The single light in the room reflected Dr. Lecter's eyes in red points. He
had been alternately checking her for signs of wakefulness and reading
Marcus Aurelius. She had begun to stir a few minutes ago, and so Dr.
Lecter was glancing up from his book more frequently. He was not surprised
when her eyes fluttered open. She looked around the room silently for a
moment or two, bewilderment and fear mixing on her face.
"Good morning, Erin," Dr. Lecter said. "How are you feeling?"
"Dr. Lawson?" That was, of course, the only name she knew him by. "Where am I?" she asked. Her eyes locked on his as if first noting his presence. She blinked, shook her head and tried to sit up.
"My house," Dr. Lecter said truthfully.
"Why? Why can't I get up? How long have I been here? What time is it? What day is it?" A high note of hysteria jumped into her voice. Dr. Lecter pursed his lips distastefully.
"You've been here for a day or so. It's October 4th, and it's 10 AM. Please, rest. You've just had major surgery."
"Surgery?!" She sat up harder. The motion was snubbed short by the straps on her arms. "I have to go," she said wildly. "My God, I have class, I was supposed to be at the center last night."
Dr. Lecter chuckled and rose from his chair. He strode over to her bed. "You're not going anywhere, Erin," he said. "Not for a while. Are you in discomfort? I can give you a painkiller if you like."
"I have class," she repeated, staring walleyed at him.
"You'll have to miss it," he said . "I'm sure they'll understand. You'll be out for about a week. No problem, happens all the time."
"A week! "
"Yes," he said. "Now, please relax. You'll stay here with me. I'll take care of you."
"I need to go," she repeated.
"Well, you're not."
"I need to call Angela then. She's my roommate. I have to tell her where I am."
Dr. Lecter paused. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, either."
Her eyebrow raised quizzically at him. "Dr. Lawson, just because I'm in the hospital doesn't mean you can tell me I can't use the phone."
"I guess you didn't hear me," he said calmly. "You're not in a hospital. You're in my home."
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. He watched her attempt to process the situation.
"How did I get here?" she asked cautiously.
"I brought you here," he said promptly. "I apologize for the ether, but it was necessary."
Her jaw dropped at that. "You used ether on me?"
He nodded. "Yes, once you'd closed up the espresso bar. I am sorry, and it was necessary to get you here."
For several long moments, she said nothing. Her eyes flicked to him, down to the bed she was in, then around the room. She shifted her arms, noting that while she could move her lower arms, she was still pinioned in the bed. Then something appeared to click in her mind; her face calmed and she pondered. Dr. Lecter could almost hear the snap of synapses. She raised her arms and showed him open palms. When she spoke again, her tone was placatory and reasonable, as if he was the hysterical one.
"Dr. Lawson," she said in a shaky tone, "you have to let me go. Now I promise that I will come back, and I will spend time with you and talk to you as much as you like, but you have to let me go. I…I have to have dialysis. My kidneys don't work. I was supposed to have it last night, but…" she trailed off. "If you try to keep me here, I'll die in a few days. Now I promise I won't press charges, and I promise I'll come back, but you'll kill me if you keep me here."
It was not the first time someone had pleaded with Dr. Lecter for release, nor promised him amnesty. He simply smiled and shook his head.
"You're certainly in no condition to leave. Don't worry, though. You won't die and you don't need dialysis," he said.
"Yes I do. I'm not making this up, Dr. Lawson. I have a Medic Alert bracelet." She glanced down at her bare wrist. She stared down at it for a few beats, then back up to him. "Okay, I guess you took it. Call the number, they'll tell you." Her voice began to pick up notes of panic. "If you try to keep me here," her voice began to thicken with fear and tears, "I'll go into a coma in about a day or so, and then I'll…," It took her two tries to get the last word out. "I'll die."
"But Erin," Dr. Lecter said calmly, "surely you feel the discomfort in your back, do you not? You have two fully functioning kidneys now, not one but two."
