The Store House

Chapter 8 - Doctor, Doctor

Sheriff Sam tossed and turned in his bed, a fitful sleep filled with headless corpses and faceless criminals haunted his hours. By the time the sun peeked its golden rays above the horizon, he was already dressed and on his third cup of coffee. On his way to the Anderson farm yesterday he had called the doctor and rescheduled for the morning, and now he paced his kitchen trying to will time to move faster so that he could get that meeting over with. He had no reason to suspect that Mrs. Horne might be caught up in the current case, but the bruise on her arm still warranted a check in. It meant that he was wasting precious time that could be directed to the search for the criminal that had left thirteen bodies in his wake. Still, the possible abuse of a senior citizen was important too. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, then downed the rest of his coffee before grabbing his keys and heading for the door.

Doctor Linden had been the town doctor for as long as Sheriff Sam had lived in Credence, and for a good few years before that too. He had a dry, deeply sarcastic sense of humor that was often lost on his patients and that had earned him the reputation of lacking the proper manners and etiquette befitting a doctor. But he was decidedly good at his job and went out of his way for the people of Credence, making house calls at all hours of the night, sponsoring medication to those who truly couldn't afford it and taking part in all the community events. Ultimately everyone in the town loved the good doctor, bedside manner or not.

As Sheriff Sam pulled up outside the small medical rooms, he saw the doctor climbing out of his own vehicle. At least Sheriff Sam wouldn't have to wait so that he could get this over with quickly and get on with the more pressing case. The doctor waited by his vehicle for Sheriff Sam, and they walked to the door together.

"Sheriff Sam, how are you doing? You look like shit on burnt toast!" the doctor chided.

"Doctor Linden. Always a pleasure. I see you still haven't found your bedside manners," Sheriff Sam chuckled. "To be honest, I haven't slept, so I suppose I must look a bit rough."

The two chatted pleasantly as they made their way to the doctor's office. It was tastefully decorated, with warm, latte-colored floor tiles and off-white walls. A few artworks hung tastefully on the walls, portraying captivating landscapes, some of which looked like they could have been taken on the outskirts of town, looking over the fields and trees that cocooned Credence. Sheriff Sam took a seat in one of the two old fashioned, brown leather chairs that flanked the large mahogany desk, and whistled his approval. They were exceptionally comfortable.

"Now as much as I enjoy having you here to admire my furniture and make the place look untidy," Doctor Linden mused with a small smirk, "What's this about?"

Sheriff Sam explained the situation with regards to Mrs. Horne while the doctor listened attentively, refraining from mentioning anything about the case. He watched as concern flitted across the doctor's face. After a pause, the doctor stood and retrieved a rather thick file from the filing cabinet. He sat down and paged through it in silence, turning some of the pages back and forth a few times as he scanned them. After a few minutes he closed the file and looked at Sheriff Sam, steepling his fingers together and resting them on his chin.

"I can't divulge too much - you know that. But I do find what you are telling me concerning. There's nothing in the file to indicate that she's a definite victim of physical abuse and the few injuries she has seen me for could easily be attributed to her age. But... I think it would be best if I make a unscheduled house call. I need to check on Ken anyway because I haven't seen him in weeks. Now... What about you not sleeping? Do you need a prescription for sleeping pills?"

Sheriff Sam declined, thanking the doctor and taking his leave before the doctor got any more ideas and started checking his blood pressure, or heaven forbid, booked him for a prostrate exam. He sighed as he climbed in his car. He had done his due diligence but somehow it didn't seem like enough. He knew the doctor would also keep an eye out for abuse though, and there just wasn't anything more he could do. With his meeting with the doctor done, he turned his focus back to the bodies and a meeting with a different type of doctor. The autopsies were complete, and he and Det. West were expected.

An hour later Sheriff Sam and Det. West stood in a sterile room, the body of one of the original twelve on the steel gurney before them. An expectant tension simmered in the air around them as the ME donned a pair of nitrile gloves. She partially peeled the sheet back that had covered the body, revealing the Y-shaped incision that ran from near each shoulder to the top of the sternum and then down the length of the body.

"I can't tell you much more, I'm afraid. But I can confirm the beheadings happened almost immediately following death, after which the bodies were suspended, allowing gravity to drain most of the blood. I estimate they would have had to remain suspended for around six hours in a very soft restraint of some kind. My belief is that the bodies were washed while in this position too." She gestured to the severed neck as she spoke, pointing out the lack of blood and inflammation in the tissue surrounding the wound and walking Sheriff Sam and Det. West through the methodology behind her observations in more detail.

"On this body we found a single fiber stuck below some rough skin on the back of the heel. We're having it tested. I suspect it was lodged there when the restraints were slipped off." She stated as she moved to the foot in question and showed the cracked heels of the victim.

Sheriff Sam listened intently as the ME confirmed a number of other details that they already knew or at least expected. The tox screens had come back to reveal that all twelve victims were heavily sedated. The bodies had been washed with a strong bleach solution, something that was readily available. The ME couldn't confirm time of death but stated it would have taken about four or five days for the bodies to freeze completely at the temperatures the freezers were operating at. All in all, the only real news was the single fiber.

The fingerprints had at least allowed them to confirm the identity of four of the victims - Alan Watson, Male, forty-four, Gene Daniels, Male, thirty-two, Mark Gregor, Male, thirty-seven, Sarah Haynes, Female, twenty-nine. Of the other eight victims, three had been in the broken freezer and were too decomposed for fingerprint scanning, and the other five were still in the process of running through the databases. It wasn't much to go on, but perhaps they could start finding some connection between the victims.

As the discussion about the twelve wound up, Sheriff Sam turned his attention to the new body that had shown up at the Anderson farm. Hoping for confirmation that it was linked, and not that they had yet another criminal with a fascination for beheadings, he asked if the ME had a chance to look over the new body of the young boy yet. She confirmed that based on her preliminary examination, the disarticulation of the head was identical to the twelve other bodies sitting in the morgue but hadn't yet had a chance to examine the body further. Sheriff Sam sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. There were now thirteen victims and all Sheriff Sam had to work with was two possible sightings of vehicles at night, a single fiber and four IDs for the victims. How was he supposed to build a case on this?

He suspected that the fiber would most likely be from some generic and readily available material or rope of some kind. But then maybe it could still lead to something more... Whatever was used had to be soft enough to allow the full weight of a body to be suspended for six hours without cutting into the skin at all. A rope wouldn't do that. Maybe a thick, material-lined cuff of some kind? Perhaps if he could figure out what restraints had been used, he might find something. A sliver of hope pierced the disappointment that he still felt as he climbed back into the car to head back to the office for the teleconference with the Cooks. Despite the constant dead ends in this case some details were settling slowly into place.