The usual applies; I own no one or nothing pertaining to this story.

Chapter 4 Pagers, Cell Phones and Serial Killers

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The next day, Ardelia dropped Clarice off at her house. All she wanted to do was take a bath. So that's what she did. After relaxing for an unknown amount of time, she made her way to the couch. She watched television for awhile but the news coverage of the murders became too much.

'Retired Special Agent Clarice Starling, of Hannibal Lecter fame is assisting the F.B.I. in attempts to catch the Ice Pick killer.'

"Are they ever gonna give up on this shit!" she screamed at the t.v. before turning it off.

Speaking of the Good Doctor, she wondered with all this mess going on, how long it would take him to leave another message. She wasn't sure she wanted to here it, knowing what he would say about her getting sucked into helping the Bureau.

Curious, she grabbed a crutch and headed toward the answering machine in the kitchen.

Sure enough she had a message. She paused a moment, then hit the play button quickly as if it would bite her. She wasn't disappointed as she listened to the message.

Good morning, Clarice, or should I say, Special Agent Starling.

She could here the tease in his voice.

I don't have much time, as you machine only allows the briefest of messages.

I want you to call this number I will give you. It is a recorded message. When it is finished, you may record a message of your own, if you wish. I will be alerted to any message you leave and will respond accordingly. You will have five minutes of record time. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye

Clarice wrote the number down, wondering if he trusted her not to give it to the Bureau.

She grabbed her cordless phone, the number and a coke and went back to the living room.

Stretched out on the couch, she debated whether or not to call the number. Did she really want to put herself through this? "Yep, I sure do." she said as she began dialing the number. The phone rang only once, and then she heard a click and then, his voice:

Thank you for taking me up on my offer, Clarice. I trust you did not reveal this number to your, so called comrades, to do so would be quite pointless I assure you.

Now then, down to business. I've been following the lack of progress the Bureau has been making on their latest embarrassment. Is this why they came to you, little Starling?

I can't blame them, although the reason you accepted causes me a great deal of curiosity.

It appeared to all concerned you had finally received the message loud and clear and reclaimed your life, so tell me Clarice, what changed your mind, hmm? Did you miss it, the deceit, the backstabbing, the exhilaration, or did you just get bored?

I do feel obligated to warn you, Clarice, you are in very dangerous territory. This killer, unlike myself, has no purpose. How do I know, you are asking yourself, let's just call it an educated guess. So if you choose to continue down this deserted path, be aware that this game has no rules for the one you seek.

That was the end of the message. A hundred different things went through her mind at that moment. Then she heard three beeps. Oh shit, it was her turn. What was she gonna say? She knew she had to say something. Finally she started:

Hello, Dr. Lecter, first I want to thank you for the flowers, they were lovely.

(that was lame, she thought)

To answer you question, yes, I was bored, it's as simple as that.

She told him of everything that had transpired over the last few days, explaining everything in the case file and her feelings at the latest homicide.

During this one sided conversation, she had decided to tell Mr. Pearsall, she couldn't help him with the case any longer. I was just stressing her out and it was no longer her job or her problem.

When she had said everything she needed too, it took six phone calls to get it all in, she figured Dr. Lecter would just think she was a nut, to have put herself back in the middle once again, but it felt great to get it off her chest.

Clarice put the phone down on the coffee table and rested her head on the arm of the couch. She would tell Mr. Pearsall of her decision tomorrow.

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Hannibal Lecter was enjoying his morning espresso, at his favorite coffee bar, just outside of Paris, when the pager he had acquired, for the sole purpose of his communication with Clarice, went off.

He smiled as the small device vibrated in his hand. Taking his cell phone from his jacket, he dialed the number, eager to know what his little bird had to say.

He listened intently to her disclosure, determining that she had come to a decision to remove herself from any further involvement with the case. She hadn't said it out right, but her voice told him all he needed to know.

Once again he smiled and then punched in the access code so that he could record another message. Former Special Agent Starling had one more decision to make.

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Thanks C