~ CHAPTER XV: ON THE FERRIS WHEEL ~

It turned out that Hannibal had not, in fact, ever been on a Ferris wheel. He didn't seem too fond of heights, either, if the skeptical look Will caught him giving the Ferris wheel was any indication.

"That looks quite unsafe," Hannibal said, squinting up at the ride as they got in line.

Will tried and failed to keep an amused smile from twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I didn't take you as one to have a phobia of heights, Doctor."

"I wouldn't call it a phobia. I can deal with heights when necessary. This, however..." Hannibal paused.

"Is not necessary," Will finished for him, and Hannibal tipped his head in affirmation. "Look at this way: we can use it to scope out the grounds. When we near the top, we'll be able to see the entire carnival. We'll know where all the booths are and where the crowds are, and we can build a mental map of where we want to go next. Necessary, no. But useful? Yes."

Hannibal pursed his lips. He was still looking at the Ferris wheel with a faint look of either skepticism or disdain, it was hard to tell, but he didn't protest, so Will counted that as a win.

As they waited in line, Will observed the people around them. Nothing stood out as suspicious or out of place. The line for the Ferris wheel consisted mostly of couples, families with younger children, and teens roughhousing with each other, which was the expected demographic. The ride operator couldn't have been older than college-aged, and he looked bored out of his mind. If he was already bored, Will could only imagine how he would feel if his shift lasted the rest of the day. It was an amusing thought.

Hannibal spoke again as they neared the front of the line, disturbing Will from his silent observation. "Is the Ferris wheel here all year round?"

Will glanced at him. "No, why?"

"So it's portable?"

"Yes?"

"And therefore not bolted or secured firmly to the ground."

Will chuckled before he could stop himself. "Ferris wheels used for traveling carnivals are always portable. They have to be, but there are state regulations that they have to meet in order to be used. I wouldn't take you on a ride if I thought it would break down and get us killed."

Hannibal looked unconvinced. However, when they reached the front of the line, he climbed into the passenger car with Will. The car was more of a bucket than anything else; it resembled a colorful porch swing, but with a metal safety bar that locked into place over their laps, and had just enough room for two people. The operator told them the safety rules in a bored, droning voice. Then they were off and moving.

As the car neared the top of the ride, the carnival stretched out below them, sprawling across the race course in an explosion of color. There were several other rides nearby, including an old-fashioned carousel, bumper cars, a teacup and saucer ride, and a dangerous-looking Tilt-A-Whirl. One section of the carnival featured tents selling art and crafts. Another section held the food stands, offering classics like funnel cake, caramel corn, cotton candy, corn dogs, and pizza, as well as more regional fare. The rest of the attractions were evenly spread out. There were booths and side stalls advertising games of chance or skill, a bouncy house, a fun house, and a children's petting zoo with donkeys, goats, pigs, and rabbits.

Nostalgia tugged at Will's chest. His childhood wasn't the happiest, but he had genuinely good memories of the carnival. However, with Hannibal by his side, he was looking at them differently. He'd never had anyone to explore the carnival with when he was younger, whether they were friends, cousins, or even reluctant acquaintances, so to have someone with him now... It felt very strange to be back as an adult with company this time, even if it was more out of necessity than choice. Strange, but not unwelcome.

The Ferris Wheel came to a slow halt, leaving them about three-quarters of the way up.

"Is this normal?" Hannibal spoke up for the first time since they'd buckled in. His voice was as nonchalant as ever, but Will could tell by how stiff he was sitting that he was anything but.

Most people didn't pick up on other people's emotions the way that Will did, but part of him hoped that his own current, relaxed manner was broadcasting to Hannibal in some way, and that it was calming, even if only marginally. "Yeah, they're just loading the last couple seats. Then it'll go around a couple of times uninterrupted, and they'll let us off."

He glanced at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye just in time to catch his jerky nod. He'd never seen Hannibal so tense, and it threw him for a loop — not that Hannibal's discomfort was obvious, of course; none of the man's emotions ever were. But Will was picking up on it easier than usual. To his highly attuned senses, it felt as if Hannibal was shouting it from the rooftops. It was odd. Seeing Hannibal out of his element was typically a confidence booster. But this?

