FOUND: A Hannigram Devil AU REWRITTEN

Chapter Twelve

With everything that was going on with the Minnesota Shrike, the last place Will wanted to be was New Jersey.

There'd been another murder at a motel, and Jack had warned him that it was pretty gruesome. He wanted Will's opinion on the case; he was convinced it was going to be a quick one. "Just take care of this for me," he said, "and I'll let you get back to the Shrike."

Will had agreed, albeit reluctantly. It felt like a betrayal to all of the girls, specifically to Abigail. It felt like he was letting Hobbs slip away, giving him more time to escape. Jack kept reassuring him that he had other men on the case, that they would take care of it while Will was gone, but Will wasn't having it. He didn't need to focus his mind on yet another killer; he needed all of his focus to be on catching the Shrike.

It also meant leaving Hannibal behind. He wasn't a consultant on anything but the Shrike case, which meant that he wasn't allowed to see behind the scenes here. Part of Will was glad for the break, but the other part of him was missing the company. Hannibal was someone he could openly communicate with, who would always listen. He could always tell Hannibal the truth. Now, the closest thing he had was Jack, which meant he was doomed.

They bypassed the employees on the scene, and Jack whispered a few words to them. They all turned and walked away from the motel's entrance, knowing by now to leave Will to his own devices.

"Room was registered to a John Smith." Jack chuckled. "Big surprise there."

"Appalling failure of imagination." Will wasn't in the mood for laughs.

"They paid with cash. There are no security cameras on the premises. Another big surprise."

"John Smith one of the victims?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, according to the register. Mutilated and displayed." He exhaled, breath visible in the cold air. "I thought it might be the Chesapeake Ripper, but there were no surgical trophies taken."

Will hadn't heard that name in a while. He shuddered.

The Chesapeake Ripper was a name that no one at the bureau wanted to mess with. He was infamous, violent, and uncaught. He'd been active for multiple years, killing what was thought to be dozens of people, but somehow he always got away with it. He'd been in multiple states with multiple methods, but one common thread was the brutal displays that the victims were put into. It was like a piece of art, contorting the corpses into some macabre sculpture. The Ripper, like the Shrike, was also an organ thief, taking surgical trophies from every one of his victims. It was likely that he was eating them, as well.

"I'm gonna need you to prepare yourself on this one," Jack continued.

"I'm prepared," Will sighed, bored.

"Well, prepare yourself some more. It's soup in there."

"Soup isn't good for the soul."

"Not this kind. Alright, look, there are no jurisdictional rivalries here. The local police begged us to take this. Where's your head?"

He may as well tell the truth. Jack would know if he wasn't operating at his peak. "It's back home, Jack. It's thinking about Garrett Jacob Hobbs."

"We're working on it, Will. I've got my best people searching for him." Jack frowned. "I've got just the thing to snap you back to reality, though."

They shouldered past police officers and into the open doorway. Will braced himself. When he saw what waited for him inside, he had to look away, all of the fine details of the scene blurring and a ringing in his ears drowning out the noise.