Will Graham searched through his pockets for change. Should have thought of this upstairs, Will. "Ah!" a breath of relief came as Will seized upon some coins in his jacket pocket. Inserting the coins into the pay phone, Will began dialing the number scrawled on a dirty, crumpled piece of pink paper. The phone rang, once, twice, Will began gritting his teeth impatiently and looking around the lobby to make sure Clarice had not followed him. He wanted to ask some questions out of her earshot.
"Crawford," announced the voice on the other end.
"Yeah, Jack, it's me."
"Oh, Will. How's everything going?"
"Alright, I just wondered if you ease my mind a little."
"I can try," Jack said, suspiciously.
"You listened to the taped conversations between Lecter and Starling, right?"
"Yeah, I did. You read the transcripts."
"I know, but I thought maybe you caught something I missed," Graham paused, leaving the line dead for a moment.
"Will?"
"Oh, yeah," Will blinked and turned to lean his arm on the phone. "In any of the conversations, was there anything said about sheep? Or lambs?"
Crawford thought hard. "No, nothing about that. Their conversations were very professional, for the most part. I couldn't imagine farm animals coming up."
Will nodded his head, not realizing the irony of the motion. "Let me ask you a hypothetical, Jack."
"Shoot."
"Why would you close a woman's hair into a refrigerator and then rip off the handle?"
A pause, Crawford knew why he was asking. "You don't want her to be able to move. What are you getting at, Will?"
"Exactly. He didn't want her to move. But other than the wound that he sews up on her, she didn't have any other mark on her. Probably the only person to ever arouse his anger and not get hurt."
"Including yourself."
"Yeah," Will unconsciously placed a hand on the wound hidden by his shirt. "So what purpose would it serve to make her immobile if he wasn't going to attack her?"
The other end was silent. Will finally ventured after a few moments, "You're thinking the same thing I'm thinking, Jack."
"If you were already thinking that, then why did you have to call me? It must be near midnight there."
"I just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one thinking crazy."
"Nothing seems crazy to me anymore, Will."
Silence reigned over the dimly lit lobby where Will stood to make his call.
"Anything else, Will?" Graham had the feeling that Crawford was only putting on this bravado to hide the anger and betrayal he felt from the thought that someone else suspected what he had all along.
"Just one thing. Did you ever know Starling to have a shoe fetish?"
Crawford actually laughed. "No, I never really paid attention. She wears nice shoes, sure. I never thought her obsessive."
"Have you ever known her to wear cheap shoes?" Will pressed.
"Not for as long as I've known her," Crawford became serious again. Will frowned. "No, wait. When she first began helping me with the Buffalo Bill case, but she was only a student, then. Probably couldn't afford good shoes. What makes you ask?"
"Just something," Will said vaguely, feeling now would not be the time to explain about the outburst in the airport parking lot, since he could have sworn he just saw Clarice Starling leaving the hotel in a scarlet red ball gown.
Will just let the phone fall from his hand. "What theā¦"
He sprinted towards the turnstile doors, leaving the swinging phone set to call out, "Will? Will? God damn it! Will!!"
