Dr. Lecter was enjoying a cup of coffee on his patio. He had his American newspapers to read and felt quite content. The Tattler always served to amuse him. Today's headline looked interesting. Fiendish Murders Rock Baltimore!
He opened the Tattler and continued reading. He was gratified to see a picture of Clarice Starling on one side of the article. Another for his collection. As he read, his head tilted like that of a parrot and a curious look crossed his face.
Another monstrous death in Baltimore has claimed the life of Sandra Thurmond, a worker with troubled youth. Although police are stumped, the work appears to be that of the Six-Fingered Killer, whose distinctive handprint has been found at two murder scenes now. The monster responsible stamped both handprints deliberately, in the blood of their victims. FBI gumshoes Clarice Starling and Joshua Graham are on the case. They are determined to avenge the wanton murder of James Winfield, ace Tattler reporter, as well as the other victims of the monster.
This case bears troubling hallmarks to another killer who once terrorized Baltimore years ago – the Chesapeake Ripper, unmasked as Dr. Hannibal Lecter by Agent Will Graham, the father of the current Joshua Graham. Tellingly, the Six Fingered Killer's handprint possesses two perfectly duplicated middle fingers. This is the rarest form of polydactyly, and it is the very same type that Dr. Lecter possessed. Dr. Lecter escaped custody in a fiendish burst of blood ten years ago. Two years ago, he cruelly murdered slaughterhouse magnate Mason Verger. No one has heard from him since. Has he finally come home to roost? Will Joshua Graham follow in his father's footsteps and capture the fiend?
Dr. Lecter frowned at the paper. His left hand had the normal amount of fingers on it; he'd had that surgery done years ago. All that remained of his former second middle finger was a scar on the back of his hand. The Tattler helpfully provided a photograph of the Six Fingered Killer's hand. It looked like the way his hand used to look. Hmmm.
And it wasn't him anyway. Dr. Lecter was not surprised that there were copycats out there; his work had been sensationalized. But so far as he knew, no one had tried to graft an extra finger onto their hand to be like him.
Dr. Lecter carried the paper into his office and took a magnifying glass to examine it. The cheap newsprint did not provide the best material for examination. The tiny dots of ink that made up the picture jumped up to his eyes.
Dr. Lecter was better suited than most to determine if the photograph – or the handprint itself – was faked. His experience was simple but daunting: he had lived with such a hand on his wrist for over fifty years. The picture was quite poor quality and did not suit Dr. Lecter, but he doubted that the authorities would be willing to mail him a better copy. Still, he was inclined to think it was real from what he could see.
Was that object to the right a pen? Dr. Lecter thought that it was. He closed his eyes. He had always possessed a remarkable visual memory; that was one of his things in common with Will. Was his boy so talented? That would be interesting to find out. He dismissed the thought and forced himself to concentrate.
Eidetics can often not only recall images with perfect clarity, but rotate and change pictures in their minds as well. This ability had helped to keep Dr. Lecter sane during his years in the asylum. An image of Dr. Lecter's own hand, before his surgery, floated into his head. Next to it, he pictured the Six Fingered Killer's hand. Between the two floated a plastic ballpoint pen.
There it was. Provided the pen was the standard size, the Six Fingered Killer's hand was smaller than his own. He had no reason to think the pen was not standard size. Dr. Lecter was not a tall man himself. This was a killer with small hands indeed.
He would have liked to get his hands on the case file for this one. This killer looked to be one after his own heart. What was Clarice thinking?
He continued on in the Tattler.
Wealthy Monster in Rape Scandal! screamed another headline. Dr. Lecter was privately amused to read that Edgar Morgan III, the son of his former girlfriend, had been arrested for rape. My, Jane, you made for quite a poor mother, did you not? Edgar Morgan III had been released on bail, but would be facing criminal charges. The Tattler did not reveal the name of the victim.
Ah well. Dr. Lecter put away his coffee and considered writing Clarice. She might be able to use the help.
…
Clarice sat in her office at Quantico, reviewing pictures from the Thurmond crime scene. What a horrible way to die. The Six Fingered Killer was one sick puppy. She would have to catch the killer. Someone like this could not be trusted to run free. Day after day, atrocity after atrocity, until the killer was stopped. She would do that.
Josh Graham entered the office and eyed Clarice soberly.
"Hi, Starling," he said dolefully. She'd asked him to review Chelmsford's files and see if there was anything that might come up. From the looks of it, he hadn't come up with much.
"Find anything?" she asked brightly.
He grinned tiredly. "Well, that depends on your definition," he said. "Sandra Thurmond worked for the juvenile detention center for twenty years. Did a bit of chatting with the workers…and the inmates. Turns out Sandra wasn't well liked by the inmates and hadn't been for years."
