D E V O U R || HANNIGRAM // continuation

Part 14: Are you Satisfied?

AUTHORS NOTES:____

((Okay so-- I've been recently throwing out a ton of work out there. I'm just apologizing for the fact that- I feel as though these stories are lacking detail? I don't know but it has become utterly frustrating to keep rambling on about how one speaks or how the table would look- yada, dada, doo! lol So, I had picked up the way that Thomas Harris would write Red Dragon. Barely any description, mostly speech but when description is called for- it's hella good description! That type of description? BTW: I'm working on this now..by myself so I'd really appreciate your support, if at all, you'd be willing to support me in the process. I have a few more chapters left to write and I realize this stuff takes time-- but just because I feel that this story isn't getting the attention I think that it deserves, I'm not one to quit because of it! SO...moving on. If ever this book does make it up the Stardom ladder. I'd just like to say: thank you ahead of time for sticking with me on this and reading because just 'believing' as much; I believe in working harder!))

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Clarice was truthfully unprepared on hearing what this so-called Jack Crawford had to initiate in terms of explaining on this Albert Howard Hayden aka; Albert Fish and supposed Copycat. When  the call had ended later than expected, she had given the man in the morgue a defined set of jaws known from the grinding of her teeth as she moved to the slab holding Molly Graham.

What little, if at all, information concealing Molly had been revealed by none other than Jack, himself and after hearing what she had just heard-- Clarice was all the more sorry to see this pale and bullet-holed, honey-blonde woman laying now there before her and the man operating the Morgue at this hour.

"Her name was Molly Graham," Clarice began, tipping the toe tag a bit on the corpse' big, rounded toe to clarify if this were a correct statement or not. Not shocking in the least, that it was, in fact.

"Molly was said to be DOA when the ambulance got to William Mareau." He spoke aloud, catching the auburn-haired woman by the nose.

Raising her eyes to his from across the metal-slab, "Did you say his name was William?"

"Yes, I did. Why? You got any leads?"

"The suspect was said to be carrying an .45 caliber, handheld gun just about the same size and width of what Molly had used to defend herself; I'd think. But,  when the Detectives arrive on scene, there was a tremendous lot of scattered DNA from what'd appear as three victims that night," Gesturing out her hand, she'd ask for the Clipboard in which he'd been displaying in his arm for some time. He kindly extended it to her across the dead woman then cleared his throat; straightened his jacket.

Clarice peered to the cleanly printed information on the paper there, "William Mareau has been said to have been placed after disposition into the Patients wing. Where this paper," Clarice lightly tapped the second one after the top about Molly, "Clearly states that he had slipped into a coma and was released earlier today."

"The third?" He asked, undertone.

Clarice turns the page gently, seeing to her amazement; Brandons brothers name.

Christopher Abram.

"Christopher Abram, also DOA," She nods up to the man whose fingers clung to the edges of his lab coat as though the chill wind would pick him up and carry him away.

"Oh," He'd respond after a second, letting the information sink into his tired head before turning for the set of Morgue drawers. Inserting the key that sat among other keys on the chain around his neck; he opens the third morgue door.