As I thoroughly get distracted by the Monday Night Football theme. (I desperately need football season to start again. LOL Go Broncos! Woo hoo!!!) Ahem. Now that we REALLY know where my priorities lie. Perhaps I should put on some different music. Otherwise the poor GD is going to be finding himself up at the new Mile High. (Hmmm, now there's an idea, and it'd keep Emily from singing.) Anyhoo, since I'm just too easily amused this eve, I'll stop now and try to finish the chapter.

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It seemed to be the calm before the storm, as a week without a murder had the city in high suspense. Edgily, people moved about their lives, keeping one eye posted to the media for the sudden alert that he had struck again, and one eye focused on the shadows, in case they were to be his next victim. So far, even with the best on the case from Behavioral Sciences in Washington, there was no recognizable pattern to the murders. They had cross referenced them with the records of Lecter's past victims, hoping that perhaps the new and old victims shared an occupational tie. That came up dry, and it had Clarice shaking her head. Beyond the bodies themselves, there was no link between past and present. They were going to be nearing two weeks here in Colorado Springs soon, and the media was growing hungry. Tiredly, she almost wished that the killer would take out one of the annoying reporters.

So Clarice sits at the table in her hotel room, sipping a glass of Jack and Coke, feeling the alcohol burn slightly as it flowed down her throat. She knew that next door Lindsey was at the same dead ends. Their relationship was not blooming, and there were days for both women when it was a test not to scream at the other. Lindsey was concocting a profile for the UNSUB, since they had finally come tot he agreement the other night that it was indeed not Lecter. But, Lindsey had pointed out, one of the motives for the murders was to draw Lecter out here. That had caused the most recent argument between them. Clarice didn't believe the doctor would appear in Colorado Springs, knowing of the massive manhunt specifically for him in the area, just out of sheer curiosity. That statement had been met with another of the 'drop dead' looks from Lindsey, who seemed to have mastered the technique of cussing people out with her eyes. No, he would be careful, but he's going to show up here, and he'll bite the big one if the killer gets to him. Then it was Clarice's turn to be pissed. For this kid to tell her that Dr. Lecter himself would become a murder victim of his own copy cat was outrageous. A small part of her mind admitted that Lindsey might possibly have the right grasp on the situation, but still… No, she had to be wrong. Lecter was not going to show up in the Springs, walk right into her arms again. She had lost all trust in the relationship, or lack thereof, after her brash move at Chesapeake.

Another sip of her drink as she massaged the bridge of her nose. She had done a lot of stupid things in her life but that one had to top the list. All because she was obligated to her precious FBI. How many years would have to pass before the thought would stop zinging around her head? A glance at the luminescent green LCD display of the alarm clock indicated that she might like to get some sleep tonight. For all she knew, there could be a murder victim laying in a field right now.

*****

The house on the corner of Madison and Custer would not draw much attention if it did not look as if it had been transported straight from the prairie and onto the lot. The grass is brown from the drought, and it sits a hulking box in the middle of the abducted prairie. Lilacs once lined the east edge of the yard, but had been unkindly removed when the new owner had moved in, along with the pines in the back yard and the hedges that shrouded the porch. It is rather odd to have done away with these view blocking items when the house's occupant is rarely seen, spending his time inside, the windows shrouded by heavy drapes. The yard's perimeter is guarded by a chainlink fence. Come dear one, perhaps we can find our way inside.

The old screen door from the back porch is open slightly, allowing the faint breeze to enter in, along with the variety of nocturnal insects. A few moths cluster around the ceiling lamp in the kitchen, but they are of no consequence to us or him. From the kitchen into the living room now, then right, down the hall. The floors are bare hardwood, so watch your step, they tend to squeak. A light comes from the bedroom at the end of the hallway on the right, opposite the master bedroom. Look inside, dear one.

He sits alone in the middle of the bed, ignoring the photo plastered walls around him. So many pictures. His victims, we know, past and future ones, but they are not his concern right now. His dark eyes are focused on something in his hands, hovering just above the bed's surface. Two photographs, two women. They are remarkably similar in their appearances, one could possibly mistake them for sisters. One photograph is set aside so he can study the other in detail.

Light auburn hair pulled back in a single gold barrette, hanging around her shoulders. Deep blue eyes that draw you into them and refuse to let you escape. Light skin, with a slight spray of freckles across the nose, cheeks, and forehead. Nice high cheekbones. Average height, well toned body; she obviously tries to keep in shape. The bulge under her blazer revealing her sidearm, and her occupation. Her picture is exchanged for the other, which he offers the same inspection.

Darker hair, auburn bordering on brown, pulled into a ponytail that hung almost to the middle of her back. Her eyes are dark blue in color, piercing, very intense. Same coloring as the other woman, but without the freckles. Thin face, but shapely. She shares the same occupation and tell-tale bulge under the blazer as the other woman. He has met them once, and it was clear that there was no love lost between them. Partners because they had to be, not by their choice. She was older than the other woman too, nearing her forties he estimated, while the other was at least ten years her junior. that may be a contributing factor to the tension as well, if the younger one caught onto something the older one didn't. She would want to show the younger one up if that happened, to prove that she was right.

