. "Suspect is in the stairwell. Repeat, suspect is in the stairwell," Scully said, pocketing the walkie talkie and pulling her gun. She followed Brady into the stairwell, listening for which direction Hutchison went. "Up." Brady raced up the stairs, Scully taking them by two to keep up. Footsteps echoed loudly in the stairwell. Scully filtered out the pattern of her own and Brady's footfalls from her hearing in order to concentrate on where Hutchison was going. Doors were slamming, opening and closing several floors below, masking the noises she wanted to hear. They were less than two floors below Hutchison. Scully stopped in the stair, straining to keep her attention on the suspect. There was a hallow slam of a door against a wall above them. "Shit!" Brady stumbled up the stairs, galloping towards the closing door. "He's on 5!" "Suspect is on 5!" Scully relayed through the walkie talkie. A detached part of her brain heard and registered the voice emanating from the small speaker. "He's headed for the roof!" Through the fifth floor door, they were faced with a choice of corridors to take. Scully pointed down the corridor to the right with her left hand, indicating that Brady should go that way. She went straight, avoiding the glares and stares and calls of outrage she heard as she ran, gun held in front of her like a shield. Around a corner and through a set of doors, she saw a fire door just closing ahead of her. Running full tilt, she hit the door before the latch could catch, noticing that the only place to go was up. Feet pounded on cement stairs above her, she followed again, two steps at a time, feeling the burn of exertion starting to plant roots in her lungs. A cold blast of air filled the stairwell as Hutchison fell out onto the roof top, and the final shafts of sunlight illuminated the top stairs. She wasn't sure if he was armed, though she wasn't going to take the chance that he was, and dove to the side the moment she cleared the doorway, keeping her eyes on his retreating back. Pebbles and stones covered the roof top tar, crunching under their feet as the chase resumed across the top of the building. Faintly she heard Brady behind her. Hutchison made a mad dash for the fire escape, his hands gripping the steel bars in order to keep his balance. Scully slid to a stop, gun held in a sturdy two handed grip, site leveled on his torso. "Freeze! FBI!" Hutchison stared over the edge of the building, coat flapping in the wind like a taut flag. It flipped up high enough so that Scully could see that he wasn't wearing a gun, but her grip on her pistol did not waver in the least. She had seen too many unarmed men and women in her day fight their way to freedom, though 'man' or 'woman' was probably not the most apt description for some of the cases she had experience with. It never hurt to be cautious. "Put your hands in the air where I can see them," she ordered. Brady stopped short next to her, gun at his side. "The building's surrounded. He's not going anywhere." Scully slowly approached, reaching for her handcuffs. She holstered her gun, knowing that Brady had her covered if Hutchison tried anything. "Hands where I can see them," she repeated. "Don't turn around. Face the wall." Hutchison did as he was told, and did not fight her when she placed the metal links around his wrists and read him his rights. As she turned around, leading Hutchison towards the door, she noticed Gergen rounding the bend and holstering his weapon. There was a grizzled smile on his face. "We apprehended the nurse downstairs. She'll be singing like a stool pigeon in no time. Not even a minute passed, and she was spouting names like you wouldn't believe. It's amazing how the threat of murder one will loosen a person's tongue." A uniformed cop offered to take Hutchison off her hands. She used the few moments needed for the exchange to catch her breath, surprised she wasn't more winded. It was amazing how chasing after a toddler kept her in shape. "I need to call Andy Jenkins, tell him we have them in custody." "First, we have to make sure the murder one sticks." Gergen led her back towards the doorway that led them all out onto the roof. "And for that, we need your expertise. We have no idea what we're looking for in the medical records. Most of my guys are glorified accountants who can spot a false debit line in a tax return in no time." Scully nodded, descending the stairs, noting for the first time that there were a lot of them. "Where was the nurse found?" "Roxanne Austin? Coming out of a nursery, I think." "Nursery? The baby's still here?" Quickening her pace, she outdistanced everyone else in the stairwell. Gergen stood dumbfounded. "Baby? What baby?" - - The only time she paused long enough to take a breath was when she was waiting for the elevator to deposit her on the third floor. Offices and emergency care facilities were on the first floor, primary care facilities on the second, private rooms and rehabilitation clinics on the third, fourth, and fifth floors. The maternity ward and nursery were tucked away on the third floor, birthing rooms far more fancy than anything that she had ever seen. The quiet halls were only disrupted by the muted keening of newborns. There