by catt dahman
“Starla picked it up,” Tina said, “when the intruder ran away and set it there. She was bleeding a lot by then. The knife is from the house. See? It’s from the butcher’s block; one knife is missing.”
Virgil pulled a knife out and looked at it before slipping it back in place. It wasn’t the smallest nor the largest that was missing. It was like Hollingsworth’s scene, but different. Bloody rags and towels were all over the counters and floor and were crumpled as if tossed there when damp.
“We took a bunch of them and photographed the rest.” Virgil walked into the den and stood against a wall so he could see everything. The sofa was light blue, and blood had been rubbed into the back and along the arm. “Pillow?”
“Yeah. In evidence. Here’s a picture.”
Virgil lined the photo up with the scene before him. The case of the pillow had been white or pale yellow, but it was soaked red. The wall behind the sofa was splattered with cast-off splatters.
“That was Beth. Her throat was cut, and her carotid severed, so she went fast. She had deep cuts to her forearms where she fought back and slung blood all over. She was covered in a white blanket that is in evidence. It was soaked at the top with blood.”
“She was first. She was the biggest threat but was also unimportant; the goal was to just get rid of her. A sex pervert would have kept her. No signs of sexual motive?”
“None at all.”
“The child in the center was next because there were no blood prints from the rest. Those were emergency personnel’s prints, right? She was the baby?”
“Yep.”
“How was she killed?”
Kirby handed over a new photograph that made Virgil wince. The baby had a slashed throat and stabs to her chest. Blood, fine as mist, covered her face where the knife carried it with each blow. It was hell to see a baby killed in that way.
Kirby shook his head as he watched Tina and Virgil look at the picture. It was as horrible a sight as Kirby had ever seen. Had he been slightly weaker, he would have sat and cried like a baby over the scene. As it was, his deputies were in tears. Why would anyone murder a little baby?
“Her death was as quick as possible. This wasn’t the main event either. This killing was to keep her from awakening and crying out. I’d rather say she didn’t suffer any, but she did a little. Coroner’s report said it was fast.”
“This is sickening. That baby was no threat,” Tina said as she frowned.
“Her blanket was spread on the sleeping bag over there on Ricky. His neck was stabbed so he bled a lot, and he was stabbed in the stomach, chest, and belly. He had defense wounds. He flipped to his belly and tried to crawl. Even with all that, he tried.”
“Slow death,” Tina said, feeling sick.
Virgil followed the trail. The child was going to the sofa, pawing to reach it. Halfway there was another big pool. “Back?”
“Yep.”
“He was trying to reach his sister for help.” Virgil turned to the side and looked at the last section. Blood was everywhere on the floor, splattered, pooled, and splashed; the fourth child bled a lot; it was another slow death. Virgil held his hand out for the photo.
Many slashings caused a great amount of blood, and the stabs wounds did severe damage, but the eye wound was unusual. None of the rest were cut anywhere except the torso. Each had a great number of defense wounds, but after having their throats cut, they could have been held down. The defense wounds were unnecessary.
“Cause of death was what?”
“Massive blood loss. Each. The Medical Examiner said they would have died from having their throats cut. Coroner said massive blood loss. The eye wound was not serious, but it bled a lot. The ME called it each time on throat cutting but said the other stab wounds were enough to have killed them as well. He said they were deep stabs, some all the way to the subfloor. Someone was pissed off.”
Virgil, mimicked stabbing twice at sofa, walked to the center, did the same, walked to the other side and made motions, and then walked back to the edge where the five-year-old was killed. Tracks were solid through the blood. Virgil walked to the staircase and mimicked stabbing, turned, and did a slow jog through the kitchen to the back door.
“Right there on the counter in a shallow bowl was Mike’s wallet, car keys, some of Starla’s rings, and some dollar bills. Nothing was taken.” Reb filled in a few details.
“What were her injuries?”
Kirby handed over another photo. Starla Stoker had some shallow cuts on her neck, a deeper cut to her shoulder, a stab and some cuts to her palm and fingers, and some deep gashes to both forearms.
