Agent of Chaos (The X-Files: Origins #1)(64)

It took Mulder a moment to respond. “I’m not really sure. But I think I just helped the FBI.”





CHAPTER 26

Coffee shop across from the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building 4:54 P.M.



Mulder spotted his father the minute he entered the coffee shop with Phoebe and Agent Ressler. His dad was parked at a table in the back of the restaurant, and from the plates on the table, it looked like he was on his second slice of pie.

His father stood up the moment he saw the FBI agent walking toward him. “How did it go? Was my son helpful?”

Ressler nodded. “Absolutely. Mulder is remarkably bright and his instincts are exceptional, two qualities we hold in high regard at the BSU.”

Mulder’s father tossed a few bills on the table. “Glad to hear it. But we have to get going. I’m needed at the office. The State Department took on a very ambitious project, and I’m the only person who understands the intricacies.” The remark sounded like a sad attempt to point out that Mulder’s exceptional genes were inherited from his even more exceptional father.

“We can’t leave yet. Gimble is still meeting with Agent Douglas,” Mulder said.

“They should be finished soon,” Agent Ressler assured Bill Mulder. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll be over there with Phoebe.” Mulder pointed to a booth across the aisle. He was done with his dad for today.

And tomorrow.

He grabbed Phoebe’s hand, led her to a booth, and then slid into the seat.

“What did Agent Ressler say about what you wrote?” she asked the moment she sat down.

The waitress swooped in before Mulder could answer.

“Can I get you kids something?” she asked, slipping the pencil from behind her ear.

They hadn’t looked at the menus tucked behind the napkin dispenser yet. But he just wanted to get rid of the woman so they could be alone. “I’ll just have a slice of pie,” he said.

“Me too,” Phoebe said.

“What kind? We have apple, cherry, lemon, Boston cream—”

Mulder cut her off. “Sweet potato.”

The waitress raised her eyebrows but wrote it down. “And for you?” she asked Phoebe.

“Chocolate?”

“Chocolate cream or chocolate silk?”

“Chocolate cream,” Phoebe said quickly, sensing that Mulder was losing his patience. The waitress started to ask another question, and she added, “And two waters. Thank you so much.”

When the waitress finally walked away, Phoebe folded her legs on the seat and got comfortable. “So what did Agent Ressler think about your notes?”

“I don’t know. He seemed sort of … impressed. Ressler said the notes I gave him are called a profile.”

“Your notes have a name?” Now she was impressed, too.

“Seems like it.” A hint of a smile played on Mulder’s lips. “From what Ressler told me, a profile is like a window into a violent offender’s mind. The FBI uses them to hunt down serial killers like Earl Roy Propps.”

Phoebe leaned back against the booth and tilted her head to the side, studying him. “You were only in his office for an hour and you already have the jargon down?”

Mulder shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

She looked across the table at him and their eyes locked. “You saved a girl’s life, Fox. It doesn’t get much bigger than that.”

“Thanks.” He had just wanted to stop a monster and protect that little girl, the way he hadn’t been able to protect his sister. But he finally let himself feel proud of what he’d done.

The waitress came over and dropped off their pie. She forgot the waters.

Mulder shoved a forkful of pie in his mouth.

“If Agent Ressler was impressed with the profile, then he must’ve believed you when you told him about the second killer,” Phoebe said.

Mulder leaned in. “Ressler already knew. One of the deputies told him about the way Earl Roy flipped out at the sight of blood. So Ressler set Earl Roy up and showed him a crime scene photo.”

“And?” She was hanging on every word.

“Earl Roy tried to climb under the table and hide. Plus, Ressler thinks he knows who Earl Roy was working with. He has a brother. Montgomery Propps.”

“And his brother is still out there somewhere?” She pushed away her plate, the pie untouched.

“Yeah. But Agent Ressler said the profile I wrote might help the FBI find him faster.”

“It sounds like you’re good at this. And maybe it’s something you’re interested in?”

The waitress came to the table again. “The two men in the booth over there paid your check.”

Mulder’s dad and Agent Ressler were out of their seats. His father gestured toward the front of the coffee shop.

“Looks like we’re leaving,” Phoebe said.

Mulder wasn’t looking forward to going back to the apartment. He had nothing left to say to his dad—except that he wouldn’t be attending Georgetown University in the fall.

“I’m glad we had a chance to meet, Fox Mulder.” Agent Ressler extended his hand.

Mulder shook it. “Me too.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Phoebe asked Ressler.