The Silence of the Lambs (Hannibal Lecter 2) - Page 101

It was easier to think about Dr. Lecter’s statements when she wasn’t feeling his eyes on her skin. It was easier here in the safe heart of Quantico.

If we begin to covet by coveting what we see every day, did Buffalo Bill surprise himself when he killed the first one? Did he do someone close around him? Is that why he hid the first body well, and the second one poorly? Did he abduct the second one far from home and dump her where she’d be found quickly because he wanted to establish early the belief that the abduction sites were random?

When Starling thought of the victims, Kimberly Emberg came first to mind because she had seen Kimberly dead and, in a sense, had taken Kimberly’s part.

Here was the first one. Fredrica Bimmel, twenty-two, Belvedere, Ohio. There were two photos. In her yearbook picture she looked large and plain, with good thick hair and a good complexion. In the second photo, taken at the Kansas City morgue, she looked like nothing human.

Starling called Burroughs again. He was sounding a little hoarse by now, but he listened.

“So what are you saying, Starling?”

“Maybe he lives in Belvedere, Ohio, where the first victim lived. Maybe he saw her every day, and he killed her sort of spontaneously. Maybe he just meant to … give her a 7-Up and talk about the choir. So he did a good job of hiding the body and then he grabbed another one far from home. He didn’t hide that one very well, so it would be found first and the attention would be directed away from him. You know how much attention a missing-person report gets, it gets zip until the body’s found.”

“Starling, the return’s better where the trail is fresh, people remember better, witnesses—”

“That’s what I’m saying. He knows that.”

“For instance, you won’t be able to sneeze today without spraying a cop in that last one’s hometown—Kimberly Emberg from Detroit. Lot of interest in Kimberly Emberg all of a sudden since little Martin disappeared. All of a sudden they’re working the hell out of it. You never heard me say that.”

“Will you put it up for Mr. Crawford, about the first town?”

“Sure. Hell, I’ll put it on the hotline for everybody. I’m not saying it’s bad thinking, Starling, but the town was picked over pretty good as soon as the woman—what’s her name, Bimmel, is it?—as soon as Bimmel was identified. The Columbus office worked Belvedere, and so did a lot of locals. You’ve got it all there. You’re not gonna raise much interest in Belvedere or any other theory of Dr. Lecter’s this morning.”

“All he—”

“Starling, we’re sending a gift to UNICEF for Bella. You want in, I’ll put your name on the card.”

“Sure, thanks Mr. Burroughs.”

Starling got the clothes out of the dryer. The warm laundry felt good and smelled good. She hugged the warm laundry close to her chest.

Her mother with an armload of sheets.

Today is the last day of Catherine’s life.

The black-and-white crow stole from the cart. She couldn’t be outside to shoo it and in the room too.

Today is the last day of Catherine’s life.

Her father used an arm signal instead of the blinkers when he turned his pickup into the driveway. Playing in the yard, she thought with his big arm he showed the pickup where to turn, grandly directed it to turn.

When Starling decided what she would do, a few tears came. She put her face in the warm laundry.

CHAPTER 48

Crawford came out of the funeral home and looked up and down the street for Jeff with the car. Instead he saw Clarice Starling waiting under the awning, dressed in a dark suit, looking real in the light.

“Send me,” she said.

Crawford had just picked out his wife’s coffin and he carried in a paper sack a pair of her shoes he had mistakenly brought. He collected himself.

“Forgive me,” Starling said. “I wouldn’t come now if there were any other time. Send me.”

Crawford jammed his hands in his pockets, turned his neck in his collar until it popped. His eyes were bright, maybe dangerous. “Send you where?”

“You sent me to get a feel for Catherine Martin—let me go to the others. All we’ve got left is to find out how he hunts. How he finds them, how he picks them. I’m as good as anybody you’ve got at the cop stuff, better at some things. The victims are all women and there aren’t any women working this. I can walk in a woman’s room and know three times as much about her as a man would know, and you know that’s a fact. Send me.”

“You ready to accept a recycle?”

Tags: Thomas Harris Hannibal Lecter Horror
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