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    Summary

    Every action, no matter how kind or cruel, had been for the protection of his son… until now.

    The white note card in his left pocket burned a hole into the skin of his hip, searing the number and the name Hannibal Lecter his flesh. And as if the man himself could sense their presence, Jonathan looked up from the steering wheel and saw Hannibal standing on the front porch with a glass of wine in his hand.

    Both men turned to look into the car at Will, his head smeared against the car window in the most unattractive way. His hair had grown more wild through the drive across Louisiana into Baltimore, and a thin line of drool had crusted on his chin.

    While Jonathon saw his young boy, Hannibal saw so much more.

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