Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
Nathan Jackson was not a happy man.
He should have been on his way to Eagle Bend, preparing to meet one of the most important appointments of his life but instead, he was riding into a small town less than an hours ride away from that large city in order to get cleaned up. The rain had not let up and if anything had become a full blown storm pelting the earth with large drops of water that felt like lashes against the skin. He supposed he ought to be grateful that the ferocity of the weather had washed away the mud that he had been covered in after he fell off his horse.
The town was called Hadley's Hope and as towns went it was a nice little place that was home mostly to sheep graziers. It reminded Nathan of Four Corners before the arrival of the seven, although crime was not as rife here as it had been in the dry, dusty town that had been destined to be their homes. The main street was just a narrow stretch of land flanked by a general store, a hotel, a telegraph office, a post office, a jailhouse and all the usual utilities that was necessary when more than a dozen people settled in a place. Nathan and the others had reason to pass through the town on numerous occasions on their way to Eagle Bend. The sheriff was a George Brooks, a former Union soldier who had settled in the early days of the town and was a decent enough man. He kept the town safe and was not above asking help.
The town had been having troubles lately with a series of murders of young women not unlike the crimes that had beset the town a few years ago when Silas Poplar had come to Four Corners. The Pinkerton detective had claimed to be on the trail of the killer and had accused Josiah of the crime when it was he who had been responsible for all those deaths and might have taken Mary to had they not made the discovery in time. Nathan had been forced to examine the bodies after the murder and had to admit feeling for the first time in his life, that this was not a task that he wanted to do again. Later on when he had met Alex, she had explained to him that forensic science was a field gaining much prestige in the medical community and eventually, many crimes would be solved by the study of the victim's body.
The seven had offered to help but catching Poplar had been sheer luck and other than manpower which Brooks had plenty off with the mobilisation of the townspeople, there was little they could offer in the way of expertise. Nathan knew that Chris was keeping a close eye on the situation in case the killer shifted towns as Poplar had done when he had left a slew of bodies in the wake of his travels. Nathan hoped the situation in Hadley's Hope would not see a body count as high before the killer was brought to justice.
As he moved his horse towards the livery, he noticed a large gathering of people outside the local dressmaker's shop. Judging from the sombre expressions on the faces of those collected at the boardwalk, trying to peer through the glass and braving the rain, Nathan immediately felt his heart sink that some tragedy had befallen the lady who conducted her business there. Although he had not the time to deal with this, the lawmen inside of him forced him to nudge his horse in the direction of the shop.
After all, what would it hurt if he just had a little look?
His arrival was barely noticed but even through the rain he could hear Brooks telling his deputies to keep people away and wondered if he was intruding by coming here. Nathan inched his horse to the nearest hitching post before dismounting and tethering the animal to the slick wooden bar. When he stepped onto the boardwalk, a few people glanced over their shoulders and paused a moment if they recognised him. Those who did know him from his previous visits simply returned to their viewing of the events taking place inside the shop.
Nathan skimmed the edge of the crowd, looking over the tops of people's heads to see a pair of boots protruding from beneath a white sheet. He felt his stomach hollow, knowing those boots belonged to the next victim of the murder who had fallen prey to the mad man who was roaming the streets of Hadley's Hope. He could hear someone weeping and had no doubt that there would be many such tears in the days following this grisly discovery. Suddenly, he saw Brooks emerge from the front door and issued orders to his deputy to keep people out of the crime scene.
Brooks was a lean wiry man. His build was not much larger than Ezra with a face worn by hard living and intelligent blue eyes that showed there was much compassion in his soul despite his hardened features. His dark brown hair was slowly greying and the moustache on his face was making better progress of the two. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to see past their faces to see into their souls in order to find a killer. Nathan could see that the deaths had effected him and the expression in his eyes seemed haunted.
"Nathan!" Brooks suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of the healer's face in the crowd.
"Sheriff Brooks." Nathan tipped his soggy hat a little as the crowd parted for Brooks as he ploughed his way straight through them to reach the visitor from Four Corners. "I'm sorry to see you have another one your hands."
"Yeah," Brook nodded casting a brief glance at the door even though his eyes could not bring himself to look at the body once again. "Thelma Rutledge. She was our local dressmaker. Listen Nathan, our doctor up and moved with all the killing and I would surely appreciate it if you could take some time to have a look a Miss Rutledge and tell us what you can about the body. I mean I know there probably ain't no difference from the last three that were killed but every victim is important and it helps us bring this bastard to justice."
Nathan did not know what to say. He had commitments in Eagle Bend and he was late already but then Brooks did not make this request lightly and an autopsy could not take him that long. All he had to do was make some quick observations and be on his way. The weather was bad and that was a plausible enough of an excuse for him to be a little late for his appointment. Surely they would not penalise him for that?
"To tell you the truth," Nathan said after a moment of consideration, aware that Brooks was waiting for his answer in anticipation. The man knew that Nathan was a doctor in training and that he knew something of criminal activity being a lawman himself in Four Corners. "I'm on my way to take my doctor's exam in Eagle Bend but I reckon I could lend a hand."
He saw Brooks let out a visible sigh of relief at his agreement to help and a slow smile stole across the man's face. "I appreciate your help. This won't take long and you can get on your way." With that, he started leading Nathan through the group of people towards the door again. Brook's hand brushed against the sleeve of Nathan's shirt and the sheriff looked up at him.
"Good lord, you're soaked through!" Brooks exclaimed as they moved into the shop.
"Yeah the rain got me on the way here," he frowned, feeling chill bit into the skin at the mere reminder that he was soaking wet.
"One of those days huh?" Brook said with a faint smile.
