Um, yeah, if we didn't figure it out from Lin's dream, this isn't going to be a flowers and rainbows type of story. Some gruesome stuff happening here folks. Standard gore warning, dear ones. I didn't know this was going to happen until five minutes ago. (Kinda frightening, I was a couple steps ahead of Lin and Clarice, but now I'm looking over their shoulders.) Anyhoo, that said, on to the chapter.

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Nothing is more public than an expression of a private feeling frozen for all time in a photograph.

-Robert U. Akeret

*****

It was in that one moment that Lindsey lost all rational thought. They had another victim on their hands, bringing the total to eight, and they were no closer to catching the killer. That was not what had caused Lindsey's mind to shut down, it was the victim herself. The first woman, found in a downtown city parking garage, laying with her blue and white keycard for entering the garage laying not four feet from her. They would find her prints all over the glass door that led to the bridge that linked the garage to the Plaza of the Rockies North Tower. At the moment she had come forward to look at the body, it had ceased to be a case, and had become personal. Almost to the point of Loren taking her off the case, sending her back to Denver and putting her into protective custody. The grief and pain that surfaced on her face as she looked at the body was captured by the lone news photographer that had been let up. That picture would appear in papers all over the state, and within the week, in national papers, including the tabloids.

The woman had been found by another employee from her company this morning as she headed for the bridge. She had called nine-one-one on her cell, and had thrown the police back into a tizzy. They knew from Lindsey's warning the other night that he would be gunning for a woman soon. Oddly enough, they almost discounted the murder since it didn't replicate any of Lecter's prior cases. Instead the woman had been raped with an umbrella, which was also found alongside the body. That in itself is disturbing even to the most jaded investigator on scene. More disturbing, especially to Lindsey, is the large headshot of her own face that is literally pinned to the victims face. The woman's hair color is almost the same shade as her own. He chose her because he fit the image he needed, the means to an end.

The image of the young woman on the cold, oily concrete of the parking garage was still forefront in Lindsey's mind when Clarice brought her the paper the next day. The morning and into late afternoon had been spent on the phone arguing, loudly at times, with SAC Loren. After finally ending the conversation with him, gaining his approval and assurance that she would remain on the case, she looked to the paper again. In that one moment, caught forever by the shutter of a camera, was her soul raw and exposed. She knew that the UNSUB probably had his hands on that photograph at that moment and was proud of what he had done to her. That thought sobered her enough for her it finally release the paper from her grip and make it to the bed, where her resurrected memories dogged her once again.

*****

The national attention to the case made both women into overnight celebrities once again. Clarice disliked being in the spotlight while Lindsey absolutely loathed it. She had come very close to punching one reporter, Vicky Forrest from the local ABC affiliate, and had been caught on tape. That incident earned them the nickname of being the FBI's 'Bad Girls', something that Lindsey had called them earlier in the case. Lindsey was a tad bit pleased with the coverage when it wasn't focused on her. She was sure that her point was about to be proved to be correct, and Lecter would appear in the Springs shortly. She was still arguing over that with Clarice, but it didn't matter. She was right. She just hoped that she would get to see herself proven so before the UNSUB came after them.

She scoffed at that as she looked through hotels' guest lists. So many people staying in this town, and this was only half of the hotels. Clarice had only pulled guest lists from the more upscale places, which had helped slightly, but still made for a miserable task. Clarice sat across from her at the small table, perusing her own half of the stack. Highlighters in hand, marking off any name that might be him. Clarice was doing this not because she believed it would prove fruitful, but so that she could prove Lindsey wrong. Something inside her was bitter about a young agent coming up and proving that she could find Lecter as well as Clarice. It wasn't quite right to be so protective of a sociopathic serial killer. It seemed rather stupid if she stopped to think about it, so she didn't.

Nothing on the pages jumped out at her, and she was working through everything she knew. Lindsey's highlighter squeaked across the paper again as she deposited another paper in the discard pile on the floor. Obviously she wasn't finding anything either. She sighed as she began to look over the list provided by the Embassy Suites, slowly scanning over the names, checking each one against any known alibis as she ran the ruler down the paper as a page guide. One name caught her name, even though for all intents and purposes it didn't fit what she was looking for. The cap of the highlighter was caught between her teeth as she grunted lightly and highlighted the name. Morricone, Petra. Something about it rang a bell, but not loudly enough, it didn't quite fit into the puzzle. She skipped on down the page, pausing once to rub her eyes and sip from the lukewarm can of Dr. Pepper that sat on the small open spot on the table.

