Chapter 5

Toronto

He wasn't quite sure if it was the pounding on his door or the insistent ringing of the telephone that roused him to his duty, only that his head was foggy from fatigue. The case he'd been working on, complicated and dangerous, did not get settled 'till the wee hours, after which he went home to flop down on his bed in stupefying exhaustion, unmindful of the effects on his trousers. The last thing he wanted or needed was to be called out again due to a tragedy in someone else's life.

He dragged himself upright, got his feet back into shoes and ignored the telephone which had, in any case, stopped ringing. The door-pounding and yelling had not, and if anything was crescendoing higher. Running a hand through his hair he checked his watch: he'd been home barely two hours. "I'm coming!" he hollered, sure he could not possibly be heard over the din the man was making outside.

He braced himself for a moment, bringing to mind his chosen responsibilities and settled his shoulders to prepare for whatever emergency was on the other side of the flimsy wood, which was at the present moment threatening to splinter from the beating it was taking from without. Pulling the doorknob inward, a smelly, disheveled man fell forward from the force of his knocking once the barrier of the door was removed. The stranger was wild eyed and gasping, suddenly out of speech upon coming face to face with the one he sought, chest heaving from exertion.

"Yes? What is it you want?" he asked, hoping to get some sense out of his alarmed visitor. He propped the distressed man back up, feeling a frisson of disquiet shoot through him. Slowly, he recognized first the eyes, and then features hidden behind a scruff of reddish-beard and white-faced fear… Someone he recognized emerged from the dirty, battered figure before him, whose left hand was shaking while painfully gripping his arm.

The man took in a breath and tried to steady himself, unable to get the quaver out of his voice or gather any shred of dignity to bear under the circumstances.

"She is dying." William Murdoch rasped out, hoarse from shouting.

"What are you talking about, detective?" He stood there, uncomprehending, blinking back at the odd sight in front of him, thinking this must be part of a very bad dream.

"It's Julia. Doctor Tash, you must come, right now! Before it is too late."

# # #

Toronto General Hospital Room 442

"How long has she been like this?" Dr. Isaac Tash asked. He wanted as much information as possible before arriving at Julia's side to start formulating a treatment plan, needing to get himself oriented and focused. His lethargy had fled, replaced by adrenalin. He and Detective Murdoch jostled together uncomfortably while taking tight corners in a hansom the other man was furiously driving through the dark streets of Toronto, pushing the horse to its equine limits. The carriage wheels skittered but the rig did not tip. Yet… Heaven help anyone who gets in our way, he thought.

The story Julia's husband laid out in succinct fashion was nearly unbelievable: Gut-shot and in a coma, Julia woke up, snuck out of the hospital and rode out to the near-wilderness, finding the deranged woman who shot her and kidnapped the detective, winding up killing the other woman to save her own life. Almost unbelievable… but this was Julia Ogden they were talking about. He was still absorbing the news, having been out of town while the whole business was going on, or he would have insisted on attending to her care in the first place, certainly tried to prevent her from such a reckless, impulsive act. He grimaced: Although I know no one who ever restrained Julia once she has her mind set.

Murdoch continued. "That is the problem. I just thought she was asleep in the carriage ride back to Toronto. She was ill, in pain, and obviously exhausted from her ordeal. We did not say much to each other on the journey home. I just believed…" He shook his head angrily. "I just thought she was giving herself the opportunity to sleep, so I let her, just held her next to me. It was only when we got back to Toronto and we tried to rouse her that it was clear to me there was even more going on." He whistled the horse faster now that they were on a macadamed section of road. "The doctors at Toronto General are arguing about what to do, so they are doing nothing and she is slipping away…" His voice cracked.

"What have they done so far and what are the competing treatments?" the doctor asked.

"After removing the bullets and running the bowel to sew up any perforations, they gave her mercury for infection and laudanum for pain. She was lucky: the shots were not through and through, the only debris in the wound was from her silk robes, and the small calibre bullets managed to tear just a small hole in her colon." William flatly relayed what he had been told.

Hearing that, Tash knew there were no "small holes" in intestines and being gut-shot was often a death sentence; he suspected the detective knew that as well.

The detective continued. "She lost a lot of blood so they did a transfusion."

