Chapter 12: Policy of Truth
Two days later, Hannibal Lecter walked briskly through the door of his home. He placed his keys on the peg near the front door, and flipped nonchalantly through the day's mail. He received so little actual mail most of it was circulars and junk mail, because his alias Hayden Litten only existed on paper. He walked through the entryway and stepped into the broad living room. He paused and dropped the mail into the small wastebasket that sat against the wall set there specifically for the day's mail. He straightened up and turned to make his way into the kitchen but he stopped short when he saw Zachary sitting quietly on the couch, looking down at his hands.
"Young Zach," Lecter replied curiously. "Are you not supposed to be in class right now?"
"Yes," the boy replied quietly, "but I need to discuss something with you and you're never home in the evening anymore."
Lecter's eyebrow raised in interest. "What could possibly be more important than Abnormal Psychology?"
"The fact that it's been almost four years and Agent Starling still gives you credit for my work," Zachary all but whispered. He looked up at Lecter to try and gauge his reaction. He was always careful to speak politely and evenly around his mentor for he knew what the man was capable of.
Lecter sighed and moved to sit on the couch opposite the one Zachary sat on. He sat down lightly and crossed one leg over the other. He peered at his young charge with tired eyes. He was tired of having this conversation. "Would you really like the spotlight to turn to you then? If that is what you would like then we can make that happen."
Zachary lowered his gaze back to his hands. "I guess not."
"You must understand, Zachary, I am allowing her train of thought to continue this way while you are still being instructed. This allows you to remain under a wing of protection and subsequently undetectable."
Zachary stared sullenly at the floor, silent under the reproach.
Lecter watched him quietly. Since taking the boy in, he had always been able to read him like a book. He knew exactly what was troubling him. "Listen, Zach, I promise that I am not attempting to upstage you in any way. I am not attempting to take credit where credit is not due. I'm simply trying to keep you safe until you have been trained well and can venture out on your own. When that day arrives, then Agent Starling will see the truth."
"But you're never home anymore," Zachary said desperately, and looked at him. "You seem more preoccupied with her than with me lately. How can I be trained when you aren't here to do that?"
Lecter frowned slightly. It was unlike Zachary to question him like this, not to mention the fact that he had skipped class. He smiled gently at the boy. "Right now I am in the midst of a situation and I need you to be patient. I am not intending to neglect you and it pains me to know you think that I am."
Chagrinned, Zachary gazed back down at the floor. "I don't mean to cause you pain, master, I'm just anxious to learn more from you, that's all."
"Patience is a virtue, young Zach, never forget that." He smiled as he remembered coaching another young learner in this same lesson many years ago. Ah how he wished he could have instructed her further. Well, time for that would come soon enough. "All good things to those who wait," he said and shook his head in amusement. Young people were always so impatient. "So, how is that midterm paper coming?"
Zachary looked up and grinned. "I'm finished. The web site you found for me really helped."
"Good," Lecter smiled. "Now I'm sure you have reading and studying to do," he replied dismissively.
Zachary stood up. "Yes," he said quietly and turned to leave. He strode to the hallway and turned back. "Can I inquire as to what the situation is that you are in the midst of? Is there anything I might do to assist in any way?" He asked hopefully.
Lecter turned his gaze to the boy and mulled his question over in his mind. "I don't think your assistance in this instance would be wise." He said quietly. "But I do appreciate the offer."
"But why can't I help you?" Zachary whined.
"Because in this particular sort of situation, I must be extra careful and your relative inexperience might jeopardize my plans." He paused. "Now, do not question me any more about it."
"But I could learn even more.."
"No," Lecter cut him off. "I will not allow it."
"Just tell me why?" Zachary pleaded.
Lecter sighed. "Because when an FBI agent disappears, there is always an intense investigation. The FBI does not like to lose one of its own."
Zachary's anger boiled up inside. He was tired of being treated like an imbecile. He had come so far and learned so much. 'Why doesn't he trust me?' Zachary thought angrily. He worked to mask his emotions, he must remember whose presence he was in. "Hannibal, please, if you'll just..."
"Enough," Lecter roared at him. "This conversation is finished." He picked up the day's newspaper from the coffee table and perused the headlines.
Zachary glared at him for a moment, stormed to the coat rack, grabbed his jacket, and bounded through the entryway to the door. Lecter looked up.
