VIII: Linda Harrington

505 24 14
                                    

The second crime scene was located in Chalmette, a small, sparsely-populated area on the opposite side of New Orleans proper from Metairie. It was bordered on one side by the Mississippi River and on the other by a swath of shrinking wetlands.

As they crossed into Chalmette, Will motioned to their left at a desolate stretch of grass that ended in trees several hundred feet away.

"That's where we're headed," he said without taking his eyes off the road.

"'The Woodlands'?" Hannibal asked, catching a glimpse of the sign.

"Yeah, it's connected to the wetland observatory. Till they sell it to build houses, at least." Will snorted.

He immediately felt a little twinge of guilt for his cynicism, though not enough to retract his statement. The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was more visible here than in Metairie, so it made sense for them to want to rebuild. Many of the houses had been wiped off the face of the map. He kept his eyes on the road and tried not to think of how his father had fared after the natural disaster.

Within a couple of minutes, they reached the observatory. The pavement beneath their tires turned to gravel as Will pulled the car into the empty circle driveway and parked. Then he took out the second case file.

The victim was a 52-year-old Caucasian female, Linda Harrington, found dead in the woods outside of the 40 Arpent Wetlands Observatory. Her body had been discovered far quicker than the last, as she left behind a husband and three kids. She was reported missing in mid-September and found a day later. Cause of death: strangulation.

The case had gone cold after only a few weeks. Her husband and kids were all accounted for on the night of the murder, and police had no leads to point to anybody else in the victim's life. The murderer hadn't left any usable samples on the victim. It was only until everything from the crime scene had been processed that the investigators secured his DNA through a small hair that had caught on the rope he'd used to tie her to the tree.

Will got out of the car, case file in hand, and waited for Hannibal to join him. It was windier and slightly cooler here than it had been in Metairie. The wind coming off the lake brought a hint of brininess with it. Will was suddenly grateful that he had gotten used to northern autumns and winters, because the lake's chilling effect didn't feel cold at all in comparison.

Hannibal walked around to his side of the car, hands in his overcoat pockets.

"We'll be walking into the trees," Will said, glancing down at Hannibal's most likely exorbitantly expensive shoes.

Hannibal pursed his lips in the equivalent of shrugging his shoulders. "I was unaware of where this case might take us today, so I'm prepared for whatever you need."

Will was skeptical, but he didn't argue. He set off across the grass, and Hannibal followed, opting not to match his urgent stride.

The sky overhead was overcast. At the edge of the woods, one of the trees was tied with a thick yellow ribbon. A metal cross, painted white, was planted at the base and surrounded by bright, fake flowers. Carved into the cross were the words: in loving memory of Linda Jean Harrington, June 29, 1958-September 22, 2010. May she rest in peace in the glory of God's Kingdom forever, Amen.

Will stopped for a moment in front of the memorial. "Looks like we've got a religious victim. Or at least religious family members."

"Many people hold onto god for comfort," Hannibal said. "It is an appealing idea that we could live on, even after death."

Will glanced at him. "Yeah, well. If you count feeding the insects, we do."

The amused smile that crept onto Hannibal's face lifted Will's mood slightly. They began walking again, skirting the edge of the trees until they came to a dead end. There, they could only head into the woods or into a small, murky body of water that branched off from the nearby canal.

"It should be a direct shot from here to the scene of the crime," said Will, glancing into the trees. "The victim's family asked if they could leave a yellow ribbon on the tree where the body was found, to match the memorial, so be on the lookout for that."

He tucked the case file against his side so it wouldn't be disturbed by stray foliage and pushed his way into the woods, Hannibal following close behind. It was slightly darker under the trees than he was expecting. Weak gray light filtered in from above, and the ground squelched underfoot. It would be pretty much impossible to see anything here at night. He made a mental note of that.

Hardly five minutes had passed before Will caught sight of a bright flash of yellow against one of the tree trunks. He pushed through the underbrush and found the tree at the edge of a mini clearing, one with barely enough space for two people. He stepped into the clearing warily. Hannibal slipped in by his side, close enough for Will to acutely sense his presence, but without actually touching him. The area didn't look too different from the photos, except for the obvious lack of a dead body and the addition of the yellow ribbon.

"There's not very much room for two people in tandem, much less two people where one of them is struggling," Will said slowly. "So, either he kidnapped her and kept her cooperative with threats of violence, or... No, he must've strangled her elsewhere. There's no evidence of a struggle, no DNA from the killer on the body, no marks or traces of drugs in her system." He shook his head, brow furrowed. "Something feels off about this in comparison to the last one. The last one was so cut-and-dry. This..." Will struggled to put it into words before he gave up and said what he felt was obvious. "This one required a lot more thought and planning."

Hannibal turned his head to look at him without moving from his side. "Our fledgling killer is growing. Evolving."

Will glanced at him just long enough to make eye contact and then away, shaking his head more vigorously. "That's not the problem. All killers evolve. The problem is, I don't see why he picked her. Why her? First a child molester, and then a...a...a soccer mom? Those aren't even remotely in the same category."

"Perhaps he had a personal feud with the victims," Hannibal said, though it sounded as if he was struggling not to sound amused by Will's comparison.

Will clenched and unclenched his jaw. "I'm gonna need some space," he said, instead of acknowledging him.

Hannibal obeyed without a word. Their shoulders brushed lightly as he moved out of the clearing. Then Will was closing his eyes, controlling his breathing, and dipping into the killer's head again, though he was already losing the thread of who this killer was. He had one last thought as himself before he sunk into his imagination: why? Why this victim and why this crime scene?

What am I missing?

Fortune's Fool (Hannibal Fanfiction)Where stories live. Discover now