Sitting in my abnormal psychology class in the small university where I was attempting to sit my bachelors degree, I sat taking frantic notes while my professor gave a lecture on sociopathic behavior in the first semester of my senior year. As the lecture came to a close, she turned from the board back to the class. Smoothing her fly away grey hair back and removing her glasses, she smiled at the glass, her bright blue eyes glinting.
"Alright, I'd like everyones proposal for their thesis on my desk by next friday. You all know my office hours if you have any questions. I'll see you all next week," Professor Agatha McMartin said.
We all began to pack up our things, and as I was putting my books away, my professor came up to me.
"Walk with me Dinah," she said.
I rushed to pack my things into my bag, and threw it over my shoulder, following her out of the classroom.
"I was really impressed by your interpretation of surgical addiction. It showed a serious understanding of the subject matter, and your attention to detail, well, I haven't met it's like since I read Dr. Hannibal Lecter's article on it. Did you see it?" She asked as we walked up the stairs and down the hall into her office.
"Yes, I did, I cited it as one of my sources," I replied, taking a seat in front of her desk.
"I saw that, you know, Dr. Lecter is a colleague of mine. Even after his incarceration we kept in touch. I mentioned your paper to him, and passed it along. He was quite intrigued by it, asked if it would be possible to meet you," she said carefully.
"Hannibal the Cannibal asked to meet me?" I pondered, wondering where exactly on the walk from the classroom to her office I had fallen down the rabbit hole.
"I understand why this would make you nervous of course. Honestly I think he's bored. But I also think that this would be an incredible learning opportunity for you. Not because you'd be equipped to analyze him, but because of his incredible expertise as a psychiatrist. You could learn a great deal from him. Would you like me to arrange it? I know Dr. Chilton, he's not my idea of a good head for that hospital, but no one else wants the job," she said.
I had been a freshman when Lecter had been incarcerated. Everything had come out into the open during my first year of high school and the entire country was abuzz with his dirty laundry. Personally I wasn't sure who I found more disgusting, the doctor for eating his patients, or the press putting all of his secrets out into the open like that.
"To be honest I didn't follow his case all that closely Professor. But I would be willing to meet him if you think it would be beneficial," I said.
"Do you know what you want to do you paper on?" She asked suddenly.
"Dissociative states in murderers," I replied.
"Talk to Lecter, he'll teach you a lot. I'll call Chilton tonight, see if I can get you an appointment over the weekend. I'll let you know tomorrow," she said.
We bid each other goodbye shortly thereafter and I walked down to my car, a candy apple red 1958 Oldsmobile with chrome detailing and white walls. I had inherited it from a reclusive nun as a high school graduation gift. I cleaned her home and made her meals all throughout high school and now in college, and she saw fit to give me the one valuable possession she owned. I continued to visit her daily to clean her home, make her meals and do her shopping. In exchange she let me live in the apartment over her garage while I used my late parents life insurance policy to live off of and pay for school with.
I stopped off at the store on my way home after hearing that snow was coming late Saturday afternoon and it looked to be a doozy of a blizzard. I bought enough food to get me and Sister Miriam through the next week before going home. Parking in the garage, I stocked up Sister's fridge before going and stocking my own. I got some work done and read for a bit before going over to fix dinner. We ate in silence, Sister Miriam had taken a vow of silence 15 years ago, and now in her 84th year, she was still keeping it, despite no longer living in a convent proper.
After dinner, I cleared the table and washed the dishes, putting everything in it's place before making sure that everything was set before I retired for the night.
When I returned to my apartment, I saw that I had a message on my answering machine, and hitting the play button, I walked into my kitchenette where my bathtub was located and began running a hot bath.
"Hallo Dinah, it's Professor McMartin. I talked to Chilton and he said that you could come by at 1pm on Saturday. Be sure to be prompt and take lots of notes when your there. Chilton will go over the procedure with you when your there. Be a good girl and tell me all about it next week. Class is cancelled tomorrow, I've a migraine and can't be bothered, take a long weekend instead!"
Stripping down, I turned on the jazz station on the radio and Glenn Miller filled my apartment as I slipped into the silky bathwater and began scrubbing myself all over and then went to bed early.
I spent the next day doing loads of laundry, chopping and stacking up on firewood and the myriad of other tasks that came with preparing the house for a coming storm. We were set back in the woods on the outskirts of a Baltimore suburb, and sometimes it took a while for the snow ploughs to get to us. My last act of the day was rigging up the guide line between the main house and the garage in case there was a white out. I pulled all my winter bedding out, and made up my bed with flannels and heavy down quilts and stockpiled wood inside the garage so that I could keep it dry. I didn't have a radiator in my little apartment, just my wood stove that I used to keep warm and cook meals in the wintertime. I made meals for Miriam to heat up if I couldn't make it over and stocked them up in her freezer.
By the day was done, I was exhausted, and fell asleep on the couch.
And, inevitably, overslept. I woke up at 11:30 the next morning, and in a blind panic, pulled on a calf length brown wool skirt, bright red knee socks, and a cream colored cowl neck sweater. I paused in front of the mirror to put on a coat of mascara and some subdued eye shadow that, never the less, made my green eyes pop. I topped it off with a swipe of lipstick, and dropping the makeup into my good bag along with my wallet, keys, note book and several pens, took a moment to run a brush through my curly blonde hair. I checked to make sure that I was presentable, and felt good that for once I was having a decent skin day. Grabbing my coat off the wall, I shoved my feet into a pair of moccasins and grabbed my winter boots just in case before launching myself out into the frigid air.
I opened the garage and climbed into my car. The engine started in the cold after several attempts, and I watched my breath come out in puffs of white while I waited for it to warm up. Backing out of the garage I got out to close the garage door and then drove down the long drive and took off for the Baltimore Hospital.
