See previous chapters for disclaimer
I would like to thank the people that have reviewed, especially Saavik, steel, and memor sol solis. You guys have been great. Does a lack of reviews mean badness? I'm feeling a little less confident. Should I continue with this one or concentrate on the others?
Chapter 7
He glanced at the LCD display on the dash. 12:34. Looking back to the house he let his eyes fall on each window, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing.
Drumming his fingers slowly on the steering wheel, he watched as the post- man, a little ways down the road, happily whistled as he came down a drive, his hand rummaging in the satchel strapped across his chest. He calculated that at the speed he was moving from door to door, including cutting across the street to the opposing houses, that he would be at their front door in about six minutes.
Letting his eyes fall on the whitewashed house once more he let his mind form the question that had been burning him for the last few hours.
" What will he say?"
Finding him again had been taxing, not to mention expensive, but he thought with smug self-pride, well worth it. This kill would be his crowning achievement, and he wanted front row seats. He had used the late Martin to gather his information, and if what he had told him was accurate, then he had been stalking her for the last four days, studying her movements, and, he thought with admiration, had the audacity to send her a letter. Brilliant.
Sitting in the car now, he watched as the post-man made his way lazily from door to door. He knew him to be the best killer for decades, possibly the deadliest in history, and knew it had taken him so long to be captured the first time because of his caution and legendary escapes. Glancing back at the green blinking on the polished dash he noticed that four minutes had past. Not long now.
Picking imaginary bits of fleece from his expensive suit, his thoughts continued. Thinking about it, he must have been planning this kill for years. Feeling a ripple of excitement go through him, he glanced back to the house. Two minutes.
He wondered again what he would think. Curiosity? Admiration?
He would have to tread a little more carefully now, but it was all part of the game, part of the fun. The thought of his next victim sent waves of sweet apprehension through him. One minute
Turning the key in the ignition the car started smoothly, the slight vibration running through his body. Placing both hands on the wheel, he softly pulled away as the postman's hand approached the letterbox.
Chapter 8
Clarice was pulling the drawers of her dresser out one at a time, looking through the unorganised mixture of jumpers and sweaters. Laughing slightly she remembered not an hour earlier when he had pulled one of them open, taken a look inside and spoken with true conviction,
" How on earth do you find anything in this minefield?"
Shaking her head she closed the bottom drawer and stood, a hand going to her back to ease the knotted muscles. A wave of sheer terror ran through her entire frame when she heard the letterbox open, a cold sweat already causing a shiver. When she heard the falling mail touch the floor and the whistle floating through the opened window of her bedroom she made her way quickly to the side of the bed, sitting down heavily, running a hand over her face. Was this how it would always be? She thought grimly, jumping at every sound? Not when he's around. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table she winced. Two hours. It had been two hours since he had left the house. Standing again she wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers and moving with a little more urgency began to pick bits and pieces from her vanity, throwing them into the open suitcase. Reflecting on the last three hours, she recalled his wording, drawing strength from it,
" I have to go out for a little while. There are a few…. loose ends I have to deal with."
She remembered giving him a look, and how he had quickly moved to reassure her,
"Clarice really, you wound me. I simply have to remove any evidence of my stay at the motel I was staying, and pick up a few necessities for our journey. I'll be a good boy, promise." Kissing her gently on the back of her hand he continued.
" I shouldn't be anymore than three hours. If for any reason you don't hear from me within that time, go to Sanford airport, locker 254. There are instructions that you need to follow, but I'm sure it wont come to that."
And then he was gone. Glancing back to the clock her stomach fluttered nervously. As she was about to look out the window she heard the front door open and close, then a small creak on the landing. Her breath coming in shallow gasps now, she slowly started towards the door, grabbing the closest heavy thing she could lay her hands on. It happened to be the hammer she had been using the other day, she had been using it to put a picture up. When the bedroom door creaked on its old hinges as it slowly opened, she stopped walking, the hammer lifted above her head.
" Clarice?"
With her breath leaving her body in a rush of air, she dropped the hammer to the floor and ran to his understanding face. Still slightly out of breath she held him close, breathing in his unique scent. Pulling back from him a moment later she studied his features, feeling relief wash over her.
" Your back" It came out more in the form of a question than she had intended.
