Beverly walked with Will down to the small house. It was silent, but not the normal comfortable one that they shared, rather a tension block wedged between them. She needed to know more, but after that hour they shared that afternoon, it was clear that only superficial conversation was going to take place.
Will told her the bare basics while he changed into the spare clothes he kept at her house, however, there was one small detail that helped her to cling onto some sort of hope.
She heard the tale of Mr Hanson calling Mason out. Mr Verger was happy to defend his son until he heard that there was "physical" evidence of the son's crimes. Of course, Bev knew that this was a lie. Mr Hanson learnt to teach back in the eighties. The most advanced teaching equipment he chose to use was one of those projectors that sheets of paper would be swapped under, like a manual slideshow.
Principal Crawford ignored this eccentric activity from the teacher; after all, he had a pass rate of 90%, so why change what ain't broken?
"That was a risky bluff," Bev said as they left the house. "What if Verger called him out?"
"Hanson has been in the business for nearly 40 years. I suppose he has learnt to spot those he can fool?" Will shrugged. "He is not stupid, that is for sure."
They passed a garbage bin and he unceremoniously dumped his soiled clothes into the bin. Beverly made a mental note to take the trash out that night.
XXX
Will's hand shook as he turned the doorknob.
It is only for a minute. Just get the essentials and get out… not like I have much to take.
He tiptoed into the house, picking his way around the beer cans and greased chip packets. From the sound of the blaring radio, his father was home. Will swore under his breath. He was hoping that there was another hour drinking cheap beer at the docks.
The only way to his room was across the lounge, and unfortunately for Will, that was where his father lived. Most nights he passed out in front of the old blocky TV; the bedroom brought about too many bad memories.
Will poked his head around the wall. His father was nowhere to be seen. The emotion of this particular situation was similar to that of an arachnophobia losing sight of a spider: being able to see the perpetrator is more reassuring than not knowing where they are.
With a deep breath, Will slipped across the room and down the hallway.
Just the basics, just the basics. The quicker I get my stuff, the quicker I get out of there.
The fact that there was no sound except the radio made Will nervous. His father should have passed out on the couch with spilt beer on his already sweat-stained shirt. There was nothing more pathetic than watching a grown man melding with the chair in a gooey mess.
He shook the image out of his mind and continued to his room. His room with the door slightly ajar.
The only time that Will's door was open when he entered or exited. He was one for privacy especially when it concerned his father coming near it. It should have been locked. Will looked for signs of forced entry, but it stood unbroken.
He cautiously tapped the door, making it swing only an inch. Another tap, then another, until he looked into his room.
It was a complete mess. His draws were pulled out to the maximum, and with what little clothes he had were spilt on the ground. His mattress was torn to shreds; pillow filling spread across the room. The walls had holes in them as if someone punched it out of anger.
Out of anger.
Will dropped his bag. His father finally did it. He finally did the thing that Will knew was a long time coming.
Before his mother left, Will was given a golden lock, a family heirloom. His dad, in his younger, saner days, made Will promise to keep the locket hidden somewhere. He said it was to prevent thieves, but Will knew it was to keep his father from pawning it off. Either out of money or anger, that locket would soon disappear.
The locket was given to Bev when Will became close friends.
"I do not trust my father," he told her as he put it around her neck, "but I trust you to keep it until I need it."
Beverly, in fact, was wearing it around her neck at that moment.
It was a quick decision by Will to gather what was needed and leave his father and his old house. The worst part is, he did not even feel sorrowful about it.
XXX
Hannibal was in the process of chopping onions when he heard the bell ring.
With calm emotion, he untied his apron and washed his hands. The bell rang furiously like someone was hitting it with their fist. Hannibal suspected that his visitor was not Will Graham.
She stood in front of him, fists clenched, face red and hair a mess. Once Hannibal opened the door, she slapped him across the cheek. Hannibal barely reacted to the slap. He only flinched out of the momentum from the swing.
"Hello, Alana."
"'Hello Alana?' Is that seriously all you have to say to me! You arrogant bastard! I was the last to hear about your little escapade from school to follow Antler Boy. Fucking left me to do our presentation when I heard about you practically dumping me! Why? Huh?"
"It is none of your concern." Hannibal leant against the door frame. Not a single bit of remorse crossed his face.
"NONE OF MY CONCERN! These past few days you have abandoned me, your girlfriend, to chase after your side project! Ever since Ms Smith died, you have never acted more suspicious. God, you threw me aside like a used jockstrap. Was that all I was to you? A whore you used to get your kicks off?"
Hannibal remained silence. This was all Alana needed to prove her theory.
"Do you know what? Graham was right about you. You are up to something. You used me, and now you are using him for God knows what! Keep whatever crap of mine is inside there, if you have touched it, I do not want it. You probably poisoned it."
Alana slapped him on the other cheek before she turned on her heel and walked back down the driveway. She should have been surprised when she saw Will Graham and his friend walk up with a suitcase, but if anything over the past week taught her something, never trust the status quo.
She grabbed Will's arm as she passed him. Will flinched out of surprise more than anything.
"Listen to me, I believe you. Whatever he has planned for you will only bring pain. If you want some proof, find me some time." She gave him her home address before continuing out the gate.
"What the hell was that about?" Beverly asked.
Will shrugged. He didn't know if she said that because of the embarrassing break up, or because she truly believed him, but he knew that a little of the truth is revealing itself bit by bit.
XXX
"Please, tell me everything tomorrow," Beverly Katz whispered in his ear as she hugged him goodbye. Will left his house with barely a word out of his mouth. She could hear that circle closing in again. She knew that it was something to do with Mr Graham, but she didn't want to provide brick and mortar to the already thick walls. Some of Will's thoughts needed to be processed properly before he can verbalise them. Bev hoped that the words would be found the next day, especially after his morning session with the school councillor.
She kissed him on the cheek before following in Alana's footsteps back down the driveway. After all, there was a lot to do before the sun went down, such as examining torn pants.
Will stood awkwardly in front of Hannibal, his old sports bag clutched in both hands. Hannibal offered his hand out in indication that he would carry it to Will's new room.
"So, um, what was that with Alana?" Will asked as he entered the house.
"Some people do not take breaking up lightly," Hannibal said no more on the subject as he carried the bag up the stairs.
"You will be sleeping in the guest room. It is small, but it has a desk to work at and an en suite bathroom. It is also opposite my room, just in case."
Will realised his definition of 'small' and Hannibal's definition of 'small' were too different things.
The bed in this room was probably the size of his old room. It was certainly small than Hannibal's, yet it had enough space for a small fireplace, a large oak desk with a setup computer. The bathroom attached had a small, tall bath, like the ones used in Japan, with a large shower that took most of the room. On the side was toilet, a basin and another strange lower basin.
"It is a bidet," Hannibal read Will's mind. "I find it more cleansing than ordinary toilet paper. Anyway, I will allow you time to yourself. I am finished cooking in an hour, and there we will discuss everything."
He left the room and closed the door, with Will admiring the view out on the balcony.