DISCLAIMER: The characters of Mulder and Scully don't belong to me (although it would be nice if they did!) so I'll apologize in advance for stepping on the toes of 10-13 Productions. Special thanks to Heather, my clone, for editing, to Sharon, for naming a good number of these characters, and to Lila, for helping me with various things pertaining to the greater Mamaroneck area. "Yellow Roses" Part 2 of 4 by Gillian W. (XGillian@aol.com) April-June 1996 ----------------------------------------------------------- "Well, I'd rather see you dead, little girl Than to be with another man You'd better keep your head, little girl Or you won't know where I am..." -The Beatles, "Run for Your Life" ----------------------------------------------------------- 6:28 am Ray Ferrin didn't really like his job. He'd always thought he should move out of his parents' house and get an apartment in the city. Even a job flipping burgers at McDonald's would be more rewarding than keeping Mamaroneck's parks and fields free of litter. He thrust a pole into a styrofoam cup with a vengeance. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a stick of gum; he popped the gum into his mouth and threw the wrapper over his shoulder. He realized he'd just littered. Dammit, he thought, spearing the wrapper on the pole. His pole his something that was decidedly not litter. He looked down and screamed. "Yo! Ferret!" his partner yelled from across the field. "What's up?" Ray's partner, Jim Michaels, sprinted toward him. Ray continued screaming until he clamped one hand over his mouth and one across his stomach and ran to the porta-potty. Jim nearly tripped over something in the grass. He had no choice but to scream as well. Ray returned from the porta-potty, his face blanched. He ran to the truck and picked up the radio. "This is Ferret," he said. "I just--found--a dead body in the park," he blurted between gasps. "Get the police." He forced himself to return to the body on the ground, biting his lip to keep himself from getting sick again. The thing looked mauled, barely recognizeable as human. He cursed his weak stomach. Ironic that his nickname was Ferret, he thought. He turned away and stood stupidly next to the body. Just then the police arrived, and seconds later an ambulance arrived as well. "Hey, guys," one of the paramedics said to Ray and Jim. "You two don't look so hot." Jim ran to the porta-potty, but Ray remained standing until he finally sat down on the dewy grass. A blue Taurus pulled up to the edge of the park, and Mulder and Scully converged on the scene. "Hey, this is a crime scene!" the police chief protested. "I don't see any yellow tape," Mulder said, displaying his badge. "Bureau?" the chief asked suspiciously. "You from the city?" "DC," said Scully. "We're conducting the official investigation." She looked at the body and pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. "May I?" she asked, about to kneel next to the body. "Be my guest," the chief replied, slightly repulsed. Scully began to examine the body. "Looks like the other ones," she remarked, pointing to a long gash down the forearm and strangulation marks around the neck. "Search the area for her purse," she ordered two of the police officers. "Did anyone report her missing?" The officers all shook their heads. "All the more reason to find her purse," Scully said. "We need an ID before the autopsy." She stood up and removed her gloves. Police officers dispersed over the field, searching for a purse, wallet, or some other form of identification. The chief of police sulked a bit, then walked over to Mulder and Scully. "Is something wrong, sir?" Scully asked. The chief began to walk away, but at the last moment he whirled around and accused, "You hotshots from the Bureau, you're all alike. You think you can just barge right in and override the local police force. We can handle this on our own. Good day, Agents." "If you could handle this on your own," Mulder said dangerously, "then you'd have apprehended the perp a long time ago. You could have called the New York Bureau amd asked for their help, and saved us the trip. But it's obvious your force is not prepared for this type of crime." The chief opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment an officer yelled from across the field, "Found it, sir!" She sprinted over to the two agents and handed the purse to Scully. Scully reached in tentatively and pulled out a clutch wallet. "Talitha Susan Sacks," she read from the dirver's license she found inside. She searched around in the wallet and found what appeared to be a receipt. "Let me see that," Mulder requested. He took the receipt and squinted at it. "Do you know where this place is?" he asked the