***Chapter Eleven***
Wendy's
Rt 73
Cherry Hill, NJ
The local cops were already on the scene, wrapping the dumpster with yellow tape. The two agents who'd found it were standing nearby, talking to a cop.
Scully got out of the car first, credentials at the ready. The guy in charge looked at her strangely.
"Where's Goldberg?"
"He's out. I'm in. Agent Dana Scully."
He grinned and stuck out a hand. "Dan Matson. I'm chief here. You have to be better than he was."
"You bet your ass she is. I'm her partner, Agent Mulder."
"Good to meet you too, sir. And this is?"
"Walter Skinner. I'm investigating Goldberg. I'm just along for the ride."
Matson nodded and turned to Scully. "Your agents found the body just about twenty minutes ago. Coroner hasn't been here yet, so the body hasn't been disturbed."
She nodded. "I'll go take a look at it. When the coroner gets here, tell him that I'll be doing the autopsy myself." She motioned to Stein, who was carrying her camera.
"*She'll* be doing the autopsy?"
"Yeah. She's a real hands-on kind of lady." Matson gave me a look. "My partner is the best pathologist in the FBI." He nodded, his eyes wide. I followed her to the dumpster, Walter on my heels.
The body was lying face down on the fast food garbage. Scully took as many pictures as she could of it, and then enlisted Walter and Stein to turn it. I was going to help, but both she and Walter motioned me away. Good thing, too, because the first thing I saw was her face. The world went black.
Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, with something soft under my head, and what felt like a coat over me.
"Fox! Thank God! Dana! He's awake! What happened, Fox?" Walter was sitting on the ground next to me. He wasn't wearing his overcoat. .
"It's her. It's the woman from my dream. Her face is burned in my memory."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"Mulder, you blacked out on us. You are going to stay right there until the ambulance comes."
"I'm fine, Scully. It was just a shock. I *saw* that woman."
"You can't be certain, Mulder."
"She was stabbed, right? In the chest."
Scully's eyes were wide. "Yes. Yes, she was. None of the others were stabbed. But you could have seen that . . . "
"Dana, Fox talked about stabbing her last night."
"I'm still not happy . . . Mulder, you are going to stay right there until I can get your blood pressure checked. And *then* I'll decide *if* you can get back to work and on what terms. So far as I'm concerned, you can work just as well from a bed. And, Walter, I expect you to back me up."
"It's all up to you, Dana. I put you in charge."
"Bullies. Both of you." So why did it all feel so good?
The coroner and the ambulance for me arrived at the same time, and they took us both to Cooper Hospital. I didn't want to go, but since we were all heading in the same direction, I let them take me. Scully went with the body to the morgue, Walter went with me to the emergency room.
The intern there *clucked* at me and my rib cage. Walter let him, too.
"I hear you fainted, Mr. Mulder."
"I got a shock. Which I do *not* want to talk about."
"Well, your heart rate is up, and there are definite signs of exhaustion. Have you been sleeping?"
I looked at Walter. He shook his head. "No less than usual. I don't sleep much."
"Insomniac?"
"Yeah."
He noted it. And then he took some blood. Just then, Walter got paged. I managed to convince them to let me go downstairs with him - even if Walter had to push me in a wheelchair.
We got there just after two young men. One was wearing casual pants and a windbreaker, with a colorful crocheted circle pinned on his head; the other was in a dark suit and coat with a black velvet skullcap.
Scully was speaking to them. They didn't notice me.
"Can I help you?"
The man in black indicated his friend. "This is Shmuel Cohen. I'm his brother-in-law, Yosi Feinberg. We were told you found Shoshana?"
"I'm Agent Scully. We found a body who might be Mrs. Cohen. We'd like Mr. Cohen to identify her."
The two men looked at each other. "Agent Scully . . . is . . . are there other bodies nearby? In the same room?" Cohen looked panicked.
"Yes."
"Shmuli, it's okay. You're allowed to defile yourself for Shani." Feinberg looked at him.
"But what if it isn't? What if it's some other poor girl?"
Scully looked confused. "What's the problem?"
Feinburg looked at her. "My brother-in-law is a Cohen. A member of the Jewish priestly caste. He's not allowed to be in contact with dead bodies unless they are close relatives. A wife counts, but the . . . body may not be his wife."
Scully pondered. "Can you go in instead?"
Feinberg shrugged. "No problem. I'm not a Cohen. And I've seen dead bodies before."
"Agent Stein, will you take Mr. Feinberg in to the morgue while I discuss arrangements with Mr. Cohen?"
Stein nodded and escorted the man into the room.
"If it is Shani, when can I have the body?" He looked at Scully with red, painful eyes.
"I don't know. After the autopsy."
His grief turned to rage. "Autopsy! No! I do *not* give permission for an autopsy! Didn't that monster defile her body enough!"
