Of Truth and Lies: Hollingsworth Copycat Killer (Virgil McLendon Thrillers Book 5)

by catt dahman

  “La la la…coming downstairs,” Tina called out.

  “I can’t see you. You can’t see in here. I leave this area to come at you and attack….” Virgil did so as Tina raised her arms and faced him. He shook his head. “No, I need to have back splatter on the mirror.” He looked at the mirror more closely.

  “Is that back splatter?” Tina examined it while she was trying to keep her place. She stepped into the main blood pool on the floor. She raised her hands and slashed at herself with a pretend knife. The blood on the mirror looked more as if she had been standing there, watching herself.

  “Why haven’t you screamed? Why haven’t you run to the children?” Virgil motioned her to chase him. She yelled to remind him to drop his knife, and he halted to do that, but he was confused about how to get it to go where Starla claimed it fell. “I am not about to drop it because you may grab it and hurt me.” He stopped running for the door.

  “And I would,” Tina admitted, “now, I scream. I scream for my husband. I am dialing for help.”

  “I am Mike Stoker now.” Virgil walked to the side of the kitchen. He acted out getting a cloth, wetting it, rubbing blood away, and seeing her injury. She dropped the cloth, took a dry one, and held it to her neck as he took the telephone.

  “Have you told me where the man is? Do I know? I would see you are okay and run for the children. Instead, you get on the phone and give the address several times, and you don’t sit down but wander to the den. You scream. You don’t grab the children, but you scream. I go to check them because I see the blood? I don’t turn on lights, and neither do you? Does that make sense?”

  “Lights. Dispel the gloom…mothers turn on lights so we can evaluate. There is no reason at all to assume they are dead, right? Just injured. Why would we think they are dead when that’s the last thing a parent normally accepts?” Tina asked as she leaned against the wall, looking over the scene again.

  They had three killers on their minds. Dr. Hollingsworth was the first, and his approach was controlled and organized. Everything the police found, he meant to be found; he set up a very specific scene with details that made sense: blood for shock value, a signature, elements to confuse the scene, and add layers, and obvious clues as to how he picked the victims and why. He presented a classic textbook case.

  The second killer was a Copycat, and he used what information he had from newspapers and gossip to replicate. It was very organized and controlled, but because each murderer brings his own personality to a crime, there were cracks and at a glance other elements. Emotion showed. He had to ad-lib a little of the scene. In his work, he provided his own profile.

  The third killer was different and was a slight nod to the other cases; the killer might have considered it would be thought to be the work of the Copycat. That showed a lack of finesse and intellect, but not stupidity. There was planning involved, the scene was organized, and yet, because there were witnesses, some evidence didn’t fit the statements the witnesses gave. It made sense that Starla and Mike Stoker were in shock and were unsure about some details, but too much didn’t fit.

  All three involved knives, items that poked holes and cut, letting blood out of a body. All three involved the deaths of children.

  Virgil removed the coroner’s report and read it again. He read the Medical Examiner’s notes, which were excellent and noted with precision. He looked into the notes, following arterial blood that was bright red because it was oxygenated and venous blood that was darker.

  Tina and Kimiko watched him as he flipped through papers, knowing he was on to something, like a cat with a rat.

  Virgil stared at the photos taken at the scene and then at the pictures from the morgue from the autopsies. He poked at parts of the pictures and flipped to the next ones to decide if the bodies had been moved. Bodies not moved showed livor mortis a term used to relate to the settling of the blood in the lower portion of the body where it lay. The heavy red blood cells then would sink and be absorbed by skin not in contact with the ground and result in the body showing reddish or purple coloring. Livor mortis might appear from twenty minutes to a few hours after death.

  Virgil counted back, checked times, and slid the pictures back into the folder.

  He didn’t say anything as they went back to the sheriff’s office; his mind was whirling.

  Tina and Kimiko followed Virgil as he walked to the room where Mike Stoker waited to be questioned.