"Where are you going?" he called after the boy.
"Out," came the simple reply shortly before the door slammed shut.
The next morning, Clarice sat at her desk, gnawing on the end of a pencil, and going through lease agreements that the rental companies had sent over. They had been granted a warrant from a judge to have thirteen prominent rental companies within D.C., the Quantico area, and Chesapeake Bay send them copies of leases that had been signed within the last five years. Will's and Clarice's one and only stipulation had been that the companies pull leases that had been signed by only one Caucasian older gentleman, especially those with the initials of H.L.
Clarice figured she would know Lecter's handwriting. Going on Will's theory that Lecter lived close by, they had decided to work quickly through the paperwork before moving on to more difficult tasks. It was a shot in the dark but at least Clarice felt they were moving in the right direction. She looked up from her pile of lease agreements as Will walked through the door, carrying two cans of Coke and a bag of pretzels.
"Lunch," he announced and smiled.
"Boy that looks nutritious," Clarice snickered.
"I got you a regular Coke instead of diet. Sorry, I forgot. I don't know how you can drink that diet shit anyway."
She rolled her eyes at him. Will handed her a soda, placed his on the desk, and sat down in his chair. He opened the bag of pretzels, took out a handful and put some in his mouth. He offered her the bag.
"No thanks," she replied. "I swear, you can't rely on a man to even complete the simple task of procuring lunch."
"Hey, that's hitting below the belt, Starling," he chuckled and threw two pretzels at her.
Clarice deflected them and the pretzels fell to the floor. There was a knock on the door and Seth poked his head in.
"Hey Seth," Clarice smiled and gestured him in.
"Seth," Will called.
"Hey Clarice, Will," he shook Will's outstretched hand and grabbed some pretzels out of the bag.
"What brings you slumming with the cast-offs of Behavioral Science?" Clarice grinned.
"Actually, some mail arrived for Will and was left on my desk by accident." He handed Will a small stationary-style envelope.
"Oooh," Clarice replied. "Love letters already Will? You sly dog you."
Will looked at her, nodded his head, and smirked. "Yeah, you're just jealous."
Seth laughed. "So what are you two working on?"
"Matching handwriting," Clarice looked bored and continued to gnaw absently on her pencil. "Wanna help?"
"Oh, you know, as much fun as that sounds, I think I'll just leave you two love birds alone and get back to actual detective work," Seth grinned.
Clarice and Will simultaneously flipped up their middle fingers at him.
"Damn, Clarice," Seth laughed. "Your bad habits are rubbing off on him."
"Believe me," Will grinned. "I learned all the bad habits when she was still in diapers, I don't need her to teach 'em to me."
Seth smiled. "Later, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Bye Seth," Clarice said.
"See ya, Seth," Will replied.
Still smiling, Clarice went back to flipping through lease agreements and tapping the pencil on the desk now. Will opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He opened it and his eyes widened as he read.
'My Dear Will, You and I both know that you are not up to the task of finding me. The time you actually did, was a fluke, and you know it. Do not fill your head with thoughts of grandeur and waste poor Clarice's time with your petty little ideas. Oh, and one other thing: you would do well to discontinue your little evening pow-wows at her residence. I cannot stress strongly enough how unfortunate life would become for you should your relationship with her become anything more than merely professional. Until now I have extended to you the courtesy of not calling upon you although God knows how easy it would have been to have visited you on one of those all too frequent drunken nights. But I thought it would be much more amusing to let you wallow through your own hell of addiction and self-loathing. However, now you are attempting to be brave when we both know you are not and that displeases me immensely. Be seeing you soon, ~H'
Will felt his heart leap from his chest and his breath caught in his throat. He stood up too quickly, shoved the paper and envelope into his back pocket, and scrambled for the door. Clarice looked up in surprise.
"Will?" she called as he bolted through the door.
He raced to the stairwell and bounded down it until he was outside. He pulled at his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, leaned over, put his hands on his knees, and gulped for air. He could not breath. He felt as if he were suffocating. His left side ached and without realizing it, his hand moved there to rest over the scar. Suddenly, every emotion, every memory that he had attempted to medicate away for years slammed back through his head. All of his nightmares seemed coalesced before his mind's eye and he staggered backward under the weight of it all. He remembered the excruciating physical pain, yes, but most of all he remembered the damnable fear that Lecter had inflicted within him. As a boy Will had feared the imaginary monsters that snuck up on him at night. As a man, Lecter had made Will come to fear the very real monsters that snuck up on him at night.
