Agent of Chaos (The X-Files: Origins #1)(45)

Phoebe stormed over and stopped on the other side of the open car door in front of him. “Don’t crack jokes. Not now. This is serious.”

The jokes were strategic, a tactic to convince her that he had his emotions under control again—that he was thinking things through.

He raised his hands in surrender. “You win. No more jokes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear you have sarcasm running through your veins instead of blood.”

“How about a compromise?” he asked. “We’ll drive out to Earl Roy’s place and take a look around. Maybe we’ll find something we can take to the sheriff’s office to convince the deputy that I was telling the truth.”

“And if we don’t?”

“We come up with Plan B. But I can’t do this without you, Phoebe.”

She threw her arms up and sighed. “Fine. But only if you swear that you won’t do anything impulsive.”

Mulder leaned over the top of the car door and whispered in her ear, “Kissing you was impulsive. Are you saying I shouldn’t have done that?” He didn’t know why he chose that moment to ask. But fear had the opposite effect on him than it had on most people. Instead of making Mulder hesitant, it gave him courage. The courage he should’ve had before.

Phoebe’s gaze locked on his. “Maybe you should try kissing me on purpose sometime, unless you don’t want whatever this thing is between us to go anywhere.” She brought her mouth so close to his ear that he could feel the heat of her breath on his neck. “If that’s the case, just stick with the hit-and-run make-out sessions.”

She turned away and circled around the front of the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Phoebe…” Mulder wasn’t sure if she heard him. Following the trail of a psychopath didn’t scare him half as much as the thought of losing someone else he loved—even if that someone looked like she wanted to kill him herself.

He got into the car and glanced in the rearview mirror. Gimble held the map up to the dome light.

“Did you figure out where we’re going?” Mulder asked.

“Keep heading north on 320A until you hit River Road. Then take a left.”

Within minutes, the porch lights of Charlotte’s Diner disappeared behind them, and the road went from dark as hell to pitch-black. Mulder turned onto River Road, a narrow stretch of asphalt that didn’t even have a dividing line painted down the middle.

Mulder leaned closer to the steering wheel, squinting. “I can barely see past the headlights.”

“Maybe you should get glasses.” Phoebe couldn’t resist teasing him.

“If I had glasses, I’d look too distinguished and handsome. Women would pass out wherever I went.”

Phoebe groaned.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” she asked, staring out the passenger-side window with her face an inch from the glass. “I haven’t seen a single house since we turned off 320A.”

“I’m positive,” Gimble assured her. “The waitress said there are only a few houses out here, and they’re all on this side of the Patuxent River.”

“Maybe we passed it.” Phoebe didn’t want to admit she was nervous. None of them did. Or they would have to acknowledge the kind of risk they were taking by driving out here.

Gimble checked the map again. “I don’t—”

“Wait!” Phoebe shouted, startling the crap out of Mulder. “Did you see that?”

“Not unless I ran over it.” He couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the road.

“Back up,” she said.

“What was it?” Gimble asked.

Phoebe shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it was something.”

“Gimble, keep an eye out for headlights behind us.” Mulder threw the car in reverse.

“We haven’t seen a car in fifteen minutes,” Gimble said. Then he caught a glimpse of Mulder’s tense expression in the rearview mirror, and he turned around and pretended to play lookout.

Phoebe stared out the back window. “Hold on. Stop.”

The moment the Gremlin stopped she jumped out, leaving the car door open. The extra illumination provided Mulder with enough light to see a dented mailbox nailed to a post. He got out and walked around to the passenger side of the car.

Mulder bent down next to Phoebe and studied it. Letters were scratched into the metal on the side. ER and another letter that looked like a P.

Earl Roy.

Gimble stuck his head out the window. “Well?”

Mulder swallowed hard. “This is his house.”

The dirt driveway beside the mailbox snaked into the trees, not much more than tire tracks through the brush. If Mulder had been alone, he would’ve taken off and followed it. He stood at the spot where the shoulder of River Road and the tire-marked dirt met.

Mulder and Phoebe got back into the car. Everyone stayed quiet as he turned and drove down the dirt path. He clutched the wheel with his sweaty palms as branches scraped against the sides of the Gremlin.

“What if he sees the car?” Phoebe whispered, as if Earl Roy could hear her.

“Pull up over there on the left.” Gimble pointed to a patch of grass off to the side of the driveway.

“There’s a light up ahead,” Phoebe said. “See it?”