Read Online The Dalwich Desecration by Gregory Harris - Free Book Online Page B

jaw where it belonged, leaving a gap that was as shocking as it was unexpected. Even so, it took another moment to spot the nub of flesh that had dropped far back into the throat that, in spite of an angry red incision, looked as though it had been carefully filleted.
    I stumbled back a half step before catching myself and forcing a deep intake of breath. “It’s awful,” I heard myself say.
    â€œThat it is,” Colin mumbled agreement. He had moved across from me and was bent over the abbot’s neck and shoulders, running his fingers over the areas, both of which were covered with a veritable jumble of slash marks. The monk’s chest, arms, upper abdomen, and right side were equally marred, and while I assumed the left side would be as well, I did not immediately advance to see. “Here”—Colin waved to me as he continued to peer at several of the neck wounds from a distance of mere inches—“count these wounds. I want to know how many there are.”
    The thought of it made me blanch, but I was glad Colin had not noticed. It wouldn’t have altered his request anyway. I quickly swiped at my nose and then wished I hadn’t as a fresh wave of stink assaulted me. It was enough to make my head go light and I had to flick my eyes up to the ceiling for a moment until I could gather my wits again. I could do this, I scolded myself.
    The slicing wounds started just below the jawline with most of them occurring on the sides of the neck. There was only one, in fact, that was on the throat itself, coming very close to the Adam’s apple without actually touching it. I started to count the wounds, trying to convince myself that the thin black lines had been drawn on with charcoal.
    Working slowly, I progressed down the right arm and side, counting to twenty-three, before having to step around Colin, who was now studying the right hand so intently that someone unaware might have thought he was pondering whether the abbot might have held the knife himself and delivered the blows. I moved back around to the other side of his chest, adding up the marks across the abdomen before beginning to inspect the left arm and side. Curiously there was far less damage there, yet even so, I had nearly reached fifty by the time I leaned back and stepped away from the body.
    â€œWhat do you have so far?” Colin asked as he released the abbot’s right hand, his brow tightly knit.
    â€œForty-eight.”
    He shook his head. “Help me roll him up so we can see his back.”
    â€œHis back?!” I blurted without thinking. Of course he would want to see the monk’s back.
    Colin did not respond, nor did I expect him to, as I went over and stood beside him. Stealing a quick intake of breath, we rolled the body away from us and I was glad to find that it moved more easily than I had expected. Without having to be told again, I leaned forward and resumed counting the hash marks across the back, neck, and shoulders of Abbot Tufton. Colin was poking around the upended right side, but as I was too focused on my own work I could not tell what had caught his attention this time. It was only after I heard the hushed swing of the door behind us, followed by an abrupt gasp, that I stopped my counting.
    â€œ What in the name of the Holy Father are you doing?! ”
    â€œExamining the body,” Colin replied flatly as he nevertheless signaled me to lower the abbot back down. “It may not appear to be a reputable duty, but I can assure you it is quite critical.”
    â€œNevertheless, it is unseemly.” Brother Silsbury reiterated the charge from the night before. He quickly came forward and snatched up the sheet that Colin had carelessly bunched up at the abbot’s feet. “Abbot Tufton was a highly regarded man in this monastery,” he explained, his voice taut and brittle. “I cannot condone this sort of pawing about his remains. I’m sorry, but I cannot.”