On any other day, Abigail might have been reminded of the time she spent in Hannibal's basement, where he peeked away flesh and created his art from dead bodies. In the moment, the hand held no more shock for her than seeing a dissected animal would have. It was just what everyone looked like underneath. She took the hand gratefully and looked up at the screen.
"There he is." Abigail said, watching her Pop's face. He was so good with the dog, the same way that he was with her. "See how relaxed he looks? THat confirms it. That's not someone that would run off. Something must have happened."