"Mr. Cohen, I'm afraid it isn't up to you. Your wife is a murder victim, and it's required by law."
"I don't care about secular law. God's law says no."
At that point, the morgue door opened. Feinberg looked decidedly shaken. Stein had a hand on the small of his back.
"I'm sorry, Shmuli. It's . . . it's Shani, all right. No question."
"Oh, no. Why her?" Cohen reached out to the other man. Feinburg hugged him tightly as Cohen sobbed on his shoulder.
Walter guided Cohen to a row of seats. While Feinberg and Stein joined them there, he pushed me over. "Now, what's the problem with autopsies, Agent Stein?"
"It's against Jewish law, sir. There may be ways to deal with this. Have you called the hospital's Jewish chaplain?"
"Good idea, Agent Stein. Please do so." He nodded and went to a hospital phone.
"Come, Shmuli. Sit. We need to talk to the agents so they can find the bastard." Feinberg made him sit down in one of the chairs. Cohen looked wild but coherent.
"Mr. Cohen, I respect your beliefs, but we truly need to find your wife's killer, and for that we need all possible information."
"I understand, miss . . . Agent Scully. Do you know who will be performing it, if the rabbi permits?"
"I will be. I'm a pathologist."
He took a deep breath. "Assuming . . . would you be willing to abide by what the rabbi says?"
"We'll see. I'll do my best. Mr. Cohen, I will treat your wife with the utmost respect."
Stein returned. "The rabbi's in the hospital. He's on his way now. He *is* Orthodox."
"Mr. Cohen, I know this is a bad time, but may I speak with you for a moment?"
He finally saw me. Of course, he saw a skinny guy in a hospital gown and robe, sitting in a wheelchair, not an FBI agent, but he saw me. "Who are you?"
"I'm Agent Mulder, Agent Scully's partner. I'm the profiler on this case. I need to know a few things about yesterday. Please excuse my appearance."
"Are you sick?"
"I had an accident. I'll be okay. Please, may I talk with you?"
"What do you need to know?"
"Your wife went shopping yesterday?"
"Yes. She decided it was time to get some maternity clothes. Her other clothes were too tight. We get these things, baby things, at the last minute, or it's . . . bad luck." He began to cry. I thought about the empty house with the already decorated nursery. At least Cohen wouldn't be going home to that. Feinberg patted him on the back. He took a couple of deep breaths.
"Do you know where she was going?"
"Yeah. There's a mall on Haddonfield Road. She was going to get a new dress for Shabbos and do some Shabbos shopping. We were going to be home for Shabbos for the first time in weeks with all the holidays. Our first holidays together . . . We'd been at my parents and at her parents . . . I have to call her parents. There's so much and she's . . . "
"Are you sure she went to that mall?"
"Yeah. It's where Tova, my sister, shops. But Tova has the baby now, so she can't shop so much."
Just then, a tall, thin man dressed similarly to Feinberg appeared. "Which of you is Agent Scully?"
"I am, sir." She put out her hand, and the rabbi took it, but didn't look happy about it.
"I'm Rabbi Yaakov Klein. I'm the Jewish chaplain here. There was a tragedy?"
"My wife, Rav Klein. I'm Shmuli Cohen."
"Baruch atah dyan emet. Blessed is the True Judge. One day, those words will comfort you, Mr. Cohen." Cohen nodded, but looked unconvinced.
"Is there a problem?"
"Agent . . . I mean Dr. Scully wants to perform an autopsy on Shani."
"She was murdered, Rabbi. It's necessary, and the law requires it. It's the best tool we have for finding the murderer. And if we don't find him, he'll kill someone else. He's already killed four other pregnant women."
"Pregnant? Gevalt! The baby?"
"We don't know where the baby is, but it's in all likelihood dead." The rabbi turned white.
"Shani was only five months along."
"You don't know . . . what a monster! You must find this man. Mr. Cohen, I'm sorry, but she's correct. In this case, there must be an autopsy. Dr. Scully, would you be willing to abide by certain conditions?" He put a hand on Cohen's shoulder.
"What are they?"
He began to tick them off on his fingers. "Whatever you remove from the body must be kept, and eventually interred with the body. That includes all blood. If you must keep samples, tell me and I will make certain they are buried with the body when possible. Keep it refrigerated. Don't worry how it looks, it will be a closed casket. All Jewish funerals are. There must be ritual guards, but they will stay outside the morgue and not bother you - they'll just be saying psalms. I'll take care of that. How long would a thorough, the most thorough and complete, autopsy take?"
"Several hours."
"Could we have the body by Saturday night or Sunday morning?"
Scully thought. "Yes. Certainly by Sunday morning. Tomorrow morning if you prefer. And I will follow your directions."
"So we can bury her on Sunday. This is good. You only have to make it through Shabbos." He turned to the boy.
