Hello! Again with the author's notes, although I do have a reason this time. Disclaimers for little things in previous chapters. First, the poem Clarice remembers is entitled Reflection, and is copyright to me. Second, the line in Latin that Conrad inscribed in his journal is from Dante Alighieri's La Vita Nuova. Just thought I should get those out of the way. Back to the tale.

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"He's not doing anything that would directly link him to the original Red Dragon." The file slapped on the desk as Will Graham threw it there. He stood, frustration flashing in his eyes, before Clarice in her little cubicle of an office. She watched him, trying to keep a grip on her patience. Graham rubbed at his eyes before he continued.

"Nothing to connect him with the original Red Dragon murders. He doesn't kill the family pet…"

"None of the women have had pets."

Graham continued as if he hadn't heard her. "He doesn't kill entire families. No sexual intercourse with the women, before or after he kills them. He just flips on the light, walks to their bed, and slices their throats." He gave a grunt and settled in the folding chair that occupied one corner of the cubicle. Clarice opened the file and tapped at the notes with her pencil.

"He's neat, Graham. He's trying to assume order. Look at the homes and lives of the women he's killed. Clean, quiet, orderly. No pets, because pets aren't neat. The women live alone, so in essence he is killing the entire family." she paused, catching his eye, knowing that he was listening and acknowledging what she had to say. "Intercourse isn't necessary. For one, that task itself is messy. I'd say he's going after the essence of the women. Trying to obtain the order he wants from them. Their sacrifices, and that and the name are all that's connecting him to Francis Dolarhyde, so far."

Graham nodded. A tired smile was on his lips as he spoke. "Damn, Starling. You're a smart one. Jack was right to pick you out and throw you in his pack."

Clarice blushed slightly, and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Okay. Remember that Morricone said he had yellow eyes. Dolarhyde had yellow eyes, God knows, I saw 'em. Chances are, he's related to Dolarhyde somehow. Cousin, nephew, something along those lines. Probably on Dolarhyde's mother's side of the family. Maybe the son of one of the sisters. You checked them?"

"Yes. Margaret and Victoria. Both live in Los Angeles now. Margaret has three children, all girls. That rules them out, since we know our Dragon is male. Victoria, again, girls. But the hospital records show another birth two years before her first daughter. A boy, but when we inquired, she said he had died just a few days after he was born. I was wondering on that. What if he didn't die?"

"Good point. Abandoned in the hospital like Dolarhyde? Can you get the adoption records, maybe?"

She nods, glad that they're on the same track. "It might take a little doing, but probably."

"Do it. We may have hit the jackpot."

*****

Clarice hurries across the parking lot, head tucked against the rising wind. Another storm front is pushing its way into the area. That meant more rain was coming. She needed to grab a few items from the store, having found out that she didn't have all the necessary ingredients for dinner that evening. The automatic door swings open as the electronic eye sees her step into its range. She grabs the last handbasket and makes her way to the back of the store. She picks through the meat selection, looking for a relatively trim looking cut. Finding one that meets her standards, it is dropped into the basket with the other ingredients. She makes her way to the checkouts, frowning at the elevator music that was piped on the overhead speakers.

The cashier smiled at her as Clarice placed the meat and other groceries on the counter. She smiled back, ignoring the twisted yellow teeth. A rictus grin that always reminded her of the Joker from the Batman comics. His nametag reads simply "D", and she has known him as such for the past three years.

"Hey, Agent Starling. You have a good day today?" he always greeted her this way. She had fallen into the routine, always issuing the same reply.

"Yeah, D. Same day I had yesterday."

The teeth are shown again, as he swipes the meat across the laser scanner. "That's nice, Agent Starling." his fingers move deftly over the keypad, bringing her total up in green numbers on the digital readout. "Ten seventy seven, Agent Starling."

Clarice counted out the precise change and handed it to him, fingers brushing briefly against his palm. She didn't see the glow in his eyes from that brief contact. He dropped the change into the drawer and tore her receipt form the printer. Her hand touches his again as she takes it form him.

"Have a nice evening, Agent Starling." he calls, watching as she walked towards the door with her grocery bag. He receives a smile over her shoulder. His yellow eyes glow and he feels a pleasant tingle flow through him.

*****

Clarice pushes through the door into the duplex, only to be greeted by the ringing of her phone. She growls low as she heads for the kitchen, dropping the bag onto the counter and grabbing for the phone. She hears the machine kick on just as soon as she reaches the phone. Her machine, as Delia's stays silent. Separate lines had been installed in the duplex last year. She listens as she holds a hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver.

"Hi. You've reached the home of Clarice Starling. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep." she hears the electronic beep and waits for the caller to leave a message. A few seconds of nothing but faint breathing, and she is tempted to remove her hand from the phone and yell at the caller. She starts to, and the phone falls from her hand as she hears the message being recorded. The voice she hears in her mind at night. The voice that represents fear and hope, now coming from her answering machine, that soft metallic rasp.

"Well, hello, Clarice."

The phone clatters against the floor, and she can hear the sound tinnily recorded on the machine's tape. A click on the other end as she falls to her knees, scrambling for the phone. Dial tone also echoes from the earpiece as she places it to her ear. She falls back to her bottom, leaning against the counter base. He was back.

*****