There's A Way
Chapter 15
Tuesday, October 3, 2000
10:03 p.m.
I'd already been in bed for an hour, but I was too pumped to fall asleep. Everything was set. I doubted that the incompetent morons at the DC field office would even notice what was missing. They probably wouldn't even notice that I was missing. It had all been so easy. I'd said I was staying late to finish some typing. No one had blinked an eye. The stupid typing had been done before lunch. Then to look busy I worked on the filing. I'd mastered their convoluted system quickly, but pretended I was having trouble to make it seem like I was busy. When the office was empty I'd immediately availed myself of the ID equipment they used for undercover work and in a matter of minutes, I'd become Jessica Hurst.
I really hoped they tried to track Jessica down. The country club matrons would be all a-twitter when they heard that the police had been questioning darling Jess. It would serve her right. I'd never been so humiliated. The dress she had graciously lent me for annual hospital charity ball had been the same one she'd worn the year before and she'd still expected me to be grateful. I'd already made her regret it once, but it gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling to know I might have the chance to make her squirm the same way I had in that dress.
I needed the ID for transportation. I might be remembered on a bus or in a cab, so I was going to rent a car, but I certainly wasn't stupid enough to do it in my own name.
That had been Friday night.
Using the same excuse, I stayed late again tonight, but this would be the last time. The geniuses at the office might figure out that I'd been the only one left at work when the lockgun went missing. Probably not right away, but maybe eventually. That job had provided me with the means to an end and the finish line was in sight. Wonder boy, Andrew, hadn't even realized that I was working for his precious FBI too. His time as the new Golden Boy was over. When I was through with him, his dreams of following in that ridiculous agent's footsteps would be over. What kind of idiot idolizes someone named Fox? If I did this right, I'd be able to take him down as well. Special Agent Fox Mulder and his pretty little wife, nothing would make me happier than to tear their perfect family to shreds.
Andrew wouldn't shut up about them. Mulder this and Mulder that. Dana is so nice. Dana is so helpful. The kids are cute, the dog is cute. He even thought the fucking house was adorable. He never talked about me like that. I was just supposed to look good on his arm at the family functions and make nice to his granny. Have to keep Granny happy -- stupid old bat. Her hands were cold and she wore cheap flowery perfume. She could have bathed in Chanel No. 5, but instead she smelled like a dime store make-up counter. That family needed me to show them how to properly use all of that money. I could have taught them real class, true elegance and they have the nerve to ask me to sign that paper? Leigh Neilson kowtows to no one. I didn't need them. They needed me and they were soon to regret the day that Andrew gave me that ultimatum.
Checking the clock, I discovered it was already 10:30. I'd set the alarm for 4 a.m. so I really needed to go to sleep. I had to clear my mind. Thinking about all of this was only making me angry. I hoped thinking about how sweet my revenge would be enough to settle me down. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day!
My alarm woke me out of a sound sleep. After a quick breakfast of toast with peanut butter, I collected up my gear and headed down to my rental car. Early October mornings in DC were quite cool, so I'd dressed in sweat pants and a baggy sweatshirt. When I got out of the car after my initial surveillance, I wanted to be able to pass as a jogger.
The traffic on the way to the suburbs of Arlington was light and I was parked down the street from the Mulders' house by 4:45. I couldn't believe that Andrew thought this house was so perfect. It was no better than my parents' house in Boston. It amazed me that he could like such a simple house considering his upbringing. His parents certainly hadn't taught him any taste.
My parents weren't any better, but at least they had being middle-class as an excuse. While they may not have had taste, they'd had the good sense to save every spare penny they had to send me to private school. That way at least one member of the Neilson family would have the grace to fit into any social situation. It was a grace I'd come by naturally -- prep school had only honed it.
I'd resented it at first -- being dragged away from all of my friends. In grade school, I'd been so far ahead of everyone that I was beginning to get bored. By the time I was 11, I was already getting into trouble for missing school and playing pranks in the neighborhood.
My parents had quickly realized that I'd needed more of a challenge and decided that private school would be the best thing for me. It wasn't until my junior year at Smith that I'd finally realized they were right. Until then, I'd hated them bitterly for sending me away. At my grade school I'd been the smartest and the prettiest, and although we weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination, we were far better off than most of my friends. My parents had steady jobs and they didn't drink or smoke. Their lives were dedicated to making sure I had all of the things they hadn't had when they were growing up. I'd have to remember to drop them a note some time to thank them.
