Disclaimers in Part 1.

Part 08 of 11.

Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
11:49 a.m.

	"Mulder?"  Scully called his name as she walked in the room.  Looking over at
the bed, she was relived to see his eyes were open and, though glazed over
with fever and unfocused, he seemed to be conscious.  "Sorry that took so
long, it's raining pretty hard and the traffic here is horrible,"  Scully
stopped, realizing he wasn't listening.  Moving quickly, she sat down at the
edge of his bed and he looked up, noticing her for the first time.

	"Hi," he said weakly.

	"Hey, how are you feeling?"

	Mulder didn't respond to that, just closed his eyes and bowed his head.

	"Yeah, I bet," Scully said.  "Look, though, I got you a nice assortment of
drugs.  Cause guess what yours truly left at the motel in Rutherford?"

	"What?" Mulder asked.

	"Your medicine!!!  Some doctor I am, I left all those good drugs Doctor
Andrews gave you back in some cheap New Jersey motel.  Bet some addict's
having a good time with those, huh?"

	Mulder shrugged, indifferent.  Frankly, his number one priority at this
moment was slipping down under the covers and melting (he certainly felt hot
enough to) but he thought he should wait till Scully left the room, seeing as
he wouldn't want to leave her with the responsibility of cleaning up the mess.

	Scully studied him, noticed his eyelids were beginning to droop and decided
she might as well get some medicine in him before he fell asleep again.
Standing up, she went into the bathroom for a fresh cup of water for him to
swallow all the pills with.  

	"Scully, come back, I'm sorry, I promise I won't melt," Mulder was calling
after her desperately.

	She rushed back to his side.  "It's okay... don't worry you didn't do
anything."  <Melt????? Oh boy!  I wonder what his temperature is, he seems
even worse than before.>

	"Scully."  Mulder was struggling to get her attention.  He managed to pull
himself up.  "Scully," he said as loud as he could.

	"Yeah?"

	Mulder bit his lip and stared down at his lap.  "I don't feel good," he said,
and he sounded sheepish, as though he was admitting something.

	Scully squeezed his hand.  "I know, but now you're going to take some
medicine and get some sleep and you'll feel better soon." 

	"No, I _really_ don't feel good,"  he said, his voiced stressed.  

	<Does he think I haven't noticed??>  Scully thought, remembering all the
scares he'd given her on this case.  When he'd ditched her for Texas... when
he'd stopped breathing in the hospital that time...

	"Scully," he moaned.  "I think something's wrong.  I really don't feel good.
I... I think I might have a fever.  I'm really hot."  A strange noise came
from his throat, almost a wrenched sob.  Tear tracks ran down his face.

	"Shhh, don't cry."  Scully wrapped her arms around him.  "I know, Mulder.
You're really sick and as soon as we can move you, you're going home, okay?
Shhh, it's okay.  It's okay."

	Mulder continued to cry in Scully's arms.  He knew she was saying something
important that he should be listening to but the effort to concentrate was
just too much and the pounding in his head was too loud to hear above anyway.
The sobbing brought unbelievable pain to his raw throat and he tried to stop
but it just made him cry harder.  Then the feeling that he was on fire
disappeared as quickly as it had come and he began shivering, deep and hard,
so bad he thought he'd never stop.  And Scully held him through it, hugging
him close to her own body.  And when he finally slipped off, away from all the
pain that had control of his body, she was still holding him.

	Very, very gingerly, Scully eased Mulder's sleeping form down on the bed.
<He's burning up, _much_ hotter than he was before!  Where'd I put that
thermometer...?>  Scully found it, under all the junk on the bedside table and
stuck it in his ear.  One of four point seven.  That couldn't be right, there
was no way it could be that high.  Scully cleared the thermometer and tried it
again.  Still one oh four seven.  What was she going to do?

	Scully stared at the thermometer again.  It didn't change.  104.7.  <That is
_way_ too high!>  That fever _had_ to come down.  Scully went to the dresser
and fingered her cell phone, and thought about dialing 911.   She looked at
the buttons as her mind seemed to be having a tug of war.  <You _should_ call
911!! He has a 104.7 temperature, for God's sake!  But....>  She knew Mulder
would not like waking up in another hospital.  But he was so out of it as it
was........

	As if he was reading her thoughts, Mulder stirred and opened his eyes half-
way.  The glazed-over hazel orbs searched the room not really focusing, just
searching.  Finally they landed on Scully, and seemed, if just for a second,
to focus.

