Dangerous Trio

The Chesapeake Ripper

Hannibal had left early in the morning. He left a note saying he had gone to meet with Will. His penmanship was impeccable, like something out of a different era and at the bottom of the note said

My Gaby

I almost smiled. The very thought felt demented. I tried to unravel my feelings for Hannibal, a relationship unlike any other I had known. His lack of sexual advances made me believe he truly cared for me. Despite the fear he instilled, he seemed safer compared to my abuser. It sounded insane, but in his own way, Hannibal had shown me a distorted form of affection that I clung to.

Hannibal had already ordered room service for me, and the meal was laid out on the coffee table. After eating, I quickly got to work on the research Hannibal had assigned me. I was puzzled why he couldn't do this himself, especially since it involved the most recent murders. Hannibal had access to all the information he needed through the FBI, so why was he interested in what the media was saying?

Combing through articles was tiring. They often contradicted each other or provided too little information. One news article led to another in an endless spiral until one finally caught my attention. It was about a man who went missing not far from where I lived. Authorities believed he might have been swept away by the high waters from all the rain. The story instantly made me think of my dreams and of Hannibal. I was still unsure why I was dreaming these things, and while I knew Hannibal was odd at times, I didn't want to entertain the idea that there was a connection. In fact, I completely blocked it out, writing it off as impossible.

By afternoon all I did was refresh news media pages, hoping to see an update. Two hours later articles were renamed to click bait titles of....

THE CHESAPEAKE RIPPER, IS HE BACK?

I clicked instantly! My eyes raced upon the screen looking for keywords. The article heavily suggested that the FBI was leaning towards a killer, yet the killer they thought they had was already in a mental health ward and had been for years, he was thought to be the Chesapeake ripper many years ago and was already sentenced for it. They now thought they had a copycat killer.

"This world sure is messed up" I said out loud.

I wondered what Hannibal thought of all this. He had to know more about the case, and he must have had his own theories about who the killer was. I thought about Will. Our encounter was brief, but Hannibal spoke highly of him at dinner, saying he had a gift. I decided to do a quick Google search on him. Not much turned up, just confirmation that he was indeed teaching at the FBI Academy.

I remembered how uncomfortable Will looked at dinner that night, as if he didn't want to be there. Maybe he knew something I didn't know about Hannibal. I crossed my arms, resting them on the desk in front of me, and stared at the laptop. I had to talk to Will, alone. I racked my brain, trying to recall if Hannibal had mentioned where Will was staying, but I couldn't remember. I googled local hotels in the area, but there were too many options to sort through. Hannibal had said our hotel was the closest to where he would commute, so Will had to be nearby. I shortened the search radius, and three hotels popped up. I called each one, pretending to be a concerned girlfriend. God, I felt psycho doing this.

"Blue Bird Motel!" A friendly women greeted over the phone

"Hi, Good Afternoon. I was wondering if my boyfriend had already checked us in? Last name Graham, first name Will."

I heard typing from her.

"Uhm, there's no one under that name" She responded

"Oh, you know I thought this was the best western across the street. I am so sorry." I hung up and called the next one using the same tactic.