by catt dahman
“She doesn’t need any.”
“Okay….” Keri stopped. Ted’s tone sounded odd. “Ted?”
He sniffled into his arm, trying not to cry. “She isn’t doing so well.” He wasn’t medically trained, but he knew her breathing was faint and her heartbeat was thready. Her side wouldn’t stop bleeding, and her breaths were funny, all noisy and sputtering; he couldn’t help her.
Keri sat down, her eyes darting all over. She whispered, “What do we do now? We’re kind of back where we started.” She let Charlie clean the cut even though her foot stung, and then he bandaged her foot, but she wasn’t worried unless she had to run. She slipped on socks and shoes, wishing she had had them on sooner.
“We sit here with the axe, and we wait until morning. Then we walk out. If the guy attacks, we chop him up, and that’s all. We watch and wait,” Dion said.
Ted pulled Diane away and covered her with part of the tent that was down as they had Jered and Christy. They sat staring into the fire and watching the area behind their friends. Ted hoped Keri watched carefully but could just feel someone about to stab him between the shoulders. “I feel like he’s just picking us off. I can’t quite get that Jered, Christy, and Diane are really…yanno…not alive now.”
“Dead,” Keri said, “not alive means dead.”
“He almost got me, and I didn’t see him. He’s smart,” Dion said.
“He’s stupid for doing this. He’s just lucky,” Charlie said, “or he has been. If I can get one to one with him, I swear, I’m gonna beat the living hell out of that bastard.”
“Save some for me. I just need to be seated while I hit him,” Dion said, checking his leg. “It’s still bleeding some. I’m okay.”
“Charlie? Charlie? Ted? Help me.”
Keri jerked to the side as if electrocuted, “Sam?”
“Shhh.”
“Ted, that is Sam. I know his voice. What’s wrong with you? We have to help him.”
Ted whispered, “We didn’t see him get hurt. We didn’t see anything. What if he is doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Attacking us.”
“I think I would recognize Sam.” Keri glared. “Sam?”
“Keri?” he sounded pitiful, “I need help. I’m injured.”
Charlie grabbed Keri’s arm, his eye narrowed and asked, “Sam, how are you hurt? What happened?”
Sam cried out, “I can’t walk. It’s my leg and shoulder. I need help, guys.”
Keri stood, grabbed a flashlight and asked if she had to go alone to get their friend. Charlie nodded that he would go, and he took the axe, readying it for an attack. “Be quiet, and watch my back.”
Keri grit her teeth as she stepped on her cut foot, but the sock and sneaker helped cushion the pain. She tried to look in all directions as she and Charlie left the firelight, feeing chilled at once. It was hard to leave the feeling of safety, but she forced herself to go in the direction they had heard Sam’s voice.
The woods were quiet except for the footsteps. Too quickly, the firelight grew smaller and was blocked by the pine trees. Keri regretted wanting to help Sam, and Charlie regretted being out there in the first place. Why had he let Sam talk him into going camping? Charlie paused.
Sam had planned this trip out there, despite all the panic in town; he said it would be great to get away for one night and said it was the safest place they could go. Sam was the one who told Charlie to leave the hunting rifle at home.
“What?” Keri tried to see why Charlie stopped. Everything was dark.
“I have a bad feeling.”
“Well, no kidding. We all have bad feelings now.”
At the fire, Ted and Dion jumped each time the moisture in the wood made popping sounds and when bits of wood fell and caused spark to fly. They heard Charlie and Keri for a few seconds, but then it was quiet again. Waiting caused each second to seem as if it lasted a full minute. Minutes were like hours. Dion and Ted stared at one another.
Keri screamed.
Dion jumped up, causing his leg wound to open again. He slumped, but he looked at Ted, scared out of his mind. Charlie yelled, and Sam yelled. Keri screamed again, and there was trampling through the woods that sounded like it was in all directions at once.
“Charlie?” Ted called out. There was no answer.
Dion looked at Ted across the fire pit, “I’m bleeding bad again, Bro. We’d better do something before I pass out. I can’t help it. It’s just the facts.”