“She fought with the attacker?”
“She claimed to.”
“Did she fall down?”
“Not that she said.”
Virgil thought, “Did she scream?”
“She said she did when she was talking on the phone with dispatch. She yelled for Mike.”
Mike, hearing the desperation in her voice, raced down the stairs and was halfway into the kitchen when he saw his wife talking on the telephone, bleeding everywhere, and acting upset.
“I locked the door,” she said into the phone. Then she turned to Mike, “A man grabbed me. I think I’m cut.”
Mike took a washcloth, ran a little water over it, and rubbed at Starla’s neck. He saw the stab wounds and slashes and ordered Starla to sit down. He took the phone and repeated their address, saying they needed an ambulance and the police. The dispatcher had more questions, but Mike dropped the telephone as Starla, who had not remained seated, began screaming hysterically. She was in the entrance to the den or family room.
Mike went to Carl first, the closest victim to the edge of the room. His son was gurgling, and wet noises were coming from his chest. Mike ripped away Carl’s little pajama top to see massive bleeding from several chest wounds. “No...oh no….” He touched Carl’s face, seeing the child’s eye had been stabbed. “Get me some towels. Hurry.”
Starla rummaged beneath the sink and dragged out old rags and towels that she took to the den. She handed Mike a thick, wet towel.
“Hold this on his chest,” Mike ordered her.
She tentatively did as told, but he had to tell her several times to keep applying pressure. She couldn’t stand to see the one glazed eye watching her. She moved slowly and was possibly in shock or in bad shape from her injuries.
Mike howled as if he were being boiled alive while he knelt by the baby, Laura. He leaned his head to her chest and lifted her arm, but she was dead, lying in a pool of redness.
Sick, Mike turned to Ricky, his oldest son. Ricky was wheezing. Grabbing a towel, Mike set it on Ricky’s back and crawled on his hands and knees to Beth. Her while blanket was bright red, and blood covered her pillow, the sofa, and the floor. Her eyes were blank.
Mike went back to Ricky and pressed the towel down.
Starla left Carl and grabbed Laura, holding her and then laying her back down. She touched the original pool of blood that Ricky made and then went to Beth, grabbing her and hugging her. “I’m dizzy, Mike.” Starla lay across one of the blood pools and stared at the ceiling.
“Starla, get over there, and hold the towel down.” Mike heard the death rattle, the sounds a dying person makes as he gasps for air and gurgles.
Harold Tackett was the first officer to arrive. He found the front door unlocked and ran in, gun drawn. Very rapidly, he took in the scene and ran through the house. He, according to training, secured the premises first so they would not be attacked further. Only when he was sure they were alone did he really look over the scene. He followed his training perfectly.
“He’s gone. I locked the door after him. I feel dizzy,” Starla said as she crawled over and leaned on Carl’s towel.
Deputy Tackett yelled into his radio, forgetting half the codes and screaming for help.
Kimiko answered him as best she could, scared and worried. She had just come on duty and was unprepared for this kind of call from Tackett.
Tackett settled Starla to the side and told her to keep her rag against her neck or chest. He didn’t know which injury was worse and wasn’t well trained in this kind of situation. Her nightgown was covered, head to toe with gore.
Tackett looked at Carl and held the towel against the child as it soaked up blood, hoping he was doing the right thing for the child. “How many attackers? Can you describe them? Did you recognize them?”
“One. I don’t know him. I hardly saw him. Mike, what’s happening. Are the children okay? He ran away. Why would anyone do this to us? I hurt,” Starla talked slowly.
Kimiko Staggs ran in and was told to search the house quickly. Deputy Randy Gunn came in and stood guard over the den as ambulance attendants ran inside the house. They had gotten to the house within minutes of being called.
