17. Chapter 17

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Psychopath (Behind Bars Book 2)

Louise Collins

V irgil knew he was a murderer at six years old before he'd even killed anyone. He was obsessed with it, dosed on violence and fear, intoxicated by it to the point he spent whole days fantasising about stabbing strangers to death.

Six. Years. Old.

Before that realisation, there was nothing, no memory of his parents. He was raised by a begrudging aunt who ignored his presence in favour of her own children. Nothing was known about his biological parents, and his aunt and cousins refused to ever speak about him or them.

Virgil didn't kill anyone until he was thirty-five.

He had, in his own words, resisted the call from the devil until one night, he turned fantasy into reality and killed a man.

The first kill, he'd been secretive about it to the point the police were unconvinced it had happened. His official charge was four murders, but he'd said there was a fifth man, the first, the tipping point, but it was as secret as the place he took his victims to butcher.

Still, two years on from his arrest, no one had found his ‘killing room' and the body parts of his victims contained within, and no one had been able to identify the first victim.

"The first man," Quinn started. "He's special to you."

"Yes," Virgil agreed, giving nothing away.

"Is the reason you haven't said much about him because of perhaps…guilt?"

Virgil's mouth quirked. "No. I don't feel guilt."

"Do you remember what happened? Where it happened? Or is it all…a red haze?"

"Anyone that tells you a red haze descended on them, and they can't remember, is a liar. I remember when, I remember where. I remember in stunning detail what happened the first time."

"Did you know his name?"

Virgil slowly nodded, then stopped. "Well. I know the name he gave me. Whether it was truly his name is another matter."

"Why him?" Quinn shook his head. "If you resisted for thirty-five years, then why him? What was it about him?"

When Virgil didn't answer, Quinn carried on pressing.

"Was he…rude to you—was he known to you, someone you didn't like?"

"He was kind actually." Virgil shrugged.

"Did you know as soon as you saw him…he'd be the first one?"

"No. That night… I didn't expect things to turn out the way they did."

"You didn't go out that night with the intention of killing?"

"No."

Quinn frowned, looking down at his notes.

Virgil turned his head. "That surprises you, doesn't it?"

"I don't understand. At what point during the night did you know you were going to kill him?"

"A few seconds before I did. I was confronted with a choice."

"What choice?"

Virgil smirked. "Whether to kill him or not."

"But surely you've been confronted with that choice before. From the age of six, you knew you were capable—"

"More than capable, it was inevitable."

"Every other time when confronted with the choice, you walked away. Why not this time?"

"We all have our secrets…"

"Did he know… Did the first guy you killed know Luca Campbell?"

Quinn curled his toes in his shoes. It was the first time Quinn had asked a direct question about Virgil's ex-boyfriend, and the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees as he awaited a reaction.

Luca…

The four murders Virgil was charged with were to do with Luca.

Why would the first victim be any different?

"No. He didn't know Luca, and Luca didn't know him." Virgil's glare was cutting. "He's not called Luca Campbell anymore, I'm guessing?"

"I suspect not."

"Do you…" Virgil tapped his fingers on the table. "Do you know where he is?"

Quinn shook his head. "I don't."

"I'd tell you, I'd tell the police everything about the first time, the first man, if you'd just bring him back, let me see him. I'll…I'll fill in all the gaps, if they bring him back to me."

"I don't have—"

" Please ."

Quinn swallowed. "I'll make a note of it. I'll tell the police."

Virgil nodded. "This"—he gestured to the box room they were inside—"wasn't supposed to happen."

"You weren't supposed to get caught, you mean?"

"It was a foolish mistake. I made a mistake that I couldn't correct in time, and I got caught. And he, Luca…I didn't get a chance to explain it. They hid him away from me."

"For his own protection," Quinn said softly. "Or that's my understanding of what happened."

Luca Campbell was a police officer specialising in drug crime. He had no idea his boyfriend was a serial killer, and when it all came out, the police and the public turned on him. A relative of one of Virgil's victims stabbed him in the street, and soon after, he disappeared with a new identity.