was a couple standing in front of the glass partition, the glaze of new parenthood alive in their expressions. Scully stood next to them for a few moments, wondering about the object of their attention. She didn't expect to find many babies there; it was a private clinic. Scully counted four babies in the front room, healthy enough to not need constant care like some of the other children she suspected were here. The couple's attention was focused on a baby close to the window. A nurse had probably moved the bassinet closer to the window for them. He was a beautiful baby, just a day old, the surname of the family proudly displayed on the birth announcement card as well as birth weight, length, exact time. Scully glanced over the other babies in the area, noting that all of them were too young to be Jennifer Aslen's child. It was a long shot. Just because Roxanne Austin was taken into custody outside the nursery didn't mean she was there because of Jennifer Aslen's child. Brady caught up to her, this time breathless. "Is the kid here?" he asked, oblivious to the strange stares from the couple next to Scully. Knocking lightly on the glass pane to catch the attention of the aide inside, she replied. "I don't know. The warrant didn't cover checking patients themselves, only records." "These things have a way of working themselves out. Besides, charts are records. Birthdate, bloodwork and such will be included on the chart." The aide opened the door to the nursery and stepped outside. Scully caught her nametag as she turned towards them. "How can I help you?" "Angela," Scully started, brandishing her badge and identification, "I'm Agent Scully, this is Agent Brady." "Is Annie in trouble? I saw the police take her away just a few minutes ago." Angela looked all of twenty years of age, though Scully suspected she was a little older than that. Scully hoped the air of naivet, would make this easier for them. Avoiding the subject of Roxanne Austin, Scully pointed towards the interior of the nursery. "We're investigating the death of a young woman, and we have reason to believe that she had recently given birth here. What was Nurse Austin doing here before she was taken into custody?" "Just making rounds." "Are there any other newborns in this facility?" "Just the ones born with addictions and complications. We keep them in a separate unit." "Could you take us there, please?" Scully requested. "We need to check patient records, and that includes the newborns." "You'll have to wear scrubs and masks," Angela said. "We can't risk infection." Brady tugged at Scully's elbow. "You can handle this. I'm going to check on Henderson. He's going through the computer records. We still need to connect Aslen to this place." Scully nodded and followed Angela into the infant intensive care unit. There were five bassinets in the inner room. The temperature was warmer in the room, and Scully was glad she discarded her overcoat in the prep room. Donned in paper scrubs, mask and hands still wet and warm from the faucet, she looked over each of the bassinets and the charts hanging off the ends. She looked at the birthdates first, disregarding all but two children on that regard. "Tell me about these two," she said, picking up the chart of the one closest to her. Angela smiled, looking down at the sweet angelic face fallen in sleep, the tiny hands flailing slightly, small chest moving up and down with the aid of a respirator. "This is Dominic. He was five weeks premature, with respiratory complications. His mother has diabetes, and couldn't carry him to term. But he seems to be doing much better. In fact, his father was down here for the 4 o'clock feeding." Everything Angela said seemed to concur with what Scully read on the chart. She replaced the chart, then moved to the next bassinet. She didn't need Angela to tell her who this was; the resemblance was uncanny. Soft wisps of reddish brown hair crowned the top of the child's head, and when she opened her eyes, she had the same hazel green eyes that she remembered her long time friend sported. The chart was suspiciously lacking in vital information, like the name of the mother and time of birth. Scully looked at the blood work, and it looked compatible with what she knew of Jennifer's medical history. Baby Jane Doe was all that was written in terms of identification. "Baby Jane was brought in by ambulance Sunday evening. Dr. Hutchison signed the order admitting her. Her respiratory system was compromised, and her core temperature was down around 91 degrees. There's been no luck finding her mother." "That's because her mother is dead," Scully replied. "I'd like to run a DNA analysis for confirmation." "Are you sure about this?" Angela didn't seem convinced. The wall phone started ringing, and she stepped away to answer it. "Yeah," Scully said softly, smiling at the little bundle in the bassinet. "Yeah, I'm sure." "Agent Scully, the phone's for you," Angela said, carrying the receiver as far as it would go. Scully pulled the paper mask down from her face as she stepped away from the babies. "Scully." "Brady here. Austin just gave up the baby. A little girl, brought in by ambulance. Jennifer was staying at Hutchison's home, she