One after the other.
Pitter-patter.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Waitresses take perhaps thousands of steps during a shift. Always coming and going, while patrons bark orders, make crass comments and groundless, tasteless judgments, before getting up and leaving squat for a tip.
The South is full of roadside diners serving up high cholesterol and diabetes—all you have to do is walk in, sit down in a booth sporting ripped, waxy seats and grimy checkered tablecloths, and the journey into the greasy-spoon experience has begun.
Heather Strong had been a waitress at one of these places for nearly ten years, though she mainly worked the register as a cashier these days. She took to the job because it suited her character—outgoing, loud, always on the move—and put food on the table for her children. In February 2009, Heather, a beautiful, blue-eyed, brown-haired, twenty-six-year-old mother and soon-to-be divorcée, was working at the Petro Truck Stop, out on Highway 318 in Reddick, Florida. The Iron Skillet Restaurant inside the Petro was a busy joint. It was one of those just-off-the-freeway pit stops filled with tired, hungry, dirty, foul-mouthed, penny-pinching, smelly men coming in off the road, piling out of their musty Mack trucks, looking for cheap fast-food saturated in grease. Heather drew the eyes of most of these men because she was so stunningly gorgeous in a simple American-girl kind of way. Sure, she had the figure of a swimsuit model, but that exterior beauty was juxtaposed against an inner abundance of innocence and purity, a warm heart. Still, for anyone who knew Heather, there was no mistaking the fact that this young woman could take care of herself, if necessary.
There was also a hidden vulnerability there within Heather’s forced smile: You could tell she had struggled in life somewhat, but with the right man by her side (whom she had found just the previous year, but had let go after getting back with her husband), Heather could find that picket-fence happiness all young women in her shoes longed for.
“What’s a hot little thang like you doing in a place like this?” was a common remark Heather endured more times than she could count. She hated it every time. Paid no mind to men that spoke to her disrespectfully like that. She had a job to do. Kids to feed. She was making ends meet. It didn’t mean she had to take insults and sexually aggressive comments.
“Give me your check and let’s get y’all cashed out?” Heather would snap back. “I ain’t got all day.”
Heather seemed tired on this particular day. She’d been having a rough go of things lately, to say the least. Most of those problems stemmed from the relationship with her children’s father, twenty-seven-year-old Joshua Fulgham, a rather complicated and volatile man with a past. They’d separated and Heather was now living with a new boyfriend, but the leash that Josh had around his wife had not been severed completely. Josh wanted his kids, was afraid Heather would one day take off with them, and promised a nasty custody battle coming down the road. He was also enraged at the fact that Heather was living with a man whom Josh saw as a danger to his children.
“You seen Heather around?” Heather’s boss asked a coworker a day after Valentine’s Day, February 15, 2009. It had been a normal day at the Petro: regulars, new customers, broken coffee machine, dirty dishes coming from the kitchen, stains on the silverware. About the only thing different was that Heather had not come to work. It was so unlike her not to show up. If there was one thing about Heather Strong, work was first and foremost. She needed the money to support her kids—and that darn husband of hers? He rarely gave her anything to help out, but he always seemed to have the cash to buy weed or go out and have a good time.
“She always called,” Heather’s boss later explained.
“I haven’t seen her,” Heather’s coworker said.
“Hmm,” Heather’s boss responded. “If you do, tell her to call me.”
Heather generally worked the morning shift, although she did sometimes take on a double. On most days, she’d come in and set up the salad bar and then go about her ordinary duties.
She should have been in by now, thought Heather’s boss, looking at the clock in her small office, trying to shake a bad feeling that something was terribly wrong.
CHAPTER 2
HEATHER’S FIRST COUSIN, Misty Strong, was at home in Columbus, Mississippi, where Heather grew up and had lived most of her life. Misty, equally as beautiful as Heather, could pass for Heather’s identical twin. The two girls really did look so much alike.
“Heather was like a sister to me,” Misty later said.
A few weeks had gone by and Misty had not heard from her cousin. This was odd. Heather and Misty kept in touch. However streetwise Heather had become over the years, especially while living in Florida, she was green in many ways of the world, Misty knew. It seemed that Heather had only one man most of her life and he had taken her to Florida: Joshua Fulgham.
