X-Files: Trust No One Page 6

COPE FARM

  10:03 p.m.

  Mulder eased the rental between the two squad cars. They were gold Impalas, but the rack of lights that topped each car was different. A battered ambulance sat closer to the barn. Cope’s pickup truck was still parked near the house. Rays of light sprayed out between the planks of the barn.

  An officer stood a few yards away, sweeping the ground with a flashlight that wasn’t much brighter than the moonlight. His attention shifted to Mulder and Scully as they walked up. He was tall and lanky, with wide eyes and a prominent Adam’s Apple. “Hey,” he called out. “Crime scene. Younses cain’t be here.”

  Mulder flipped open his badge. “Special Agent Mulder. This is my partner, Special Agent Scully. The sheriff asked us to join him out here.”

  “FBI?” The deputy’s shoulders relaxed. “God, it’s good to see younses.” He gestured them toward the barn with his flashlight.

  Puddles spread out across the floor of the barn. The upright freezer sat on its side. The walls were battered and bent. The yellowed plastic was shattered. Chunks of ice ranging from soccer balls down to frosted gravel formed a path from the freezer to its door a few yards away. The door had been buckled into an arch that looked like a smoker’s smile.

  There was no sign of the Beast of Little Hill.

  Cope lay on a gurney with a tweed jacket balled up behind his head and his pants around his ankles. He flinched and moaned as an older woman wrapped his bloody leg with a gauze bandage. “Stop whining,” she muttered.

  The teenager who’d stood with them, Cecil, stood near Cope’s head. His eyes flitted from Mulder and Scully to his father and then to the back door of the barn. He kept his arms crossed over his chest.

  A skinny man stepped out from behind the freezer and cleared his throat. “You must be Agent Mulder,” he said. He held up Mulder’s business card and glanced over at Cecil. His voice had an odd pace to it. He held out his other hand and they shook.

  “My partner, Dana Scully.”

  “Ma’am. Sheriff Will Ryker.”

  “Will Ryker?” echoed Scully.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard ’em all before,” said the sheriff. “How’d you two get here so fast?”

  “We were staying in town.”

  “Passing through?”

  “Sightseeing.”

  Scully glanced over at Cope. The doctor taped one last gauze pad over his leg. “So what’s the story here, sheriff?”

  “His boy called us an hour and a half ago. Heard something banging around out in the barn. Abe went to check it out, the boy heard some yelling and screaming, came out here and found his dad with leg liketa torn off. Sorry, near torn off.”

  The odd pace to Ryker’s words became clear.

  The doctor looked back at them. “He’s lucky,” she said. “Tore up, but it missed all the big arteries. Doesn’t even look like much tissue loss.”

  “He’ll recover?”

  “Should. Prolly limp for a spell.”

  Scully took a few steps and stared at the gashes still visible on Cope’s leg. “What do you think did this?”

  “Got to be honest,” Ryker said, dropping his voice a few decibels. “My first thought when the boy called was this was some kind of insurance put on. Y’know, like when people fake a robbery or something.”

  “The Beast of Little Hill was insured?” said Scully.

  Ryker nodded at Cope. “He’s got a citified cousin up in St. Louis, does insurance policies. Don’t know it, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Then I got here and saw how bad Abe was tore up.”

  “People have done a lot more for an insurance policy,” said Mulder.

  “I’ve known Abe Cope for thirty years,” said Ryker. “He’s greedy, but he’s also a coward and a wimp. Ain’t no way he’d cut his leg up like that. And then I found out Cecil called you before he called me.” He held up the card again. “Said you gave it to Abe.”

  “They’re gonna buy the Beast,” spat Cecil. “Pa said so.”

  Cope winced at the loud words and muttered something.

  “We’re not here to buy it,” Mulder said. “We just wanted to see it.”

  “Pa knew the gov’ment come back and buy up the Beast,” said the teen.

  Scully tapped her foot two or three times in a puddle. “So, Sheriff, if it’s not insurance fraud what are you thinking now?”

  “Wild dog, maybe. Been a few years since we’ve seen a cougar in these parts, but not that many. One mighta wandered into the barn and caused a ruckus.”