“Tell me what to do,” Ted begged.
“I wish I had an answer,” Dion said.
They didn’t move but kept watching each other.
Chapter Eleven: Circles Closing
“I may beat her myself,” Kimiko thundered as she drove. Her mind was on her kid sister, Keri, torn between wanting to beat her little sister for sneaking out and wanting to hold her tightly.
“Calm down. We don’t know anything except that she sneaked out,” Tina warned. “Right?”
Virgil, in the second vehicle with Sheriff Kirby, tried to remain calm, as well. He and Tina had been sitting in Kirby’s kitchen, reading files earlier, trying to get comfortable after another big dinner at the diner.
He had looked at Tina, still angry, but refused to give into his fury, and said, “Hollingsworth loves playing games. Crime scene one…he set it up and made all kinds of false leads. He didn’t want to be caught or to outwit anyone. Look at this, can you say he isn’t one sick son of a bitch enjoying himself? He lied. He has lied all the time about his motives. He did it because he liked doing it.”
“I agree. Second one as well. There is no big plan to be smart or to out-smart anyone really. He loved the power. So one day he is on one side of the law, and then he what…flipped? Decided to try the other side? I agree he enjoyed himself, but even an expert couldn’t be this organized this fast. Even the smartest criminal builds up to this kind of playing with clues and evidence.”
Tina looked at the photos and thought about everything she knew about criminals. She found herself thinking about books Hollingsworth wrote about law enforcement and how they had read those books and thought they were smartly written.
“Scene One wasn’t his first was it?”
“I don’t see how it could have been, Virgil, but if we toss that idea out there, then we will have to link him to other unsolved cases that are similar. Or opposite. Who knows?”
“I admit he has me flummoxed,” Virgil said.
“It’s like we are missing pieces of the puzzle that we need, and Hollingsworth has them tucked into a pocket. Jerk.”
Virgil went to answer the telephone, and Tina could hear that his voice went tight and strained. He asked questions with a voice that snapped like a cracking whip, interrogating and then going softer. Tina walked into the other room, worried. She saw Virgil kept looking towards the piano, wanting to go pound out some music. He paced as far as the phone cord allowed.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He finished his phone call, several times assuring his wife that all was fine. Virgil asked about Charlie, his adopted daughter with Vivian, and the family, and said goodnight before setting the phone down and staring at Tina.
“So?” Tina asked as soon as he set the phone down.
“Vivian and Charlie are fine. Everything is fine.”
“And?”
“I had a crazy, and I mean rat-in-the-outhouse-kind-of-crazy, idea and was positive I was losing my mind, but I had Viv do some research for me, and she found something I don’t like at all.”
“I can tell. What’s wrong?”
“Hollingsworth. Just a second, I’m trying to wrap my mind around everything.” Virgil needed to organize his thoughts.
“Sheriff Kirby did tell us where the whiskey was.” Tina said as she hinted, mimicking drinking from a bottle. Virgil seemed upset and beside himself with frustration.
“I need a drink.”
Tina nodded and poured a double for each of them. “I hav
e a feeling I am going to need this drink.” She added some cola and a lot of ice. They needed to get calm but not drunk.
“Do you remember when we first started looking for the Campground Killer? Something about David Gaither always bothered me, but we found him, and we solved the case, and all was fine. But there was always something I couldn’t put my finger on; do you remember the flashlights?”
“Yes, I remember how you stared at them and ignored things as you just looked at them, and then, you went on, but I remember that. You did that with a few things, Virg,” Tina recalled he asked a lot of odd questions and looked at strange clues.
“Right. Those things seemed as if people just placed them there for no valid reason, and it bothered me. When they left the knife right at the scene, that made no sense. It was my first case, and I was using some bizarre techniques, so I didn’t know why they bothered me. When I was in California, I never saw those oddities. It took time to sort, but both cases out there…the items had purposes, no matter how elusive. Nothing looked fake.