He thought of the last line in the note: 'Be seeing you soon,' and cringed.
'God I need to get wasted,' Will thought and groaned. 'More now than ever. What the hell am I doing? Lecter's right, I am not up to this. I'm nothing. Besides, my God, he knows. He knows I'm working with Clarice, which means he's watched us. And now I'm risking my life just to try and catch him? For what? Oh fuck.'
Will straightened up and put his head in his hands. His breathing began to slow and his heart gradually returned to its normal rhythm. He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. Just then, Clarice poked her head out the door. When she saw him, she rushed over to him.
"There you are," she breathed. "You gave me quite a scare. What happened?"
He looked into her eyes and knew he should tell her the truth. But he did not want her blaming herself or being overly worried. "I just needed some fresh air," he managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Who was that letter from?"
Will's mind worked frantically for a story that Clarice would believe. "Just the wife of a friend down in Florida. He fell from a ladder last week and got hurt pretty bad. It just brought back some bad memories, that's all. I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry that your friend got hurt," Clarice smiled gently. "I just wanted to be sure you were okay. You sure bolted out of the office in a hurry."
Will nodded and managed a smile again. "I'm fine," he lied and took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rattled nerves. He restrained an urge to bolt in the direction of his car and drive away from this place, never looking back. He looked at Clarice's concerned face and knew he must keep his promise to her. He'd stay...for now. "Come on, let's get back to work."
Three hours later, Will looked up from his pile of lease agreements, stretched his arms up over his head and rubbed his tired eyes. "This is getting us nowhere, Clarice. We need to switch tactics."
"Alright." She said and paused. "We can't concentrate on the murders if he isn't the one committing them so that direction is moot," Clarice said. "What if we tried to draw him out?"
"He'd probably see right through that."
"We haven't had any positive leads from any of the fine foods stores we sent Lecter's picture to, have we?"
"No," Will shook his head. "Nothing substantial."
Suddenly, the phone on Clarice's desk buzzed.
"Starling," she announced into the receiver and listened for a moment. She looked up at Will. "We're on our way," she said into the phone and dropped the receiver back into its cradle. She stood up, removing her leather jacket from the coat stand.
"What's up?" Will asked.
"Another 'guilty' murder," Clarice said.
This time the body of an elderly man had been found in Baltimore, Maryland dumped in an alley. Clarice and Will displayed their badges, walked under the yellow police tape and approached the scene. Clarice stopped to speak with the detectives from the Baltimore Police Department while Will moved to kneel beside the body. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the inhumanity before him. This one was the worst by far of all the 'guilty' victims.
He was an older Caucasian man, balding, white hair, maybe five feet, eight inches tall, and he had a broad, muscular upper body. Like the other victims, he was found nude and lying on his stomach. The differences between him and the other victims, however, were alarming. His face had been carved so that there was little skin that remained over the skeleton and muscles. His hands had been severed and left next to the body in a haphazard manner. In addition, Will noted the man's ears, nose, penis and testicles lay scattered around the body. The body had been cut and scraped by a knife and was badly mutilated. Carved into the man's back underneath the single word, 'guilty', were the words 'see the truth.' Will's brow furrowed.
Clarice came over and squatted down next to him, looking puzzled. "The detectives ran his fingerprints. His name is Thomas Levine. The weird thing is that unlike the other victims, he isn't a registered sex offender, they found no record of any kind, nothing. He owned a small hardware store on Liberty Road here in Baltimore." She paused and looked at the body. "Nothing at all links him to the other victims with the exception of the word 'guilty.'"
Will stood up and walked to the other side of the body. "Do you have any gloves?" He asked Clarice. He worked to quiet his mind. 'Be still,' he repeated to himself.
She threw him a pair of latex examination gloves she had been given by the detectives. He slipped them on, knelt back down, and lifted the body partially over so he could view the man's stomach and chest. Clarice came to stand beside him and peered under the body.
"He's been cut up the front like the others as well," Clarice observed. "Think his organs are taken, too?" She glanced at Will.
