Agent of Chaos (The X-Files: Origins #1)(18)

“Get to the part when you saw the body,” Walker said.

“A detective unzipped the body bag, and that’s when I saw the little boy.”

Walker and Solano exchanged a look.

“That’s the reason I’m here,” Mulder rushed on. “I figured out there’s a connection between Billy Christian’s death and Sarah Lowe’s kidnapping.”

“Oh, you did? Why don’t you enlighten us?” Walker sounded irritated.

This wasn’t going the way Mulder had hoped. “In the picture of Sarah Lowe they showed on the news, she was wearing white pajamas with gray elephants on them. There was a stain right above the zipper.” He pointed to the spot on his chest. “Billy Christian was wearing the same pajamas.”

“You seem like a nice kid,” Solano said. “And I’m sure you’re trying to help. But do you know how many pairs of elephant pajamas there are in the world?”

“Lots,” Walker added.

“I don’t mean the same style of pajamas,” Mulder said. “Someone dressed Billy Christian in the exact same pair that Sarah Lowe had on when she was kidnapped. The stain was the same shape and color, and it was in the same spot.”

“Mulder notices that kind of stuff,” Gimble explained. “He has a photographic memory.”

Walker snorted. “Well, that changes everything. Can you predict the future, too?”

Solano laughed and his gut jiggled.

“This isn’t a joke.” Mulder raised his voice louder than he intended, and Detective Walker’s expression changed from amused to angry.

“Get outta here.” Walker pointed at the door. “We have real work to do.”

Gimble grabbed Mulder’s arm and tried to steer him toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s go before they arrest us.”

But Mulder didn’t care. “The same person took both kids. Don’t you want to catch him before Sarah Lowe ends up dead, too?”

Solano wiped his forehead with his sleeve and pointed at Mulder. “If we don’t find that little girl, it’ll be because of people like you. We already have dozens of bogus leads to follow up on, and every minute we’re checking out a dead end is a minute we’re wasting.”

“But I’m not making this up.” Mulder’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not a dead end.”

“Stop talking,” Gimble whispered.

A uniformed cop entered the building, leading a scrawny guy by the arm. The guy was barefoot and his hands were cuffed in front of him, below the cracked iron-on image of the Village People on the front of his T-shirt.

Solano nodded at the cop as he passed, then turned his attention back to Mulder. “Seems to me like you need an escort.” He was reaching for Mulder’s collar when pandemonium broke out in the precinct.

The scrawny guy in cuffs suddenly pulled away from the cop. He leaped up onto the nearest desk and shouted, “You don’t have chains strong enough to hold me!”

The sergeant’s office door swung open, and he surveyed the scene. “What the hell is going on out here? Get his ass down from there!”

“He’s part of the head count from the PCP bust on Sixteenth Street,” explained the cop who’d lost hold of the guy. “He thinks he’s Superman.”

The sergeant dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t give a crap what he thinks. Get him down now.”

“We need some help over here,” the cop called out casually.

Why didn’t he seem worried? Mulder had seen news reports about people high on PCP doing bizarre things like jumping through plate-glass windows because they couldn’t feel pain.

“Your chains can’t hold me,” the junkie taunted again.

Several cops in street clothes surrounded the desk. “Come on down,” one of them urged.

The junkie’s eyes went wild. “You gonna jump me? Four against one? While I’m cuffed? Not today, punks!” He raised his hands above his head and yanked his wrists apart.

Mulder heard the sickening crack of bones breaking, and the chain between the steel cuffs snapped. One of the junkie’s wrists was at an unnatural angle, broken links of stainless steel hanging from the metal bracelets.

A cop winced and shook his head. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”

“Did you see that?” Gimble looked stunned. “He broke his own wrist.”

The junkie took off, jumping from desktop to desktop. Criminals cuffed to the desks cheered him on … right up until the moment when four cops tackled the guy and shoved him to the floor.

Detective Solano shooed Mulder and Gimble away. “Get the hell outta here.”

“If you would just listen—” Mulder tried again.

Solano spun around. “I’m not asking anymore.”

Gimble grabbed Mulder’s sleeve and dragged him out of the precinct. “I’m not getting thrown in a holding cell with a guy who literally broke out of his handcuffs.”

Mulder slumped against the wall outside, defeated. “The detectives haven’t figured out the pajamas were the same, and they didn’t believe me when I told them. I bet they won’t even compare the photos to check.”

“They’re not going to find the little girl, are they?” Gimble asked.