The first medical attendant, Al, crouched next to Carl and checked for breathing and a heartbeat. His hands shook. He worked a tube into the child’s chest between the lung and chest wall, into the pleural area to suck the blood from the lungs and inflate the lung. As fast as he sucked the liquid out, the lung filled again. Carl took a last breath and went still.
Al immediately tried to revive the child, blowing into his mouth and watching for a reaction. There was nothing. After ten minutes, Al stopped, and that was when he declared death, asking Deputy Gunn to record it as he examined the child.
On the other side of the area, Ken, another ambulance attendant, shook his head at Mike and declared Ricky dead before his brother died. Ken went to Starla and examined her. He quickly taped pads over the wounds and had her lie down as he worked. She was moaning and said she was weak and dizzy.
Al, when he could, determined baby Laura and Beth, dead.
“Let’s roll. Mr. Stoker, we are going to transport Mrs. Stoker to the hospital now. Do you understand?” Ken thought Starla needed surgery and a lot of stitches.
“Yeah,” Mike said dully, “Is she okay? Starla? Honey?”
“Mike. He cut me. Why did he do that? Are the children okay?”
Mike called back, “You’re fine. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t know. She’s injured, and she needs medical attention,” Al said.
They positioned Starla on a gurney, began an IV, and wheeled her outside.
“Cherry.” Mike looked puzzled.
“Sir?” Randy Gunn asked.
“The baby is upstairs.”
“Follow me, sir.” Randy Gunn led the way, checking all the bedrooms before he allowed Mike to get the baby from her crib and hold her. When the photographer arrived, Randy asked him to photograph Mike Stoker first, took the man’s blood soaked boxer underwear, and then allowed him to dress.
A neighbor was allowed to take baby Cherry back to her house as Mike stared blankly at the den.
“What happened when Starla came down the stairs up until when she screamed?” Virgil now asked.
Kirby shrugged.
“And you arrested her?”
“I felt I had to. We don’t have anyone else, and things looked hinky here. There’s no motive. No burglary, and he took time to kill four kids who were no threat, but he barely hurt an adult who could have identified him? He casually dropped the knife, and she grabbed it and neatly put it on the counter? See her bare foot prints? Where are his? He would be covered in blood. He was a ghost if he were ever here. No prints.”
Virgil walked the scene again. “It is curious.” He looked into the sink again. He looked at all the bloody towels in the kitchen. When were they moved there? When was the locket and papers knocked on top of the blood trail and by whom?
“I want to see Starla Stoker and Mike Stoker and then form a theory, if I can.”
Tina stared at a photo of the crime scene, “Would a mother do this? How could anyone kill these babies? This wasn’t the Copycat, was it?”
“I don’t know who it was. Sheriff Kirby, it is possible you have two killers in your small town, but what are the odds?” Virgil said.
Kirby sighed, “I figured so.” Virgil nodded. “Why is Hollingsworth interested in this case?” Kirby asked as they left.
“Because the Copycat is nothing to him. He is trying very hard. The person who killed the Stoker children…Hollingsworth is excited. He thinks….”
“What?” Tina asked, “what does he think?”
“He thinks he has found a kindred soul. He thinks there is another monster running around who is just…like…him.”
Chapter Seven: A Taste for Bloodshed
On one side sat Deputy Kimiko Staggs with a pen and paper. She was asked to remain quiet, and if she did have anything to ask or add, write it down. Next to her sat Sheriff Reb Kirby, his face masked in a grimace of general dislike for the ordeal they were about to have; he hid his curiosity well. On the table were pitchers of tea, something Kirby lived on.
Next was Dr. Walter Hollingsworth, his feet shackled and hands cuffed. A blanket draped his hands and feet, and he had been warned that if he broke the rules, he would be finished with the case. His guards were right outside the door.
Tina sat close to him and was instructed that if Hollingsworth tried anything, ignore his guards and shoot him and figure it out later. Her attention would be divided between the interrogation and Hollingsworth. Virgil sat next to her, thick files specifically arranged before him. He was mulling over a dozen ideas at once.
