Wheee! After a long and arduous battle with the computer, I have finally resolved most of the issues that have been occupying my time. Much happier and able to write again, and run more than two windows at a time. Very nice. So now that I've shared the status of my technology, off we go to rejoin Clarice and friends in Colorado!

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Sunlight pierced the small gap in the curtains and splashed across her closed eyelids, bringing her to roll over and shield her head with the lone sheet that was left on the bed with her. There was no pillow, that having been thrown at an illusionary intruder earlier in the morning. She had fought her way through nightmares all night, reliving the scenarios that had brought her to this position over and over again. There were intermissions of waking, sweat drenched and sheets twisted around her, sobs breaking from her throat as she sat in bed, only to slip back into a restless sleep once again. After a few moments of refusing to acknowledge the morn, she finally gave in as her bladder demanded relief. She didn't bother with the light as she crossed to the bathroom, knowing already that she must resemble Medusa. If pressed this earlier and in such a foul mood, she was sure she could turn a man to stone if he dared to look upon her. That caused a giggle, reminding her of her humanity. Twenty minutes later she emerged from the steamy bathroom, clutching a towel around her body and shivering as she pulled a pant suit form the closet. Another twenty minutes served to make her able to grasp the brink of looking human, as opposed to being a zombie, but it did nothing for her sodden mind. She met Clarice in the restaurant downstairs, and quickly drank the first cup of coffee straight black, hoping to jolt her system into consciousness.

Clarice sipped carefully at her own cup of the steaming brew. Much better than the coffee the other morning when they were at the latest murder scene. She watched the younger woman, nearly ten years her junior, drink most of the cup in one fell swoop. She had shadows under her eyes, not completely hidden by the makeup, and the slightly reddened eyes did nothing but accentuate the shadows. For the crisp appearance she was presenting to the world, perfect at a distance, but up close Clarice could see the cracks and blemishes that marred the surface. If she had though she had had a hard night of it, with dreams racing through her mind about the night on Chesapeake, it had been pleasant compared to what Lindsey had obviously experienced. She pondered it for a moment, and decided to go for it.

"Everything okay this morning, Lindsey?" the look she received over the top of the menu Lindsey had just lifted was pure murder. Either the girl wasn't a morning person or she had just trod into dangerous territory.

""I had a rough night last night, didn't get much sleep." the eyes cut down and away, back to the menu. If only she could find something that was guaranteed not to turn her stomach. Clarice opened her mouth to try again, but Lindsey caught her before a single word slipped out. "Let's leave it at that, Starling, if you don't mind."

Clarice shrugged lightly and smoothed her napkin over her lap as she perused her own menu. The only time Lindsey didn't seem ready to bite her head off was in the car on the way down here. One hell of an attitude, not unlike herself when she was younger. Thank god she had gotten over that. Breakfast was continued in silence, Lindsey not wanting to speak and Clarice not wanting to attempt any conversation, lest a fork become impaled between her eyes. It was going to be another long day if she remained in this mood, and Clarice was gearing herself up for the worst.

*****

The wind rippled over the marsh grasses and the cattails in the small pond by the parking lot trailhead to the trail where Sean Goshen had died. It is open to the public again, but people have become rather wary of being on the trail now. No matter that the killer only struck in a place once, like the lightning never strikes twice theory. A man whose face is shielded by a black ballcap walks along the trail, clothed in khaki slacks, sturdy shoes, and a black polo shirt. He pauses at the top of the hill, looking down at the still indented grass below where Goshen's body had been found. He had read the article in the paper, which had been fairly informative, yet lacked details. Details were what he needed. He slowly moved down the hill, looking at the indented place. Stabbed through the heart with a metal rod, not unlike his murder of Raspail. Raspail of the gluey flute. That brought back memories. Starling rose unbidden, the late discussion when he had told her the truth about Raspail. His comment about a straw in a doodlebug hole. Yes, a metal rod would have looked rather interesting in the moonlight, wiggling in that white light. A few minutes on that image, picturing it, but all he could see of the killer was a shadow form. He opened his eyes, taking in a deep breath of the warm air, nostrils flared.

He was at the top of the hill once more, and something compelled him to walk tot he next hilltop and not back tot he parking lot where the rented BMW sat, waiting. His instincts proved to be on the mark as he turned on the hilltop, taking in the panorama before him, he was rewarded with an extraordinary sight.