She glanced down, obviously concentrating on her back. "You can't do that," she said dully.
"Yes, you can," Dr. Lecter said. "I know it's a lot to take in, but hear me out."
She looked wordlessly at him.
"You want to be a doctor yourself, I presume you don't get ill easily. Can you feel the catheter in your urethra?"
"That won't do anything," she said. "I told you, I have kidney failure."
"Hear me out, I asked."
She closed her mouth and lowered her head. Dr. Lecter noted a tear beginning to form in one eye. Doubtlessly she thought he was a lunatic who had kidnapped her for some sexual purpose and she would die trying to convince him that she was sick.
"Would you like to see the catheter, or can you feel it?"
"I can feel it," she said stubbornly.
"Good. Can you feel the tube against your leg? It exits from a hole in your pajamas. Do you see the tube on the side of the bed there?"
"Yes," she said, her tone exasperated.
Dr. Lecter reached down and grabbed the plastic bag that the tube was attached to. It was half-filled with urine. He held it up wordlessly in front of her and hung it back on its hook.
"Now do you believe?"
"You can't just do a kidney transplant in a house," she said. "Look, maybe you think you did a kidney transplant on me, but you need surgeons and a transplant hospital and a donor."
"You don't need surgeons, and you don't need a hospital," Dr. Lecter rejoined. "That is simply how it is typically done. I did it. There are incisions in your back and your bladder is obviously in good working order. How much more proof do you need?"
She was starting to believe now, in spite of herself. The poor girl. All that time she had doubtlessly believed that it was her fate to wait until her lucky number came up. Now it had, although the way it had happened defied belief.
"But…where did you get it?"
"Them," he stressed. "There are two. And never mind that; UNOS would not have told you and neither shall I."
She blinked at him, shock, disbelief, and slow belief carrying on a shadow montage on her face.
"I'll show you the incisions, if you like. But you will need to stand up, so first you must promise me that you won't try to flee or overpower me. You're too weak and you can't possibly succeed, so don't try."
She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.
"Well?"
"All right, all right," she said. "I promise."
"Smart girl." He came forward and produced the key to the cuffs. He unlocked each in turn, sliding them out from under her sleeves and discarding them under the bed like the distasteful detail they were. He lifted the catheter bag in one hand, another distasteful detail that, unfortunately, could not be so easily discarded.
"Now put your feet on the ground," he directed. She complied. He put an arm around her hips, mindful of the incision, and put her arm around his neck with the other. Shakily, she stood.
"Excellent."
He walked her over to the door, where there were mirrors mounted on opposite walls.
"Face me, and put your arms around my neck. You may fall. Put your head over my shoulder and look in the mirror."
She did. Carefully, Dr. Lecter raised the back of her pajama jacket. The incisions were covered over with gauze and tape. There was blood visible on one of them, and he decided the dressing could be changed.
"I have to change those dressings," he said. He grabbed the chair on which he had been sitting with his foot and pulled it over.
"Sit on that, please. Backwards, like a cowboy."
She sat. Dr. Lecter saw a shadow pass over her face. She stared into the mirror intently, her eyes locked on the reflection of the two dressings on her back.
"I'll give you some Vicodin," he said soothingly as he raised the jacket higher and tucked the hem into her collar. Very gently, he removed the tape holding the dressings onto her skin. He heard her gasp as he removed the bandages, exposing the curved incisions held together by Steri- Strips.
"My God," she said, turning her head around to look at him. "What did you do to me?"
"I told you," he said, smiling pleasantly. "Gave you new kidneys."
She tensed then. Dr. Lecter had held many captives before, and knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes shifted to the door, then back to him in the mirror. She was calculating the distance to the door and trying to figure if she could reach the door before him. He could tell from the tensing in her shoulders and thighs. She would try to get the chair in between her and him, so that he might stumble on it and buy her a few more seconds.