Will didn't like it.

"The Ferris wheel is the one thing that I always wanted to have enough money for," Will said without preamble. "The funnel cake, too, but if it was funnel cake or Ferris wheel, the Ferris wheel won." He left out the part where if he was hungry enough, he could steal food out from under the carnies' noses; a ride on the Ferris wheel was impossible to steal. "One year, I decided to be adventurous and ride the Tilt-A-Whirl, instead. Huge mistake. That damn thing made me so sick to my stomach that I had to sit with my head between my knees for half an hour afterward. Don't ever get on one of those unless you have a strong constitution and don't get dizzy easily. And never on a full stomach unless you're ready to taste your food again."

As he talked, he could sense Hannibal relaxing. By the time the Ferris wheel began to move again, Hannibal was back within his normal range of stiffness, enough to chuckle when Will told a bad joke or said something particularly sarcastic. And by the time their feet were back on solid ground, Hannibal seemed back to his usual self. Will could feel the tension in his own body that he hadn't even known he'd had fade away. He nudged Hannibal lightly with his shoulder as they reentered the crowds. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It is certainly beneficial that your trust in the ride's safety was not misplaced," Hannibal hedged. Then: "Where to next?"

If Hannibal were anybody else, Will would have pushed him on it, maybe made a remark about his lack of trust in him. Instead, Will accepted the deflection for what it was and let it slide. "Let's check out the craft fair tents first. Then we can move on to the other booths."

The crowd grew thinner as they approached the tents. Unfortunately, less people meant less places for them to blend in. If the killer was here, Will didn't want to spook him into hiding by being obvious about who he and Hannibal were and why they were there. One bonus, however, was that they fit much better into the demographic of this section of the carnival. Most of the people around them were middle-aged or older adults who were more interested in the art and crafts fair than the carnival rides.

Will and Hannibal walked slowly through the lines of tents, pretending to check out the merchandise. There was no rhyme or reason to the order in which the tents were pitched. One tent was full of colorful handmade jewelry, manned by an old white woman with floaty silver hair all the way down to her knees who was fanning herself with a foldable fan. The tent right next door sold antiques, watched over by a graying middle-aged white man in a rocking chair. The next tent showcased patchwork quilts, pillows, matching bed sets, towels, and the like. Then there was a tent manned by a twitchy young white man surrounded by abstract paintings and prints, followed by a tent with an interracial couple selling homemade soaps and fragrances.

"This is where he's most likely to be," Will said quietly, leaning his head back to speak close to Hannibal's ear. As he did so, he pretended that he was eyeing the merchandise available in the nearest tent, which consisted of homemade candles of all shapes and sizes.

Hannibal hummed. "Has anyone in particular caught your eye?"

"No. That doesn't surprise me, though. We're looking for someone who knows how to blend in very well. The kind of person whose face you forget almost immediately."

"A master of camouflage, blending seamlessly into his environment. Humans are certainly not alone in that endeavor."

Oh. With Hannibal's words, realization swept over Will. "That's how he finds and chooses his victims. They don't truly see him until it's too late." He kept walking, anxious not to stay in one place too long, but he stayed close to Hannibal so they could talk without being overheard. "He'll be more unassuming than I first guessed. If that's the case, I highly doubt we'll find him here, even if he is present. There's just not enough for me to go off of."

They reached the end of the craft fair tents and stopped, turning back. Will felt restless suddenly, as if he could run a mile and not feel fatigued. He wasn't sure if it was coming from him or from the killer he was profiling. He decided not to analyze it too deeply.

"Should we pretend to consider buying anything before we go?" Hannibal said, glancing at the nearest tent, which sold elaborate pieces of glasswork.

"No, I don't think so. Let's head back and check out other booths." Will bobbed his head in the direction of the silhouette of the Ferris wheel against the blue sky. "You ready to try out some carnival games?"