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felt that was where he needed to be, and he was procrastinating.  Deep down, he had no desire to see what had been left there for him.  Jack knew Ricky Dixon all too well and had surmised what lay in the room beyond, what he might find.  His suspicion all along was that Ricky had killed Sheila, and he wasn’t ready to see it.
    Although Jack had been a cop for nearly four years, he had seen little in the way of death.  Well, violent death at any rate.  That’s one of the reasons he liked this area so much, not a lot ever happened.  Yes, there were the occasional car accidents.  There was even a hunting accident or two, but most of the deaths he had encountered were just old age and ill health.  In truth, Jack had never worked a murder before, and that’s just what he was afraid he would find in the bedroom.
    Eventually, Jack surrendered to his sworn duty and moved into the tiny bedroom at the front of the trailer.  The earthy acrid smell was strongest here, and it slapped him in the face.  However, it was the scene that punched him in the stomach and caused his legs to get rubbery.  He gagged and quickly turned to the side trying to avoid contaminating the scene with his own vomit.  Stifling his gorge, Jack turned back to the bedroom and surveyed it like the cop he was supposed to be.
    The room itself showed no signs of a struggle and nothing actually seemed to be disturbed except for the bed.  There were a few leaves and twigs on the floor that must have blown in through the broken window screen, but that was all.  The entire room appeared perfectly normal except for the bed.  Everything that had happened here had occurred on the bed, and it made Jack sick to think about it.  
    There was a torn pair of panties covered in blood lying in the middle of what appeared to be bodily fluids that had soaked into the mattress.  As he looked closer, Jack saw several bits of skin and even a severed finger lying on the sheets.  Blood, there was not nearly as much blood as Jack figured there should be, not given the picture his mind had painted for him.  Jack’s imagination had taken the few bits of information in the room and ran wild with it.  To Jack the room was a nightmare of torture and death. 
    While there truly was not enough here to confirm any death had occurred, that’s what Jack’s gut was telling him.  There had been violence, but that was all he knew for sure.  Yet, in his heart he knew a murder had occurred.  Jack also felt this was not a mere killing; this was something far worse.  Of course, Jack was not a homicide detective or a crime scene investigator but he knew enough to know that something horrific had happened here.  Something very out of the ordinary had happened here.  Jack’s gut also told him who this had been.  In the bloodied mess of the finger, there was a ring.  Jack figured this to be what remained of Sheila Eckers.
    Jack had seen enough and let his weak legs carry him from the trailer to his cruiser.  Half way there he could stifle the urge no more.  He fell to all fours and threw up on the gravel driveway.  The tiny rocks dug into his knees as he wretched until nothing more would come up.  Jack wiped the spittle and bile from his lips with the back of his hand and realized he was still holding his gun.  He holstered it and continued toward his cruiser to report what he had found, and put out an all-points bulletin on Ricky Dixon and Sheila Eckers.
     
    ***
    As she put away the dishes, Terri could hear the sirens approaching.  It wasn’t until she stepped out onto the old wooden porch that she realized they were behind her, across the small patch of woods that separated Jesse’s house from her brother’s place.  At first Terri was not that concerned, she knew what an ass her brother was, and of what he was capable.  She was more worried about his girlfriend, Sheila.  Or more precisely, what he might have done to her.
    Soon there was a second siren, and then a