I made it with 5 minutes to spare, I ran through the freezing cold parking lot, breathing in the scent of snow and eyeing the menacing dark grey clouds in the distance. Then I was under the awning, up the stairs, and into reception.
Ten minutes later found me sitting across from Dr. Chilton, and I couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of a doctorate degree hanging on the wall.
He gave me his views on Lecter, musing about how he seemed to be getting an influx of female visitors all of a sudden, and I wondered just what he was thinking when he looked at me.
I was passed off onto an orderly in the hall who lead me down into the recesses of the basement. Before I was passed off to yet another orderly.
"Hi, I'm Barney," he said, his large dark hand encompassing my own small pale hand.
"Dinah," I replied, shaking his hand.
"Now, he told you not to go near the glass, right?" He asked.
"Yup," I replied.
"Good, Lecter's cell is the last one on the right. He's expecting you," he said, opening one of gates.
After hanging my coat, I passed him to stand in the security space.
"You'll do just fine Dinah," he said with a warm smile.
I walked down the long hall, taking in the stone walls and industrial ceiling lights.
When I reached the end of the long hall I came face to face with the doctor.
"Good afternoon Dr. Lecter. My name is Dinah Cooper," I said with a bright smile.
"Good afternoon Miss Cooper. Agatha told me all about you," he said.
"Good things I hope," I replied.
"All the best," he replied. "I was quite impressed with your interpretation of surgical addiction. Tell me, do you have first hand experience with it?"
"No, my looks are goodness given," I replied.
"Not god given?" He prompted.
"My religious views are my own," I replied neutrally.
"Tell me," he said.
"I believe that humans create gods, and that they have as much power as people give them," I said carefully.
"Interesting notion. Were you raised Catholic?"
"Episcopalian."
"But you no longer practice?"
"I live with a reclusive nun, that's practice enough."
"Why would a reclusive nun accept your help?"
"I don't know, it's not my place to ask."
"She employs you."
I shrugged. "She gives me peace of mind and a place to hang my hat."
"What will you do when she passes away?"
"I dunno, I haven't gotten that far yet."
"Do you think about it a lot?"
"It doesn't matter. We've gotten a bit off topic, haven't we?" I shook myself, trying to get the feel of him out of my head. "I'm working on my thesis, I was wondering if you could tell me about what drives people to kill in the first place. What's the difference between the jilted girlfriend breaking her boyfriends windshield and the mother who drowns her children in the bathtub because she's angry at her husband for cheating. "
"I'd expect a bachelors student to know the answer to that. . ."
I took pages upon pages of notes, despite his sharp criticisms and cutting remarks. I lost myself in the wealth of information that he gave me. By the time I was done, I had more than enough for my paper. I glanced nervously at my watch.
"That's the third time you've checked your watch Miss Cooper," he commented.
"Yes, I'm sorry, it's supposed to storm tonight and I'm worried about getting home before it starts," I replied.
"What kind of a storm?"
"Snow storm."
"Do storms frighten you?"
"Sometimes," I replied, pursing my lips and swallowing. I suppressed a shiver as his hooded maroon eyes watched me like a hawk watches his prey.
"I'd like to know you," he said.
"I'm right here," I said, smiling nervously and feeling utterly in over my head. No one had mentioned the possibility of this happening. No one had said that there was a chance that I would end up being analyzed.
"Why do storms frighten you?" He asked, turning his head to one side, like a raptor.
"I got lost in the woods during a thunder storm the night my parents passed."
"How did they die?"
"Car accident, they were hit by a truck."
"How old were you?"
"13."
"Did the nun take you in?"
"Yes, they found me three days after the accident in the woods and broke the news to me then. She let me stay with her, in exchange I did housework, shopping, cooking."
"What were you doing in the woods?"
"Why do you want to know?" I demanded, breaking the spell.
"Because I gave you information, now I want something in return," he replied.
"What can you possibly gain from my story?"
"To better understand a little girl who longs to know what motivates people to do the unthinkable."
I started in with a heated response, but forced myself to stop, force myself to think beyond the cruelties. I could feel the doctor watching me, waiting patiently for me to respond, to see what I would do. I took a deep breath.
"I'm not that easy to dissect Doctor. And while it would be an honor to be analyzed by such an incredible psychiatrist as yourself, I, unfortunately, need to get home. You have no idea how invaluable the information you've given me is. I don't think I could have come up with half this stuff on my own," I said, slowly climbing to my feet.
"That's not true Miss Cooper, you could have come up with it all in time. You're company has proven quite stimulating. Feel free to come back and visit me any time, you hear?" He said, then added. "Nice socks."
I gave him a cocky smile. "Thanks, I stole 'em from St. Nick."
"Tell me Miss Cooper, are you always so campy?" He said, a slur of distaste in his voice.
"Yup, I am, just a quirk of who I am," I replied. I tried to get up from where I settled myself on the floor, and then sat right back down again.
"Are you alright Miss Cooper?" He asked politely as I rolled over onto all fours and then climbed to my feet that way.
"Yes, I'm fine, I got hurt last year, and I apparently still have trouble moving," I said, unable to hide the disgust towards myself in my voice.
"Now now Miss Cooper, don't blame yourself for your bodies infirmities, it can't help what it is," he said.
"I know, but when it gets this bad, it usually means that I'm going to be bedridden for a few days. Storms make it act up," I explained absentmindedly as I leaned down to pick up my bag.
"Get home safe Miss Cooper, and please, come back and visit me sometime," he said.
"As soon as I'm back on my feet I'll come by," I promised, and then bid him good day as I stiffly walked away.
When I got out to the car, it had just begun snowing, and I muttered a dark curse as I slid into the bench seat behind the wheel of the car. It started on the first try and I went over the last few hours in my mind as I waited for the car to warm up.