went into labor Sunday morning. Two ambulances were called, one for the baby, one for Jennifer. Only, Jennifer's wasn't expected to arrive at the clinic, or any clinic for that matter. If the pediatrician on staff hadn't ordered a week long observation period, we might have missed her. Austin says she knew nothing of the murders." "Likely story. I think I have the baby here. I'm going to have some tests run, as a reassurance." "Check the chart on your kid. I have a patient number here. It seems all the girls that were taken here had identification numbers rather than names inserted on the patient forms. Those numbers are also on the prescriptions as well." Scully reached for the chart, looking for any long string of numbers. At the top of the sheet on the corner, in small type-set was a sticker with a bar code on it, a list of numbers inscribed just below it. "Read off the number." "One-three-one-six-zero-zero-zero-five-five-two." "That's what I've got here." "Well, we can contact the next of kin. I doubt that we're going to find the father this late in the game. The family has a right to decide what to do with the child." Scully looked back at the baby, and thought of Kathy. "I'll do that. I know the grandmother." She hung up the phone before Brady had a chance to say anything more. She knew Kathy; she knew Kathy would not abandon the baby, the only legacy of her own child. Walking over the bassinet, she was happy to see the baby was awake. Angela had stepped out to attend to the other infants in the hospital's care. Pulling the paper mask back over her mouth, Scully smiled at the child, watched as the little eyes blinked lazily in the soft light. "I know someone who can't wait to meet you. Welcome to the world, little one. I hope your next week is a lot better than your first." * * * * * Washington, DC Friday, 5:22 PM Mulder knew she was home, the car was in the driveway, and from the light sprinkle of snow on the hood, he knew she had been home awhile. Grabbing the bag of take-out Chinese from the passenger seat and his overcoat from the back, he trotted up to the front door. He juggled the take-out and coat briefly while he fished for his keys. As a habit, they always kept the front door locked unless they were expecting company. All the lights were out except for the one above the sink. Scully's briefcase was propped against the little table near the closet door, her coat strewn on the closet doorknob, very un-Scully like in his opinion. He dropped the take-out on the table, grabbed her coat and hung it up next to his in the closet. As he passed the living room towards the kitchen, he heard music playing from the stereo speakers. The acoustics of the house were such that he could hear the stereo from nearly every room, even on the lowest volume settings. He instantly recognized the music; it was the mix tape he had left for her in the car. Jackie had made it for him, after, when in a weak moment, he had confessed that he didn't want to leave Scully and the baby alone while he had to go to Ohio for Skinner. It didn't matter that Scully could protect herself, or even that her marksman scores at the rifle range were a hell of a lot better than his own. Jackie called him territorial, and he whole heartedly agreed and was damn proud of it, with a solid nod of his head and a look of stoicism on his face. Then they both burst out laughing at the silliness of the situation. He made her promise to check in on them from time to time, and she in turn made a mix tape to keep him company on the road. Take-out stored safely in the microwave, he walked into the living room, pausing long enough in front of the stereo to notice that the tape deck was set for auto-reverse. The volume wasn't up very high, but loud enough in the near silent room. There was enough back-lighting from the hallway and kitchen to see. Scully was lying on the couch on her back, wrapped in the afghan again, arms crossed over the pillow lying on her stomach and chest, and head tilted away from him. From their brief conversation on the phone earlier that day, he knew she was exhausted. He wasn't surprised to find her camped out on the couch. He sat on the edge, his weight shifting her ever so slightly. Her head turned towards him, eyes still closed and a smile on her lips. "Hi," she said softly. "Hi yourself. When did you get back?" Scully opened her eyes, rolled to her side so she could see him better. She yawned, drawing the blanket closer around her shoulders. "Three hours ago. Where's the baby?" "Your mother kidnapped him for the day. She's trying out a few bread recipes and needed a guinea pig. The ladies at the daycare were devastated." "I'll bet. Like father, like son." Mulder grinned and sat on the floor so that his head leaned against the couch. "Mom said she would keep him the night, if we want." When she did not immediately answer, he rolled his head , and looked up at her. There was a sly smile on her face, eyes closed. An idea sprouted in his brain, and he got up from the floor. "Scoot over," he said, crawling in behind her on the couch. Scully moved forward on the couch, leaning away so that he could move. "You're going to ruin your shirt." After he was settled, he pulled her