(D4) [L] Just A Little Game of Cat and Mouse!

[Emily Wyatt]

Time: Day 4, Late Morning/Early Afternoon
Weather: Cloudy
Warnings: thrilling chases?
Characters: Clover, Emily, George, York [CLOSED]

Emily pulled into the lumber mill parking within 10 minutes of leaving the forest park. She wondered if they would really find anything of importance here and if Clover would prove to be an asset to the case like Agent York seemed to believe.

She sure hoped so.

She exited her vehicle and out of habit walked the long way around the car to open the passenger door for Agent York. It still hadn't sunk in that her sandwich produced such a miraculous healing result. Maybe she had some talent after all? It's not everyday someone could claim that a bite from their delicious meal healed a injury!

Emily looked forward to sharing this amazing culinary miracle with Todd back at the station this afternoon and rub it in his face! So her cookies might be a lost cause but damn it it turns out her bagel sandwiches were kick ass! That counted for something right?

She wasn't a complete an utter failure in the kitchen and this thought put a big smile on her face. Oh happy days!

With a big bright smile she to the others and asked, "Okay what's the game plan Agent York?"

[Francis York Morgan]

It turned out to be fortunate that Emily had come to open York's door for him, because he was too enthralled to move with the sight of the massive, blackened building looming above them against the cloudy sky. He pressed two fingers to his temple and stared out the windshield, murmuring to himself.

"An abandoned lumbermill... Ingenious, if a little obvious. Of course, even in a town this size, there would still be plenty of nooks and crannies in which to commit a murder; it's just that the compact nature of the community would make it a little more risky. But when it comes to religion, even one that's personal to just a single individual, risks must inevitably be taken. Why he chose the mill, and not the surrounding woods, is a mystery... But perhaps the answers lie ahead of us yet."

He got out of the car, still looking at the mill over Emily's shoulder, and responded to her question.

"Well, like I said, it's hard to have a game plan when you have no expectations. But I suppose it is unfair of me not to give you some kind of indication, since you'll be out here with no clue of where I am inside the mill... Tell you what, if I find anything in there, I'll poke my head out of a window or something and whistle three times. That'll be your cue to bring Clover in. If something happens to me... I guess screaming for help might be appropriate code for 'send reinforcements'. Yes... I think that's pretty clear, don't you? Okay, I'll be back in half an hour or so. And thanks again for your cooperation, Emily."

He nodded briefly at them and started walking towards the mill, as if in a trance.

[George Woodman]

George sat back in the seat of the car with a scowl hiding behind his moustache. He didn't care if Morgan was in charge of the case, he was making a completely mockery of it by bringing along Clover. He could slightly hear Morgan musing to himself about the lumbermill, causing George to roll his eyes. "It's a damn abandoned building filled with rusted machinery and rotting logs." He thought. He swore that the man would find a way to become poetic about writing paperwork.

When the car stopped. Emily had asked for the game plan. As Morgan explained, George was not happy that he and Emily would be stuck outside while Morgan was doing everything.

"So let me get this straight. You want us to sit here and babysit the civilian while you do everything in the Mill?" he asked.

"We're not your personal daycare, Agent Morgan. We're capable of investigating a crime scene just as well as any of you FBI types." he added.

George began forming other thoughts as well.

"Perhaps this would be a good spot to dispose of the Agent. If he doesn't emerge, it could be considered an accident. The body ground up by the machinery, and no one's the wiser."

[Emily Wyatt]

Wait out here? WAIT OUT HERE? Oh to the hell to the NO!

Emily was not pleased. Not pleased at all and neither was George. She jogged forward and physically stood in York's path as he had continued on towards the mill entrance despite George's protest and held a hand to his chest to get his attention.

"WOAH! Back up just a bit there Agent York! You wanted us to bring Clover here just so we can wait outside. This is-is ludicrous! Like George said we are perfectly capable of investigating a crime scene!"

She shot a wide eyed look to George he wouldn't let York leave them out here would he and returned her gaze to York.

"York we might see something you don't and our skills would be wasted just sitting out here." Then with a pleading look continued, "Besides...what if the killer returned and cornered you somehow? You will need back up! It's dangerous to go poking in such a dark and condemned building by yourself!"

[Clover]

Clover was silent all the way to the mill, she was very excited about it. Prehaps she could investigate the place, or at least observe it.
She left the dead squirrel in the car when she got off the vehicle.

When heard York's words she went blank.
''What? what are we gonna do here.''She said louder than her ordinary tone of voice, you could tell she was annoyed by her tone. She noticed and blushed a bit and lowered her voice. ''I-I mean what are we gonna do out here...''