By the time I got home, the storm had gone from light flurries to serious snowfall, and I barely made it up the stairs and into my apartment my hip hurt so badly. Lighting a fire in the wood stove, I fed it paper and kindling and wood from the basket next to the stove and then climbed into my bed in the opposite corner after checking the batteries in the fire alarm. I took some ibuprofen and then climbed into bed to read over my notes and begin assembling my paper. But after working for a few hours, fell asleep.
When I woke in the night, I could hear the roaring storm outside, and I went to the door, pulling on my heaviest coat and boots went outside into the frigid night. Gripping the guideline, I walked hand over hand to the main houses side door. Slipping in the quiet house, I checked the downstairs, and then walked up the stairs in the house and into Sister Miriam's room. I watched her sleep for a while, comforted by the reliable rise and fall of her chest before turning back into the storm to my own place in the world.
When I finally staggered back into my apartment, I sat up, unable to think, my mind constantly going back to the intensity in which Lecter had held me that day. There, alone in my apartment, I could feel my thighs grow weak at the thought, and my tired mind searched for an explanation to my unexpected arousal. After relighting the fire, I got out a pen and paper, I penned out a letter thanking Lecter again for the chance to meet with him. I wrote out my thoughts about our conversation on dissociative states and asked for his opinions on the subject. I went on to apologize for my inability to come and see him that week because of my joints, and then placed the letter on the nightstand before sliding down under the covers and finding peace in sleep.
When I woke the next morning, the snow was still going strong, and I switched on the radio. The weather report came in a static blur, mentioning that we were to get another 2-4 feet that day on top of the 4 we already had, that it was the worst storm in the area in over 100 years.
Donning my heavy boots and cloak again over my nightgown, I tramped out into the storm, letting my hands do my walking as I struggled through the snow to the main house. There I made Miriam oatmeal and washed the dishes from the previous night. I relit the pilot light in the water heater and ran a load of laundry. She asked me to change a lightbulb and then I went back to the apartment, dressed properly, and got the shovel. I worked at making a path from my place over to hers through the snow. After two hours of shoveling, I went back into the house, and fixed Miriam lunch before going back to my apartment and slumping into a hot bath to soak my sore muscles and sleep the day away.
When I woke the next morning, I went out with the shovel and did another round on the path from the garage to the house. Someone had come in the early morning and plowed us out, so all I had to do was connect the path from the garage to where they stopped plowing. It took hours, and I only stopped to make breakfast for Miriam. I was already sore from the previous days work, so today was even worse, and I wound up watching a movie on tv and falling asleep.
I woke up in the evening to the sound of screaming winds outside. I went to the window, and from there could see Miriam holding up a sign saying that she was alright and to stay put. Years ago we had developed a system as a just in case, and I nodded and smiled to show that I understood. Then I locked my door and shuttered my windows and sat down on the couch in the quiet of the space while the wood stove kept me warm. The wind screamed around the house and trees and I dragged myself off of the couch and across the room to my wardrobe where I kept my clothes. I crept into the floor of it, closing the door behind me. I hid in the darkness, rocking and murmuring to myself.
I started when the phone rang, and I climbed out to get the whole thing and bring it into the wardrobe with me before answering.
"Hello?"
"Good evening, may I please speak with Miss Cooper?"
"Speaking."
"Good evening Dinah," Dr. Lecter said, tasting my name. "Dee-nah. Tell me, do you think she was truly raped, or that she loved him?"
He was, of course, talking about the Old Testament story of Jacob's daughter, Dinah, and how her brothers had assumed she was raped by a prince, so her brothers killed all the men in the City while they slept as revenge.
"I think she loved him, and that it was a terrible misunderstanding. But virginity had such a terribly high price in those days," I remarked, twisting my index finger around the phone cord.
"Your voice sounds muffled, is this a bad time?" He asked.
"No, it's fine," I replied, resting my head against the cool painted wood.
"Where are you?"
"Ooh, you don't want to know that," I replied.
"Try me," he said pleasantly.
"I'm sitting on the floor of my wardrobe," I admitted.
"Expecting to find Narnia?" He queried, and I started laughing.
"No, although if Mr. Tumnus make's an appearance I'll be sure to give him your regards," I said, neatly evading actually answering the question.
"Dinah," he said, drawing out the long 'eee' sound.
I sighed deeply, then sighed again. "It's storming outside."
"And you sought safety in the wardrobe? Freud I'm sure would have a thing or two to say about that," he commented.
"Substitute wombs and all that?" I commented absentmindedly.
"Indeed. How is your hip doing?" He asked.
"It's stiff, but the painkillers I took are handling the worst of it," I replied, stifling a yawn.
"I hope you feel better, well, I'm out of time. Come by and visit me on Friday after your classes. 'Til then, Dinah," he said.
"Good night Dr. Lecter," I said with a smile before returning the phone to it's cradle.
I sat on the floor of the wardrobe for over an hour afterwards before I pulled my stiff self out of the wardrobe, and topped off the fire in the wood stove before getting into bed.
My week passed without any major problems, I went to class, did my homework, took care of Miriam and the house. My routine kept me going until Friday when I handed in my thesis proposal and mentioned to Professor McMartin who I was off to see that day.
After driving across town and parking my old yacht of a car, I got out my walking cane and stiffly made my way into the hospital and down into the basement, I greeted Barney with a warm smile and walked down the long hall past the other inmates until I reached Lecter's cell.
"Good afternoon Dr. Lecter," I said to the top of his head. He laid on his bed, reading an Italian Vogue. Lifting a hand to request a moment, I dropped my bag to the floor and slowly lowered myself into the chair while stifling a groan.
"It's rude to make noises of disgust at someones request for silence," he said before turning to face me.
"I'm sorry Doctor, I wasn't groaning at that. I'm back to needing my cane to get around, so moving has taken on rather a new set of challenges," I said, allowing the cane to rest against my stomach where I saw gazing up at him.
