La Cocachina - An X-files Fan Fiction Story

Chapter 8: Daniel McNiff

It was mid afternoon when Mulder worked the brass knocker on Daniel's door while Scully inspected the peeling facade of the shabby wooden house. Patches of scaly paint seemed to suggest that the house had been white long time ago. A small piece of picket fence rotted horizontally on the yellow grass in the small lawn in front. The rest of the fence, if there had been any, was missing.

The door opened, and a tall, skinny teenager dressed in jeans and a T-shirt emerged from the dim room behind, blinking in the light.

"Dan McNiff?" asked Mulder.

The teenager nodded. The two agents flashed their badges at him.

"FBI," said Mulder. "Special Agents Mulder and Scully."

Dan took it in stride. "I didn't do it," he said.

"We are not saying you did," said Mulder, flashing an I like this kid smile at Scully.

With an understanding nod of his head, Dan turned around and headed back into the house. Mulder and Scully following suit.

Dan's living room reflected the overall disrepair of the rest of the premises, but was otherwise tidy. Its walls were covered in faded yellow wallpaper. The beige carpet was worn out, but its surface, infused with dust collected over many years, appeared to at least be regularly vacuumed, probably with the old vacuum that stood guard in one of the corners.

A tan-colored, caved-in couch was the most prominent piece of furniture. It stood in the dead center of the room. A chair next to it doubled as a kitchen table. It held an empty paper bag with the logo of the Tasty Burger, and a napkin, on top of which sat the skeletal remains of two dozen fried chicken wings. Several empty Coke cans were stacked  in a tower next to the couch.

"Sorry for the mess," muttered Dan. He collected the remaining scraps of his lunch and disposed of them in a trash bin next to his couch. He opened his hands, showing them the room. "This is it," he said. "My whole life. Feel free to poke around, whatever you are looking for."

"We are not exactly looking for anything," said Mulder. "We are here to talk to you about these," he pointed at Dan's sneakers. They were unmistakable. Old, gray, and falling apart, they looked exactly like Tony's.

In an instance, Dan's composure crumbled. He collapsed on the couch and buried his face in his hands.

"OK, what do you need to know," he asked.

"Do you know a kid called Anthony Terrence Crane?" asked Mulder. "Two years younger than you. Basketball player."

"Never heard of him," said Dan.

"Last summer, he bought a pair of sneakers just like yours. He wore them all the time. Didn't take them off at all," said Mulder. He was watching Dan closely.

Dan nodded, more to himself than to them. "You know, that's actually a relief," he said. "I thought I was going crazy."

"What do you mean?" asked Scully with a break in her voice. Mulder knew that inflection well. This was the tone of her admitting that there was more to the case than met the eye.

"Like he said," Dan pointed at Mulder. "I never take them off. Every time I try, I am terrified. I can't do it."

Scully cast a surprised glance at Mulder. Mulder returned an I told you victorious look.

"Dan, I am going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me," said Scully. Dan nodded. "Do you do drugs?" Scully asked.

Dan appeared to be entertained by the question. His mouth twisted into a smile. "Let me think about this one," he mused. "How about... 'no'?"