by J. Millington
varmstro@zipcon.net
 

Date: 28 May 1996

This stroy is in six short parts. If anyone's missing a portion e-mail me
and let me know. Hey folks, let me know what you think of ie. I would
really like to hear from any other Deadhead X-files who are out there.
I'm working on a new story with no Dead content, an actual x-file with,
hopefully lots of action and a conspiracy/x-file plot.

Story summary: Mulder and Scully find themselves involved a routine case
but learn that complacency in the face of the ordinary is not a good thing.
No romance, not.

Disclaimer- Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and Frohike are the property of Chris
Carter and 1013 Productions, used here without permission. Song lyrics are
the property of Robert Hunter and the late Jerry Garcia. The UFO convention
and most of the locations in Little Rock are real. The other characters are
the product of my imagination.

------------------

Ungrateful Spring  1/6
by J. Millington
 

Riverfront Park
Little Rock, Arkansas
Monday, March 18, 11:30 pm

Soft waves lapped against the shore by the banks of the Arkansas River. It
was dark under the bridge, hiding the car which had driven out onto the
grass expanse. The driver of the car paused a few minutes after turning off
the ignition. Slowly, he got out and moved to the trunk, opened it and
stroked his hand gently across the bulky shape laying between the spare
tire and the tool box. He bent down and eased the body out of the car,
hefted her up on his shoulder and carried her down to the water's edge.

Returning to the car he pulled out a plastic bag and brought it over to the
sleeping form. He removed a tie-dyed t-shirt and pulled it over the woman's
arms, gently pulling her head through the neck hole, taking great care as
he eased the shirt past her face. Next he took a hair brush out of the bag
and pulled it through her auburn hair. He laid her form down on the
riverside, leaned over and lovingly kissed her. Then circling her throat
with his hands, he choked until he could no longer see the soft rise and
fall of her breath.

He folded first her right arm and then her left over her breast, placing a
red rose between her hands. Lastly, he took out a carefully written note
and pinned it to the hem of the shirt. As he kissed her once again, a tear
fell from his face to hers.
    'Paradise waits
    on the crest of a wave
    her angels in flame

    She has no pain
    like a child she is pure
    she is not to blame'
 
 

Police Department
Little Rock
Tuesday, 8 am

Betty Mayhan strode into her office with a single-minded air of confidence
built over years of hard work. But today this confident attitude was more
habit than actual fact. After twenty years on the police force her keen
investigative mind had yielded one the highest arrest records in the state,
but this Geri Gold murder was really getting on her nerves.

She stopped by the secretary's desk to pick up her messages. On top was a
plain envelope with her name written in unfamiliar handwriting. She ripped
it open without really thinking about it, her mind was on the upcoming
day's work. As she pulled the note out and read it, however her expression
darkened.

Before she could show the note to her partner, the other woman came
striding briskly into the room, "Hey, Betty. They found another one like
Gold."

"Don't tell me, this one was down by the river, 'on the crest of the wave'."

"How did you know?"

Betty handed the note to Rosemary Collins, who read it over with a grim
look on her face. "But I haven't told you the worst part. The latest victim
is Sarah Winslow. From the banking Winslows."

"Oh, shit. Let's keep the press out of this as long as we can."

"It may already be too late. Somehow the governor has already been
notified. This family has been the backbone of the Democratic party in
Arkansas for years. How long do you think it will take for the White House
to get involved?"

"Great. Just great. We don't need federal agents coming down here to mess
up our investigation."
 

FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
Wednesdday, 9 a.m.

Dana Scully looked up as she heard her partner's footsteps echoing
reentering his basement office. He was looking over a file with a decidedly
irritated look on his face.

"New case?"

"Well, Scully, this is proof positive that politics is alive and well in
Washington. Pack your bags. We're heading for Arkansas." He tossed the file
onto her desk.

She picked it up and began to look it over. "What have we got?" She glanced
throught the file. "Sarah Winslow, granddaughter of a prominent Arkansas
banker, found strangled, dressed in a tie-dyed t-shirt clutching a red
rose. A bit of poetry pinned to her shirt proved to bit a fragment of
Grateful Dead song lyrics. Mulder, not only is this not and X-file-"

"Unless she was strangled by the ghost of Jerry Garcia-"

She ignored him and continued, "but this case is also out of our
jurisdiction. Have there been any similar killings elsewhere? Is this a
serial killer?"