Predictable, really, but Dr. Lecter preferred the ones who would fight. Those who simply accepted their fates were more boring. Still, it wasn't time.
He straightened up and put a hand on her shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, but not without tones of control.
"Don't," he said politely.
She stiffened under his touch; all the proof he needed. "Don't what?" she asked guardedly.
"Try to flee," he clarified. "I know you were thinking of it; I can see it in your eyes."
She glanced down at the floor and her shoulders slumped. He was satisfied; he would be able to replace the dressings now. She would be too busy trying to figure out how he had known and if she could talk her way out of it.
Silently, Dr. Lecter replaced the dressings. The incisions had wept a little, but that was to be expected and it wasn't too bad. Two new sterile pads, a bit of surgical tape, and it was done. When it was done, he walked to the table, where a small vial of Vicodin and a crystal pitcher of spring water stood sentinel. As he went, he kept an eye on her in the mirror. He doubted she would try anew, but one never knew. People did strange things under stress.
He shook out two of them, pouring a paper cup of water to go with it. He held out the cup in one hand, white oval-shaped pills lying in his other palm. She made no move to take either, simply stared at his palm, then back up to his eyes. Her arms remained crossed and holding the back of the chair.
"Those are Vicodin, I assure you," Dr. Lecter said calmly. "If you like, I can let you look them up in Physician's Desk Reference."
She ignored the offer. "Dr. Lawson?" she asked. Her tone was quite serious, but not afraid. Dr. Lecter liked that.
"Yes?"
"Are you going to kill me?"
So flat. So unemotional. As if she was back in the coffee bar and asking if he wanted espresso or a cappucino today. Her eyes did not waver off his. And yet he could see her knees trembling. Still, that was good. Most of Dr. Lecter's victims had cried pitifully at the end, as if dignity meant nothing to them at all.
"Erin," he said, a note of pique entering his voice, "you have been unconscious in this house alone with me for almost an entire day. I have had ample opportunity to kill you twenty times over. I have not. Instead, I have given you the gift of life. I shall have to ask that you show some due consideration."
"Thank you for that," she said to mollify him. "Are you going to let me go, once…,well, once you're done with me?"
"Yes, once you have recovered sufficiently to resume classes, and I have had the chance to do some things I want to do," Dr. Lecter rejoined. "Now take the pills, please. They're simply Vicodin, and the dose is perfectly standard."
She still did not move to take the pills he offered. For a moment he was tempted to let her go without, and see if she would be more tractable after a few hours of incisional pain. But he pushed that away. She was his charge, after all, and he couldn't ignore his duties merely because she was distrustful of him.
"I'll take one, if it'll make you feel more secure," he offered.
She shook her head once, and then took them from his hand suddenly. The brush of her fingers against his reminded him of a cat's paw taking a proffered treat from its owner. Fitting, he thought. One could not really own a cat, and he did not think one could really own Erin. She took the cup from him and drank.
"Good. Now you really ought to get into bed," he said. "You need to rest."
"Can I make a phone call?" she asked guardedly.
Dr. Lecter shook his head. "I'm afraid not. For the time being, you'll need to be incognito."
"A captive." Her voice was flat.
"Nonsense. A patient."
She didn't reply, but her disbelief was clearly reflected in her eyes.
"Now rest," he said, lifting the bag to escort her back to her bed.
She went along willingly enough, but Dr. Lecter supposed she would be taking stock of the situation once he was gone. He could tell by the way her eyes flicked around the room, noting the window, which he had already nailed shut, the door, the mirrors on the walls.
He had a means to deal with some of that, though. After settling her in bed and warning her to leave the catheter alone, he pushed a low bookcase from against the wall to where she could reach it.
"I obtained copies of your medical textbooks, so that you'd have something to read," he said, indicating them.
"Thank you," she said emotionlessly, her eyes flicking over him.
"And please don't try to wander, Erin."
