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A murder of crows screeched and pecked at the impaled body of Cassie Boyle, her hair hanging down and tickling the dirt. Will stared at the display with a pit in his stomach. The antlers pierced her chest, her stomach, her thighs. Dried blood stained the velvet.
Jack was right: this was brutal. Cruel.
"They're calling him the Minnesota Shrike," Jack said.
"Shrikes are birds," Zeller called out from his position near the body. "They impale their food and leave them so they can eat them later."
Will shuddered.
"Thanks, Z." Jack's voice was flat, his eyes hard. "We can tell from the initial scene that he took her lungs. God knows what he did with them."
"He ate them."
"You're still sure about that?"
"What else could he do? The organs would spoil in a matter of hours— there's no point in displaying them. He's only taken edible organs so far, ones that are commonplace in dishes." Will chewed on his lip. "She fit the profile?"
"Same height, weight, hair color, eye color, et cetera. This guy's getting cocky. Showing off."
"I don't think that's it. I think his strength is fraying. He can't handle this much longer— which makes sense, considering the way he left Elise behind. Couldn't finish the job."
"So what are we on the lookout for?"
Will stared at the ground. "I think his golden ticket is soon. A lot sooner than we may want. He wants to finish off this process."
Jack swore, shaking his head and turning away. "How long do we have?"
"Right now, a girl's going missing once a month. I'd say he'll try to hold off for as long as he can handle. Committing an act like this..it shows true care for his golden ticket. He can't bring himself to hurt her, so he goes for ones just like her."
"What relationship do they have?"
"Judging by the ages of the girls, I..I'd say a daughter."
The two stood in silence, bowing their heads somberly. Eventually, they turned around and began to walk away. Their immediate task was complete.
     "So I called in the middle of your session," Jack finally said. "I'm surprised you actually went."
     "Of course I went." Will took a hint of offense to that.
     "What'd you think?"
"He's..unorthodox. I kind of like that."
"He can be very intuitive. Expert at reading people."
"Yeah, I've noticed." Will stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He liked Doctor Lecter, sure, but he wasn't sure where all this praise came from. He supposed he would just have to see.
"As long as he's helping you, I don't care how unorthodox he is."
Will paused, thinking back to the moment in the office. Hannibal wasn't officially part of the case; surely the bureau would only benefit from him being there. At least then Will could talk freely about things.
"Do you think he could help us?" He suggested. "Another opinion on the matter?"
It was clear that Jack had stopped listening halfway through. "I can't technically have you seeing an FBI psychiatrist, Will."
"He wouldn't be part of the FBI. Just called to consult. We've only had one session, anyway."
Jack let out a harsh sigh. "It would be helpful," he admitted, "but we'd have to obviously get his agreement."
Will remembered the hunger in Hannibal's eyes, the way they danced with interest at the sight of the photos. "He'll say yes," he replied. "I promise you that."
——————————————————————————
"I dreamed about her last night. Cassie."
Will sat with his head in his hands in the quiet of Hannibal's office. Hannibal sat next to him, and the two of them pored over the case files; Will was right about him accepting the job right away. Hannibal had wanted to get right to work, which was admirable, but Will was exhausted, jet-lagged, traumatized— everything was weighing down on him.
"Her alone? Or with the other girls?"
"She joined the circle. 'He found me, he found me'..Jesus."
"It's an interesting choice of words. Implies that their killer was actively seeking them out, rather than stumbling upon them by chance. Implies that they tried to hide."
Will's body twitched, a habit that surfaced whenever he was fatigued. Hannibal took notice, yet said nothing; he could see in Will's face that the words sparked something in him, a memory he didn't want to face.
"Katie— Cassie. God. Cassie had her lungs removed." Will's face flushed at the mistake. "Impaled on antlers."
"We can assume he ate the lungs."
"Mhm."
"They haven't found any of the other eight girls?"
"They're laying dead somewhere. We just don't know where."
"It's extremely interesting to me." Hannibal leaned back in his chair, a knuckle over his mouth in thought. "This killer, out of some obsession or love for his daughter, kills girls who look just like her. All the while his dream is to kill her. But why?"
"Like you said, obsession. Desire for connection. He just can't do it to her."
"I'm hoping that means we have more time. But why display her like this?"
"That, I can't figure out," Will admitted. "If he'd done this to the other girls, we surely would have found them by now. And the organs were removed at a different time from Elise's. Do you think he was in a rush? Couldn't hide it in time?"
"Have you considered the possibility of another killer?"
Will turned his head, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps this is some sort of copycat. Not aware enough to know when to remove the organs, but aware enough to know his victim type. The Shrike has a method; he knows how to hide his victims. This..this is something different."
Will felt his stomach drop. "Hannibal, holy shit," he blurted, turning back to the case files. He skimmed until he found what he was looking for. "Cassie's lungs were removed while she was alive. Elise was cut open after she was dead. The Shrike hides the bodies— maybe eating more of them than we realize. It's almost an act of honor, not disgracing the bodies."
"And this," Hannibal pointed to one of the crime scene photos of Cassie. "This is a desecration."
"The Shrike's victims are everything to him. This girl was nothing. Less than that." Will glanced up into Hannibal's eyes, for once not feeling uncomfortable. They both shared the same look of surprise. "We have two killers."
"And they couldn't be more different."
"I gotta call Jack." Will fumbled for his phone, bouncing his leg impatiently as he waited for the ringing to stop. He put the phone on speaker so both of them could hear. Hannibal stared straight ahead, seemingly on edge.
"Will? I was just about to call you—"
"Jack! There's two killers. The Shrike didn't kill Cassie Boyle."
"What? You— Will, you need to get over to Unity now. Maybe you can tell me which killer did this."
"Wait, the hospital? Did what?"
"The Shrike acted out sooner than you thought. We found another girl. She fits the profile."
Will and Hannibal shared a surprised glance. Hannibal opened his mouth, but Jack started up again before he could speak.
"She's alive," Jack said. "She's alive, and you need to get over here now."

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