"There was one similar murder in Little Rock about two weeks ago. The
Winslow case has been dumped in our laps because her grandfather was a
close personal friend of the president's late mother and a long-time
supporter of the Democratic party. The White House wanted an FBI medical
forensics expert to help the Arkansas state police and a psychological
profiler to help the police figure out who their suspect is. Officially
we're to act as consultants only, not as investigators."

========================
 

Ungrateful Spring  (2/6)

Police Headquarters
Little Rock
4:30 p.m.

 
Two dark-suited strangers approached the detectives and were greeted by icy
stares. Both Collins and Mayhan resented having outside help forced upon
them because of political games. Only in advisory capacity, or so they had
been told. What it felt like was a slap in the face, an open statement that
the women weren't capable of investigating a case with such serious
political undertones.

As the pair approached the man, sizing up the situation , decided to forgo
the ritual of flashing his ID and held out his hand instead. "I'm Special
Agent Fox Mulder and this Special Agent Dana Scully. Sorry to be forced on
you like this, we'll try to help you if we can, and intrude on your
investigation as little as possible."
 
Mayhan still glared at the two FBI agents so Collins decided to step into
the gap. She returned Mulder's smile, took his hand and replied, "Rosemary
Collins. And this is Detective Betty Mayhan. We've been briefed on your
specialties. Agent Scully, you're the forensic pathologist, right? And
Agent Mulder, you're here to write the psychological profile?"

The agents nodded. Scully added, "We've already gone over the file that was
faxed to us in Washington, maybe you could fill us in on the most recent
developments?"

"We've been assigned to this Winslow case and to the Gold girl before this.
There's not much new in the investigation, except for the note Betty found
this morning."

Mulder jumped in, "He's sending notes to you?"

Mayhan finally spoke. "When I got into the office today and started going
through my mail, I found this." She rummaged through the papers on her desk
and picked up a plan piece on lined notebook paper with a few lines written
in pencil. "The handwriting is the same as that left on the notes left with
the victims."

Looking over the envelope and the note inside, Mulder got a slightly
puzzled look on his face. "This is post marked on the same day as the girl
was killed. When a serial killer communicates with the police, he's usually
playing games, kind of a catch me if you can. But this feels different."

"What do you mean," Collins was intrigued now.

"I'm not sure yet." He looked distracted, but continued. "What do you have
on the victims?"

Mayhan picked up the ball, "Well other than the fact that they were both
young white women with red hair, there aren't many similarities. Sarah
Winslow, 19, was an honor student at the local university, member of the
women's soccer team, worked part time at the campus bookstore and lived in
an apartment with two other girls. No steady boyfriend."

"Was she a fan of the Grateful Dead?" Scully interjected.

"No, as a matter of a fact, and neither was Geri Gold. Gold was a
twenty-six year old factory worker, single mother with two kids, lived with
her mother and generally divided her time between work, her children and
church. These two women had no common interests or social ties. Although
they were both regular church goers, Gold was a Pentecostal and Winslow,
Episcopalian. Totally different groups of friends and associates. Both
victims were found in fairly public locations. Time of death for each one
probably just a few hours before the bodies were discovered. Each girl was
strangled, dressed in a T-shirt and the notes and roses placed with the
bodies."
 
Mulder listened intently and then looked down at the police files and
photographs of the crime scenes. After a few minutes he looked up again.
"He's looking for someone he lost,"  he proposed.

When he didn't elaborate the two detectives gave each other a puzzled look.
Mayhan looked up at her partner and rolled her eyes, as if to say 'what a
flake'.

Scully jumped in. "I'd like to see the autopsy reports as soon as possible."

"Well,  we've included those from Geri Gold in her file. But Winslow's
hasn't been done yet. The State Crime Lab is horribly backlogged; there's
been a chronic problem with understaffing. It's not scheduled until day
after tomorrow." Mayhan apologized.

"Let me talk to the state medical examiner. I'll do it myself if I have to,
but If we're going to be any help to you at all, we need to compare these
results to see what we're up against."

"No problem, actually I bet they wouldn't mind the help. They're always
understaffed and overworked. In the mean time, its almost five. I know you
must have come straight here from the airport. Let's get you settled in
your hotel and meet back around six for dinner."
 