	"Scully," he mumbled.  Or Scully hoped it was Scully, she couldn't be sure.
So, she just stroked his hair, hoping he would go back to sleep.

	"You won't bring me back to the hospital yet?  Right?"  He sounded like a
five year, trying to prolong his bedtime.  His eyes opened all the way and
just stared at her pleading.  "You can bring me later, but, please not yet."
The words sounded surprisingly lucid for someone with such a high fever.

	Scully just looked at him, and kept stroking his hair. "Not yet," she
promised, crossing her fingers on her other hand as she said it.  Mulder
didn't seem to notice.  Satisfied at her answer, he drifted back to sleep.
Scully carefully eased up the bed, sat back in her chair, and grabbed her cell
phone to make some calls.

Rutherford, NJ
Martins' residence
5:45 p.m.

	Katie sat in front of the big bay window and gazed out.  The streets were
deserted because of the darkening skies.  It was going to rain soon.   Katie
thought as she gazed at the wind blowing the leaves back and forth.

	IF THEY GET ONE.

	<Joanna?>

	NEWARK AIRPORT IS BEING HIT BY A HUGE STORM.  IT'S SUPPOSED TO HIT HERE IN
FIFTEEN MINUTES.  HURRICANE WINDS.  NO AIRPLANE IS FLYING INTO NEWARK, AND NO
PLANE IS LEAVING NEWARK.  DAMN!!

	<My mom said there was going to be a storm.  Guess she was right.  So?  Maybe
Dallas could get hit with a storm.  I mean you did make Agent Mulder
sick.....>

	I CAN'T DO THAT!   I _REALLY_ WISH I COULD, BUT I CAN'T.  I DO HAVE SOME
LIMIT TO MY RESOURCES.  MOTHER NATURE CONTROLS THE WEATHER, NOT ME.

	<Well, Agent Mulder _is_ sick, so you should be okay for awhile, right?>

	I THINK SO.  I JUST HOPE AGENT SCULLY DOESN'T GO LOOKING FOR HER PARTNER'S
THEORIES.

	<Oh, come on.  _She's_ the skeptic.  Not to mention the sane one.  She'll
just call the police, find out about the fingerprints on the rope, and they
will solve the case.  Then she can drag her sick partner back to DC.  Maybe
they won't even have to come back here.>

	Joanna was silent for a minute.  Then Katie heard a sigh of content.  MAYBE
YOU ARE RIGHT.  I _DO_ ALWAYS TEND TO OVERREACT.  THIS WILL WORK.  A KILLER ON
THE TEN MOST WANTED LIST WILL BE BLAMED.  YOU AND I ARE IN THE CLEAR.

	<Yep.>  Katie finally pulled herself away from the window.  <Too bad you're
not alive.  We could have had _a lot_ of fun.>

	Joanna laughed.  WE WOULD HAVE.  BUT WHO SAYS I HAVE TO GO?  WE STILL CAN
HAVE FUN.

	Katie smiled as she thought that over.

Dallas, Texas
Holiday Inn 
4:30 p.m.

	Scully was _frustrated_.  She had tried to get a flight out to New Jersey,
but because of a storm, they were no flights in Newark Airport.  She had
checked Mulder's temperature and was happy to see it had gone down a half.  It
was still 104.1, but at least it had gone down _some_.  So, when she was sure
Mulder was sound asleep and definitely not going anywhere, she had stepped out
for awhile.

	She returned with the large pharmacy bag full of most of the drugs she had
left behind in New Jersey.  He had made other long-distance phone call and
called him in New Jersey and had him phone the pharmacy and call in the meds.
<Gee, Mulder's insurance company is going to _love_ this> she thought as she
opened the door to her room.  If she could get his fever down, she could keep
the promise Mulder wanted her too.

	But as soon as she walked into the room she realized that promise was going
to harder to keep.  She was greeted by the sound of retching from the bathroom
and glanced at the bed.  It was empty, the blankets thrown carelessly to the
floor.  She ran to the bathroom and found his head over the toilet.  Nothing
was coming up; he hadn't eaten in days.  He was probably still dehydrated,
too.  She bend down next to him and rubbed his back.  He hardly noticed her
until he turned his head.

	"Scully.  Sorry you saw the show," he said hoarsely, trying to smile but
instead grimacing.  Scully immediately felt his forehead, and for once Mulder
didn't bat her hand away.  She frowned and helped him up.