[Francis York Morgan]

York nimbly dodged around Emily (he'd had plenty of practice with these sorts of maneuvers in high school, both in and out of gym class, and Emily was a much slimmer obstacle than the ones he was used to avoiding) and continued at a much quicker pace towards the mill. Running backwards, he called, "I'll be fine, I have a flashlight! This is just how I do things! And don't think of it as babysitting; think of it as Take Your Kid To Work Day, except it's not your kid and the work is mostly confidential. After all, this is an important learning experience for Clover: Always know your boundaries!"

By then he'd reached the lumbermill's rotting doors, which gave way easily... Someone had definitely been here since it was boarded up. He turned around and waved once, then disappeared into the darkness before the others had a chance to respond. Satisfied that they hadn't come running in after him right away, he turned on his flashlight and began scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

<What was that line about boundaries?> Zach said quietly, his invisible presence alert and watchful. <Aren't we being a little hypocritical?>

"Zach, for the sake of the law, I hope we live in a world where the boundaries for Federal Agents are slightly wider than those of civilian teenaged girls," York said, shining the light upward and seeing nothing of interest. "Besides, do you really want the police following us around in here? They would just be a nuisance. And as fond as I am of Emily, I couldn't tell her what we might really be up against... I wouldn't wish her to come to any harm on this case. And she'll definitely be in danger, what with the sort of trouble that seems to follow us around..."

<I notice you don't seem as concerned for Sheriff Woodman's welfare.>

"Now there's a man who's a little too obsessed with boundaries," York mused. "I'm not worried about him, Zach. He'd probably just lecture Them to death... Or whatever their equivalent of dying is."

His footsteps echoed in the darkness as they ventured further into the mill.

[George Woodman]

George shrugged his shoulders, wondered why he even bothered arguing with the man. He would just do whatever the hell he wanted and the only thing preventing George from throwing him in a cell was the fact that he was with an important law enforcement agencies. "You still haven't explained why this girl is so important." George started in, but Morgan was already going towards the door. "Nevermind..." he muttered.

Though the last thing he said did interest him. "Yes, Morgan, that's good advice. You should learn to heed it..." he thought darkly.

After about five minutes of waiting, George started in. "Alright, I don't care if Agent Morgan wanted us both to stay out here, there is no way he is cutting us out. I'm going in there. I'll radio you for backup if I find anything wrong in there."

He left before Emily could get any words in. It wasn't the best of excuses, but this was a golden opportunity for him. "This is the perfect place to dispose of the FBI Agent and tell any story I want about it." he grinned to himself.

He opted to take the fire exit into the mill. He hated the place. Too many hazards, the horrible stench and the dreary surroundings. Harry needed to tear this place down sooner or later.

But while Morgan was here, this was his domain. He searched through the building until he found the foreman's room. He opened up the cupboard in there, revealing a red raincoat and an axe. Donning them, he turned, ready.

"Let's play, Agent Francis York Morgan..."

[Emily Wyatt]

Emily sadly watched George enter the lumbermill and wished that she could have gone with him but someone had to stay out here with poor Clover. She didn't think she would ever understand York or his bizarre investigation methods. He changed his mind so often... First she was some how important to the case but he now he's decided it's not worth it to take her inside? If he was going to just leave her out here why bring her in the first place!

All that debate over Clover's company for nothing! Was this how Agent York had fun? She sighed and trudged back towards Clover and her car. On the way she rolled her eyes put a finger to her temple. "Oooh Zach let's see how mad I can make the local law enforcement with my off the wall demands. Just look at that! George is turning red with anger and Emily looks like she wants to strangle me! But wait...what's this? They've agreed? Well, that's no fun, I've changed my mind let's make them all wait outside instead!"

She reached the car she and leaned on the hood to take in the surroundings which wasn't a whole lot. Moyer's Lumbermill had only a parking lot, some chain link fences and several empty buildings. Not much to look at during the day but Emily bet it was probably really creepy at night. If it was the true scene of the crime how had Anna's killer convinced her to come all the way down here? From what she knew, Anna wasn't the type to go urban exploring.

Emily called over to her charge who was currently sulking a few feet ahead of her. Looks like she wasn't the only one filled with disappointment for this trip. "Hey Clover! Looks like we have some time to kill out here..." she waved her over, hmm what could they talk about to pass the time? "So are squirrels your favorite animal? I'm more of a dog person myself but I must say squirrels are pretty adorable!"

[Francis York Morgan]

"Picture this if you will, Zach. A young, red-haired woman is pursued by a chain-smoking maniac through this very mill, not long after a young blond woman is pursued and probably killed by another maniac in the same location. Or it could be the same maniac. We just don't have enough evidence, but would it be stretching things to consider the possibility that there may be two killers running around Greenvale?"