Josh and Heather had met in Starkville, Mississippi. Heather was fifteen, waitressing after school at a local restaurant; Joshua, one year older, was a customer. Josh was that tough, rugged, overprotective, and overly jealous type. He was known in the Mississippi town where he grew up as a bruiser—a tough, troubled kid. Josh was five feet eight inches tall and weighed about 175 pounds—one of those physiques people might say he was born with—a guy who could eat anything and would never gain an ounce. Josh generally wore his hair shortly cropped, but he had turned to an entirely shaved head later in life. For Heather, Josh fit the image of a badass she liked so much. Heather felt comfortable around Josh. She felt protected. The two of them hit it off right away on that day inside the restaurant.
From the start, Misty Strong later observed, Josh and Heather had issues. He was rough with her. He liked to manhandle Heather a lot when he wanted his way. The cops were often involved. After meeting, dating, and then living together as teens, Heather having a child, with another on the way, Mississippi didn’t seem to suit them as it once had. So Josh and Heather made the decision to move to Florida. It was 2004. Josh had potential job prospects in Florida—or so he said. He had family down there. The move felt like a step forward. Heather wasn’t thrilled at going, moving away from her family in Mississippi, but she thought, What the hell! Why not give it a try? They could always move back if things didn’t work out, she figured.
Misty knew with Heather moving away, there was little she could do. Once Heather was gone, in fact, Misty had lost touch with her for a time, and Misty believed it was Josh holding her down, keeping Heather from contacting her family. One more way for Josh to govern over Heather and keep her tied down.
“He was just too controlling,” Misty explained. “He didn’t want her around any family or anybody that cared about her.”
Heather didn’t even have her own cell phone or computer back then, during their early days in Florida. She had been totally cut off from everyone back home.
Just the way Josh liked it.
Then, in early 2008, after nearly four years of living with Josh, raising two kids and going through hell and back, Heather showed up in Columbus one day.
“I’ve finally left him,” she told Misty.
“Thank God.”
Misty and Heather’s grandmother was sick at the time. She was actually dying. So they bonded over that family crisis. The two women picked up their “sister” relationship from back in the day and stayed in touch daily. Misty kept telling her cousin it was all going to be okay. There was no need to worry about anything. She’d help with the kids. She’d help Heather start over. The key to it was for Heather to stay the hell away from Josh, who was still in Florida. If Heather could do that, she had a chance. Everyone in her family believed this.
There was one day when Misty went to see their grandmother, who was in her last days. When Misty returned, Heather was gone.
And so were her bags.
Damn.
“Josh had ... brought her back to Florida,” Misty later recalled. No one knew it, but he snuck into town, convinced Heather she needed him, and drove her back.
Heather had gone willingly, apparently. She wanted to work things out for the kids’ sake. That was Heather: She always was yearning to find that pristine image of the American family unit on the other side of a dark rainbow. What mother, after all, doesn’t want her children’s father to be a part of their lives? Maybe Josh was changing. He was angry and sometimes violent; but when he was good, he was a nice guy. They got along and loved each other.
Or was Heather locked in that same fantasy that many abused women see in their dreams and pursue in their minds?
I’ll give him just one more chance. He’ll change. You’ll see.
Things didn’t work out for Heather. Josh didn’t change. So Heather moved out and found someone else to live with in Florida. She thought it would be better for the kids if she stayed in the state this time. The place she found had a computer. Heather now had a cell phone. She and Misty were in contact just about every day, sometimes several times a day.
“Myspace, cell phone, e-mail,” Misty said.
But then, suddenly, it stopped. Boom! One day, Heather wasn’t communicating anymore. Misty and Heather had been talking for months. Heather was saying that Josh had a girlfriend now. He was letting go. Heather had someone new, too. There had been some issues between Heather and Josh’s new girlfriend. Josh sometimes seemed to want to reconcile with Heather, but Heather was saying things were beginning to settle down. They had finally figured out that maybe they just weren’t meant to be together. Josh seemed to accept this.
Now Misty was concerned, however. It was late in the day on February 25, 2009, and she had not heard from Heather in well over a week. Misty knew damn well that something was up. It was so unlike Heather not to call or e-mail for this long a period.
So Misty called Heather’s brother, Jacob, and asked if he had heard from her.
“No,” Jacob said.
“Any idea where she is?”
Jacob responded, “I got a call from [Heather’s friend]. She was concerned.”
“Concerned? How so?”
“Well, Heather had all her belongings over there at her friend’s. Now all of her stuff is gone and she is missing.”
“‘Missing’?” Misty answered. She felt her stomach turn. Her body was now numb. Then that life-will-never-be-the-same-after-today feeling came on all at once. Misty felt it.