Mulder's Room
Doubletree Hotel
11 p.m.

Mulder sat on the bed with the contents of the files spread across the
bedspread. Pictures taken of the victims at the scene held his attention
until he heard the knock at the door. He opened it to find Scully looking
tired but thoughtful.

"How'd it go."

"Actually it was fairly uneventful. There was very little violence and no
evidence of sexual assault. I won't know until I get the toxicology reports
back, but I'm pretty sure she was unconscious at the time of death. Its
almost as if he went out of his way to see that she didn't suffer."

"That fits with what I've seen in the police reports. This guy is
reenacting something, probably the death of a girlfriend or wife. He acts
out of loss and love, not anger or revenge or any violent emotion. It's
sad"

"What's sad is that two young women are dead. Are you feeling sorry for
this guy?"

"He's just so lonely." Mulder turned back to the files.

Scully knew he was thoroughly engrossed in the putting together the
profile, there was no point in trying to talk to him any more tonight.  She
got up and said, "Night,  Mulder, " to which he grunted a reply.
 

Hotel Coffee Shop
Thursday
8 a.m.
 

Scully looked up from her coffee to see Mulder approaching her table
looking surprisingly refreshed. Working up a profile of a serial killer,
getting into his mind and understanding what drove a man to kill and kill
again usually left Mulder drained, physically and emotionally. That's one
of the main reasons he had needed to leave Violent Crimes.

"You're looking good for someone who spent all night working."

"Morning, Scully. Actually, I knocked off about two this morning and got
some sleep. I don't think this guy is going to haunt me like some of the
others I've worked on in the past. I don't believe he's as sick as some of
the whose minds killers I've had the pleasure of crawling into."

"No, Mulder, he's just your average boy-next-door serial killer"

"That's not what I mean. It's just that he's not inherently evil or sadistic."

"Well that's good. The last thing we need in Little Rock is an evil
sadistic serial killer, the lost and lonely will do just fine." They both
looked up to see Rosemary Collins coming to join them. "Betty will join us
at the office later. Agent Scully, I really want to thank you for getting
to that autopsy for us last night. It can be such a pain working with the
Crime Lab. They seem to always take the attitude that, 'Hey the victim's
dead already, so what's the big hurry'."

"That's what they sent me here for. I was glad to do it, but this is pretty
straightforward stuff. Kind of nice, actually, not to see the kind of
mutilations and torture that some of these guys put their victims through."

"As I was saying-" Mulder attempted to interject.

Scully gave him a look and continued, "But why don't we wait until we meet
Detective Mayhan and we can go over it  all in detail. I will tell you
this, the findings are almost identical to those for Geri Gold."

Collins flagged down a waitress and ordered a cup of coffee. "Is there
anything in particular we can help you with today?"

Mulder thought it over and then asked, "Who exactly identified the song lyrics."

"That was one of the paramedics who arrived on the scene after Gold's body
was found. It was kind of strange. She was placed on the campus of the
local university just outside the planetarium. The poem read, let me think
a minute-

'Don't cry now
Don't you cry
Don't you cry anymore
Sleep in the stars
Don't you cry
Dry your eyes on the wind'

Anyway, the paramedic, Glen Gordon, read over them while waiting for the
police to get there. He's also the one that first noticed the correlation
between the lyric contents and the location of the body. We've been using
him as a consultant on the Grateful Dead, we took the second bit of song
lyrics to him to identify. Taken out of context he didn't recognize it at
first, but he's got a database with all their lyrics on it and he found it
for us. 'Bird Song' was the song used for Gold and the song for Winslow was
called 'Help on the Way'."

"I'd like to talk Gordon, could you arrange that for us?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Got an idea?" Scully was curious, it looked like her forensic services
were not going to be needed anymore on this case and she looked forward to
some basic investigation on a normal case for a change.

"Just want to do a little exploring. If you're good maybe I'll buy you a
tie-dyed shirt for a souvenir. I think I might be able to finish this up
tomorrow."

Later in Mayhan's office Scully went over her findings. "The cause of death
for Sarah Winslow, as for Geri Gold, was strangulation. There was no sign
of sexual assault on either victim. And I just got part of the toxicology
report back; both women were heavily sedated with Demerol before they were
killed, I doubt that they suffered at all.  There are no signs of beating
or physical abuse, just the marks left by the killers hands around her
throat."