<Anna Graham was an RSP victim,> the voice replied. <So was Charlotte's mother, Vanessa Jacobs. That, and the fact that the murder attempts likely both happened in the mill would seem to suggest some kind of connection. The only thing that seems out of place is the fact that the Smoking Man tried to kill us, too. And if he was trying to finish off Charlotte on the same night by going after her and David in that rusted car, that impersonal method seems even more inconsistent... Doesn't fit the profile. Whoever killed Anna likes to get up close.>

"No, it doesn't fit, but let's stop theorizing for a moment and let fate take its course," York whispered. "We don't have concrete evidence that Anna was killed here; just a suggestion that whoever brought her to the tree was in the mill at some point. Let's try to imagine we're not here to solve a case... Just exploring... Who knows what we might find..."

He stepped over a jagged, rusty piece of metal lying on the floor and shone the flashlight around a corner. Up until now, there had been no signs of anything out of the ordinary save the mottled silence of decay; now York's light fell upon a truly disturbing sight. He was standing in a small room filled with lockers. Before him stood a small table, on the top of which was a pool of dried blood about the size of a dinner plate. A white telephone sat next to it, looking too clean and out of place. York approached the gruesome tableau warily.

"Look at this, Zach... white fur in the blood. Some animal was killed here, not too long ago. Not sure why the killer would need a phone handy; unless he cleaned his hands thoroughly after finishing the job, it doesn't look like he's touched it."

[George Woodman]

George stalked the dead halls of the lumberyard. He remembered when this place was still active. Spectres of hard hatted people going back and forth about their daily work routine roamed the halls. Echoed voices came from them, recalling the times when a younger George visited out of curiosity. However, the only noise remaining was the axe, scrapping against the metal floor.

----

Meanwhile, where York was, the phone rang. Who would call an abandoned lumbermill that most of the town has forgotten about? The caller, however, had an important warning.

"Turn back now, Agent Francis York Morgan, or you will provoke the wrath of Caesar..."

[Clover]

Clover observed as George disapeared too. Now she was all alone there with Emily, doing nothing at all.
Just great. She thought and rolled her eyes.
Clover aproached Emily with disapoinment. ''Uhh I like squirrels or any dead animal.'' She said with a little annoyed (and kinda mean) tone of voice.
Clover crossed her arms and leaned on the car looking at the Lumbermill's door.
I want to see what's in there so bad, damn...

[Emily Wyatt]

Emily raised an eyebrow at Clover tone. Hmm someone's rather annoyed, but I can't blame her as I'm just as annoyed myself

"Hey sorry about all of this...the dragging you here for nothing. Agent York is a rather odd fellow and his mind seems to change every other minute. Sometimes it's a little hard to keep up with his moods and rather frustrating."

Emily kicked a stray stone and tried to continue their little conversation (hey they needed something to do to occupy the time!), "So did you grow up in Greenvale?"

[Francis York Morgan]

York froze when the phone rang, the loud jangling sounding unnatural in the dead quiet of the little room. He took out an evidence bag and used it to pick up the receiver; no sense in leaving fingerprints on anything if he could help it. In his head, Zach was still, waiting in anticipation. Warily, York put the receiver to his ear.

"Turn back now, Agent Francis York Morgan, or you will provoke the wrath of Caesar..."

York said, "Who is this?" but got only a dial tone in response. He waited for a moment, then sighed and carefully placed the phone back on its hook. Zach hummed edgily.

<Silly question. It was Caesar, of course. And if we don't turn back now, we're gonna provoke his wrath.>

"Sounds like a prank caller to me, Zach," York grunted, drawing his gun and moving towards the door. "I'm surprised he didn't ask us if our refrigerator was running."

Carefully, he leaned out into the hall and looked down both ways. The way they had come was clear... The left-hand corridor stretched out into darkness that swallowed the flashlight beam whole. York stepped out of the little room and peered into the shadows at the other end, listening...

[George Woodman]

Morgan would not turn back. Even with his warning, George knew that the man would only keep pressing on. The warning was only a formality: he ultimately planned to end Morgan here and now.

He continued to drag his axe down the dead hallway, listening, looking and smelling for the Agent.

"I'm coming, Francis York Morgan...."

[Francis York Morgan]

"Zach, what's that noise? Sounds like someone turned on one of the machines."

York cocked his head. The sound, a steady, grating whisper, was coming from the unexplored left-hand corridor; the flashlight beam was not strong enough to reveal its source. Gun at the ready, the light in his left hand, he took a few steps towards it. The sound didn't seem to get louder or fainter; it simply persisted. He continued to walk. The hallway seemed impossibly long.

Zach's response, though technically not audible in the normal sense, sounded almost indistinguishable from the sound, as if both were co-existing in York's head.

<I don't think that's a machine. It sounds like something being dragged.>

York felt a not entirely unpleasant chill run up his spine. He shone the flashlight in the direction of the sound and stood there, watching.

"FBI Special Agent Francis York Morgan!" he called into the darkness. "Whoever's down there... Would you please step into the light where I can see you? There's a murder investigation underway!"

Zach drawled, echoes of Harrison Ford in Star Wars: <I have a baaaaad feeling about this.>