	"Come on, we have to get you to bed," she said and lead him to the bed.

	"I'm still..." Mulder trailed off, but Scully got the idea.

	"Nauseous?" Scully finished.  Mulder nodded as Scully gently pushed him back
down to the bed.   "Well, I got you something for that."  She gestured to the
bag on the dresser and took something out of it and then rummaged through her
medical bag as well.  

	Mulder blinked, and tried to concentrate on Scully, but his mind couldn't
stay focused.  The world was spinning and all he wanted to do was throw it up.
Even more so when Scully turned around with a needle it her hand.

	"What?.." Mulder said at the highest decibel he could manage.

	"Sorry, Mulder, but I can't give it to you in pill form.  You'd probably
throw it up in two minutes and then it wouldn't do anything it was supposed to
do."  She lifted his shirt and went for his hip.  Mulder grimaced when the
needle went in, but after a few minutes the nausea wasn't so bad and he was
tired again.  He felt Scully push him into a more comfortable position just
before he feel asleep.

Katie's Room
Rutherford, NJ
4:35 a.m.

	Katie couldn't sleep.  The rain pounded unceasingly on the roof, unbearably
noisy in the silence.  She had already been up to the bathroom twice and once
checked in on her parents but they were sleeping peacefully so she left them
alone.  

	<Joanna?>  She tried.  She had attempted to reach Joanna several times before
during the night but it appeared even the mighty Joanna Wasserman could sleep
through a thunderstorm.

	UHN??  Joanna's voice was groggy.

	<Sorry.  You awake?>

	I AM NOW.  WHAT?

	<Sorry,> Katie said again.  <I'm bored.>

	BORED??  HOW CAN YOU BE BORED?  IT'S 3 IN THE MORNING

	<4:37, actually.  Soooo... what's up?>

	NOTHING.  I WAS SLEEPING.  SHEESH

	<Oh.  Well, I had an idea.>

	RELATING TO THE FBI AGENTS?

	<Yeah, well, sorta.  Well, not directly, but definitely relating to their
case.>

	Katie thought she heard Joanna sigh, then the voice said, OKAY, I'M ALL EARS,
WHAT IS IT?

	<Well, it's about Michael Austin.  Is there anyway you could.... talk to
him?>

	TALK TO HIM?

	<Yeah!  Like you talk to me.  Then... well.... I'm not sure exactly where to
go from there...>

	YOU CALL THAT AN IDEA??  HEY..... CAN YOU TRY TO BE JUST A LITTLE LESS
CHEERFUL?  IT'S ONLY 4:37 IN THE MORNING!

	<4:38 now.  Sure, I'll try.>  Katie lay there in the dark for a minute, then
kicked off the blankets.  <Well, I don't know about you, but I'm bored out of
my mind.  Let's go for a jog.>

	YOU JOG?

	<Well..... no.  Sarah was the real athlete.  Sarah was good in _everything_.
But, well, let's see if it's any fun.>  Katie sat up, flipped on the light and
started to pull on her running shoes and a sweatshirt over her pajamas.  <You
coming?>

	Joanna sighed.  I GUESS SO.  WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO AT THIS GOD FORSAKEN
HOUR?  AND WE CAN DISCUSS THIS WHOLE MICHAEL AUSTIN IDEA WHILE WE'RE GOING.
WILL YOUR PARENTS MIND?

	Katie laughed.  <Yeah they might mind..... but, that's never stopped us
before, has it?>
	


Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
4:39 a.m.
	
	<It's freezing in here!>  Was the first thing that came to Mulder's mind as
he slowly emerged from a drug and fever and pure exhaustion induced sleep.  He
sat up slowly and realized it was partially because he was minus his shirt.  A
fist came up to scrub his face and he realized how weird he felt..... a dizzy,
blurry, half-nauseous feeling that was familiar but he couldn't pinpoint it.
He tried to think back to the past few hours.

	<Let's see..... I remember puking my guts up.... right, then Scully shot me.
Or maybe she gave me a shot.  Hmm...?  Anyway.... what was after that?>  His
head was beginning to pound from thinking so hard and he decided what he
really needed was a run.  He knew the reasonable thing to do was put on a
shirt so he recovered his old one (a bit sweaty but no worse for the wear) and
slipped it over his head.  