Mayhan sighed and leaned on her desk, resting her chin on her hands she
looked up from Scully to Mulder. "Well that seems pretty straightforward.
Agent Mulder, do you think that this is going to be limited to just these
two cases, or are we looking at a much more serious problem?"

"Well given the randomness of the choice of victims, who apparently have
nothing in common other than being short, young and red-headed, I'm afraid
that this is just the tip of the iceberg. What I don't entirely understand
is what set him off at this time. Its probably related to a death of
someone close to him at this time of year."

"We thought of that already and looked for any unsolved homicides in
central Arkansas involving young red haired women, especially at this time
of year. Didn't find anything."

"I don't think you would. First you've got to understand that the Deadhead
community was fairly transient in nature. She could have died out of state.
But I really don't think it was a homicide. The lack of violence at the
crime scene and the extreme care he takes with the victims, I don't know, I
think he just didn't get a chance to say good-bye."

==========================
 

Ungrateful Spring  (3/6)

Metropolitan Emergency Medical Services parking lot
Little Rock
 

Scully drove their rental car into a parking lot ringed with pick-ups, and
cars ringed and filled with ambulances waiting for service. A tall clean
cut young man dressed in the uniform of a paramedic, noticing their
arrival, strolled out to meet. He smiled broadly and held out his hand as
the agents exited the car. "Hi, I'm Glen Gordon. Detective Mayhan said
ya'all were comin" out to talk to me about those ladies that were
murdered."

Mulder shook his hand,  "I have to admit that you are the most unlikely
looking hippie I've seen in a while."

Gordon chuckled and replied, "That's where most people make a mistake about
deadheads. Tour rats in tie-dyes and VW vans are really only one part of
then scene. There are plenty of people with regular jobs and families who
just loved the music and the peaceful feeling of being with family." The
agents allowed the young man to ramble on for a while outlining the
subculture that had surrounded the band for nearly thirty years.

Finally Mulder asked, "Can you think of anything in particular that
happened within the past couple of weeks that would be significant,
something that could of set this guy off?"

After mulling it over Gordon replied, "Well, it may not be anything, as a
matter of fact, its not so much something that happened as much as
something that didn't."

"Which is-?" Scully prompted.

"Spring tour. The Dead always toured three times a year. Spring tour always
started in February and continued into April. Sure they missed the fall
tour as well, but everyone kind of hoped they would pull something together
for the spring. Didn't announce that band was definitely over until this
winter. I know folks who've made a real tradition of hitting as many shows
as possible during the spring, myself included. Guess I'll just have to
find something else to do. Going to miss my buddies, though. There's just a
whole lot of friends that I only used to see on tour."

Something clicked in Mulder's mind. "Did they play in specific cities
during the spring?"

"Sure, mostly back east. Tell you what, I've got a database with a complete
list of all the shows they've ever played. If you can wait until I get off,
we can go print up a list of every spring tour for as far back as you
like."
 
 

Police headquarters
Friday 9 am

"After talking to Glen Gordon, reviewing the case files and autopsy reports
I've been able to put together the following profile." Mulder looked up
from the papers he held in in hand and reached for the cup of coffee Mayhan
had just placed in front of him. He looked tired. Dark circles under his
eyes giving testament to the long night he'd put in. He handed copies of
his report to Mayhan, Collins and Scully.

"The killer is a white male, age 30-45. Intelligent and quiet, he probably
has the respect of his colleagues and is employed as a professional. I
believe that the excerpts from the song lyrics have more to do with the
location of the body than anyting else. He is now sending letters to
Detective Mayhan to assure that the bodies are found quickly. The victim
represents someone he cared a great deal about, so he doesn't want the
bodies to be desecrated in any way. The first body was placed by the
planetarium where she could 'sleep in the stars'. The second was found 'on
the crest of the wave' by the river. If he kills again, and I'm sure that
he will, the lyrics will be tied to the placement of the body.

