replaced his glasses and looked down at the draped figure. “The back of her torso appears to have been pummeled repeatedly, I suspect with fists. I also tweezed out several shards of mirror glass that had sliced through her garment.” He pointed to a silky dressing gown wadded up in a chair.
“I detected three broken ribs. Others may have been cracked. She might have survived, in time, and under the care of physicians better trained and skilled at treating the more serious of her injuries.”
“What were they?”
“She has a sizable bruise and swelling above her left kidney. It’s so precisely placed, it appears the organ was targeted. Perhaps by the heel of a shoe. I suspect the blunt force caused internal hemorrhaging. She bled to death.”
The doctor’s eyes looked apologetic behind the round lenses of his glasses. “I did what I could, but I’m a country doctor, unqualified to deal with something like this. Perhaps Gabe Driscoll would have been a better choice.”
Bill glanced at Thatcher, then turned to the doctor. “Tell him the rest.”
The doctor bowed his head and addressed the floor. “She was raped. Barbarically. Considerable damage was done to tissue.”
The men stood silent, looking neither at each other, nor at Norma Blanchard’s still form. After a moment, the doctor covered her face.
In a quiet voice, Bill said, “Her injuries are of such a sensitive nature, I’d like to keep the details between us, doc.”
“Of course.”
“Do you mind if we use your waiting room to talk to Mrs. Kemp?”
“Not at all. I’ll stay with Miss Blanchard until the ambulance arrives.”
“Ambulance?” Thatcher asked.
“I want the autopsy done in Dallas,” Bill said. “They have a lab, forensic specialists.”
Thatcher took a last look at the sheet-draped figure then followed Bill from the surgery and back out into the waiting room. Patsy Kemp hadn’t changed her position since Thatcher had come in.
Bill pulled a chair over closer to her and motioned for Thatcher to do the same. When they were seated, Bill said, “I’m awful sorry this terrible thing has happened, Mrs. Kemp.”
She gave him a curt nod.
“This is Thatcher Hutton.”
“So he said.”
“He’s new to my department. We’d like to ask you some questions, gain as much information as we can, in an effort to catch the person who assaulted your sister.”
She sat stony-faced.
Bill asked softly, “Where’s her baby?”
“I dropped him off with a lady I buy fresh eggs from. She has a baby close to Arthur’s age. She’ll wet-nurse him and look after him until I can pick him up.”
“Good.” Bill paused, then said, “You know the extent of what was done to your sister?”
“I found her, remember?”
“Do you know who attacked her?”
“No.”
“At any point, was she conscious?”
“Conscious but out of her head.”
“Did she say—”
“Did you see her mouth? She couldn’t talk.”
Bill eased away from her, as though sensing, as Thatcher did, that pressuring her wasn’t the tack to take. “Tell us what happened today.”
“Do we have to do this now?”
“Do you want us to catch the man responsible?”
Bill won the stare-off. She took a deep breath. “Today started out like any other. I did chores while Norma tended to Arthur.”
“You told me earlier that the assault took place while you were away from the house.”
She told them about receiving a telephone call from First State Bank. “I don’t remember the man’s name. He asked me to come in and take care of a matter. Something I needed to sign. Arthur was down for a nap. Norma was primping. It was easier to go without her than to wait for her to get ready. She was very particular about her appearance.”
She glanced toward the examination room. Her eyes turned watery. “Norma wouldn’t have wanted to live looking like that. Jesus God.” She shook a cigarette from her pack. When she had difficulty striking the match, Thatcher struck it for her and held it to the tip of the cigarette.
She gave him a nod of thanks.
The men allowed her time to compose herself and take a few puffs before Bill asked, “What time did you leave the house?”
“One-thirty. I was trying to beat it to the bank before it closed. But when I got there, nobody knew anything about a phone call. There wasn’t a problem with my account. I didn’t know what to make of the mix-up, but rather than waste a trip to town, I stopped in Logan’s for some groceries.” Her voice trembled. “I’ll never forgive myself for not going straight home.”
Thatcher noticed that her hand was shaking when