	<Why didn't I have a shirt on?>  Mulder's mind drifted back to a time when
he'd been sick and had woken up the next morning in Scully's bed with his
underwear on.... and _only_ his underwear on.  Oh, yes, that was the time he'd
been drugged.  

	<Scully... I wonder if she wants to come.....>  Mulder looked over, squinting
to see in the dark room and saw Scully collapsed in an armchair.  <Why is she
sleeping there?  That looks very uncomfortable!  And why is she in my room?
You know, this doesn't even look like my room.  Where _am_ I??  Nevermind,
I'll just go for a run, then I'll know where I am.  I wonder what time it
is... oh well, it's almost light out.  Well, getting there.  I'd better go
before I wake Scully up.>  And with that, Mulder ran out into the November
night.


Rutherford, NJ
6:56 a.m.

	<So, I was thinking, if you could talk to Michael Austin and convince him to
turn himself in....>

	ARE YOU KIDDING ME??  I CAN'T DO THAT.... THAT WOULD BE INSULTING HIM!  NO
GREAT ARTIST TURNS HIMSELF IN!

	<If he's an "artist" he really wouldn't need to be turning himself in, would
he?  He's a _criminal_ admit it!  And so are you!>

	AND SO ARE YOU, MISSY!

	<Oh, right.  I almost forgot>  She laughed.  <Well, if not turn himself in,
if we could get his fingerprints on some more evidence.... and if we could
_locate_ him, that would be nice, too.  Are you sure he's in Connecticut?>

	THE FINGERPRINT THING IS OKAY.  LET'S JOG OVER TO THE PIANO STUDIO AND I'LL
PUT SOME OF MICHAEL AUSTIN'S FINGERPRINTS ON THE PIANO AND THE AREA AROUND

	<Okay.>

	I _THINK_ HE'S STILL IN CONNECTICUT.  I MEAN, HE GREW UP THERE AND LIVED
THERE FOR HIS WHOLE LIFE SO THAT'S WHERE HE KNOWS BEST AND THAT'S WHERE HE CAN
PERFORM HIS ART WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT

	Katie laughed.  <Michael and his art, uh huh.>

	WHAT CAN I SAY? THE MAN'S GOT SKILL.  C'MON, LET'S GO TO THE PIANO STUDIO 

	<K.>  They turned the corner and headed towards the piano studio.



Dallas, Texas
5:46 a.m.

	Mulder was beginning to think he'd better stop.  He was currently hunched
over in an alley, gasping for breath and wishing his head would stop pounding.
Besides, he was _freezing_.

	<Now would be a good time to go back.  Which way's back though?>  Mulder's
eyes scanned the street but he couldn't remember which way he'd come from.
<Well, fifty/ fifty chance.  I guess I'll go left.>  He started to walk
towards the right, rubbing at the painful stitch in his side when he spotted a
car driving his way.  He waved his hands and the car pulled over.

	The driver was a nice looking guy, around Mulder's age, in a suit, looking
for all the world like he wished he was back home with his family rather than
driving around.  He rolled down the window near Mulder.  "Hey, man, what're
you doing out in a neighborhood like this at this hour?"

	<A neighborhood like what?>  "Uh, just going for a jog,"  Mulder said and he
was shocked how raw his throat was when he spoke.  "Could tell me which way
the Holiday Inn is?"

	"You're a tourist, huh?  Figures.  Well, the Holiday Inn is _way_ down that
way, see, straight then take a left, then a right, then go till the stop sign
at Green Street where you gotta take another left then.... hey, I'm going that
way, you want a ride?"

	Mulder was still pissed at being called a tourist.  "Actually, I'm an FBI
agent doing a case here.  Yeah, could you give me a lift please?"

	"Sure, hop in."  The man opened the door for Mulder.  "Jeez, you made it this
far, how long've you been out?"

	Mulder slid in and shut the door.  "I dunno.  I don't have my watch on."

	The man looked over at Mulder, noticed the tips of his ears and his cheeks
modeled a deep crimson color.  "Why're you wearing short sleeves in this
weather?  You're nuts!  You must be freezing!"  The man lay a hand on his
hitchhiker's arm, expecting to feel it cold but was shocked when he felt the
heat radiating off Mulder.  "Damn, what's the matter?  You sick or something?"

	Mulder stared at the dashboard.  "Maybe.  I dunno, I might be."  To tell the
truth, he was beginning to feel like death warmed over and wondered why he
hadn't noticed it earlier.