Dr. Tash's eye brows shot up. "That can be fatal if…"

"Yes. But we knew for certain that it would be all right—from a case Julia and I worked on…" His face clouded. "Julia gave herself some sort of unknown treatment—I found the evidence of an injection she apparently she self-administered, to get her stable enough for her intentions to ride out. Now her breathing and pulse are weak, and I insisted the doctors use one of those new sphygmomanometers improved by Riva-Rocce to monitor her blood pressure." He related the facts dispassionately until this point, anger and despair colouring his voice now. "The situation currently is as follows: one wants to bleed her, one wants to pack her in ice, one is considering leeches of all things and one wants to open her up again. The only thing I am sure of is that I don't want her to have any more mercury or opium-based medications, which turns out is the only thing all four of them agree is necessary for her to have. I'm afraid that the other thing they agree on is that I am interfering with her care…" He trailed off.

The doctor read the other man's guilt and fear. "Detective," Tash said as they came up to the hospital entrance, "our Julia… your Julia, is as strong a person as I ever met." He squeezed Murdoch's gloved right hand for encouragement, causing the detective to yelp in pain. "What is wrong with your hand?" he asked.

"It is nothing," was the reply. "Please go directly to her, Dr. Tash. You saved her life once... I am counting on you saving her again, God willing. Please…"

Tash felt the desperate sincerity in Murdoch's plea. "I will do my best," he answered, alighting from the cab even before it fully stopped. Running up the steps he hoped he could actually do something that was going to be helpful, recalling the last time he treated Julia was an awful nightmare of guessing and waiting; less for the medicine or treatment to work and more to see if her constitution was going to rally or collapse. Assurances to her husband aside, it sounded dire and he prayed it was not too late even now…

# # #

From Julia's hospital room doorway, Tash recognized Inspector Brackenreid, who was arguing most insistently with Dr. Warren. He had already heard contentious noise coming down the corridor before ever gaining the room. Inspector and doctor were squared off, mirroring each other in size and demeanor with crossed arms over their chests and jaws thrust forward, eyes staring daggers at each other, planted in place like a beefy set of forged andirons in a great hearth, with Julia and the bed representing the logs about to be set ablaze. "I understand what you are telling me doctor, but I must disagree. Dr. Ogden's husband is sending for her own personal physician, and that is the only one he trusts to see to her. Furthermore he trusted me to make sure no one else touched her until that doctor gets here." The inspector pointed to a tray in the doctors hands. "That, whatever the Bloody Hell that is, comes nowhere near this dear lady, do I make myself clear?"

Dr. Tash intervened before anything could escalates any further. "Gentlemen!" he said sharply. Dr. Warren and Inspector Brackenreid struggled to disengage. Both recognized Tash at the same time, simultaneously complaining about the unreasonableness of the other. "Gentlemen!" he tried again, holding up a hand. "Dr. Warren, may I speak with you in a moment, outside please?"

Warren gave a last harrumph towards the inspector and stalked off. Before Tash could speak, Brackenreid launched at him. "Where have you been? We'd been calling and calling. Did Murdoch find you?"

"I was on a case. And yes, he brought me here and I imagine will be along shortly. Now, if you will allow me, I must see to Dr. Ogden." Tash spoke firmly and with a confidence he did not feel, but it was enough to get the inspector to relinquish his role as guardian and leave him alone with his patient. He checked her pulse, listened to her heart, lungs and bowels, counted her respirations, pricked her feet, tested her reflexes, felt her forehead and looked at her pupils. Julia looked so small and fragile it was impossible to believe this was his forceful, vibrant friend. He thought about her husband: No wonder he is so worried. I am worried too.

# # #

Toronto General Hospital room 442

.."Sir! It's Julia… I can't wake her…"

William was in brutal shock, playing that scene over and over in his head: Inspector Brackenreid helping him wrangle a limp, unresponsive Julia out of the carriage and running with her up slippery steps and into the front door of the hospital, down the long hallway, calling for help until one of the doctors intervened. A bed was located for his wife and then he was unceremoniously shoved out of the room while the hospital staff conferred. Every time the memory looped, William's spit dried even if his pulse no longer raced. He approached her room with trepidation.

Dr. Tash examined Julia. It was worse when he checked under her bandages. To his eye, her wounds appeared inflamed, possibly starting to be infected, but none were obviously suppurating. There was no foul odor, indicating no severe infection was already taking hold. When he pressed on the area it did not feel right however, with his immediate guess being an internal bleed or abscess forming. On an abstract level he took in how her flesh was marred, as much by what he imagined the gunshots to have done, as by the efforts of the surgeons to find the bullets, get rid of dirt in the wound and sew her up. Her skin bristled with the ends of silk stitches indicating where there would be a network of star-shaped pock-marks and longer scars that were never going to fade. Behind him he heard a scuffle of feet and a low moan.

