It had begun raining early that morning, before sunrise, and the low scudding clouds had obscured the sun's warming rays. The rain was a relief of sorts, slightly lowering the fire danger, and cooling the region. He stood on the banks of the small creek, which still barely held more than puddles. The raindrops splashed in these muddy puddles, spreading concentric ripples over the surface. The rain didn't bother him, as he held a dark green umbrella over his head. He looked down on his latest victim, watching the rain wash the rivulets of blood from the body into the puddles. The man's body seemed to have every conceivable injure inflicted upon him from head to toe. This one should prove disturbingly familiar to more than just Lecter himself. Anyone involved with the Lecter cases knew this one, it was the one that seemed to have made him all the more famous, with exception of the police murders in Memphis.

He turned on his heel and walked slowly away from the creek, listening to the rain as it fell through the towering pines that lined the Canon. The path was a bit slick from the rainwater so he took his journey down slow and cautious. No sense in falling over the falls and leaving his broken body for the police to find. He felt so good that the end of his game was drawing near, and soon the prized game would be in his hands. After all these years, after trying so hard to garner his attention, and failing. Well, now he would be able to get all the answers from him, since none of his letter had been answered. A few pieces of wet gravel were kicked over the rocky ledge just on the other side of the tall split rail fence that kept people on the path safe. Slowly, Helen Hunt Falls came into view, barely a trickle compared to the normal pulsing flow of snowmelt and rainwater that flowed over the polished boulders. He paused on the bridge in the rain, looking down over the Falls, taking in a deep breath of the cool air. Finishing the trek down was slightly trick on the old, worn stone steps.

He continued down along the road, since his car was parked down at the picnic area. The death of Richard Moore didn't bother him any, death rarely had any effect on him, seeing as he dealt with it all day. It brought a flush to his face as he walked, thinking about how Richard had pleaded through his duct tape. What power there was in death, what a thrill. Surely Dr. Lecter himself had felt no less when he had killed. And soon, he would know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that knife. That brought a smile to his lips as he reached the car, collapsing the umbrella and sliding into the front seat of the car. The engine started after a few moments of grinding. A broad grin lit his face as he let the car glide down the twisted mountain road, as he passed another car on its way up. Perfect timing, his latest victim would be found before sunset.

*****

Lindsey needed something to get her mind off Jacob, and everything related to him. She had left the stack of hotel lists on the table in her room and headed up to the mall. She was digging through the myriad CDs that were up for sale at Borders. She picked up random CDs, reading the labels and putting them back. She hesitated on one, looking at it, then slowly putting it back down on the shelf. Sighing, she looked for something else, moving down the aisles and looking through other selections. She was drawn back to the CD once again, but set it down. She just couldn't justify herself to buy the CD if only for a couple songs. She settled on an Eric Clapton CD, humming along with remembered song as she took it to the counter. She left the store oblivious to the man that had been watching.

He lifted the CD from its shelf, looking it over and running his fingers over the edge. The fingertips slid over the slick plastic wrap as he felt it, holding it, trying to draw something of her out of it. He was tempted to lift it to his nose, to see if any of her scent was on there. In the air around him it was fading rapidly, but he could still detect it. A small smile flitted over his lips as he took it to the counter. The cashier smiled pleasantly at him as she totaled the purchase and ran his credit card through the scanner. He smiled in return, issuing a quiet 'Thank you' as he stepped away from the counter with his purchase in hand. As he exited the store into the rain drenched parking lot, he saw her again, headed for the dark Crown Victoria, the Borders bag slipped over her wrist, a cup of coffee in the hand. She didn't seem to mind the random splashes of ran that fell on her face.

He watched her from the sidewalk, watched her as she slid into the driver seat of the car. The parking lot was nearly empty, being so close to the mall's closing time, and he had a clear view of her. He watched her until the she had pulled from the parking lot, then to the exit and out onto the road. He looked from her car to the CD which he had slid from the bag. He really did hope to know her in private life, if she survived the events that were sure to be forthcoming.

*****

Clarice lounged in the uncomfortable tub, surrounded by bubbles as she tried to relax. The day had brought another body to them, one that had struck chords with all involved, and only reinforced the Lecter-ish tone of the case. It had surfaced doubts that it was Lecter committing the murders and not someone else as she had looked down at the prone form in the creekbed. Wound Man. It was a blatant call for attention by the killer, either to prove that it was Lecter himself, on which she was still wavering as she lounged in the tub, or to get Lecter's attention and draw him out. If he drew him out it would be a boon to the FBI, herself especially, to have captured him twice, incarcerated him twice; and this time, he would not leave the prison walls. The FBI agent smiled at this, knowing her strength and incorruptibility. She had proven herself once before in the moment when it counted the most. She had turned a deaf ear to the arguments of her heart, that she loved the man and desperately wanted to be with him, and had focused on the correct intentions of her mind.