"Something like that." Nathan replied and then they both fell silent when the door closed behind them and they were left alone with the body of Thelma Rutledge lying on the floor dead. Nathan allowed his gaze to sweep across the room; unable to envision how a setting so benign could be the scene of so much violence. A flower vase full of cuts flowers, tapestry fibre purse of rose design, a pair of shoes, newly mended sitting against the floor. These were things associated with someone going on with their life and enjoying the little pleasures of it. Not someone, who ought to be lying dead on the floor, covered with a sheet, lying nothing behind but the tragic circumstances of their end.
He looked at the door through which he had entered with the sheriff and saw no signs of violence, no broken glass or torn wood. The metal was slightly tarnished but the lock was very much in tact. He made the same observation of the windows and could see faces peering at him through the unbroken finished without a break or even crack to mar it. He glanced at Brooks, who was aware that he was studying the place and allowed him the moment.
"When was the last time anyone saw her?" Nathan found himself asking.
"Well Mrs Tynan brought a dress into her last evening about six." Brooks answered quietly. He had his back turned to the corpse as if he was done looking at it. "Says Thelma left the shop with her and locked up but when the body was found this morning, the door was open. The door at the back is still locked so I figured he got in somehow and left it unlocked when he was done."
Nathan considered his words and said nothing before he dropped to his knees and raised the blood soaked sheet that covered the young woman's still form.
"Who did find her?" Nathan asked as he stared into the face of a woman in her early twenties with long gold hair, splayed around her hair, matted in places by the blood that had drained from the large gash across her neck. Her lips were blue with lifelessness and her skin seemed grey.
"Jenna Wade." Brooks answered. "Sixteen years old," the sheriff said grimly. "Came into pick up her new dress and found her like this. Poor thing is half out of her mind from the shock."
Nathan could not blame the unseen Jenna for behaving as she had. The sight of this could shake the resolve and the constitution of the most hardened of men. Thelma lay out stretched, her hands resting on her belly, folded one across the other. They almost looked like she had been laid to rest at peace. Nathan continued his observations, making sure there was no other injuries other than the most obvious. Nathan noticed something that caught his eye immediately but Brooks had not mentioned which meant he might not have understood or guessed.
"The others were laid out like this?" Nathan asked, glancing at the man. There was something very odd about this whole scenario. The way she had been laid to rest and the pristine atmosphere of the room. It was like it was arranged so that it would look as disarming as possible. Suddenly, he noticed that everything was neat and tidy. No signs of dresses she might have been presently working on or even the accroutments of her trade lying about the sewing machine against the wall. Not even one roll of thread could be seen.
"Sheriff," Nathan suddenly straightened up and found his mind ticking slowly as the pieces of what he was seeing around him started to form a vague jigsaw. "The other girls that were killed. Can I have a look at where they were found?"
Brooks stared at him, not daring to hope that he had a reason for making the inquiry, a reason that could well lead to an answer they were so desperately seeking to make these murders stop. "Of course." Brooks said eagerly, not at all about to deny that request. The reputation of the seven men who brought law and order to Four Corners could not be questioned, neither could the skills of his particular healer who had been proven so many times already. Brooks was aware from his earlier association with Nathan that the former slave had a quick mind and he sometimes saw things that was obvious only to him but no one else.
Right now, they needed that kind of clarity.
As Nathan followed Brooks out of the shop following the man's instructions to his deputy to move the body to the local mortuary but not to have the undertake touch it until they returned, he asked himself what he was doing. He did not have time for this. As it was, he was going to be hard pressed to make it to Eagle Bend in time but somehow he could not pull himself away from this little town. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps he was chasing some wild theory that had no basis in fact except in his mind but if he was right....
If he was right then they could end this before another girl wound up dead.
There was too much compassion in him to allow that to happen for the simple sake of an exam. Alex knew people, perhaps she could square it with them for him to take the exams again. Either way, it did not matter, he was going to help because he was being Doctor Jackson was not as important as saving someone's life.
"The Johnsons are staying at some friends," Brooks told Nathan as they walked into the set of rooms above the hardware store that did not look unlike his infirmary in Four Corners. As he walked into home, he did not need Brooks to tell him about the Johnsons to know that they were a family of moderate means. There was very little on the walls and most of the furniture was hand made from rough-hewn wood. However, there were traces all around the place that it home filled with love.
Nathan walked through the home, trying not to think about the appointment he would be missing. He looked through the window with its cheery curtains and saw the rain still coming down outside, even though in light of what was happening at Hadley's Hope it did not seem to make much difference. There was a pall of grey over the town that was more than just the weather. It meandered through the streets and through the buildings made slick by water until it seemed to saturate the entire town with its malaise of death.
Despite his urge to leave for Eagle Bend, Nathan knew he had to see other place to because he had to be sure of what he suspected. It was not Brook's fault that he could not see the details because this was his town and his home. He lived with these people, grieved with them when their daughters were killed and felt their loss as profoundly as he might feel his own child, were they slain in the same brutal fashion. Being an outsider, he had the chance to see things clearly and offer a fresh perspective.
"I reckon she was found the same way?" Nathan asked, noting the pristine nature of the home as well as the lack of bloodstains. Blood had a tendency to seep into wood and leave an indelible impression behind that no one could ever forget, no matter how much scrubbing was applied to remove it.
"Yeah," the sheriff nodded, walking to the space before the cooking stove and glancing at the floor. No doubt, he was now revisited with the image he had seen when he first walked into room and caught sight of Maryanne Foster lying dead. "Lying in the same position, hands across each other. It almost looked like she was sleeping."
"You okay George?" Nathan said coming to the man.
"It's hard." Brooks met his gaze and Nathan did not doubt it one second that it could be any other way. Nathan turned away a moment, resting on the leather boots that sat up against the nearby wall. Shoes, the poor girl would never wear again, he thought as he drifted towards it for no particular reason.
"How does he find them?" Nathan mused. When Silas Poplar had selected his victims, there had been a common denominator. He liked young, attractive women who happened to be independent and had vocations of their own to sustain them. Here there was no pattern at all. Thelma was young and attractive and she did have a job as a seamstress but Maryanne Foster was not quite fifteen years old. She was lovely young woman but their physical similarities according to Brooks, were poles apart. Thelma had gold hair, Maryanne's was dark. Yet, a gut instinct told Nathan that there had to be a common denominator.