Detective Murdoch came up behind him, wincing at the sight of his wife's wounds.

Too late to hide this from him now, the doctor decided. He gestured to the detective to draw beside him, and pointed to the right side of Julia's abdomen.

William nervously licked his lips, trying to force everything else out of his awareness except what Dr. Tash was saying.

It wasn't working.

…Because William also replayed the near shouting match he had with Dr. Maharris. He was successful in getting Dr. Carlton to monitor her blood pressure, which only created controversy since her pressure was dangerously low, sending all four doctors arguing with each other about competing diagnoses and treatments for Julia.

Dr. Maharris was been blunt about the third area of agreement amongst the doctors, pronouncing in clipped, angry words: "Mr. Murdoch. If you do not stop interfering with your wife's care, I can have you removed." The doctor drew himself up, stepping very close to William's face in an obvious attempt to intimidate him.

That doctor had no idea who he as dealing with, William observed. Years of handling suspect interviews and dangerous criminals made it no contest at all. He demolished the surgeon's arguments rather precisely and quietly, hoping for an opportunity to revisit their collective findings. Then the doctor retaliated:

"Mr. Murdoch!" The man's voice rose and his face flushed in anger. "You will either accept our recommendations, find another doctor, or you will take her home to die!"

If not for the inspector's intervention, I would have gladly throttled that pompous Dr. Maharris. WhileWilliam was unhappy about that realization, he could not bring himself to regret the outburst.

He ordered himself to attend to what was directly in front of him, no differently than he would have during an investigation; more, perhaps, because more was at stake... Julia.

She was his gravitational center, always, but right now Julia was lying so pale and still in the narrow hospital bed it unnerved him. Her usually strong hands with their active, probing, long and firm fingers, felt frail and bird-like in his own rough hand. This is not my bright, active, Julia. His chest felt heavy. She was supposed to be all right. This was supposed to be all over, he complained to himself again…Did all of this start only about four or five hours ago? How can that be? And how can we be back here again with Julia's life hanging in the balance?

William shook that away. He placed all his hopes on Isaac Tash, the doctor he desperately wanted… The one who saved Julia before, the only one who cares about her…

"Detective…" Dr. Tash began.

"William, please doctor. Under the circumstances…" William took Julia's hand in his, brought it to his lips for a kiss, eyes searching her face for any flicker of recognition.

"Agreed. Isaac then, if you will, as well," he said, receiving a nod in return. "William, Julia has three gunshot wounds and an incision site where the surgeon opened her to check her bowel, sew her up and do his best to make sure she did not get septic. She is weak and unconscious but I don't think she is in an actual coma. See here?" He pulled her hand up and pinched the back of it, forming a little peak of skin that did not spring flat again very quickly. "This means she is dehydrated. Based on what you told me and what I observe, she had not eaten anything since you two had supper early Saturday evening. That is good actually in a way, because that meant she had less in her system, less in her gut when she was shot. She is thin, but healthy, so not eating for a few days won't hurt her. Not drinking plus bleeding out is more of a problem. Did she drink anything while she was with you?"

"Yes. We both drank our fill before starting for home and then she consumed the canteen we had—perhaps three pints?" He saw William try to visualize how much. "She did not eat anything, refused to actually, but let me put some honey in water for her—that seemed to help. She did bleed quite a bit, at least a half a pint I would guess, perhaps more, but that seemed to stop."

Tash thought this through. "She was smart. I think she needs fluids. I want to give her an intravenous saline solution to build up her blood volume. Then I want to investigate why her abdomen does not feel right. We may have to drain an abscess or draw out a small bleed, hopefully without having to operate again." He saw that William was accepting this so far without objection, but he hesitated to go further.

William saw the temporizing. "What is it… er…Isaac?"

Tash sighed, acutely aware of what he was asking for touched on so many unspoken issues between them. "I am given to understand you told the hospital staff that I was the only person you trusted with Julia's care. Was that accurate, or did someone mischaracterize your thoughts on the matter?" He narrowed his eyes. "Or was it Julia who asked for me?"

There was no hesitation in the response. Tash saw William try to draw himself up as if he were taking an oath or giving testimony in a court room. "Dr. Tash… Isaac, those are my exact words and my true feelings. I meant it when I asked you to save her again. I know she trusts you, and I trust her. She needs someone who knows and cares about her, someone who is as up-to-date in training and modern in thinking as she is. I can think of no one else better qualified than yourself."

