Airport
New York
9:30 am


Ignoring the ebb and flow of the airport 
pedestrian traffic , McDougal finished the last 
dregs of his vending machine coffee and  
continued to watch the empty baggage carousel. He 
wasn’t sure whether he felt like a stalker or 
just plain ridiculous. He should have let the two 
agents rent a car and drive out to Somerville. 
The logistics of tracking down two federal 
employees in a crowded NY airport were...well, 
nuts. But he wanted...McDougal paused , then 
grimaced to himself. Be honest Casey.  He needed 
to see the two away from the playing field. 

Sheriff  Casey McDougal did not like FBI agents. 
He was willing to admit that they had their uses. 
Unfortunately, seeing one usually meant that he 
was about to lose control of his case. Not even 
the fact that some of them had seen more action 
than he had made that go down easy. It was even 
worse when they saddled him with the pencil 
pushers. He knew they were smart. Hell, they knew 
they were smart. And it wasn’t like they tried to 
rub his face in it. But every single damn one of 
them had more education than he had shotgun 
shells and he  hated it. 

Maybe it would have been different if he had come 
into the force with a degree of his own. None of 
the new breed of college educated recruits seemed 
to resent the fibbies the way he did. They didn’t 
like it when they got pissed on-hey, who did? But 
they seemed able to work with them.

McDougal grunted. Probably because they 
understood them. And there it was in a nutshell. 
He did not understand half of what they were 
talking about. If he didn’t understand it, how 
was he supposed to trust it? And if he didn’t 
understand them-why should he think that they had 
two clues and a cup of coffee about what made him 
tick? And he was supposed to give them his case. 
Just trust that they knew enough to know what was 
important and what were the right questions to 
ask? Not bloody likely.

Every agent he had ever met had wrapped that 
politely, non-confrontational professionalism 
around him until he choked. Like battery operated 
actors, they flipped a switch the moment they 
walked on stage. He needed to see who they were 
before the curtain went up. Before they were 
aware that he was watching. And by driving them 
out himself, he forced them to make use of the 
car and deputy he planned to assign them. The 
chances of them finding a rental car anywhere 
within the three ring circus his town was turning 
into meant that they weren’t likely to be 
slipping the leash anytime soon.

The light went on above the baggage carousel as 
people started trickling through the far doors. 
McDougal glanced again at the descriptions his 
deputy had gotten from the FBI. A tall brown 
haired man and a short redheaded woman. This from 
federally funded law enforcement personnel? What 
sort of yokels did they take them for anyway? 
Hell, Tarrytown was  close enough to NY that it 
had a decent crime rate. What the hell were their 
names? And what did this last sentence mean ? His 
deputy had shrugged and said he hadn’t understood 
it either. Look out for little green men? 
Apparently the FBI had thought something was 
funny.

A flash of red caught his attention. Then 
another. McDougal scowled. Who the hell knew 
there were so many red-headed women in NYC? Maybe 
he should invest in stocks of Clairol and Nice 
and Easy he thought sourly as yet another woman 
with red highlights joined the crowd.

 He wasn’t sure exactly what it was that drew his 
eye to the tiny woman in black. Hell, they were 
all wearing some form of dark cloth. Business 
women’s special. He wondered if they got a 
discount if they bought their suits and shoes in 
bulk. Maybe it was the fact that most of these 
women were obviously travelling with friends or 
associates while he had been told that she was 
meeting her partner. Or was he meeting her? He 
had thought they were both based out of DC, but 
his deputy had said that he got the impression 
that she was being pulled from an assignment at 
Quantico. That might explain the aura of anger 
that quietly seethed around the woman. 

Or not so quietly. He noticed more than one or 
two passengers ease their way away from her. 
Couldn’t be too careful he supposed. Too many 
people walking too close to the wire in this 
town. He tried to recall how long it had been 
since he had walked into a McDonalds instead of 
using the drive through. He couldn’t remember.

She stalked her way over to a brown-haired man 
quietly sitting by the windows. Oblivious to the 
danger, the man just lowered the bag of sunflower 
seeds he was demolishing and gave her a boyish 
grin. The woman crossed her arms over her breasts 
and raked her gaze over his body contemptuously. 
The man’s grin vanished. The woman’s eyebrow 
arched as he hesitated, then climbed slowly to 
his feet. McDougal wasn’t surprised when he 
didn’t reach to help her with her bag. Probably 
wasn’t sure he’d get all his fingers back 
attached.

The man watched as his partner - these had to be 
the feds - walk away . She paused halfway to the 
escalator and turned back to watch him. The man’s 
face was expressionless as he stared back, then 
dropped his eyes consideringly to the space 
between them. McDougal wondered if he was 
contemplating increasing the distance. He 
realized with a start that neither agent had yet 
said a word. As the male agent made his way 
towards his female partner, McDougal wondered if 
he was moving so slowly just to piss her off or 
if he was reluctant to get closer.

