It had been two days since anyone had seen any sign of Will or Hannibal and Jack Crawford was sitting at his desk, beginning to get worried. Alana had already been to see him, saying that she couldn’t get ahold of either of them and Hannibal’s house was locked and his car was gone. None of his patients had seen him either.
Jack was jolted out of his thoughts when a young officer, Ruby, knocked on his office door. “Sir,” she said. “This was just dropped off for you,” she told him, holding up a letter. Jack motioned her in and she handed it to him before leaving.
Jack read the familiar scrawl of hand-writing and opened the envelope, unfolding the paper. It read:
Dear Jack,
I am sorry to say that William Graham is dead. He has been buried beneath Widow’s Drop if you care to pay your respects. Unfortunately, it is my fault he is dead. A series of unfortunate events played out that I did not foresee. I apologize.
Now, I discourage you from looking for me, because you will not find me as I do not wish to be found. As it is, this will be the last you will ever hear from me. Goodbye Jack.
Sincerely,
Hannibal Lector
P.S.- I am the Chesapeake Ripper.
Jack dropped the letter in shock and it fluttered to the floor in his hurry to get up from the chair. “Ruby!” he called. The young officer peeked in his door. “Who delivered that letter?” he asked.
Ruby shrugged her shoulders. “Steve, the guy at the front desk, said it was some guy in a pinstriped suit and a tan trench coat. Said the guy told him to give it to you and then left. Oh, he said something about ‘Allan see’ or something like that. Steve said that it sounded French.”
Jack nodded. Of course, now everything that had happened made sense.