"I won't," she promised dutifully, although Dr. Lecter knew she would at least try.
"I'll leave you for a bit," he said. "Stay in bed, if you please."
Dr. Lecter left the room, closing the door behind him. He didn't bother locking it. She had nowhere to go, after all. He returned to his study, where he began to draw out several needles.
He had hoped – foolishly – that she might be tractable enough for it not to require this. Still, the girl was quick, and he could not blame her for believing she was in danger. After all, he was supposedly insane.
He padded into his study, where a television sat incongruously on his desk. He had installed a hidden camera in a cavity of the wall in her room. Sitting down on the comfortable padded chair, he turned on the TV. A black and white image of her room appeared on the screen. She was out of bed, holding the bag in one hand.
He grinned. Typical. She did not approach the door, believing it would be locked or alarmed. But she did try the window and entered the small bathroom. She moved a few of the pictures framed on the wall, but simply glanced up curiously at the mirror it was hidden behind. Dr. Lecter had foreseen that she might try to investigate it and had placed it high on the wall where she could not reach.
After inventorying the contents of the room, she returned to the bed, hanging up the bag on the side. She took out a big, heavy book from the bookcase and settled in with it. Dr. Lecter decided to give her a bit of time, in case she was thinking of using the book as a bludgeon. He walked out onto the back deck, where Erin would be able to see him from her window, if so she chose. The back yard was fenced in, and in the corner of the yard was a small gardening shed. Dr. Lecter walked to the shed and opened the door. Inside were the typical lawn and gardening supplies a homeowner might need: a lawnmower, some grass seed, a shovel, a rake, a garden hose, and several such things. The body of the donor was buried in a shallow grave in the dirt floor of the shed.
He returned to the house and sat down behind his desk. Checking the monitor, he discovered she was still in bed reading. He could tell from her body language that she was still nervous – terrified might be a better word, he thought. She flinched at any sound. It was time to end this, he thought. He collected a syringe and walked towards her room.
When he entered, she dropped the book immediately and recoiled. He supposed her travels around the room had tired her out. Her eyes locked fearfully on him the minute he entered the room, but she said nothing.
"Good morning, Erin," Dr. Lecter said. "How are you feeling?"
"Dr. Lawson?" That was, of course, the only name she knew him by. "Where am I?" she asked. Her eyes locked on his as if first noting his presence. She blinked, shook her head and tried to sit up.
"My house," Dr. Lecter said truthfully.
"Why? Why can't I get up? How long have I been here? What time is it? What day is it?" A high note of hysteria jumped into her voice. Dr. Lecter pursed his lips distastefully.
"You've been here for a day or so. It's October 4th, and it's 10 AM. Please, rest. You've just had major surgery."
"Surgery?!" She sat up harder. The motion was snubbed short by the straps on her arms. "I have to go," she said wildly. "My God, I have class, I was supposed to be at the center last night."
Dr. Lecter chuckled and rose from his chair. He strode over to her bed. "You're not going anywhere, Erin," he said. "Not for a while. Are you in discomfort? I can give you a painkiller if you like."
"I have class," she repeated, staring walleyed at him.
"You'll have to miss it," he said . "I'm sure they'll understand. You'll be out for about a week. No problem, happens all the time."
"A week! "
"Yes," he said. "Now, please relax. You'll stay here with me. I'll take care of you."
"I need to go," she repeated.
"Well, you're not."
"I need to call Angela then. She's my roommate. I have to tell her where I am."
Dr. Lecter paused. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, either."
Her eyebrow raised quizzically at him. "Dr. Lawson, just because I'm in the hospital doesn't mean you can tell me I can't use the phone."
"I guess you didn't hear me," he said calmly. "You're not in a hospital. You're in my home."
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. He watched her attempt to process the situation.
"How did I get here?" she asked cautiously.
"I brought you here," he said promptly. "I apologize for the ether, but it was necessary."