"There's only one way to find out," he replied grimly.
Clarice scrunched up her nose, nodded bleakly and pulled on a pair of gloves. "You hold him, I'll look," she said.
While Will held the body up, Clarice spread the wound in the man's chest open. She reached her hand inside and felt around. The heart was missing. Clarice groaned slightly in disgust and pulled her hands out. Will grunted and let the body drop back to the ground with a hollow splat. They both stood up and stripped off the gloves.
"Alright," Clarice said. "Same word and three new ones this time on the back. Same wound up the abdomen and chest with major organs removed."
"The cut wasn't clean like the others," Will added. "It was jagged and rough as if it were done in a hurry."
Clarice nodded. "The other major difference is the body parts that have been severed and scattered around the body and the deep slashes on the majority of the body." She sighed. "Despite the fact that the carving of the word on the bodies has never been made public, do you think this is some kind of copycat murder?" She thought aloud.
Will mused over her question for a moment, his eyes never leaving the body. He closed his eyes and probed for the killer's psyche. 'Be still,' he told his mind. When he opened them again, he shook his head. "I don't think so." He paused.
"It just seems that the killer was awfully angry with this one to have cut him up like that."
Will nodded. "Exactly." He paused. "This was not planned like the others were. This looks like a quick, random selection made in haste and anger, an impulse killing."
"But what made the killer so angry?"
Will was silent for a moment. "Maybe the fact that Dr. Lecter has been given credit for these crimes."
Clarice looked at him, stunned. "What makes you think so?"
Will met her gaze. "Two things. First, look at the victim, Clarice. Physically who does he remind you of?"
"Lecter," she breathed.
"Right," Will nodded. "Secondly, the other words, 'see the truth.' He wants us to know who's really committing these crimes. He's proud of them." He paused and stared at the body again. "But mutilation of this kind generally indicates severe deep seated hatred. If the man here is supposed to represent Lecter, why does the killer hate him so?" Will thought aloud. "I can't imagine a simple case of mistaken identity by the FBI with regards to who the actual killer is would cause this much hatred and anger."
"Wait a minute, Will," Clarice said and looked at him. "You said before that you think Lecter knows the actual killer and that was how he knew about the word 'guilty' being carved into the victims."
He met her gaze and their minds worked furiously.
"But I don't think they are working together," Will mused quietly to himself.
"Because of Lecter's age and desire to quit," Clarice added. "And these murders don't fit his MO."
They looked back to the body. They were both still and silent for a few minutes.
"What if Lecter and the killer are living together?" Clarice asked quietly. "Perhaps all this time, we've been looking at the wrong type of lease agreements."
Will looked at her. "We should be looking for ones signed by an older Caucasian man with the initials of H.L. who included a young man on the lease as well."
They looked at each other for a moment before turning back and rushing to the car.
"You drive," Clarice told Will, pulling out her cell phone. "I'll call the rental companies."
To be continued. Please review!
luna: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I understand this fic is tough for the diehard Hannibal/Clarice lovers. I for one enjoy lost love type of stories and major angst. But you never know what's coming up! Also, yes, I'm guilty as charged. I have stockpiled some chapters. But I do have a defense: I'm trying to get as much of the story down before I go back and clean and polish things up in them. Besides, I like to torture you guys! Thanks again.
Kurt: Yes GD jealousy is soooo much fun!! We were unable to see much emotion from him in the movies. Kendra will rear her ugly head again soon. Thanks for your continued reading and reviewing.
Oh faithful reviewee AKA Shattered!!!! So funny! Now no temper tantrums or its time out for you! As always, thank you for your reviews. See ya next chapter.
Nicole: Thank you so very much for your review. You may in the minority as far as the whole Will/Clarice thing is concerned, but that's alright. I appreciate your support.
Hanniballover1181: I'm sorry if you do not like the story line but I appreciate your review and feedback. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
guber: Wow, I enjoy bringing people to their knees so get down there!! J/K! Thank you so much for your review.
EyeSeeU: Aww, thank you for your great review. Yes, I thought the 'predator/prey' thing was pretty cool (if I do say so myself). Thanks again.
Nan: Thanks for the kudos on the chapter. It's nice when you work very hard at something and people appreciate the quality of it. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks again.