  “What is going on?” Kimiko asked quietly.

  Tina snickered, “He’s a dog on a trail. His mind is buzzing, I know.” She and the deputy went in, shook the man’s hand, and settled in to listen as Virgil worked.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stoker, for helping me. I have a few questions.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you. I know this is a trying time and you are worried for Starla….”

  “She didn’t hurt our children.”

  “Well, hopefully that is what we can find with your help. I just need for you to be honest and help me understand so I have a clear picture in my head, “Okay?”

  “I can try.”

  “Thank you, Sir. On the night in question, you saw how badly your wife was injured, am I correct?”

  Mike was taken aback by the sudden leap into questioning. He looked guarded and said, “I’m no medical expert, but I rubbed away some blood and saw she was cut up badly.”

  “In the dark?”

  “One of us flipped on the light. It was fast, and I don’t know If I did it.”

  Virgil nodded, “Understandable. We do a few things automatically and may not recall them.”

  “Yes.”

  “She was cut. It wasn’t serious. Dark blood. Veins. Her artery was fine. She said she was attacked. Right?”

  “Yes. It was a lot of blood, and I don’t know colors. It looked bad to me. I mean, I was scared, shocked, and then saw all the blood.”

  “I imagine so. When she said she was attacked, did you think she meant right in the house?”

  “Of course. There was blood on the floor near the stairs. I didn’t think about it, but I guessed that was what she meant.”

  “And she was bleeding, Mrs. Stoker, I mean. Her wounds probably looked terrible to you, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did it scare you? I mean you had to be scared about her condition? Someone cut her, and she was injured and bleeding a lot. That would terrify me if I saw my wife that way.”

  “I was scared. I was glad she wasn’t dead; she was alive and able to talk, but the blood, it terrified me,” Mike Stoker said. “I was startled from sleep and came downstairs to find Starla injured.”

  “She was talking on the telephone with emergency services?”

  “Yes. I checked her and told her to sit down, and then I finished giving the information because Starla was so upset….she was kind of out of it; she looked dazed, and it scared me; I thought she was bleeding to death.”

  “So, if I understand, you heard her screaming for you, ran downstairs, saw her neck, washed it off to look at it , and then you took over the call? You dropped the phone when she screamed again, and you went to tend the children?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you understood quickly about the part about her having been assaulted with a knife?”

  “I guess so. Yes.”

  “Did she explain about chasing the man out the door, locking it, and then getting the knife so he was unarmed?” Virgil asked.

  “I…I don’t know when or how I knew. Maybe she told emergency services? I knew someone attacked her.”

  “Mr. Stoker, is that frightening? Was it scary that a man broke in and stabbed her?”

  “Of course. Yes.”

  Virgil leaned closer, “You are scared, and you don’t know where this man is, and you have a baby upstairs…a small baby…and you don’t go get her? The baby? You don’t check the children? Yet, as a man and a father, you don’t do anything to protect the children and your injured wife? You don’t grab a basebal
l bat or anything?”

  “I…I…knew that she chased him away.”

  “Okay. Emergency didn’t hear her telling you. Did she tell you before she made the call?”

  “I guess so. It’s all a jumble to me. It was and still is a nightmare. My children….” Mike Stoker stopped to cover his face and sob.

  Virgil felt a wave of pity for the man. He knew he was questioning him, using the tactics Dr. Walter Hollingsworth used: he probed for a weakness. It didn’t make Virgil proud.

  “I realize it’s painful, but I need to understand how you knew the man was gone and why you left the baby alone upstairs. You didn’t check the other children.” Virgil talked calmly. “I looked over the reports and pictures again, and we went to your home and walked over the scene again. One thing that stands out to me is that the room was dark except for the television. It was hard to maneuver with no light and then harm anyone. It’s hard to understand.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “My interest is Beth.”

  Mike looked up, wiping his eyes, “Yes.”

