by catt dahman
“Remember your children, please….” He watched her fight the pain as she leaned back and he tied the second stocking around her ankles. He spent a few minutes just looking at her.
Her brown hair was tousled from sleep, her face was puffy with fear, and her eyes were red and wet with tears as she silently cried. The man felt very powerful, and he shivered with excitement and happiness. He understood the joy that the doctor felt when developing a scene, a piece of art, or of unravelling a puzzle for others to ponder. Each tiny element added a new possibility, a new what if, and a new delight for those investigating. It was the ultimate control and thrill.
He waved his knife before her eyes, waiting for her to notice what he wanted her to see. As her pupil dilated, he knew she realized there was blood all over his gloves and on the knife.
“ I didn’t tell you the whole story. I have already visited those two bright, cute boys of yours. I took care of your husband, too. I must tell you, Danny wasn’t much of a fighter.”
She lunged at him, and the man slashed her hands, cutting her fingers and jabbing her palm. She pulled back, bleeding and staring at him with confusion. She wanted to ask what he had done, what he intended to do, to beg or bribe him, but she didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Maybe I’m lying? I could be, but Dana, your death is so vital. The rest are for show, and you are the main event. You are the one who matters, and no one ever understood that but me. I understand the doctor. Only I do. So, we’ll get on with this, okay? No need to prolong this torture.” Dana moaned again.
The man paused a second, unsure exactly how to do this best, but he leaned in, dodged her hands, grabbed them with one of his own hands, and plunged the knife into her neck. It could have sent her fighting harder, but it didn’t. The pain shocked her so that she didn’t fight so much as raise her hands and flutter them at the man.
After a few stabs, the man slit her throat, not that she was alive when he took the small toe from his pocket to show her. It was perhaps a little cruel, and he didn’t know if the doctor did the same thing; he doubted it, actually. It was his own little twist and gave him some pleasure to see her eyes widen even further. She knew. That was gratifying. She suffered.
He tossed paper towels to the floor next to the toe, not really happy with the random way the towels landed, but he wasn’t sure if he should alter a random clue. When he tipped over the water glass, pink water poured onto the counter and the floor, making a wet mess.
The man was suddenly sad that it was over. He had planned so long, and now, like Christmas, it was finished. He felt a little hollow.
The man waited to read about the crime scene in the newspaper, but there was nothing. He fumed. He designed a new scene, one that was even more perfect, and a third, and the latter two were reported and compared to Dr. Hollingsworth’s. The doctor knew of the man’s tribute, but the first one, being unreported, was troubling. He was almost ready to give everyone a little nudge.
The man was most pleased when the headlines of the newspaper compared the crime scene to the first one Dr. Hollingsworth provided. He was excited. Only two more scenes were needed, but they would take the utmost finesse to get right.
The man hoped he had not disappointed the doctor.
Chapter Nine: Revelations and Conundrums
“I walked the crime scene that was a copycat of your first one, Dr. Hollingsworth. They were country folks and were found dead when the sheriff had all the deputies do a welfare check for the families living out of town,” Virgil said.
“Did it match?”
“It did. In fact, it looked as if the Copycat worked really hard to get everything the same. The glasses were there, one tipped over. The wounds matched. The little boy’s toe was removed and left in the kitchen. Stockings were used to restrain the female victim.”
“Perfect.”
“I guess.”
“A lot of blood?” Hollingsworth asked.
“A great deal. It was overkill. He used everything that the press knew and released and a few bits that were held back, like the urine in the boy’s bed.”
“Gossip. People talk.”
“How did you choose your victims, Dr. Hollingsworth?”
“Does it matter, now?”
“Yes, if the Copycat is using the same method, it does.”
Hollingsworth frowned a little, “That implies something odd. You’re asking me how I chose victims, but from what I have seen in the files, the Copycat knows that answer. How is it he figured it out?” he folded his hands together.
Virgil pointed to the doctor with a pencil, “That’s how we’ll catch him. How does he know? Have you communicated with him?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. Of course, I am a murderer, so I could be lying, but I don’t lie. I omit information, but I don’t lie. How he knew my method is indeed a strong clue. The water glasses. One was tipped over, yes?”
“It was,” Tina said, showing the doctor a photo of the glasses.
Hollingsworth looked at the picture a long time. “Look at the counter, and compare photos, please.”
Virgil and Tina did so.
“There’s a ‘smudge’ on the one of the Copycat’s crimes. Blood on the counter.”
“Yes. He set the knife down and then picked it up and tossed it into the sink. I never set it down. I tipped the glass over with one hand, and the water was only about half way up the glass. He used more water and set the knife down. Let me see the picture of the adult female, please?”
Virgil handed it over.
“Look at her face. The stocking is overly tight. The wounds are weak. Sheriff, your Copycat is different than I am. He isn’t using the same objective at all but is using my crimes as a blue print. He enjoyed this kill.”
“Did you enjoy the kills?”
“Not at all. I left a bread crumb trail to see who would follow it. Our dear Mason Lord was quite good at following the crumbs, and he caught me, didn’t he? Smart Special Agent Mason Lord.”