Two days later, Hannibal Lecter walked briskly through the door of his home. He placed his keys on the peg near the front door, and flipped nonchalantly through the day's mail. He received so little actual mail most of it was circulars and junk mail, because his alias Hayden Litten only existed on paper. He walked through the entryway and stepped into the broad living room. He paused and dropped the mail into the small wastebasket that sat against the wall set there specifically for the day's mail. He straightened up and turned to make his way into the kitchen but he stopped short when he saw Zachary sitting quietly on the couch, looking down at his hands.
"Young Zach," Lecter replied curiously. "Are you not supposed to be in class right now?"
"Yes," the boy replied quietly, "but I need to discuss something with you and you're never home in the evening anymore."
Lecter's eyebrow raised in interest. "What could possibly be more important than Abnormal Psychology?"
"The fact that it's been almost four years and Agent Starling still gives you credit for my work," Zachary all but whispered. He looked up at Lecter to try and gauge his reaction. He was always careful to speak politely and evenly around his mentor for he knew what the man was capable of.
Lecter sighed and moved to sit on the couch opposite the one Zachary sat on. He sat down lightly and crossed one leg over the other. He peered at his young charge with tired eyes. He was tired of having this conversation. "Would you really like the spotlight to turn to you then? If that is what you would like then we can make that happen."
Zachary lowered his gaze back to his hands. "I guess not."
"You must understand, Zachary, I am allowing her train of thought to continue this way while you are still being instructed. This allows you to remain under a wing of protection and subsequently undetectable."
Zachary stared sullenly at the floor, silent under the reproach.
Lecter watched him quietly. Since taking the boy in, he had always been able to read him like a book. He knew exactly what was troubling him. "Listen, Zach, I promise that I am not attempting to upstage you in any way. I am not attempting to take credit where credit is not due. I'm simply trying to keep you safe until you have been trained well and can venture out on your own. When that day arrives, then Agent Starling will see the truth."
"But you're never home anymore," Zachary said desperately, and looked at him. "You seem more preoccupied with her than with me lately. How can I be trained when you aren't here to do that?"
Lecter frowned slightly. It was unlike Zachary to question him like this, not to mention the fact that he had skipped class. He smiled gently at the boy. "Right now I am in the midst of a situation and I need you to be patient. I am not intending to neglect you and it pains me to know you think that I am."
Chagrinned, Zachary gazed back down at the floor. "I don't mean to cause you pain, master, I'm just anxious to learn more from you, that's all."
"Patience is a virtue, young Zach, never forget that." He smiled as he remembered coaching another young learner in this same lesson many years ago. Ah how he wished he could have instructed her further. Well, time for that would come soon enough. "All good things to those who wait," he said and shook his head in amusement. Young people were always so impatient. "So, how is that midterm paper coming?"
Zachary looked up and grinned. "I'm finished. The web site you found for me really helped."
"Good," Lecter smiled. "Now I'm sure you have reading and studying to do," he replied dismissively.
Zachary stood up. "Yes," he said quietly and turned to leave. He strode to the hallway and turned back. "Can I inquire as to what the situation is that you are in the midst of? Is there anything I might do to assist in any way?" He asked hopefully.
Lecter turned his gaze to the boy and mulled his question over in his mind. "I don't think your assistance in this instance would be wise." He said quietly. "But I do appreciate the offer."
"But why can't I help you?" Zachary whined.
"Because in this particular sort of situation, I must be extra careful and your relative inexperience might jeopardize my plans." He paused. "Now, do not question me any more about it."
"But I could learn even more.."
"No," Lecter cut him off. "I will not allow it."
"Just tell me why?" Zachary pleaded.
Lecter sighed. "Because when an FBI agent disappears, there is always an intense investigation. The FBI does not like to lose one of its own."
Zachary's anger boiled up inside. He was tired of being treated like an imbecile. He had come so far and learned so much. 'Why doesn't he trust me?' Zachary thought angrily. He worked to mask his emotions, he must remember whose presence he was in. "Hannibal, please, if you'll just..."
"Enough," Lecter roared at him. "This conversation is finished." He picked up the day's newspaper from the coffee table and perused the headlines.
Zachary glared at him for a moment, stormed to the coat rack, grabbed his jacket, and bounded through the entryway to the door. Lecter looked up.