At the Fordham Clinic, everything made sense in time. Even the Kingsborough House made sense when we had all the pieces. But Gaither wasn’t quite right.”
“Okay. I agree it was a convoluted case, and there was a lot going on and staged scenes. We knew some were staged.”
“I had a weird idea a while ago after we left the station and before we ate dinner, so I called Vivian. Tina, she’s a good wife and a good detective.”
“I agree.”
“But what I asked her to research was very strange, and she never told me I was crazy. She just wrote down what I needed and didn’t laugh at me. You know how busy we’ve been, and parts of our house haven’t been cleaned out and sorted.”
“It’s a huge house, Virgil, and sometimes you had to wait: until bodies were pulled out of the basement, until the water line was run, and until those men who broke in and injured Vivian were taken into custody.”
“I know. She loves that damned house though. The library was one of those places we’ve never gotten to clean out. Vivian got the den sorted, but those books and shelves are a chore. I asked her to scour books in the den and in the library. So guess what David Gaither had in his library?”
“Books by Dr. Hollingsworth.”
Virgil grinned as he took a swallow of the whiskey, enjoying the burn. “Got it in one.” He used a hand to mimic pulling a trigger. “You don’t seem shocked.”
“I knew there had to be some weird quirk to this case, so that doesn’t shock me too much. So David Gaither and/or his father studied the doctor’s crimes or his beliefs and teachings?”
“Both. And David Gaither wrote frequently to our favorite doctor when he was sent to prison.”
Tina slapped the table and said, “No way!”
“Viv found only parts of letters, ones that Gaither began and didn’t finish, or from the doctor that he must have burned but kept parts from, stuck in the pages of the books. The letters sound as if they were not the first or second letters either. There must have been many. I wish we had them.”
“They were gone?”
“Viv is going to keep looking but maybe so….”
“Okay. It explains why Hollingsworth brought up David Gaither’s name so often.”
“Do you know why Dr. Hollingsworth asked for me? He asked because he mentored David Gaither in the murders, and I bested him. I caught Gaither. Hollingsworth wanted to face us because we beat him at his own game,” Virgil blurted it all out.
“I feel sick, Virgil.” Tina went greenish white.
“I know. Vivian was shaking although she tried to hide it. It had her scared. But bear with me. Hollingsworth walked on one side as a lawman and a good guy, and then, he tried the other side as a bad guy, as a murderer. He was in prison, so for laughs, he mentored fledgling killers, helping them to convolute the crime scenes.”
Tina nodded, “But you were green and weren’t side tracked by the false clues except to wonder about them. Had you been experienced, you might have been misled. Now, you are experienced. He’s playing with you. It’s personal, isn’t it, Virg? He wanted us right here.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s mighty angry with me.” Virgil tapped a finger at the table, imagining tapping piano keys. He could play a while and let it all come to him, but he wanted to walk the scenes in his head. “There is no Copycat, only a sick freak who wants to be powerful, and he thinks he’s special because Hollingsworth is interested in him, but he’s just doing as the doctor wants. Starla Stoker was one of those strange things that happen and connect for no reason except that they do.” Virgil firmly believed coincidences were common and natural, not to have one was far more telling.
“Things happen in a small town, given enough time and changing politics, culture, and everything else. Hollingsworth is mentoring a killer right here in town, and we have the Copycat killings. We’re supposed to think it’s just random, but someone is copying the doctor, and he is orchestrating the action. Hell, we can go back, and I bet the Stokers have a copy of one of the bastard’s books!”
Tina nodded. She would look for that.
“He has a perfect blue print. The issue of the first scene going unnoticed was odd. A perfect copycat would never have allowed there to be a change in scenes, and yet the second was found first,” Virgil said.
“The order doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Virgil shook his head, not at all. It was to keep us jumping. The third and fourth may or may not have been planned. None of it matters because it isn’t a Copycat murder; it’s a continuation. I asked Viv to look up some other information: mass murders, sprees and strange, brutal cases in and around the Houston area. She found several that she thought sounded like Hollingsworth’s style of blood-shock and attention to detail with planted clues.”
