Carnivore, Won't You Come Digest Me?

Chapter 14

"Jack."

"We got a hit on the saliva from Franklyn's body. It belongs to Randall Tier, who moved to Wisconsin last winter." Hannibal presses his lips together when Jack pauses. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but that's Will's ex-husband's name, isn't it?"

Hannibal deliberates over lying, before he sighs. "Yes," he murmurs. His eyes are on Will's house, as he's returned from relocating Randall's body to his apartment for dissection and butchering. Randall's car is gone, and there are no lights on in Will's house. He's doing what he did with Tobias' car, at Hannibal's behest.

Hannibal also took all of Will's journals on the Ripper to his apartment. He eagerly anticipates translating them when he has the time.

Jack's voice grows dark when he says; "That's a direct link between Will and a killer, Hannibal. Have you spoken to him yet?"

"Yes," Hannibal says. Jack knows he didn't spend the night, so he doesn't pretend to have done so – the hole in Will's alibi could be damning. "When I told him that Franklyn was dead, he was very upset. I didn't want to press the issue of our suspect."

"Well, we need to press him now," Jack says. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," Hannibal replies. "I'll let you know what I find."

Jack huffs, and hangs up. Hannibal's phone immediately begins to vibrate again, and he smiles when he sees Will's name on the screen.

He answers. "Is it done?"

"Yes," Will replies. He sounds out of breath. "Can you come pick me up?"

"Of course." Will gives him the address and Hannibal hangs up, pulling out of the parking lot and driving across Baltimore, to Annapolis. Will went to a different chop shop and Hannibal finds him several blocks from the nearest one, waiting at a taxi stand.

Will smiles and gets in the car, unzipping his raincoat and pushing the hood from his head. He doesn't seem nearly as upset over having to do this a second time as Hannibal anticipated. Perhaps he's getting used to killing.

Maybe he just appreciates the fact that he won't have to worry about Randall ever again. Ridding the world of evil is a satisfying feeling.

"Jack got a match for the saliva on Franklyn's body," Hannibal tells him when Will's hands stop shaking from cold. Will looks at him, blinks, and frowns. "He knows it's Randall. He knows you were married to him."

Will bites his lower lip, and sets his gaze forward again. "I have an idea," he says.

Hannibal raises an eyebrow. "Do tell."

Will shifts his weight, and Hannibal feels his eyes on the side of his face. He darts them across, just briefly, sees something calculating and hesitant in Will's bright eyes.

"What if," he begins. Stops, swallows, tries again; "What if Randall didn't get away this time?"

Hannibal tilts his head to one side.

"We could make it look like something else."

Hannibal hums, not quite sure where Will is going with this.

"What if the Ripper killed Randall?" Will finishes, whisper-quiet.

Hannibal's eyebrows rise before he can get control of himself. He swallows, flexes his hands on the wheel. "It would have to be very convincing," he says, slowly. "And public."

Will smiles. "You and I know the Ripper better than anyone, Agent Lecter," he replies. His voice has gotten lower, pleased. Purring. "Who better than us to recreate it? If you and I read the scene – or probably just you, since I doubt Jack would let me within ten miles of it – and we write it off as a Ripper murder, Jack would have no choice but to turn his eyes away. From both of us."