These were the agents the FBI were sending him? 
These were the two professionals he was supposed 
to trust the lives of his people too? They didn’t 
even want to be in the same airport together. How 
were they going to handle the long hours cooped 
up in the tiny office that was all he had to 
offer them?

Ah...shit. 

McDougal closed his eyes briefly as he 
contemplated the fact that he was stuck in a 
squad car with them for the next few hours. He 
saw the man give the woman a weak grin as he came 
abreast of her. She didn’t smile back. 

Shit.

And he had no way of giving them back. They 
hadn’t done anything. Yet. 
Tempting though it was to just leave them to find 
their own way out of town, he decided he couldn’t 
afford to give them the means to lose his deputy 
watchdog. Angrily he crushed the empty coffee cup 
and tossed it into a nearby garbage can and 
strode toward the pair. He had made it halfway to 
the agents when the woman glanced his way and met 
his eyes.

It happened so fast.

Smooth as silk the woman handed the bag in her 
right hand to her partner and took a step toward 
McDougal. The man twisted around less smoothly, 
clearing the woman’s line of fire. McDougal 
stuttered to a halt, foot frozen in midstep. For 
the split second before his brain caught up with 
his reflexes he was sure…absolutely positive- 
that the woman was going for her gun. He had the 
eerie feeling that time had frozen, all of them 
poised on the edge of the moment…and then it was 
over. 

The bustle and energy of the crowded airport 
crashed over him and he blinked as his eyes 
relayed the harmless image of a small woman in 
black watching him politely. Her partner wasn’t 
even paying attention-his back was turned to 
McDougal as he casually lifted the strap of the 
woman’s laptop case to his shoulder and idly 
watched the passing traffic. McDougal felt the 
thud of his racing pulse and cursed his own 
jumpiness. What a damn stupid rookie 
mistake…seeing combat reflexes in a couple of 
paper pushers. Christ, he was going to shoot 
someone if he wasn’t careful. His wife was right. 
This case was getting to him.

But it was still his damn case.

Embarrassment carried him the rest of the way to 
the two agents. He shoved his hand out toward the 
woman. Her partner still had his back turned. 
Irritation roughened his voice as he offered his 
name, half in challenge, half as introduction. 

“Sheriff McDougal.”

He kept his handshake firm, but didn’t try any 
pissing games with the grip. She had already 
picked up on his hostility. So had the man. That 
damn switch again. It was like watching wax melt 
as both faces smoothed into bland attentiveness. 
No vibes from either of them. Nothing more than 
polite interest. The hostility he had observed 
earlier was gone, vanished as if it had never 
existed. For a moment he felt a grudging second 
of respect. Damn good actors, the pair of them. 
He wondered if the Academy made them take 
lessons. He met their polite gazes with cop’s 
eyes. Smart people. Very very smart. Paper 
pushers or not, he would be wise to remember 
that. 
 
Both agents introduced themselves. Then they 
stood there and waited, giving him time to take 
the lead. Both were so damn non-confrontational 
he wanted to spit. They obviously knew that he 
had been sent to get them. Had anyone told them 
about the case? Considering the fact that they 
weren’t laughing themselves sick, they obviously 
hadn’t heard who the suspect was. Or maybe they 
had. Polite eyes in blank faces. Media friendly 
law enforcement. Show nothing, give nothing away. 
Damn switches.

The walk to the car took forever. Agent Scully 
seemed in no special hurry and Agent Mulder 
closed ranks and kept pace beside her. Neither 
said a word to the other and McDougal couldn’t 
seem to break the silence. It wasn’t angry. It 
wasn’t even uncomfortable. But the single time he 
spoke his voice sounded overloud and shockingly 
intrusive. Considering the noise around them that 
didn’t make any sense at all. But he kept silent 
after that. Agent Mulder fell asleep as soon as 
he settled himself into the front passenger seat 
of the car. Abandoning any thought of discussing 
the case before they reached Somerville, McDougal 
concentrated on the traffic and just drove. 

A few minutes out of town, his radio started 
picking up his dispatcher. Fights, 
trespassers…lord, had  Fred really gone after 
that group with a shotgun? The tap tap tap on the 
laptop keyboard in the backseat died away as 
Agent Scully listened incredulously. Martha 
Watkins claimed two men were taking pictures of 
her pet cemetery. Apparently they didn’t believe 
her that the inhabitants were not human. Agent 
Mulder had also awakened and was listening in 
fascination.

“What’s going on, Sheriff?”

“Ghost-hunters.” He told her grimly.

“Ghost...” her voice checked suddenly. “Mulder?”

Her voice held only polite inquiry. So why was he 
seeing visions of volcanoes and icebergs?