Her jaw dropped at that. "You used ether on me?"
He nodded. "Yes, once you'd closed up the espresso bar. I am sorry, and it was necessary to get you here."
For several long moments, she said nothing. Her eyes flicked to him, down to the bed she was in, then around the room. She shifted her arms, noting that while she could move her lower arms, she was still pinioned in the bed. Then something appeared to click in her mind; her face calmed and she pondered. Dr. Lecter could almost hear the snap of synapses. She raised her arms and showed him open palms. When she spoke again, her tone was placatory and reasonable, as if he was the hysterical one.
"Dr. Lawson," she said in a shaky tone, "you have to let me go. Now I promise that I will come back, and I will spend time with you and talk to you as much as you like, but you have to let me go. I…I have to have dialysis. My kidneys don't work. I was supposed to have it last night, but…" she trailed off. "If you try to keep me here, I'll die in a few days. Now I promise I won't press charges, and I promise I'll come back, but you'll kill me if you keep me here."
It was not the first time someone had pleaded with Dr. Lecter for release, nor promised him amnesty. He simply smiled and shook his head.
"You're certainly in no condition to leave. Don't worry, though. You won't die and you don't need dialysis," he said.
"Yes I do. I'm not making this up, Dr. Lawson. I have a Medic Alert bracelet." She glanced down at her bare wrist. She stared down at it for a few beats, then back up to him. "Okay, I guess you took it. Call the number, they'll tell you." Her voice began to pick up notes of panic. "If you try to keep me here," her voice began to thicken with fear and tears, "I'll go into a coma in about a day or so, and then I'll…," It took her two tries to get the last word out. "I'll die."
"But Erin," Dr. Lecter said calmly, "surely you feel the discomfort in your back, do you not? You have two fully functioning kidneys now, not one but two."
She glanced down, obviously concentrating on her back. "You can't do that," she said dully.
"Yes, you can," Dr. Lecter said. "I know it's a lot to take in, but hear me out."
She looked wordlessly at him.
"You want to be a doctor yourself, I presume you don't get ill easily. Can you feel the catheter in your urethra?"
"That won't do anything," she said. "I told you, I have kidney failure."
"Hear me out, I asked."
She closed her mouth and lowered her head. Dr. Lecter noted a tear beginning to form in one eye. Doubtlessly she thought he was a lunatic who had kidnapped her for some sexual purpose and she would die trying to convince him that she was sick.
"Would you like to see the catheter, or can you feel it?"
"I can feel it," she said stubbornly.
"Good. Can you feel the tube against your leg? It exits from a hole in your pajamas. Do you see the tube on the side of the bed there?"
"Yes," she said, her tone exasperated.
Dr. Lecter reached down and grabbed the plastic bag that the tube was attached to. It was half-filled with urine. He held it up wordlessly in front of her and hung it back on its hook.
"Now do you believe?"
"You can't just do a kidney transplant in a house," she said. "Look, maybe you think you did a kidney transplant on me, but you need surgeons and a transplant hospital and a donor."
"You don't need surgeons, and you don't need a hospital," Dr. Lecter rejoined. "That is simply how it is typically done. I did it. There are incisions in your back and your bladder is obviously in good working order. How much more proof do you need?"
She was starting to believe now, in spite of herself. The poor girl. All that time she had doubtlessly believed that it was her fate to wait until her lucky number came up. Now it had, although the way it had happened defied belief.
"But…where did you get it?"
"Them," he stressed. "There are two. And never mind that; UNOS would not have told you and neither shall I."
She blinked at him, shock, disbelief, and slow belief carrying on a shadow montage on her face.
"I'll show you the incisions, if you like. But you will need to stand up, so first you must promise me that you won't try to flee or overpower me. You're too weak and you can't possibly succeed, so don't try."
She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.
"Well?"
"All right, all right," she said. "I promise."
