While the Peacocks are chasing the pig every whichwhere, Mulder and Scully make a run for the house. Mulder picks up a large plank of wood along the way. They head in the back door, poking it open with the plank. Which is promptly impaled by a long, sharp spike. Scully and Mulder exchange looks, brows raised, and draw their guns. They creep inside the house, under the spike. "FBI!" Scully calls. "Is anybody in this house?" There's no answer. They poke around the place, flashlights out, guns drawn, kicking in doors. The usual. Mulder kicks open a door to find a room full of old newspapers and magazines. "Oh, no," he says very sadly, and holds up a yellowing paper, reading, "Elvis Dead at 42." Mulder makes an exaggerated pouty face. Scully rolls her eyes at him.
Scully finds a room covered in pictures. The people in the pictures get progressively less freaky-looking as the pictures get older. She's examining the photographs when Mulder finds roller marks on the hardwood floor, leading right under the bed. He pulls aside the bedskirt. (The crazy inbred freaks have a bedskirt? How dainty.) The woman under the bed starts screaming like a banshee. She needs some serious dental work, by the way. She hollers at them to get the hell out. "It's all right, ma'am, we're federal agents," Mulder tells her kindly. "We're here to help you." Scully suggests that they move the bed. "They've got her strapped to some kind of board or something," Mulder says. Scully gestures at him, like, "Then roll her out, numbnuts." And they do. And she screams and screams and screams and screams. In addition to needing dental work, she could also use several prosthetic limbs. Four of them, to be exact. Mulder -- again, very nicely and calmly -- explains that everything is going to be all right; they're from the FBI, and they're going to help her. "We're going to make sure that you get home," he says. She's still yelling. Scully directs her flashlight back to the photos on the wall. "Mulder, she is home," she says, looking first at one of the pictures, then at the woman. "It's Mrs. Peacock. She's their mother." And their wife! Their mother! And their wife! Mrs. Peacock stops screaming and starts sobbing. Her eyes roll around alarmingly in their sockets. Mulder backs up a bit, and she rolls herself right back under the bed. He furrows his brow.
Mulder walks into the...let's just call it the living room. He tells Scully that he's worried the Brothers Peacock heard their mother/wife screaming. "I'm going to check on their positions," he says. "Well, what about her?" Scully asks. Mulder obviouses that Mrs. Peacock ain't going anywhere. Scully makes a "no kidding" face, and explains that they may not be able to "remove her," since she doesn't appear to be held against her will. "I mean, she appears to be, but I don't think she is," Scully corrects herself. Mulder looks out the window and idly comments that, at the least, she's an accessory to murder. With the aiding and abetting and all that. Scully shrugs that they certainly can't prove that. Mulder sighs and looks out at the Peacocks, who are still chasing their livestock all over the place. "The way I think it goes here is that Edmund is brother and father of the other two," Scully hypothesizes. "Which means that when Edmund was a kid, he could ground the other two for playing with his things?" Mulder asks. Scully just looks at him. Mulder looks back out the window, reminding her that these people are murderers, and instructs her to go talk to Mrs. Peacock. He thinks Scully can convince her that she's the only way the boys will "get out of this without getting hurt."