"Tell me Miss Cooper, how did you hurt yourself?" He requested.
"It's stupid really, I was horseback riding last summer and got thrown. Almost broke a few bones, but got lucky," I explained.
"Were you on painkillers?"
"Percocet."
"How was that?"
"I slept a lot, lost about 10 pounds. When I was awake I was stupidly high, but for the most part I knocked out."
"Did you become dependent on them?"
"Yup, three days and then withdrawal."
"Do you still think about taking them?"
"No," I lied.
"You're lying," he said. "The truth is you really wish you could sink back into that drug induced slumber, don't you?"
I let out a sigh. "I didn't come here to be berated for taking pain killers after an accident. Or the fact that no one told me I could go through withdrawal after only a few days use. And if your going to act like that then I'll just go home. Goodness knows my bed is far more comfortable than this folding chair." I attempted to fight my way to my feet.
"Please Dinah, stay, you're right, I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," he said, and I slowly lowered myself down into the chair.
"Why do you bait people and try to hurt them when they're trying to make your life less tedious and boring in this hole. Chilton's a jackass, he's never going to give you the kind of stimulation you really need. And when other people try to be accommodating you turn on them," I said, sitting up straight now and balancing my hands on the hook of my cane. "Sure, you can be punished, I'm sure you've gotten yourself into the thick of it more than once. But you're also too smart to be conditioned by a punishment as petty as dignity pants."
He seemed momentarily taken aback by my tirade, then, strangely enough, he smiled. "I think knowing you in real life would really be something."
Whatever I was expecting, this was not it. And, for once, found I had no rebuttal.
"Ah Dinah, you have so much a head of you. And yet you've already put so much behind you. No child should know what you do. How much silence do you know living out there?"
When I left the hospital that day with a promise to return the following Friday, I was so lost in thought I almost ran off the road.
When I got home, I finished writing my paper so that all that was left to do was type it up on my old Underwood typewriter. Then I fixed dinner for myself and Miriam, and told her about the doctor and the help he was giving me, but I left out the part about the cannibalism. She had a notebook that she used when she needed to convey some message, but for the most part she was content to sit and be happy. More than once I had seen a halo of light on her head, and knew that the angels favored this particular bride.
After dinner, I wandered up to the attic. I poked through several generations worth of lives in the told boxes until, after moving some things aside, found a panel in the floor with an indent. Going down to the kitchen I got a knife and returned. I pried up the floor boards and underneath found a series of diaries. Pulling them out I opened them up to reveal spidery handwriting and tightly rendered graphics of human anatomy. Beautiful descriptions accompanied each of the systems. These guides to the human body filled the first few diaries, after that came the journals of a young man in medical school. They were written in German, a language that I had been raised with, and spoke with a decent amount of fluency. A little more digging awarded me with an antique set of surgical tools that would fetch quite a chunk of change in the right circles and in another enclosing in the floorboards, the skeleton of an infant, it's white bones gleaming despite the poor light.
I felt a pang of grief at the site of the bones, and, without disturbing them, placed the floorboards gently over the frail body.
Gathering the diaries, surgical tools, and kitchen knife, I put the former two into a box and carried it downstairs, managing to stay out of Miriam's sight, I took the box out to my small apartment and opened them up and started reading. They were sick and twisted. A medical student gone horribly horribly wrong. But I sat there, riveted to the journals as I read about him killing prostitutes and cutting them open. And later on, after he started his own practice, the death of his wife and baby daughter, the same one, I feared, I had unearthed in the attic of Sister Miriam's home.
Stretching my cramped muscles, I went to my calendar. Miriam would be spending 6 weeks at the convent starting in a week and a half, and another few days after that I would be on winter break, which gave me more than sufficient time to clear out the attic and try to find what other horrors that house held.
The next week and a half went by far to busily, and I wound up having to leave a note with Barney saying that I had to miss my chat with Lecter that week, but that I would be by for twice the time the following week before bounding back out to my car and gunning off with my best friend Lotti, a vivacious bubbly red head that I had been best friends with since kindergarden.
"What's Lecter like?" She asked as we drove away from the hospital.
"Terribly intelligent, the image of politeness, shrewd, sees far too much and often reaches the correct conclusion with very little to go on. It's disarming if you don't expect it," I said as I pulled onto the backroads that would take us back to the house. "Sister doesn't know it's him I'm seeing him though, so don't tell her, she'd only worry."
"How far is the convent we're taking her too?" She asked as I sped up, flying over the back roads where houses were few and far between.
"It's about an hour and a half away," I replied, turning down the long drive.
When I parked, we climbed out and trudged through the snow to the main house. There Lotti and I hoisted Miriam's bags onto our shoulders and carried them out to the car. While Lotti climbed into the back seat, I went back to take Miriam's hand and walk with her gently out to the car.
We laughed and talked and sang songs all the way to the convent, and after dropping her off and spending some time with the other nuns and the Mother Abbess, we turned and headed for Baltimore. On the way back I told her about the journals, and the small corpse beneath the floorboards.
"What do you think it means?" She pondered as I drove down I-95 on our way home.
"That house is 150 years old, it was probably among the first tenants, someone who needed privacy for whatever it is. The journals are in German," I explained as I shifted gears.
"Well you speak German, you grew up with it, so it should be a synch," she replied.
"My German is more modern than this, it's an older style, besides, when you live with a silent nun your language skills tend to deteriorate. I'm wondering if I should show them to Lecter, he might be able to shed some light on things," I said.
"I dunno, it sounds like you've already let him into your head more than once, are you sure you want him to be snooping around in something so demonic?" She said. "He's not exactly the picture of mental hygiene."
"He says he prefers to eat the rude. As long as your courteous he's pretty cool, despite being mad he's totally sane," I replied as we sped down the high way. "Anyway, I'm seeing him friday after I drop off McMartin's paper, I promised him I'd visit for double the time since last week."
