Night was falling as Will Graham arrived. The light was dying swiftly, but there was still enough to see. Will pulled his car to a stop and observed the house calmly.
The house was big, much bigger and nicer than he'd ever thought a twenty-one-year-old would be able to afford. Nice area, too. The kid must've had money from somewhere. Small surprise, if she was a Morgan kid. Will parked his car and got out. The side street was quiet and no one noticed him.
Will walked up to the door and paused. Should he knock? Hello, are you the serial killer who has my son? But he had no choice. He didn't have a warrant or anything. He knocked at the door and waited. As he did, he glanced around. The grounds were neatly kept.
No one answered the door. Will paused and stared at the door thoughtfully. He couldn't bust it down. He didn't have any proof. He glanced around the bucolic suburban household and decided it couldn't hurt to try. He had an FBI ID, and that would justify a look around.
A wooden fence barred access to the back yard, but it was unlocked. Will opened the gate and strolled through, glancing up at the windows. Nothing. Just a pleasant house on a wealthy street. There was a flash of motion at an upstairs window. Will stopped and backed up in the yard, his shoes silent on the newly mown grass.
Yes, there it was. At one window was a human shape. When he backed up, it waved its arms frantically as if trying to signal him. He waved his arms back. The figure stopped deliberately and then waved its arms again. Yes, someone in the house was definitely trying to get his attention. But something was odd here. Why didn't the figure open the window? That was puzzling.
But it did give him a reason to enter the house. Will crossed around to the front door and looked for a way inside. The door was locked. He tried each window in turn and found it locked. Hmmm.
Will crossed back to the back yard, intending to find a window he could break that would go unnoticed for a while. Long enough for him to get inside and save Josh. It took him a while, and he found himself concerned that someone would see him and report him as a burglar. Then again, he thought, how was that supposed to hurt? What would they do? He'd seen someone trying to signal him from the house. Someone was possibly being held captive up there. Maybe it was Josh. In any case he would take the chance.
He found a window that he was able to get open. Crawling through the window was a little harder than he expected. But Will was still strong and flexible. He pulled himself through. His shirt rucked up his back and he could feel the skin scrape excruciatingly against the windowframe. But eventually he was through. He unfolded his wiry frame and observed his surroundings.
It was a kitchen. Completely ordinary. Other parts of Alice Pierpont's home would have surprised him: the impromptu but effective detention facility she had created in her basement, as well as the torture equipment that she had down there. But her kitchen was perfectly normal. She had a kitchen table and a few chairs. There was a microwave and a dishwasher and some pots and pans. Nothing in the room indicated that a mentally ill serial killer lived here. There were some dishes stacked in the sink. The kitchen table had a homey little tablecloth on it. There were some envelopes on the table and he picked up one. Yes, this was Alice Pierpont's home.
He walked carefully out into the living room and then stopped. On one wall was a large blowup of Dr. Hannibal Lecter's famous mugshot. It was carefully and expensively matted and framed, and there was even a small spotlight affixed to the floor to illuminate it, as if the doctor was worthy of admiration and exultation. But that wasn't what made Will freeze.
Standing by the portrait was the man himself. His head tilted as he stared at the picture. Then he turned and looked at Will.
"Filial respect is so rare these days," the doctor mused.
Will found himself fighting off his first urge, which was to grab the .44 Bulldog clipped to his belt and fire several rounds into Dr. Lecter, center of mass. He trembled as he watched the other man. Dr. Lecter, for his part, simply observed him.
"So she is your daughter," he observed.
"It seems so," Dr. Lecter agreed, and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a Polaroid photo. In it was a young woman with a strong resemblance to Dr. Lecter. She wore a dress and long gloves. She smiled brightly into the camera. Next to her, in a chair, was Josh. He looked slightly nervous and pained. Will's pulse began to race.
"Josh," he muttered.
Dr. Lecter nodded.
"It seems our children are dating," he said, and smiled drolly. "I hardly ever expected this. This is rather a surprise for me, Will. I assure you I had no knowledge that I had a daughter."
"Have you checked the house?" Will asked, not letting his eyes waver off Dr. Lecter's.
Dr. Lecter shook his sleek head. "Not all of it," he said. "She has…quite a basement. The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree. I have not yet located Joshua or Clarice."
Will sighed.
"Oh, Will, there is one more thing," Dr. Lecter said calmly.
"What is that?"
Dr. Lecter stepped forward with the grace of a dancer and the speed of a snake. His left hand flashed up and grabbed Will's lapel. His right hand came forward into Will's midsection. At first, Will thought Dr. Lecter had simply punched him in the stomach. Then he felt warm liquid begin to trickle down his side and he gasped. The Harpy in Dr. Lecter's hand ripped through his stomach easily. Dr. Lecter grabbed the pistol from his holster and deftly kicked it under his daughter's coffee table; he had learned from his prior mistake. Will Graham let out a gasp and felt his knees turn to water.
