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Blood Moon 5
"The sheer rage and physicality involved in an attack and subsequent murder like this are enormous," Dr. Carter stated, as he finished washing his hands. Newly watched him as he tried to get every speck of blood from under his nails and off his skin. "The strength needed to do this would indicate that the killer was a man."
Carter was originally from Richmond, Virginia, in his early forties, tall, lanky. Newly liked him and found him intelligent, not afraid to think outside the lines. He also had a dry sense of humor that the marshal appreciated. Ray Carter didn't have the wry sense of humor or wisdom that Galen Adams had possessed; no one could make up for the absence of Doc. He was not only a fine human being and doctor, but part of their Dodge family.
Finally, Carter sat down heavily in a rolling chair, much newer than the creaky one that Doc had used. "Just when I think I have seen the worst that human beings can do to each other, unfortunately, I get another nasty surprise. Damn awful." Reaching into a lower drawer, the doctor pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "I could use a dram after that. You?"
"Yes, please," Newly said, taking the glass of tawny liquid.
For a little bit, the two sat in the quiet room and enjoyed the warmth of the alcohol as it wound its way through their chests.
"I will write all this up for you formally, Newly, but I can give you a summary of injuries."
Newly sat waiting patiently for the doctor to continue. It was nearly one in the morning, and he was exhausted and the whiskey made him that much more tired.
In a gesture reminiscent of Doc Adams, Raymond Carter rubbed his face with one hand, indicating both his fatigue and his desire to erase what he'd seen.
"Newly, that poor woman was cut up by one angry…. bastard." Ray Carter looked down at his preliminary notes. "I know you're pressed for time, so…. here goes.
"Mrs. Hensley suffered from dozens of cuts that would not have caused her immediate death. Painful, yes, but not deadly. She was still alive because there is evidence of bleeding from these wounds. The cut that finally killed her was the one across her carotid. That would have caused ample blood spray around the room which you described. The rest of the butchery was postmortem, meaning after death." The doctor paused, "I'm sorry. I'm tired; I know that you know what post mortem means. Hell, I know you trained to be a doctor before you became out West. I thought I left this type of crime behind me back East, in big cities.
"I can tell you this, Newly, whoever did this, wanted this poor woman to suffer. Her face was destroyed. The occipital orbits were shattered. Nose cut off. Lips destroyed. If I hadn't seen the scar where she fell and cut her hip in an odd crescent shape, I could not have said definitively that it was indeed Deborah Hensley." Carter stopped for a sip of coffee and continued. "The cuts over 95% of her body seemed designed to inflict pain and terrify her but not to kill. They were shallow. I believe that the severing of the fingers was done…. for some type of sport," he said, and as he finished, the doctor rose to get himself a cup of coffee.
"I noticed the mutilation of her hands, Ray. It was getting dark by the time we got the body loaded into the wagon. We did find one finger under the table." Newly laughed. "Actually, Marshal Dillon picked it up thinking it was a shotgun shell. I've never seen him so undone."
Carter laughed picturing the usually composed Matt Dillon shaken. Settling down to a more somber tone, he said, "The rest of the fingers may not have been there."
Newly swallowed hard. "You mean whoever did this could have kept them. As what? Some gruesome trinket?" He shuddered involuntarily.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm not telling you how to do your job, but I would go back out there and have a thorough look around to make sure that you didn't overlook them when you brought the body in. Knowing for sure may give us a more insight into this monster's mind.
"You might also want to ask around and find out if there have been any pets or farm animals that have disappeared or been killed. I doubt this was his first. He had to practice on something."
The last statement stirred Newly to his feet. He needed to know more about the Dillon's' dead calf.
"I know I shouldn't have to ask you to keep this to yourself. Rumors are spreading like wildfire by now, I'm sure. We don't need the grisly details getting out. I instructed my deputy to keep his mouth shut, but this would shake damn near anyone."
"Did Mr. Dillon or Mr. Hagen have any ideas?"
"It was getting late, and we didn't stay to discuss it with darkness coming. He wanted to get home to his wife." Newly paused, then said, "If you don't mind me asking, Ray, how in hell do you know so much about this type of crazy butchery?"
The doctor made a sound that was between a cough and a short laugh. "When I was in Philadelphia working at a university hospital, there were a few who discussed the pathology and psychology of aberrant behavior. Have you ever heard of Jack the Ripper? Let's just say that he was not the first to murder, but his behavior and technique was the most notorious we studied."
"They never caught him, did they," Newly asked.
"Not that I've heard." Doctor Carter stared out the window onto the street below, his face a stiffened mask.