"There was no sign of a struggle at either of the victim's homes, so they
were willing to let him in. This indicates that the he is most likely a
pleasant and fairly average in appearance, not a ragged aging hippie,
despite his fanaticism with the band. Because of the great care with which
the victims were treated I believe that he is reenacting some personal
trauma in his life. My best guess is that a wife or long-time girl friend
died, most likely from accidental strangulation during the period of time
when the Grateful Dead made their annual spring tour. The killer and his
lost loved one made a habit of attending at least a portion of these
concerts, but this particular year, I believe he must have been apart,
possibly called away for business or professional reasons. There is a high
probabability that he was unable to attend the funeral and has never
resolved his grief over the incident. He has no family or social contacts
outside of work. The curtailment of spring concerts has in effect cut him
off from the subculture which followed the band and served as a surrogate
family for the killer.  He may be a college professor or perhaps a graduate
student, since the annual spring break coincides with the timing of the
concert tours, and many of the attendants of these particular concerts had
university ties."

Collins cut in, "So if we look for a red-headed woman who died from
accidental strangulation sometime during the spring over the thirty years
this band was in business we'll find a killer.   Can't you narrow it down
just a bit?"

"Sure. I think her death probably took place within the past five years. I
have a list of the cities they played in during that time. First, look at
the cities where concerts were held during the traditional spring break
period. If that doesn't work out, look at the other spring tour cities. And
if you still have no success, look at the  line of travel from one concert
site to another. Maybe she died en route."

"Do you have any idea how big that search is and how short staffed we are?"
 Mayhan sounded thoroughly exasperated.

Mulder ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a weary look that said
that he knew exactly how daunting a task this was.

Scully spoke up, "We could rebook our flight for tomorrow instead of this
afternoon and give you a hand, if you like. I know we weren't supposed to
interfere in your investigation, but there are an awful lot of phone calls
to make."

"Be my guest," replied Mayhan. Then she began to plot out a strategy for
carrying out the investigation.
 

By noon all four of them were ready to take a break. The detectives ordered
pizza delivered to their office.  Mulder went to return a message taken
while he was out The women had just started enjoying lunch when the phone
rang.

"Mayhan." The older detective listened almost without comment, but her
expression changed progressively from attentive to irritated to outright
anger. She said little besides an occasional "Yes, sir" or "Of course' I
understand, sir."   After she hung up she glared at the phone a minute
before finally uttering a disgusted, "God damn politicians."

Before she could explain Mulder rejoined them muttering, "I don't see what
the hell politics has got to do with law enforcement. Scully, that was
Skinner. As soon as you finish your forensic testing we're off the case. As
a matter of fact I've been informed that with my profile completed my
services are no longer needed."

Scully and Collins simultaneously exclaimed, "What?"

Mayhan explained. "It seems that the mayor has been pressured into asking
the police chief to call off your help. It's not really within federal
jurisdiction and several victims rights groups have cried favoritism
because of the connection between the White House and the Winslow family. I
guess I can understand, I mean out of the fifty murders in the city last
year, many of the victims were poor or black. A fairly large number of
those crimes are still unsolved but no one sent special federal
investigators to help out with them. And with a reelection campaign coming
up and the Whitewater prosecuter breathing down his neck it seems that
Clinton has rethought his position on the issue and doesn't want to seen as
showing special favoritism to the wealthy white friends of the family."

"Well I won't be finished until tomorrow. Some of the special tests I
ordered have been delayed until then and I can't get the paperwork finished
up until I check them out. I don't suppose Skinner can complain too much
about that. Are you headed back today, Mulder?" Scully asked.

He thought it over a minute and then said, "No, actually I think I might
take the weekend off and drive up to Eureka Springs. Its what, about two
hours from here?"

"A little more like three, but whatever for?" Collins asked. "They've got
some UFO convention going on up there this weekend and the town's going to
be full of nuts from all over the country." She noticed at the dirty look
Scully threw her partner and started to chuckle.

"Hey," Mulder defended himself. "A guy's got to have a hobby."

"You are weird, you know that don't you?"

========================

Ungrateful Spring  (4/6)

Riverfront  Park
Little Rock
Friday
4 p.m.

It was exactly the kind of spring afternoon which brought winter-weary
souls out of the house to enjoy the warm and lazy sunshine. Near one of the
park pavilions an impromptu gathering  brought an amazing variety of
percussion instruments and percussionists. Young and old and in between,
they assembled one by one and randomly added their rhythmic contributions.
Congas, bongos, maracas, tambourines, bodhrans and rattles were
occasionally accompanied by a flute or harmonica. Most of joggers,
dog-walkers and families which passed by eyed the group with amusement or,
occasionally, annoyance.