Smiling warmly at her he smoothed her hair and tilted his head
" Yes" she stated simply
Nodding her head she smiled her own little smile and glanced down to the small bundle held in his hand. Following her gaze he moved to speak,
" I found this lying at the door when I came in. Postman's rather untimely is he not?"
Laughing she took the mail from his outstretched hand.
" Yeah tell me about it, I keep meaning to complain but I…"
He watched as her face drained of colour, her eyes fixed on the late edition paper held in her hands.
" Clarice what is it?"
When she didn't respond he moved to her side, glancing down to the paper. He could see what had caused her reaction. Scrolled across the top in a thick black heading read,
HANNIBAL LECTER KILLS AGAIN!
Pulling the paper from her tight grasp he studied the article,
Renound madman Hannibal Lector, aka Hannibal the cannibal, has claimed his next victim. In this special edition we reveal the grisly details of this latest murder. In what is now a grim calling card, police revealed that the man, apparently in his late twenties, had had his liver and spleen removed when the body was discovered late this morning. Police have yet to issue a name but….
Folding the paper in half once more, he looked over at Clarice who had been watching him read. She was studying his face intently, her eyes filling. When he took a step towards her and noticed that she took a step back he visibly flinched.
" Clarice think about this before you make hasty conclusions. I was here, with you, all night. The tabloids say the body was found early this morning, I didn't leave here until mid afternoon. By the look of the body I would guess this took place late last night. Again I was here with you."
He could see her thinking about it, could almost hear her thoughts as they rearranged in her head.
" I'm not responsible for this Clarice," he said softly
She was nodding her head, wiping the tears that fell when she started blinking again.
" Ok, It wasn't you. But someone's obviously trying to make it look like you. A copycat."
"Hmmmm" he rumbled, his eyes studying the picture on the second page.
" You don't think so?" she asked
Still looking at the paper he made his way to the bad, sitting next to her.
" Possibly…"
Panic starting to arise in her throat she couldn't stand the sketchy and vague response's from him.
" Dammit Hannibal, now's not the time to play the strong silent type, tell me what your thinking."
Looking up at her angry face as she paced in front of him, he smiled a smile she hadn't seen since Baltimore.
" I think I have a fan."
I would like to thank the people that have reviewed, especially Saavik, steel, and memor sol solis. You guys have been great. Does a lack of reviews mean badness? I'm feeling a little less confident. Should I continue with this one or concentrate on the others?
Chapter 7
He glanced at the LCD display on the dash. 12:34. Looking back to the house he let his eyes fall on each window, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing.
Drumming his fingers slowly on the steering wheel, he watched as the post- man, a little ways down the road, happily whistled as he came down a drive, his hand rummaging in the satchel strapped across his chest. He calculated that at the speed he was moving from door to door, including cutting across the street to the opposing houses, that he would be at their front door in about six minutes.
Letting his eyes fall on the whitewashed house once more he let his mind form the question that had been burning him for the last few hours.
" What will he say?"
Finding him again had been taxing, not to mention expensive, but he thought with smug self-pride, well worth it. This kill would be his crowning achievement, and he wanted front row seats. He had used the late Martin to gather his information, and if what he had told him was accurate, then he had been stalking her for the last four days, studying her movements, and, he thought with admiration, had the audacity to send her a letter. Brilliant.
Sitting in the car now, he watched as the post-man made his way lazily from door to door. He knew him to be the best killer for decades, possibly the deadliest in history, and knew it had taken him so long to be captured the first time because of his caution and legendary escapes. Glancing back at the green blinking on the polished dash he noticed that four minutes had past. Not long now.
Picking imaginary bits of fleece from his expensive suit, his thoughts continued. Thinking about it, he must have been planning this kill for years. Feeling a ripple of excitement go through him, he glanced back to the house. Two minutes.
He wondered again what he would think. Curiosity? Admiration?
He would have to tread a little more carefully now, but it was all part of the game, part of the fun. The thought of his next victim sent waves of sweet apprehension through him. One minute
Turning the key in the ignition the car started smoothly, the slight vibration running through his body. Placing both hands on the wheel, he softly pulled away as the postman's hand approached the letterbox.
Chapter 8
Clarice was pulling the drawers of her dresser out one at a time, looking through the unorganised mixture of jumpers and sweaters. Laughing slightly she remembered not an hour earlier when he had pulled one of them open, taken a look inside and spoken with true conviction,
" How on earth do you find anything in this minefield?"