"Why do you visit him? What's the appeal?" Lotti asked, looked at me from concerned brown eyes.
I pulled over to the side of the road and looked at her. "Oh gods Lotti, I want him so bad. I find him so attractive, and I can't help but wonder if I'm losing my mind."
"So why do it?" She soothed, reaching out to brush my blonde curls out of my face.
"Because I'm hopeless," I said, and then laughed without humor.
"Be careful Dinah," she warned.
"The man lives in a glass box, I doubt we'll ever told each others fingertips let alone something far more erotic," I said, pulling back into traffic.
"Really? A glass box?" She said, surprised.
"Oh yes, he's quite the research subject. But he has the coolest orderly, Barney's getting a Christmas basket from me this year, right along with Lecter. And I have to make one up for Chilton, the moron that runs the hospital so he won't try to stop me from seeing Hannibal. Wanna help? I'm doing to tonight that way I can finish up my paper tomorrow and hand it in on Friday and then go straight to the hospital," I said as I pulled into the exit lane and then started making my way home.
"Sure, what're we making?" She asked, always game for something.
"Chocolate covered pretzels, almond biscotti, rugelach, and maple sugar snowflakes," I said.
"Oooh, I love those snowflakes, they melt on your tongue like nothing else," Lotti gushed.
"That's what she said," I grinned at her, and we broke up laughing.
Hours later, after we had finished baking and the snowflakes sat out on the hood of my car in the cold freezing into perfect crystals, we sat in Miriam's sitting room in our pajamas talking and laughing, Lotti looked towards the stairs.
"Show me," she urged. Climbing to our feet, we pulled on house slippers and I lead her upstairs and into Miriam's bedroom. Opening up her closet door I pushed aside the black dresses to reveal a ladder built into the wall. We had to climb up inside of it like an overdone chimney and then I pushed open the door and crawled through, holding it open for Lotti to follow. I went over to where I had found the boards and pried them back to reveal the stark little bones and she shivered.
"Apparently this guy killed hookers during his time in med school, then after he set up his practice, turned on his wife and daughter. I found the daughter, I was going to use Miriam's time at the convent to look for the wife," I explained.
"Any ideas?"
"Start in the basement, work my way up."
We stood there, staring down at the tiny perfectly preserved bones in a long overdue moment of silence for the potential this lost life had had before I gently set the floorboards down again, and we climbed down out of the attic.
Back in Miriam's room, we began going through the motions of getting ready for bed. I lit a small fire in the grate under the watchful gaze of a reproduction of Raphael's Madonna. Turning, I smiled back at the painting of the Virgin Mary before going into the bathroom to brush my teeth under the benevolent gaze of Christ himself while Lotti flossed.
We made our way into the enormous sleigh bed that Miriam let me sleep in when she was away, and we laid awake between the clean cool sheets, talking and laughing until we finally dozed off.
When I woke in the morning, Lotti was still asleep, and I went down stairs to begin packing away the baskets for my drop off tomorrow. When the three baskets were appropriately festooned with ribbons and bows, I packed them into the much larger basket I would use before wandering off to shower and dress before I drove ourselves to find a Christmas tree.
Lotti and I picked out a beauty. We were passing by the liqueur store on the way back to the car, and after strapping the pine to the roof of the Oldsmobile, I returned to by a small bottle of champagne for Lecter. And then a large bottle of sangria for myself. Then I took Lotti home, and returned back to my ancient house to set up the tree and decorate it. Then I pulled out my old USO nurses uniform and began pressing it for the following day, touching it up with the secretary heels in navy and cream, and a matching cloak and handbag. I fixed my hair in victory rolls while drinking a glass of sangria and crooning along to Sinatra.
I fell asleep on the Victorian settee, and woke up with just enough time to pull on my stockings, dress, shoes and cloak before grabbing my purse and basket. Storing them in the car, I ran up to my apartment where I pulled my paper off the table next to my typewriter and sprinted off to school, attempting to do my makeup while careening through central Baltimore.
By the time the day was done, and I was on my way to the hospital, I was already exhausted. When I parked the car, I climbed out into the chilly air, and clicked my way across the parking lot to the old institution. Carrying the basket on my hip with a great white cloth over it, I made my way up to Chilton's office, flirting and thanking him for letting me spend so much time with Lecter before making my way into the basement to talk with Barney for a little while. Then we went to check out Lecter's basket with the flouroscope.
My shoes announced my arrival, as I finally came clicking down Lecter's corridor, passing the other inmates.
"Good afternoon Dr. Lecter," I said with a broad smile.
"My my Nurse Cooper, you're a sight for sore eyes," he remarked, but I could sense more than see the desire in his eyes.
"Thought I'd bring you a little holiday cheer. There's champagne for you, Barney said I couldn't give it to you unsupervised because of the rules, but you can eat all the biscotti you can handle," I said, pushing the last of my baskets through in the drawer. "I made them myself."
"My my, you've been quite busy, haven't you?" He commented, going to retrieve the food I had brought.
"You have no idea," I commented.
"Is something the matter?" He asked.
"No, just tired from all of the preparations. Sister Miriam's at the convent now, so I'm all alone at home. It's no big deal, just been a bit nuts between finals and everything else, no worries," I said, not quite sure why I wasn't telling him about the body beneath my floorboards back home.
"I see, so tell me, what's going on in the world," he prompted. I told him about the opera I had gone to see with Miriam, and the scandal afterwards at the restaurant where we got dinner between one of the singers and her beau. We talked about the various books we were reading before he turned me towards something else.
"Tell me, what do you know about Buffalo Bill?" He asked.
"Just what they've said in the papers," I replied.
"Based on the information given what do you think he's about Dinah?"
"The women he's killed so far have been bigger girls, right?"