As she closed her eyes, that night came back to her. She wondered if he knew how close she had come to leaving with him that night, spending a life as a fugitive, hunted by her own kin, of sorts, from the FBI. So close, when she had seen the heat in his eyes, the way the fireplace made them reach into the depths of her soul. She had offered him solace in her breast, had offered to open her mind to be the home of his sister, and then dashed it all with the effortlessness of dropping a tea cup. She knew the significance of the tea cup, of the irreversibility of its gravity drawn path as it shattered on the ground. How time moved forward, but never backwards, never allowing the shattered mug to reassemble itself. He had tried to reverse time, and found that he was unable to, so he tried to resurrect his lost sister in her. And she had led him on, made it seem that she accepted such notions, and then committed the ultimate betrayal.

Her eyes squinch tightly as she remembers the metallic click as the cuff snapped around his wrist. The immense pain and betrayal that found sudden home in his eyes. The unspoken question of 'Why?' that trembled on his lips as she had offered what was a heartfelt apology.

"I'm sorry, Hannibal."

Sorry, and she had almost removed the cuffs, had almost succumbed to her heart's wishes, had almost kissed him as he was so securely bound to her. Fate had dashed her own heart to the floor, as the SWAT team burst in. She absently rubbed her wrist as she remembered the pain from when he was forced to the floor, then the handcuffed being removed from her wrist by a black gloved hand, while she did nothing more than watch. That was all she had done since that moment. Through the trial, avoiding his gaze as she had taken the stand to testify against him. Had avoided those eyes when he was sentenced once again. All with the same question on his lips: why? Strangely, he had succeeded in giving her what he had promised at their first meeting, but she wasn't quite sure she wanted her advancement anymore. She sighed heavily and opened her eyes. Time had passed her by without notice as she had lain in thought. The bubbles in the tub were gone now and the water tepid. She drained the tub and toweled herself off, retiring to bed and losing herself to the innumerable replay of the night on Chesapeake, and the bitter taste that resided in the back of her mouth as she thought about betraying Hannibal once again.

*****

Lindsey had stayed out later than she had needed to, after buying the CD and coffee at Borders. She had taken the Crown Vic on a leisurely drive through the city, finally finding herself in Garden of the Gods. The red sandstone rocks towered over her in the parking lot as she stood outside the car, resting against the right front fender, looking up at the clouded sky. She thought about the body they had found that day, how Clarice had suddenly looked as if she once more believed Lecter was the killer. No, their killer had medical knowledge, had a fantasy of meeting Lecter, perhaps being Lecter. Damned voodoo, that's what you do. She laughed as she suddenly remembered her sisters comment on profiling. Damned voodoo. She grinned and shivered, feeling a moths wings brush against her forehead. It was growing too cold, too wet for any real comfort. She slid back into the drivers seat and took the Crown Vic back to the hotel.

She felt heavy and tired as she rode the elevator back up to her floor, then slowly made her way down the hall. She stopped before the door marked with a plate reading '328' and withdrew her keycard from the purse. As she looked down she saw the white paper package that leaned against the door. Wonderingly she picked it up, reading the fine script that spelt out her name in the center of the envelope. She shrugged and inserted the card into the reader in the door and turned the handle as she pulled the card out. Something tickled at the back of her mind as she dropped her purse on the dresser once inside the room, taking the package to the bed with her. Seated cross-legged, Lindsey pulled at the flap on the envelope, feeling the heavy weight of the paper. Fine, smooth, linen weave perhaps. A single sheet is withdrawn, and she reads the same script on it, wondering.

Special Agent Lindsey Singleton,

Perhaps this will help you pass the time as you work on the case. I do hope you will catch him soon.

Sincerely Yours,

H

The next morning she decided that it was due to her tired mind that she didn't find it odd to be receiving packages from unknown persons. It had to be the man on the hill from the other day, seeing as he had said something similar then. Nimble fingers pulled at the white paper, and she let out a small gasp as she saw the contents. The CD she had set back down in the store, she turned it over, looking at it as if it would disappear if she blinked. She tested her theory, closing her eyes and opening them again, it was still there. She tugged at the plastic wrap of the CD, finally tearing it and disposing of it in the trash can. She put it in the portable CD player that sat on the table next to the bed before going to change into her pajamas. She came back, and hit play on the little player as she slipped into bed. She drifted off to sleep with images of the man on the hill and the wonderful voice of Frank Sinatra in her brain. Little did she know who she was dreaming of.

*****