Still, when I thought back to my years at Glen Warren Prep, the same feeling of anger and resentment came flooding back making my stomach knot. How could they have thrown me to the lions like that? I was a 13-year-old girl from a working class family. My classmates were all from wealthy families. The school uniform was supposed to make us all equal, but that theory failed miserably.
My uniforms had been the bare minimum; 2 skirts, 1 blazer, 1 sweater, 3 blouses and one pair of shoes. The other girls seemed to have unlimited variations, but that hadn't been the biggest problem. We'd been allowed to wear simple jewelry -- nothing showy. My parents had assumed that would mean nothing expensive. To these people diamond studs were simple, a string of pearls was plain and a tennis bracelet was a tasteful accessory. My small gold hoop earrings and cross might as well have been costume jewelry.
>My only defense had been to be clean, neat and friendly. To my surprise almost all of the girls had welcomed me with open arms and I'd quickly won over the ones who hadn't. Initially I'd been pleasant, but quiet, watching and learning. The schoolwork had been more challenging but very easy for me. It hadn't been long before I'd begun tutoring and even writing papers for the girls who found the program difficult. It had earned me some spending money and given me a certain amount of power. Listening had also proven to be a useful tool. For some reason a lot of the girls had been comfortable confiding in me. Those confidences had also turned out to be a valuable commodity.
"Knowledge is power," I smiled to myself.
That was the reason I was here after all, fact-finding. Why couldn't Andrew understand that I'd only been trying to make sure my future would be secure? I'd been thrust into this way of life and I didn't remember how to live any other way. If there was one thing I'd learned it was that if I wanted something I had to make it happen myself. I couldn't trust anyone else to do it. I thought I had it all figured out and then Andrew took it all away. I needed a way to make him see how it felt and I was sure I'd find what I needed inside that house.
Over an hour after I arrived the first lights appeared in the Mulders' house -- it was just after 6. In other houses in the neighborhood lights started coming on in upstairs windows at the same time. It seemed that a lot of the residents also commuted to work.
There had been no other traffic on the street since I arrived, but as I sat watching my target I noticed headlights in my rearview mirror. A solitary car was making its way slowly up the street. My heart began to pound. Had someone noticed me sitting in the car and called the police?
Slumping down in my seat, I kept my eyes glued to the mirror. As the car got closer I could see that it wasn't a cruiser. It was actually a minivan driving slowly with its tailgate wide open. Taking a chance, I inched up and looked over the back of my seat. In the pale light of dawn I could barely make out the driver; a woman in her mid-thirties. She was driving slowly up the street, stopping briefly every 30 feet or so. It wasn't until I spotted the small figure dashing back to the car and then toward a house that I finally figured out what was going on. They were delivering the morning paper.
When they got close to me, I lay down flat on the front seat. I prayed that the young girl wouldn't see me in the car as she dashed by and that her mother couldn't see me from her elevated position. After I heard them move past, I waited a few minutes before I risked taking a look. The car was just crawling past number 63 and it appeared that the Mulders weren't getting a paper.
I'd just started to relax again when I saw another car approaching from the opposite direction. This car was moving deliberately and pulled up right in front of the Mulders' house. An older woman emerged from the vehicle and walked up to the front door and let herself into the house. The Mulders, it seemed, had some hired help. I guess when you both had government salaries you could afford to have someone to come to look after your kids. Judging by the number of cars in the driveway, the Mulders had plenty of money. It made me wonder why they chose to live in such a mediocre home.
My heart suddenly fell. If the Mulders had someone to watch their brats, how was I going to get into the house? If I was lucky, their housekeeper would leave to fetch the groceries or run some other errands. If not, I'd have to keep coming back until she did. I'd been hoping that I'd be able to do this today, but a delay of a day or two would not ruin my plans. For now all I could do was watch and learn. I didn't much time in the house, so if I saw an opportunity, I'd grab it.
Half an hour after the housekeeper arrived, the front door opened and Andrew appeared, looking like the FBI agent he'd aspired to be. He had thousand dollar suits languishing in his closet, but he chose to wear horrid, drab suits he'd bought off the rack. He hadn't wanted anyone to know that his family was wealthy.
"No special treatment," he'd informed me seriously.
"Why would a decent suit result in special treatment?" I'd been incredulous.
"The other trainees can't afford to dress in Armani suits. I don't want to stand out," he'd shrugged.
"If you didn't want to stand out, why did you go Harvard? There are plenty of schools that churn out students that don't stand out? Why didn't you go to one of them? You could have saved your parents some money," I'd huffed.