  “She was lovely Mr. Stoker. I am sorry you lost her. She was photographed as the investigators arrived. I checked and rechecked, and her body showed strong lividity. Do you know what that is?”

  “No.”

  Virgil motioned to Tina, and she gave an excellent overview.

  “That means Beth had been dead a while, Mr. Stoker,” Tina said, understanding what Virgil was going for. She felt disgusted. She understood the need but hated seeing the man mourn.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I do,” Virgil said. “Beth was dead. The killer took time and killed the rest, but two were alive and might have survived. Time passed, and then Mrs. Stoker received her injuries. She called you at some time, before or after all her wounds were in place. You were terrified; I accept that. But that was before she called for help. That was before everything else. You knew the baby was safe, and you knew the children were dead or dying and panicked.”

  “No.”

  “You saw that Starla had cut herself badly. You convinced her not to kill herself because she was supposed to be the fifth victim, wasn’t she? She wanted there to be seven, but she could only manage four and then, herself.”

  “No. She didn’t….” Mike Stoker looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked back at Virgil helplessly. “No. Not at all.”

  “You set the knife on the counter, and you worried for her as she kept bleeding. You asked her to sit down, and you got the information to emergency services. After that, you checked the children, and two were dead. The other two were still alive, and you honestly tried to save them. If they lived, they would tell, but that was okay. Starla would get help. But instead, the injuries were mortal, and both boys died before your eyes. You wanted to protect your wife. She was sick.”

  “She was depressed after Cherry was born. That was all. She didn’t do this.”

  “That happens sometimes after a mother gives birth. It’s a chemical response. Did she tell anyone?”

  “No, she told me. I tried to help more with the kids. Beth was moodier since she was beginning puberty, but we tried, and I thought things were better. Starla…did you see her wounds? My God, her throat was cut open. I was scared out of my mind. I don’t want her to be locked away. Please, Starla didn’t do this.”

  “Maybe she made the defense wounds, or did you have to stab her to cover things?” Virgil asked.

  “My babies. She didn’t hurt them…and the kids, oh, my God…the kids….” Mike Stoker cried openly now.

  They waited until he could get control again. His face was one of pure misery.

  Virgil felt pity for the man but was sad for the children who were dead. “You messed up a few things, tossed papers around, and prepared. Who wouldn’t believe you? But Sheriff Kirby felt something was off, and he was right. He went by his gut. I wasn’t sure until we walked the scene again. A true random murder is random, and this was much too staged.”

  “She’s my wife.”

  “I prefer the truth, no matter how bad it is. Your wife didn’t enjoy this. She’s very ill, but even if she were found to have diminished capacity because of depression, she knew right from wrong, Mr. Stoker. You are guilty of obstruction of justice, and I don’t know how that will play out. I figure the prosecution may push for premeditation and at least an accomplice; maybe you will be charged with conspiracy to commit murder.”

  Mike Stoker went white. “She didn’t do it. You have to find the real killer.”

  “Deputy Staggs, I think you can work with the prosecutors now. This case is done, for me. Mr. Stoker, I hope you can live with your choices.”

  Before he left the station, Virgil walked back to face Dr. Hollingsworth. He had no urge to see Starla Stoker. “Doctor, very interesting that you asked for me to look at the Stoker case as part of the deal. Why was that? You knew. Sheriff Kirby knew. I knew. Why was I asked to look at it?

  “Was it not enlightening?”

  “It was convoluted and a waste of time. She did it.”

  “Did she? Maybe she set up a staged scene, and yet, with a few of the clues missing, would you have known? She didn’t copy my style. She didn’t copy the Copycat. Can you not learn from that? Is she truly the killer?”

  Virgil snarled, “I am learning that you like to play games and think you’re teaching me something. Why me? Why teach me? What do you gain?”

  Hollingsworth smiled, his teeth gleaming. His grey eyes were narrowed as he responded, “David Gaither. You had the profile. You had the clues, and his crime scenes were full of rich details and information. I read that you analyzed so many things, yet, you were like a man looking to the horizon to see if it might rain, while meanwhile ignoring the puddle of rain forming right at your feet. Why didn’t you look in your own town? Why did you wear blinders?”