"So…," Clarice probed.
"So there's tons of people out there who would've had a reason to want to kill her," Josh finished. "Like several thousand released juvenile delinquents over the years. Or any of their family members or their buddies. Plus…just to add to the fun, they told me they might not be able to give us full information."
Clarice thought she knew what he meant, but decided to ask. "Why not?"
"Because," Josh said. "Their records are considered court records. Court records of juveniles in Maryland are usually sealed. Either the court does it or the kid involved can ask the court when they turn 21. If they've kept their nose clean, it's almost invariably granted. Once they're sealed…that's it. You can't get them open without a showing of good cause." He shook his head. "So we're in a catch-22. They can't tell us if they've ever had an inmate with six fingers on their left hand. We have to have a court order to get that information. They don't have one now, and that's the most they can say."
Clarice pondered for a moment. "Why can't we get a court order?" she asked. "Crawford knows some judges. We could probably get one."
Josh exhaled. "The problem is we need good cause to open the records," he said. "Fishing expeditions don't fly. There are probably thousands of records we'd have to go through, and every one who isn't the Six Fingered Killer could turn around and sue us. Crawford doesn't want to walk through that minefield unless there are no other leads."
Clarice frowned. "That sucks," she said. "Still, our killer has six fingers, there can't be that many of them. I think we ought to try."
Josh shrugged. "Crawford doesn't want to chance it," he said. "There've been scandals about that sort of thing. He said to try other paths, and if nothing else works we'll try that."
"It still sucks," Clarice complained.
Josh made a helpless gesture. "Take it up with Crawford," he said. "And you know, it is possible that Thurmond was picked for some other reason. Or maybe it was the Six Fingered Killer's buddy who was in juvie under Thurmond, or his girlfriend, or something. It may be a dead lead. And in any case there's a ton of possible suspects for the Thurmond murder. We ought to see if we can come up with a link between Baker and Thurmond, I think."
Clarice nodded. She'd thought the same thing. She was pleased that he had suggested it. "How about Hale?" she asked.
He shook his head slowly. "I think Hale was a victim of opportunity," he said. "The Six Fingered Killer saw Hale on TV, that's what I think."
"I think you're right," she said, and took a bit of pleasure in watching him preen.
"Well," he said. "I'm gonna go grab the Baker and Hale files and see what we can find. I'll be back in like ten minutes."
"Have fun," Clarice said, and bent over the file again. Her phone rang. She grabbed it while still poring over the file.
"Starling," she said calmly.
"Agent Starling?" The voice was female, young, and scared.
"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"
The voice took in a large, shuddering breath. "I think so," she said. "Have you read the paper?"
"Yes, I have," Clarice said. "In regard to what?" She tensed. Was this about the Six Fingered Killer?
"That rape case," the voice said, and appeared ready to break. "In Baltimore."
Clarice took a measured breath. Rape case? She opened up a web browser and surfed to the home page of the Baltimore Sun.
"The Morgan case?" Clarice was puzzled, and her tone showed it.
"Yes," the voice replied. "I have…I have some information about it."
"Ma'am, I've heard of it, but that's not my case," Clarice said soothingly. "That's being handled by the state authorities in Maryland. If you have information about it, you should contact them."
"But…but…I read about you in the Tattler," the voice said. "You don't understand…my dad works for Edgar Morgan's dad. The state authorities are in his pocket. And he…he…,"
A pang of concern went through Clarice. It sounded like the woman on the other end of the line was crying. "He what?"
"He did it to me, too," the voice said, and broke into tears.
Clarice sighed. What was she supposed to do now? She didn't know how to handle this.
"Okay. Okay," she soothed. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Amanda Taylor," the other woman sniffled.
"Amanda, now look. I can talk to the District Attorney in Baltimore for you, if you want."
"He's done it to other girls too," the voice said. "In Maryland and Virginia and DC. That's federal, isn't it?"
Clarice held in her breath. Technically no, it wasn't. But she couldn't simply turn her back.
"Can I meet you to talk?" Amanda Taylor asked.
"Sure," Clarice said. "Sure. I get off work at six. How's that?"
"Fine," Amanda sniffled. "I'll meet you at the Washington Monument. By the reflecting pool."
Clarice let her breath out. That was fine, she could talk. Maybe get the girl some help. It sounded like she needed it.
"Six at the Washington Monument. Okay. I'll be there, Amanda."
"Thank you," the voice choked.
Clarice hung up. The crime scene she'd been examining seemed so unimportant now. She had to force herself to pore over it. She'd handle this when six rolled around. For a moment she debating bringing Josh and then decided against it. He wasn't trained for this sort of thing. No, she would do this herself. It wasn't official work anyway.
On the other end of the line, Alice Pierpont hung up and grinned widely. The trap had been set.