"He needs me," Virgil said. "And I need him."

"The four men you killed. Do you feel any regret? Remorse? Guilt?"

"No. I enjoyed killing them. I enjoyed the feel of their blood on my skin, and the gurgling sounds, and the whole…routine. I would've kept going if I hadn't made a mistake. I'd still be doing it now, and Luca…Luca would be doing it alongside me."

Quinn froze. "What?"

"I think I could've convinced him." Virgil shrugged. "He wanted to make me happy. He'd have done anything to please me."

"You think you could've turned him into a killer?"

"It wouldn't have happened overnight." He shuffled in his seat. "But I think if we'd have kept on how we were…it would've happened eventually."

"The four victims, you used Luca as bait to kill them. You used his picture, made a fake profile and seduced—"

Virgil's fist came down on the table. "No. They tried to seduce Luca. It was them who sent him pictures, videos, and voice notes, trying to take him away from me."

"You encouraged them to. You pretended to be Luca, and you led them on. That's how you chose your victims. You tempted them with Luca, and he, Luca, had no idea?"

"Of course he didn't know."

"Why? Why choose your victims that way?"

"Jealousy…possessiveness. It's potent. That hot, burning sensation in the pit of your stomach. Every time they said something sexual, every time they suggested they could make him feel so much better than I could, it grew a fury. It built and built until I had to let them have it, and that's when I'd agree to meet them. That's when I'd take them to the killing room. That's when I'd cut them and take their heads from their bodies."

Virgil's eyes gleamed. He swallowed hard. "And then I'd go home, and I'd fuck Luca. I'd be rough with him, I'd tell him he was mine, and I'd whisper possessive things in his ear and tell him if he ever tried to leave me, I'd kill him. If anyone tried to take him from me, I'd kill them."

"He must've been scared."

Virgil shook his head. "No. Me…like that… Well, it turned him on."

"How do you think Luca felt when he learned you were using his picture to choose your victims?"

Virgil's jaw stiffened. "I don't know."

"Were you afraid Luca would leave you?"

"Always. He said he loved me. He said we would always be together." Virgil's nostrils flared. "But where is he now? Where has he been for the last two years?" He breathed in deep. "And who has he been with?"

"The murders… Was there a sexual element to them?"

"I felt no sexual desire for the men I killed, only a desire to see them dead, to relish in it, and go home to Luca."

"And when you were with Luca, did you think about what you'd done while you had intercourse?"

"Yes, but it was because I knew they couldn't do to Luca what I was… Their fantasies, their desires, what they wanted to do to him…they never got to see. They never got to touch, or taste, or smell, but they wanted to." Virgil's face pulled with a snarl. "Some of them were desperate for him, leaving begging voice notes, bombarding his profile with dick pics and videos of them masturbating." He shuddered. "One of them moaned Luca's name while he jerked off, and I had to kill him for that."

Virgil's eyes glazed over as if he was remembering.

"Did you keep mementoes?"

"Do their heads count?" Virgil asked.

Quinn winced. "Why did you take them and leave everything else?"

"I don't know, but I'd have them in the back of my car for a few weeks, wrapped up."

"With Luca in the car too?"

Virgil nodded. "I found it satisfying to know they were there, so close to the object of their desire, and when I grew tired of them, I buried their heads in the garden."

"But not the first?"

"No." Virgil tilted his head.

"Why not?"

"He was different."

"Where is his head?"

"In the killing room. He's…complete."

Quinn's gut tightened, but he steeled himself. "Complete?"

"I didn't cut him to pieces. He's intact in his oil drum. The others are not."

Quinn glanced at his watch. He willed the time to be up and for Cleo to knock on the door.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Virgil asked.

"Yes," Quinn answered honestly.

"It isn't my intention."

"I know. Did…did you ever return to the killing room without a victim?"

"Yes. When I had to clean up, and other times when I wanted to relive what I did down there."

"And did you find that sexually gratifying?"

"Only when I thought about it in relation to Luca."