"I see." Tash took another look at Julia's wounds. Trust deserved truth, he thought. The doctor recognized that was the only approach for Julia's husband.

William braced himself to face the bare facts the man was telling him. "She did herself no favours taking on trying to rescue you. It might have killed her." Dr. Tash touched Julia's forehead gently, then turned and levelled his gaze at William, pausing to take in a breath.

William kept his shoulders back and met the other man's large hazel eyes squarely with his own. Here it comes, he thought. Dr. Tash is above all else honourable, honest and direct. That is why Julia trusts him and why I must as well; this is, after all, what I asked for.

"It might yet…" Dr. Tash concluded.

William felt his colour drain as a bitter sensation washed through him, leaving him staggered and unable to breathe. He automatically rocked backward, as if in protection against the onslaught, or a futile method to deny the truth. He did all he could to wrap the last remnants of his composure around his shattered heart, using everything he possessed to absorb and accept Julia's grim prognosis in order to not fly apart like so much explosive wreckage.

Dr. Tash's pronouncement buzzed endlessly in his brain. 'It might yet kill her…It still might kill her… Kill her…Kill her…'

Good God, what have I done? William's head pounded and he ground his teeth so hard the noise startled a nearby orderly. Dr. Tash's words were in perfect, awful harmony to his own thoughts during his frantic ride to the doctor's house and back again to the hospital. "I did this…I did this...I did this…" filled his mind over and over to the hoof-beats of the horse as he drove the animal onward. He'd nearly splintered Tash's door and dragged the man out of it by his collar - and would have except the doctor was instantly agreeable to come for Julia's sake.

For William, time was telescoping again while the room wavered around him. One part of his brain demanded: The doctor is waiting for a response. The other part howled in raw anger and despair; he felt the tears forming but did not move to brush them away. It mattered not that he knew his thoughts were irrational: he was irrational at the moment and there was no help for it. It also does no good… he thundered at himself in his head. He had no place to put the unaccustomed rage so he pointed it at himself: It was the only escape from overwhelming guilt…

The truth is, this is my fault. I failed to protect Julia and we have come now to this. The truth is the truth... May God have mercy, William prayed.

He saw the concern on Dr. Tash's patiently waiting face. I need to answer, he urged himself, if only I can make myself speak. William worked his throat to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Courage, acceptance and God's Will... I must trust this man.

"Yes," was all William said back, his eyes never leaving the doctor's face while he tried to keep his voice from cracking.

Dr. Tash nodded, shifting his shoulders slightly. "I am going to agree with you about the mercury, and the laudanum, at least for now until she wakes and we see how much pain she is in. Believe it or not I am thinking about leeches for the pooling blood, and iodine and sugar for the incision site infection."

William flinched at the suggestions, but could not object. If Dr. Tash deems it necessary, so be it. He mutely nodded.

The doctor looked critically at William's right hand. "Unless I miss my guess, your hand is severely injured and you have gotten no attention for it. Can you even get that glove off?"

William lowered his eyes. The black leather gloves procured from the cabin barely fit his right hand after the swelling had gone down with application of cold. He got the left one off, but the right was stubbornly stuck. He'd had no time nor inclination to attend to it because it was not as important as Julia. Nothing is…

"Umm…no I can't. I believe it is broken, or perhaps some of the bones are…." He shrugged. The wild carriage ride to fetch Dr. Tash served to further agitate his hand, which at the moment did rather insistently jab and throb.

"William," Dr. Tash said kindly. "I will take care of Julia, but I will need your help, she will need it, and you can't do that if you are not tended to. Please get someone to look at that hand before the circulation is completely cut off, while I get to work."

William's attention slid towards Julia and he dug his mental heels in, shaking his head. What if she wakes up, what if she needs me? He looked around for some excuse to stay, something he could do that would benefit her, some role in her recovery. All of this is beyond me, beyond my ability to do something about it… to fix this….to fix her… fix Julia!

He started to argue: "I have to do something…!" Until he saw the look of pity in the doctor's face, and abruptly stopped.

Dr. Tash appeared to understand. "You can do nothing here for her right now; when you get back we will both sit down and discuss the next stages of her recovery. You are an intelligent man, well-versed in the sciences and I would guess have absorbed more than your share of medical knowledge from Julia. We will find something." William thought Isaac spoke about it optimistically, looking at Julia and back again at him. "Julia would agree with me, however, that recovery depends as much, or more, on factors outside the doctor's control."

