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

Chapter 4 Down To Business

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Three hours later, Mills made his way back to the property. He carefully approached the tree he had been in, noticing the vehicle was gone from in front of the house.

Stopping at the tree, he pulled the Bowie knife from his bag and strapped it to his leg. Grabbing his homemade lock picks, he placed the bag in the tree.

"Now's as good a time as ever," he said as he headed toward the house.

Mills stood outside the backdoor for sometime, listening for anything that could tell him that someone might be inside. There was nothing but silence.

He proceeded to pick the lock on the back door as quietly as he could. When the lock finally clicked, he slowly opened the door. After looking around for a moment, he quickly stepped inside closing the door behind him.

Once again he stood completely still, trying to here any noise that would suggest he was not alone. He heard nothing.

Pulling the knife from its sheath, he began his search of the residence.

Mills looked around for about twenty minutes, satisfied that he was alone, he started to rummage through the occupant's belongings.

As he entered the Doctor's study, looking around at all the books, most of which he couldn't even pronounce the titles, he remarked, "No wonder you're so screwed up, who reads this crap anyway." He poked through the desk for awhile, not finding anything that would be of any use to him, he returned to the kitchen looking for something to drink.

He opened the refrigerator, finding a bottle of wine, "Nice of you to think of me," he said as he reached for the bottle. Noticing the bottle had a cork, not exactly what he was use to, he started looking for a corkscrew. Having looked through all but one of the drawers with no luck, he pulled the last drawer open.

The sight that greeted him was better than any Christmas present he had ever received.

There, lying next to the corkscrew, was his gun. He picked up the gun, checking the clip, it was still loaded. He stuck the gun in his waistband and grabbed the corkscrew. "Now were gonna have some real fun." he said as he took off, heading up the stairs.

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Having had a full day of shopping, Clarice was content to rest her head against the back of the seat, listening to the soft notes of the music as they drove home. At one point she placed her left hand on Hannibal's leg, gently running her thumb over the soft material of his slacks.

He had turned the rear view mirror so that he could watch her, there with her eyes closed, her lips forming a slight grin as she rubbed his leg. May God have mercy on anyone who would try a remove her from his life, for he surely would not.

The thought was quickly replaced by the vision of Mr. Mills hanging onto the tree the night before, as he chuckled, Clarice opened her eyes and turned to him asking, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing really," he said as he took her hand from his leg, kissing her palm before replacing it on his thigh. "Just remembering the sight Mr. Mills presented last evening."

"Mills, I'd almost forgotten about him. How long are you going to play this little game of yours?"

"Not much longer my dear. I seem to be losing interest rather quickly in our uninvited guest."

"So what are you going to do with him?"

"I haven't quite decided, but you will be the first one I inform of my plans." he said as he turned and winked at her.

Hannibal turned into the driveway, pulling up to the house and parked. As they got out of the vehicle, he popped the trunk. Hearing a noise come from the trees, he told Clarice he would meet her inside. She looked to him as if she was going to say something, but before she could, he said, "I am going to check on the status of our guest, I won't be long."

She nodded before retrieving the shopping bags from the trunk, then went inside the house.

It was almost dark, but Hannibal still had enough light to see something on the ground, under the tree Mills had been occupying. It wasn't big enough to be a person, so he continued, cautiously.

When he got to the tree, he found Mills' bag lying on the ground.

Turning to the house he breathed, "Clarice."

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Clarice had made it into the bedroom, dropping the bags on the bed. She paused as she suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She was about to shake it off, when a hand came around her waist, pulling her backwards, she had no time to respond as the cold metal was already at her throat.

"Mr. Mills I presume?" she said surprisingly calm.

"That would be correct," he said as he backed them away from the bedroom door.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asked.

"He's around."

"I'm sure of that. So how does it feel to be at the other end of the blade, Clarice?"

"It's not the first time, I assure you Mr. Mills."

"Maybe not Clarice, but I can promise you, it will be the last." he hissed in her ear.

"Now, get your sicko shack job up here and I mean right now!" he demanded, pressing the knife even tighter against her throat.

By this time, Hannibal was standing just outside the bedroom door. Having heard the last couple of interactions between Clarice and her captor, he was quite impressed with the lack of fear in her voice.

Though the situation did call for concern, fear only clouded the judgement and was of no use.

Maybe he had rubbed off on her more than he had realized. That would definitely be a plus.

Deciding the straightforward approach would be best, Hannibal walked through the door into the bedroom saying, "Good evening Mr. Mills, to what do we owe this honor?"