Detective Woodson stared hard at the man seated before him, waiting for Hodley to speak. It was going to be difficult for him to get through this session, because he hadn't slept in days. Already, he felt a yawn coming on, which he tried to stifle. And then, he'd never liked the forensic psychiatrist, though he had been forced to work with him often in his many years as a homicide investigator.

He didn’t know why he felt this way, Hodley seemed friendly enough, and he had to admit that the doctor was good at his job. His criminal profiles had helped solve many cases in the past.

Though a lot of detectives were from the old school and thought criminal profiles could do nothing more than send them off on a trail of false leads when they could be out there finding the real killer, Woodson disagreed.

He'd always acted in the capacity of a profiler himself when he was on a case, starting from the minute he entered a crime scene. By looking at the evidence, he’d try to get inside the head of the killer in order to reconstruct what had happened and why.

But a professional profiler was an expert on the warped criminal mind; twhich, when applied to detailed statistical studies, could bring to light an amazingly accurate picture of the killer. This allowed the police to narrow their search and focus their investigation on certain individuals while the leads were still fresh.

Still, Woodson had to agree that sometimes a homicide detective just had to go with that amazingly accurategut feeling, which often brought better results than any scientific investigation could.

Is your tape player rolling, detective?

That it is, doctor. That it is. Woodson said, as he shuffled through some papers on his desk and extracted a photo, which he handed to Hodley. He, nevertheless, glanced at the recorder on the desk to make absoluetly sure it was recodring as he got comfortable in his chair.

As a rule, he always recorded the sessions with profilers; not only so that he could review the case later, but also because his handwriting was so sloppy that sometimes even he couldn’t read it.

I’m ready to begin when you are.

Dr. Hodley nodded then stared at the picture while he spoke. He held the picture of the victim in one hand, and held the other hand before him, flicking his nails with his thumb, an annoying habit that always drove Woodson nuts.

First, let’s make sure that I have all the facts correct," said Hodley, "The victim was a twenty-two year old, white female, five feet and eight inches tall, and weighed approximately one hundred and twenty pounds. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was somewhat sexually promiscuous, having both a lesbian relationship and a heterosexual relationship. In addition, she was living with yet another lover off and on in her first floor north side apartment where the incident occurred. She was last seen…

His eyelids feeling amazingly heavy, Woodson stood and paced in an effort to stay awake while Hodley droned on in that slow way of his. Woodson wished he could slap himself in the face, but he didn’t think the action would be conducive to professionalism. Instead, he chose to look around the meticulous office, for something, anything to interest him enough to keep him awake.

His eyes raking the African masks and other fine sculptures in the glass case that covered the far side of the wall, Woodson Was reminded of how much money these guys make. A lot more than him. It was somewhat ironic, considering that they basically did the same thing—only the profiler didn’t do the nitty-gritty dirty part of the job that he did.

The body wasn’t found for three days, at which time it was in an advanced state of decomposition.

Correct, doc! Woodson said, his eyes scanning a vintage picture of a young woman on far wall. He didn’t know why he was looking at her so intently, maybe because she reminded him of someone…and maybe because he was somewhat taken with her beauty. Was this your mother? he interrupted, pointing at the voluptuous blonde.

Hodley sighed. As usual, he was all business. No, actually she was my grandmother. Scratching his balding head, he added, But she raised me.

Hodley whistled. Quite a looker.

Yes, she was, Woodson smiled, flicking his nails even faster.

They say she was the best dancer for miles around in the small Texas town where we lived. And I must say, she always encouraged me to keep physically fit.

Oh, that’s right! You’re a Texan. I’d forgotten.

Yes, I was raised in Abilene. But about the case, detective. The victim was murdered on July 12 of this year at around midnight. When she took out the garbage, the killer saw and shot her with a .22 caliber automatic, then he drug her into the house, where he shot her again in the head.

This time, he not only eviscerated the victim, but he also cut out one of her eyeballs, which was missing from the crime scene. She was later found by her landlord who entered the apartment after neighbors had complained about a foul odor. There were no witnesses to the crime.