"I'm interested in knowing how he gets to them." Brook replied walking away from the fireplace and standing by the kitchen door, waiting for Nathan to complete his investigations. "Maryanne wasn't found until supper time. Her ma had been in Eagle Bend and her pa had been working all day. He found her here but there was no sound of any kind of disturbance, not even a scream. No one downstairs even had the slightest idea that something was wrong. How can that be?"
Nathan had a pretty good idea. "George," he said after a moment. "I don't see no blood stains on the floor."
"Well there weren't much blood in the first place." Brooks explained automatically. "There was some but not enough to bleed into the wood like it can do with blood sometimes."
"You said she was cut across the neck?" Nathan inquired again, having an answer that explained everything.
"Yes," his brows furrowed as he saw Nathan's line of questioning leading somewhere. "What you getting at?" He asked suspiciously.
"When you cut a jugular vein, there's a lot of blood." Nathan replied. "It's a major artery, everything that goes through your body has to go through that vein at some point. If she slashed her neck open, this place would have covered in blood. She would have died quick but it would be into the wood and no amount of scrubbing would make it gone. Believe me," the healer said earnestly. "I've seen men shot in throat with bullets and have that much bleeding, their clothes are covered with it before they even realised they were dying."
"There was not much blood with Thelma either," Brooks pointed out realising the connection that the healer had made. "Just a little like it was when we found Maryanne." Suddenly, it came to him and his eyes widened. "Jesus Christ..."
"Yeah," Nathan nodded once he understood. "They weren't killed here. They were killed somewhere else."
"How would he have gotten the body here?" Brooks demanded, defying Nathan to answer this question because the possibility that they were not killed where they had been found had not occurred to him.
"Easy enough." Nathan responded. "Busy afternoon. People coming and going. You'd be surprised how easy it to move something big without people really paying attention. This here is a wood stove," he glanced at the iron cast device before him, its embers cold and grey from disuse. "Could have been someone bringing up wood, sack potatoes, anything really."
"And the same thing with Thelma." The sheriff replied, following the healer's line of reasoning enough to make some speculations of his own. She could have left work with Harriet Tynan on her own. He could have been waiting until they split and then grabbed her. She would have her keys on her so all he needed was to do the killing and then bringing the body back to the sewing shop in the dead of night."
"That's how I see it." Nathan nodded in agreement, having reached that conclusion far sooner than Brooks had taken to work it out in his head.
"Still don't explain how he picks them though." He said after a moment, staring at Brooks briefly before they both left the confines of the Johnson home. Nathan waited briefly for Brooks to lock the door behind him and wished inwardly that Vin were here. The sharpshooter's skill would have been most useful at this point. Vin had the amazing ability to see tracks where none were and make the most obscure marks in the ground tell him something.
"He can't just be waiting for them to appear." Nahtan replied as he and Brook descended down the stairs into the street again. Both men hasten their pace as the rain was still drizzling outside, although in Nathan's case, he was so wet that he hardly cared any more. However, it would be wise if he got into some dry clothing before he caught pneumonia or something equally debilitating.
"Well we've told women to be on the look out," Brooks explained as they ran for cover beneath the awning of the main boardwalk. Nathan shook the excess water off his hat as he looked at Brooks and gestured towards his horse at the direction he was taking. "Since the first murders, no woman is out on her own at night. Most of them are indoors by dark and if they do wander out, not to do it alone. Hell even the saloon girls are skittish with all the warnings we've been making but still he finds them."
"Sheriff," Nathan tried to put this delicately since there was no real way to put this without possibly offending the man and he did not wish to do that. "I know this is a bitter pill to swallow but I gotta ask. I'm assuming you've been looking for a man who is a stranger to these parts?"
"What other sort would I be looking for?" Brooks turned to him sharply. "I've run every drifter, vagrant and stranger I've seen in the last month through a fine tooth. My deputies keep an eye on them real close when they are in town enough to know that we've done all that we can do and it still ain't enough."
"I think you better start expanding your suspects," the lawman from Four Corners replied. "You may be looking for someone in town, someone that is known to you and the townsfolk."
"Christ," Brooks swore, wondering just how much worse this could get. "I was really hoping it would not come to that."
Nathan could sympathise with him. When Billy Travis had returned to town, no one had ever suspected that Stephen Travis' murderers would surface once again. Until then, everyone had assumed that the brave and forthright newspaperman had been killed in a robbery gone wrong. It was not until an attempt was made on Billy's life that the truth was uncovered and the guilty men were found to be community leaders they had seen on a daily basis. Men, who in every possible way, were upstanding members of the town with dark secret. Nathan was certain that somewhere in the town of Hadley's Hope, one such man was viewing his neighbours in the same way a lion may view the herd of zebra it was stalking.
"You better start thinking about it George," Nathan replied. "He knows he can get away with it so he won't be stopping any time soon. He's got a taste for it now and he's getting better at it."
"He's already killed three women," Brook said bitterly. "How much of a blood lust could he possibly have? How many women does it take to satisfy that urge?"
"I don't you can put a number to it." He answered, remembering Silas Poplar. The Pinkerton detective had left a trail of bodies everywhere he went. Josiah was certain there was murders before the trademark duo left in other towns. Killers like these liked to hone their craft, to see how good at it they got. Their mind was a razor edged maze of hurt, trapped in a cycle of abuse that ended only until they died. "I think when it takes him, there ain't no choice but to feed it until gets to wherever it needs to get."
The sheriff allowed Nathan half an hour to clean up and get into some dry clothes before the healer insisted on the lawman taking him to the rest of the murder scenes. Even though the appointment to take his exams weighed heavily on his mind, Nathan found he could not pry himself away from the plight of Hadley's Hope when it was all possible for him to help. The homes belonging to the first two victims were no different from the Foster place or the sewing shop where Thelma Rutledge had made her living. As Brooks explained it, the victims had bee left the same way, with minimum flow of blood around the wounds which should had done nothing but the opposite.