Clarice was running down the list from the Broadmoor when she thought she had struck paydirt. Dr. Henry Leeds, she highlighted the name with a quick shot of the highlighter. Her face was a noticeable smirk, and even though it meant that Lindsey had been right, she had found him. HL, he just couldn't resist using his own initials, and Leeds, one of the families of the now long forgotten Red Dragon killer. The killer he had helped out, had turned onto Will Graham. She felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of poor Will, his head appearing in a box on her doorstep. He would be glad to see Lecter brought to justice for the final time. A part of Clarice didn't want to see Lecter caged again, didn't want to go through the motions of putting him there once again. Tough luck, it was her job.

"Find something?" Lindsey was studying her over the hand that held the Dr. Pepper can.

"Dr. Henry Leeds. I'd put money on it that it's him." Clarice grinned triumphantly, and Lindsey merely nodded.

"Great, we'll put the name on our list." she looked back down at her papers, scanning over the names once more.

Clarice couldn't resist. "Have you found anything?"

The highlighter had just comedown and marked another name as she heard the question. "Um, Petra Morricone, name rings a bell, but I don't remember why, and," she looked down at the paper again, reading the freshly highlighted name. "Dr. James Brussel."

Yeah, right, you've got nothing, crowed a part of Clarice's mind. She had always been competitive, but had usually squelched that behavior when working with others. Lindsey just seemed to bring it out in her. "James Brussel?"

"Hmmm. Yeah. A psychiatrist from New York in the late forties, early fifties." she had already gone back to her scanning, not explaining any more than that.

Clarice shook her head and took a look out the window. Night had come and the stars could just barely be seen through the light pollution of the interstate and the surrounding businesses. Another check of her watch gave her the incentive she needed to rise from her chair.

"I'm going to retire, Lin. Wake me if you need anything." the drawl was pronounced as she yawned and the younger woman nodded, not looking up. She was humming something vaguely familiar as Clarice took her leave. Lindsey looked up just as she reached the door, flashing a tired smile.

"Thanks for the help, Clarice. I really appreciate it." Clarice nodded and opened the door. Lindsey ignored the door as the electronic lock clicked as it closed again. Perhaps Clarice had the right idea, to head to bed. Besides, she could finish these in the morning, when her brain was no longer a sodden lump. Carefully, she placed the remaining lists in a neat stack and tidied up the pile on the floor. The light was extinguished and she looked across the parking lot at the hotel down the road. She didn't know someone was standing before their window doing the same thing, looking almost directly at her darkened window.

*****

Petra sat at the table in her small suite, fingers tapping quietly at the keyboard. She paid no mind to the older gentleman who stood before the window, gazing towards the Hampton Inn. His gaze was fixed on the third floor, and unknowingly, on the correct window. He saw the light go out in the window and he remained studying the building. He now knew where his Clarice and her partner were staying. An advantage, since they did not know where he was. Neither did Leigh, for that matter. he had left her with a generous amount of money for the rest of the week, and had covered the suite at the Broadmoor also through the end of the week.

It wasn't that he hadn't liked the woman, he truly had enjoyed her company and all she had to offer him, but things were getting interesting on the murder front. After what the killer had done with the woman and Clarice's partner, he had given the case his full attention. Whoever was committing these murders was going to receive his attentions, since that appeared to be what he wanted. As for the latest victim, the killer also proved that he knew something of Lindsey's past. Lindsey. The red tongue darted out between the lips. She was so much like his Clarice, but she was much freer in spirit. Everything he knew about her had been gained in the few moments they had stood unknowingly together on the top of the hill. Her name was pleasant on his lips, and he mouthed it to the night outside the window. The noise of a printer made him turn his head, looking at Petra.

"Everything I could find on her, Doctor." she reported, rubbing at her tired eyes. The glasses were supposed to help with the strain of staring at a computer monitor, but she had her doubts on that. She handed over the pages as they came off the printer. Neatly typed facts that she had drawn up from various online sources. Everything anyone had ever wanted to know about Lindsey Marie Singleton was there, and she also had a floppy copy of her report. After the print job was done, the computer was shut down and Petra leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. Dr. Lecter smiled at her as she yawned.

"You have been very helpful, Petra." He received a half voiced 'Your welcome,' as she yawned again. "I'll look these over in my room." she nodded and rose to escort him to the door. He shook his head at her. "I can find my own way out, Miss Morricone. You should get some sleep." she nodded tiredly and sat on the foot of the bed, watching as he exited the room. She was asleep by the time he reached his own suite two floors above her.

He sat in front of his own window, looking out towards the mountains that were little more than looming shadows in the night. He began to examine Petra's findings, eyeing the small picture from her high school yearbook at the top of the page.

"Tell me about yourself, Special Agent Singleton. I gather it must be something to know you in private life." he murmured as his eyes left the picture and he began to read. Dr. Lecter was not disappointed with what he learned.

*****