"Smart girl." He came forward and produced the key to the cuffs. He unlocked each in turn, sliding them out from under her sleeves and discarding them under the bed like the distasteful detail they were. He lifted the catheter bag in one hand, another distasteful detail that, unfortunately, could not be so easily discarded.
"Now put your feet on the ground," he directed. She complied. He put an arm around her hips, mindful of the incision, and put her arm around his neck with the other. Shakily, she stood.
"Excellent."
He walked her over to the door, where there were mirrors mounted on opposite walls.
"Face me, and put your arms around my neck. You may fall. Put your head over my shoulder and look in the mirror."
She did. Carefully, Dr. Lecter raised the back of her pajama jacket. The incisions were covered over with gauze and tape. There was blood visible on one of them, and he decided the dressing could be changed.
"I have to change those dressings," he said. He grabbed the chair on which he had been sitting with his foot and pulled it over.
"Sit on that, please. Backwards, like a cowboy."
She sat. Dr. Lecter saw a shadow pass over her face. She stared into the mirror intently, her eyes locked on the reflection of the two dressings on her back.
"I'll give you some Vicodin," he said soothingly as he raised the jacket higher and tucked the hem into her collar. Very gently, he removed the tape holding the dressings onto her skin. He heard her gasp as he removed the bandages, exposing the curved incisions held together by Steri- Strips.
"My God," she said, turning her head around to look at him. "What did you do to me?"
"I told you," he said, smiling pleasantly. "Gave you new kidneys."
She tensed then. Dr. Lecter had held many captives before, and knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes shifted to the door, then back to him in the mirror. She was calculating the distance to the door and trying to figure if she could reach the door before him. He could tell from the tensing in her shoulders and thighs. She would try to get the chair in between her and him, so that he might stumble on it and buy her a few more seconds.
Predictable, really, but Dr. Lecter preferred the ones who would fight. Those who simply accepted their fates were more boring. Still, it wasn't time.
He straightened up and put a hand on her shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, but not without tones of control.
"Don't," he said politely.
She stiffened under his touch; all the proof he needed. "Don't what?" she asked guardedly.
"Try to flee," he clarified. "I know you were thinking of it; I can see it in your eyes."
She glanced down at the floor and her shoulders slumped. He was satisfied; he would be able to replace the dressings now. She would be too busy trying to figure out how he had known and if she could talk her way out of it.
Silently, Dr. Lecter replaced the dressings. The incisions had wept a little, but that was to be expected and it wasn't too bad. Two new sterile pads, a bit of surgical tape, and it was done. When it was done, he walked to the table, where a small vial of Vicodin and a crystal pitcher of spring water stood sentinel. As he went, he kept an eye on her in the mirror. He doubted she would try anew, but one never knew. People did strange things under stress.
He shook out two of them, pouring a paper cup of water to go with it. He held out the cup in one hand, white oval-shaped pills lying in his other palm. She made no move to take either, simply stared at his palm, then back up to his eyes. Her arms remained crossed and holding the back of the chair.
"Those are Vicodin, I assure you," Dr. Lecter said calmly. "If you like, I can let you look them up in Physician's Desk Reference."
She ignored the offer. "Dr. Lawson?" she asked. Her tone was quite serious, but not afraid. Dr. Lecter liked that.
"Yes?"
"Are you going to kill me?"
So flat. So unemotional. As if she was back in the coffee bar and asking if he wanted espresso or a cappucino today. Her eyes did not waver off his. And yet he could see her knees trembling. Still, that was good. Most of Dr. Lecter's victims had cried pitifully at the end, as if dignity meant nothing to them at all.
"Erin," he said, a note of pique entering his voice, "you have been unconscious in this house alone with me for almost an entire day. I have had ample opportunity to kill you twenty times over. I have not. Instead, I have given you the gift of life. I shall have to ask that you show some due consideration."
"Thank you for that," she said to mollify him. "Are you going to let me go, once…,well, once you're done with me?"
