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Clarice closed the front door and leaned heavily against it. The silence was heavy, and she looked around for any sign of Hannibal inside the townhouse. She didn't know how long both agents had been standing by the front door, but it left the perfect opportunity for an intruder through the back.
Her feet carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Sure enough, Hannibal was there, crouched down and digging through her closet. "What are you doing here? Hannibal, it isn't safe. The agents are right outside."
"Where's the phone I gave you?" Hannibal asked, holding up the box with John's belongings. The phone wasn't in there. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all night. Where's the phone, Clarice? I told you to keep it on you." He glanced behind her quickly. "Where's Bella?"
"She just left to study with a friend at her house. The phone is charging downstairs. Bella and I were watching movies, and I forgot to bring it back up. It was hidden." Clarice explained before sitting him down on her bed. "I'm here. Tell me what's going on. What happened at Will's?" She sat down beside him and moved to stroke his back, but he was quick to get back on his feet.
He paced the length of her bedroom. "I have a feeling, and I'm still connecting all the dots on this theory, that Will Graham is the Beer Can Killer."
He continued before Clarice could even form a question. "The blood in his apartment, it's not his. I don't know who's it is, but it's too dull, for lack of a better word, to be his. He also had a hidden space behind his closet. Clarice, there were pictures of you and Bella dating back years. Photographs of the victims and files for each of them. A computer was set up too, playing footage from your street cameras."
"Shit." Clarice breathed. Her eyes paced the floor, tracking back the evidence that they had gathered. "He would be smart enough to know the meaning of Bellona too. The poster with the blood on it. But, how could he possibly know that Bella is yours? How could he know that we've been together? It's been speculated in the FBI for years as a joke, but no one was ever truly serious about it."
Hannibal ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I'm not entirely sure on that either. I mean the math from your birth of Bella backwards would lead to questions, but there's no concrete evidence other than her DNA. You've only met Will the one time at Jack Crawford's funeral."
Clarice nodded. "I wasn't even pregnant then." She stood and reached for her dresser, quickly pulling out clothes to change into. "He's still close to his wife, right?"
"She's his world, so is their son." Hannibal stated.
"I have her number. I will peak at her phone records since Will's disappearance. His phone was left in his apartment. I don't think he'd disappear without finding someway to get ahold of Molly and let her know he's okay." Clarice explained as she stripped down. "If I can find a repeating number to a burner cell, that should lead us to where Will is." She pulled up her jeans as Hannibal rolled up her shirt, holding it up for her to stick her head and arms through. "You cut him across the stomach right, almost gutted him."
Hannibal nodded as if agreeing to some deep psychological notion that had been perplexing hundreds for years. "I did, almost disemboweled him. Why do you ask?"
Clarice straightened out the shirt and moved to the stairs with Hannibal right on her heels. "That would explain why he's carving up half his victims that way." She was careful not to make any loud noises at the bottom of the stairs before walking into the living room. "Think about it. How would Will know that Bella is yours?"
"Clarice, I didn't even know she existed until a few weeks ago." Hannibal stated, watching her retrieve the burner phone from behind a jar containing spices. "Unless he was watching you, I don't know how he would know. If he had gotten proof that Bella was mine, I'm sure he would've handed the evidence over to have you arrested and Bella shipped off to live with a foster family."
Clarice ran a hand through her hair nervously. "Okay, maybe he doesn't have proof. He's known for his weirdly accurate hunches. The people who thought I was in love with you back when we first met in your dungeon started calling Bella 'Hannibal's Little Cannibal' when I was pregnant. If he did the math with that-"
Hannibal finished her sentence. "He'd have a theory with no proof to back it up. The bad joke about the name would just get him laughed out of any office he went into. Why would he start all of this now though? He couldn't have just found out about this. He wouldn't start all of this over a theory. He would need something to push it that much closer to me for him to start killing in psychological warfare."
Clarice slipped both phones into her pockets. "I guess we'll have to ask him when we track him down."
Opening her front door, Clarice timed the agent turning to see her come out with Hannibal's truck driving by her front door. She clipped her badge to her hip, tucking her shirt behind it, and twirled her car keys on her finger once before gripping them tightly in a fist. "I'd assume you're following."
"I'd prefer we just take the government car. I can drive." The agent stated before casting a sideways glance at her car. "Our killer most likely knows what your car is, and it's not something everyone has. You'd be a moving target."
Clarice smirked and walked past him anyway. "You have me under house surveillance already. You aren't taking away my right to drive myself to work and back." She walked around the car and opened the driver's door. "I presume that you've already inspected the car."
"Yes, Agent Starling."
"Good, then there shouldn't be a problem." Clarice smiled. She could see the frustration mounting on the young man's face, and she had to suppress a chuckle. The last time she had been under an extensive observation was before Bella was born, and she let those agents rule her habits until she finally snapped. This agent, probably the same age as her when she was under fire from Krendler, wasn't going to be dictating her decisions. "Let's get going. We don't have all day."
The walk to her office was like an early morning walk of shame. Looks of pity and curiosity about the case and about Chet were circling around her, and it showed with each agent she passed. The agent watching her, trusting the FBI building enough, decided he would do some work in his office if she was going to take a while. She didn't argue with him. As much as he probably wanted to get away from her, the feeling was mutual on her end as well.
She closed her door and quickly booted up her computer. Gathering her copy of the case notes, she found Molly's number and bypassed her supervisor approval to comb through Molly's recent activity.
Sure enough, a blocked number showed up on her list multiple times in the past few days. Jotting down the number, she grabbed her own burner cell and dialed Hannibal's number. She glanced out towards the maze of cubicles. Some agents stood chatting and drinking coffee while others rushed by with stacks of files or faxes. Both types classified still took their own chance to stare in at her in her FBI cage. Like a lion in its enclosure, she felt trapped and very exposed to their judgmental gazes. Either she was a victim or tied to some crime that would explain Chet's disappearance. Every other day, these agents would avoid looking at her or speaking with her just because of her history with the bureau, but it seemed that phase was over. She'd slid back down the ladder to swirling rumors about love affairs and crime sprees.
Only in this case, their rumors probably wouldn't be far off from the truth. This time, it felt like the spotlight was hot on her face, and she hoped that she wasn't blushing her involvement behind all of it.
"Hello, Clarice. What did you find?" Hannibal's voice rang in her ear.
"An unknown number has been calling Molly's phone. I'm searching it right now." Her fingers drummed on the number keypad before her middle finger stabbed the enter key. After a few rounds of her computer informing her it was searching, she nearly froze when she saw the location of the phone. "Hannibal, where are you?"
Hannibal quickly glanced around. "I'm in a parking ramp a couple blocks away."
Clarice cleared her search history and stood back up. "I'm coming to meet you."
"What's wrong?" Hannibal questioned, his search more thorough. "You are being watched by that precious young FBI agent. The sparkle in his eyes reminds me of when we first met. Wouldn't he damper our plans if you were to come meet me?"
Clarice hopped onto the elevator, relieved it was empty as the doors closed. "That phone is outside Winnie's house. That's where Bella is."
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