The final seat was filled with the small figure of Starla Stoker. Her eyes were sad, but she was curious about what this was about. Her arms were wrapped in thick bandages.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stoker. May I call you Starla? Thank you. I am simply trying to find all the answers and get this case solved with your help. Assisting me will be Deputy Rant and Dr. Hollingsworth. They may have some questions for you. All we want is the truth so we can do right by your children.”
“I’ll try to help, Sheriff.”
“That’s all we need. How are you doing?”
“I hurt a lot, but the doctors prescribed some light painkillers. I’m healing, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry to have you go over this again and that you are in custody, but we need to find the truth. Tell me about getting up and walking down the stairs and about being attacked. I’ll interrupt if I don’t understand, okay?”
She nodded. She awoke for no real reason but had to urinate and did so. Afterwards, she was still half-asleep and ready to lie down again, but she also wanted to see if all were fine downstairs and curious to see if the children had gone to sleep or were still up watching the animal show. She felt uneasy, as if something were bothering her. “I felt very confused and sleepy.”
“Had you taken anything to sleep?”
“An antihistamine. It helps me sleep and helps with allergies, but yes, they make me sleepy. I figured it was okay since I had coffee earlier.”
“Was Mr. Stoker asleep or awake?”
“Asleep.”
“Did you check the baby…Cherry?”
“Yes, she was asleep.”
“Having four children under age twelve was a chore, wasn’t it?”
“No. Well, yes, I mean at times, but Beth helped out, and I had babysitters I could call. We did fine.”
Virgil nodded, “Please continue.”
She had heard something break or fall over. She walked down the stairs, wondering what was going on. Her children might be running wild.
“Did they camp in the den often?” Tina asked.
“No, Deputy Rant, maybe once a month as a treat. For some reason, I always felt nervous about their not being in their own beds,” Starla Stoker sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I wanted to be sure they were asleep and not raiding the kitchen or anything….”
“Could you see the den from the bottom of the stairs?” Virgil asked.
“I could see the light from the television, and if I had looked, I could have seen shapes such as the sofa or chairs, but not the floor. I didn’t have time to go look,” Starla said. A noise made her turn, and when she did, a figure step
ped close and plunged a knife into her neck. She was able to deflect the force because she was turning, so the second blow barely cut her. She said it was all dream-like and a blur to try to recall.
“I raised my hands and tried to…you know, push back. He cut my arms and fingers. I reached for the knife.” She showed them her bandaged wounds on both forearms.
Virgil looked at the photos that were taken at the hospital. Her left arm was cut almost to the bone, and her right arm had several shallow stab wounds and then a slash that only needed two stitches and tape. Her fingers were cut, but not deeply.
“I would think those wounds hurt? Finger injuries are painful.”
“I remember a burning and there being an ache, I think, but I really don’t remember it hurting particularly. I was terrified and wanted to block the knife.”
“Sheriff Kirby indicated that you told the medical attendants that you didn’t know you were hurt when you chased the attacker.”
Starla frowned and bit her bottom lip, “I remember now, but I didn’t right then. Then it was all a blur, and it happened really fast. Later, in the hospital, I thought and remembered more.”
“Of course. So you recall the attacker? Did you know your attacker?”
“A man, I think. A small man.” She didn’t remember anything else. It was a someone in dark clothing and a ball cap pulled low. She didn’t remember any details, and he didn’t say anything as he cut her. He stopped slashing and turned away, running to the kitchen. Starla followed him, and he dropped the knife and ran out the back door.
“Was he covered in blood by then?” Tina asked. “You bled a lot, right? So he would have had blood all over him?
“I…I don’t know. I guess, maybe. It was dark, and his clothes were dark. I don’t know.”
Virgil steered the details again, “You chased him away?”
“ Yes. I was shaking so hard. I closed the door and locked it, the button thing and then the dead bolt. And I stood there a second, trying to think. I didn’t know I was bleeding. I ran over and picked up the knife and set it on the counter and grabbed the phone and called for help.”