“Do you think the partner-in-crime will follow the other ones?”
Virgil shrugged, “She’s having the files brought to me, the notes and newspaper clippings with dates. I am afraid the partner has been quiet for too many days. He’s doing something.
For Hollingsworth, there were a violent murder of a couple that sounds like his murder, an unsolved murder involving a babysitter and three children, and a murder of some kids out in the woods. All were knife-oriented and gory with strange scenes that looked more like a movie set than anything else.”
Tina tried to think, but it was all a blur. She saw Virgil’s face and knew he felt the same way. They were several steps behind the doctor.
Virgil motioned her to follow, and he drove back to the station. He waved at Sheriff Kirby, Kimiko, and the other deputies and went back to see Doctor Hollingsworth while he was still pleasantly calmed with whiskey. The agents with Hollingsworth looked bored.
“Hello, Doctor.”
“Good evening, Sheriff McLendon. To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”
“Oh, I just wanted to visit a little. I’ve decided that before long, we’ll let you go back to your prison home, and then we’ll take things from here on our own. I have the books and will catch everyone, including you in conspiracy, so I am getting ready to win this battle. Sorry, but again, you have failed, and I am besting you.”
“Oh? Indeed, Sheriff? I’m not sure that you still don’t need me.”
“Nope. I don’t.”
“I thought I was helping? Am I not giving the issues enough attention? I can look deeper into the Copycat activity and try to help more, let’s see….”
“Where is the next kill spot?”
“I suppose in a residential area….”
“Suppose? You should know, right? Isn’t he following your trail? Or is he following another plan? Is there a babysitter we should check on? Or should we look at campers in the area?” Virgil felt strong now.
Hollingsworth’s grey eyes blinked quickly, and he struggled to replace his alarm with calm and a sarcastic attitude. “Pardon? Your brilliant mind is eluding my comprehension.”
Virgil motioned with his hands to co
ntinue, grinning.
“Doctor, how did you find David Gaither in your profiling studies? Intelligent? Subpar? Lacking? Mentally ill? He was wounded, not quite right.”
Dr. Walter Hollingsworth allowed a few seconds to pass as he reevaluated, smiled, and said, “Oh, David Gaither. Yes, he was quite the interesting pen pal. He suffered terrible abuse, you know, and all the men of that line were very violent. He grew up watching his father and grandfather beating the females of the family, and he suffered some beatings as well. His duty in Vietnam contributed greatly to his pattern of thinking but was an outlet for those violent tendencies. His sisters and mother were brutally slain by the father Gaither.”
“Yeah, I kind of know that since they were buried in my basement.”
“Do you ever feel their spirits?”
“No, I feel they have passed on now and are at peace since those sons of bitches are dead. Seems to me that you failed David Gaither in your mentorship since he was blown away by the FBI.”
“Of course, he was. Convenient.”
Virgil only shrugged.
“I can only offer a rudimentary design, Sheriff McLendon. I can’t design a perfect killer, can I?”
Tina frowned, “I don’t know; can you?”
Hollingsworth smiled. He picked lint off his pants and stretched happily. “I have only done what I do best: define crimes. It’s my talent.”
“And you thoroughly enjoy killing, don’t you? Why did you stop and allow yourself to be caught? I am curious about that, sir.”
“Three times a day, my jailors bring me lovely meals from the local diner, and the food smells so delicious for white trash food, that is, but you can ask the good agents here, and they will tell you that I eat little. Stomach cancer, inoperable, and I expect to die in a great deal of pain far before my execution date. It’s quite fair. I deserve it. I like to think I’ve contributed to the area of criminology. It was what I wished to do before being executed.”
“You’re legacy. Two sides of a criminal coin.”
Hollingsworth grinned and said, “If David and his cohorts had stopped, they would never have been found. They went too far, and they set up ridiculous staging; they were clowns and not worthy of my mentorship. White trash. David fell into ruins with that trash. Waste of my time.”