"Where are you going?" he called after the boy.
"Out," came the simple reply shortly before the door slammed shut.
The next morning, Clarice sat at her desk, gnawing on the end of a pencil, and going through lease agreements that the rental companies had sent over. They had been granted a warrant from a judge to have thirteen prominent rental companies within D.C., the Quantico area, and Chesapeake Bay send them copies of leases that had been signed within the last five years. Will's and Clarice's one and only stipulation had been that the companies pull leases that had been signed by only one Caucasian older gentleman, especially those with the initials of H.L.
Clarice figured she would know Lecter's handwriting. Going on Will's theory that Lecter lived close by, they had decided to work quickly through the paperwork before moving on to more difficult tasks. It was a shot in the dark but at least Clarice felt they were moving in the right direction. She looked up from her pile of lease agreements as Will walked through the door, carrying two cans of Coke and a bag of pretzels.
"Lunch," he announced and smiled.
"Boy that looks nutritious," Clarice snickered.
"I got you a regular Coke instead of diet. Sorry, I forgot. I don't know how you can drink that diet shit anyway."
She rolled her eyes at him. Will handed her a soda, placed his on the desk, and sat down in his chair. He opened the bag of pretzels, took out a handful and put some in his mouth. He offered her the bag.
"No thanks," she replied. "I swear, you can't rely on a man to even complete the simple task of procuring lunch."
"Hey, that's hitting below the belt, Starling," he chuckled and threw two pretzels at her.
Clarice deflected them and the pretzels fell to the floor. There was a knock on the door and Seth poked his head in.
"Hey Seth," Clarice smiled and gestured him in.
"Seth," Will called.
"Hey Clarice, Will," he shook Will's outstretched hand and grabbed some pretzels out of the bag.
"What brings you slumming with the cast-offs of Behavioral Science?" Clarice grinned.
"Actually, some mail arrived for Will and was left on my desk by accident." He handed Will a small stationary-style envelope.
"Oooh," Clarice replied. "Love letters already Will? You sly dog you."
Will looked at her, nodded his head, and smirked. "Yeah, you're just jealous."
Seth laughed. "So what are you two working on?"
"Matching handwriting," Clarice looked bored and continued to gnaw absently on her pencil. "Wanna help?"
"Oh, you know, as much fun as that sounds, I think I'll just leave you two love birds alone and get back to actual detective work," Seth grinned.
Clarice and Will simultaneously flipped up their middle fingers at him.
"Damn, Clarice," Seth laughed. "Your bad habits are rubbing off on him."
"Believe me," Will grinned. "I learned all the bad habits when she was still in diapers, I don't need her to teach 'em to me."
Seth smiled. "Later, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Bye Seth," Clarice said.
"See ya, Seth," Will replied.
Still smiling, Clarice went back to flipping through lease agreements and tapping the pencil on the desk now. Will opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He opened it and his eyes widened as he read.
'My Dear Will, You and I both know that you are not up to the task of finding me. The time you actually did, was a fluke, and you know it. Do not fill your head with thoughts of grandeur and waste poor Clarice's time with your petty little ideas. Oh, and one other thing: you would do well to discontinue your little evening pow-wows at her residence. I cannot stress strongly enough how unfortunate life would become for you should your relationship with her become anything more than merely professional. Until now I have extended to you the courtesy of not calling upon you although God knows how easy it would have been to have visited you on one of those all too frequent drunken nights. But I thought it would be much more amusing to let you wallow through your own hell of addiction and self-loathing. However, now you are attempting to be brave when we both know you are not and that displeases me immensely. Be seeing you soon, ~H'
Will felt his heart leap from his chest and his breath caught in his throat. He stood up too quickly, shoved the paper and envelope into his back pocket, and scrambled for the door. Clarice looked up in surprise.
"Will?" she called as he bolted through the door.
He raced to the stairwell and bounded down it until he was outside. He pulled at his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, leaned over, put his hands on his knees, and gulped for air. He could not breath. He felt as if he were suffocating. His left side ached and without realizing it, his hand moved there to rest over the scar. Suddenly, every emotion, every memory that he had attempted to medicate away for years slammed back through his head. All of his nightmares seemed coalesced before his mind's eye and he staggered backward under the weight of it all. He remembered the excruciating physical pain, yes, but most of all he remembered the damnable fear that Lecter had inflicted within him. As a boy Will had feared the imaginary monsters that snuck up on him at night. As a man, Lecter had made Will come to fear the very real monsters that snuck up on him at night.