Missing? Misty pondered.
That word no one wants to hear. It sounded so final.
So dangerous.
So deadly.
Kyle Hulbert prided himself on being a blood-drinking, sword-carrying vampire.
Kyle was eighteen years old when the state of Virginia emancipated him, freeing him from its psychiatric and foster care system.
Clara Schwartz was a straight-A student in high school with a promising college career at James Madison University ahead of her.
(Yearbook photo)
Clara’s father, Robert Schwartz, was a fifty-seven-year-old, well-respected biophysicist/researcher whose work focused on DNA when he was murdered inside his Leesburg, Virginia home on December 8, 2001.
Mike Profl met Kyle Hulbert in October 2001, and the two became best friends.
(Department of Corrections, Virginia)
Katherine “Katie” Inglis was one of Clara Schwartz’s best friends. The two had known each other since junior high school.
(Department of Corrections, Virginia)
A close-up of the door leading to a side room of the Stone House. Secluded in a wooded area outside Leesburg, it had been in the Schwartz family for several generations.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
The Stone House became a crime scene after it was
discovered that Robert Schwartz, widowed father of three
and respected scientist, had been viciously murdered.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
Robert Schwartz was attacked in the kitchen of the Stone House. It appeared that he had his back to his killer when the attack began.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
On the back of Robert Schwartz’s neck, Kyle Hulbert carved an X with the tip of his sword, as was outlined for him within his role in the Underworld as chief assassin.
(Courtesy Loudon County Court)
In the days following the crime, Kyle Hulbert was arrested for the murder of Robert Schwartz. The story he told police after his arrest was nearly unbelievable.
(Department of Corrections, Virginia)
After police questioned several of Clara’s close friends, they believed she had made a detailed plan to have her father executed under the pretense of her Underworld game.
(Department of Corrections, Virginia)
Clara Schwartz was questioned by police.
Kyle Hulbert carried this twenty-seven-inch ninja sword with him wherever he went. It was eventually found inside a closet and forensically tied to the murder of Robert Schwartz.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
This diagram shows the extensive injuries Robert Schwartz received at the hand of Kyle Hulbert. Of the nearly thirty stab wounds, many entered through Schwartz’s back and exited through his front, inflicted by Kyle as he heard voices telling him what to do.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
As investigators compiled evidence against Kyle Hulbert, this “shield” was uncovered. Kyle used it to ward off “vampires” and protect himself from evil-doers inside the Underworld.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
A sampling of the diaries and journals Clara kept, detailing her hatred for the “O.G.” (Old Guy—her father), Christianity, and her life.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
Police uncovered this photo of Kyle Hulbert, along with Katie Inglis and an unidentified male, at a bank the day before Robert Schwartz’s murder. Kyle was depositing a check Clara Schwartz had sent to him that day.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
This surveillance footage clip clearly shows that Clara Schwartz had paid Kyle Hulbert to kill her father.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
Downtown Leesburg, Virginia, where Clara Schwartz was tried for the murder of her father.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
The Loudon County Courthouse in downtown Leesburg was the site of Clara’s trial.
(Photo courtesy of Shirlina Mann)
Kyle Hulbert in 2014.
(Department of Corrections, Virginia)
Some names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals connected to this story.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by M. William Phelps
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7860-3497-0
First Kensington Hardcover: March 2015
eISBN-13: 978-0-7860-3498-7
eISBN-10: 0-7860-3498-X
First Kensington Electronic Edition: March 2015
Notes
1 In lieu of me writing long paragraphs explaining this world of Fae and Seelie Court, bogging down my narrative, if you wish to learn more about this fantasy game and world, please Google Seelie Court, whereupon you will have more information about it than you will have time to read.
2 This date is disputed by Clara and some of the others with whom they hung around. Clara claimed that the first time Kyle ever came to her dorm was a few days before Thanksgiving that year. This seems entirely false. Moreover,
Kyle and Clara were hanging around quite regularly from October, after the festival, and onward from there—another fact Clara later disputed.
3 Now, if you ask Mike, Patrick, Katie, and likely even Clara about this Underworld, you are going to get four different versions of the same game Clara constructed. In all of the accounts available, there is no firm narrative line. Each player had his or her own way of describing the game and rules and the narratives. I am going with Kyle Hulbert’s version and several documents that exist about the game that seem to somewhat back up Kyle’s version.
4 There are several differing accounts of how they met. This account was taken from Patrick’s trial testimony.
I'd Kill for You Page 34