Nathan scanned the rooms, trying to understand what it was that he was missing. He knew that his visit had uncovered more than Brooks had first expected and yet there was something nagging at the back of his mind that would not give him peace. It sat at the edge of the periphery of conscious thought, taunting him with its obscurity, confidence that he would persist in defining its mystery even if it drove him mad.
There were all the same, neat and tidy. The families who had dwelt in their walls had departed for the time being because the horror of their discoveries had been too much for their minds to cope with that the need to stay away was a necessity to overcome their loss. Nathan could understand that, if he lost someone the way these poor folks lost their daughter, wife, friend, he would be just as traumatised by the horror of it all. He could not blame them for staying away and felt a hint of guilt thinking that it was best that they had because he was able to move about their empty homes and view it as the killer had viewed the place before his departure.
They were all the same. So orderly with everything in its rightful place as if there as some insane ritual the killer demanded to satisfy the manner in which he would present his victim to the public. It was like a gallery of death, almost artistic in its methodology. The mind that did this was one who missed nothing, who enjoyed the grisly work and believed that the arrangement was in some twisted way an expression of his genius. Everywhere, he saw books in place, empty cupboards and flowers in a vase, shoes against the wall and not a sign of blood on the floorboards, a further indication that the murders had taken place elsewhere.
That question had plagued Nathan quite a bit as he made his observations with Sheriff Brooks in attendance. The place where the murders were committed had to be fairly close to town. Small communities like this made privacy impossible because gossip was the main past time and people were always getting their noses into other people's business. A man like that had to be fairly sure of himself to move around a town like this without raising suspicion, doing the work he did. While Brooks was rather reluctant to admit the possibility, Nathan was certain that the killer was indeed a long time resident of Hadley's Hope, perhaps even a man who was trusted and considered beyond reproach.
Maybe even the sheriff.
He shook the thought out of his head mostly because Brooks was too visible to commit the crimes. It was one thing for one of the townsfolk to be seen at either of the murder scenes but the sheriff was another thing entirely. A man with a badge tended to stick out in the crowd and besides Nathan was not blind to how badly Brooks felt about allowing such villainy to go on in his town. He had the same look on his face that Chris Larabee wore when one of the fellowship was hurt, even if he had no reason to blame himself for the injury. The nature of the man made him believe that everyone was his responsibility, whether or not it was necessary.
No, whoever was perpetrating these crimes was someone who could move about unnoticed. A man who was usually a nonentity in the eyes of everyone else, completely normal and always the least suspect of violence. Following his investigation of the homes and perfectly aware that he had missed his chance of making it to the exams on time, there was nothing left to do but for send a telegram to Judge Travis. No doubt, the Judge would pass it along to the powers that be at the examination centre that he had been held up due to the storm. Nathan had a reasonable hope of believing they would give him another chance because delays in the Territory were a part of life.
"I'm sorry you missed the exam." Brooks remarked after the two men had left the telegraph office and headed towards the undertaker's parlour where Thelma Rutledge awaited Nathan's expert eye.
"Its all right," Nathan said with a long sigh, unable to deny that he felt disappointed but aware that given the same choice he would have made the same decision. He wanted to be a doctor because he wanted to help people and save lives. It made no difference if he did that under the title of Doctor Jackson or just plain Nathan Jackson, either way, his efforts in Hadley's Hope might save some lives. "The weather's been pretty bad, maybe I can get them to let me take it tomorrow." He answered although he had a feeling it would take some intervention by Alex and her father's friends who had arranged the accreditation in the first place.
Brooks could not deny that as Nathan responded, even though he knew the healer was feeling more than he was saying about his inability to make his appointment in Eagle Bend. Brooks respected Nathan a great deal, more than just because he was a lawman but also because he was a skilled healer that showed an unusual amount of compassion towards his patience. Despite his need to find the murderer who was running loose in his town, Brooks did wish that he had not delayed Nathan from his journey. If any man should be a doctor, it was Nathan Jackson.
"Well I appreciate you staying on a bit to help," Brooks said honestly. "This has been a bad business Nathan," Brook remarked as the funeral parlour came into view. The wind was still lashing the town with its gale and signs were flapping back and forth as they hung suspended under awnings. The rain was just as fierce and both men had to hold their hats down as they stood at the edge of the boardwalk, steeling themselves to run out into the open.
Nathan did not answer as they both ran across the muddied street, allowing the wind to rush past their ears and feeling the wet against their skin as the water started seeping through the clothes. Fortunately, they made it across before the cold reached the skin beneath and both men shook themselves off upon reaching shelter, like big dogs coming in from the rain. Nathan repeated the same procedure on his hat before regarding Brook's comment.
"When we had the same trouble at Four Corners," Nathan explained. "It was like a having a kind of enemy that worse than a hundred outlaws coming at you with guns. At least you knew who to shoot at and that showed you how to protect your own. With Poplar around, we had no idea what we were dealing with because he told us so many lies just so that he could get closer to the women he was after. I hate to think what would have happened if Josiah hadn't learned the truth." The healer said shuddering inwardly and it was not just because of the cold. "We would have lost Mary for sure."
"That would have been a loss," Brooks agreed, having met the lovely Mrs Travis...no he corrected himself, Mrs Larabee, during his occasional visits to Four Corners or when the woman stopped here on her trips to Eagle Bend to visit her kin folk there. "When's the baby due?" He asked, moving to a lighter note briefly.
After all, there would be nothing of the sort when they entered the funeral parlour.
"Late winter, early spring." Nathan replied, happy to talk about something else for a moment. It gave the mind a chance to correlate the information already gathered and perhaps offer a fresh perspective when he gave the matter more thought once again.