He thought of the last line in the note: 'Be seeing you soon,' and cringed.
'God I need to get wasted,' Will thought and groaned. 'More now than ever. What the hell am I doing? Lecter's right, I am not up to this. I'm nothing. Besides, my God, he knows. He knows I'm working with Clarice, which means he's watched us. And now I'm risking my life just to try and catch him? For what? Oh fuck.'
Will straightened up and put his head in his hands. His breathing began to slow and his heart gradually returned to its normal rhythm. He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. Just then, Clarice poked her head out the door. When she saw him, she rushed over to him.
"There you are," she breathed. "You gave me quite a scare. What happened?"
He looked into her eyes and knew he should tell her the truth. But he did not want her blaming herself or being overly worried. "I just needed some fresh air," he managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Who was that letter from?"
Will's mind worked frantically for a story that Clarice would believe. "Just the wife of a friend down in Florida. He fell from a ladder last week and got hurt pretty bad. It just brought back some bad memories, that's all. I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry that your friend got hurt," Clarice smiled gently. "I just wanted to be sure you were okay. You sure bolted out of the office in a hurry."
Will nodded and managed a smile again. "I'm fine," he lied and took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rattled nerves. He restrained an urge to bolt in the direction of his car and drive away from this place, never looking back. He looked at Clarice's concerned face and knew he must keep his promise to her. He'd stay...for now. "Come on, let's get back to work."
Three hours later, Will looked up from his pile of lease agreements, stretched his arms up over his head and rubbed his tired eyes. "This is getting us nowhere, Clarice. We need to switch tactics."
"Alright." She said and paused. "We can't concentrate on the murders if he isn't the one committing them so that direction is moot," Clarice said. "What if we tried to draw him out?"
"He'd probably see right through that."
"We haven't had any positive leads from any of the fine foods stores we sent Lecter's picture to, have we?"
"No," Will shook his head. "Nothing substantial."
Suddenly, the phone on Clarice's desk buzzed.
"Starling," she announced into the receiver and listened for a moment. She looked up at Will. "We're on our way," she said into the phone and dropped the receiver back into its cradle. She stood up, removing her leather jacket from the coat stand.
"What's up?" Will asked.
"Another 'guilty' murder," Clarice said.
This time the body of an elderly man had been found in Baltimore, Maryland dumped in an alley. Clarice and Will displayed their badges, walked under the yellow police tape and approached the scene. Clarice stopped to speak with the detectives from the Baltimore Police Department while Will moved to kneel beside the body. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the inhumanity before him. This one was the worst by far of all the 'guilty' victims.
He was an older Caucasian man, balding, white hair, maybe five feet, eight inches tall, and he had a broad, muscular upper body. Like the other victims, he was found nude and lying on his stomach. The differences between him and the other victims, however, were alarming. His face had been carved so that there was little skin that remained over the skeleton and muscles. His hands had been severed and left next to the body in a haphazard manner. In addition, Will noted the man's ears, nose, penis and testicles lay scattered around the body. The body had been cut and scraped by a knife and was badly mutilated. Carved into the man's back underneath the single word, 'guilty', were the words 'see the truth.' Will's brow furrowed.
Clarice came over and squatted down next to him, looking puzzled. "The detectives ran his fingerprints. His name is Thomas Levine. The weird thing is that unlike the other victims, he isn't a registered sex offender, they found no record of any kind, nothing. He owned a small hardware store on Liberty Road here in Baltimore." She paused and looked at the body. "Nothing at all links him to the other victims with the exception of the word 'guilty.'"
Will stood up and walked to the other side of the body. "Do you have any gloves?" He asked Clarice. He worked to quiet his mind. 'Be still,' he repeated to himself.
She threw him a pair of latex examination gloves she had been given by the detectives. He slipped them on, knelt back down, and lifted the body partially over so he could view the man's stomach and chest. Clarice came to stand beside him and peered under the body.
"He's been cut up the front like the others as well," Clarice observed. "Think his organs are taken, too?" She glanced at Will.
