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fingers in her lap, Scully leaned forward and said, “What did you see, Patty?” Nothing more.
    Â 
    Mulder stood on the bare ground, checked the branches above him, glanced at the shallow river below. “Here?”
    â€œJust about,” Garson said.
    But “here” was nothing. The ground was too hard for tracks, and with no direct line of sight tothe trailer, there was nothing much to work on. He asked Garson to stand approximately where Patty had been, and scowled.
    Dark night, thirty or forty feet away, she wouldn’t have been able to see much of anything.
    Flashes of movement that accompanied her brother’s attack and screams.
    She saw a ghost because there was nothing true to focus on.
    He hunkered down and ran a palm over the ground. “Have you had rain?”
    Garson walked back, taking his time. “This is what we call the monsoon season, Mulder. You wouldn’t know to look at it now, but afternoons we get storms in. Big ones. Usually from the west, and they don’t fool around.” He shrugged as Mulder stood. “Trouble is, rain washes the evidence away, and the ground’s like rock again before noon the next day. This is a waste of time.”
    Maybe, Mulder thought; maybe not.
    He walked north along the bank, gaze shifting slowly from side to side. Ahead, the underbrush was thick, still uncleared by the developers. He saw no signs that anyone had broken through, which meant they had either come from down below, or from the far side of the trees.
    It was something, and it was nothing.
    By the time he reached the other agent, he was scowling again. “Gangs?”
    â€œSome.” They headed back to the trailer. “This is no gang hit, though. Knives and guns; nothing like this.”
    â€œCults?”
    They left the trees behind, and he felt the temperature already beginning to rise. Scully was still in her lawn chair; she was alone.
    â€œWhat kind of cults you want, Mulder? We have New Age swamis communing in the desert. We have the Second Coming believers who wander around the mountains and then use their cellulars when they get lost. And we have the flying saucer nuts, who figure Roswell is the key to all intergalactic understanding.” A sideways glance Mulder didn’t miss. “That’s kind of your territory, isn’t it?”
    The only answer was a noncommittal grunt, and Garson was smart enough to leave it alone.
    Scully stood as they approached, a brief shake of her head when he looked her a question. At that moment he couldn’t help a yawn, and turned away so the pale face in the trailer window couldn’t see him.
    He hoped he had been quick enough.
    The one thing Mary Deven didn’t need now was the sight of an FBI agent yawning at the site of her only son’s murder.
    Garson saw it, though. “We’re going back,” he told them both, not giving them an option to refuse. “You two get something to eat and getsome sleep, or you’re going to be worthless tomorrow.”
    â€œWhy? What’s tomorrow?”
    He touched his hat brim. “Tomorrow, my friend, you’re going to meet a genuine movie star.”

NINE
    Mulder couldn’t sleep.
    After a slow, almost lethargic dinner, he listened as Scully told him about the interview with the girl, which hadn’t told her anything new. Patty had seen even less than her statement had implied. Almost as soon as the attack began, the branch club her brother had been holding spiraled out of the dark and struck her on the side of the face. She had fallen, dazed, and in that state thought she might have heard someone whispering, someone else laughing.
    But it was all too muddled, and she had passed out shortly afterward.
    It was her father who had found the body.
    â€œNo ghosts, Scully,” Mulder had said, walking her back to her room. “We’re dealing with people here.”
    â€œYou sound disappointed.”
    He hadn’t