"I'm sorry, Will," Dr. Lecter said. "But I know that where you are, squads of FBI and local police will follow. I didn't come halfway across the world to be recaptured. I assure you I'll shan't hurt your boy, should I find him. But our partnership has to end here."
Will Graham grabbed fruitlessly at Dr. Lecter's arm as he slid to the floor. For his part, Dr. Lecter simply took his cell phone and tossed it away too. Then he rose and headed upstairs.
…
Josh Graham had played along with his captor, and it had borne fruit. During the day, Alice had actually seemed happy. It had given him a certain understanding of her, observing her during the day at the park and then home on the plane.
She knew she had to restrain and confine both him and Clarice in order to keep them from escaping. She understood what she had done. But on some level, she honestly wanted them to like her, and he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she honestly liked them both. She'd made some concessions to their comfort while she held them captive.
As far as he went, he believed, she knew she had to keep him under control somehow. Yet she wanted him to play the role of the boyfriend, even though she'd locked a stun belt onto him. On some level, he thought, she didn't quite get it.
He knew better than to try and attack her while the damn thing was on. It was maddening. Here he was, at an amusement park. He should have been able to go to anyone at all for help. He could have told them that he was being held hostage.
But he held his tongue. He didn't want to get hit with the stun belt. Nor did he want to take the chance that she might get back to the house before she was caught. They'd already had a pretty nasty reminder of what happened when she got angry. So he held his tongue. For Clarice, he told himself. It was for Clarice.
Now they were back in the car, heading back to her place. She still hadn't taken the stun belt off him. He would have to wait until she did. There wasn't much he could do when she could incapacitate him with the touch of a button. So he waited on the ride home until she pulled in the driveway.
Amazingly, she put her arm around him as they approached the door. He didn't need to be reminded that her other hand was on the remote control. Just to allay her suspicions a bit, he put his arm around her. She let out a soft sound of pleasure.
She fumbled with her keys for a moment to open the door. They entered. Alice eyed him happily and smiled softly.
"Now wasn't that fun?" she asked.
The smile came to Josh's face easier than he thought. "It sure was," he said, grinning at her. "Now how about taking this off me?"
"Sure," she said, and gestured for him to lift his shirt. When he did, she took out a small key and unlocked it. The stun belt that had been around his waist all day collapsed off him. She tossed it to the couch as if it was a meaningless trifle.
"I ought to let Clarice out," she said. "She probably wants the bathroom."
That's it, Josh thought. Let her out and then we'll double-team you. I hope Clarice is quick on the uptake.
She tilted her head suddenly and looked alarmed. A moan came from the living room. She looked at him curiously.
"What was that?" she asked.
Alice walked into the other room and then stopped.
"What the hell?" she asked. Josh followed her in, curious despite himself. Was it an armed SWAT team? He sure hoped it was. Then he saw, and he stopped, his eyes wide.
Will Graham lay on the floor. A wide, bloody gash marked his stomach. He looked up helplessly at his son and the woman who held him captive. Josh turned and stared at his captor, his eyes wide.
"You…how could you?" he asked hotly. "That's my father."
Alice squatted and examined the wound. Then she looked up at him with confusion written on her face. Her mouth worked.
"Josh…Josh, I didn't…I don't know him. I didn't do it." she said blankly. She seemed to have no idea how this man had gotten here or what he was doing here.
Will Graham stared up at the violent psychotic who squatted over him. Her pedigree was clearly obvious in her face and the six-fingered hand that probed his wound. His pulse raced. He wanted to tell Josh where his gun and his phone were.
Alice Pierpont ran to her bathroom and removed a towel. She had worked in the ER on and off; crisises like these did not bother her. This would show Josh she loved him. She would save his father. She could do this. She pressed the towel down over his wound and gestured to Josh.
"Here," she said. "Hold this down. Press hard."
Josh did not need to be told twice. He looked at her and his mind spun. His father…down on the ground. But was she actually going to help him? Was a woman capable of sawing off a man's hand for her own idle amusement capable of mercy, too?
Footsteps echoed from the upstairs hall. All three of them looked up.
Clarice Starling, gaunt and emaciated, walked out to the top of the stairs. She observed the scene below her with horror. Next to her, Dr. Hannibal Lecter walked out calmly and tilted his head at his offspring.
Alice Pierpont stopped where she stood and stared up at him for a few minutes, her eyes wide. This was what she had been waiting for. This was everything she had striven for. And now he was here. The resemblance was clear to everyone. For a long moment, no one spoke.
"Josh," she said finally, "that's…my father."