"Larabee's a lucky man." Brooks answered with a faint smile. He was a married man himself with two young daughters and knew how a family could bring peace to even the most troubled soul. While Chris Larabee was still an ornery cuss, there was a softer edge to him then there had been before and everyone who knew the man could see it. "What about Tanner? I heard that he was getting married?"
Nathan chuckled softly, aware of how Vin felt on that subject. "I figure he'll get around to it eventually. Man's terrified of anything that would get him out of that hide coat of his and into a new suit but Miss Alex is patient though," he smiled. "She'll get him, sooner or later."
"I'm pleased to see that his name got cleared." Brooks admitted, aware of the price on Tanner's head ever since the seven had first started their tenure in Four Corners. However, Brooks was of the belief that rumour did not offer the true insight into man's soul and he formed his opinion of Vin Tanner on his own, without making any pre conceived notions of what a wanted poster might claim.
"We all were." Nathan agreed and started to tell Brooks something of the events that took place at Tascosa as Brooks opened the door of the funeral parlour and allowed him to enter the sombre surroundings first.
The first thing that caught his attention was the stink of formaldehyde and the other preserving agents used to prepare a body for its final journey in this plane of existence. The stench always made his skin crawl and Nathan wondered why these places felt ice cold, even in the worst days of summer heat. He supposed the cold was a state of mind rather than something real even though the chill in his bones was as near to reality as he ever wanted to get. It did not help that several of the establishment's wares were laid out on the main display floor, as if anyone would ever shop for these things. Nathan was certain that the undertaken in Four Corners had all of the seven measured for coffins from the day they had agreed to take on the protection of the town.
The undertaker had placed Thelma Rutledge in the backroom where he prepared the bodies for burial. The man had taken the liberty of undressing her and leaving covered under a sheet with only her bare feet visible when Nathan and Brooks had walked into the room. Her clothes had been placed in a small box on a work bench against the table so that the investigators could peruse them for any evidence that might lead to an arrest. Nathan had a feeling that the undertaken had been practised with this ritual after the previous three deaths and hoped that he could find something that would allow him to abandon the grim task.
Pulling aside the sheet below her neck, Nathan began his examination of the body while Brooks stood by and watched. Nathan had the impression the man did not want to be present but was bound by duty to remain. He would have told the sheriff it was alright if he wanted to go but Nathan had a feeling that Brooks would not shirk his duty no matter how distasteful it might be to him personally. The healer said nothing as he examined the wound across the young woman's neck, noting the gash across her throat that had ended in one clean swipe everything that she would ever be in this life.
"Very clean." Nathan declared studying the wound. "Whatever he used to cut her up ain't no regular knife." He observed. "I'd say it was a doctor's scalpel but it ain't quite that fine. The cut is deep and slice through the jugular with no problem at all. It only took one swipe." He paused a moment and turned to face Brooks. "By the looks of it, he got them from behind. Probably armlocked up around the head and just pulled the blade across."
"At least it was quick." Brook muttered, knowing that it was not much consolation but at least Thelma's family would know that she had not endured any lengthy ordeal at the hands of her killer.
"Very quick," Nathan assured him. "It takes practise to do something like this. There's not even a pause, just a very slash that probably did not even give time for the victims to understand what happened until it was all over. I'd say that the man we're looking for does this for a living. He could be a butcher, a tailor, maybe even a doctor but that's stretching a little. The murder weapon was sharp but also very strong. The blade sank in deep almost to the bones of a neck."
"Jesus." Brook swore under his breath. "Are you sure about this Nathan?" He asked, hoping the healer was wrong but knew inwardly that Nathan would not cast aspersion on anyone unless he had a very good reason. "We've got only one butcher in town and Thelma was the only seamstress in town and we haven't been with a doctor since Doctor Bairstow left with his wife and daughter when we found the second victim."
"I can't be sure about anything," Nathan replied honestly. "I'm telling you what I think but I can't guarantee that I'm exactly right."
"I understand," the sheriff nodded, realising that Nathan's opinion was speculation on his observations, not the truth. Nonetheless Brooks was impressed by what Nathan had been able to tell him so far about their killer. At least, he had somewhere to concentrate his search on now. From what Nathan was trying to explain, Brooks gathered their man was skilled with an expertise that required fine and delicate work, yet physical laborious as well because no one cut a neck so deeply that it almost bordered on decapitation unless they had the physical strength for it. "Go on."
"Well she wasn't sexually assaulted," Nathan replied after examining the rest of the young woman's body. He felt invasive making such a private search of the lady's person in death but knew it was vital for their investigation that he uncovered as much facts as he could. "I don't see any of the usual signs so I'm guessing he killed her and then cleaned the body. Other than the neck after the initial bleeding had been allowed to run its course, there ain't no blood anywhere else."
"That's sick." Brook retorted. Why did the man take such care with the bodies after he performed the ultimate feat of savagery that any human being could perpetrate upon another? He placed them in their homes with what was almost affectionate care.
"Well I think it's the ritual after the killing that does it for him." Nathan offered as a possible scenario. "I think they have to be dead first before he can do what he wants."
Nathan continued with the examination, trying to find something that would help them further but eventually the partial autopsy had come to an end with nothing left but some insight into how the killer had claimed its victims but not much else. Nathan wished he could do more but Thelma Rutledge could tell him no more and as he pulled the sheet over her face for the last time, he could help feeling this underlying sense of failure.
"I'm sorry George," Nathan sighed, unable to hide the fact that he had been bothered by his inability to bring more to light about how Thelma had met her end. "I hoped I could be of some help to you."
Sheriff Brooks came along side Nathan and patted him on the back in a gesture of thanks. "I appreciate what you done already Nathan," he said genuinely grateful. "You didn't have to do this but you did because we needed you and that's good enough for me."