  “What about the Beast?” Mulder pointed at the empty freezer. “Any sign of it?”

  Ryker shrugged. “Drug...” He coughed. “Dragged off by whatever attacked Abe.”

  “You think a cougar beat up the freezer, too?”

  Scully walked across the barn, tapping her feet. “I think we’re looking at two different events here,” she said. “The attack on the freezer and the attack on Mr. Cope.”

  “Why do you say that, Scully?”

  She waved her arm at the puddles. “It’s not that warm out. This is a lot of melted ice for just ninety minutes. I’d guess this is at least three or four hours’ worth.”

  Mulder followed the orange extension cord back toward the wall. He reached down into a messy coil and came up with two ends.

  “This cord’s been cut with a blade.”

  Scully glanced at the back door, then at the far wall. “Have your men looked out back yet, sheriff?”

  “We’ve only got here about ten minutes before you. Deputy Witness took a quick look out there but he didn’t see anything.”

  Scully stepped through the door. She glanced back. The barn blocked her view of the house. She pulled out her own flashlight and lit up the ground. The beam panned back and forth three times before she saw it. “Mulder,” she called out, stepping back toward the barn. “Sheriff. Check this out.”

  He joined her, with Ryker a step behind. “Find some monster tracks, Scully?”

  “Better.

  He and Ryker added their flashlight beams to hers.

  “I’m guessing these belong to your deputy,” Scully said. She used her flashlight to circle a pair of narrow shoe-prints in the mud by the door. They went off to either side.

  “Probably,” said Ryker. “Looks about his size.

  “Now look at those over there.” Scully flipped the beam of light a few yards out from the door. A second set of prints led to and from the tree line.

  They stepped around the trail and lit up the footprints. “Very distinct, even with the hard ground,” said Mulder. “Someone heavy.”

  “With a limp,” added Scully, panning the beam over the scuffed right print. She glanced back toward the road and then aimed the flashlight out at the trees. “Sheriff, would I be wrong in guessing the Marsh place is off in that direction?”

  Ryker scowled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It’s about seven miles by roads with a couple of the switchbacks, but less’n three as the crow flies. There’s even an old path between them.”

  “What do you think, Mulder?”

  She looked over her shoulder. Mulder had wandered back inside.

  Scully stepped back through the door. The doctor wheeled the gurney out the front door toward the ambulance. Cecil went with them, helping on the rough ground of the driveway.

  “I think we’re done here, Mulder,” said Scully. “Sheriff Ryker has a solid lead, we don’t have any real jurisdiction...” She glanced at her watch. “And Skinner’s expecting us back in about fifteen hours.”

  “Scully, we’ve received an official request for help from local law enforcement.”

  “Technically, no, we—”

  “Not to mention the likely involvement of an extraterrestrial life form.”

  “It’s not an X-File, Mulder,” she sighed. “It’s a case of petty sabotage between two rival tourist trap sideshows. Marsh thought you were here to buy an alien and tried to make sure he had the only one.”

  “And what happened to Cope? Was that p
etty sabotage, too?”

  “No, just like the sheriff said, it was probably a cougar or a coyote or something. The freezer gets sabotaged. The ice melts enough that the smell of whatever was in there attracts animals. Cope wanders out to investigate, spooks the animal, and gets his leg slashed up.”

  Mulder tipped his head after the gurney. “Did that look like a coyote attack to you?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look at it. The doctor didn’t seem too bothered by it.”

  “She was barely looking at it. She was just packing the wound so he could be transported.” He shook his head. “What if it has a taste for people now? It killed cattle before, but what if it’s the same way lots of large predators will start considering humans a food source once they’ve wounded one.”

  “Mulder, if it really was some kind of extraterrestrial creature, it probably wouldn’t be trying to eat him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’d be from a separate ecosystem. Different planet, different evolutionary paths, different biological makeups. There’s a good chance eating Cope wouldn’t give it any nourishment at all, and it probably would’ve known that just off his scent. Humans might even be poisonous to it.”

  “So you’re saying...”