Bingo, again, doc. I didn’t know that you also served in the U.S. Marines. Woodson said as he studied the other pictures on the wall. There were many military pictures there of Hodley in uniform, with his unit, and of Hodley with his Army buddies.

Yes, for twelve years. That’s where I initially became interested in criminal behavior. I served in Vietnam and there was a unit there that was unlawfully killing the populace. I was on the committee to help solve the crime.

I’ve heard of that case. In fact, wasn’t there a movie made about that several years ago?"

Why, yes, it was called, Casualties of War.

Woodson clicked his lips, seemingly deep in thought.

Yes. I’ve seen it. A good movie as I recall.

He moved closer to stand before the desk to face Hodley. We’ll have to get together some evening when we can find the time. I was at Nam too. Something I don’t often like to talk about. But maybe we could talk about those times as a way to exorcise our demons.

Hodley smiled. A form of mutual psychoanalysis, huh? That would be …different. Usually I’m the one who plays the doctor; it might seem awkward for me to suddenly become the patient. Still, it sounds interesting, detective, and I’m all for it, but I warn you, I don’t normally have much time to socialize.

Nor do I, doc. But I suspect I will after I crack this case. And Lord knows, that’s my intention. I’ve spent enough time away from home, and my wife is threatening a divorce. Even my cat is looking around for a more loving home.

Then perhaps I can refer you to a marriage counselor, but I simply know no one you can see about the cat.

Woodson chuckled. Thanks, but I don’t think we need counseling…just some time together, including the cat.

Hodley nodded. I agree. Spending quality time together is vital to a good marriage. I think that’s why I’ve remained single all these years. I just don’t have the time to commit. Speaking of time, we really need to get back to this case. I have an appointment at one o’ clock.

Sorry. I have a way to get off track at times. But I promise to make this as quick as possible. I’m hoping to arrest a suspect this afternoon…that is…if your profile agrees with the evidence I’ve collected so far. So please, doctor, proceed.

Well, from looking at this picture I’d say that the murder was organized. Obviously, the killer knew what he was doing, and I think he had probably planned it for quite some time. I don’t think he knew the victim, but he had probably watched her from afar.

That’s a bit different from the accepted theory down at the station, doc. Everyone thinks the killer acted impulsively. And they believe the victim knew him because of the severe trauma to the face and head area. Don’t you think these injuries indicate the type of overkill that we usually see in crimes of passion? And it certainly seems an impulsive crime due to the frenzied, somewhat disorganized crime scene. It was a sloppy job. That’s certain.

On the contrary! Hodley erupted, seemingly miffed. The arrogant man simply couldn't let someone disagree with him. That’s one thing Woodson didn’t like about old Doc Hodley.

The man seemed to think his word was God. Of course, Hodley tried to hide it under a slick, professional veneer, but Woodson was adept at studying human behavior from all his years on the force, and he knew that Woodson, despite the suave smile, was mightily irked. He braced himself as Hodley continued, having to remind himself that Hodley did know his stuff.

I think the killer was simply trying to make the crime scene look that way. But if you look more closely, you’ll notice that the crime scene was staged. As the report states, nothing was missing, except the eyeball, yet it looks like just about every one of the woman’s drawers and cabinets were emptied.

And I don’t believe the victim knew the killer, because for one thing, he waged his first assault outside when she took out the garbage…indicating that he must have known she’d take it out around that time…had probably watched her do so quite often. Had he known her well he would probably have entered via the front door."

You have an interesting point there, doc. Unless of course, she didn’t go to the door, because she feared him. Maybe a past boyfriend? We do have several suspects and are particularly interested in locating some of her ex-lovers.

Shortly after the murder we found one of them pissing on her apartment building window, and we took him in for questioning, but have gotten no where so far. Her friends say that the man often left obscene phone calls on her telephone. It appears that he was stalking her.

But he didn’t commit this crime. I’m certain of that! If you’ll look closely at the picture, you’ll see that there’s an impression in the blood where a glass or cup of some sort sat. They’re very vague! Hodley said, handing the photo to Woodson. You’ll have to look very closely to see them.