No matter. Their petty differences meant nothing to him. He only needed them to make a statement. The older one had known Dr. Lecter, and that was what was extremely important.

Quietly, dear one, let us take our leave for the evening. He rises from the bed and leaves the room suddenly, but do not worry, it is not due to our presence. As we slip from the backdoor once more, the cheerful banter of the late night news broadcast carries from the living room. Back through the simmering summer night, down the sidewalk to the constant song of the crickets. A man out for a late night walk with his dog slows as the dog growls at the house. The man tugs the lead to urge his companion along on their walk. It is highly unlikely he knows of the monster that dwells within those dark windows.

*****

It was nearly one am when the phone in Lindsey's room buzzed, startling her from her sleep. She rolled over slowly and looked at the red light on the phone that blinked in time with the rings. Was there some universal force trying to prevent her from getting a good night's sleep? Pulling her hand from beneath the sheets she reached for the phone, nimbly gripping the receiver. She was greeted by a dial tone as she lifted the receiver to her ear. Growling the phone was replaced and Lindsey rolled back over , readjusting the sheets around her. No sooner had she closed her eyes when the phone began to ring again. For the love of… Repeating the same motions as before, she took the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" her voice was groggy from sleep, and she swallowed, hoping that it would help. No dial tone this time, but there didn't seem to be anything else on the other end either. "Hello?"

"Is this Lindsey?" a man's voice. Low, and sounding too familiar for any real comfort.

"Who is this?" she was sitting up, alertness working its way into her system. Who would be calling her at this forsaken hour?

"It is Lindsey, then. Good."

Oh, now this was irritating. She tried to concentrate on the phone as her mind tried to place the voice. "Who is this and what do you want?"

A chuckle, low and staticky on the other end. "You know who I am, Lindsey. Let me ask you something. Have you ever thought of dying?"

"Son of a bitch!" she almost ripped the phone from the wall outlet as she jumped from the bed. How come this keeps happening to me?! Lindsey's mind screamed as she scrambled for her cell phone. Do I have a sign on my forehead or back or something that says 'I love serial killers'?! She had to snap her attention back to the phone because the man was speaking again.

"Have you? I'm sure you have, after what Jake did to you. How did it feel to have him come after you, Lindsey? Tied up on the bed with the yellow rope, raped like you were nothing more than a two cent whore? Wish I had been there to see that."

The cell phone was useless, she couldn't use it without abandoning the land line. Her gun was in her hands before she knew it, the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she thumbed off the safety, keeping the gun low in a two handed grip. She edged to the door, listening intently to it as the bastard spoke. The words wounded her, and she wanted to kill the guy right then and there. Too bad phone lines don't transfer bullets. "You fucking son of a bitch." she hissed through gritted teeth.

"I am, am I? Everyone is entitled to their opinion I suppose. You still haven't answered my question."

"Neither have you." she was looking out the peephole in the door, seeing nothing in the pastel colored hall.

"Well, I did ask first, but I'm sure you have. You know, I've never killed a woman before, Lindsey."

She froze right then, unable to move as here eyes cut to the wall that her room shared with Starling. What if? She moved quickly to the wall and pressed her other ear against it, listening. Thankfully the walls here weren't exactly soundproof, but there was silence in Starling's room. She backed away and griped the phone hard, turning her knuckles white against it.

"I'm really looking forward to it. Hope you are too." a pause, and Lindsey waited, not realizing that she was holding her breath. "See you soon." and he was gone. Silence boomed over the connection and the phone was gone from her ear before the dial tone had a chance to sound next. Keys, cell phone, and gun were all grabbed as she flew out into the hallway. A turn on her heel and she lunged at Starling's door, pounding hard on it. She waited anxiously, preparing herself for the worst. It seemed like hours before her partner opened the door, looking less than enthused about being roused from her bed.

"Singleton, do you realize what the hell time it is?" she muttered, before she clued into the look on Lin's face. She was instantly awake then, opening the door and stepping back. "What the fuck is going on?"

Lin stepped in, finally re-engaging the safety on her gun as she spoke. "Fucking bastard called me. It sure as hell ain't Lecter either." she was regaining feeling in her numbed brain now, and she took a deep breath, hoping to stave off the emotional response she knew that would come.

"What?! How did he find…?"

"Probably fairly easy. Call the front desk of a hotel, ask for so-and-so, either get told 'No, they aren't here' or get connected to their room. Not rocket science, Starling." she headed for the table and chairs, sitting and laying the gun and phone on the table.

"What did he say?"

"Bunch of shit. Asked me if I'd ever thought about dying. Told me that he'd never killed a woman before, but he was looking forward to it. Said he hoped I was looking forward to it too." she ran a hand back over her eyes, she must look like shit.

"God dammit, Lindsey. Have you called…"

"No, I've been off the phone for all of two minutes, Clarice. I was afraid that he had somehow gotten in here and had killed you. He's taunting us."

"But we know he's going after a woman soon, possibly next."

"Not just any woman, Starling. Not next either. Soon."

"Who then?"

Lindsey sighed, knowing that she would sound paranoid if she said it. She knew she was right, though. It would be one hell of a way to get Lecter's attention. "Me or you."

*****