"You know," the healer turned away from the corpse and went to the box where Thelma's clothes and belonging were gathered. He began rifling through them distractedly, not paying attention to them really as he continued to speak. "I have this gut instinct that if we worked out how he picks them, we'd crack this thing."
"I don't know," Brooks shook his head unable to see the pattern and understanding Nathan's conundrum. Since the murders had began, he had read something of the few documented cases of killings like these and he had to admit, Nathan was right about there being some common denominator that would link all these women together. Their killer must have a reason for selecting the women as he had although at the moment, Brooks could not imagine what might be. They were all of different physical characteristics, social and economic backgrounds, the first was married, the last two were not. He had to admit they were all attractive but it had to be about more than just that, surely?
Nathan continued to examine the dress that Thelma had been wearing and found a wave of sadness wash over him as he found that he could still smell the lingering scent of lavender perfume coming from the material. He liked the sweet fragrance and wondered if it clung to her skin. He knew that when Rain wore some of that lilac perfume she liked so much, he could smell it all day in his lungs and when he kissed her, he could feel its misty aroma on her flawless skin. Thinking of Rain made him grateful that she was in Four Corners, safe from such madness that was currently doing its worst in the town of Hadley's Hope.
Suddenly, he saw a black smudge on the fabric of her dress. For a minute he thought it might be grease or dirt but as he lifted it closer to his eye and examined it, he found that it was neither. Nathan ran his finger over smear of dark that rested just above the waistline as if she had been standing against something that had this substance on it. He could understand why the sheriff had missed this since Thelma's dress was not a light colour and the only reason Nathan had noticed it at all was because he had been searching for some clue in her clothes.
"George," Nathan raised the gown out of its box and presented the smudged area to the sheriff. "What do you make of this?"
Brooks leaned closer to the stain for a closer look before allowing his fingers to make the same exploration that Nathan had done earlier. The substance was not slick and viscous like grease would be, not did it set the same way. Instead it was light against the skin, almost grainy but still possessing a waxy consistency that made it smooth when rubbed against the finger tips. "It ain't oil or grease." He remarked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say shoe polish."
"Shoe polish?" Nathan looked up and suddenly his mind began whirling. For a moment, he was uncertain of what he had stumbled upon, aware only of the nagging that had been sitting on the edge of his consciousness all days, suddenly becoming clear in his minds as the fog around it began to dissipate. Shoe polish. What had he seen that made shoe polish react him so? He knew he had the answer, it sat on the tip of his tongue, taunting at him in shrieks of exasperation until finally it exploded in his mind like a rainbow of colour.
"Boots!" Nathan exclaimed, immediately dropping the dress back into its box and running for the door. "Come on!"
Nathan ran out of the funeral parlour, hardly thinking about the rain that was going to saturate him with water the moment he emerged into the open. Splattering across the puddles of water and mud on the soaked ground, he made his way towards the sewing shop that had been the source of livelihood for Thelma Rutledge before her premature death. Behind him, Brooks followed unable to see what had made the healer so excited but was not about to argue with him since Nathan had been so far quite helpful to his investigations so far by offering insights he had never considered previously.
It did not take Nathan very long to reach the shop and when he stepped onto the boardwalk, he hardly noticed the rain on his clothes that was quickly seeping into his skin. Without pausing to shake the water off, he entered the shop that had been the scene of the latest murder and immediately scanned the front room for what he was certain was the vital clue that they had been searching for all this time. Brooks came in after him, a little out of breath but nonetheless confused.
"What the hell are you doing?" Brooks asked, taking a moment to catch his breath after the sudden exertion. "What do you mean boots?"
Nathan was already picking up the pair of ladies boots he had seen sitting against the wall, placed neatly like everything else thanks to the killer's ministrations. Flipping them over in his hands so that he could examine the soles of the shoes, Brooks watched Nathan holding them under deep scrutiny before coming to rest on the newly replaced heel. The repair was easy see since the new leather was in stark contrast to the old. When Nathan made this observation, Brooks saw him release a breath almost in satisfaction of his discovery.
Whatever that might be.
"Boots." He said after a moment. "That's how he find them."
"Boots?" Brooks stared at Nathan wanting him to explain because the healer had just slashed the list of suspects from a handful to significantly less than that.
"Yeah boots," Nathan said putting down the shoes and making his way towards the door. "Come on," he motioned the sheriff to follow him. "I'll explain on the way." He called out and Brooks took a deep breath before hurrying after the healer.
They were walking down the boardwalk when Nathan started to explain what had led him to the conclusion he had just formed. "From the beginning, we couldn't understand how they were getting taken. After all, you've been smart enough to let the ladies in this town know that there's a killer on the loose and that it ain't safe to be wandering around alone. I couldn't figure why they would just go with some stranger to be cut up the way they have been."
"But you said that the chances are, this ain't no stranger." Brooks pointed out, reminding Nathan what he had said earlier about their killer.
"That's right," Nathan agreed, not about to dispute that fact since it held no relevance at the moment. "However, a woman just doesn't follow a man that she knows somewhere private unless there's a very good reason for it and I'm assuming that these ladies don't seem to be the type that would do that, married or unmarried, young or old."
"That's right," Brooks nodded. "It ain't proper for a fifteen year old girl to just go off with a man unless she knew him pretty well and trusted him."
"Exactly," he smiled as they took the familiar path towards Maryanne Foster's home. "What if she needed to go see him?"
"Needed to go see him…." Brooks looked at Nathan when suddenly the answer clicked into place and the understanding that Nathan was trying to impart on him flooded his mind with knowledge. "Jesus, she needed to go see him to get her boots repaired."
"That's how he finds them." Nathan smiled triumphantly. "I was looking around Maryanne's place and the other two and I noticed one thing that didn't make sense at the time but I didn't think much of it cause it was so insignificant. There were pairs of shoes neat against the wall in all three instances. He puts them back after he's done with the women. Chances are if he has store or something, that's where the murders were committed."