"You used to take Luca to sex clubs. You used to…"

"Show him off," Virgil finished. "I did. We kept anonymous. We couldn't risk anyone finding out at his work, but we'd go, and I'd…exhibit him."

"Why, when you feel so possessive over him, would you let others see him like that?"

"I don't know, Quinn." Virgil frowned. "The fury, it was intoxicating. I would get him off in front of others. They'd watch. They'd be panting and moaning while they stroked themselves watching him, watching my hand on him, and it would make me so angry, so fucking furious, and I'd picture these men dead, I'd think about getting up and slicing their throats, and stroking their blood onto my skin. I'd imagine fucking Luca over their bodies, making him cum. Luca thought these men watching us turned me on, but it was me imagining them all dead that really got me going."

"Did you ever let them touch him?"

"Fuck no," Virgil growled. "I made it clear they could watch, but if they touched him, they'd regret it."

"Did any of them make that mistake?"

"One did…and I lost it. I attacked him. I would've killed him, but I didn't know his name. Everyone kept anonymous. I didn't know how to find him."

"If you had found him?"

"He'd be dead too."

"How did Luca react to you attacking this man?"

Virgil shut his eyes. "He pulled me outside. He dropped to his knees and deep-throated me in the fucking street." He snorted. "As I told you, Quinn, I think I could've broken him into this violence if I'd had more time with him. I think we'd have been fucking in blood by now if I hadn't got caught."

"If you hadn't met Luca, do you think the men you killed would still be alive?"

Virgil took a deep breath. "I can't tell you I never would've killed anyone. I always knew it was coming, always knew I would, but if I hadn't met Luca…those men, they'd still be here."

"Luca is the…catalyst. The trigger. Why?"

"I don't know. He… It's the way he makes me feel."

"And how does he make you feel?"

"Happy, I guess. Content. He's beautiful. He's bright and wild with a wicked smile and the biggest brownest eyes. He's submissive, and the way he used to look at me, like I was everything, like he'd do anything to please me. He needed me, and I could've turned my back on him, but I didn't, and once I had him, I was never going to let him go. I wanted to punish anyone that thought they could take him from me."

"You love him?"

"Yes. More than anything. He knows that. Wherever he is, he knows that. But I'm angry."

"At him?"

"Yes." Virgil's hand tightened into a fist. "For leaving…for vanishing."

"He didn't feel safe."

"He's not safe now. If he's not with me, then he's not safe, and when I get out of here, he won't be escaping me again, and anyone who tries to stand in the way of him and me, I'll take their head clean off too. My only regret is getting caught. The violence, the blood…the startling clarity of seeing a head in a separate place to its body…" He grinned. "I love it."

"More than Luca?"

Quinn's words wiped the smile from Virgil's face.

"No. Not more than Luca."

Quinn was grateful for the barrier between them.

Cleo knocked a tuneful beat on Virgil's door.

"Time's up," she said, but her warm smile didn't take any of the chill out of the atmosphere. Quinn tried to keep his movements slow, controlled, as he tidied away his notes. He didn't want Virgil or Cleo to know how badly he wanted out of the room.

"Thank you, for talking to me today," Quinn said, trying and failing to meet Virgil's eyes.

"You're welcome, Doctor Quinn."

Virgil got up, tucked his chair beneath the table, then followed Cleo out of the room.

"You look…" Zane paused, studying Quinn through the glass. "Exhausted."

"It's been a long week." Quinn gestured for Zane to take his seat.

"And you left the best until last." Zane sat down. "I'm serious, though. You need a holiday."

Quinn snorted. "There's far too much to do to even consider getting away."

"It's not healthy."

"What isn't?"

"Surrounding yourself with killers."

"I only see one of you each day."

"But when you go home, you write it all up and send it off to your boss. Murder must be on your mind all the time."

"Mars keeps me sane."

"Mars, your violent cat?"

"He's misunderstood," Quinn argued, then opened his folder on the table.

"Read any new books?"

Quinn shook his head.

"What about your allotment? How's that going?"