"I have . . . to make phone calls."
"Of course. Come, you'll go to my office, and we'll talk about what comes next. Do you have a place to stay for Shabbos?"
"He'll be coming with me. I'm married to his sister."
"Before you go, sir? I have one more question, Mr. Cohen. Do you know the name of the mall?"
He gave it. I nodded and thanked him.
"Dr. Scully, if you have any questions, please call my office. I'll be there until about three."
"Thank you, sir."
The rabbi led the two men away.
***Chapter Twelve***
Cherry Hill Municipal Building
"I'm not surprised you're anemic, Mulder. I am surprised they let you out of the hospital."
"He charmed his way out of it. He promised up and down that he'd take his supplements . . . ."
"I *am* taking those horse pills!"
"He promised he'd *eat* properly and get some rest and even let them prescribe him sleeping pills, which prescription I filled over his protests later."
"I'm not taking them. You know I hate sleeping pills."
"And like a fool, I promised to make sure he did as he was told. As if he ever did." Walter glared at me. "If . . . when he faints or gets dizzy again, he's to be taken back to the hospital, where he will be admitted."
"Scully, can't you do anything about that?"
"If I had my way, he'd be in a hospital bed right now." She gave me one of her looks.
"Scully!"
"However, we need him here. Oh, God, is this how you feel every time you send him out too soon?" She stared at him with pain and sympathy.
Walter nodded and squeezed my shoulder. We were in Scully's office, so he could risk a little contact. "If the bad guys don't get him, the Bureau will. Why did you have to be so damned brilliant, Fox?"
Finally someone was talking to me. "Just luck. I'm fine. I'll be a good boy and take my supplements." I tried to glare back at them, but it doesn't work for me. I just look pouty.
"You'll do more than that, Mulder. You are going to consume calories. Your choices are real food or Ensure. I know you've had Ensure."
"Tastes just as bad coming up as going down."
She nodded. "Real food does include your seeds, since at least they're high in calories. You're not up to a steak right now, judging from that lovely shade of green. So, how does beef consomme sound?"
I thought about it. "Doable. I think I could manage noodles, too." They both sighed audibly. "I don't *like* being sick. I just can't make myself eat right now."
"Don't push it. We'll put the soup in a thermos and you can have a little every so often. But you will finish it." She picked up her phone. "Agent Stein? I have an errand for you." She told him swiftly and precisely what she wanted from him, received confirmation and hung up.
"You do that well, Scully. Command looks good on you."
"Walter is still going to be babysitting you. You were back here before I was finished with Mrs. Cohen, who, by the way, will be buried on Sunday, along with whatever samples I know for certain I won't need. Did you find anything more?"
"We have three or four possibles. These agencies have a high turnover, so there are several men who began working for them just before the murders began." I sat back in the chair.
"You're assuming that the UNSUB is new to the agency."
"Actually, I'm assuming that the UNSUB is new to the area. This guy moves around a lot. He's done this before."
"He's killed pregnant women before? We would have heard about it."
"No. He's killed, though, for the crime of attracting him sexually. The first time probably happened by accident, but he decided he was right. And then he just left town. And for some reason, no one suspected him. He was the son of a local preacher, maybe, and had a reputation as a good boy. So, he went off to college or the army and no one suspected a thing. And he got away with it in the army - maybe in Vietnam?" I looked at Walter.
"It's possible. Things happened there."
"Yes. He was a vet. But this started before he was drafted. He got back to the states and since then he's been doing this stuff, going from town to town. And in the last town, he found a woman who resembled his mother and she was pregnant. He didn't kill her, but he was freaked because he was attracted to her, since pregnant women are mothers, not whores and therefore should have turned off their dangerous magic." I sat back and closed my eyes. A cup of water magically appeared in my hand. "He also doesn't know what mama looked like - daddy didn't keep any pictures, but she's there in his memory. So, he ran away again. And this time, he came here and *noticed* all the pretty pregnant women who were still using their evil wiles." I took a drink.
Scully nodded. "So now we see if any of these men are minister's sons who come from a small town with an unsolved murder of some woman?"
"Yeah. That should eliminate at least one. The one who isn't a preacher's son."
"It's a start. I'll get Stein on it."
There was a knock on the door. "Speak of the gopher . . . " Scully and Walter glared at me as Walter went to open the door. It was indeed Matt Stein, bearing a steaming mug of something. He handed it to me. I gave it a sniff. Beef bullion.
"Thank you." He nodded.
"Agent Stein, I have another job for you. Find the hometowns of the men you have now, and see if they have unsolved murders." Stein took out a pad and wrote down Scully's words.
"Look for teenage girls - either stabbing or strangling. Probably strangling, but maybe post-mortem stabbing." He looked at me and added this to his list.
"Scully . . . did you learn anything during the autopsy?"