A lithe woman in a dark blue pant suit was making her way up the first hill, pausing there at the top just as he had, staring down at the indentation below. A few moments more, and the second woman, which made his breath hitch momentarily, came up the slope behind her, looking down with her partner. The obviously younger one headed down into the slight valley first, practically skipping down the incline. She stopped by the spot and knelt, looking from the ground, back up to her partner. There was a conversation, and despite his exceptional hearing, he could not make it out over the passing vehicles and the wind, which had shifted direction and carried their voices away from him. The trill of a cell phone was clearly audible, and his little Starling lifted a phone to her ear. A strong gust came up at that moment, and auburn hair was whipped around her face.

Her body language was marked with agitation as she turned back to the parking lot, abandoning her partner. The younger agent was brushing her knees off as she stood, moving back up the hill. He watched her, amazed at how similar she was to Clarice. Lindsey, his mind provided as he looked at her. Lindsey Singleton. She turned then and locked eyes with him. Agent Singleton glanced towards her partner then started up the hill. HE didn't move, just looked about as if he were admiring the view. She smiled at him as she reached the crest, brushing a few stray tendrils from her face. Her eyes were startling in their clarity and depth, lapis lazuli in color.

"Hello." she offered, looking down to the valley from her new vantage point. "Bit windy out here, isn't it?"

"That it is." best to play it out. He looked at her, head titling slightly as if he were trying to remember her from somewhere. "Do I know you?"

Her grin was only polite, "I don't think so."

"Oh. You look familiar. Oh wait, you were on the news the other night. One of the FBI agents on the Hannibal Lecter case." her reaction was exceptional. The eyes darkened and the jaw clenched slightly. Her tongue peeked between her lips for a moment, relaying her displeasure. So she didn't like the media. Something to keep in mind.

"Yes."

"And one of the murders happened here, didn't it? The biker, if I remember correctly."

"Yes." she looked down and then back at him. His voice was so strange, as if it wasn't in a constant state of use. For all outward appearances, she would assume that he was no more than an elderly gentleman out for a midday hike, nothing more harmful than that. Something buzzed slightly in the back of her mind but she brushed it aside. A sharp whistle drew her attention to where Clarice waved her down. A momentary glare, and she began to make her exit from the gentleman, but not before he spoke again.

"Is that your partner?"

"Yes. Sir, if you'll excuse me."

"I've never met an FBI agent before. It was quite an honor. I do hope you'll catch the guy." she smiled as she stepped away.

"So do we, sir. If you'll excuse me." and she was gone, trotting back down the hill, hair flashing in the sun.

"A pleasure to meet you, Special Agent Lindsey Singleton." he murmured as he watched her climb into an obviously modified Ford Crown Victoria. From the way the sedan sat, and the sound of the engine, it could quite possibly be a current or former police cruiser. Heavy duty suspension, reinforced body, super charged engine. Oh yes, something that would be able to handle abuse if it came to that. Something else to remember. He strolled back to his Beemer after the Crown Vic was out of sight, hands clasped behind his back. Clarice and the new one, this could prove fun.

*****

"Who was that up on the hill?" Clarice asked, raising her voice over the wind that roared in through Lin's open window. Lin fingered the button and the motor hummed as the window slid upward, she glanced over to Clarice as she slowed to a stop at the light.

"Huh?"

"The guy on the top of the hill, the one you were talking to. Who was he?"

"Some guy out for a hike. Elderly, slim, not exactly the tallest guy in the world. He was pleasant enough, and has obviously been keeping up in the coverage of the investigation, since he recognized me as a FBI agent he had seen on the news. Nothing unusual, really. Wished us luck on catching the guy." she let all the information out before the light changed again. The Crown Vic crept into the intersection as the turn arrow lit and she turned into the far lane. "His voice was a little odd, like he wasn't used to speaking. Slightly raspy, I suppose you could say."

Clarice nodded and chastised herself for the immediate thought that leapt into her head. Surely it had not been Lecter, lots of older men could have raspy voices and slim figures. But still, it was a possibility, and she wouldn't put it past him to come out and taunt them. Taunt her. "Hair color?"

Not even a second's pause as Lindsey supplied the answer. "Dark, greying in places. He wore a ballcap, so I couldn't see his hairline." a breath. "I suppose you want eye color as well."

"Did you see them?" Clarice was intent, trying not to stare at the other agent.

"Dark blue, like a summer storm cloud. Very intense. A thin face, nose a little large, nice cheekbones. Nice lips." she regretted the last two words, and mentally slapped herself for that one. Yeah, like I need to be looking at guys twice my age. Can't deal with the ones my age, don't need an older one. A small chuckle from Clarice proved that she wasn't the only one with thoughts for older men. The only difference was that she didn't go for the cannibalistic ones, unlike her partner. Little did she know whom she had just remarked on.

*****