	The man stared worriedly at him.  "Look, you look really bad, why don't you
go see a doctor or something.  Or go to the hospital... all right, man, here
we are, Holiday Inn.  You take care of yourself, hear?  And, you know what?
My wife's a doctor, if you want, you can come with me and she'll check you
out."

	"No, that's okay, I have Scully."  Mulder coughed and opened the door.

	"Scully?  What's that?"

	"My partner.  No, not _that_ kind of partner, my partner at the FBI.  She's a
doctor too."

	The man was still staring at him dubiously.  "Well, all right, but take care
of yourself, and no more jogs at 5 in the morning, you got that?"

	Mulder smiled a little and nodded.  "Yeah.  Bye.  Thanks." 

	The man watched his hitchhiker walk off, slowly, and prayed he would be okay.
The man might not be considered gentle, but he was very sensitive and seeing a
stranger like that, in trouble, concerned him.  He just hoped the FBI agent
would be okay.  

	As he pulled off the curb, he heard a click, like a phone being picked up,
then a voice, saying, "Thanks, Michael, you did the right thing.  I don't
_like_ the FBI agent, but I wouldn't want him dead either.  And, hey, what are
you doing in Texas?  You're supposed to stay in Connecticut, that's where you
do your art best!"

	Michael gasped and drove off as fast as he could.
	

Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
6:02 a.m.

	It took Mulder forever to get up the 12 flights of stairs (the elevators
weren't running, apparently, the owners didn't think anyone needed to use them
at 6 in the morning), and when he reached the door, Scully was waiting for
him, and Scully was _mad_.

	"What the fuck do you mean you thought you'd go for a run???"

	Mulder cowered back in his place on the bed where his partner had thrown him
as 
soon as he'd stepped through the threshold to hell.  "My head hurt, I wanted
to clear it."

	"Oh, yeah, _clear it_" Scully repeated.  <That shade of purple her face is
turning can't be healthy> Mulder thought.  "I bet your throat hurts too, huh
Mulder?  And I bet you had trouble catching your breath and your chest
hurts...."

	"Oh yeah, Scully, I'm supposed to tell you that I think I'm getting sick.
Could you check me out please?"

	Scully stared at him incredulously for so long Mulder thought she might've
stopped breathing.	

	"Mulder, what are you talking about?? You _know_ you're sick, you've been
sick since we started the case, remember?"  At his blank expression she began
to get worried.  "No?  Stay there, I'll be right back."

	Scully ran back to her room to get her thermometer and stuck it in his ear.
104.5, up again.  

	Mulder lay back on the bed with his eyes closed.  He said softly, "Do I have
a fever?  The man said I might."

	<The man?>  Scully dismissed it.  "Yes, you do."  She lay her cool hand on
his forehead.  "That feel good?" 

	He nodded slowly.

	"Yeah, I bet it does."  She stood up to go get her magic bag of medicine but
he sprang up and grabbed her arm.

	"Don't go!"

	Scully eased him back on the bed.  "I just need to get some medicine to bring
down that fever.  You're radio-active.  Relax, I'll be right back."  She
walked back to her room and found the medicine.  With a bit of coaxing, she
got half a cup of water and several pills in him.  "You'll have to drink more
later," she told him.  "You're dehydrated.  Did you know that?"  

	Mulder shook his head.  "I thought I might have a cold, but I wasn't sure,"
he said.  Scully watched as his eyes slipped closed and his breathing evened
out.

	She went back to her room and sat down on the bed.  Why wasn't Mulder
remembering anything??


Outside the piano studio
Rutherford, NJ
8:02 a.m.

	Katie and Joanna were outside the piano studio, talking.  Joanna had already
put Michael Austin's fingerprints on the area around the crime scene but they
didn't feel like going back home quite yet.

	<You talked to him?  Cool!  What'd he say?>

	WELL, HE DIDN'T EXACTLY SAY ANYTHING.  TURNS OUT HE'S IN DALLAS.

	<That's where the FBI agents are, right?>

	YEAH.  ACTUALLY, THAT'S WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING.  SEE, HE PICKED MULDER OFF
THE STREET; MULDER HAD GONE OUT FOR A _REALLY_ EARLY MORNING JOG AND HAD
GOTTEN LOST AND MICHAEL FOUND HIM AND BROUGHT HIM BACK TO THE HOLIDAY INN.