Newly put his hat on and gripped the door knob. As he jerked it open, he turned and gave the doctor a steely look, and said, "You can bank on this, Ray, I fully intend to capture this son-of-a-bitch."
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Kitty had noticed Matt's subdued demeanor, but God bless her, she understood that sometimes he needed to study on things before he could put into words what was bothering him.
She invited Festus to stay for supper, and he was only too obliging. Matt was relieved because it helped fill the quiet. He didn't want the ugliness and vile nature of what they had seen brought into their home. Festus understood and kept the conversation centered around Lena and their plans for a breed of horses that Kitty and Lena were interested in raising called Missouri Fox trotters. Lena had totally convinced Festus, but she had had him wrapped him around her little finger since the day they met.
Now, after hearing the clock chime strike two, Matt still lay awake, listening to the even breathing of his wife. He pulled Kitty closer, smelled her lemony cream, and tried like hell to push the awful tableau he'd seen far away. Everything about his wife calmed him. The touch of her and having her in his life made his heart flood with nearly painful emotion, feelings that he struggled to put into words. He'd known other men with the ability to say just the right thing and use flowery poetic words to charm women. Kitty had always needed more than flowery phrases; she believed actions over words. He tried to show her his feelings, but still sometimes women liked to hear the words. They were odd like that.
What kind of man, Matt Dillon's mind segued, could torture and kill a woman the way he'd seen today? He didn't believe that men suddenly became killers unless something horrific changed them, and he wasn't sure that a man was born evil. Then again, he remembered back to some of the men he'd arrested or who had killed over trifling things, like photographs. A few brutes who had hurt Kitty, and he'd believed they were damned evil. Unexpectedly, his mind went to the calf that he'd found killed and disfigured and feared that it was connected to the murder. He didn't believe in coincidences like that.
Matt stretched out his long legs in an attempt to relieve his growing tension. He was never going to get to sleep at this rate.
Rolling out of bed for the second night in a row, Matt crept his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. Taking a piece of cornbread, he crumbled it up into the glass. He was halfway through eating it when Kitty sat down across from him at the table.
"We really have to stop meeting like this," she mumbled sleepily.
"I'm sorry, honey. I was peckish."
Kitty rolled eyes. "Do you really think I believe that?"
"Bite?" He offered her the glass and what was left.
"No, thanks. I'd like you to tell me what's bothering you. Like what you found today when you went to meet Newly. I noticed how both you and Festus oh so carefully kept any talk of it away from supper tonight."
Matt kept his eyes on his food. "I don't think so, Kitty. Maybe in the morning when it's light."
"It is morning," she said dryly.
"Yes, I guess it is, but there isn't enough light for what I saw."
He looked across at her and she could read the unease there. She knew he was keeping something from her and a part of her didn't want to know.
"I can't protect myself or know what to expect if you don't tell me, Matt," she said, sounding frustrated.
He rose and placed his empty glass in the dish pan and turned back to his wife. "I know that. Give me time-not tonight, please." Matt kissed her on the forehead and pulled her into his arms.
"I love you."
Kitty looked surprised. "I love you, too."
"Give me some time to wrestle this mess into a manageable size. I know you think you can handle anything, but this isn't a vision I want stuck in your head. Hell, I don't even want it in mine."
Kitty shivered. "That bad?"
She felt him nod his head against hers. "And more. Let's go to bed and get some rest. Soon, I'll explain what I can. I give you my word." He moved back far enough to see her face. "Do you believe me?"
Kitty placed her soft palm against his cheek. "I do. I always believe you, Cowboy."
Their bed was covered with heavy quilts and the mattress was comfortable. Once abed, they eventually fell asleep, curled together, while the remorseless wind blowing from the north jangled the porch swing and caused the trees to creak.
The horses in the barn pushed against stall doors and rolled their eyes. The light from the bright white orb in the sky didn't reach into the dark stalls with earthen floors.
The men who worked on the ranch burrowed into their beds and dreamed the world was a safe and kind place.
{I'd like to thank all of you who have left reviews, especially the detailed ones. I apologize for my mistakes. I'd like to thank the dedicated Gunsmoke fans who leave reviews and support fanfiction because without you there wouldn't be any. I also invite the readers overseas (Yes, I see those of you who read in faraway places that I'll probably never get to visit. It makes me feel kinda special to think someone as far away as Greece or Russia is reading my story) to leave messages or reviews; I appreciate you, too. I want to acknowledge that Mother Nature has been hard on us all lately. My heart and prayers are with you, especially farmers and ranchers. I know your pain. We lost two horses this month to a virus, and our fields are deep in mud. We need fertilizer and paint for the barn and the fences-yada yada yada. It never ends on a farm.}