The doctor seemed to think he said more than he should have, and frowned suddenly, placing a hand on his shoulder, speaking emphatically. "William, please understand that there are no guarantees, other than I will do whatever in medical science it takes to help Julia. You have my word on that. This is going to be a long process. Honestly, perhaps it will take a miracle."

Hearing those words, William's anguish loosened its iron grip enough for him to take in the first full breath he'd managed in days. Faith and Hope, I will have to live with that. He gently touched Julia's face with the back of his fingers then turned to his companion, face set and determined, then exhaled. "Well, but doctor, I am a Catholic. We believe in miracles."

# # #

Toronto General Hospital

Thomas was now deposited outside the doctor's hospital room door, having her turned over to Dr. Tash's safe-keeping and made sure that Murdoch and the doctor would not be disturbed by leaving a constable on guard outside the room. That was four, heart-stopping, hours ago.

He was totally wrung out, the combination of emotional whip-sawing and physical depletion culminating in a certain numbness he recognized as being akin to battle fatigue. He could imagine, as well, what Murdoch must be going through, as the detective and Dr. Tash discussed what to do about his unresponsive wife. Thomas considered staying long enough to hear what Murdoch had to say the plan was, but thought the better of it: he had his own wife to tend to, and the doctor and detective were in good hands.

Leaning against the wall by a radiator to get warm before departing for home, he was glad this was over. All the paperwork and reports could wait until he had a meal, a wash and a good sleep. He spied Higgins coming along the hallway and smiled at the lad, hoping this was his ride home. "Ah! Higgins. Come to fetch me back to my wife, are you?"

"Sir. I have a carriage for you, and I have some clothes for Detective Murdoch from his office." Constable Higgins hoisted a bag by way of explanation for what he was carrying. "I also have a message from the morgue. Miss James would like a word with your before you head home."

Thomas was annoyed. "Can't it wait 'till morning?" He checked his watch and frowned. "That's not very long from now."

"She said that it would not take long but that you would want to know. I think she has finished the preliminary autopsy and wants to report her results before you head home." Higgins shrugged and smiled wryly. "I think she learned a little too well from Dr. Ogden and Detective Murdoch, if you know what I mean…"

Thomas offered a sympathetic, frustrated smile, then thanked Higgins and found the carriage waiting outside. He hauled himself into it and settled for the ride back to the station house and Morgue, deciding that is was perhapsbetter to get the preliminary results now so that when he got to work first thing in the morning he could field any inquired and rapidly conclude his own preliminary investigation.

# # #

Toronto General Hospital

Dr. Tash gave William the rest of his initial evaluation of Julia's condition, before sending him on his way to get his hand looked after. Since there was only one other doctor available with whom he was on good terms, a Dr. Ian Braddock, William submitted to that man's attentions to his hand. Braddock, tall and red-haired, worked efficiently and carefully, cutting off the glove and keeping up a running commentary about how fascinating hands were and how so much goes on in such a small space. His diagnosis was that three of the five metacarpals were broken.

"Six to eight weeks!?" William did not like the sound of how long it would interfere with his job, never mind building their house, and said so when Braddock was done splinting the palm.

"More, Mr. Murdoch, if you don't let it set properly and if you do not work on the stretching after the bones knit. You are lucky there is no infection, and no ruptures. You must keep the hand immobile and elevated. I imagine it is painful, so I have some laudanum…" William thanked Dr. Braddock but declined the medication, and hurried back to join Julia. He crept into her room to see the intravenous fluids entering her, and Dr. Tash monitoring her pulse rate and blood pressure.

William approached and waited until the doctor completed his examination. "Doctor Tash, how is she?" William sat gingerly on the side of the bed, taking up Julia's lifeless hand again and pressing it to his lips.

"Isaac, William, I insist you call me Isaac under the circumstances. It seems to me we have something in common, don't you agree?" he pointed out. "Are we not her two closest, fiercest advocates?" The doctor waited until William's attention was more or less captured by this idea before continuing. "Both of us…"

William held up his good hand, and gave a half smile. "Both of us will do anything to protect Julia, no matter the cost. Yes, er…Isaac, we do indeed have that in common."

"And, our past differences…" the doctor kept his gaze mild, unchallenging.

"…Are, I believe, in the past," William stated honestly and simply. He saw that Dr. Tash...Isaac... accepted that. Someday I'll take the opportunity to tell the man why I let it go and never charged him with performing abortions. Someday I'll tell him that it was not Julia that changed my mind, but being able to imagine that poor girl, desperate, alone and bleeding to death and how terrible that was to understand exactly what women do to avoid a pregnancy.