	<Wait a minute, I thought we had Mulder with a 104 something temperature,
why'd he go running???>

	WELL, UH.... THAT'S SOMETHING ELSE I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT.  SEE, I HAD
TO PULL OUT.

	<Pull out? Could you state that a little clearer please?>

	YEAH, OUR FAVORITE FBI AGENT WAS SUFFERING A BIT OF... WELL, SORTA BRAIN
DAMAGE SO I HAD TO STOP CONTROLLING HIM.  BEFORE I WAS RAISING AND LOWERING
HIS FEVER, ADDING SYMPTOMS AND STUFF BUT I WAS MESSING WITH HIS MIND TOO MUCH,
HE HAD BEGUN TO FORGET THINGS.  HE STILL IS, BUT THAT'LL GET BETTER

	<Excuse me??>
	LIKE...... HE HAD NO IDEA HE WAS SICK, THAT'S WHY HE WENT OUT FOR A JOG.  HE
THOUGHT HE WAS PERFECTLY HEALTHY; HE COMPLETELY FORGOT.  AND HE'S PROBABLY NOT
AWARE THAT HE'S STILL ON OUR CASE; HE THINKS HE'S ON A CASE BUT YOU SAY "SARAH
MARTIN" AND HE'LL SAY, "YEAH, WHO'S THAT?"  IT'S SHORT TERM MEMORY STUFF, HE
KNOWS HIS NAME AND EVERYTHING... AND HIS PARTNER.  HEY, RELAX, IT'LL GO AWAY
BY TOMORROW, IT'S JUST THE AFTERMATH OF ME MESSING WITH HIM

	Katie knew this was turning serious but she didn't want to aggravate Joanna.
<All right.  What about Michael Austin, what's he doing in Dallas?>

	I'M NOT EXACTLY SURE BUT IT LOOKS LIKE HE'S GIVEN UP HIS ART FORM AND IS A
BUSINESS MAN NOW.  HE'S GOT A WIFE AND TWO KIDS....

	<How do you _know_ all this if you didn't talk to him??>

	Joanna smiled.  I HAVE MY WAYS.

Dallas, Texas
Holiday Inn
9:30 a.m.

	Three and a half hours had passed since Mulder had decided to "go out for
awhile."  Scully eyed his sleeping form on the bed.  She grabbed her own cell
phone, totally ignoring the phone beside the bed.  She looked at the buttons
and decided to set a deadline.  If Mulder's temp wasn't down by 5 o'clock this
afternoon, she was taking him to the hospital.  No questions asked.  The storm
in New Jersey seemed to have passed, and flights were running again, but
Scully didn't want to leave Mulder here, even if it was in a hospital.  <How
am I going to solve this case then?>

	She paced the room, thinking.  She looked at her phone again and decided to
dial through to the police in Rutherford.  Her cell phone bill was going to be
_huge_, but she could care less at this moment.  She'd write it on the expense
report.  The expense report that was going up daily.  She could only image
what it would look like when the case was finally closed.  _If_ it was ever
closed.

	After calling information and getting some numbers Scully found herself on
the phone with an Officer Carlton Brown.

	"After sending the rope through ballistics we were able to find some
fingerprints.  Belonging to a Michael Austin.  But..."  Brown trailed off.

	"But, what?" Scully shifted her weight from on foot to the other.

	"But, Mr. Austin lives in Dallas, Texas.  And his wife saw him on the day of
the murder.  About 4 hours before it happened.  If gives him a window, but a
very, very small one.  Still it's the only lead we have.  We double-checked
the crime scene once again early this morning to see it we could be mistaken,
but we only turned up more of Mr. Austin's fingerprints.  Which we seem to
have missed the first time around."

	"Missed?"

	"Yes," Brown admitted, and sounded sheepish.  "Though I thought we were very
through that first time.  Now, we have Mr. and Mrs. Martin on our backs.  The
newspaper is getting hold of the paper.  We only called Dr. Austin, Michael
Austin's wife, last night, while he was out.  We haven't talked to him yet,
and we are yet to charge him.  But with the evidence we seem to be gathering,
we may have to soon."

	Scully thought this over.  "You sound reluctant," she said carefully.

	"Well, I am," the officer admitted.  "To be quite frank, Agent Scully, I'm
getting a very weird feeling about this whole thing."

	<You're not the only one> Scully thought as she thanked the officer and hung
up.  <You're not the only one at all.>

End Part 08 of 11.