“But he didn’t catch you until you made a mistake…or made a mistake on purpose,” Tina said.
“I became bored and disillusioned that anyone could follow the obvious clues I left. I no longer enjoyed my work because the law profession refused to evolve.”
“I think you somehow speak to this guy,” Hollingsworth said as he continued to smile.
“New items. They were killed the day after they grocery shopped, and they shopped as a family. You watched them in the grocery store,” Virgil said.
Hollingsworth smiled and clapped his hands slowly.
“Is he watching the families, too? There is only the one grocery store in town….”
“He does watch them,” said Hollingsworth, “and he watches and plans and sets them up to mimic my crime scenes. He’s no older than thirty, athletic, a loner but not socially stunted. He’s single. He’s bright, but not brilliant. White.” He paused. “Let me see the third scene again…pictures and notes. Please.”
“What do you see? He is changing, isn’t he?”
“I think so. It’s slight in the first, slight in the second, and more pronounced in the third. In the fourth, there are too many stab wounds, and she is alive. They weren’t fatal. He savored the torture. I didn’t. See? Mine were fast slashes. I never prolonged a death needlessly. This may be something developing sexually, or it is about power? But he is escalating.”
“What should we be doing to catch him?”
Hollingsworth turned to Tina, “Do you feel validated by your work?
Tina refused to glance at Virgil. This was the price they had to pay to get more information, “Yes, I love my work. Virgil, as sheriff, stepped in and was then elected…never treats me different because I am a female.”
“Ahhh. Does he assign you to dangerous situation as he does the male deputies?”
“Always. In fact, he probably assigns me more.”
“Why is that, Deputy Rant?”
“Because I’m learning. I am capable. I’m sm
art. I don’t get scared.”
Hollingsworth nodded, “Have you killed in the line of duty?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I shot a man who pointed a gun at me. He had already killed several children, and he aimed at me. I blew his head off.”
“Did you have nightmares afterwards? Regret? Guilt?”
Tina shrugged, “I had a few nightmares, but they were about what if I had missed: he would have shot me and severely hurt people close to me. I felt guilt at not knowing sooner. He wasn’t an Ole Yeller to me, and so it was nothing to put down that mad dog. I can live just fine with justified killing.”
“Justified. Interesting word choice.”
“It works.”
“You’re a strong deputy. Have you vomited at a scene?” Hollingsworth asked.
“No, not yet.”
“You will, one day.”
“I may,” Tina said, “how is the Copycat evolving?”
“You were on that case with the freaks in the basement. Did you shoot them?
“Your turn.”
“You have the third and fourth crime scene. With the fifth, he will plan carefully and watch for the perfect set up. I had to wait four months, but the weather is nice, and he may be able to catch a break. He’s excited and ready to do something better….”
“What kind of better?” Virgil asked.
Hollingsworth waged a finger, “Tina has a question to answer.”
She took a deep breath, “They were no longer humans, but pre-humans who used deadly spears and teeth and ate humans. They couldn’t come back out, so yes, I shot him while I protected my life and the lives of several other people under my care. I neither enjoyed it nor disliked it. I didn’t have time to decide on a moral ground. I was there to serve and to protect only.”
“What better things will the Copycat do? What is his next job?”
“You wasted a question, Sheriff. You know what I did, and, therefore, you know whom he will pick and what will happen. Shame you wasted this chance.”
Hollingsworth turned to Tina, “Is Sheriff McLendon’s wife attractive? She’s a deputy. Do you ever feel he should be with you, or do you understand it because you’re a little chunky and not very pretty?”
Tina blinked and said, “I have always seen Virgil as a brother. If he had an interest in me, I wouldn’t have reciprocated, but anyway, he chose Vivian, and I see her as a sister I gained. I love her as a sister. Doctor, I could roll my hair, slather on make-up, and might be quite attractive, but I am more concerned about my work because it pleasures me. I won’t set a trap to catch a man. I have more to offer.”
“So you say for succor.”
“My turn. Will he stay at the grocery store watching? Where will he find his next victims? At the scene? Accidentally?”
“You know a place I watched from. There were more. You’re smart, Sheriff McLendon, figure that part out. He has the best view of anyone, though. Think on that fact I am sharing. Go outside the box.”
“What’s he going to do when he escalates?” Virgil asked.
Doctor Hollingsworth waved his finger again. “My turn.”
“Come on. The games are getting old….”
“Quid pro quo,” Hollingsworth said. (Something of value exchanged for something else of the same value).
“Quid pro quo ut des,” Virgil responded, saying that he was giving something of value to receive something of value. The meaning was crystal clear.
“He will make mistakes on scene five. He will be sexually interested and will at least want to touch their blood-covered, naked flesh. If you are fortunate, you will get fingerprints on the bodies. He will want more by then because he is emotionally enjoying the kills. I didn’t care. I was neutral.”
“I’d prefer no bodies. I don’t want anyone else to die,” Virgil said.
“That’s not within your power. But study the crime scene I left. Read it, and see what it says.
Now, my turn. You’re raising a child that belonged to your deputy. His wife was slain, and his other daughter was as well; he became comatose, the last I heard. You know the girl’s biological father was really a toxic killer. Everyone knows it. How does it feel? Do you watch her and wonder if blood calls to blood?”
