Chapter Text
However many serial killers there were in New England, the number grew near-daily as young fools decided they wanted a taste of how murder feels - or, in some cases, mimic the Chesapeake Ripper and get a literal taste of their victims. Most of these killers were sloppy enough that the FBI could leave the job to local police, but whenever a neat or unusually killed body turned up, especially if another killer had just escaped or been released, the Feds took no chances. Well, they would take one chance, and that would be calling in Will Graham.
There hadn't been an FBI-level case in about a month (thank goodness), and Mr. Graham had been able to keep to his dog-filled house - he got a new puppy the other day! - or spend his time teaching at Quantico. Unfortunately, as Hannibal reminded in one of Will's last sessions with him, all good things must end at some point.
"The world is ever growing," Lecter had stated, "You can never know what will happen next, but you must continue through with it."
The list of 3 kills which Will was called in for contained a couple of details also found in previous cases: there were bite marks similar to Randall Tier's work with animal skulls, and the careful extraction of specific body parts, as made popular by the Chesapeake Ripper, seemed to be the motive. Unlike Randall Tier, however, bite force on the bodies matched tooth patterns for the correct animal, and a clump of wolf hair was found grasped in the hand of a victim.
"Unfortunately," Jimmy Price lamented as Brian Zeller nodded along, "none of the DNA taken from saliva or hair matched with any known type of wolf." Jack frowned.
"But you're sure it's a wolf."
"The tooth and suspected jaw size do match, as well as bite strength - plus the amount of force placed upon the body when the victim was toppled over aligns with the average amount of damage seen on wolf victims." Zeller interjected, pointing out the body's injuries as he explained. Jack sighed, crossed his arms, and turned to Will, who was holding a photograph taken at the crime scene before the body was moved to Quantico.
"Do you see anything?" Will waved his hand and Jack and the forensics duo stepped back, out of Will's line of sight. He shut his eyes.
The pendulum swung.
Once.
Twice.
Will opened his eyes.
He was deep in the forest, in mid autumn. The trees were mostly bare by now, the ground hard in all the wrong places. On one of those exceptionally hard bits of ground, the man who would soon be no more than flesh waited for someone's arrival. His hands were in his pockets and he fiddled with the top button of his shirt - hands easy to immobilize and get out of the way.
Now, while usually Will would feel like the killer, this time he inexplicably felt like the wolf. Will dashed out of the trees on steady feet - or paws.
"I go for his ankles first to bring him down," Will stated clearly as he committed the action, "Then I bite through the tendons and nerves in his wrists to stop him from fighting back. I can't risk injury to myself." Once this step was completed, however, Will paused.
"I stand up... And I grab a knife from somewhere on my person. I slice through the midsection to take out the 11th rib on his right side. My hands-" and indeed they now were human hands "-are unsteady, but not from nerves. I am no doctor. I am... Inspired by the images of bodies I see in the news." The knife slipped on a thick muscle and hit an artery, causing blood to spout upwards. Will dodged the red liquid and continued to cut, soon raising the rib up from the now-dead man's body.
"This is my design." Will shot back into the morgue at Quantico. "That's strange..." He muttered. Seeing he was done, Jack stepped forward to look Will in the eye.
"What's strange? Is it just a wolf attack that got lucky? 3 times in a row?" Jack frowned more than usual. "That would be strange." Will shook his head.
"No, it's not just a wolf. There's a person there. Only a human using a knife could cause that kind of damage. Even with all the strength a wolf has, it couldn't tear out a specific bone three times without the body being even more torn up." Will sighed and looked up. "The killer doesn't l. They're not an artist like most of the serial killers we've seen, with elaborate setups and purposefully disfigured corpses meant to send a message. They'll kill their victims however they can, and they're so confident in their own abilities of not leaving evidence that they don't care what we find either. This killer is desperate for something, something to do with that specific bone - the 11th rib." Will spit the phrase out like it offended him.
"So... A trained wolf. Commanded by a desperate person. Quite the combination." Jack offered.
"Will is right about the cleaner cut," added Price, "It could only have been made with opposable thumbs and clear sense of direction - human traits."
"Hold up - so this killer can train a wolf but can't tell what an artery looks like enough to avoid it?" Zeller questioned furiously, "That's unlikely for a killer, even an amateur. This is the third body - that we've even found! There could be more out there! But with just what we know, this person has killed at least three people, and they only hit the artery on this one. By body decomposition we know it's not their first kill, so why mess up on this one?!?" Will sighed and gestured as he next spoke.
"The blade could have.. slipped on a ligament, or.. the killer is even less skilled than we thought, or the victim was moving around too much. We know that he was still alive for all of this, just unable to use his hands or feet." Zeller huffed off, muttering something about getting a cup of coffee or something stronger.
"Well," Jack clapped his hands together, "that's all we've got for today. Will, see if you can look any more into how this killer operates. Price, get Zeller under control. God knows we can't lose another forensics worker to a killer's whim." Price winced at the reference to Beverly.
"Alright, Jack." He followed after Zeller. Will glanced at Jack.
"You don't have to be so rude to him. Price is on your side, but if the team falls apart he'll lose it." Jack sighed heavily.
"Yeah, yeah. It's not so clear-cut anymore how much of a team we are. Not after you were arrested... And then, well, Ms. Katz." He looked away. Will picked up his jacket and started out.
"I'll be thinking about the case, Jack, don't worry. I have a feeling our killer may be stranger than we think."