Squinting his eyes as he studied the photo, Woodson was shocked. He hadn’t noticed the circle, not in the picture or at the actual crime scene. But looking at the picture now, he realized that, again, the doc was correct. To the left of the body was a slight impression of a small circular object. It was smeared, but recognizable nevertheless.

Then you think this is another job of the vampire killer? Undoubtedly!

But he didn’t drain the victim of blood like the vampire killer normally does.

Hodley held out his hands and shook his head. Maybe he didn’t have time…maybe he heard a noise…I don’t know.

Woodson grimaced, thinking of the Vampire Killer's twelve sadistic murders. Each of the victims had been young, beautiful, their whole lives ahead of them, and a madman had snuffed it all out just so he could satisfy a foul, sadistic lust that had gotten out of hand. Each murder had seemed to grow more grotesque, more dire as the madman’s lust heightened, and as his self-confidence grew.

Woodson would be happy to catch the guy if he never cracked another case in his career. He had pretty much put a hold on everything else in his life in order to bring the killer to justice, and he intended to see this thing through to the end.

He just couldn’t sleep at night knowing that this madman was preying on innocent victims.

The killer had baffled police for the past three years. He often chose a different modus operandi each time. He had stabbed the first victim no lfewer than one hundred and four times; he had strangled the next, drowned another, hung another, and so on.

The latest one, he had executed blitz style. But no matter what means he had chosen to conduct his foul deed, he had always horribly mutilated and sexually assaulted his victims. And in what was an obvious attempt to tease and taunt the police, he usually left his own calling card at each crime scene in the form of a bloody paper cup, a Dixie brand with a row of tiny blue flowers around the rim.

He would remove the victim’s intestines and then scoop the blood out of the viscera, using the cup to do so, so that he could drink the victim’s blood. And always, he’d take something from the victim as a keepsake, be it an ear, a finger, or simply a ring or bracelet. However, he had not eviscerated the latest victim; apparently, he had drained the fluid from her skull after removing her eyeball.

One thing that threw me at first, Hodley continued, was that there was seminal fluid in the deceased’s vagina. As you know, this has not been the case with the past, and the seminal fluid has only been found elsewhere on the victims’ bodies.

We’ve assumed that the vampire killer couldn’t perform the actual sexual act and merely stood over his victims masturbating, as criminals of such a nature usually do. But apparently we were wrong--or perhaps, leading us to believe that he was sexually dysfunctional was just one more way for the killer to shock us and lead us away from his trail.

But, doc, I can’t help but think that this could all be sheer coincidence or, perhaps, a copy cat killing. This crime occurred quite a distance from the areas where the previous victims had been murdered….

Just another attempt to thwart the investigation in my opinion. Your man isn’t stupid, detective. I’d say he knows a thing or two about criminal investigations even if it’s only from reading dime-store crime novels.

Okay then, doc, give me the run down on this one. Tell me everything you’ve deducted so far.

Again, Woodson paced, eventually heading toward the open window, as if the gentle September breeze had enticed him. As he stood there, looking out at the busy downtown street, he relished the sleek black Mercedes that he saw in the employee parking lot. Someone had shelled out big bucks for those wheels, he thought, but he certainly wouldn’t want to pay their insurance premiums.

Well, I’m sure that the suspect is Caucasian! Hodley interrupted his thoughts. The area that the victims were killed in is predominantly Caucasian, and all of the victims were Caucasian. And you and I both know, detective, that a killer usually kills someone of his own race. I believe the suspect holds a full time, nine-to-five job, because the murders generally occur on the weekends or late in the evening.

Guess that eliminates a cop. I swear I’ve put in over eighty hours this week already and the clock’s still ticking.

Unless, the cop holds a desk job.

I’ll have to run that tidbit by the Sergeant. In fact, I think I’ll ask him where he was July Twelfth. Woodson joked, eliciting a chuckle from Hodley.

But Woodson could swear it was a fake laugh. He knew a phony laugh when he heard one, because he had a habit of telling lame jokes.