  “It was just trying to kill him.”

  “Oh.” Mulder watched as they heaved the gurney into the ambulance. “You know, I find that oddly comforting, personally.”

  “Pardon me, Agent Scully, Agent Mulder.” Deputy Witness touched the brim of his hat. “The sheriff wanted to know if younses will be coming out to the Marsh place with us?”

  Mulder straightened his shoulders. “Is that an official request, detective?”

  Scully rolled her eyes.

  “Ummm... I s’pose so. Yes.”

  “Then please tell the sheriff we’ll follow in our car.”

  Witness nodded and stepped outside.

  “You get to explain this to Skinner,” said Scully, shaking her head.

  ****

  MARSH RESIDENCE

  11:14 p.m.

  The half-breed beagle barked and barked as the cars pulled up. It bounced back and forth across the lawn, its tail beating the air. When the cars stopped, it scampered forward a few feet, then raced back and continued to bark.

  Sheriff Ryker took the lead with Mulder and Scully a few steps behind him. Witness stayed behind. His car was a few yards back, angled to block the driveway.

  The front door opened before they reached the porch steps. Marsh stood behind the screen in a dirty wife-beater. He kept his right hand out of sight, just beyond the door frame.“Evenin’, sheriff,” he muttered. He didn’t open the screen door. Or move his hand.

  “Hiram,” said Ryker, touching the brim of his hat. “Hopin’ I could speak with you for a few minutes. Ask a few questions.”

  Marsh stared at Mulder and Scully. “What’s they doing here?”

  Scully slid her badge out. “Special Agents Scully and Mulder, FBI.”

  “You got a badge?” he grunted at Mulder.

  Mulder slid his wallet out and held it open near his head.

  Ryker cleared his throat. “Were you out at the Cope farm earlier this evening, Hiram?”

  “Why, ’m I suspect?”

  Mulder raised an eyebrow. “Suspect of what, Mr. Marsh?”

  The man glowered behind his screen door. “Shuddup, Roswell,” he bellowed at the dog.

  The beagle stopped barking but continued to dart back and forth across the lawn.

  “I need to know, Hiram,” said the sheriff. “Did you head over to the Cope farm earlier this evening?”

  “Why you askin’?”

  Ryker straightened up and squared off his shoulders. “A few hours ago someone sabotaged Cope’s freezer and then attacked him.”

  Marsh took in a sharp breath, ready to argue, and then bit down on it. His mouth vanished into his beard. “I don’t know nothing about Abe Cope gettin’ attacked,” he said a moment later.

  “But you know about the freezer being sabotaged,” Mulder said.

  Marsh slapped his lips shut again.

  “Hi,” said Ryker, “if you knows something, tell me now. The Feds are involved, and there ain’t no way I can protect you if they take over.”

  “I didn’t do nothing to Abe Cope,” muttered the bearded man.

  “What did you do, Mr. Marsh?” Scully asked.

  He glared at her, but his eyes softened and his gaze fell to the mat outside the screen door. His hands dropped to his sides. “Heard the talk in town, that the two of you were lookin’ to buy his Beast. Got mad. So I snuck over there on the ol’ mule path and snipped the cord. Figgered the ice’d melt and everyone’d see the Beast was fake.”

  Ryker tapped his fingers against the screen door’s frame. “When was this? What time were you there?”

  Marsh shrugged. “Six-thirty. Maybe seven.”

  “You sure about that time?”

  “Yeah. Got home in time for Final Jeopardy.”

  Mulder cleared his throat. “What did you use to cut the power cord?”

  The bearded man patted his side. “Pocket knife. Weren’t that hard.”

  “And what did you smash up the freezer with? Did you bring something for that or did you use something there?”

  Marsh blinked twice. “I used my knife. I just toldja that.”

  Mulder nodded and took a few steps back away from the porch. The dog barked at him again. Scully glanced back and joined him. “What are you thinking, Mulder?”

  “I don’t think he did it. It’s clear he’s got some resentment against Cope, but it’s not personal.”

  “If he didn’t attack Cope, who did? The son?”

  “Not who, Scully. What.”