"I…" Quinn blinked. "I haven't been there in a while."

Zane cocked his head. "And what about the final episode of Cops and Shops ?"

"Still haven't seen it." He flashed a smile. "So no spoilers."

He expected a returning smile, but Zane frowned at him.

Before Zane could ask something else, Quinn jumped in, "You've probably heard from the others this week's session is about the crime that got you sent here."

Zane nodded.

"The others have all been very forthcoming over their crimes. I've got a feeling you're not going to answer with the same amount of clarity."

"I can't remember what happened."

"You were charged with the murders of Danny and Jessica Saunders."

"That's right."

Quinn looked down at his notes. There weren't many. "You claim to have no recollection of the crime, but you accepted full responsibility."

"Their blood and clothes were found in my house. Their car was on my driveway." Zane shrugged. "I was covered in their blood."

"But you don't remember what happened?"

Zane shook his head. "Drugs were involved."

"Drugs?"

"I took some before they arrived."

"Was…was that normal?"

Zane shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I must have blacked out."

"What was the last thing you do remember?"

"Welcoming Danny and Jessica into my house."

Quinn nodded and made a note.

"Danny worked for you?" he asked.

Zane pursed his lips, considering. "He worked for the company, not me per se. He got on well with my father. They were good friends, had been for as long as I remember. He helped me carry my father's coffin."

"So it must've been a shock to find out he'd been stealing from the company," Quinn said. "A substantial amount. You found this out weeks before the murders. You invited Danny to your house seven days before the murders, and he left unscathed."

"I wouldn't say that," Zane muttered.

"What would you say?"

"I told Danny how disappointed I was in him and demanded an explanation for his actions."

"And he gave you one?"

"Yes."

Quinn had his pencil to the paper, poised to take notes, but Zane only shrugged.

"Obviously it wasn't good enough."

"So you invited them to your house with the intention of killing them?"

"Yes."

"You had a plan then?"

"Yes."

Quinn held out his hand. "What was it?"

"To make sure they didn't leave my house alive."

"How were you planning to kill them? Did you have an idea where you'd hide their bodies?"

"Knife. I used a knife—"

"Only the one?"

"Yes."

"And did you have the materials to wrap their bodies afterwards, perhaps a location to dump the bodies in mind? Tools to make the job easier?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember," Quinn repeated back.

"No."

Quinn frowned. "Do you ever…dream about it? Have flashbacks? It doesn't have to be visual; it could be smells, sounds, that take you back to that day."

"No."

"Interesting."

Zane's face twitched. "Look. Danny stole hundreds of thousands from the company. He betrayed my trust. Danny deserved to be punished."

"That's what it was, punishment?"

Zane shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why did Jessica deserve to be punished?"

"She used the money he stole, seems only fair she was punished too."

"But she might not have known where her husband was getting the money from."

"True," Zane said. "But we'll never know for sure."

"Do you feel guilty or remorseful?"

"No."

"Is there a part of you that wishes you had let the authorities handle it instead of doing what you did?"

"Authorities?"

"Danny stole hundreds of thousands. He would've been punished with prison time."

"My way was much more efficient, and quick."

"Yet you don't remember it."

Zane narrowed his eyes.

"Danny's shoes were recovered from your house, as was Jessica's coat. What happened to the rest of their clothes?"

"I don't know."

Quinn shook his head, looking down at his notes.

"I had a motive. The intent. The means, and the evidence supports that I did what I set out to. Their blood was all over the place, and I wanted them dead, Quinn. I wanted them to suffer, for no one to find them, and that's exactly what happened. I did what I set out to."

"You say the right things," Quinn whispered. "But you just don't make me believe it."

"It's not about making you believe it. The evidence speaks for itself. Your study speaks for itself."

"You contradict it."

Quinn flipped over the page and ticked a few boxes.

"What happens now?" Zane asked.

Quinn narrowed his eyes at the overall score on the sheet.

31.

Zane had scored 31 points.

Virgil 36.

Harris 33.

Richard 31.

Tony 25.