So this serial killer is sociable, huh?

Oh, no. He may seem social on his job, and he may seem outgoing and friendly enough, but he’s probably a loner, and has a difficult time forming close relationships. More than likely he’s single.

Not your average prince charming then? Maybe like one of those snotty postal clerks or receptionists in downtown offices. Right?

Oh, no. He’s probably very charming, and friendly to his victims…probably has a way to put his victims as ease like Ted Bundy did. And I’d say that he's at least fairly well groomed, since his appearance apparently didn't cause alarm in his previous attacks. Do you remember the case of the North side killer in the early 1980’s? His appearance was quite grotesque.

In fact, he was turned in when his appearance frightened an old school mate he saw in a grocery store and pursued. She had been terrified of his foul stench and the encrusted gore on his lips and clothes and had notified the police immediately. Later, they found body parts and organs spread all through his apartment. It seems the man believed that he had to eat human organs and blood to survive.

I’m familiar with the history of the case, but I didn’t work on it personally.

Well, lets just say that the vampire killer is quite the opposite-- smooth, suave, and manipulative. He manages to make his victims think that he’s a good person, and that he has their welfare at heart. Thus, he gains their trust.

Oh, yes, the consummate actor. I have no doubt. I’ve seen enough killers in my time to recognize this trait. They can cry real tears, though they feel absolutely nothing inside except their own greed. It has always amazed me how well a psychopath can operate and manipulate people!

You’ve certainly hit that one on the head. The killer is definitely, a psychotic individual who probably lives or works in the area where at least the first crimes were committed, and I’d bet money that he owns a dark sedan.

And how does he afford to pay for that sedan?

Usually a criminal of this nature, holds a meager job or is grossly uneducated, but in this murder, this is not the case. The man’s ability to perfectly carve the body, shows an educated knowledge of anatomy. Therefore, since, he’s apparently well-educated we can deduce that he likely holds a middle to upper-class job.

That’s very interesting, doctor. I had assumed that he would be around twenty years old. Now, you’ve lead me to believe he was somewhat older, unless he’s one of those geniuses who got a Ph.D. at sixteen.

Though serial killers of this nature are generally in their twenties, I think this killer is somewhat older, perhaps in his forties or fifties, and he might, or might not, have some sort of strange mannerism.

Woodson was surprised to hear this. They had been looking for a young, disturbed man, since serial killers were normally in their early twenties—and the report they’d received from the FBI concurred with this.

What brought you to that conclusion?

Obviously, like I said, he had a good job and a good income, therefore, it’s only reasonable to assume that he was somewhat advanced in his career. I’d wager that he had probably killed for years without being caught unlike most serial killers. I’ve always believed that his crimes reveal a certain expertise.

And can you tell me anything else about his state of mind?

Again, you’re looking for a psychopath, Detective. He can probably go 'in' and 'out' of his feelings. He might seem ordinary if you run into him in the grocery store, because, though he’s obviously grossly deranged, he acts fairly normally, and there could be complete absence of irrational thinking.

Nevertheless, this man is without remorse or shame, and has a immediate desire for satisfaction when he feels like killing.

The doctor continued, flicking his nails again. I assure you that he will kill again.

The detective turned and moved toward the desk, standing in front of it and staring Doctor Hodley in the eyes. No, doctor, I assure you that he will not.

The doctor looked taken aback.

What makes you so certain?

The detective took out his gun and aimed it at the startled Doctor.

Because, doc, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Julian Moore and twelve other individuals.

What?’

You screwed up, doc. I suspected you all along. I purposely withheld the information about the killer cutting out the latest victims’ eyeball. Only the killer, the forensic pathologist, and I knew that! And luckily, I have all this information on tape. I must say, when you described the killer, it sounded like you were reading off your own biography!

The doctor lowered his head in stunned silence, but Woodson continued. Let me tell you one of my favorite quotes, by Mark Twain, ‘One of the good things about telling the truth is that you don’t have to remember what you said.’ It looks like in your case, you did quite the opposite, you did tell the truth, but you said too much, doc. You have the right to remain silent….