No one noticed the figure at the fringe of the circle, sitting in the
shadow of a tree watching the passing crowds as if searching for someone in
particular. He was a regular if passive participant at the drum circles.
The kind of presence which is accepted without being acknowledged. No
longer particularly young, but still sporting a neatly trimmed beard and
long hair, casual jeans and polo shirt made him appear to be just one of
the crowd.

Oblivious to the crowd around her,  a petite women jogged past, her red
hair streaming out behind her. She slowed just past the drummers to enjoy
the music. After fifteen  minutes, she turned  and made her way to her car
in the nearby parking lot. She never noticed the bearded man who followed
her to the lot or the plain sedan which lingered behind her as she drove
down the street to her hotel.

The car proceeded slowly past the hotel, then continued on. The driver
pulled down the sun visor in front of the his seat and checked the address
written on a scrap of paper there. Putting a tape in the tape deck, he
drove down the street and waited until dark. Undercover of night he eased
his car up to the mailbox at the address, placed the letter inside and
flipped the little red flag up.
 

Doubletree Hotel
Friday evening

Scully lounged on the bed holding her laptop and composing her thoughts in
order to write the case report. A sharp knock on the door drew her
attention. Opening it up, she found Betty Mayhan standing there with a
tall, heavyset man.

"Dana, this is my husband, John. We wanted to invite you to come to dinner
with us."

"I wouldn't want to be a nuisance."

"Don't be ridiculous. The kids are staying with my folks this weekend and
it would be great to have adult company for a change."

John added, "As a matter of fact, the guest room's empty. Why don't you
stay with us this evening. I've got some homemade wine I've been dying to
show off."

Scully hesitated. A long boring evening of cable tv, room service and not
even her partner to keep her company began to sound less than appealing.
She smiled and said, "This is really nice of you. Just give a minute to
grab some things."

Out in the parking lot the driver of a nondescript sedan watched with alarm
as the red head got into the detective's car and drove off. No. No. Not
only was she not going to be available tonight, she was a friend of that
police woman. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. Tomorrow. He
would watch her and tomorrow evening he could relieve the loneliness and
grief.
 

Mayhan's house
Saturday, 7:30 am

As John Mayhan had pulled into the driveway the night before, he'd noticed
the flag was up on the mailbox. While that seemed odd, his attention had
been drawn back to the conversation between his wife and their guest and he
forgot to check the box until he went out to get the morning paper. Inside
the mailbox was an envelope with Betty's name on it.

As soon as she saw the handwriting on the envelope, she ripped it open. Her
fears were soon confirmed.

Scully came into the kitchen while Mayhan was still on the phone to the
office. "Betty, what's up? Has there been another murder?"

"No, at least not that we know of. But I did get another letter, this time
delivered to the house. I had Rosemary call Glen Gordon who confirmed that
this is a fragment to a song.

'Reach out your hand if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full may it be again,
let it be known there is a fountain,
that was not made by the hands of men.'

If Mulder was right this should tell us where to find a body. But I don't
really know where he's talking about and so far no new victim has been
found."

"Tell you what. Let me give Mulder a call and see if he can come up with
any ideas," Scully offered. She went to retrieve her cellular phone.

"Mulder," he answered.

"The situation has changed down here."

"What do you mean, Scully?"

"Betty got another note, this time deposited in her mailbox at home. But
there has been no body found yet, as far as we know."

"What were the song lyrics?" Mulder was curious. It appeared that the
killer was escalating his attacks.

Scully asked for the note, which was lying on the kitchen table. After she
read it to Mulder he pondered over it for a minute and stated the first
thing which came to mind. "'A fountain that was not made by the hands of
man.' He could be talking about a natural landscape feature, like a spring.
Or maybe fountain is the key word."

Betty had switched the call to the speakerphone so she could listen to what
Mulder had to say. "Well, there aren't any natural springs that I know of
within the city limits, and so far he's always left the victim in the city.
I'll get someone to bring up a list of all the fountains in town and check
them out." She left to grab her cell phone and call the office.

"Do you need me to come back?" Mulder asked.

"No," Scully replied. "You know Skinner wanted us to back off. I think the
police should handle it from here."