Furthermore, Isaac had saved Julia's life, for which he had no adequate words of gratitude. He knew this was a good man and that Julia liked, trusted, respected, and even loved as a friend.

William could think of no better recommendation than that. He found a larger smile to give the doctor. "And I believe it would please Julia to know that we are working together, would it not?" He maintained the doctor's gaze for another moment before being drawn again to observe Julia. "Isaac, can you tell me more about her condition and what we can do to help her?"

Isaac had accurately guessed William possessed more than rudimentary medical knowledge, enhanced by years of reading medical journals, autopsy results and his association with Julia. More than once Julia actually teased him that he could likely complete and autopsy if he had to, or perform basic emergency medical care. However his ability to memorize facts and recall visual information was an intellectual exercise; he had very little practical experience and had no trouble deferring to his betters, assuming their ideas were not outlandish or scientifically unsound. Isaac treated him as a partner in their quest to make Julia well, which William quite appreciated.

William also saw his companion was organizing his thoughts before speaking. Something else we have in common, he noted with approval.

Isaac explained. "Yes, well. The fluids I am giving her will build up her blood volume, but whole blood is better. I hesitate to take more from you, but if you are willing to eat and hydrate yourself, we can try later today, er… or tomorrow. Even a little will help. Just adding fluids does not replace what blood does to nourish the body." Isaac moved the blankets and showed William the area of Julia's abdomen that concerned him. "Then I am going to figure out why this does not feel right and try and correct it. You can stay with me while I do that…"

# # #

City Morgue

By the time he was walking down the ramp to the autopsy bay, Thomas was weary again but resigned to his duty. "Miss James. You have something to report?" Thomas dispensed with any niceties, getting directly to the point.

The young woman looked up from her desk, a worried look pinching her face. "Ah, Inspector. How is Dr. Ogden?"

"She is with her doctor as we speak. Getting the best of care I imagine." Thomas answered truthfully, embarrassed that he had not thought to reassure he immediately. "What have you to tell me?"

Miss James opened a file. "I have three things to report. First: the bullets taken from Dr. Ogden match the bullets from the gun you retrieved from Miss Pearce. I assisted Constable Crabtree assisted with the findings, and I believe his report will also show her fingermarks were on the weapon, and only hers. He gave me the opportunity to inform you, but his official report will be on your desk in the morning. "

Hearing that, Thomas's gut unclenched a bit. Well, that leaves Murdoch in the clear, or at least at should. He was surprised at his reaction, not realizing he was harbouring anxiety about it.

Miss James continued. "Next I have a report on the cause of death of Constable Worsley: blunt force trauma. I can confirm that the weapon has blood on it, as well as hair consistent with the constable's. I also have the preliminary autopsy on Miss Pearce. I can say with certainty that she was stabbed to death with the weapon you supplied and in the manner and angle that was described. She would have bled out within perhaps thirty to forty-five seconds after the carotid artery was cut. There would have been almost no way to save her."

That also fits with the story Murdoch sketched. Relief washed over him. Thomas found he had a small return of energy, so he directed a beam of it her way. "Thank you very much, Miss James," he smiled, amazed at their good fortune. "Excellent work. If you could send your written reports over to my desk I will review them more carefully in the morning. And, thank you again for sticking with this, and I believe I can go home feeling we have this well on the way to being wrapped up." He turned to go, when Miss James stopped him.

"Do you want to hear about her other wounds?" she questioned.

"What other wounds? She was in a struggle and lost the fight, I imagine there may be other cuts or scratches…" Thomas looked at the young woman, who just shrugged at him apologetically. He gestured for her to continue.

Miss James told him, "Well, that does not explain this wound to her left shoulder. It looks like it was made by a long, rounded blade. I realize that I do not have the whole story, but nothing fits for that…" She left the words hanging.

Thomas prompted, "And…?"iggins anH

"Will it looks as if, before she was stabbed, Miss Pearce had been, I don't know, it sounds so silly…umm, shot with an arrow, as if someone was, hunting her…" Miss James smiled uncomfortably.

Thomas felt flooded with unexpected and unaccountable heat, unable to move as sweat rolled down between his shoulder blades, his heart pounding blood into his head. He struggled to think, with nothing useful coming to him.

Feeling his shoulders slumping wearily all he could whisper was: "Oh, Bloody Hell!"

# # #