Shaking her head she closed the bottom drawer and stood, a hand going to her back to ease the knotted muscles. A wave of sheer terror ran through her entire frame when she heard the letterbox open, a cold sweat already causing a shiver. When she heard the falling mail touch the floor and the whistle floating through the opened window of her bedroom she made her way quickly to the side of the bed, sitting down heavily, running a hand over her face. Was this how it would always be? She thought grimly, jumping at every sound? Not when he's around. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table she winced. Two hours. It had been two hours since he had left the house. Standing again she wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers and moving with a little more urgency began to pick bits and pieces from her vanity, throwing them into the open suitcase. Reflecting on the last three hours, she recalled his wording, drawing strength from it,
" I have to go out for a little while. There are a few…. loose ends I have to deal with."
She remembered giving him a look, and how he had quickly moved to reassure her,
"Clarice really, you wound me. I simply have to remove any evidence of my stay at the motel I was staying, and pick up a few necessities for our journey. I'll be a good boy, promise." Kissing her gently on the back of her hand he continued.
" I shouldn't be anymore than three hours. If for any reason you don't hear from me within that time, go to Sanford airport, locker 254. There are instructions that you need to follow, but I'm sure it wont come to that."
And then he was gone. Glancing back to the clock her stomach fluttered nervously. As she was about to look out the window she heard the front door open and close, then a small creak on the landing. Her breath coming in shallow gasps now, she slowly started towards the door, grabbing the closest heavy thing she could lay her hands on. It happened to be the hammer she had been using the other day, she had been using it to put a picture up. When the bedroom door creaked on its old hinges as it slowly opened, she stopped walking, the hammer lifted above her head.
" Clarice?"
With her breath leaving her body in a rush of air, she dropped the hammer to the floor and ran to his understanding face. Still slightly out of breath she held him close, breathing in his unique scent. Pulling back from him a moment later she studied his features, feeling relief wash over her.
" Your back" It came out more in the form of a question than she had intended.
Smiling warmly at her he smoothed her hair and tilted his head
" Yes" she stated simply
Nodding her head she smiled her own little smile and glanced down to the small bundle held in his hand. Following her gaze he moved to speak,
" I found this lying at the door when I came in. Postman's rather untimely is he not?"
Laughing she took the mail from his outstretched hand.
" Yeah tell me about it, I keep meaning to complain but I…"
He watched as her face drained of colour, her eyes fixed on the late edition paper held in her hands.
" Clarice what is it?"
When she didn't respond he moved to her side, glancing down to the paper. He could see what had caused her reaction. Scrolled across the top in a thick black heading read,
HANNIBAL LECTER KILLS AGAIN!
Pulling the paper from her tight grasp he studied the article,
Renound madman Hannibal Lector, aka Hannibal the cannibal, has claimed his next victim. In this special edition we reveal the grisly details of this latest murder. In what is now a grim calling card, police revealed that the man, apparently in his late twenties, had had his liver and spleen removed when the body was discovered late this morning. Police have yet to issue a name but….
Folding the paper in half once more, he looked over at Clarice who had been watching him read. She was studying his face intently, her eyes filling. When he took a step towards her and noticed that she took a step back he visibly flinched.
" Clarice think about this before you make hasty conclusions. I was here, with you, all night. The tabloids say the body was found early this morning, I didn't leave here until mid afternoon. By the look of the body I would guess this took place late last night. Again I was here with you."
He could see her thinking about it, could almost hear her thoughts as they rearranged in her head.
" I'm not responsible for this Clarice," he said softly
She was nodding her head, wiping the tears that fell when she started blinking again.
" Ok, It wasn't you. But someone's obviously trying to make it look like you. A copycat."
"Hmmmm" he rumbled, his eyes studying the picture on the second page.
" You don't think so?" she asked
Still looking at the paper he made his way to the bad, sitting next to her.
" Possibly…"
Panic starting to arise in her throat she couldn't stand the sketchy and vague response's from him.
" Dammit Hannibal, now's not the time to play the strong silent type, tell me what your thinking."
Looking up at her angry face as she paced in front of him, he smiled a smile she hadn't seen since Baltimore.
" I think I have a fan."