"Okay. By the way, I've got a message for you. Frohike's here at the
convention and he wanted me to give his regards to the lovely Ms. Scully."

His partner groaned. "Bye, Mulder."
 

For the rest of the day Scully felt rather like a voyeur. While she had
time to kill waiting on the final test results, she would have liked to
help the Little Rock police in their investigation. But Skinner had made it
perfectly clear that was out of the question. Nevertheless, it was
inevitable that she should get caught up in the excitement around the
station when they found a possible suspect.

Collins was elated when she ran into the office she shared with Mayhan.
"Look at this. It's a pretty close match to Mulder's profile. Two years ago
a Georgeanne Harris, 29 years old with auburn hair, tripped and fell over a
railing at a concert hall in Boston while attending a Grateful Dead
concert. She became entangled in an electrical cord and was accidently
strangled. Paramedics were unable to revive her. She had lived for a number
of years with a history professor, a Dr. Peter Hess. Normally the pair of
them made a habit of attending about a week's worth of these concerts in
the spring. At the time of Harris' death, however, Hess was in Germany on a
research grant. There was apparently some animosity between Hess and the
woman's parents, who failed to notify him of the funeral. He didn't find
out about her death until two weeks after she had been cremated and the
ashes scattered. The couple originally lived back east in Pittsburgh, but
last fall Hess accepted a teaching position at the university here in
Little Rock."

Mayhan was already out of her chair and heading for the door. "It looks
like we need to have a little talk with Dr. Hess. See you later, Dana."

==========================

Ungrateful Spring  (5/6)
 

As Collins and Mayhan exited the office, they left Scully sitting in the
corner of the room feeling a bit unnecessary. Sure, she had performed the
autopsy on the second victim, but there had been nothing truly unusual that
the State Crime Lab wouldn't have discovered on its own. She would have
been glad to help with the third victim, but that body hadn't been found
yet. Mulder had at least given them a valid profile and a direction in
which to search. And to top it off, he got to spend his weekend engaged in
his favorite activity, the pursuit of the paranormal, while she was bored
out of her skull hanging around the police station all day. The afternoon
was still young. She decided to take advantage of the day and go back to
her hotel room. Maybe she could get in a run on one of the scenic jogging
trails along the river. Stopping to make sure the secretaries had her cell
phone number, she left.
 

Parking Lot, Doubletree Hotel

Peter Hess had checked to make sure that the lovely woman, the one who so
looked like his Georgeanne, had not checked out. If he could just see her,
touch her, say good-bye to her, maybe the loss and loneliness in his heart
would ease. He sat  in his car and watched the front door of the hotel.

And there she was. The gleam of the sunlight on her coppery hair filled him
with an aching sense of loss. Why had she left him? Here he was in a
strange city. No friends. No family. No Georgeanne. Not even a temporary
respite in the company of those friends he had seen spring for years. If he
could just see her tonight, surely it would help.
 
Scully changed into her favorite sweats. She tucked her cell phone in the
pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled her hair back. The lazy Arkansas River
flowed just outside the hotel. She ran for a while and stopped under a
pavilion to watch the small paddlewheel boat gliding down the river.
Really, she felt a little guilty for the ease with which she and Mulder
were wrapping up their involvement in this case. Her partner always hated
to be manipulated by politicians and FBI involvement in these murders had
been political from beginning to end. Mayhan and Collins were competent,
hardworking and had a strong lead on a likely suspect. She smiled to
herself at the thought of Mulder actually getting in a little 'vacation'
time.

Scully's thoughts were already drifting back to D.C and her plans for next
week as she ran back toward the hotel. She didn't see the figure which
detached itself from the shadows under the bridge until he was on top of
her. He tripped her and she fell hard onto the grassy slope. Just as she
felt the beginning prick of the hypodermic needle she rolled over and tried
to kick out at her assailant. He jumped back pulling the syringe out of her
arm and spilling some its contents on the ground. But enough of the
sedative was already starting to work, and she felt the world falling away
into darkness.

======================

Ungrateful Spring  (6/6)

Eureka Springs Convention Center
5 p.m.

Mulder frowned as he listened to Scully's phone ring for the tenth time.
She should have answered by now. It just wasn't like her to leave her phone
behind. He tried to connect with her hotel room, but got no answer there
either. Next he tried Betty Mayhan's number at police headquarters.