into his arms. "So I'll get a new one. No worse than baby pee." "Oh, I'm so glad I rate above baby pee," Scully said, offering him some of her blanket. "You always rate above baby pee. Slightly below mutant slime, but always above baby pee." He wrapped his arms around her tighter, intertwined his legs were hers. "So, it went well?" This time when he asked about the case, her shoulders did not tense. There was no hesitancy in her voice. "Yeah," she replied, brushing bangs out of her eyes. "We questioned Roxanne Austin and Edward Hutchison last night. The prosecutors office took over this morning." "Did you find the shooters?" "There's a warrant out for their arrest now. Hutchison gave them up for a reduced sentence, if you want to consider serving eight life sentences at the same time instead of consecutively a reduced sentence. But we did find the ambulance that took Jennifer Aslen from Hutchison's home. It was stripped down and abandoned in an impound yard just outside of Philadelphia. Forensics found blood stains inside, blood type matches Jennifer Aslen. They were still dusting for prints when I left the city." "How'd they find it so quickly?" "Lot manager said that there had been no new arrivals since that last heavy snowfall we had a few weeks ago. Most of his cars had clear spots under them, except for a white van that he didn't remember logging in. Philly PD put out an APB on the ambulance, he called it in." Scully yawned and breathed deeply, sighing contently. He shifted position so that she could lay more against his chest than on her side. She sounded exhausted; he imagined she hadn't had much sleep in the last four days. Dinner was farthest from his mind now, just holding her close was his main purpose in life for as long as he could manage. "I noticed the bed was made," Scully mentioned. "Now, either my husband has been replaced with a pod person, or you slept on the couch all week." He grinned against her cheek, his secret out. With her gone, he fell back on old habits, just as he imagined she had. He had spent most of his downtime that week on the couch, getting reacquainted with some old friends; ESPN, Sci-fi Channel, and Comedy Central. And he introduced his son to the Three Stooges. William wasn't too keen about the television, more enthralled with the slick pages of the TV Guide instead. "My security blanket was missing. I couldn't sleep." Her response was a low chuckle deep in her throat, and she wrapped her own arms around his. "How much sleep did you get last night? Chatterton told me things got really busy after the initial bust." Yawning again, Scully snuggled closer, her voice getting softer as she talked. "We traced all the girls to the clinic, and a few more that were never found. Then we found the records of three more girls under Hutchison's care, one in her first trimester, the others in second. We had to contact them. And I waited around until Kathy could come in." "You found the baby?" Mulder hadn't heard about that little detail. Scully nodded, yawning again. "She was still there at the clinic. I called Kathy as soon as we confirmed she was Jennifer's child. She couldn't get there fast enough." "So, what's it feel like to have a high school friend who's a grandmother?" He couldn't help but rib her, he hadn't been able to for almost a week. "Old. Kathy put in for custody. Social services said there shouldn't be any problems. As soon as the baby is healthy enough, she can go home with Kathy and her family. Oh, you should have seen her face! She was so happy when she heard the baby was safe. I don't think I've ever seen her that happy, she was practically glowing." Mulder looked down at her face, the smile that he had not seen for god knows how long. He kissed that smile. "I think you're the one that's glowing." Her eyes were closed, the smile still there, the light touch of a grin marring her face with laugh lines. "Penny for your thoughts." "I was just thinking about what Ms. Geri told me the other day." "Ms. Geri?" "Oh, she's an older woman I met at the St. Angelos Shelter." "Care to share this bit of wisdom with me?" he asked, savoring the welcome, enigmatic smile that was her answer. Just feeling her relax in his arms felt like heaven. "Is this why you're glowing?" "I think that has more to do with all the radioactive coffee I've been drinking." "No more coffee for you this weekend. You're sleeping in." He needn't have said more, she was fast asleep. Shifting her head so she wouldn't wake with a sore neck, he drew the blanket higher around them both, and closed his eyes. No worries, no cares. Everyone was safe. He felt full, alive. Margaret said she would be by around 7:30, and then the baby would be with them as well. He wondered if all three of them could fit on the couch together. The grandfather clock chimed six times, the only sound in the house besides the gentle settling and his wife's breathing. Life was good. The house wasn't the same without her there. He felt sleep slowly take over his nerves, and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, yes, it was good to be home. -- o Rory D. Cottrell "Calhoun" Trekker, X-Phile, LGW, XA and Peter Pan-wanna-be _/ \_ "I intend to live forever, or die trying."