the uninvited
Rails landed with a soft thump at the bottom of the chute and was instantly greeted by the horrifying sight of Aggie, covered in blood.
Aggie, apparently all right, covered in blood.
Aggie, a hand on Lori's mouth, a finger to her lips.
Covered in blood.
It was warm, the coppery smell of it quite noticeable.
Lori looked down at the pile she'd landed in, so much blood centered right in the middle of the tub.
The lovers shared a silent communication, knelt together, one on each side of the pool of sticky warmth, peeling back blood-soaked bedclothes, towels and gowns.
It was Rails who found the shirt.
She lifted one side of it, and a woman's breast slid off to one side, detached. Lori stifled a scream, and Aggie gripped her shoulders until she settled down.
Together they peeled it back, the clothing drenched with life poured out and gone. They fended off other falling laundry, protected the woman's body from even more indignity.
Eviscerated, vagina to sternum.
No Jack The Ripper surgical skill.
No tradecraft.
A triangular wedge of throat cut out.
Insanity.
The woman's face had been shredded with an instrument with parallel blades, a mezzaluna perhaps?
Aggie & Rails shared another look, calm and serious now. No CSI here, no tape, no antiseptic lab, no white coats.
No rage either, in the kill. This butcher had revelled in his acts, a symphony of psychopathic joy had played out upon this woman.
Lori looked up. "The chunk from her throat, she died in 20 seconds. Whoever did this cut it like that so she couldn't even scream." Her voice was low, as if in reverence.
Aggie was looking at the butchered face. "Look at her eyes. She was cocking. She could see, but she couldn't make a sound."
Lori tilted her head. "Maybe then you go for the face, to make it still, to let her feel the pain and have the knowledge her face is being slashed into strips."
Aggie was looking in the abdominal cavity. "Then here, attack the abdominal aorta, blood, more blood while her heart could still pump it. It's all about blood."
Lori went on. "Both breasts severed roughly, the violent sawing from the vagina to the sternum." She shook her head. "No woman did this."
Aggie was feeling a need to be sick.
Lori offered her a relatively clean towel. She waited, eyes on her lover, until Aggie had finished and set the towel aside.
"Who the hell do we call?" Lori looked a little helpless.
The bin would be removed soon.
Aggie reached for her vox. "I say Erhard. She'll at least send Air Force MPs until we figure out who investigates this."
Lori nodded her assent. "Good idea." There was a long pause. "I wonder who she was. I didn't find any id."
Aggie shrugged. "Somebody loved her." Aggie chose not to mention her growing sense that she'd met the woman before.
Lori looked a little puzzled.
Aggie pointed to the remains of the woman's womb and Rails got her answer. Lori Railsback closed her eyes and fought back nausea.
They huddled together in the laundry tub as Agnes Brooks called Hilary Erhard.
Aggie, apparently all right, covered in blood.
Aggie, a hand on Lori's mouth, a finger to her lips.
Covered in blood.
It was warm, the coppery smell of it quite noticeable.
Lori looked down at the pile she'd landed in, so much blood centered right in the middle of the tub.
The lovers shared a silent communication, knelt together, one on each side of the pool of sticky warmth, peeling back blood-soaked bedclothes, towels and gowns.
It was Rails who found the shirt.
She lifted one side of it, and a woman's breast slid off to one side, detached. Lori stifled a scream, and Aggie gripped her shoulders until she settled down.
Together they peeled it back, the clothing drenched with life poured out and gone. They fended off other falling laundry, protected the woman's body from even more indignity.
Eviscerated, vagina to sternum.
No Jack The Ripper surgical skill.
No tradecraft.
A triangular wedge of throat cut out.
Insanity.
The woman's face had been shredded with an instrument with parallel blades, a mezzaluna perhaps?
Aggie & Rails shared another look, calm and serious now. No CSI here, no tape, no antiseptic lab, no white coats.
No rage either, in the kill. This butcher had revelled in his acts, a symphony of psychopathic joy had played out upon this woman.
Lori looked up. "The chunk from her throat, she died in 20 seconds. Whoever did this cut it like that so she couldn't even scream." Her voice was low, as if in reverence.
Aggie was looking at the butchered face. "Look at her eyes. She was cocking. She could see, but she couldn't make a sound."
Lori tilted her head. "Maybe then you go for the face, to make it still, to let her feel the pain and have the knowledge her face is being slashed into strips."
Aggie was looking in the abdominal cavity. "Then here, attack the abdominal aorta, blood, more blood while her heart could still pump it. It's all about blood."
Lori went on. "Both breasts severed roughly, the violent sawing from the vagina to the sternum." She shook her head. "No woman did this."
Aggie was feeling a need to be sick.
Lori offered her a relatively clean towel. She waited, eyes on her lover, until Aggie had finished and set the towel aside.
"Who the hell do we call?" Lori looked a little helpless.
The bin would be removed soon.
Aggie reached for her vox. "I say Erhard. She'll at least send Air Force MPs until we figure out who investigates this."
Lori nodded her assent. "Good idea." There was a long pause. "I wonder who she was. I didn't find any id."
Aggie shrugged. "Somebody loved her." Aggie chose not to mention her growing sense that she'd met the woman before.
Lori looked a little puzzled.
Aggie pointed to the remains of the woman's womb and Rails got her answer. Lori Railsback closed her eyes and fought back nausea.
They huddled together in the laundry tub as Agnes Brooks called Hilary Erhard.