"They go to get their shoes repaired." The sheriff was breathing hard, as if the truth that had been relayed to him was more than he could stand because his heart was pounding in his chest and he did not dare believe it could be true, that the answer was at their finger tips. "And he kills them in the shop and then places them and the shoes in the house."
"I'd say, they dropped the shoes off first to be repaired and the killing took place when the ladies came back to get them. I wouldn't be surprised if Thelma Rutledge made a stop to get her boots back after she and Mrs Tynan went their separate ways." The healer offered an alternative scenario instead.
"And if Maryanne Foster was to do the same, she'd call in at the place on her way back from school." Brooks replied.
"You'll need to check with the other one." Nathan responded, certain that they were right about what they had learnt in the last hour.
"Right," Brooks nodded in agreement, having made the decision to do that once Nathan had his confirmation at the Foster place. In the meantime, he was going to steer the healer past his jailhouse so that he could give some instructions to his deputies. "So," Nathan looked at the sheriff and asked the question that had been lingering on his mind following the discovery of the shoe polish that unlocked the truth about the murders. "How many boot maker do you have in this town?"
The sheriff smiled faintly. "Only one." He answered. "He lives alone and has a store on the far side of town. His name is Leyland Banks."
The rain had started to abate by the time Nathan and Sheriff Brooks found themselves staring at the building where Leyland Banks conducted his trade a boot maker and as a tanner of leather. After going to the Foster home and discovering that the shoes he had spied there earlier had been under the recent administrations of a boot maker, they had repeated the same search at the home of the first victim and found the same thing. Upon that discovery, neither man had any reason to doubt that the hypothesis they had formed about how the killer had found his victims was nothing but the truth. Although, there would always be doubt until they found conclusive evidence such as a murder weapon for instance, Brooks now had a face against which he could guard the rest of the community.
While it was just as easy for Nathan to make his departure following this new development, he found that he wanted to remain to see how this situation played out. A part of him could not believe that a short stay could yield so much and yet he still could not help feeling disappointed at having missed the exams he had spent so much time in preparation. However, the healer in Nathan could not walk away for that very reason. Even if it meant losing the chance of being a doctor, Nathan was not about to stop saving lives. Perhaps he would be doing it in a different manner than what he had previously thought but nonetheless, he would be content to know that there would be no fourth victim.
As he and Brooks arrived at Leyland's store after interviewing the family of the first victim and examining the shoes that more or less confirmed everything they had deducted up to this point, the deputies were keeping Mr Bank in their sights. They had been watching Mr Leyland ever since Nathan's revelation had finally given them the suspect they had been waiting to find from the onset of the first murder.
"Is he in there?" Brooks asked his head deputy upon reaching the man.
Faulkner was as almost as experienced a lawman as Brooks and he had been watching the store by idling his time inside the general store whose shop window faced the front of Banks' premises.
"Yeah," Faulkner nodded. "Had a couple of people go in there over the last hour but they've been and gone."
"Good," Brooks nodded, having no wish to worry about anyone when he and Nathan finally confronted the man. "Have you got the others in place?"
"They've sealed off the area." Faulkner replied tautly and was just as passionate about bring this man to justice as the rest of his comrades. The terror the town had endured because of these murders had touched the core of the community and like Brooks, Faulkner wanted it over and done with. "If he's our man, he ain't getting past any one of us."
"Hold position," Brooks said quietly aware that the eyes of shoppers in the store were watching the trio, suspecting that something was happening if not what. They cast their furtive gazes at the direction of the sheriff and his companions, trying not to listen in but felt compelled to do so because there could only be one reason Brooks was so worked up. "Nathan and I are going in to have a little talk to Mr Brooks. If we can, we're going to bring him in peacefully." Despite his personal feelings towards the murderer that had been terrorising his town, Brooks had no intention of letting the search for justice, become a quest for vengeance. If all possible, they were going to do this by the book.
Still he was not about to forget the young women whose lives Banks might have possibly taken. The sheriff was not unmindful of the fact that the entire wealth of evidence against the town's boot maker was fixed solely on Nathan's theory and liked the healer, wanted something more substantial before deciding that the man was entirely guilty.
"However," Brooks added, remembering the three young women who lives had savagely curtailed. "If he makes a run for it, shoot him."
Faulkner tipped his hat forward and nodded. "You got that for sure." The deputy felt no hesitation about pulling the trigger if Banks ran like the guilty coward he was.
"All right," Brooks took a deep breath and looked at Nathan. "Let's do this."
"It's your show Sheriff." Nathan replied, having no real authority to do anything in Hadley's Hope and was accompanying Brooks as moral support but also to see if he was right about what he claimed. The coat he was wearing hid the assortment of knives he carried into battle because if things got tense, he might need their assistance.
Brooks met his gaze briefly before the sheriff took the lead and walked out of the general store, aware that eyes had followed his departure and that of the visiting healer. Nathan could see the line of tension on his jaw as they crossed the wet street, toward the boot maker shop owned by Mr Banks. As they made their advance, Brooks explained that part of the reason that it was easy for him to accept that Banks might be their killer was because the building in which he conducted his business was wholly owned by him. Banks not only ran his store from there but also lived in the building and the situation of the structure had it some distance away from the rest of the main street.
If Banks was their killer, his home provided the ideal setting for his grisly work.
As they approached the front door, Nathan could see Banks behind his workbench, working on the heel belonging to a pair of men's boots. He was pulling away the damaged heel and preparing to replace it with the new one that was sitting in front of him on the bench. Banks was not a physically imposing man. If anything, he looked thin and somewhat unhealthy. His eyes, which were of a watery, blue colour immediately locked on to them as they reached the door.
