The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [33]
The Silence of the Lambsr
CHAPTER 13
“Drop me at the lab, Jeff,” Crawford told the driver. “Then I want you to wait for Officer Starling at the Smithsonian. She'll go on from there to Quantico.”
“Yes sir.”
They were crossing the Potomac River against the afterdinner traffic, coming into downtown Washing?ton from National Airport.
The young man at the wheel seemed in awe of Craw?ford and drove with excessive caution, Starling thought. She didn't blame him; it was an article of faith at the Academy that the last agent who'd committed a Full FuckUp in Crawford's command now investi?gated pilfering at DEWline installations along the Arctic Circle.
Crawford was not in a good humor. Nine hours had passed since he transmitted the fingerprints and pic?tures of the victim, and she remained unidentified. Along with the West Virginia troopers, he and Starling had worked the bridge and the riverbank until dark without result.
Starling had heard him on the phone from the air?plane, arranging for an evening nurse at home.
The FBI plainJane sedan seemed wonderfully quiet after the Blue Canoe, and talking was easier.
“I'll post the hotline and the Latent Descriptor Index when I take your prints up to ID,” Crawford said. “You draft me an insert for the file. An insert, not a 302--- do you know how to do it?”
“I know how.”
“Say I'm the Index, tell me what's new.”
It took her a second to get it together--- she was glad Crawford seemed interested in the scaffolding on the Jefferson Memorial as they passed by.
The Latent Descriptor Index in the Identification Section's computer compares the characteristics of a crime under investigation to the known proclivities of criminals on file. When it finds pronounced similarities, it suggests suspects and produces their fingerprints. Then a human operator compares the file fingerprints with latent prints found at the scene. There were no prints yet on Buffalo Bill, but Crawford wanted to be ready.
The system requires brief, concise statements. Star?ling tried to come up with some.
“White female, late teens or early twenties, shot to death, lower torso and thighs flayed---”
“Starling, the Index already knows he kills young white women and skins their torsos--- use 'skinned,' by the way, 'flayed' is an uncommon term another officer might not use, and you can't be sure the damned thing will read a synonym. It already knows he dumps them in rivers. It doesn't know what's new here. What's new here, Starling?”
“This is the sixth victim, the first one scalped, the first one with triangular patches taken from the back of the shoulders, the first one shot in the chest, the first one with a cocoon in her throat.”
“You forgot broken fingernails.”
“No sir, she's the .second one with broken finger?nails.”
“You're right. Listen, in your insert for the file, note that the cocoon is confidential. We'll use it to eliminate false confessions.”
“I'm wondering if he's done that before--- placed a cocoon or an insect,” Starling said. “It would be easy to miss in an autopsy, especially with a floater. You know, the medical examiner sees an obvious cause of death, it's hot in there, and they want to get through... can we check back on that?”
“If we have to. You can count on the pathologists to say they didn't miss anything, naturally. The Cincin?nati Jane Doe's still in 'the freezer out there. I'll ask them to look at her, but the other four are in the ground. Exhumation orders stir people up. We had to do it with four patients who passed away under Dr. Lecter's care, just to make sure what killed them. Let me tell you, it's a lot of trouble and it upsets the relatives. I'll do it if I have to, but we'll see what you find out at the Smith?sonian before I decide.”
“Scalping... that's rare, isn't it?”
“Uncommon, yes,” Crawford said.
“But Dr. Lecter said Buffalo Bill would do it. How did he know that?”
“He didn't know it.”
“He said it, though.”
“It's not a big surprise, Starling. I wasn't surprised to see that. I should