“I was under the impression we were here about a 
body. A corporeal one”

Well that answered that question. They hadn’t 
told her everything.

Agent Mulder grinned,” Who ya gonna call, 
Scully?”

Her voice shot up the scale,” You think a ghost 
did it?”

Mulder’s grin widened.” Not exactly.”

If she hadn’t been wearing a gun, McDougal might 
have thought Agent Mulder timed it deliberately. 
Just as the squad car came to a final stop 
outside the station, the agent turned to face his 
partner.

“Welcome to Sleep Hollow, Scully.” The man’s face 
was agleam with anticipation, even as McDougal 
winced.

” Home of the Headless Horseman.”


Motel 6
Somerville
2:00 PM

“Sleepy Hollow, Mulder?”

Mulder was easing himself down on the bed and 
stretching out with a pained grimace.
Once down, he looked over at her and grinned. He 
quoted from memory, “ In the bosom of one of 
those spacious coves which indent the eastern 
shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of 
the river denominated by the ancient Dutch 
navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always 
prudently shortened sail, and implored the 
protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, 
there lies a small market-town or rural port, 
which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is 
more generally and properly known by the name of 
Tarry Town”


“I’m familiar with the story, Mulder.”

Mulder gestured expansively,” This is Tarry Town, 
Scully. Otherwise known as Sleepy Hollow.”

Scully cocked a familiar eyebrow,” And we are 
here because…?”

“Somebody pulled some strings.”

Forcing himself to move slowly he pointed toward 
his briefcase. Scully scowled at him as she 
opened it and extracted the files. “When did the 
painkillers wear off, Mulder.”

He grimaced again. “Yesterday.”

Scully’s lips tightened, but she said nothing. 
Instead she yanked open the cover of the first 
file. Mulder amused himself by watching the play 
of emotions across her face. He could practically 
see the wheels turning. The obvious solution 
jumping out at her…and the wariness as she 
wondered just what crazy alternative was being 
suggested. She looked up at him, blue eyes 
suspicious.

“These kids were admitted for drug-induced 
hysteria, Mulder”

“Yep”

“And I see no evidence that the death of Harry 
Wilkes was anything other than a suicide.”

“Nope.”

Her eyes widened and her exasperation pushed her 
voice a notch or two higher,” Then why are we 
here? Where’s the X-file?”

He grinned at her.” Third page, halfway down. 
Check out the second boy’s last name.”

Scully reread the file and frowned, “Senator 
Chapin’s son?”

“Got it in one Scully. The mystery of your tax 
dollars at work. The kids claim they saw the 
Ghost of the Headless Horseman. Now one of them 
is dead, another is missing and the senator wants 
to make sure his firstborn doesn’t join them. The 
senator asked a few questions in DC and 
apparently our names came up. He called in a few 
favors and voila…we’re asked to volunteer.”

“And Skinner agreed to this?”

“I don’t think he had a choice.”

Mulder almost grinned again as he saw Scully’s 
eyes narrow. His partner was not a happy camper 
when she thought she was being manipulated. She 
shot him a suspicious glance.

“You believe that the Headless Horseman did it?”

Mulder phrased his next words carefully. “ 
Actually, no. There’s no evidence that Irving 
based his story on any sort of legend, European 
or Native American. But I think a lot of people 
think it’s the Headless Horseman.”

For a split second she almost asked him what he 
thought it was instead. Then his tone of voice 
struck her. Blue eyes turned thoughtful as his 
partner stepped up to the bed and stared down at 
him.” Were you supposed to think it was the 
Headless Horseman?”

Mulder started to clasp his hands behind his 
head, then changed his mind rapidly when his 
shoulders shrieked and froze in protest. 
Nevertheless, his grin nearly split his face,” 
Why Mrs. Spooky. You’re getting almost as 
paranoid as I am.” His grin faded slightly,” Is 
that being too egocentric of me?”

It was Scully now, who chose her words carefully. 
Almost, he regretted the fact she could say the 
words. Years ago, she wouldn’t have. He wasn’t 
sure that she could have.

“If this wasn’t a suicide -- this has the 
potential to become a high profile case. What 
ever we do...it could come to the attention of a 
lot of people. ”

She left the next sentence unspoken…but both 
agents heard it loud and clear. 

*Especially if Spooky Mulder jumps on the ghost-
hunting bandwagon...and publicly falls on his 
ass.* 

Mulder contemplated the ceiling while Scully 
stared at the files in her hands. He had pissed 
off a lot of people with that Cops episode. 
People who had never heard of him before. People 
who could conceivably undermine any support from 
his shadowy allies if given the proper nudge. 

Scully’s voice was soft,” Watch your six, 
Mulder.”

Mulder sighed,” Yeah, I know. But Scully?”

“What?”

He gave her a tired leer,” I’d rather watch 
yours.”


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