"That's right."
"Well, that's a pattern, which means he's either systematically killing these women to obtain a means to an end, or he's satisfying some fantasy in his head. Is he using these women sexually before or after death?"
"No."
"Well, I'm fresh out of guesses, why do you ask?"
"Just something a little birdie asked me about, I thought you might have an answer."
"Not a clue," I said with a smile.
"I've some bad news Dinah. It seems that I'm to be transferred to Memphis next week, that this will be our last meeting," he said pleasantly, and I felt a pang of loss. "Perhaps you could come and see me sometime."
"Perhaps I will," I said softly, already missing him in my bones.
When I left that afternoon, I stood next to my car for a long time, just staring straight ahead at nothing. When I climbed behind the steering wheel, my head came to rest against the wheel and I took one long shuddering breath, then another before tears began to slide down my cheeks. I drove home in silence, and then crept into Miriam's house and up into her bed. I stripped off my clothes, crawled between the sheets in my slip, and wept.
I moved like a ghost over the next week and a half, until I got a phone call late one night from Barney. I barely beat the machine to answering it.
"Hello?" I breathed into the phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"Hello, Dinah? It's Barney. Listen, Lecter escaped from Memphis, we don't know where he is or where he's going, but you be careful, alright?"
I was instantly awake. "What happened?"
He told me everything, the changes of clothes, the brutal murders and disfigurements of two Memphis policeman. The drawings, and the F.B.I. agent who had come to give him them. That she told him about the lambs. When we hung up, I stood there in my slip, standing in the kitchen and listening to the snow falling outside. It was another blizzard, moving in to blanket my little corner of the woods.
I went back to bed, and in the morning, when I awoke, I found that I was not alone. That the Doctor himself was sitting in Miriam's chair by the fireplace.
"Good morning Dinah, did you sleep well?" He asked pleasantly.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, sitting up, my modesty forgotten in the face of a madman.
"Now now, is that any way to treat an old friend? I found myself with some free time on my hands, and thought I would stop by for a visit," he said, almost coldly.
"I mean it Hannibal, why have you come here? What could I possibly have to give you?" I asked, groping for my bathrobe.
When I rose to put it on, he got up and came around the bed to me. Before I could tie the sash, he gripped my wrists in his hands. I looked up into his mulberry eyes, feeling naked and exposed.
"I came here, because no one can get here," he said, and when I tried to move away, he gripped my wrists even harder, causing my bones to creak in protest.
"Oh no," I moaned, wrenching myself free I ran from the room and down the stairs. Running into the living room I threw open the windows as inches of snow fell from the sky. The wind began to pick up lifting the fluffy snow into the air and running around the house. "Ooh no no no."
I backed away from the window as Lecter came down the stairs. Turning away from the window I smiled at him, desperately trying to show that I was okay as I pressed back into the dining room before opening the small storage space that had been used as a butlers pantry. I closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, using my weight to keep it shut. I wrapped my arms around my legs and pillowed my head on my knees, rocking in the darkness and singing softly to myself.
"Dinah, may I come in?" Came the soft metallic voice from the other side of the door.
"Please go away Hannibal," I said weakly into the darkness, not realizing that I was using his first name.
"Dinah, let me in," he pressed, pushing the door against my back.
"Please don't do this," I whispered as he managed to push me far enough away from the door to wedge himself inside before I pushed back against it, huddled in the darkness. With the two of us in the closet, it was a tight fit, and I could feel him trying to arrange himself comfortably on the floor next to me.
"How many hours have you spent in this closet?" He asked gently, taking care not to touch me despite the closed quarters.
"Far fewer than I've spent on the floor of my wardrobe in the apartment," I said into my knee caps.
I could practically hear the hamsters in his brain running on their wheels inside of Lecter's head as we sat there in the dark. I took a deep breath.
"I lied to you before. I'm sorry."
"What did you lie about?" His voice was carefully neutral and I suddenly wished that I could see his face, instead I just wrapped my arms tighter around my shins.
"When I was 13, I was on the debate team. And we had this meet over in Silver Springs. I dunno what happened, no one in my family could come get me. So my teacher said that he would take me home."
"Did he?"
"No. Heee pulled over on a backroad and he tried to touch me. Inappropriately. It had started snowing while we were in the meet and by that time it was piling up. So when he tried to. . . touch me. I got out of the car and started running. I don't know how long I was running before I was lost. Really, really lost."
"What did you do?"
"You mean besides cry? Because I did that, I walked and cried for about two miles before I came across this old wood shack. I don't know who built it, or why, but it was abandoned, and I crawled inside and slept on the floor under my coat. I didn't know that anything had happened to my family. I got water out of a small brook that ran in back of the shack. On the third day I tried to make a fire and wound up burning down the shack, and that's how the cops found me. That's when I found out what happened. At the time I was spending a lot of time at Sister Miriam's, just hanging out, helping out here and there. But I was put into foster care with some dead beat woman who took in kids for the money. That was in Boston. I got on the first bus I could afford and went back to Sister's. She took me in at that point, and I became protected by the convent. I've been here ever since."
"Living with a reclusive nun who took a vow of silence? That's an interesting choice of companions."
"Yeah, well, it was either this or take my vows, and I'm not really cut out for a life of poverty and celibacy," I said, laughing without humor.
"You've lived back here for years Dinah. You're not an 84 year old nun, you deserve to live out in the world."
"There is no world Hannibal, only butler pantries and windy nights."
"You called me Hannibal," he said, I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Is that a problem?" I asked tiredly, leaning my head back against the door with a gentle thump.
"No, just unexpected," he said after a moment.
"It's getting cramped in here, and I want leftovers," I said, climbing stiffly to my feet and opening the door. I left him sitting in the closet while I walked into the kitchen and pulled open the door on the old 1945 refrigerator. Lecter joined me a moment later, standing beside me while I kept my head firmly ensconced in the fridge while I picked at the chilled mac and cheese with a fork.