  She shook her head.

  “Just look at the evidence. The timeframe, supported by the melting ice. The freezer that was damaged from the inside and the remaining ice scattered outward. It all points to the Beast.”

  “What was that?” Ryker glanced back from the porch.

  “Sheriff, I think we’re looking at something much bigger than a neighborhood rivalry. I think Mr. Marsh has set the Beast of Little Hill loose.”

  Scully sighed.

  Marsh smirked.

  Ryker bit his lip. “Agent Mulder,” he said, “I ’preciate that you’ve taken a shine to our local legends, but I’m in the middle of—”

  The radio squawked in his cruiser. It echoed farther back and Deputy Witness looked down at his own vehicle. They all looked at him, and he glanced from the radio to the group on the porch. “Troy’s calling for youns, sheriff.”

  Ryker closed his eyes, just for a moment. “Stay right where you are,” he said. Then he marched off the porch, past the FBI agents, and leaned in to pull the microphone from his car. “Go for Ryker.”

  The voice on the other end spat out a double handful of muffled words.

  Ryker shot a glance over at Witness, then at the two FBI agents. “Troy, slow down,” he said. “Count to five and give it to me again.”

  Troy counted to three and the radio spewed more sounds. Mulder was too far to hear anything other than the tone. “Something wrong, sheriff?”

  Ryker shook his head. “Small town problems.”

  “How so?”

  “People calling in about an animal loose in town. Scared a bunch of folks.”

  “What kind of animal?” asked Mulder.

  “Everyone’s kind of hysterical,” the sheriff said. “That’s all. S’just a cougar or something. No one’s gotten a good look at it so they’re imagining things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  Ryker stared at Mulder.

  “Sheriff, what’s loose in your town?”

  He tossed the microphone into the car. “They’re saying it’s some kind of dinosaur.”

  “You mean it’s the Beast.”

  “Mr. Mulder, I seen that thing for the first time when I was eleven. It’s been frozen the whole time and it
was frozen for years ’fore that. Right now it’s out in the woods somewhere gettin’ gnawed on by a coyote.”

  “Or it’s in the middle of town gnawing on one of the people there.”

  Ryker stepped away from his car. “You think this is some kind of a joke?”

  “Not at all, sheriff. But I do think there may be something loose in your town that’s a lot more dangerous than a cougar or a coyote. Even if I’m wrong, shouldn’t that take priority over an act of petty vandalism?”

  The beagle barked three more times. Marsh snapped at it. It ran up to Mulder, stopped a few feet away, then darted back.

  “Hiram,” called Ryker. “Until this gets sorted out I’m takin’ you into custody.”

  “What?” bellowed the farmer. “I ain’t done nothin.”

  “You destroyed a man’s property. Said so yourself. Now get in the damned car or I’ll throw the cuffs on you and drag you.” He pointed at the back door of his cruiser.

  Marsh glared at the sheriff for a moment. He stepped away from the door, vanished, and then reappeared with a thick plaid hunting coat. “Roswell,” he yelled, holding the screen open, “get in the house.”

  The beagle leaped onto the porch and skidded to a stop inside. It looked up at Marsh and wagged its tail. He gave it a rough pat on the head and closed the door behind him. The dog barked twice inside the house.

  “Gonna get me a lawyer and sue all younses asses,” he muttered as he limped to the car.

  ****

  LITTLE HILL, MISSOURI

  11:58 p.m.

  Ryker stopped his car in the middle of the street. Mulder and Scully stopped behind him. Witness crept by, looking left and right. He and Ryker traded a few quick words and the deputy sped off.

  Mulder and Scully stepped out and looked around. A trashcan had been tipped and its contents spread across the road. One car parked along the street had a shattered window on the driver’s side and what looked to Mulder like a buckshot pattern in the door. The nearby bar was dark, as was the open all-night diner. The sound of the deputy’s car had faded away. There were no distant engines or muffled televisions.

  There weren’t even crickets.

  Scully stepped closer to Ryker. “Is this normal, sheriff?”

  He shook his head. “S’a quiet town,” he said, “but this is downright eerie.”