My name is Hanna

As a special investigator for the FBI, I have been involved in several deep-rooted cases. High profiles of murder suspects; some as low-life as you can imagine, and others, who, end up being the least suspected of the batch, but that’s where I come in, to separate the factual from the fantasy.

But there is one case I have been put in charge of that I cannot solve. This person takes each victim and doesn’t just kill them. The murder suspect actually takes certain parts of the body and cooks them and creates a meal.

What parts that aren’t used are burned, and the ashes are rid of as if placed in an urn and then distributed in a wind, over a lake, even poured over mountain caps, simply buried, or flushed down a toilet.

Ten years, twenty-seven arrests, twenty-seven convictions, and yet—and yet this one perp cannot be found. But I know why when no one else at the FBI, don’t.

It is me. Hanna Lector. And I so love a well done fava meal. Care to join me for dinner?