Chapter Eleven

The doctor approached Andy’s remains on the stainless steel examination table and began to remove the tattered pieces of uniform that clung to the wounds. He looked briefly at the torn chest cavity and wondered who or what could have done that, or why?

Carl remembered back when Calvin Peters was torn open by a bear he surprised going through the garbage. His wounds were not as ferocious. Calvin lived to tell about it. The doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Murphy was holding another black bag.

“I just started the exam, come on in.” Carl motioned with a wave of his hand for Murphy to enter.

Murphy carried the bag to the oversize sink and placed it in. “When you’re finished with Andy you can start on the Collins girl.”

“Is that her?

Murphy nodded.

“Where did you find her?”

“Your nephew did, in a rain barrel inside the barn; a fly-infested goddamn barrel.”

“Same condition as Andy, I suppose,” Carl assumed.

“Worse.”

“I’ll do my best and as quickly as possible. I have a pot of coffee in the kitchen if you want to wait?”

“Thanks, I could use a cup right about now,” Murphy said walking from the examination room in the rear of the house to the adjoining kitchen. He poured himself a large mug of black and hot coffee. He sipped it, allowing the liquid melt away the tension in almost every muscle of his body.

It seemed as though he had just sat down when he realized he had poured his third cup and the afternoon quickly became evening. He went back to the exam room and found Carl by the sink washing his hands. On the examination table laid two forms covered by a single white sheet with growing red stains at different places.

“I’ll write up your reports as soon as I can,” Carl said, wiping his hands on a towel. His voice was tired.

“I’ll read the report later. I need answers and I need them now. What killed them?”

Carl sighed and tossed the towel into a laundry bin, “My opinion…some kind of animal. Claw and teeth marks, almost every bone broken, a few even gnawed on.”

“An animal, what kind of animal…?” Murphy asked, watching the red stain spreading along the white sheet covering Andy.

“Can’t rightly say, think we need an expert to take a look. The teeth marks are characteristic of a bear but the claw damage is different, never seen it before. Big animal though”

“How big?”

“Ballpark estimate I’d have to say ‘round six, seven hundred pounds.”

“Jesus, that shoots my wild dog theory to hell.” Murphy wiped his brow.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I have for now.”

“Thanks,” Murphy shook Carl’s hand, “I appreciate your effort. I just don’t know how I am going to break the news to the Collins family.”

“A terrible business, perhaps you should ask Father Ahern to assist?”

Charles Murphy considered his advice then thought against it. “By the time I get Father Ahern over to the Collins home, they may have already heard the news from the neighborhood grapevine. I’m sure the rumors are already spreading. I think I better tell them and soon.”

“I wish you luck. If I can be of any assistance…”

“Thanks, I’ll be in touch.”

* * * *

Murphy climbed the stairs of the closed town hall and opened the front door with his key. He flicked on the hallway lights and opened the door on the right with his name stenciled on it. He went to his desk and sat. It was emotionally draining to accept the horror of the murdered child and his friend. It was surreal, it could not have happened, but he knew it did.

Charles’s first priority right now was to notify Mike Collins, then make a call to Andy’s only family, his girlfriend, April. Murphy leaned back in his chair with his feet upon the cluttered desk and stared at the chipped ceiling paint. He struggled for a sincere way to express his hurt…a hurt he knew was absolutely nil compared to the pain the Collins’s were about to endure.

There was no easy way to tell Michael Collins his baby daughter had been torn to shreds. Murphy was sure the news of the deaths had spread throughout the town, but he hoped they’d been suppressed long enough so he could break it to the Collins family. He dialed the phone, still contemplating the words he would utter when a young voice spoke into the receiver.

“Hello?”

“This is Chief Murphy, is this Mark?”

“Have you found Cathy?” Mark asked without answering.

Murphy almost whispered, “is your father home?”

Mark placed the phone down and shortly Mike Collins was on the phone, as excited as his son. “Did you find her, Chief?”

“Mike…” Charles hesitated and was sorry he did. He knew that split second of indecision alerted Mike to disaster. “Yes, we found her.”

His voice could no longer offer hope or good news. The child was dead and there was no easy way to tell the father. The phone was silent for a few moments then Mike returned with faint sniffles and a crack in his voice.

“She’s dead?”

“I’m sorry, Mike. I did not know how to tell you. I called before you heard it from somewhere else.”

“How…?”

“The doc did an examination this afternoon and -”

“This afternoon…” interrupted Mike angrily. “How long have you had her?”

“We found her this morning after we found Andy’s body.”

“Andy? Andy is dead also?”

“Both were found on the old Johnson place, we have no idea how they got there or who did it. The doc seems to believe it was a large animal.”

More silence followed by sobs.

“I’m sorry, Chief. I didn’t realize.”

“I’m the one who is sorry, Mike,” Murphy whispered into the phone.

“Thank you for calling. I should be the one to tell my family.”

Murphy hung up thinking Mike had more courage than he would have at a moment like that. He stood and stretched, flicked off the office lights and walked out onto the empty sidewalk.