From: bcfan@shaw.ca   
      
   TITLE: None So Blind (2/5)   
   AUTHOR: bcfan   
   FEEDBACK:  bcfan@shaw.ca   
   WEBSITE:  bcfanfic.tripod.com   
   RATING: strong NC-17 for disturbing content.  Please heed the   
   warning.   
   SPOILERS: post-episode, Fallen Angel   
   CATEGORY: X (casefile), M/S UST   
   SUMMARY: Child sexual abuse cases leave Mulder and Scully struggling   
   for resolution.   
   NOTES at the end.   
      
      
   ***   
      
      
   Hiding in plain sight.  Ramirez liked the sound of that.  He   
   purposely chose nondescript suburban homes for his base of   
   operations, near a school if possible.  That way, his own group of   
   kids fit right in.   
      
   He was whistling as he unlocked the front door of the burgundy   
   house, its white trim and Victorian lines appealing to his sense   
   of irony. Solid security bars from a previous owner covered the   
   basement windows.   
      
   He'd paid cash on the barrelhead the minute he'd laid eyes on it,   
   and he didn't want to leave anytime soon.  Not unless he had to.   
      
   Ramirez ignored the shabbiness of the first floor, walked up the   
   broad staircase, selected another key from the ring, and unlocked   
   a double set of solid doors.  They were the entryway to his own   
   private world.  Soundproof and secure.   
      
   Ramirez hung his leather jacket on the antique coat rack, same with   
   holster and gun.  He toed off his shoes and stepped into a pair of   
   corduroy slippers.  Give me a smoke and a scotch and I'd be just   
   like my old man, he reflected.  Actually, a scotch wasn't a bad   
   idea.   
      
   "Hey Betty," he called.  "What's for lunch?"   
      
   His favourite broad appeared in the doorway.  She was dressed in a   
   low cut silk two-piece, hair and makeup in place.  She looked like   
   a million bucks - just the way he liked it.   
      
   Ramirez grabbed her hourglass waist, wrapped his arms around her and   
   began to claim her mouth, to rub against her skirt.   
      
   "Maybe I'll have dessert first," he growled in Betty's ear.   
      
   "Sure.  But I - I got steaks on the broiler, we're having steak and   
   eggs."   
      
   He reluctantly loosened his hold, and Betty stepped quickly and   
   deliberately away.   
      
   He grabbed her upper arm and gave it a shake.  "Later, then."   
      
   "Of course, Paulo," Betty blinked at him, wide-eyed.   
      
   Ramirez sat and Betty served him, the perfect hostess.  She poured   
   him a drink, and looked hungrily at the bottle as she did so.   
      
   "No drinks.  You gotta be sober to take care of business tonight."   
      
   He ignored her pleading look and gestured for her to join him.  He   
   concentrated on his food for a few minutes, then looked up and   
   smiled.   
      
   He dug into his pocket and flashed a roll of bills.   
      
   "I won big at the track this morning, Betty."   
      
   "That's great, Paulo."   
      
   "Yeah, I'm thinking it's time for a new car.  Lexus or Caddy, I'm   
   just not sure.  A Caddy's more traditional, but the Lexus is one   
   fast mother.  Waddya think?"   
      
   "I don't know.  I'm sure you'll make the right choice.  You always   
   do, Paulo."   
      
   Ramirez nodded.  She was right.   
      
   "Anything new here?"   
      
   Betty jumped up and grabbed her bright pink Hello Kitty notepad.  "I   
   wrote it down, Paulo, so I won't forget.  Just like you told me   
   to."  She bent her head over the page, struggling to decipher   
   the messages.   
      
   "Um, so far five clients are coming tonight, for three girls and two   
   boys.  I fed the kids already, and later I'll get those five from   
   the basement and clean them up.  I got their clothes ready."   
      
   "Anything else?"  Ramirez drummed his fingers on the table   
   impatiently.   
      
   Betty was one spaced-out broad.  Given her past history, he was also   
   unsurprised to realize she could barely read and write.   
      
   "No - oh!  Oh yeah, the Boss called.  He wants to meet with you   
   tonight."   
      
   "Fuck!"  Ramirez slammed his fist on the table.  "What did he   
   want?"   
      
   "He didn't tell me."  Betty's grimace of distaste was quickly   
   hidden.   
      
   Ramirez shrugged, but a lick of uneasiness crawled up his spine.  It   
   was an iron-clad rule that the littlest products were kept for the   
   Boss alone, but five hundred dollars had been impossible to resist.   
   If the Boss realized that another client had used Richie - no.   
   He'd made sure that Richie would be too scared to talk.   
      
   Betty's voice was edged with fear.  "That guy gives me the creeps,   
   Paulo."   
      
   "Yeah.  Me too."   
      
      
   ***   
      
      
   Competing odors of floor polish and Lysol almost overpowered   
   Scully as she opened the paint-chipped community centre door.   
   "Watch your step," she murmured as Mulder negotiated the   
   warped linoleum with head bowed, stepping carefully with his   
   cane.   
      
   Scully walked ahead to a glassed-in reception area and rapped   
   on the window.   
      
   "Hello," she called, and an older woman poked her head out a side   
   door.   
      
   "Welcome to Albright Community Centre," she said.  "How can I help   
   you?"   
      
   Scully held up her badge.  "My name is Agent Scully and this is my   
   partner, Agent Mulder.  We're with the FBI and we would like to   
   speak to the centre director."   
      
   "That would be me.  I'm Miranda Kerry.  Please come in."  She   
   ushered them into her inner office.   
      
   Kerry waved them into the two straight-backed chairs before her   
   desk, then placed half-glasses on her nose as she seated   
   herself. Scully was reminded of her old principal, the one who   
   would stare at students suspected of misbehaving until - seemingly   
   of their own free will - confessions poured out of them.  An   
   excellent interview technique; one Scully tried to cultivate.   
      
   "Now, what can I do for you?"   
      
   "Thank you, Ms. Kerry, for taking the time to speak to us.  Agent   
   Mulder and I are here as part of the investigation into Jimmy   
   Findlay's disappearance."   
      
   "Yes, of course," Kerry answered. "The police were here a few times   
   about Jimmy.  Has there been any news?"   
      
   "I'm afraid not," Mulder said. "But the investigation is still   
   ongoing."   
      
   "Of course," Kerry nodded.  "This has been so hard on the staff. The   
   day care workers were hit especially hard."   
      
   "Understandably," Mulder said.   
      
   "About your staff," Scully began, seeing the perfect opening. "We'd   
   like to examine your staff records, the records of the children   
   currently in your care.  We'd also like permission to speak to them   
   as a group and individually."   
      
   "Again?" Kerry asked.  "The police have already been here, gone   
   through all the files.  Everyone was cleared."   
      
   "Things sometimes get missed in the course of an investigation,"   
   Mulder said. "For Jimmy's sake, we want to be sure that hasn't been   
   the case."   
      
   "Of course." Kerry nodded. She stood and unlocked a battered filing   
   cabinet. She pulled out a stack of blue folders and a stack of red   
   folders, piled them side by side on the edge of her desk. "All the   
   current staff and volunteer files are in here-" pointing to the blue   
   pile "-and the children currently in the program are in here-"   
   pointing to the red. "I can't let you take any of these off   
   the premises, though.  I'm sure you understand there are   
   privacy issues.  The National City police department does   
   have photocopies of this material."   
      
   Mulder plucked a blue folder from the top of the pile. "Do you know   
   off hand if Tomas Parraz or Richie Andros currently attend the   
   child care program?"   
      
   Kerry frowned.  "Those names don't sound familiar," she said as she   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)