“The two cases are unrelated.” The detective shot the reporter a warning glance, but she was already done with him and facing the camera again.
“I’ll remain at the scene to bring you updates on the investigation as they develop,” she assured her viewers. “Now Brian North has more on this story.”
The coverage cut to another reporter with a bad comb-over. He was speaking with the groundskeeper Mulder had seen near the mausoleum that morning. “I’m here with Howard Redding, grounds supervisor at Rock Creek Cemetery. Mr. Redding, I was told that you discovered Billy Christian’s body. Walk us through what you saw.”
The groundskeeper cleared his throat. “I unlocked the door of the crypt to make sure everything was in order for the interment. That’s when I saw the boy’s body, laid out on a bed of flower petals, like a saint. Except all the flowers were dead.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “And he had a dead bird lying on his chest, like the whole thing was part of a satanic ritual.”
“Turn off that camera!” A cop rushed into the frame and ushered the groundskeeper away.
The reporter turned his questions on the cop. “Officer, this sounds like a ritualistic killing. Are we dealing with a cult? Should residents be concerned?”
The cop’s jaw twitched and his eyes darted to the camera. “Nobody said anything about a cult. We’re done here.” He moved off camera, and the lens zoomed in on the reporter.
“If the police have any new information, they’re keeping it under wraps for now. But WJLA News will continue to report on any developments in the case.”
Mulder had spent five years waiting for developments in his sister’s case, and waiting for answers he might never get.
In that moment, he made himself a promise.
This time he wouldn’t fail.
He would find this little girl before it was too late.
CHAPTER 7
Mulder Residence
5:51 P.M.
“What took you so long?” Mulder asked when Gimble finally arrived at the apartment. “I called forty-five minutes ago.” And he’d spent every minute since then changing the channel, searching for more news, and wearing a hole in the carpet.
“You’re lucky I still had the phone in my room. The Major usually confiscates it right away to check for alien transmitters.” Gimble pushed past him, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his blue velour warm-up jacket. “And to answer your original question, I had to take the bus. I don’t have a car. And you could’ve offered to pick me up, since you do.”
Mulder changed the channel again. The same commercial was still playing. “I can’t leave. I’m waiting for the six o’clock news to start.” He hadn’t filled Gimble in on the details when he called.
“Since when are you interested in the news?” Gimble asked. “Is NASA holding a press conference or something? Because that’s not an actual emergency. And you said this was an emergency.”
Mulder changed the channel one more time.
Nothing.
Gimble pointed at the TV. “And why do you keep doing that?”
No news about Billy Christian or Sarah Lowe. He refused to think about the possibility that she might be dead, too. He kicked a cardboard box full of crap his dad still hadn’t unpacked.
Then he hit Gimble with the story. “Does a dead kid holding a bird with arrows sticking out of it count as an emergency?”
“Back up.” Gimble flopped down on the sofa behind him. “You mean the kid from the cemetery?”
Mulder took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“I know all about it. The Major was sitting in front of the TV set with a legal pad, taking notes all morning. A news reporter interviewed a man who said something about a dead bird and cults, but they didn’t mention arrows.” Gimble flicked his hair out of his eyes and leaned forward, watching Mulder. “How do you know there were arrows sticking out of … Did you say they were in the kid?”
Mulder clutched at his hair, frustrated. “The bird. They were sticking out of the bird.”
“Hit rewind and start at the beginning,” Gimble said.
“I was jogging past Rock Creek Cemetery this morning, and I saw the body. They were bringing it out of the mausoleum in a body bag, and a detective unzipped it.” Mulder paced. “The kid was lying on top of dead rose petals, and there was a black-and-white bird on his chest with arrows stuck in its body.”
Gimble’s eyes went wide. “No way.”
Mulder switched the channel again.
“It’s on,” Gimble said, jumping to his feet.
A newscaster stood on the sidewalk in front of a police station. “I’m here at the Third District Precinct, in Southwest Washington, DC, where officers are sifting through clues in the case involving the body of an eight-year-old boy that was discovered this morning at Rock Creek Cemetery.”