"You know that's not what I mean," he'd assured me quietly.
I hadn't known what he meant. We'd gone around and around the issue, but it always came down to one thing. It was his dream and it didn't matter what the cost, he was going to have it.
His sandy colored hair was short, shorter than he'd kept it when we met. When he'd first come home with it all chopped off, I'd laughed at him.
"All of the other trainees wear their hair like this. It's regulation," he'd frowned at me.
"No regulations like that on Wall Street," I'd rolled my eyes, but he'd ignored me.
It still made me shake my head. Andrew could have done anything, been anything, but he chose to be a government suit. Why his parents tolerated this flight of fancy was beyond me. They hadn't seemed upset at all when he'd told them about his plans. Maybe they thought he'd grow bored of it eventually. Or maybe with all of the money he was going to inherit, it didn't really matter how he chose to fill his days. Apparently appearances didn't matter to them. Most of his friends had become lawyers or brokers, but not Andrew. No, he had to become an FBI agent. What kind of career was that? What was I suppose to have said to my friends? I'd avoided discussing it, always changing the subject. Maybe this would all turn out for the best. I could find myself a man with decent career goals. Once I'd destroyed Andrew's dreams, I'd be free to do just that.
Andrew got into his car alone and began to back out of the driveway. It appeared they weren't going to drive in together. I wondered why. Did they not want people to know that they were living together? Maybe there was more going on here than met the eye. Was there was more to the Mulders than their suburban house and their cute kids? Were they in the habit of bringing young agents into their home? Maybe I'd find more in the house than I bargained for. That thought made me giddy and I couldn't help giggling.
When Andrew drove toward me, I ducked out of sight. Apparently the rental car didn't look out of place to him. It seemed investigators only noticed things when they were looking. How would that work if they didn't know what they were looking for? I guess it never occurred to him that I might have figured out where he lived. Having a job at the Bureau had made it very easy to find out where Fox Mulder lived.
Only minutes after Andrew drove away, the front door opened again and I was presented with a charming scene of domestic bliss. Agent Mulder and his wife, who still went as Agent Scully appeared in the doorway. It seemed to me, that if they were as blissful as they let on, she would have taken his name. Maybe she thought if things didn't work out she wouldn't have to be worried about being stuck with his moniker. Now there was trust for you.
Once they stepped out onto the porch the housekeeper appeared behind them carrying a baby. A young dark-haired boy pushed his way out from behind her to give his parents a hug. Agent Scully deserved a lot of credit. Her figure looked incredible considering the age of the baby. Ostensibly, her work and her looks were more important to her than staying home with her children.
I watched, rolling my eyes, as kisses were exchanged. It did make me laugh, however, when Agent Mulder sneaked a kiss from his wife in between kissing his children. When the Mulders got into their car, still smiling, the housekeeper said something to the boy and they went back into the house. I didn't hide when the car passed me. The Mulders had no idea who I was. They were too busy smiling at each other to notice me, anyway.
It was only 7:15 when they disappeared around the corner. I might be in for a long wait so I turned the radio on to a morning show and tried to get comfortable in the car. I quickly figured out why cops did surveillance in pairs. Even though I'd had plenty of sleep, I caught my head nodding. Sitting up, I shook out the cobwebs.
I needed something to keep my mind alert. If I'd brought a crossword, it might have distracted me. I decided to look at each of the houses and try to guess what the people who lived in them were like. By percentages, some of them had to be alcoholics, abusers or abused. Some of the people had to be having marriage problems. A few of the families were living beyond their means. Somebody's teenage daughter was pregnant or soon would be. A few of the kids would sneak cigarettes or something stronger. I was sure of one thing -- every one of them would probably emerge from their houses looking perfectly normal.
My game proved to be quite entertaining and to my delight, I found that time was passing quickly. I only wished I had the time to find out if my guesses were correct. I would have to settle for knowing that they most likely were.
I was busy deciding that the house four doors down from the Mulders' was owned by alcoholics, judging by the peeling paint and unkempt yard, when I saw the Mulders' front door open. The boy appeared first with a backpack slung over his left shoulder. He was followed by the housekeeper who carrying the baby. My heart started to race in anticipation as I watched them get into the van. Since both kids had to be strapped in, it took a few minutes before the older woman got into the driver's seat.