Virgil’s eyebrow twitched, and he hated that. “This isn’t about me.”
“Sheriff, you’re whining, if not in tone, then in words. Does she know?”
“That was two questions. I don’t think blood is always an indicator. Your own upbringing was supposedly excellent, and yet, despite an education and career, you decided to kill families as a way to test your theories. It was pure choice. My daughter is being raised with love and order, and I hope she makes wise choices. I look at her as an innocent.”
“You’re not entirely truthful, Sheriff. I detect some concerns which are acceptable. Oh, your turn.”
Virgil tapped piano keys with his left hand, barely suppressing fury. His family was what he was most protective of. His adopted daughter was precious to him. He hated working with this selfish bastard. He had two burning questions though that he had to trade for. “What if I challenge the Copycat. Will he come after me instead?”
Doctor Hollingsworth studied Virgil for a time and drew memories from his own mind, examining past cases, studies of offenders, and text books he had read or written. So much information, a lifetime of experience, and he had to go to the files in his head and look for what he needed. “He might. I don’t think he will at first, but he will need pushing quite relentlessly. If he is mimicking me, then after he finishes his agenda, he could turn to you instead of breaking into the house belonging to a former law officer.”
“Doctor, I do believe that amuses you. I think I see a glittering of humor and interest in your eyes,” Virgil said.
“It’s a novel approach to locate him. I am a aficionado of new ways of catching criminals. Law departments have used the press before to further a reaction, but to send the offender a communication, to calculatingly cause a reaction in this manner, is unique. You have no fear of that?”
Virgil imagined pounding on the piano keys, pushing into a complex section of the piece as he thought. “I won’t say I am afraid. I am anxious and alert, but the emotion isn’t fear. I have a conviction that I can outwit this man once he is out of cover.”
“We can handle him, Doctor,” Tina said.
“I find you and the deputy stimulating, Sheriff, so I do hope you are safe in this endeavor, but then again, if you should fail and be killed by an artless Copycat, then you are certainly not the lawman I believed you to be.”
Virgil stopped his hand movements and laughed. He found the statement very funny. “I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop so I am advised properly. How can we stop the next crime?”
“Talk. Walk. Watch. You know what will happen. Be there if you can. I think the man will complete his task, no matter how much that bothers you, Sheriff. On the other case, how do you feel about our dear Mrs. Stoker? Have you come to any conclusions?”
Virgil stood and shrugged. “I may let you know, but I need another walk through the scene first and an another interview with Mr. Stoker.”
“As you wish.” Hollingsworth drew back and moved to his cot as the interview ended.
Virgil and Tina drove with Deputy Staggs back to the Stoker house. Each time they met with Dr. Hollingsworth, they felt faintly dirty. At his trial while jurors watched him, the doctor never showed any remorse as the testimony dragged on for weeks. Jurors and family members broke into sobs as they viewed the photographs of the dead children and heard the coroner’s and medical examiner’s reports.
The defense called a few experts that refuted some evidence by challenging some of the findings. A few colleagues testified that Dr. Hollingsworth was brilliant and pleasant to work with and that he often did charity events. Some even praised his work.
Throughout the trial, the doctor listened carefully, making notes and hanging on each word with gre
at attention to see if the prosecution caught all of his clues, sometimes smiling a little. Because of his attitude, no one felt the least bit of sympathy for the doctor when he was convicted and then sentenced for his crimes.
Kimiko frowned as she looked over the house. It was a disgusting place to her, and she wanted to be anywhere else except in the house with the dried blood and flies. “What can I do to help?”
“Can you lie on the sofa as Beth did when she was killed? Tina, you are going to be Starla. First, I want us to act it out as she claims.”
Kimiko kept her nose wrinkled as she lay down. “I feel vulnerable. Sorry. That’s stupid to say,” she replied.
“It helps me. Why do you feel that way? Because of the murders?”
“Normally a bed has a headboard, and like little kids worry about monsters grabbing their bare feet, my head is in the open.”
Virgil walked to her. He thought it over. The Copycat would have had to walk past the other three sleeping children to cut her throat, if he were the killer. He pretended to stab, and she raised her arms a few times, and he mimicked pulling a blanket up. “Why am I raising the blanket?”
“Good question. Something a parent would do.” Kimiko rolled and pretended to be the baby now.
Virgil walked carefully and tried to find a position. “If I turn this way, I can’t see the doorway. If I am this way, I block the light from the television. I can’t see what I’m doing if I block the light.”
“Then turn.”
“My back is open, and I can’t see the other kids.” Virgil grumbled under his breath and asked Kimiko to pretend to be the third victim. He had to watch his steps to avoid blood in his imagination; he pretended to stab Kimiko again, reminding her she wasn’t dead.
“Do you know I’m alive?”
“I think so since I see you moving, but it won’t take long, right? I don’t know how bad off you are unless I’m medically or law-oriented, or that I’ve done this a lot,” Virgil said as he nodded. “Unless I am one of those two, I don’t know. But I go to the last victim, and I wound him. He isn’t dead either.”