"No, Mulder, I haven't seen her. She should be back at the hotel. Listen
we're up to our necks in an investigation here, and we still haven't found
that third victim or Dr. Hess, so if you just called to chat-"

"No, you listen to me. It's not like her to not stay near a phone when
she's on the job, especially if she's waiting for lab results to come back.
I'm heading back down there right now."

He hung up abruptly, leaving the detective to mutter under her breath about
overprotective men in law enforcement.

After another hour had gone by Mayhan was also starting to worry. The
forensics lab had been trying to get in touch with Agent Scully since four
that afternoon with no luck. A maid at the hotel remembered seeing her
leave her room late in the afternoon, dressed as if she was going for a run
along the river, but no one had seen her return and the room was empty. To
top it all off, Peter Hess had not been seen at his home or anywhere on
campus since the day before. Hess had been expecting to grab his next
victim the night before. A red-headed victim.

By the time Mulder came storming into his office, the detectives could tell
by the look on his face that he had also pieced together the parts of the
puzzle. He paced her office and suddenly slammed his fist against the
filing cabinet. "How could I have been so stupid, so sloppy. And I actually
felt sorry for the sad son-of-a-bitch." He stopped pacing and stared out
the window absorbed in his own thoughts.

At least they had the clue to the site where the victim would be taken. By
ten that night there had been police stake outs around every fountain in
town for hours but there was no sign of Hess. Mulder looked unnaturally
calm, detached from the hectic pace of the police station. Collins had
almost forgotten that he was sitting in the corner behind her when he
suddenly jerked up, his long legs nearly kicking her chair out from under
her.

He lunged for the phone book on the corner of the desk and began to flip
frantically through the pages. Finally he found what he was looking for and
jabbed his finger on the page, saying, "Its not a fountain. You have to
look at then last line of the verse
'Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of man.'
Not made by the hands of man. Here. Come on. Let's go!" He grabbed his
jacket and headed towards the door, impatiently beckoning to the women
behind him.

They looked at the spot on the page. Not made by man, made by God. A
church. The Fountain of Life Baptist Church. They ran for the door.
 

 
Fountain of Life Baptist Church
10 p.m.

The gray sedan pulled up to the alley entrance of the darkened church. The
driver got out, walked around to the trunk and with great care lifted out a
limp form. He paused for a moment and then hoisted the body over his
shoulder and carried it over to the back steps of the church. Returning to
the car he rummaged around for a plastic bag. Nothing was going right this
evening. He'd had to act quicker than he liked to and earlier in the day.
And he wasn't sure, but maybe he hadn't given as much of the sedative as he
normally would. That really bothered him because she shouldn't suffer. It
shouldn't hurt, Georgeanne had been hurt enough already, when he was away
and couldn't say good-bye.

Kneeling beside her he brought out the t-shirt and paused beside her. Tears
fell onto her face, her chest, her hair. He straightened up and heaved a
deep sigh wiping his eyes with back of his hand. As he bent back down his
lips brushed hers.

Scully felt him lift her out of the car. She knew that she should be
worried, something wasn't right. As she felt herself being set down on the
cold concrete steps, the realization that she was in danger began to grow.
She tried to will her limbs into action. The touch of this strangers lips
brought back the realization of the situation to her mind and forced her
body into action. She reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt and
thrust him sharply to the side, down to the ground.

Dazed, he stared blankly at her. What was she doing? Didn't she know he
loved her? Frozen in place, he made no move to fend of her foot as she
brought it crashing down onto his head.

Moments later a dark sedan came screaming into the alley behind the church
closely followed by an amazing number of police cars, blue lights flashing
and sirens wailing. The sedan hadn't even come to a complete stop before a
familiar figure flung open the passenger door and ran up to the church, gun
drawn and ready. And stopped dead at the scene before him.

"Really, Mulder, you ought to put that gun up before you shoot yourself."
Scully grinned at her partner. She was sitting on top of Hess, looking a
little worse for wear, but definitely in control of the situation.

"You know, Scully, when the knight in shining armor comes rushing in, it
really helps to have a damsel in distress." He reached down and gave her a
hand up. His arm reached around her shoulder, as if she needed his support.
She sighed and let him pretend to be the hero.
 
        ---------------The end---------------------