  Again with the Gaither case.

  “It was my first case, and I was thrust into it with no real experience. I was trying new techniques and lost. I did the best I could, and it was solved in the end.” Virgil hated the pleading he thought he heard in his own voice. He felt weak and angry.

  “New or not, you had a job to do. Your deputy, Tobias. Do you visit him and console yourself with the same old ramblings that you were new and inexperienced? Does that sooth your conscience?”

  Virgil grasped the bars of the cell in both fists, making the agents who guarded Hollingsworth step slightly in his direction, but Virgil didn’t notice. He didn’t care. If he were able, he would beat the doctor to death right then and there. “What do you want from me?”

  Hollingsworth sat back, “Don’t become an automaton, Sheriff. Emotions are healthy. It isn’t what people say, but what the scene says. What are the Copycat scenes saying to you? I am but the teacher.”

  Virgil turned away and walked out, punching a wall as he walked. He didn’t understand the games and was frustrated, yet he knew the doctor was leading him carefully to something. He hated it. He hated the lack of control, and he didn’t know what he was doing anymore.

  Virgil was on a deadly edge.

  Nothing made sense right now.

  Chapter Ten: Killer in the Woods

  It had been planned for weeks, and while a lot was going on in town, it was good to get away and spend some time relaxing. The rules were to enjoy the peace and quiet and stop worrying about the rash of homicides. It was impossible to do the latter.

  Christy slid into the chilly water, allowing it to sluice over her shoulders so she would be used to the temperature. The lake was clear and cold, a man-made reservoir that was the result of strip mining for limestone, so the bottom was rocky with sharp stones.

  “My poor feet. That hurts,” Diane complained, “go on. Tell me more. You babysat the Stoker kids?”

  “Yeah,” Christy said, “and they were a breeze. Beth always kept them in line, so it was a matter of changing the little ones and watching them; that is all.”

  “Why did they arr
est the mother? Is she weird or something?”

  “No. She’s normal, I guess. She’s a little cheap, but she’s okay. I think she was fed up with having five kids.” Christy held on to a rope on the side of a wooden raft that floated on the pool.

  “She had them, so deal with it. Now, Mr. Stoker will be alone and have only one.”

  Keri swam out farther, stretching her body, enjoying the water. They had left their vehicles and carried packs into the area that was grown up around the pond. An open patch was their camp.

  “I hope my mom doesn’t check on me.” Christy said. She and the other two girls had lied, telling their parents they were spending the night with Diane, and Diane said she was staying with Keri. Parents worried, but there was no reason to get bent out of shape. Yes, they had some alcohol and maybe some pot, but no one was driving, so they were safe. Boys were there, but other than Keri sharing a tent with Charlie, there was no sex involved. They were safer than the families had been in town in their own homes.

  Ted and Charlie whooped and splashed into the cold water, making clowns of themselves. They splashed one another, shivering and daring the other to dive in. Ted took the dare and came up cursing as he laughed.

  Sam, Dion, and Jered were at the camp, making a good campfire to enjoy and so that they could roast hotdogs and then make s’mores. Christy was cold and paddled back to the rocky ledge, ignoring the taunts of her friends, but she was ready to get dry, warm, and eat. She dried off with a towel and ducked into the brush to dress in hip hugger jeans, sneakers, and a tee-shirt, wishing she could have a warm bath and big dinner.

  “Good fire. Do we need more firewood?”

  “We have it.” Dion smiled and said, “Have a seat, and take a clothes hanger. Mustard?”

  “Yes, please. Two. Lots of mustard.” She threaded two wieners on a hanger and held them in the fire; watching as the skin bubbled and then blackened. The scent was wonderful. Dion handed her a paper plate with two buns slathered with mustard. Sam handed her a plastic cup of cola.