"There's only one way to find out," he replied grimly.
Clarice scrunched up her nose, nodded bleakly and pulled on a pair of gloves. "You hold him, I'll look," she said.
While Will held the body up, Clarice spread the wound in the man's chest open. She reached her hand inside and felt around. The heart was missing. Clarice groaned slightly in disgust and pulled her hands out. Will grunted and let the body drop back to the ground with a hollow splat. They both stood up and stripped off the gloves.
"Alright," Clarice said. "Same word and three new ones this time on the back. Same wound up the abdomen and chest with major organs removed."
"The cut wasn't clean like the others," Will added. "It was jagged and rough as if it were done in a hurry."
Clarice nodded. "The other major difference is the body parts that have been severed and scattered around the body and the deep slashes on the majority of the body." She sighed. "Despite the fact that the carving of the word on the bodies has never been made public, do you think this is some kind of copycat murder?" She thought aloud.
Will mused over her question for a moment, his eyes never leaving the body. He closed his eyes and probed for the killer's psyche. 'Be still,' he told his mind. When he opened them again, he shook his head. "I don't think so." He paused.
"It just seems that the killer was awfully angry with this one to have cut him up like that."
Will nodded. "Exactly." He paused. "This was not planned like the others were. This looks like a quick, random selection made in haste and anger, an impulse killing."
"But what made the killer so angry?"
Will was silent for a moment. "Maybe the fact that Dr. Lecter has been given credit for these crimes."
Clarice looked at him, stunned. "What makes you think so?"
Will met her gaze. "Two things. First, look at the victim, Clarice. Physically who does he remind you of?"
"Lecter," she breathed.
"Right," Will nodded. "Secondly, the other words, 'see the truth.' He wants us to know who's really committing these crimes. He's proud of them." He paused and stared at the body again. "But mutilation of this kind generally indicates severe deep seated hatred. If the man here is supposed to represent Lecter, why does the killer hate him so?" Will thought aloud. "I can't imagine a simple case of mistaken identity by the FBI with regards to who the actual killer is would cause this much hatred and anger."
"Wait a minute, Will," Clarice said and looked at him. "You said before that you think Lecter knows the actual killer and that was how he knew about the word 'guilty' being carved into the victims."
He met her gaze and their minds worked furiously.
"But I don't think they are working together," Will mused quietly to himself.
"Because of Lecter's age and desire to quit," Clarice added. "And these murders don't fit his MO."
They looked back to the body. They were both still and silent for a few minutes.
"What if Lecter and the killer are living together?" Clarice asked quietly. "Perhaps all this time, we've been looking at the wrong type of lease agreements."
Will looked at her. "We should be looking for ones signed by an older Caucasian man with the initials of H.L. who included a young man on the lease as well."
They looked at each other for a moment before turning back and rushing to the car.
"You drive," Clarice told Will, pulling out her cell phone. "I'll call the rental companies."
To be continued. Please review!
luna: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I understand this fic is tough for the diehard Hannibal/Clarice lovers. I for one enjoy lost love type of stories and major angst. But you never know what's coming up! Also, yes, I'm guilty as charged. I have stockpiled some chapters. But I do have a defense: I'm trying to get as much of the story down before I go back and clean and polish things up in them. Besides, I like to torture you guys! Thanks again.
Kurt: Yes GD jealousy is soooo much fun!! We were unable to see much emotion from him in the movies. Kendra will rear her ugly head again soon. Thanks for your continued reading and reviewing.
Oh faithful reviewee AKA Shattered!!!! So funny! Now no temper tantrums or its time out for you! As always, thank you for your reviews. See ya next chapter.
Nicole: Thank you so very much for your review. You may in the minority as far as the whole Will/Clarice thing is concerned, but that's alright. I appreciate your support.
Hanniballover1181: I'm sorry if you do not like the story line but I appreciate your review and feedback. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
guber: Wow, I enjoy bringing people to their knees so get down there!! J/K! Thank you so much for your review.
EyeSeeU: Aww, thank you for your great review. Yes, I thought the 'predator/prey' thing was pretty cool (if I do say so myself). Thanks again.
Nan: Thanks for the kudos on the chapter. It's nice when you work very hard at something and people appreciate the quality of it. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks again.