"Yes, once you have recovered sufficiently to resume classes, and I have had the chance to do some things I want to do," Dr. Lecter rejoined. "Now take the pills, please. They're simply Vicodin, and the dose is perfectly standard."
She still did not move to take the pills he offered. For a moment he was tempted to let her go without, and see if she would be more tractable after a few hours of incisional pain. But he pushed that away. She was his charge, after all, and he couldn't ignore his duties merely because she was distrustful of him.
"I'll take one, if it'll make you feel more secure," he offered.
She shook her head once, and then took them from his hand suddenly. The brush of her fingers against his reminded him of a cat's paw taking a proffered treat from its owner. Fitting, he thought. One could not really own a cat, and he did not think one could really own Erin. She took the cup from him and drank.
"Good. Now you really ought to get into bed," he said. "You need to rest."
"Can I make a phone call?" she asked guardedly.
Dr. Lecter shook his head. "I'm afraid not. For the time being, you'll need to be incognito."
"A captive." Her voice was flat.
"Nonsense. A patient."
She didn't reply, but her disbelief was clearly reflected in her eyes.
"Now rest," he said, lifting the bag to escort her back to her bed.
She went along willingly enough, but Dr. Lecter supposed she would be taking stock of the situation once he was gone. He could tell by the way her eyes flicked around the room, noting the window, which he had already nailed shut, the door, the mirrors on the walls.
He had a means to deal with some of that, though. After settling her in bed and warning her to leave the catheter alone, he pushed a low bookcase from against the wall to where she could reach it.
"I obtained copies of your medical textbooks, so that you'd have something to read," he said, indicating them.
"Thank you," she said emotionlessly, her eyes flicking over him.
"And please don't try to wander, Erin."
"I won't," she promised dutifully, although Dr. Lecter knew she would at least try.
"I'll leave you for a bit," he said. "Stay in bed, if you please."
Dr. Lecter left the room, closing the door behind him. He didn't bother locking it. She had nowhere to go, after all. He returned to his study, where he began to draw out several needles.
He had hoped – foolishly – that she might be tractable enough for it not to require this. Still, the girl was quick, and he could not blame her for believing she was in danger. After all, he was supposedly insane.
He padded into his study, where a television sat incongruously on his desk. He had installed a hidden camera in a cavity of the wall in her room. Sitting down on the comfortable padded chair, he turned on the TV. A black and white image of her room appeared on the screen. She was out of bed, holding the bag in one hand.
He grinned. Typical. She did not approach the door, believing it would be locked or alarmed. But she did try the window and entered the small bathroom. She moved a few of the pictures framed on the wall, but simply glanced up curiously at the mirror it was hidden behind. Dr. Lecter had foreseen that she might try to investigate it and had placed it high on the wall where she could not reach.
After inventorying the contents of the room, she returned to the bed, hanging up the bag on the side. She took out a big, heavy book from the bookcase and settled in with it. Dr. Lecter decided to give her a bit of time, in case she was thinking of using the book as a bludgeon. He walked out onto the back deck, where Erin would be able to see him from her window, if so she chose. The back yard was fenced in, and in the corner of the yard was a small gardening shed. Dr. Lecter walked to the shed and opened the door. Inside were the typical lawn and gardening supplies a homeowner might need: a lawnmower, some grass seed, a shovel, a rake, a garden hose, and several such things. The body of the donor was buried in a shallow grave in the dirt floor of the shed.
He returned to the house and sat down behind his desk. Checking the monitor, he discovered she was still in bed reading. He could tell from her body language that she was still nervous – terrified might be a better word, he thought. She flinched at any sound. It was time to end this, he thought. He collected a syringe and walked towards her room.
When he entered, she dropped the book immediately and recoiled. He supposed her travels around the room had tired her out. Her eyes locked fearfully on him the minute he entered the room, but she said nothing.