"Are you always so distracted?" He asked as I started loaded kindling and wood into the large stone wood stove that dominated the west wall. I lit the paper and kindling, encouraging the fire before putting the casserole dish in and closing the door. I pulled on sweats and a tank top out of the laundry basket on the bench by the door and pulled on my clothes while taking off my slip at the same time. Then I went to the fridge and pulled out the glass bottle of milk and two glasses from the cupboard.
"Being distracted is a way of life for me," I said, plunking down the glasses on the scrubbed wood table. "So how did you get here from Memphis?"
"I drove, but I can't tell you anything more than that," he said.
"Aren't you worried about being so close to the hospital and Chilton?" I asked, going to the wood stove and poking at the cheesy top before closing the door and returning to my seat.
"If you look out the window, you'll see that we're in no danger of being interrupted," he said. "And I did say that I would like to get to know you in real life."
"Well, here I am. There's nothing really special about me," I said.
"Oh I don't believe that," he said, getting up to retrieve the mac and cheese from the oven. He put it on the tile that sat on the table and went to get plates and forks before joining me.
I eyed him for a moment as he took a bite of my mac and cheese. I smiled and shook my head before taking my first bite.
"What?" He asked.
"Nothing, I just never pegged you as a mac and cheese kinda guy," I replied.
"There's more to me than meets the eye as well," he replied taking a sip of milk.
"I don't doubt that," I muttered and he shot me a look.
"So what do you do in these storms?" He asked and I started laughing.
"I hide in closets eating leftovers," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"No, what do you really do?" He asked.
"You mean when I'm not working on my 'Risky Business' impression? Wanna see?" I asked, wiping my mouth and rising, leaving my food half finished.
"Lead the way," he said, following suit.
I lead him on the same path through the house and up into the attic that I lead Lotti on scant days before. Up the ladder and into the attic. All the while I told him about the diaries and the surgical tools which were sitting in a box up high on a shelf in the butlers closet. When we reached the attic, I pried back the floorboards to show him the infant's bones.
"They look like they are over 100 years old," he said, studying them carefully.
"Well, this house was built 150 years ago, and this guy moved in with his family shortly after, so I'd wager this little girl is about that old," I said, studying him study the child.
"When did you find this?" He asked, turning to look back at me.
"About a week ago," I said, trying to avoid the inevitable.
"And it didn't occur to you to tell me about this last week?" He asked, pinning me with his gaze.
"I was a little more concerned that I was losing my friend," I said, smiling bitterly before turning to the ladder and leaving him standing alone over a child's bones that I had no idea what to do with. Standing in the kitchen, I felt myself being more and more trapped, so I did the only thing I could think of, I pulled on my boots and grabbed the shovel by the door as Lecter came down the stairs.
I shoved the door open and began shoveling snow out of the way despite the fact that we were buried under quite a bit of snow and it was still coming down strong. Halfway between the house and the garage I was dripping with sweat under my coat, so I peeled it off and dropped it inside the door before returning to the snow. Another hour and a half and I was standing on the stairs to my apartment. I climbed them, needing a few minutes to myself. I pushed into the frigid apartment and threw a few clothes and books and my toothbrush into a bag before falling face first into my beat up old sofa and indulged in a minor fit of hysterics.
I glanced out the window at the house, and saw no tell tale signs of anything from within. Taking a long look at myself in the mirror, I took in the bags under my eyes, and for a moment I let down the mask and allowed myself to feel hurt by the doctor. To feel cheated by the storm that took away my family. And to feel so alone out here in the woods, away from the world.
Walking over to the wardrobe, I glanced around and then pried up the bottom. I took out the bank book where I so diligently kept track of my purchases. I had enough to pay for the rest of school and little expenses along the way, a plane ticket to somewhere besides America, and enough money to keep me going for a few years after. Tucking my book back into the base of the wardrobe, I walked to the door, and with a deep breath, I stopped to look around my apartment for a long moment before clicking off the lights, and locking the door behind me.
I walked through the falling snow, and then dropping my bag inside the door, I traded it for my jacket. I could see Lecter's shoulder from where he sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and watching me carefully. But instead of moving deeper into the house, I stood in the doorway.
"I'm going to go for a walk, Dr. Lecter. You be here is making me deal with questions that I never really had to before, and right now I need to think about what all of that means. I'll be back in a little while," I said softly. "I want you here, but right now, I need to be alone, clear my head and think."
I slipped out into the snow, and climbed up the banks and into the woods. I walked for hours, clearing my head and moving through the chilly air going in to my hips in some places. I got a little stuck at one point, but I managed to fight my way out of the drifts, and made it back to the house shortly after dark to find Lecter making us dinner.
I sat quietly, watching him cook on the gas range, pan frying chicken and mushrooms, reducing the alcohol in the marsala sauce for dinner. I sat there, resting my head against the heel of my hand. To his credit, he didn't ask me what was wrong. He kept on cooking, humming tunelessly while I sat there in my sweats. Having sufficiently exhausted myself, I sat there, content to eat what he gave me. If my legs were short enough, I probably would have dangled them. Instead I sat with sprawled legs and an intense desire to see if I could airlift in a masseuse to rub my aching feet.
When the food was cooked, he placed the plate in front of me, and I stared at it a moment before I began eating. It was, by the far, the best chicken marsala I had ever had, even better than my own, and I said so.
"Thank you Dinah, that's very kind of you," he said cordially. We talked about inconsequential things for a while, until after dinner, then he cleared the plates and came sit across from me. "You're ready to talk."
Surprised, I realized that he was right.
