The Doll Collector's Son

Chapter 2: The Mimic

I hadn't intended to discover the wonderful world of The Doll Collector murders, but it was hard not to fall into the rabbit hole. It had been 25 yers since the Doll Collector had been murdered at the hands of his ex-wife, Maria Jordana Gonzalez Marner. Although right now she went by Julianne Ramirez-Cortez, but we all knew who she was, and who her husband was, and who her son was. A quick search revealed he was an agent for the FBI. Special Agent Jordan Aleksandrov.

They'd fallen off the radar, had become upstanding members of their community, and everyone forgot about The Doll Collector. His legacy had been swept under the rugs, the boogeyman was finally dead. Murders had always been of interest to me, I guess you could call it America's favorite past-time. Forget baseball and football, we loved murder documentaries, and about him there were plenty. I'd first heard about him when I was seventeen years old, dead sick in my dorm with the flu.

A documentary had just come out for the 15th anniversary of his death. They only briefly covered the extent of his murders and relationship with Maria. He was so attractive, I only had to imagine the son looked the same, so I had to look and find out what had happened to his family. It was difficult at first, considering the FBI had scrubbed the internet of their names and ways to find them. Over time, and with a little patience, I was able to find them. Well, it did help that there were buried stories from the Los Angeles Times from when Maria killed him. A little more digging and I found their addresses, where they went to college, where they worked, and before long, I was sneaking into Jordan's apartment.

For an FBI agent, he didn't take many precautions. Stealthy watching revealed he kept a spare key on the top of the door. It was too tall for me, so I pretended to stumble into the door, sliding that little key right off. His neighbors didn't even peek out to see who was out there, so I just went right in. I was pleased to see that he was just as clean as his daddy. Not a single item out of place, nor was there a layer of dust to be disturbed. His clothes were neatly color coded and separated by the seasons.

I gently lied down on his bed. This is where he lay at night, refusing to become a killer. The son of one of the greatest serial killers of this age had decided to shun the life and become a federal agent. It was almost cliche, considering the Mistress' daughter had also become one. That had been serendipitous, finding out they were actually partners at the local field office. Just imagine the amount of potential between them, that was being wasted.

Anyway, I worked quickly to place cameras in his vents, alarm clock, and even in his TV. His electronics were harder to bug, but then I figured he worked for the FBI, he was being watched anyway. I slipped back out, returning to my own apartment to finish setting up my surveillance unit. Everything fit perfectly in my closet, my clothes could live elsewhere.

Now, instead of watching a badly made documentary, that gave no justice to the man, I could watch a live version that paid homage. Jordan was the spitting image of Kristopher Marner. How lucky yet unlucky the poor boy was. His life was largely boring and I was hoping to see the budding urges of killing, but no. He usually arrived home, watched TV, then went to bed. It wasn't enough! And it certainly wasn't fair that someone who had been there when it happened, was not taking advantage of their genes!

I highly suspected that it was all Maria's fault. She looked the type to suppress urges, the prude. No matter, I had plans for her. They started with Jordan, with a little note left on his pillow. Jordan's problem was he had no support system. His fake father would come over often, sit down to have a couple of beers and give him a free therapy session. The kid wasn't as damaged as he should be, so maybe having psychiatrist parents was helpful.

I logged into the surveillance system to watch the footage from the day before. Jordan needed a nudge, and so far my little presents had not struck a chord. So, I had to take an extra step, a note of my devotion. I stopped the rewind button, letting it play out. Jordan, in his underwear spotted the note and reached for it. He seemed to read it, then put it into the pocket of his slacks on the floor. No reaction. I watched it again, still no reaction, not that the footage would have changed. How could he have no reaction?

No, this was okay. He must be confused, that's all. I stood, turning off the monitor, then opened my bedroom door. The apartment was alone, so I continued down to the basement floor. The Super had trusted me with the key long ago. He'd needed it cleaned out, but he was so old he didn't remember I'd never given back the key, so now it was my special place. Dark, big, and so many places to hide. I switched on the single bulb, shutting the door behind me.

The whimpering had finally stopped. I'd read that Kris hated that too. There was no use for it. I rounded a floating wall to where the cage had been set up. It was a kennel used for a Great Dane. It was large enough to fit a human, especially a human woman who wasn't that big to begin with. She made herself small against the farthest corner of the cage. Maybe she thought she could hide from me. I squatted down, smiling at her. She didn't return it, but I didn't take offense. No one ever did appreciate being part of something big until it was over.

I reached into the cage to retrieve her food and water bowls. They'd remained largely untouched. Her problem. Still, I refilled them and tossed a piece of bread at her feet.

"I'm gonna make you famous. Someday, you'll be part of a true crime show, and no one will skip over your episode, because I'm gonna give you to The Doll Collector's Son."

Hiii! Yay another chapter!

How was it? Who is this killer that calls themselves the Mimic??

So I've gotten into anime recently, watched some of the classics, but Attack on Titan remains my favorite, even though the ending hurts 🥲