Author's Note: Standard disclaimers apply. I own none of these characters except the ones I made up. This story takes place in the first couple of seasons, and some liberties may have been taken with details from the series for the sake of drama. I apologize in advance for putting a Star Trek reference in a Gunsmoke story.

Body of Evidence

Chapter 1

8am

The morning sun cast a bright beam of light over her bed, and Kitty Russell slowly began to massage her throbbing temples. Struggling to come out of a deep slumber, it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't even remember going to bed last night. Why not? She groggily searched her memory for clues to the source of her growing headache.

Friday nights were always busy at The Long Branch Saloon, but last night had been particularly so. The Texas cattle drive was in town, bringing with it over a dozen weary cowboys itching to cash their paychecks and celebrate the end of a long journey. A couple of customers had bought her drinks, but certainly not more than she could handle. Kitty always made sure of that. So why did she feel so hung over?

She reached out with her left hand until she found the corner of the spare pillow, expecting to easily pull it over her eyes to hide the offending light. But it didn't budge as she gave it first a soft tug, then a hard jerk. She opened her eyes and let out a short, shrill scream as the unexpected visitor next to her came into focus. He was lying on his stomach facing away from her, the covers pulled up almost up to his neck. Surprisingly, the sound of her scream did not awaken him.

Kitty had not brought anyone up to her room last night, she was almost sure of it. She quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest, and heard a familiar rustling sound at the movement. She looked down and discovered that she was still wearing the dress she had worn to work last night.

Think, Kitty. Late in the evening, she had been having a drink with a friendly but uninteresting man. They were squeezed into a full table, chatting about something forgettable, when…what? Everything after that was a blank.

Kitty leaned over the still form in her bed, just far enough so that she could see his face. He looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't the same man. She bit her lip and lightly poked him on the shoulder. She may not know how he had gotten there, but she knew he needed to leave.

The bed shook slightly but the man remained motionless. Even through the sheet and bedspread, Kitty knew something didn't feel right. Her eyes narrowed as a horrible possibility occurred to her. She brought a shaking hand up to the covers and pulled them down below the shoulder she had just poked. It was bare, and something about it looked very unnatural. A light touch of the stiff, cold flesh confirmed her fear—this man was dead.

Her pulse raced as she scanned the room. His clothing lay in a pile on the floor—all of it. This cannot be happening.

Kitty leapt out of bed, the thought of spending one more second next to a corpse almost unbearable. She hurried out the door and descended the steps of The Long Branch, unconcerned about her crumpled appearance and having no doubt where she was headed. She broke out into a run as she hit Front Street, oblivious to the handful of shopkeepers watching in amusement. She didn't stop until she reached the office of the U.S. Marshal.

Matt Dillon was casually sitting on the edge of his desk, drinking his first cup of coffee to start the work day. His assistant, Chester, was pouring himself a cup from the same freshly brewed pot when the lovely redhead burst through the door.

"Kitty, what's wrong?" Matt asked, quickly standing up as he saw the look of distress on her face.

"Oh Matt," she sobbed, running into his arms. It was an unfamiliar place, inside those arms, but one she had dreamed about since their very first encounter. At this moment, under these circumstances, there was nowhere she felt safer.

The tall lawman rubbed her back as she clung to him, savoring the closeness. No was more surprised than Matt Dillon that the saloon girl from New Orleans had become such an important part of his life. He was certain that he had never met a more beautiful woman, yet the pleasure of looking at her every day had turned out to be secondary to the benefit of knowing her. In Kitty Russell he had found a true friend and trusted confidante, neither of which had ever come easily to him. He wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but somewhere in those sparkling blue eyes and that infectious smile, he had let his guard down and lost his inhibitions. She made him laugh, and she made him think. In every way imaginable, his life had been better since she had come into it. If only he had the freedom to tell her so.

Matt gently pulled away, not at all eager to end their embrace but sensing the urgency of the situation. "Kitty, what is it?" he pressed, keeping a firm, protective hold on her.

Kitty glanced over at Chester, a dear man who she desperately wished was anywhere else right now. Matt caught her cue and asked his assistant to check the telegraph office for a wire he was not expecting. It would hopefully keep him busy long enough for them to have a private conversation.

Chester hobbled out the door, and Kitty suddenly found herself unable to spill the story she had come to tell him. As the words formed in her head, they sounded grotesque and unseemly. Matt Dillon undoubtedly knew how she supported herself, but it had been an unspoken truth. Had their social interactions not often taken place inside the saloon where she was dressed to entertain, her occupation might seem a mystery. She provided him with valuable information on the comings and goings in this raucous cow town, but Kitty rarely mentioned her own job duties and Matt Dillon was too much of a gentleman to ask. Somehow he seemed to genuinely respect her, and as ridiculous as she knew it sounded, Kitty felt she had a reputation to protect when she was with him. Now she had no choice but to tell him something ugly.

She swallowed hard and forced out the offending words. "I woke up this morning, and a man was in my bed. He's dead, Matt. I don't know him, and I don't know how he got there. I swear it."

Matt frowned as her story sank in. Did she really just say that a man had died in her bed? What was he supposed to do with that? He had a million questions, almost none of them having to do with fact that he had a dead body to investigate. But as much as ached to know the answers, he had no right to ask those kinds of questions. He had decided how his life had to be, and as hard and lonely as that decision often seemed, he knew it was for the best.

Matt thought carefully before he spoke, as was his nature. He had to treat this professionally, and no other way. "Kitty, I want you to tell me everything you remember from last night."

Kitty closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, trying her best to ignore the pain in her head and recreate the events leading up to this nightmare.

TBC