Lethal Games
By Absolut.
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).
Note: This is my first Lecterfic, so please be nice. Reviews always welcome.
Chapter 1: You've got mail ...
Starling was looking down Price's office window. Night was falling. She had been up for about thirty six hours now and was struggling to keep focused on her new boss' voice. Michael Price sounded tired too. And she could clearly recognize frustration in his tone.
Two months that they had been on this case now, and not the smallest bit of a clue. She once more listened to him summarizing the situation for Brad and her.
Eight victims so far. All in Washington DC or its suburb. Different sex, different age, different social condition. The victims did not know each other, had not attended the same schools, had never belonged the same clubs. Did not read the same books, did not listen to the same music ... nothing in common.
Except the fact that they all met their death in the last twelve weeks ! And a violent death as well. But even the modus operandi were different: two death by strangulation, three gun shot, one victim was stabbed twenty one times, another one was burnt alive. And yesterday Victor Talbot was found dead in his garage, decapitated with an axe.
But each time, pinned to the corpse, they had found a daffodil with a one-dollar bill attached to it. Too unusual to be a coincidence ...
The press had found out about the signature after the third victim was discovered. They immediately started to spread the news that a new serial killer was in town. The mayor and local police had no choice but to call for the FBI to take over the case. And this is how special agent Clarice Starling, recently re-integrated in a new field unit after the internal inquiry on her last encounter with Hannibal Lecter, found herself involved in all this.
Five other bodies had been found since. All of them with the flower and the bill. Of course, they had thought of the possibility of a copycat. But two weeks ago, they had found another 'detail' that had never been published in the papers. A photo. The picture of a little boy, maybe five or six years old. The same photo found in the wallet of each and every victim.
They showed the picture to the families and friends of the victims, but no one could identify the child so far.
Price was finishing his speech. Brad Davenport, her new partner, had stopped listening for quite some time.
" - OK," Price concluded " I think we all long for a little rest. Starling, tomorrow I want you to take the first flight to Denver to go and talk with Talbot ex-wife. You'll find her name and address in the file. Davenport, you will take three men with you and go back to the last crime scene. Re-examine everything."
Davenport looked desperate:
"- Sir, we already spent one full day there and ...
- I know, but I can't afford the risk we've missed something. See you tomorrow."
The two agents left the office. In the elevator, going down to the garage, both remained silent. There wasn't much to say. They finally reached their cars and wished each other goodnight.
Starling stopped by a chinese take-away on her way home. Last thing she felt like tonight was cooking. She pushed the door of the five storage building and absentmindedly took her mail.
Her apartment was not big but comfortable. She left everything on the kitchen table and went to the bathroom. A shower would do her good.
After she had washed and changed, she sat at the table and started opening the little white boxes containing her dinner. She had a brief look at her mail. Dentist bill, gas bill ... Nothing that could not wait till she came back from Denver.
While she started eating, her attention got drawn by a little envelope she had not seen before. It was of greeting cards size and wore no name or address. She opened it, intrigued. Inside was only a white card. She took it out and read it. Just a few words, written in a condensed handwriting:
What if there were more than one assassin, Clarice ?
Have you thought of that ?
" What the hell is t...". She had a second look at the card and the envelope. There was nothing apart from these two questions. No way the postman could have delivered that. Someone had had to come to her place and leave it himself. After a first rush of panic, she relaxed a bit. Was probably just a joke. The newspaper and TV had mentioned she was on the 'daffodil case', as the media called it. Anyone could have entered the building and left the card, just for the fun of scaring an FBI agent.
She put the card back on the table and finished her dinner quietly. She was too touchy these days. She sure could use some sleep. And the first plane to Denver was at 7:20. Price would not appreciate if she missed it.
After dinner, she put a few clothes and the case file in a little bag and went to bed. Five minutes later, she was sleeping like a baby.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.
Absolut
By Absolut.
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).
Note: This is my first Lecterfic, so please be nice. Reviews always welcome.
Chapter 1: You've got mail ...
Starling was looking down Price's office window. Night was falling. She had been up for about thirty six hours now and was struggling to keep focused on her new boss' voice. Michael Price sounded tired too. And she could clearly recognize frustration in his tone.
Two months that they had been on this case now, and not the smallest bit of a clue. She once more listened to him summarizing the situation for Brad and her.
Eight victims so far. All in Washington DC or its suburb. Different sex, different age, different social condition. The victims did not know each other, had not attended the same schools, had never belonged the same clubs. Did not read the same books, did not listen to the same music ... nothing in common.
Except the fact that they all met their death in the last twelve weeks ! And a violent death as well. But even the modus operandi were different: two death by strangulation, three gun shot, one victim was stabbed twenty one times, another one was burnt alive. And yesterday Victor Talbot was found dead in his garage, decapitated with an axe.
But each time, pinned to the corpse, they had found a daffodil with a one-dollar bill attached to it. Too unusual to be a coincidence ...
The press had found out about the signature after the third victim was discovered. They immediately started to spread the news that a new serial killer was in town. The mayor and local police had no choice but to call for the FBI to take over the case. And this is how special agent Clarice Starling, recently re-integrated in a new field unit after the internal inquiry on her last encounter with Hannibal Lecter, found herself involved in all this.
Five other bodies had been found since. All of them with the flower and the bill. Of course, they had thought of the possibility of a copycat. But two weeks ago, they had found another 'detail' that had never been published in the papers. A photo. The picture of a little boy, maybe five or six years old. The same photo found in the wallet of each and every victim.
They showed the picture to the families and friends of the victims, but no one could identify the child so far.
Price was finishing his speech. Brad Davenport, her new partner, had stopped listening for quite some time.
" - OK," Price concluded " I think we all long for a little rest. Starling, tomorrow I want you to take the first flight to Denver to go and talk with Talbot ex-wife. You'll find her name and address in the file. Davenport, you will take three men with you and go back to the last crime scene. Re-examine everything."
Davenport looked desperate:
"- Sir, we already spent one full day there and ...
- I know, but I can't afford the risk we've missed something. See you tomorrow."
The two agents left the office. In the elevator, going down to the garage, both remained silent. There wasn't much to say. They finally reached their cars and wished each other goodnight.
Starling stopped by a chinese take-away on her way home. Last thing she felt like tonight was cooking. She pushed the door of the five storage building and absentmindedly took her mail.
Her apartment was not big but comfortable. She left everything on the kitchen table and went to the bathroom. A shower would do her good.
After she had washed and changed, she sat at the table and started opening the little white boxes containing her dinner. She had a brief look at her mail. Dentist bill, gas bill ... Nothing that could not wait till she came back from Denver.
While she started eating, her attention got drawn by a little envelope she had not seen before. It was of greeting cards size and wore no name or address. She opened it, intrigued. Inside was only a white card. She took it out and read it. Just a few words, written in a condensed handwriting:
Have you thought of that ?
" What the hell is t...". She had a second look at the card and the envelope. There was nothing apart from these two questions. No way the postman could have delivered that. Someone had had to come to her place and leave it himself. After a first rush of panic, she relaxed a bit. Was probably just a joke. The newspaper and TV had mentioned she was on the 'daffodil case', as the media called it. Anyone could have entered the building and left the card, just for the fun of scaring an FBI agent.
She put the card back on the table and finished her dinner quietly. She was too touchy these days. She sure could use some sleep. And the first plane to Denver was at 7:20. Price would not appreciate if she missed it.
After dinner, she put a few clothes and the case file in a little bag and went to bed. Five minutes later, she was sleeping like a baby.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.
Absolut