She was taking the boy to school! This would probably be the only chance I had to get into the house. If I was lucky, it would take her 15 minutes each way. Once the van was out of sight, I grabbed my waistpack and got out of the car and stretched. My muscles had become quite tight sitting in the car barely moving. My surveillance of the neighborhood had proven useful. I knew that most of the houses were empty -- the occupants had left for their days at work or school. I was thankful for the lack of prying eyes.
Aware that there might still be a few people around, I kept my pace casual as I approached the house. I didn't look around surreptitiously, knowing that it would be a dead give-away. I strode purposefully toward the Mulders' backyard. Once inside the fenced in area, I relaxed a little. Someone would have to be looking out of a window to spot me.
Crossing the patio, I walked up to the back door. After quickly retrieving my lockgun, I aimed it at the lock and pulled the trigger. I'd practiced on apartment door and it was really quite easy. You just had to pull the trigger slowly a couple of times and the little probes worked the tumblers inside the lock. I knew it had worked when I heard the lock click.
The back door opened into a kitchen. The room was spacious and immaculate. I wonder if the Mulders' appreciated their housekeeper -- she appeared to be very efficient. A low growl to my left startled me. Spinning around rapidly, I discovered something I hadn't counted on. The Mulders had a dog. I was relieved to find it contained in a kennel, but my heart was pounding nonetheless. Upon closer inspection, I realized that, although large, the dog was only a puppy.
"Shut up, mutt," I warned and gave the kennel a kick.
My threat didn't appear to the scare the dog and it began to bark very loudly. I doubted anyone would hear it with the door closed. Leaving the noisy animal in the kitchen, I went through the door into a hallway. A staircase to the left led upstairs. Deciding that the bedrooms would probably contain the most useful information, I took the stairs two at a time.
The first bedroom at the top was the master bedroom. The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the smell. Underneath the perfume and the aftershave, it was there. The unmistakable scent of sex. The window had been left open, but even the breeze that was fluttering the curtains hadn't removed the smell. It wasn't stale, like the Mulders hadn't changed their sheets for a month, it was fresh.
How much sex were the Mulders having to leave a smell this noticeable? Maybe it wasn't that they had sex often, maybe it was just the number of parties involved. Finally it all became clear to me. Andrew hadn't left me because of the prenuptial agreement. He'd left because he knew I wouldn't be into this kinky sex. No wonder Agent Scully's figure looked so good. She was obviously getting plenty of exercise. If Andrew was into this sort of sick sex, I was glad to be rid of him. How could I ever have thought of marrying him?
Remembering that I didn't have much time, I quickly went through all of the drawers in the dressers and the bedside tables. Aside from finding the lingerie that Agent Scully wore for the sex parties, I found little more of interest. I wondered what her boss would think of the leather bustier that I'd come across. Unfortunately you couldn't be fired for wearing perverse garments. I did notice that something was missing. I didn't see any sign of birth control. Apparently Agent Scully liked to live dangerously. She was lucky to only have two children, although she could be on the pill. That, however, did not prevent disease. I could only pray that Andrew hadn't picked up anything from this filthy woman and passed it on to me.
After I'd finished in the bedroom, I moved on to the master bath, but I found nothing of interest. One thing was clear from my search. Andrew may have been having sex in here, but he didn't sleep here. None of his clothes or toiletries were in the master bedroom. It was nice of them to keep up appearances.
Still looking for the definitive piece of evidence, I moved down the hall, checking the doors until I found his room. As I had in the master bedroom, I went through the drawers quickly. I'd almost given up when I opened the drawer on the night table and came across a small black velvet box.
With shaking hands I pried the hinged lid open. Inside, laying on a bed a white satin, sat an antique silver locket. Opening it, I discovered an inscription.
"For my special girl."
My heart was pounding so fast, I could barely breathe. I'd found it. Exactly what I wanted. A small taped confession from Agent Scully along with the necklace would be all of the evidence I'd need to prove their scandalous relationship. It wouldn't be long before three of them would have to resign their positions.
I snapped the box closed and stuffed it into my waistpack. Realizing that the housekeeper might be home at any time, I ran down the stairs. I was going through the kitchen door when I heard the front door open. The damn dog was barking its stupid head off and I heard the housekeeper asking if anyone was there.
I bolted out of the back door and across the lawn. My adrenaline rush helped me scramble up the board fence. As I went over the top I heard the woman's voice in the backyard, but I couldn't make out what she was saying through the pounding in my ears. Knowing that she'd never be able to scale the fence, I trotted through the neighbors yard and out onto the street. I jogged slowly down the street toward the mall. I had some shopping to do.
end chapter 15