She took a sip of water, and pulled out a notebook. "It was easily the most thorough autopsy I've ever done. I wanted to make sure that the victim would never have to be exhumed.
"Mrs. Cohen was young and healthy and seemed to be having a trouble- free first pregnancy. Judging from the size of her uterus and placenta, she was about five months along." She stopped suddenly and rubbed her face. "She had everything. That bastard . . . "
"Agent Scully . . . if you need to wait . . . "
"No, sir. I'm fine. He used a small-bladed knife to open her uterus and remove the baby. He cut the umbilicus with it as well, which was why the placenta was still present."
"It was a Swiss Army Knife. One of those hunter's models with the saw. Her blood was warm. The fluids were warm. They baptized the baby." I rubbed my hands together to get rid of the blood. "Daddy would be pleased, but she keeps saying these words over and over again. The witch." Something warm was holding my hands still. I looked. It was Walter's hands. I couldn't feel the blood anymore. Scully gave me one of her looks, while Stein stared.
"Mulder . . . I found a note in the body cavity. Wrapped in a zipper bag. It said, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.'"
"M'chahshefa lo t'chayeh." Now it was my turn to stare.
"Excuse me, Agent Stein?"
"It's a quote from my bar mitzvah reading. It's practically the only one I know, but I know this one. Mishpatim . . . in the book of Exodus." He turned to me. "Agent Mulder . . . I don't know how you know this . . . but the thing she said over and over again . . . did it sound like 'Shema Yisroel'?"
I thought. "It was just gibberish . . . no, Israel. I heard Israel."
"Mrs. Cohen was a religious woman. She'd say the phrase 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord is God, the Lord is One' before she died. This is too . . . "
"Spooky, Matt?"
He grinned at me. "Yeah. I guess that word fits." He sobered. "I don't know what to think. We need to find the UNSUB, and Agent Mulder's . . . whatever they are . . . seem to be true, but no way would they be admissible."
"That's why we're going to rely on good old fashioned police work and on Agent Mulder's profile. Mulder, once you finish that soup, why don't you and Agent Stein find those small town murders?"
"You're the boss, partner." I tossed off the broth.
She smiled. "Yes, I am. And you'll find a lot more of that broth waiting for you. Try to finish as much as you can. It might settle your stomach for real food. Send in Agents Henderson and Bernstein while you're out there. And, Agent Stein . . . if Agent Mulder looks sick . . . sicker . . . notify me or AD Skinner immediately. Anemia is quite serious."
"Yes, ma'am."
We sat down by his computer. "Do I really look that bad, Matt?"
"Actually, Agent Mulder . . . "
"Just Mulder."
He nodded. "Mulder, you look like death warmed over."
"Flatterer. Let's look for a murderer. And pour me a cup of that soup, please."
It was in a thermos on his desk. It was also exactly as much nutrition as I wanted to deal with just then. Stein motioned to Henderson and Bernstein, and they reluctantly left their paperwork and walked into Scully's office. A few minutes later, Walter left with one of them in tow.
Golden Door Security had kindly sent us copies of their employees' applications. Stein swiftly found the four main suspects. When I looked at him, he grinned. "The alphabet is your friend, Mulder. I worked my way through college as a file clerk."
"Alphabetizing. Hmm. Something I should try when I get back home to my basement. You take those two, and I'll take these, and we'll see who finds our particular preacher's son."
Small town police departments can be pretty closed mouthed, and the charm Walter complained about doesn't seem to work with cops or over the phone. I spent half the time on hold. And it turned out to be almost a waste of time.
"Yes, *Agent* Mulder, we *do* have a file on a young lady who was killed about twenty-five years ago. Course, I wasn't living here then. Sorry. Joseph Robert Henry? Sorry, name doesn't ring a bell. Preacher name of Henry? Agent Mulder, we got twenty churches here in Mason's Crick. I can only tell you there ain't no Reverend Henry in the First Methodist Church."
I got the same answer when I called Apple Grove about Robert Baxter. I could tell that Stein, despite his greater store of diplomacy and tact, had exactly as much luck as I did.
"Now what?"
"Now we call eighty churches and ask if they had a pastor or a preacher named 'Henry' or 'Baxton' or whatever twenty-five or so years ago. If we're lucky, we'll get someone who'll remember him or his son. If not . . . the church closed down years ago and no one knows anything."
"I'll get lists of the churches from the Internet, and hope they haven't missed any."
"Ask in the first few that you call."
"Mulder . . . if no one remembers, what do we do?"
"I'm sure Agent Scully's got that covered. Meanwhile . . . any more of that broth?"
"Nope. You finished it all."
"My system is going to go into shock. Maybe I'll be up to pizza tonight."
He grinned. "Let's start calling churches, Mulder. It's getting toward dinnertime."