"I've lived here since I was 13. Ten years. It's a good life, but isolating, I have few friends as a result. I was fortunate that Miriam was willing to take me in. I've grown, well, afraid to leave. My life is quiet, reliable. I know that I'm taken care of here, at least for the next few years. But I've lost so much, to leave is to risk losing everything."
"Risk is a part of life."
"I know that." I sighed deeply. "Ever since my family passed, I've had terrible anxiety attacks. Can't breath, can't think, can't move anxiety attacks. My world was shaken, and the idea of everything going wrong again just undoes me."
"Yes, but sitting life out here in the boondocks watching others live their lives isn't how you show your family how well you've survived Dinah. You're going to be graduating kid. What are you going to do? Run your practice out of a garage apartment?"
"No," I said softly, getting up and walking over to the sink. "I don't know what I'll do."
"You'll live Dinah," he said, coming up behind me. I turned, and placed my hands on his hips, gazing up into his distinctive eyes. Then, curious, I rose onto my toes, and kissed him. Leaning back, I could see him measuring the wilting flower in his arms and the USO nurse that had come to visit him a week ago, knowing that somewhere inside was that nurse. Then he returned the favor, and we leaned into each other, learning one another. And when we went to bed that night, we learned other things about each other. And when I woke the following morning, I discovered that he had vanished into the night.
My last semester at school finished faster than I ever would have thought possible, and in the spring at Easter, after I had dropped off Sister Miriam at the convent again, early on Easter Sunday morning, the Mother Abbess called to say that Sister had had a stroke in the middle of the night, and would not be returning. Grief stricken, I finished out my days at school, and in an almost manic state tore out of town after receiving my diploma.
The house had been closed up, and the keys mailed to the convent along with a few other personal effects Miriam had had, along with a long letter thanking her for everything, and mentioning the small corpse in her attic floor. I would late discover that the police would find many skeletons in the spring thaw, many of them more than a hundred years old. My Oldsmobile was packed full of clothes and books, and with my passport and my parents life insurance money tucked into my purse, I started driving to Argentina.
It took me 9 months to get there, but I made it, and bought a small house on the beach about 100 miles south of Buenos Aires. I started building a boat, and one night, in a fit of passion, I made love to an Australian surfer who had stayed with me for a year and a half teaching me how to make surf boards. When he got me pregnant I sent him home, knowing he would never be happy as a father. I raised the tannest, blondest little girl ever created. She had the most magnificent blue eyes, and I taught her all about the ocean.
Then, one day, about 8 years after I had arrived in Argentina and got my home set up, I was outside working on building a surf board that I had been commissioned to make when along my beach came a couple. An older man in an expensive Panama hat, and a youngish blonde woman a muscular body and a smattering of gun powder under her eye, in the place the French call courage.
My 6 year old daughter went running up to them, excited to show them the conch shell she had found in the surf.
"Josie! Josie, come here," I said, walking across to them, reaching to pull my sweet little daughter against my hip. I looked up into the man's eyes and froze. Slowly rising, I spoke to my daughter.
"Josie, you go on inside and play with your dolls," I said, focussed on the man.
"But Mommy!" She whined.
"Josie, you do what I say and go on inside," I repeated a little more firmly.
"Fiiine," she said, exasperated as she headed towards the house.
"You have a beautiful daughter Dinah," Lecter said.
"Thank you," I said, then looked at the woman. "You must be Clarice Starling."
"You know me?" She asked, she had an accent that I found sweet to my ears.
"I read about you back during the Buffalo Bill case. But that was a long time ago," I said, swiping my hair out of my face.
"Yes, a lot's changed," Lecter said, looking towards my small beach house where I lived year round.
"Would you like to come in for a drink?" I asked.
They looked at each other and then nodded. I turned towards the house, and lead them around back to the deck where a glass topped picnic table sat with chairs around it. Leaving them alone for a few minutes, I stepped into the cool recesses of the house and walked passed the kitchen to my daughters bedroom and leaned against the door jam.
"Josie, I have to talk with these people for a little while, and it's really important that you stay quiet and not disturb them. If you do what I say, then I'll take you out on the water tonight when the moons out, alright?" I asked.
"Mommy, does that man scare you?" She asked quietly from where she sat.
"No sweetie, but I don't know him very well anymore, so I want you to stay put and stay out of trouble, understand?"
"Yes Mommy."
"Thank you baby." I went into the kitchen and pulled the lemonade pitcher out of the fridge and glasses out of the cupboard. I walked back out to the patio where they sat in the cool shade. Pouring them glasses, I sat down with my own cup and smiled across the table at them.
"When did you have the girl?" Lecter asked.
"About 6 years ago," I said.
"Where is her father?" He queried politely.
"Back in Australia I'd wager," I replied with a soft smile. "He lived with me for a year and a half teaching me how to make surf boards. When I found out I was pregnant though, I sent him home. He wouldn't have been happy as a father."
"And you were happy as a mother?" He prompted, and I glanced at the woman.
"I am happy as a mother, I can't imagine life without Josie," I replied.
"Has Miriam met her?" He asked.
"No, Miriam had a stroke a few months after you left, and she was staying at the convent indefinitely. I didn't go to see her before I left, but I wrote a long letter, thanking her and apologizing," I said softly.
"Did you know I was here?" He asked after a long moment.
"No Hannibal. I came here because a very smart man once told me to take a risk and live my life. I do nothing with my degree, but I'm okay with that. And as long as you don't tell the convent where I am, I'll keep your secret. Just as I kept the secret of your previous location. I loved you dearly once. But now I have another love in my life, and I can't imagine anyone else now," I said, smiling.
We parted ways shortly afterwards, giving each other out word that we would never tell a soul we knew where the other one was. I watched him walk away with his confused wife at his side. I would never see Hannibal Lecter again after that, except in my dreams, when he would come to me, asking me about the tiny bones under the floorboards, the child who had grown up beneath my heart before she continued to grow inside of it.