Nathan allowed Brooks entry first and as the Sheriff walked into the store, Banks wiped a strand of dark hair out of his face and forgot what he was doing, straightening up to face the new arrivals. Nathan's eyes were immediately moving across the room, searching for some clue that might give irrefutable proof of the man's guilt. He could see the boot polish on the table and the tools the man used on the workbench. The knives he used were made for cutting through leather and yet flexible enough to shape the tough material for use. Aside form boots; Banks worked all kinds of leather goods such as saddlebags and even saddles that needed repairing. The room stunk of saddle oil and the floor did not reveal any bloodstains although it was difficult to tell because the floor was so grimy. However, Nathan did notice a small lift up door at the corner of the room.
"Sheriff." Banks said nervously, "what can I do for you?"
Brooks paused in front of the workbench and offered the man a smile before answering. "I'm sorry to bother you Leyland but I got a couple of questions."
"Questions?" The man asked, betraying nothing even though he had noticed Nathan glancing at the little door.
"Yeah questions," Brooks answered and then glanced at Nathan. "This here is Doctor Nathan Jackson, he's come into town to help us with the murders."
"Shit," Banks retorted. "There ain't no nigger doctors, Sheriff." He gave Nathan a perfectly derisive look. "I think this nigger is pulling something on you."
Brooks clenched his jaw, unprepared to let things get out of hand and saw that Nathan was unperturbed by the insult although the healer was a little curious as to why Brooks had referred to him as a doctor. The way things were going, that was not going to happen for quite some time.
"Doctor Jackson is a real physician," Brooks continued his questioning, although there was a hard edge to his voice now. "However, what I want to know is whether or not Thelma Rutledge was in here last night."
"Thelma Rutledge?" Banks was already shaking his head, watching Nathan like a hawk especially when the healer started walking casually towards the small door.
"Yeah," Brooks repeated himself. "She was killed last night. I wanted to know if you might have seen her."
"No," he said starting to get a little anxious the nearer Nathan came to that small door. "Hey nigger, don't you be wandering around now. If I find anything missing, I'm gonna take it out of your hide."
"Answer the question Leyland." Brooks demanded, disliking how the man was treating Nathan intensely. "Forget about the door, you got bigger problems."
"Like what!" Banks growled. "You ain't got a shred of proof she was here!"
Nathan dropped to his knees and pulled open the little door. Banks just about leapt over the work bench to reach him but Brooks reached for his gun before the man could even land on the floor boards to take the step forward to reach the healer. "I wouldn't Leyland," Brooks warned with ice in his voice. "I'm looking for a reason to kill you, don't give me one."
"You ain't got no right!" He shouted was he saw Nathan open Pandora's Box.
"If you killed those girls, you ain't got no right!" The sheriff barked and then turned to Nathan. "Go ahead!"
Nathan offered the lawmen a slight not and peered into the small compartment and was unsurprised by anything he had found. Wrapped neatly in a bundle of leather was a tanning knife and while it had been washed, there were still tell tale signs of blood having seeped permanently into the wooden handle. There was also a pendant that would later be identified as belonging to Thelma Rutledge and a score of other souvenirs that Leyland Banks had collected from his victims.
Further investigation would reveal the remains of a burnt drop cloth in the man's furnace which he had used to clean the blood of Thelma Rutledge the night before he had murdered when she had come to claim her shoes. No doubt, he had disposed of others like it when he had lured his victims to his shop in order to collect their repaired footwear. Always presenting the helpful facade, Banks would wait until they were preparing to leave before he would grab them from behind as Nathan had suspected and slit their throats. He would then clean the bodies and return them home; sometimes changing their clothes if what they wore were too soiled before destroying that which was.
Eventually however, the most damning evidence would come from Bank's himself, when the weight of everything they had found dragged the confession out of him and brought an end to the his reign of terror in Hadley's Hope.
Nathan arrived at the home of Orin Travis later that evening.
Despite having missed the examination that should have been one of the most important events of his life, the healer felt strangely satisfied that he had done the right thing by stopping at Hadley's Hope and aiding Sheriff Brooks. Before he left, Brooks had made him promise to come back to the town once things had settled down and to bring Rain with him. According to the sheriff, he deserved supper at least for what he had done to bring Leyland Banks to justice. However, as he neared the Judge's home, Nathan started to feel a little disappointed at having missed the examinations not to mention arriving late at the Judge's home when the man had been so good as to offer him a bed at night and supper.
"Well Mr Jackson," Orin Travis said after they were settled in front of the fireplace on two comfortable wing chairs warming themselves with the heat. With a hot cup of coffee in his hands, Nathan suddenly felt the day catch up on him and wished for nothing more than a warm bed so that he could prepare himself for the ride home tomorrow.
"It looks like you made this trip for nothing." The judge looked at him.
"I wouldn't say that," Nathan admitted. "The folks in Hadley's Hope needed help. I was glad I was able to do something for them. That has to counts for something."
"Indeed it does," the judge agreed readily. Orin liked Nathan Jackson and admired his ability to learn despite the lack of a formal education. He had seen Nathan perform miracles with his hands that most surgeons could not dream of achieving even after a lifetime of practice. Like the rest of the seven, Orin trusted Nathan explicitly but there was also a hint of admiration in the old man for the former slave that was exclusive only to him. "Sheriff Brooks sent me a telegram shortly after you left for Eagle Bend."
"Oh?" Nathan lowered the cup of coffee he was about to take a sip form and looked at the judge. "What did he say? Was there some trouble with Banks?"
"No, not at all." Orin quickly assuaged that fear. "He merely informed me of how invaluable you were to his investigation and wanted me to express his personal thanks to the doctors at the examination centre for allowing you the time to aid him in capturing a dangerous criminal. A task of course I was happy to do and surprisingly enough those doctors, some of whom I happen to know well, asked me to relay to you a message. That is when you feel able, they would like to see you one week from today at the centre to take your accreditation exams."
Nathan's jaw dropped open as he stared at Orin in surprise. "Judge, I don't know what to say..." For once the healer was at a loss for words.
"Just say that you won't start charging me for medical attention when you become a physician." Orin Travis grinned and then added with genuine hope for the younger man's future. "Doctor Jackson."