officers and paramedics, referring to the restaurant from which the receipt came. "Louis's?" "Larchmont," several people said. "What say we go to Larchmont?" Mulder asked Scully. * * * "Have you seen this woman?" Mulder asked the maitre- d', showing him Talitha Sacks's driver's license. The maitre- d' stared at the photo. "Not the best portrait, I know," Mulder conceded. "I seem to recall," the maitre-d' said, "madam received a delivery of flowers." He continued talking, but Mulder wandered off into the dining room and examined the tables. Scully nodded at what the maitre-d' said, committing most of it to memory. "Hey, Scully!" Mulder called. Scully joined him by the table. "Signature crime," Mulder said, pointing to the single yellow rose wilting on the tablecloth. * * * New Rochelle, New York 9:38 am A tall, thin man with a beak of a nose approached Jeanine's Flowers and peered in the window. He could see a small woman talking on the phone, but he could not see any customers. He opened the door slowly, cringing at the jingling bells that signalled his arrival. The small woman at the register barely noticed him. He tried to listen to her conversation; with his acute hearing he could even pick up what the woman on the other end was saying. As he pretended to look at the floral arrangements, he gave the small woman a quick once-over. She was barely four-ten, and she looked as if she were made of toothpicks that might break any second. He smiled to himself. "...such a gentleman!" he heard her exclaim. "Best kind," her friend said on the other end. "We went to this little coffee bar and we talked til it closed--*and* he kissed me goodnight." "On your first date?" "Not a *kiss* kiss, just a little peck..." "When are you going out again?" "This evening. We're going into the city to hear the Philharmonic." "Love at first sight, hmm?" The beak-nosed man couldn't stand this any longer. He walked up to the counter with a strange, almost tiptoe-like gait. "Excues me," he said to the tiny woman. "I would like to buy some roses." "I have a customer, Laura--I'll call you later," she said into the phone, and she hung up. She turned to the man. "Roses? What color?" "Yellow," he replied simply. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have any fresh ones today. Could I interest you in red? Pink? White?" "No," said the man. "Yellow." "She's that picky?" "You could say that." The man afforded her a small, emotionless smile. The hawk stalked his prey for eight hours straight. He watched it go about its daily business, watched it intently from his aerie high above the rest of the world. He instinctively calculated the exact moment when he would swoop down on his unsuspecting prey. Matters became complicated when the prey retreated to its den. The hawk, larger than most, could not find a good vantage point. The prey had climbed to the top of the tallest rock in the landscape, much higher than the hawk could reach, The prey stood there, preening itself. The hawk decided now was the time to consummate the stalking of the prey. The man withdrew a gift card from his jacket pocket and scribbled a hasty note on it. He walked in his strange gait to the woman's apartment building and accosted the doorman. Slipping the doorman twenty, he said, "Would you deliver this to the woman in number 54?" He held out a large plastic bag emblazoned with the name of a local florist. The doorman looked from the twenty in his hand to the bag and back to the twenty. He took the bag with an "Of course, sir," and proceeded up to the fifth floor. The doorman knocked on the door of 54 and, when the small woman answered, said, "For you, ma'am," handing her the bag. The small woman, in her confusion, forgot to tip the doorman. She thanked him a bit blankly and closed the door. She peered inside the bag and found a long white box. Curious, she opened the box, and her jaw dropped when she saw a dozen yellow roses lying inside. She nearly forgot to read the gift card, but at the last second she remembered it. She held the card at arm's length and squinted at it: "A HAWK NEVER QUITS A SEARCH. ENJOY YOUR EVENING, JEANINE." Jeanine Hung was suitably impressed, but at the same time frightened. Had she looked out the peephole in her door, she might have saved herself. Instead, she left the roses on the coffee table and headed for her bedroom. Jacob would be coming in half an hour, and her hair was a mess. * * * Mamaroneck Police Department 5:25 pm Scully stared down the roomful of police officers before her. All of them stood at attention, as though they were West Point freshmen afraid to make one false move. Suddenly, she smiled. "Relax," she told them. Instantly, shoulders fell, faces gained expression, and postures became more natural. "Okay," she said, "our perp is most likely escalating and will probably kill again within the next three days." She glanced briefly at the summary report the chief had prepared. "I want patrol cars stationed within a quarter-mile radius of every park and public wooded area in Mamaroneck. Same will be done in Larchmont." Mulder, who had been lost in thought and leaning against a desk, added, "Consider the perp armed and *very* dangerous." * * * New Rochelle, New York 5:48 pm The beak-nosed man slowly turned the doorknob of Jeanine Hung's apartment and heard the faint satisfying click of the door opening. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Noting the box of roses on the coffee table, he smiled. His sensitive ears detected a high voice humming Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. He followed the sound to Jeanine's bedroom. As stealthily as before, he turned the doorknob and slipped into the room The hawk crept up behind his prey, more like a lion than like a hawk. The prey sat watching its reflection, oblivious to the hawk's presence. The hawk swooped and grabbed the prey, which emitted horrible sounds. The hawk silenced the prey. * * * Mamaroneck, New York 7:53 pm Mulder was riding shotgun with an officer named Jamison when the call came over the CB. "Attention all units: halt surveillance. Suspect has been apprehended and is being held in New Rochelle." Bet Scully's embarrassed, Mulder thought. "Let's go back to the station," he suggested. Jamison sighed, put the car in gear, and drove back. * * * New Rochelle Police Department New Rochelle, New York 8:28 pm The interrogation room was cold and damp. Scully left her trenchcoat on, instead of leaving it on the coatrack out front. Mulder had done the same. "His name is John Sokolovich," Mulder said to Scully, sotto voce. "Ordinary citizen saw him about to disembowel a woman and called the cops." "How's the woman doing?" Scully asked. "Last I heard, she was in critical condition--Medivacked into the city." Both agents turned their attention toward Sokolovich. "What were you doing outside Ms. Hung's apartment building?" the officer asked him. Sokolovich kept his mouth clamped shut. "Answer me!" the officer demanded. The man said nothing. "I give up," the officer said. "You try." Mulder walked over to the table and said, "You know your Miranda warning, don't you." Sokolovich stared blankly ahead, over Mulder's stooped shoulder. "If you won't talk, I won't talk," Mulder said. "I'll stay here eighteen hours if that's how long you want to keep your trap shut." The hawk perched pensively on the edge of a stone. His acute senses could not make any sense of the squawks which echoed off the rocks. The noise was simply unintelligible. The hawk looked around the cave to which he was confined. There were three other beings with him, one of which was squawking unintelligibly. The other two beings stood silnetly at opposite ends of the cave. The hawk had never like confined spaces, for he was a bird, accustomed to large open spaces. But he could not escape from the cave. He eyed the other two beings suspiciously. The smaller being looked manageable. "Lock him up," Mulder said. "He's taking the Fifth. Keep him until you get a statement." A guard led Sokolovich toward the holding cells. Scully was visibly shaken. She shuddered, and her eyes refocused. "You okay, Scully?" Mulder asked, concerned. "Did you see the way he looked at me, Mulder?" "No, I didn't--but I could guess--" Mulder smiled. "One leer a day is more than enough for me," said Scully. Uncomfortable, she changed the subject. "Shall we go see Jeanine Hung's apartment?" * * * New Rochelle, New York 10:06 pm "Agents, we've just run the prints we lifted from the doorknob against the suspect's," and eager-looking young officer informed Mulder and Scully the instant they walked into the apartment. "Perfect match!" "Good work," Mulder afforded him. He examined the living room, looking for the signature yellow rose. Scully, meanwhile, went to take a look at the bedroom. "Mulder!" she called. "Come take a look at this." Mulder dutifully joined her. "Look," she said. "The wallpaper." Three parallel gashes ran down the floral wallpaper. "If I didn't know better I'd say someone let an eagle loose in her." "Or a hawk," Mulder said. With a gloved hand he proffered a small gift card. Scully squinted at it and read it aloud: "A hawk never quits a search. Enjoy your evening, Jeanine." "Similar cards were recovered at the other crime scenes, along with the roses. We found a rose on the kitchen table," Mulder said. "What kind of sick man would do this?" Scully wondered. "John Sokolovich, apparently." Continued part three.